#but at this point ive written too much of it not to post it i just. need. to finish it

[enhanced-operatives-division]

Points at you. 10 and/or 11 for starstruck?

Two starstruck asks,,,,,,joy of joys,,

Part of an ask game linked here.

#10. What's an au you have for them?

Since them meeting at all is technically an AU i have 3 different ways that they do meet up. There's the one where Juniper ends up with the agency/adjacent to and ends up working with Reggie (have written a fic with this). The next one is Juniper surviving but basically going stealth and living as normal of a life as he can and ending up meeting Reggie through chance (most recent fic I've written). And then there's my personal favourite where Reginald "You're lucky my tracking skills are still up to snuff" Crane keeping himself busy after Phoenix was MIA and finding Juniper still alive (fic I want to write but haven't started mainly because it may end up multi chapter).

In terms of more AU canon bending taking them and putting them in a completely unrelated situation...I have a guilty pleasure Warrior Cats AU for IEYTD in general. Both JJ and Reggie have perfect warrior cats suffixes in their names already (Juniper and Crane) so they're called Junipersong (charcoal bengal) and Craneflight (tabby Norwegian forest cat). It's very silly but the amount of scenes I have in my mind for it...good lord...

#11. How was their first kiss like?

Augh my friend Imp wrote an absolutely excellent fic about it (tragically in the realm of unfinished Google docs) and I'm shaking their hand about it so hard. Basically Juniper kissing Reggie but he like wasn't ready/fully expecting it and Juniper absolutely panicking because he thinks he's misread every interaction between them both since they got closer. The second one is much sweeter though,,

[cinnabeat]

the idea that teachers would make new transfer students stand up and like introduce themselves or whatever is soo fake bc i had a friend who transfered mid semester into my school and specifically one of my classes and not only did the teacher not force her to introduce herself but i didnt even know she transferred at all for like a good couple months of our friendship

[jegulus-trash]

I LOVE YOUR DERRY GIRLS MARAUDERS INCORRECT QUOTES I'VE BEEN OBSESSED WITH THIS SHOW FOR YEARS BUT I NEVER SEE ANYONE TALKING ABOUT IT

OMG THANK YOUU SM <333 absolutely loveee derry girls im actually having like Thoughts or wtver about marauders characters as derry girls but i don't really care abt the marauders era girlies like i do abt specific ppl

[littlesilverplatinum]

Sofia and Melor Shishko – the parents of Johanna Otsu.

Being an only child, a lot was put upon Johanna’s young shoulders. From an early age she was brought up to be the best. Academically, creatively, as well as socially; a daughter they could be proud of, and to be fair… Johanna did follow her parents’ wishes without much protest. Though her hobbies and interests never truly had been hers to choose, she took to them with ease and learned to enjoy them – and she grew to be quite remarkable at playing the flute because of this. But, as time passed and she grew, Johanna became lost within herself.  Though her parents wished for the best for her, they inevitably brought her down a path of not being able to make proper choices for herself. Right or wrong wasn’t so easy to discern, and the intent of others equally so. After all… If mom and dad weren’t there to make the choice for her, how was she to know if she was making a bad one?

Koh Otsu, a man she met on the train ride back home after practice, was the one choice in her life that Johanna made for herself. And it is also the choice of which caused a rip between herself and her parents; one that hasn’t been mended to this day.

Falling pregnant at the age of 16 by a grown man was, in their eyes, her own stupid fault.

---

Masae and Hiroji Otsu – the parents of Koh Otsu.

Much like his young wife, Koh grew up as an only child. Had his mother not struggled with fertility, however, then surely he would’ve earned himself quite a few siblings.  Masae was a mother who perhaps, in certain ways, cared far too much for her child. Koh faced many struggles early in his life, from that of a stutter of which rendered his speech almost impossible to understand, to a loneliness of which festered within his breast like an obsession – there was, perhaps, little that his parents actually could’ve done to mend what was broken within him since birth.

Hiroji was loving and understanding, but he never connected to his boy in the way that fathers perhaps should. Masae tried her outmost, but her love did little else than push him further away.

Koh left home at age 18 with foul words and the promise to become someone known. It wasn’t until he sent a picture of his infant daughter, cradles in the arms of a girl much younger than himself, that they heard from him again.

---

Johanna and Koh Otsu – the parents of Hikari Otsu.

The pair that came to be did, indeed, follow in the footsteps of those before them. An only child, Hikari grew up in a household that was surprisingly warm – given where things would lead. A teenage mother and a father working to keep their bills paid; it’s the average family story of many in Sinnoh. Where things divert is, perhaps, hidden just under the surface.  Hikari was a daddy’s girl from birth, and her relationship with him was as close-knit as a father and daughter could be. The years, however, weren’t kind to them – and shortly after a business trip gone awry (a memory, formed yet better left forgotten), little Hikari never again saw her dearest father.

Johanna was a good mother. A great one, in fact, but the scars left upon them due to Koh’s departure is one that stretch between them to this day. Hikari grew distant from her mother, never quite forming the bond with her that she had with her dad – and perhaps, in a way, it’s her own doing; for Johanna certainly hadn’t lacked in trying.  Eventually, however, one gives up on making the impossible happen. Even when Hikari returned from being missing for three long years, Johanna was there for her in an instant. Cradled her, cared for her and promised her that no other harm ever could come her way – and though Hikari knows her mother means well, and knows – in her own way – that if she simply allowed herself to be happy, then their relationship could be a great one.

But she’s stubborn. She’s spiteful and keeps to the idea that the only one of her two parents that matter is her father.

Koh didn’t want Johanna, no matter what the reason may be. And Hikari?

Well… She’s just like her daddy.

[luminisvii]

i keep wanting to go into a detailed explanation as to why kira yamato isn't a good character and why he specifically drags down so much of seed, but i still don't think i can get much better than his common nickname of kira jesus yamato. like on the one hand, that really doesn't get into why he is a poorly written character and why this causes such antipathy with many people and the fandom at large. on the other, well, can you get any more succinct and correct than that? no matter what i say, that nickname will say it better

[beaversatemygrandma]

I’ve witnessed tiktok ‘literature’. I think i might actually have a chance to become published in the future now. If those are getting somewhere, I’ll have no issues even with my somewhat cliche world setup.

[insertdisc5]

I finished ISAT yesterday and I can't get it out of my head. I will spread it to as many friends as possible. Thank you so much for making it. How else can we support In Stars and Time after buying the game?

that is a lovely question to ask!!! um um um this applies to all indie games and all cool stuff you like btw <3

✨✨✨ How To Support Something Cool After Having Bought The Something Cool ✨✨✨

-if you bought the game on steam, leave a review on steam! Reviews tell the Steam Algorithm(tm) that the game is worthwhile and cool, and so the algorithm will be more likely to show off the game!!!

-if you bought it elsewhere uuuuh leave a review on metacritic i guess????

-word of mouth!!! tell your friends!

here's a tangent.

Word Of Mouth For Dummies (written by me, a professional Word Of Mouther) ok so if you wanna make your friends play the game. here is my advice. or at least thats how i do it. i made all my friends play disco elysium and. ive even made one. play. umineko (everyone gasps in amazement) 1. dont be too insistent about it. so, GO CRAZY AAAH GO STUPID AAAH only ONCE. and explain the game in thirty pages there if you want. ONCE. THIS IS YOUR CHANCE. 2. if you know them well and what they like, personalize the paragraph. you like timeloops? thats for you. you like old ladies? thats for you? you keep beating me at rock paper scissors? Do I Have The Game For You. 3. now that you've gone crazy aah stupid aah Once, you have successfully PLANTED THE SEED. like in inception. no need to go crazy stupid again for a while. i know it's hard. but you don't wanna go crazy stupid too much. control yourself. for the Thing. 4. from that point on though, when the game is on sale, just go "hey btw the cool game i told you about is on sale! smiles smiles smiles". 5. every six months go "i was just thinking about a cool game again." "what cool game?" "IN STARS AND TIME" and you can go crazy aaah go stupid aah again. 6. after Some Time (from 2 weeks to 5 years) they will play the game. yes i said 5 years. word of mouthing is a WAITING GAME. little sprouts grow into trees. 7. they play the game 8. ???? 9. profit <3

-word of mouth, 2!!!! SOCIAL MEDIA!!!! tweet about the game! reblog other people's posts! make fanart! make fanfic! write a long essay about which parts made you cry! cosplay as the characters! make a video essay! just yell!!!!! you know how you only got into That One Thing because someone made a post about it? you could be The Post.

-(this one is if you want more merch specifically) buy the merch if it's available! the only reason we have a second Loop wave with the Yetee is because the first wave sold so well ;w;

-ummm that's it really????? that's already a bunch!!! but yeah!!!!!!!!!! ty!!!!!!!!!!

[denwritesandcries]

Hug me Tighter – Sam Carpenter

Pairing: sam carpenter x fem!reader

Summary: You’re only trying to make your girlfriend take a nap with you, the fact that it’s in a hospital bed after one of the worst nights of your lives doesn't really matter.

Word count: 1,8k.

Content: post-scream VI, cursing, tooth-pudding fluff, mentions of violence, cuddling, pet names, long dialogues, REALLY soft gfs.

A/N: Damn, this might be the sweetest and cheesy thing I’ve ever written. Could also be an AU, since Anika is alive, or just Scream, if they could actually be happy.

English is not my first language.

You realized that you were waking up at a terribly slow pace, as if everything was suddenly in slow motion and even the smallest movement took hours to run and every second was longer than the previous one. Your body feels heavy and comfortably warm, resting on perhaps the best bed in which you've ever slept. You blinked slowly, failing to keep your eyes open, every movement of your eyelids almost making you fall into unconsciousness again.

Your body shudders with the feeling of a long yawn crossing you and you turn your head to bury your face back in the location and go to sleep again, only to be surprised when you come across hot skin instead of what your brain thought was a really soft pillow. It is only then that you register a movement against your back, light and constant, almost as smooth as your own sleepy state, climbing and descending your spine and enveloping you even more in this security bubble almost supernaturally.

Another weight lies between your neck and your head, right at the point of your wrist and there's another heavier resting on the top of your head, although you're sure of the mess your hair should be right now. Your hands grope and instinctively grab a handful of familiar fabric beneath you, feeling the texture of a sweater you knew very well.

“Sam,” your hoarse voice breaks the silence.

You were tempted to let the darkness and the inviting fog of sleep consume you again as you relaxed and held another yawn, but your resting place vibrated with a low laugh.

“‘M sorry, baby. Did I wake you?”

“Nah,” you denied with a satisfied sigh, sinking against her body.

The chin on your head pulled away and the hand on your back stopped and you immediately missed the contact, finally opening your eyes and lifting your head to protest.

“You're feeling better?”

Sam's question catches you off guard and you pause, staring into your girlfriend's soft brown eyes and raised eyebrow with confusion. Frowning, you finally decide to take a look at the place you are in and come across a messy white room with machines nearby. A hospital room.

The events of the last few hours come back to you in a quick, jumbled flash. The confrontation with the Ghostfaces, the deaths, the police, the ambulance... and the surgery, because of course in addition to all the terror and threats of the last few days you also ended up being stabbed.

Well, that explains why you feel so sluggish then. You're high on drugs. That is, if the IV prick in your arm is any indication.

The hand on the back of your neck moves up towards your face, fingers tracing the contour of your chin and jaw, thumb rubbing soft circles on your cheek, your body relaxes and you lean into her touch, sighing all too contentedly at the affection. The memory of waking up a lot more groggy before and convincing Sam to lay down too when you found her sitting next to the hospital bed holding your hand tightly slowly returning to your hazy mind. She was a little hesitant at first, but it wasn't that difficult to convince her to hold you with the excuse that it would only be for a few minutes. You bet it must have been a few hours already.

“Hm,” you murmured absently, stretching against her, “I’m definitely feeling much better now.”

“That's good,” your girlfriend huffed softly, “I can't feel my legs in this position anymore.”

That caught your attention.

“Am I too heavy?” You ask, lifting your head to examine her for any bruises from the previous fight, “I can move if it’s hurting you.”

“No,” She squeezes you tighter quickly, “I’m good here.”

Sam's own eyes were half-lidded, almost closing over the last few minutes you were asleep, but she refused to give in to the urge to doze off too. It would have been such a waste when she could just hug you and breathe properly for the first time since the last few hellish weeks you've all had.

The TV on the wall had long since been muted, with the image of some random animal documentary flickering in the background. Sam's head rested against the pillows and your body lay happily spread over hers – and she looked perfectly satisfied for someone who had complained and complained about your puppy dog ​​eyes before.

Somewhere between convincing Sam to lie down and pretending to pay attention to the screen, you ended up falling asleep, one of your arms hanging lazily over the side of the bed. Sam realized this instantly, feeling your weight finally relax on her. It made her relax too. Not completely. Sam was never completely relaxed, no matter how tired she was, not anymore, especially not after a night like that. But she managed to feel good enough to enjoy the moment.

The environment was as welcoming as any hospital could be, but her embrace brought a sense of security that lulled you perfectly to sleep and the knowledge that everyone was okay and in the next room allowed Sam to let her guard down. Yet falling asleep and losing that, the feeling that nothing could happen as long as she held you tight and ran her fingers over your warm skin, seeing and hearing every sleepy sound and movement you made – from a tired sigh as you fit, to one of your hands founding the collar of her sweater and grabbing it, holding her close – it would be a waste.

“You sure?” You hesitate, searching her eyes for any hint of hidden discomfort.

Sam sighs, nodding: “You wouldn’t believe how comfortable I am right now.”

“Okay then,” you rest your ear on her chest, feeling her head nod and her heart bumping, still a little high. A yawn crosses your lips, “But let me know if you need me to move.”

She hums in response and you fall into a comfortable silence for a while, the sound of machines running and your soft breaths in the same rhythm left you trying your hardest not to fall asleep again until you felt your girlfriend's chest vibrate beneath you again in a barely contained laugh.

“You’re cute when you’re tired.”

“Huh?” you muttered, lifting your drooping head and finally refocusing your vision on her.

“I should probably get up now, let you get some rest.” Sam said, reluctantly removing her arms from you so she could move away.

You shook your head, grabbing one of her hands and letting them fall to the side of the bed, swinging freely in the air.

“No, I’m good here.” You echoed, denying nonchalantly. You let your head find a place on her neck, making her lie back against the pillows.

Sam sighed against you slowly, much more out of satisfaction – and relief – than annoyance at your insistence, returning to the task of running her fingers down your back until you spoke again.

“Where’s Tara?” You ask, voice muffled by the face buried in her neck, “And the twins?”

“They're watching Anika.” She responds and you get alarmed, before Sam reassures you, “She's gonna be alright, she just needs to stay in the hospital for a while longer. And also a lot of rest. Like you, by the way.”

“I am resting.”

If Sam hadn't been fighting sleep for over an hour now, she would have a wide, stupid grin plastered on her face at the sound of your indignant mumble. Since that wasn't the case, she contented herself with a small smile.

“Whatever you say, amor.”

She surrenders, completely this time, without any more false attempts to leave. Sam felt as if you were the one rocking her and not the other way around, as if nothing else could touch her, even for a little while. There were no worries about horrible jobs, breakdowns in therapy, pressure with college exams and much less paranoia about the existence of cinematic serial killers. Nothing else could exist in your – literal – white room. Just the two of you in that small bed.

Each synchronized breath of your chest next to hers pressed her own ribs, the delicate breath sending delicious shivers down her spine and making her completely aware of how close your bodies were and shocking her at how it still didn't feel close enough.

“I love you,” she says. Rasped, you barely hear it. “I love you so freaking much that sometimes I just want to drown into your chest and curl up between your ribs, with your heart.” She takes a breath, then pauses, hesitantly: “...Is that too weird?”

“...Well,” you gasp, heart completely racing against your ears, “No weirder than what we already go through on a daily basis, I guess.”

Sam groaned at your response, feeling like a lovesick teenager in one of the movies Tara and Mindy love to make fun of. Rambling poetically about her passion.

But, screw it, that's exactly what she is, right? Sam thought. Let her have it. She deserves it.

(Her therapist would definitely pat her on the back for that thought.)

Unlike what Sam thought she should feel with the realization of that thought, her heart didn't skip a beat uncomfortably, her hands didn't get sweaty and cold with the doubt of how to deal with this. It kept pounding in that same slow, steady, familiar rhythm, with one of the most precious and loved people of her life completely aware of how she felt.

“I feel like drowning into your chest all the time too.”

Her favorite place in the world was anywhere you were together and it was physically impossible to be closer than that at the moment, although she wouldn't give up trying.

It was pure and simple happiness. Warmth and security that captured her stomach and left it churning with what felt like a million bubbles popping simultaneously.

When you first came to her life and Sam realized being falling for you, she thought her love would swallow her. That it would be something she would keep to herself until it exploded. You seemed to have made it your mission to prove her otherwise.

“I didn’t say ‘all the time’ tho.”

Here you were, together and fine.

“Oh, shut up.”

Your grip on Sam's hand tightened in very bad feigned irritation and when you rose quickly to give her a kiss, your girlfriend burst into laughter and your lips hit her strong jaw instead.

“That tickles, baby.”

“I was shooting for your lips, but you moved.” You simply shrugged, leaning into her again and this time she met you on the way, a stupid smile growing between you and breaking the kiss too soon. You lay back down and Sam took a long breath, leaving one last kiss on your forehead.

This time, when her head feels heavy and droops from sleep, Sam does nothing to stop it, letting the feeling finally consume her.

Nothing, not even in her most vivid fantasies, had ever been so perfect.

And if by chance Tara ends up sending Sam a photo of the two of you napping the next day when everyone is getting ready to go home and it becomes the new wallpaper on her phone, well… that's nobody's business.

[vhstown]

time out (part 1)

[boxer au] — 42!miles g morales x gn!reader

summary: Miles Morales makes boxing history. Your boyfriend isn't there to celebrate.

warnings: angst-ish, description of (boxing) injuries, self-destructive behaviours, briefly implied death, pov switch (yay), gtranslate spanish

word count: 3.9k

a/n: ive never written 42 miles before but he's a cool lil guy split into two parts cuz it was too long 😭 semi-edited (for the millionth time)

PART 2 → / THE AU

"Just six rounds in, Miles Morales knocks out the Vulture!"

Screams and cheers exploded from your phone as you laid in bed, watching the recap of your boyfriend's boxing match. Your eyes were straining from how close you were holding the screen to your face; this was probably the third time you’d watched Miles’ win. After training to hell and back, he’d made it to the national league with you and Aaron to support him. He did more than just “make it”, in fact. His “revolutionary” victory was plastered all over social media and the news. Everywhere you looked was: “17-YEAR-OLD NYC BOXER OVERTAKES LIGHTWEIGHT CHAMPION ‘VULTURE’ IN US NATIONALS”. Miles Morales — your boyfriend — had made boxing history.

The giddy grin on your face only grew wider as he came up again on screen, sporting the stoic expression he'd perfected over the last few months behind the overly-done editing and animations of the recap. As much as you'd wanted to go out and see him live (though begging your family to let you go to Vegas wasn’t exactly feasible), he'd made it clear he didn't want you, or anyone for that matter, in that arena. It was something about having "total focus" — and it must've worked, you thought, as you watched him give his post-fight interview.

“I jus’ hope you watchin’, cause I’m here. Miles Morales made it!”

Despite his boyish, adrenaline-fuelled shout at the mic, the quiet laugh you let out was one of pride rather than embarrassment. He had every right to celebrate, and you were watching, even if it wasn’t live. Everything he'd done up until this point was well worth it: the constant training, sparring, the late nights and early mornings — maybe even the countless unanswered texts and missed calls too. Miles had worked himself to the bone, and while it might've worried you at the time, it was nothing compared to the satisfaction you felt while watching him on screen. He knew what he was doing; Miles was semi-professional at this point. You had to let him do his own thing, even if that meant letting him go for a while.

Right now, though, Miles was home from Vegas. Tapping out of the video, you scrambled to your messages. The last ones were from you, sent weeks ago, a "good luck" and "i love you" read and without a response. Your fingers kept missing the keys, and you frowned at yourself until you finally were able to hit send.

CONGRATS BABY!!! Not delivered

IM SO PROUD OF YOU Not delivered

You tried resending them, only to be met with the same red message.

why arent my texts sending Not delivered

miles??? Not delivered

Not delivered? It'd almost been three days since the tournament; Miles always had his phone on.

"To leave a message, please press one—" The call went to voicemail for the third time. Your stomach swirled with something like uncertainty. It didn't even ring at all. Miles made it a habit to always be available, so why...?

Boxers needed time to recover, he was probably just tired and turned his phone off. Or he could be busy with an interview; Miles Morales was sort of a celebrity right now — who wouldn't want to talk to the 17-year-old boxing prodigy? You knew you wanted to, prodigy or not.

It was probably because you hadn’t seen Miles in so long, but possibilities kept forming in your head, disappearing just as fast. What if he blocked you? Or he could’ve changed his number. Were you over? No. Nope. No way. Not like this.

There was one other reason that made some sort of sense, but you decided to think against it. Miles had made it to the semi-finals in entire the National League. It was over; he'd gotten what he wanted. He was supposed to be resting right now.

Miles wasn't that stupid, right...?

You pulled up Rio's contact. It was better to be safe than sorry.

Riiiiiiing, riiiiiiing…

Better for him to be safe than sorry — or stupid.

"Hello?"

"Hola, tía, uh, could I speak to Miles?" You felt just a little crazy as you held the phone to your ear, but there was no harm in calling his mom.

"Ah, he's not home right now — said he was going out with his tío."

"Oh… Do you know where they went?"

"I'm not sure. Something important. About a... contract?"

"Contract…?" you muttered to yourself. “Okay… thank you.” It wasn't like you knew anything about a contract, though it wasn't like Miles would tell you anyway. At least he was safe, and with Aaron. It was probably important, official — something that didn't involve you. Not a lot of things in Miles’ life involved you, it seemed.

"How have you been?” Rio's voice interrupted your thoughts. You had called her out of nowhere, and after a while. "Have you eaten yet?"

"Oh, um..." The last time you'd talked to Rio was… right before Miles had left for Vegas. Well, you hadn't exactly talked. All you remember is just comforting her in silence. "Yeah, tía. Have you?"

"I have, but I've just been all over the place recently. So many reporters…" Rio's voice lifted up slightly in exasperation. You could only imagine what it was like for her. Your feelings suddenly felt a lot less significant, and you were back to your comforting mode all over again.

"I see. Must be exhausting." You attempted a polite laugh, which came out more like a sigh. If only you could be as patient as Rio…

"I'm so proud, though." Her voice warmed with a smile. If your chest ached with melancholy or empathy, you didn't know. "I didn't want him to leave home so soon. I still think this whole… professional thing is a bit too much, but… I want to trust him also."

"I'm sure he'll be fine, tía. If he's in the nationals already, he's probably getting a lot of support." It was more like you were trying to convince yourself. "I'm sure he has great coaches... and he's got me and Aar— uh, his uncle, too."

"I know…" For a moment, you weren't sure if either of you had anymore to say.

"…If not, I'll have to go there myself and give them a piece of my mind, eh?" she continued. You weren’t sure if it was a joke, but a smile formed on your lips anyway.

"Yeah…" A quiet laugh leaving your mouth at the image of Rio cussing out Miles' poor manager, in two languages no less. No wonder he was such a good boxer — Rio must have passed down her fighting spirit. "Maybe you'd even get signed,” you joked, the image of that even more amusing (and a scary possibility.)

Rio let out her own laugh, and your smile only grew; talking to her always made you feel better. "Me? Boxing? Nunca (Never.) — I'll work in that hospital until the end of me."

There was another stretch of silence. You thinned out a sigh, trying not to let the smile leave your face, even if she wasn’t there to see it.

"Come over for dinner tomorrow. I'll tell Miles to come and get you."

"Sure, tía, I'd love to." He probably just needed a break. Not from you specifically, but in general.

"You know tú y Miles sois mi vida, ¿bien?" (you and Miles are my life, right?) It wasn’t often Rio said that, but you always remembered every time she did, and how it made you feel — like you were family. Rio was pretty much a second mother to you. It made you wonder what Miles' father would've been like.

"Well, it's getting late, and I have a lot of laundry to fold." Rio's tone had a fake sort of enthusiasm — tiredness? You couldn’t really tell with her; the woman was always upbeat. "Take care of yourself, okay?"

"I will." It was late, you realised, and the sky outside your window was a lot darker than it had been before. "You too, tía."

“Descansa, ¿sí?” (Get some rest, yes?)

“Sí, tía.”

The call ended, and you were left facing your messages, a bittersweet feeling hugging you from behind. Right now, Miles was out with Aaron, about some contract, probably to do with boxing…

But why weren't your texts going through?

miles are you ok? Not delivered

im really proud of you Not delivered

i wish i couldve seen you live Not delivered

It wasn’t like there was much point, but…

i love you Not delivered

Maybe it was just out of habit; maybe you just missed him. Your reflection frowned at you behind the messages, thumb hovering over the power button to shut your phone off, until your phone pinged with a notification — Aaron was texting you.

Hey man

Out of town

LMK if miles breaks in

You sat up immediately, fingers floating uselessly above the keys for a moment.

sure Read at 11:24PM

are you out of town already? Read at 11:25PM

Ping!

Yeah

@ Queens

Miles was with Aaron about some “contract”... and Aaron was in Queens?

You knew Miles hadn't blocked you, or turned his phone off — he had no signal. And there was only one place in Brooklyn you could think of that had no reception, and that MIles had any reason to be in. It was also the one place you didn't want him to go to: that damn warehouse.

The place he’d spent training all those weeks — what reason did he have to be there right after finishing the tournament? Putting on your jacket, blinking back the sleepiness and collecting the fleeting remains of patience you had left, you could only hope that Miles had even a shred of common sense with him.

THWACK! THWACK! THWA— Crack!

"Mierda..." (Shit...) Miles hissed, drawing his glove away from the punching bag. His hand was paralysed for a moment, a deep, gnawing pang running through his fingers down to the rest of his arm. The tight gloves only suffocated him more, doing nothing to ease the pain as he gritted his teeth and waited for it to dull down.

Why was he even here? It was over — that Norman bastard had blown him off hours ago. It felt like a couple minutes, the words still fresh in his mind. Searing pain shot through his hand when he tried to flex his fingers, the rest of his muscles starting to ache too. This was going to hurt after the adrenaline wore off. Damn it, Morales.

The walls flashed white all of a sudden, a faint rumble of thunder interrupting the pounding of his heartbeat as he tried to straighten himself out. It was quiet, except for the sounds of the incoming storm. The playlist he was listening to had finished ages ago — your playlist. If he didn’t want to think about you, he wasn’t doing a good job of it.

Rain blasted quietly against the windows, and Miles’ eyes stung with dryness as he squeezed them shut. There was no way he'd be able to go back now, not to you, definitely not to his mom. She'd probably go on and on about how he should've taken his jacket, how he ruined his hair in the rain again, maybe how he wasted his damn time being a boxer...

It was probably fair; his mom had enough on her plate trying to support them both — especially him right now. She’d done everything in her power to make sure he got to Vegas, and he’d just left her alone again right after. But how was he meant to face her now? He was supposed to make her proud, make his dad proud, but it wasn’t like he had any pride left after he’d lost his contract. The Green Goblin had probably set the record for fastest knockout when Miles lost to him. Of course just the semi-finals weren’t enough; Norman Osborn was the big shot of boxing, and if Miles lost to some rookie in just about 15 seconds, then maybe he wasn’t worth the investment.

It didn’t make sense — nothing about The Green Goblin (or “Harry”, whatever they liked to gossip about) made sense. He’d just debuted, but didn’t even look like a boxer; he didn’t stand right, his style was inconsistent, his head movement was all over the place, but his punch had almost knocked Miles’ brain straight out of his skull. It was almost superhuman. Even with no openings, the freak of nature had forced his way through like an animal. And he was scrawny, not nearly as built as Miles at least, like he should’ve been in the weight class down. Either way, the asshole was being celebrated, and Miles was out of a contract.

And Miles had just stood there, while Norman berated him and tore Miles’ dream apart right in front of his very eyes. Maybe he’d hoped too much as an “amateur” boxer. That’s all he was, apparently — no matter how hard he worked, or what he achieved, or what he promised.

“Why should I keep you? The Vulture was destined to lose at his age.”

“Even rigged matches wouldn’t get you anywhere.”

“I mean, you’re as good at fighting as one of those street kids.”

“That’s all you were before I decided to give you a chance, no?”

The image of the Norman’s uncanny, sneering face sent his good fist reeling towards the punching bag. Should’ve pummelled his pelirojo (redhead) ass to the ground—

"Miles!"

The glove crumpled mid-air against the bag, arm going rigid. It was silent as he let out a breath through his teeth — he wasn’t hearing things, was he?

The rush was starting wearing off, his mind starting to cloud and pain faintly radiating again from his other hand. His good fist tightened inside the glove, pushed against the bag which was still and awkwardly tilted.

You’re losing focus, just punch the damn thing—

"Miles, what the hell are you doing here?"

The noise of the door shutting made him turn around, floor squeaking under his stumbling feet. It was you by the door, breathing just as heavily as him and dripping head to toe with rain, in a jacket that was way too thin for any sort of weather.

Dios... (God...) He knew he couldn’t be hallucinating that disapproving look on your face.

Rain was pattering gently against the glass as he pulled his arm away away from the bag, letting it swing in front of him before his eyes met yours.

"It's midnight, what are you..." A sharp intake of breath interrupted your words — a shiver.

"What’re you doin’ here...?" Miles asked instead through a grimace. His voice came out wrong — hoarse. Cold sweat was clinging to his skin, and his throat was dry and tightening. A mess — that’s what you were talking to right now, barely your boyfriend. All he could do was stare as the rush died down and his senses were coming back to him. The fog in his mind made it hard to speak, even harder to look at you.

"My texts and calls weren't going through— You weren't with Aaron or your mom, I just..." You sucked in another breath through your teeth; raindrops were glistening on your skin. He should’ve just stayed home, damn it. "Was just worried."

Well, he certainly looked worrying, even more so than you. Swallowing back his breathlessness wasn’t helping; it was like he’d ran a marathon with his fists. The pain from his knuckle was starting to bleed into the rest of his hand so much so that it might’ve been broken.

"'M good... You, though?" He let out a bit of a growl to clear his throat before deciding to cut straight to the chase: you’d come here in the middle of the night, in the rain, by yourself. As much as he was being an idiot right now, the amount of times he’d told you to not do any of those things, pleaded with you even, was making you look like the delirious one in his eyes. Miles was being stubborn, but he knew you were worse.

“You insane…?” he muttered, taking a step away from the bag. “Did Aaron tell you to come here or sumn’?"

"No, he was supposed to be with you," you shot back, eyes narrowing at him from under your hood before thunder bellowed from all around. The rain was growing into a loud static noise, and your voice was muffled as your expression grew more exasperated. "You came home 3 days ago and you didn't even text me. Yeah, I probably should've texted you, and I tried, but now you're here training alone again when your mom thinks you're with Aaron and—"

"You come here to scold me?" His jaw crunched a little as he tried to keep the annoyance out of his voice. Miles wasn’t trying to be mad at you — he was just mad in general. It just so happened to be in your direction right now.

“Huh? No, I came here because you scared the hell out of me — and Aaron told me to not let you break into his place.”

If it was supposed to be funny, the laugh he let out was anything but amused. At least Aaron wasn’t here for him to disappoint too, or get a weirdly-phrased life lesson from, or both. “Well I’m not breakin’ in, and I told you, I’m good, so I don’t get why you’re still here.”

You stepped a little closer, and Miles’ heels dug into the ground to keep himself from moving. “Isn’t it obvious? Or are you just being difficult on purpose?”

“Difficult?” he mirrored dryly, trying to push back the growing exhaustion clouding his head.

“Can you not just take a break for once? It’s over, Miles; you already won—”

“I didn’t win.” The walls echoed with his voice, words having escaped on their own. It wasn’t at you, but he didn’t know what he was mad at, resolve fading as he watched your face straighten with realisation.

“Don’t tell me that’s why you’re here…”

His fingers unconsciously clawed into the boxing glove, pain shoot through his hand. Nothing came out of his mouth, but his silence was loud — incriminating. That was the reason, right? That he didn't win?

“Kid didn’t stand a chance.” What was the point of you being here?

“A one-punch concussion — on a newbie, no less.” It was over, like you said.

“It’s a shame, I bet on him too.” Everyone had given up on him.

“You should be resting right now— you’re shaking, Miles.” So why wouldn't you?

“No ‘m not…” is all he could muster, flexing his shoulders uncomfortably. Your hand was on his arm before he could realise, and he was met with a stern look as he tried to keep his gaze from shaking too.

The velcro on his gloves crunched as you started undoing them, and he couldn’t bring himself to stop you. It’s not like he had the energy.

“You coulda’ got hurt on your way here.” The croak in his voice made him sound more hopeless than reprimanding as you slipped off the first glove, pausing half-way down his palm. His bare palm.

“…I could’ve got hurt?” Miles held back a sigh as he was made to look at his own hand. Bruised, blackened, branded with anger — it hurt more to look at it than anything. “You didn’t wear your wraps?”

The other glove slid off, revealing the fresh, festering swelling coming from his middle knuckle — the aftermath of that sickening cracking noise. You took his curled hand, easing up his middle finger and making him hiss under his breath.

“Think you can straighten it?” you muttered, gently trying to do it yourself only to lose his hand from your grip.

“’S gonna be fine,” he mumbled, eyes fixed to the side as his hand closed back up.

“It won’t if you can’t move it properly.”

“You a doctor now?”

“Nah, but your mom’s a nurse.” You carefully held his hand by palm, thumb tracing over the tender, split skin, his fingers wrapping around the side of your hand in futile protest. He’d have to bother his mom again — he didn’t even think about that. “You basically just punched yourself.”

Everything you were saying was right — it always was. He hated that fact.

“You a boxing expert too?” he thought to retort.

“Thought that was supposed to be you.” Miles’ eyes narrowed, and yours narrowed in response. “I don’t get it, baby...” you sighed, shaking your head a little as you put down the gloves to the side.

Baby. His breath almost hitched. You were dating, and it didn’t even seem like it anymore. Not after all those weeks apart. The word didn’t even feel endearing, it was condescending, like he didn’t deserve it. Maybe he was being a baby, and maybe he always had been. You were the one who always had to drag him out of this make-shift gym. Right now was no different, except…

“…Why are you still doing this?” he heard you mutter, still turned away with his hand in your grip. You didn’t even know the half of it.

“Why are you still here?” His hand tried to slip away again, but you only took it by the wrist instead, now facing him.

“Why won’t you answer my questions, Miles?” Your voice deadened into a whisper, only serving to frustrate him.

“I don’t know why you care so much.” He let out a quiet huff, staring at your hand when your grip ceased to relax.

“I care because you look like you’re about to pass out and I can’t let my boyfriend kill himself over something stupid—”

“I’m not killing myse—” A pained groan escaped his mouth as you ruthlessly pushed up his injured finger.

“Don’t push me, Miles.” Oh, you were serious.

“You’re pushin’ sumn’,” he strained through gritted teeth. “Mierda… quit it already.”

The pain tore on another moment, and he was just now realising how bad it actually hurt. All you were doing was staring at him, brows knitted together. “Cariño, please…” he whispered, a wince forming on his face.

Your hand loosened, and he let out a quiet, frustrated, somewhat relieved sigh.

Still a sucker for nice words... He didn’t say them as much as he would’ve liked.

“You need to take a time out,” you stated after a beat of silence. The expression on your face was serious again, killing any sense of tenderness you might’ve shown.

He freed his hand from your grip with the opportunity, before giving you a dubious look. “Like, for kids?”

“Like for boxers, dumbass.” Your gaze followed his retreating hand for a moment before falling back on his eyes. “But if you want me to treat you like a kid…”

“I’m good.” Another roar of thunder rang out before he could add anything, and the rain was so heavy that anything you could see from the windows became a blur.

“…You got your jacket?” you suggested, without much hope.

The idea only made Miles’ eyes squeeze shut again. A shallow exhale left him, and he tried not to let his fatigue cloud his judgement. If he kept talking stupid to you, he’d probably have worse to worry about than a broken knuckle. “You think imma go outside?”

All you could do was sigh. It seemed like the two of you would be in “time out” for a while.

🕸️🔭👾

thank you for reading part 2 soon but then again its not my fav fic in the world 💔 i rewrote this like 8 trillion times and it still wasn't clicking for me 😭 idk i just got sick of editing it again and again

this isn't as short as my usual fics because i felt like i needed to add context... I've never written an au or anything remotely original so this is just yeah... im tryna figure it out! i have . too much lore for this au

reblogs appreciated lmk if you did like it (i hope this is someone's cup of tea lmao)

catch my atsv masterlist here !

[ms-demeanor]

hello! sorry to bother w this but im sort of desperate at this point. given your post about school abuse: so like. i had a similar experience and i thought that i had sorted my brain out. BUT. big but. now im trans and every time i have to correct people w/ misgender or come out to people that i dont already know their opinion on the issue, i get an anxiety attack that makes me unable to do it. ive told many therapists and no one so far has understood why im terrified of making stuff that other people can perceive as me being difficult to work with. would you have *any* advice? thanks!

Okay so first of all it is totally valid to feel that way; that isn't an irrational response, that is your body and brain going "!!!! I have learned this lesson before!" But just because it's a sensible response doesn't mean it's functional in the long term, which is why it needs to be addressed (which I'm sure you already know, I'm just explaining for people in the back).

So now here is some meandering advice:

Spend time with people you already know you can trust. It's okay to take a break from new people and situations (as much as is possible) when you are processing traumatic events and learning to care for yourself. Spending time with people who you don't have to come out to, who don't misgender you, can help you normalize being out and correctly gendered to yourself.

Recognize that you don't have to be out to everyone and some assholes aren't worth it. This is going to depend some on the context, but you don't owe everybody an explanation for yourself and if people repeatedly misgender you after being corrected you may just be better off not spending time around those people.

Loop in trusted people in low-stakes ways. If you get the sense that someone who you think is pretty safe has misgendered you on accident, it might still feel too intimidating to correct them in person but it might be a good idea to follow up with text or a call or a message to say "hey, just FYI, I think I heard you use a/b pronouns for me earlier, I just wanted to let you know that I use c/d pronouns. Did you want to meet up again next week?" the breakdown on why I think this is effective is - Distance means you're safe - nonthreatening "FYI" means you aren't saying "I'm offended" and assumes good faith from the other person - feels less accusatory (not that you need to tone police yourself, but if you're trying to lower the stress level overall then assuming it was a mistake and letting them know you don't think it was on purpose should reduce the overall tension) - request to meet up again or topic switch to something lighter once again says "I'm not mad, that was just regular information, we can now return to our scheduled programming"

I think that, generally speaking, this is also a decent way to come out to people if you're nervous; physically remote and emotionally casual can be a good place to work from (even if you're actually panicking in your head but you can pull off casual in a written message)

Find (or create) a space where people are 100% going to support you. If you need to create a discord server, if you need to schedule a regular coffee date with trusted friends or family members, whatever it is, give yourself a space where you are unconditionally supported and can have people to bounce ideas and concerns off of. Even if it's just you and one other person, it's good to know you have *someone* who you can say "I think I want to tell this other person to use my pronouns but it's scary" to and know that you're not at risk in any way. I'd say try to make sure that you're still interacting with people outside of that space, but have a space to retreat to where you can just drop the worry.

Recognize that somebody else's problem is not a reflection of you. If you have, for instance, a coworker who is being a piece of shit and refusing to recognize your gender, that is not a reflection of your gender that is a reflection of them being a piece of shit. If there is a classmate or a sibling who uses the wrong pronouns after being corrected that doesn't mean you're not entitled to your pronouns that means they are being a piece of shit. Some people are just not going to accept you and that's on them. Try to minimize your time spent with them and if you have to spend time with them at work take steps to ensure your safety, but don't fight losing battles with assholes.

It really is legitimately scary. You have good reasons to be scared and you are doing a very frightening thing (and not to do the meme thing but you are legitimately being so brave about it; the fact that you are reaching out and asking anyone for help, including randos on the internet, means that you are taking steps to doing the scary thing and that is SO GOOD and I'm really proud of you for making the effort in spite of the fear).

Here is some less meandering advice:

Practice. Talk to yourself in the mirror, practice with friends, practice with your therapist. Practice coming out to yourself in a casual way. Practice correcting your pronouns. Practice an introduction for yourself that explains the information you want to give to new people you might meet. Get it down to a quick little patter, get it to be something that's easy to say to yourself in the mirror first, then try it with friends for practice, then try it around the safer people you might want to give the information to. It'll get easier as you go.

Look for a local support group (or an online support group). If there's a local LGBTQ+ center you should see if they've got events going on or a support group you can join or workshops or any manner of social thing where you can go interact with people who have been through similar stuff.

Journal. Each time you find yourself frightened of talking to someone about your gender, do what you need to to get through the day and then sit down and think about that interaction. Write down what happened, write down what you were thinking. Was there something in particular that made you anxious? Is it something you can practice addressing? Was there something you noticed about the person that made you uncomfortable? Is that a common thread in the times you have trouble talking about this? If you're able to narrow down specifically what is making it hard to speak to some people that might make it easier to explain to therapists but will also make it more actionable for you.

Here's some very optimistic advice:

If at all possible find a friend who will be rabid and unflinching in their support for you and hang out with them around new people. Get yourself an attack dog copilot who will cheerfully step up and make corrections for you. I know not everyone can do this and I know that if you can find someone like this they can't be around all the time, but it can be wonderfully reassuring to find that one person who you know is going to be ride or die about making sure that everyone in the room respects you. (Being that person for someone else can also teach you how to be that person for you)

[lisa-russell]

FOR THE FANS OUT THERE WHO CAN'T GET ENOUGH OF SPLATOON.

UPDATE: Twas fun! Even if Team Bunnies lost! I Was more amused by Shiver having to try and stop or distract Bigman from rembering/clueing who team bear remined him of lmao.

"Learn the rules like a Pro, so you can break them like an Artist"-Pablo Picasso

If your like me and love reading, listening and seeing fanart,music and stories all based around Splatoon...well look no futher!

IF ya wanna see a bunch of amusing and comedic, like memes or mini comics collected from all just #sploonies.

Do me a favor and reblog this! or...atleast share it! More inkfolk who see thia the better!

# splatsville sploonies if yah wanna see all dah memes ive reblogged from tumblr!

HERE IS A LIST OF 83 STORIES ALL LOVINGLY WRITTEN BY FELLOW FANS LIKE YOURSELF.

I reaaaad alllooot. So these are what I get when the game ain't enough. I made this lil list from myself and others. Authors who have taken their time to let us dive into their inky tales or love, danger,action,fluff and... the risqué.

AND THIS IS A PLAYLIST OF....

Yah your reading right. Over 257 songs. Remixes, Fanmade, Originals and so much more!

CHECK THIS OUT!

Ya, 6 links up but they lead too some really good fan comics. I consider small panels one and full series. Feel free teh let me know or suggest some!

.......My stuff lol so can keep track.

Prologue of a sorta half-planned au Splatoon story.

And an INDEPTH AND UPDATED AGENT 4 SIDE ORDER THOERY BLOG!

This a rather interesting Reddit Post about how music effects Inklings and Octolings!

An A.I Assistant thoughts(?) On Octo Expansion sanitizing and dah memverse cure...

These are also link's tah my Artwork.

And my more r3cent digital work...word of warning I take weeks tah months just tah finish one..I'm a bit of a perfectionist and detail lover lol...

[ao3commentoftheday]

I've almost finished the first draft of this fic, and I'm planning on doing at least a second before I publish it, but I'm still afraid some of the fandom I'm writing for is going to eat me alive if they think ive written one of the main characters as too ooc. Any tips for getting past this anxiety so I can smash out this draft?

Focus on the writing part first and worry about the posting part when you get there. The writing part is much harder, more often than not.

If anyone comes at you to complain the characters are OOC, then they aren't the right audience for your fic. They can think what they want, but the polite thing to do in that situation is to quietly see themselves out.

If they decide to be mean in your comments, you can delete their comments.

If you want to prevent them from doing it again, block them from commenting.

If you're worried they'll do it on anon, restrict your comments to registered users only.

If it gets to the point where they're harassing you, report them to the Policy & Abuse team (and don't reply to the harassment or they could lure you down the road to harassing them back)

You have tools to protect yourself if anyone ends up being mean, but the odds of that happening are fairly low. Most people out there are able to dislike a fic and just close the tab. It's a small percentage of folks who say anything about it, and a tiny fraction of that who get actually mean.

You've got this anon. We're rooting for you!

[the-s1lly-corner]

If you could indulge me, can I ask for something with The Amazing Digital Circus gang, with an s/o who is seen as an anchor for the others? They are strong willed, happy go lucky, supportive, a mediator and ect. Well, could they stumble upon their s/o just having an episode, just crying in frustration and like punching a wall to calm down and go back to acting like nothing happened?

I have a thing with strong willed characters hiding their weakness for the benefit of others.

TADC cast x emotional anchor!reader !

oh ho ho you silly lil fella, you have literally just described my TADC oc down to a T, i am going to have so much fun writing this because im literally just. going to use my oc as a place holder for the reader, just without describing any lore bits unique to them and their design ngl i think i went insane with this one, tally hall music is doing something to me

CAINE:

if you thought you were good at hiding your human despair just know that caine already knows. the only reason i feel he wouldnt initially come to you in your lesser moments of weakness is that he can acknowledge that youre trying to hide this part of you. does he go comfort you, and risk making you try harder to surpress your feelings; risking you to just blow up one day and have your mental state just totally collapse in one go? would you feel put off at the knowledge that in this world you never really have full privacy? that definitely wouldnt make you feel any better. but when it gets to the point where you're screaming and crying in your room and punching the walls he would step in. drags you away from the walls, and if he has to this man will restrain you if it means making sure you stop swinging. hes seen the downfall of many people within the circus, but seeing it from someone he so deeply cares for hits a different way. he may be an AI, but he can still simulate feeling. its a harrowing sensation as he lets you cling onto him. i think he makes an effort to make in house adventures less overwhelming and intense, too scared to push you over the edge but also too scared to leave you with nothing to do to distract you. i think he would stay with you for the night, too

POMNI:

as selfish as it sounds, pomni cant help but feel.. something in her chest. seeing you, the groups beacon of light falter fills her with some kind of fear and despair that she cant put into words. it reminds her that no one is above helplessness, and that at the end of the day youre just as capable of abstracting as everyone else. i think, when she finally sees your fake demeanor finally slip when you thought you were totally alone, she feels bad. i mean shes your partner, and she didnt pick up on any hints that may have indicated your true state of health. i dont think she would try to force you to speak, as much as i want to say that she would try to push for you to talk about how you feel i think her attempts to reach out to you would fall on deaf ears. i think she would put her hand on your shoulder, making you jump back to the present moment. its an awkward gesture, with the jester herself being a little lost with these new feelings... i think you two would just sit in silence

JAX:

similar to pomni, he feels this intense and unexplainable pang at the sight of the most hopeful and brightest person in the circus crumble. ive already said it but ill say it again, its like being splashed with cold water, with how hard that sinking cold feeling hits him. makes half hearted attempts to cheer you up. its not that he doesnt care, its that hes stuck in the shock of seeing the happiest person he knows flip into... this.. for a split second he thought you were abstracting, that pit his stomach becoming colder for a second before he realizes whats going on. ive said this before as well, but jax is not the best comforter, in fact i think he might be one of the worst out of the main cast. but i think so far for the characters ive written for this post, he makes an effort to try to pull you up out of your hole. at least he lets you cry your feelings out, and he wont make you feel bad for doing so

RAGATHA:

stands there in shock like pomni, before immediately rushing to your side and tugging you away from a coat stand you were kicking and beating. hands on your shoulders she tries to snap you back to the present moment, trying to tell you that shes here. any feelings of the helplessness that she shares with the previous two characters is shoved down. this isnt about her, its about you. runs her fingers through your hair, if your digital body has any, and just. rocks you. when you finally calm down enough to be able to form clear words, she reassures you once more that shes here for you. the two of you stay in that position, holding onto one another for the entire night. i think it should be said, but for most of these theyre going to try to keep a closer eye on you and make it a point to ask you how youre feeling. ragatha especially.

KINGER:

it reminds him of queenie. the sight brings back so so so many terrible memories. for a second he doesnt even register that hes standing in the present, standing in your doorway. stuck and frozen for a solid minute before you finally notice him, and you hold each others gaze. finally, you crumble. what was the point of hiding your mounting anguish now that it was discovered by the one you care for most? at the sight of your crumpled form i think kinger would snap back, and rush to your side. he's pause, afraid that you would abstract like the queen, before forcing himself to push through that fear in the back of his mind. a moment where he is not fumbling with himself or shaking; be it because he wants to be there for you or perhaps he still holds some guilt aimed towards himself for not being able to save his old queen, he refuses to leave your side even if you tell him to leave. theres this caution in his actions, mixed with this sort of determination to make sure you're okay. like ragatha, he would make it a point to make sure you're okay long after this incident

ZOOBLE:

zooble would probably be the only one who doesnt make their presence known to you while you're in that state. not because they wont care about you, in fact they care about you a lot. but theyre so unsure of what to do, that they give to you what they would have wanted for themselves, if they were in your shoes. they want to grant you privacy, and to at least keep a shred of the now ruined façade you had been putting on for everyone. if it means keeping it will give you comfort, then they wont take that away from you. they wait outside your door, waiting for the height of your episode to pass before cracking the door open. they dont say anything about what they had just heard, but you seem to know that they know.. i mean they came in so soon after you had calmed yourself down enough.

"are you okay?" a dumb question, but what else was there for them to say? you so obviously werent okay, and you likely werent for a long time. they offer to leave, to give you some time to pick yourself back up, but they also make it clear that they wont go anywhere if you dont want to be alone. the night is tense and awkward, filled with conversation before they eventually broach the topic... i think you guys would develop some sort of secret code. i mean youve been hiding your true feelings for so long, and outwardly saying you need help would compromise that mask you put up for yourself. be it a certain sentence or arrangement of objects, you two come up with a indirect way of asking for security

GANGLE:

she feels so helpless, the most out of everyone. she tries to get your attention, but her words fall on deaf ears, if they even manage to pry themselves out of her mouth. far too weak to pull you away and keep you from hurting yourself, but too soft spoken to bark out a word to draw your attention to her. truly, she feels useless. she isnt able to capture your attention until you finally notice her. similar to kingers part, you fall. she takes an unsure step towards you, hands half raised in front of her as she debates if you want to be touched or not. she settles to sitting in front of you, just barely holding eye contact... she looks down when you tear your eyes away from her. finally finding her voice, i think she would ask if you want her to stay, or if you need anything. she tries to word it the best she can, but she lets you know that she doesnt think any less of you for your outburst. it happens to the best of us, really it does. if you want her too, she wraps herself around you and tries to soothe your shaking form

[cluelylikesporn]

depravity.

authors note: this is inspired by a fanfic i saw, ive never written or posted anything LET ALONE SMUT. so im sorry if its badd🙏

gender neutral reader! no use of y/n (if i accidentally use she plz dm me ill edit it!!)

summary: mikes infatuation with abbys teacher.

973 Words

nsfw under the cut

contains: obsession, public sex.

mikes leg bounced up and down with every stroke of the clock on the wall opposite him. jesus, those 10 minutes felt like hours. was it a mistake coming here? they probably already see him as a total hobo, so now he looks like a stalker too. fuck, i should leave. he bit his cheek as thoughts spiraled into delusions. the bell finally rang, and there was only one thing he could do. act. normal.

a wave of kids flood out of the door, it looked like a different class. he didnt spot abby and her friends in the crowd. if abby were there, she would not leave his side. which meant no disturbances, just him and you. alone. he stopped himself before his thoughts became more.. vulgar and knocked on the door. he saw you, leaning over your desk writing something down. seeing you in thought was… jesus. and when you looked up and smiled he thought he was gonna fall to the floor. “mike..! what are you doing here? abbys had art class in a different room if youre here for her-“ you begin before mike cuts you off. “n-no i was just..” fuck. in all that time he spent overthinking and waiting, he couldnt think of a damn excuse? “i was just.. dropping off abbys.. pencil.” real smooth. “a pencil?” you said, with a sly smile. “and where is this.. pencil?” you say, mikes face dropping. “its right here-“ he says, reaching a hand in his hoodie pocket. and pretends to be surpised when there is in fact, no pencil in his pocket. “must've.. left it at home.” he says casually, while on the inside he is screaming. "oh yeah? you conveniently left it at home. why are you really here?" you say, looking at him with crossed arms as his eyes dart from your chest to your face. god, the things he would do.. he swallowed his libido and cleared his throat "i uhm.. wanted to see you. i guess." he said, looking around the classroom instead of meeting their gaze.

"is there a.. reason.. you wanted to see me in the middle of the day that isnt to do with abby?" they said in a suggestive way. its true, hes thought about fucking you at school. with the blinds closed and the door locked. the thought of doing such a disgusting thing at a school just.. did something to him. the thrill of it turned him on so much.

"i.." mike was frozen. he did not know what to say at all. he was completely caught. how was he meant to say he wanted to make them bend over on their own desk. but of course, you knew this.

to an extent, of course. abby had always dropped hints. like about how she'll wake up to strange noises from his room and you name being said. and the face she makes when you two talk during pick up. on top of that, he wasn't very slick. you could see a tightness in his pants whenever you were near. you learned what things you could do to make him hornier without him knowing it was intentional. like if you stretched, or looked up at him his face would get flustered and he'd try to hide it. you played dumb, of course. acting like you had no idea. and god, you never thought he could be so dense.

"don't think i haven't heard what you do in your spare time? fucking your fist shamelessly, pretending its me." you say, grabbing and tugging the end of his tie playfully. mikes face became so red, and his demeanour changed completely. not gonna lie, it was hot seeing him so sensitive. maybe even more so than when he was oblivious to your shameless flirting.

"h-how did you-" mike was cut off by your finger on his lips . "uh uh... make sure the door is locked. then we can talk." the tent in mikes pants was painful at this point, he desperately walked towards the door..

click.

once it was locked, he basically ran back, and grabbed you by the waist, pulling you into a needy kiss. in the time you processed his actions, he had already lifted you onto your desk, and began unbuttoning your shirt. he left a trail of hickeys on your neck as you begin to take his shirt off, and fiddling with his belt. a groan leaves your lips as he grabs your thighs, his nails digging crescent moons into you. you lean back and your eyes graze past the clock on your wall.

11:30.

lunch ends at 11:40.

"mike.. we gotta be quick.." they whimper into his ear as he begins pulling your pants off. he doesn't mind. his desperation and obsession with your body, your face, fuck even the concept of your existence was enough to give him peace. "i dont.. mind, fuck..ive wanted to do this since i first saw you." he said, as he pulls his boxers and slowly eases his cock into your hole. he whimpers and leans his head against yours as he slides into you fully. "f-fuck.!.." you moan, panting and grabbing his hair for support. as he gets used to the pressure inside you, he slowly moves his hips in and out, your legs shake in pure ecstasy, heavily breaths synchronising into one throat, connected by a kiss. a needy, kiss. his hard length squeezed against your plush insides. "o-oh.. mike im gonna.. fuck.." they spoke against his lips, as his climax came too, cum leaking onto the desk.

11:36.

you had 4 minutes to clean this up. as you lay flat on your desk, catching your heaving breath. you get up and pull your clothes up and turn to mike, as he buttons his shirt.

"do you have any wipes..?"

hope you enjoyedd!! feedback is always welcome! reminder that this is my first time lol

song of the day!

[beelzeballing]

actually i dont think ive posted my thoughts on ofmd s2 overall here yet have i?

ok here goes: i think it had incredibly high highs, and at some parts i genuinely enjoyed it more than i did the first season, episode 6 being peak imo. however, it had equally abysmal lows with some glaring writing-, tone- and pacing issues that all came to a head in the finale.

i once read someone say that, if you ever feel like a finale ruined the whole story, maybe you should take another look at the story. there were most likely cracks and problems all along, and the finale did nothing besides dashing the hope that these would perhaps be addressed later. very rarely do genuinely well written stories go completely off the rails in the finale and ruin the whole thing.

i think this is applicable here in some ways, SPECIFICALLY in regards to edward. good god edward was a MESS this season, and it's so sad because i loved the starting point! the kraken era was absolutely terrifying and iconic as FUCK but... they shouldn't have leaned so hard into the drama and trauma of it all. don't get me wrong, i loved that it did. it's one of my favorite parts of the season and i'm so glad we got it. but if they wanted this arc to work with the overarching plot as they wrote it, they would've had to lighten up the tone here CONSIDERABLY. had they played the kraken era for comedy then sure! edward's bad youtuber apology would've been funny. his fast redemption would've been less jarring. the lack of consequences less disturbing. but as it stands in the show, this arc is too dark to function with the later episodes.

i feel like they wanted to have their cake and eat it too here. they wanted the gritty drama of ed coming off the hinges entirely but also didn't want to deal with the aftermath of such a heavy arc in their silly pirate romcom. be that due to time constraints and budget cuts or because they were simply unwilling to, doesn't really matter in the end. the result is the same either way: a very tonally messy season with some accidentally troubling implications regarding abuse.

and mentioning troubling implications regarding abuse; izzy. my poor, poor izzy... his arc was absolutely glorious. i liked izzy the second he showed up in s1 and i was absolutely EATING this season up in that regard. and i think in this case, they genuinely did fuck it all up in the finale with that one stupid choice:

choosing to kill izzy was the DUMBEST thing they couldve done here.

ive talked about this over and over and over again. ive reblogged so many meta posts. and still i am left absolutely flabbergasted by how stupid of a decision this was. the fridging, playing at the fallen woman trope, killing the beating heart of the season and the character who delivers what is essentially a thesis statement, killing off the character whose arc is about coming to terms with his disability, having him die in edward's arms, comforting him and apologizing after an entire season of finding community and love outside of edward, the absolutely godawful pacing of it all, the extremely easy and obvious solution of just having IZZY become the new captain of the revenge to mirror s1 and hammer home how much he has developed since then in one go... i could go on. and i have. it was a stupid writing decision, completely fucked the tone and pacing of the finale and took away attention and time from things that really would've deserved a better wrap up (lucius and black pete deserved better)

now. the whole prince ricky & zheng plot line... yeah that shit sucked ass, sorry. they bit off more than they could chew here. i honestly think those are the arc words of this season:

✨️ bit off more than they could chew ✨️

right off the bat: i think he was good as a concept. bringing in a foil for stede who just doesn't Get It as stede does could've made for very good comedy and drama (and to be fair there is some of that). but that shit got away from them extremely quickly. nothing about how he's implemented past his first episode works, and i think this is very specifically because he's mostly played as the comic relief in his debut episode. making this completely bumbling fool, who gets his nose hacked off on his first job, the main villain of your entire season is... definitely a choice. idk. he didn't work for me at all.

ok wow mentioning shit getting away from the writers. this definitely got away from me. this was supposed to be a short lil post. well. i guess tl;dr i loved this season but jesus christ there was a lot wrong with it. if you want to hear more thoughts. ask box is open. be my guest. i have more to say so even if you dont ask i might add more to this at some point but im tired and have work tmrw.

[faintedlcve]

hi babes! may I request theo + party 💋

party | theo nott ☆

yes you may mwah <3 ive also never written headcanons before so i prolly got it wrong lmao i was also supposed to post this yesterday but i have shit memory :((

• theo HATES parties, but he still goes when you ask him to bc he'd do anything for you (and soft spot)

• "another party? what's the point of these parties?" he'd question shocked at you telling him (and practically forcing him) to come to the 3rd party of the week with you.

• "the point is to loosen up and have fun theo! come on, dont be boring!"

• "okay fine, but this is the last time" he'd lie.

• another reason he'd go to parties is because you'd look absolutely stunning + he'd get to see you more.

• and it makes you happy.

• he always makes sure to tell you how good you look.

• he drinks at the party but only 1 or 2 bc he needs to be sober enough to take care of you if you get too drunk.

• if you get too drunk he takes you up to your dorm and tucks you in.

• if he sees someone trying to flirt with you/take advantage of you when your wasted he drags you away.

• he's probably the 'mom' of the group when it comes to parties.

• he usually just stays in the corner of the room away from the dancing floor.

• as much as he wants to leave, he never does if you're still there bc he takes care of you.

• he's even more overprotective than he usually is at parties bc he knows the dangers.

• whenever you have more than a set amount of drink he usually tries to stop you so you don't have a hangover the next day and bc if he doesn't he'd never hear the end of it.

• "theo" you'd whine "why didn't you stop me from having all those drinks"

• he'd sigh and shake his head.

• "i tried to"