#just something i wanted to write today

[maximura]

Ad Astra: The Theory Of Relativity | An Interstellar Ateez story Part I | Part II | Part III | Park IV | Part V | Part VI (Words 1442, Warnings: swearing)

It’s dusk by the time most of Yunho’s friends have wished him a ‘Happy Birthday’ and headed off home. It left two figures alone near the corn fields, drinking what’s left of Hongjoong’s maize beer stash. 

Wooyoung is watching them through the back window, neither subtle or as hidden as he thinks he is. 

“Hongjoong, it’s The Guy!” 

“What guy?”

“The tall one Yunho has a crush on! The one who rides the motorbike!” Wooyoung hisses, beckoning his older brother over to spy on the scene unfolding in their backyard. “They’re talking!”

Hongjoong puts the rest of the dishes away before coming over to peer out the window. 

Sure enough, there was Yunho, sitting on one of the fence posts that surrounds the corn fields. He’s smiling and laughing at something a tall guy is saying. He looks happy. They’re a bit too far away to hear the whole conversation but even if they could, Hongjoong knows he should probably give his brother some privacy at a time like this. 

“Come on, leave him alone.” He says, dragging Wooyoung away by the scruff of his sweater. “Help me tidy the rest of this stuff.”

“What? No, wait!” Wooyoung protests, resisting the request by ducking out of his sweater entirely until Hongjoong is just holding the limp piece of clothing in his hand. 

“Wooyoung, stop watching them-“

“Oh no……he’s frowning, he looks sad, Hongjoong something’s wrong….”

It’s then that Hongjoong leans to look out the window again, curiosity getting the better of him. There’s a wide distance between Yunho and the other Guy now, and judging from the way Yunho is frowning and staring at the ground while the other Guy is awkwardly shuffling his feet, it wasn’t going well at all. 

“Do you think he got rejected?” Wooyoung asks, “Who does that? On a birthday?!”

Before Hongjoong can form an answer, the Guy is turning around to walk back into the house, no doubt to say his goodbyes. Wooyoung is yanked away from the window at the last minute and they both pretend to clean the kitchen table when the Guy shuffles in. 

“Um, thanks for inviting me, um Mr Kim, I’ll get going now.”

Hongjoong ignores the overly formal address and does his best to put on a polite civil face and ask if this punk ass kid who just broke his brother’s fragile heart would be okay to ride home. 

“Yeah, I’ll be okay. My new girlfriend would kill me if I drank too much anyway.”

Oh. 

It’s a pointed remark, too specific to be casual, but casual enough to masquerade as some kind of explanation without having to do any of the hard work. 

They wish him goodnight and thank him for coming to what would be a day that Yunho probably just wants to forget. 

As soon as the front door closes and they can hear a bike tear down the dirt track of their driveway, Wooyoung throws his tea towel down in defeat. 

“He’s going to hate us for throwing this party isn’t he?” The teenager asks miserably. “He didn’t even want to have it and now he’s sad. Should I go out there and cheer him up or something?”

Hongjoong shakes his head, planning to go comfort his brother himself, but before either of them could move, they notice there was still one more kid here. 

***

“Hey, you okay?”

Yunho is relieved when he recognises the voice and knows it isn’t attached to any harm but he just doesn’t want to talk. The heavy silence stretches on for too long and it's only out of courtesy that he finally makes a noise to acknowledge the question, stopping short of elaborating with an actual answer because he doesn’t have one. 

Wooyoung and Hongjoong had insisted on throwing him a small 18th birthday party at the house and spent the day rigging up fairy lights near the back cornfields. They told Yunho to invite his classmates and friends, and he did so obediently, but now he wishes he just said no like he had wanted to.

It wasn’t all bad, he got some cool gifts and it was nice to see his friends before they all parted ways on their journey into adulthood. Hongjoong had somehow gotten a crate of maize beer and their Uncles sent over vintage snacks that nobody had seen in about five years. 

As the sun set rusty orange and the music slowed down into something more comfortable, the initially chaos faded away into a mellow buzz. Or maybe that was just because most of the maize beer was gone by then. 

His place in the world was beautiful at that exact moment; warm and sugar cozy, surrounded by familiar friends, comfortable in his familiar environment with the reassuring rustle of corn stalks in the background. He could see his two brothers inside the kitchen, no doubt bickering about whether or not Wooyoung was allowed to drink any maize beer when it wasn’t even his birthday. 

Yunho could be forgiven for feeling optimistic and hopeful. 

A fool’s hope, it turned out to be. 

He had never been friends with Yugyeom. They weren’t even that close. But the tall classmate had helped Yunho in woodworking and home economics class enough times for a deep-seated-one-sided crush to develop. In hindsight the friendliness was just a misinterpretation after all. 

When all the other boys and girls started going on dates, he had wondered why he wasn’t doing the same. Rumours and gossip of who-was-dating-who barely registered on his radar, partly because he was busy grieving his parents, but mostly because he ate lunch with Mingi and Wooyoung most days, and those two nerds were always talking about anime and video games. 

Maybe if he had paid some attention, he’d have known that Yugyeom had a new girlfriend and maybe he would’ve stopped himself from asking and maybe he wouldn’t have completely humiliated himself at his own birthday party. 

But he did. 

It was small mercy by the grace of the Universe that no-one else was around to see it. 

But here he was again, in the exact same place with the same people. Somehow always feeling like an outsider looking at other people living the life he wishes he could live too. 

There’s a slight creak on the wooden fence post as another body sits down next to him, facing the other way, towards the vastness of the cornfield that seemed to stretch on forever in the evening dusk.

The sky was a deep blue now, it was still too hazy to see many stars yet and the thought makes Yunho feel lonelier than ever but at least the fairy lights were still on and provided just enough to illuminate the familiar angles of the presence beside him.

“You want to talk about it?”

Yunho shakes his head. “How much did you see?”

“Not much. I just came out to say goodnight but he was already talking to you and the next thing I know, he left and you’re still out here.”

“I don’t really want to talk about it.”

“Okay.”

“Don’t tell anyone.”

“I wasn’t going to.”

“Okay.”

There’s a long pause where they just sit in silence. It's not completely uncomfortable but Yunho wishes the day would just end already.

“Since you’re already depressed, it won't matter if I make it worse right?”

“I guess...”

“Okay, so I found that limited edition Batman comic you wanted-“

"What-"

“-but your brother opened it by accident. So he already read it. Sorry.”

Maybe because his thoughts were shaken up so violently inside him, maybe because he was so confused by the emotional whiplash, maybe because he just doesn’t really give a shit anymore, maybe Wooyoung being a menace was so reassuring in its predictability that Yunho lets the laughter bubble out of him all ugly and loud and cathartic. 

The release felt good. 

“That little shit.”

“At least he had a good birthday, even if it was meant to be yours.” 

Yunho chuckles sadly. “One of us should have a good one I guess.”

There’s hesitation before he hears the clink of glass. “Well, you can still have a good one if you want. Do you know how hard it was to smuggle this past your brother?”

‘This’ turns out to be a small bottle of maize whiskey. Yunho stares at it in disbelief. 

“How the hell did you get this?”

“You really don’t wanna know.”

A gentle breeze ruffles by them and when Yunho finally looks up, for the first time since they started talking, Mingi is grinning mischievously at him, so bright and sparkling in energy, despite the blue darkness that surrounds them, that Yunho can’t help but smile back. 

"...thanks."

“Happy birthday, loser.”

[khaire-traveler]

The gods breathe the air in our lungs. Their breath shakes the leaves in the trees and blows gently against our skin. Their touch is as light as the rays of the sun, and just as the sun, it can burn with too much force. We are fragile beings, and the gods know this. They treat us the tenderness of a shepherd to a newborn lamb.

[myokk]

clumsy🫶

[fortheloveofexy]

it's a pet peeve of mine when ppl frame Andrew as hating Aaron and being needlessly cruel to him... bc while yes, their relationship is fractured and strained, Andrew genuinely cares about his brother and wants the best for him, he just doesn't know how to show that in a normal way.

like he might not know how to express it in a healthy manner but Andrew LOVES Aaron, like he truly just wants Aaron to be healthy and safe. It's like, his whole Thing. Aaron is one of the most important people in his life. Andrew wants him around. He'd do anything to protect him.

I guarantee Andrew wants to be emotionally close to Aaron too, he just doesn't have the tools to do that and the thought of letting someone in terrifies him. He also has no concept of what a healthy sibling relationship looks like, so he has no frame of reference to work from.

[lost-in-fandoms]

I have written this. sort of. somehow even mushier than i thought it would be. cw: probably completely inaccurate medieval-esque terms

Daniel sits in the tent with his head bowed, eyes closed, enjoying the temporary peace. He knows he should go find someone to help him get out of his armor, knows he should get cleaned before the feast, knows he should maybe get his shoulder checked out, but his limbs are heavy and the tent is quiet.

It was a good tourney, lots of old rivals and new faces showing up for it, many exciting duels, but Daniel feels like he's getting a little too old for all this. His shoulder, where he had been hit over and over, aches terribly. He can feel the sweat mixed with dirt dry on his skin, a feeling that used to be associated with a good day of work, but that now only feels uncomfortable.

He should get up.

Before he can force himself to do it, the flap of the tent opens, sunlight and voices streaming inside, making him wince. The person holding it up is for a moment just a silhouette gesturing to someone outside, but Daniel doesn't need anything more to recognize them. He would know Max in the dark, with his eyes closed and his hands tied behind his back, just from the way his soul seems to get lighter in his presence.

He should get up, now more than ever. It's against protocol to stay seated in the presence of the King.

He closes his eyes again, doesn't move. The flap closes.

Max is quiet as he walks closer, even the sounds of his clothing seemingly muted, but Daniel doesn't need words to know when it's the moment to open his eyes. He has to look up to meet Max's, who's now standing right in front of him, face unreadable. If he hadn't just won the tournament, Daniel could be tempted to think he was unhappy. As it is, he knows Max is only trying to gauge Daniel's own mood before molding himself to it. As if he wasn't the King, owner of Daniel's whole life.

Max brings up a hand, gently cupping Daniel's cheek and swiping away some dust with his thumb, before moving further back, carefully slipping his fingers through his sweat matted hair.

"You did well today," he finally says. Daniel closes his eyes once more, wishing they weren't in a dusty, too-warm tent, but in Max's (their, really) bed up in the castle, cool linens against their skin, a solid door between them and the world.

"My King," is all he rasps out, voice as dusty as his body. He doesn't need to say anything more, Max bending down to kiss him, careful but solid, with the same unyielding certainty he governs with, unbothered by the dust coating his tongue.

"You should take a bath before dinner," he tells Daniel when he pulls back, still holding the back of his head. Daniel belatedly realizes his hands are still resting on his knees. His thoughts are tired and slow.

"I'll call..." Daniel starts to say, but Max interrupts him.

"I already sent for warm water and sent everyone else away."

When Daniel finally opens his eyes again to look at him, Max is smiling Daniel's favorite smile, the one that's a bit downturned and that makes him look soft and young.

"Let me take care of you."

Daniel should say no, it's not the King's job to help his knight get out of his armor, clean himself in the bath, but right now this isn't the King. This is Max, wanting to love Daniel. And Daniel has given up a long time ago on refusing him.

He nods, and Max gets to work.

They don't talk as Max undoes the leather straps of his besagews, carefully putting them to the side. One of them is bent, and as soon as it's gone, Daniel's pain lessens a little. With each piece of armor Max takes off, Daniel feels himself coming back a little, finding his center again.

He likes tournaments, they're exciting, they're fun, they're an opportunity to see familiar faces that are usually in other kingdoms, to eat and drink and get out of more boring duties. But it feels like every year it's a little harder to get into that persona, the Honey Badger who was almost King. Every year, he feels like he would prefer to just sit in Max's place, on the dais, and let him tourney instead. He knows he misses it, now that it's too dangerous for him to properly compete.

Max is on his knees, getting rid of Daniel's greaves, when the tent's flap opens again, a sliver of sunlight painting Max's hair golden. The page is wise enough to not open it fully and keep his back turned. Just because they're both clothed right now, Max's action would be scandalous enough to get the gossip mill going once again. Not in the palace, nobody bothers with that anymore, not after all these years, but there's enough people coming from other kingdoms around it could become unpleasant.

Daniel watches as Max pushes to his feet. He doesn't let anyone in, accepting the warm water instead, going back and forth twice to the wooden tub in the corner. When he's done, he shoos them away, saying something Daniel doesn't catch.

"Let's get you in before it goes cold," is what he tells Daniel. He makes quicker work of the rest of the armor, piling it all carelessly in a corner, but as soon as Daniel's undergarments come off, he pauses, fingers grazing over what Daniel knows will be a bad bruise on his shoulder.

"Do you need a cold compress?" Daniel shakes his head, even if he probably does. It would be too much work, to go ask for it, and he just wants to be clean.

He wonders, far from the first time, what people would say, if they saw Max like this. Their King, the feared Lion, on his knees, helping Daniel out of his braies, ducking under his arm to guide him to the bath, wetting a rag to clean his face.

It doesn't matter anyway. Nobody gets to see this. This is for Daniel only. This Max, the one who giggles at Daniel's jokes, whose cheeks blush crimson with his kisses, who unravels under his fingers, who gets on his knees again and again, uncaring of his title. This Max has always been Daniel's, even back when they were both just knights, Max as green and bold as they come. Daniel's, even when he got a crown on his head and Daniel got a permanent spot on his right. Daniel's, through the hard years, the summer droughts and long winter nights.

He reaches up as Max washes his hair, grabbing his hand and kissing the ring on his index finger, the twin of the one Daniel wore on a chain.

"Thank you, Max" he says, leaning his head back to be able to look at Max's face.

Max brushes a wet curl off his forehead, eyes soft.

"Always."

[technically-human]

So, @meraki-yao sent me a request today (thank you! I will work on it soon...ish) and I won't spoil what it is but it got me (and my girlfriend, because I showed her the request as I usually do) thinking and...

Edwin as Cinderella AU... Kind of

So I don't have a lot of details but the concept is basically one of Hell's tortures is just... Setting Edwin free for a few hours. Maybe he has to spend them at The Ball™ if we want to go the fairy tale route, maybe at St. Hilarions, the point is, he knows he has a limited amount of time because this is meant to be torture. Maybe it happens more than once.

He ends up finding Charles. They fall in love very quickly because this is a Cinderella AU, bla bla bla, come midnight, Edwin drops his map of Hell just like in the show and Charles goes after him, rescues him and they live happily ever after.

Perhaps it wasn't meant to be torture at all. Maybe it was Death, or the Night Nurse, or someone trying to help, idk. But the possibilities.

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

hey, here's a reminder that Foul Legacy loves you no matter what body type you have! personally he would be delighted if you were a little soft and squishy, it makes you that much better for hugging and snuggling with. no matter what you look like, he still adores everything about you, nuzzling his head into your stomach and purring; on bad days where you can't stand looking at yourself in the mirror, he scoops you into his arms and nudges his mouth delicately against your cheeks in his form of a kiss, occasionally giving you single cheeky licks.

Foul Legacy loves you, no matter what <3

[stunie]

it’s so easy to forget that you can literally write whatever you want

[laundrybiscuits]

“It’s happening,” crows Dustin. “Eddie, it’s happening, it’s happening, she said yes!”

Eddie blinks up at him from the blankets. “Is…this about your little girlfriend, Henderson?” Is there a school dance coming up or something? Wait, it’s the summer, school’s not happening.

In a just world, Eddie Munson would never have to think about high school again; in a just world, Dustin Henderson would not have woken him up by breaking into his trailer at ass o’clock in the morning.

“No, man, Erica! Erica Sinclair! She’s gonna run a My Little Pony game for us!”

“Okay.” Eddie turns over to bury his face in his pillow. “Lock up when you leave,” he says, muffled.

———

He honest-to-god thinks it’s just a weird dream for the next few days. He’s almost completely forgotten about it when Mike corners him at work.

“You have to make her stop,” Mike says.

“Okay, Wheeler, two things. First: who am I making stop what? Second: I’m not making anyone stop anything. Really not my style, and also, I don’t wanna get involved in whatever this is.”

“You’re already involved! We’re all involved! We’re all, like, liable.”

“Right.” Eddie wipes his hands on a rag and ambles over. “Kid, you have got to start giving me some context here. What are we talking about?”

Mike gives him just the absolute bitchiest eyeroll any human being has ever mustered in the history of the world, and sighs noisily. “Erica wants to run a stupid game, and Dustin keeps encouraging her. Tell Erica and Dustin that we play Dungeons and Dragons with like, cool monsters and shit. Not some stupid game about ponies. It’s not even D&D, it’s a whole new stupid system that she’s making us learn.”

“Oh, shit.” There’s—a few things to unpack in that little speech, but Eddie can’t help the delighted grin spreading over his face. “That’s for real? The pony game? Shit, this is going to be the best thing ever. What system is she planning to run the campaign in?”

“Oh my god,” says Mike, and storms out of the garage.

———

“GURPS: Generic Universal Role-Playing System,” announces Erica, slamming the books down on Steve’s kitchen table. “A flexible, multi-purpose, setting-agnostic system that can accommodate any conceivable type of story or play style. This is the future of role-playing games, not your broke-ass fantasy bullcrap.”

Eddie wonders how complicated it is to file paperwork for adoption.

“Some of us like D&D,” says Will.

“Yeah, we don’t want your stupid generic whatever. We’re not playing,” Mike snaps.

“That’s not what I said.” Will looks annoyed with Mike, which has been happening a lot lately. Eddie’s glad the kid seems to be growing more of a spine; you can’t just let your tragic heterosexual crushes walk all over you, but that’s the kind of lesson every young gay needs to learn the hard way. “I’m fine with trying something new. I’m just saying, the next campaign after this should be D&D.”

“Sure, what-ever, nerds,” drawls Erica. “We’ll see how you feel after you experience the magic of Ponyland.”

Lucas puts his face in his hands when she says the magic of Ponyland and lets out a pitiful groan.

“Whoo!” cheers Dustin. “Let’s get started!”

———

It takes them a solid two hours to make their characters. Even Eddie, who’s been vaguely aware of GURPS since it was released a couple years ago, is struggling a little to adapt. It’s just been a while since he played anything but D&D, but he’s enjoying the change of pace. He likes this kind of challenge; it’s like figuring out how to play a familiar song in an unfamiliar genre.

Erica is not especially patient with them, but she’s clearly done her prep work, so Eddie thinks they all manage to get through the character creation process more or less the way it’s supposed to be done.

Steve gets back from work right when they’re putting the finishing touches on their characters. The way he blinks all sweetly confused makes Eddie think that Dustin was definitely lying about having permission to play here, and also that Dustin probably has a very troubling stash of keys to all their homes squirreled away somewhere.

“If I may, Lady Sinclair, I’d like to humbly suggest a ten-minute break?” Eddie says, before Steve can decide whether or not to be mad about this whole thing.

“Sure, go ahead and rest up while you still can,” says Erica. “Steve, I hope you got good snacks around here.” She makes a beeline for the kitchen, and the boys trip over themselves to follow her.

“I would die for that child,” says Eddie.

Steve laughs, low and a little tired. “Yeah. Um, me too.”

“So, I’m gonna go ahead and guess that Henderson didn’t actually clear this with you?”

“Honestly, I’m not sure.” Steve runs a hand through his hair. “He might’ve said something last week? Sometimes when he’s on a tear, I just kinda let him talk.”

“Y’know, we’re at a pretty good stopping point for today, if you want us to clear out so you can get some rest.” Eddie can see the smudgy shadows under Steve’s eyes from halfway across the room.

“No, it’s fine.” Steve peels off his vest. He’s wearing an entire perfectly normal shirt underneath, so there’s no reason for Eddie to hastily avert his eyes like Steve’s doing a damn striptease. “I might go take a nap, though. Gonna trust you not to let them burn down the place, got it?”

Eddie does a silly little salute. “Aye aye, cap’n. No hint of flame shall breach these walls.”

Steve laughs again, a gravelly chuckle, and musses Eddie’s hair on his way to the stairs.

“Why do you have that dumb look on your face,” says Erica suspiciously, standing in the kitchen doorway and clutching the biggest bowl of ice cream Eddie’s seen in his life.

“What look, there’s no look,” says Eddie. “Let’s play some GURPS.”

Edit: now a complete fic on AO3!

[crybaby-bkg]

Gojo is cruel in the way of liking when you shake when he’s finished with you. after the first time you shook all over when he made you cum, he’s made it a personal mission to have you trembling for him every single time, and today is no different.

“Aww, just one more for me, please?” He asks you, voice condescendingly sweet, whispered into the shell of your ear. but your head is fuzzy, filled only with static, with overwhelming pleasure taking over your entire form. he’s three fingers deep inside of you, crooking them over and over again until your knees tremble.

“I-I can’t,” you swallow, eyes clenched shut. your head is thrown back into the pillows, mouth dropped open in a silent gasp when he starts rubbing against that sweet little spot inside of you. “Not again, no more.”

“But it’s my birthday.” Gojo pouts before he grins, wide and evil. He’s got this glint in his eye that tells you that one more will never be enough, not until he has you shaking again. he hovers over you, his back hunched, glasses thrown somewhere on the floor, his eyes rounded and lit aflame.

“You said you’d get me anything I wanted for my birthday. And all I want is this.” he emphasizes the last word with another crook, another incessant press of his fingers inside of you. you can’t even warn him that you’re coming again when it floods you, entire body trembling as salty tears leak from your clenched eyes. your mouth drops open, a cry tearing out, your hands scratching burning lines down his shoulders and biceps.

“How many more until you’ve reached 34?” he asks once you’ve finally come down, head lolled to the side on his pillow, dazed. you side eye him, swallowing thickly as you think back on the agreement earlier. he makes you shake until he’s reached his age, only agreed to let up if you become too overwhelmed. but you swallow once again, lazily turning to look at him as you paw at his shoulders, bringing him down for a kiss.

“We’re only halfway there, I think. Lost count.” you whisper, breathy, pecking him once, twice, until you’ve lost count. Gojo pulls away when he feels you start to clench around his fingers again, smiling softly at you.

“We’ve got the rest of the day ahead of us. I think we can make it, don’t you?” he asks with a tilt of his head, grin devilish. you wanna protest, tell him that you’re through for the day. but he rests the heavy weight of his still confined cock against your leg, makes you feel how it throbs and pulses when it touches you. you don’t say anything, only nod slowly, pulling him down for more.

“That’s my baby.”

[wikiangela]

tease tidbit tuesday/wip wednesday

tagged by @thewolvesof1998 @theotherbuckley @tizniz @diazsdimples @dangerpronebuddie @spotsandsocks @exhuastedpigeon @underwaterninja13 - tagging y'all back for wip wednesday 💖💖

doing two in one bc it's technically wednesday already idc lol - started a new wip I mentioned before (inspired by this video lol) and rn I'm rewriting what I wrote yesterday bc the past two days words were not wording and I hated everything I wrote, but I think I'm happy with it now haha I hope I'll manage to write it like I want to bc it's sooo good in my head istg haha

(wasn't gonna post until i have more but i need validation before i drive myself crazy over this lol)

___

It started as a random idea, more like a throwaway thought, really. Tommy was just checking the weather for the next few days – his hot pilot boyfriend always likes to be prepared – while they were hanging out, and he casually mentioned that “it’s gonna be nice on Saturday, perfect barbecue weather,” which got Buck to mention how they often have family barbecues at Bobby and Athena’s. Somehow, the conversation spiraled, and Buck’s not sure who threw out a more concrete idea, but here they are now, standing side by side in Tommy’s kitchen, preparing food – Buck’s currently slicing veggies for a salad, while Tommy takes care of the meat – for the barbecue where they invited way too many people than Tommy’s backyard can probably fit. It really is nice weather, the sliding door leading from the kitchen to the backyard open and letting in warm sunshine and a soft breeze that makes the air feel cooler. They work in pleasant silence, the only sound is quiet music playing from the speaker, and Buck can’t help a fond smile when he hears his boyfriend hum along, so off-key Buck’s not sure he even knows the song, but it’s still adorable.

The silence is disrupted by the doorbell ringing, and before Tommy can even move, Buck is dropping the knife on the cutting board, wiping his hands, and sprinting towards the door, shouting an “I got it!�� over his shoulder. He’s followed by an echo of Tommy’s fondly amused chuckles. So he’s a little excited, sue him – they haven’t had a family day like this in a while, and there was only one he brought Tommy to, all of their schedules not so easy to align. And today his whole family will be here, including their spouses and children, and Tommy invited a couple of his friends and their families, too, and it’ll be just a big, loud, chaotic get-together that he’s hosting with his boyfriend. Buck never hosted one of these before, and he’s really enjoying it so far, and he just wants everyone to have fun.

___

no pressure tags: @elvensorceress @thebravebitch @shortsighted-owl @eddiebabygirldiaz @watchyourbuck

@eowon @loserdiaz @evanbegins @ladydorian05 @wildlife4life

@diazpatcher @lover-of-mine @monsterrae1 @weewootruck @loveyouanyway

@spagheddiediaz @rainbow-nerdss @epicbuddieficrecs @pirrusstuff @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove

@nmcggg @rogerzsteven @hippolotamus @bidisasterevankinard @giddyupbuck

@sunshinediaz @honestlydarkprincess @911-on-abc @jesuisici33 @steadfastsaturnsrings

@buddieswhvre @fortheloveofbuddie @your-catfish-friend

@daffi-990 @hoodie-buck @aroeddiediaz

[anonymous-dentist]

Five weeks out of prison, and Cellbit is buying his sick son cough medicine from the haunted convenience store down the block. It's late at night- too late at night, probably, so it's just him and the two employees and an old lady in an old fur coat...

"I said, put your fucking hands in the air!"

...and the guy in the giant moth fursuit robbing the store.

The girl behind the counter chews her gum and slowly, boredly, raises her hands. The other employee has his AirPods in and either can't hear the villain or doesn't care. The old woman is deaf. And Cellbit... well.

Cellbit picks up a bottle of NyQuil and adds it to his basket. The villain hasn't noticed him yet, so he doesn't have anything to worry about.

Tonight's villain is a low-rank street thug going by 'Moth Man'. He can fly, but only at night, and he sounds like he smokes eight packs of cigarettes a day.

Spiders, Cellbit hears as he sneaks to the next aisle over. It makes sense. Moths, spiders, they aren't exactly friends in the wild.

Of course, Cellbit considers as he picks up a box of tissues and silently slips it in next to the medicine, Moth Man could be scared of a different spider. The different spider.

He watches, mostly unconcerned, as Moth Man waves his Moth Gun in the clerk's face.

"Check it out, guys," he sleezes, leaning in close and shoving his phone right next to the gun's barrel. "She's totally freaked right now."

Moth Man is also a vlogger. More specifically: he's a TikTok streamer, and he's a pretty popular one, too. Honestly, Cellbit's surprised that the Federation hasn't shut his account down yet. (But, really, that would require them actually doing something fucking useful for once.)

Censors, Cellbit hears, and that one makes a bit more sense. He grabs a big bottle of hand sanitizer and adds it to the basket. Algorithm failure, face reveal, doxxing, spiderspiderspiderspiders.

"Absolutely terrified," the clerk unconvincingly says. "Do you want me to empty the register out, or what?"

Dogs, Cellbit hears from her. Needles, knives.

Moth Man's cheap plastic antennae flop embarrassingly as he nods, all fake enthusiasm. He looks down at his phone and thanks someone for the donation, another for a rose.

"No, it's real," he tells his chat. "See?"

He raises his gun to the ceiling, and he fires.

Cellbit jumps, nearly dropping his basket. He swears under his breath and kinda maybe hopes that Moth Man doesn't have super hearing, too, because he needs to get home. His son is sick, he doesn't have time for wannabe-villains in cheap costumes.

Horrible costumes.

Moth Man's felt wings flutter behind him as he lowers his gun and points it back at the shaken clerk.

"See?" he sneers. "Now give me the money."

Terrible costumes.

Honestly, villains these days are just kind of stupid. Where's the anonymity when everyone knows your shadow? How are you supposed to sneak around causing problems and slitting throats when you have giant neon green felt moth wings sticking three feet out of you? And those goggles had better be night vision, or poor Moth Man is going to walk face-first into a lamppost the second he leaves the store.

Cellbit shakes his head and goes to find the soup. Back in his day...

"I was!" the clerk shouts. "Here!"

She opens the register, and then two things happen in quick succession:

1. Cellbit picks up a can of chicken noodle soup. He's not a huge fan himself, but Forever swears by it, and Richarlyson's cold is bad enough that Cellbit's willing to try anything. (He's only had this kid for five weeks, but he thinks he'd kill for him, and that's saying something.)

2. A brilliant flash of red and blue crashes through the store's front display window with a whoop.

Spiders! Cellbit hears. He smiles despite himself, licks his lips just briefly before catching himself and biting his tongue back into his mouth.

Spider-Man's poses are maybe one of the more badass things about him. He lands on the counter in a classic pose, crouched with one hand flat on the counter and the other pointed directly at Moth Man's face. His forehead is pressed against the gun's end, and he's probably smiling under his mask, the freak.

"S-Spider-Man!" Moth Man squeaks. "What are you doing here?"

Spider-Man tilts his head. "Uuuuuh, kicking your ass?"

And then he punches the fucker right in the nose.

Moth Man skitters backwards, crashing into a rack of newspapers. His finger slips and he fires his gun right into the register, sending the clerk screaming onto the floor. Good, she doesn't need to be involved.

"What the fuck what the fuck-" Moth Man breathes.

He jumps to his feet and points his phone's camera at Spider-Man, who doesn't so much as give him enough time to start narrating before slinging a web and stealing the phone right out of his hand.

Silently, Cellbit slips his own phone out of his pocket and starts recording. Just for himself, really. He'll add it to the Google Doc later.

Spider-Man turns Moth Man's phone over in his hands thoughtfully.

"Dude, is this an iPhone?" he asks. "Since when do you have iPhone money?"

"Fuck you, I have money!"

He fires his gun again, this time on purpose. Spider-Man easily dodges the bullet, not even looking up from the phone's web-covered screen.

"With that costume?" Spider-Man snorts and shakes his head. "No way, man."

"My costume is awesome!" Moth Man snaps. "Fuck you! Die, Spider-Man!"

He's terrified, Cellbit can smell the fear coming off of him in waves. It's sour and black and foul and gut-turning, but it could be stronger. This guy might be dumb, but he's also too stupid to realize he's in a fight he can't win. It's embarrassing.

But, really, it's none of Cellbit's business. He's just gonna sneak out as soon as he-

A screeching Moth Man flies past him, his bare hand grazing Cellbit's nose, crashing into the back row of freezers. Cellbit flinches back a step, fumbling with his phone. He gets it level just as Spider-Man pounces on the villain from above with a happy little cheer.

Inexplicably, Moth Man screams and curls into himself, dropping his gun and cowering and muttering to himself.

Whoops.

Spider-Man stands above him mid-kick, confused.

"Dude," says Spider-Man, "what the hell is wrong with you? Come on, get up!"

Cellbit starts sneaking his way out, slipping away as Spider-Man tries getting Moth Man to get up and finish their battle properly.

None of his business, he tells himself. It's none of his business. He got his footage, it's none of his business. One step at a time, tonight is not the night for an interview. He has a sick son to take care of. Investigating can wait.

...He stops in the doorway to take one last video, this one of Spider-Man chasing the poor terrified Moth Man around the store practically begging for him to stop being weird, what kind of fight is this supposed to be?

Camera off, slip out onto the streets and start the trip back home.

Forever's gonna be pissed about the shoplifting, but at least it isn't murder anymore. Cellbit is trying to set a good example.

-

Based off of THIS AU

[willowser]

katsuki jumps, startlingly, when you rub a hand up his back.

he's leaned too far down, bent over the counter at an angle that will give him an ache he'll complain about later, and his head whips up as you come to stand beside him. an e-mail on his phone is what previously had his full attention, but now he looks at you, eyes softening as you lean into his shoulder.

he's never been a very touchy guy. even after a year into your relationship, it's most often you reaching for his hand as you walk down the street; you pressing a kiss into his cheek while watching a movie on the couch; you running a hand through his hair as his breath steadies out beside you in bed.

it's not something you really complain about. you know how he is, knew before anything developed between the two of you, and you can't say it's a deal-breaker. there's little you know about his previous relationships or if he even had any, but you have the painful-gut feeling that affection just isn't something he's used to.

you press a smile into the sleeve of his shirt and his spine relaxes under your hand, finds that awful curve again. he watches you like he's waiting for something, tracing the tender details of your face.

"love you," you say, because do and you want to voice it aloud, put it into his mind even though you know he knows. as expected, his lips flatten into a wavering little line, shy suddenly, and your teeth wet the fabric of his shirt when you smile.

all you get is a little grunt in response and he dips his chin down in a wordless nod, accepting your lovey-dovey assault. it makes him feel a little helpless, you know, but you bring up an arm to wrap around him as he turns back to his phone, ears pink.

katsuki straightens with a dull pop!, stretching his arms up and allowing you to shuffle closer, so that your head is resting on his chest. you press your ear to it and wait, eyes closed, until the heavy promise of his heartbeat echoes like a drum in your ear. it's loud, and after a moment, your own falls into sync, right where it belongs.

"'s'wrong?"

"hm?" you glance up at him, the frown on his pink face, before breathing in the clean scent of his laundry soap. your laundry soap. and then you shake your head. "nothin'. just missed you."

"been home all day."

"i know," you sigh, letting your eyes fall shut again. the sound of his phone locking clicks and you can feel the slight down-slide of his sweatpants when he pockets it. "sometimes i miss you even though you're right here."

you expect — something; another grunt or laugh through his nose, a raspy little noise that voices his confusion. things like this can be hard for him; you know how he is, knew before anything ever developed between the two of you — but you don't think it makes him any less deserving.

katsuki steps back from you a little, and you feel the hesitant rise of his arm before you feel it. his hand comes up to your face — pink and scarred in your peripheral vision — and he tilts your head up, waits until you open your eyes.

when you do, it looks as if a million things are running through his head. his poker-face is good, it has to be, but you can see little bits of his vulnerability shining through. you wonder how long it's been since he showed it to anybody. he almost looks sad.

katsuki squeezes your cheeks until your lips pucker, and his frown deepens when you laugh. "y're so...damn weird."

that's along the lines of what you were anticipating: one of his teasing little insults, warm with a fire he's still learning how to kindle. you don't get the chance to say anything before he's kissing you, eyes shut tight, lashes brushing against your own.

you expect something soft, because affection is a fickle thing, from him — but his hand never falls from your face and his tongue is sliding with yours suddenly, a heated gesture that throws your heart out of whack. you let him kiss you as deeply as he can, until your back arches painfully backward over the counter as he leans into you.

when he pulls away, his lips are a little swollen and his cheeks are burning, as he presses one into yours. "i—jus'—" katsuki tries and then abandons it, a hand curling into the material of your shirt. "i get it." he murmurs, there, into the heated skin of your face, heart beating in time with yours.

things like this are hard with him — but he makes them so, so worth it.

[tapakah0]

[rowanisawriter]

[somedayillbepeterpan]

on today's rewatch: S3E7 [Joining of hands]

I haven't done a good job in putting out original content for the past few months and I blame my new job entirely 😂 It's so intense, it turns my brain into mush most days.

I'm 68% functional right now so if my ramblings don't make sense, I apologise.

Today, I am thinking of Colin's retreating back after he discovered the Pen was LW.

(Colouring this gif is so hard. It's so dark 😭 I wish I was better at this.)

I don't know why I'm locked in on Colin's back.

On him walking away.

On his coat billowing as it matches the force of his steps. I have a thing for people's footsteps or way of walking because I often think about how I walk and how it represents what I'm feeling at the moment. My many, many rewatches offered me the realisation that there isn't a lot of full body shots of Luke Newton for S1 and S2 nor are walking shots. If there are full body shots, he's with Nicola so your attention is split.

I read a meta somewhere that book!Colin canonically loves walking so much so that he would endure the rain to help clear his thoughts.

I always thought that this walk was more heartbroken than angry. He walked away because his heart was breaking into pieces. But I also think that he walked away because of his love for her.

I know that the last thing he says to Pen in this scene is that he will never forgive her but I also think that he was talking more to Lady Whistledown than to Pen because at this point, they are still separate in his mind.

Clearly, this walk is the hardest to understand and has been part of heated debates of what canonically would Colin really do (this being compared to the source material aka book!Colin). I don't want to broach that debate too much because I would've done the same as Colin (as someone who is an introverted demisexual empath who value the words that come out of my mouth and actions to take but often overthinks them). And these are mere ramblings of a Polin brainrotter.

Now, there are three significant full body walking shots of Colin in S3: Colin's entrance in E1 (the faux swagger), this retreating walk in the early part of E7 (the heartbreak), and the him trying to clear his thoughts in the latter part of the same episode (the drunk, angry yet pensive one).

This walk represents the war that Colin has fought so many times. When his emotions overtake him, he finds himself walking away. I say find because I don't think Colin was self-aware nor mature enough to understand why he walked away. It's why he traveled around, it's what happened to him with Marina, and what he almost did to Penelope. In my head, this very distinctly represents Colin's trauma about his dad's death. His emotions always get the better of him.

This is another thing that I appreciate about Colin and Penelope's relationship-- they helped each other grow. If Penelope didn't have the courage or honestly, the love, to confront Colin when he was about to walk away in the modiste scene, we wouldn't have known the root of Colin's emotional trauma. Of him feeling inadequate and abandoned/betrayed by the people he loves.

On a different side of this debate, this is what separates this relationship to all other relationships that Colin has in his life-- the depth of love and understanding that him and Pen have shared gave them the the power to get out of this situation much, much stronger.

(on a side note, writing this is making me so excited for s4 even though I want to tamper my expectations)

In conclusion, I didn't appreciate the words that came out of Colin's mouth. But on the other hand, I appreciated that he walked away and he didn't do what book!Colin did. While this scene was devastating to watch, I really really appreciate how Colin spent time understanding his emotions about the whole LW situation. I know we all wanted to tear his hair out by the end but love doesn't put a timeline on forgiveness. Nor does it paint a pretty picture.

But time does help in growing yourself better.