#which… cool. I can dig that. just not really what I listen to in my downtime

[floral-hex]

“you should get all your patches from local bands and live shows!” Honey, I’m poor and I live in arkansas, how am I supposed to do that?

[steddiealltheway]

"You're dead, Harrington!"

Steve sprints off down the hall, making a sharp left turn in hopes of losing him. He looks around at the doors, eyes settling on the drama room. Yeah, no one would guess that he would go in there.

He runs and easily pulls the door open, softly closing it behind him, leaning against the door to listen for Billy.

"You can't run from me!" he yells, somewhere outside in the hallway.

Shit.

Steve backs up a bit until he runs into something, and suddenly there's a hand covering his mouth with rings digging into his cheek while a bit of silver glints in his eyes. "Don't freak out, Harrington. I'm here to help. Hide behind the red curtain."

The guy lets him go, and Steve whips around taking in the guy everyone calls "The Freak." He just raises his eyebrows at him, so Steve takes the hint and darts behind the red curtains behind a throne of some kind.

There's a slight creaking, then Steve hears the door swing open and slam against the wall.

"Billy Hargrove. I didn't know you were interested in theatre," the freak says smugly. Eddie? That's his name, right?

"I'm not," Billy grits out. "I'm looking for Harrington. Seen him anywhere, freak?"

"Why would he be in here?"

Steve hears heavy footsteps as he walks closer to the curtain. "That's not what I asked," Billy says darkly.

"Well, I answered, didn't I?" Eddie replies, voice low with an undertone of danger. Shit, Steve didn't know he had it in him. "If you're so dense, then let me clarify. I haven't seen him. Now get lost or you'll never find him before lunch is over."

There's a pause, and Steve is certain that a fight is about to break out. Only, nothing really happens until Billy says, "One day you're going to pay for that, freak."

"Looking forward to it," Eddie says sarcastically.

A few seconds later and the door closes. There's a click that sounds like the lock turning which has Steve peeking out of the curtain.

"You can come out now."

Steve steps outside the curtain slowly, making sure this isn't some sort of sick joke. But he doesn't think Billy is that much of a planner, he's too impulsive.

When he doesn't spot him, Steve says, "Thanks. It's Eddie, right?"

The other boy looks surprised and even gets a small smile on his face. "Yeah."

"I'm Steve," he introduces himself, sticking out his hand and everything.

He gets a scoff and a, "Yeah, I know," in response, but Eddie still takes his hand and shakes it.

"I like your rings," Steve says genuinely. They're cool really. He wishes he would wear something like that without his parents and teammates getting onto him about it.

"Thanks," Eddie says, pulling a bit of his hair in front of his hair. It's cute really, almost like he's flustered.

Huh. He'll unpack that thought later.

"How did you get Billy to back off like that? I've never seen anyone do that." He can't help but be in a bit of awe about the whole thing.

Eddie chuckles. "I supply his weed. He knows better than to hurt me."

"Mabe I should start selling him weed then."

Eddie laughs loudly, showing off his dimples. Steve can't help but smile back.

"Hey," Eddie says, making his way to the throne and sitting back. "What did you do to get him that riled up anyways?"

Steve groans and takes a seat at the table in front of Eddie. "I know his little sister, Max. I just asked him how she was doing, and he freaked out. I think he misunderstood my tone."

Eddie laughs again, and Steve starts to believe that maybe the whole thing was worth it to see the boy's smile.

A silence settles between them, but Steve doesn't mind. It gives him a chance to look at him more.

It must fluster Eddie again because he ducks his head down and shakes his head.

"What?" Steve can't help but ask.

Eddie looks back at him. "Nothing, I just can't believe that Steve Harrington is sitting at my D and D table."

D&D... "Oh, that's like Dungeons and Dragons, right?"

Eddie's jaw drops. "You know what Dungeons and Dragons is?"

Steve shrugs. "My friend plays it, but he's in middle school, so you wouldn't know him. But hey, that's where the demogorgan thing comes from, right?"

Eddie continues to stare at him in disbelief mumbling something under his breath like He's friends with middle schoolers, and he knows what a demogorgan is. What the hell? Am I dreaming? He shakes his head and says clearly, "Yeah, yeah, that's where the Demogorgan comes from."

Another silence settles between them, and Steve doesn't know why he says it but he asks, "So, do you have a girlfriend?"

Once again, it looks like Eddie is about to have a meltdown, but Steve stands his ground. He's curious really.

Eddie shifts in his seat a bit uncomfortably before quietly asking, "Haven't you heard the rumors?"

Steve leans back in his seat and scratches his face absentmindedly. He's heard about "The Freak" before, but he didn't really pay much attention. He knows he sells weed. He failed senior year once or twice, he forgot how many times people said. And he once heard that he's a...

Oh.

"So, do you have a boyfriend then?"

Eddie freezes, fear evident all over his tense body.

"It's fine if you do," Steve assures him.

Eddie runs both his hands over his face and questions out loud, "Am I dreaming?"

"Do you dream about me often?" Steve flirts, leaning forward on the table. He can't help it, he likes how affected Eddie is by him.

Eddie looks at him for a solid fifteen seconds, tongue running over his top lip and brows furrowed in deep thought. He relaxes against his chair with a sigh. "You're not at all what people say you are."

Steve shrugs, uncomfortable that the topic has turned to be about him. "I try not to be."

"It's a good thing," Eddie says.

Steve smiles. He didn't know how much he needed to hear that.

The bell rings, and Steve feels a pang of disappointment.

"Hey," Eddie says as he stands up alongside Steve. He reaches into his black metal lunchbox and pulls out a sandwich in a little bag and a banana. He tears the sandwich in half and offers it to Steve along with the banana. "It isn't much, but I doubt you ate lunch. Have to keep all our star players in shape, right?" he asks with a wink.

Steve wishes he could stay longer to see him relax more. He takes them both, unpeeling the banana quickly while asking, "Is that weed in there?"

"Among other things."

Steve laughs and takes a large bite of the banana that has Eddie looking away, turning a light shade of red. Now he really wishes he could stay longer.

He finishes his bite and says, "Hey, it was really nice to meet you by the way."

"You too," Eddie says with a soft smile, finally looking back at him.

The warning bell rings.

Steve sighs. "I'll see you around, and hey, pass on a word to the next D and D leader about Dustin Henderson, will you?"

"Will do," Eddie says, and Steve's glad that it sounds like a promise.

He heads to the door and unlocks it quickly, pausing to rush back and press a soft kiss on Eddie's cheek. "Thank you again," he says before rushing out of the room with his heart pounding and a blush spreading over his face.

He can't help but think that he should thank Billy for being such an asshole.

[helslastangel]

I'm back bxtches

Random Observations #9

Y'all still need the disclaimer or will reason prevail?

🦂 Scorpio Mars are POWERHOUSES in my not-so-humble opinion. If you are prone to procrastination, especially in your career or as an entrepreneur, Aries Mars might hype you up but a Scorpio Mars (esp in 10H) is gonna make damn sure you finish your to-do list.

I had a friend with this placement and she literally bribed me with weed to come to her house, then she took my phone and house keys and made me sit and finish designing my business cards and send them to Vistaprint before she'd give my damn keys back. Made over $5K USD from my next few clients though so I wasn't even mad about it lol

🦀 I don't care what the astrology girls like to say - my observations of Cancer moons is that they are FORGIVING AF. Like it takes a lot for a Cancer moon to be really done with you and chances are you're more wrong than they are.

Cancer moons come off as manipulative to a lot of people. But when you actually dig below the surface, you'll notice this common thread where people who aren't good at seeing other people's points of view unless they need something immediately project that attitude onto people who genuinely give a shit.

Obviously there are evil Cancer moons and they're extra terrifying for the above reason, but they're the minority and the slander is unnecessary imo. The people who have literally put up with my WORST behavior the longest and genuinely dropped it after a good open conversation were all Cancer moons.

👬 Which leads me to another interesting astro trope I'd like to kick over right about now. Gemini moons. Love them but in my experience they are usually what people think Cancer moons are. Gemini moons, from my observation, don't soak up as much, if any, of other peoples' energies. They're gonna keep it moving emotionally regardless of how you wanna be in the moment. That means they can easily smile with you for years if that's the path of least resistance, but that does NOT mean they particularly like, care about or think highly of you at all. They MIGHT, but you will NOT know unless they want you to know or you somehow trigger them enough to rip the black tape off the redacted parts of their mental file on you.

If you're someone who is used to everything being totally transparent and straightforward, you're in for a wild ride with a Gemini moon in your life. I've had quite a few as friends or coworkers, etc., and I promise without fail there always came the day where I ended up wiping tears of laughter from my eyes, feet up on my desk, twiddling my thumbs listening to the 11-minute voice note from the latest Gemini moon in my life. Pretty much telling me in no uncertain terms exactly what they thought of me, where I should go, why, and how happy they would be to direct me there personally.

As a Capricorn moon, I never have the kind of reaction they'd like to this but it's always interesting to see the abrupt change as they can literally seem perfectly cool 3 minutes before the other twin takes over. I don't even think it's a good or bad thing, just how it goes.

Cancer moons seem this way but chances are you chose to ignore the VERY OBVIOUS SIGNS THAT SOMETHING (probably everything) was wrong, lol. Cancer moons can't hide their feelings for shit (reason #101 why I love them; it's easier for me to fix a problem if i can quickly see there is one 😂).

🦁 Let's change tracks and talk about Leo mercuries for a minute. Y'all get your inside and outside voices mixed up a LOT, lol. Every Leo mercury I know had trouble speaking quietly in quiet-appropriate situations but then catch them outside trying to get their friends attention at the other side of the street and suddenly it's like Tom got their tongue and tossed it to Jerry. Can barely get a sound out. Why is that? I know it wouldn't be all Leo mercuries but for those who experience this, please tell me what it is, I'm genuinely curious lol. As a Libra mercury I kinda have a similar problem. On another note, I've noticed that Leo mercuries can be highly persuasive people even if solely because of the amount of power and confidence they put behind the things they say.

My ex-husband has Leo Mercury at 24° (Pisces degree) and I promise you that man could make you believe anything against your will 😂 One time he was trying to get out of having to go to a friend's event and rather than just decline like a normal person, he crafted this masterpiece of an excuse that somehow involved me needing his attention (I had been on the couch under his arm half the day so no lol) but the way he spoke on the phone?

I swear to God even I caught myself nodding along all like "yeah, yes I did feel a bit neglected today and wanted more time with babe"... 😂😂😂 like NO TF I DID NOT FEEL NEGLECTED AT ALL but I got second-hand convinced lol. And yes he was loud when I or his friends were 12 inches away but couldn't raise his voice for shit to order through the drive-thru at McDonald's lol it was cute, though, I'd do the yelling into the intercom thing 😂

🐟 Lemme say this about Pisces suns - you are very underrated, from my observations. I've noticed Pisces suns in particular struggle with one of two major issues when it comes to others' perceptions of them - either people seem compelled to minimize/infantilize their contributions and achievements, or people fail to notice they exist altogether (or forget about them easily). I've always held my Pisces sun friends close for as long as I could and hyped them up because nearly every Pisces sun I've met has been incredibly talented and usually creative in some way. I'm talking genius levels of ability in some area that goes completely overlooked or undervalued by the majority of people in their circles.

These are the people who you vaguely notice as the cool server, hot bartender, friendly delivery guy, helpful sales associate, only for you to run into them somewhere else and you find out they run a whole personal training business or play 6 instruments perfectly and give lessons to kids, or taught themselves professional photography and have a camera in their bedroom worth more than your savings account. I've met so many Pisces suns who seemed to be one way and then there were so many layers to them that it was like reading an interactive novel.

That's what was on my mind for now, drop your favorite placement from your own chart in the comments, I'll compile them for random observations #10 😘

[wannaeatramyeon]

Daniel Park with Unhinged F! Reader

You, the peak of the verse with a list of supposedly strong and powerful men to kill meet.

Gun Park | Goo Kim | Samuel Seo | Samuel Seo Part 2 | James Lee/DG | Jinyoung Park | Eli Jang | Tom Lee | Ryuhei Kuroda | Eugene | Vin Jin | Charles Choi | Daniel Park

I had a request sometime last year on Unhinged F!Reader helping out Allied. Soooo- this is my response to it...

'Why are you following me?"

You turn around in the alleyway to see a guy approximately the same height as you. Unremarkable if not for the way he has managed to pick you out from the shadows and keep up with your steps.

"Please, I need your help."

Help? Does this person have any idea who you are?

You arch an eyebrow at his request as he continues to stare at you with wide eyes.

Honestly. Did he think this puppy dog look was going to work on you? Of all people? You don't say anything, letting the silence add pressure until he spills out his guts.

Something about the Four Crews and HNH, which vaguely rings a bell.

You start to examine your nails as he rambles, quickly losing interest. Damn, is that dried blood underneath? You really must clean them better post fight.

And tch! Another chipped nail too. Ugh.

Oh. He's still talking, huh.

You've already tuned him out but the sound of his voice grows irritating and you cut him off, just as he starts to mention the Ten Geniuses or whatever.

You thrust a palm out at him, inches from his face and clever boy, he shuts up immediately. "Why should I help you?"

"Um." He hesitates. "I can pay you?"

"Not interested."

"I.. I can copy moves? You can teach me to be your masterpiece-"

"Cool," you say, stifling a yawn. Wasn't that crazy old doctor also a copy user? You dispatched him without difficulty.

"Let me guess-" You start ticking off each point on your fingers.

"One. You don’t move like you’re a natural, so you do have a master but they're not cutting it anymore- " He nods.

"Two. You've somehow found out about me and managed to seek me out-"  You don't tell him you're reluctantly impressed at that part.

"Three. Then hoped that I would help you because I have such a good moral compass-" You roll your eyes at this. What is it with pathetic men expecting women to clean up their mess?

"Four. So you've come here to ask me to help and promise me riches as a sweetener but sorry to break your heart, I don't give a shit-" He recoils, taken aback by your bluntness.

"Anyway, which mediocre fool has been teaching you?"

"One of the Ten Geniuses I mentioned. The Learning Genius."

What a lame title. "Who?"

"Gun Park."

You have a vague recollection of this person and gesture for him to tell you more as you pull out your small slip of paper. The one with the list of crossed out names, that you hunted down and defeated one by one until only a few remain. 

Oh wait... the name Gun Park is here-

"Um. Black eyes, half naked all the time, tattoos on his arms, smokes-"

"Right!" You click your fingers. "That loser! The Learning Genius, did you say?"

He widens his eyes at you insulting his master but nods anyway.

"Pfffft-" you stifle a laugh unsuccessfully. Goddamn that is funny.

"Learning Genius!" You squeal, letting out a cackle that leaves his hairs standing on end. The more you think about it, the funnier it gets. On what planet is that guy qualified, good enough, to teach anyone? You laugh and laugh, clutching your stomach as he backs away awkwardly.

Wiping away tears from your eyes, you make up your mind and ask, "What did you say your name was?"

"I... I didn't. It's Daniel Park,"

You dig out the pen in your pocket and add his name to your list.

He's undercooked. Maybe fun in a few more years but now Daniel is nothing but a baby. It'll be fun to crush him eventually.

"Listen," You fold your note carefully, slipping it back into your pocket. "I have zero inclination to help you. None."

He opens his mouth to argue-

And you cut him off again with a shrug. "Mainly 'cause I don't want to. Anyway, I'll find you once you're ready to fight. It'll be a shame to kill you any sooner, but-"

You lunge at him, slamming Daniel into the wall with a hand on his neck before he has had a chance to react.

"- Follow me again and I won't hesitate." You smile sweetly, like butter wouldn't melt. Smile stretching further, turning monstrous and unhinged when you feel him attempt to free himself from your grasp but to no avail.

You give his throat one more squeeze for good measure as he chokes and claws at your hand before releasing him. “See ya!”

Daniel drops to the floor, gasping desperately for air and rubbing at his neck. Thinks that this has been a grave mistake and now he has a target on his back.

He watches you, humming to yourself and sashaying away into the night, melting into the shadows once more.

[tinylongwing]

Top five small birds go

PICKING ONLY 5 is CRUEL but I don't have time for 10. Species names will have the links to photo sources where applicable.

Long-tailed Manakin. They take like 4-5 years for the males to learn their dances and each year they look a little more like adults to match their experience! They are little and yet have very long tails!! And cute little caps! Very elegant tiny birds.

(Photo by me, bird handled and released on site with permits as part of MoSI, a long-running collaborative research program).

2. Wrentit. Look past the plain gray exterior, let me teach you some BIRD FACTS because these guys are basically aliens. They live in a very small part of the west coast of North America in scrub/chaparral, and we still don't really know how they got there or where their nearest relatives are or what birds they're even related to, though recently they think maybe it's parrotbills, which are otherwise mostly found in SE Asia.

During the breeding season, most female birds develop a brood patch, a section of bare skin on the belly for aiding in heat transfer to the eggs, and most male birds develop a swollen cloaca to facilitate sperm transfer. In some species where males help incubate, they also get brood patches. This is fine. Male Wrentits get brood patches. A little weird but not too crazy. Female Wrentits, however, get a swollen cloaca? Why?? Nothing else in North America does this? I don't.... understand.

Also they're cute, they have a song that's like a bouncy ball going down stairs, and males and females have slightly different songs, so even though we can't determine the sex in the hand like with normal birds, at least if they sing you can tell. Normal birds don't sing when being handled. Wrentits definitely sometimes do. I don't get it. But I love them for it.

(Photo mine, bird banded and released on site with permits as part of MAPS, a long-term research program).

3. Calliope Hummingbird. Itty bitty tiny creature, would absolutely spear you to death with its face if it thought it could pull that off. Hummingbirds in general are territorial and aggressive and these guys are no exception. Also they're beautiful. Look at that starburst of a face!

(I have photos but don't want to go dig them up, I'm lazy)

4. Java Sparrow. Help, I'm hopelessly charmed by how adorable they are. Unfortunately, apparently everyone else is too, and these are now critically endangered in their home range of Java due to habitat loss and poaching for the pet trade. The good?? news is they're also super invasive in places like Hawaii, so they're not about to go globally extinct, so that's cool, I guess.

5. Micronesian Rufous Fantail, formerly just Rufous Fantail, aka chichirika na'abak because look I don't know proper indigenous names for everything but I do for my study birds and I support their use. Chichirika is CHamoru for "showoff" and na'abak is "the one who will lead you astray", after the local stories of kids trying to follow these delightful little low-flitting creatures through the jungles and getting hopelessly lost, leading to village search parties.

Anyway, look at that tail!! Go listen to their cute little squeaks! I'm absolutely in love. I've banded literal hundreds of these and they never ever get old. Every single one of them is a treasure to me.

(Photo by me, bird banded and released on site as part of my very most beloved own tropical forest bird research program in the Northern Mariana Islands).

[disaster-writer]

Tear You Apart (Deleted Scene)

Pairing: Dabi x Reader

Summary: This is a deleted scene from my fic Tear You Apart that I really liked but had to rewrite for the published fic. You can read the full fic on my blog

Word Count: 638

Warning: Dark fic, mentions of drugging, masochism, noncon, masturbation (male)

Rating: X 18+

Minors DNI

You had Dabi wrong this whole time. His aloof, cool guy act was all a fucking facade for the psychopath that lay beneath the surface.

His crazed eyes and sick grin told you which one you were talking to right now

The entitlement he felt towards your body made your skin crawl and your stomach nauseous. The way he thought and talked to you made you want to deeply hurt him like no one else before.

You still could.

Your entire identity surrounded the fact that you caused people pain— such excruciating pain that more than just that one man has killed himself because of you.

If he thought your drugged out body was an honest representation of the strength of your quirk…

He had another thing coming.

It was as if your hands had a mind of their own as you placed them against his bare chest. 

But the reaction you got wasn’t the one you expected.

You’ve seen and heard expressions of agony your entire life and this was not that.

Another deep groan ripped from his throat, much like before. But unlike earlier, you hadn’t been able to see the expression held on his face, but now you could see how his eyebrows pinched together and his mouth fell open as he cursed.

You knew this was nothing but unbridled pleasure.

You pushed harder, fingernails digging into the seams of his body, drawing blood.

He quickly grabbed onto your wrists as some sort of anchor, the sensations making his knees weak. “Fuck— fuck— that’s different.” He laughed. You watched in horror as he continued to grunt and groan, pressing you hands harder into his chest. “Why— why is it different?”

”Because,” you started, planting your foot onto his abdomen, “I’m not drugged you sick fuck,” you kicked him hard, and his previous instability had him laying on the floor now.

You gaped as you listened to him laugh, and stroke down his chest until he reached his cock, squeezing himself through his boxers.

He started to pull his cock out—

“What the fuck—“

“Don’t give me that look,” he grunted, now fisting his cock and stroking it, “You’ve seen it before, you just don’t remember.” He taunted. “Now come here,” he stuck his free hand out to you, “Ride me crybaby.”

This—this was not how you thought tonight was going to go.

You tugged at your hair, the roots screaming in pain as you tried to figure out what to fucking do.

”I already told you. Put that thing anywhere near me and I’ll tell the world who you are,” you said shakily, back hitting the wall, “You demented creep.”

He laughed again. You don’t think you’ve ever heard him laugh before tonight— you didn’t think he was capable.

You finally realized that while you thought you had Dabi figured out… you knew nothing about Todoroki Touya.

”I’ll let you call me Touya if you want~” he lilted, continuing to stroke himself.

You sunk to the floor, knees to your chest as you continued to pull on your hair. You just wanted him out— maybe you should call the others, you knew they’d help and get this madman off your bedroom floor-

“Don’t tell me you’re not even a little bit curious,” he gained more stability in his voice. You knew some of the pain was probably subsiding. “No other man can touch you— no other man would want to touch you.”

You peered at him from behind your knees.

”You’re insane.”

”What sane man would want you?”

His gaze held yours in the dim light, refusing to look away as he kept jerking himself off, each barbell of his piercings glinting in the moonlight.

”C’mon crybaby, I don’t wanna cum if it’s not in you.”

You buried your face into your knees, “You’re disgusting.”

-

Full Fic

Tear You Apart Prequel (Dabi x Reader x Shigaraki)

[ceratedfish24]

realised recently that all the amazing takes on scott are ALL from YOU‼️‼️‼️ /pos

as an avid scott fan and watcher it makes me really happy to see so many more things about scott that don't label him as abusive or completely remove/ignore him entirely

thank you for all the rarepair posts as well i am RABID over scott rarepairs

please please if you wish you can use this ask to go off about any scott rarepairs or mainstream (??) ships that you want!!!! i will sit and listen happily like a child listening to their favourite story being told to them because your takes are so right and cool

Aw I’m so happy to hear that! Thank you so much <3 It always brightens my day to hear that my posts can be a little light in a sea of hypocrisy and/or unnecessary negativity surrounding literally one of the nicest people in the life series.

I ADORE Scott rarepairs! He just has such great chemistry with everyone, and I love to dig a little deeper into why specifically they like about each other.

Majorwood – I’m honestly not entirely sure if this is a rarepair or a mainstream? I feel like a lot of people know of it but don’t see it unless they naturally watched Martyn or Scott’s Limited Life perspective, whereas a lot of people watched Jimmy and Scott’s 3rd Life FOR Flower Husbands or watched Martyn or Ren’s 3rd Life FOR Treebark. It’s in a sort of liminal space between mainstream and rarepair.

Anyways, I love these two so much if only because they were so at odds with each other for so long only to thrive once they put their differences aside and learned to appreciate what makes them individually such a force to be reckoned with. I think that their attraction towards each other was a very slow thing, something quiet and natural, and then Martyn having to bring Scott to yellow was the final puzzle piece that fell into place. Martyn’s possessiveness and protectiveness over Scott truly meant so much to me. He had so much respect and affection for Scott, that any betrayal or offense against Scott was an insult to Martyn, too.

In fact, I think Martyn may have had too much respect for Scott. I have always felt as though Martyn attacked Scott before he attacked Impulse because he knew that Scott’s reaction time was just so much better than Impulse’s and that Scott would have remained relatively calm, which would make him dangerous, whereas Impulse was caught off guard and panicked. However, I also think that, had Martyn killed just Impulse, Scott would have given himself over to Martyn willingly. I believe that that had always been Scott’s intentions, hence why he was so at peace with Martyn taking the last of his time. Sacrifice is not something that Martyn understands very well, especially not a sacrifice as significant as the last. I think Martyn respected how skilled Scott is to the point of fear, and it led him to underestimate the extent of Scott’s loyalty. Don’t get me wrong, I think Martyn made all of the right decisions. Eliminating Scott first ensured that there was no chance that Scott, who – no offense, Impulse – is definitely the more practiced PVPer between him and Impulse – we all saw him kill Impulse like 4 times back to back – wouldn’t fight back. I was screaming and cheering with delight and excitement when I saw that play. What a brilliant and fitting end to such a violent, starving series. Limited Life was definitely my favorite season until Wild Life.

Scottho – Speaking of Wild Life, OH MY GOSH WILD LIFE SCOTTHO MY BELOVED?? Something about how Etho was always so comfortable around Scott despite how little we’ve gotten to see them interact with one another always really spoke to me, but this season? The way Scott was so quick to embrace Etho into the Gs, even if it was a secret alliance, was so full of trust. There was no suspicion on Scott’s end that this was some kind of trick, that Etho had alternate motives for agreeing to join their team even though it had been Etho’s own idea.

There’s been quite a few accidental final kills in the Life Series, but Etho is known for picking whatever team will take him in the moment. The fact that Etho’s first reaction to accidentally killing Scott was “I was aiming for Joel!” was very unusual. Gem was right there, loudly excited that Etho had killed Scott. Gem and Joel were Etho’s strongest alliance, but he chose to make sure that everyone knew that he honored his promise to Scott above all, regardless of who it would put him at odds with.

Etho has affection for so many people in the Life Series, but affection is of little consequence in the Life Series. He’s said it himself. “Do you think I have a soft spot for anyone right now?” What Etho has for Scott is more than affection. It’s respect. He genuinely has so much respect for Scott’s playstyle, and you can tell that he was so surprised to hear that the Gs’ approach towards their teammates is not based on worth but on loyalty, especially what with how the Tuff Guys’ approach towards their teammates was so very strictly based on worth.

On top of that, Etho is very close to Cleo and Gem, who are both pretty similar to Scott in terms of humor. From there, he has absolutely zeroed in on Scott’s humor, just absolutely cross referenced the life out of how Scott’s brain works and hit the nail on the head. Absurd of him, in my opinion.

On a less evidence based note and a more delusion based note, Etho’s relationship with Scott is the kind that makes him want to kiss Scott’s knuckles and all the way up his arm until he reaches Scott’s jaw. Those two slow dance in their kitchen in the morning. Scott is the only person who can get Etho to get sappy. Scott is just so earnest and kind, and it makes Etho want to hold him in his arms and keep him safe and sound. Etho hates drinking coffee if it wasn’t made by Scott. It’s not the taste that bothers him; it’s just the principle of the thing. Scott loves Etho because Etho is a constant comfort who also knows when and how to make him laugh. Etho loves Scott because, though he may tease, Scott would never judge him for being vulnerable. They’re each other’s safe space. Etho would simply be the most gentlemanly partner to Scott, and it would totally work on Scott.

Unlike Joel and Bdubs, Scott is entirely neutral about horses. This frustrates Bdubs, who was hoping that Etho’s new boyfriend would at least be on his side in the horse conflict between Bdubs and Joel. Scott has been monitoring this horse war and reporting back to Etho about it as soon as Etho gets home. This is how Etho learns what “spilling the tea” means.

I may be writing about them celebrating the holidays pretty soon.

Scott/Doc – Hear me out hear me out hear me out. I know they’ve never talked even once, but hear me out. Big, strong, stoic engineer working in his lab all day + suave pretty boy who sits on Doc’s desk and is a general safety hazard the whole time. Doc getting frustrated with Scott, because how is he supposed to work when there’s a pretty boy flirting with him in his lab all day? Scott also has to make sure that Doc eats and sleeps and drinks water, and he uses all of these as excuses to flirt with Doc. He spoons food into Doc’s mouth while Doc’s working and asks Doc to make eye contact with him during it. He holds the glass up to Doc’s lips. He drags Doc to bed and complains that he’s so cold without Doc next to him. It works on Doc every single time, because it’s Scott. Doc isn’t about to say “no” to him. There’s few things Scott loves as a big, strong, competent man who only shows his soft side around certain people and is easily annoyed by literally 4 people. Additionally, the sum of the pettiness between the two of them? Oh heavens.

Doc really values loyalty, and there’s none as loyal as Scott. Grian would go to Scott to ask for secrets he can use to further annoy Doc, but Scott would not give anything up. We’ve seen before that Scott does not let up information about those he loves even if it’s just for a prank. The only person who Scott allows to prank Doc is Cleo, but only if Scott is also involved.

Thank you for the ask and for giving me an opening to yap about some of my favorite rarepairs!! I hope you enjoyed my opinions and headcanons!🩵🩵🩵

[itsmarsss]

chicks dig musicians, kid [Miguel Diaz x Reader] (Cobra Kai)

[~from the vault~]

There's something going on between the two of you, Miguel is sure of it. But where does he go from there? How is he supposed to ask you out? So he goes to Johnny for advice.

Word count: 1,780

Warnings: literally nothing its so cute and sweet and innocent yay past mars

[. . .]

Things had been different for a while now. He could just feel it.

Miguel didn’t know when things changed, when the platonic teasing turned into borderline flirting, when his eyes started to dart from your eyes to your lips in the middle of conversation, when you started to look away with an embarrassed smile when he stared at you for too long, when he started to barely listen when you talked because all he could think about was how close you were and how easy it would be for him to kiss you right that second and how much he really, really wanted to do it but never did- but he was 100% sure he wasn’t imagining it.

He was well-aware of the fact that his love-struck brain could just be exaggerating everything, and, sure, he was a bit dense, but he wasn’t completely oblivious. He knew something was definitely going on, to the point of getting teased about it to no end by his friends: the newfound tension and the sudden awkwardness were pretty hard to miss.

The thing is: where do you go from there? Miguel has always been pretty straight-forward (even though he didn’t really look the part) so why was it so hard to find a good moment to ask you out when he was pretty positive you’d say yes?

Waiting made it far, far worse. He thought maybe he’d give himself time to figure out a way to do it. Hey, maybe you’d even end up asking him out first!

You didn’t.

Every day that passed he found himself staring more and more, lost in daydreams of kissing you, making you laugh, kissing you, holding your hand, kissing you.

Was this why you’d been avoiding him the past few days? He wasn’t dumb. It’s not like you were outright taking every opportunity you could to get away from him, but also it’s not like you were exactly taking any opportunities to hang out just the two of you like you used to do. Was he being too weird? Too pushy? Oh god, was he acting like a creep?

Standing back was not like him at all, and it was not doing him any favors- he had to know once and for all.

So he went to his Sensei for advice.

Johnny was holding a beer can when he opened his door. Not an unusal sight. “What d´ya want?”

“I really need your help but you can’t make fun of me.”

“Can’t promise that,” he replied with a smile, and made way for Miguel to enter, which he did. “Ya want a beer?” he asked as Miguel sat down on the couch.

“No. Please focus."

Sensei Lawrence just shrugged, standing by the kitchen counter. “So what is it? Your mom find your porn or something?”

“What- no! Why is that the first thing you thought of?”

“Happened to me,” He shrugged again, nonchalantly.

Miguel made a face in disgust. “Please let’s not talk about that when you’re dating my mom.”

“Jesus, kid, what are you, a nun?” Johnny laughed and took a sip of his beer. “Okay, whatever. What happened?”

“I’m really into this girl.”

“She hot?”

Miguel made a point to ignore the question. “She’s really cool and I think she likes me too.”

“Is. She. Hot?”

“Sensei- yeah. Okay, she’s really hot.”

“Nice.”

“Can I go on now?”

“Sure.”

“Okay so we’re friends, right. And we’ve been friends for some time now but I feel like we’ve been flirting? But never really doing anything about it. But I want to.”

“So? Just ask her out.”

“I know that! But I don’t know how to.”

“Thought you were more of a ‘just ask’ kind of guy.”

“I- I am! It’s just, I don’t know what it is, it’s easier when you don’t know them that well, you know? Cause like why would she not make a move after all this time? Maybe she just wants to stay friends. And then if she rejects me then what?”

“Then why would she flirt with you?”

“I don’t know.”

“Who is it?”

“What, I’m not telling you-”

“Y/N?” He guessed, and Miguel wasn’t fast enough to hide his surprise.

“How’d you know?”

“Guessed. But your face made it pretty obvious, maybe work on that.”

“Okay, what do I do?”

“Look, you know what you gotta do? You gotta not be a pussy. Make her like a giant fucking poster and ask her out at school, girls love that shit.”

“Um I don’t think she’d like that. Seems like... pretty embarrassing.”

“It’s not embarrassing if you’re not a pussy about it.”

“Do you have any… less public option?”

“Oh you want a real intimate option?’ He raised his eyebrows suggestively, which was an extremely disturbing scene to witness.

“No- oh my god, please never do that again.”

Johnny laughed. “Just play her a song or some shit. Set the mood. Then ask her out. Chicks dig musicians, kid. That's a fact."

“But I don’t play anything. Or sing.”

“And what am I supposed to do about that? Now come on I got things to do,” Johnny motioned for him to get up, and he did so.

“You do?” Miguel asked, not really believing it.

“Don’t question me!”

Miguel put his arms up in surrender, walking out the door.

The rest of his day was spent desperately trying to learn the chords to some song he’d seen you listen to once on his mom’s old ukulele. It wasn’t going well. He looked at the time, 7:43 PM- it was getting late. He would have to make do with what he had. He wasn’t delaying this any longer, he was doing this tonight.

He took about 15 minutes to figure out what hoodie to wear and 10 more to fix his hair. He walked up to your house with the ukulele in hand, feeling nothing short of ridiculous. He wondered if maybe he should have waited until he was a little better at playing. Still, he kept on walking until he reached your front door.

To his luck, you were the one to open it. Thank fucking god. “Miguel?" You raised an eyebrow, a little confused at the scene in front of you. He hadn't texted telling you he was coming over and you couldn't for the life of you come up with a reason for the ukulele he held in his hand since you knew he'd never ever played one in his life.

“Hey.”

“Hey. Uh, what are you doing here?” It wasn’t rude, just curious.

Maybe he should have warned you he was coming.

“Uh I was just- wondering if I could show you something.” He held up the instrument in his hand.

“Like a song?”

“Well, yeah. If you want.”

“I didn’t know you played.” Actually, you knew he did not play.

“I didn’t. I uh. Picked it up today. Just wanted to show it to you."

“Okay, yeah. Come in.” You were still visibly confused. Maybe he should have planned this better. Or, like, at all. You made way for him to get in and closed the door behind you when he did. You walked up in front of him, taking his free hand and leading him upstairs. “Come on.”

You entered your bedroom and sat on the edge of your bed, Miguel hesitantly doing the same, sitting down right beside you.

“Okay. So what are you gonna play?”

“Uh you know that song you like? The one you were listening to when you were training after practice that day? That Hawk was like telling you to skip and all?”

You laughed at the memory. “I guess.”

“Yeah that’s uh- that’s what I’m gonna play.”

He was feeling way too self-aware now. Maybe coming over to perform a song he was yet to learn correctly was not his brightest idea. What was he thinking?

“So?” You pulled him out of his thoughts. He cleared his throat. There was no way he could back down now. Shit.

He played the first chords and started singing. It all sounded deeply, extremely wrong, and he knew it. It was terribly bad, pure chicken scratch. If voice cracks had voice cracks, that’s what they’d sound like. He barely got through the first chorus before stopping himself from any further embarrassment. He’d made a point of not looking at you while he played, but finally mustered up the courage to after he stopped.

He couldn’t say you looked too impressed. Just… amused, at best.

“I started learning it this afternoon, so…” he sheepishly tried explaining himself, scratching th back of his neck in embarrassment. What the fuck did you just do, idiot?

“Oh it’s uh- it’s pretty- pretty good for something you learned in just a few hours.”

“You can say it’s terrible, I just wanted to- I just wanted to show you. I picked the song ‘cause you like it so much.”

“It’s not terrible! It’s a great song. And it’s pretty cool that you learned it because of me.”

There was an awkward silence that followed. This moment, right here, right after he finished playing, was when Miguel imagined he would be asking you out. You'd say yes, maybe you’d kiss him if he was lucky. But the Miguel in his head had done a great job with the song. The real him… well, the real him obviously hadn’t.

“Why did you wanna show it to me?"

He was taken aback by the question. He decided he’s best be honest, now that he knew he officially had no chance with you. Acording to Sensei Lawrence, chicks dig musicians, and he clearly was no musician whatsoever. He sighed. “Honestly?”

You nodded, prompting him to continue.

“I really, really wanted to ask you out. But I didn’t know how to do it, so I went to Sensei for advice. I know. He said girls like musicians so I thought I'd do something cool and play you a song you liked. It obviously didn't work,” he laughed, defeated.

You were quiet for a moment, processing what he just told you. “You learned a song I liked just to ask me out?”

“I know, it’s dumb, and obviously I ruined the mood with the bad singing, but-”

You kissed him. He was rambling like an idiot and he’d just given you the worst ever serenade of all time and you kissed him! He wasn't even able to react, just looking at you with his eyes wide as you pulled away as quickly as you'd leaned in. You kissed him, you kissed him, you kissed him, holy shit!

“I thought-”

“It's cute that you'd do that just to ask me out. And you didn't ruin the mood. Now ask me out!” You said, excited, now sporting a dumb smile he thought was just the cutest thing ever. Could you please just look at him like that all the time?

Miguel couldn’t help but mirror your excitement, grinning like an idiot. Damn him if he didn't do as you asked. “Do you wanna go out with me?”

“As long as you don’t ever try to serenade me ever again.”

“You said it wasn’t so bad!”

“I lied."

“You still kissed me."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever."

[. . .]

A/N: while i don't have what im currently writing for miguel out yet here's a really old little thingy i have of him as a little treat! it's cute and sweet to make up for all the sin of the current wip <3

[fl3shm4id3n]

ₙₐᵢₗ ₚₒₗᵢₛₕ

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐍𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐲𝐚𝐦 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐚 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐬. 𝐁𝐮𝐭, 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐫, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐲𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐫.

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ɴᴇᴛᴇʏᴀᴍ ᴛᴇ ꜱᴜʟɪ ᴛꜱʏᴇʏᴋ'ɪᴛᴀɴ x ꜰᴇᴍ! ʜᴜᴍᴀɴ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

Tw: None ♡

A/N: This was inspired by this ask, which I had to write into a fic. Sorry it took a while.

Masterlist

That day, you and Neteyam were in your private bonk back at the old RDA Headquarters. You were both just talking about things that had happened all week. Not only that, but as you talked, you were trying to clean your messy desk. But you'd get side tracked by the conversation that you'd that you were cleaning. While you moved some stuff in there proper places and listening to Neteyam's rant about how Lo'ak nearly got them killed when he tried to pet a thanator's pup. As you moved stuff around, you couldn't help but notice a small box, it had a bit of dust in it.

You reached over and grabbed it, you leaned the dust off the lid, seen the many stickers that you had put on the box. Some were old that they began to fade and some were still in tacked. After looking at the stickers, you opened the lid. You then saw the many nail polishes that your mom had given a while ago. She was cleaning out some stuff and she decided to give you somethings that she didn't really use. So she gave them to you. "Yawne?" You heard Neteyam call out to you, seen that you were focused on something else. "Oh, sorry, I just found these. I forgot I had them." You responded, showing him the box filled with different color nail polishes.

He got closer, to see the small bottles. "What's that stuff?" He asked. "It's what we call nail polish, we use it to make our nails look pretty." You responded, while Neteyam looked more in the box. "Can I look at them?" he asked, while you handed him the box. It was very small compared to his hands. You moved them around a bit, seen the many colors in the box. As he kept looking in the box, he pulled out a small nail polish bottle. He brought it close to his face, to get a better view of it. "This one is the color of your eyes." He commented. "It is?" You asked. "Yeah, I think so. Look." He said, handing you the nail polish. He as not wrong, it did look like the color of your eyes. "Cool. Let me see if I can find one the color of your eyes." You told him.

Once you had the box, you began to dig in the box. Trying to find a nail polish that matched his eyes. You then found a yellow nail polish, it matched perfectly with his eyes, except this one had a bit of shine. Not only that, but you also found a green one. That also matched perfectly. "These match your eyes." You said, while showing him the two nail polishes in my hand. He looked at them. "They do." He said, while looking at the little glass bottle filled with the thick liquid which matched his eyes.

Then he got an idea. "I know what we can do." He said, making you look at him, giving him your full attention. "How about, we paint each other's nails, but with the color that matches our eyes?" he asked. "Oh! That sounds cool, we should." You said, you saw how Neteyam's eyes lid up by how you seemed to agree with his idea. "Let me go first so that you can see how you can paint mine." You told him, while you began to open the small bottle in your hand.

The whole time you while you painted his nails, you explained to him to try and stay in the nail. It was fine if he messed up a bit, since he's never really painted nails. Painting his nails was easy, since he's hand were as big as your head, if not bigger. His nails looked pretty, you honestly liked how the colors went with his skin tone. When it came to your nails, Neteyam slightly struggled because of how small the brush was, you offered your help to him. But he wanted to do it himself, after struggling a bit, he finally finished painting your nails. He did good. You liked how the yellow and green really went well and how it really did match his eyes. You couldn't help but bring your hand up near Neteyam's eyes.

"What are you doing?" He asked, curious on why you brought your hand near his face. "I just wanted to see how perfectly they match." You said, while looking at him in the eyes then your nails. He thought for a moment, then he also brought his hand up next to your face to see how his nails and eyes looked. He seemed to love the idea of having the color of your nails on his nails in some way. "We should do this more often." Neteyam said, breaking the small bit of silence. "We should, maybe next time we can do each other's favorite color?" You suggested. "Yeah, I like that." He answered, with a small smile.

"What's your favorite color by the way?" You asked him, genuinely curious. Neteyam then thought for a moment, as if he was trying to remember his favorite color. "I never really thought of it, but. I'd say, forest colors?" He said, almost confused and unsure. "Oh, so like shades of greens and browns?" you asked. "Yeah, with a bit of smoky purple and a dark dark and light turquoise." He added. "Oh, I can see that." You said, while analyzing his attire, seen how he wore the colors he claimed to like. "You want to know what my favorite color is?" You asked him, while he nodded in response. "Blue." You simply said, while looking at him with a tiny grin on your lips. It took him a moment to realize your response, when he finally got it after a minute. His face turned a bright purple and he began to giggle. "I also like purple." You added, making him cover his cover his mouth with his hand as he continued to giggle more.

[1-49]

hotter than your instincts

pairing: f!reader × chanyoung ⁝ tags: nighttime. trains. angst. lack of confidence. pining. jealous/obsessive tendencies. 1.3k

No matter how much you come to his mind, you aren’t his. Train in, train out... Night in, night out. The girl who rides the 10 p.m. train every day.

Concrete platforms, tiled walls, and lights that look like they could go out at any time add to the ominous atmosphere. Pretty much just lone winds blowing between entrances at these hours; hardly any trains. It is hard not to notice you in such brutality.

There is nothing more to explain his gradual transition from morning to evening swimming lessons than his intense desire to keep running into you. That he is taking such a big risk with his serious forte is absurd.

Tonight of all nights, he’s sitting the closest he has ever sat to you, so it seems as though he is most vulnerable to the ‘here we go agains’ and the ‘I won’t give into my own dreams & wishes,’ but he is unable to avoid them. From the other side of the bench, he can sense your breath and imagine your lips meeting his for that fleeting moment before ur head turns to divert attention to the train approaching from the far & opposite platform.

Save for a few shy smiles & acknowledgements of his presence, you never say anything to him. Your eyes never remain locked for longer than necessary, & ur hands never come into contact.

In actuality, though, Chanyoung doesn’t require much since he loves your silence. Seemingly mysterious & cool, but mostly, he loves the way your quietness sounds, just like his.

But then the ‘how could he ever possibly get to yous’ start to creep in, knowing full well that there’s always ‘that’ other guy on the other end of the line. The guy who’s waiting for you and to whom you belong. The guy who stays in your heart forever and always calls to check on you while you’re returning home. The guy who stays on the phone every night to hear about your joys and your sorrows equally.  Anton knows he can’t compete with that.

Watching the last trains of the day pass by while you two sit in silence is strangely soothing—that is, until you get that phone call.

Night in, night out. In those moments, all the subterranean beauty blurs, and his chest gets bruised. His most beautiful smile fades away, and he’s only left to wonder what it would have been like if you were his girlfriend.

Everything feels so empty and miserable when you’re on that nightly-clockwork call with him at 10:10 p.m. and Chanyoung is there, supposed to hold it through.

You’re the reason why he’s clenching his fist so hard inside his hoodie and his nails are digging into his flesh.

Given his adorable and compassionate nature, it’s difficult to envision him harboring negative thoughts. But there it is again, another glimpse of him beating his fist against a concrete wall, because how many phone calls from ‘him’ does Chanyoung really need to count to be certain he will never have a chance with you? 

That you cause his heart to race like a train, and his hands to shake, you will never know. And as he listens to your talk, it is as though he’s running off the tracks.

“Sorry, babe, think my phone’s dying.”

???? He finds it difficult to believe what you are saying, and it almost sounds like something out of his fantasies. A fantasy in which he’s strong enough to control the things that hurt his heart, but in actuality, he isn’t. 

However, you sigh visibly & end the call, looking at your phone’s screen and probably checking the battery... What if tonight is finally the night the universe is on his side?

Your eyes move from your phone to your feet, then to the empty train tunnel, and then to him. It’s unimaginable that you’re now considering him worthy of a cursory glance.

He looks down at his feet shyly, and his bangs start to slide more into his eyes as he fixes his gaze on the floor. If only he had more courage.

But as soon as you announce, “We’ve been taking the same train every day,” out of nowhere, his gaze lifts to meet you right away, and even if he’s surprised, his empathetic eyes stay glazed with hope.

With a smile on his face, he murmurs, “Yes,” the purest, softest ‘yes’ to ever be spoken.

That he likes to think you can love him all raw and exposed is foremost a dream. But a dream that becomes real as it’s written all over his face, and one that, had you not been so blindly in love, would have been so evident.

As he ponders whether to say anything at all or to stay silent, you smile at him.

And because of you, every butterfly he owns is now trying to pull away from his core. He finds himself wishing he had a plan on how to make his dream of you come true, but he is caught unprepared.

You randomly comment, “I like your shirt,” while pointing teasingly at the undershirt he is wearing. But seriously, who puts themselves on their shirt? 

From the tone in your voice, he believes if there had been another choice, you’d prefer his shirt off, not on. Still, it’s a moron nightmare!

“Oh, that...” Chanyoung remarks, along with a little, warm laugh that escapes his fragile, flustered lips as he zips up his hoodie, completely forgetting what his friends at the pool made him wear today after he lost a bet. At least he has your attention, even though the whole thing makes him look like a total fool.

“Cute,” you say as your thumbs poke through the holes in your knit sweater’s sleeve. “Not everyone has a high fashion sense,” you add in response, making another cuteful compliment.

Again, perhaps he’d have known how to react to that if he hadn’t been so bashful and innocent. Therefore, all he responds with is a smile.

The small talk quickly dies down as a result. A new silence descends.

The kind of quiet where your faint smile and your silence hang over him like an anchor, but instead of letting him drown, you ground him.

What if he is only good for this? Sitting on the other end of the bench and yearning for you silently? If he had no competition, though the situation would be ideal.

But this is beyond his control, isn’t it?

Your gaze darts to the departure board as you sort through your forgotten thoughts that never meet the tip of your tongue. The train seems to be running a little over two minutes late. Chanyoung gives you another shy glance through his bangs. And when you pull the raw skin off your lips, continuing the seconds and sucking nervous umm’s between your teeth, you cause his heart to twist between his ribs. You have no mercy!

The train you’re both riding on speeds through the tunnel at this same instant, making matters worse before he has a chance to say anything more—not that he believes he’d have anyway. The sound of thunder rumbles across the tracks, and he opens his mouth to scream, but nothing comes out...

Once more, the train entirely crashes into his dream... Blurry fragments scatter all around.

The train’s engine is huffing and the wheels are churning out a steady rhythm of his ‘please don’t leave me, please don’t leave me,’ as you say an unfazed, “Here he is,” as the train pulls into the platform. To believe you are selfish would be to underestimate his love & kindness for you.

It’s absolutely bizarre—the way, for yet another night in a row, he’s blaming the guy in your phone for everything and the fact that you two aren’t together. You have ruined him in every rational way. His sound ideas and beliefs have long been tainted. Between tenderness & love, the lust of all blurs the boundaries...

As you rise from the bench, the feeling of muscle memory coats him in your toxins—your sweet toxins—an odour he’s so fond of, so impossible to resist.

He is coaxed by you, for you—and despite his intense desire to be close to you, to be in your presence, to laugh and run through these platforms & eerie train halls holding your hand inside his, reality appears to be telling him something quite different. Something he is unwilling to hear, even though he knows it.

© 𝟭-𝟰𝟵. do not copy, translate, repost, and modify my works.

[filmbyjy]

MINESTREAM

SYPNOSIS > Wanting to start a new stream series with his best friends, Jay had a bright idea of playing some simple Minecraft with them. Everything was normal, until he realises there is another person in the call with them. He quickly learns that it was ni-ki’s older sister, (name). Watch how streaming a simple game of Minecraft can dig up some interesting feelings between the main leads.

FIFTEEN – that man is a f*cking simp

MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS | NEXT

a/n: i used papago for like the translation so please correct me if I’m wrong😭

with the night wind blowing at your hair as you walked around with jay, you can’t help but closed your eyes. it was a nice walk at night. you had spent the afternoon with him at the cafe and talked a lot about a bunch of things.

you found out he liked a bunch of older songs, especially rock songs. he played the guitar and was trying to play more often. you also learnt he was decently fluent in Japanese, which surprised you.

“you know Japanese?” you say a little in shock and awe.

“yeah, I learnt it so that I didn’t have to keep staring at the subtitle and just actually concentrate on the anime I was watching. took a long time though but it was worth it at the end. i’m still learning more phrases.”

“that’s so cool!”

“ありがとうございます (thank you).” jay replies.

“you sound like a local. i’m impressed. did riki ever accidentally speak to you in Japanese?”

“he did. maybe once or twice. i understood what he said so it was fine.”

“well, you sound natural. maybe even better than me in Japanese.” you say.

jay laughs. his laughter was truly adorable. you couldn’t help but melt at it. it made you realise that being alone with jay made you feel super comfortable. due to your past experiences with disgusting guys in japan. you couldn’t stay alone with any guy without feeling unsafe. that of course did not include ni-ki, he was your brother after all, and heeseung.

and now, currently after having a heartfelt conversation at the cafe for a long time, the sun had set. you and jay were walking around the park and towards the campus grounds. there was a cyclist coming closer to the both of you so jay grabs your hand and pulls you to the side so you wouldn’t crash into the cyclist.

“oh. thank you, I didn’t realise there was someone.” you say. jay snorts.

“maybe, you shouldn’t aimlessly walk with your eyes closed.” he squeezes your hand since he was still holding it.

“I was enjoying my peace. the night feels cool and nice so why not, you know? besides, it’s the weekends tomorrow. I just need a small breather before I have to go back to sitting in my bedroom and painting.”

jay hums. the both of you continued to walk with your hands intertwined. neither of you minded and really remembered that jay’s hand was still interlocked with yours. in fact, it actually felt comfortable like it was meant to be.

was this fate?

right as those 3 words popped into your thoughts, jay’s phone rings. he answered it with his other hand still walking with you hand in hand. you had kept quiet, just listening in to his conversation with whoever it was.

“I’m doing fine. mmm, I’ll try to visit you guys during summer break. no. I don’t have a girlfriend.” it caught your attention. you knew jay was a good looking guy, tons of girls would’ve loved to talk to him so why doesn’t he have a girlfriend.

“mom, I know you’re worried about me. I can handle it. I’m only 22 this year. yes, I’m doing well in college as per usual.” he chuckles slightly. “I don’t want to go on a blind date, mom. I want to find my own girlfriend. someone that understands me and likes what I do.”

his eyes met with yours as he finishes his words. your heart stops. you nearly had a heart attack because why would jay just stare at you as he finishes his sentence. what did that mean? there is no way he likes you…right? it was too early! he can’t like you that way.

jay finishes up his call with his mom. he places his phone back in his pocket and turns to face you. “so what are you thinking of doing during our summer break?”

“mmm, I’m not sure. I haven’t thought about it. probably more streaming.”

“do you wanna stream with me? I probably wouldn’t go out much during the break.”

“I thought you were going to visit your parents?”

“I am but we could stream together after I visit them.”

“you aren’t staying for a week?”

“my parents are usually busy, they travel around a lot so they’ll probably fly out a day or two after I visit them.” jay explains. you hummed.

“me and riki would would definitely be free.”

“perfect. I could ask the others if they’d like to play too.”

finally, you had arrived in front of your dorm’s apartment building. unfortunately, jay lets go of your hand. the warmth was all gone and you already missed it.

“rest well and don’t overdo yourself. I know it’s tempting for you to just continue doing your artwork but you need to rest.”

“yes, jay. I know. I won’t overdo myself.”

“that’s my good girl.” he ruffles your hair. “well, I have to go. the boys probably would expect me to come back soon. they can’t survive without me. the dorm would’ve burnt down by now.” jay jokes.

you laughed, “alright. before you go, can I ask you something?”

“sure.”

“can we stream tomorrow?”

“of course.”

you had stepped forward and quickly left a peck on jay’s cheek before bolting in to your apartment building. jay holds the cheek that you had left a kiss on as he watches your figure growing smaller. a stupid smile adorning his face, he was smitten.

you had opened your front door after taking an elevator up to the floor. it slams shut as you entered it and laid your back against it. your heart racing quickly, the heat flaming against your cheeks.

“oneechan, what are you doing?” ni-ki appears at the hallway, his eyebrow raised as he looks at you in question.

“oh my god, I- riki, why are you walking so softly. when did you stand there?” you say as you were flustered.

“I was about to walk to the kitchen but I heard the front door slam. what happened?”

“nothing. just went out.”

“was there another stalker?” his voice sounding a little serious.

“oh, no no. no stalker, just umm i saw a flying cockroach outside.” you lied. the worry in ni-ki’s eyes dissipated, it was quickly replaced with fear.

“we really have to move. oneechan, I’m going to find us an apartment that’s better than here and is equally as near to school.”

“umm, we don’t have to.”

“I don’t care, I’m paying for the rent. you don’t need to worry.”

“riki!”

“consider this as a big early birthday present.” ni-ki skips over to you and pecks your cheek. “only the best for you big sis!”

you had to tiptoe to pat his head, “you have to stop spending money on me, riki. I can buy things on my own.”

“not until you get that streamer money.”

“well, can you really blame me for joining an art course because it’s my passion?”

“not at all, oneechan! you just have to not feel bad every time me and yvette noona want to pay something for you.”

“but I’ll owe you guys.” you pout.

“shhhh.” ni-ki grabs you and pushes you towards your bedroom door. “you don’t have to feel bad, I’ll do anything for you and any one of my friends! trust me, I’ll even ask sunoo hyung for house hunting advice.”

“is he even a reliable source-” ni-ki stops pushing you to your bedroom when you reach the middle of your room.

“he is a very reliable source. now, get some rest! I’ll find a house by the morning and then confirm stuff by next week. we’ll be in a new apartment in two weeks time.” ni-ki blows a kiss to you and shuts the door.

you sighed. ni-ki was an amazing younger brother and you love him to the moon and back. he’s a one of a kind brother, anyone would want him. however, you felt so burdened by the fact that you felt like you owe something to him. you knew he didn’t care if you paid back or not and he always treats you. it’s just the guilt creeping up on you.

you looked down at your phone and glanced at the lockscreen, it was a baby photo of ni-ki. everything you did was for him. your parents could always trust you with ni-ki and vice versa. with them running a company back in Japan, it was hard for them to come home. hence, you had to grow up for ni-ki. of course, your parents were grateful. they always brought both you and ni-ki out as a little treat. it wasn’t a surprise when ni-ki wanted to fly out to Seoul with you to go college. he’s a constant in your life and your parents knew that. hence, they didn’t say no to ni-ki and allowed him to take the same flight as you.

you had taken a shower quickly and changed into your pyjamas before deciding that you had to sleep. you had to continue up painting before streaming again tomorrow. just as you dried your hair and then threw yourself on the bed, you can’t help but remember what you did when you came home. you hid your face behind the pillows.

as for jay…

he was busy giggling and kicking his feet in his bedroom. jake and sunghoon were confused as to why jay was just mindlessly walking to his bedroom and then they heard a ‘girlish’ giggle from jay’s room. both jake and sunghoon looked at each other in shock.

“he’s gone insane.” sunghoon says. jake nods.

“didn’t he go out with (name) just now?” jake asks.

slowly the put the pieces together, sunghoon’s eyes widened. “we’ve truly lost him.”

“that man is a fucking simp.” both sunghoon and jake say at the same time.

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[iraprince]

i have what is probably a really obscure question - back in the day when 8tracks was a thing, there was a sweat (acid soup) mix that i THINK you made + posted, with a cover of LOVEFOOL. i'm trying to find that particular cover of LOVEFOOL. do you know which it was?

okay so this has driven me CRAZY bc i REMEMBER what ur talking about, but i cannot find it at all. i tried to do some basic sleuthing, like poking around searching at my twitter and stuff, but all i find from then is 1. scattered evidence of a few ppl being like "ira what the hell is this demonic cover of lovefool" and 2. me gloating about how i only found said demonic cover of lovefool through like a 45 minute google rabbit hole. not helpful, past ira. also, i must have downloaded it at some point to upload it to 8tracks, but that would have been like, two laptops ago and there's no way i can dig up the file.

anyway i got a bit closer by digging a little more -- i have this kind of hazy memory of literally just typing in something like "cool lovefool cover" and trawling list articles, and when i tried to recreate it i found this meanspirited little vice piece with a description that i am like, 99.9999% SURE IS REFERENCING THE VERSION WE'RE TALKING ABOUT!!!!! ...but unfortunately bc it's from 2012, all the embeds are gone/broken (and as far as i can tell there's no remnants of links even when i inspect the page, tho i'm not very tech literate when it comes to stuff like this so maybe i'm missing something):

and as we can see here, even back then, if this was the cover we're thinking of, it wasn't attributed or traceable. but we do glean a LITTLE info from this: "under six minutes" means it was five and change, and it must have been uploaded to soundcloud at least 11 years ago.

i tried trawling thru soundcloud w those parameters in mind but couldn't find it... unfortunately i think there's a high chance the original account that uploaded it doesn't exist anymore. (i may have missed something, like maybe a different account has re-uploaded it and i scrolled past it bc i was looking at upload date, but expanding the search to any year is something i don't have the bandwidth for rn!!)

this might be a workable amount of info to at least go to reddit or something with? i feel like there must be at least one subreddit that's specifically dedicated to "help me find this obscure soundcloud remix that got deleted." but for now i'm afraid i must admit defeat, which sucks bc now that you've reminded me of it *i* really wanna listen to the decade-old demonic cover of lovefool too :')

[riality-check]

Steddie with "Is this okay?" or "I saved you a seat." for the i love you without saying it thingy, please...if you're still doing it. :)

I'm super late on this, but here we go, anon! Is this okay? was done here, so I'm doing I saved you a seat.

"In the back, Henderson," Steve calls.

Dustin kind of hates that Steve isn't a loser anymore. He's back to his cool self, which means he's wearing sunglasses and doesn't look away from the road as he talks to Dustin.

He sputters. "Why? I get shotgun!"

"You get shotgun unless we're picking up Max."

"Are we picking up Max?"

"No," Steve says, finally turning to look at Dustin over the frames of his sunglasses.

Dustin wants to break them, but if he does that, Steve will probably stop driving him around.

He kind of needs Steve to keep driving him around. His mom is busy, and God knows Mr. Wheeler won't do it anymore.

"Get in the back or don't get in at all," Steve says.

Dustin rolls his eyes and gets in the back of the Beemer. Steve doesn't even ask if he's good to go before he pulls away from his house and down the street.

He doesn't usually, but a little warning would have been nice.

"I thought we were going to the arcade," he says.

"We are."

"No, we're going in the wrong direction."

In the rearview mirror, Dustin can see Steve sigh so heavily his shoulders move.

And he says Dustin is dramatic.

Steve flips his sunglasses onto his head, pushing his hair back, when they get to shadier streets. "I'm doing someone a favor, then I'm dropping you at the arcade to hang out with your friends. That okay?"

Dustin isn't really listening, not as Steve turns the car into Forest Hills. "I thought you said we weren't picking up Max."

"We're not."

"I know you're not very verbose, but could you give me answers that are more than two words?" Dustin snaps.

Steve parks the Beemer in front of Eddie's trailer and turns back to face Dustin. "Is this answer enough?"

He beeps the horn, and thirty seconds later, the front door slams open. Eddie nearly trips right out of it, all black-clothed, gangly limbs, enough metal on his outfit for Dustin to hear him jangling before he even gets in the Beemer.

"Saved you a seat," Steve says as Eddie opens the passenger seat door.

It takes Dustin a full ten seconds to realize that the smile Steve has on his face is the same one he'd use on girls at Scoops.

Wait.

"Thanks, Stevie," Eddie says, words as rushed as he seems to be. "I don't know when my van is going to get out of the shop, and Wayne needs the truck-"

"It's no problem," Steve says.

Stevie?

Dustin, for once, is speechless. The way Steve drives with one hand as Eddie takes his other one and starts toying with it has something to do with it.

When his mouth can finally catch up to his brain, he asks, "How long have you two been dating?"

"What?" they say.

Eddie drops Steve's hand like it's burning him, and Steve nearly brake-checks them in the middle of Main Street.

"We're not-"

"Why did you-"

"He doesn't-"

"I-"

"Arcade, Henderson!" Steve yells, cutting off the conversation completely. "Get out, have fun with whatever quarters your mom gave you, get a ride with someone who isn't me, thanks!"

"You aren't-"

"Get out or I will keep driving this car with you in it," Steve warns.

Eddie stares, dumbfounded, between Dustin and Steve. His eyes move like he's watching a tennis match.

"Okay," Dustin says, throwing his hands up. He gets out of the car, and not five seconds after he shuts the door, Eddie and Steve start talking.

Loudly.

He'd stay, but he's already late.

He goes into the arcade, straight to the Dig Dug machine where the rest of the party is waiting.

"Dustin, where were you?"

"Did you guys also think Steve and Eddie were dating, or was that just me?"

Max looks away from the machine, causing her to die in the game. "They're not?"

"Apparently."

"When did you find that out?" Lucas asks, looking a little distracted.

"About a minute ago."

"I think things might have changed since then," Lucas says, pointing to the window.

All of them rush to it and look outside. The Beemer is still in the parking lot. Eddie and Steve are still in it, and they're-

"Oh, God, no."

"This is like watching my parents kiss."

"Why Steve?" Mike moans, letting his head drop against the windowpane again and again. "Why did he have to pick Steve? I thought Eddie was better than this."

"It's kind of sweet."

They stare in silence. It's like a car wreck. It's impossible to look away.

Max shakes her head. "You guys made me waste a quarter on Dig Dug. I'm going back to playing."

"Hey, wait up!"

The rest of them rush back. Dustin is the last to look away.

And he laments the fact that he's never riding shotgun again.

Prompts here.

[cxsmicbaby]

something nice - 1

CHAPTER ONE OF A SERIES 

pairing : miguel o’hara x fem!reader

word count: 4.1k

warnings : smut at the end! cursing throughout. enjoy :)

you and hobie play a prank. miguel doesn’t like it, but he can never stay mad at you. 

                                                      𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪

“And then... my uncle died.” 

“Mmhm.” The smell of hot coffee grows stronger. It’s mere inches away.. I just have to suffer through this for a moment longer. 

“And I realized. I’m not even real! I’m just a clone of the real Peter. And that totally destroyed me.”

“Oh wow,” I say, nodding. Ben, or Scarlet Spider, continues to go on about his tragic backstory, somehow still managing to flex his biceps as he begins to well up in tears. 

Finally, the spider in front of me finishes filling their mug and it’s my turn. God, if I had to stand in line with this melodramatic asshole for a second longer I think I would’ve tried to cut my own ears off. He’s still talking as I fill my cup with coffee, but this time I’m not listening. It’s probably some variation of the same things I’ve been through, anyhow. I wonder how Miguel is able to sit through thousands and thousands of these things whenever he recruits a new spider. He’s not a very patient guy. 

Miguel. He walks through the lobby at 5:30am, every morning. I woke up early today so that I would run into him. Not like I said anything to him; I walked past him, smiling, and he just grunted. Just about what I expected. But I still woke up early to see him. I feel a little stupid thinking about it. I’ll probably do it again tomorrow. 

“Yeah, Ben, that really sucks. Maybe you should see a therapist.” I turn and give him a pat on the shoulder, smiling as genuinely as I can. He nods, and wipes his teary eyes. This guy cries way too easily. 

I swing off into the main lobby. Thank god, I can be free. I don’t know what the plan is today, but I’m always up for an adventure. 

“Oi!” I hear, and behind me Hobie is swinging forward, his mask already on. That must mean there’s something happening. Regardless, I’m always happy to see him. He’s probably the only person I really talk to here; other than Miguel. 

“Hey! Got anything for me?” I ask, as we land on a free platform. Hobie pauses for a moment before he starts digging around in his pockets, and pulls out a bag of my favorite snack from his universe; unfortunately, it doesn’t exist anywhere else, so I depend on this not-so-dependable guy to bring them for me. 5/10 times he actually remembers it. 

“What’s with the drink? I thought you hated coffee,” he asks, plopping himself down on the edge of the platform. I do the same, and we watch as the spiders swing and climb all over the place, like a jungle gym. Every time I take a step back from this whole thing like this, it always amazes me. Just a few weeks ago, I was stuck in a universe where I was the only one, and now I’m in a place where everyone is just as corny as me. It’s lovely. 

“I do,” I start, taking a sip of it. I fight the way my lips threaten to purse in disgust. “I needed a pick me up.”

“Ah.” Hobie pulls at a loose thread of his shirt and smiles deviously. “Up all night thinking about Miguel, huh?” 

Hobie is far too observant for my liking. There’s nothing that gets past him, which is great for combat, but not great for me. 

I swallow hard, and shake my head. “No. And you should stop saying shit like that! What if someone overhears? They’ll think something weird is going on.”

“Like?” Here we go. 

“Like. They’ll think I’m in love with him or something. We’re just friends. He’s cool. I’m cool. Everything’s cool.” I sound like an idiot, and I know Hobie thinks the same when I hear him laugh. It’s like I’m a fucking teenager again, gossiping about my crush in the locker-room. I hated high school. 

“Cool, cool. Everything’s cool,” he teases, mocking me. 

We’re both quiet, basking for a moment in the odd sort of peace that comes out of this chaotic place. 

Hobie snickers softly, shaking his head at something that he’s thought of. “Heard some of the others talking bout how Miguel’s pickin’ favorites. Guess who’s the favorite?”

I sigh, and down the rest of the disgusting black liquid. “Whatever. I’m not his, uh. His favorite. He talks down to me like all the rest.” 

Hobie is quiet. That’s rare. When I look over at him he’s just staring down, a weird sort of smile still on his face. His fingers are drumming against the platform. 

“Hey, what’re we gonna do today? Please say you’ve got something fun.” 

That seems to get him, because his head perks up and that teasing expression is replaced by one of excitement. Thank god. If I had to talk about Miguel for another second it would not have ended well—I tend to get a little loose with the things I say the longer I’m forced to talk about them. 

“Something fun, eh? I’ve got something fun. But only if you’re up for it.” 

I smile. “You know I am.” 

Compared to a lot of the others, I’ve been here for a very short time. Still, I’ve learned the ins and outs, the dos and the don’ts. Like, do listen to what the higher ups (and Lyla) say. Don’t make fun of Miguel’s tediously slow entrance on that weird platform thing. Do make friends. Don’t be an ass. And for god’s sake, do not pull any pranks. 

The thing about spider people; we tend not to really listen to rules. 

Hobie and I are perched on a bar above the lobby. We’re trying to figure out the best way to go about things. Me, I think he should take charge, but he seems to think nobody really likes him, so they won’t listen. He thinks they’ll all fall in line with my beguiling feminine charms and do whatever I say. I think that sounds like bullshit, but I don’t really wanna do the other thing, so I agree to it. 

I drop down smack in the middle of a group of spider-people in a conversation. Immediately, I put on the most panicked expression I can muster and start running around frantically. 

“Jessica’s gone into labor! I repeat, Jessica is giving birth at this moment! Help her get back home so she can go to a hospital... or something!” I shout, trying to get as much attention as I possibly can. Of course, everyone loves Jessica, so everyone starts rushing to her aid. None of them actually know where she is, but they just launch into help-mode, as Spiderman does. Soon, the lobby is basically empty. Sometimes, I think about how gullible I must be if I’m really just a variation of this same person. 

“Coast’s clear,” Hobie calls, dropping down from above. “We don’t have a lotta time, gotta make this quick.” 

I frown. “We? But you said all I had to do was get them out!” 

“Yeah, that was a lie.” Hobie shrugs and tosses me a spray can. “Now, you gonna help or not?” 

The idea of getting caught spraying painting the building Miguel has built specifically for us makes me queasy. The idea of being caught doing anything that would make him upset makes me queasy. But if I back out now, then I just made a fool of myself for no reason. I don’t mind looking stupid, but it’s gotta be for a reason. 

I sigh, and reach up to tug my mask over my face in case someone realizes that Jessica is not even here right now, and decides to come back. I mean, not like I would really be hiding much, considering everyone knows what my suit looks like, but there’s no harm in it. 

The moment I pull it down, the room is doused in red light and an alarm starts blaring. Fuck. 

“You gotta be fuckin’ kidding me, mate,” Hobie groans, tossing his head back in frustration. “That old man did not just sound the alarm ‘cause we’re pulling a goddamn prank. Might as well do as much as we can before the rest of ‘em come back.” 

That does not sound like a good idea. If Miguel is angry enough to turn on the alarm that signifies intruders, he will definitely not like us continuing in spite of his obvious warning. But Hobie’s already swinging up, spraying bright purple in a strangely elegant ribbon across the walls. I start to hear footsteps, but they’re far enough away that I think I have some time. So, despite my better judgement, I follow Hobie, tagging wherever he’s painted with a green design of my own. Gotta admit, it looks pretty dope. That assuages my fears somewhat and I find myself letting go a little, whooping in excitement as I swing around the lobby. 

Then, I hear it again. Footsteps, but I know these very specific footsteps. Heavy, fast, angry. My stomach drops and I land, turning to Hobie to see he’s still painting away. He probably hears it too, he just doesn’t care. I wish I could be as carefree as him. Especially when it came to this sort of thing. 

But I can’t. In fact, once Miguel actually appears in the room, hair slightly disheveled, face twisted up in an almost scary amount of anger, I freeze in place. God, he’s fucking fuming. His eyes sweep the room like we just painted Miguel Sux! in somebody’s blood. And then his gaze lands on me, and I feel myself shiver; in fear, in anticipation, in... something else. 

“What the fuck are you doing?!” Miguel bellows, and that catches Hobie’s attention. Before he can say anything else, the flake is gone. Typical Hobie. Saving his own ass. I can’t even really be mad at him, because if it weren’t for the annoying way my feet were sticking to the ground I would’ve done the same. 

The alarm shuts off, and the room goes deadly quiet. I’m still staring at him as he approaches me, his chest heaving as he takes deep breaths, probably trying to calm himself down. He needs to see a therapist, I think, but don’t have time to even smile at my own quip before he’s looming right above me. 

“Do you get joy out of causing this type of shit? Out of wasting everyone’s time?” Miguel spits, and I know I’m supposed to be hurt by what he’s saying, but god if I don’t wanna just pounce at him right here, right now. 

So I keep my mouth shut. He doesn’t seem to like that. His fists are clenched tight at his sides as he studies me. 

“You know, if I knew you were gonna be such a fucking nuisance, I would never have brought you here.”

Ouch. That one sort of hurts, so I take off my mask and I look up at him, trying to keep my composure. I frown. “It was just some harmless fun, Miguel. No need to get so mean about it.” 

That was not the right thing to say, apparently, because his eyebrows furrow even deeper. Before he can open his mouth to say something that will probably make me cry, I force a smile and swing up to the wall. 

“And it looks great! Don’t you think this place is too... I don’t know. Sterile? Everyone’s gonna love it.” I hope he can’t hear the way my voice is trembling. When I hear my words echo back to me, I’m relieved to find that I sound quite confident. I’ve always been good at that, faking like I know what I’m doing. I think that’s a Spider-man thing. 

Miguel doesn’t speak. He crosses his arms over his chest and inhales deeply, hanging his head. 

“You are going to clean this shit up. Understood? And when I find that little shit Hobie, I’m gonna tell him the same thing.” 

I think that’s the closest I’ll get to him saying he isn’t really that mad about it, and that’s good enough for me. I swing back down to stand in front of him, and this time when I smile, it’s real. 

“Are you sure? I’m telling you, it looks super—”

Miguel’s eyes narrow and I feel my stomach twist. “Don’t test me.” 

I straighten up and salute him, fighting the urge to run as Miguel’s eyes burn into mine. “Yes, sir!” 

I swear to god, he almost smiles, before he just shakes his head. 

“Don’t do shit like this again. I won’t go so easy on you next time.” 

                                                       𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪

“You don’t let yourself have anything, do you?” 

Miguel pauses. He finds himself looking up at you, despite the desire to remain stoic and focused and uninterested. It’s always hard to do that, with you. 

“What?” he says, his voice slightly biting. He means it to be. He wants to scare you away so you will leave him alone, finally. It’s been mere weeks since you joined them, and in those weeks, you have made it your mission to annoy him more than anyone ever has in his life. It’s like you live to bother him. He should hate it more than he does. 

He should hate your stupid fucking pranks and your dumb, unfunny jokes. But he doesn’t. He knew it was you today, even before he got to the lobby, but for some reason he wasn’t that mad. And then the fact that he wasn’t mad about it made him mad about it, and he was mean to you. He wants to apologize, but that’s not like him. Everything he does or feels when it comes to you is a contradiction to the person he has built himself up as. The whole thing is just so muddled up he’d rather ignore it. 

You sit on a metal box to his left, swinging your legs back and forth as you scrutinize him. Miguel doesn’t like how you always have this knowing look on your face, like you’re waiting for him to discover something you’ve already found out. Frankly, all the Spider-people have that sort of glint in their eyes, but with you it’s different. He bites the inside of his cheek and forces himself not to look away. 

“I mean, you don’t let yourself have anything nice, or fun. The closest you get to letting yourself feel happiness is those empanadas you make me bring you.” 

You smile at him, and he thinks to himself that he wishes you would do it more, but the moment the thought passes he stamps it out with a frown. 

“And even then, you always scowl when you eat them.” You cancel out his grimace with a little laugh that makes Miguel fucking furious.

“You know, it’s not in your best interest to keep talking about this. If causing a useless ruckus is fun to you, then yeah, I don’t fucking do that.” He practically spits it, and swivels his head to focus again on his work. He doesn’t know if he wants you to apologize or if he wants you to just go. Apologize? He’s kidding himself. You would never. 

He can’t help but listen carefully for your movements, wanting to hear if you’ll leave or not. But he hears nothing, and he turns again to see you just sitting there, swinging your feet. Still smiling. 

“What are you still doing here? Don’t you have shit to do?” Miguel asks, narrowing his eyes at you. He notices that his tone lacks the sting he meant it to deliver and chooses to ignore it. 

You boost yourself up from the box and stand. “Not really. Can’t I just stay? I won’t make any noise, promise.” 

Miguel frowns deeply. “That’s impossible.” But he doesn’t tell you to leave. 

You sigh, your body swaying side to side. Miguel thinks its a subconscious thing you do when you’re standing; most people would just be still, but he’s noticed that you cannot possibly remain perfectly in place for more than a few seconds. 

“Yeah, whatever. I’m gonna get some sleep. You should too.” You send him a small wink and turn, walking off toward the exit. You stop briefly, turning to face him with an expression he can’t quite read.

“And, uh. Sorry about today,” you call, and he says nothing. You turn again and he watches you leave. 

Everything has changed since you showed up, and if anything can be taken from his obsession with anomalies, it’s that Miguel hates change. Especially when it seems like there isn’t much changing for anyone but himself. 

It was him that found you. He went on a mission to a universe he had not yet traveled; a rare occasion, because it wasn’t to destroy an anomaly, but because something was telling him to go. It wasn’t like a voice, or even a sense. More like a feeling. There was something there for him to discover and so he went without saying anything, hoping he’d be back before anyone noticed. 

Miguel found you on the roof of a museum. You were sitting on the edge, swinging your feet back and forth, just staring into the streets. You had your mask off, which he remembered thinking was incredibly stupid, seeing as it was still light out. Your suit was nothing to gawk at, nothing too different than the hundreds of others he had seen, but for some reason he knew it was you he was supposed to find. You, he had been called to. For what, he didn’t know.  

You noticed him before he intended you to. When you saw him, you didn’t look shocked, or scared; you looked happy. No one had been happy to see him in a long time. 

“How long you been standing there?” you asked, turning your body to face him. You crossed your legs and watched him approach, staring up at him like he was someone you knew, someone you had been waiting for. 

Miguel was quiet. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say. 

“You know, one of us is gonna have to change.” And you laughed hard at your own dumb joke. Your laugh made him uncomfortable, how truly happy it sounded, how real it felt. You seemed like you hadn’t yet experienced the tragic things that came with being a Spiderman. You seemed innocent. Like you needed to be protected. 

And by god, you were beautiful. The suit didn’t leave much to the imagination. 

The thought startled him and he stayed quiet.  

“Your suit is super cool. Kinda cyberpunk.” You stood and you watched him carefully, walking slowly around him in a circle. Miguel’s eyes followed you, his body on guard as if you were going to suddenly lunge at him. 

“Why aren’t you... surprised?” Miguel finally said, his tone accusatory. But you didn’t seem to notice, and if you did you didn’t mind. You stopped in front of him and stuck your hand out, inviting him to shake it. 

“Welcome to Earth-72, Miguel. I’ve been waiting for you.” 

And that’s how he found out about a Dr. Strange, and how you knew about Miguel already; in fact, you were expecting him. The idea made him irrationally angry. Someone like you, obviously flippant and probably reckless, with knowledge about something as dangerous as the multiverse? You were most likely new to your abilities, to the mask. You were too naive and carefree not to be. 

But Miguel was wrong. You had long been bitten, lost your uncle, your sister, your best friend. You just seemed to lack that bitterness that he saw in the others, in himself. You were happy. 

Like most things, that also made Miguel angry. 

You begged him to let you join the Spider Society. You said you had known about it for a while, and you dreamed of being apart of it, of something bigger than yourself. Your words exactly. He was slightly impressed by that, but didn’t show it. In fact, Miguel wanted deeply to say no. But he didn’t, for reasons he’s not quite sure of himself, and that’s how he ended up with a permanent, relentless distraction. He was starting to wish he never brought you back in the first place. 

If you were more like him, he thinks, he probably wouldn��t have this problem. But you’re not. You’re almost the exact opposite. It drives him fucking crazy.

Miguel shook his head, grunting in frustration at his own inability to focus. It seemed even when you weren’t there, he was plagued by the thought of you. 

And think about you he did, for hours on end, sometimes. When he would lie awake in bed, his body aching from the strains of the day. He wouldn’t be able to close his eyes, because the image of you was always waiting for him. Smiling, laughing. Looking up at him with those eyes of yours. He would find himself imagining what it felt like to be close to you. Your skin would be soft, he knew. Your lips would be softer. Your hands, calloused by years of fighting, swinging, winning, losing. How they’d touch him. How they’d hold him. 

How he would touch you. Make you feel good. Make you think about him, just like he thought about you. Make you want him. 

Miguel always lost himself in thoughts like that, and he was usually able to bring himself back to reality. When he got back to his room that night, though, he felt as though he couldn’t push it down. He didn’t let himself have anything nice. And god, did he want something nice. 

The water ran over his taut back, soaking his hair and running down his cheekbones. One hand, splayed against the tile wall, and the other by his side, just inches away from an itch he is fighting not to scratch. His cock is aching. He swears he can see it pulse with every second that passes, every drop of water that lands on his shaft, veins prominent and throbbing. 

Miguel imagines that you’re there with him. That you stand in front of him, and that instead of the wall it’s you he’s touching, your skin slick with water and sweat. That your hands are on his chest, your nails scratching him just the slightest bit, and god, those eyes, staring into his like he’s the only thing that has or ever will matter to you. 

When he finally wraps his hand around his cock, it takes his breath away. 

“Jesus,” he whispers, slowly stroking himself, gripping so tight he’s sure his fingertips are white. It’s not enough. 

Miguel closes his eyes, and immediately he pictures you. He feels almost guilty to think of you this way, on your knees, with your lips wrapped around his dick. But he can’t stop. His breathing grows heavier as he imagines you taking him deep into your throat, gagging on him, your nose brushing against his pelvis. He thinks about what he’d say to you. How he’d tell you how good you were doing, how perfect you were. He grips himself impossibly harder and is unable to stop himself from relentlessly jerking his cock, his hand pushing so hard against the wall he’s afraid it’ll crack. 

“Fuck,” he groans, his voice breathy and deep. More water drips onto his shaft and immediately he thrusts desperately into his own grip, envisioning that it’s you, spitting on him before you take him in your hand, running your tongue over his tip, looking up at him. 

He thinks about what you’d say to him. He knows he would be too big for you. But you’d try to take him all, because that’s what you do. He’s sure your hand wouldn’t even wrap around his entire length. And you would tell him how big he was, how beautiful you thought he was. You’d probably tease him too, about how quickly he’d been reduced to a mess, how eager he was. He’s surprised at how close that thought brings him, and he has to bite his lip to keep from letting out a shameful moan. 

When Miguel comes, he says your name. It’s not loud; it’s more like a plea, a prayer. His body caves in on itself and he shudders with the force of it, his legs trembling ever so slightly as he tries to bring himself back to reality. He stands there for a moment, trying to catch his breath, feeling a little ashamed at how quickly he finished. He hasn’t had the time to do anything like that in so, so long. He hasn’t let himself. 

He washes himself off and gets out of the shower. 

When Miguel lies in bed, he’s haunted by the thought of having to see you tomorrow, knowing what he’s done. And then he grows angry. You did this to him. And you’re not even trying; you’re just there. What a nuisance you are. 

He tries to close his eyes, but he finds himself plagued by you still. 

                                                      𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪

CHAPTER TWO

[maxknightley]

hey man listen, im sure you just didnt know because hes just a funny haha tweets guy but dril is literally an outspoken nazi on twitter and has made mulitple tweets with nazi dogwhistles and literally responded to someone going "its not a joke, i fucking hate jews". like theres screenshots and posts and stuff about it out there and im sure you could dig through his twit. none of my posts about this ever get picked up because no one wants to admit the internet funnyman is a bad guy but hes like. a literal actual nazi. take that as you will

disclaimer for my followers: do not start shit with this person. I swear to fucking god. be cool.

not to be rude but I looked this up:

on twitter's website, where I found nothing;

on twitter's mobile app, where I also found nothing;

on DuckDuckGo, where I found nothing except the "(((keebler elves)))" tweet, which I think you could reasonably argue was in poor taste but hardly seems like a sincere endorsement of fascist beliefs;

and on Google, where I again found nothing except the "(((keebler elves)))" tweet and people talking about the keebler elves tweet

so, like, with all due respect I think you're either misremembering something / conflating him with someone else, or someone is fucking with you. I'm genuinely not sure what else this could be referring to, other than his recent slew of tweets mocking the nation-state of Israel, which - speaking as an antizionist Jew - I think are good and funny

the main reason I'm posting a response to this ask at all is because I get asks like this a lot. like, every couple months at this point. but usually they're not about dril, who 1. barely uses this website and barely ever has, and 2. has bigger things to worry about! usually they're about Some Trans Woman who I may never have even fucking heard of. I've gotten asks calling latina trans women "white" and accusing them of being turbo-racist because they Disagreed With Someone One Time. I've gotten asks trying to convince me that a woman I've never spoken to is a sexual predator based on literally zero evidence of any kind. and it gets fucking tiresome. okay? it's really, really fucking tiresome

so I figure I'll post this one because it's illustrative, and because it won't stir up shit around someone who might actually get hurt by it. please stop doing this. please stop sending me completely unsupported asks about how such-and-such is a terrible person.

at the bare fucking minimum send me actual concrete Posts that I can look at, because then I can actually judge for myself whether it's something worth getting upset about. otherwise there's basically a 10% chance I look into it, find nothing tangible, and shrug, and a 90% chance it goes straight into the trash.

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

Hey, I'm feeling very awkward about this but I love love lovee your writing so here are the fics I'm looking forward to the most:

🧜🏼‍♂️🧜🏼‍♂️🧜🏼‍♂️🧜🏼‍♂️🧜🏼‍♂️🧜🏼‍♂️🧜🏼‍♂️🧜🏼‍♂️🧜🏼‍♂️🧜🏼‍♂️🧜🏼‍♂️🧜🏼‍♂️🧜🏼‍♂️🧜🏼‍♂️🧜🏼‍♂️🧜🏼‍♂️

⛅⛅⛅⛅⛅⛅⛅⛅⛅⛅⛅⛅⛅⛅⛅⛅

🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼

(i know I've put too many of each but i kind of lost track)

Thank you so much! Take care.

Omg you DO NOT need to feel awkward! I love getting these and am so happy to receive them, so please! Also, THANK YOU! You are so kind!

48 for 🧜🏼‍♂️

---

“I’m Buck. Your dad’s friend from work.”

“Dad, you have friends?” Chris asks, not trying to be cutting, but just being blunt the way kids do. 

“Hey!” Eddie complains as Buck laughs. 

“Oh, yeah,” Buck says. “Your dad is super cool, Chris.”

Chris laughs. “Okay. I believe you.”

He believes him? Fine. Whatever. But then Eddie realizes, of course Chris is surprised. Eddie usually avoids bringing people around who aren’t family. Tries to keep his personal life separate from work. Yeah. It must seem to Chris like Eddie doesn’t have friends. And, honestly? Since leaving El Paso the way he did, he doesn’t. Except, now, for Buck. 

That friendship just sort of escalates after that night. Completely organically. Buck’s desire to help provides Eddie with a sort of relief he’s never really had before. Never really thought he could have. Someone trying to support him with no judgement, no ulterior motive. No suggestion he’s not cut out to raise Chris alone. He’s there with Eddie when Abuela breaks her hip. He’s there with Eddie when Eddie doesn’t have childcare for a shift, arranging with Bobby for Chris to come to the station. He helps connect Eddie with resources Eddie needs in the form of Carla, someone he met through an old friend, apparently. He’s kind of a godsend. And Eddie doesn’t know what to do with that. 

Eddie tries to give back as much as he’s getting, but it’s sort of hard. If there’s something Buck needs help with, he doesn’t seem to show it as much. With the exception of helping his sister move into a new apartment. Which seems like a small thing in comparison. Eddie is strong. He can lift some boxes and a couch no problem. It still doesn’t feel the same. 

What Eddie thinks he might be able to do, though, if he’s right about Buck, is maybe be someone who can uniquely understand him. That’s something valuable. Something special. Maybe even something Eddie himself craves pretty frequently. So over the course of those first few months of getting to know Buck, he tries to dig for information. Just subtly. He needs confirmation of his suspicions before he can reveal himself in turn. 

---

48 for ⛅

---

Christopher doesn’t look convinced. He takes a moment to think. Buck holds his breath. 

“What’s Nico’s birthday?” Chris asks after a beat. 

Fuck. 

Buck looks at Eddie for help. But why would Eddie know any better than him? Neither of them knows the answer to that. 

“Oh my god,” Chris accuses. “You don’t know.”

“Listen,” Eddie pleads. “Chris…”

“It’s June 15th,” Chris interrupts him. “Right before yours, Buck. How don’t you know that?”

All Buck can do is shoot Eddie a little frustrated glare. 

“I warned you this might happen.”

“Okay,” Eddie hisses back. “I didn’t think it through! You were right!”

“Tell me the truth,” Chris says. “Seriously. What the hell is going on?”

Neither Buck or Eddie says anything for a second. 

“Alright,” Chris says lowly. “I’m calling Bobby.” 

“No!” Buck more or less yelps. “Don’t-don’t do that. Okay? It’s okay, alright. We just… We woke up here, and-and we don’t know what’s going on, but-”

“Buck!” Eddie cuts him off. “He doesn’t need to worry about this!”

“He already is!” Buck protests. “He’s clearly already freaked out!”

Eddie looks betrayed. Like genuinely hurt that Buck would tell the truth. Buck doesn’t understand why. Why would he want Buck to lie to Christopher? Especially an adult Christopher who can presumably handle the truth. 

---

48 for 🔼

---

Jane is born nearly two weeks early, in the middle of the month. December 16th. Which is probably a more convenient birthday than her actual due date, but nevertheless, Shannon isn’t expecting it. 

She’s at Eddie’s house, with Maddie and Christopher. She and Eddie have been slowly moving her into his house in preparation for the baby. The plan is that she’ll stay there for a few months, so Eddie can be around to help. Her apartment is too small for the four of them, so this is the best solution. 

So Maddie is over, helping her set up some baby things while Eddie is at work. Not because Shannon and Eddie really need help with the baby stuff, but because Maddie sort of needs someone to talk to. She’s on suspension from work. Not ideal. And the situation is sort of wild, Shannon won’t lie. But she’s empathetic towards Maddie, understands why she did what she did. And she’s sure as hell going to be a listening ear. 

Or, at least, she’s going to try. Her water breaking mid-conversation was not on the agenda. 

This didn’t happen with Christopher. He was late and she had to be induced, and nothing felt sudden or spontaneous. It was slow and horrible and… Well, neither she nor Chris made it out of that without consequences. Shannon had sort of expected this time to go similarly. She’s honestly been dreading the whole thing. 

And now it’s, apparently, here.

“Fuck,” Shannon exhales when it happens, standing in the hallway outside Eddie’s - temporarily Shannon’s - bedroom. 

Maddie gives a tiny gasp. “Well, look at that.”

“Shit,” Shannon continues cursing. “Maddie, I’m not ready. I’m supposed to have more time.”

Maddie sort of transforms into nurse mode. Shannon knows this is in her career history, obviously. But she hasn’t actually seen it. Apparently she frequently uses this tone on Buck, though. 

“Well, you don’t have time. I’m sorry, but it’s okay. We’ll get you through this.”

“Damn it,” Shannon groans. She hasn’t felt any contractions yet, so this could still take a while. If it goes too long, they’ll induce her again… She can’t do that. Not again. She thinks she’d rather have a c-section. “My body… It’s not good at this. I’m… I can’t.”

“Yes, you can,” Maddie says firmly.