#i’ve literally been working on versions of it for a year and can’t get it right lmao

[monsterfuckermilligan]

me looking at my draft with the perfect title and the perfect set up for a fix it fic and all the information i need and want to put on paper: fuck i wish i was able to write this….

[watermelonlovershigh]

i went through your masterlist and i saw you wrote about the reader being insecure about having an outie (literally thank you for even writing about it !! i’ve never seen anyone write about that insecurity before) and i was wondering if you could write about the reader not letting harry go down on her bc she’s insecure about her outtie and harry doesn’t know about her insecurity until he questions why he can’t eat her out and he’s all loving to her afterwards ☺️

"Can I taste you?" /SMUT/

AN: i loved this ask as soon as i seen it because a perfect scenario of how i wanted this to go came to me. and thank you. outies are the most common for women to have. but all vaginas are beautiful. i hope you enjoy and remember to send your feedback to let me know how i've done. thanks for reading. xoxo ps. i debated on posting this today or not after the events that happened two days ago, but i hope by posting this it can distract some of your minds from the devastation of recent tragedies.

This story contains: mentions of a verbally abusive ex, body insecurities, comfort, smut (female receiving oral sex), fluff

{ boyfriendrry - soft!harry - au!harry - dating for three months }

word count- 2,512

You have major insecurities about how your body looks due to an ex boyfriend, so when your current boyfriend Harry asks if he can taste you for the first time, your reaction forces him to give you comforting words to easy your worries.

Over the course of three months, you and Harry have been dating and it's been an incredible experience. Normally, you spend your time at each other's homes, watching films or playing board games. But recently, Harry has been putting more effort into making your time together special. Therefore, when Friday comes, he wanted to take you out for a pleasant dinner instead of remaining indoors throughout the evening.

It's worthy to note that your relationship was initiated by mutual friends. Tina, a friend from your college years, and Carter, who works with Harry, were neighbors growing up. Upon discovering they both had a single friend from their separate lives, they took the initiative to set the two of you up. Although you felt quite anxious about the blind date, you now have no regrets, as it's introduced you to the wonderful person that Harry was.

Another important detail regarding your relationship is that the most intimate you've gotten is making out. You informed Harry on your first date that you wanted to take things slow, and he's respected that boundary. Your first kiss was shared approximately five dates in, and you didn't engage in making out until the sixth date. Although you very much desire going further with your sexy boyfriend, your fear of intimacy is getting in the way, which stems from some very hurtful things your verbally abusive ex once said to you. It's brought your confidence way down and the idea of having sex ever again terrifies you.

Your dinner date was delightful. Harry brought you to an Italian restaurant situated in downtown London, where you had great conversations and delicious pasta. After your meal, Harry invited you back to his place, and you found it hard to say no. You appreciated the warmth and coziness of his charming house. Unlike the standard apartment or house of many millennial guys, Harry's home had the inviting essence of a grandparent's house, specifically the ones that were smoke-free.

As you arrived back to his house, both of you made your way to his couch, where the atmosphere began to shift drastically. During the car journey, it was clear that Harry was restless, his hand lingering on your thigh as he navigated the road. Yet, this version of Harry is unlike any you've previously seen. He kisses you with an intensity that's almost primal, and you find yourself responding eagerly. His large hands gently holds your jaw as your mouths align, and your tongues dance together.

With a brief pause from your lips, Harry begins trailing kisses down your jaw until he reaches your neck. Although he hadn't ventured this far before, the pleasure was so intense that you don't think to stop him. However, your response to his soft inquiry against your warm skin—"Can I taste you? Hhm? I really wanna taste you."—caused your entire body to freeze. This reaction leads Harry to withdraw his lips, concerned that he was progressing too quickly for your comfort tonight.

"Shit, m'sorry. I shouldn't have asked that. Forget I said anythin'. Can just keep kissin' if you'd like. Or not. We can cuddle if you're more comfortable with that. Whatever you want." Nervous Harry tends to ramble a lot, you've come to learn.

The sight of Harry's distress concerning your potential rejection of his suggestion evokes a feeling of sadness within you. You want Harry to, have a taste, as he puts it. You're certain of his talents in that department. Yet, the notion of him seeing you entirely fills you with anxiety. "Um, no, it's not that I don't want you to. It's just um... well..."

"What is it, Y/n? You can tell me. I'd never judge you?" Harry speaks softly, wanting you to know he'd never judge you for your reasoning, nor would he push you to do anything you didn't want to do. It was a mere suggestion on his part from being in the heat of the moment.

With a deep breath, you decide to share, "Um, my ex, the one I've mentioned before...... Well, anytime we'd get intimate, having sex or other things, he would constantly criticize my body. He would highlight specific areas that he found unappealing, often saying how I didn't look like his past partners. He even suggested that I get surgery to resemble the women he viewed in porn." It's now apparent that his addiction to pornography significantly influenced his views, causing him to adopt an unrealistic standard of beauty for women to have.

Shocked, Harry exclaims with anger bubbling in his chest, "I can't believe he would say such things to you. M'sorry. I want you to know that I would never think or express those words to you. Every body is uniquely different, and that's what makes us who we are. When you're ready for us to be fully intimate with one another, please remember that your appearance will never concern me."

His warm words have a profound effect on your heart. Although the remarks from your ex continue to echo in your thoughts, the notion of Harry eating you out becomes increasingly enticing. Dismissing your anxieties, you respond with certainty, "We can... I mean, you can if that's what you want to do. I trust you, Harry. It’s not that I was ever against the idea of you eating me out or us eventually having sex. Just um, my ex's criticisms left me feeling insecure about how you would view my body. But after sharing what I did, I feel better about it and trust you enough to go there with you."

Harry looks directly in your eyes before confirming, "You sure? I don't have to if you think it's too much tonight. We can always wait until you feel more comfortable."

"I'm sure, Harry." If he keeps stalling and looking for your reassurance, it may lead to you overthinking the situation and reconsider your permission. The quicker he begins, the better. Harry leans in to place a final kiss on your lips before he slowly kneels down in front of you. With a measured pace, he starts kissing up your jean covered legs, moving from your knees to your upper thighs. When you felt his fingers exploring your empty belt loops, you gave a nod, giving him the go-ahead to slide the fabric down.

After your jeans have been entirely taken off and carelessly thrown onto the living room floor for later attention, Harry looks down and notices a wet patch on the front of your underwear. A smile forms on his face, pleased to see that you've become so aroused just from kissing. He wonders how you've manage to stay so composed during your past make out sessions when things didn't progress further like they are tonight. He's knows for himself personally, he often had to sneak away to the bathroom to relieve himself after your dates when lengthy kissing sessions were involved.

In a display of bravery, instead of waiting for Harry to ask if he could pull down your panties, you raise your hips from the couch and start removing them yourself. You consciously avoid looking down, fearful of his reaction, and keep your eyes fixated on the ceiling. When Harry catches sight of the lower half of your exposed body, he appears bewildered, unable to identify any imperfections that your previous partner could have mentioned. You look completely normal in his eyes.

In the past, Harry has slept with several women and with each one, has appreciated their bodies as they were. To him, as a grown ass man, pussy is pussy, regardless if the women was clean shaven or rocking a bush. Whether her lower lips were petite or more pronounced, he found all variations to be perfectly normal and enjoyable. (As long as they were clean, hygiene wise, of course.) Just like he's aware no two dicks look the same either.

"Y/n, look at me."

You cast a hesitant glance downward, where you notice a gentle smile on Harry's face, making his dimples pop out more prominently. He extends his hands to grasp yours, which are resting at your sides, and speaks in a soothing tone, "Do you know what I see, Y/n? Hm? I see a perfectly normal vagina. It appears entirely typical. In my past experiences with various women, I can honestly say that many of them resembled yours. I believe what yours looks like is quite common, at least based on what I've seen in person. What is often seen in porn is largely artificial. Many of those women undergo surgeries to achieve those Barbie lookin' genitals. So do not allow anyone to convince you that this *gestures towards your pussy with his hands* is anythin' but natural, normal."

His sincere compliments nearly bring you to the brink of tears. Where has Harry been all your life? He's always so kind and nurturing. His personality is completely different from any man you have ever dated or had a fling with. He seems to be the epitome of perfection, and you're starting to think that you might be in love with him, even after just three months of dating.

Just before he starts, Harry asks a final question. "One last question before I begin. Did your ex at least manage to make you come when he ate you out?" He's eager to know this information to ensure that he can provide an exceptional performance, aiming for you to come hard from just his tongue alone.

Shaking your head, you respond embarrassedly, "No, um, he typically only spent a few minutes down there, and it was never long enough for me to reach an orgasm." It perplexed him how any man, apart from a gay man of course, could limit themselves to just a few minutes of giving oral pleasure to a female, when he personally could easily immerse himself in a woman's pussy for an eternity. Engaging in such acts may very well be his greatest passion.

"We'll have to change that, won't we." Harry speaks seductively right over your damp pussy, his hot breath bringing chills up your spine, and moving one of his hands out of your grasp to rest on your pubic bone. Maintaining eye contact, you observe as Harry leans in and traces a broad line from the hole in which your dripping from, up to your clitoris. He then proceeds to circle his tongue languidly around your clit while his thumb holds back the hood for more exposure, prompting you to arch your body against the couch in pleasure. The sensation his tongue is giving you is far more pleasurable than any experience you had with your previous partner(s).

With one hand still intertwined with yours, which remains at your side, Harry stays persistent in licking, sucking, and almost devouring your entire pussy as if he hasn't eaten all day. He eats you like a starved man. Eventually, he lets go of your other hand and splays it out on your bare thigh, encouraging you to spread your legs wider for him. You find it increasingly difficult to keep your legs from closing as he concentrates on your throbbing clit.

Harry realizes now that your hands are no longer in his, they seem to be longing for something to hold again. Momentarily withdrawing from your slick cunt, he instructs, "Put your hands in my hair. I don't mind. Pull and tug as you please; it won't hurt me, promise." With a hint of hesitation, you comply. You lace your fingers through his brown curls and as soon as his mouth returns to your clit, you can't help but tug on his hair, drawing him impossibly closer to your core.

He carries on for another three minutes, making your sensitivity levels escalate and your body grow warmer. With one final, firm tug on his hair, you cry out, "Oh my God! Mhm, fuck! I'm gonna come, Har......Harryy!" At that moment, an overwhelming sensation washes over you. As Harry continues to flick his tongue over your pulsating clit, you hold his head tightly against you, not caring whether he can breath or not in the moment. As the intense orgasm envelopes you, your mind becomes completely empty of any worries or thoughts.

Slowly, the intensity of your high starts to subside, leaving you breathless on Harry's couch as he gradually removes his mouth from your sensitive pussy. While your eyes focus their gaze on the ceiling, you felt the soft caresses of Harry's thumbs tracing circles on your bare thighs, which finally compels you to look down. The first thing you notice is his face covered in a glossy substance from having been nestled between your legs, and then a smile that was unmistakably joyful.

You're completely lost for words. That may have been a stronger orgasm then you've ever given yourself. "So...." Harry begins nervously, "how was that?"

"Um.... wow, that was.....just wow."

Harry finds amusement in how he's rendered you at a loss of words. "Made you speechless, have I?" he teased. You nod in agreement, prompting him to continue. "See, I promised you there was nothin' to fear. Your pussy is as beautiful as it is tasty. You should never feel self-conscious with me; I'd never pass judgment on you for somethin' out of your control." His honesty touches your heart. He consistently proves himself to be a true gentleman, elevating your standards for men to a very high level. You really hope this relationship lasts, because you believe it'll be difficult to find someone as perfect as Harry ever again.

-------------------------------

Harry assisted you in cleaning up and asked if you'd like to stay the night. You had spent nights together in the past, alternating between each other's homes, but those times generally involved sharing a bed without cuddling, as Harry was uncertain about your comfort with such closeness. However tonight, after he'd seen you half naked with his face between your legs, your comfort level had clearly advanced beyond what it had been previously.

After both of you got into bed, you remained on your individual sides until you felt bold enough to initiate cuddling with your boyfriend. You realized that Harry was being cautious still, so you decided to move closer, laying your head on his chest and draping your left arm over his waist. "Is this alright?" you quietly asked in the dark room.

Harry quickly loosed his stiff body up and wrapped his arms around you, so he could hold you close. Whispering back, Harry replied, "Definitely alright. I love cuddles." Now that you know Harry loved cuddles, you'll have to give him cuddles more often.

Soon sleep found you both and the house became quiet. The only sounds that could be heard was your soft breathing and the rustling of trees outside. After tonight, you feel way more confident to go further with Harry. Matter of fact, you hope you can go further with him really soon. Just the thought of that brings excitement to you, and certain parts of your body.

(PLEASE REBLOG BECAUSE WRITING IS NOT EASY AND IT'S FREE SO JUST DO IT)

(if you want to be apart of my new tag list, let me know right here !! )

taglist: @swiftmendeshoran // @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite // @hsonlyangelxo // @lunabai // @ppleasingg // @harryscherrysugar // @devilsqueen722

My Masterlist Masterpost

[goldsainz]

FRIENDS INTO LOVERS — one shot.

pairing: lando norris x reader

MASTERLIST.

request: “Hi, could I request a childhood sweethearts with lando please and thank you 🫶🫶”

NOTE: so i did a social media au for this, hope that it's okay! let's pretend for the sake of the story's timeline that olivia is slightly older 😁 i changed the request format thingy bc the gap it left bothered me… if you check my other requested works you’ll know what i mean

liked by mickschumacher, conangray and 301,796 others

lando.jpg Day 61. Road trip with the one and only yourusername

view all 4,527 comments

yoursername my passenger princess <3

⤷ lando.jpg 😐😐😐

⤷ danielricciardo Don't even try to deny it

landofan1 literally love y/n sm

landofan2 i want a friendship like theirs

ynfan1 LANDO BEING A PASSENGER PRINCESS IS NOW CANON

liked by yoursername and 8,139 others

user1 when are they gonna get together!!!

maxfewtrell Still can’t believe I wasn’t invited🙄

⤷ yourusername this wouldn’t happen if you had other friends!

⤷ maxfewtrell Rude! I’m gonna tell Lando about this.

liked by landonorris, irisapatow and 2,643,197 others

yourusername All Of The Girls You Loved Before is out now in all streaming platforms!!! 💗

view all 39,648 comments

landonorris So so proud of you! Everyone will get sick of me playing this all the time

⤷ yourusername you’re fr my #1 fan

⤷ landonorris And what about it? 🤨

landofan21 this 100% about lando no doubt about it

oscarpiastri New song for the McLaren playlist

liked by yourusername and 17,923 others

ynfan21 if this isn’t a confirmation post + the comments… then idk what is

ynfan22 “i wanna teach you how forever feels” when will it be my turn😭

landofan22 THE BEHIND THE SONG INTERVIEW??? if this song isn’t about lando idk what’ll do…

⤷ user21 what did she say?

⤷ landofan22 “It’s about loving someone so much you don’t really care that they’ve been with someone before you, just feeling grateful you’re getting the best version of them.” that is so about lando idc what anyone says

⤷ ynfan23 don’t forget about: “I wrote it thinking about how maybe there’s someone that’s always kind of been there, and you didn’t notice or the timing wasn’t right, but now that it is you don’t think about anything else other then them.”

liked by carlossainz55, team_quadrant and 1,857,426 others

landonorris May I introduce my lovely girlfriend, Y/N! She’s been my friendfor more years than I can remember (17 if we’re being precise) and there is no one else I’d rather spend the rest of my life with. Thank you, for being my best friend all this time and letting me love you ❤️

view all 27,861 comments

ynfan31 OMG??? I WASN’T EXPECTING THIS TODAY

sebastianvettel Congrats you two! Nice to see you both finally came to your senses

⤷ landonorris Thank you, Seb!

⤷ yourusername 🫶🫶🫶

landofan31 i’m gonna need 3-5 business days to recover

landofan32 THAT TWITTER USER WAS RIGHT???

ynfan32 words can’t describe how i’m feeling rn

mickschumacher Glad I don’t have to keep this a secret anymore!!!

⤷ maxfewtrell Same here, mate! It was killing me

ynfan33 all this time they were together😭😭

user31 love is actually real

liked by pierregasly, jackchampion and 2,903,645 others

yourusername i guess hard launching is the only way! i’ve loved this man for more years than i’d like to admit, as a friend and now as my boyfriend!! wherever you stray, i follow 🤍 (shoutout to user3 on twitter your thread was scarily spot on)

view all 43,554 comments

landofan41 the willow lyrics😭😭

ynfan41 your honour i love them

lilymhe you’re still my wife, right?

⤷ yourusername forever and always, baby

⤷ alex_albon Crazy to see how people forget they have boyfriends at home…

ynfan42 THESE ARE NOW MY PARENTS!!

ynfan43 i guess being delulu works out in the end

landofan42 he’s the king of her heart (i’m sorry but i had to make the taylor reference)

francisca.cgomes now we can finally go on double dates!!

⤷ yourusername we could always go on a date alone

⤷ landonorris I think we’ll stick just with the double date

ynfan44 they’re officially the best couple on the grid

[absolutebl]

I've been out of the bl loop for a while (give or take a year tbh) and I am honestly overwhelmed at all the stuff coming up recently in bl... Is there top five you'd suggest from the past year among thai stuff (the rest bl-producing countries have a manageable lists of releases ig)

Thank you so much for your time and patience! :D

Top 5 Thai BLs from the past year? (2024)

Well it's a contentious field and there has been a lot, so I'll narrow it further and give you 2024 so far, from my personal favorites but specifically ones that I believe added to the zeitgeist in some significant way.

The Sign

YouTube

This show is literally everything (except straight) all at once. It's BL, queer, band of brothers, romcom, erotica, PNR, fated mates, police procedural, fantasy, mystery, suspense, and slasher. It’s the king of genre mash-up chaos. Sure, it's madness but there is genius in it. Was it a crazy unhinged mess +1 roll for damage? Yes. Yes it was. Did it manage to hold all those tangled threads together? No it did not. Was it also a charming, sexy, engaging, non-stop piece of entertainment? Sure thing. I think this show is basically my KinnPorsche, and frankly I’ve been chasing that dragon naga since KP aired. Is it perfect? No. But it was balls to the wall FUN.

Cherry Magic (Thai remake)

Grey

A soft charming warm hug of a show about crushes and mind reading and self worth that really worked for me. With no-fuss execution from a consummate team (at GMMTV) and an OG lead pair (proving why they remain eternal and deserve to grow up). Look, here’s the thing, Cherry Magic is a great Thai BL in its own right - not comparing it to any other iteration. But even when I do compare (and I've seen all the Cherries and read the manga) it stands strong. I, personally, like the Thai BL slightly better than the Japanese live action yaoi, but I think that’s because I just really enjoy Thai BL's style and I LOVE TayNew. Also all the kissing was both present and better in this version. As it should be from Thailand.

Century of Love

Gaga

This is a very pretty drama about a young man who fell in love with a nice girl 100 years ago, and when she died in his arms, he was cursed to live until he could meet her reborn self. Only this time around, she’s reborn into the body of a man. Or is she? I love it when Thailand gets all up in its own historical business and reincarnation and shizz. I like this pair (it’s not DaouOffroad’s fault I didn’t enjoy their first series.) Daou’s wushu is snazzy and we got a unique meet cute. (Erm… Remeet cute? Meet cute 2.0?) Ultimately, this is I Feel You Linger in the Air + First Love Again, rather than (as one might expect) Until We Meet Again or The Director Who Buys Me Dinner. The leads turned in great performances, although Daou outclassed everybody else on that screen. It’s a good story and a great BL and I can’t find any major faults with it beyond a certain level of camp that is sadly endemic to lakorns. It was, to put it succinctly, a VERY ENJOYABLE show. 

Wandee Goodday

YouTube

This is the only "typical" BL I'll be recommending on this list and that's because this is such a FUN show. A charming quintessentially modern Thai BL about a doctor and a boxer who start as a one night stand and then fall in love. Great rep for everything from Muay Thai, to safe sex, to FUN sex, to ace, to bisexuality, to smiley kisses, to the first legal gay wedding in a Thai BL. It’s a delight and I enjoyed (almost) every single moment of it. With out question it's best traits are active positive representations of green flag boys, communication, and grown-up relationships but the chemistry is on point too. Highly recommended as one of 2024's best pick-me-ups. (We need it, been a bit of a downer year.)

We Are

iQIYI

If Wandee Goodday is your happy pill, We Are is the warmest hug on the planet. Of the ones on this list, this is the only one I've already rewatched. 2x (High praise!) I loved show. It was slow to find its stride (I didn’t get into it until ep 6) but I’m so glad I gave it a chance. It’s a soft ensemble piece with multiple couples and very little plot, but I didn’t care because it’s not trying to be anything more substantial. Essentially this was a series of vignettes covering one year of uni for a queer friendship group finding love, new friends, and laughter. It’s not being harsh with us or it’s characters the way some offerings of this ilk have been (side eyes Friend Zone and Only Friends) nor did it tumble into Gen Y chaos. In fact, this reminded me more than anything of a refined and elevated Love Sick - just with older characters and occurring within a genre that has matured too. In it's own quiet way, it was groundbreaking. It has that close queer friendship group meets earnest gentleness that made me adore Love Sick and Make It Right so much. In other words, this was Thai BL at its finest, finding it roots again 10 years on, but also stretching upwards and showing us what it could do with that original seed. So? I adored it. Did it blow my mind? No. But it left me smiling and made me belly laugh quite a bit.

I hope you give these 5 a chance.

[rachelamberish]

Comprehensive Veilguard Review (FULL SPOILERS)

What They Got Right:

-The environments. My God, seeing some of these locations that we’ve only read about for a decade had me getting legitimately choked up just looking at them. I cried entering the Grand Necropolis. I cried at Weisshaupt. I cried at Kal Sharok. The Ossuary. The Crossroads 2 Electric Boogaloo. Just all absolutely stunning, and so lovingly crafted.

-The art direction, on top of that. They kind of go hand in hand, but genuinely, it’s great. I think the art director deserves a raise for the candlehops alone.

-The music. I love it. I know it’s not what it has been, but I think it’s fucking great. The Blight theme is far and away the best, but so many of the other tracks really fully commit to the fantasy-futurism aesthetic that has been crafted by the art direction and I think it’s so fucking cool that the music has evolved as we travel to new locations and the world of Thedas really opens up.

-Companions. I’ve spoken a little about this already. But yes, the companions are incredible. The pacing of getting to know each of them is so well executed. (It feels unfortunate that the same cannot be said about the story as a whole, really). They are each truly so memorable and I think BioWare knocking it out of the park with its companions is nothing new.

-Vocal Performances. Gareth David Lloyd should be lauded for his work as Solas. You can hear how that performance has evolved and matured over the years like a fine wine. His vicelike grasp on the nuance of that character transcends even the game’s often questionable writing. Truly incredible stuff. I also have to mention Jee Young Han for Bellara, and Bryony Corrigan and Alex Jordan for two versions of Rook. The rest of the cast is fantastic as well, those four are just so incredibly standout to me.

-This feels very specific but The Siege of Weisshaupt. That quest. Is. *chefs kiss emoji*. It’s giving game of thrones season 8 episode 4 the long night where i cant see anything but also i have existential dread!!!! Love that

-Codex entries are as well written as they ever have been, so no dip in quality of the writing there. Particularly a huge fan of the passive aggressive emails sent between Solas and the Evanuris like they were all shitty coworkers. Elgar’nan screaming “i’m the ELDEST BOY!!!” at the top of his lungs à la Kendall Roy while he and solas bicker about who was conceived of by the Fade first. Very good stuff

-Ghilan’nain is an eldritch horror lesbian witch and that is so so cool. Thank you bioware

-Maevaris Tilani

-Combat and performance. Because neither of these are story stuff, I’ll throw these together. The game performs like a fucking dream and is incredibly optimized. The combat feels amazing and I genuinely look forward to combat encounters rather than dreading them. No notes.

….The Rest, in No Particular Order:

- Morrigan forgiving her mother and the game erasing Flemeth’s nastiness was truly vomit-inducing so thanks for that one bioware

- Is Mythal good or bad bioware please answer the question and you CAN’T look at your notes

- They do get Solas mostly spot-on but Mythal is so inconceivably bad and it’s hard to divorce the two. Ironic, considering that they should be the most divorced couple that ever lived

-"Flemeth's piece of Mythal was the good version actually and was completely uncorrupted" bitch HOW?!!??!??!!?! FUCKING HOW?!?!? Literally A GAME AGO she screams at Morrigan and Lavellan about "a reckoning that will shake the heavens" promising vengeance for her betrayal because she's done nothing but stew ALONE in her anger for 2,000 years, ALSO piling on the rage and betrayals of Flemeth and (I think it's safe to presume at this point) Andraste and EVERY OTHER host she's had. If we have learned ANYTHING about spirits and "abominations" through four games it is that the spirit becomes corrupted "against its original purpose" when fused with the negative emotions of its host. What was the point of Anders, if not to foreshadow what Flemeth truly was? A spirit of justice corrupted against her purpose by living inside righteously angry women for millennia? If anything the Dagger-version of Mythal would be the uncorrupted one. Sure, she'd be lonely and pissed too but that would be the truest version to who Mythal ACTUALLY was from before. A mixed bag of grief and anger and hurt and pride. But the rage inside Flemeth's Mythal would be wild and unfettered. She would be almost unrecognizable.

-I'm moving on from Mythal now because ranting any more about her in this game is actually going to give me an aneurysm.

- Yeah this game suffers from lack of roleplay and choice carryover. It’s impossible to avoid. It was okay to suspend roleplay in a game like, say, Dragon Age 2, because Hawke as the game wrote her was such a strong personality and memorable protagonist. Rook is…. not that. Which is okay for a blank slate protagonist, but they’re also not that either. And i think they didnt commit, fully, to the idea of less roleplay. Because they *tried* to give you origin stories, but they don’t end up feeling like they truly inform the character in the way that they do in Origins, or even in Inquisition. Say what you will about Inquisition’s roleplay options, but Lavellan being Dalish DEFINES her character.

- And what do you know. Yeah. It was bad that they only let us carry over three choices. Who could have seen that one coming. It’s almost like everyone ever was like “wow. That sucks. Please reconsider.” And then they didn’t.

- And it also gets extra confusing when you realize that the three choices they said were going to matter a LOT literally don’t. At all. So that was a lie. I guess. Even Solas romancers who were being PANDERED to apparently get…like two mentions of something that feels like it should be so pervasive throughout the whole story. And one ending.

- Solavellan writing failure gets its own bullet point actually. There was so much ample opportunity for Lavellan’s presence in this story to be amplified. For the Lighthouse to contain more traces of her. In codex entries, in murals. I get that Solas probably wouldn’t talk about her to Rook much. But the fact of his yearning is downplayed when it should be overplayed. He yearns for this woman who made him think he was worth something for the first time since he took a physical body, while clouded by regret for his feelings for a long-dead woman who made him hate himself. That’s the saddest fucking story ever. Why does this game not lean into it more? I don’t know. You don’t know. None of us know.

- BioWare kind of forgot that fifty percent of the Tevinter population is slaves. What do the shadow dragons even do? There are apparently no slaves left to free!!

- BioWare kind of forgot that the Crows are very cool and yes very Italian!! 🤌🤌🤌 but also buy child slaves and turn them into soldiers by systematically weeding empathy out of them. So where was any of that.(*where is Zevran or someone who fills the role of that character. He is so desperately needed to portray the Crows with any nuance.*)

- The depiction of the Qunari/kossith, outside of Taash’s storyline (which I actually think was a very thoughtful examination of the intersection of gender and Qunari ideology), is actually the craziest most stereotypical one-note racist bullshit i’ve ever seen and i am shocked any writer allowed that to be the final product.

- You know what yes i also noticed that you couldn’t ever be mean in this game and also Rook smiles so much. She smiles when saying things she should not smile about. Idk why but that bothers me. And why are her hands always on her hips? What is she hiding

- The exposition-heavy dialogue is terrible at the start, gets way better around the first act break, then turns dangerously close back around to Avengers-style “Well, that just happened!” and it’s a mixed bag that I don’t know what to do with. I can’t blame bioware for the exposition, I’m sure that’s an EA directive of “pander to the people that want to come into the fourth installment of a series knowing nothing and not be completely lost”. But the rest…..let’s just say I can feel how many people had their hands in writing this. And I can feel it because the quality swings back and forth so wildly it gives me whiplash.

- Because of no choice carryover cameos feel like cardboard cutouts of characters. Dorian worked for me because he was doing things he would be doing anyway and it is passively mentioned that he and the Inquisitor are in close contact. Isabela is skinny like a twig now i guess (??? Hate that) and i’m happy for her whole lords of fortune thing but she is made lesser by being completely divorced from Hawke. Same for Varric, although at least he has more to do. Morrigan…………………………………………………………………anyway moving on.

- The Dalish.

- BioWare kind of forgot that Solas doesn’t hate blood magic. Doesn’t use it personally. But doesn’t hate it. Also what he does to gain a connection to Rook is LITERALLY blood magic. I don’t fucking know WHY he/the game insists that it’s not. I’m beside myself with that one.

- BioWare kind of forgot about the brewing elven uprising led by Solas that they set up at the end of Trespasser and instead now he’s a lone actor and everyone hates him. Like no. No actually some elves would have found what he was doing very cool and a great alternative to the terrible hand the world has dealt them. Perhaps all those elven Tevinter slaves you forgot to put in the game.

- BioWare kind of forgot about Briala in their rush to say “but nothing in southern thedas matters!!!”

- Cole should be in this game and the fact that he is not is actually fucking baffling.

- VERY BIG SPOILER Varric dying is fine actually and the one thing i’m literally perfectly okay with so idk why i put it down here other than it feels wrong putting this spoiler at the top lmao. But yeah that’s fine. We knew it was coming and Peepaw needed rest anyway. Good reveal, no issue there.

- Lucanis’ bugged romance ruined my life

- I made a separate post about this but Veilguard has single handedly eradicated mystery in the Dragon Age series without creating any new mystery and it’s what I’m legitimately the most sad about.

All in all, a mixed bag. I enjoyed my time with it, but it left me sad at times and not in the good way. The idea I have of Dragon Age in my head will always be more true to Dragon Age to me than this was, and I can live with that, I was just hoping for better on a lot of writing fronts.

[chevelleneech]

The whole AYS show seems like Jimin is trying to make things go back to how they were in the past with Jungkook (i.e., in 2020/21), and Jungkook is just going along with it for the sake of it and trying to enjoy it. Now, either they are holding back in these episodes or something, but there, I cannot see even the slightest bit of affection, which can be classified as romantic or maybe romantic in any sense. They just seem like 2 bros (not in a homophobic way, but in a bestfriends for a decade goofing around way) hanging out. He is enjoying it for sure, Jungkook I mean, but he is definitely not the one putting a lot of thought, or some actual good conversation during trips, its like going through motions because someone invited you. Its mostly jimin trying to make the atmosphere feel good.

Also, another unpopular opinion is that they, in Sapporo episodes, just feel sadder? anxious? or, um, discontent (most probably because of the military), but it probably would have been better if they went to Sapporo without cameras again.

I disagree. Your opinion is yours, but I think they appear to be having fun, and ignoring how much Jungkook is laughing and literally saying out his own mouth that he’s happy, makes no sense.

Is it possible Jimin is trying to rekindle something? Yes? But we don’t know that. They haven’t talked about anything of the sort, so I don’t see the point in letting that color your view of the show. I’ve said it before and will say it again, it’s fine to have your theories and such, but you can’t slap them on what we’re being shown and decide that’s what it is.

Yes, I think they’re dating so my opinions on how they act are biased in that regard, but I am also able to watch the show as it is. Dating or not, Jimin and Jungkook both have been happy in each episode we’ve seen them spending time together in. The very first one is the only one where, imo, we saw hesitancy or nerves more like, but they also gave an explanation for why. They hadn’t seen each other, JK was working, and Jimin planned it yet wasn’t sure it was a good idea.

That latter bit alone insinuates to me that they had something deeper prior to hiatus, and were nervous about being together again in a serious one on one type of trip, but by the end of Connecticut they seemed fine. Constantly pulling on the “JK seems to be going along for the ride” thing is again, very Tkkr minded. Jimin planned it and JK said yes, so yes, technically he went along with it. However, Jungkook said himself by the end, he wanted to keep doing it. Jungkook said himself, he wanted to go back to Tokyo/Japan in general with Jimin, because they had such a good time the first time (GCFT).

I get it, you guys want a reason to explain away emotions of theirs you don’t understand, but what’s the point? They are telling us they’re happy. They’re telling us they’re having fun. They’re telling us the memories they’re making together will be what they think back on once enlisted. You’re digging for reasons to claim they’re not being truthful, and that’s why a different version of the show is forming in your head.

I’d also like to state a strong opinion here, that plenty of people hate to see discussed: Jungkook’s personality has always been “disinterested”, and it is likely because he’s neurodiverse. Solos of other members, and JM and Jikook antis alike have been saying the same thing over and over for years about how he acts rude, drifts off, is selfish, overly competitive, etc., as a reason for why they think he dislikes Jimin, dislikes this or that member, is actually in love with Tae, and so on.

Jungkook has even said these things about his personality, and it’s been co-signed by the other members. So while it’s possible he’s never been checked for anything, the truth is whether he knows or not, the parts of his personality you all keep harping on as proof of him “going through the motions,” are common amongst people with autism and ADHD. It’s why fans with them have said for years he reminds them of themselves or people they know. It’s why I say it.

I’m not diagnosing him, but he does share traits, and it isn’t new. Jungkook has always had moments of appearing standoffish and unbothered, yet when he talks about things he did during those same moments, he recounts them with positive words and smiles. Not only that, but every person who has ever had anything to say about JK, has used positive words to discuss him. They say he’s quiet and shy, then proceed to talk about how kind and present he is, meaning when JK is doing things he considers work, he dials in. He puts in effort to always be present and in the moment. Which he and the others had also already told us he does. Jungkook has to put in effort and be very interested in something to get it done. When he’s not working, he has trouble focusing on things that don’t hold his attention fully.

So it is impossible to decide he’s not having a good time with Jimin, just because the same personality he’s has over all these years, remains his personality. You guys just keep ignoring the fact that he has told us it takes effort for him to focus on things. It’s either that or you guys choose to use it against one specific person, which is Jimin.

You like to believe his lack of overt excitement and interest is because he doesn’t want to be with Jimin, when he is telling us that isn’t true. Jeju showed us a lot as well, of how completely blind almost, the members are to JK’s personality, and various other travel shows of theirs have told us the same. They don’t blink twice at his ticks and stims, they don’t really scold him for his dry and blunt reactions and responses, and they laugh off his competitiveness.

Jungkook, and I say this kindly, appears to be a lot to handle. He has a very polar opposite type of personality. When he’s dialed in, it’s difficult to get him to take breaks, to stop criticizing himself. When he’s playing games, he gets really into them and is loud and has a desire to be the winner. When he’s in a quieter mood, he seems to not speak at all and zones out, and wants to be left alone. That is a lot to adjust to, because from all we’ve seen, it doesn’t seem to happen once in a blue moon. It’s a day to day thing, if not hour to hour.

I even recall a time back in 2020 I believe, where it was talked about Jungkook was overstimulated by something during a rehearsal, to the point where he couldn’t participate in their dress rehearsal. He had to keep on the same clothes he’d been wearing and sweating in all day. I don’t remember which stage it was, or else I’d be more specific, but yeah.

Point is, I think the members know who he is, and I think JK has shown us who he is plenty. The members have also shown us who they are, and it seems they all have taken time to learn how to best support each other and their needs, whatever they may be. And speaking specifically of AYS, I simply do not think Jimin would bother rekindling old times if he knew Jungkook truly wasn’t wanting to do it. He’s known him for too long to push his boundaries that way, knowing it would be easily seen in camera how disinterested he’d be. Nor do I think JK would have planned Sapporo if he didn’t really want to do it.

Again, even if we ignore him possibly being neurodivergent, his personality remains what it is, and the members know him. So why force him into something, knowing he’d have to accommodate or makeup for JK’s lack of interest? It doesn’t make sense to me.

Now, I know I got a tad off topic and long winded, but I feel like what was said was necessary. Jungkook isn’t acting any different to how we know him to act, and he is repeatedly voicing his joy as he spends time with Jimin. Ignoring the literal words coming out of his mouth in favor of deciding he is feeling something else, and then taking that something else as reality… that’s on you.

[carsonjonesfiance]

I feel like I trust leftists from red states far more than leftists from blue states. Maybe I'm biased (I consider myself a left-leaning personand I'm from a red state), but lately, a lot of blue state leftists have been showing their asses far more often

Ever since 2016 I’ve been slightly wary of blue state leftists and I think the best way to explain is to compare AOC to Doug Jones

Alexandria Ocasio Cortes is from a district that leans so heavily Democrat (IIRC it’s something like D+15) that she can say some truly leftist things without fear of losing her seat. This is why she can afford to be the face of things like the Green New Deal, but rather than acknowledging that privilege she’s taken her ability to win in her district as proof her politics can win anywhere. We see this attitude in the way she insists on primarying any and all Democrats with more progressive candidates regardless of their local political viability.

Doug Jones, who narrowly won out against a Republican pedophile and did lose his seat to a Republican football coach who is now holding up military appointments over abortion policy, is a lawyer who put away the KKK members that bombed the 16th Street Baptist Church. He’s been a civil rights lawyer longer than I’ve been alive, and he only won by 20,000 votes because of how deeply red most of Alabama is. Part of that was being pro gun and steering away from anything more harsh than background checks and being very quietly pro choice.

There are risks that blue state Democrats can take that red state Dems can’t and that principle guides us Red Staters to more pragmatic realist politics like Senator Jones. I’m sure there are Blue State Dems that get that what works for their district doesn’t work everywhere but a not insignificant portion of them have not learned that there is a reason Bernie Sanders represents the state of Vermont and not Wyoming.

When you expand that divide to a national level you get Red State Dems much more understanding of Moderate Presidential Candidates and quietly Progressive policies (I.e. literally anything that the Biden administration has done in the past two years) while Blue Staters don’t get why we can’t go further because their idealist, maximalist policies are never challenged in their area. It’s like an IRL version of an internet echo chamber.

[joeyalohadream]

https://www.tumblr.com/joeyalohadream/751467390395727872/taking-drabbleprompt-requests

hello! could i request something fluffy with bucky surprising buck for his birthday and buck doesn’t really know how to respond since he never got birthdays as a kid :( thank u!

I'm slowly but surely working my way through me inbox!

Thanks for this prompt anon! I had fun with this one and I hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 1,109

Bucky hears footsteps from the hall outside their door and looks up from where he was perched on the windowsill just in time to watch Gale swing open their door and shuffle into the room, shower shoes squeaking and his bag of toiletries snug under his arm.

Much to Bucky’s disappointment his towel was being rubbed all over his long hair instead of wrapped around his hips and he was already dressed in loose fitting PT clothes. He knew Gale was modest and it was rare that he left himself exposed outside their room, but he couldn’t help but dream.

“Leave any hot water for the rest of them?” He took in the red tinged skin along Gale’s neck and face. It’s one of Gale’s quirks that he finds charming, showering at the oddest hours to avoid the traffic and give himself the chance of being able to have the water as scalding hot as possible.

“Probably not,” Gale chuckled, looking a little sheepish as he sat on the edge of his bed and finished running the towel through his hair. The result was a total mess, hair skewed in all directions, falling over his forehead in damp waves. The opposite of his usual perfect style and Bucky’s new favorite version of him.

“Well most people are still hungover from last night’s day-after-Christmas celebration so I don’t expect many of them are up for standing long enough to clean up anyway.” Bucky assured him. Their instructors gave them the time between Christmas and New Year’s off from training and most of the young men were using it as an excuse to get and stay drunk.

“That include you?” Gale asked him, eyeing him a little critically but not with any judgement.

“Sure doesn’t,” Bucky said proudly. “I cut myself off at an appropriate time so I could fully enjoy today.”

“That right?” Gale eyed him, a curious glint in his eyes. “And what’s so special about today?”

Bucky leaned forward, hands on his knees and grinned at the younger man.

“It’s your birthday Buck!” he declared dramatically and reveled in the surprise on Gale’s face at his words.

“How could you possibly know that?”

Bucky rolled his eyes and stood up. “It’s literally engraved on your dog tags.”

Gale reached a hand up and pressed his palm to his chest where the metal no doubt rested. He squinted up at him, looking suspicious.

“My dog tags,” he repeated slowly. “That have been hanging around my neck since before I even met you and that I’ve never taken off?”

It’s a very nice neck, and they’re resting on a very nice chest, Bucky thinks.

“Those are the ones,” he grins. “Don’t think to hard on it Buck.” He throws in a wink that has the other man rolling his eyes.

“Well, I don’t really do birthdays, Bucky. So, feel free to let loose again and have an extra whiskey for me with the boys tonight.”

He looks down at Gale and notices that his posture is stiffer than before. He looks defensive and Bucky can’t figure out why. He had a friend back home that had a birthday the day after Christmas and he’d noticed it sometimes got lost between the holidays, always wondered if it made him sad. Wonders now if that’s what happened with Gale when he was a kid.

“Well that’s unfortunate, Buck,” he sighs. “Cause Toby, the guy that owns the bar I dragged you to that one night, his brother owns a ranch not far from town. And he told me that that’s where those Clydesdale horses from the Christmas parade we went to are being housed.”

He can’t help but smile at the way Gale’s head shoots up and his widen slightly.

“And Toby told me that his brother was okay with me bringing my buddy around to see those horses anytime today.”

The look on Gale’s face is one that makes Bucky’s heartbeat faster. He see’s excitement, maybe even hope shining in his eyes, but there’s disbelief there too, like he thinks there’s a chance Bucky is pulling his leg.

“Clydesdales are one of the heaviest breeds of horses,” Gale’s low voice tells him. “But they’re still somehow the most elegant too.”

Bucky grins at him, “I know that, Buck.” Because he’d listened to the other man spout on and on about them at the parade two days ago as they stood shoulder to shoulder in the cold.

“So what do you say?” Bucky prods. “Wanna make an exception to the no-birthday rule and go pet some horses with me?”

Gale gives him another look he can’t quite decipher before he stands up. “You think we’d get to pet them?”

“I already asked, it’s a done deal, Buck.”

The smile that breaks out onto Gale’s face is big and real and genuine and it makes Bucky want to start planning what to get Gale for his birthday next year. Makes him wish he’d gotten him something better than a tin can for his toothpicks for Christmas.

To his surprise and delight, Gale jolts forward and wraps his arms around him. Bucky barely has time to process what’s happening and return the hug before Gale is pulling away, cheeks redder than before and not able to be blamed on the hot water.

“Thanks John,” he says, voice soft. “I can’t remember the last time someone even remembered my birthday.” Bucky’s chest pangs in sympathy at the words. “You’re a good friend.” And Bucky’s chest warms again at those ones.

“Your best friend,” he emphasizes and smiles when Gale rolls his eyes.

“Can we go right now?” Gale asks him, not bothering to hide is excitement anymore. It’s incredibly endearing.

“Soon as you get some proper clothes on and fix that birds nest on your head.” Bucky tells him, reaching out to ruffle his hair and laughs when Gale shoves him gently in retaliation.

He watches as Gale moves to put his other uniform on, movements rushed in his eagerness. Bucky has the sudden thought that making Gale happy might be his new favorite thing and wonders if that should concern him. He quickly decides it doesn’t.

“I’ll meet you outside,” Bucky tells him, knowing Gale prefers privacy to get dressed. When he gets to the door and opens it, he pauses before walking through and turns back to the other man.

“Hey Gale,” he says, getting the other’s attention and smiling at the look of surprise at hearing his name. “Happy birthday.”

The smile he receives in return keeps him warm as he walks out into the winter chill to get them a ride.

[bit-dodgy-innit]

We're Not Here to F*ck Spiders

Summary: You were the oldest Spider-Girl the society had ever encountered, therefore, Miguel took a special interest in you. He wanted to know if your life would correspond with his and the other Spiders’ canon, or whether you had a completely different canon you were forging on your own. After an offhanded comment about reviewing your canon with Miguel outside of headquarters, your relationship with Spider-Man 2099 is forever changed.

Set in between ITSV and ATSV.

Pairing: Marc x OC Female!Reader

For context, Reader is an alternate, grown-up version of Mayday due to personal reasons (personal reasons being I’ve been obsessed with Mayday Parker since I was baby child)! No real use of Y/N, though Miguel does refer to the reader as "May" twice and Peter Parker nicknamed her Mayhem. Peter B.'s daughter is Mayday.

Word Count: 10.2k words (see why this took me forever?!)

Rating: Explicit - Minors DNI!!

CW/TW: An obscene amount of world-building, parents and kids fighting, mentions of a loss of a child, everyone being hot for Miguel, rough-ish sex (both partners are superheroes, come on), our boy is HUNG, dirty talk, a bit of cocky dom!Miguel, oral f!receiving, a lil bit of both m and f!receiving nipple play, PIV sex, riding, a quick spank, creampie, felching, and perhaps most intense of all, Miguel’s fear of commitment.

A/N: hahahahahaha this movie is nearly a year old and I FINALLY got around to writing a fic for it! Trust that I've been working on this on and off for a while now, but life has been nuts and writing more and more for work (yay!) but wanted to get this out while I had a slow week for everyone to enjoy!

Also, due to more personal reasons, my HC for Reader's parents are Peter and Mary Jane from Sam Raimi's masterpiece in 2002. But no presh if that doesn't jibe with ya!

I MADE A PLAYLIST FOR THIS FIC AND I'VE NEVER BEEN MORE PROUD OF ANYTHING

“Careful, Mayday!” you fondly called after the child who was literally bouncing off the cavernous walls of HQ. Yeesh, were you this energetic when you were her age? Probably. It never ceased to be weird, hanging out with an alternate baby version of yourself, but you could manage if you pretended she was your little niece, or sister, or something like that. 

The alternate baby version of Mayday Parker in question didn’t heed your admonishment at all (which tracked), so you called again, “Oh noooo…I’m gonna have to come up there and get ya!”

Mayday squealed in delight at your “threat” and only zipped around quicker. However, you had a couple decades on her, so your reflexes were more attuned. It didn’t take long for you to capture her in your grasp and tickle her. However, little Mayday wasn’t going to give up that easily. She squirmed out of your hold and began scaling the nearby wall at a dizzying pace. 

“Okay, missy, let’s settle down,” you announced, shooting a web to meet the infant on the platform she’d crawled onto. You continued to speak as you swung, “you know how Miguel is, we can’t get too carried…away.”

You nearly threw yourself back off the platform when you were met with the sight of Miguel himself standing before you holding May. 

“Oh, hi,” you gestured to the squirming girl in his hands, “thanks. I was right behind her.” 

“What am I like?” He asked, an inquisitive arch in his brow. 

“You’re…you run a tight ship that’s all,” you wished a portal would swallow you whole. “And it’s great! We need it.”

“Are you supposed to be anywhere?” Miguel prodded further as he passed you May. 

“Me? No, it's my day off.”

“Then why are you here?” 

“Because you put Peter B. on a mission and it gives me anxiety when he takes her.” 

“You and me both,” he huffed. 

“That being said, anything I can help you with?”

“Yeah actually, I have new sequencing to go over with you.” 

Though the multiverse was ever-expanding, you were the oldest Spider-Girl the society had ever encountered, therefore, Miguel had taken a special interest in you. Since you were a second generation Spider, Miguel wanted to know if your life would correspond with his, your dad’s, and the other Spiders’ canon, or whether you had a completely different canon you were forging on your own. You initially found the whole concept fascinating, yet that interest waned pretty quickly when Miguel informed you that he was going to have Lyla analyze your entire life and have you expound on your experiences so he could compare you to the other Spiders. 

Not that there was anything you were particularly ashamed of, but some of this stuff was embarrassing. Unlike baby Mayday, whose powers had already emerged, yours didn’t make an appearance until puberty. Reviewing your awkward teen years wasn’t exactly your ideal way of spending time with an unfairly hot guy, let alone the head of Spider Society.  

“Oh okay, yeah,” you replied. “When Peter gets ba—“

“MAYDAY! WHERE’S MY PUMPKIN?” Peter’s voice echoed across the room. 

No sooner had Peter spoken did Mayday websling herself off of the platform and into her father’s arms. 

Shit, there went your excuse. A nervous chuckle escaped you, “Convenient.” 

“S��. Follow me.”

You did as Miguel said and trailed behind him to his…office didn’t quite describe it. Work station? Lair? You lasted all of forty-five seconds before your gaze dropped to his sculpted backside, a new record for you. 

It really was unfair that the intense, ornery leader of the Spider Society had to be so damn fine. You were a superhero and a consummate professional, but at the end of the day, you were a mostly heterosexual human woman with eyes. Miguel was stupidly sexy. His shoulder-to-waist ratio, that chiseled face, and of course, perfectly round ass had been the topic of a few hushed, giggly conversations between you and the other Spiders that liked boys. 

It was only ever cheeky whispers however. All of you knew better than to catch any real feelings for Miguel. One, it was majorly inappropriate. And two, he’d built emotional walls higher than the tallest skyscrapers in Nueva York. 

Still, your mind couldn’t help but wander every now and then…you blamed it on your latest breakup. Spider-Girl duties had yet again claimed another potential partner. You suspected that was the reason it was more and more difficult not to fantasize about Miguel lately. Like sure, he was probably an animal in bed in the best way, but it was the prospect of not having to hide anything from him that appealed to you even more. 

“Lyla, bring up the latest sequencing,” Miguel ordered. 

If it weren’t for your spider-senses, you would’ve collided with his impossibly cut back, you were so deep into your thirsty thoughts. 

Suddenly, you were back on Earth-982A in your childhood bedroom. Or at least, that’s where you appeared to be. The virtual surroundings would’ve been comforting if it weren’t for the particular event that Miguel had wanted to revisit. 

Your father was forbidding you to use your powers. Again. You gazed at the rendering of your teenage self with compassion. Now, your father was fully supportive of you following in his footsteps, but the journey there had been rough. 

“You know, most parents would be happy if their kid wanted to do something to help the world!” 

Your dad scoffed. “That doesn’t matter - I’m not most parents and you’re not most kids!”

“Yeah and whose fault is that?!” Virtual you fired back. “I was born like this because of you! Dad, you’re always telling me that ‘with great power, comes great responsibility’ and now when I discover I inherited that great power, I can’t use it!?” 

“Pause,” Miguel’s voice spooked you back into the present. When you finally shook yourself from the memory that was playing before you, you found his eyes on yours. “Okay, there. Define ‘always’.”

“Quantitatively?” 

“Preferably.” 

“That’s impossible.” 

“Qualitatively, then.” 

“I mean, it's one of those things he said so much that I can’t remember the first time I heard it.” 

“When did your dad first hear it?” 

“His Uncle Ben told him during their last conversation together.” 

“Checks out. And how old was he?” 

“He was a senior in high school, so like seventeen, eighteen?” 

Miguel nodded. Even though x-ray vision nor telepathy weren’t in your powerset, you could practically see all the comparisons and calculations he was making in his head. 

“So using your powers to help people, that was your instinct when you inherited your abilities.”

“Yeah.” 

Miguel nodded again. 

“It’s different, isn’t it?” you asked him. He didn’t reply. “My dad told me he entered some god awful cage-match-wrestling-thing to get enough money to buy a car and impress my mom before he officially became Spider-Man.” 

Miguel was seemingly too busy with entering his latest data to respond. Instead, he barked at Lyla, “Resume sequence.” 

The holographic version of your dad lurched back to life to argue, “May, you are my great responsibility! So if I say no powers, no powers! I did this a lot longer than you! ” 

Tears streamed down your adolescent face. Thankfully, you’d lost some of the baby fat since.  “I hate you! I HATE YOU DAD!!” 

You shifted your weight from one foot to the other. This wasn’t easy to live, let alone re-live. So, as a Spider, naturally you made a jaunty, off-handed comment. “Wow, you really know how to show a girl a good time.” 

“Qué?” 

“Nothing.” He fixed you with his signature scowl so you elaborated, “Seriously, nothing. Though, maybe if we did this in an environment where I had access to alcohol and carbs, this would be less um…less unsettling for me.”

Miguel stared at you blankly. “But the simulator is here.”

“Right, of course.” Ughhhh, why was he so damn pretty?! “Forget I said anything, Miguel.” 

He dropped it, but before the simulation could start again, your gizmo beeped. Benji’s basketball game started in twenty. 

“Actually, sorry, I have to go.” 

“But we just got started.” 

“I know, but I haven’t been able to catch one of my little brother’s games yet this season, and it’s almost the playoffs.”

“Won’t he under–”

You interrupted Miguel. “You realize spider-stuff is not a viable excuse with my family, right? Besides, it’s my day off. I’m only here out of the goodness of my own heart and my commitment to the Spider-Society.” 

He rolled his eyes at your remark, but couldn’t help a little half - nay, quarter - smile from forming across the lips you had fantasized about kissing one too many times. “Things are quiet for once. We should knock this out now.” 

“We should,” you conceded as you created a portal, “but trying to have some semblance of work-life balance is Spider-Girl canon.”

And with that, you hopped back into your world, before you could change your mind or say anything else stupid and/or unintentionally flirty to Miguel. 

You re-appeared in your apartment with just enough time to throw on clothes and swing over to the middle school. Your mom was waiting as you hurried into the gym right as Benji and the other players were taking the court. 

“Look who made it,” MJ observed wryly. 

“Ha ha,” you fired back humorlessly, but pulled your mom into a hug all the same. “Where’s Dad?”

The ref’s whistle signaled tip off and the beginning of the game, momentarily distracting you two. You were thrilled to see Benji starting – he really wanted to make JV when he started high school next year, and this was a step in the right direction. 

“Go Benji!!” MJ cheered before answering your question, “He hit traffic coming from the station. He’ll be here soon.” 

Your collective attention was pulled to the game unfolding in front of you, then MJ asked, “What have you been up to today?” 

“Me? I was at the society for a bit, helping with the baby.”

You didn’t need to see your mother to know that she tensed at the mention of the Spider-Society and Peter B.’s Mayday. It, understandably, weirded her out. 

“How can it not be strange to care for–”

“It would be if we were closer in age,” you pointed out. “But it’s just like babysitting with Mayday right now. And trust me, after all the versions of Dad I’ve met, hanging out with little me is nothing.” 

Despite being weirded out, your mom always tried to empathize, so she switched gears. “Anything interesting happen?” 

“Ugh, just more sequencing with Miguel - today was a tough one.”

“Why?”

“Fights with Dad from years ago that I know we’ve moved past, but still suck to watch.” 

Your mom took your hand in hers, a much-needed grounding gesture. “Well, you’re back in the present, in your corner of the universe now, sweetie.” 

You gave her hand an appreciative squeeze and took her words to heart, focusing on the basketball game in front of you. It didn’t take too long to put the earlier events from headquarters behind you – Benji scored a couple baskets and you took it upon yourself to meticulously document the game on your phone for memories and possible future blackmail. 

When your Dad did join you and MJ, you couldn’t help but hug him tightly. You buried your face into his coat, which smelled like a mix of smoke from the streets and his aftershave. 

It was Peter’s mix of spider and paternal instincts that prompted him to ask, “Everything okay?” 

“Yeah,” you assured him, giving him some space. “I just–I love you, Dad.” 

“Love you too, Mayhem.” Where Mayday was Peter B’s moniker for his daughter, Mayhem was your dad’s nickname for you.

The game ended in victory for Benji’s team, the Midtown Mavericks, and you three waited for the youngest member of the Parker family to emerge from the locker room. 

Benji’s face when he saw you made any lingering discomfort you had leaving Miguel one thousand percent worth it. “You made it!” 

“Wouldn’t miss it!” you pulled Benji into a hug - however reluctant he was to it since he was a ~teenager~ now. “Dude, you put up points tonight!” 

But Benji had gotten distracted, so instead of responding to you, he murmured “Woah, that guy is swole.” 

You turned around to see who he was talking about and your jaw nearly hit the floor. 

It was Miguel. 

Even more incredibly, he was in civilian clothes. It wasn’t until you witnessed him in dark wash jeans, a henley, and a well-worn bomber jacket that you realized that you’d actually never seen Miguel in anything other than his spider suit. 

He called your name and you acknowledged him with a wave, flabbergasted. Even more astonished that you knew this very attractive hunk of man was your brother, “Wait, you know him?!”

“We work together,” you said quietly. 

“At the paper?” Benji was confused. 

“No, at my other job.” 

“Oh,” it clicked for him. “That makes sense. Man, I hope I get that jacked when I get my powers.” 

“Shhhh, be cool Benji,” you urged him. 

“Um, I’m not the one you have to worry about,” he harrumphed. “Oh shit, you like him.”

Though there was more than a decade between you and Benji, your little brother was still your little brother.  “No! He’s the head of the Spider-Society and he’s–you’ll see.” 

You took a step forward to greet Miguel before anyone else from your family could get to him. “Hey! What’re you doing here?” 

“I wanted to finish our work today, and since it’s your day off, I decided to come to you.” 

“Miguel O’Hara making a compromise? How not canon. Wonder how big of a hole that’s gonna tear in the multiverse.” 

“Shut up,” he ordered you playfully. 

“Miguel, good to see you!” Your dad strode over and pulled the younger spider-man into a handshake. 

“You too, Dr. Parker.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at how oddly deferential Miguel was with your dad. He’d met Peter first, when he was establishing the Arachnohumanoid Polymultiverse. Miguel was stunned to discover that this Peter was not only retired, but had a full-grown daughter who’d taken up his crime-fighting mantle. Apparently your dad’s canon was particularly important and central to the greater Spiderverse, which meant Miguel would pester you with questions about him constantly. 

“Is everything okay?” Peter asked, “You don’t usually make house calls.” 

Before Miguel could explain, an elbow nearly sent you into careening into his broad chest. Mom. 

“Miguel, this is my mom, Mary Jane.” 

“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Parker,” Miguel dutifully offered his hand to her. 

“The pleasure is mine,” your mom gushed, “I’ve heard so much about you.” 

Benji was right. He was not the person you had to be worried about. A rip in the multiverse to swallow you whole would be rather convenient right about now. 

Miguel’s brow creased. “You have?”

“She hasn’t,” you intervened. “Like two or three things in passing, max. Promise I haven’t broken my NDA or you know, the superhero code of secrecy or anything.” 

Mercifully, Miguel let it slide for the time being. He turned to your brother. “And you must be Benji.” 

“Yeah,” Benji confirmed, doing a terrible job of pitching his voice lower. “‘Sup, bro.” 

Jesus Christ. At this point, you were ready to rip the fabric of reality yourself to end this. 

“Congrats on the win. Hate to do this, but I need to steal your sister for a bit.” 

“No problem, I know she’s fine with it.” Perhaps Benji needed a reminder regarding which sibling had the super powers. “Also, what’s your workout–”

“Well, as fun as this all is, we should probably get back to work.”

Your family didn’t put up much of a fight – thank God – as pleasantries were exchanged and you and Miguel took off. You hoped Miguel didn’t catch when your mother mouthed “So handsome!!” to you as everyone said their goodbyes. Finally, it was just the two of you walking down East 36th Street. 

“Sorry about them,” you began. 

He looked at you, puzzled. “Why?” 

“My family. Embarrassing.” 

“They’re not embarrassing. They’re…they’re nice,” there was pain behind Miguel’s eyes. “It’s interesting. Your brother hasn’t experienced any spider-abilities, has he?” 

“No,” you confirmed. “Not yet.”

You two slowed to stop on the corner. Miguel looked at you expectantly. “So, where to?”

“What do you mean?” 

“You said you wanted to do this in an environment where you ‘had access to alcohol and carbs’.” 

“Oh! Right. Hmmm, where are we?” you looked up at the cross streets above you. “36th and 3rd? I know a place.” 

You took Miguel to a little hole-in-the-wall Italian spot nearby. Since it was so close to Benji’s school and your old middle and high school, you had spent many a week night at their tables, either working on homework or chowing down after basketball practice. 

Therefore, the staff knew you – it was a family owned spot, you’d basically grown up with the owner’s children, Maria and Chris. Though you graduated from Midtown Charter a looong time ago, they still took care of you. Maria had even let you use their first aid kit once, no questions asked, after a nasty Spider-Girl skirmish nearby. You didn’t suspect she knew anything, but even if she did, you could trust Maria to be discreet. 

At least, you thought you could trust Maria, but when she showed you and Miguel to your table, and Miguel made a pit stop at the restroom, she very indiscreetly asked, “Daaaamn, girl. He your boyfriend? Because you–”

“No!”

“You getting dicked down by him?” 

“No!” 

“Can I get dicked down by him? He single? Does he like the ladies?” 

“Maria, he’s a colleague. Actually, he’s my superior. So no…unfortunately, no.” 

Maria cackled with delight. “That’s a pen worth sticking in your company ink. I’ll bring you some garlic bread.”

“And a glass of red wine,” you added. “no, a bottle.”

“That’s my girl!” 

In theory, you had thought that reviewing sequencing outside of headquarters would’ve been less awkward, but in reality, it was more so. You couldn’t stop drinking in the sight of Miguel in normal clothes, the intimacy of having a meal together when usually your interactions were so sterile and professional, plus there was a little voice in your head screaming that THIS WAS BASICALLY A DATE on repeat.

“So should we pick up where we left off?” Miguel asked. The question brought you back down to Earth. Despite that little persistent voice in your head oohing and ahhing at him, it was clear that Miguel didn’t think this was a date. This dinner was a means to end, nothing more. 

“Let me get a little wine drunk first,” you bargained. 

“Yeah, but you have sped-up metabolism, so that’ll take at least–” 

“That was a joke. Miguel, when was the last time you went out to dinner?” 

He seemed to truly consider the question, then, “I don’t know.” 

You’d never heard Miguel say those three words in that order before. 

“I promise you I will go over my cringe teen years with you, but can we eat some garlic bread and not get drunk off this very nice bottle of wine first?” 

“You’re worse than Lyla,” his eyes narrowed. 

“I’m sorry, what?” 

“She’s always trying to get me to take breaks.”

“You should! There’s only so much self-flagellation a human can take, even if they’re a superhero.” 

Miguel’s response was a very inarticulate grumble. Maria dropped off the wine, bread, and took your order. You didn’t know what was more insane – the amount of food Miguel ordered or how unabashedly Maria was ogling him. 

“Let me guess, Lyla’s the one who suggested the field trip to my home dimension?”

Another grumble, this one in the affirmative. 

“Classic,” you remarked with a snort before taking a gulp from your glass. “I love that your AI is smarter than you.” 

“Of course she is, she can access all of the multiverse’s knowledge in a nano-second.’

“That’s not what I meant.”

“What did you mean then?” 

“Can we not talk about me for a second?” 

“Why?” 

“Because…because, I don't know, I was hoping doing this in a more casual environment would–it’d make it feel more like a conversation.” 

“We are having a conversation.” 

“Jeez, Miguel,” you took another sip of wine. “It’s not easy digging through my past like this. A lot of the time it feels more like an interrogation.” 

“Ah.” 

“Yeah. And don’t get me wrong, I want to help you, help the Spider-Society, but the one-sidedness of this is exhausting.”

“Exhausting.” He sounded dubious. 

“You know what? Forget it. I’ll take care of the bill and see you tomorrow, and we can go back to reviewing the sequencing like we normally do. I should know better than to complain to you.” 

Miguel looked at you if your words had stung him. “You can complain to me.” 

“No, I can’t,” you disputed. “You’re the most self-sacrificing Spider out of any of us–which is really saying something, by the way–and I feel lame talking about my feelings with you.”

“And that’s why our reviews feel like interrogations,” he was putting it together. 

“Yeah. Sorry to drag you out of HQ.”

Miguel scrutinized you with a long, unreadable look before announcing, “I’m not leaving before I have my bolognese.”

You didn’t know whether to smile or scream. Miguel may have lacked the traditional spidey precognitive sense, and the signature spider sense of humor, but he definitely had the stubbornness you all seemed to possess. 

You shot him a sidelong glare. “Why did you come here?” 

“I told you - I wanted to finish sequencing and Lyla suggested coming to you.” 

“But you didn’t have to take her suggestion.”

Miguel’s large frame shifted in the chair that suddenly appeared too small for him. “Like you said, she’s smarter than me, so I did. And yeah, it’s been a while since I’ve gone out to dinner.”

You didn’t know how to react to that. Right before the silence became intolerable, Miguel spoke again, “You still with that gu–’

“No.” The last thing you wanted to talk about with Miguel was your failed relationship with Gene, and you’d once discussed the correlation of getting your first period could’ve had with your powers emerging with him.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. I mean, you get it.”

Miguel at last took a sip from his glass. “All too well.” 

“The price of being a hero, right?” you sent him a small, sympathetic smile across the table. “Or at least that’s what I tell myself.” 

“Your parents seemed to have figured it out,” he pointed out. 

“Well, that took like decades, and according to you, they’re canon, right? So it was meant to be. I guess that’s one of the comforts of having a canon-confirmed soulmate.” 

“Yeah, if you're Peter Parker.” 

Your heart sank at the implication. “So that means if a Spider isn’t Peter we’re meant to die alone?” 

“I don’t know,” Miguel’s eyes were averted. “Maybe only if you’re a Miguel O’Hara.” 

“Stop, you could get anyone in this restaurant to sleep with you,” you couldn’t help but roll your eyes, “Our waitress has to resist climbing on top of you whenever she passes the table.”

He swatted away the implication as if it were a pest. “That’s different.”

“You know, it might help with the stress.”

“What?”

“Letting someone climb on top of you.”

Miguel glared at you, “Don’t.”

“See? It’s not fun being on the other side of the questions,” you smirked. Your conversation was briefly suspended when Maria returned with your entrees. After thanking her, you refocused back on Miguel, “Can I ask you something else?”

“No.”

“DADA!” A child, who couldn’t have been more than three, screeched happily from a neighboring table. 

Miguel froze. For the first time in the several months that you’d known him, you saw his face soften. The warmth that filled his eyes at the sight of the toddler was undeniable. The fond expression hardened back into his stoic facade within an instant, yet Miguel couldn’t fully conceal the anguish that clearly still haunted him. He never could. 

“Sorry,” you said softly. 

He shook off your condolences. “What’d you want to ask me?” 

“Have you tried seeing anyone after…” it felt forbidden to say Gabriella’s name out loud. 

“What’s the point?” Miguel shrugged. “I don’t have the time, even if I wanted to.” 

“Right,” you hedged. 

Eventually, you and Miguel were able to find things to talk about outside of work and your respective traumas. You compared notes on the lamest villain you’d each encountered rounding up anomalies, discussed the idea of a nursery for spider-babies, or as Miguel insisted on calling them, “second-generation Spiders” – Peter couldn’t keep taking his kid on missions, plus Jessica Drew had just learned she was expecting – you even got Miguel to open up about his teenage days some. 

“Makes sense you were a rebel,” you chuckled, taking one last bite of the tiramisu Maria insisted was on the house.  

“Yeah? Why?” Miguel prodded.

“Because you-re so uptigh–upstanding now.” 

You were treated to another rare grin from Miguel, this time a half smile rather than a quarter. “Nice save.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you contended with put-on innocence. 

“Yeah, yeah, I don’t always like what I have to do, you know.” 

Your gaze locked directly with his for a breath-taking second, his eyes garnets in the low light of the dining room. “We should get going, I've taken you away from headquarters for long enough.” 

“You act like I’ve never left HQ before, and if anything, I took you away from your family,” Miguel parried, yet stood up nonetheless. You followed suit, only mildly disappointed he didn’t argue with you about leaving. As awkward as this dinner initially was, you’d actually ended up enjoying it. “I’ll take you home.”

Miguel’s words stopped you in your tracks, “You know I’m the protector of this city, right?” 

“Obviously, I—” he huffed as you waved goodbye to Maria and exited back onto the street. “Mierda May, I’m trying to be a gentleman here.”

Oh. Oh. Did Miguel think this was a date too? Date was too strong of a word – did Miguel think this was a not-entirely-work-related-hang too? 

You struggled to keep your face blasé. “Ah, okay. We taking the subway or are we swinging?” 

Miguel shot you a look as if the choice was obvious, which is how you found yourself traipsing across the city with Spider-Man 2099. You’d traveled by web plenty of times with Miguel before on missions, but there was something about it being the two of you, in your city, that made it feel just a little bit special. 

And to be honest, you’d never get enough of watching Miguel’s body hurtle through the air – despite his bulk and brawn, he was agile and lithe as he swung from building to building with you. You nearly plunged into traffic on Sixth Avenue after your thoughts had wandered to what those bulging muscles looked like unencumbered by that skin-tight suit of his. 

When you arrived at your apartment in Morningside Heights, you were suddenly self-conscious. You’d never brought a Spider to your residence, and Miguel was likely the hardest to impress of them all. 

He studied your modest one-bedroom with the same intensity as he did his screens at the Spider-Society. 

“It’s not much, I know,” you began, “and with Spider-Girl stuff, I don’t have the time to keep it as tidy as I'd like to.”

“It’s perfect,” he mumbled before catching himself. “I mean, it’s perfect for you.” 

“Yeah, I don’t need much, but it gets good light during the day and was the highest floor I could afford at my price point,” you removed your mask as you babbled on. 

“Makes sense,” Miguel nodded. 

You had no idea where to go from there – what on Earth was the man playing at? Should you offer him water, another drink, the best spot to portal back to HQ? He was lingering in your space, seemingly fascinated by the framed prints on your walls, the photos on the coffee table and credenza. 

“Um, do you need to use the restroom or something? Because it’s right through there,” you motioned to the appropriate door. 

“I’m good for now.”

THEN WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU STILL DOING HERE? You hollered in your head. Externally, you kept playing hostess, “Let me get you a glass of water then–”

Yet Miguel caught your wrist before you could retreat into your tiny, galley kitchen. You weren’t proud of how your heart leapt and your breath hitched at the contact. 

“Shouldn’t you be getting back?” 

He shrugged, “I should, but–”

“But what?” 

“I’ve been thinking about what you said…about letting someone climb on top of me.” 

You gulped, “Sorry, that was so inappropriate of me–”

“It was. Inappropriate, that is, but it doesn’t mean it wasn’t a good idea,” he tugged you closer to him. You could barely stand to meet his eyes, alight with desire, while your heart was pounding embarrassingly fast. 

“Um, judging by the–uh, do you want me to climb on top of you, Miguel?” you were always so much smoother in your daydreams about him. 

His lips hovered dangerously near yours. “Do you want to climb on top of me?” 

The closer you got to Miguel, the faster your brain turned to scrambled eggs. His large, sure hands had settled on your hips. 

“Uh huh,” was the best you could muster before he crashed your lips together. 

Miguel’s kiss was searing and all-consuming – it felt as if the longer your mouths moved against each other, the more your body melted into his. He was tall, so tall, and even for a superhero like yourself, it was difficult to keep yourself perched on the balls of your feet to reach his skilled, hungry mouth. 

He seemed to sense your struggle, and without breaking your liplock, he scooped you up into his arms. It was foreign but not unwelcome – you were so used to being the strongest, the person who held others, the hero. Therefore, being held so effortlessly in Miguel’s arms was nothing short of exhilarating. You weren’t the strongest person in the room anymore, you could surrender. You loved it.

Miguel pressed your back into the nearest wall, causing an emphatic moan to leave you when your hips became flush with his. You could already feel him – hot, hard, and big – between the flimsy fabric of your spider-suits. Instinctually, you canted your heat against his, delighting in the way he seemed to grow hotter, harder, not to mention unbelievably bigger, when you did. 

“Bedroom?” he gasped between harsh, ardent kisses. 

You managed to fling a hand in the correct direction, and next thing you knew, Miguel was depositing you onto your bed. You propped yourself up, leaning back on your palms to take in the man towering over you at the edge of your bed. In a flash of color and light, his suit disappeared from his strapping physique, and the sight of Miguel naked intoxicated you more than alcohol ever could. 

His shoulders seemed even broader without the unstable particles of his suit covering them. His pecs were massive, which made a delectable ratio when his chest tapered down to a chiseled abdomen and slim hips. Slim hips that framed the biggest cock you’d seen outside of porn – hell, maybe even including porn. He was long and thick – it made a dark thrill race down your spine when you contemplated how the hell that was going to fit inside of you. 

Miguel noticed you marveling at his package, misinterpreting the rapacious glint in your eye as unease, “I’ll prep you, I won’t hurt you.” 

“Oh, I’m not worried” you glanced back up at his face coquettishly. 

“No?” Miguel cocked an eyebrow and advanced toward you on the bed, a jaguar stalking its prey. He nudged you onto your back and pinned your wrists to your comforter, “maybe you should be.” 

You muscled out of Miguel’s grip and switched positions so you were straddling him. Only then did you lean closer and whisper into his ear, “I can take it.” 

Miguel growled, and within an instant, you were on your back once again as he pawed at your suit. Unlike his costume, your spider-suit was made of plain old fabric, so there was a bit of fumbling, cursing in Spanish, nervous giggling, and a mumbled comment about ‘making you a suit like mine’ from Miguel before you were nude as well. 

He splayed you out against your mattress as if you were a feast before him. Your first instinct was to try and cover yourself but Miguel’s dark gaze froze you. A pleased groan rumbled from his chest and then his large hands flew to your breasts. “Such full, perky tits.”

You moaned in response to his ministrations. How was this real? You and Miguel were touching each other – naked – and you hadn’t woken up yet. 

“It’s all for you,” you mewled, relishing his hot palms on your sensitive buds. 

Another growl ripped from his chest before he swooped down and sucked one of your nipples into his warm, wanting mouth. You keened, a pathetic, high-pitched sound, and you wove your fingers into his dark locks as he gorged himself on your tits. 

The pull of Miguel’s mouth on your peaks was made only better when he snaked a hand between your legs and ran a finger along the seam of your sex. You bucked at the touch, your reaction causing Miguel to lift his head from your bosom. 

“Mmmm, you like it when I play with your pussy, cariño?”

At this point words had all but left you so you nodded and whined in the affirmative. Miguel’s digit parted your folds, tracing up and down, then found your clit and rubbed slow, tortuous circles into the nub. 

“So wet for me, bebita,” he observed, maddeningly casually, while he played you like an instrument. “This is all for me, huh?”

Your head thrashed back and forth on your comforter with a sob, both from pleasure and bashfulness. Now there was no downplaying how horny Miguel made you. 

“Shhh,” he cooed at you, taking one of your hands and bringing it to his groin, “feel what you do to me.”

This time your moan was unabashed as your hand circled around his girth. “Fuck, you’re so big.” 

“I know,” he grunted. Normally, such braggadocio from a man would be an immediate turn off to you. But Miguel wasn’t being arrogant, not when he was referring to the thick, pulsing hardness you were currently caressing. “Gotta get you ready for me.”  

He guided your hand away from his member, even despite your protests, to wrench your thighs wider and bury his head between them. The realization alone that Miguel O’Hara was about to eat you out almost made you come, yet actually feeling his tongue on your needy cunt was infinitely better. He licked a stripe from your perineum to your clit, tearing another ragged moan from you when his tongue focused in on the bundle of nerves. 

Miguel chuckled against your folds at your enthusiastic praise and redoubled his efforts. Your fingers reflexively tangled in his inky locks once again as he continued his delectable assault on your pussy. The way Miguel tasted you matched with how he seemed to approach everything – he was vehement and determined to bring you pleasure like how he was when he worked. He managed to just stay on the right side of rough as he slurped at you..though perhaps that was a bit different than how he fought.

He speared his tongue into your hole, affording you the opportunity to grind your clit against his prominent nose. In your pleasure-filled haze, you briefly fretted that you were suffocating Miguel, but when you tried to scooch away and give him some air, the man grunted and pulled your hips closer to him.

You keened again when one of his thick fingers joined the fray as he prepped you. After all the sexual tension, all the self-denial, and all the excitement the night had held, it felt so good to clench around something. He was again methodical with his preparation, allowing you to adjust to one digit before adding another, and another. It couldn’t have made a starker contrast with how he was devouring your sex. Even in the bedroom, Miguel O’Hara was full of contradictions. It didn’t take long for your breaths to become more shallow, for your cries to reach a higher pitch as you climaxed around his hefty fingers. The combination of the penetration and the stimulation of your clit with his mouth was too good to resist. 

You were slightly relieved that Miguel remained nestled between your legs while you rode out your peak. The orgasm he’d given you was much too good to be able to control your facial expressions. 

He at last came up for air once you’d begun floating down from your peak. A primal pride surged through you at the sight of your juices smeared all over his lips and chin. You couldn’t help but smash your mouths together, eager to sample the combination you two made. It was all too easy to get lost in a kiss with Miguel, yet as you plundered his mouth with your tongue, your hand crept back down his groin. 

This time it was Miguel who moaned into your mouth as you returned him to full mast with feather-light, teasing touches. 

“I need to fuck you,” he gasped between kisses. 

“Finally,” you bantered back. 

A growl from Miguel and then he tackled you back flat on the bed. You couldn’t help the giggle – partly from nerves, partly from anticipation – that escaped you at his actions, despite the visage of a hulking, intimidating man hovering over you could be frightening in another context. 

“Do you have protection?” 

You hesitated. You kept a box of condoms in your bedside drawer, but given Miguel’s size, they’d be inadequate. 

“None that would fit you,” you confessed, stealing another glance at his large erection. It was truly a sight to behold. Miguel deflated slightly, fearing penetration was off the table, and usually it would be. You were firmly a two methods of contraception girl, but there was no way you were going to pass up this chance to have sex with Miguel. “Don’t worry Spidey, I’m on the pill.” 

“Gracias a Dios,” he muttered, then wasted no time situating himself between your hips. He drew yet another mewl from you when he slapped the tip of his cock a few times on your clit before lining himself up with your entrance. 

He found you looking at him expectantly. And though Miguel mostly saw desire in your eyes, he could see the glimpse of unease too. He assured you, “I’ll go slow.” 

You nodded, you trusted him after all, but nothing could prepare you for the stretch of when Miguel finally pushed into you. Just the tip was already splitting you apart more than Gene, or any former lover for that matter, ever had. 

“Breathe,” Miguel rasped. You couldn’t tell if he was advising you or himself though. It struck you then that you’d perhaps achieved the damn-near impossible – disarming the notoriously closed-off Miguel O’Hara. He looked beautiful, biting his plush lower lip as he slowly rocked more and more of his huge cock inside of you. 

Your back arched off the mattress of the sensation of being progressively speared on the monster that Miguel called a dick. It was too much and not enough all at once, and your fingers dug into your comforter below you. He tried to distract you from any potential pain, Miguel’s index finger returning to your barely-recovered clit. 

“That’s it, open up for me,” he husked. Your head swam at the mix of his enormous manhood stretching you to your limit and his tender, in-control tone. The realization hit you harder than a punch from an anomaly. In that moment, fear skittered down your throat and pooled into your stomach, resting right above where you two were joined. He’s going to ruin me for other men, isn’t he? 

You couldn’t think any further since not only was Miguel fully seated within you, he had asked you a question. Your eyes glassy and pupils blown, found his, and he repeated himself. “You okay? Can-can I move?”

“Yes,” you gasped. In case your breath affirmation left any room for doubt, you added, “please.”

Another grunt from your lover and Miguel at last began to thrust into you. Your arms flew from the bed to his impossibly wide shoulders, your nails digging into the caramel, taut skin there. You couldn’t tell exactly when it’d happened, lost in the deliciously lewd sounds you were making between the slap of your bodies, your labored breaths, and his determined staccato grunts while Miguel railed you, but your hips had begun to meet his. 

“M-more Miguel,” you urged him as you dragged your fingertips down the expanse of his back. Each of your hands grabbed a fistful of that glorious ass and squeezed to drive home your point. 

“You sure?” 

You moaned. It was as if he couldn’t give it to you hard or faster enough. You used your grip on the globes of his perfect rear to try and force him to increase to the pace and force you needed him to fuck you at. 

Miguel laughed. A dark and stirring sound that made you involuntarily tighten around his girthy length. “Alright bebita, but remember…you asked for this.” 

His words ignited something defiant within you. You pulled Miguel’s head from where it had fallen into the crook of your neck so you could look him in the eyes when you said, “I’m not some pillow princess from Nueva. I’m just as strong as you are, I can go just as hard you can, and I want you to fuck me.” 

Your lover’s eyes darkened at your demand. The growl that ripped from his throat was your only warning before Miguel unleashed the full force of his strength on you. You keened in pleasure as he all but drove you through your bedframe and the wall behind it. Miguel captured your wrists once more and restrained you against the mattress as he absolutely pounded into your pussy. 

His drilling drew another ecstatic cry from your mouth. Miguel glared down at you, his eyes nearly crazed, his face barely lit in the ambient light from the street. It truly was infuriating to you how beautiful this man was. You watched his brow furrowed in concentration – not on his stupid screens for once – and his dark hair shift in time with his thrusts.  Your features contorted in pleasure when Miguel switched from drilling into you to swiveling his hips to stuff you with his cock. His movements were deliberate and slow, he was trying to get as deep inside of you as he could. You almost went cross-eyed at the feel of his bulbous cockhead punching against your cervix. 

The criminal undulations of his hips extracted a little yip from you each time he pistoned into you. He grinned down at you wolfishly. Equal parts indignation and arousal bloomed within you. Also, was the first time you'd ever seen Miguel smile? Not a little half-smirk or a humorless quirk of his lips, but an unabashed smile?

“Want me to back off?” 

Oh, there was no way you were going to take that lying down. Even if Miguel’s pubic bone was perfectly grinding into your clit. 

You let out a growl of your own and summoned all the power in your core muscles to wrestle Miguel back and claim the high ground. Out of breath when you found yourself seated on Miguel’s dick, his large, muscled body prone beneath you, you braced yourself on his rippled abdomen.

“Is the itsy-bitsy Spider-Girl gonna ride my cock?” he taunted you. If Miguel didn’t wear that arrogant, playful smirk so well, you would’ve wiped it from his lips. 

You slid your hands up the length of his chest and leaned over, your face hovering over his. “That depends. Can 2099 handle it?” 

Miguel answered you with an impatient buck of his hips up into your sex. You giggled as you straightened up again, tweaking one of Miguel's nipples as you went. You relished the little shudder it sent through him. “Alright, but remember baby, you asked for this.”

He snorted out a laugh, which you quickly silenced once you began riding Miguel like the stud he was. “Hnnn–shock, bebita.”

“Ah,” you sighed as you bounced on his prick. Before sleeping with Miguel, you had assumed the term “feeling him in your guts” was hyperbole. Not with him. “Fuck, you’re even bigger like this.” 

A large hand traced its way up one of your thighs, now lightly covered with a sheen of sweat, past your sex, split apart by his shaft, to where Miguel’s manhood made the slightest bulge in your lower belly. His smile became wider and even cockier. “It’s good, no?”

You gave him a nonverbal, but enthusiastic, reply. He smacked your ass in satisfaction, “Yeah c’mon, cariño, ride me. Wanna watch your tits bounce.” 

You officially hated Miguel and his big, thick, perfectly sized cock. Where as with other partners you’d smack them right back with a zinger, all you could do was moan again. His naughty, domineering words did nothing but excite you. There was something about him and the way he fucked that made you incapable of doing little else than enthusiastically submitting to him. You leaned back, your fingers clutching onto Miguel’s thick thighs to stability as you changed angles and gave him a better view of your breasts jiggling in time with your motions. 

“Ay, sí bebita,” Miguel’s hands flew to your hips to intensify the frantic mashing of your bodies together, “Ven aquí.”

He gathered your torso in his hulking arms and pulled you closer so that he could coax a breast into his mouth again as you rode him. 

“You gonna come for me Miguel?” you panted.  

“No,” he sounded as winded as you were. “Not yet.”

You clenched around him and snickered. “Are you sure?” 

“¡Coño!” Miguel snarled at the feel of your already blistering, tight pussy suffocating his dick further. “¡No más – basta de esto!”

The vision of your bedroom swam when Miguel lifted you off his pulsing member and dropped you back on your stomach onto the mattress facing the foot of the bed.. You could hear him shifting behind you, and you blindly groped for the lower metal railing of your bedframe’s footboard, only vaguely aware what was to come. 

A grunt from Miguel, and the next thing you knew one of your pillows was stuffed under your lower belly and his massive hands were back on either side of your hips. Your lover didn’t give you any notice before shoving his fat erection back inside of your already tender pussy. 

You shouted at the feeling of his cock stuffing you to the brim once again. Miguel’s hands appeared above your head where you held on for dear life as he impaled you on his prick.

“Ahhh!” you clamored, desperately trying to pull enough air in your lungs to function as Miguel squatted behind you. “I’ve never been so full! Oh God, Miguel, it’s so much…so much…”

Miguel responded with a pleased growl, and merely rammed into you harder. You were peripherally aware of the clanging of the pieces of your metal bed frame clanging together in protest at the vigor of your and Miguel’s coupling, but there were too many sensations overwhelming you at once to focus on one in particular. Not even when the metal groaned and the angle Miguel fucked you at changed did you pay attention to what was actually happening. You merely pushed back onto his cock as much as you could, your fingertips scrabbling into the folds of your comforter. 

Your eyes screwed shut at the barrage of stimuli - the unrelenting stretch of Miguel’s hardness,  his harsh but steadying grip on your hips, the light scratch of fabric beneath you on your skin, the little puff of warmth on the back of your neck from Miguel’s labored exhalations. You were sure this was better than any high any drug could provide. You hadn’t tried many, not even Rapture, and but nothing could top being thoroughly fucked into your mattress by Miguel O’Hara.

Miguel’s dogged grunts morphed into shouts when he at last found his release, spurting rope after rope of hot, creamy cum into your welcoming cunt. You found yourself crying out along with him as he emptied his load, your walls bearing down around his length as you both rode out his high. Miguel flooded your pussy with his seed and before you could even try to adjust to the feeling, he withdrew his cock from you, tearing a quite pathetic-sounding whimper from your mouth. 

Miguel pulled your ass cheeks apart to examine your stretched, puffy pussy leaking his cum. His chest rumbled with primal delight. “Hermosa.”

You’d barely had a chance to catch your breath when Miguel dove back in for more, this time his eager, demanding tongue again invading your channel. You whimpered again, your pitch jumping an octave at Miguel’s needy tongue not only collecting his spunk from your pussy, but flicking the muscle against your clit. He was a man possessed, he ate you out as if he needed you to orgasm one more time for his survival. 

You gave him what he wanted (how could you not?), and once the crest of your pleasure had subsided, you lightly pushed him away from your gaping, abused cunt. 

The first thing you noticed when your wits returned to you was how much closer the ground had become. 

“Oh my God,” you put it together and turned to face your partner, "we broke the bed.”

Miguel arched a brow from where he leant back into the pillows. “Are you surprised?”

You frowned at him.  

“I’ll fix it,” he promised. 

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it. I’m going to…” you trailed off your gaze floating to the bathroom.

“Do your thing.”

“Can…can I get you anything?” 

Miguel glanced down at his crotch. “A towel?” 

You nodded. “Say no more.” 

You ducked into your en-suite, and once you were sure the door was firmly closed behind you, you proceeded to have a freak out to yourself in the mirror. You scarcely believe your own appearance – lips kiss swollen, hair a veritable bird's nest, your mascara smudged into rings around your eyes. Miguel had destroyed you in the best of ways. 

The thought sent a little aftershock of pleasure through you. You didn’t dally any longer — you relieved yourself, washed your hands, ran a brush through your hair and splashed water on your face. After dampening a washcloth for Miguel, you returned to the bedroom, where your bed frame was properly vertical again. 

You glimpsed the glow of Miguel’s distinctive red webs holding the broken metal rods together. The other Spider was reclining on your mattress, a sheet haphazardly tossed over his groin to preserve his modesty. Even so, the sight of him made you go weak in the knees. He really did remind you of some sort of a large cat given the odd grace in which he lounged with, the evidence of his power and strength so poorly hidden under the surface of his skin. 

“Get a new frame and expense it to Spider-HQ,” Miguel's baritone snapped you out of your reverie. 

“Oh, okay. Thanks,” You tossed him the towel. 

His eyes raked over your naked form. But instead of the desire you’d found there earlier, his gaze was full of concern. “You okay?”

“Yes. Very okay. A little sore but good sore, ya know?” 

“Good,” Miguel busied himself with cleaning up. 

“I mean, what’s the point of having superpowers if you can’t enjoy extra rough sex?” you joked. 

“Yeah, about that,” Miguel refused to meet your eyes. “As um…great as all this was…I think we–it should be a one-time thing.” 

“Um, duh.” He looked up at you hastily and you continued, “Miguel, neither of us are anywhere close to ready or in the right place for a relationship.” 

Your heart disagreed with your words, but you uttered them anyway. Not because it was how you truly felt, but you knew it was what he wanted to hear. Miguel associated any sense of closeness or vulnerability with weakness and danger. Trying to get him to see otherwise was a fool's errand, and it was easier on your heart to convince yourself into concurring with him. 

Oddly, Miguel didn’t seem to relax at your assurances. He looked dubious. “Are you sure?” 

“Oh my God, you are so cocky!” you accused him with a playful slap to the broad, tan chest. “Spare me the fake worry 2099, you may be amazing at sex, but that doesn’t mean I won’t be able to be professional with you at HQ.” 

“Amazing at sex?” Mirguel parroted you with a smirk. 

You slapped him again. “Of course that’s the only part you heard.”

“Sorry but those are very distracting,” he claimed, his gaze focused on your exposed breasts. 

You scoffed and grabbed a pillow to temporarily cover yourself. “Hang on there, Spider-Man. Yes, you are…not terrible at showing a lady a good time, no, you don’t have to worry about me being clingy at work, and yes, I’m sure so stop looking at me like that!” 

You tossed the pillow away and straddled him. “Now I don’t know about you, but it’s only midnight. If this is indeed a one-time thing, I say we make the most of the night and the fact that no one has bothered us with some multiversal emergency yet.” 

Miguel finally let it go, choosing to focus on your very nude body on top of his. His hips moved on their own accord, grinding his cock, already stiffening back up to full mast, against where you were still so nice and stretched for him. 

“Vamos, bebita,” he whispered into your ear. His fingers dug into your sides possessively in a way that almost let you believe he was doing it because you were his. “Wanna fuck you on the ceiling.” 

***

You shouldn't have been surprised that Miguel didn’t stay the night. You were honestly shocked when he collapsed beside you after the hours you’d spent vehemently fucking. Your bed was now held together by a mix of both his and your webs, one of your framed photos on the wall lay shattered on the floor to be dealt with later, and the ceiling now sported a dent that was going to be very difficult to explain to your landlord. 

The memory of Miguel leaving was hazy at best. After so many rounds of deeply satisfying, intensely athletic sex, you felt like you could sleep for a week. Yet the shift and dip of Miguel’s large frame exiting the bed was enough to wake you. You could sort of recall a small flash of light and chirpy voice which must have been Lyla…and you also had a vague memory of him replying in a hushed rumble as if not to wake you up. Or was he telling you he was heading out? Everything jumbled together under the fog of sleep. 

Either way, you had to tell yourself that the sensation of a large hand caressing your face and then tenderly stroking down the sleep-warm skin of your back was a dream. Not for Miguel’s sake, but yours. 

Thanks to super-spider stamina, you only really needed a couple extra shots of espresso to function somewhat normally the following day at headquarters. You were angry at your instinct to avoid Miguel. You both were adults that had an adult, mature conversation that last night’s activities were merely a form of stress release that didn’t mean anything. It was hard to believe however, when you could still feel the phantom shape of him inside of you. 

Besides, it’s not even like you could avoid him if you wanted to. You were scheduled to go over more sequencing today with Miguel, and you were dead set on not blinking first in the post-sex-awkwardness stand-off. 

“Hey, Miguel!” your voice reverberated in the vast space. 

Several agonizing moments later, his platform lowered enough for you two to start conversing. If he was at all bashful about seeing you, the man didn’t show it. 

“Good. You’re here.”

“Yep.” 

Miguel was all business. “I want to go back to the fight you had with your father. Lyla, take us to timestamp 46:90:45.”

Damn, and here you thought you were good at compartmentalizing. You did your best to hide any disappointment from reaching your face, playing along as if he hadn’t seen every crevice of your body the night before. 

***

Days turned into weeks, and you eventually, reluctantly accepted that Miguel had told you the truth that night. What you two had shared was really just a one-time lapse of his frighteningly strong self-restraint. 

You were enjoying a rare night in, parked on the couch, takeout boxes strewn about the coffee table, your favorite trashy reality show playing on your TV. You’d gotten injured taking down a Doc Ock variant a few days ago, and Miguel benched you to recuperate. You were all too happy to take a break, from him and Spider-Girling. Despite your complicated feelings for the man, he assigned a recently displaced Spider, Spider-Woman 1357, to pinch hit for you in your dimension while you healed up. It was the first time since you became a hero you had a day off with peace of mind. 

Just as you started another episode, a tingle raced down your spine. Your spider-sense. Something was about to happen. Out of all the possibilities of what could have followed, a portal opening in your living room and Miguel walking through was the last thing you would’ve guessed. You leapt up from the sofa. 

You instantly regretted your appearance - messy bun, no makeup, and ratty sweatpants. Miguel, as usual, looked immaculate in his skintight spider-suit. 

“Hey.” 

“Is this a booty call?”

“No.” 

“Don’t bullshit me–”

“It’s not, I swear! Coño, I came to check on you.” 

“I don’t believe you.” 

“Why not?”

“Because you could have messaged me on my gizmo. It’s your preferred method of communication after all, ever since the last time you were in my apartment.” 

“May–”

Lyla appeared over his shoulder. “He missed you, that’s all.”

Miguel growled at his AI. “I’m going to sentence you to robot death via spreadsheets.” 

Lyla wasn’t threatened in the slightest. “Thank me later.” She disappeared before Miguel could try and make another retort. 

“You missed me?”

“No,” his denial was instant. “I just…I–”

“This is a booty call!” you crumpled up a napkin and chucked it at his large form. “Go home, Miguel!” 

He didn’t budge. “It’s not a booty call. I…what are you watching?”

“The Realest Housewives of Manhattan. What, don’t judge me!”

Miguel couldn't keep his face straight. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” 

Seeing his eyes crinkle with amusement was infectious. You threw another napkin ball at him and then composed yourself. He wasn’t getting off the hook this easily. “Why are you here? Be honest with me. It’s the very least I deserve.”

“I wanted to see the shocking expensive bed frame you expensed to HQ for myself.” 

“You said I could and you didn't set a spending limit.” A wicked little grin pulled at the corners of your mouth. The bed frame from Restoration Hardware had been your own private form of revenge. “And I’m supposed to believe you wanting to see my bed – my bed that you broke–”

“Hey! We broke the bed–”

“--is not your thinly veiled excuse for seeking another roll in the hay? Enough with goddamn mind games Miguel.” He tried to speak but you pushed on, “I’m tired and this is the last thing I need.”

Miguel sobered. He hung his head. His mouth seemed to fight the words as they left his lips.  “Alright, fine. I missed you.” 

You ignored your heartbeat’s sharp increase and schooled your features to maintain a neutral appearance. “I have some extra Pad Thai if you want.” 

“Sounds good.” 

“So this may not be a booty call, but does anyone other than Lyla know you’re here?”

“No.” 

You nodded. “Come. Sit. I just started the episode where Beverly throws her poodle a forty thousand dollar birthday party.” 

“Nothing you said just now made sense,” Miguel protested, but took a seat on your couch anyway. 

A/N: Hope y'all enjoyed!! Miguel has fully rotted my brain so I thought it only fair to share the horniness. Of course I have more imagined in this AU, fingers crossed I can find more time to write (comments and reblogs and likes help!)

Translations:

Mierda - Shit 

cariño - dear

bebita - baby

Gracias a Dios - Thank God

Ven aquí - Come here

¡Coño! - Damnit!

¡No más – basta de esto! -No more, enough of this!

Hermosa - beautiful

Vamos, bebita - Come on, baby

Taglist: @plethora-of-imagines, @itdobe-liza @absolutelybloodyhopeless @ninebluehearts, @oscarissac2099 @trinthealternate

[rainswept]

you ask for Fontaine brain rot/reqs, I deliver.

So idk if you've done the recent archon quest and lyney/lynette story quest so if you haven;t be careful caus i will be spoling !

SO

That part where Lyney is freaking out over Freminet and Lynette had me SCREAMING especially since ive done their story quest AND ALSO FRIENDSHIP 10 LYNEY SO I HAVE THE LORE AND IT HURTS SM but I won't spoil all that for u-

so anyways, i started thinking, imagine Lyney has a lover who's been with the siblings for years (and also works for Arlecchino) and is considered another sibling by Lynette and Freminet. They were also diving with Freminet when they encountered water from the primordial sea

now imagine clorinde can only take one person with her at a time when she pulls them back, and she saves Freminet first, later going back for Lyney's s/o

Eventually Freminet wakes up like he does in the quest, but the reader just.. doesn't. Hours pass and the siblings are freaking tf out because they don't want to lose anyone.

(now I can't decide if I crave angst or if I want to comfort my babies so ill give my headcanons for both shiguegoe)

angst: Lyney's lover keeps deteriorating, parts of them gradually turning blue and quite literally withering away (caus you know the water and the dissapearances- yeah-) and the siblings can do nothing but watch

Lynette shuts down more frequently and for longer periods, not even saying anything to Lyney

Freminet blames himself for not noticing sooner, for not getting them out sooner

And then there's Lyney.. he blames himself for not only putting his siblings in danger, but losing his lover...

He sits by their bed watching as they wither away, holding their hand. He knows Father will be upset by his lack of comitment to the mission but he can't bring himself to care

The day they pass, no one says a word. They continue with their mission, report to Father, go on with their Fontainian lives until they're alone and they cry. they cry and scream and curse whatever archons or god's are listening.

AND NOW BEFORE I CRY THE HAPPIER VERSION

After days of not waking up, they finally open their eyes.

Lyney is fretting over them asking if they know where they are, who he is, what happened etc

now to throw in a tidbit of angst, what if they awoke with some disability? like they cant see anymore, they can't hear properly, cant walk properly etc

Lyney and Freminet would devasted because they blame themselves. Lynette would be quick to remind her brothers at least everyone is alive.

It'd be bad because with a disability, they can't work for Father anymore, or at least not the way they used to

AHHEOGUHEOG im stuck in a neverending brain rot my guy

Anyways. I was actually going to request for you to write your own take on this but you don't have to if you dont want- even just hearing your take would be nice lmao

also if its ok i reallly wanna be mutuals! I just found you blog and im obssesed!! I really wanna be friends<3

NO BECAUSE I SCREECHED SO LOUD MULTIPLE TIMES READING THIS !! THANK U SO MUCH YES OFC I WANNA BE MUTUALS/FRIENDS!! genuinely absolutely made my day to have u ask that oh my god??

also don’t worry about spoiling anything for me, i’ve read every little bit of lyney/lynette/freminet lore out there 😭 and i’ve done all of the new fontaine archon quests already (i need help. it’s okay though!)

as for angst — u know me so well already this is my forte. cracks knuckles here i go

freminet feels as if something is off.

already beginning to panic, he turns to you in a hurry. the water swishes in his ears. when you meet his gaze, wide-eyed, the gut ‘feeling’ turns into a full-blown punch to it. oh, now he realizes; he can’t breathe. his heart’s racing, chest tightening and throat feeling as if it’s closing up.

you reach out, and exchanging unspoken words, you two turn around and make to retrace your patterns with haste. hand in hand, you race against frittered time; but even your best efforts are not enough, and the both of you are forced to acknowledge it when freminet’s vision begins to turn spotty.

he got in the water first; he’s gone before you are. his body floats limp beside you as you drag him along through the water, even as the surroundings grow hazy for you, too. a cold tingle runs up your spine as you consider the possibility; is this the end?

(when you had left for the pipes, the most you had exchanged with lyney was a quick kiss on the cheek as a goodbye. that wouldn’t do.)

but even as you try desperately to cling to life .. the “sea” is a cruel thing, and it does not care for your mortal frivolities. (a proper goodbye? .. foolish.) with cold, disorienting water enveloping your senses from all sides, your only grounding thing being freminet’s (rapidly cooling) fingers against yours — it didn’t take long before you succumbed to the “sea”, too.

(your last thought as the world went dark was “i’m sorry.”)

(even in your barely conscious state, you feel another wave of panic surge through you when freminet’s fingers slip away from yours — but you don’t have enough energy to hold on.)

reader lives:

the incessant thrum of the water rushing through pipes rattled in your ears. your whole body was sore, weak and tired; and all of your limbs felt like lead attached to you via shoddy workmanship. your head hurt like hell, and what’s worse is that the moment you opened your eyes, you were immediately met with the sight of the three people you cherished most.

first, there was freminet, who was sitting on the bed opposite to yours. his posture fixes from a slouch into proper the moment he spots you, perhaps in.. excitement? shock? you weren’t sure. his eyes lit up, though.

second, there was lynette. she was .. a bit more on edge than usual. that was .. to be expected, of course, but really. you were out for.. what, an hour or two? come on, all four of you put yourselves in danger all the time. what was different about this?

(what was different was the fact that you were not out for an hour or two. no, make that days. they were sure to remind you of this.)

then, there was lyney. for him, the world seemed to stop.

lyney, who was pacing the room in sheer desperation. he walked and walked, boots timed and in tune with the clocks and dripping water from the pipes. in his nervousness, he had unwittingly created a quite fitting melody.

(the only sounds once he ceases walking are the clocks and the water dripping from the pipes.)

lyney, who had rushed to your bedside the moment he had noticed you were up. he looked exhausted, but the second you were awake the mask was .. attempted .. to be put back on. however .. it didn’t take someone as observant as you, or even one who knew him so well, to notice that it was placed crooked.

(how absurd he looked, trying to put on a front everyone in the room knew was one.)

why, even, you would have bet that it could’ve been surmised by a child. once again, emphasis on ‘you would have’, for there was no time for thinking about that when he rushed to your bedside and enveloped you into an embrace. you didn’t miss the way his fingers grasped at the back of your shirt in downright desperation.

(in clear, bold letters, it reads; “if nothing else, please let this be real.”)

he slots himself beside you and, wordlessly, holds you close. he doesn’t need words — neither of you do. this is enough.

lynette and freminet looked on, neither of them opening their mouths when lyney buries his face into the crook of your neck and stays there for just a bit too long. he doesn’t cry. instead, he whispers shakily against your skin; “i thought i’d lost you.”

(the only sounds once he ceases speaking are the clocks and the water dripping from the pipes.

(no one speaks up just yet.)

(the only sounds in the room are the clocks and the water dripping from the pipes.)

(you’re starting to think those were the only sounds ever there.)

when he finally pulls away, you notice he’s fixed his mask. lyney now smiles, and the shake in his voice is gone; but you know it’s not all better, not when he refuses to leave the infirmary even after sigewinne and the traveler inquire. you know it’s not all better, not when the four of you are alone again. lyney sits beside you on the bed, refusing to so much as stand up (he doesn’t want to let go of your hand. you don’t comment on it, but his fingers are still shaky as he holds onto yours like they’re a lifeline.)

you don’t exchange as much as a single word after that. you just bask in each other’s presence, apologies and pleas and “i love you” shared during every lingering glance between everyone in the room.

the four of you don’t need words. this is enough.

reader dies:

seven mistakes went unnoticed. seven signs went unfollowed. seven things (and five people) went wrong that day.

one: freminet.

it was entirely freminet’s fault, he thinks, it was. if only he had gotten you out of there in time. no — he shouldn’t have even brought you. he sits on the infirmary bed opposite to yours, knees pulled up to his chest, and he clutches pers with a death grip. he dips his head in such a way that his face is hidden with his hair; he doesn’t want to let lyney and lynette see him in this state. they have enough to deal with.

two: the primordial sea.

but they were bound to notice eventually, right?

“it was entirely the primordial sea’s fault,” lynette would remind, hand on freminet’s shoulder. “it wasn’t yours.”

the primordial sea. the cold and vicious waters were such a contrast to those he held so dear; what was typically calming and merciful turned to something suffocating and terrifying. but that didn’t change the fact that it was an inanimate thing.

he drops pers at the contact; it clatters to the floor; he looks down, wide-eyed and apologetic; he reaches down to pick it up. lynette does not put her hand on his shoulder again.

three: wriothesley.

“it was entirely wriothesley’s fault,” lyney wants to scream. he’s frantic, pacing the infirmary and voice cracking every time he speaks. lynette and freminet have seldom seen him so panicked. he needs to do something, he needs— he can’t. he can’t leave. once he gets his hands on wriothesley, he swears he’ll—

four: clorinde.

it was entirely clorinde’s fault. it was entirely her choice to pick only one of you to save. no one can bring themselves to be upset at her, for she did try to save both of you. but the realization slowly dawns upon the three children of the house of the hearth still with a steady heartbeat; it was either going to be you or freminet.

they realize this at different times. every time they do, they exchange a silent, quick glance.

freminet would’ve gladly given up his life. lyney and lynette, however .. they would not have been able to choose.

five: the gods.

it was entirely the gods’ fault. curse the gods, lyney thinks. he’s still pacing the room, and while he never put much stock in the divine, he was practically yelling at them now. he knew it wasn’t logical. but he needed something. what was the point of a god if not to help their people? what was the point of a god if just to watch people suffer like it’s an opera?

was she here now? was she watching? was this a “twist” for her? did she delight in this?

six: lyney.

it was entirely lyney’s fault. he shouldn’t have let you or freminet go. he shouldn’t have. he shouldn’t have let wriothesley play him like he was a deck of cards in his hands. this was all his fault. all his fault. he knew of the prophecy, dedicated his whole life to it — and yet hadn’t managed to save you from its clutches?

seven: you.

in truth — it was no one’s fault. but lyney is still pacing the room, breathing getting heavier and more rapid every time he steals a glance at you. lynette’s eyes still trace his every move, conveniently ignoring the sight of you as best she could; and freminet still has his face buried in his knees as to not look at your decaying body.

none of them can deal with the fact that it was simply an accident. no one meant for this to happen — there was no one to blame.

they needed someone to blame.

so each and every one of them blamed themselves. as lyney’s fingers grasped your cold ones, he squeezed them softly even as they began to turn blue beneath his grasp. he couldn’t bare to let you go.

and after three long days, the sun rose to find your bed empty where you had laid. you were nowhere to be found. for a moment, lyney’s heart practically leapt out of his chest, wondering .. did you get up?

but as he rushes to the bedside, his face falls. he should’ve known not to get his hopes up.

the blankets were damp where you had laid, soaked with water just as the stage in the opera epiclese had been.

lyney didn’t cry, nor did lynette or freminet.

they didn’t exchange so much as a word the day you died.

instead, they put their aching hearts and empty souls into the mission at hand. they worked twice as hard to distract themselves, and they provided excellent results for “father” — but they had barely worked together to do so.

they exchanged cold words and they held each other at night, when the pain became too much — because as much as they tried to pretend like nothing happened, that was a lie, just as the rest of their existence — but there was no mistaking it. they were now divided.

there was always you. and now there wasn’t.

lynette was the one who informed “father” of your .. whereabouts. lyney couldn’t bring himself to.

[lemon-natalia]

Nona the Ninth Reaction - Chapter 24

ok so i’ve not been paying too much attention to the specific skulls appearing in each chapter header BUT i recently rearranged my bookshelf and so noticed that this chapter skull is the same one on the GtN book spine 👀👀

ok i don’t think bandages alone are gonna do much good for being shish kebabed with a rapier

i can’t blame Camilla here, your closest loved one being in the body of Naberius Tern is a nightmare scenario quite frankly

i feel like Nona comparing Corona to Noodle is the highest compliment Nona could have bestowed upon her

Ianthe clearly took ‘Necromantic Interior Decorating 101’ from Harrow sometime last book, covering the hallway with an inventive ‘blood filigree’. how charming 

hah I would kill for Ianthe to be around to hear Pyrrha say that her work was a shit version of Mercymorn’s

i'm Very intrigued by Pyrrha’s comment that she apparently tried to trick Wake into loving her somehow, i do wonder if we’ll ever get a more in-depth look at how exactly their whole fling started

oh poor Nona, she’s really beating herself up just for wanting the only body that she has to actually belong to her

GIDEON NAV THE LOVE OF MY LIFE IS BACK! or at least her corpse is but i’m taking what i can get here okay

Nona’s mild disgust for redheads and being so critical of Gideon’s appearance is so very funny, it reminds me of how Gid described Harrow for a good chunk of GtN

'her face had that half-past-a-dream expression’ i’m probably reading wayy too into this, but amajor theme throughout this book has been dreams - the John chapters being dreams, Nona’s dreams of Gideon, so i’m curious if there’s anything significant about this description in regards to where Gid’s soul is

this has become very Sleeping Beauty suddenly with the unconscious kiss. or more accurately given Gid’s actually dead, Snow White. with the glass coffin containing the Sleeper in Harrow’s mindscape, that’s an interesting parallel between Gideon and Wake

umm i’m sorry what the fuck do you mean her eyes opened. and now she’s totally dead again?? is Nona’s hallucinating or what?? these books solidly going into mindfuck territory once again

an awful chunk of this book is made up of characters with very strange feelings about the corpse of Gideon Nav huh

MILITARY WING OF DISCO 🕺🪩🕺🪩

'imagine the hopes and fears of the whole universe contained in one dead little red star’ close enough, welcome back Ortus Ninegad’s unfairly hated poetry

oh jeez Gideon’s wounds are intense. i thought she just got impaled once right down the middle but nope she also has a neck wound as well. Nasty

christ please leave Bab’s and Gideon’s dead bodies alone. they keep getting possessed and tossed in rivers left and right

GIDEON NAV THE LOVE OF MY LIFE IS BACK!!!! ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ somehow idk what’s going on i’m not questioning it at all, i’m just happy about it

evil cougar is a very apt description of Cytherea. also from what i recall this the first time Pal and Gideon have actually interacted since he literally blew himself up over a year ago, which is wild

[kenntowol]

EMERGENCY; Longterm assault has led to the deterioration of my health + avoiding homelessness

I’ve been life-haltingly sick going on 7 years now, with several outside factors either exacerbating things or keeping me from getting treatment. The short version is, I did not ask for the things that happened to me that led to my health issues, I have fought like hell to stay afloat anyway. In my childhood I lost my trust, power, community, sense of self and my autonomy. In my adulthood I lost my time, health, stability, my home and any feeling of safety and its only getting worse because I can not afford to be this sick and pay my bills. **Now I’ve lost the ability to even eat.**

**I can not stress enough these are ACCUMULATIVE AMOUNTS. this is not money that I HAVE, this is money that has gone into rent, bills, doctors, moving to a cheaper place, medications, mobility aides, etc. it has gone to things that are necessary.**

I have not had a life of my own since 2017. I have worked tirelessly with measly breaks when I can’t take it anymore. My mental health is collapsing and it makes me ashamed when it shows. If I am not medicated, I am not even a person anymore- it feels like I am just the fear.

Any time I’ve started to see savings come together It all ends up going to the extraordinary taxes required as a freelance artist.  An ultrasound recently showed there is barely anything left of my thyroid and my new endocrinologist tested for hashimoto’s again, and it came back negative- meaning a great majority of issues I’ve had doctors blaming my thyroid for are completely unrelated and caused by something else. Currently looking into internal brain injury, but the need for financial support in order to pay bills and afford medical help is incredibly dire. Please help and reblog this GFM anything quite literally helps.

[extasiswings]

i don't understand how some people see this as the death of buddie romance like this is literally the first step to buddie...you gotta have at least one of them show interest in men. they're not doing this for shits and giggles, they're doing this because they absolutely intend make buddie canon.

No fr it’s an absolutely batshit take that doesn’t make any sense and I honestly think it boils down to homophobia/biphobia and purity culture. These people claim they want Buddie, but what they actually want is a super sanitized version where Buck and Eddie are each other’s one true loves and therefore can’t possibly experience attraction for anyone else because god forbid they aren’t each other’s first and only. God forbid they be sexual and not just domestic soft boys, and if they must be sexual well okay fine maybe that’s okay sometimes but ONLY with each other because wanting or having sex with anyone other than whoever you’re spending the rest of your life with is sinful and bad and wrong, ESPECIALLY if it’s *gasp* queer sex—

🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄 anyway, I grew up with that shit and have no patience for it anymore. People are people. Most people date and experience attraction and have sex. Most people do those things with more than one person in their lifetimes, hell, many people fall in love with more than one person in their lifetimes. That’s life. Idk if the people clutching pearls in my inbox are purity-culture-poisoned or ignorant or what, but shockingly enough people can and do date other people while having feelings for someone else all the damn time. I’ve certainly done it!

It’s also just extremely bad media literacy. They have spent years telling this love story for Buck and Eddie. Years. The audience knows them, the audience loves them. The writers would be the biggest fools on the planet to throw away their own hard work like that. Tommy isn’t going to be an endgame LI for the same reason that none of these other random women were endgame LIs—because in order to get the audience on board for that in the face of such a long and developed arc with Buck and Eddie, it’s a huge lift that requires them to be SUPER well-developed in their own right, and the writers haven’t shown any interest in even attempting to make that effort. And furthermore, the complaints about making Tommy a carbon-copy of Eddie are like…that’s the point? Buck likes those things about Eddie. Buck is attracted to those things about Eddie. But Buck is too close to this situation to figure it out—he needs to have his queer awakening with someone else to be able to see what is right in front of him, namely that he’s been in love with his bff for years, which is an experience that has afflicted countless bi people before him, including myself. You don’t have to be a genius to see the vision, you just have to stop approaching the subject with the absolute most bad faith imaginable, and also stop assuming the writers are approaching the subject with the most bad faith imaginable.

Because I guarantee you, even if it’s for the purely selfish reason of wanting their names to be attached to the love story that made tv history, the writers are not going to throw years of storytelling in the garbage for no reason.

[ava-of-shenanigans]

Translating Nyarlathotep’s names, titles, and epithets into Middle Egyptian for funsies

Middle Egyptian is the version of the Ancient Egyptian language that was spoken from about 2000 BCE (4000 years ago) to 1300 BCE (3300 years ago). I’ve been learning it for several months now, but since I am still learning there are many epithets I just do not know how to translate yet (and I could be wrong even about the ones I think I do know how to translate). Also, I’m pretty sure that the lore around Nyarlathotep is that he was in Egypt in the Old Kingdom, when they spoke Old Egyptian not Middle Egyptian, but I don’t know Old Egyptian so fuck it, we ball.

All the hieroglyphs I’m going to show here should be read left to right, top to bottom. If you want to change them to be read right to left (which is how hieroglyphs were usually read), you just have to mirror reverse them so they face the other way. Hieroglyphs can’t be read bottom to top, however, so you can’t change that. Some formatting changes would be required to change the ones that are primarily horizontal to being primarily vertical, and vice versa.

First off: His name.

Originally, I was going to start this post with a punishingly long explanation of exactly what all this means and why I have all these different variations of the name. I think an explanation like that is necessary to put somewhere on this post, but I don’t want to force people who just do not care to read all that, so I’ve put it at the very end beneath a “keep reading.”

Now for (some) epithets and titles:

“Mighty Messenger:”

Transliteration: wpwty wsr. A way to pronounce it: Weputy weser or uputy user.

“Great Messenger:”

Transliteration: wpwty wr. A way to pronounce it: Weputy wer or Uputy ur.

The “Black Pharaoh:”

There are two ways to write this one. The first is this:

Transliteration: nsw km. A way to pronounce it: Nesu kem.

It means “black king” not “black pharaoh,” but I think it might make more sense to say it this way. The way you’d say “black pharaoh” is like this:

Transliteration: pr-ʿȝ km. A way to pronounce it: Per a’a kem.

This literally means “the black Great House,” since the word “pharaoh” literally means “Great House.” This would be sort of like if Nyarlathotep appeared on earth today in the form of a United States president and we called him “the black White House,” or if he appeared as a Russian president and we called him “the black Kremlin.” The problem with this one is that I’m not so clear on if the rules for stacking adjectives would even allow for you to say this.

Also, fun fact, Ancient Egyptians considered black to be a good colour, since they associated it with the fertile soil beside the Nile. So this title would not be sinister to them. Like if Nyarlathotep appeared as a US president and we called him “the cool awesome White House.”

“Soul (of the Other Gods):”

Transliteration: kȝ kywy nṯrw. A way to pronounce it: Ka keywey netcheru.

It’s hard to just translate “soul” directly into Egyptian because the Ancient Egyptians didn’t just believe in “a soul,” they believed in a bunch of different parts of a soul that all did different things. The part I’ve used for this translation is the ka, because I think it’s the closest to what we might think of when we hear the word “soul.” I think you could make an argument that since Nyarlathotep’s job is to go and enact the Other God’s will for them, he could be considered their akh, but the akh is a very distinctly Egyptian concept and has lot to do with being dead and getting to the Egyptian afterlife, so I don’t think it works well here. You might also argue that he could be their heart (ib) since the Egyptians thought that you did your thinking with your heart instead of your brain, and Nyarlathotep seems to be a lot more capable of thought than the rest of the “blind, voiceless, mindless” Other Gods, but hearts don’t go out and do things for you so I don’t think that one works either.

“Soul and messenger (of the Other Gods):”

Transliteration: kȝ wpwty kywy nṯrw. A way to pronounce it: Ka weputy keywey netcheru.

“God of a Thousand Forms:”

Transliteration: nṯr ḫprw ḫȝ. A way to pronounce it: Netcher kheperu kha.

Also, as a bonus, I noticed while I was looking for epithets to translate that Fungi From Yuggoth calls Azathoth the “Lord of All.” That’s an Azathoth epithet, so I don’t really have an excuse to translate it into Egyptian, but “Lord of All” is also a common epithet for the Egyptian god Horus. If I ever write that thing about Egyptian gods fighting Nyarlathotep then I will find a way to exploit this. Anyway, here’s how you can say “Lord of All:”

Transliteration: nb tm. A way to pronounce it: Neb tem.

Nyarlathotep’s name is kind of a nightmare to try and spell with the Ancient Egyptian alphabet (good for him, he’d probably want it that way). Here’s my long ass explanation of why I chose to write it the ways I did in this post:

Why is his name spelled without vowels?:

In Ancient Egyptian writing, the vowels are usually left out and only the consonant sounds in words are written down (it’s a lot like Hebrew in this way). The Egyptians eventually did create a system for writing vowels, and that was used for words that Egyptian readers wouldn’t already know how to pronounce, like foreign names. Nyarlathotep, coming from outer space, would be pretty foreign to them, but the earliest vocalic writing is from the end of the Old Kingdom. I’m going to use that as an excuse to say it didn’t exist when he was around and just not bother with it, because there is no way to spell his name in any vocalic writing system that isn’t incomplete and/or confusing (there are two A’s in there and one of them is right next to an L and that is An Issue). The Is in the spellings of his names with the eye symbol in them do not count as vowels, because they are actually transliteration symbols for a consonant sound.

The L sound:

The L sound in his name is an issue because Ancient Egyptian languages might have had an L sound in them, at some point, but they might’ve not. Basically: If you’ve ever done one of those things that will tell you how to write your name in hieroglyphs, you’ve probably been told that this vulture glyph 𓄿 makes an A sound. That is only true in certain types of vocalic writing. The rest of the time it made a consonant sound. We don’t know what consonant sound, though, because the Egyptians stopped pronouncing it in the New Kingdom. Our best guess (based on it being used to transcribe words from other languages that we know had L and R sounds) is that it made a sound like L or R, which is why I’ve used it here for the L sound.

Why are there all those variations around the TH sound?:

Ancient Egyptian languages did not have a TH sound, and the Egyptian letter T and the Egyptian letter H did not combine to make a new sound like they do in English. They did have an F sound, so you could just spell it Nyarlafotep instead. However, “hotep” (transliteration: ḥtp) is an actual Ancient Egyptian word. It means “peace.” Many Ancient Egyptian names are the name of a god + ḥtp, for example “Amenhotep” which means “Amen is at peace.” That the Ancient Egyptians would have thought Nyarlathotep’s name meant that someone called Nyarlat was at peace is too deliciously ironic to ignore, and that meaning is lost if you spell it NYRLFTP. The two options to preserve that meaning are to make the T the bread loaf glyph 𓏏 (this would change the pronunciation to Nyarlat-hotep) or to try and keep the TH sound somewhat by putting the horned viper glyph 𓆑 in there (this would change the pronunciation to Nyarlaf-hotep).

What do the variations with the eye sign in them mean?:

The eye sign is a hieroglyph that makes two consonant sounds. These sounds are transliterated ir, but that i does not represent an actual I sound (except in vocalic writing). Usually, i made a glottal stop sound, but sometimes it made a Y sound. This means you could use the eye glyph for the consonants YR in his name (and this is cosmic horror, where we like eyeballs and put them on everything wherever we can). However, this might make the name even more confusing to read, because it makes it easy to mistake the Y in the name for a glottal stop.

Why is his name in a cartouche?:

The names of pharaohs (and only pharaohs) were written inside cartouches. And not just any of the pharaoh’s names. Pharaohs had several different types of names, and only the throne name and birth name were written in cartouches. This means it could be debated wether or not it would be proper for his name to be written in a cartouche. However, Nyarlathotep is not actually from Egypt, he’s from space, and at least one of the stories he’s in portrays him as a showman who uses aesthetic connections to Ancient Egypt as a gimmick to get people to come see his brainwashing prophecies of doom, so I feel like he would not care if it was proper or not and would use it anyway because it’s a very recognizable piece of iconography. But if we found hieroglyphic carvings by Ancient Egyptians that warned of the evils of the god Nyarlathotep, his name might not be written in a cartouche and instead be written with the determinative for god 𓀭 after it.

[liviawildrose]

pluto moves to aquarius

BIG COSMIC SHIFT

alright, i don’t know if you’ve been feeling the change in the air lately, but if you have aquarius in your chart like i do, things are about to get wild. today, pluto moves into aquarius for the first time in over 200 years. yup, it’s a big deal. and trust me, when i say this is gonna bring some serious transformative energy to the table, i mean it.

today, i felt like shit. quite literally. a lot of things happened some really heavy stuff that made me question everything i’ve been doing. i’ve been dealing with some deep personal stuff, and the energy today felt like a serious challenge. maybe it’s hitting me harder because of my strong aquarius placements, but trust me, i’m feeling the impact of this shift. for some reason, i felt the need to redo everything again. i felt the need to write down my future again in present all the things that i’ve said in my previous blogs. i felt the need to do it again. just for me to look up because i knew something like this was gonna happen in november and i completely forgot about it, but when i felt this need to change everything again & some really not so good things happen out of nowhere? i searched it up and guess what it was happening today and i had no idea and the moment i got to know about this. i wasn’t even planning to make this blog (like this wasn’t even on the list) but i knew i had to make this now. 

if you’re feeling like everything is crumbling or you’re losing your grip know that this energy is intense, and it’s doing its work. these changes might not happen overnight, but trust that pluto is pushing you in the right direction. if you’re ready to transform and level up, this is your cosmic sign to embrace the massive transformation that’s about to unfold. you can literally shape your future, become the person you were always meant to be, and achieve your biggest goals.

what does this mean for YOU?

if you’re an aquarius (or have strong aquarius placements in your chart), get ready for some next-level growth. pluto is all about transformation, and in aquarius, it’s coming for everything that holds you back. think: breaking free from limiting beliefs, shedding old skin, and rising up to the unique, unapologetically YOU energy that the universe is calling for right now. if you’ve been feeling low or doubting your potential, don’t worry, that’s just the cosmic chaos pushing you toward greatness.

What can you expect?

a. physical transformation

expect to feel a real shift in how you view your body. whether it’s a total glow-up, shedding old weight (literally and metaphorically), or even just stepping into a new version of yourself, pluto in aquarius is gonna help you break through your limits. this isn’t just about physical changes, it’s about shedding the past you and stepping into the bigger version of yourself. it’s time to make moves in the physical world—so if you’ve been feeling like you’re not where you want to be in your body or health, this is your chance to change all that.

b. big goals, big dreams

i know you’ve been thinking about becoming the biggest star the world has ever known. well, guess what? this is the energy that will make that happen. pluto in aquarius is all about standing out and becoming legendary. so if you’ve been waiting for a sign to go after your dreams, this is it. get ready to rise to your calling, gain recognition, and break through any glass ceilings. expect to see some major shifts in your career, creative pursuits, or any passion you’ve been pushing forward. the spotlight is calling you—it’s time to step into it.

b. mindset shift

this transit is going to shift your mind in ways you can’t even imagine right now. aquarius is all about intellectual growth and thinking outside the box. pluto is going to help you tear down your old limiting beliefs, giving you the courage to take risks and believe that anything is possible. whether it’s starting a new project, changing your lifestyle, or just taking on new challenges, your mindset is about to level up. this is the moment to start thinking bigger and bolder than ever before.

so, if you’re also feeling down, like things aren’t clicking, or you’re questioning yourself right now—it’s okay. this is the energy of pluto in aquarius at work, and it’s not easy, but it’s definitely doing something huge behind the scenes. transformation isn’t always pretty. we’ve gotta break down to rebuild stronger.

and listen, with my own chart having strong aquarius placements (like i said, the vibes are strong right now), i can feel the shift already. you know what that means? get ready for some big content coming your way—big visions, big moves, big transformations. this blog? It’s about to get next level. cause bro, the kind of shit i experienced today and the day is not even over yet, and i’m feeling the need to completely change. everything is insane. i’m kind of scared that i have so strong aquarius placements in my birth chart, so you are just go and check up your birth chart. see what kind of placement you have, and let’s get it.

so, get ready to rise. big things are coming.

if you want to join me on this journey of becoming a higher self. please comment, like, reblog, and follow let's embrace the glow of together.



[maybeimamuppet]

i give you permission to ramble about any mean girls headcanons you like and why

PEOPLE KEEP ASKING ME ABOUT HEADCANONS AND I GET SO EXCITED BECAUSE I HSVE SO MANY AND RHEN THEY ALL LEAVE MY BRAIN AND I GET SO SAD!!!!!!! i need to update my list because the people that live in my brain now do not align with that so much anymore

anyway

1: i love when cady is absolutely fascinated by the most mundane american thing. i love it it’s fantastic and delicious. her favorite thing in the entire world is a shopping cart. how can you not love her.

2: i am OBSESSED with janis’ hair NOT being dip dyed (in american stage version tbc). it is blonde because she dyed it as a plastic and keeps it out of spite because she knows it adds to the aesthetic regina would absolutely despise. the anger is stored in the hair.

3: for some reason i’m obsessed with giving cady deceased siblings. the first one was literally just because i wanted laylas middle name to have some significance. that’s it. but the more i think about it the more she just seems like that fits? and i think i’ve done it at least three times so far

4: in a similar vein i’m so into having janis raised by a single parent. and also damian but his is canon

5: karen has so much untapped angst potential. “and how when coach carr tells me he has an ‘open marriage’ that his wife probably doesn’t know that they do!” BABYGIRL WHY IS HE TELLING YOU HE HAS AN OPEN MARRIAGE HM

6: i am very into (recently, still very unexplored) the idea of aaron and janis being stepsiblings or something like that and cady’s just like hhhhhthiswholefamilyishot

7: aaron is a drag queen as an adult. nuff said.

8: i’m also really into giving people the most mundane useless quirks that most of the time i don’t even mention. cady never wears matching socks. janis does yarn crafts when she’s angry. damian will not rest until he gets that one specific judy garland playbill from 1937 (i made up a year pls don’t yell at me). cady is the one who can’t cook in all of her relationships. janis hits the ceiling a concerning amount when she goes bowling. cady wears contacts. regina can juggle. gretchen is a closet tech nerd and loves programming. karen makes a killer fruit punch. regina is terrified of babies. damian kicked out janis’ baby teeth during a tap routine. the little things.

9: cadnis specific one but i LOVE when janis is the one who keeps begging for a pet and cady is like “babe do you have any idea how much work pets are. where did you even find that raccoon now we have to go get you a rabies shot”

10: and arguably the one i love most is cady being totally down for “weird” relationships. she’s got ideas of love that haven’t been altered by any western media. qpr? with the right person/people she’s down! dating a girl? hell yeah! enby? why not! she’s got a few questions but they’re still cute! polyamory? hell yeah more love to go around! i fully believe she just would love so hard she’s just willing to try whatever she can get and respects the hell out of more taboo relationships :) as long as it’s between consenting adults and whatnot ofc. safety and love are her top priorities