#also wanted to make it sort of like miles has the light and it's not fully reaching gwen cause of The Horrors

[floating-goblin-art]

[redstarwriting]

bestie

spider squad x black cat!fem!reader

request?: yes

request: “hi! okay i love your works and my brains been rotting thinking abt this lol. i was wondering if i could request a black cat variant! reader that somehow (idk how sorry ), she's apart of the spider-society? Given that black cats backstory isn't all that nice, maybe she has a deal W miguel to let her stay if she makes sure she uses her skills to help the society instead of stealing? and how the squad(miles, gwen, pav, hobie) meet her in the society?”

requested by: anon​

word count: 2.1k

genre: platonic and chaotic LMAO

Warnings: language, stealing, bad Spanish, slight Gwen crush if you squint but also like not really

A/N: STOP I LOVE WRITING PLATONIC AND CHAOTIC THINGS!! i did change up the prompt a bit as they didn’t meet her in spider society necessarily (even though the did, they just didn’t know it lol) i hope you enjoy this anon! also if anyone wants to knows some of the specific songs that gave me black cat 2099 vibes lemme know 👀 i’ll make a post

pt ii - becoming hobie’s bestie

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Gwen, Miles, Pavitr, and Hobie were called to “the principal’s office” as they started calling it. So here they are, in front of Miguel, waiting to be reprimanded for something they did. “I have a mission for the three of you,” he says, pointing to Miles, Gwen, and Pav. “Hobie, you’re not needed.”

“Like ‘ell I’m not,” he says, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall. Miguel subtly smiles to himself. Reverse psychology. Works every time.

“Wait, what?” Miles asks, eyes wide. “You aren’t gonna yell at us for existing?” Gwen asks, equally as surprised. Miguel rolls his eyes. “For existing? When have I ever…” he trails off as Pav, Hobie, and Gwen point at Miles. 

And Miles points at himself. 

“Dios mío,” Miguel mumbles, pinching the bridge of his nose. “No. I’m not doing that. This time.”

“What’s the mission then? Are we going somewhere new? Oh! Can I bring back a souvenir?” Pavitr asks, excitedly. “No, but I’m sure you’ll end up with some sort of souvenir regardless,” Miguel grumbles, and Hobie raises his eyebrow. “Well, what do you mean by that?” Gwen asks and Miguel types into his computer. A picture of a girl pops up on the screen. “I need you to bring me her.”

“Uhhh what? You want us to bring you a… civilian?” Miles asks, and Miguel nods. “She’ll respond to you all better. You’re the same age,” Miguel says, and they all glance at each other. “Can you not be secretive for like, a couple of seconds? Is she an anomaly?”

“No, Gwen. Just bring her to Spider Society, please. She’s from this universe, so I’m just sending you to where I need you to go,” Miguel says, opening a portal for them to go through. They all glance at each other before Gwen shrugs, walking through the portal. Miles and Pav follow her, and Hobie rolls his eyes following the three of them. They find themselves… at a show? They’re on top of the catwalk in a stadium show, looking down at the audience. “What the hell?” Gwen mumbles and Hobie is intrigued when he sees the instruments on the stage. “Now why did he send us to a concert?” Miles asks, and Pav shrugs. Right at that moment, the lights go down and everyone starts to scream. “So, you think she’s in the crowd? How are we supposed to find someone in all of these people?” Miles asks, and Pav shrugs. “I can do it, easily,” Pav says, and Miles and Gwen give him a Look™. “What?! It’s simple you just look for her face! Miguel showed us a picture of her.”

“Aye, ‘e’s right. Found her,” Hobie says, and they all look at him. He’s pointing, and they follow his finger. “SHE’S THE SINGER?!” Gwen yells as the music starts. “Yeah. Guess we gotta wait for the set to finish,” Hobie says, shrugging and sitting on the catwalk, “Gettin’ a free show outta this shit at least.”

“Oh, please, every show you’ve ever been to has been free,” Gwen says, sitting next to him, taking her mask off. Hobie, Pav, and Miles all follow suit. “What does Miguel want with a singer?”

“I like her outfit,” Pav says, ignoring Miles’ question and sitting next to Gwen. Miles quickly slips between Pav and Gwen, shooing him away slightly. “Not my style. Lyrics ain’t bad,” Hobie says, leaning back and observing the performance, “She can sing, I’ll give ‘er ‘at.”

“I fuck with it. Lyrics speak to me,” Gwen says, and Pav nods. “She seems angry.”

“Yeah, that’s why I can respect what she’s doin’. Threatenin’ and angry music is cool,” Hobie says, bobbing his head up and down. Gwen nods. “Okay, guys, seriously, what does Miguel want with a singer?”

“Maybe she’s a scientist or something? Miguel needs her help?” Gwen suggests, and Miles shakes his head. “Nah, I feel like he’d just meet with her then.”

“He did mention she was close to our age, though. And her songs make it sound like she has an issue with authority,” Pav mentions, and Hobie nods. “I fuck with ‘er.” They all look at him. “Oh, I get it. She’s Hobie’s age,” Gwen says, and Hobie raises his eyebrow. “What does ‘at ‘ave to do with anythin’?”

“You two are the same age, both have a problem with authority… whatever she is, she needs someone she can relate to to actually come with us,” Gwen says, and Hobie nods. “Guess ‘at makes sense.” The four of them continue watching the concert. Even though it isn’t necessarily punk music, Hobie loves the lyrics. And Gwen loves all of the songs because she understands the lyrics more than the other guys. Miles is enjoying it because Gwen is enjoying it, and Pav is enjoying it because other people are enjoying it. However, neither of them would probably listen to this after this mission. When you’re nearing the end, Miles slips his mask back on. “Alright, everyone. What’s the plan?”

“We need to get backstage,” Gwen says, slipping her mask on as well. “‘ave a gander down there,” Hobie says, pointing at some marks on the stage. “What’s that?” Pav asks. “Pyrotechnics. When they go off, we go in,” Hobie says, and they all nod. “Hope they’re big enough that no one sees us,” Gwen mumbles and Hobie scoffs. “Gwendy, it’s a stadium show. It’s ‘bout to be big,” he says. The four of them prepare, running along the catwalk and getting ready to web back to where you would disappear to. Sure enough, the pyrotechnics go off and Hobie was right. They’re big. It gives them the advantage as they slip undetected backstage. They hide high up, watching as you run offstage after your encore. They silently follow you to your dressing room and Miles points at an air vent. Gwen nods, quietly yanking it off of its hinges. She crawls inside, taking a glance to make sure you’re still clothed, and then motions for the boys to follow.

Meanwhile, you’re wiping your makeup off, sipping on some water to soothe your throat from your performance. You walk away from the giant mirror to go grab a snack in the corner of the room when, suddenly, you feel like someone is watching you. You subtly unsheathe your hairbrush, which doubles as a dagger. Just in case. You take a deep breath, turning around, and throwing it. Miles leaps out of the way, and the other three’s eyes are wide. The accuracy with that throw was a little too good. “None of you are Miguel,” you say, on edge still. “Ay, don’t compare me to that bloody bloke. I’d rather die than be called ‘im,” Hobie says, and you give him an amused look. “I can arrange that,” you say, and Gwen clears her throat. “I just wanted to say your concert was like, totally, awesome.”

“Aw, thanks! Did you pay to watch?” you ask and she looks around. “Well uh… I, um—” She gets cut off by your laugh. “I’m kidding. I don’t give a fuck if you didn’t. In fact, I would prefer you didn’t,” you explain. “Oh! Then no. Too cool to pay, you know?” Gwen rambles and Miles turns his head to her, giving her a look that translates into ‘What the hell are you talking about?’ You chuckle. “Why are you four here, then? Señor O’Hara miss me?” you take a bite of the snack you picked, leaning against the wall. “How do you know Miguel?” Pav asks and you snort. “Long story. Oh! He finally find out I took something from him?” you ask, tossing your food to the side and crossing your arms. “I… we actually don’t know. He just said we had to bring you back to—”

“Wait he’s actually inviting me into his super secret spider society?” you ask, a look of excitement spreading across your face. “Uh. Yes?” Miles says, and you squeal. “This is so exciting! My first time being invited, okay, great, hold on,” you say, quickly running off and behind the changing room divider. “Uh… you’re just gonna come with us?” Gwen asks, and you yell a quick ‘yep!’ They all look at each other and shrug. “No offense, sweet’eart, but I thought it woulda been ‘arder to convince ya. Wasn’t aware bein’ invited by a stuck-up wanker like ‘im was all it would take,” Hobie says, and they hear a giggle from behind the screen. “Oh this isn’t my first time in his little fanclub,” you step out from behind the divider, garnishing an all-black catsuit with shiny black gloves coming to claws at the fingers. A small eye mask adorns your face, and you smirk. “It’s just the first time he’ll know I’m there.”

“Holy shit, no way! You’re Black Cat!” Gwen says, and you do a little curtsy. “Pleased to make your acquaintance officially, Gwen Stacy,” you say, and her eyes get big. “How did you know—”

“Like I said. Not my first time there. Surprising since you all have that spidey sense or whatever, but guess I’m just that good,” you say, pulling out a dimension-hopping watch. “When did you—”

“Do I have to say I’ve been to your Spidertopia already again? Come on, I’m sure your pendejo of a boss is waiting for us,” you grin, and Hobie shakes his head. “Not my boss. I like you, though. Gettin’ fuck the establishment vibes,” he says, and you wink at him. “Thanks, Hobie Brown. Appreciate it. Also, Pavitr, you need to tell me what your haircare routine is,” you walk through the portal, and the four of them follow after you. Sure enough, you step out of the portal and stand right in front of Miguel’s desk. “Hello there, Spider-Boy,” you say, and he sighs. “(Y/n). Give me the device back. Now.”

“I’m good, actually. Been having too much fun with it,” you say, placing it on your wrist. He mutters something in Spanish as the four of them appear behind you. “Wait, if you’re Black Cat, why are you like… a superstar?” Miles asks, taking his mask off. “Was told at a young age to never settle for second best. So, I never did. Also if you want to steal from the big leagues, you have to be in with the big leagues,” you say, shrugging. “Damn, she is… so cool,” Gwen whispers. “We have an agreement, (Y/n),” MIguel says and you groan. “Miguel! Big guy, amigo, can I call you that?”

“No.”

“Don’t care, when have I ever stuck with an agreement?” you ask and he frowns. “This is all because you want to be able to come here whenever you want, isn’t it?” he asks and you grin. “You’re so smart, bestie,” you say and he groans. “You’re impossible.”

“I know. So can I come here and not have to worry about multiple spiders biting me all at once?” you ask, and he sighs. “Yes.”

“YE—”

“BUT!”

“Fuck, there’s a but,” you groan, as he continues talking, “No. Stealing.” You feign offense. “What makes you think I would ever steal something from here?” He points to your wrist. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. This was gifted to me.”

“By who.”

“Myself.”

“Esta maldita chica,” he mumbles, and you grin. “Well, thank you so much for approving my breaking and entering of your little arachnid club. I’ll be sure to return everything I’ve taken in hopes that you would notice I wanted to be invited,” you grin, and he clenches his jaw. “You step one toe out of line—”

“I woooon’t! Promise! Before I return everything though, I kinda have a heist planned in Earth-42,” you shrug, pulling up a portal. “I’ll tell Miles you said hi, Miles,” you give him a smirk, but before disappearing into the portal, you hear Miguel. “When you’re done come back here. I actually might be able to use you for something.”

You smile at him. “Say less, Spider-Man.” Then, you disappear. “We’re about to see a lot more of her, aren’t we?” Miles asks, and Miguel sighs and nods. “Dude! She is so cool!” Gwen says, and Hobie nods. “She don’t take shit from no one. Respectable.”

“She’s funny! And she was able to shut you down, Miguel, that never happens,” Pav says, laughing a bit. “She seems kinda crazy,” Miles says.”

“What, like we aren’t?” Gwen retaliates and he shrugs. “I am perfectly sane! Most of the time…”

Miguel runs his hand through his hair in frustration as the four of them continue discussing you while walking out of the room.

He was not looking forward to the friendship the five of you were about to form.

───────────────────────────────────

[bluessmutifyplaylist]

Female reader and Leona Kingscholar, heat and breed please!

Warnings: Leona in a rut, oral (f! receiving), biting, breeding kink, unprotected sex, big dick lion ig?, always have your partner’s consent just like Leona has yours, creampie

Leona Kingscholar

When this man goes into his rut, he is an insatiable beast. It’s not even that he actually wants kids, but the thought of filling you up made him so hard that he couldn’t help himself but keep you full of his cum.

It was a mistake, really, walking into his room because you were so worried about him. Actually, a lot of Savanaclaw was on lockdown, and you were worried about your boyfriend. A few of the students who were still out and about warned you about going into the dormitory, let alone Leona’s room, but that made you even more concerned.

Once you opened the door, you heard the lion in question groaning. You called out his name, worried that he might be in some sort of pain. 

“Y/N, I need you to leave… now,” he growled.

“What’s wrong, Leona? Your dorm is on lockdown-”

You were cut off by him, because you blinked and suddenly you were pinned to the now-closed door.

“I said that you need to leave.” You expected him to be angry, but instead he had a look of desperation. He was pleading with you. You could feel the intense heat with how close he was. His hair was more disheveled than usual, a telltale sign that something was wrong.

“Not until you tell me what’s going on!” You insisted. He bore his teeth, his canines showing. You were starting to get a bit scared before he pushed off of you. “Leona?”

“Some of the beastmen in the dorm are going into their ruts. Did you walk all the way over here? In the midst of all this?! Where all these guys can smell you?!!!” His mind was racing a million miles a minute. How could you be this stupid? How could you come here, to a place with a bunch of guys going through this??

“You weren’t responding to my texts or calls, and I was getting worried!” This guy must have purchased his audacity because any girlfriend would be understandably worried when their boyfriend wasn’t responding.

He went quiet for a few moments. He was looking away from you, and you were worried that something was truly wrong. But, in the light, you saw a sheen of sweat on his face and you saw that his face was tinged with red. He was panting. You also noticed the not-very-subtle bulge in his pants.

Oh. Oh shit.

Now is when you process his words. The entire dorm was on lockdown because they are in their rutting seasons…

A certain familiar wetness made itself known between your legs, and Leona’s pupils dilated at smelling your arousal. What have you gotten yourself into? And why were you excited to find out?

In a matter of seconds, you could feel passionate kisses trailing up and down your neck, and you were powerless against it. The lion that you had called your boyfriend up to this point was nowhere to be found, and he had gone quite feral. However, he was still a gentleman.

“Y/N, this is your last chance to leave. If you stay, I won’t be able to control myself.” Leona managed to pull away for a few seconds to utter those words right next to your ear, and you felt your stomach flutter.

“Good, because I don’t want you to control yourself.” Was all you said, and you were hoisted up into the air, pinned to the door once again. You wrapped your legs around his torso to make sure you didn’t slip as you both began to make out. 

The beastman pulled away first, making sure to bite your bottom lip. However, the space wasn’t open for very long. It was just enough time to take you from the door to his bed. If he was going to make you his mat, he wanted to do it properly. Wait… mating? When did that come into play??

Doesn’t matter because he places his hands on the inside of your thighs a bit to separate them so he could slide your shorts and panties off easier. The smell emanating from the heat between your legs was heavenly.

Leona found himself quickly climbing off so that he could unbuckle his belt and take off his pants and boxers, revealing a length you weren’t sure you could handle. He saw your eyes widened, and so he crawled between your legs and started licking at your exposed folds.

His tongue had a bit of a rougher texture, not quite like a cat, but not quite like a human. It was something in-between, and it worked for your benefit. The sensation had you writhing and squirming in pleasure… that was, until he wrapped his arms around your thighs and put your legs on his shoulders.

“You’re not going anywhere, herbivore,” he mumbled straight into your pussy before going back to eating you out. 

Even though this was supposed to be to prepare you for his cock, this was also for his pleasure. Being surrounded by your smell and getting to taste your juices was all he could ever ask for. He left hickies and bite marks on your thighs as well. His canines drew blood on one of the marks, and he licked it up which made you whimper.

When he deemed you wet enough, he climbed up and lined his tip up with your entrance.

“It’s going to hurt, and you can tell me to stop whenever you want. If I don’t, slap me or some shit. I don’t want to do anything without your consent,” you nodded at his words, but he shook his head. “I need words, Y/n.”

“Please, Leona! I want you in me!” You moaned, hands flying to his shoulders, nails digging into his skin. That’s when the last shred of sanity was barely hanging on.

He slowly entered you, giving you time to adjust to his size. You winced in pain, and once he was fully inside, he stopped. Your walls were squeezing the life out of him, and a groan made its way from out of his mouth. It was taking all of his willpower not to just rail you into oblivion.

After a few moments, he started slowly pulling back out, and the feeling was unlike anything else. He thrust his cock back in, and your eyes rolled back. Leona took this as an okay to start moving quicker. Your pussy squeezed him so hard, every time he pulled out it was like a magnet, calling for him to go back in. 

The coil in your belly unraveled not too far into your session with him. You soaked his cock in your juices, and he let out a deep, sexy growl before speeding up even more. Your overstimulated cunt was weeping and begging for more, and she got what she asked for. 

“Where do you want my cum, herbivore?” He was nearing his own release, and he looked into your eyes.

“Inside… Inside, please!” You mewled. You locked your legs around him, locking him in place.

Not too long after, you felt an explosion of warmth inside of you, and Leona leaned into your neck, biting into it and drawing even more blood. His tongue gently ran over it to clean it up, and he placed kisses along it as well.

He tried to pull back and admire his work, wanting to see you in your entirety. However, your legs were not letting go. Where you both remained connected, your juices were mixing with another, and some were getting on the sheets as well. Not that the Housewarden minded; it would remind him of the day he got to claim you as his own.

Your walls began squeezing him again, also not wanting to let go of him. Even though it hasn’t even been a full 5 minutes since you both came, he was hard again and you were aroused again.

“If we go again, herbivore, I might knock you up. Shit, I might have already. Do you want that?” He leaned more towards your ear, whispering. “Do you want to be filled with my cubs?”

And with that, you both fucked in every. possible. position. for the entire week he was in rut. You barely caught a break, and you were often on the verge of passing out from exhaustion.

[tanoraqui]

obviously the Historical Figure Episode(TM) of Doctor Who that I’d write would of the Noted Author subset endemic to the RTD Era; it’d be called “Spiders in the Trenches” and be set in the middle of World War One ft. one Lt. John Tolkien.

idk if the main aliens are spiders or if they're just using giant robotic spiders as soldier-minions. Either way, Tolkien is a little too defensive when he says he's not afraid of spiders.

The alien invaders want some sort of shiny mcguffin, maybe as a power source for their ship? Or for a mega-weapon? We do not want them to get it, at any rate. Race to find the Shiny Power Jewel-Thing which has been lost somewhere in this like 20-mile radius of the Western Front.

When our heroes narrowly beat the spiders to the SPJT, Tolkien realizes that the spiders only ever attack at night because light hurts them somehow, so he holds the SPJT up as it flares and shouts, "Get back, foul creatures! Back into the shadows from whence you came!"

(They're from the dark side of a tidally locked planet, and made for extremely low-light conditions? The SPJT flares because it's controlled telepathically and it connected to Tolkien's mind when he touched it?)

Ideally Tolkien's first encounter with the Doctor is that he wakes up in the trench one day (after losing some men to a mysterious monster in the darkness a couple nights ago?), and there's 2 random strangers in weird clothes idly singing and playing an instrument which they stole from someone a couple bedrolls down. (This works well with Fifteen & Ruby's established inclination to music!)

We do need an Eowyn Moment, because that's iconic, but I'd split it: for dialogue, at one point the head boss evil alien boasts, "No human can defeat the Tenebrarachnid Empire!" and the Doctor replies, "Good thing they've got me, then."...

[I don't know if this is a Fifteen line yet. I know it's a very Eleven line]

...and there's a soldier in Tolkien's unit who is revealed to be secretly a woman! Who disguised herself as a man in order to enlist for ??? reasons, and who dramatically pulls off her hat to reveal her long hair.

The third notable local character is the sort who inspired Sam Gamgee, "...the English soldier, [like] the privates and batmen I knew in the 1914 war, and recognized as so far superior to myself.”

^those two can have a romantic subplot if it fits (comrades-in-arms is also extremely good). Tolkien, however, at some point shows Ruby the picture of his wife Edith which he carries at all times, she of the black hair and bright grey eyes, and is obviously ready to monologue about how wonderful she is.

In the same scene(?), Tolkien looks up at the stars and says their brightness shining afar, clear of all the horrors on the ground, is always a source of hope and strength to him.

Maybe also in the same scene? Tolkien is shown to make up stories for fun, or to read them in his little spare time - fairy tales and mythological epics. Maybe he tells them to the men around the fire, maybe he keeps a little notebook, maybe he just admits to daydreaming... When asked why, he paraphrases his quote from later life, " Fantasy is escapist, and that is its glory. If a soldier is imprisoned by the enemy, don't we consider it his duty to escape?"

At some point (Star-watching scene? when the Doctor inevitably has to explain that aliens exist? when they're all saying goodbye in the end?) there's a line drawing attention to the Doctor's parallels with Eärendil - eternally wandering figure of hope, sailing the stars in a ship with a light on top, not quite mortal...

Tolkien DEFINITELY tries to figure out the alien language, in writing or speech.

Something the aliens are doing is making people sick. Maybe the attacking robo-spiders are venomous, maybe there's a toxic byproduct of the alien ship, maybe it's a deliberate first assault of the planned invasion... By the end of the episode, Tolkien is very ill. The Doctor has figured out an antidote and given it, but Tolkien says goodbye to him and Ruby only to stumble to a medical outpost - from where, the Doctor explains to Ruby, he'll be sent home with this bad case of what's assumed to be trench fever. Between the fever and the brief psychic entanglement, and unentanglement, with the SPJT, he won't even remember most of this, and what he does remember, he'll put down to fever dreams amidst the horrors of war.

But he'll remember some things! He'll remember an eternal wanderer of the stars, unaging and undying and ever-hopeful, heralded by light (and a vworrrp vrorrrp noise).

[meanbossart]

Another much overdue ask compilation! Some short-ish lore asks (Gale, Gort, DU drow relationships and pet-companion preferences) and a couple of art/advice ones sprinkled in. THIS IS BY NO MEANS ALL OF MY ASKS so as usual I appreciate everyone's patience!

I actually think he'd give them a pass entirely as soon as he noticed. Correct me if I'm mistaken but half-drow get No love from underdark drow and are usually surface babies right? So that fruit is miles away from the tree lol. I think he generally has a bit of a soft spot for mixed kinds since he himself feels like an amalgamation of sorts.

Thank you! They're kind of a pain in the ass to draw at times for that very reason but man I do like the look 😩if other people like it too then that makes it all worth it!

THAT'S TRICKY TO ANSWER BECAUSE OFTEN TIMES I'M NOT... REALLY TRYING. I've draw a ton of horror comics for mine and my partner's series' SAD SACK and SORTIE, so I think it just comes naturally to me 😅 also I do genuinely find expressive and, uh, rugged faces more attractive? (I think they look rugged, again that's what people tell me at least.)

I think the secret might be adding bits of realism in there. I get a lot of comments about the wrinkles and eyelashes I add to my art, as well as the way I draw individual teeth (though I've lately been making an effort to simplify my style in favor of drawing faster, so I haven't done that as much or in as much detail.)

Both symmetry and the lack of it can also add to that effect. I have employed both facial unevenness and almost point-perfect symmetry to achieve something a little frightening or otherworldly in my work. [MORE UNDER THE CUT]

Thank you so much!!! The contrast is very much intentional, that's what DU drow's character is all about ;)

Hahah well I somewhat doubt Bhaal would care that his spawn gets named, but either way he stripped himself of his name as soon as he killed his foster parents and abandoned the Underdark. He had a drow name that I jotted down somewhere but it's completely irrelevant because nobody has used it since he was a child, and he doesn't remember it (even pre-tadpole/having his brain scrambled.) Here's a little write up about his origins that might shed some more light on that: https://meanbossart.tumblr.com/post/739688837431836672/did-drow-ever-have-a-childhood-before-the-temple

And about his original drow-given name and the reason behind it: https://meanbossart.tumblr.com/post/741350986692591616/drow-had-to-have-been-given-a-name-by-his-adoptive

Everyone just referred to him as his supposed race, or as Bhaalspawn or Bhaal's child, and any other similar titles. Orin called him "kin" and "brother" and Gortash likely called him his associate. Post-tadpole the camp grows entirely used to calling him "the drow" and he has no desire to change that or to choose a proper name.

THANK YOU BOTH SO MUCH😭 no reason to be intimidated, I'm just some rando drawing BG3 fan art LOL I've been drawing since I was a child, and started taking it semi-seriously when I was 16 years old, so twelve years ago! That's around the time where I got my first non-display tabled and used that well into my twenties, prior to that I only did stuff on paper and liked to do inks color with pencils. I never really ventured into traditional painting at all except for a little bit of water-coloring in college.

Traditional and Digital art are very much different beasts. Which one you want to start with is, in my opinion, just dependent on what you want to do. Digital art gives you a lot of tools that makes learning easier, but you might find yourself having much steeper of a learning curve if you ever decide to do traditional art instead. If you want to be good at both, you need to practice both, since the skill doesn't entirely translate from one medium to the other.

Naturally you will be able to draw well on either, it's just... Different. I will say though, that I think if you're still learning you should use whatever allows you to look directly at what your hand is doing, so either traditional or display tablet/Ipad. I have no idea what a non-display tablet would do to a beginner, but remembering my experience with it I feel like it might be a huge detriment to developing the skill (feel free to share your experiences in the replies if you disagree, as I would definitely be curious to read them!)

YOU KNOW ME BABY IT WAS MESSY AND COMPLICATED the tldr.: is that they were "buddies", absolutely no romance intended there on either mine or DU drow's part, but due to his nature the friendship was extremely weird.

Here's a couple of replies where I go into more detail about it: https://meanbossart.tumblr.com/post/739191190871818240/i-dont-have-a-particular-question-in-mind-sorry

https://meanbossart.tumblr.com/post/744952815768764416/so-not-sure-if-youve-covered-this-but-i-thought

That's definitely reserved for the vamp LOL DU drow very much enjoys when Astarion teases and fusses over him, and while Astarion probably got a kick out of acting that way around such a big and scary looking guy at first, I think by "now" (later and post-game) he's pretty much immune to DU drow's looks and just enjoys doing it in earnest.

He's not at all averse to being touched (even rather intimately) by close friends, but he wouldn't be quite THAT vulnerable with anyone else.

HE REALLY DISLIKED GALE... He irked him out by seemingly fostering a rather persistent romantic interest in him for at least half the time they spent together (very much based on my interpretation of their in-game interactions at the time, though my Gale might have been a little bugged.)

But also they had a... Fairly in depth relationship still? Gale was a staple in my party, and even though I antagonized him constantly by the end of the game it still felt like they had so much weight in each other's lives, if that makes sense. I might need to do a bit of an "update" on the DU Drow/Gale lore sometime, I feel like I've had some thoughts since that warrant more exploration of their dynamic (you can find a lot of old asks about it if you just search the Gale Dekarios tag in my blog though).

The gist of it is that DU drow found him arrogant and duplicitous, his constant optimist irritated him to no end and felt like it veiled a stream of self-pity (two things DU drow despises) Gale's attempts to get through to him only added insult to injury. By the end of the game he decided to pursue the crown of Karsus and this only lost him even more respect in Drow's eyes, seeing as he doesn't value godly power at all.

I was pretty overwhelmed by the game at the start so I actually missed a lot LOL including Scratch. I did get the owlbear cub though, which DU drow gladly welcomed into camp since it was injured - but I think he would have wished for it to remain a wild animal and to return back to it's home after it had grown up a bit. He didn't really make a "pet" out of it more than he just looked after the little guy in the way it's mother might have, probably with Shadowheart's help.

He wouldn't be opposed to proper pets though if one were to stumble into his life. He'd definitely be more of a cat guy because of their independence and strong little attitudes.

It is very hard to build proper rapport with him. He will be "friendly" to most people who have a good sense of humor about them, but friendSHIP is another thing entirely.

I think it's kind of circumstantial. He's very economical in his relationships and doesn't really seek them out at all - so a situation where he's forced to be in someone's company might be the only way to develop a bond with him, as he doesn't appreciate insistence either and that's more likely to push him away. He doesn't value status or titles either (kind of looks down on them really) so that won't help.

I think he just likes people who are true to themselves and their nature, sometimes even if the nature is one he disagrees with at it's core. This is why he liked Gortash, why he and Shadowheart got along so well, and why him and Astarion fit together so seamlessly despite seeming so different. Likewise I think it's why he didn't jive with people like Gale or Wyll, because they seemed to be rather... Dishonest with themselves and their own end-goals.

[starry-bi-sky]

Part six of "Clone Danny"

When the Waynes leave, Danny can finally relax. Even if he's once again hit with a lingering regret that worms itself into his core like a little parasite. The final night that they're there, Bruce Wayne is not downstairs waiting for him, much to Danny's faint, lingering disappointment. He kinda liked talking to him, even if he kept it brief. Probably for the best.

Damian was still there when he returned with a sprained ankle and more ectoplasm burns. Danny tries not to make his limp obvious when he enters, and his clothing smells faintly of sulfur and burnt fabric.

Damian tells him he stinks, and Danny tells him he ran into a ghost. "The Phantom took care of it." He says, gripping his mask in his pocket tightly and avoiding putting weight on his injured foot. His thermos is pressed next to it. His fingers are freezing.

"Ah yes, your vigilante." Damian replies, "The one with the bat." And Danny can see the outline of his eyes narrowing at him.

"Can we really call him a vigilante when the people he's fighting are ghosts?" Danny asks, avoiding the 'bat' comment and leaning against the back of the kitchen chair.

"Did you actually lose your bat, Fenton?" Damian's fingers tap against his arm, refusing to move on. "Despite your ridiculous behavior and attempts to avoid my father and I, I find it hard to believe that the son of two ghost hunters would be as foolish as to forget his only weapon of defense against ghosts."

Ah, so he noticed that. Danny was half tempted to mutter that the bat wasn't his only weapon of defense. He still had his beloved jawbreakers. He's quiet, wondering how to respond to implication that he might be Phantom -- he can't believe Damian picked that up in only a few short days when nobody has caught on in little over a year -- before shrugging.

"I may have given it to the Phantom instead." He says, propping his arm up to put his chin in his hand, trying to look innocent while his heart skipped an anxious beat.

It's probably not the answer Damian wants, but when his word is the only proof he has, Danny doesn't think he should be too worried about it. Even if it meant that a second person outside his friend and enemy circle knew his identity.

He excuses himself shortly after, leaning heavily against the railing to try and hop up the stairs.

(Much to his surprise, Damian follows and lets Danny put his weight on him. He complains that its because Danny will wake his father if he allows him to bumble up the stairs on one foot.)

(Danny ruffles his hair again when they reach the top, and limps towards his bedroom.)

===

Its three months and a handful of new injuries before Danny thinks about the Waynes again. A new ghost appeared in town who called itself Riftgate and he was capable of creating teleport portals to anywhere in the world.

He was a fucking pain in the ass to fight, costing Danny three hours of his night where he could have been sleeping and nearly his hand. Danny gets dragged through the other side before finally shoving Rift inside the thermos.

But he also ends up nearly 900 miles away in fucking Gotham of all places on the top of an empty roof. Great, juuuust great. Danny is tired, he is grumpy, and he is in a city so laden with ectoplasm that he can all but taste it on his tongue. Or maybe that was just the air quality.

He can't even see the stars here, and his mood worsens.

Well, he's too fucking tired to bother handling this right now. There's no way Sam or Tucker are able to help him considering their distance, and right now Danny just wants to sleep. Maybe after that he can figure out a way home.

So he does, sort of. He walks over to the door and doesn't bother trying to open it, even if there was a 50/50 chance of it being unlocked. (This was Gotham after all.) Instead he sweeps the ground with his foot and curls up at door and he's out like a light.

....Only to be woken up by hissed muttering close to his ear and a gloved hand pressing into the pulse of his neck. "No I don't know if they're dead but I don't think so." Says the unfamiliar voice, and Danny opens a bleary eye.

"He's breathing, but his pulse is too slow to be normal. I think he needs help." The voice, a boy, -- no, Red Robin, great -- continues, and Danny looks beside him to see who he was talking to. No one. "He's probably part of some kind of gang, his mask kind of reminds me of Hood's."

Danny just barely remembers that he's still dressed up as Phantom before he tiredly signs, "I'm not part of a fucking gang." and pushes the boy's hand off.

=====

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 4.5 (Dani interlude) Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 7.5 (Dan Interlude) Part 8

will make a masterpost soon

Taglist: @the-navistar-carol @thought-u-said-dragon-queen @gin2212 @youracearocroatneighbour @luckybyrdrobyn @deeplyconfusedbear @epilepticnerd @beautifulmomenttodrawblank

[sidekickjoey]

In the summer of '86, fresh off of saving the world, Steve Harrington and Nancy Wheeler get blonde highlights.

Be it a coping mechanism after handling the hell that was spring or simply a mutual need for change, the decision is made without nervousness from either party. They enter the salon together, swear up and down to their assigned hairstylists that, yes, this is what they want and no, they do not care that their hair already looks perfect as is, thanks, and leave donning notably different looks.

Steve's signature chestnut ends up woven between streaks of gold, giving him a sort of distracting glimmering effect when he walks out into the sun. Nancy's waves, though still shoulder length and crimped to perfection, sway almost completely and utterly blonde in any light.

Needless to say, their new looks quickly make them, the former it-couple of Hawkins, the talk of the town once more - including that of their two closest friends, Eddie and Robin.

They, unlike the general public of Hawkins, have spent the past few months slowly building massive crushes on Steve and Nancy, entranced by their might after surviving the horrors of the Upside Down. While to most a change in hair color for Steve and Nancy is merely an oddity, to them? It's like someone hit the panic button and left them to scatter in a secluded room.

Robin has only been over her gaga-for-Vickie phase for a few weeks now. The wound is still fresh, and she knows she should not be looking once again into a possible unrequited love situation until she is better healed emotionally. She also knows he has a weakness for blondes that goes beyond all reason, i.e. Tammy Thompson and her muppet singing voice. She shouldn't act and possibly jeopardize one of her most sincere female friendships over a silly little weakness like that.

However, Nancy looks like a vision in blonde.

Robin thinks it's her big doe eyes that do it. They pop when the blonde meshes with Nancy's fair skin, and it makes her heart swoon in the most debilitating of ways. Not to mention, the softer cut she got along with the lighter coloring frames her face so well. Robin swoons over it. If not for her fear of rejection, she probably would have already taken the leap and done something stupid, like confess how Nancy's scrambled her brain.

Eddie's not doing much better himself with Steve.

He had been there in the early days, when Scoops Ahoy's newest worker showed up in his first edition of golden highlights. Like any good Hawkins resident, he had handled it with poise, class, and lots of extra trips to Scoops Ahoy whenever he happened to be at the Starcourt Mall, along with frequent whisperings of 'what the hell' expressed in the confines of his room where no one could hear him freak out. T'was standard™.

This look, though...it blows Scoops Ahoy Steve away by miles.

It's bright. It's golden. It's like he slipped and fell into some kind of radiant daydream, only to emerge like a ray of sunlight to distract Eddie Munson and Eddie Munson alone, and Eddie can't shut up about it.

Seriously, Wayne has heard enough.

The issue is, he has next to no idea what to do about these feelings. His mind is screaming to make a move on the guy, because you only live once and, well, he's already on his second try. However, his little worried heart loves Steve's newfound companionship and whatever odd-couple friendship they have going on right now. He doesn't want to lose that because of some dye job and a trim. It's too important, too good.

So, like Robin, he finds himself refraining.

They both refrain, and over the next week or so, the decision to do so eats at them like mad. They stumble over their words when speaking to Steve and Nancy. They actually stumble physically, in Robin's case, when Nancy walks by one morning. They tell anyone and everyone they can about it aside from Steve and Nancy, and by the end of that week, it all hits a breaking point. Word slips for the sake of everyone's sanity to Steve and Nancy.

It should mark the beginning of havoc and betrayal.

Instead, it breeds two plans.

Because, here's the thing: Steve and Nancy are not dumb, contrary to what some might think. They are wildly observant people. They know what their friends are up to, and Robin and Eddie are high on that friend list after spring. They've seen their behavior and, though Nancy had to spell a little bit of it out for Steve, both have come to the conclusion that something is definitely up in the crush department. If they want to capitalize on it, they know there is no better time than now while their haircuts are still new and their own crushes are seeking an opportunity to spill their feelings.

Nancy's plan to handle Robin, to the untrained eye, is simple. She's known for carefully thought out strikes when people least expect them, and the last thing she's going to do is stop using that tactic to her advantage now.

So, she invites the other girl on a trip to the mall for new bracelets. She claims it's on account of Holly taking hers hostage (not a total lie) and needing time out with someone her age (also not a total lie), and Robin buys it in seconds. A day later, they meet up at a boutique mall just outside of Hawkins and roam for a few hours together. It's simple. Casual. Subtle enough to be innocent from afar yet just intimate enough for Nancy to make her move when the time is right.

The time becomes right when they're sitting at a booth in the food court, chatting about Holly's other jewelry-related crimes. Nancy accidentally knocks the fork for her salad off the table, catching the attention of them both. Robin is quick to say she's got it, but Nancy is faster. Ready. She reaches down, picks up the fork, and in a fit of bravery, makes damn sure she holds eye contact with Robin the entire way back up. Robin swallows and looks away, clearly flustered and trying to behave over such a small thing as eye contact. But, Nancy doesn't want her to ignore it this time. So, she pulls a cheesy line from Steve's old book (that she totally did not rehearse with Steve, not at all) and misbehaves, just to get the ball rolling.

Batting her eyes, she asks in her most casual drawl, "Sheesh Robin, do blondes always make you this nervous?"

Robin chokes on her milkshake. 'Accidentally' knocks over her own fork. Goes down beneath the table to - not subtly - whisper-scream about what the hell that just was, because what the hell was that? Hello?

Nancy finds it incredibly endearing. She kind of wants to tell her about it.

She joins Robin on the floor to do so and giggles, freakin giggles, at Robin's shock and awe over her being there. Robin, panicked, reaches for the fork she dropped and holds it up to Nancy for her to see like it's some kind of explanation for her huddling under the table a full minute after it fell. She then stutters out a small 'got it,' despite Nancy being a goddamn journalist who notices things for her job and is fully capable of using her own two eyes to see, what the heck Robin??

Nancy still finds it all so endearing, though she doesn't think saying it out loud would be the best course of action anymore. Her last words sort of sent the poor girl into a spiral, and as fun as it is sharing this cramped space with her, she kind of wants to get off the gross tile if at all possible. So, instead, she does the next best thing and expresses her fondness physically.

With a kiss.

On the mouth.

Hidden by the table but all-too-real and seen to Robin, who forgets how to breathe because oh my gosh. Oh my GOSH.

It's perfect. It's effortless. It's everything. It's hands-down worth the hours of waiting Nancy had to do under a hairdryer in foils to get her here, and even more worth Robin's adorably rushed confession after the fact that she's always liked blondes, just a little bit.

~~~~~~

Steve's plan is a lot different than Nancy's.

He is a tried-and-true passionate romantic after all, and Eddie is about as dramatic as Shakespeare. A casual outing or demure kiss under a table is just not going to cut it in terms of a confession for either of them. Steve knows this. He tells it to Nancy. Repeatedly.

After hours of back and forth over the phone, he eventually finds himself at a music store, equipped with a wad of cash and his eyes set on an, admittedly, badass looking guitar. It has blue flames along its black exterior that rise to its very top and are lined with a reflective silver, making it glimmer even in the dim light of the shop. Eddie's been moaning about losing his sweetheart to the Upside Down for weeks -- no, months at this point. Steve thinks this blue beauty would be a perfect replacement for her. He also thinks it might just be what they need to stop dancing around each other's feelings too, if he's lucky.

He purchases it and stows it away in his bedroom before calling Eddie over the following day. The boy is all nerves when he finally arrives. Steve doesn't help ease them by running his hand through his hair more than once, but what can he say? It's a tough habit to break, and he's been doing it ever since he's hand anything more than a buzz cut. Sue him.

After pleasantries about their day are discussed and Eddie appears to be more calmed down, Steve invites him upstairs for a 'surprise' that just about undoes all the poor boy's progress at once.

Because Steve didn't just place the new guitar in its case and put a bow on it to surprise Eddie. No, he propped that sucker on its stand, bought a small light to illuminate the silver and blue, and placed a little card on the case that said, 'To Eddie, from your sweetheart.'

Steve watches as Eddie physically has to reboot upon seeing it all. He then rushes to cover his ears as Eddie returns to consciousness with a full-blown yell, running over to his gift with repeated 'no way's that get higher and higher in volume with each utterance. All noise ceases when he finally reads the card, though. That's when Steve feels safe enough to drop his hands to his side and make his approach, a shy grin on his lips.

"Like it?"

"Y-You're my sweetheart?"

With a shrug, Steve once again cards a hand through his hair. "If you want me to be. I-I mean, I assumed you would want me to be with all the looks you've been giving me, a-and everything with the Upside Down. But if I've got that wrong, if...shit, maybe I should just-"

Their first kiss is messy, wet, and way too enthusiastic.

Eddie's all teeth from how wide he's smiling into the kiss, and Steve nearly falls over from the sheer force of the guy barreling into him. He grows a bit dizzy, too, from how firm Eddie's grip on his hair has him, and that does little for his already frazzled balance. But, it's perfect. It's so stupidly them and perfect and wild like Steve had hoped it to be, like Eddie hoped it to be.

Later, when Steve leaves Eddie to enjoy his guitar in peace and breathe because, yeah, he finds himself making a mental note to call Nancy when he's home. If this is what one round of highlights gets him, he'll be damned if they don't plan another round for touch ups soon.

Stepping inside, Steve catches sight of a blinking light on his answering machine that tells him Nancy'd be damned, too.

He smiles.

[romirola]

Headcanons for the Shaw Pack’s Travelling Styles at the Airport 

David: David likes to be prepared, which leads him to overpack, just in case. Half the time, it pays off, though all the time it means his bags are way heavier than he wants them to be, not that he’d ever admit it. Although David considers himself a pretty patient guy, he dreads the idea of waiting in line for security, to board, to purchase a coffee/snack, to exit the plane… He has no direct airline experience, but honestly, he’s pretty sure he could streamline the whole process. 

Angel: They are an expert packer and they know it. Not only do they manage to arrange everything they need into the most condensed way possible, but they also know how to pack light. Angel is always one to be ready with their boarding pass, ticket, and anything else they’d need, though what they most look forward to is exploring their destination (whether it be for leisure or business) and getting a firsthand feel of the entire experience. They often indulge in arriving at the airport with plenty of time so they can people-watch with a latte.  

Asher: As a child, Asher often flew with his family to visit his grandparents, with one set in Belfast and the other in Galway. Because of that experience, he associates travel with adventure and fun, even if it’s due to work. Asher can make himself extremely comfortable in any airport, somehow intuiting the best place to find a seat, charge a phone, or search through a carryon for missing headphones. Asher can even nap in the most bustling of airports, but amazingly, he wakes up on time and never misses a flight. 

Babe: Babe is a nervous flier (check out this oneshot if you want to see that in action), but they are an absolute master at logistical planning. Booking deals, loyalty accounts, membership discounts… You name it, Babe has it and knows how to use it. Once, they even managed to get paid by the airline to fly to their cousin’s wedding. Babe also likes to select their seats ahead of time to maximize comfort and space.

Milo: Milo is probably one of the luckiest travelers ever to set foot in an airport. Although he never asks for any sort of special treatment, he never fails to get it. Every staff member feels compelled to give Milo all the bonus miles, first-class upgrades, or expedited services they could possibly give him. The restricted lounges welcome Milo even though he's not a member. During the flight, the flight attendants give him extra snacks, blankets, and anything he could ever want. No one, not even Milo, can explain the phenomenon. He loves every minute of it.

Sweetheart: Sweetheart’s poor sense of direction means that they require lots of extra time when it comes to travelling. They need to factor in inevitably getting lost to any movement they might make. That could include getting to the airport, finding their gate, or refilling their water bottle at the fountain a few steps away. They can and will manage to get lost, no matter how diligently they study the airport maps before they go. Despite their inability to orient themselves, Sweetheart will insist that the best way to spend any length of time at the airport is to keep active, since they will have to sit on the plane, so they will most likely be found walking laps, back and forth, across a space where they can always have their gate in sight. 

Darling: Darling honestly prefers to drive or, if possible, to take the train. Not because they are afraid of flying. Certainly they will fly if needed. But for Darling, there’s something inextricably exciting about watching the world go by like that. Darling also has quite an affinity for the cafe car, or, whenever they take a lengthier trip, the dining car. They can’t exactly say why, but it’s such a treat to partake, almost like a step back in time, and yet, a surreally modern amenity.  

Sam: Sam has always seen the airport as one big scam where every decision is meant to squeeze out more money from travelers. Pay to check a bag, pay to buy food, pay for leg room, pay to breathe air, basically. It’s a total racket, and he loathes every iota of the whole experience. If only vampires could learn how to rift like d(a)emons… He does, however, find himself more willing to shell out some money for a few gaudy-but-fun magnet souvenirs lately. After all, Sam’s never had a pack (and yes, Vincent and Lovely are included) for whom to purchase travel gifts. He still thinks everything is overpriced, but he looks forward to giving out the gifts upon his return. 

[abbysbunny]

Hey would you mind writing hazelxautisticreader but the reader has selective mutism and pj gets mad at her for not speaking to her? Not sure if that really made sense, sorry if it didn’t

notes: I love writing angst so ty for this request! sorry this took so long but here it is!! also I do not have selective mutism so I am so so sorry if this is wrong in any sort of way!

word count: 0.4k

warnings: some cursing! light angst, plus not proof read

having selective mutism it was hard finding people who could be accepting about it, if you were lucky people would understand how you feel and would be calm and collected like a person with decency would.

but you weren't always lucky, PJ was not the most understanding person to say the least. she had been making dumb and rude remarks the whole time you had been out, hazel had been noticing her anger towards you and was not happy about it, she tried to ignore it for as long as possible, but when PJ decided to raise her voice at you she couldn't ignore it

'holy shit leave her alone' hazel yelled back at her, pj's eyes widened at hazel's tone and volume, you looked at hazel front the corner of your eye, trying not to smile. the girl you had liked for years had just defended you, of course you were freaking out!

PJ still complained about how you caused "trouble" to the waiter while ordering, like she even cared, she just wanted a reason to talk shit about you, in front of you. after her and hazel went back and forth for another couple minutes, you and everyone else sat there in silence, when PJ was fed up she rushed back to her car.

everybody said goodbye and went home, just in your luck hazel was your ride meaning you'd get to spend not only more time with her but more time alone with her. you sat in the passenger seat of her warm fancy car, there was a calm low volume music going on while she apologized on PJs behalf, 'i really am sorry I don't know wh-' she was cut off by your hand on hers, she took her eyes off the road for a split second to look at you, you nodded with a small smile on her face, she didn't have to apologize for PJ so why let her continue ramble?

by the time she pulled up to your house it was almost dark, getting closer to night by the minute. you stepped outside her car and let out a breath you didn't know you were keeping in, you walked up to your front door and she closely followed behind you. she put her hand on your shoulder and turned you around, her sudden action startled you but her soft gaze comforted you immediately, 'i uhm wanted to tell you that uhm-- you're really cool, like I'm the sense that I like you, like like you'

your mind racing at a million miles as she said that, it took you a second to register but instead of responding you leaned in trying to insinuate you wanted her to kiss you, 'can I kiss you?' she whispered so close to you her lips were ghosting yours, you nodded and she waisted no time connecting her soft lips with yours, you smiled into the kiss and wrapped your arms around her neck, what a cheesey kiss.

[vhstown]

miles g morales ★ general headcanons

warnings: sort of angsty, mentions of his dad's death, money being tight and such 😞

a/n: hi my little piranhas im feeding you today say AHHHHHHHH.... all my random non-relationship miles g thoughts dumped into one! he has 6 lines but less is more right 😁 im okay i promi

Let me just geek out about his non-existent gear functions for a moment 😞 Miles is all about little modifications and improvement so when he messes around with his uncle's gear he decides to make some adjustments to the design and also the functionality. Has his own spin to all of his gear cause a part of him really wants to be like the superheroes he sees in comics with their own sort of persona. But of course it has to be functional so...!

All of his gear is coordinated and he has a mode where he can turn off all the lights for stealth and such! The lights are actually off most of the time but he puts them on to show off mostly or make himself known when he's bored of waiting.

A really cool function would be if he could redirect or offset his lights so when he's fighting in complete darkness he can easily confuse his enemies. Tends to scope out places and mess around with the power supplies — uses the occasional smoke bomb too. He's in his element in dark, maze-like places, which essentially makes Brooklyn his concrete playground.

Scarily good at lockpicking. Has broken into his own house multiple times from forgetting his keys. He can open most doors with simple tools and disable electronic locks with a little work.

Can I just mention his shoes as well... they're like the jumpy shoes from Subway Surfers you can't prove me wrong until the next movie comes out like— Okay no but seriously I imagine he can stick to surfaces and things and maybe they can propell him upwards? You see those glowing lights idk figure it out 😞

Also somebody (I have no idea who but here's the link to the original post) had a headcanon that he'd have a high auditory intelligence, so for a while, he spends time developing a voice modulator. He likely has one anyway to keep his identity a secret, but what he really wants to do is is create a device that can replicate other people's voices.

Because he's good with sound and physics he makes it work in no less than a few weeks. The first voice he tries is his uncle's and he says a bunch of dumbass stuff. (Aaron is a little annoyed but more proud of his nephew than anything.) Eventually it gets to the point where he can calibrate it with a couple clicks since he has such a good ear for frequencies and the like that deceiving villains is no trouble at all.

I think Aaron and Miles would still have that cool uncle and nephew relationship but its also a mentor and student one. While Miles is good at the tech stuff I think he's a pretty lousy fighter at the beginning and Aaron has to teach him a LOT.

Uncle Aaron probably used to fight for sport back in the day (boxing mayhaps? 😁) so a lot of Miles' technique stems from MMA due to its versatility (anything hand-to-hand at least.) Even then, most of the problem is being able to think quick and act quicker, so Miles goes through lots of practical training (so he's being chased by the Sinister Six from day one 😭) It's well worth it though because without the Spider-powers he has a lot of catching up to do.

While training with Aaron he's exposed to a lot of his old records and develops a taste for jazz. He comes to associate certain manoeuvres with the way the music goes, so he tends to hum to himself while casually knocking the wind out of people. His uncle finds it just a little creepy, but again, he's glad to see Miles coming along.

In fact, Aaron is relieved. His nephew had been reserved and was pretty much holed up in his own room for weeks after his dad passed. Of course the passing of Jefferson was hard on Aaron, but Miles has it even harder. Eventually, they decide to paint the mural together, and Miles lets Aaron know what's on his mind. He's always been close to his uncle but especially then spending time roaming the streets, painting, boxing and listening to old records was his lifeline.

Miles figures out his uncle is the Prowler before Aaron even lets him in on it. After seeing how determined his nephew his is, that's when it all started.

But with everything going on in his vigilante life, his normal life is something he has has to be careful not to fall behind on. At the age where college applications are coming up, Miles is driven to the bone with school, despite not actually being there half the time. Still, he's somehow averaging As and the occasional B, easily the top of his class in AP Physics and Calc.

He doesn't try to talk to people in school like he might've before, but he's not antisocial by any means (sometimes his bluntness is mistaken for talking back though 💀)

He's also the type of dude to do homework as soon as the teacher hands it out, because he knows he will not have time later (and to avoid all the night-before crises of freshman year.)

Rio is being pulled thin too, always covering shifts for her colleagues at the hospital just so she can have a little extra pay. She's been saving for Miles' birthday since his last one, always checks his clothes for holes or if they still fit, and makes sure there's something in the microwave if she can't be there for dinner. Rio makes sure he always has everything he needs, even while paying bills and rent. They're not struggling too much, but it's not like they can do whatever they want.

Despite that, they're managing; what she doesn't know is that the sigh of relief she breathes every month is because of him. Miles always makes sure to take care of his belongings, put in any cash he makes from his "part time job" into her account, just doing whatever he can to help. Also, he's become more and more protective of his mom, and he always takes the opportunity to do errands for her, especially when it's getting dark outside.

Miles is actually more paranoid than her when it comes to saving. Even when it's winter, and she tells him to turn on the heating whenever, you best believe he's throwing on his jacket in his own room and firming the cold. It's entirely unnecessary of course, but he can't shake the guilt when he feels the only reason his mom works so hard is because of him. They've moved twice already and there's no way they're moving again, so if the landlord gives them trouble he'll just give them hell (let's just hope it won't come to that.)

Miles learnt how to treat his own injuries from Rio. She taught him basic first aid at the very least, and on a couple of occasions he's tried to learn things himself with the clunky old first aid kit at home. Rio never asks why the stitch on one of their pillows is done with dental floss, and looks strangely like that of a suture (a very bad one at that.)

His Spanish also improved a lot too. After his dad's passing, he met a lot of relatives from his mom's side that he doesn't remember ever seeing before, but it encourages him to learn how to speak better. Long gone are the days of silently observing family drama over the phone — he has to keep up now, and he'll defend his mom cada día de la semana (even if she's somewhat embarrassed by it.) Essentially he's at that level of fluency where he can be rude without being rude 😭 (just saying some of the things his relatives say are NOT helpful.)

With all of this going on in his life, it's no surprise that sleep doesn't come easy. Or maybe it is, considering how much he works his body. Either way, he's left staring at the ceiling or curled up on his side most nights, the untouched toys and collectibles in his room to keep him company. Miles used to sleep at 8pm on the dot and wake up at 6; that was when things were good, and he didn't have his whole universe on his shoulders. All his bed is now is a place to collapse, and close his eyes until it's light outside. Most days, he's exhausted — bone-tired — but the most he gets is a light, forced, uncomfortable sleep. It's one in which he wakes up more tired than he was the night before, but he presses on, getting exercise in during the morning and trying to make breakfast for his mom because he knows a slice of toast is the most she'd bother to have.

And despite all that's changed since his dad has passed, Miles is still a kid. He has a thousand pictures from the time he went to Comic-con, a sketchbook full of drawings he never finishes, meticulously-organised playlists, college applications — all in the midst of a city that's falling apart at the seams as much as he is.

But he's okay, for now. As much as he can be.

"Keep your head up, son."

It's what his dad would've wanted, at the very least.

@phoenixinthefiles @qiupachups

hey 😊 "where's ain't no love part thre—" (GLASS SHATTERING NOISE) (CAT MRYEOWING) (BABY CRYING) (POLICE SIRENS) (WEE WOO WEE WOO)

forget miles IM being pulled thin ... half of this may or may not be projection... schrödingers headcanons anyone 😞 anyways ive been like busy. so . SOON! (lying in 4K)

reblogs appreciated!!! 😘 FIND MY MASTERLIST HERE and urrrr my 42 x reader headcanons here if you're interested ?

[nightowl374art]

ok I know nobody literally asked but

I think Miles G has green/hazel eyes like his mother. Just like Miles 1610 has his mother’s eye color because well parallels. Part of the reason I’m even bothering to dig into this is because I love to draw the man and I’m a nerd for accuracy. Plus it’s just a cool physical attribute in general.

Firstly if you look at him compared to Miles 1610, his irises appear somewhat lighter

And you can definitely tell his eyes are a different shade here ⬇️ (and they’re even in the same lighting)

Also, when Miles 1610 is talking to Rio 42, the lighting in their apartment is giving off a greenish hue, making his eyes look hazel or green themselves, which may be why, if she’s not looking that close, Rio doesn’t notice anything but his hair.

Plus, I don’t think the artists/animators would bother changing Rio’s eye color and not Miles G’s. If they wanted to show subtle differences between e-42 and e-1610 before we come to the conclusion Miles is not in the right universe, there are other ways, (like they did with the layout of his room). Plus I think, just like the braids, it’s another physical difference between Miles G and Miles 1610 to show while they may be the same, they’re also not.

I see some have theorized he might have heterochromia which I’m less inclined to believe (not knocking the idea entirely, mind you). Yes the lighting gives that impression, but if you flip Miles 1610 and put him side by side to Miles 42, you can see the blue and red lighting is also gently altering his eye color, giving the illusion one eye is brighter in comparison.

Anyways, I just think this is a really interesting inclusion to Miles 42’s character, because it gives him a harsher look/gaze, whereas Miles 1610 has soft, warm brown eyes—sort of a reflection on their personality differences.

[chihuahuawashere]

Punk flower!!!

Miles knows how to play the acoustic guitar when he was younger his dad taught him how to pay it.

When he went to the Spider society he didn't tell anyone because he was embarrassed.

Gwen knew how to play the drums and is in a band and play rock music.

Hobie does everything on his electric guitar and is always looking cool with it slug around him plus he using his guitar to fight villains.

Miles only knows how to play cute slow love songs and popular songs that are playing on the radio right now. He doesn't think / him/ playing any sort of instrument will ever make him look as cool as them so he never brings it up.

But one day when miles was at home Hobie (like always) snuck into his room to see what his sunflower was doing. Miles was on his chair back facing the window when he was playing "home" by Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zone. Slow and sweet as he was finger plucking and every word sounding like sweet honey. Hobie didn't dare make a sound, he didn't want miles to ever stop singing he sounded down right beautiful.

But when Hobie was trying to get closer to sunflower feeling a like a pirate getting lure the sweet songs of a siren he stepped on one of billies toys that was laying around on miles floor.

Miles immediately whips around ready to fight only to get hit with embarrassment right in the gut. He wanted to die right then a there.

Hobie immediately started fan Girling about how good he was then right after scolding him about him to telling him that he can play and hiding this amazing talent from him and completely off of the walls. Hobies colors started changing rapidly matching how fast he was talking and pacing around miles room.

Hobies cool and chill demeter changed to fan girl seeing her light long idol in person. New articles on his body was also changing so fast it was hard to keep up and trying to read it all.

Once Hobie finally claimed down he came to a realization. He can't tell anyone about this. Miles sounds to beautiful for this world and he doesn't want to share it with anyone he has to find this beautiful treasure from the world only he's ears alone to hear. This is an amazing discovery and no one can find it.

When he finally stops in his tracks he looks at miles still sitting on his chair look up at Hobie completely bewildered by the sudden outburst of Hobies reaction. Miles doesn't even know how to react.

How does miles react?

[spdrvyn]

I loved your post about Miguel x autistic reader and I really want more pleease

overwhelmingly peaceful

summary: you found your place in spider society, but that didn't take away from the fact that it can get intensely noisy. you don't hesitate to turn to where you know for sure you'll be safe.

tags: fluff. suggestive joke/s. autistic reader. reader is gender neutral. hobie's here too i guess. author doesn't know how to write british slang.

notes: i'm really glad that you guys enjoyed the autistic reader drabbles i posted so i'm more than happy to write this request! projecting even more in this one, thank you for letting me self-indulge <3

The mere existence of The Spider Society was always enough to astound you. You thought that people didn't Miguel enough credit for basically building the place from the ground up, not to mention how many times he's had to travel to different universes to recruit all different kinds of Spider-People.

Of course, you were more than honored to be one of those people. There was a very good chance that you just got lucky to be on his team, Miguel caught you in that one moment where your abilities were at their peak and your light was really shining through. Luck or skill, you didn't care. This was the result of it, you were content with that.

Unfortunately, the society has its downsides. Considering the sheer amount of spiders that pass through, the hustle and bustle is too hard to ignore. You can't exactly carry around headphones every time you're there because where would you leave them just in case you'd be tasked to another mission? So you just tried to avoid the noisiest places, even then, it's hard to get any semblance of quiet.

"Oh my god," you mumbled to yourself, as you silently glared at the cafeteria table next to you. Charisma was just a natural trait to any spider, with that came very boisterous laughter from other people too. Surely, they were nice people, but in front of your salad? Really?

"You good, mate?" Hobie intervened, he leaned his head to the side to get a better look at your face, a small grin came onto his features. "Lads beside you 've always been that noisy. Can get them to shut their traps if you want."

An inaudible sigh left your lips as you shook your head, combing the hair out of your face. You gazed down at your untouched food for a moment, you liked hanging out with Hobie. He understood you and he was funny, but you weren't quite sure if you could handle being in an environment like this right now.

"No, no- it's fine." He raised a brow at your lie. "Okay, it's not. But you don't have to do that for me," you picked up your small take-out box of salad and juice, "The canteen is just too much right now for me, sorry."

Hobie shrugged, picking up a fry and expertly throwing into his mouth. "No problem, always got my drummer to bother. You going to hang with your boyfriend now, eh?" His smile turned more cheeky and you stared at him meanly to take away from the fact that your cheeks warmed at his comment.

You huffed and stomped away, "Oi, you didn't deny that!"

Miguel's office (a.k.a man cave) was dark and decrepit. For some odd reason, also liked a smell of any kind. You designated each area of the headquarters with a scent, but his area lacked any of the sort which you enjoyed. Not to mention, silent.

It wasn't like he really allowed any loud noise anyway, he had a strange list of items that were prohibited from entering his corner. Bells, blenders, on occasion, phones but that was from one time Gwen forgot to shut her alarm off and she got a small lecture on being considerate because the acoustics caused every sound that passed through to reverberate and increase in volume.

That means it would only make sense for Miguel to also hear your footsteps from a mile away, his platform already lowered for you to hop on and he's hunched over his desk. Sparks fly (not just from the sight of him, I swear) from the spot that he worked on and if you're not mistaken, there's a band wrapped around his head which meant he was wearing goggles.

You set your lunch tray down on the one empty spot on his desk before approaching slowly, you bend down to rest your hand on his shoulder and to lean your head against his. "What are you working on now, beautiful?"

Miguel put down the small soldering tool and took off his goggles, putting the freshly made panel closer to his eyes. "People submitted suggestions to make the wrist devices less bulkier," he blindly wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you onto his thigh as he pressed a kiss to your cheek. "Why are you here?"

"I'm an assassin, I've come to take your life." You spoke lowly, ominously. When Miguel doesn't turn to face you, you pout. "The noise in the cafeteria is overwhelming," you shift and properly situate yourself on his lap.

"I was just about to head out for lunch," Miguel sighed, before placing the panel in a small container.

"So... back to the cafeteria? People are sure to go speechless from catching a look at you," you joke, but there's a somber fry in your voice that he doesn't ignore. His warm breath tickled your neck as he pressed brief pecks down the column of your throat, the low hum he let out vibrating against your skin. "Are you that hungry, hermoso?"

"What I meant was," he paused, brushing more hair out of your face, properly tucking it behind your ear. "I was going to head up to my place for lunch. Where there's no people?"

You breathe a small 'ohhh' and Miguel chuckled, "That checks out, actually." You nodded. "Obviously there's no people, would've been weird to have anyone there two nights ago when we–"

"Okay, that's enough." Miguel cut you off, nearly smiling from ear to ear. "Get your lunch, mi sol."

"My hero."

[plush-rabbit]

Johnathan Ohnn Headcanons

Request: Hi! If its okay, can you make HCs of Johnathan Ohnn with a partner who likes walking around as a stim? They're only comfortable doing it around at home/their room since they feel like its embarrassing. They literally just get up and start shuffling about. Spinning around. Like. Circling a table as if they were a hawk. Doing laps. In a silly manner. Thank you! 💞

A/N: I like to hc he has this stim because when he meets miles he does little steps and im like !!! (i also added a bit more of some other moving stims)

When you start to talk about things that interest you, Johnathan takes notice of how your whole body seems to become animated. Your hands will move around, fingers spreading open and curling over into claws, as you tell him about a new television show that you’ve recently gotten into. Slowly, your legs start to bounce, and he can see just how stimulated you are. Your legs will kick out, the tips of your feet tapping against the floor, and soon you’re up and walking around. Your voice is raised, and you stutter over your words, and he’s interested in it all, clinging to every word and nodding along as you speak without a filter. When you smile at him, bright and with teeth glinting under the light, he knows he would listen to you rant about anything as long as it’s you. 

There are moments where he can tell you’re getting nervous at how much you pace, and you’ll retreat somewhere private for a moment. He’s figured it out that you might feel embarrassed about how you stim, so he tries to make his presence aware before visiting you or giving you the space you need. Even if he does have a key to your home, he always makes sure to knock or at least give you a heads up of when he’s going to arrive. He doesn’t ever want you to feel ashamed about your stims, so he makes sure that whatever boundaries have been placed- such as you preferring your privacy- he’ll respect it without questioning it. He understands the boundaries that are placed, and he never wants to feel as if he’s trying to be privy to your every inner thought.

He’s taken into account of your spinning chair in your room with the faux leather peeled and the chair clicking when you turn. Whether he knows spinning is one of your stims or not, he takes it upon himself to get you a new spinning chair. He can see how much you like yours- how you roll around your room, how you prefer to stay seated at your desk, and the fact of how worn it is. The new chair is similar to your old one, and he doesn’t expect you to use it if you’re still clearly attached to your old one, but he does give it to you as an alternative to when your old chair starts to leave pieces of leather stuck to the back of your thighs. 

With your chair, he’s also gifted you a nice pair of headphones. Music seems to help stimulate you, and he notices that when the two of you ride in a car together, you like to replay songs or tap along with the beat. He might not know the full extent of your stimming, so he’ll try to give you things that might help in putting you in a more relaxed state. Music is common interest for most people, so he’ll make you playlists or give you access to his, to listen to when you feel energy just build up without having any sort of outlet for it to express itself in. 

If time allows for it, he likes to take walks with you. He knows how stimulated you can get and can relate to the bursts of energy, so the two of you will go on walks together to burn off the energy. You have this skip in your step, and he can tell how you want to just run by the way you jog to the nearest tree and point out a root to him, bouncing in your step and waving at him to catch up to you. While walking is a nice leisure activity for the two of you, he gets that you just need to run, so he’ll sit at a bench with a notebook on his lap as you jog around the park.

Joining you for the occasional walk brings him joy. He likes how you’ll hold his hand in yours, keeping a tight grip on it and pulling him along to everything interesting that you see. You shuffle along, slowly growing closer to him, that the two of you bump against each other, your arms wrapping around one of his, desperate to keep him close to you. Your body builds up its own tension and you pull him along, begging for him to quicken his pace, only to be met with defiance as he stands still. You slap playfully at his arm and pull forward, and he watches your back, watches as you find something that catches your gaze and steadily, he approaches you.

Being so close to you, he’s gotten better at picking up when you’re starting to have bursts of energy. Your legs will bounce, and you’ll tap at the ground, and your hands will flap. It’s easy to tell when you’re enjoying your time somewhere with him because of how much you beam. It’s written so clearly, and he can tell that you need to do something, and when the table shakes and you talk about a series that you’re watching, he’s invested in hearing your words. He latches onto every thought, nodding and asking questions, enraptured by how animated and lively you are. 

If your pacing is more of an anxiety response, he tries to take notice of what is causing you to become so anxious. You pace around, and he’ll watch, asking you questions to help bring you back down to reality. He tries to help ground you- to get you to voice your worries, but it only worsens them, and your pacing has become more rapid, more unorganized as you worry at your bottom lip. When you finally sit down, only to stand again a few moments later, he just sits there, letting you vent to him.

It’s when you're anxious does he get worried. You pace and pace, and you can’t seem to stop moving. You talk, words slurring and stuttering against one another, that it makes it difficult to keep up with your train of thought. You pace around the coffee table, and you hide yourself in the kitchen, walking back out with a bit more of a rush in your step. He tries to talk to you, to get you to calm down, but when it seems that you’re only growing more anxious, he kisses the top of your head, and motions for you to go relax in your room, to stimulate yourself until you can finally hear your thoughts. 

With Johnathan becoming The Spot, it’s gotten difficult to take walks with you. He can cover up in jackets and hats, but he still feels the stares that people give him. You rationalize that most people probably think it’s those skin-tight costumes, and while he’ll agree with a wordless nod, he still doesn’t like the stares. While he’s understood your need to walk when stimming, and has even indulged in it himself, he never got the euphoria from doing paces until then. Holding your hand in his, he likes to just run with you as if there’s something that the two of you are running from. And when the two of you are sat on the ground, grass plucked between your fingertips and your head on his shoulder, he wishes that he had run with you more, that he had taken your hand earlier and just ran until his legs gave out and until he was far away.

[darsynia]

Hand(s) Off | Ch 4: Entropy

(Steve Rogers/f!Reader sex pollen-esque multichapter)

gif by @captainevans

STORY MASTERLIST | STEVE MASTERLIST | PREV | NEXT

Summary: Steve’s loved hearing about you from Bucky. He doesn’t want anything to derail the progress his best friend has made toward being a whole person again, which is why he’s going to use every ounce of his slowly-deteriorating willpower to resist touching you, tasting you, taking you. After all, he’s just met you, and his own integrity, not to mention Bucky’s trust, is important to him.

Neither of you are prepared for the catch.

Length | Warnings: 3,752 | male masturbation MINORS DNI

Fill: Adoptable ‘Pheremones’ from @allcapsbingo

Tags (please request!): @starryeyes2000 @munstysmind @ronearoundblindly @chickensarentcheap @themaradaniels @tiny-anne @deepbatched @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @wolfstar-marvelsfan @icequeen1371 @chibijusstuff @nekoannie-chan @brooke0297 @caplanreads

Excerpt:

Bucky’s smiling. He’s still sitting with his back to the wall as usual, but he looks relaxed, even though the place has filled up considerably since they got here. Suddenly, Steve realizes that this isn’t just about the thing between the two of you, it’s about Bucky showing he’s made progress. His friend would probably strangle himself with his metal hand than admit that’s what he’s doing, of course, but that’s what’s going on, here. Growth. It’s almost enough to make Steve choke up-- but he hears a burst of piano notes and a cymbal crash that draw his attention to the stage.

There’s a rich red curtain that angles in an oval around the stage area, and it parts in the middle right as he looks up. A woman steps through, her face obscured by the stage lights that inexpertly angle towards her. She’s wearing a stunner of a dress, a rhinestone-studded sheath that cups her breasts as tightly as everywhere else, all except for the thigh high slit that instantly sends his pulse racing. When she makes it to the microphone, Steve sees that the gown is blue, navy blue, just like his suit. She’s also wearing a delicate mesh jacket that hides nothing but adds class, its see-through sleeves extending to her wrists, collar reaching up to tease her jawline. 

The spotlight’s harsh glare finally softens, and he can see her smile. Your smile.

Oh shit, Steve thinks to himself.

Entropy

Steve’s taken to jogging through the city again. 

At first he told himself it was because he didn’t want to feel confined to the tower, but that’s only a small part of it. Ever since his overdose of Mistress, he’s felt a strange urgency for motion, even at night. He’s chalked it up to guilt; Steve has… fond memories of what transpired between the two of you, no matter how much he’s tried to tell himself that’s wrong. That dichotomy itches under his skin, builds up to the point where he has to physically work it off, like some strange sort of debt that must be paid.

The problem is, it’s not getting better. It might actually be getting worse-- two weeks have gone by, and still, somehow, he wants to see you. He’d thought that would pass, had counted on it to pass.

The repair work is almost finished on the apartment, meaning he won’t need to sleep on the couch anymore. Steve’s looking forward to that, beyond what it feels like to live out of laundry baskets in the living room. He misses his bed, though it won’t be the same bed. All the furniture is set to be replaced, just in case the proliferation of Mistress has left any residue behind. He suspects that’s not really necessary, but Tony and Bucky won’t tell him what happened during their confrontation. All he can see are the after effects, the way Tony is being almost embarrassingly thorough on top of apologetic.

When Steve gets in from his twenty mile run, sweat-soaked and still buzzing internally, Bucky blocks his path to the bathroom.

“You ok?”

Steve looks at his friend. He’s dressed to go out, hair in a bun-thing at the back of his neck, tight pants, leather jacket. It’s Saturday morning, so that means--

He suppresses the immediate instinct to ask about you.

“I’m fine.” The skepticism in Bucky’s expression strikes Steve like a minor version of the fist to his face he’d earned two weeks ago. He forces a shrug. “Trouble sleeping.”

One side of Bucky’s lip turns up. “Might be easier if you forgive yourself long enough to jack off right before.”

“What, are you spying on me at night? Creepy, James,” Steve grits out, shoving past Bucky to head for the bathroom. The problem is, Buck’s right. He hasn’t touched himself at all since Mistress, and it only now occurs to him that maybe that’s the source of the weird build-up/unease he’s been feeling. “Go spend time with your friend and leave me to it, then.” Crap. He hadn’t meant to say any of that out loud.

Bucky’s silence speaks volumes, and Steve risks a look over at him as he opens the bathroom door. His expression is worse.

“Not spying. I can just tell.” Bucky’s gloating, like he’s flipped a switch Steve couldn’t reach, or something. “You know, she still wants to talk to you.”

“Still no,” Steve barks back. He goes into the bathroom and shuts the door, probably a bit harder than he ought to have, because his friend’s laughter floats down the hallway and out the front door. 

Talking to you would be a mistake, not until he can shake whatever compulsion he feels to see you again, to know what you look like happy, safe, and uninfluenced by the drug. Those thoughts are innocent enough, but that’s not all Steve wants.

He won’t even let himself think about the other things he wants. Those desires have clearly been unnaturally created by the combination of the drug itself and his natural sense of fidelity. He’s touched you in a way that gave you both pleasure. He knows what you taste like. Those are intimate things, ideally things a man shares only with someone he’s meant to cherish and protect.

Bottom line, his mind is confused, and he needs to clear that up before he sees you again.

Steve strips down and steps into the shower. It was a mistake to let his mind stray so close to those moments with you right before this, he realizes too late. The vibrating clamor in his mind that he’d tried to chase away with physical activity is back with a vengeance, and all he can think about is Bucky’s suggestion to touch himself. What he should do is put the water on cold at full blast and empty his mind… but would it be so bad to take advantage of this opportunity? It’s the first full erection he’s allowed himself to have in weeks.

He puts the water on and turns it hotter than normal.

There’s a ringing in Steve’s ears as he reaches down and sets his hand on his right thigh. The warm, welcoming water beats down on his bowed head, mere trickles making their way to the thatch of hair around his cock. He’s already too warm, every inch of his skin thrumming with the electricity of what he’s about to do. It’s not wrong, but it’s not right, either.

He tells himself he has to do this with a blank slate, no mental images, no associations. As soon as his hand closes around his cock, those high-minded ideals burn to ash. His eyes are closed; he hadn’t turned on the bathroom light, and the door has long-since shut automatically, so it’s dark, dark as his bedroom had been. 

Steve strokes once, immediately bracing himself against the tile wall with his other hand, because holy hell, it feels so good it could be a medical result. He’d held off touching himself until now out of a sense of… of civic duty, and fuck, if this is his reward, he’s earned it. Steve gasps helplessly with each successive slide of his fist, powerless to stop, desperate to continue. Unbidden, he imagines you on the other side of the wall he’s holding himself up with, as though you’re once again suffering the same delicious torture as he is.

All too soon, he feels the tightening clench of his approaching orgasm, the buzzing in his chest brought to a frenzy with the promise of release-- and then the feeling plateaus and pauses. Steve spins around and shoulders up to the wall, begging and threatening in turns as he chases the suddenly elusive pleasure with his hips and hands. Behind him, the wall gives a little, and small pieces of plaster start to fall.

“Bruce, with respect, you’ll have to ask her.”

Banner’s hair is already in disarray, and at this, he runs his hand back through it, face full of distress. “You’re not really suggesting I ask this woman I’ve never met whether or not she is capable of having a--” He breaks off, obviously horrified. “Why can’t you, uh… ask Barnes to…”

“I thought of that,” Steve says. 

He did. He knows that Bucky’s been very clear about whether or not his friendship with you has potential to shift away from the platonic, but he also thinks that friendship is the best groundwork for something more. He’s already undermined that foundation thanks to the calamity you two shared combined with his own closeness with Bucky. There’s no escaping either association. He’ll be damned if he weakens that friendship further.

“Bruce, the best I can tell you is to get her contact information from Bucky and get in tou--” he stops, face reddening. His next instinct is to say ‘reach out,’ which is also a no go. Somehow every reference he makes to you is tactile.

“Got it,” Bruce says quickly. “Thanks.”

Steve nods, grateful to get out of there, but Banner calls out one last time when he reaches the door.

“I’ll probably need to take more vials once a week for a while at least, so we can figure this all out.”

“Understood,” Steve says, speeding up. Blood draws he can do, but to be reminded of the whole situation every week for the foreseeable future? Not ideal, especially since he’s already thinking about it every day.

A few days later, he’s finishing up making dinner when Bucky slouches in and leans his shoulder up on the wall nearby.

“That restless thing getting worse?”

Steve just nods. He’s starting to worry, because he can’t be the only one who’s overdosed on the stuff, and just because Bruce hasn’t found any reports of similar experiences doesn’t mean they’re not happening. People could be too ashamed to say anything, but if they’re having the exact same symptoms he is…

“I need to ask--” Bucky falls silent, clearly uncomfortable.

Suddenly, Steve’s certain he knows what Bucky’s trying to say. There’s no power on Earth that could compel him to make it any easier, though. For a bright few seconds he considers doing something drastic with dinner to get out of the rest of the conversation.

“Do you want garlic bread?” he asks, instead.

“Damnit, Steve!”

“I’ll take that as ‘no.’”

Bucky shoves off from the wall and stalks past him, opening a drawer with the kind of petulance usually seen in teenagers. Steve decides it’s the exact right time to take the full garbage to the chute, and when he returns, Buck’s got a sauce-wet spoon in his hand and a disgruntled expression.

He nods to the spaghetti sauce on the stove. “That’s pretty good. It’s also proof that you don’t mind doing things the hard way, so here goes: Dee says she can’t orgasm anymore. Can you?”

Steve’s completely and utterly speechless. Bucky’s just thrown a grenade, and Steve has never in his life been an uncaring bystander. The part of his brain that has clearly imprinted on you is standing at attention, screaming that he’s culpable, that this is his battle to fight alongside you. He swallows hard and forces himself to answer.

“No.”

“Shit,” Bucky sighs. He opens a cupboard door, pulls out something, and thrusts it and the mixing spoon into Steve’s hands. “Finish up, I’m taking you with me to her show tonight.”

“I don’t think talking to her about something like this at her place of business is the best--”

“No talking, just listening,” Bucky interrupts. “You, listening to her sing. If the two of you got long-term messed up by that stuff, and that was the only time you ever spent around each other, that’s not going to help you get fixed.”

Bucky leaves without giving any time to respond, which is fine, because he’s right, and Steve doesn’t really feel like acknowledging that right now. He looks down to see that Bucky has given him a container of sugar, implying that’s what the sauce needs. It’s a testament to how worried he must be about you that he hadn’t made a joke about the juxtaposition of those two situations.

Trusting his best friend is almost always the best course of action, but that doesn’t make it easy every time. Steve tries the sauce, stirs in some sugar, and tries it again.

“Yeah, okay,” he mutters to himself.

Bucky sticks to small talk or silence as they eat their spaghetti, and after putting away the leftovers, Steve slips through the nearly-finished door to his bedroom and changes into a suit. It’s a navy blue one he bought himself with his own money, not one of the fancier ones Tony got for him for Avenger stuff. When he gets back into the living room, though, Bucky looks surprised.

“You know this is a bar, right? You look like a lawyer.”

He looks down at himself. “Isn't tonight the 40’s thing?”

Bucky’s bringing over a dusty-looking blue jacket and gesturing for Steve to take off the suit coat. “Sure it is, but we’re going for Cagney over Stewart. More Clint than Tony, yeah?”

It’s a Moment, because Bucky doesn’t usually refer to the other Avengers like that, he’s still off by himself more often than not, still adjusting. Steve covers his pleased reaction by turning away as he removes his blazer and puts on the proffered jacket. When he turns around, he’s granted a begrudging nod, and they head out.

The venue is a bar/restaurant, with a solid wall separating the two areas except for the back third. It’s already busy, with a line to enter, and Steve notes with surprise that the doorman seems to recognize Bucky. That puts his qualms about Steve’s clothing a bit more in context, especially since he’s more defendant than prosecutor tonight, tight jeans, black leather, long hair down, the works. There are other men in suits, though, and when they walk inside, Steve even sees couples dressed in vintage wear holding cocktails.

“This is a whole thing?” he murmurs to Bucky.

“Just wait.”

They end up at a table in the back, but the place is well built, and it’s easy to see the stage from where they’re sitting. The lighting is dim but warm, and Steve feels a frisson of excitement to get a chance to hear you really sing. He can still pull up the memory of your sexy humming under his blanket-- the same one he’s been using on the couch.

He’s, uh, not going to tell you that, though. That would be even more inappropriate than showing up at a performance like he has any right to distract you with his presence.

That thought sends Steve into a spiral of concern, enough to take a few gulps of whiskey and actually feel its tingle before his metabolism evens things out.

“What is with you?” Bucky sets a heavy hand on Steve’s where he’d been drumming his fingers on their small circular table.

“You should have warned her. Did you warn her?”

“Why?”

“The-- thing that happened, it’s obviously still affecting both of us. She’s a performer, seeing me here could throw her off.” He shoves his chair back, downs the rest of his drink.

“Don’t be an idiot, she’s a professional. And you’re going to want to hear this, trust me.”

Bucky’s smiling. He’s still sitting with his back to the wall as usual, but he looks relaxed, even though the place has filled up considerably since they got here. Suddenly, Steve realizes that this isn’t just about the thing between the two of you, it’s about Bucky showing he’s made progress. His friend would probably strangle himself with his metal hand than admit that’s what he’s doing, of course, but that’s what’s going on, here. Growth. It’s almost enough to make Steve choke up-- but he hears a burst of piano notes and a cymbal crash that draw his attention to the stage.

There’s a rich red curtain that angles in an oval around the stage area, and it parts in the middle right as he looks up. A woman steps through, her face obscured by the stage lights that inexpertly angle towards her. She’s wearing a stunner of a dress, a rhinestone-studded sheath that cups her breasts as tightly as everywhere else, all except for the thigh high slit that instantly sends his pulse racing. When she makes it to the microphone, Steve sees that the gown is blue, navy blue, just like his suit. She’s also wearing a delicate mesh jacket that hides nothing but adds class, its see-through sleeves extending to her wrists, collar reaching up to tease her jawline. 

The spotlight’s harsh glare finally softens, and he can see her smile. Your smile.

Oh shit, Steve thinks to himself.

“Well, hello there, my darlings!” you purr, turning to gesture to the musicians behind you. As you do so, your left leg extends from the slit in your dress, and Steve catches his breath.

So does a significant portion of the audience.

Beside him, Bucky’s obvious throat-clear is tinged with amusement, but Steve refuses to look over.

“I’m going to start with one of our remixes. This is Lovefool, by the Cardigans-- if it had come out in ‘45.”

He doesn’t recognize the song, but that hardly matters. Your voice is just as sultry as he’d expected, and the song is as sassy as it is sexy. Steve’s completely captivated, leaning forward, eyes locked to your every move. Your stage presence is expert-level, and though he and Bucky are at the back of the room, he can tell that you’re making warm, welcoming eye contact with patrons all over the room. It’s only a matter of time before you see him.

He has a sudden, desperate wish that he’d met you the same way Bucky had, organically, without the lingerie-sporting giant Elephant in the room. As the song winds down, Steve feels like it’s his responsibility to lean back, to minimize his presence, to protect you from the knowledge that he’s there. You’ll be looking for Bucky, most likely, and that makes Steve’s presence at the same table selfish, even cruel.

Steve lifts his hand up to cover part of his face-- but it’s too late. Your eyes sweep the back of the room, face lighting up as you tip your head forward. You’ve clearly seen Bucky. Steve’s breath catches as you shift your gaze and meet his eyes. You freeze right as the music does, your smile sobering just long enough for those two actions to be clearly related.

Is there a little apologetic quirk in your eyebrows as you pull in a breath to continue singing? Surely he’s imagining it… but then you close your eyes and tip your head back, clasping the old-style microphone with both hands to support you as you start to sing again.

So I cry, and I pray, and I beg…

By the end of the set, Steve’s body is humming with heat and admiration. He fully understands how it is that Bucky came back to hear you, time after time. You and your band have a delightful grasp on the genre, weaving genuine 40’s hits with modern songs sung in a recognizable style. Some of the lyrics of those remixed songs feel like a stinging indictment of the intervening years, to the point where Steve’s entirely certain it’s on purpose. He’d never thought of music in that way before, especially not sung in a venue like this.

“You still breathing over there?” Bucky asks after a few minutes of silence, amused.

“Thinking about it,” Steve admits. “I see why you kept coming back.”

Bucky stands and stretches, pressing both hands to his lower back. He’s bending in a way that would get him more attention if they weren’t in the darkest corner of the place. “Yeah.” The single word carries a lot with it.

“If you want to go over and--”

“Nah, not my thing. We can go.”

Steve is offended for you by proxy. “She won’t feel like you’re, I don’t know…” he trails off instead of guessing the reactions of a woman he doesn’t know very well. You deserve attention from your best friend after a performance like that.

“I usually don’t talk to her in person after, but I can give you her number if you want to text her your compliments.” Bucky’s grin is best described as shit-eating. Steve must look confused, because after the two walk out into the night air, Buck explains, “Dee says she likes to ‘foster mystery.’ I’m one of the only people she ever came out to talk to. I looked grouchy as hell the first three of these I showed up for, according to her. She threatened to deck me.”

“She what?” Steve’s heart may have just fluttered, which is concerning.

“She said the pianist has a lot of performance anxiety, and my glowering was making it hard for him. I promised to practice my smiles.” Bucky turns and grins so maniacally that Steve cracks up. Then his friend shrugs. “Broke the ice, I guess. Glad you enjoyed yourself.”

He did. Steve might go as far as to say he feels like a different person in a couple of ways, as a friend as well as a man. The former has to do with understanding one of the big reasons why Bucky’s made so much progress over the past few months. The latter is more physical.

He feels settled, somehow. The buzzing, anxious feeling that has been plaguing him for weeks is somehow gone, and its absence is palpable. It’s hard not to think that has something to do with you, but whether that’s actually true is hard to say.

His clothes have a distinct ‘spent hours at a bar’ smell to them, which means his hair and skin probably do, too, so Steve hops in the shower not long after they get back to the tower.

It isn’t until he’s finished washing his hair that he realizes there might be scientific significance to his state of contentment. The thought makes him laugh out loud, because he knows what desperation feels and tastes like, and this is indistinguishable. Still, he wants, no-- needs to come, for more than one reason, and if his analytical mind can produce such a selfless-sounding reason, who is he to argue?

Steve Rogers can’t really drink alcohol fast enough to end up drunk, not unless he really tries, but tonight, he feels drunk on multiple things. Surprise, maybe. Your music, certainly. Definitely that dress.

The first touch of his soap-slick hand on his cock is glorious. Steve adjusts the sprayer so the hot water is directly striking his chest, shuts his eyes, and sets a brutal rhythm. Soon he’s panting, the pleasure so exquisite that he can’t stop himself from moaning every few strokes. There’s a liquid fire that’s spreading from his groin all the way to his toes and the tips of his ears, and this time he just knows he’ll be able to do it, he can finish.

Steve lurches forward to brace his forehead on the wall and ruts into his fist, keening against the beauty of it. His body is rushing toward the cliff of the best orgasm he’s ever, ever had-- but no matter how perfectly he moves his hand, how fast or slow he rocks his hips, he can’t push past whatever barrier there is stopping him from coming.

He slams his hand on the tile in utter, agonized frustration.

Pain blooms in his palm, the blood bright on the white tile. Steve just stands there and watches for a long minute. The shower swirls the diluted blood around the crumbled chunks as the red liquid seeks escape down the drain.

Something is deeply wrong, and he really hopes the answer is somewhere in those cells.

Next chapter...

[dirtytransmasc]

Ok

Ok

Hear me out

Miles!42 and Uncle Aaron!42 developing, rather unwillingly, a pretty protective attitude over Miles.

For Miles!42, it's brotherly. He starts viewing Miles as his kid brother.

For Uncle Aaron!42, it's that he sees the kid his Miles used to be before Jeff died and feels he failed to preserve or truly protect.

Miles (42) is so protective, and at first he hates it, cause loving anyone as much as he finds he has begun to love miles, outside of your blood (because this kids worldview is so skewed, I feel like only his mom and his uncle are "safe") is a weakness, a danger, and fuck, he doesn't want to let anyone in ever again. but Miles seems so small and young and almost fragile, in a way that is neither physical or mental, but something else he can't quite place, and he just wants to protect him. its those eyes, still trusting, still warm, but the flame is starting to flicker, and for reasons unknown to him, it makes Miles (42) feel sick. all he did was look at him, he'd broken his chains, taken Miles (42) out, pinned him with his webs, but still his eyes leaked trust and longing, even under the pain and fear. that's when part of him decided Miles (1610) was his brother, that he was something to be protected, that he might as well be blood.

then Miles (1610) begged for the chance to save his dad, their dad, and offered Miles (42) a way out, a hand, into the light, a second chance with his dad. he realizes he doesn't feel alone anymore, like he's in a world where despite having his uncle and his mom, at the end of the day, he was alone; now he has his brother, and he won't let him turn out like him, he won't let that flame die, he won't let him go cold, because he needs him.

so while it is terrifying, he lets Miles (1610) in, he protects him, not just in a physical manner, but emotionally too, even if he isn't the best at it. he makes sure even when they're both trapped in the darkness, with the odds against them, isolated from their worlds, that he feels loved and safe, cause that's what a big brother does.

in short, Miles (42) will kill for Miles (1610), he'll go up against all of spider society, his uncle (in the context of him not being protective of him, which isn't where this post is going, but you get the point), anyone, because his brother will not be alone in the world anymore, dependent on ever-shifting variables as to whether or not he has someone standing behind him. in a way, its easy, even when scary and he doesn't know what to do, he just lets instinct guide him.

the same can't be said for Aaron. seeing Miles (1610) hurts his very soul. he's forced to see how badly he has hurt his Miles, even if it was necessary for their survival, to see the softness that's been stolen from his miles, the warmth, the gentleness, its all been taken away. Miles (1610) is like a second chance, he couldn't save his miles, but he can save this one, and in the process, maybe his own, in away, if already too late to really save him.

he has a harder time connecting with Miles (1610) but he tries, tries to give the kid some sort of reprieve from the grief of losing his own uncle, much like Jeff is giving Miles (42) reprieve from the grief of losing his dad, he tries to soften for both boys, but unfortunately, he's damaged, and his idea of protection isn't as soft, it hasn't been in so long, since he lost Jeff. he tries to be tough on the kid, while also not squashing the good in him, trying to find the balance the failed to find with Miles (42). he's scared of losing the kid, losing his Miles in the process, hell, he's scared of losing himself. he's been terrified of losing his own Miles for so long, he's not sure if he could lose two of them. what's scarier, is like Miles (42), he's losing his edge to the kid,.

so he kinda lurks behind the boys, letting them remain soft and somewhat off gaurd, happy, kids, while he makes sure they're safe. his apartment is open to both of them, but he lets Miles (42) fly the coop, more than ever before.

eventually he would accept that maybe, just maybe, he can let himself soften, that he can be more for his boys than just a scary protector.

Aaron knows he failed once, but doesn't know how to help, doesn't know how to give them the softness they deserve, and once he does, he's scared of it. he wants, needs, to protect them, to protect Miles (1610) so he doesn't become like his Miles, to protect his Miles from losing anymore of himself. in his efforts, he'll fuck up, many a time, sometimes he thinks he's done more harm than good, but he knows, even if both his boys hate him, he will protect them from the world, its the very least he could do.

both of them would do anything to protect Miles (1610), because he's practically blood, but he's also a physical representation of everything they've lost, and they won't lose it again. plus, big brothers are notoriously overprotective, and the same goes for uncles turned father figures.