#fuzz local

[ardeportal]

Brant Bjork: el desierto en la ciudad

El baterista fundador de Kyuss sacudió Montevideo en una nueva edición de Fuzz Local

Por Ginny Lupin Fotos Gino Bomba

Hay un indicativo infalible de la calidad de un show que no se encuentra arriba del escenario; se nota ya desde la entrada y se incrementa con los resagados que se van acumulando, cerveza en mano, al fondo de Plaza Mateo: si en el público abundan los músicos, el show va a estar increíble. Y el domingo pasado, en una nueva edición del festival Fuzz Local, estaban todos.

La tarde arrancó con bastante puntualidad y una afluencia de gente considerable; eso que era domingo, Nacional y Defensor jugaban a unas cuadras y el clima estaba inestable. Pero la jornada prometía distorsión de la mano de grandes exponentes locales y las verdaderas leyendas del desierto. No había justificativo para pegarse el faltazo.

Contramarea pateó el tablero con un set corto y al hueso. Banda insignia del festival, abrieron esta tercera edición de Fuzz Local para homenajear la distorsión, sacando provecho del fuzz único de los pedales Inspira como en cada escenario que pisan.

En medio de nuevas composiciones, los Contramarea desplegaron toda su energía, haciendo sacudir las cabezas con el diferencial de un sonido único y arrollador.

Tempestad

Flor Sakeo está en "su prime". Acompañada de músicos de nivel, la reina del fuzz montevideano se prendió fuego sobre el escenario de Plaza Mateo.

Riffs seductores y envolventes lucieron la distorsión en su faceta más psicodélica, en sintonía con la estética de pantalones metalizados y pelo sacudido a todo volúmen.

En primera fila, un chico de pelo largo desafiaba la gravedad contorsionando la cabeza al ritmo de la música. En simultáneo, un grupete hacía señas para captar la atención de Mario Lalli, "el padrino del desierto" y ahora bajista de Brant Bjork, quien accedió a la foto mientras seguía atento el espectáculo de la uruguaya.

"Canción para los planetas" y la nueva, "Casualidad" fueron cantadas a todo pulmón por su público, fiel asistente en cada partido de Sakeo.

La performance sobre el escenario justificó y recompensó esa fidelidad con un despliegue de nivel. Efusivos, Flor y su banda demostraron el entusiasmo por la primera fecha del año con una complicidad que excede lo musical y nos permite un vistazo de la dinámica del grupo. Guiños, risas y genuino disfrute sobre el escenario se trasladaron a la audiencia.

La cúspide del set llegó demasiado pronto, con una cuerda rota que no detuvo el ritual del fuzz y la esperada liberación del pogo. "Abran un círculo", pidió Sakeo y el público obedeci��, con una danza tan tentadora que Piotto tuvo que abandonar su posición detrás de las teclas para saltar a la pista y formar parte del ritual.

Si así empieza el año de Flor Sakeo, ¿qué nos esperará para los próximos meses?

Duelo de leyendas

Si el titular "Brant Bjork en Uruguar" ya era movilizante para todos aquellos que hicieron del stoner desértico un pilar fundamental de su trayectoria musical, bastó con confirmar quiénes lo acompañarían en la travesía sudamericana para perder por completo la cabeza.

En la batería, Ryan Gut aporta el groove metal que cultivó junto a Hammerface. Gran colaborador de Bjork, no sólo forma parte de su proyecto solista sino que también compartieron Stoner, la banda que volvió a reunir a Bjork y Oliveri luego de la separación de Kyuss. Pero es Mario Lalli desde el bajo quien se lleva todas las miradas y ovaciones.

Precursor del stoner rock, Lalli es una de las mayores influencias en la escena del desierto californiano. Sus bandas Across the River y Yawning Man, activas a inicios de los 80, sirvieron de detonante para toda una generación de artistas. Junto a Bjork, Lalli experimenta un abanico de sonidos recorridos a lo largo de su trayectoria, desde el stoner más puro hasta coqueteos con el soul y el blues perceptibles en las últimas producciones del trío.

Sobre el escenario, la fórmula fue infalible. La poderosa voz de Bjork y la marea de distorsión que emana su guitarra lo valorizan como frontman del proyecto. Lalli llevó el groove inmutable, paseando sus larguísimos dedos por las cuerdas del bajo con una fuerza jamás vista para un índice humano. Y el ritmo estaba en buenas manos con Gut, controlando todo desde el fondo.

Frente a un Plaza Mateo atiborrado y mesmerizado, Bjork y compañía brindaron hora y media de oda al fuzz. No faltaron el pogo ni la emoción, en una fecha ciertamente inolvidable para el rock local.

[melrosing]

With the ASOIAF dialogue/accent post I always thought it would be funny if the Westerlands was modelled after the West Country which accounts for the Aye (even if it would be pronounced more Arrr) and that's why Tywin thinks he's above everyone cos he can't understand his own smallfolk (think like that Hot Fuzz scene of needing two translators)

it’s fully said in ADWD that Tyrion has a ‘westerlands accent’ so ig GRRM can conceptualise that the regions sound different even if he can’t explore that in practice or any accompanying dialect…. so really we are free to hc that that accent is indeed a West Country accent. the lannisturrs of castuurlee rock

[darlingandmreames]

After the Andes get married they hyphenate their last names to Wainwright-Cartwright and Cartwright-Wainwright, respectively. This makes Nicholas’ life a living hell, and it’s no secret that this was 100% something they considered when deciding how to approach the name situation

[magicmalcolm]

[hjemne]

i just remembered about an incredibly funny local legend but i cant say what it was without immediately doxxing myself rip

what i will say is that hot fuzz is not wholly inaccurate about rural english life and who the police get called to deal with

[formerheroeswhoquittoolate]

headcanon that the smaller batkids steal the bigger ones' hoodies and jackets. and by "bigger ones" I mean literally anyone bigger than them.

jason gets the short end of the stick because dick and all his little siblings take his. tim's the only one bold enough to go for the leather jackets (well, and cass, but they're way too wide in the shoulders for her) but it's not uncommon to find dick or stephanie in a dark red or gray hoodie that smells of motor oil and gunpowder.

damian usually takes dick's hoodies, but they're very oversized on him. on the bright side, there are thumbholes in the sleeves of all dick's hoodies, so he can still use his hands. the thumbholes make them a hot commodity in the winter.

there is a tim-steph-cass jacket pipeline. steph steals tim's hoodies and cass takes them from steph. hence tim stealing jason's leather jackets -- steph won't take them, so he gets to hold on to them until jason realizes and takes them back. sometimes cass will also steal duke's hoodies, but she always returns them clean and neatly folded (unlike how it goes with the rest of the family, in which they are returned only under threat of blackmail or with long rounds of negotiation).

this is an extremely long-standing ring of jacket theft. you cannot leave a hoodie unattended in wayne manor. damian doesn't actually own any hoodies, and cass only owns one, because there's so many other people in the house to "borrow" one from. nowhere is safe. steph once broke into dick's apartment to steal his warm hoodie, the one with the fuzz on the inside.

but it goes the other way sometimes. jason leaves things in the pockets of his leather jackets for tim -- film for his camera, hand sanitizer, half-filled punch cards for local coffee shops with "drink water too, fucker" written on the back. cass will tuck little slips of paper in the cuffed sleeves when she leaves hoodies out. the notes don't say anything, but they have little smiley faces and hearts on them, and steph has taken to doing something similar with corny jokes. dick just straight-up leaves candy in the hoods of his jackets.

it's a game, it's a love language. it's simultaneously annoyance and affection. there's nothing like wearing a hoodie that's too big for you, that smells like your family, to make you feel safe.

[obaewankenope]

American to English translation for fic

So I read and write fanfic, as do lots of others, and I've noticed that when it comes to British shows or movies, Americanisms or American terms crop up often. It's mostly because most don't know we have specific terms for things in the UK, and I've seen references here and there before, but I've decided to write one of my own. Feel free to add to it tho! I'm gonna put it up on Ao3 too and any additions, I'll reference the tumblr and link them on Ao3 too.

AO3 link is here!!

Anyway, here we go I guess.

Some Americanisms to English-isms

Gas = fuel/petrol/diesel (we tend to specify the type of fuel the vehicle uses, diesel vehicle or petrol vehicle for example)

Gas station = petrol/fuel station

Gas court = petrol/fuel court, or sometimes forecourt (not often with this one tho)

License plate = registration plate/reg

Diner = cafe

Fast-food = takeaway (this is sort of interchangeable. McDonald's is called fast food, a meal from a pizza place that delivers is takeaway)

Motel = hotel

Side-note: We tend to use specific named hotel chains like Premier Inn (or Prem-Inn for short) or Holiday Inn or Travelodge. We also have Britannia Hotels and several others. If the fic is based in a specific place, local hotels or famous ones may be better options. For example, in Liverpool, we have The Shankly or Adelphi.

Cab = taxi or black hac for a specific type of taxi.

Side-note: These are what you see in BBC Sherlock, for example, and are a UK staple. They're less popular or common-place nowadays but there are dedicated taxi companies that use them. There's on in my town that operates until 4pm each day. They are also usually more expensive than a car taxi but they have oodles of space and you can have a pram/buggy kept upright rather than folded-down in them which is brilliant.

Cop = police officer

Side note: more informal, colloquial terms include "copper", "the fuzz", "tit-head" (because of the nipple hat okay, just look up the hat, it's hilarious), "bobby", "rozzer" (pronounced r-o-z-er not Row-zer), and "the bill" (there's an actual show called this btw. It can be a good reference for anyone writing crime fic in UK). There's more but those are the most common. Older terms do include "peelers" and "old bill".

Second side-note: the police have a whole host of terms, colloquial and slang that can be a great thing to include in fic, which I'll link a glossary of here. It's not all UK centric but cross-country policing is a thing so that may just be a boon imho. Also the short-hand acroynmns used are useful so here's a link to the Metropolitan Police glossary of those too!

Patrolman = constable or police constable

Antenna = aerial or TV aerial

Fall (season) = autumn

Bill = banknote or specifically "tenner", "fiver", "twenny" (not "twenty"). We don't have single banknotes like a dollar bill. We have pound coins

Dimes, nickels, etc = pound coin, two-pound coin, fifty-pence, penny, two-pence, five-pence, ten-pence, twenty-pence (link here about the coin currency)

Drug store = chemist or pharmacy

Optometrist = optician

Primary care physician = GP (general practitioner) here's a link about UK medical terms for doctors etc

Side-note: here's a link about medical terminologies etc between American and UK

Social security number = national insurance number

Liquor store = off-license or, specifically, Bargain Booze™

Liquor = spirits (usually)

Store = shop

Target, Walmart, etc = honestly, it's probably gonna be Tesco, ASDA, Morrisons, ALDI or Lidl

Superstore = supermarket

Shopping cart = shopping trolley or just "trolley"

Yard-sale = car-boot/car-bootie/car-boot sale

Attorney = barrister or solicitor (solicitors you go to for legal help, barristers tend to be involved in actual court matters, like a the Crown Prosecution Service), here's a link that explains it better

Janitor = caretaker

French-fries = chips (although McDonald's French-fries are just that, French-fries)

Intersection = crossroad

Highway/freeway = motorway

Interstate = usually an A-road or a motorway, we don't really have interstates here)

Overpass = flyover

Turnpike = toll motorway

Windshield = windscreen

Trunk of a car = boot or car boot

Hood of a car = bonnet or car bonnet

Truck = lorry

Sedan = saloon car

Blowout = puncture or flat tyre

Pavement = road

Sidewalk = path

Subway = underground (like the London Underground)

Drapes = curtains (though we do use "drapes" we tend to say "curtains" more)

Pacifier = dummy or "dodo" or "dodi"

Diaper = nappie or a pull-up (if its like underwear for toddlers)

Baby crib = baby cot (though we do use "crib", we tend to say "cot" more)

Baby carriage/pushchair/stroller = pram or buggy (more specific type tho, here's a link about the differences)

Trash/garbage can = bin, dustbin, rubbish bin

Garbage/trash collector = binman/binmen

Mail = post

Mailman = postman

Mailbox = postbox

The movies = cinema or pictures

Movie = film (less common nowadays with influence of Americanisms but I still use "film" and a lot of people my age and older do too (25+)

First floor = ground floor okay, it's the ground floor because it's on ground level

Sneakers = unless they're Converse, it's probably just "trainers"

Baggage = luggage

Purse (as in the bag) = handbag, or "purse" but that tends to be the thing you put your money and cards in then put in your handbag

Vacuum cleaner = hoover or a specific brand like Henry Hoover™, which you'll find we tend to just call Henry (though I have a John Lewis hoover I got from George, ASDA that I've named 'George' and yes, I do say "I need to use George in a bit to hoover" regularly)

Sweater = jumper or, if it buttons up it's a cardigan or cardi

Closet = wardrobe

Elevator = lift

Call collect = reverse charges

Schools = we have primary/infants (11yrs)and secondary/high school (11-16yo) with some high schools have sixth-form college (16-18yo) or actual independent colleges for the same ages

College = university

Semester = term

Vacation = holiday

Kindergarten = nursey/reception

Flashlight = torch

Wrench = spanner

Backyard = garden

Cookie = biscuits

Chips = crisps (like Walkers™ or Lays™ in the States)

Pants = trousers

Cottoncandy = candyfloss

Dude = bloke/fella/mate

John Doe = John Smith

Exhausted (tired) = knackered

Cell phone = mobile

Cell data = mobile data/4G/5G

Bathroom/restroom = loo/toilet (informal term "bog")

Thanks = cheers

Soccer = football

Y'all = "you lot"

Fuck off/hit the road/go away = bugger off

Some slang phrases too

Bits and bobs = stuff, usually random

Take the mick/mickey = making fun of someone or over-exaggerating

Bob's your uncle = there you go, basically

Bog standard = typical, run of the mill kind of deal

Gutted = feel upset, disappointed

Dull as dishwater = basically really, really fuckin boring

Chinwag = basically "shooting the breeze" or just having a talk/chat

.

If you have any others that you think of or want added, reblog and add em! Tags too if you'd prefer but reblogs would be easier ☺️

[sexy-monster-fucker]

Hits Different

Aaron Hotchner x BAU!Reader

Summary: Reader gets jealous when some women start hitting on Aaron at the bar on their team night out

CW: drunk!Hotch, jealous!Reader, mentions of an unsub and murder, drinking, confessions, makeout, Hotch being handsy, kinda needy!Hotch?

a/n: I’m literally obsessed with Aaron Hotchner rn

~~~

“No— I can’t,” you opposed as your coworkers decided to order another round of shots. Cheeks glowing as the alcohol seeped into you. Smiling as Derek put his arm around you and J.J. reached across the table to encourage you.

It was a Thursday night. You all had just gotten back from a week long endeavor in Utah. Local killer had his sight on some local young women. Killing them in some ritual style way that the drinks helped you fuzz the memory of. Luckily after you had addressed the public, he grew sloppy and was easily caught.

And now, back in your home state, you all crowded into a local bar to relax. And when the BAU “relaxed” it usually involved some heavy drinking.

“Shots! Shots! Sh-Shots!” Penelope and Emily chanted to the tune of the Lil Jon song. You laughed, a subtle snort escaping you. Rossi came back with the tray, beginning to pass them out to everyone.

Aaron Hotchner hovered behind him. Already having downed three glasses of scotch and beaming with alcohol on his face. It was a rare occasion that Hotch got drunk. Usually he just sipped at one drink while everyone else got themselves into trouble. But tonight he decided to let loose. Taking two glasses off the tray and squeezing in next to you in the already tight booth. Sitting them down in front of the two of you. Hooded eyes squinted upward in a closed-mouth smile as his eyebrows raised at you.

And you felt your face completely flush. Since your time at the BAU, you had developed a crush on your superior. Even if it was inappropriate and the age gap was a bit large, you still harbored feelings for him. And moments like this did not help.

Completely engulfed by the aroma of his cologne. Trying not to make it obvious you were smelling him. Hotch wrapped his arm around you absentmindedly. Leaning in and holding one of the glasses up to you. “Are you gonna do a shot with me?” His slightly slurred words melted against your skin. His voice somehow deeper and sultrier than ever. Everyone else was too distracted by the giggling of drunken excitement for more drinks to notice what was happening. It was like you two were alone for a moment.

You smiled, nodding slowly as he passed you the shot in his hand. Picking up the other and wrapping his arm around yours. Intertwined so that your hands were back against your own mouths. You were beyond flustered with the contact he was making with you. Hotch began counting down, both of you throwing the alcohol back on three.

Sucking your teeth as it burned down your throat. Hotch blew his breath out. You watched as his nose scrunched up at the taste. Shaking off the strong taste as Hotch leaned in against you. His head bumping against yours for a moment. Lips pressing against your ear in his drunk state.

“Want me to go get us som’more drinks? You like something more fruity, right?” Hotch suggested, deep voice ringing in your ear. The feeling of his lips grazing your skin had you sweating.

“Only if you’re buying,” you pulled at his tie softly. Causing his eyes to lock into yours, corner of his mouth curving up. His eyes scanned your figure momentarily before getting up and strutting over to the bar.

“Oh. My. God.” J.J.’s voice pulled you back from your staring problem you had with Hotch. You whipped your neck to face her, adjusting your posture in the seat. Shaking your head slightly, “What?”

“What was that about?” J.J. grinned brightly, eyes bouncing from Hotch to you.

“We were just doing some shots together,” you felt your face heating up again. Tongue coming out to wet your lips as your mouth ran dry.

“The only other instances of Hotch getting that close to any of us was when we were hurt,” Spencer chimed in with his analytical sounding tone. Still as smart as ever even while drunk.

“Oh God, you guys,” you shook your head and scooted out of the booth. Stretching your legs for the first time tonight. Hands resting on the table as you got closer to the opposing side. Being eye-to-eye with J.J. and Spencer, “You guys know he acts different when he’s relaxed. It’s nothing.”

Spencer and J.J. exchanged a look of uncertainty. Neither of them believing what you had just said. Rolling your eyes at their smirking expressions. Catching on easily to the feelings you had for your boss.

Downside of having friends who are profilers.

“Drop it,” you pointed at them with two fingers. Your friends began snickering and laughing. You could not help but smile back at them. Laughter was contagious when you were intoxicated. You turned to meet your crush at the bar.

You froze.

Some woman was cuddled up with Hotch at the bar. Breasts peaking out of the top of her thin shirt, curled hair falling below her shoulders, and a beautiful face of makeup. Your heart sank down to your ankles. Watching as her hand trailed his chest. Watching how her perfectly glossed lips popped as she spoke to him inaudibly.

Worst of all: his smile.

SSA Hotchner tended to be gruff and stern. Brooding and unreadable. Purely business around you and the other members of the BAU. Stoic and distant. Something you all agreed was so he did not get overly attached, just in case something happened to one of you. Rarely smiling other than seeing his sweet son, Jack.

Guess tonight was different.

Rosey cheeks and perfect teeth painted his expression. Eyes locked in on the woman before him. Your hands began shaking at your sides. If it was not a cartoon cliche, you would have had smoke coming out of your ears. Teeth grinding together behind tightly pierced lips.

Rethinking any hints he may have given you. Feeling like you had fooled yourself into a crush. Angry that some random bitch woman was getting too friendly with Hotch.

Unable to take it anymore. Jealousy brewing inside you, ready to overflow. You marched up to the bar, immediately pulling Hotch’s attention from the woman.

“Sorry to interrupt—“

“Hi, Y/N,” Hotch smiled at you. Causing butterflies to flutter in your intestines. Especially with the casualty of your first name.

God, he was drunk.

“SSA Y/L/N,” you extended your hand out to the woman, lip twitching when she shined her perfect smile. Flaring your nostrils and locking your jaw when your hand met hers.

“Hi! I’m Hope,” her peppy attitude made you sick to your stomach. Trying your best to fake your expression. Anger causing a slight shake to your demeanor.

“Right…” you trailed off, looking at Hotch whose eyes had not left you yet, “Hotch—“

“C’mon, Y/N. You can call me Aaron here,” he leaned in and whispered to you. Chills ran down your entire body when the heat from his lips radiated against your skin. Swallowing the lump in your throat.

Oh, he was REALLY drunk.

“Aaron,” you started, watching him smile at you saying his first name, “Did you get my drink?”

Hotch’s hand came up cupping his cheek as his eyes squinted, “Oh my God. That’s why I came up here. I totally forgot—“

“Don’t worry about it, Hotch,” your frustration took over your attitude. Fists clinching at your sides. Feeling tears beginning to burn behind your eyes. Deciding to storm off without the drink. Heading towards the long corridor to the bathrooms.

“Y/N—“ Hotch reached out to you with a confusion behind his tone. Not caring enough to listen to whatever excuse his drunken self was gonna give you. Trying your best not to make a scene so none of your coworkers would notice and come after you. Really just needing to be alone.

You leaned against the cold wall, hands holding onto each of your arms. Head resting against the brick of the dimly lit hallway. Fighting your eyes that begged to leak with your feelings. And you felt stupid. Did you really think your own boss would be interested in you? Enough to not get distracted by the beautiful woman at the bar? Please.

Feeling suddenly sober at the heartbreak in your chest. Hands coming up to cover your redening face. Embarrassed that you had even toyed with the notion. Knowing it was completely against protocol to fraternize with coworkers. Let alone with your superior—

“Y/N?” Hotch’s somber voice broke you away from the thoughts filling your mind.

You blinked your eyes open. Manually breathing as your shoulders rose and fell. Controlling the water that begged to pour from your eyes. Clicking your tongue as you spoke, “Hotch.”

“I told you, you could call me Aaron here,” he leaned against the wall beside you. Arms folded over his broad chest. Pondering the informality before looking back to him.

“I thought you saved that for pretty girls at the bar,” you half-heartedly smiled. Flaring your nostrils as you contorted your face to hide your frown.

Hotch laughed, bearing that smile that had you seeing stars. Eyes closing for a moment, giving you the opportunity to linger in it. Enjoying him being this casual with you.

“Is that not what you are?” Hotch asked.

You whipped your head to look at him again. Brows furrowed tightly together as your mouth hung open in confusion. “What?”

Hotch rose a brow, “Are you not a pretty girl? At the bar with me right now?”

You blinked as you stammered, “I— Not like… I mean— not like that girl at the bar…” You trailed off completely dumbfounded by his statement. Hotch watched you with a smile. His own cheeks still red.

“You think I’m pretty?” You finally formed a cohesive sentence unable to stop your mouth from curving into a smile.

“Doesn’t everyone?” Hotch’s hooded eyes stared into yours. Taken aback by that. Questioning for a moment if he was mocking you. Realizing by his expression he was not.

“You’re drunk, Hotch—“

“Aaron,” he corrected, “And, yeah I am drunk. But just drunk enough to finally be honest with you about that.” Hotch’s tongue darted out of his mouth to wet his lip. Hand coming up and rubbing his neck at his confession.

“You didn’t have to come back here just to try and make me feel better. You were having a good chat with that woman at the bar. She was so beautiful, and made you smile, and not a part of the BAU, and—“ you covered your mouth getting embarrassed and shameful.

Hotch’s hand caressed your cheek. Pulling you back to him. His brows laid flat against his eyes. Lips pressed firmly together, watching his throat bob with the swallow he took. Thumb rubbing circles into your warm cheek, swiping away the singular line of tears that streamed down.

“I’m sorry— it’s the alcohol, that’s why I’m crying—“

Hotch cut you off by pressing a passionate kiss to your lips. Your eyes flew open. Hand gently resting against his chest as you savored the feeling of his lips on yours. Feeling your breath hitch in your throat and heart swell.

“You taste so sweet,” Hotch groaned, both hands gripping your face now. The primal noises he made causing arousal to swirl around your belly. Feeling its residue stick to your panties. His lips trailed down your jaw to your neck. Nipping against your soft skin as his hands roamed down the backside of your body. Gasping when his large hands groped your ass.

“I get chit-chatty when I’m drunk. That girl at the bar didn’t matter at all,” Hotch promised against your skin with kisses breaking up his sentences.

“You won’t even remember this in the morning,” you giggled when he took your earlobe between his teeth. Feeling a somberness sinking into your gut.

“How could I forgot this?” Hotch breathed into your ear. Sounding like he was desperate and almost completely out of breath, “Forget about you?”

Hotch pulled back to look into your eyes. Really taking in your face before him. Your eyes kept darting between his and his lips. Smiling when you could still taste him on your lips.

You pressed up on your toes, lips meeting his again. Tongues exploring each other’s mouths. Sloppily intertwining together. Huffs and grunts coming from Hotch as he pulled your front flush against his. You blushed at the feeling of his bulge.

“What about the team?” You questioned as the weight of the situation became suddenly apparent.

“I don’t care about them right now,” Hotch pressed his lips back to yours. Kissing away any fear or dread that was in your mind. Completely consuming you. Smiling as you both allowed hands to roam the other’s body.

You broke the kiss momentarily, “So— wait— you mean Rossi thinks I’m pretty too?” You teased him, grinning from ear to ear.

“Watch it,” Hotch smiled with a playful aggression on his tone, capturing you back in a kiss. Laughing together as you pressed lips together.

~~~

[END//?]

// Thank you so much for reading! I’m having such a blast writing for Hotch right now. Honestly, I’m think about making a smutty part 2 to this fic if anyone was interested. If you have requests or want to be tagged in any future Fics, let me know! //

{tags}

@megangovier ~ @bondwithme-murderstyle ~ @boybandbaby ~ @hoffmanfan13 ~ @justyourusualash ~ @mrs-ssa-hotch ~

[supernatural-bias]

𝐁𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐀 𝐌𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐀𝐭 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐚𝐳𝐛𝐢𝐧 𝐇𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐥 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

↳ warnings: mentions of cannibalism and porn

↳ song: hit the road jack—ray charles

↳ notes: i can't believe i'm posting this (derogatory)

masterlist | commissions | carrd

• You had decided to move into the hotel after a particularly flashy poster caught your eye

• You were just walking to your run down apartment from a shift at your work, messing with the frayed ends of your sleeves, when a burst of neon red and yellow entered your field vision

• It was a poorly drawn advertisement colored head to toe in bright hues and glitter, advertising a hotel that would offer you a shot of getting out of hell

• With a shrug and a tug of the poster, you slipped it off the brick wall and into your pocket

• It’s not like you had anything else going on, and a free room was a free room. Besides; if the redemption thing turned out to be real, that would just be an added bonus

• Upon arriving at the doorstep of the hotel a few days later with a duffel bag in hand and the other rapping against the front door, you were nearly knocked over by a thin demon with red cheeks excitedly asking if you were there to check in

• “Oh my gosh hi! How are you! Because you look amazing and oh my gosh I’m so happy you’ve decided to check in!” She all but shouted in your ear. Cringing slightly, you leaned away from her embrace to slip inside

• “I’m guessing you don’t get a lot of guests?” You asked slowly as she closed the door behind you, some nearby dust stirring up at the action. The inside looked to empty to be a hotel

• “Nope!”

• Your first sign that you were getting more than you had bargained for should have been the sound of scuttling feet as a small demon made her way across your feet to impale a bug on her claws. She was lightly scolded for ‘accidently frightening our new addition’ before running off with the insect

• "Sorry about that! Nifty is really passionate about her job." The demon next to you laughed nervously. You just shifted your weight and nodded awkwardly in response

• Looking a few feet over to the living area, there was a lanky fellow covered in fuzz and lounging on a sad looking couch. He was flicking through channels on a T.V. You caught them occasionally landing on one and laughing before moving on, never staying entertained for too long

• The demon caught your eye, and waved two of his four hands at you in a lazy greeting

• “Oh, that’s Angel Dust! Our other resident." The woman, you now knew as Charlie, fussed. “He’s been with us for a few months, and has shown incredible progress! Something I’m sure you will find yourself doing!” She bounced on the balls of her feet happily while steering you around by the shoulders

• “Uh huh.” You couldn’t help but nod slowly, only now noticing that the channels Angel had been focusing on were blasting various types of porn shows

• A hasty tour was promptly carried out through the rest of the building. You were shown different rooms, all in various states of decay, while simultaneously meeting the other hotel inhabitants

• A fierce lady with a spear— Vaggie, as she had been introduced as —didn’t seem too up for conversation, only giving Charlie a peck on the cheek and you a suspicious glare before climbing a pair of stairs to take care of something else

• Back downstairs, the local bartender didn’t even bother to look at you, instead mumbling something under his breath while playing cards with a snake like demon

• “Don’t take it to heart. Husk is a big sweetheart, really.” Charlie waved at you with a closed eye smile, missing the way that Husk flipped her off grumpily. “And that’s Sir Pentious over there! Besides Angel Dust, and now you I guess, he’s our only guest.”

• The snake simply offered a loud and hissing hello before demanding with theatrical outrage that Husk was cheating. At least you think it was theatrical outrage. He seemed high strung either way

• But by far, the most memorable staff member you met on the tour was a tall demon with a red suit and fluffy ears; the likes of which you and Charlie had barged in on as he ate a plate of what looked like flesh. Whether animal, or something else, you couldn’t tell

• “Finally, this is our facility manager, Alastor! He helps out with all kinds of things here, and will be a key element in your redeeming process.” Your cheery guide announced. She seemed to ignore the slight tension in the air as the other member in the room smiled tightly, but the feeling disappeared as the tall demon stood up in greeting

• “Why Charlie!” Alastor’s voice crackled with heavy static, reminding you of audio from a gramophone. Or perhaps one of those old fashioned radio’s. “If I knew we were having company, I would have made myself more presentable!” He chuckled without ever looking anywhere but you

• You had to tilt your head up to look at him completely. There wasn’t a wrinkle on his suit, and every one of his hairs sat perfectly on his head. Even his monocle appeared to be freshly polished

• “Presentable.” You said slowly and without emotion, aware of Alastor’s highetened gaze on you. “Right.”

• Charlie was quick to get you to your new room after that

• It was weird, trying to fall into a rhythm with a group of people that had already become so aquatinted with one another, but you managed

• The trust exercises were cheesy and took too long, chores were a daily task for everyone, and Alastor snuck around in the shadows too much for your liking, but at least you had a place to live

• Besides. Who was to say you couldn’t make a few friends along the way?

[celestial-sphere-press]

what kind/style of endbands do you usually do? they look so good 👀

hi!! sorry for taking a while to answer, I wanted to make sure I could give you my best answer.

I usually do what's called a "double core" endband. I use double core endbands over the "bead on front" method because bead on front style is not great for uneven distributions of color, irregular patterns, or using more than three colors. Functionally it works by having your extra threads wrapped up inside the thread that is showing, forming the smaller secondary core. Ultimately you are doing figure 8s around the main core & then your secondary core of thread. This keeps things pretty neat & tidy. The tutorial I first used was this one by DAS Bookbinding, though I don't think his endband tutorials are his best ones. Another binder I've spoken with endbands about a lot is maleeka, who recently did an endband tutorial herself.

maybe I should do one... but it takes a lot for me to get enough motivation to make videos. I'll take this opportunity to write up some tips I've shared when people ask instead:

1. Endband core material is the MOST IMPORTANT component. You need a core that is stiff but flexible - it should NOT be floppy because it wiggles everywhere under the tension of the thread, but still needs to flex with the opening & closing of the book. You want something that doesn't compress, to reduce tension shifts in thread creating a lumpy endband. Have a smooth core is less critical but helps to avoid snagging threads & allows you some leeway on sliding threads around for adjustments. My personal choice is smooth leather jewelers cord (link is just an example, I get mine from a local craft store).

2. Thread size. All your threads need to be the same size; it will be visible if you are using two different sizes, and mess with your front core. Additionally, I know lots of people will use larger twists of multiple strands of embroidery thread, which can work, but is more likely to compress & alter its size in unexpected ways. A single strand is preferable. If you want something thicker you can find some thread weights that are heavier twists intended to be used in a single strand, not pulled apart. I prefer smaller sizes because it works better for the gradient designs I like.

3. Silk thread is your friend (if you can spend the money on it). It reduces fuzz (no fuzz like you get with cotton/DMC embroidery thread), it's usually easier to manage, has a more compact twist, and a higher shine. I use Japanese silk hand sewing thread in size #9 (9号). There's multiple brands (Tire, Daruma, KNK/kanagawa, etc). Here's a wholesale listing (minimum 20,000¥ for international). A non-Japanese brand is Guterman silk (German brand). Both the Japanese & German threads come in a heavier weight (Japanese is #16, Guterman is buttonhole).

4. Thread tension is the most important part of the actual technique. You need to ensure the threads currently wrapped in the secondary core keep tension when you are working the thread around them.

5. Working on a curve. This is only really relevant if you're doing an endband on a rounded book, but the circumference of the curve means there's more real estate on the outside vs inside of the curve. Sometimes this can cause bunching on the secondary core. My own solution to this is that sometimes I wrap the primary core but drop a wrap here or there around the secondary core (only between two wraps of the same color I'm dropping). I uh... don't know of anyone currently recommending this besides myself so I can't point to any pro endorsement for this method, it's just what works for me. Forgive my terrible writing:

6. Pattern management. I... don't really plan much how my patterns sit on the spine, which is not very helpful. HOWEVER you can do some pattern management on the fly, if you really want your pattern to end at a certain place. Thread can be packed more or less densely on the core, resulting in some pattern compression; you could also strategically drop wraps in less noticeable locations. An unintended example: I was replicating the pattern on this endband (left) when I realize I wasn't packing the thread as densely as I had the first time around (right), which resulted in the overall pattern taking up more space. You can do this on purpose, if you need to.

this was way more than you asked but it gave me a chance to put all this in one spot. Best of luck in vanquishing the dreaded EndWyrms.

[not-the-cheese]

one sentence(ish) summaries of every magnus archive episode PART 2

(eps 61-110) thank u for the funny comments and tags on the last part i love u guys

the rest of these may take a while as i've caught up to where i am currently in the podcast but i will finish them like in a month i promise

----

61. the thrilling sequel to man does not open coffin: man DOES open coffin.

62. surely this doctor can find an easier way to scam people out of money than putting them in a little book.

63. THE DARK ATE MY BROTHER IN LAW.

64. this is possibly the plot of laura croft tomb raider

65. mmm crumchy

66. what's the opposite of an unboxing video

67. as close to a coffeeshop au as you're going to get from this podcast

68. Doctors hate him! Man REFUSES to die from tuberculosis!

69. your college's psych department has the worst idea ever.

70. reverse death note

71. not even death will stop this woman from taking the british subway

72. man doesn't want to be low key racist in his last moments before getting eaten

73. police versus the second coming of dark jesus

74. lady is haunted by an ad for coffee

75. mike crew says "uh fuck it let's just put this guy on a skyscraper forever"

76. ryan from buzzfeed unsolved breaks into a train yard and suffers consequences

77. you're not a enough of a bitch to be my real mom

78. man gets harassed by his cousin and then exorcises him

79. you know that chase scene in scooby doo with the doors

80. stupid idiot motherfucking jurgen leitner

81. i have been personally victimized by the sequel to the hungry hungry caterpillar

82. pov: elias threatens to cancel you

83. mannequin takes matters into its own hands after people don't like its pitch for a new window display

84. a hoarder put newspaper on my friend's face :(

85. hey there's maybe a little man upon these stairs?

86. man gets got by a squiggly thing in the dark.

87. plumber is so oblivious to spooky happenings around him that it possibly saves his life.

88. guys i think this guy likes to dig

89. lesbian investment banker finds a new, less evil job: arson!

90. guy who turns people's bones starts a gym where he promises not to turn your bones! (he is lying)

91. i was stalked by lightning for 10 years and i all i got were these stupid scars

92. jonah magnus is a bad friend // another day another elias slay

93. ocd is no match for purple fuzz

94. let the bodies drop gently to the floor let the bodies drop gently to the floor

95. im so sorry my brain refuses to remember what the war ones were about but i think one guy got gently kissed on the forehead so that's pretty nice.

96. diversity wins! the not-quite-human delivery men who stole your identity and business are maybe gay?

97. man gets gaslighted by an entire town about a hole

98. 🎶mister sandman bring me a dream, actually don't, please stay far from me 🎶

99. another one bites the dust

100. archival assistants face off against the general public (they lose)

101. jon finally levels up high enough to unlock an eldritch horror's tragic backstory

102. LOCAL MAN MARRIES BUG

103. peppa eats a clown and they cover her in concrete instead of congratulating her.

104. pennywise stole my brother's skin

105. it's world war z baby

106. Something Big Is In Space.

107. man is interrogated about the time he saw thomas the train roasts people alive and also sans is there

108. actor is stalked by mask who liked his monologue so much that it tells its mask friends to come watch.

109. sometimes a family is just a serial killer's daughter and that guy who maybe killed some vampires

110. yeah man those spiders be eating

Part 1 |

[trying-harder-then-u]

Philip wasn't used to all the stares he was getting from his workers; for god's sake, he was the CEO, and they should be paying respect to him, but instead all the builders to whom he paid the salary just stared in confusion and pity at the tall man in his suit guiding the investors around the construction site.

His black suit, thin build, and clean-shaven appearance drew a harsh contrast to the men that watched. The bored faces of the investors showed that they were just as interested in this as he was, so it was a respite when he managed to excuse himself to go to the bathroom.

Stumbling along, dirt and dust caking his boots, he finally ran into the manager of the property, a bulky man with a short fuse. "Where is the bathroom?" he inquired, only greeted by a judging glance as he stared down. "It's employee only; the public bathroom is a block away." Philip was shocked by the never-ending argument, but he made a mental note to find some recourse for the attitude. He picked his way through the clogged city blocks, finally coming to the public bathrooms.

As he walked into the graffiti-covered stall, he felt his disgust build as he saw a strange liquid covering not just the floor but the bathrooms and walls as well. and judging from the smell, he could tell where this liquid came from. Knowing that he didn't have time to waste, he quickly rolled up toilet paper and wiped down the seat of the toilet. After a few seconds, he went to chuck it when he stepped into a large puddle of cum, glaring at the gunk stuck on his heel. Using the wall to support him as he tried to scrape it off, he only managed to get it on his clothes before finally feeling more drip from the roof on top of his bald head.

Now thoroughly disgusted, he went to leave but found he couldn't; he seemed to be...

rooted to the spot? Phillip's whole body began to shiver as his eyes moved rapidly in his sockets. The shivering began to localize on his legs as a cracking sound filled the air. Did the door seem to grow bigger and bigger, or was he getting smaller? He remembered from the view that his height had gone from 6 feet 3 to 5 feet 6. His mind kept screaming as his body tingled, his thin arms tingled, and he began to thicken along with his legs, a small gut growing out.

His pale skin soon would change too as his skin darkened and tanned, matching that of his many workers. changed rapidly now, his once clean, shaven body growing hair all over and his slightly below-average "tool" shrinking a few inches. Finally able to leave, he felt his head fuzz as if his thoughts were being yelled at him through glass, but he did begin to panic when he didn't return to his investors but rather to the man. "Where have you been?" Phillip thought he was yelling; he couldn't hear anything, though. Looking down, his clothes also changed to a plain tee and some shorts; he truly looked just like a worker now.

The next 5 hours, his body went on autopilot, working harder than his old body ever had, but when the work day finally ended, he kept walking to a house he had never seen, climbing stairs after stairs before finally coming to a door that reeked of cum and sweat. Opening in, he saw a young Latino man, no pants, and busy playing some kind of video game. He somehow knew that this was the man whose cum had covered the bathroom that had caused all this.

glancing over the man—his boyfriend? No, that can't be. He was married, and his thoughts were getting harder. Mmm, Phillipe could see the bulge in the other man's underwear, and the other man obviously could see Phillipe's eyes. "Why don't you come help Daddy out, baby?" excitedly he moved forward and began stripping his BF. "That's it, ik you liked the stuff you found in the bathroom you slut, come get some from the source" as he greedily sucked away his memories. Natural, his Spanish accent? attractive to the ladies, not like he needs it with his boyfriend around. His memories shifted fully, and Philip was gone. He was Philip, a Mexican immigrant working hard so his hot boyfriend could play games. His life was difficult with working and then doing all the chores, but at least he got some good dick. and not a person would miss who he was...

[darlingandmreames]

Hot Fuzz and 28 Days Later have bizarrely similar vibes. I am not accepting criticism

[undead-supernova]

Chapter 2 - Series Masterlist

playlist

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

plot: you and Eddie decide you're both showing up. grab some beer, bowl. let that melted cheese on your nachos bring you to a state of vulnerability.

wc: 6k

cw: bickering, smoking, bowling, and alcohol consumption

fic title reference: We Are Going To Be Friends by The White Stripes

I Saw the TV Glow was a big inspiration for this chapter. I don't know how to explain that. They couldn't be more opposite storylines. It did spark this idea so I still have to shout it out. And I listened to the soundtrack while writing it! Beautiful.

p.s. if you havent seen I Saw the TV Glow, you totally should. it's a very important story about queerness and one of the best movies to be released this year. anyways don't think about that right now. instead, go ahead and read this chapter that I'm very proud of. watch the movie after.

There once was a boy who made your impressionable heart swell. He was the class clown, the certified It Boy of your middle school class. Not a jock by any stretch of the imagination, all lanky and desperate for just a touch of peach fuzz on his upper lip. But he was charming. And funny. And cute.

He made the girls giggle and twirl their hair, imitating the exaggerations of television. They would wear makeup to school, always quick to pass around tubes of lip gloss as soon as they left their mothers’ cars. 

You, however, stayed true to yourself. You tried the natural approach, quite certain that he would like you if you didn’t act like the other girls. Sure, he never looked your way. He never gave you a second thought. But, for some reason, that meant something to you.

The day you were assigned a seat next to him in English, he’d forgotten his book. This was your shot. This was your moment. So you offered to share yours, heads huddled together to peer down at the pages of Catcher in the Rye. Your heart was pounding in your ears, shutting out the teacher completely.

After class, he’d thanked you. Asked for your name. Told you it was really pretty. Then he asked for your help on his next paper.

And you said yes immediately, a larva without the protection of a chrysalis.

You agonized over his papers, noting that he wasn’t necessarily the best writer or all that smart, but it was him. He trusted you with his words and that meant he could trust you with his heart. At some point.

Until the end of eighth grade when he invited you to meet him on the playground, behind a large oak tree that the kids used as cover to make out. You’d approached slowly, wearing the lipstick you’d stolen from the local pharmacy.

But when you peered around, you were drenched in spoiled milk. Milk. 

A chorus of laughter sounded and you watched in horror as your crush grinned at you like you were entertainment.

His friend handed him a five dollar bill and they ran off.

That was all you were worth.

After that, you thought you knew what hurt was. What it was like to learn your lesson and never allow yourself the ability to fall into something like that again. An unrequited crush. But that was before high school, where the boys got more clever in their humiliation. Fake love notes, getting handsy at dances before calling you a freak. 

You swore never to let a boy you liked be mean to you again. You meant it.

But never once did you believe it.

It’s just a bowling alley, you thought. Spending one night with him won’t kill me.

The parking lot was nearly deserted, outside of a few Hondas and a gray Chevy Astro. Two of the street lamps were blown out, the remaining three dulled by the fierce January chill. 

You wondered if Eddie would even show up. Maybe this was his prank, one with Ashton Kutcher as an accomplice waiting around in an alley and snickering to themselves. You’d believe it. He was devious enough to make it happen.

It would be a joke for the ages, after you’d applied makeup and spent time working on your hair. You’d put on something casual but seemingly more put together, a deep brown long-sleeved shirt, leaving the first two buttons popped. Layered on top was a cropped, dark green jacket with a hood. You’d settled for dark blue jeans and Converse, sure, but the muted nude pink lipstick you pathetically checked in the sun visor was a step above your usual stupidity.

But Eddie had been insistent about this and it hurt to admit it, but you believed him. In your hardest of hearts, you trusted his word. It was aggravating.

The clock struck seven and you gave yourself one last deep breath before you got out of your car and made your way to the entrance. 

Lanesman was a frequent spot for you, a solitary activity that gave you an excuse to revert to your childhood. After you’d moved back and took this job, you found yourself gravitating towards what used to bring you joy. Bowling with the kid bumpers apparently did the trick.

Working at a high school made you realize that growing up didn’t mean forgetting. It didn’t mean an automatic erasure of what used to soothe your blues. If anything, it reinforced your need for that promise of safety.

The lobby was beige and dull, walls smattered in faded neon paint that hadn’t been updated since your youth. A miserable looking teenager stood at the concession stand, frustratedly trying to get the popcorn to pop. 

As you scanned further, you felt something shock your system as you saw Eddie standing there, waving at you with his plethora of rings twinkling in a fluorescent haze.

He looked nice tonight, with a black Henley, jeans, and Converse that mirrored yours. He started towards you, leaving you to notice the top two buttons of his shirt were unbuttoned. A hint of black could be spotted underneath, a wave of embarrassment washing over you as you wondered what tattoos he hid underneath.

But the thing that got you was his hair.

You’d never seen it down before, couldn’t even estimate how long you thought it would be. It hung in wavy curtains around his face and draped onto his shoulders. This was something you hadn’t seen coming. And here he was, sidling up to you.

“You’re early,” you started.

“Yeah, well,” he replied with a shrug. “I’m honestly shocked you showed up.”

“Yes, it seems that we are both in a state of shock.”

Eddie’s eyebrows shot up. “You’ll have to trust me eventually, you know.”

“We’ll see about that,” you shot back, shaking your head.

He snorted. “Alright, well. I’ll get the shoes if you get the beer.”

“I can do that,” you agreed before giving him your shoe size.

Eddie lifted his fingers and shot you with finger guns. “Always believed in you.”

He winked. 

Frustration flooded your system as he held your gaze for a moment too long. “I’m leaving now,” you murmured before walking away.

“You do that.”

Yeah, I will, you thought. Dickhead.

You made your way to the counter where that poor kid held up a finger as he attempted to fix the popcorn machine. The sounds of the arcade in the other room projected into the concession area, electronic sounds and buzzers trying to lure children in. As if there were any here in the first place. 

Eventually you ordered, getting a pitcher of beer and nachos. As you waited for the cheese machine to whirl back to life, you found your eyes wandering over towards the shoe hut. 

Eddie was laughing at something the kid said before taking two pairs of shoes and heading towards the back where the lanes were. Those areas were covered in blue wallpaper with pink squiggles, glowing neon in the rotating lights. He faded into the glow, dropping the shoes onto the table. 

You wondered why he’d gotten here early, going so far as to avoid the observation once you’d acknowledged it. This wasn’t even including his attitude being much more reserved than usual. He didn’t mock you once in that entire interaction. 

The night was still young, though.

When you walked over, Eddie’s eyes lit up at the sight of goodies in your arms.

“Beer and nachos?” he asked.

“Got a problem with nachos?”

Eddie grabbed a chip, drenching it in as much cheese as he could. “No, but you will after I eat all of them,” he said before tossing it into his mouth.

“Of course you’d never leave me any,” you commented as you set down the cups, beer, and nachos next to the shoes. 

He swallowed before shaking his head. “You know I can just get us some more, right?”

You shrugged off your coat, tossing it over his. “So that you can eat all of those, too?”

“These are some harsh accusations.”

“They’re hunches,” you countered, crossing your arms over your chest.

Eddie rolled his eyes. “Come on. Tonight’s supposed to be about starting over, remember?”

You knew he was right. This was supposed to be a truce. Where was your can-do attitude? 

You took a deep breath before saying, “Yeah, okay. Sure. Yes. Starting over.”

Eddie smiled at you before throwing out his hand. “Hi, I’m Eddie Munson. Nice to meet you.”

You stared down at his hand. “We’re doing this?”

His smile widened. “We are.”

“Okay, fine.” You introduced yourself before taking his hand in yours. Shaking it, you added, “It’s nice to meet you.”

“What do you do for work?”

You snorted. “Uh, I’m a freshman English teacher at South Jefferson High School.”

He gave you a surprised expression. “You’re serious?”

“Uh, yeah?” you asked, confused.

He placed his free hand on his chest. “I’m a freshman English teacher at South Jefferson High School.” 

That was when you realized what was going on. What Eddie was attempting to do. You were really starting over. And if he was animated about this bit then, fuck it, you could be, too. 

Enthusiastically, you exclaimed, “What? That’s crazy!”

Eddie grinned, sparking something inside you. “Isn’t it?”

“How come I’ve never seen you around before?” you asked, fully playing along now.

“I don’t know! I’m in room 11A.”

You gasped. “I’m in 14A.”

“This is so bizarre.”

“I know. Small world, huh?”

In the silence that followed, you became aware of pressure that remained against your palm. The forgotten sensation that had your eyes lowering to your hand. They were joined, warmth being passed back and forth as your playful exchange came to a close. It felt like you couldn’t breathe.

So, you let go.

“Wanna bowl?” you asked, still feeling hazy. “With…me?”

Eddie coughed before sticking his hands in his back pockets. “Absolutely. Though, I have to warn you that I have the bumpers up.”

You smiled. “That’s the only way to play.”

Eddie won the first round. 

However, much to his dismay, you won the second.

It involved a lot of groans, snorts, and retreats to the beer pitcher in between turns. Overall, it was a pretty civil affair which surprised Eddie. He wondered how you felt about it.

The two of you now sat on top of the joint tables, having gone through a second pitcher of beer and demolished another helping of nachos. There’d only been one or two lanes taken up since you started, the room still in near silence outside of “I Wanna Love You” by Akon and Snoop Dogg playing over the crackled speakers. 

You sat close to one another, mirroring each other. Both you and Eddie were hunched over, feet planted on the chair in front. But as the conversation continued, you were turning closer to one another. The distance didn’t really feel like distance anymore.

Eddie was finishing off his final sip of beer when you suggested, “What if we did honesty hour?”

He glanced over at you, slowly lowering his cup. “What, like ask each other questions?”

“Yeah, and the other person has to answer. Nonegotiable.”

That was rather brave of you. And bold. You avoided any and all sense of trying to understand him. Not once did you ask him a question that wasn’t drenched in kerosene. Plus, what did you know about honesty? You grew defensive at any hint of curiosity and hostile when he reiterated whatever you told him. Could this really be considered progress or just a chance to seem like the good guy?

“Oh, I don’t know if you could handle your own game,” he challenged.

“What!” you exclaimed, lifting your hands.

He shook his head, unable to believe you were seriously that shocked. “You always have this look in your eye,” he said, wiggling his fingers in your face.

“What look?” you asked, slapping his hand away.

“Like you’re withholding information.”

One of your eyebrows twitched. “Is it wrong for me to keep some things to myself?” you argued, a forced chuckle leaving your lips. “I don’t need to tell you every thought in my head.”

“Why not?” “Because you make fun of everything I do!”

Eddie shook his head again, your irony bordering on comical. “You get mad at everything I do. Why do you get to be all high and mighty about it?”

“Because at least I keep my opinions to myself.”

“You make your opinions very clear, actually.” You rolled your eyes. “Okay, so are we gonna start or what? I don’t wanna do this if you’re gonna keep getting defensive.”

You let out a small groan. “Okay, yes. Fine.”

“We’ll start off easy, okay?” You nodded. “What was your favorite part of Napoleon Dynamite?”

You chuckled, catching him off guard. Then you smiled and an unexpected ease filled his chest. “Oh, most definitely Napoleon test tasting the milk.”

“It’s so nasty,” he agreed, feeling a laugh escape him. “Almost as good as the part when he watches Pedro ride his bike and asks if he can too and—”

“And he breaks the ramp!” you finished for him.

He nodded emphatically. “Yes, exactly!”

“I loved it. It was really funny.”

“What can I say? I have good taste.”

“You have one point,” you told him, holding up your pointer finger. “One.”

He shrugged. “That’s one more than yesterday.”

“Guess that means it’s my turn to ask a question?”

“Nah,” he said, shaking his head. “I think I have a few more.”

“What? I came up with the idea.”

“Yes, but you always dodge answering anything honestly.”

“As if you don’t say anything other than,” you lowered your voice, “Oh, look at me. I’m so cool. You’re just jealous ‘cause I’m just so cool.”

Eddie snorted. “And what do you think you do?” He raised the pitch of his voice. “What? How dare you! Stop that! Ugh. I could never.”

“Yeah, okay,” you agreed. “I do sound like that.”

“Finally rolling an eighteen for once.”

You paused. Eddie watched as you looked down. “Did you just…” you trailed, eyes slowly coming back up to meet his. “Did you just make a Dungeons and Dragons reference?”

“Maybe.”

A loud chortle flew through the air as you exclaimed, “Oh my god! You’re a nerd!”

He rolled his eyes. “Nerd? Really? Are we in high school?” You gave him a playful shrug. “The fact that you know the rules means you’re just as big of a nerd as I am.”

“Exactly!” you exclaimed. “It’s not a bad thing. It just feels like. Well. I don’t know. I guess, to me, it feels like you’re a real human being now.”

“That’s because you have forgotten to ask me anything about myself.” You opened your mouth, but he beat you to the punch. “Which you can do after I ask mine.”

“Okay, fine,” you replied with a huff.

“Do you actually enjoy teaching at SJ?”

“Of course I do,” you said too quickly, eyes narrowing.

Eddie shook his head. “Defensive. I really am asking. It’s not a trap.”

“Fine, fine,” you agreed, holding up your hands. “I enjoy what I’ve started doing. I mean, I don’t think I’ve made the impact that I’ve wanted to, which was why getting the opportunity to do this full-time was really exciting.”

“Do you think this’ll be a long term thing? Teaching here?”

“I hope so. Maybe not forever, but I want to right now. I think I owe it to these kids who’re already in such a vulnerable phase in their lives. It keeps getting scarier out in the world. The least I can do is try to help make it easier with the small pocket of time I have in their lives.”

“That’s really sweet,” Eddie whispered, and he meant it.

“Oh, thanks,” you whispered back. “I mean it.”

“Does your family live around here? Or your, uh, boyfriend.” He panicked when you raised an eyebrow. “Or girlfriend. I, uh, I don’t judge.”

Shaking your head, you said, “No, my family isn’t around. I haven’t seen them in over a year. I moved back and then they moved across the country. Besides, we barely call. We’re all bad at using the phone. I write them sometimes, but it’s usually attached to cheesy holiday cards.” You looked down at your cup. “And no. I don’t have a partner of any kind at the moment.”

“Interesting,” he said.

“Do you?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Do I what?”

“Do you have a girlfriend? Or a boyfriend?”

Eddie almost said, “Why do you wanna know?” But you were making real progress for once. He couldn’t fuck it up now. Not when your eyes were returning to his, brave and unafraid now.

“I do not,” he answered. “I don’t have a partner of any kind right now.”

“And your family?”

It was his turn to cower away. “Yikes,” he whispered, planting a goofy expression on his face to soften the blow. “Uh, yeah. My dad’s in jail and my mom passed when I was a kid. My uncle lived around here but he actually met a nice guy so now they pose as roommates in Ohio.”

“What’s in Ohio?”

That was your answer? To everything he just said, giving you the basics of a fucked up childhood, the only thing you had to respond with was a question about what state his uncle and his boyfriend settled on?

“Dave, I guess,” he replied, studying your lack of expression. You let out a hum and nodded. “Does that not, like, weird you out?”

“What part exactly?”

“My parents.”

You shook your head. “No, not really.”

“Hm.”

“Do you want me to be weirded out?”

“No, I…” Eddie trailed before taking a deep breath. “I’d prefer if you didn’t.”

You nodded. “Then you’ll be absolutely ecstatic to know that I am far from being weirded out.”

“Incredible,” he said lightly, trying to force out a laugh. He sobered up quickly when you gave him a closed-lip smile. “Last question.”

“Hit me.”

Do you really hate me?

He blinked. “Would you go outside with me and share a cigarette?”

“Yeah,” you replied. “Yeah, let’s do it.”

So you climbed off the tables, grabbing your jackets and heading back out the front door. Eddie had been eyeing your appearance all night, especially the lipstick you’d donned. You never wore lipstick at work and you hadn’t the last few times he saw you around the city. Why now?

If only asking questions didn’t get him annihilated. 

“I’ve actually decided I want my own,” you said, turning toward him.

“Of course you do.” Your breaths fogged together as you chuckled. “Are you finally gonna try a Marlboro Red?”

Your smile bordered on mischief as you pointed your thumb at the parking lot. “I mean, I have a pack of Newports in my car. I could always go get them.”

Eddie shook his head, slipping his pack out of his jacket. “Nah, I don’t trust you to come back.”

Snapping, you said, “Damn. You foiled my epic evil plan.”

“I see right through you.”

“You sure do.”

Eddie held out a lone cigarette for you to take. You gave him a small smile before plucking it from his fingers and sliding it between your teeth. He tried handing you the lighter but you shook your head.

“You’re not gonna light it for me?” you asked around the cigarette. “Some manners you’ve got.”

With only a snort as a response, Eddie lit both of your cigarettes at the same time. The smoke swirled through the air, mimicking a blanket of snow you were sure to get in the next few weeks.

The banter between you was nice. Eddie had made his peace with the constant back and forth, but nothing felt better than this. The two of you being civil and, if not friends, friendly. Your scowl had faded, leaving behind your gentler expressions. If he didn’t find you beautiful before, there was something almost explosive about what he saw now.

He wondered what it was like to grow up so wondrous. What kind of kid you were and whether you experienced the atrocities that he had in high school. What did you turn into after, when you could grasp at the sleeves of freedom? Did your fingers ever slip?

You bent down to stub out the cigarette before tossing it in the trash can next to the door. Eddie watched you, wondering how he could keep you from leaving. Sure, you probably weren’t thinking about leaving. But. Still.

He needed more time with you. He needed more time to understand you. And if you were to walk away from here tonight without divulging those details, he thought he’d explode. Especially when you’d be back as coworkers the following week.

So, he got an idea.

“We should go to the little arcade inside.”

“Why, so I can beat your ass?”

“Woah there!” Eddie exclaimed. “Trash talk. I like it.”

You took a step towards the door, watching as he flicked his cigarette out onto the pavement. “Guess you’re rubbing off on me.”

Before you could pull any further, Eddie was taking the handle from you. “I should do it more often,” he replied, gesturing for you to walk through.

“It’s only ‘cause I’m a little tipsy.”

“You didn’t have to drink the beer. I mean, it is kinda shitty.”

You shrugged. “I’ve been having fun. Sue me.”

“Then you’ll be excited to know that the arcade is the final showdown.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah, think about it. I won the first round. You won the second, right?” You nodded. “So who is the winner?”

“We could tie and practice good sportsmanship.”

“What’s the fun in that?”

You giggled. You fucking giggled.

It jolted him. It wasn’t lightning, but rather the shock of static electricity on an unforgiven doorknob. 

“You’re right,” you said with a shrug.

God, he really fucking liked you.

“We’ll play three rounds,” Eddie started, fiddling with the coins in his hands. “First are Galaga and Target Terror. And then, for our final showdown? The claw machine.”

“The claw machine is rigged,” you argued. “We’ll both lose.”

“Yeah, with that attitude.” You snorted. “You can’t know if you don’t try.”

Instead of whipping up some witty comeback, you trudged over to the dusty Galaga machine, noting that one of the coin slots was shattered.

Eddie came to stand next to you, plopping a coin in your palm before you thrusted it into the unbroken slot and took off.

One thing you’d failed to mention up until this point was how shitty you were at any and all arcade games. You’d once thought Galaga was your favorite, something you gravitated towards as a kid. The flashes of neon against the black, with only specks of color to create the illusion of a night sky. It always drew you in, the feeling that you were escaping somewhere outside yourself. Outside of the reality— 

“Oh, come on, really?” you exclaimed as you failed. 

“You’re just smashing the keys,” Eddie groaned.

You shot him a look. “But that’s what you’re supposed to do!”

“Well,” he started, bumping your hip with his. “Doesn’t matter now ‘cause you’re dead. Officially. Time for you to scoot over. Come on.”

Reluctantly, you switched places. 

And, boy, were you immediately intimidated.

Eddie was a whiz, all calm and collected as he focused on the screen like his life depended on it. His fingers stretched, skillfully defending space from the countless hoards of aliens and other creatures that dared to cross his path. 

He finally died at the low low score of 140,820. 

“What the fuck?” you muttered as he took a step back and grinned at you.

“So that’s, what, two points now for me and one for you?”

You tried to suppress your glare. “Good job,” you said through your teeth.

Eddie gave you a bow. “Why, thank you. Sometimes it pays off to be a nerd.”

It wasn’t that you were a sore loser. But you were with a sore winner. Now it was time to get your revenge. How you would do that was beyond you, but you had to try.

“Come on,” you told him.

Your next destination was the Target Terror, taking the red gun before he even approached. For good measure, you turned and pretended to shoot him. Eddie let out a dramatic gasp before clutching his chest and falling to the floor.

Laughter tumbled out of you without any thought, made boisterous when he twitched and kept making the stupidest noises you’d ever heard before finally playing dead.

“Bravo,” you complimented.

Like a flattened cartoon character, he regenerated and sprung back up to his feet. 

“I’m a natural, I know,” he responded, sliding coins in for you both.

“Yeah, you should be the next drama teacher.”

He grabbed the blue gun. “I actually think I’d kick ass at it.”

He didn’t sound like he was joking.

As you went to shoot the start button, you couldn’t help but look over at Eddie. He was checking out the gun and deciding on his hand placement as if that mattered. But you were thinking about something else.

Eddie was a good guy, wasn’t he? Take away his revolting arrogance and inability to keep his mouth shut and you could see a person underneath. His ambition mirrored yours and maybe, just maybe, his heart had been in the right place all along. Maybe there was more to him that you wanted to learn.

You wanted to be his friend.

Eddie caught your eye, pausing to look up at you. “What?” he asked. “You waiting on me?”

“Um.” You made yourself look back at the screen. “Yeah, I want to win fair and you’re taking too long. So. Uh. Let’s play.”

Without another word, you shot the first level and the two of you were off, trying to kill as many bad guys as you could. Though, they were kinda lame, just some guys in hoodies and sunglasses. A few of them were women which you appreciated, but they were the only ones who seemed like they had any real backstories. 

You tried not to sneak a glance over at Eddie’s score, but you couldn’t help it. You were winning. He seemed to be struggling, glancing over at you every so often. His frustrated looks sat in your peripheral, leaving you with a shit eating grin on your face as you took your sweet time. 

“What the hell,” he said when it hit game over.

You pretended to blow smoke off of your plastic gun before putting it back. “You were just smashing the trigger,” you said. “So, that’s, what? Two points for me, two for you?”

Eddie sighed. “Guess I deserved that one.”

You smirked. 

The claw machine was the final destination, lined in yellow and emitting a neon glow. Turning to look at Eddie, you saw the neon illuminating his dark eyes which were solely on you. 

You nearly did a double take, suddenly overwhelmed by the exposure.

“What?” you asked.

“What?” he retorted, smirking.

“You’re staring at me.”

“Maybe I am.”

“Why?”

“‘Cause you’re really pretty.”

Your gut twisted again. “You think I’m pretty?”

“Yeah, of course I do. Why wouldn’t I?’

“I feel like you look at me as some, I don’t know, clownish hag or something.”

“Clownish hag?” he repeated.

“Or something.”

Eddie laughed. “You’re just saying that because that’s how you see me.”

“You think that I think you’re a clownish hag?”

“Isn’t that why you’re so annoyed by me?”

“No, I’m annoyed by you because your goal in life is to make mine miserable.”

“Sure, yeah. Let’s go with that.” You rolled your eyes. “So how do you see me then? Hm?” “I mean, a guy like you already knows how pretty he is. I don’t think I have to be the one to tell you that.”

His eyebrows lifted. “Pretty, huh?”

“What?” you asked, blinking.

“You think I’m pretty, too.”

“Objectively, yes.”

“Objectively,” he repeated, snorting.

“You can’t deny it.”

“Only if you don’t deny finding me pretty.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Alright. Come on.” He gestured towards the machine. “Go ahead and try.”

Your eyes lingered on him for possibly a second too long before you returned your attention to the claw machine. Hitting the start button, you moved the claw around the box. You were sure this was going to fail. There was no other way for this to go.

Eddie called me pretty.

It was a rigged system. You give them your money, left with the unspoken contract that this was a game of chance. You paid for what you got in the end. No take backs. No refunds. What you ended up with was what you ended up with. There was no return to the way things were before you gave away something so special. 

Eddie called me pretty.

But in the end, there really was nothing left to lose. So, you slammed your hand down on the button.

Eddie called me pretty.

Slowly, the claw extended and fell against a small tiger plushie. It clamped down on its head before slowly rising. You gasped as it stayed secure and moved towards the safety box inside. Then, the claw opened.

And you won.

Almost simultaneously, you and Eddie erupted in shrieks, jumping up and down as you stared at the machine in disbelief. 

“Oh my god!” you exclaimed.

His eyes sparkled. “You did it!” 

“I know! That was crazy!”

Eddie laughed and gave you a high five. “That was amazing.”

You shrugged. “I’m the best, what can I say?”

“Can’t disagree with you there, sweetheart.”

You felt your eyes widen, mirroring the same exact movement now coming from him. 

Sweetheart.

Of all the names you’d been given from crushes, part-time lovers, and partners, never had you heard the word sweetheart.

It sent a wave of bubbles to your gut before floating up, up, up and into your throat. You tried to clear it, but nothing could get it out. Eddie held your stare, seemingly unable to make a comment. Unable to call you out for what you surely knew he knew despite you not really knowing for yourself. 

What was happening?

“Eddie?”

You heard him take a sharp inhale as his name left your lips. It was the first time you’d uttered it out loud. To yourself. To someone else.

To him.

“Can I ask you something?”

He nodded, slowly. “Anything.”

You could feel yourself unraveling. “Do you really want to be my friend?” you whispered.

Eddie’s expression softened. “Of course I do.”

“Do you really mean that?”

“Yes.” He didn’t even blink.

“Really?”

“Yes.”

The catch in your throat was enough.

Eddie’s hands lifted, fingers slowly curling around your cheeks before bringing your lips to his. 

It was the meteor you never saw coming. A gentle kind of impact. It’s intense and explosive, but there’s safety. Somehow, Eddie’s the reason why. 

He was gone too quickly, not giving you enough time to process why he was making you feel this way. But his eyes met yours and suddenly he was the breathless one.

“Uh, sorry,” he said, taking slow blinks.

You didn’t know what to say. Too many questions were caught in your throat. Was this manipulation? Was this real? And if it was, did that mean he liked you? Did that mean that you liked him?

But Eddie began to take a step back and it angered you to no end.

“Don’t you dare,” you grumbled, grabbing onto that stupid open collar of his. “Come here.” You pulled him back toward you, connecting your lips once more.

The trance fixed itself, your brain struck with neon pixels of excitement, of bewilderment. There was this need to completely consume him. To take his breath as your own so that you may understand who he is and what makes this so different.

You knew you’d never be the same after this ended.

Eddie was quick to reverse the roles, turning you around pulling you to the other side of the claw machine, hiding you both. You had no problem shoving him against the wall, both hands on his chest now. 

He broke through your arms, reaching for your jaw once more and dragging you closer. As if that were possible. As if there was any space left between your bodies. 

It wasn’t desire. It was necessity.

Your fingers locked around his hips, digging your fingernails as hard as you could. It was instinctual, like there was no other way this could go.

He let out a deep moan, sounding more like a growl than anything else. It sprung you further as you pressed your hips against his. You found friction and chased it without hesitation. 

Hands moved down to your neck, squeezing ever so lightly.

Your goosebumps rose like static electricity. 

But then someone cleared their throat. Loudly.

You jumped away, turning to find the kid from the counter. “Uh, yeah, hi. Please stop making out in the arcade.”

“Oh, sorry,” you said.

All he did was shrug and walk away.

Slowly, your heart slowed down and you dared yourself to look back at Eddie, his pink lips coated in your lipstick.

His eyes were already on yours, but you could see little flickers to your lips. It restarted that pumping, pushing you to take a step forward.

So did he.

His hand found your elbow and drew you forward.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hi.”

“That was…” he trailed.

“It was what?” you asked, feeling dread pool in your stomach.

He paused. Too long, your thoughts echoed. Too long.

And that’s when it finally hit you.

Eddie hadn’t given you a second glance before the book club debacle started. There was no indication of interest or intrigue, settling on December as the start date of his ventures. December, when it was finalized that the two of you would be sponsoring together. 

He’d come into the break room for lunch. He had to know you’d be in there, had to know already that you were co-sponsors. Why else would he try to rile you up? Why else would he try to befriend you?

He was tricking you.

This had been his plan all along. 

He was trying to get you to forget all about the book club. He was trying to take it for himself. You knew he’d certainly read enough books to know how to do it. 

This was what men did. They got you alone, vulnerable, and then stabbed you in the back. Their games were always the same. 

You’d grown up, but you were still just as naive as you were at eleven. Fifteen. Nineteen. Twenty-five.

“What am I doing?” you wondered out loud, glancing at him one last time before you turned and walked towards your coat and purse.

Eddie didn’t follow you.

Once more, you smoothed the wrinkles in your white button down and red floral skirt. Your heel-clad feet ached as you leaned against the desk at the head of the room. Next to you was Eddie, back to his bun and waiter uniform. He stood a few feet away, but you were more than conscious of his presence.

It was cumbersome, lighting your skin on fire as you gave fake smiles to every student filing into your classroom at three-ten in the afternoon. The tension was palpable, found in the awkward silence that rested between the two of you.

One by one, the students sat down and made small talk with their friends. They laughed and giggled, eyes flickering over to you two every so often.

But at three-fifteen, you heard Eddie clear his throat.

“We’re going to start by re-introducing ourselves,” he started.

You both said your names.

You couldn’t help but glance over at Eddie, watching as he did the same.

Quickly averting your gaze, you took a quick breath and looked back at the kids.

“So,” you said. “Who wants to go first?”

requested tagging: @anukulee, @twihard28, @doorlesscub00, @whisperingwillowxox, @ubiquitous-corvids, @kellsck

thank you to @littlexdeaths for her dividers :')

[gatorbites-imagines]

the request for hobie and the icp spiderman reader has intrigued me and I would like to see hobie x male reader who isnt a spiderman but a civillian, hes the lead guitarist for a metal band and hobie shows up to the venue for the readers concert as theres a gun threat or something along those lines (if thats ok ofc )

Hobie Brown x lead guitarist male reader

Headcanons

I think im experiencing writers block again.

You two most likely met at one of your concerts, or one of Hobies’ for that matter. Maybe it was an event where multiple bands would play.

You would both be amazed by the others playing, and before either of you knew what was happening, you two could be found flirting in the corner of the room. Everyone else faded into the background as you two got to know each other.

Time would pass, you two would text as you shared numbers that night, you two would go to each other’s concerts, all the shebang. Sadly Hobie had to slow down on his own music as all the spiderman things started going down, but that doesn’t stop him from coming to see you.

He can always be found in the crowd somewhere, easily spotted thanks to his height and his hair. Seeing him there always makes you feel better, and you tell him he’s gotta be your lucky token, as you’re playing always sounds better when he’s present.

It would be no secret that you two were dating, as it becomes a common sight to see you jump off the stage after concerts, maybe even throwing yourself as Hobie so he has to catch you. It becomes part of the experience for the people going after a while.

Your band probably isn’t that big, maybe more of a local famous band, but that’s exactly what Hobie loves anyways. He doesn’t approve of the larger music industry and how it relies on nepotism and money.

A gun threat could happen for many reasons, maybe they don’t like the music or your bands message, maybe they don’t like that the lead guitarist is so openly gay, maybe they just did it because it was somewhere with a lot of people.

Because the world you guys live in, you all get down when the person with the gun appears, waving their weapon around and threatening the people around them.

Of course, you have to play hero, so when they are threatening to shoot someone, you jump off the stage to get their attention. Right as the gun turns towards you and they are about to pull the trigger, Spiderman shows up and takes care of the perp.

If hes being extra rough with the perp, no one will notice. Its of course because Hobie was terrified you would get hurt, especially if he knows about canon events at this point, and has seen how the lovers of spiderpeople always end up hurt or dead.

He can’t go scoop you up as spiderman, so he quickly wraps up what he needs to do and comes back as himself, making it seem like he was there the whole time. Your band would be fuzzing over you, whilst also calling you cool for stepping in like that, when Hobie comes running.

Your bandmates only laugh as Hobie picks you up, checks you all over, and kisses you, telling you to never do something so stupid again.

After that Hobie would be on edge for a while, tense and paying closer attention to you than normal. He would stick closer to you during concerts, always eyeing the people around and staying close to the stage so he could pull you to safety if needed.

Your bandmates and the locals would just accept it, seeing it as one of Hobies quirks, some would even find it romantic that he watches out for you so much after the threat. They just think hes a protective boyfriend, they have no idea your protective boyfriend is spiderman though.

If he has no choice but to patrol on nights you have concerts, he always sticks close by and swings past where the concert is happening, to see you, but also to keep an eye out for any danger. It becomes a joke that spiderman is a big fan of your band, which you find humorous since he is, everyone else just doesn’t know.

It would take a while for Hobie to calm down, though the caution is always there but it’s always been there, as it comes with being spiderman. Just expect to be kisses before every concert now except for after, just in case.