#i want to look at movies and things my friends say not your morality plays for things you've never experienced and just assume are fine

[oleskellybones]

i wish there was a tumblr setting that would lock me out of my dashboard and only let me look at individual blogs and my own likes

[luv4berry]

my eyes only.

earth 42!miles morales x fem!reader

SUMMARY: miles belleves that you're for him and for him only, no sharing. not even with your best friend.

GENRE: angst to fluff

WARNINGS: bickering/arguing, suggestive(?), kissing, idk if this counts as toxic miles lowkey right in his anger but at the same time is he fr, jealous miles, y/n is lowkey a walking red flag, cursing, man idk

AUTHORS NOTE: the autism is rlly autisming with this movie </3

“baby you not stupid and i know you aren’t, why you acting like that?”

“miles, leave me alone.”

“nah, cause i already told you ion like him, why you still talking to him? you fuckin’ with him or sum?” he narrows his eyes at you, clasping his hands in between his legs while cocking his head to the side.

“im not having this conversation with you, call me when you done having your lil tantrum or whatever.” you ignore your boyfriend's scowl as you slide to the end of his bed and silently load everything into your coach tote bag, incoherently mumbling to yourself.

“the childish shit im talking about man.” he shakes his head, twin braids following suit. he gets out of his rolling chair, snagging the bag from your hands and holding it above his head where you can’t reach.

visibly annoyed, you roll your eyes at the tantrum he was throwing. before you had even dated him you laid down all possible icks, including your best friend. you told him how your relationship with said best friend was non-negotiable due to the significance he held in your life before miles. before miles, he was the one who you cried to, who you confined in about your family, your feelings, your insecurities. though after getting with miles you weren’t as close with him, he was still your best friend.

“miles give me my shit, don’t piss me off.”

“why? what you hiding? ain’t no way you not messing with him.”

in the stillness of his room, your phone rapidly vibrates inside your bag, miles interest immediately piqued when his fingers curve around the device, the name “dante <3” flashing on the screen.

he laughs to himself, but you knew better than to think it was a laugh of amusement. the manner of his laugh was deeply provoked, a telltale sign that it had an underlying meaning. he sends you a hard look, “so we adding hearts now too? bet.” he says while answering the facetime call.

“y/n?” dante calls out to you, the camera panned toward the ceiling, his ruffled locs in frame.

“nah she busy right now homeboy, what you want?”

“uh okay? can you ask her if she can retwist my hair this sunday?”

“nah.” he blatantly answers.

“huh?”

“dante hang up!” you call out from behind miles, to which he sends you another glare. before dante can respond miles hangs up, turning his whole body to face you. “so wassup?”

“miles give me my phone.”

“your phone? ma this our phone.” you roll your eyes once more and quickly snatch your phone from his grasp, shoving it into the tote bag and slipping your black crocs on. “don’t text my phone either.” you yell on your way out slamming his room door, silently praying that mama rio wasn’t home.

it was getting more and more difficult to manage the pit that sat in your bosom from the fight you had with your boyfriend earlier. you were used to talking to him in your dimly lit room around this time, your hands playing with the loose coils at the back of his head while saying cheesy things to each other, exchanging light pecks and subtle touches.

you groan loudly, tired of sulking to yourself you decide to get up from your bed, do your makeup and take pictures. you sit at your vanity, shuffling your playlist while opening up your makeup bag.

about 20 minutes into your routine, you hear incoherent voices coming from just outside your door. you tip toe towards the door, peaking your head out to see miles, helping your mom set the dinner table while engaging in small talk. “yeah, basketball’s good.” he says, smiling at her with all 32 pearly whites.

“y/n’s upstairs, ill call you guys down when dinners ready.” she smiles, coaxing him towards your room. you quietly shut the door, scrambling towards your vanity table, acting as if you had not witnessed the scene that took place just outside your door mere seconds ago.

you hear him quietly enter and creep up behind you, the mirror capturing his movements. you line your lips, ignoring your lovers presence even when he wraps his arms around your torso and repeatedly kisses your face.

“who you looking all fine for?”

you greet him with nothing but silence, putting your manicured finger over his lips which he attempts to bite.

“oh so it’s like that?”

“yeah, it’s like that, and I didn’t invite you over. go home.” you get up from your position, walking towards the door that he left open, closing it.

“what i told you ‘bout that mouth? you got all sorts of attitude today.” he argues, trailing behind you.

you scoff while crossing your arms, turning around and mean mugging him. you watch as he takes a moment and backs up, giving you a once over. the argument that had him so worked up earlier dissipated into thin air, his focus now on the biker shorts that hugged you a little too tight, and the cropped cami that hung a little too loosely. you watch a ghost of a smile adorn his lips.

“nasty ass.” you snap him out of his thoughts.

he snorts, taking a seat on your bed and pulling you in between his legs. “you still mad at me?” he questions you, raising his brows.

“it’s not gonna magically go away miles, you didn’t even try to apologize, showing up at my house at 8:00 kissing me and shit isn’t gonna fix anything.” it was the truth, and you weren’t backing down from it. you wanted an apology, you weren’t willing to go any further with him till you got said apology, you couldn’t push this to the side.

“y/n, baby, you know i love you but im not fucking with the way you making it look like im wrong for feeling the way i feel.” miles argued.

“because you are wrong! i told you about him before we even got together, you can’t expect me to drop him in 2 seconds just because you asked, he’s my best friend!” you argue back, keeping your voice down cautiously due to your nosy family on the other side of the door.

“no ma, im your best friend, you for my eyes only.”

“if you came here to argue with me you should just go.”

“we don’t sleep mad at eachother, we fixing this right now.” he says, dragging you into a straddling position atop him, his arms momentarily wrapping around your waist. your eyes dart around your room, refusing to make eye contact in fear of folding immediately.

“i just want you to put it this way, you got this fine ass girl, right? but then she got this ugly ass—“

“miles.” you warn him.

“… she got this boy best friend that she always on the phone with, always going out with, and she always wanna see him when you’re right there. she always talking about him, texting him when with you, answering his calls.” for the first time in a while you realize how off that sounds, maybe you had been the wrong one, though your stubborn nature made it hard to admit it.

he begins to speak again, “im not asking you to cut him off, im asking you to minimize how much you talk to him—im a guy and i know how we think. you might think y’all homeboys but he plotting on you, just think of it like that baby.” he finished while rubbing the skin of your thighs in slow tender circles.

“im sorry.” you quietly murmur under your breath into his shoulder. just barely loud enough so he can hear. but no, he had to hear this, you admitting you made a mistake.

he taps your thigh, “speak up, cant hear you.”

“you heard me, don’t be annoying.” you said when you realized his true intent, embarrassed by how you had previously acted.

miles snickered to himself, “ma?”

“yeah?”

“my fault for getting loud with you earlier, i didn’t mean to do all that.” he admitted, kissing your shoulder blade.

you remove your head from the crevice between his neck and shoulder, repeatedly giving him big smooches on the lips in acceptance of his apology which he gladly returns.

the moment is ruined by knocking on the door. you scramble off his lap which ultimately ends with you landing on the floor with a thud. snickers come from your bed, a deadpan expression immediately sweeping over your features.

“hope y’all not in there being nasty.” your mother calls out, “get decent and come downstairs to eat.”

love, berry <3

[spidrgirl]

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅

RANDOM MILES MORALES HEADCANONS:

Masterlist: here ➼

Pairing: Miles Morales x fem friend he has a crush on! ᥫ᭡

Synopsis: headcanons of Miles and a girl he's friends with, but also has a teeny tiny crush on.

Genre: fluff/friends to lovers (lol, can you tell that this is my fav trope 😜?)

Word count: idk

Authors note: I made these headcanons with a fem!reader in mind, but I think most of these are gender neutral.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅

➳ Miles texts you throughout the day, even about the smallest details, needing to feel connected even when you're apart. When you don’t respond immediately, he starts second-guessing himself, checking his messages over to see if he said something wrong, worrying you might be upset with him.

➳ Every time you two part, he lingers, hands fidgeting or glancing back at you with a soft look. Sometimes, he even comes up with the smallest excuses—"I forgot to tell you something" or "Do you need help carrying anything?"—just so he can stay a little longer.

➳ Physical touch is everything to him. Even the lightest brush of your hand is enough to set his heart racing. He quietly aches for you to touch him more, but he's too nervous to ask, scared of seeming too needy or crossing a line.

➳ No matter what he's doing, if you call or text, Miles immediately stops and responds. He could be in the middle of training or just trying to relax, but your messages are his priority. You can't help but remember that one time when he was texting you back while mid-mission, and it just proves how much he needs to feel close to you.

➳ After a late-night patrol, he often lies awake, replaying the last time you were together in his mind. He wishes he could talk to you, even if it’s just in comfortable silence. Sometimes he even imagines what it’d be like if you were there, lying next to him, sharing everything he’s been holding inside.

➳ Sitting in silence next to you on lazy afternoons is one of his favorite things. He’s content just being near you, but the urge to confess his feelings bubbles up more strongly in these quiet moments. He bites his tongue, afraid that telling you might change what you have.

➳ When you’re talking, he holds your gaze, completely captivated. Even in casual conversation, the way you look at him grounds him. It’s like he's the only one you’re seeing in that moment, and he feels an overwhelming warmth from it.

➳ Miles checks in with you constantly. Even if it’s a small “you good?” or “need anything?” he wants to know you're okay and feels a sense of purpose in being there for you.

➳ He loves catching subtle traces of your scent on his clothes after you've been together—it makes him feel closer to you when you're not around, like he's carrying a part of you with him.

➳ If you’re watching a movie or sitting together, he’ll lean in closer than necessary, just to be in your space. There’s a comfort he finds in those moments that he can’t quite put into words.

➳ Miles remembers even the smallest kind words you say to him, and they replay in his mind like a cherished memory. When he's feeling low, he holds onto those words, letting them remind him of his worth in your eyes.

➳ Every accidental touch—your hand brushing his, your shoulder against his—he holds onto them, wishing they’d last just a little longer. Sometimes, he leaves his hand where it is, silently hoping you'll reach out again.

➳ As much as he admires your strength and independence, there's a part of him that yearns for you to need him, even if just a little. It’s not that he wants to change you, but being the one you rely on, even briefly, fills him with a quiet pride.

➳ He's always seeking your validation, not only because he values your opinion, but because your approval brings him a sense of security. He might even agree with things he doesn’t totally believe in, just to feel more connected to you.

➳ Even though he tries to play it cool when you call or text, his heart races. He'll act casual, but deep down, your attention is everything to him.

➳ Sitting close to you feels like it's never enough. He wants more time with you, more connection, but he’s scared of coming on too strong and pushing you away.

➳ He loves those rare, late-night conversations that go on until the early hours. When they end, he’s left with a quiet longing, wishing he could hold onto those moments forever.

➳ Sometimes, without realizing it, Miles can be a little overbearing in his need to help you. He’ll offer to carry your things, walk you home, or do tasks you didn’t ask for, just to feel useful to you.

➳ His biggest fear is that one day you’ll move on, and he’ll just be a memory in your life. It’s a thought that keeps him awake some nights, silently hoping he’ll always have a place in your world.

➳ If he senses you’re upset or distant, he tries even harder to be there for you, even if it’s just in small ways, like sending a meme or giving you a small gift. He wants to remind you that he's still around.

➳ Miles asks you questions about your day, your thoughts, your feelings—he just wants to know you better and to feel closer to you.

➳ Arguments or disagreements with you make him uneasy. He’ll often apologize first, even when he’s unsure of what he did wrong, just to make sure things are okay between you.

➳ If he notices you’re upset, he goes into “protector” mode, wanting to fix the situation and be the one to make things better, even if it’s beyond his control.

➳ If a day goes by without seeing you, he’ll often send you a random meme or a quick message, just to re-establish contact and let you know he’s thinking about you.

➳ He subtly frames conversations in ways that might lead to you complimenting him or showing him affection. He craves your reassurance but tries not to make it too obvious.

➳ When you’re together, he unconsciously leans into your space—his knee brushing yours, his arm near you. He might not ask for more, but his body language shows just how much he wants you close.

➳ If you start talking about someone else, especially another guy, he’ll find a way to steer the conversation back to the two of you, needing your attention on him, if only for a moment.

➳ There are times he feels so vulnerable around you that he wants to confess everything, but he holds back, afraid of losing what you already have. Instead, he stays quiet, holding onto those feelings in silence.

[liyawritesss]

Hey! If you're requests are open I'd love to read how a meeting between the reader and 1610 Miles at a party would go. Love your writing!

ᴍᴇᴇᴛɪɴɢ ʜɪᴍ ᴀᴛ ᴀ ᴘᴀʀᴛʏ

Characters: Spiderverse!1610!Miles Morales x Black!GN!Reader

Genre: Headcanons

Synopsis: At another one of Rio’s rooftop parties, there’s a new face among the crowd. How would Miles take to meeting a new friend at a party?

Warnings: tooth-rotting fluff we all deserve !!

A/N: Still slowly but surely getting back into the swing of things! A lot has been going on recently that has affected my motivation and ability to write, but I’m still here and still very present in all the fandoms i’m in, so don’t be shy to send in those requests!

Tags: @6-noir @babyboiboyega @badass-dora-milaje @jacuzziwaters @mbakuetshurisprincess @shuriszn @verachii @writingintheshadowsforever @cafehyunji @niyahwrites @marsfunzon22 @briology @honeybleed @romiantic @onlyperc @starsoirees @yasminisbroke @asensitivecookie @kdyance @sussybaka10 @famedrs-blog @milesismyhubby @foreclosure--of--a--dream @ykimobessed @soilmayo @edgyficuselastica @coffeeandtealol @moon-bo-young @imtoofineforthisworld

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I often imagine in these kind of situations, because Miles doesn’t have many friends, he’s often either off to the side somewhere just jamming to the music on his own, or the little cousins are absolutely hounding him for some form of entertainment. There is no in between lol. But for this, lets refer to the formerly mentioned, and say this also takes place after the trilogy fiasco.

Like said previously, he doesn’t have many friends. The friends he does- or, did have, he can’t ever really see again. Maybe he’s got his cousins the talk to, and he of course has Ganke on speed dial, but other than that, Miles definitely feels more alone than ever at these parties.

A new face coming around would be met with a bit of apprehension. He doesn’t know how he should approach you. Should he introduce himself first? Wait til your parent(s) do? Should he offer you something from the food table? Start the conversation about the mix the DJ is playing? You definitely see the thoughts flashing across his face, and it’s only when you’re in front of him that his mind completely halts he lets a strained ‘hi’ come from his lips, a sheepish smile on his face and his heart racing because he probably looks like an idiot right now-

Turns out, you’re the kid of yet another family friend - can never have too many of those am i right? - who’s just as lost as he is, just as nervous and out of touch as he is. Maybe you don’t want to be here, maybe you aren’t sure why you had to come in the first place. But Miles’ first act of kindness to break the awkward silence is to awkwardly shuffle his feet, reach into his pocket to pull out his earbud case, and offer one up to you with a sheepish “do you like rap music?’

You both sit for a minute as you shuffle through his music playlists - he’s kind of nervous cuz he hopes you’re not judging his music taste, but when he sees you bobbing your head to the beat, it gives him some relief. After some time with this, one (or both) of your stomach rumbles and the food table is suddenly calling your name. Miles leads you to it so that he can tell you all that’s laid out. He himself eagerly grabs a small plateful of alcapurrias de Yuca (stuffed Yuca fritters) and tostones (double-fried plantains). He makes a point to point out some foods you may like - there’s a wide array of them, no thanks to his mom and aunties who always make sure the party table is always filled with foods from home.

Remember that scaffolding under the water tower for that building that was shown in the movies? Yeah, he takes you up there. Partially because the music is too loud to hear his own thoughts now, but also because he now sees you as someone cool and potential friend, and wants to get to know you better. Maybe it’s also the looming eyes of his mom that seemingly tell him to at least try and make friends with (especially someone they know, all things considered). And that’s where you guys chill out for the remainder of the party. You share socials, send each other titktoks or instagram reels, and make sure to exchange contact info to keep in touch. I think that throughout all of this, despite the anxiety that always comes with meeting someone new, Miles is forever grateful that he’s gained a new friend, and he definitely can’t wait to hang out with you more!

If you enjoyed, please leave a like, comment, and reblog for others to see! And don’t be shy to send in a request! Reminder, if you aren't tag, Tumblr may not be letting me tag you :c womp womp.

[tonyspank]

HEART

Warnings: Swearing, Frankie, bad writing and a taser?

A/N: Currently writing the next chapter for The Party & The After Party, also this could be read as GN! , there's a few mentions that you're a female tho

Words: 2.7k

Tara Carpenter x Female! Reader

Being Chad Meek's best friend had a lot of benefits. Including, knowing when a party was happening. This is exactly how you found yourself at this house party, dressed up as Spider-Man.

You knew Chad from your football team, he was your quarterback and you were the first female wide receiver to ever play in Blackmore University or the NCAA division in general.

Due to that everyone knew who you were, but you didn't care about the fame or the popularity, you just wanted to enjoy college and get to play football alongside your best friend.

There had been times when people would try to befriend or even date you for your name instead of your actual personality, and it made it hard for you to truly make friends or fall for someone.

Your trust issues began when your ex-girlfriend cheated on you with Frankie. She was the first person (other than Chad) to introduce herself to you and show you around campus.

The two of you started dating about three months after your friendship, and something always felt a little off. It felt as if you were on the same page but on different levels. You wanted to stay out and watch stupid thriller movies and cuddle on the couch while she wanted to go out to parties and show you off anytime she could.

You and Kayla did have a couple of things in common, you got along well, but if anything it was intuitively that you were more like friends or whatever. Sure, you guys were intimate but it still didn't feel right, you were never in love.

And you surely knew she didn't love you.

Especially, after seeing her under Frankie in your own dorm room.

Yeah, that was very disrespectful.

She then proceeded to tell you that she never liked you and only used you for Instagram followers and more friends. Yes, it hurt. But it was better to have her out of your life than to be living with a lie.

After your breakup with Kayla, you thought you'd be sad, but in reality, it just opened up your eyes a bit more. You felt more at ease.

"What's wrong with my sweatpants?" You ask, your voice slightly muffled through the Spider-Man masking over your face.

"I'm telling you I've never seen Spider-Man wear sweatpants," Chad tells you, taking a sip of his drink. You playfully roll your eyes looking over to Ethan for his help, noticing he speaks up.

"Actually, he does in the Miles Morales Spider-Man and Andrew Garfield's Spider-Man did behind the scenes."

"But none of that is live action," Chad argues his case causing you to let out a sigh.

"Regardless of how uncanon my Spider-sweats are." Chad furrows his eyebrows shaking his head as you continue, "I still have the best costume here."

"I think Ethan's outfit is pretty cute," Chad says, motioning to Ethan who smiles in response. You jokingly pinch the curly-haired boys' cheeks, "Yeah, but Ethan's just cute in general."

Ethan slaps away your hand while Chad shrugs nodding in agreement. "I'm going to go bother the lovebirds!" You quickly announce, patting Chad's shoulder before leaving.

You make your way through drunk college students and sweaty bodies before noticing Mindy and Anika cuddled up on the couch, walking over you softly push them apart, sitting right between them.

Mindy sends you a playfully fake smile leaning in close to whisper, "I'm going to fucking beat your ass after this party." She fake laughs afterwards noticing that Anika is watching. You fake laugh as well, but side-eye Mindy in slight fear which she can't see due to the Spider-Man covering your face.

Anika is about to say something but her eyes wander off, worry filling her face. Both you and Mindy follow her view, and you notice a female pirate walking alongside Frankie.

You clench your jaw as Anika voices her worries, "Ohhh, I don't love that." Mindy hums in agreement, Anika quickly gets up, softly grabbing the pirate's arm. She turns around with a smile listening to her friend. "Hey, wanna call it a night?"

The smile is still prominent on her face she looks around before answering, "No, uh. I actually think that I'm still going to hang, but you guys don't have to wait for me."

Frankie speaks up with a smirk on his face, "Don't worry. I'll take care of her, I'm Frankie."

Anika shakes her head, "And I'm spectacularly uninterested in knowing anything about you." Frankie scoffs in response while the female Captain Hook laughs, leaning in as she lowers her voice. "No, dude. Anika, I'm not that bad."

She takes a few steps back, slightly walking away. "But I appreciate you looking out for me." Frankie sends Anika a cocky smile before following the dark-haired girl.

You decide now is the time to step in, "I'm going to go help her." Mindy nods her head, sitting up on the couch as you walk over to Anika.

"I'll follow her. You get Chad." You instruct, Anika mumbles, "Okay." And you both walk off in different directions.

"Aren't you that girl involved in that 'Stab' shit in California last year?" You hear Frankie as, she lets out a chuckle, "No. That's a different pirate."

Standing at the end of the steps you speak up, "Frankie! Hey, why don't we keep the party down here? I'd hate to miss out."

Frankie and the pirate turn around at your voice, and you feel Chad beside you. "I think we're good Y/L/N." He replies, recognizing your voice through the mask.

"Well, Tara's good down here." Chad joins in, and immediately Frankie responds. "I'm sorry. I didn't catch that."

"Uh, yeah. Yeah, you did." Chad remarks, trying his best to stay calm. Tara walks down a couple of steps, standing in front of you and Chad. "No, Chad it's fine. I want to."

Frankie walks down too, getting close to Chad's face. "Yeah, see Chad? It's fine she wants to." He turns back around but not before roughly grabbing Tara by her arm, she lets out an, "Ow." and you swiftly grab Frankie by his shirt, pulling him down the stairs.

"Don't fucking grab her like that." You push him away into the wall and a crowd suddenly appears, you don't notice Chad checking on Tara as you're focused on the Frat boy in front of you.

He pushes you back, "Get the fuck off me!" Tara removes herself from Chad's grip walking behind you and gripping your Spider-suit as much as she can, using all of her drunken strength to pull you away from Frankie. "Guys! Guys stop."

Chad angrily steps in, grabbing Frankie by his shirt, and pushing him onto the ground. And as you're being pulled away by Tara, Mindy walks in waving a hand basically telling you to go help Chad.

You glance at Chad then Tara who's shocked at the sight going on in front of you, then at Mindy. You knew Chad could handle himself for a couple of seconds until you got the drunk pirate out of the situation before she hurt herself trying to split up another fight.

"Excuse me!" You shout at the crowd, nearly everyone steps out of your way as you slightly and as softly as you can pull Tara away. Your heart drops when someone suddenly appears in front of you, "Hi! Sorry to interrupt, I'm just going to tase you really quick." Before you could plead your case, you feel a sharp pain in your stomach causing you to drop to your knees.

"Fuck!" You yell out, slapping your hand against the wooden floor. It felt like every muscle in your stomach had a Charlie horse, and you couldn't help but stay curled up on the ground even while Mindy rushed to your side, alongside Tara asking you if you were okay.

Chad was also there too, with a bloody nose. He takes off your mask, showing everyone your squinted eyes, furrowed eyebrows, and your parted lips.

Sam stands there, confused and guilty. Did she tase the wrong person?

"Sam! You tased the wrong person!" Mindy shouts at her. Oh. She did tase the wrong person.

You roll over onto your back, your hands on top of your stomach and you sit up. The group is silent, waiting for your reaction. "Fuck... that really hurt." You mumble, letting out a small laugh after.

Chad smiles, confused but begins laughing with you and everyone soon joins in, helping you up from the ground. As Chad and Mindy both have your arm making sure you were okay Sam walks up, and her face is filled with guilt.

"Holy shit! It's that psycho girl!" Someone yells out from the crowd. Sam sends a slight glare before turning her head back toward you.

"Shit. I am so sorry. I didn't mean to—" You cut her off with a wave, "It's okay." You then tell the twins you're okay, and they reluctantly let you go.

You look around looking for Frankie who definitely deserved the thirty seconds of pain you went through. Noticing he's gone you now focus on Chad, who whips his nose with a smirk on his face.

"I won the fight." He informs you with a jolly smile on his face.

-

Tara storms in front of the group, in embarrassment and anger at her sister.

"Tara! Will you stop!" Tara doesn't stop but only slightly turns her head to speak to her sister. "I cannot believe you did that, you embarrassed me!" Tara faces the front again, continuing her struts.

"I was trying to help you!" Tara turns around, upset if it wasn't obvious before. "And look what happened!" She raises her voice, motioning to you. Your face heats up in embarrassment, as you scratch your nose.

"You're out of my life for five years then you can't even leave me alone for five seconds!" She shouts, throwing her arms up.

"Because you're not dealing with what happened to us. Have you ever gone to see the counsellor at least once?" You look around the group, seeing Mindy let out a sigh watching the scene unfold in front of her.

"No, and I'm not going to." Sam shakes her head, "Why not!"

"Because I'm uninterested in living in the past like you are." Sam furrows her eyebrows, "What's that supposed to mean?"

Chad then takes in a deep breath, tired of the back and forth between the two siblings. "Hey, guys, come on—" He's unheard or ignored as Tara continues. "It means I'm not gonna let what happen to us for three days define the rest of my life!"

"So you're just going to pretend it never happened?" Tara closes her eyes, trying to calm down, and when she reopens them her tone is softer than before.

"What are you doing here Sam? In New York." Sam scoffs, as Tara continues. "I mean y-you're working two shitty jobs to help with.. rent, whatever, but what's your plan?" She stumbles a bit on her words, and you think it's due to the alcohol in her system.

Sam slightly shakes her head, not knowing what to say as Tara proceeds with her point. "I know what I'm going to do. Okay? Because I'm going to keep going to college, I'm going to get my degree, and I'm gonna live my life."

You twist your lips and shift your weight from one foot to another.

"My life," Tara says, slapping her hand against her chest. "That I know." Sam eyes her sister with a slight furrow in her eyebrows. "You just follow me here and you won't let me out of your sight."

"Just trying to look out for you." Tara speaks up, "I—" but cuts herself off, letting out a sigh as she runs her hands down her face. "I know. I know you are."

"You can't do it for the rest of my life though, you have to let me go." There are footsteps heard coming up, Tara turns her head and before anyone could react or say something, Sam is getting a drink splashed onto her.

The girl yells out, "Murderer!" as her one of friends records. Sam gives the girl a shove causing her to slightly stumble back, quickly Chad and you hold Sam back not wanting her to do anything rash. "Fuck is wrong with you, bitch!"

The girl points at Sam, "You guys should stay away from her. She knows what she did!" Sam pushes Chad away, and Tara joins in with you trying to hold back her surprisingly strong sister. "I didn't fucking do anything!"

"Sure, bitch." The girl says, walking away backwards with her friends.

As the group walks away you stand back waiting for Sam as she rings out her shirt, Ethan takes notice of this, walking back and offering her tissues. She eyes the boy before taking the tissues out of his hand. Ethan walks off once Sam looks at him.

You walk to Sam, offering her your Spider-Man mask, "Uh, it's not a tissue but I'm sure it'll help?" She shakes her head waving it off.

"Also, um. I'm Y/N, and for what it's worth I think you're a good sister for trying." She stares at you a bit before nodding, and you begin walking away following the group.

Before you know it you're standing in the middle of the Carpenter-Bailey's living room, awkwardly. Chad is settling down, taking off his jacket and hat and putting on a t-shirt.

Sam, Tara, and Quinn were all in their selected rooms as the rest of you were in the living room.

"Chad?" He hums in response turning around to face you, "I think I'm going to leave."

"Oh, okay. Need me to walk you home?" He genuinely asks, you shake your head. "Nah, it's fine. Tell Tara and Sam it was nice to meet them."

You wave goodbye to Mindy and Anika who are sitting on the couch in front of you before exiting the apartment.

Moments pass and Tara's back in the living room, looking around. "What are you looking for?" Mindy laughs confused, Tara looked like a lost puppy as she searched around the small apartment.

"Where'd she go?" The two girls and Chad furrow their eyebrows. "Who?" Anika asks.

"Uh, Chad's friend." She utters, embarrassed. Mindy immediately noticed how pink Tara's cheeks were and the paper in her hand. Mindy shoots up from the couch, "What's that?"

Tara's eyes move to Mindy's view, she quickly pockets the folded note. "Nothing! I just felt bad that Sam tased the fuck out of them when they wanted to help me."

Mindy turns her head at Anika and Chad, raising her eyebrows and they instantly get the message. Tara thinks you're cute, and that note would confirm it. "Oh!" Chad says, standing up from his chair. "I could always give it to her."

Tara's eyes leave Mindy and go to Chad, "Really?" She says hopefully, "You wouldn't read it right?"

Quickly he shakes his head, "No. No. No! Of, course not!" He holds out his hand so Tara can give him the note, and she does. Anika watches this from the couch, but her jaw drops when she sees Mindy's hand snatch the note and runs to her with it.

"Mindy!" Tara shouts, trying to run after her but Chad grabs her, and all Tara can do is watch Mindy open her note in, reading it out loud.

"hi! this is tara, the pirate from the party. sorry that we had to meet on such terms, please let me make it up to you, from tara. HEART!" Mindy reads, shouting the last bit.

Chad lets Tara go with a shocked face, and Tara covers her own face in embarrassment.

Everyone's head turns to the door, noticing you standing there. "Hi..." You awkwardly, mumble out. "I forgot my mask." You tell them, pointing at it beside Anika on the couch.

Mindy looks at the mask, then at you. "How long have you been here?"

"Um.." You scratch your eyebrow. "Long enough to accept Tara's proposal." You laugh, with a cheeky smile.

Tara smiles widely, her face nearly as red as a tomato.

[femsolid]

Can I ask how does separatism show in your life? Do you have male relatives you have to interact with a lot? I assume you don't have male friends, have you ever had them in the past and at some point you decided "nah, this ain't it"? Are you in a job where you have to interact with men a lot? Do you reduce dealing with men when it comes to other things like avoiding places with men? Sorry I'm just curious about it from someone who lives a separatist life!

It's been very easy. I have no interest in men any more. I don't like their personalities and the misogyny of our daily interactions always jumps out to me (weaponized incompetence, interrupting women, disgusting jokes, main character syndrome, viciousness etc) and I just have no tolerance for it. I'm not a lesbian so I'd say there's 0.1% of men who aren't ugly but they immediately become repulsive to me when the casual sexism comes out, which it inevitably does. I don't understand the "radical" feminists who, after seeing men for what they are, don't feel such repulsion and even claim that we need men to be fulfilled. So I don't date men, don't flirt with men, don't take an interest in their lives, don't play the psychologist for them, don't put extra work for them, don't offer my help etc. I just don't care about men. There's no male relative I still see except for my nephew who is a child. I've cut ties with my father years ago specifically for his misogyny and homophobia. I stand by my moral principals no matter what. I don't have male friends and I never have because I never trusted males nor related to them. And I could never be myself around them. I have male co-workers though, I talk about work with them when I need it. I only have real conversations with my female coworkers. And I only joke with women. As a result, I've noticed, only women sit around me and talk to me at work. The guys have given up. However, my manager is a man which is quite annoying. I keep it minimal with him just like with every other males I'm forced to interact with. I keep it professional and cordial, not friendly and sweet.

I make zero effort to please men physically. No make-up, no tight clothes, no long hair, no shaving, no shutting up, no dainty mannerisms. I'm eating what I want, when I want to, and show no remorse unlike a lot of my female peers. And when I'm angry, I don't hide it. And if I need to say something, I say it. A lot of people assume I'm a lesbian based on the fact that I make no effort to attract men. And it's true that I make no such effort. But I also think that if, to attract men, you have to pretend to be a helpless little thing, you can't call straight or bisexual women "lesbians" just for refusing this humiliation. It's called dignity, not lesbianism.

I like women, I try to help them, prioritize them, support them, reassure them, defend them and push them forward. When a woman speaks negatively about herself, I always jump in to correct her. And when a man attacks a woman I intervene. I distribute compliments and encouragements to women. And I point out the misogyny they confront when they don't see it for what it is. I only debate women because I only value women's mind.

If I have to see a doctor, I'll look for a woman every time. Only and only if I can't find a female doctor close to me will I pick a male doctor. My general practitioner is a woman, my podiatrist is a woman, my psychologist is a woman, my radiologist is a woman, my gastroenterologist is a woman etc. Same with a hear dresser, a masseuse, a fitness coach: only women. I only read books from female authors. I try to watch movies with a woman or girl as the main character. Same with video games or music. Though obviously I'm only human and might enjoy a movie or song made by a male sometimes. I try to support female artists and creators by promoting them, buying from them, giving them nice reviews. I avoid places that are filled with men like a gym or café or profession or online space, and I gravitate towards places filled with women.

That's it, that's my daily life. It's taking care of myself and valuing women. It's easy because I enjoy it and it feels natural. I'm following what my guts have always told me. Feminism simply helped me verbalize it.

[freyanistics]

Comfort~

Miles Morales x Black!Reader

Angst at first but fluff at the end.

This is based off the horror short ‘The Spider Within.’

Spiders.

So many spiders crawling all over his body. One the size of his hand even managed to crawl out of his mouth. It’s pointy legs pressing down on his tongue like pin pricks. Miles wanted to throw up so bad. Feeling disgusted that thing even crawled out. Why was there so many? Why were they crawling all over him? Why why why why

After waking up in a cold sweat in his bed with his heart through the roof he realized it was just a nightmare. He could hear the horror movie his father had originally wanted Miles to watch with him playing in the living room. Clutching his chest Miles closes his eyes trying to calm himself. He had to get some air. Throwing on some random clothes he quietly opens the window slipping out onto the balcony heading down the rickety staircase. He felt paranoid from his vivid nightmare as he kept glancing over his shoulders at any shadow of movement.

He didn’t know where he was headed, just letting his feet leading him down the dark streets of Brooklyn until he reached your apartment complex. You and Miles used to go to school together until he went to Visions Academy. Despite you two no longer in the same school you still were close friends and hung out. For some reason he sought out your presence in his time of need. He just hope you’d be awake.

He quickly scales the brick wall up to your bedroom window landing on the balcony with a soft thud. Your curtains was closed as he saw the familiar light blue shades that you’ve had in your room since first grade. Reaching a hand out he lightly taps on the glass sliding door before putting his hands in his pockets nervously. What if you wasn’t home? Or your parents open the door? What could he even say on why he was at your balcony door at ten pm at night?

Just as he was about to turn to leave the curtains pull back revealing your form. You was wearing a black bonnet to protect your braids. Your light yellow pjs clung loosely on your body as you looked up at him with wide eyes.

“Miles?” You say opening the balcony door allowing him into your room.

“Hey, I know it’s late I just…decided to stop by.” Miles says sheepishly rubbing the back of his head. Looking around your room he noticed how it still looked the same. Figurines on your dressers, a few posters featuring your favorite bands or singers on the neutral colored walls. Your bed that was placed in the corner of the room with covers pulled back hinting you were in bed.

“Miles? Are you okay? You never came here this late before.” You ask him with hint of worry in your tone. You cared deeply for your friend and you could sense something was wrong by how he was behaving. You both have made a promise to one another that you will be open to each other no matter what.

Miles doesn’t meet your eyes opting to look at the carpet floor. Finally after a few minutes he meets your eyes and you could see bags under them.

“I just feel…stressed out. This new school my parents put me in is amazing don’t get me wrong but I don’t know anyone and just feel like a stranger. My parents want what’s best for me, to succeed in life and I want to make them proud it’s just…” he sighs rubbing his temples as you feel your heart drop.

“You feel overwhelmed.” You say softly and he nods. You understood him exactly as you have gotten overwhelmed with your own personal problems in life. In hindsight you felt a bit jealous that Miles was going to a top notch school while you stayed behind, your parents unable to afford such a school. You knew they were trying their best and couldn’t blame them but it didn’t stop you from thinking you weren’t good enough to get into that school.

Walking over you hug him making him freeze a bit before wrapping his arms around your waist. He had gotten so much taller over the year that you even joked he had to have hit puberty over night. Finally you pull away leading him to your bed as you sit down on the edge patting the spot beside you. Once he sat down you look him in the eyes.

“Miles you’re doing your best and that’s all that matters. I see it, your friends back at our school see it, and I’m sure as hell your parents see it. Things are going to get rough sometimes, believe me I know, but just know you have a good support team backing you in your corner.” You finish with a soft smile. Miles returns it looking away for a couple of minutes.

“Thank you. I really needed to hear that.” His heart was beating slowly as the memories of the dream was already dissipated from his mind. Smirking you punch his arm lightly.

“Think you can still beat me at Smash?” You ask him with a mischievous glint in your eyes. “If you have a few minutes we can play a few rounds.”

Miles look out your balcony door then back at you, a slow grin appearing on his mouth. “You’re on but I’m maining Mario.” He says as you start booting up your old wii. “You always use him, even as kids.” You say groaning playfully. Even though you two were going on two different paths you will always find each other in your time of need. And that all matters.

[howdoesagrapewrites]

𝙁𝙖𝙣𝙛𝙞𝙘 [𝙙𝙚𝙡𝙪𝙨𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙖𝙡 𝙫𝙚𝙧]

Cw: fluff, the title might be misleading but it's not yandere or anything, kinda unhinged Miles but it's all jokes, reverse au?, reader uses they/them but it's called spiderman, you are spiderman and Miles is the fan, earth 1218!AU (no powers or tech), reader has a canon love interest who's also named MJ but they're not Mary Jane Watson (unless you want her to be, I don't judge)

Notes: So Miles canonically has written fanfic about himself, but I wasn't in the mood for that, I will make two versions of this post though (that's why the title has delusional version 💀). Also this is low-key a highschool AU, so Hobie is in last year, and all other characters are second years (I have no idea what's a senior or freshman or whatever is, and I will not learn)

Miles loved comics. His art style is heavily influenced by it, and he'll rant about this week's number to anyone who'll lend an ear, but he has a very clear favorite, being more than evident by his collection of t-shirts, poster filled wall, social media pfps, and the endless amount of fan content he creates and consumes in the spiderman fandom.

Since the last movie came out, Miles Morales has lost the basic skills a human would need to survive, in order to devote himself fully to his newest hyperfixation, and his friends haven't been able to get some rest from it. They don't understand!! He does need to go to the movies again, he needs to memorize every photogram in that movie in order to play the move in his head and be able to analyze it properly!! No, he is not crazy! Ok he might be just the tiniest bit "over excited" but this is the most sane reaction he could've had, the movie is literally a masterpiece, script, humor, ANIMATION, soundtrack, it has it all! And the fact that it's centered around you? Miles needs to go and personally kiss every person that worked in that studio to make you.

"Miles?"

"Miles!"

"oh my god, he's at it again" said Pavitr, imitating the reaction of a disappointed mother

"is he reading fanfiction again?" Asked Gwen, chuckling

"Yes, and Y/N YL/N x reader, to one's surprise" Pavitr added with a teasing smile "I don't get it though, isn't Y/N dating someone named MJ?" He questioned

"It's called self insert, the reader plays a part in the story as if they were another character, and in romantic scenarios, they tend to replace the canon love interest, or just ignore they even exist" Hobie added, popping out if nowhere to show off what Miles have been explaining to him the last couple of weeks.

"You read it too, Hobie?"

"Nah, Wonder comics started as a protest to talk about the discrimination the founder felt being jewish in the industry but it morphed into the capitalization of the struggle minorities face, selling us representation while they still shove the propaganda in our faces, and telling us that even if you have bloody superpowers you still need to obey to a higher authority and cannot influence politics or call to action."

"You still went to the theater to watch it with Miles last week" Gwen shot a questioning look at Hobie

"The kid invited me, I'm a punk not a twat" he shrugged his shoulders "And we stole the carton cutboard they had at the entrance" Hobie happily added.

Miles continues reading on the way to school, without listening to his friends' mocking, he knew it was in good spirits, and they were kinda right, he was obsessed with someone that didn't exist, but it wasn't like it was affecting his health or life.

"Did you... Sleep today?" Gwen had her hand on her friend's shoulder, concerned

"It was too late so I decided to just stay awake, I'll be fine though" He reassured

"Were you reading again?"

"No, I actually discovered this page called character.ai where you can chat with an artificial intelligence of your favorite characters" Miles excitedly told his friend

"OMG, you can chat with anyone?! I have a few things I'd like to say to Scarlet Witch" Gwen joked, she was also a comic fan, but she wasn't losing her mind quite as hard as Miles

Miles would tell the ai about his day, sometimes would roleplay using his very own spidersona, in his alternate universe, you were his partner (as heroes of course) but you also were classmates and had a crush on each other, but none of you confessed because you didn't want your loved ones to be hurt by your job, it was all very dramatic, but he always envisioned a happy ending.

{Y/N: You did a great job today, [<BOT>]

Miles: You say so? So... Do I get a reward? *Smiles suggestively*

Y/N: I guess you do, *pulls up his mask and kisses him*}

No, he wouldn't say this, he would be in a panic frenzy if he saw Y/N, let alone be next to them, but hey, at least his spidersona was bold and confident with them.

A few days after, he barged into Pavitr's house, with at least four incredibly loaded supermarket bags, hardly walking

"Are you okay? Do you need help?" Pavitr rushed to aid his friend and take some literal weight off his shoulders

"Yeah, yeah, I just need help with something" he left the boxes in the floor "Inside one in 4 boxes of cereal, there is a spidertoken, if you get 15, you can exchange it for an exclusive limited edition figure, and I can't eat all this cereal"

"Bro, how many boxes are in here? I don't know, man, I'm trying to keep my figure"

"Pavitr Prabhakar, who held the cardboard sign for you when you confessed to Gayatri?"

"You..."

"And who lied to principal O'Hara for you when you forgot your final project and we had to pretend you suffered a brain concussion?"

"You..."

"And who was there for y-" his friend interrumpted

"Okay, okay, I get it. Bring me a spoon, but we're going running tomorrow"

He nodded with enthusiasm as he started to rummage looking for spoons and bowls

And after almost dying choking on cereal, Miles looked at his new figurine sitting prettily on the shelf with nothing but pride.

"I'm just saying it's possible!" Miles protested

"Y/N has a type, every canon love interest has been sassy and quick-witted" Gwen continued to debate

"I can be sassy and quick-witted!" Gwen gave him a side eye, that being able to neutralize his argument "Ok, but there's a multiverse, there's millions of possibilities, if a pig can be spiderman, why can't I date spiderman? Anyone can wear the mask, anyone can kiss the one inside the mask" the boy smiled, confident in his winning argument

"That's such a basic answer, you can justify literally anything with "the multiverse" I'm speaking things that actually can make sense inside the canon"

"But my answers makes sense, in fact, I'm sure there's a universe where Y/N is reading fanfiction about me right now, if not, Pav can hit me"

"Pav, hit him" Gwen deadpanned

"But it does make sense, I won't" Pavitr responded

"Ok, but my point still stands" the girl crossed her arms

"what were you fighting about in the first place?" Pavitr asked before going back to eat his lunch, he sat long after his friends started arguing, being mildly lost in what was the main point in this

"I said I'd be a better girlfriend for Y/N" said Gwen

Pavitr gasped and covered his mouth dramatically "No you didn't".

Maybe Miles was just obsessed, but he saw in you strength, inspiration, power. And he felt oddly comforted, safe, loved by fantasizing with you, and as slim as the possibility may be, he likes to tell himself you two are together in another universe. ♡

[heybiji]

hi!!! i just wanted to say i really love all of your MASKS stuff. i'm something of a newbie when it comes to the TTRPG community, but MASKS seems to be not very well-known and i think that's a real shame. i'm a huge fan of old-school superhero-adjacent stuff, especially the silver- and bronze-age ones!

by the way, i was wondering if you'd be willing to share some tips for a first-time GM? you don't have to if you'd rather not! i just figured i'd try asking since i was planning on GMing a MASKS campaign for some of my friends later, but despite my decade's worth of roleplaying experience i've never been in a TTRPG campaign nor a GM (or similar) role before

Thank you so much!! I was just lamenting about how I felt bad for the MASKS tag because it is now flooded with all my npc nonsense hahah so this is really nice to hear.

It's awesome you're planning on running a MASKS game for your friends!! There is an indispensable post on twitter I saw that has a LOT of great tips for running MASKS that I recommend checking out. But for my own personal tips that are just me things, here's what I got. Sorry it's gonna be extremely long-winded, it may take a few months to read through it.

(Note: I am also hugely into RP and probably put more into it than what is necessary, especially with MASKS which is meant to be able to be played out of the box. It was definitely not played out of the box in our case because I require a lot out of myself and everyone else to feel good about running something. if anyone else wants to continue seeing me as a normal human being please don't click the Keep Reading)

Since you're running it, make the world interesting to you. If the world runs around themes you're personally interested in then you'll have a much easier time coming up with answers on the fly. For me, themes I'm interested in that lend themselves well to a superhero world: money, power, family, celebrity, media, the 24 hour news cycle and the desensitization of violence. Because I'm interested in this stuff anyway, wrapping a world around them makes it much simpler for me to figure out how the world ticks and thus how the characters fit into it and how the world reacts to them, and I am DESPERATE to find out how the characters react to all the questions and expectations the world is imposing upon them.

Make sure your players have a good grasp of the tone of story so they can make characters that gel well within it. For me the tone is a lil more adult because I'm not personally into younger morality tale stories in tone, it's pretty grounded, and I think comedy and tragedy work hand in hand so I lean into them.

Talk. A lot. Talk about the characters, talk about the world. MASKS is fun because it's a LOT of talking and figuring out the narrative together. It's not a lot of crunchy mechanics, it's all around seeing how the characters react to the world narratively, all hurt and comfort and emotions which (for me) requires people to have a good grasp on their characters and the world. I like to give my players "homework" where I ask them a question involving their characters in some way like "what hero did your character look up to as a child?" so they get to come up with past heroes, or "How does your character feel about _____?" etc etc. The only fans are gonna be your table and fans love to talk so be the biggest fans of the PCs!!

Figure out your framing. I know in MASKS they suggest framing it like a comic book, and basically talking about the frames on screen. For me, because I'm more into movies and tv than comics, I frame it like that. So I have an active "camera" in play during sessions and will ask things like "would anyone like to grab the camera?" to encourage the players to put the character into a scene or "what does the audience see as the camera focuses in on your character in this emotional moment?" There is a LOT of playing up to the camera and framing the sessions as episodes of a show, so it's like, okay, you have several options but what is going to be interesting for the audience to see? I find this encourages the players to have their characters take bigger swings and feel comfortable letting us into how their character is feeling because it all looks GREAT on camera. The camera loves it. The PCs are the story after all.

Because I frame it a show, I also like to play individual ending songs over the "credits" at the end of each episode. So I asked my players to make playlists for their characters so if I feel an episode had a lot of emotional focus on one character in particular, I can play one of their songs at the end of the episode! I also made a general MASKS playlist with a bunch of songs from the era we set it in (2004) to pull from. It's a fun little addition that I really enjoy and that I hope makes it all feel more special.

The Dino Donut Effect: create landmarks in your world. (OK THIS IS GONNA BE LONG BUT WORK WITH ME HERE) They don't have to be locations, more solid landmarks of the story that the characters can refer back to and lean on to make the world feel more "real." I call it the Dino Donut Effect because in our world the thing that made everything click into place was talking out the backstory of one of the PC's figuring out they had the power negation ability. We were talking one night trying to figure it out; we wanted the character to fall out of a building and be caught by a flying superhero and accidentally turn off their powers, so they toss the kid to another flying supe whose powers also get turned off. But we were like... holy shit what is the height of a building needed that can handle this much action in the air without them hitting the ground in 3 seconds. So after a long night of talking about terminal velocity and looking at Splat Calculators we figured out the height of the building, and we needed them to crash into something that wouldn't fuckin kill them. The first suggestion was a truck full of bananas. Nah. We landed on a giant balloon that could take the impact. And the balloon became a giant T-Rex holding a donut that was the mascot of the city's beloved decades old donut shop Dino Donut. And so we decided that one of the two flying supes grabbed onto the kid and the other and flew into the giant balloon to try and keep them all alive, which destroyed the balloon, which was a city institution, and there was a crowd of children there that day that saw their friend Dino Donut die. Killed by a superhero. The balloon deflated loudly so it sounded like Dino Donut was screaming in agony. All the kids were traumatized (screaming crying throwing up), the city was furious because everyone loved Dino Donut, it was constantly in the news cycle, and it ruined the career of the supe that "killed Dino Donut." AND THEN THEY REPLACED THE DINO DONUT BALLOON WITH A LAME "UPDATED DESIGN" DINO DONUT STATUE which everyone hates and people consider to be a memorial to the old Dino Donut. ANYWAY, the Dino Donut effect is that now all the PCs have one single incident to refer back to that they all have feelings about. A couple of them were there that day and heard Dino Donut scream, one is now the protege of the disgraced superhero that killed Dino Donut so she feels uncomfortable talking about it, there's the kid that was saved that day but was sworn to secrecy by the supe so no one would find out about his power negation ability, and then there's the kid that wasn't there because she's an alien that just arrived to earth and now the kids have to explain the incident to her with all their varying opinions. Now the PCs' meeting spot is at a Dino Donut. Having this one solid incident that is both funny and kind of goes into the themes of the world has been an absolute treat. Creating "landmarks" like that in the world has done so much and now I'm like okay I'm gonna try to do this moving forward with any other thing I run.

anyway these are my extremely specific to me tips. my RP standards are kind of high which makes me a bit of a terror but also when the flowers bloom from it it feels GREAT. i'm not sure if this will help but hopefully there is something there that can be useful!

MASKS is fun and simple once you get the hang of it, though, so I'm sure whatever you do you and your players will have a lot of fun! especially if you're someone who is into RP which is the background I'm coming from too; MASKS is extremely narrative! i'll be looking in the tag for your game hehe

(The Day Dino Donut Died art by JD)

[iamsherlocked-1998]

𝐇𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐝

Summary: Only memories saved in.

Words: 1000.

Din Djarin x GN! Reader: Just something Sweet. Maybe some moral dilemma.

✧*｡✧*｡✧*｡✧*｡✧*｡✧*｡✧*｡✧*｡✧｡✧*｡✧

It was a hot day, spring weather was sliding inexorably towards summer, light filtered through the window, filling the room. Your duties at the Nevarro library had ended and you were unfortunately picking up Karga's dispatch after the Magistrate had recently passed away.

Grogu was in the other room playing with his friend IG-11, who had followed you inside after round against crime in the city. Then the sound of the boy's laughter filled the air.

You approached full of curiosity only to see how the droid was playing a scene like a holovid format, but instead of being a movie it looked like a recording, in which you could see the boy attached to his mechanical protector while itself shot at enemies. They had to be memories from before you met Mando.

-When is this from? It seems like a difficult situation (you asked with a remarkable question mark).

-The imperials attacked, my task as guardian droid was to protect the child.

The metallic voice filled the room, it was a predictable response, but the playback function was unknown to you.

-I didn't know that everything you saw was recorded, especially after…

You were going to say after being destroyed among lava as The Mandalorian told you, but it seemed unnecessary.

-It is the duty of a good guardian to pay attention to everything around. It also helped to know the extent of the Mandalorian's injuries in medical care.

-Di… Did Mando get hurt?

You had always been aware of the danger that the clan of two faced, especially when they first met and following months, but you did not know that the physical damage would have been of sufficient magnitude to be urgently assisted by a medical droid, nor that Djarin would lend himself to it...

-Yes, after the explosion the bacta was essential for his recovery, also the lack of presence of any living being in the reconnaissance.

That last one made your eyebrows rise to your hairline. The only time the hunter used those words was when he explained the importance for his creed of the… the only possible answer is that he took off his helmet in front of the droid.

-Do you have images of Mando without the helmet?

-Again, it was essential for his survival, I believed that it was well known in beings of your condition that to deal with possible concussion is necessary to access the nervous system in the back of the head.

You rolled your eyes at the attempt at sarcasm.

-Do you want me to play the images for any particular reason?

Your heart stopped dead at the mere mention of it.

-I can't do that, it would be against Mando's privacy… his creed forbids it and is very important to him.

-According to the Mandalorian creed in its literal sense, his members cannot remove their helmet or be seen by others, but he is not even present since it is a projection, it's not real.

Your lips parted, trying to refute that logic was extremely complicated. But it still felt like a betrayal. You and Din had known each other for months and shared almost everything that was possible between two people, but the helmet was always present, without a doubt everything worked very well.

You always had a bitter feeling in your throat as to whether he would really have that last act of trust with you later or things stay the same. Not that it was essential, he was too important to you and his personality meant everything, it was still tempting to use this as a last resort and not let anyone know.

-Play the images...please (you let out a slight resigned sigh).

At that moment the mechanism was set in motion. You saw how Mando was lying on the ground and a metal arm accessed the beskar dome to detach it. What you glimpsed was the last thing expected.

The most expressive brown eyes you had ever seen greeted you, anguish and pain were visible in the grimace of his face and was covered in blood. The state he was in broke your heart, but you smiled sadly. Despite everything, of course Din was beautiful.

He was a few years older than you, but he showed a vulnerability that made him look younger, despite all his experiences, an unusual innocence was observed. His unkempt hair curled at the edges of it, as if he had let it grow longer than it should, he had a faint trace of stubble and a small scar on the bridge of his nose. All of this was finished off by luxurious lips.

You heard how Din in the video mentioned something about his brain and the droid responded with a bad joke, making the man raise his eyebrow, but you couldn't process much more of the conversation as you were focused on the speaker of the words. It was incredible how all his thoughts were reflected without a filter to the outside by his expressions.

You hadn't realized but Grogu was next to you, watching with curiosity and his head tilted at the video of his father, a small soft squeal reached your ears. Suddenly the recording stopped.

-Do you already have the information you requested?

You nodded distractedly at IG-11's voice, which brought you out of your reverie.

-Yes, thank you, but no one can know this.

-You are an authorized person. Who and how the records are accessed is confidential.

________________

The three of you walked calmly through the city towards the small cabin, Din's mission was over and at the end of the day he picked you up to go home.

You were lost in thought as the little green one slept in your arms, you couldn't stop thinking about what you saw, looking at your partner in amazement. Of course the hunter noticed, your gaze was so insistent and intense that it burned him.

-Something wrong? (You noticed the slight amusement in his words, oblivious to the events of the day).

-Nothing, just...I'm glad to spend time together, with you.

Din ascend firmly but gently.

-If you want we can put those shows that Grogu likes so much, so you can rest.

-I would like that.

You said with a wide smile as the Mandalorian held your hand.

[odetodilfs]

A warm May evening

A/N: Two fics in 24 hours wow! I'm inspired honestly, don't expect such consistency from me lmfao, anyway have this cute ass little fic I made. I just had this idea with Frankie and it was so beautiful, like.. you two having a kid? Perfection.

This takes place like 5 years after the movie btw

Pairing: father!reader x father!Frankie Morales OFCs: Yours and Frankie's daughter, Carmen :)

CWs: Kissing but in a non sexual way, you two have an adopted kid, reader obviously has masc pronouns as it says in the pairing, established relationship (marriage), also just a little Spanish at the end cause my hispanic ass can't write something without spanish when it's a hispanic character I'm writing.

REBLOG MY WORK IF YOU LIKE IT, DON'T JUST HEART IT!! IT HELPS ME REACH MORE PEOPLE AND GIVES ME MOTIVATION TO WRITE MORE!! RESPECT YOUR WRITERS!!

“Frankie, come on, we’re waiting!” you shouted upstairs, wondering whatever the fuck was taking your husband so goddamn long to come down. It was a beautiful mid May afternoon, a golden light outside bathed the street and hinted at dawn. Carmen was waiting too, she was your adopted daughter that you and Frankie loved to pieces. She was a lively girl from Mexico whose parents couldn’t make it. It was just giving a child who had lost hope at having parental love being adopted and given a second chance at a family, it made everything even more endearing. You had adopted her when she was 1, now she was 5 and she obviously had to socialize and make friends, and the park was the perfect place to do so.

“Okay okay I’m coming” he said as he hurried down the stairs, looking at you when he stopped, “We ready?” he asked, “Yup” you replied and Frankie walked over to you and gave you a peck on the lips, I’m so sorry for taking so long…” you smiled at the gesture, Carmen just made that disgusted face that children make when they see their parents kiss. You walked out onto the street, Carmen ahead of you, wanting to get to the park already as you and Frankie took in the late spring beauty, flowers on the sidewalk with beautiful flowering trees, sometimes you wondered what you had done that life had been kind to you in the past years, after Frankie failed his mission in Colombia it seems like life had some mercy on you two.

You held Frankie’s hand and looked at him, despite you having been married for years, you still found him the most beautiful man in the world, his eyes, his nose, his stubble, you were in love with this man. You stared back and smiled at each other as he squeezed your hand tighter. You arrived at the park and sat on a bench close to the playground, “Okay Carmen, you can go now, have fun” Frankie smiled at her, “Bye dad!” she said as she went off to play. “You’re an amazing dad” Frankie smiled, complimenting you, “You too” was all you could say, “And a great husband…” he said as he smiled and laid his head on your shoulder, you smiled and kissed the tip of his nose, it was your own little gesture between the two of you. Frankie’s happiness was over the roof, you knew how much of a family man he was and an evening at the park with his husband and his daughter was amazing, even if it seemed something so mundane.. he liked that, he liked everyday things, he liked little moments. You kept an eye on Carmen so that she wouldn’t get into trouble. She was playing in the sandbox with some other kids, making castles and with some cars some other children had brought, your hands were still intertwined with Frankie’s. You sat in a comfortable silence. Carmen played tag with the kids when they got tired of the sandbox as you and Frankie talked about many things, money, reminded each other that you loved the other, and gave each other little kisses. When the sun started to go down and some kids started to leave, you and Frankie stood up to go home. “Carmen, time to go home!” you shouted, she pulled an angry face as she said goodbye to her new friends as she ran over to you two, “Did you have a good time?” Frankie asked her, “Yes! I made friends!” she replied happily, you smiled at your husband, you were proud of your daughter.

The trip home was filled with conversations and laughter in the dim evening light, it was all so beautiful and so perfect. As you arrived at the front door of your house, you warmed up a bath for Carmen and decided to split tasks with Frankie, “I’ll bathe Carmen, you make dinner?” he asked you, 

“Yeah” you smiled and turned around,

“Querido” he stopped you, your heart fluttered at the name as your husband roped you in for a kiss in the lips, kind of long but not suggestively, “This was one of the best evenings in my life” he smiled at you, “Mine too, te quiero, hermoso…” “Yo más” he said as he kissed your neck, “Okay okay, we can do this later, let’s take care of Carmen first” you said with a chuckle, Frankie smiled and laughed as he went into the bathroom and you went to the kitchen.

[putnamcapital]

s1 ep 6 rewatch notes

[yeah i am still doing these essays, everyone copes differently OKAY]

I wish i had the words to convey my love for the Simon-Rosh-Ayub dynamic when they’re sitting on his bed trying to talk about his video, not the Kim K. video. it’s an instance of one of the things i ADORE about YR, namely, the importance of the love and support of friends - “the gang is back together”. contra a lot of the teenage and adult movies that put romantic love on a pedestal and everything else goes to the dogs.

That shot of Wille set against the sky when the Queen leaves = is it the apocalypse or is it heartbreak and i'm not the only one seeing the religious imagery right?

“we haven’t done anything wrong.” Simon’s moral clarity, his unbreakable backbone - it’s a moment where it’s obvious the Court has no idea who they are dealing with. I’m not sure Wille even knows then.

Frida doesn’t get enough praise for her acting. that side eye of August as they cross in front of him loafing on the picnic table: sublime.

Another parallel I hadn’t seen before: Sara dresses up before dinner; she likes the image she sees of herself in the mirror. She is “someone she is not”, according to Simon (later that night), but she wants that false countenance. In S2, that same move will devastate Wille. But we have another Sara-mirror scene, in S2. Leaning on the Wille-Sara parallel, there’s something being done here about becoming who you are through artifice (dressing up ‘in costume’) or through love (revealing your true self). August (as opposed to Simon, i think …) ends up being a false or traitorous ‘coming into self through love’ for Sara.

Related … when Sara went to see August to confront him about the video, i have retrospectively imagined her as having planned what happened. But if you look at the scene as it happens, both Sara and August seem to just be playing the situation as it arises. Sara starts off by not even intending to tell August, I think that was honest. When she then confronted him about the video, she first asks why did you do this to Wille and then, how do you have the right, you destroyed Simon? none of it is about her. it’s when August asks her ‘what do you want’ - that i think the idea comes to her. And i think that explains her face after she kisses August - her revulsion at herself. it seems like a situation that spiralled out of control very fast.

i can’t really talk about the Sara-Simon fight scene because it’s my Point of No Return in terms of “This is a nice program to watch of an evening” and “These characters have become my entire waking and sleeping existence, is there treatment for this.”

in the scene that starts with them sitting on the floor in Wille’s room, there is that tender moment by the door, and one of the top two kisses and hugs in the whole of season 1 and 2 combined, punctuated with the forehead tap. and i’ve always thought it so lovely until this time i saw the “red flag” - the towel hanging on the hook - and it reminded me of the red ‘flag’ we see in the locker room every other time things go south.

the scene with kristina and wille in the car starts simply with him saying, “WHAT?” which a) comes straight out of fanfic; b) is hyper-realistic adolescent approach to dialogue but also c) actually shows that they are really close. as in, Wille might loathe his mother by the end of this episode, but also he knows exactly what she’s thinking and they can just skip all the usual staging aspects of conversation. it links, i now see, to the book scene, where wille admits that he can’t just throw out everything he’s been taught, b/c he’s internalized it so well

when K is lecturing W about all the public attention he’s going to get now, and how it will be even worse, it’s the same shot of him looking out the car window wishing he could be literally anyone else as in the first few minutes of s1ep1, after the club fight. and we see his reflection in the window, so we get him 'in double' - who he is IRL, and who he is seen to be by the viewer. very clever. very clever.

[idolatrybarbie]

the world tipped on its side

chapter five - satellite

series masterlist | read on ao3

pairing: francisco "frankie" morales x f!reader

word count: 5.1k

rating & summary: explicit | you reflect on the concept of love.

warnings: smut, swallowing like a champ, references to past physical injury, reference to frigid parent dynamics, dead parents, reader has a disability, angst, hurt/comfort, pining, emotionssss, pathetic!frankie moments.

notes: @wannab-urs gin hurt my feelings so now everyone must suffer next chapter but enjoy this while we're here. i kind of think this is trash garbo but (at the time of queuing this) i'm in a weird headspace coming back home for the first time. also it's late and i've been traveling all day so i'm choosing to ignore myself. goodnight and enjoy.

Friendship. That’s what this is.

Friendship with a man who called you the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen. Said that you’re so beautiful it’s scary. Who you had just sex with. 

You don’t see much of Frankie on set, except for the few chaste and directive conversations between you, himself, and Ashton. In those moments, the very last thought on your mind is whatever is going on with you and him. It’s work, that’s the priority. Not that you give a shit about the movie, but it’d be nice if everyone wrapped and returned home in one piece.

Every time you try and talk to him, someone else pulls you away. This goes on for the first two days of filming in the woods. You don’t know what this is—this pull that keeps you circling him, even if you never quite seem to gain on Frankie in the chase. The sun and moon, bouncing light between each other at all times. You’re trying to figure out which role you are playing.

You catch him in a personal moment on day four, just getting off the phone with someone behind a production trailer. He looks momentarily startled, but not deterred by your presence. A good sign.

“Hey,” Frankie says. He sounds exactly like he did over the phone.

“Hi,” you return. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”

“Yeah. I figured,” he says. “I mean, me too. Just with the—” He’s motioning vaguely at the helicopter parked thirty feet from you.

“Yeah,” you nod.  “I don’t want to do it here. Maybe you could come over, or…”

“I’ve got my daughter this week,” he says with a shake of his head.

“Oh, shit. Right. I’m sorry,” you say.

“Don’t be. Things are just really…tight right now. Time-wise.”

The pager at your hip buzzes. Ashton calling everyone back to set.

“I’ll call, okay? I promise,” Frankie says. The words make your chest cold and you hate it. This is selfish, surely. The man has a kid, for crying out loud. Who are you to deny or resent dad duty?

But you do. At this moment, you really do, wishing that the small being he has called his pride and joy would cease to exist for an evening. It’s horrible, so you nod and that's that. Back to work you go.

You wait until the end of the week. Frankie does not call. You hate, hate that you’ve been reduced to the girl in movies that would pine over the phone and wait for that special boy to call. Because really, are any of them all that special? Is Frankie?

Sure, he touched you and it felt like a match to your insides, but does that mean anything? You’re out of practice. He’s the first person to pay you any mind in that way since you became disabled. The more you think about it, really think about it, the more the argument for Frankie Morales falls apart.

Mia comes over on a night where missing Sam makes her heart ache a little too much to be alone, bringing with her a shitty bottle of rosé. You’re half a glass deep when she starts to ask that needling question, What’s wrong? And finishing the bottle by the time you sigh as an answer to her asking for the millionth time. You agreed to be open after the—spat? Blowup? Long overdue reuniting best friend fight?—but it still takes some time. She is prying open a mussel to find a very shitty prize.

“It’s stupid,” you say. “I’m stupid.”

“You’re not, and it isn’t,” Mia says, a frown on her face. Your lips stay sealed in a pout and she turns on those evil, adorable eyes. “Tell me.”

You hold out for about five minutes, some action flick moving quietly across your flat screen before you finally give in.

“Jesus! Fine,” you relent. “It’s like being waterboarded.”

Mia grins with satisfaction before her face snaps back to sober (as much as one can be after a whole bottle of wine) seriousness. “Spill.”

“You’re going to say it’s dumb,” you say.

“You’re projecting.”

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

“I slept with Frankie.” A bomb explodes on screen, illustrating what is most certainly happening inside Mia’s skull at this very moment. “Yeah…”

“Was it good?”

“Mia!” you scold, swatting at her knee.

“Hey! You can’t blame me for asking. I love Sam but I have eyes,” she says. “He reminds me of all the guys we went to school with that have photos with fish on their Tinder profiles.”

“You’re terrible,” you sigh.

“You know it, baby,” she smiles. “So you slept together. What next?”

“We haven’t talked about it.”

Mia holds her tongue for a moment, trying to formulate this sentence in the least explosive way possible. “Do you want to?”

“Uh, yeah,” you say.

“I have to ask. You’re not exactly the talk it out type of person anymore,” Mia says.

Ignoring that, you say, “He’s busy. I’m busy. I hate it.”

“Call him,” Mia tries.

“Did that. Not really an over-the-phone kind of conversation,” you say.

Mia hums thoughtfully. “Okay, well. Try it out with me first.”

“What?”

“Whatever you’re going to say to him, say it to me. I know exactly where your mind is going with this—oh no, he has no time for me. Is it even worth discussing this matter that is very important to me if I project unimportance from the other party onto my feelings?"

You don’t say anything, willing another bottle of wine to appear next to the empty one on the coffee table.

“You can’t tell me I’m wrong. It’s what you do,” Mia says, confidence in the way she straightens up against the couch. And she isn’t wrong, but maybe you aren’t either. Frankie isn’t her. Frankie isn’t your best friend. He’s friendly, and you fucked.

“Okay, fine,” you say. You focus in on Mia’s eyes, imagining a different pair of them staring back at you. “I just—I want to tell you that what happened…was a first. In a long while. And I don’t know how to say it like a normal goddamn person, but—”

You can’t focus, words flying out of your mouth too fast for your tipsy brain to keep up. Your feelings are a jumble in your head, a vintage game of Scrabble lost to time. Mia’s not Frankie either. You’d have to explain it and provide all this context that you can’t even put words to for her to understand. For this to feel any ounce of real. Frankie would simply get it. But he won’t, because at this rate you’ll never get to tell him.

“I don’t know,” you sigh.

“Well I can’t make you do anything. I know you, and you’ll do what you think is best. Even if you know the alternative might be better,” Mia says. You can’t help but laugh. “I kind of get it, how your dad felt? When we were at school.”

The mood turns. Not sour, not quite the same. Your living room has a palpable edge ebbing through it now, carried through the occasional waft of alcohol between you, Mia, and the open, empty bottle.

“Do you remember him when we were in college?” you ask, voice quiet.

“Your dad? Of course. He was so, I don’t know—hands-on? He was around way more than my parents were,” Mia says.

He showed up every third weekend of the month with a few containers of leftovers; macaroni pie, frozen meatloaf and mashed potatoes, fresh tomatoes from his garden.

A man who only softened when you elected to up and leave. A man you resented until the day he died. A man you still resent, deep down in your soul. Yet you miss him.

The first time your heart’s been activated in years to throw you off assured feet and your first instinct is to run home to Dad. He lingers in your car, in the way you hold the gravy boat at Mia’s Thanksgiving dinners; his gloves are what you wore in the months of a tiresome film shoot amid an unending New York blizzard.

You hate him. He loved you. For the sixth time this week, you ponder driving home to clean up his grave. You can’t right now, because of work. Maybe when the summer’s over. The leaves will have started to fall. The headstone could use a good power wash.

“Where’d you go?” Mia asks.

“Hm?”

“You disappeared on me for a second,” she says.

“Thinking,” you say.

“Mm, don’t do too much of that. You’ll break your brain.”

“Already broken.”

“That’s too bad,” Mia smiles. “Had some pretty great thoughts sometimes.”

“Sometimes?”

“All the time,” she corrects. Mia gets off the couch, taking a minute to steady herself. “I’m calling a ride.”

“Excellent idea,” you nod. “See? Look at you. Responsible, quick-witted. You can do the thinking for the both of us.”

“Slow your roll, Romeo,” Mia cautions, staring into her phone. She looks up at you. “The night is still young. I’m only going home because you’re dry.”

“There’s a reason you keep alcohol at your place and I don’t,” you say. There have been some days, far behind you now, where you might’ve just drank the pain away. Certainly not the way to go.

She leaves you with another laugh and a smile, promising to text you when she gets home. The apartment stills as soon as the door shuts. You almost open it again, reaching for the knob to lean out into the hall and call Mia back. You don’t, instead letting the quiet envelope you. This doesn’t feel the same as the loneliness that would lurk in the shadowy corners of the room. Your lamps finally feel tall enough to reach those spots, dawning light on them and banishing the feeling.

You let yourself sit with it. Not lonely but alone. This isn’t permanent and it’s not a death sentence, as uncomfortable as it feels right now. Mia is there, along with an assortment of friends whose names you’ll have to dust the cobwebs off of soon. Even if Frankie never calls, you’ll be okay. A bittersweet realization for this dull and itching moment.

Catching a glimpse of yourself in the mirror as you pass the bathroom, you pause. You watch yourself, not in judgment like the last time. Plain observation. You blink three times in one minute before moving on.

It’s odd, looking without really looking. You’ve oscillated between dissection and avoidance of yourself for the last handful of years. This is a new skill to build. Look, there she is. A blink in passing.

Wherever you go, there you are. Get used to it.

-

Back on the studio lot for the rest of the week, you don’t see Frankie. The occurrence becomes less and less significant as the days pass. You almost delete his number from your phone altogether. Almost.

At lunch, you go through your phone to his contact, finger hovering over the trash button. In the end, you decide against it. It’s a number you might need for work. It’d be a pain in the ass to have to go down to payroll for his contact information—like you don’t have the digits memorized. Mia joins you at some point, minutes blurring together as you eat in pleasant silence.

Shooting goes over almost two hours because of rain leaking through the roof onto a set piece. You get home close to midnight. The street lamps bathe everything in a warm glow. Puddles have collected in the divets of the road, water reflecting the artificial light alongside the cold moon.

The elevator ride up to your floor should be like any other. Your instincts know better. Watching the digital numbers change as the metal box ascends, your stomach flips in your gut. You’ve always been acutely aware of the environments you found yourself in, bullshit meter finely tuned to warn you when shit was about to hit the fan.

It’s an instinct your father grew and nurtured in childhood. Because of him, all hard edges and unreachable wells of emotion. He was iced over solid. You found yourself carefully skating over that surface, around and around again for years until you left.

When the elevator doors open, you half-expect to see him standing there. Risen from the grave like a corpse from your dreams. The wall of shiny metal parts into two, and you see someone. Not your father. The breath caught in your throat flashes from crisp to boiling, a tube of Icy Hot slathered across your lungs.

You’ve never told Frankie where you live. So what is he doing here?

Before you’ve even made it to your door, you ask him.

“Thought I’d missed you,” he supplies as an explanation. “Or that you were ignoring me from inside.”

“I can ignore you from outside, too,” you say, setting your bag down. Taking keys from your back pocket, you avert your eyes as you get a grasp on the one for your front door.

“Listen,” he begins, watching as you turn the lock. “I—”

“Look, Frankie. I don’t have time for this. Or you, or your games.” Turning the handle of the door and pushing it open, you grab your things and step inside your apartment. “You said you’d call. You didn’t. End of story.”

“The phone works both ways,” he says. You try not to be shocked at the audacity.

“Well this,” you say, pointing between the two of you, “doesn’t.”

You’re shutting the door when he gently rests a hand on the reinforced wood.

“Please just—let me explain?” Frankie asks. You don’t close the door but don’t open it any wider for him. At that, he says, “Thank you.”

Glancing behind you to find the living room clock, you say, “You’ve got two minutes.” Two minutes to midnight.

“I wanted to call, but I—” Frankie cuts himself off. “I was a coward and that’s not fair to you. I’m sorry. I don’t usually feel this way about people. Not in a long time.”

His words are scratching at your heart. You hold your steely gaze against him, ignoring your insides slowly melting behind the door.

“I really like you. More than I’ve liked anybody. More than I like myself most days. That night in Florida was confusing for me. You wanted me there, and I wanted you. And then you said it was scary and I realized just how terrifying it is. This is.” Frankie takes a breath. “I didn’t want this to be weird. Didn’t want to box you into a corner with all of this shit I’m feeling because that isn’t fair and—”

He’s been avoiding focusing on you, instead staring at the nice tile scuff between the doorway and his boot. Frankie looks up, words playing straight on his face. He looks like he’s seen a ghost when all he’s looking at is you.

“And now I’m some fucker on your doorstep begging you to listen to me tell my sob story.” From the sounds of it, that’s the last thing he wants.

“Sometimes things don’t work out. That’s life,” you say. You’re telling yourself that this is the smart decision. Ice him out and your heart stays safely in your chest. Close the door and he’ll forget all about you. 

Frankie’s eyes are wide, expression raw. He isn’t observing or puzzling over you, he’s barely hiding anything on that face of his. Frankie is bleeding emotion all over your door. You want to take him in your hands and kiss it better. Lick the gore from his mouth, words crimson and dripping off his chin.

So you do.

Setting your bag down in the corner, you open the door wider to see all of him. He stands tall, all broad shoulders under his slubby blue button-down. You’re kissing Frankie before you can consider anything else. He takes ahold of the frilly sleeves of your blouse to pull you closer.

Licking at your teeth, Frankie walks you backward into the apartment. The door is still open. You maneuver around and press your back against it, closing with a thud. He breaks the kiss to murmur another apology against your cheek. You let him, pushing your tongue back into his mouth again.

Gripping the hair that sticks out at the nape of his neck, Frankie moans into the kiss.

“Are you—? Can we?” he asks, whisper-quiet. “Should we?”

No. Yes? You aren’t sure that it matters much anymore. “Do you want to?”

“Always.”

“Okay.”

The kiss is gentler from there on, moving through the front hall and living room with Frankie attached to your face. He almost trips himself taking his boots off. You both make it to the bed, thighs catching at the edge of the mattress. Lying down, he joins you. This is immediately better than that shitty motel, and you haven’t done anything yet.

Frankie moves onto his side, distracted by your lips as he works at the front zipper of your pants. You move your hand to join his, pulling the silver tab down over metal teeth like you’ve done a couple hundred times by now. He huffs in a wordless thanks, pushing your pants down until they are bunched at your ankles. You toe them off along with your socks, leaving you in nothing but underwear from the waist down.

He’s looking at you like an eclipse, utterly fascinated. You begin to shrink in on yourself under his gaze, but he gently runs the pads of his fingers over your cheek. You lean into the warm touch, three matches dragging against your skin to set your face alight.

Frankie kisses down your body, undoing a few of the buttons that sit over your chest. He doesn’t take the shirt off of you, instead pushing it up as his lips kiss over your stomach. You jerk, the soft feeling sending a jolt through your body.

“Please,” you whisper. “Please touch me.” You hate that you’re begging, but love to hear yourself do it.

Frankie does too, moving his mouth over you as he keeps your underwear on. He licks at you over the lycra material, soaking the already damp fabric where your clit sits beneath it. Dipping his tongue low against the gusset, he slips two fingers under your waistband and tugs it away from your skin. The panties peel off of you.

Frankie bunches them in his hand, leaving them beside him on the bed. Without warning, he’s on you again—really this time. He licks at your cunt fervently, like this is the last chance he’ll get to give head. You close your eyes and pull his head closer to your body, small moans slipping past your lips.

This is still a bit of an apology. The thought comes to you amidst your fuzzy haze as you drip onto his tongue. Frankie groans below you, taking your right thigh in one hand and hoisting it onto his shoulder. He’s attached to you again, a different set of lips.

Most of his attention is focused on your clit, his tongue swirling at it between moments when he presses it flat against the whole of you.

“You’re always so sweet for me,” Frankie mumbles. “Wet and pretty. D’you like it when I fuck you with my mouth?”

“Yes, fuck—always,” you sigh.

Dragging him up by the hair, you kiss him again. You need to before you say something stupid. One hand is held softly at your jaw while Frankie’s other hand works you over, pressing hard against your clit.

“God.” Your heart is racing underneath your skin, beating too fast to be quite comfortable.

Frankie’s so close and everything smells like him. Frankie and sex; two things this room has never been exposed to in your tenure here. You should make a candle.

You scratch at his chest, half-hoping to draw a bit of blood as you whine his name.

“Yeah honey? That good? Nice and slow, or—?”

You nod and he slips a finger inside of you, pressing against the front wall of your pelvis. This returns you to begging for more, for anything. For him.

At the edge of an orgasm, Frankie’s fingers leave you in search of a condom. You reach out to the drawer of your bedside table, yanking it forward. Amongst a stash of pens, sticky notes, and batteries is a handful of them. Frankie takes one and opens it up, sliding the latex over his cock. One day, you’ll get your mouth on that thing. Right now you both have other plans.

He works his hand over himself a couple of times before sinking onto the mattress with you. His arms cage you in at either side as he slides in slowly. He’s only halfway inside you when you nod to yourself, a hum barely audible.

“What?” he asks.

“Noting that you’re a missionary type of guy,” you say.

That pulls a laugh from him, morphing into a squeezed moan as you hook one leg over Frankie’s hip. He’s pushed the rest of the way inside of you, breathing heavily at the surprise.

“You’re gonna kill me.”

“Would that be so bad this way?” you ask. It’s hard to keep up the sarcastic banter when you’re so full of him.

Frankie sighs. “No.” The word is punctuated by a thrust of his hips, the force moving you up the bed half an inch.

What you would give to have him fuck you into the headboard; pound you into the mattress. He can’t, shouldn’t, and seems to know it already. Frankie grants you your wish of laying on you though. Just lightly, a feather of a man on top.

Frankie’s cock kisses the end of your cunt before he pulls out again. You hold onto him, pressing him closer as you keep your face in the shadow of his neck. Picturing the scene, pants off and shirts on, almost makes you laugh. Another punch of his hips fucks the thought from your head as you sink your teeth into his skin. Frankie hisses, losing his rhythm with a slight stutter.

“Do that again,” he says, waiting. You do, kissing at the tender skin of his throat this time before you bite him. The flesh between your teeth is soft and elastic, pulling away from his body.

In Frankie’s absence, your appetite has grown. Maybe that’s what it is: starvation. Waiting for days to get your fill once again. You need him inside you—in your cunt, under your skin, between your teeth. You would devour him if he’d let you.

“You feel so fucking good.” His words come slow, contrasting the small gasps he pulls from you on every thrust, leaving you breathless. Frankie is holding you in almost a cradle now. Claustrophobia settles between your bodies deliciously, the world shrinking down to a pinhole as he fucks you.

It doesn’t quite feel like fucking, though. The way Frankie touches you is too soft in some places, and the way he’s looking at you is killer. His eyes flash with that unexplainable thing, stirring your stomach as you feel your peak again. This is a murder. He’s returning the favour.

The next kiss Frankie gives you is bruising. The heat of your skin against his boils over, the oxygen blur caused by your faulty lungs and the slap of his hips against yours doing you in. You come with a groan, panting into his mouth as he continues to thrust into you.

“So pretty when you come,” he says beside your ear. “So pretty always, sweet thing.”

He pulls out of you, jerking himself off through the condom over your body. You shake your head, removing the thin piece of rubber. You pick up where he left off, spitting on him and stroking Frankie’s cock with the tight circle of your hand.

“Fuck,” he moans, long and loud. “Honey, slow down. Where do you want it?”

“In my mouth.” Testing, you give him a kitten lick at the tip of his dick.

“Oh god.”

You shake your head. “Just me.”

He comes with a few more strokes, striping your tongue, your lips, your chin. You let him go to gather it from your skin onto your fingers. It’s only a little shiny here in the half-dark. You can feel Frankie watching when you press your index past your lips, tasting more of him.

He groans. Again, he says, “You’re gonna kill me.”

Frankie lays down on the empty side of the bed. You brace for his after-sex questionnaire, but the conversation never comes. He rolls onto his side to face you, slipping his arms around your torso as you face away from him.

Eventually he asks, “You still like me being here? Now that it’s here?”

“What do you mean?”

“Florida, it’s a vacation. This is a little more…” Permanent. Memorable.

Whenever you went home for the summer, your childhood bedroom plagued you with thoughts and memories long buried of your amateur firsts. Your brain still sort of worked like that—you’re sure that if you went back to your old unit in California, the handful of PAs and dolly grips you spent nights with would be one of the first things on your mind.

“Yeah,” you say, answering the question. “This is better.”

“Better?”

“Don’t let it get to your head,” you mumble into the pillow.

“Too late,” Frankie says.

You sigh. “How can you be the coolest guy ever and an absolute donut at the same time?”

“You think I’m cool?” he asks.

Unlike him, you’re honest. “Unfortunately.”

Frankie hums, the rumble of his chest sinking into the bones in your spine easily.

This is all easy. Listening to him breathe, letting him in your space, falling asleep against him. If you weren’t so thoroughly fucked and tired, the simplicity would freeze you, desperate to scramble away. All you can do is lay there, falling asleep in his arms.

When you wake up, Frankie’s gone. Again.

Something painful seizes your chest, an icy claw poking razor-sharp fingers through the slats in your ribs. The sheets on the empty side of the bed still have the faint glow of body heat. He must’ve left recently, or maybe he’s still up. You can catch him before he puts his boots on and walks out your front door—out of your apartment, out of your life.

Franke interrupts your thoughts when he returns to your room, a mug in his hand.

“Did I wake you?” he asks. His morning voice is low and gravelly. A feast for the ears.

“No,” you shake your head. “I thought you left.”

“Moved my boots. They were getting dirt on your nice carpet.” Right. You remember him leaving them somewhere in your apartment. “I made coffee.”

“I’m okay.” You let your breathing even out as he sits back down on the bed with you. “We should…talk.”

“That’s all we ever do,” Frankie says. “Well, that and…” The other thing you two are so proficient at these days.

“I mean really talk. About this,” you say.

“Right,” he nods. Frankie sets his mug down, steam rising from the top. “I guess I do owe you a secret.”

“It doesn’t have to be like that.”

“It doesn’t,” he agrees. “I want to tell you.”

When you told him about the accident, about everything that changed, you’d handed him this soft and precious thing of yours that no one else had ever seen. With the roles reversed, your palms itch. You can’t help but think that you’ll drop his.

“But you have to promise me something first,” Frankie says. “Don’t say anything until I’m done, okay? Please.”

“Okay.”

A long moment of silence draws on between the two of you as he stares at your bed sheets. Frankie’s mouth twitches, filtering through his vocabulary to find the right words. Then finally, he speaks.

He tells you about a region in South America called Tres Fronteras. About a phone call, a decision, a heist. The money, most of it lost to the unforgiving land and sea. Frankie lost a friend, a wife, and a life he was trying to carve out for himself. All for riches that were never going to be his.

“I killed people. I was good at it—that and flying planes. And then all of that ended with the service. For a while there I was…a bit of a trigger-happy coke head,” he says, almost rolling his eyes. Frankie can’t seem to look at you, the same way he couldn’t in the hall. “Took a long time to clean up my act.”

You understand what he meant on that beach, an apology waiting behind your teeth as you keep your eyes on him. You don’t verbalize it. Instead, you take his hand into yours. Gently, you squeeze.

“I guess you aren’t the only one squirrely about secrets,” Frankie whispers.

“Can you look at me? Please?”

Frankie surrenders, face drawn when he meets your eyes.

“That’s not the person you’ve shown me. It’s not the guy that I see. We change. For worse or for better.”

You would be lying if you said that his admissions don’t unsettle you; that this is an easy pill to swallow. But you know him. You want him. He and you are cut from the same cloth in the end. This changes nothing.

“Which one do you think you are?” he asks.

“Worse.” But that can change. Is changing, even as you sit here.

“And me?”

At that, you smile. “Better.”

You want to tell him that the promise of seeing him had been one of the only things getting you through the slow, thick haze of summer. That the thought of him never calling was a little devastating, no matter how sad that sounds. You miss his touch and want his eyes on you always. You’ve never had such a quick turnaround in opinion about anything. It’s selfish, really.

“I’m kind of a bad person,” he says slowly. It’s half warning, half realization.

“Good and bad are concepts from make-believe. I wouldn’t worry about it too much.”

“So what do you worry about?” Frankie asks.

“Reality,” you say. “My whole life is centered around making other people believe in something fake. Concentrating on what’s real? That’s been keeping me sane lately.”

Mia’s words. Frankie’s attention. That tangible feeling of warmth, different but the same, when you are around both of them.

“And you’re real,” you say before he can ask. “A bit of a fuck up, but so am I.”

“That must be why we get along,” Frankie says.

“Must be.”

You want to add you’ll be okay to that list of real things. You need it. You’d kill for it. Silently, with your head against the pillow, you make a decision.

tags: @wannab-urs / @anoverwhelmingdin / @iamskyereads / @for-a-longlongtime

[beta-adjacent]

@fairytalesociology

Thank you so so so much for your patience with me; I've been getting my footing back after starting school again :') I honestly don't remember what you'd asked me about anymore, but I know it was Zombies related so I'm just going to ramble about the franchise until I run out of steam, haha

The first Zombies movie has bothered me since it I first watched it, especially because of its ending. It looked like there was another cheerleading school competing against the Mighty Shrimp!! But that other team doesn't say Anything about Seabrooke, which irked me because.. why didn't they? If they knew about a zombie outbreak in this one town, and they saw cheerleaders who looked exactly like a zombie..... why did no one say anything about the zombies? The lack of their input implies, to me, that either this other school is a farce and Seabrooke is some Orwellian nightmare, OR that everyone is fully aware of Seabrooke and they do not care about the zombies for whatever reason (e.g. zombie outbreaks are common, the politics behind zombies has long-since been discussed, Seabrooke is a really conservative town). I wish we got Zombies 4 so we could see the world outside of Seabrooke!!! And it's a crucial part of my rewrite, especially since it'd make Addison realize how everyone thinks she's human, regardless of her hair color and rhinestones.

Speaking of Addison, I love her potential. Addison is best when she is played as an accidental villain, or at least constantly at moral odds with herself. Addison's flaws primarily stem from her privilege and white guilt, originally perpetuated by her environment being too close-minded, but continues to be perpetuated by her choosing ignorance and neglect of her privilege (which unfortunately in the canon leads to little or no consequence). Even now, in the main series, she's got good foundations for showing how activism can go downhill, or be/become superficial; there's a powerful story there that I want to tap into.

So, in my rewrite, I want Addison's journey of becoming a proper activist to be really clear. In Zombies 1 & 2, I need the characters to full-on call her out on her malarkey. I'd love it even more if marginalized groups like the zombies can't say anything right away, and that builds and builds, and suddenly Zed and Addy get into a huge argument. I even like it if Brianna -- yes, Brianna, the "black best friend" stereotype in the movie about battling racial stereotypes -- had this fight with Addison!!!

I want Addison to have a big fight with Zed, hear the things she doesn't want to hear, and be a coward for a second. I need her to run back to her human friends and family to get some space, only for her to realize that she has the privilege to run away at all Maybe she cries to her parents and her dad threatens to tell the authorities about Zed, despite him doing nothing wrong, and Addison gets this clarity. . She could've done anything to Zed, to his reputation or career or life, in that moment due to her anger; he was lucky that all she did was go to her family. And realizing the power she has over her boyfriend because of her social statuses is what makes her return to Zed with humility. I mean, maybe this borders on too unrealistic, haha; the point is simply that Addison needs to see how she is still like her human friends/family in many regards.

By the end of the series, I want Addison to understand that, regardless of her heritage, her role in Seabrooke is as a human ambassador. Her arc should feel like she learned how her privileges and guilt impact those around her, and how to help a new race of monster without immediately trying to become one of them.

But, of course, that all doesn't even begin to touch on the other major gripe people have with Addison-- her suspicions that she's different were actually correct, and worse, she's rewarded for it. In my rewrite, I want Addison to get confirmation that she's part alien way earlier, ideally at the end of Zombies 2. I think for the best long-term arc, her learning she's generally not human should start at the end of Zombies 1.

Ideally, the reveal she's not human is a private confession from the mom at the end of Zombies 1, which makes Addison's conflict in Zombies 2 a choice-- she can either reveal herself as monster, or she can keep it to herself. Again, that's a huge privilege for her, one that the zombies and werewolves can't afford (as Zed himself demonstrates in Zombies 1). Based on Addison's choice, the world becomes our oyster! Addison can try sneaking away by herself to find answers in Zombies 2 such that she finds the werewolves (instead of it being a matter of fate/luck); she can try leaving Seabrooke altogether; she can come clean and watch her human peers not care (or maybe they do ostracize her like she feared; that's a plotpoint that's not really explored in the original canon). In my perfect world, Addison ends up doing some research, and ultimately causes the aliens to arrive. Maybe the group decides to help her at the start of Zombies 3, or they try to but can't because they're all going away and graduating while Addison feels stuck. Maybe Addison talks to her to-be-deceased grandma, or a similarly-knowledgeable loved one, and inspired by those stories, she chooses to summon the aliens despite not knowing the worldly consequences. Regardless, when Addison gets to engage in her alien culture, I think she needs to be an outsider who learns (hopefully already knowing how to respect another culture thanks to Zombies 2).

Again, Addison is root of a majority of the conflicts in this rewrite because I like her that way, haha. The original canon makes her so paradoxically selfish despite her empathy with sense of justice. It just makes sense to explore a world where Addison's selfishness keeps getting the best of her. I want redemption for Addison; I just make that a very difficult process, haha.

Here are some other comparatively small thoughts about the franchise:

The end of Zombies 3 where Bucky takes over the ship absolutely rocks me because for someone who cared so much about hating on the zombies & co... how did he handle learning he's an alien?? Similar to Addison, Bucky in the canon gets all the benefits without the repercussions. So when Addison learns about the alien thing, I want Bucky to be there too. Actually, wait here we go!!!! Bucky summons the aliens, not Addison; he becomes the villain for Zombies 3. This then allows Addison to teach Bucky everything she's learned over the last two movies about how to be a good person.

Also, Eliza should've been president in Zombies 2; her entire arc was building up to that and her subtle ways of demonstrating how she is a leader and struggling with how to be a passionate revolutionary without turning to violence. Zombies 3 should've then been about her struggling to make change within the bureaucracy of the school instead of being away at college.

[zeawesomebirdie]

🍓 ⇢ how did you get into writing fanfiction? 🍄 ⇢ share a head canon for one of your favourite ships or pairings 🧩 ⇢ what will make you click away from a fanfiction immediately? 🪲 ⇢ add 50 words to your current wip and share the paragraph here. Two can play the beetle game!

[for this ask game here]

Thank you so much for the ask Sun!!

🍓 ⇢ how did you get into writing fanfiction?

Oh man this is a story. So, when I was a little kid, my family used to go on road trips all the time, and to pass the time, I would tell stories to my siblings about whatever movies we had watched recently. I didn't know that fanfiction was a thing until I was 11, when one of my friends at school told me about ff.net, and then I started writing down my fics, so that when I turned 13 I could make an account over there and post my fics too

🍄 ⇢ share a head canon for one of your favourite ships or pairings

Bruce was Dick's very first crush, and he never ever gets over that, even if it's a universe where they don't end up together

🧩 ⇢ what will make you click away from a fanfiction immediately?

I answered this here, but another thing that makes me click away is preachy writing, where the author appears to be using their fic as a soapbox for whatever moral argument they're trying to make

🪲 ⇢ add 50 words to your current wip and share the paragraph here.

Thank you for this, I just added like 500 words to the Britt/Kato fic I've been avoiding for the last two weeks!!

full snippet below the cut

Britt led him down the hall, flicking the parlor lights off as he passed the switch. Once in the bedroom, Britt released his hand, and instead of the usual running commentary on what they would be doing come morning, Britt stayed quiet as he began preparing for bed.

That wasn’t the odd thing, in and of itself; after all, Britt was usually more reserved after a night where the Hornet had to save Kato rather than the other way around. But there was something decidedly off about Britt’s behavior, about his silence, Kato was sure of it by the time Britt slipped into bed beside him, tenting his knees under the covers as he leaned back against the headboard before turning to look at Kato with an unreadable expression.

“Can I ask you something, Kato?” Britt asked, his hands fisting into the quilt as though he was fighting the urge to hide beneath it.

Kato had been expecting this, but when he nodded for Britt to go ahead, the question itself was entirely unexpected.

“Would you ever want a family?”

It seemed that all the air in the bedroom had been sucked out the windows all at once. Kato stared back at Britt, a million answers on his tongue, yet none of them the right ones, not when Britt was twisting the quilt between his hands and clearly waiting for some sort of reply. Even after a deep breath, which did nothing to steady his now racing thoughts, Kato couldn’t formulate any kind of sentence that would adequately express just what it was he wanted.

“I mean,” Britt said after a long silence, “would you ever want a family with me?”

“How would that work, what with Miss Case?” Kato managed to ask, his heart in his throat.

That was the wrong thing to say.

Britt deflated, looking down at the quilt bunched in his hands, his lips drawing down in a frown though he was visibly trying to not let his face betray him.

“I haven’t got a clue.” His voice was no longer the confident tone Kato was used to from him; instead he sounded almost lost. “It was just a— just a thought, a whim. Nothing meant by it.”

Whatever emotions crashed within Kato’s chest, he couldn’t bear the sight of Britt’s clear dejection, and Kato took one of Britt’s hands in his own. Britt didn’t react whatsoever, his hand limp in Kato’s, even when Kato tried to lace their fingers together.

“No, Britt, please,” he said softly, and somehow that got Britt to look back at him, “I would want— I do want a family with you.” He paused for a breath, just in case Britt wanted to say something, and when he didn’t, Kato continued. “We just need to think about how we can go about it. Miss Case would be happy to help, would she not?”

[gothmikasagf]

Hi! I’ve been following this blog for a bit and I love that you are having a HH phase, bc same. Can I get a matchup for the event?

★Gender and pref: I’m a he/she and choose how I present myself based on the setting bc I’m not that open with ppl (yeah, I think it’s important to express yourself but realistically that won’t get me far in certain settings in my country); no gender pref but I’m not too fond of some writing choices when it comes to women in Viv’s works, depends on a character though

★Style: kinda rockstar gf vibe? Sometimes softer colours too

★Personality, hobbies: I’m social and extroverted. Usually that leaves me as a leader of whatever group I’m in. I have a little bit of a hater in me, but I don’t show it if ppl don’t encourage it. I do like when it’s being enabled though. It’s not convenient when you’re in a position where ppl ask you for opinions and actually follow your guide, yk, if I manage an event I’m not going to go around shit talking everything. It feels nice to have someone who does that though, makes it easier to join in and not feel like a jerk (or at least be jerks together I guess??). I write my own songs and am in a band as a backup vocal. Kinda proud that it’s my band but I need to get better until I step up as anything more. I’m a bit of a perfectionist. I like to tease ppl if given the opportunity. Others say I’m flirty. Bold with it at that. I’m ambitious too. Kind of a big thing but I have npd (if you want to look it up without reading scientific papers, go on tumblr, bc the rest of the internet is filled with ‘demonic narcissism’ bullshit) and it influences the way I am. I care lots about my image and don’t have a ton of empathy. I don’t go kicking puppies, but it’s noticeable how I lack in this department. Sometimes people say I’m ’too nice to have it’ cause i do well with kids and do all the youth group volunteering. Also, I do some martial arts and other sports. Kinda sceptical of romance at this point cause I had lots of it and I don’t mix well with a lot of people, but maybe I could do something serious for once if I had the right person. I try to be responsible and respectful but I have no issue finding my place at a wild party or something. I'm pretty chill in general, but I can be soft-er if I want, like with children or if the few ppl I actually am close with (I've got many friend groups but I struggle to make meaningful connections) need me. Usually I just stay my highly analytical, laid back self and say my silly little comments every once in a while. Heard I’m pretty funny if I want to be. My love language is acts of service. I like small things and I do them a lot. I can do words too, but I don't care for them in return. Like, you can be an asshole (up to a limit, I know my worth) and it’s cool with me if I see you have your ways of caring like putting on a song I like in the car

★❤️&💔: love movies like Fight Club (my fav), American Psycho and Donnie Darko; hate sharks, they freak me out; my fav book is The Catcher in the Rye; hate it when people push me to open up and be emotional; love music and I unironically had a few guys play songs AT me and I actually like that too, tho I get why ppl clown on that

★My type: I like people who are more negative than me and aren't afraid to shittalk everything. Just saying whatever, not caring if they offend ppl (up to a point, some issues aren’t debatable ik). Don't really care for morality (to a certain point, again) if you're charismatic and fun to be around, I’m along for the ride and happy to support whatever you get yourself into. I think I would get along with someone who had a little npd too, I like to be able to relate to my partner a bit. If they work somewhat similarly, I don't have to struggle with understanding some stuff, bc I already know how to manage an ego or grandiose behavior. As for looks. Idk, I don’t have a set type. I think ppl that are bigger than me maybe? I’m pretty athletic so it’s not hard, but I guess that’s been a pattern? Also, I do enough of leading as is so in relationships, I don’t mind watching from the side and supporting whatever my partner is doing

-★🎶

I love that for us anon^^

I match you with...

Husk!

Man is definitely a hater too. I can definitely see both of you just talking shit about whoever you don't like.

Doesn't mind your flirtations but don't really expect him to reciprocate unless he's out to fluster you.

Silently supportive of your hobbies and your band. He likes that you're a perfectionist but won't let you overwork yourself to the point you forget to take care of yourself.

Demonstrates he cares for you through little things, he won't make a big fuss about it.

Watches whatever movie you like and is there to listen to you if you want to talk about it.

He's pretty chill with anything so you wouldn't have to worry about being judged.

I feel like you would definitely understand each other, he has toned down a lot since his overlord days.

Likes having you sitting at the bar and just be in your presence. If you shit-talk Alastor in front of him he's yours forever.

Hope you enjoyed it and I didn't mess anything up (feel free to reach out if so).