#whose idea was the harness. i just wanna know

[smokeowl-mx]

THE OWL HOUSE...THEORY...?

Ok! Wanna dump something here real fast before it leaves my mind forever.

-Piece by the amazing @moringmark . A faithful representation of Phillip Wittebane's afterlife. Rest in Pain, b**ch!-

Something that actually bugged me about The Owl House was Phillip's name change to Belos.

Given he was a human and had enough knowledge to warp around as the Emperor of the Boiling Isles, his name had to mean something like Hunter's.

DISCLAIMER: I DON'T CLAIM TO HAVE ALL THE ANSWERS, THIS IS JUST WHAT SOME RESEARCH LED ME TO. IT MAY BE WRONG OR STANDING ON FALSE INFORMATION. IF YOU KNOW ABOUT THIS SUBJECT FIRST HAND, FEEL FREE TO CORRECT ME AND GET ME OUT OF MY IGNORANCE.

Doing some research for a project I'm making. I stumbled upon the main deities of slavic folklore.

Perun, whose equivalents would be Zeus, Odin and/or Thor.

And his chaotic sibling: Veles, whose equivalent is Loki and Pan.

Even though I say "equivalents" is just so you get an idea of their abilities and roles. Perun was the main god of the pantheon with power over lightning, symbol of order.

Where I wanna go with this is what Veles was.

Veles was also known as Welos, he was not just the god of nature and shepherds, but also god of the barrier between this world and the underworld, guide of souls through the threshold and, get this, GOD OF MAGIC, ALCHEMY AND WITCHCRAFT!

Philip not only turned himself into a "Prophet" and Emperor, but, to his own DAMN SATISFACTION, HE BECAME A GOD FOR THE WITCHES. Everytime a Witch called his name, they were calling him their God.

After The Collector gave him the weapons to rule over the Isles, he felt himself as superior to them, even more so than he already did. So much so he gave himself the name of one of the few MALE GODS OF WITCHCRAFT to prove his point across. THAT'S THE EXTEND OF THIS GUY'S NARCISSISM!

Still don't believe me?!

Veles or Welos was often portrayed in two forms:

A horned inverted triangle and a Horned Man (thus, the horned mask)

Some of the animals that represented this deity were the snake, the dragon and the owl. Belos had a very slithery personality and a slow way of dealing with those who opposed him (like a snake killing it's prey) eventually became a Dragon (when he took the Titan's heart hostage) and the Golden Guard's mask looks like an Owl.

Also, remember that guardian of the threshold thing I said previously, it fits with his whole "protect the world from evil" BS he believed.

Given he couldn't do magic, he did alchemy. If you're familiar with the work of an artificer or FMA, you should get the idea. Alchemy was a pseudo science, antecesor of modern chemistry, that studied the world, it's elements and magic to harness it to make things as the famous Philosopher's Stone and Lead's transformation into Gold. One of the matters of study of alchemy was resurrection. Thus, the Grimmwalkers.

Following the previous point, Red was often asociated with the Stone and it's abilities, it also meant "the end of a great work". What leads me to believe his and Hunter's "Magic" were product of alchemy and, maybe, the creation of a Philosopher's stone.

Given the hints and little winks TOH makes to FMA, I believe I ain't jumping any sharks.

Though his Puritanism also influenced how things would run with the Isles under his control. He wanted to feel like a God, but without the Witches knowing it (because it will blow his cover in a sec) so, he gave himself a name connected to everything he hated, but that could elevate him without suspition: Belos, The God of Magic, Alchemy and Witchcraft.

So yeah...what Elijah from Not so average Fangirl said in "Hollow Mind" wasn't that far off.

Belos, for Witch and Hunter = Witch Hunter.

@danaterrace You have my love and respect.

Thanks for everything! Can't wait to see what you make next.

FOR MORE UPDATES ON THIS, FOLLOW THE REPLIES.

[delopsia]

darling del 💐💃

have you ever thought about incorporating rendezvous with toys into stories with the trio? a remote or app controlled vibrator with reader, are rhett and robby both controlling it? whose idea was it? i suspect rhett but who knows maybe robby just came back from deployment and was like “hi honey pies...” 😉 omfg maybe both reader AND rhett with toys in while robby controls them? wait i don’t know if rhett could function in public with a toy in... maybe they just keep that to home? and then they could really put him through the ringer 🫢 do robby and reader ever slick up a toy and just let it go inside rhett and sit back and watch their cowboy’s eyes roll all the way back while he cums untouched—or wait is he too sensitive for that? i feel low key feel like he’d actually pass out if reader ran a vibrator over the head of his cock while robby was fucking him... 🤔

*COUGH* does robby ever play with any toys himself with or without his partners?

SLIGHTLY UNRELATED BUT STILL VERY IMPORTANT QUESTION: has reader ever laid rhett and robby down in the same night like (slightly, because cleaning up and aftercare, etc, of course) one after the other? do the two of them have differing dildo preferences for when they want do get fucked?

*whispers* what a weird question to end on but please if this is not what you meant by blurb right now then just ignore; i have the occasional sauce-thought about these three but i never know if, when you say “blurb thoughts please, y’all...” 😌 you mean any blurb thoughts or like, nonsexual character lore blurb thoughts...

omg omg hello lovely! 🌷I'm open to all of the blurb themes, sexual and nonsexual alike, whatever y'all wanna throw at me😔✌

Coincidentally, it works as good practice for me lmao. I'm trying to get better at jumping from theme to theme (so, like, finishing a borderline heart-wrenching blurb to hopping right into one that's going to have the Tumblr overlords striking me down with a mature rating)

waaaah okay, I have more thoughts than I can type 💃

Hear me out; I see your Robby just came back from deployment, and I raise you, Robby leaving for deployment.

His biggest curse with being on that ship is how difficult it can be to find a quiet place to engage in all the playful dirty talk; most of the time, he winds up in the corner of a bathroom stall, headphones snug around his ears, forced to be completely and utterly quiet while Rhett and Reader torment him. Pictures, videos, phone/video calls.

"D'you like the show, Bobby?" Rhett's purring, peering over his shoulder with that darkened gaze, seems to look directly through the camera and into Bob's eyes. Fuck the things he would do to squeeze that cowboy's pretty pale thighs.

The idea hits him about two weeks before his next deployment, brought on while he was shopping around for a replacement strap-on harness. The current one is cute, but lately, it's been leaving some painful indentations on the Reader's hips, and he's on the hunt for something that'll fit nicer. But there, on the front page, is an ad for an app-controlled vibrator, and an idea strikes him.

A few days later, a box is showing up at the door. Whilst Rhett and Reader are asleep, he sets them up on his phone. Runs through the usual deep cleaning and testing to make sure they work before tucking them into the toy stash. Doesn't really mention it until he's officially on the plane, typing out a quick, half-thought-out text.

Left you two a surprise in the toy box :)

It's a couple of weeks before he gets time to use them. It's hard to catch each other when they both have the time and are in the mood. But sooner or later, Bob's found himself in the corner of another bathroom stall, chewing on his bottom lip as he presses a little button on his phone. Knees weakening at the way Rhett's head tips back to thump against the pillow, lips parted with a whine. Has the worst damn time trying to switch to control the Reader's toy; doesn't think it worked until he hears a gasp and watches the camera shake in their hand.

Fuck Bob never lasts longer than a few minutes.

They forget to turn one of them off one night, and Bob jokingly presses a command to see what happens.

Rhett's never been so afraid of a goddamn vibrating box in his life.

It's figured out pretty quickly that Rhett can't function in public with a toy in. He's already bad at most social interactions; a slight brush against his crotch is enough to have him floundering. Quite unfortunate for the exhibitionist kink that's been brewing in him these past couple of years, but they do play around with him around the property. With the house being secluded in the woods, a decent ways away from the nearest neighbor, it's pretty easy for Rhett to wander out back to do some work with a toy in.

Sometimes he does it because he likes the fullness of it, others he's deliberately hoping that Reader or Robby will notice he's got it in. More than once he's found himself braced against that old Oak tree, grunting into the crook of his elbow as Bobby fucks him for all he's worth. And more than once he's wandered into the house, grumbling because nobody caught on to what he wanted, squirming into the Reader's lap and outright begging them to let him ride their strap.

Robby and Reader absolutely could just slick up a toy and let it go inside of their pretty little cowboy, but he's so, so fussy! They've spoiled him, and he's absolutely rotten! He's addicted to the closeness that comes with having them inside of him, thighs against his, holding him for leverage and touching all over. Just a toy is enough to get him off, but he doesn't enjoy it as much if that...makes sense.

He wants the person attached to the dick as much as he wants the dick inside of him.

But he can and will cum untouched with one of them inside of him. They tried cock warming with him once; didn't end well.

Ughhh Rhett would absolutely combust if Reader ran a vibrator over the head of his cock while Robby was fucking him :( The poor thing is so easy to overstimulate, reduced to shivering muscles and teary eyes with a few little tricks. It's so common for him to bury his face in the Reader's belly while Robby's taking him from behind or to snuggle into the crook of the Reader's neck while they fuck him missionary, stifling his little noises and hiding the tears brewing.

Omg omg yes, Robby absolutely plays with toys on himself, too. Maybe not at the frequency of Rhett and Reader, but fuck, he looooooves those small prostate massagers 🤤 it’s one of his favorite toys. He especially loves them when it’s just himself because it’s not quite as good as having an actual strap/cock in him, but he won’t pass up an opportunity to play with them. Though Rhett has recently gotten him hooked on letting them use masturbation sleeves on him.

The Reader has absolutely laid them both down on the same night!! It’s an entire excursion on its own, a lot of work and cleaning and setting up, but Rhett and Bobby are pretty good at kissing up on the other and opening each other up to take the workload off of the Reader. Rhett’s almost always first because he usually gets so turned on from seeing Bob get fucked that he’ll cum from the slightest thing. Really likes getting taken apart first and then getting to have a little show of Bobby dissolving into a puddle of whimpers and cries after the fact.

Bob's got a preference for average/smaller dildos; Rhett's cock is about as much as he can handle, and as wonderfully built as that cowboy is, he's not too fond of the post-sex soreness that comes with it. Something around six inches with a very, very typical girth is enough to make him happy.

Rhett is a goddamn size queen who isn't happy until he's limping the next day. It's so easy to tell his toys apart from Bobby's because they're so much bigger in every sense of the form. Longer, thicker, around eight or nine inches. There's a singular ten-inch toy that comes out to play every once in a blue moon, but he's got to be in a particularly whorish headspace for that one.

The both of them have recently discovered the joy of plugs, for after everything is said and done. Rhett's just a heathen that wants to keep Bob's cum and/or the Reader's cum lube inside of himself for a while, but Bob enjoys the extra minutes of fullness. It really helps him adjust back to the crippling emptiness that comes with having Rhett/the Reader pull out of him.

In the buying process, Rhett's vague requirements were no tails (Bob's been trying to sell Rhett and Reader on bunny tail ones for years. (double parentheses. It's because he already bought them. They're still hiding in the closet, in the packaging that they came in.)) and nothing glittery

...and he really should have been more specific because now he's got a cutesy little plug with a pink heart.

But that's okay because Bob fucked around, and now he's wound up with one that's modeled to look like one of those Valentine's candy hearts.

This is why the Reader is usually left in charge of buying.

Aftercare-wise, they're both relatively simple to deal with; Bob wants cuddles and a small snack to share (he will die defending his Ice-Cream Tastes Better Post-Sex argument), and Rhett just wants some head scratches and a long nap with his partners. It's so common for them to grow clingy, both toward each other and toward the Reader. Constant affection, sweetly spoken words, and kisses.

Which is exactly why the bathtub is so big in the house! All of them are too sore to stand, and nobody wants to be left out of the bubble bath! Someone's gotta set an alarm, though, because if you're not careful, it's easy to wind up spending a few hours in there on accident.

And it's anyone's guess if the boys are going to get hit with a second wind and pounce on the Reader or not💛

Again with me getting carried away oh my god

[yanderes-galore]

Prompts Found Here

Yeah, I can try! Request was screenshot because I needed the prompt list. AU where Storm King wins.

Brand idea inspired by a suggestion from @queenofdiscord

Yandere! Storm King Prompt 19

"I'm the monster? I'm the monster?! They would've been alive if not for you! You're the reason I killed them! Their blood is on your hands!"

Pairing: "Romantic"

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Ownership, Obsession, Kidnapping, Slavery mention, Murder, Blood mention, Isolation, Restraints, Power dynamic, Heavy manipulation, Sadism, Forced companionship, Branding, Jealousy.

Storm King had taken everything from you. The muzzle that sat on your face was a clear reminder of that. The dark and light blue color of the device only reminded you of how alone and isolated you were....

With a swing of his staff and his countless minions, Storm King had taken over Equestria. He enslaved your friends. He took your freedom. He manipulated you to be a pet....

He blamed you for everything that happened.

You weren't put in a cage like the rest now. No, you were put on a lead by a muzzle and harness. You were covered in the Storm King's colors. On your chest? The mark of him.

Any magic you had was drained and used. No horn to help you, no wings to fly with... you were the chosen pony to spoil. If you can call his attempts at breaking your spirit that.

Storm King was not a stranger to execution in his tyranny. Ponies, servants, to him it didn't matter. If you saw him spill blood, it was only used as fodder for later.

"I'm not one for the whole cute getup, I think this look fits you so much better!"

A new headgear was placed around your head, baring horns to mimic his symbol. He felt adding more blue spikes would make your prisoner outfit look more appealing. You were no warhorse....

"Now look at you! Much more fitting of me! Don't you feel like you fit in now? A pet deserves to be dressed by their owner...."

You grit your teeth, both out of anger and you trying to adjust to your new gear. Your eyes look up at the much taller ruler in front of you. His tail is swaying, his pristine white fur free from any stain.

Funny with all the blood he's spilled.

"Now what's with that look? Got a little temper?"

You despise how he talks to you. Even more so when he taps your head with a claw, grinning with such confidence. You pull away as best you can with the lead and glare at him.

"You're a monster...."

The tyrant's blue eyes widen at your claim before narrowing. He slams the staff down, causing a loud echo in the room. Ironically with the way he stalks towards you, tail thrashing, he looks like a monster.

"Oh you're still mad at the friends I executed in front of you..."

He scoffs, pulling your lead closer.

"I'm the monster? I'm the monster?! They would've been alive if not for you! You're the reason I killed them! Their blood is on your... hooves!"

He points the staff towards you and matches your glare.

"Do you wanna know why I killed them...?"

"They were... disobedient."

"Well, yes... but why?"

The look of confusion on your face was enough to get him to continue.

"I didn't like them around YOU. That ali-whatever princess, all her friends, even TEMPEST was just a bit too close. It's not just them either..."

He drags you as he monologues, even if you dug your hooves in you were still being dragged by your harness.

"The guards, the slaves, all of them just aren't up to my standards. Which means... any contact with you results in the death of many!"

He stops, turning around to see your stunned face.

"So, really, whose fault is it? You refuse to live an isolated life with me and lead many to their deaths as a result. Are you happy with yourself!?"

The Storm King observes your face closely. Only silence falls between you and your sunken face. His words, sharp as always, pierces your heart and mind.

Leaving nothing but an obedient shell until you decide to go against him again.

"Exactly. Look at your gear, look at yourself! You're the monster."

He tilts your head up, the other hand holding your lead and staff.

"Maybe I'm just keeping you in check? You never know! I don't want to see you go against my rule again..."

The claws your chin due to standing back too fast. He doesn't care. The fact he crushed your defiance was too good not to enjoy. Your pain even sweeter....

You're his and he's proud of it.

"If you do, I might need to get the cage out again...."

[spacecadet-ticklesinspace]

i was thinking about this scenario and i think it would make a good prompt if you like it!

Peter 1 hanging out with Harry(raimi) for the day! They're just kinda hanging out, Peter 1 asks him what he wants to do next and Harry is just like Peter 2 and cannot resist tickling the youngest bc he's so cute!

Ler!harry(raimi) lee!peter1

With the sentence starter:

"What do you wanna do now?"

(Aww, Anon, I love it! ❤️ Harry needs more love in the fandom! I just hope you like the idea ❤️)

"What do you want to do now?"

Harry slumped into the driver's seat. "I just want to sit for a moment. That was an intense basketball game."

"You were incredible out there Harry! How many three pointers did you make again?"

"Eight, but whose counting."

A horn honked at the two.

Harry and Peter waved out their windows.

"Bye G!" Harry called out.

"You were a beast out there man!" Peter added.

Harry grabbed his waterbottle as he settled back in his seat.

"What should we do now?" One asked again as he gulped down his own water.

"Let's see." The older of the two checked his watch. "Yikes! We gotta head back."

"So soon?"

"We're already 10 minutes past when I told Two when we'd be back. If we don't head back, we're going to get an earful."

"Aww."

Harry turned to the youngest Peter. He looked so young and innocent with his ruddy face and skewed curls. He also hadn't seen a smile that big ever on Peter 1.

For a moment, Harry's mind flashed to another younger Peter Parker with that same exact grin on his face.

The youngest studied Harry. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Because you look so much like your brother."

Peter 1 smiled. "Really?"

"Yep. Absolutely adorable."

Peter 1 groaned. "Everyone says I'm adorable."

"But yohou are!"

"How can I be adorable when I'm Spiderman?"

Harry shrugged. "Two has done it for years."

"Pfft-."

Harry affectionately ruffled Peter 1's hair. However, when his fingers grazed a spot near One's ear, the youngest jumped with a loud squeal.

Harry pulled his hand away. "Are you okay? Did I hurt you?"

"N-no! You just . . . startled me!"

One of Harry's eyebrows arched upward. "Startled you?"

Peter 1 grinned nervously. "Y-yes!"

The older man grinned mischievously. Another memory of a much younger Peter 2 making the same excuse flashed across his mind. "Yohou ahare just like yohour brother."

One immediately jumped in between the passenger and driver seat to quickly slither into the backseat.

Harry burst out laughing. "Hehey!"

The older man followed Peter 1 between the seats to the back seat.

Peter 1 squealed and curled into a ball.

Harry landed on the other side of the back seat. "Gotcha!"

Even though One was a nervous giggle pile, Harry could see the excitement in the youngest Peter's smile and the way he leaned himself into a more comfortable position.

Harry closed his eyes and placed a finger to his temple. "I'm getting a vision. You are going to be the happiest in 2.5 seconds."

Peter 1 playfully kicked Harry. "Whatehever you sahay Lassihie."

Harry reopened his eyes and grinned at the youngest Peter. He pulled Peter 1 forward by the leg. "Cohome hehere you!"

The loudest happy laughter poured out of Peter 1's mouth as Harry attacked his ribs.

"Reheally? Ahare ahall Peter Parkers juhust programed toho behe adorable? Cahause thihis is just nohot fahair."

One couldn't respond in his laughter induced state, but his blush did darken at the teases.

"Ihi can't believe hohow easily you transition ihinto aha strawbeherry." The older Harry skittered his fingers from his ribs to his sides. "Ihits an increhidible talent."

"Sh-shuhush!" One giggled out as he squirmed.

"But I cahan't when I have the cutehest little strawberry in front ohof mehe!"

This made One's blush darken even more.

"See?" Harry moved to skitter his fingers along Peter 1's jawline. "Yohoure definitely a Parker."

One snorted. "Harryhyhyhyhy!"

"Yeah itty bitty?"

"Hehey! Thahat's whahat yohou cahall Twoho!"

"Noho, I call Two itsy bitsy. You know, lihike the nursery rhyme?" Harry paused his tickles. "You're itty bitty cahause you're tiny and cute."

"Stihill sohound thehe sahame."

Harry shrugged. "I cohould cahall you baby berry instead."

The blush on One's face reached it's darkest shade yet.

"Ah, baby beherry ihit is."

Peter 1 playfully pushed Harry. "Shuhut ihit."

"What did you say to me?" The older man began to jump around to random spots on Peter 1. "Whahat did you sahay toho me baby berry?"

"Wahait! WaHAIT Ihim sOHOHOryhyhy!"

Harry paused the tickles to take his phone out of his pocket. "Uh-huh, that's what they ahall say."

One caught his breath as Harry checked his phone. A familiar face was on Haharry's caller ID.

Harry answered the call. "Hey Pete, what's up? . . . Yeah . . . Yeah we're heading back now . . . I know, I know, I'm sorry. We were playing basketball and lost track of the time. . . Yeah he's right here."

Peter 1 giggled as Harry held out the phone. "Hihi Two!"

The older man then pulled the phone back to his ear. "See? we're both okay . . . Yeah, we'll be home in 20 . . . Alright, see you then worry wart."

"He ihis aha worry wart," One added after Harry ended the call.

Harry chuckled. "Cohome on. Before he sends the cavalry ahafter uhus."

The older man placed his hand on the handle to open the door. However, he removed it a second later. "Forget it."

"What are you---?"

Harry jumped back through the space in between the passenger and driver seat then slid into the driver's seat. Through the entire process, Peter 1 laughed at his older friend.

Harry chuckled. "Yohou cohoming uhup?"

A moment later, Peter 1 slid through the opening and into the passenger seat, giggling the entire time. The two laughed at the scenario for a good minute before they were finally able to settle down.

Harry readjusted himself into an upright position. "Ahalright, buhuckle up buttercup!"

Peter 1 sat up and buckled his seat belt. "Hehey Haharry?"

"Yeah Pete?"

One blushed. "Thahank yohou for tonight."

The older man started the car. "Thanks for coming along with me baby berry."

One blushed. "Noho Ihim not!"

Harry reached over to skitter his fingers across One's tummy "Yehes yohou ahare!"

One squeaked. "Noho!"

The older man pulled his hand back so he could start the car, but continued attacking the youngest until he finally admitted how cute he was. Then about 5 minutes away from home, Peter 1 dozed off to sleep.

Harry smiled at the sleeping form. And yes, he was the spitting image of his older brother.

[whimsicalpoet44]

I'm so so so sorry for asking so many questions but im very curios about everything in astrology and you are one of the few astro accounts who does the best at info, i mean since i discovered your account i learned so much about astrology.

My question is that i saw you did a post about the 17° and i also wanted to ask you something about this degree but i don't wanna put a lot of questions because i know everyone needs to have a chance to ask

Can Jupiter at 17° mean you will marry someone famous?/famous/well known spouse? For me Jupiter is in the 8th house. (8th house ruler in 10th house) (Venus in 10th house for me)

Now i don't wanna be delusional but i just had this thought in my mind for a time, i was a bit curious 🥲 but also it's okay if doesn't represent an important thing. I just have a lot of indicators in my chart that there is a chance to get along with a well known person but idk about that I'm not sure.

Have a great day and thank you for all the info. 🤍🤍🤍

It's totally fine! You don't have to apologize for asking questions! Feel free to ask as many as you'd like! I go in order of the questions I get when I have a minute. and Thank you so much!

Astrology is an art. There's a lot of different interpretations on how it can play out, but the central theme is usually the same. So, I don't think any interpretation is delusional. It's just one of many possibilities!

17 degree planets are in the Leo degree. It can indicate long term fame. Having it in your 8th house certainly helps this degree out a lot! Usually, this can be interpreted as an indicator of wealth.

To really harness the energy of a 17 degree planet, you'll have to be really creative about how you attain fame/wealth. You may have many different ideas all going at once.

Jupiter in 17 degrees is actually a really lucky placement. With your 10th house in Venus, it could indicate that you meet your romantic partner through work or work related endeavors.

Orrrr if you're considering Jupiter as the spouse in the 17th degree, it could mean that your spouse/partner will be famous, as the 10th house is usually the midheaven (your reputation, meaning your reputation could be influenced by a romantic partner).

Fame/wealth could also come in the following forms from Venus in the 10th:

Love

Beauty

Aesthetic (Designer or something related)

Art

Additionally, since the 8th house is the house of shared finances, it is possible that you garner fame or wealth from a spouse/partner.

It can also mean that you inherit a large sum of money from someone as well.

There are a lot of possibilities, but with the number of placements you have associated with fame and wealth, i would say marrying someone whose famous or rich isn't a far reach.

Also remember that YOU could be the one with the fame and wealth, and you just so happen to share the rewards with a partner. You might reach fame and wealth while you're married or in a partnership of some kind (since the 8th is shared resources).

Look to your north node (life purpose, not necessarily related to career, but it can be) or any other planets in the 10th house to glean more information. Also look to your 6th house to see how you might make money in your day to day work.

[bionicstars]

The Traveler's Council Excerpt

Hi! Not sure whether you're still on tumblr or not, buuuut I guess I'll try this thing out. So, I first read your fic a while back and instantly got so obsessed with the main team dynamic and all that bonding, I...wrote a fanfic about it! That is still in the process of being written! Anyway, I wanted to share some excerpts with you, but I'm not done with the fic yet. >.< Anyway, getting a bit rambly, so here are four out-of-context excerpts!

***

“W-we’ve been, we’ve been hunting for a treasure, too, actually,” Lulloyd spoke up. Everyone looked at him in surprise. 

“Wait, really?” Monty raised an eyebrow. 

“I’m parroting myself.” Harumi shook her head. “What’s the treasure?”

“It’s, uh…well, the uh…title is kinda…long.”

“Oh, come on!” Mage protested and slumped over the table. “Don’t leave us in suspense like that!”

“...The Super Mildly Awesome Treasure of Unexpected Secrets and Unrelated Plot Twists At the Worst Times.” 

Everyone cringed simultaneously. 

“Oh, yeah, okay, forget I asked.” Harumi choked out a cross between a groan and a laugh. 

"I I’m going to regret asking this.” Monty sighed. “Does anyone else feel like we just set ourselves up for something by asking that question?”

“Oh, uh, probably,” Lulloyd replied. “But don’t worry! The Super Secret Ninja Force are on it. We, we’ll find it!”

***

“T-that’s pretty important, Monty.” Lulloyd laughed.

“Yeah, in an anime.” Monty grumbled. “Not in real life when it involves me having to deal with the Walmart version of the Super Sentai Rangers.”

“The…Walmart version of…what now?” Over blinked repeatedly, trying to process what Monty had just said.

***

“Lloyd,” Lulloyd began slowly, then tilted his head to look at the ninja in question. “That…was…”

“Bat-shit insane,” Monty said bluntly, getting a warning look from Lulloyd and Over alike.

“I killed the mood,” Lloyd groaned into his hands. “I’m sorry.”

***

“Well, what is it?” Monty asked impatiently. “Spit it out, already!”

“We got a new Elemental Master in town.” Harumi said simply, taking everyone at the table aback.

Lloyd almost jumped out of his seat. “What element did they have?!”

“This is gonna sound stupid, but it’s sand.” Harumi said. “The glass broke because they were trying to harness the sand from before the glass was materialized…which is kind of stupid, but Olive pointed out that the particular type of glass that was broken each time was important. It’s very expensive glass for a reason - it’s made by a company that somehow figured out how to make the glass where the sand remains a separate material from it. Techno Bandit here must have figured that out and so tried to use his sand powers with the glass. Maybe to make it easier to carry the equipment and tech that he stole? I don’t know, but either way, we were able to figure out that the Techno Bandit was an Elemental Master of Sand.”

“You’re right,” Monty said. “That is stupid.”

***

I tried. T^T 

I let my mind wander a little too far with the fic ideas annnnd these excerpts are from a story called The Traveler's Council, which is a precursor to Rewrite the Ninjaverse...which is basically an idea from Across the Spider-Verse. XD 

Traveler's Council sets up a group of universal counterparts(those that aren't necessarily of Lloyd specifically, but all have the green power or something similar etc to stay sorta within the rules) that have ended up in the same situation as Over, only they kinda wanna crash other universes and transform it into the ones that they lost, by the promise of some crazed Time God. 

Rewrite the Ninjaverse thus far is probably the more self-indulgent of the two. It's basically that Time God from earlier accidentally dragging Lloyd into their business and a kind of reversal of Enter the Ninjaverse happens, where instead of Lloyd starting out the fic hunting down the people who took his powers; he's being hunted by the person-Time God-whose powers he had accidentally STOLE. And he has no clue how to use them, so he lands himself in infinite loops that either clash with his own universe's timeline, and most frighteningly, the events of Enter the Ninjaverse. Obviously, changing the timeline is probably not a good thing, and in Lloyd's case, it's just really awful every time loop - so the story is basically him scrambling to fix the timeline back to its rightful place and uh...well, as you can tell, it's a bit...messy. 

***

...by the way, I didn't use this "Show Me Anything You Have!" submission box incorrectly, right...? Or misunderstand what it means? Cause if I did, I sincerely apologize for my crazed ramblings. XD

(I always get this nervous talking to fave fanfic authors I appreciate a lot-)

Anyway, uhhh happy early new years! X3

[launching-a-thousand-ships]

Kurt Fashion Retrospective s2

I have too many thoughts so breaking this up a bit lol oops (link to masterpost)

Season 2: So Kurt is more settled. He’s out, he has a support system. But he’s still being bullied and he’s still feeling alone so he’s not exactly comfortable.

First off, Chris Colfer had is growth spurt and is looking great. Kurt shows this off by (finally) ditching all those baggy pants and we enter the painted on pants era (which will last forever lol). So Kurt is feeling better about himself, ready to show off his legs, but still lots of layers. Again, very masculine clothing where we get lots of ‘suits but with a twist’ kinda looks and esp layers. Usually a sweater or vest or jacket of some sort. And wow, forgot how often he wears bowties these early seasons.

S2 is also where he goes to Dalton, I’m sure he hated having to repress his personality with the uniform (tho he does wear a brooch sometimes, just to shake things up). But also, Kurt doesn’t have to rely on his clothing to be his whole personality and we see a lot of toned down looks. Never boring, ofc, but not as outlandish.

But this is still Kurt so this season is first sighting of the wolf tail and there are a couple harness sightings. Go Kurt. I wanna believe he knows exactly what he’s doing, but can get away with it bc nobody else is educated enough to recognize it and he’s worn weird things before so this is just ‘Kurt’.

This season has one ep of him wearing a skirt (Britney ep) and he rocks it tbh, then there’s the kilt at prom. There is some playing with gender, there is mention of him wearing a women’s sweater, but again, really not that girly? His colour palette is earth tones, black/white, and his go-to splash of colour is red. We get a couple ‘out there’ looks, but much rarer.

Least fav this season:

I hate it I hate it I hate it. He’s never worn anything like this (except the fanny pack lol) and idk whose idea or why and just. Ugh Kurt.

As for my favs:

The fact that Kurt only wears a tophat twice in the whole series is a Travesty

haha how’d that get there (I just love his hair like this)

Ok but after this season Kurt doesn’t wear skirts or kilts anymore and that is just rude bc he lowkey rocks them. So mad.

I just love this. the sweater does return and it looks so comfy and i just love the punk-y vibes. Gold star :)

[brockachu]

i am absolutely suffering post wisdom tooth removal and i think i would be magically healed if you were to break down every nhl captain’s narrative for me

** if every captain is an unreasonable ask, i would in fact settle for our boy bowie 😌 or the most compelling narrative in your opinion

oh ooh i'm so glad you took me up on this. ok imma do a quick run-down of every narrative i know. and if anyone wants more detail, i can do follow-up ask posts. also, i hope your gums heal quickly & without complication 💖 i was a minor menace when i got my wisdom teeth removed so i respect that all you ask is some silly hockey stories 😂

running through the list alphabetically by team:

anaheim - technically, this is now vacant b/c their season is over & getzlaf is retired. he was co-rookies w/ corey perry, they inherited the team from teemu selanne, & they were on a kid line that helped get the ducks their single cup. he was promoted to captaincy for his early career glory and got the team close twice more (conference finals) but never quite. he got overshadowed by the other california team captains i think, even if i never cared much for him either. i don't know enough about the current ducks to even slightly guess at their next captain.

arizona - vacant. their last captain was OEL whose narrative was the guy whose time was always just a little too late -- he peaked just after the yotes core that was actually pretty good from 2009-2012; he was named captain after his career peaked, even tho he remained fan-beloved; he was traded away after his trade value had crashed. i think their next captain will be chychrun if he isn't traded, crouse if chychrun is traded, and no idea if both of them are traded. it's misery hours in the sonoran desert, babes.

boston - i'm sorry i spent so long refusing to learn about any bruin who isn't tuukka that the only things i know about bergeron is that his bestie is marchand and he wins the selke every year, even when he doesn't win it he does (i'm a canucks fan this is the first year i've mildly tolerated the bruins, given the 2011 cup finals)

buffalo - vacant. lmao y'all can dig my eichel tag if you wanna know that narrative i've only written several novellas about him this season. idk enough to guess the next captain. o @drartemysia wants it to be tage and i agree bc i think she deserves what she likes :)

calgary - vacant. giordano was the successor to iginla, which were impossible shoes to fill, but his whole thing was basically team's steadfast dad. if the next one isn't ratthew i'll be joining the trade ratthew campaign that i think many flames fans would start -- he's beloved, he's a character, he's grown so much from skillful pest with a dangerous edge to just flat out skillful pest (ignore this current playoff series, the stars are digging up old ratt). he'll have a lovely narrative about growing into the steady reliable legacy before him and giving it a new funky shine.

carolina - JORDAN. a Staal. the last time a staal led this team, they won their only cup, y'know. are they chasing their past b/c they keep coming up short these past few years? are they harnessing a legacy, uniting the past & present to make that leap? and jordy himself has changed a lot from the kid who won the cup w/ sid & the pens back in 2009. is he chasing youthful success or is he bringing experience to an otherwise young core? it's a juicy narrative w/ fun lil callbacks. also he's their dad :)

chicago - it's unfortunate that this entire org is irredeemable b/c the captaincy narrative around toews actually was an interesting story, but it's inseparable from pkane and the org, and it should be reframed knowing he as captain was aware of the beach allegations & treatment by the team (org & players). also i only know this narrative bc one of my undergrad bffs is a born & raised chicagoan. so i'm not going to give toews or chicago a blurb when they deserve to be dismantled.

colorado - i don't like landeskog. you can check here for why. not gonna write this one either. if i speak more i will be in big trouble.

columbus - boone!! the cbj captaincy has long been been mildly cursed -- nothing truly bad happens to them, but they're always just kind of forgotten about. boone was considered kind of an unexpected pick, b/c he's not a big star, he's not one of the local boys, and he's just super mild. but in that way, maybe he's another in a line of tradition -- unassuming, a calm head, a steady hand. the cbj captaincy story is the quiet story of persistence

dallas - haha no i'm not gonna make a fun story for benn when half the stars fans i know don't even like him either. call me when robo inherits the captaincy.

detroit - larkin is one of the captains i am least normal about in the entire league. he was drafted to be the captain. i'm not kidding. stevie y clapped his eyes on this kid from michigan who grew up a drw fan, this kid who has always been spoken of as responsible and a leader, this determined happy excited-just-to-be-here kid; and stevie said 'yeah that's our guy'. he was drafted and primed to be the captain and everyone knew it from the second he was picked, tho we were always a little worried 'what if they don't tho'. it was a relief when they finally stitched the c to his chest. the throne was always his, the captains before him agreed so. there's a quote from zetterberg about giving larks something that had been passed down from past captains, before the captaincy was made official. larks tried to tell zetta it wasn't his officially, zetta told him 'take it it's yours we all agree'. we as in the previous captains who are all still involved in the org. yeah i've cried about it.

edmonton - oh my god this captaincy is haunted and i'm not qualified to discuss it i hope mcdavid learns exorcism but also i think this org needs a whole overhaul. mcdavid is a child king appointed too soon based on prophecy and maybe fate is inescapable but it is never straight forward. what parts of your soul are you willing to rend to fight fate, what parts of your soul are you willing to rend to let fate take its course? how do you know destiny is for you? wasn't it supposed to be hall, supposed to be nugent hopkins, supposed to be yakupov?

florida - like i said i know nothing about barkov besides his lifelong bestie is pate laine, my beloved son :) he seems like a nice dude, maybe i'll learn the story there one day

los angeles - ooh kopitar is fun. to many, he's the captain who should've been. the thing is, dustin brown was captain during the kings' peaks in the mid 2010s & they won their 2 cups. brown had been drafted & raised by the kings, he's now retiring as a lifelong king. kopi was there almost the whole time. brown was always attributed with leadership qualities in juniors & w/ team usa, but kopi is The Slovenian Player -- he's captained their teams since he was a teen. he's also been a long time best kings player, while brown has mainly been middle six character piece. but the kings raised brown to be the captain, so he remained the captain & the players did respect & love him as captain. still, there was always a thread of 'what about kopitar tho', and when brown's core floundered and were slowly traded away, his captaincy was stripped. as the team unoffically leaned into a rebuild, kopi was named new captain. he's steadier, he's good with the kids, he's finally getting his flowers. there's still a lot of respect left for brown (see: he was captain for a day to commemorate his impending retirement), but he luckily bowed out. kopi's captaincy is a narrative of patience & knowing when change is necessary. i'm so fond of it

minnesota - spurgeon is one of those guys that ppl outside of the minny-sphere don't discuss much. he's quietly a Good Hockey Player (stats ppl are like him a lot). it's hard to follow the captaincy of Mikko Koivu, one of the most respected players in league history, a perennial member of the 'guys who'd have a cup on any other team' club, who could only stomach playing 7 games for another team before retiring as essentially a lifelong wild. spurge is the story of loyalty, of duty.

montreal - uuh technically it's still webs but i soft boycotted the habs when he was traded there (not his fault, i was mad about pk & galchenyuk & bergevin's administration) & only mildly got nicer to them this season after they finally got rid of bergevin. so the last habs captain narrative i knew well was patch, which i am very bitter about still. and giving respect to my habs friends, i will not go down that path here. i hope suzuki gets the captaincy soon. that will be a nice tale and i think my buddy amanda @st-louis will be the best person to tell it.

nashville - josi is interesting. he's maybe a captain who was never meant to be a captain. weber was expected to retire in nashville, but things went sour in the mid-2010s after suter signed to minny in free agency and weber seemed to need a new environment and the org had seemingly lost their patience with him. so he got traded for subban & fisher was given captaincy to warm the seat. josi was still relatively young through these struggles. he's a prince that no one expected to inherit bc the king was healthy and strong and so beloved so blessed so steadfast. and for years now, with josi as captain, the preds continue to surpass expectations (admittedly mostly by the grace of their goalies). hehe he's the little captain that could :)

new jersey - friends, we have another boy king in our midst (the league loves these). hischier was a 1oa in what was at the time considered an underwhelming draft. the devs had been considered identity-less ever since brodeur's trade in 2014 and later retirement in 2015. there's still lingering speculation that hischier was appointed too soon to inject any sense of identity into this team. we are still seeing this core be built. the narrative is a kid was given an impossible task and he's quietly solving this puzzle with the help of the friends he made along the way. i'm genuinely hopeful for the devs' future

isles - anders lee was never meant to be captain!! i love his bland boy next door quadzilla himbo ass so much but he is a second son. johnny said 'fuck you dad i never wanted to be an isle take the family business and shove it' (this is a joke, i'm neutral to fond about tavares, but i think the isles memes about him are kinda funny), so lou lamariello rubbed a weary hand down his face, peaked between his fingers at anders just twiddling his thumbs at the back of the board room and went, 'ok bud do you want a whack at it'.

rangers - vacant. this should be kreider and i can write that narrative when it happens, tho others will be much more qualified, but all i have to say is this should be kreider

ottawa - i'm sorry i've spent so long lowkey laughing at the sens that i have no idea what background narrative led to brady tkachuk getting this captaincy. i do know there is currently a kerfuffle about chabot being named team canada captain for worlds, which i guess is raising the known-to-sens-fans controversy that maybe he should've gotten the captaincy over tkachuk? maybe this is a coup narrative. maybe the crown was usurped! i am not aware of the palace intrigue but if anyone wants to tell me the tale i will gladly listen and share your verses in the future. i'm a silly lil jester, a traveling bard :)

philly - haha vacant haha no i'm not writing this up, all you need to know about the flyers captaincy is this video i made before claude's inevitable trade

pitt - psssshhh i'm a flyers fan y'all don't want me to write the pens captain narrative lmao but basically sid is the chosen one, he's what mcdavid was supposed to be to edmonton, he's won 3 cups for them, raised the team out of bankruptcy on his star power. he's a superhero story, ups and downs and inhuman ability

san jose - couture wasn't supposed to be captain but both joes fled the shark tank and he's what's left and half of sharks fans don't even like him anyway. i can't write this one, buds

seattle - lmao vacant b/c giordano went to toronto this org is still fledgling and messy, but boy they're trying it's like watching my parents' young chickens run around, fond and illogical, no sense of a plan about them. i want their next captain to be mccann. if the rivalry with the canucks ever finds its feet, it'll be fun for them to have a captain who was our scorned former draftee

st louis - ngl i forgot o'reilly was their captain until this moment. i knew petro was gone bc uuhh i love that dude. i don't know this narrative, sorry

tampa - steven stamkos was almost given up on and i'll remember that forever. he inherited from lecavalier & st louis, a heavy cloak of a legacy to wear. drafted by hockey savant steve yzerman, raised for the captaincy, given so much patience and surrounded by consistently one of the best built teams year in and year out. cup finals and conference finals and record breaking point seasons. when the bolts were swept by cbj in 2019, a massive crack seemed to appear in the durably beautifully carefully crafted vase. there were rumors that the core would be torn apart and sold, that stammer would sign back home in toronto, that the bolts were a failed experiment. but they stayed the course and what would you know fate smiled upon them with back to back cups. this is a feel good fairytale of patience and loyalty and persistence and all the 'cap circumvention' boo babies can cry outside the city walls

toronto - you can't tell this story without telling the recent isles' story, but actually you can't tell this story without 60 years of maple leaf history & maybe a degree in canadian history. if the edmonton captaincy is haunted, the leafs are something quieter, not actively marauding them quite as much, but ages longer and with a million more eyes on them for it. tavares' leaf captaincy is a very old ghost story or maybe a multiverse story. i don't know it well enough to tell it tho

vancouver - beloveds oh beloveds. captain bowie horvat, our collective son. we knew when he was drafted he would be the next captain. we weren't sure, but we knew. the sedins stayed lifelong canucks, they raised bo to the captaincy, they protected him as long as they could, and they retired. we were so certain he'd be given captaincy immediately, but the org kept it as an extra out for appeasement as the team sunk and sunk and sunk. but we're getting somewhere now and our new management has expressed confidence in bo. bo was the last canuck to be given an animal nickname, which was a staple of the sedin era (his name was bison). did you know the entire team called him cap even before he was named captain? it was an open secret with the media for like a year. there's official canucks videos with guys calling him cap the season before he was named captain. he's who the people always wanted and he's who the people were happy to receive. i don't acknowledge anyone who doesn't want him to stay as captain. his captaincy is a love story -- he was raised in the gentleness of the sedins, he was always meant to be here, he'll gently lovingly steer us forward. his captaincy is romantic.

vegas - oh this is not my story to tell. oli @himbeaux-on-ice is our resident mark stone enthusiast and i'm almost certain they've written up several detailed posts about stoney's path to the captaincy. please explore their blog with wild abandon bc they are one of the reasons i've grown the confidence to make more of these wildly long and winding narrative posts (same of other's i've tagged in this post)

washington - like crosby and mcdavid, who does not already know this narrative? but tldr, ovechkin was drafted & appointed in defiance of hockey culture's respectability politics. is he of course very very very good at hockey? yes, but the hockey media machine wasn't sure it was 'enough' for years. the narrative is spite, the narrative is defiance, the narrative is being who you are no matter who likes it, the narrative is insisting on yourself. one of my fav caps narrative ppl (actually she's generally post-soviet hockey narratives, but she's a caps fan also) is g @csykora. idr if she's written much on ovechkin specifically, b/c my memory is more conceptual than data, but please read her writing as it also inspires me to indulge my narrative whims.

winnipeg - oh what a one to end on. this captaincy may be ending soon. we don't know what winny is doing, do we? mr wheeler's captaincy is the story of a faithful soldier. he has done everything the org asked of him, done his best, bit his tongue, faced the twists and turns of the path with a strong brow and steady step. winny is staring down the barrel of potentially blowing up its core, and no one expected it to go this way. maybe they're the trojans, a stronghold we never thought could fall so dramatically. (maybe i've been reading too much of o's greek myths lmao)

in conclusion: lmao why is this all in my head. if you read all of this, i respect and appreciate you so much. and apologies to my tagged beloveds, you're not entitled to read this i just want to send love your way <3

[mostlysignssomeportents]

The "work ethic" is a dirty trick we play on ourselves

In Nebraska — and elsewhere — the forced-labor camps that some prisoners are sent to have been rebranded. They’re called “Work-Ethic Camps” now, and prisoners do 30–40h/week of hard labor for $1.21/day, interspersed with “intro to business” courses.

As Jamiek McCallum writes in Aeon: “If there was a formula for obliterating the work ethic, giving people undesirable jobs with long hours and barely paying them sounds exactly like it.”

https://aeon.co/essays/how-the-work-ethic-became-a-substitute-for-good-jobs

McCallum is reiterating the thesis of his 2020 book, “Worked Over: How Round-the-Clock Work Is Killing the American Dream,” which presents discourse about work-ethic as “a severe anxiety about a fundamental precept of the American civil religion.”

https://www.basicbooks.com/titles/jamie-k-mccallum/worked-over/9781541618343/

Americans fret that a failing work-ethic is symbolic of national decline. Which is weird: hours for all workers rose by 13% between 1975 and 2016, and millennials are more likely than their elders to say “hard work is important to getting ahead.”

https://oxford.universitypressscholarship.com/view/10.1093/oso/9780190685898.001.0001/oso-9780190685898-chapter-4

The white-collar workers who locked down for the pandemic increased their hours worked:

https://hbr.org/2020/07/microsoft-analyzed-data-on-its-newly-remote-workforce

The precarious “essential” workers who risked their lives and stayed on the job contended with irregular schedules and low pay.

We have a “work ethic” problem — but it’s not too little work ethic — it’s too much.

McCallum: “overwork, unstable schedules, and a lack of adequate hours define the paradoxical time signature of the work life today.”

But, McCallum argues, the work ethic doesn’t create the bad working conditions. Rather, we dream up the work ethic to resolve the cognitive dissonance of unsustainable, brutal working conditions.

That’s why surveys show workers who express a preference for shorter hours report satisfaction with their working conditions when their hours get longer — workers don’t “get what they want” so they “want what they get.”

https://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/abs/10.1162/1088198054084581

This rationalizing of the bruising effects of overwork as the virtuous expression of good morals is essential to capitalism. Capitalism requires that we prove ourselves “worthy” — of food, shelter, education, leisure — by succeeding in the market.

It’s not shocking that a Wisconsin school district is ending free school meals for young children in order to improve their work ethic. If you can’t afford food, you don’t deserve food.

https://www.businessinsider.com/waukesha-school-district-says-free-school-meals-spoil-students-2021-8

The cult of the work ethic is the flipside of the aristocrat’s leisure-as-status-symbol — the use of hobbies and “idleness” as a way to demonstrate your membership in the ruling class — think of preppie chic, with its emphasis on golf- and boating-clothes.

Early capitalists demanded leisure for themselves and hard work for the proletariat — but so did their enemies. Marxists valorized work and workers, creating the worker-hero.

But the left has also always had a pro-leisure/anti work ethic tendency, embodied by the likes of Woody Guthrie, whose “Talking Hard Luck Blues” is a smart and savage assault on the idea that overwork is a virtue.

https://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/woodyguthrie/talkinghardluckblues.html

I held 125 head of wild horses, put saddles and bridles on more that that

Harnessed some of the craziest, wildest teams in the whole country

I rode 14 loco broncos to a dead standstill and let 42 hound dogs lick me all over

Seven times I was bit by hungry dogs and I was chewed all to pieces by

Water moccasins and rattlesnakes on two separate river bottoms

I chopped and I carried 314 armloads of stove wood, 100 buckets of coal

And I carried a gallon of kerosene 18 miles over the mountains, got lost

Lost a pair of shoes in a mud hole

And I chopped and I weeded 48 rows of short cotton, 13 acres of bad corn

And cut sticker weeds out of 11 back yards

“All on accounta’ cause I wanted to show her that I was a man a I liked to work.”

In “Talking Union,” Guthrie says the point is leisure:

You get shorter hours, better working conditions, vacations with pay, take the kids to the seaside.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C13JFv4JfH8

The work ethic hustle hasn’t just robbed us of time for leisure — it’s transformed leisure into a self-Taylorizing time-and-motion hustle. Conquering Disneyland requires a project manager, a spreadsheet and a stopwatch.

https://doctorow.medium.com/disneyland-at-a-stroll-part-vi-62934f35aac1

This is why we call it “late-stage capitalism.” It’s not just precarious workers logging destructively long shifts and losing the leisure time to imagine, dream, love and live — it’s also the 1%, who sometimes pay for the privilege. It’s a system that punishes the winners, albeit less severely than the losers.

McCallum closes his essay with some remarks from Andrew Russell, an inmate at a Nebraskan Work Ethic Camp. Russell worked a series of sub-survival jobs before finding a living wage selling meth, a gruelling job that he worked long hours at before his arrest.

Russell actually escaped from the WEC but was turned in by a friend who needed the reward money, and had to serve an extra year as punishment. He served three years and was released in 2019, having earned “enough money to buy a bus ticket to his parents’ house.”

“I know how to work just fine, been doing it as a kid. What are they trying to prove? I like to work hard, but there’s gotta be a point, so I don’t feel I completely wasted my time. I wanna do real work. What really matters is everything we do outside our jobs to strengthen our community — that’s the real work.”

[spitblaze]

Hey, so I saw you talking about this a bit ago and I’m a little confused and not sure who else to ask (cause I really don’t wanna annoy you). But I don’t understand why some people are ok with kinks at pride, I’m not some hetero asking I’m actually bi myself, and my sexuality especially, tends to scrutinized by heteros and oftentimes they say "oh so it's all about sex with you guys!". So I guess that's why I’m a little confused as to why we should be so openly showing off our kink side when there's minors who may wanna march with us. I get that there's fashion based off kink clothing, and that children's media shows it, but I'm not really sure if that is right either and that we should be doing that. Tbh I’m not sure. It's a tricky slope. I guess what I’m trying to say is, when we're sometimes seen as a bunch of perverts I’m a little confused as to why some people would openly wear very revealing clothing. I'm genuinely naive to the subject and want to learn from someone Ive seen defend the subject, my friends who are also LGBT+ seem to be against it but I think they're all naive too. None of us actually really participate in the community despite our sexualities/identities. Thanks for reading this.

So...I've noticed this thing I've seen going around the queer/LGBT community, these ideas that if we listened to the stereotypes people have about us and do our best to prove they aren't true, to stop saying things like 'born this way' to keep people from attempting to genetically engineer queerness away, to make sure that there aren't any trans/nb people with unconventional or cutesy identities or pronouns to prove that being trans is very serious, to just...act as harmless and non-abrasive and quiet and agreeable to cishet society at large, they'll be happy with us and maybe hurt us less.

I don't really know what else to call it, so I've been calling it an 'oppressor appeasement complex'.

This idea that we can capitulate to the people who already hate us, who already think we're weird and gross and deviants, people who are dedicated to not listening to us, and it will make them tolerant somehow. That piping down and acting like '''''Normal People''''' will make people whose goal is to make us stop existing will just...stop.

Here's the thing, though.

This has...never worked.

Bending over backwards and denouncing parts of your heritage, rejecting your culture and your people, and acting like part of the oppressor group may make them less wary of YOU, but at the end of the day you'd just be 'one of the good ones' at best. And if that's the best you can get in their eyes, then...personally, I don't know if that's worth it. Shitting all over your people and your culture in the name of appearing 'civilized' to people who consider us savages doesn't seem like a useful way to spend what little time I have on this wet rock of ours.

And as for 'kink'- I want you to think real carefully about what constitutes that in the context of pride. It's people wearing leather harnesses and pup masks and weird, revealing clothing. Which can be a lot, I will not deny that it's not always great to realize someone is wearing fully assless chaps, right in front of you. And on that note...have you...ever seen people at pride going farther than, like...wearing it? Have you ever seen people st pride just raw dogging on a parade float? Have you seen dominatrixes stepping on participants? Have you ever seen anyone going farther than wearing leather and flirting or making out, at pride, in clear view of children? It bothers me too that gay culture and queer culture is considered to be for 'adults' and that it's 'too raunchy' for minors to know that people who don't abide by cisheteronotmative society exist and are happy, but do you think telling people that there's a limit to how subversive they're allowed to be will help with that? There's no slippery slope here, Pride started in the 70s, and if people haven't started wearing emetophilia pride gear or having orgies on the parade route now, in the 2020s, where everyone is way more open and chill about sex than we have been in DECADES, I don't think they ever will.

And on that note- the idea that minors should never be exposed to anything even sex-adjacent is...kinda weird? Like I'm not saying we should start handing out porn at pride, and I think that the people selling penos-shaped dildos way out in the open at pride festivals should maybe like...keep those under the counter, perhaps, but saying that kids who see people wearing pup masks and harnesses and assless chaps will be scarred or corrupted or whatever is...a weird insinuation. If kids don't know what the leather means, they will think it looks cool, like they're a villain or punk rock or something. If someone who does know what it is sees it, what do you think is gonna happen to them? I mean-seriously, how do you think just *seeing leather bdsm gear* is going to irreparably alter minors? Will their idea of sex be changed forever? Will they be forever scarred by queer culture from seeing a guy in a pup mask? I'm genuinely at a loss as to what a lot of you think the grand consequences of teens, or even kids, seeing kink gear is. If someone has a great argument, I'd love to hear it, otherwise I don't know why there's such a huge stink being made about this in order to...idk, not weird out some teenagers?

Listen. I don't blame people who feel uncomfortable around leather, or around sex, or around the idea of a bunch of guys with their asscheeks on full display. You're allowed to feel uncomfortable. But like...it feels weird to just completely publicly shut down this HUGE part of queer/gay/LGBT history just because some people are uncomfortable, right? What if we just never sold lingerie in public again? That makes people uncomfortable, that's exposing minors to sex-adjacent things. Not to mention- if we REALLY want to be welcoming to minors, why do so many events and spaces in LGBT culture involve alcohol? Queer bookstores are getting harder and harder to find, and gay bars are often the easiest place outside of the internet or school to find other members of the community, but like- the incidence of alcoholism in the LGBT community is MASSIVELY higher than most other populations.

TL;DR- Why do you people think everyone is gonna burst into flames when a 16-year-old sees a pup mask? Why do you think this is only a 'slippery slope' away from people going full nude at pride?? And why are we more focused on gay expression in terms of child-friendliness when most non-pride queer spaces require you to be 21 or older to even enter in the first place???

[corbinite]

new dnd character dump because I haven’t played in years and I’m PENT UP

Nguyệt: Earth Genasi warlock whose genie patron is her own great-great-grandmother. She grew up without knowing her ancestor due to a rift in the family starting with her grandfather, but she’s learning to harness the power that flows through her as her great-great-grandmother puts her through tests before deciding to go forward and really get to know her (you know how impersonal and pragmatic immortal beings can be)

Alon Balagtas: Outdoorsy Wood Elf with powerful legs. I mostly just wanna play as a guy with Thick Thighs(tm) and this is my excuse. He’s either gonna be a kensei monk or a battlemaster fighter, still not sure, though I guess monk would make it easier to get away with him being unarmored

Gazsi Kurucz: Abnormally Large Human barbarian. I already made a post about him but he wasn’t in the last character dump so here. I think I wanna go with totem warrior for him to give him Big Hops but reflavor it so that it’s not about a connection with nature and instead he’s just Like That. Also he’s incredibly vain and reluctant to form any kind of lasting connection with anyone, just wants to adventure and spend all of his money on fancy shit to make him look and feel cool. His reasons for the issues he has will have you asking “is he a realist or just dumb and fake deep?”

Jaska Rautio: Human gunslinger fighter. I’ve gone back and forth between whether that or artificer would work better for him but I feel like gunslinger would just be more fitting. Not much lore for him I just feel like the mechanics could be fun. Imagine he’s holding a bullet in the picture

Freymundr: Hill Dwarf fighter with the unarmed fighting style, born into the clan Hillshaper but was later stripped of that name after an incident that brought shame onto the clan and now he gets by from the money he makes off of pit fighting

Almithara: Pretty tall and kinda buff Wood Elf bladesinger. Again, the idea for her is mostly about mechanics and also cause she’s a Big Lady and I think that’s neat

Ayodele: An NPC for a campaign I have planned. He’s a Fire Genasi cartographer with an absolute passion for maps and geography, so he wanders the lands mapping as much as he can in his own unique style and selling them to get by. There are... some accidents that have lost him valuable pieces of his collection. Not that he can’t control his powers, just you know, something’s *bound* to happen when he’s literally part fire and loves paper so much. No class because I don’t plan on having him fight, I just feel like he could be a cool social ally for the players

Adilet Aydar: Half-Drow way of the shadow monk. No real plan for him but I just made the mini in heroforge based on vibe and I feel like he could be cool to play, and I had a fun time making that subtle but evocative pose for him

[andie-cake]

Hmm...

I think it would be interesting to flesh out Emma going to visit Jane (and see Tim, maybe for the first time if we’re staying in canon here) and learning that she’s gone. Maybe not terribly fluffy though, but fun dynamics with Tim and it could explain how she ended up staying with Tom and Tim for the borrowers AU?

In terms of fluff, sorry my brain doesn’t like fluff without some tinge of sadness, for HOHF, Emma and Paul fight [villain of your choice] and someone gets hurt and the aftermath of that. Alternatively, I’d love to know if Tim has the Nitro Gene and if so, if he joins his Aunt Emma and Uncle Paul in the field. That could be so cute! (Although, he could also join mission control or maybe make friends with another super if Hannah has powers as well? But that’s not Paulkins...) If you feel like picking up a family fluff piece, which is personally my favorite genre, lol, I’d love to see Paul and Emma as parents and if their child shows their powers early (since it’s not nitro gene specific from Paul, if it can be inherited, of course, and now I’m imaging Jack Jack from the incredible, lol) or for Harriet and Tex to come back and see their baby (oh that would be adorable because grandparent plants and you can imagine how proud they would be of Emma!) or to see how Slacky interacted with the baby. (I’m imagining a how a Golden Retriever interacts with babies now... 😂) Or, if you’d prefer to ignore children all together, Emma going back home and taking Paul to meet Harriet and Tex (meet the parents essentially). Well, I’m not sure if any of those ideas seem interesting, but if not, I hope they’re able to help get some fun ideas flowing. Have a lovely weekend! 😊

Okay, so... A lot of these are stuff that I want to explore in longer stories eventually, both the Borrowers AND the HoHF prompts. But you DID give me an idea for some HoHF family fluff between Emma and Tim!

"Here's that big project I was telling you about!"

Emma had been back in Hatchetfield for what, six, seven months now? And she'd long since made a name for herself as Wild Flower. She was respected, loved even, by the town that had once cast her aside. And what's more, she'd managed to connect with her nephew, who seemed to think she was cool despite her absence for most of his life! If it wasn't for the fact that Tim didn't know she was Wild Flower yet, she would've chalked it up to that.

After all, Tim loved superheroes. Understandable, considering his mother was one of the most revered supers in the country before she died. Being raised by someone like that was bound to give someone a deep respect for the career. And right now, Tim was showing Emma his most recent token of appreciation. A social studies project he'd done for school about superheroes around the world.

It was a large cardboard diagram, with a map of the world taped to it. Coming from a line pointing to each continent (barring Antarctica, because duh), was a photograph of a super that was native to said continent, accompanied by a short paragraph with information about them.

"Wooooow, you really know your supers, bud!" Emma mused as she scanned over the diagram, impressed.

Tim looked up at her with a bashful smile. "Thanks," he said, blushing. "Wanna hear more about each one?"

"Educate me!"

"Okay, so," Tim began excitedly, pointing to the super whose picture corresponded to Australia. A woman with long, blonde hair and a bright blue superhero getup. "That right there is Tidal Crash, she's an Australian super with the power to control water."

"Can she talk to sea creatures?" Emma asked, encouraging her nephew to continue.

"Yeah, telepathically," Tim replied. "She's like the cool version of Aquaman."

Emma snickered at Tim's snark. God, he was such a Perkins. He continued on, pointing to the picture next to Africa. A dark-skinned man with long dreadlocks and an award-winning smile, half his face covered by a deep purple mask.

"That's Radi ya Umeme," Tim continued to explain. "He's from Kenya, and his name is Swahili for 'Lightning Strike'. He can control the weather, but he's really good with lightning, hence the name. He's kinda like Madbolt in a way, only y'know, not evil."

Emma chuckled, remembering her most recent encounter with that old nutjob. Madbolt was a fascinating case, he'd been causing trouble for Hatchetfield since around the time Emma was born. Not even Jane had managed to land him behind bars. Tim continued, his finger landing on the South American picture. A man with dark, curly hair and deep brown eyes, clad in a black leather costume.

"That guy is Espalda con Púas, his name is Spanish for 'Spiked Back'," Tim said, talking as though he was still presenting the project to his teacher and classmates. "He's from Chile, and as his name would imply, he can grow spikes out of his back and sharpen his teeth and nails into fangs and claws!"

Emma nodded, urging him to continue. With an excited smile, Tim moved on to Asia, where a picture of a short-haired woman with a shining mask lay.

"That's Dá Quy, she's from South Vietnam," he continued. "Her name means 'Gemstone', and she can control different ores and minerals and stuff."

Tim moved on to Europe, where a picture of a woman with short brown hair and an elegant, but still practical costume lay.

"That's Lady Nighthawk, she's from England," he explained as Emma continued to listen intently. "She can talk to animals and harness their abilities to fight. She visits Hatchetfield once a year, too!"

"Right! I think I remember your mother telling me about meeting a 'Lady Nighthawk' before!" Emma exclaimed in recollection.

"Yeah, mom worked with a lot of supers," Tim mused fondly before moving on to the final picture, the one corresponding to North America. A grizzled man with long dirty-blonde hair and a decked-out suit. "And finally, there's Eagle Eye! He's an ex-military general who can shapeshift into a bald eagle! And he's got this awesome combat suit that he uses in human form! He's from Washington D.C., but just like Lady Nighthawk, he visits Hatchetfield sometimes!"

Emma smiled at the sight of the super who'd been acting as a mentor to her for the past week. During a rescue mission she'd nearly bungled, Eagle Eye- or John MacNamara as she'd learned his real name was, swooped in to lend a hand. He'd taken a shine to her, and offered to help coach her in the ways of being a superhero. Emma had been learning lots of valuable information off of John. But of course, there was no way Emma could tell Tim about-

"Speaking of, did you hear that he's been working with Wild Flower lately?"

Okay, nevermind! Emma froze, surprised by her nephew's casual mention of her alias. Was this a good time to tell him? Better test the waters to be sure...

"Oh yeah, Wild Flower!" she exclaimed, trying to play it cool. "I've, uh... been hearing lots about her lately!"

"Yeah, it's so weird!" Tim chuckled. "It's like she just came out of nowhere!"

Emma nervously drummed her fingers on the headboard of Tim's bed, where they'd been sitting for the past couple of minutes. Did he mean that in a good way or a bad way?

"She's awesome, though!" Tim continued, an excited sparkle in his eyes. Emma's heart began to race. "Her powers are so cool! I mean, she can summon that big flytrap thing! What was it's name again?"

"Slack-Jaw?" Emma replied, a barely-contained smile on her face.

"Right, Slack-Jaw!" Tim recalled. "And did you see her new costume? The green jacket with the cool logo on it?"

"Mhm!" Emma hummed in response, happily recalling the day she was presented that jacket at Town Hall. The mayor had recognized her feats of heroism, and had the jacket tailor-made for her to replace that ratty old, ill-fitting red leather jacket she'd bought from a Goodwill in a scrambled effort to make a good costume. It still needed some tweaks now, but the new jacket was an excellent start.

"And now that she's getting lessons from Eagle Eye, she's only gonna get better!" Tim gushed. "She's just so- Aunt Emma? What're you smiling so hard for?"

God, Emma couldn't keep this secret any longer. She had to tell him.

"I have a question for you, bud," she began, resisting the urge to just tell him outright. "Did your mom ever say anything about both her and me having the Nitro Gene?"

Tim's eyebrows shot up. "Oh yeah!" he exclaimed. "But she said that you didn't like talking about your powers, so she never told me what they were. I figured you still wouldn't wanna talk about them, so I never asked."

Emma's heart fluttered. What had she done to deserve such a considerate nephew? "You wanna take a guess?"

"O-okay, but why n-" Tim cut himself off, the gears clearly turning in his head. After a few moments, he turned to Emma with a look of awed realization on his face. "W-wait, Aunt Emma... Are you saying that you're...?"

"Wild Flower?" Emma finished, eyeing him cheekily. "You bet!"

A smile slowly blossomed onto Tim's face. "No way!" he exclaimed. "B-but mom always said you didn't wanna be a superhero!"

"Well, people change their minds sometimes!" Emma retorted. "And I decided to finally put my powers to good use once I came back home."

"Wow..." Tim gaped breathlessly.

"But I'm still your Aunt Emma, first and foremost!" Emma quickly clarified. "I'm still the same person, just y'know... with plant powers."

"O-of course!" Tim stammered, his mind looking certifiably blown. His face grew serious. "And don't worry, I won't tell anybody about your secret identity!"

Emma snickered, tousling her nephew's hair. "I appreciate it, bud," she said, pulling him into a hug. "...Want me to introduce you to Slack-Jaw?"

"...Maybe."

[aclosetfan]

Lunch Break Blues

The wind whipped Blossom's hair as she tried wrestling it into a top knot. It had been raining on and off all day, and no doubt it would start up again soon, but while the rain had momentarily ceased, she and her sisters took advantage of the rare sunlight pouring through the broken clouds. It was the first lunch in a long week that they took perched atop one of the skyscrapers far from any prying eyes. Usually, a weather report full of rain made Townsville dull and would drive Buttercup crazy, but this week's unprecedented downpour had done little to stop Townsville's villains. Blossom suspected it was because they were feeling a little stir crazy too.

She didn't know what was worse, staying home and doing nothing or flying around soaked to the bone each day. Her hair was a frizzy mess, and she was pretty sure a nasty cold was on the horizon. The rain was such a nuisance that Bubbles had begun to forgo her tennis shoes or steel-toed boots for her daisy-print rain boots. Buttercup had busted out her rain repellant windbreaker. And Blossom had personally opted for her ugly yellow polka-dotted raincoat and matching hat, which yes, she knew looked ridiculous, but she dressed practicably not for fashion. She didn't care who laughed (her sisters and a choice selection of villains); at least she was staying reasonably dry!

The skyscraper they were at was far too windy for her hat to stay on, so she had shoved it in her pocket and went to task on taming her hair. An awful frizzy mess. She pouted and sighed, dropping her hands from her mangled top knot. Generally, the wind did very little to bug her, having the capability to fly and all, but it kept spraying rain droplets and puddles into her face and her hand itched towards her rain cap once more.

A dejected sigh from her left pulled her attention away from her own problems. Glancing over at Bubbles, whose pigtails had gone limp, stabbed absentmindedly at her salad. Her sister took a sad, miserable bite and chewed slowly as she watched the next round of clouds blow in with watery eyes. Bubbles had seemed to be feeling blue (har har) for the last few days, and it wasn't because of the rain. What for though, Blossom didn't know. Bubbles hadn't decided to pour her heart out just yet. However, that didn't deter her from trying to pry the problem out of her sister. Blossom was a problem-solver after all—it was one of her core defining traits.

"Bubs?" She asked with a tilt of her head, "You okay?"

"Oh, Bloss," Bubbles sighed, putting her salad down in favor of ringing out the water from her pigtails, "I'm just feeling a lil crummy. Don't worry."

Blossom snorted, "It'd be easier changing the tide."

That tugged a small smile out of Bubbles.

"Is it the rain?" She asked, already knowing it was the wrong answer.

Bubbles sighed, "No, it's not the rain—it's just, well, it's kind of silly actually."

"I could go for a good joke about now that isn't about my raincoat," Blossom shrugged.

"It's an affront to fashionable society, Blossom," Bubbles sniffed, "You look like a drowned clown!"

"On the outside!" She huffed, "But I'm perfectly dry, thank you, unlike some people."

"I look cute, rain or shine. Jealousy isn't a good color on you." Bubbles blew a raspberry at her before going back to stabbing her salad.

Blossom rolled her eyes and muffled an annoyed groan, "So you're not going to tell us what's up?"

"You'll just tell me it's silly."

The response stung a little, but Blossom shook it off, "Come on, I promise I won't—" she held out her pinky, "—I swear!"

Bubbles regarded her hand for a moment with a thoughtful look before linking their pinkies together. Simultaneously, they lifted their hands and sealed the deal with quick kisses to their fists.

"So," Blossom tried again, "what's up?"

Bubbles sigh was loud and dramatic as she brought one leg up to wrap her arms around, resting a cheek on her knee.

"It's my art," her sister complained, "I wanna make something big, you know, like real profound, but all I ever draw is cute stuff!"

Blossom felt her eyebrows furrow, "But you love cute stuff?"

"Van Gogh didn't get famous for drawing fluffy bunnies, Blossom!" Bubbles whined, "Real artists have really thoughtful ideas! They mean things, and anytime I try to do the same thing, it comes out stupid!"

"Van Gogh drank paint and killed himself. So I don't think he's someone you should be comparing yourself to."

"But he was a genius!"

"He was sick." Blossom counterpointed, "And couldn't find the help he needed. I prefer you sane and alive. Everyone does. The world doesn't need another tortured artist."

Bubbles pouted, "Yeah, but they don't need another goofy doodlist either. I want to make stuff that means something to people."

"They do mean something." She smiled, nudging Bubbles' shoulder with her own, "Your drawings always make me smile. They're happy and fun, and even if they're sometimes silly, that doesn't make them any less valuable to me. That counts for something, right?"

Bubbles smile brightened, and she giggled, "That's really sweet, Bloss, thanks. I think I needed to hear that, but—" there was another dejected sigh, "—I dunno, I just feel so uninspired and bored, and I really want to make a statement. I know there's something great inside me—"

"Because there is."

That earned her another smile, "—yeah, but I can't get it out! It's like all my hand can do is silly cartoons!"

Blossom nodded, "Well, I'm no artist myself, but I'm guessing there's nothing better than practice."

Bubbles flopped back onto the wet concrete, and Blossom cringed in sympathy as she imagined the water soaking its way through Bubbles' shirt.

"Bubs don't lay on—"

"I need to be more introspective!" Bubbles interrupted, "More in tune with myself and nature and the world! I need more life experiences, ya know, so I have stuff I can really pull from when I draw."

Outside of Bubbles probably being the most "self in-tuned" person Blossom knew, it was "life experiences" that threw her the most.

"Bubbles, life experiences? You're a superhero. You face the most depraved of society every day; you met people at their lowest moments. You've faced adversity larger than most will ever dare encounter!"

"But none of that has affected me! I need to get sad! I need to get in touch with my blue period!" Bubbles waved her hands around in exasperation, "I need to be relatable!"

"You've faced the worst and have come out better because of it," She scowled, "and you don't want that? Do you want to be emotionally scarred? To be relatable?"

Bubbles groaned and covered her face with her hands. "I knew you wouldn't get it!" Then came a muffled whine, "This is why I didn't wanna tell you!"

Blossom tsked, "I certainly don't see how being a beacon of hope as opposed to a cesspool of depression and self-pity is worse."

"It's not like that!" Bubbles shot up, "I don't want to be dark and depressed, but that's like what all the great art is!"

"Great art is the art that makes you feel, Bubbles; it doesn't matter what emotion that is, you know that. And if your art makes people feel happy, then what's the big issue?"

Bubbles deflated, "I dunno. I just want to make something that'll make people remember. Centuries from now, I want it to inspire people! Go, oh, I want that! Whatever that is." Bubbles looked up back at the clouds, "And that means I've really got to come up with something good. Something meaningful, but I've got zero ideas."

Blossom considered what she was saying for a moment before nodding, "Okay, I think I understand what you're saying. It's like you're in an art block."

"Yeah," Bubbles nodded, "I'm on creative hold. Everything I make, I don't like."

"Well, this weekend, why don't we go to the art museum, look at the stuff you want to emulate, and try to get into the head of the artist, you know?"

Bubbles perked up, "That's a good idea! You'd really wanna come with me?"

"Of course. We'll drag Buttercup along too. You know she needs some sophisticating." Blossom murmured, shooting their other sister a sideways look.

With the hood of her windbreaker still partially up and wet dripping hair curling in every direction, Buttercup sat perched on the ledge of the building a few feet away, hunched over her sandwich. She chewed mechanically in what looked like deep pensive thought. Her eyebrows were furrowed as she seemed to study the cars far below. She had been mostly quiet this afternoon, happy to be outside but pissy about the rain, and had spent much of their lunch hour shooing away a group of hungry pigeons that seemed to follow her everywhere she went. The pigeons, however, seemed to be appeased at the moment with the few chunks of bread and potato chips Buttercup had relinquished to them.

Blossom expected Buttercup to snap at her for the comment, but it seemed she was so lost in her own little world, watching the cars whiz by, that she hadn't heard them talking.

Bubbles giggled, "Actually, Bloss, I was thinking I needed to be a bit more like Buttercup."

She gave Bubbles a look, jabbing a thumb towards their sister, "Buttercup?"

"Mm-hmm," Bubbles nodded.

"Our sister?" Blossom asked again for clarification, "Buttercup?"

"Ah, come on! Look at her!" Bubbles grabbed her by the cheeks and swiveled her head back towards Buttercup, "She's got the look down."

"What look?" Blossom asked, but because her cheeks were being squished, it came out like, "Wa'ok?" Bubbles understood her regardless.

"That dark, introspective look." Bubbles explained, "Ya know, mused hair, dark under-eyes, stained fingers. The look of a moody artist!"

Generally, Buttercup's hair was mused because she refused to brush it since it was "short for a reason, Blossom." Today, it was also because of the rain. Furthermore, Buttercup had dark under-eyes partly because she insisted on wearing dark eyeliner that smudged halfway down her face every day without fail, and also because she had stayed up until 3 a.m. last night playing video games. And finally, Buttercup's fingers were stained not because of any artistic endeavor but because she had stuck her whole hand into a vat of black and mysterious sludge this morning. She had done so because Blossom had explicitly told her not to stick her hand in the vat of black and mysterious sludge they had been investigating, which had been a mistake on Blossom's part. She knew her sister couldn't resist doing something after it had been brought to her attention, so why she had decided to tell Buttercup not to mess with the vat of sludge was beyond her.

And while Buttercup was often quote-unquote moody, it wasn't because she was broody or introspective. It was because she was either hungry or bored or sometimes both. Bubbles was actually the moody and overly sensitive one, but Blossom knew better than to say that out loud.

"She looks like she needs a bath." Blossom huffed, pulling her face from Bubbles grasp.

"Don't focus on that." Bubbles waved her off, "Look how deep in thought she is! Buttercup isn't much for talking, is she? I bet she's got a lot going on in that head of hers."

"Buttercup?" She asked, her eyebrows furrowing in confusion once again.

Bubbles rolled her eyes and gave her shoulder a playful wack, "Don't be mean! I'm serious. She's been sitting like that for half an hour now, looking, thinking—"Bubbles tapped her chin in thought, "—I wonder what she's thinking about. From the looks of it, it must be important."

Blossom looked back over at Buttercup, tracing her eyes over her sister's face once more to look for something she may have missed. Her look was pensive. And it was admittedly artsy even if it was on accident. She supposed that even if Buttercup tended to evade artistic endeavors in favor of more physical hobbies, she could still be a poet at heart.

Buttercup was done with her sandwich now and handed off the crumbs to the birds. She still seemed lost in thought. However, she had moved her attention away from the hustle and bustle of the city to the clouds above. She didn't smile, but when a beam of light broke through the clouds and landed on her face, the stress lines on her forehead disappeared, and contentment passed over her features. Blossom couldn't help smiling at the sight of it. It was nice to see her like that. Maybe she was thinking about something profound and meaningful. Bubbles was right. Buttercup wasn't one to share her every single thought unless she was pissed, annoyed, or pressed for an answer. When Buttercup was in a good mood, she simply vibed, enjoying the quality time.

Blossom hardly thought she was mysterious, though. Buttercup's body language was more than enough to determine her mood. If she liked a song, she'd bob her head to its beat. If she liked a certain food, she'd inhale it without breathing. But now that Bubbles had said it, what was Buttercup actually thinking about?

Suddenly, Blossom felt guilty for never asking.

"Hey, Butters?" She called out to their sister, snapping a few times to get her attention.

Buttercup blinked back into reality and turned to face them, "Mhm?"

"What are you thinking about?" She asked.

"What am I thinking about?" Buttercup tilted her head, giving them both a look, "Why?"

"Don't worry about it." Bubbles spoke up, "Just tell us, right now, what you're thinking about."

Buttercup shrugged, looked away, smacked her lips a few times, and looked back, "Lizards."

"Lizards?" Blossom heard herself echoing as every kind, and warm thought she had regarding Buttercup came to a crashing halt.

Buttercup shrugged again, picking at her teeth, before looking back up at the clouds, "They're cool as shit, dude."

Blossom blinked once and then twice before turning back to Bubbles, who looked a little bit dumbstruck. 

"Well, you're right when you're right, Bubbles. She's a real Van Gogh in the making," She snorted dryly.

"Ah, shut it," Bubbles huffed, crossing her arms.

"Wait," Buttercup spoke up over the wind, "why you dumbasses talking about vans?"

"Face it, Bubs," Blossom smiled, ignoring Buttercup, "you don't give yourself enough credit. If there's someone here proficient in artistic musings, it's not the pigeon whisperer. It's most definitely you."

Bubbles uncrossed her arms and sent her a warm smile, leaning her damp head on her shoulder, "Maybe you're right, Bloss, but could we still go to the art museum?"

"Yeah, duh." Blossom smiled, leaning her head on Bubbles, "You know I love museums."

"Hey!" Buttercup shouted, hands on her hips, "Seriously, which van are two laughing about, and where is it going!"

[hes-writer]

Instagram

Based on: harry is on tour and y/n posts a picture with a co-worker on a night out and he gets jealous and frustrated cause he hasn't seen his girl in a while.... he does something stupid that goes viral and breaks her heart but the co-worker is just a really good friend of hers and is happily married or something.... idk if it's a good idea but you can make it very angsty cause i love it hahahah (ooh-so-laura)

Word Count: 1457 words

Warnings: fluff, angst

Being on tour meant that Harry was away from Y/N for most of the year and that completely takes a toll on a relationship. It wasn’t because their love for each other lacked in any way, shape, or form. It was just that distance can strain even a strong relationship like theirs in subtle ways. So subtle that Harry didn’t even notice that he had gone a couple of days without video calling his lover, or that she wasn’t updating him every hour on her annoying work colleagues-- which was unusual for her, considering that she was practically attached to her cell for hours on end. 

So when Harry finally had the time off to catch up with the rest of himself, alongside the buzzing environment of traveling and touring-- his first instinct was to grasp his phone and dial Y/N’s number, not even considering the time difference of their home to his location for the next twenty-four hours. 

He waited and waited for what seemed like forever--he thought it was interchangeable considering he hadn’t talked to her in ages--he was surprised (not really) that it went to her voicemail. Harry knew that Y/N loved her sleep. He switched off the Clock app, finding out that it was only a quarter past nine and there was absolutely no way that she would be asleep at this hour. 

He tried twice, to no avail. His eyebrows furrowed in wonder and curiosity, lips pursing in a slight pout as a sudden wave of sadness overcame him and he realized that he’d probably have to wait for a bit more time until he got to talk to Y/N. 

---

As private as he is, Harry still kept up to date with the latest news through social media. He has been extra cautious as of late ever since he accidentally posted a picture of him wearing a cartoon shirt to his public Instagram story, mistaking taking it for the green, ‘close friends’ button. He made sure to keep his thumb a few centimeters more away from the sensitive screen as to not accidentally double-tap a picture he had no intentions of liking. He scrolled quickly, his eyes boring the screen in a swift glance, not really being interested in anything he was seeing. 

He soon moved on to his next task--to check everyone’s story. Loud sounds and pounding music got lagged through as he tapped on the right side of his screen, cutting off the video midway. He was still uninterested. 

Harry refreshed his feed, letting the loading logo swirl through circularly. Needless to say, he was stunned when he saw Y/N’s latest post, uploaded only a few minutes ago. 

There it was in large format, a picture of his girl and a--not going to lie-- a very decent looking man in a slick navy blue suit with a red tie. He figured he would’ve been more up-front of his obvious distaste of the man if he hadn’t worn such a color-coordinated suit. Snickering to himself, Harry thought he could probably show him up with a Gucci patterned suit of his that he’ll pull off no matter what. 

But nonetheless, the look was effortless and Harry was sure that he would’ve liked the man very much if it weren’t for Y/N appearing beside him. That alone caused a scowl to appear on his face and the next thing he knew; he was calling his girlfriends’ number with forceful taps of his calloused thumbs.

Y/N looked great, obviously. And maybe that’s why he was impatiently muttering to himself for her to pick up the phone. Harry didn’t know if he should complement the dress she wore or mention the fact that her lipstick was perfectly painted on her pouty lips, or how her hair was styled in a way that reminded him of date nights that ended in passionate lovemaking.

His chest ached suddenly, emotions overwhelming the fact that he missed his girl so much added with the boiling jealousy bubbling in his blood. The call went to voicemail and normally he would patiently wait a few minutes before calling again. However, Y/N’s profile rimmed a colorful hue, indicating that she just recently uploaded a story. 

He didn’t know what to make of her actions-- if she deliberately ignored him or she simply did not hear her ringtone alarming that he was calling. He called again. 

“Who’s that in your photo?” He growled, demanding for an answer instead of greeting his lover.

Y/N furrowed her brows at his sudden rough voice filling the speaker of her phone, “Hello to you, too”

“Who was that?” Harry repeated. He couldn’t help his fingers from fidgeting against a stray string of his knitted jumper. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”

“That was Kevin,” Y/N answered loudly, loud music blaring through her soft voice. “Did you like his suit? He said it was Gucci, but he wouldn’t let me see the tag,” She chuckled at the end, oblivious at the burning jealousy coursing through Harry.  

“Kevin, huh?” Harry mocked. “I’m sure it was Gucci and I guarantee that he wouldn’t mind taking it off to show you,”

He could hear you excusing yourself from the crowd. His phone speaker muted to a quieter atmosphere--he assumed you moved outside. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“God, Y/N. I haven’t seen you in so long and the first thing I see is with you and some other guy!”

“And whose fault is that?” She bit back, hoping to get some sense into his head before she hung up. 

Sighing in frustration, Harry changed to a decent attire, quickly grabbing the things he needed for a night out. Needless to say, the next morning was interesting for both of them. 

———

Headlines of Harry were plastered everywhere, mostly discussing his wild night out wherein pictures of women grinding against him were linked. He didn’t have an ounce of alcohol last night, but the hazy atmosphere of the club surely made his mind boggled. 

“Oh shit,” He muttered silently to himself, sitting up in his otherwise empty hotel bed. 

—-

Y/N understood that he was busy as of late, especially since he was in the middle of touring. Their video calls for the past couple weeks dwindled into a good morning or good night message and as much as she wanted to beg him for a few minutes to see his faced in a pixelated screen--she knew that he just didn’t have enough* time to do so. 

But apparently he had enough time to go out. She thought. She shook off the thought, knowing that jealousy and jumping into conclusion never ended in a quiet stupor. 

Instead, she examined the pictures closely as much as the blurry pixels let her. Seeing the emptiness in his eyes and the slouch of his shoulders caught her attention. His hands were to himself, seeming as though he did not care enough to push the women off of him but had no intentions to enjoy the movements against his body. And frankly, Y/N should be angry at him for doing something so stupid. But she also couldn’t ignore her instincts that all he needed was a reassurance that their love was still very much alive. 

She called him. 

“Y/N!” Harry agitatedly explains the events of last night, spewing out that he did not do anything that would taint his conscience or ruin the relationship they had. It put Y/N’s mind to ease knowing that her initial assumption was right—he just needed her to be there for him. 

“It’s okay, H. I understand,” She responded softly, playing at the end of *his shirt that she was wearing. 

“Y-you do?” His voice came out childlike and scared. She could imagine his lips pursing in a pout. 

“It’s alright, Har,” Y/N relaxed her tense muscles, “You wanna tell me what happened during our call?’ She giggled at his behaviour, to which he groaned in protest. 

“I’d rather not,” He shook his head, his dimple making a slight indent on his cheek.

“You were jealous weren’t you?” 

“Of course not. I was just wondering because if it was from Gucci, then Alessandro would’ve shown it to me by now,” He muttered quickly, lips pursing and pressing a lie to cover up his embarrassing actions. “And I kind of miss you,” He added quietly. 

“Right, of course,” Y/N let a few seconds pass before replying, “And I miss you too,”

“So, Kevin is …?” Harry let his thoughts trail off, brows pinching together as he waited for her answer.

She laughed at his prying tone, “Kevin is happily married and you are, too.”

----

thank u for the request !!

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[specterchasing-a]

Hold On (Part One) || Eddie & Alfie

TIMING: One month ago.

LOCATION: Alfie’s apartment.

PARTIES: @yikesimonfire & @specterchasing​​

SUMMARY: Eddie wants Alfie to accompany him on a little adventure. A lot of things go unsaid, but that’s probably for the best.

CONTENT: Internalized homophobia

Eddie carefully straddled the knee-high barrier that divided the apartment balconies. With a quiet grunt, he raised his leg and landed safely on Alfie’s property. He never locked the sliding door and Eddie didn’t have the patience to wait for him in the hallway. In all likelihood, the door would be shut in his face if Alfie had the option to block him out. Eddie didn’t appreciate being rejected, so things were better this way.

“Alfie?” Eddie announced himself curiously as he opened the balcony door. “I need your help with something.”

The sound of Eddie’s voice from his living room broke Alfie’s concentration, pulling him away from the string of code he was helplessly scratching his head over. One of these days he’d learn to lock the balcony door — at least while he worked. “‘Course you do,” Alfie mumbled to himself as he ran a hand down the length of his face. 

“I’m in here,” he called out, pushing his chair away from the desk until he latched onto the doorknob. With a faint click, Alfie swung the office door open and rolled back to his desk. “This important?”

As soon as Eddie heard Alfie’s voice, he made a beeline for the office. He stood at the door, grinning from ear to ear, and offered a small wave. “All work and no play makes Alfie a dull boy. You’re aware of that, right?” he asked, leaning against the doorframe. He liked his neighbor, quite a bit actually, but he wished Alfie was a little more social. Getting him to commit to a conversation for more than a few sentences felt like pulling teeth. More often than not, Alfie regarded him with enthusiasm of someone having their teeth pulled, too. Eddie was used to it.

“It’s monumentally important, actually,” Eddie answered with a nod. “I have plans tonight, filming plans, and I want you to come with me.” He raised his brow provocatively. “I know you’re gonna say no or fabricate some brand-new illness that you don’t have, but c’mon, it could be really fun, don’t you think? We never hang out.”

Alfie’s gaze shifted from the computer screen to the doorway where Eddie stood. He wished he could wipe the smug smile from the other man’s face that came along with that ridiculous proverb. Another part of him wished Eddie’s smile wasn’t contagious. “I’ll have you know, I did not make up conjunctivitis,” retorted Alfie with the hint of a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. He wouldn’t comment on any of his other recent ‘diagnoses’. 

“What kind of filming plans, exactly?” he asked, his fingers locked behind his head as he swiveled to face Eddie, giving him his undivided attention. It was still a long shot that Alfie would bite, but he’d entertain the idea before crushing Eddie’s hopes and dreams. 

“You sure? Sounds pretty fake to me,” Eddie said with a smirk. He knew conjunctivitis was real, but that didn’t stop him from playing dumb in the hopes that it might elicit a reaction from Alfie. He liked getting under his skin almost as much as he liked making him laugh. He wished he had more chances to do both.

“I need to go to the woods again. You know the couple that went missing recently? I saw on the news that their bodies were found somewhere near Dark Score Lake, but here’s the kicker; all that was left of them were their bones. They went missing last fuckin’ week and that’s all that’s left. Vines had already taken over the remains.”

“I have a theory about what’s behind it, but I wanna know for certain. More importantly, I want evidence.” Eddie’s gaze remained on Alfie. Barely concealed hope shone in his eyes. “So, yeah, company would be appreciated.”

“So let me get this straight…” Alfie’s brow was raised skeptically as he carefully reiterated Eddie’s proposal. “You want to go to the woods where people died… all to prove your little theory on video, and you want me to do what exactly? Be your bodyguard?” A small laugh swelled within his chest. “You’re joking, right?”

Shaking his head, Alfie turned back to his desktop. “Some bodyguard I’d be — more of a meat shield than anything else.” He knew full well that Eddie wouldn’t be that easy to turn down. He’d most likely hang around, maybe even get on his hands and knees to beg Alfie to go with him. “‘Sides, I haven’t even checked the weather. You know how my joints get when it rains. I’d only slow you down and before you know it, a week’s gone by and they’re reporting our bones on the news.”

Eddie’s mood deflated somewhat when Alfie outright laughed at his proposal. He understood but, just once, he thought it might be nice to have someone accompany him without needing to be begged. “Not a bodyguard—a friend,” he corrected him with a more mild smile than before. “Friends, y’know, do things together sometimes. Sounds zany, I know, but I hear it helps make them into even better friends.”

“I already checked the weather,” Eddie said, not that it would’ve taken Alfie more than 10 seconds to do it himself. He loved his excuses, even the fragile ones. “There shouldn’t be any rain tonight, just some wind. I wouldn’t invite you if there was even a 10% chance it would storm.” Eddie raised his chin slightly, an expectant look on his face. “You should come with me, Alfie. You’re due for a little fun.”

Much to his chagrin, Alfie hadn’t been successful at turning Eddie down. It was nothing new; he was notorious for avoiding things by the skin of his teeth. But there was something in the tone of Eddie’s voice that made Alfie’s heart sink. His eyes flickered back to Eddie whose face was drained of enthusiasm. “A friend,” Alfie parroted. It really wasn’t fair that Eddie could worm his way into his heart like this, but he had a suspicion that this feeling was not exclusive to him. It was just... Eddie. 

“Say I do go with you,” he finally chirped. “Aside from what I presume will be a fuckton of fun and friendly bonding time… What’s in it for me?” It sounded selfish, Alfie knew that. Even still, it didn’t stop him from dragging out the inevitable. “I mean, y’know, you get your video out of it too, right? Doesn’t seem like a level playing field.”

Eddie nodded when Alfie repeated the dreaded “f” word. He knew his shut-in of a neighbor didn’t value things like genuine human connections, but Eddie felt determined to make himself an exception. “Proud of you for saying it out loud, I know ‘friend’ is like an obscenity to you,” Eddie teased with his hand over his heart. He didn’t understand Alfie; the guy could be surrounded by people who loved him if he would only put forth a little effort. Eddie would be among them, no question.

As Alfie spoke up again, Eddie’s brow raised in hopeful curiosity. The questions that followed immediately made it fall into a furrow. “That’s so fucked up,” he asserted. “I offer you pure platonic love and you’re telling me it’s not enough motivation for you, Alfie Ramirez?” He pushed off from the doorframe and firmly planted his hands on either hip. “You’re lucky that I don’t have more dignity, is all I’m saying. What do you want? Money? My HBOMax login info? Name it, you greedy fuck. Your wish is my command.”

Alfie’s face flushed when Eddie drew attention to his repetition of the word ‘friend’. In truth, Alfie hadn’t noticed he’d done it at all, though he could understand why it stood out. Things like that didn’t usually bear repeating. "Har har," he rolled his eyes. Alfie wasn't about to die on a hill proclaiming he had more friends than he knew what to do with. Eddie might have been his neighbor, but he was also the closest Alfie had to a friend in years. 

A terse laugh escaped his lips at the mention of "pure platonic love". With a broad grin, Alfie quickly intercepted. "No, Ed. You offered imminent death. But same difference, right?" The smile never wavered from his face as he listened to Eddie prattle off various options. The corner of his mouth twitched mischievously. "I already have your HBOMax login, by the way. You really need to change your passwords," he smirked.

Alfie wasn't usually someone who wanted for anything; he kept to himself and got what he needed. But there was one thing that would make it worthwhile. "Alright, fine. I'll go with you," he decided. "But after all's said and done, you owe me a box of Baby Ruths. I'm talkin' unopened retail box, nothin' but Baby Ruth goodness inside."

Imminent death. Eddie rolled his eyes playfully. “You are so dramatic,” he insisted. Most of his content-related adventures were potentially perilous but, lo and behold, Eddie still had a pulse. He couldn’t imagine what would make tonight any different. “You’re stealing from me?” he asked, feigning shock. “I’ll change them immediately, alfieisatool69 should do just fine—wait, shit, I shouldn’t have said that out loud.” Truthfully, Eddie couldn’t care less if Alfie used his login info, it felt like something friends would do. Granted, friends probably asked first, but that was neither here nor there.

“That’s it?” Eddie asked. “You could have asked for anything in the world and you went with candy bars.” It would’ve been physically impossible for him to be grinning any wider. “You’re a simple kind of guy, I respect that. Consider those candy bars signed, sealed, and delivered. Now, get your shit and let’s go solve a murder.”

“Technically,” Alfie stressed, unlocking his hands from behind his head to raise one of his fingers, “I’m stealing from WarnerMedia.” His brow raised at the new password Eddie threw out. After a brief lull, Alfie’s hands dropped to the arm rests of his chair, and gave a soft snort. “Alfieisatool69 — really? You’d use my name as a password? Gotta be honest with ya, Ed, that’s kinda gay.” Throughout their years as neighbors, Eddie’s feet remained firmly planted in his heterosexuality. It was rare that Alfie made friends at all, let alone with straight guys. This, he figured, was exactly the kind of ribbing to be expected in the friendship dynamic they shared — not that he had anything to compare it to. 

With a shrug, Alfie pushed himself from his seat. “What can I say? I’m a sucker for a good nougat.” No amount of candy bars would be able to prepare him for what was sure to come. But Alfie wasn’t in the position to demand egregious compensation when someone he considered a friend was essentially begging for his company. 

“What all do I need?” he finally asked as he slipped his wallet into his back pocket.

Eddie’s hand raised and mimicked a flapping jaw when Alfie corrected him with a technicality. When his new password was deemed gay, he scoffed. “You caught me—I’m so gay for you, the guy I need to bribe to spend time with me.” Eddie’s lips pursed as he proffered an exaggerated shrug. “I think if I was gay, which I’m not, I’d probably be more interested in someone who, I dunno, liked spending time with me.” He sounded more terse than he intended to, as if what he said held more genuine feelings than it did. So he thought, anyway. “The syphilis is also kind of a turn-off,” he added to make-up for the weight of his previous comment.

“Whatever the Alfie-essentials are. We’re just going to the woods and I’ve already got all of the filming equipment packed and ready to go,” Eddie informed him with a bright grin. “You are so not gonna regret this.”

“You caught me—I’m so gay for you...” The declaration caught Alfie off guard. For a moment he could feel his heart racing in his chest. After all this time? But before he could say anything irrational, Eddie pulled him back down to Earth fast enough to give him whiplash. Same old Eddie; he shouldn’t have been surprised.

Alfie was silent for a moment as he shuffled into a pair of sneakers haphazardly strewn across the floor. “Oh, right — the syphilis,” he half-laughed. “Good news is, Doc says I’m cured! I would have mentioned it sooner if I’d known that was a deal-breaker for you.” With a low grunt, he wiggled his heel into its shoe and scooped his phone up from the desk.

“Just gotta grab my keys,” Alfie added with a nod towards the office door, hoping Eddie would lead the way out so he didn’t have to walk past him. He didn’t know what else to say. Eddie didn’t think he enjoyed their time together; that much was made clear by the resulting whiplash. Granted, Alfie hadn’t given him reason to believe otherwise, but that didn’t keep him from climbing the balcony rails to visit. 

You could start by apologizing, his inner voice rang. While Alfie knew he probably should, he was worried it wouldn’t seem genuine enough. “You’re wrong, by the way,” he offered instead. He refused to make eye-contact and instead stared at the floor, but it was a start. “I like spending time with you. I mean, y’know… when it doesn’t pull me away from work. But — I do.”

“Well, clearly, we have no choice but to run away together, if that’s the case,” Eddie teased. He hated the way he didn’t hate the sound of that. He liked Alfie a lot, too much for comfort sometimes. Eddie noticed little things about his neighbor that shouldn’t have stood out to him: the rasp in his voice when he first woke up, the flash of his teeth when he spoke, the subtle crinkle around his eyes when he smiled. Seeing all of that and having his heart push him to do things he didn’t want to was agonizing. He told himself that must be what caring about a friend felt like, and usually he could convince himself to believe that, but sometimes…. Sometimes, he knew better.

Eddie stepped aside to let Alfie pass. To his surprise, he had something to say before he did. He studied his friend’s face as he spoke; flash of teeth, he was fucked. For the first time since he arrived, Eddie’s face bore a serious expression. “You do?” he asked before he could catch himself. “I mean, yeah, I was only teasing.… I know you do, Alfie.” He offered him a small smile. “Let’s get out of here.”

Alfie managed to skirt past Eddie with minimal effort; head lowered and shoulders down. Something in the way the other man spoke made it sound like a suggestion rather than a jest. He couldn’t afford to think like that. Besides, no matter how much truth it held, Alfie was better off alone. He’d die sooner than later and he wasn’t going to put his friend — or anyone for that matter — in that situation. 

“That’s what this is all about, right?” Alfie teased back, deciding that was what was expected of him. “I thought that’s what ‘let’s go solve a murder’ was code for.” 

In no time at all, he led the way down the short hall, only stopping at the front door long enough to snatch the keys off the hand-me-down entry-way table. “Cool,” blurted Alfie as he nodded along. “I didn’t want you thinking I don’t want you around, y’know?” His eyes shot up to meet Eddie’s for a brief moment and flashed an apologetic smile as he held the door open for him.

[yeeharley]

day two: alone together by fall out boy / only one bed / road trip

⭒

So their choice of motel definitely wasn’t the best.

That actually might be a bit of an understatement- out of all of the motels Harry and Peter could’ve picked in Jersey, this is probably the worst they could’ve gone with. Irony is a bitch like that. 

Peter’s kind of being a bitch, too, with all of his griping about why do we even have to stay in Jersey and we could just drive through, you’re a good driver and i’ll drive home without you if you make me sleep in a motel in Jersey.

Harry knows he won’t. He’s attached to him at this point, and even making Peter stay a night in Jersey can’t make him angry enough for that. He’d never leave him behind.

Peter’s just one of those friends.

“You can’t even drive, dumbass,” Harry had muttered as Peter whined about his innate hatred of Jersey in the passenger seat. “I’m fuckin’ exhausted, man, and I’ve gotta sleep before we drive the rest of the way. You wanna try and drive this car?”

That had shut him up pretty quickly.

For a superhero who throws himself into dangerous situations every day, he’s way too nervous to get behind the wheel of a car. Harry should know- he’s the one who tried to teach him.

So Peter had conceded and Harry had driven for another fifteen minutes to the next motel on the way to the Starks’ cabin upstate (Peter’d wanted to visit after going over to France to see Harry’s dorms, an who was he to say no?). Their backs were all clunking around in the backseat, and under the dark eleven-o’clock sky, the moon was as bright as a spotlight.

The outside of the building was unassuming- cracked pink-ish stucco, a leaf-strewn roof that looked like it hadn’t been cleaned in forever, cars parked in nearly every space. Harry had wheeled into the only empty space he was able to find, Peter craning his neck to look up at the motel, and they’d grabbed a suitcase without checking to see whose it was(sharing clothes is fine between friends, right?).

And that’s how they found themselves here.

Standing in the doorway of the only available room, staring in, Peter tucked close to Harry’s elbow with their suitcase clutched in his hands, staring at the one small bed tucked into the corner.

“Oh,” Peter mutters, expression unreadable.

Harry can feel his heart jump- is he not okay with this? He’s fine with taking the floor, of course, anything to make his friend comfortable. 

But is sharing a bed with him really that repulsive? Would it be that awful?

Okay, so he can’t really deny the crush he has on his best friend. That happens sometimes, right? Friends getting crushes on each other? It’ll pass. Totally.

Totally.

“I’ll take the floor,” he says quickly, stepping into the room and moving aside so that Peter doesn’t feel too cramped. “No worries, dude, you can-”

“No!”

Silence.

Harry turns around, brow furrowed, and takes in the wild-haired, wide-eyed, frantic appearance of his best friend. Peter flushes when they make eye contact and tucks the suitcase closer to his chest. Ducks his head. A single dark strand of hair falls into his eyes, and Harry suddenly has the unmistakable urge to brush it away.

Good thing he’s not stupid. Ha. Ha. Haha.

“No,” Peter says again, this time quieter. “Uh- it’s alright. You don’t hafta sleep on the floor.”

Harry tilts his head to one side. Furrows his brow. “I’m not letting you sleep on the floor, Peter.”

It doesn’t seem like it should be possible, but Peter’s face looks like it darkens a few shades. He bites his lip, eyes darting up to meet Harry’s before falling back to the floor, and says, “I- uh, I meant. We could just- we could share.” Pause. “I don’t mind.”

Oh.

Oh, okay.

“Ah.” Harry feels his own face grow hot and steps further into the dark-ish room to hide the blush. Is this a good idea? Can he control his feelings enough to avoid confessing? He knows he shouldn’t, knows it’s not a good idea- he’s never been good at hiding things.

But there’s something in Peter’s eyes that tells him that he couldn’t deal with a rejection.

He’s never been good at handling rejection.

“Yeah, sure,” Harry says, clearing his throat when his voice cracks. “Fine.”

Peter seems to relax a bit, then, dropping the suitcase gently to the floor and nodding in a way that seems to be to reassure Harry. He’s been in the same clothes all day- a pair of his good sweatpants and a pizza-fraction t-shirt- and, for a moment, Harry’s sure he’s going to change, but he just slides his shoes off, kicks them aside, and jumps into the bed.

He’s short circuiting. A broken robot. A phone in the water. 

Huh.

The hell is he supposed to do now?

“You coming, Har?” Peter asks, yawning and stretching his arms out over his head. Harry gulps, nods. Kicks his own sneakers off and tosses them into the corner before pulling his jacket off and hopping onto the bed beside Peter, who’s crushed up against the wall.

“This okay?” 

Peter nods as Harry scooches his legs under the threadbare blanket and eases himself back against the mattress. His heart feels like it’s racing a million miles an hour, but he just takes a deep breath and turns onto his side so that he can face Peter, who does the same.

His eyes are closed, so he can’t see the way Harry takes in the way the soft moonlight strokes over his dark lashes and curly hair. The way it hits his lips just right. The way it shines against his high cheekbones, against his perfect nose, against the lobe of his ear and the curve of his neck and-

“Peter?” Harry says, already knowing that he’s going to regret this.

Peter opens his eyes, and even in the low light, they shine like the sun. “Yeah?” He asks, eyes fixed on Harry’s, smiling just a bit.

A deep breath. In, out. “I really want to kiss you right now.”

He braces himself for anger, for disgust, for Peter to launch himself out of bed and yell at him about taking advantage. Nearly closes his eyes.

But Peter isn’t shouting. 

Isn’t frowning.

Isn’t angry.

He’s smiling.

“Okay,” he says quietly, biting his bottom lip with a little grin.

Okay.

Harry’s been holding back for almost a year, and now that he’s got permission, he isn’t going to hesitate. He pushes himself up on his elbows and flips over as deftly as he can so that he’s pretty much on top of Peter (isn’t how he imagined this going, but he’s here now, so there’s no stopping it).

Peter’s flushing like a tomato in the moonlight. He’s careful not to kick Harry as he pushes the covers off of his waist and gently places his hands on his waist, cocking his head to one side like a curious puppy.

“You gonna do it?” He asks, voice almost a whisper.

Harry doesn’t answer. He just ducks his head down, arms bracketing Peter’s face, and kisses him.

And it feels like everything he’s ever dreamed of.

Peter is warm and soft and careful, one hand moving from his waist to rest on the base of his lower back. Harry slowly, gently parts his lips, testing the waters. 

Slides a hand under Peter’s neck and twines his fingers into his curls, snickering at the way Peter gasps just a bit before tugging gently. 

Peter parts his lips, too, moving them against Harry’s once, twice, a third time, before his tongue darts out and swipes against Harry’s. That elicits a full-on laugh, because God. 

Neither of them really know what they’re doing, but it feels good.

This is good.