#gravitational collapse

[donpanictowel]

[ianmiller42]

Rogue Planets

Rogue planets are considered to be planets that are not orbiting a star. We might expect these to be rare, but far from it. In a recent announcement (arXiv:2310.01231v1) something like 540 planetary mass candidates were found in the inner Orion Nebula and Trapezium Cluster, and they are of a size as small as 60% the size of Jupiter. At this point we have to ask what is the difference between a…

[white-collar-cannibal]

okay so i wrote a comical amount for a mutual's essay prompt that i'm probably never going to post cause it isn't finished and i don't think i actually said very much but. but. i do want to talk about . characters as physics models. characters as wave-particle duality between their canon versions and non-canon interpretations. characters having peaks and nodes in their potential energy surfaces defining how they can and cannot exist. characters' desires as masses that distort spacetime.

[windowsfr]

reprinted these guys :] some copies on ah

black mambo, 850g

gravitational collapse, 500g

[hopewrought]

force magic being a combination of telekinesis and gravity manipulation is still one of my most fave things ever.

[tranakin-skywalker]

the fuck when you spend hours researching astrophysics for your fic because you’ve accidentally taken your ‘space as a metaphor for the infinite’ concept too far

[spacenutspod]

Prepare to illuminate the shadowy frontiers of space in SpaceTime Series 27 Episode 47. We begin by shedding light on new findings that reveal brown dwarfs, those celestial enigmas straddling the line between the largest planets and the smallest stars, are far more star-like than we ever imagined. Born from the same intricate dance of gas and dust that gives rise to stars, these failed stars have a story more intertwined with their luminous kin than previously thought.  Next, we peer into the future, where the clock is ticking down to an explosive cosmic event. Astronomers eagerly anticipate a nova eruption within a binary star system, set to dazzle the skies sometime before year's end. This stellar spectacle, a cyclical detonation on the surface of a white dwarf, promises to be a beacon in the night, echoing observations that date back over a century. We then voyage to the extreme starburst galaxy M82, a crucible of creation churning out new stars at a rate tenfold that of our own Milky Way. With the James Webb Space Telescope piercing through the cosmic dust, we get a front-row seat to the galactic winds and star-forming frenzy defining this compact powerhouse of a galaxy. And in the Science Report, we delve into the role of homosexual behavior in mammalian social bonding, the alarming rise in simultaneous heatwaves and sea level extremes on global coastlines, the potential psychological effects of teenage screen time, and the latest in home entertainment and security tech that's shaping our digital lives. For the full cosmic journey, visit our website at https://spacetimewithstuartgary.com and support the show at https://www.spreaker.com/show/spacetime. Discover the universe's wonders with us on SpaceTime. This week's episode is brought to you by NordPass. Navigate the digital universe with confidence using a password manager you can trust. Secure your cosmic exploration at www.bitesz.com/nordpass. Listen to SpaceTime on your favorite podcast app and follow us on Twitter @stuartgary, Instagram, YouTube, and Facebook.

[kingprince]

are there any sci fi whatevers out there where the "artificial gravity" just fucks up and hurts them daily

[my-love-is-sunlight]

Too sweet (for me)

Law x strawhat!reader

gn reader + fluff

100% inspired by Too Sweet by Hozier the moment he dropped this I knew I had to write something about Law from it so here you go, I even incorporated some of the lyrics

Trafalgar Law doesn’t get it

How were you able to slip into his mind so carelessly and without notice? Law had never envisioned himself liking someone as sweet as you

For starters you were a strawhat, already on the wrong track, but alongside Robin, you were of the ones Law tolerated the most since you were usually more introverted and took things seriously, which made him start gravitate towards you

Big mistake

Surprisingly he found out your quiet facade was something reserved for strangers, once you warmed up to his presence everything changed

You looked after him, bringing his black coffee when he stayed up all night in the library, urging him to sleep at normal hours and enjoy his time at the Sunny. You opened yourself completely for him to devour all details facts and antics of yours. Your presence filled every room he sat at, listened to whatever he had on his mind, or stayed in a blissful silence if he needed you to

Law had taken notice you were strong and handled yourself in the battlefield just fine, another reason he saw you as one of the most competent strawhats, but even though a lot of people feared you, you remained kind, bright as the morning, soft as the rain, sweet as a grape

You had become Laws favorite sweetener, he became addicted to every inch of you. He’d drink up every look you’d graced his way like neat whiskey, every word like his favorite melody and every touch he wished it to tattoo it on his skin, always waiting for your frame to appear through every door he encountered

But most importantly, you kept telling him to live right

To take down his tall walls, to speak up about the matters that roamed in his mind and heart, to stop indulging in bad sleeping habits and overworking himself to exhaustion, a task no one seemed to fill in his life, he was a Captain after all

There was no shame in being soft, sweet and tender, you always seemed to try and tell him

Yet he wondered how had you managed to keep yourself like that, brightening his and your crews days, after all, life has had its way with you too

And he couldn’t handle it

Who would’ve thought, the surgeon of death feeling threatened by a silly feeling

It ate away at him, the way his heartbeat accelerated whenever you were at least in the same table, his stomach turning at every look he stole whenever you smiled or laughed, or the rosy pigment that painted his features at the mere thought of you

He felt like a deer in headlights. Still Law couldn’t help but to follow you around the Sunny like a stray cat, reaching for you in any situation he was able to keep you closer, craved your presence and to hear your melodic voice ring in his ears, and whenever you said his name? Heaven couldn’t compare

He wondered how fast had this happened, he didn’t notice all the affection he was harboring for you until he couldn’t backtrack, he thanked whatever god was out there that made you so oblivious, it seemed like everyone on the ship noticed the way Law and you glanced at each other and how you would spend your days sitting together in every room but you

But here he is now, under the moonlight staring down at your twinkling eyes that could easily be mistaken for one of the stars above you, his hand traveling to the back of your head before he gives you a look as if asking ‘may I?’ to wish you answer by doing the sweetest thing he could ever thought of

You smile and stand on your tip toes collapsing your lips in his, ending his endless pining as you melt into each other like you were meant to be like this

Trafalgar Law doesn’t get it, when he tastes the sweet sugar of the chocolate drink you had that evening on his lips and doesn’t mind it at all, even if he takes his coffee black every morning

He could even say, he loves it

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

I’ve been listening to Hozier since his debut album I even saw him live and got a shrike tattooed on mu arm OF COURSE I was gonna write this and the first thing that popped into my mind was Law so here you go. Sorry it’s short uni has been eating me alive

[greensagephase]

Nonviolent Communication - Part One

** BEAUTIFUL fanart for this part can be found here by the lovely @lauraolar14 . I'm not over how soft and beautiful these sketches are  😭 😭 Please show them some love!! Thank you again, @lauraolar14 ❤️**

Miguel O'Hara x FemReader

Summary: You don't show up to a meeting or report for other duties as a Spider Society member because of your period. Your boss shows up to your apartment.

Word Count: 5,144

Warning: A little bit of angst?/Mention of death

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven | Part Eight | Part Nine |

Part One

You were recruited four months ago into the Spider Society. Ever since the beginning, you couldn’t help but gravitate towards the leader and founder of the society. You learned quickly about his past and the way he carried himself these days.

Miguel O’Hara worked day and night. If he wasn’t in his lab working on something, he was out on missions with a select few members or on his own. There were days that you wouldn’t even see him. You wondered if anyone did on those days. You told yourself to mind your business. It’s not like you were friends and you hardly interacted anyway. You were a member of the Spider Society but one of the newest ones. You weren’t part of the most trusted members for Miguel.

And yet… There was something. You felt a need to look after him. You couldn’t understand it. You wanted to chalk it up to interest. Maybe you found his story interesting. How a man had simply replaced a version of himself in another universe to be a father, only to lose her when that universe collapsed. How heartbroken and guilt-filled he was over it. That had to be it, you told yourself. It was just intrigue. 

You figured that if you just gave in to your interest, it would go away eventually. It would fade away… So, you allowed yourself to be interested. You showed up to meetings earlier than anyone else when Miguel scheduled them. You stopped by the cafeteria to pick up coffee cups beforehand and arrived at the meeting earlier. You came in, looking unbothered and uninterested as you placed the cup of coffee in front of him, greeting him.

“The cafeteria staff gave me another cup, and I didn’t know what to do with it,” you’d say as he looked up with an uninterested look on his face.

You’d walk away and take a seat a few chairs away, picking up the nicely done reports he provided at every meeting. You did this every week with a different excuse each time. You didn’t know if he ever wondered why the cafeteria staff gave you so much coffee since that was usually your excuse. You doubted he even cared; you were just another member.

The first few times, you noticed the cup would sit in the same exact spot you’d leave it. Miguel wouldn’t even acknowledge it after looking up at you. You still brought it each week. After some weeks, he wouldn’t even look up when you placed the cup in front of him on the desk but – he started giving you a small grunt of acknowledgement. You’d walk away with a little grin, quickly putting it away when you sat down on your usual seat so he wouldn’t notice it.

Then about two weeks later, you saw it. As he was going over the reports and listening to Ben Reilly ramble on about his past because of some anomaly he caught that week, he picked up the coffee cup and took a sip. You looked away as you felt his gaze about to turn to you. The reports looked very interesting indeed.

All throughout this, you also started showing up to his lab after he and Jessica requested to see you about a mission. You noticed there was quite a mess of gadgets lying around. You offered to organize it, as it is something you enjoy and are good at. You didn’t even know why you offered but Jessica seemed eager about the idea while Miguel frowned.

“Oh, come on, Miguel. Some organization around here wouldn’t hurt, you know? Look at this mess,” Jessica said looking around, pointing at different areas cluttered with all sorts of tech pieces.

“Fine,” Miguel said as he walked away, apparently done with the conversation.

Jessica beamed at you. She seemed to like you a lot since you did your job well and didn’t get into any drama. You were like the perfect pupil. You nodded at her, with a warm smile.

So that’s how you ended up showing up once a week to Miguel’s lab to do some organizing. You show up and organize as he works on something. Sometimes he is up in the air on his platform, going through monitors. You simply greet him as you arrive before you begin organizing and cleaning. Sometimes there is no response, other times there is just a “hmm”.

These visits have led to Lyla taking a liking to you. She often asks you questions as you work while Miguel is there. You don’t know if he pays attention to what Lyla and you talk about. You honestly doubt he even listens. He is always so engrossed in what he is doing.

Lyla definitely makes the time pass faster. It isn’t like you wanted it to but the silence in the lab is… off sometimes. Lyla asks you all sorts of things like whether you have plans for that weekend, if you enjoy a certain activity because other spider members enjoy it, if you like a certain food, or how missions have gone, etc. It is always something different. You respond to her questions as you work. You are fast and efficient.

You never miss a week, and you are never late as you have made it a habit to show up at the same time. Except this week that is. You started your period and this month is kicking your butt with excruciating cramps and lower back pain. You barely make it to your home after patrolling your city, sliding into bed in pain.

You dig through your nightstand, looking for the specific medicine you take to take care of this even if it makes you extremely drowsy and dizzy. You take it and lie down, hoping it will help right away as you groan in pain. You lie in bed, clutching your stomach. The medicine definitely makes you drowsy and dizzy, but it doesn’t seem to help much with the pain. You pass out a few times but wake up again, the pain too much.

You’re so out of it that you don’t notice the time. You don’t remember the day. You don’t notice the sun out behind your closed blinds. You don’t hear a multidimensional portal open in your small apartment living room. You don’t register the heavy footsteps that move through your apartment. Your eyes are closed, hands clutching your stomach, soft groans escaping your lips. You don’t see the large shadow moving through your room until the last second.

“Go away,” you say weakly, thinking someone has broken into your home.

Despite your pain, despite feeling drowsy and dizzy, your mind still has the time to find this funny. The one day you feel like absolute crap is the day someone decides to break into your apartment. And you’re Spider-Woman! How ironic, you think. Let them take whatever they want, you think, as long as they don’t hurt you.

However, you are surprised when you feel a warm and heavy hand pressed to your forehead.

“No fever,” the voice says stating it as a fact.

You continue to clutch your stomach, eyes closed. Unbeknownst to you as you lay in bed in and out of it, a man is in your apartment. His height towers over you in bed.

Miguel O’Hara is in your apartment… Checking on you. He stares down at you as you lay in bed. He sees you clutching your stomach and as he observes carefully, he sees no injury. There is no sight of blood either. His eyebrows furrow in confusion. You are clearly in pain but why? He turns to your nightstand, noticing the bottle of pills. He inspects it. Painkillers…

His eyebrows furrow further as he realizes what it could be. He walks to your bathroom to confirm. His suspicion is confirmed when he takes a look at your garbage can, spotting the plastic wraps of feminine products. His suspicion is further confirmed when he sees a pack of feminine products on the counter, ready for easy access.

“Coño,” he says quietly as he realizes his suspicion is true.

He walks out of your bathroom, looking at your shape in the bed. You are still clutching your stomach and soft groans escape from your lips ever so often. Miguel remembers the days he used to take care of his wife before everything collapsed. It was a long time since he had even thought about doing that for a woman, but his mind started remembering everything he did to ease his wife’s pain each month. He stood there, thinking before he walked out of your bedroom and into the one room that was the kitchen, the living room, and dining room all at once… New York apartments, Miguel thought, as he took in your apartment.

You were organized and clean, but that didn’t surprise Miguel. You did organize the lab each week with such ease despite Lyla peppering you with questions the entire time. Your apartment was warm with its colors. It gave the impression of someone happy and warm. Miguel noticed a bookshelf in the part of the apartment that plays the living room. It is filled with so many books that you have some stacked horizontally over the vertical ones. An avid reader, Miguel thinks before he heads to your kitchen.

It is clean for the most part except for a plate and a cup. Miguel searches through your kitchen, looking for something specific. He returns to your room, looking through your drawers looking for something else. A few minutes later, he returns to your bedroom. You lay still. Seems that you have passed out at last. With ease, Miguel slides some homemade socks with warm rice under your sweatshirt. He places one on your stomach and the other one on your back.

A satisfied hum escapes your lips, letting Miguel know his idea was somewhat successful despite it being homemade. He gives you one more look before heading out to your living room.

He doesn’t even know why he came. All he knows is that you didn’t show up to organize the lab like you did each week. You didn’t show up to the morning meeting either. Jessica hadn’t heard from you in hours and there was no activity from your gizmo.

A few hours later, you wake up from your slumber. You yawn and stretch your body gently. You lay in bed for a few seconds, realizing your pain is gone. Now you just feel the exhaustion that comes from having a period. You sit up in bed slowly, feeling something on your stomach. You look down. Your sweatshirt is tucked into your shorts on both sides. You untuck it and two socks filled with something slide out. You furrow your eyebrows as you lift them up to inspect closer. You bring them to your nose.

“Rice…” you say, recognizing the specific scent of rice. Your eyebrows furrow but you shrug. You don’t even remember getting up to make these, but you thank yourself for doing it despite being out of it. You get up from bed slowly and check the time. It’s already evening. You decide to take a shower to ease your muscles.

Your shower is hot. You fill the bathroom with fog, but it doesn’t matter. It makes you feel like a million bucks when you get into fresh clothes, all shower and fresh. You head out of your bedroom to get something to drink and that’s when you see it. The lamps in the living room are on, there is music playing from your record player. You look confused as you step out further.

“Mierda,” you hear an annoyed male voice, causing you to jump a little.

You turn to the voice, located in the kitchen and find…

“Miguel?” you say slowly but with confusion as you find him with his back to you.

He stands in front of one of your kitchen cabinets, holding it open. There’s a screwdriver in his hand. He turns around at your voice.

“Y/N… You’re awake,” he says turning fully around now.

You take him in. He’s in his suit as always. You’ve wondered many times if he ever just dresses in casual clothes since he’s always in his suit. He stands tall, of course, and you can’t help but think how he makes your already small kitchen look ten times smaller than it is with him standing there. You rub your eyes, making sure this isn’t just some hallucination.

“Um- you are here,” you say looking at him again.

Miguel nods, turning back around to the cabinet. You watch as he uses the screwdriver. You remember then. Your loose cabinet that has been a pain in the butt for months now. You look around the place. There were some dishes in your sink, or at least you remember there being some but now they’re gone. You notice the trash was taken out. Clean dishes were put away. And to your surprise, there’s food on the stove. There’s also a sweet scent lingering in the air that you cannot pinpoint right now.  

“You feel better?” Miguel asks, with his back still to you as he finishes fixing the cabinet.

“Yes. A lot better, actually…” you say as you cross your arms across your chest, finding this situation so strange.

Miguel turns around to face you now. He looks at you before looking down at the screwdriver in his hand. The screwdriver looks like a toy in his hand, you notice.

“Yeah, well…” Miguel starts, looking up at you again. “Jessica was worried about you. She said you didn’t report to the meeting we had this morning. She asked if you had gone to my lab to organize it and when I told her no, she grew worried something had happened to you since she also noticed no activity from your gizmo. She wanted to come herself and check on you, but the baby kept her busy today. She asked me to come in and check for her.”

I nod, realizing that makes perfect sense. Jessica has grown fond of you after all, you just never realized she was that fond of you.

“Well, thank you for checking in on me for her. I’ll be sure to thank her tomorrow,” you say looking around the kitchen again.

“You probably shouldn’t do that,” Miguel says, putting the screwdriver down on the counter. It looks normal sized again. You raised an eyebrow. “She doesn’t like it when people thank for her… caring. If you want to thank her, just get her a coffee and tell her you appreciate her mentorship,” Miguel explains, resting his hands on his hips.

You nod slowly, maybe it was better to just thank her for everything instead of just this act. You sigh.

“I guess you’re right,” you say, scratching your neck softly. “Did she also tell you to fix my cabinet, or did that just bother you so much?”

Miguel’s face remains void of any expression. You wanted to ask about the homemade socks with rice since it became apparent to you that you weren’t responsible for them, but you kept your mouth shut.

“I was looking for – rice when I noticed your loose cabinet and other messed up things around here. You have a shitty landlord or something?” he asks, looking around.

You shrug. “Yeah, but the rent is good.”

“You’re not exactly strapped for cash, are you?”

You shake your head. It was true. You had some money. You could afford to move somewhere else where the landlords were better but…

“Why are you still here then?” Miguel asks.

His question is laced with interest, and you can’t help but think about how this is the longest conversation you’ve had with him since… meeting each other. And even then, that conversation was probably about three minutes long. You avert your gaze from him, looking at the wall nearest to you. Your eyes land on a single picture amongst many.

You lost your Peter three years ago, just like many of your spider colleagues. Losing him has been the hardest thing you have ever experienced. You have been punched till the air was knocked out of you, you have laid in ruble with buildings crushed over you, and you have been on the verge of death many times, but nothing has ever nor will ever compare to the pain and grief of losing Peter.

As you look at the picture of Peter and you, the one you took the first day you moved into this apartment, you think about all the memories in this apartment. It was all the two of you could afford back then but you two loved it. It was your place. It was the first time you were living together, and it didn’t matter much that it was a little rundown. You guys just wanted a place to live together. You two made it what it is now. A warm and happy place where you two could come home after a long day of work. You spent hours thinking of how to decorate it. Choosing the right and most affordable couch, choosing the wallpaper, choosing where the furniture went.

In the end, it had turned into a beautiful apartment. It was a haven for the two of you but what mattered the most was that you shared it with him, your Peter. You sigh, feeling overwhelmed by the loss again. You had moved on, of course. You had to. How else would you live otherwise? And you had promised Peter you would. Your mind is overwhelmed by the sudden memories as he laid in your arms. He had been crushed by ruble during an attack by a villain, his body was weak, his eyes glistened as they looked at you. You remember caressing his face and hair. He loved it when you did that. He always said it was the perfect way to soothe his nerves. The perfect way to get him to relax and nap after a stressful day.

Your own eyes were filled with tears as you saw it. The way his life was slowly leaving his body. What hurt a million times more, if it was even possible to hurt that much, was that you knew he knew. He knew that was it. There was no turning back. There was no miracle. There was no secret medicine or miracle serum that could make him get up and walk away from this unscathed. That was it.

You held him in your arms, rubble all around you. He looked at your eyes, his own hazy, as you caressed his face and hair. He gave you a gentle smile as he reassured you, he was okay.

“You will move on, right, baby?” he asked you, his voice indicating how little time there was left. “You have to… You must promise me you will. This city depends on you.”

You nodded your head and unable to hold them back any longer, your tears spilled down your face. You remember how some of your tears had landed on his pale yet still beautiful face.

“You must promise me, out loud, darling. Please,” he said, struggling more to get his words out.

“I promise. I promise I will try my best…” you said, and he had nodded. He looked satisfied with your response.

“You must continue – you are my hero. You always have been. And you are the love of my life, darling… I only wish we had more time. That I had more time to make you happier… To make you, my wife. Please – promise me you will be open to other loves,” he had gasped out.

You shook your head. That was impossible. How could you fall for someone else when Peter was the love of your life? Peter, noticing your reluctance, lifted his hand weakly to your face. Despite everything, he was still trying to comfort you. You felt something in you break further. He wiped your tears and gave you a weak yet comforting smile.

“Please promise me you will allow yourself to love again… If there is someone out there that makes you feel like that, please promise me you won’t shut them out. Please, love, promise me,” he said, looking at your eyes and cleaning your tears away.

His voice was weaker, and you noticed his chest was beginning to rise slower and slower. The time was running out…

“I promise I will. I will open my heart if someone comes along but I promise I will never stop loving you, Peter,” you had answered, trying to make him happy in his last minutes. He smiled at you, sweetly, and thanked you. You held him close to you, breathing in his scent. You tried to hold on to his warmth desperately. You clung to him, like you could defend him from Death herself. Like you could defy her this one time.

You cried your soul out as his heartbeat ceased to beat. You cried out as his body became limped in your arms. You cried as his chest stopped moving. You cried, cried, and cried as you held him close to you like your tears and grip could bring him back.

You cursed Death.

You often worried about hurting Peter if something happened to you. You never counted on Peter being the one who left too soon.

You inhale shakily. Your vision has become blurred with tears as you continue to stare at the picture on the wall. You turn around, remembering that Miguel is there. You wipe your tears discreetly. You swallow the lump in your throat, trying to force it down. Otherwise, the moment you speak, your tears will flow. You clear your throat.

“It doesn’t really bother me – and besides, I spend a lot of time out,” you finally say, sounding somewhat normal now. Though the ache is there, deep in your chest. It’s like someone stabbed you in the heart with a wooden stick and left a small piece of it stuck. It always hurts, it always aches.

Miguel doesn’t reply as you turn back around, feeling more in control of yourself. However, you can see something in his eyes. Perhaps understanding? You guessed he probably knew to some extent what had happened to you. It was a canon event for all spider-people. To lose someone.

“Have you eaten anything?” Miguel asks suddenly, dropping the apartment conversation probably for your own sake.

You shake your head. It was hours since you had eaten something. Since yesterday, really.

“There’s some food here. Let me…” he says trailing off, turning around to get a plate from a cabinet. You can’t help but feel a little surprised at how fast he learned his way around the kitchen. Then again, it’s not that large you realize. You approach the kitchen island and take a seat on one of the two island chairs as Miguel turns around with a plate of pasta. Your eyebrows raise in surprise. It is one of your comfort foods. Miguel slides it over to you, gently. A fork is already on it, ready for you.

You slide the plate closer, the scent of it making your stomach growl instantly. You’re definitely hungry.

“Thank you,” you say before you dig in. You can’t help but smile with satisfaction. It is amazing. “This is really good.”

Miguel doesn’t say anything, just watches you. You eat some more, feeling a bit self-conscious as you feel his gaze on you, but you ignore it. Or try to.

“So, are you a really great cook or is pasta one of the few things you can cook?” you ask, slowing down on your eating, trying to fill in the silence.

Miguel shrugs. “My mother taught me how to cook when I was a teenager. It stuck.”

You nod, still eating. “Great skill to have, really… It helped me and –“ you pause, realizing you were about to mention Peter. You swallow. “It helped Peter and I when we were in college,” you finish, looking down at your plate.

A hint of a smile forms on your face as you remember Peter and you cooking for the week over the weekends. You guys lived separately but shared groceries to help each other out. It saved you guys a lot of time and money and brought the two of you closer.

“It is a great skill to have,” Miguel agrees quietly as you continue to eat, looking down at your plate.

You nod silently as you finish eating. You look up at Miguel, he’s looking down at the counter. His hands are flat against the counter, and he looks lost in his own thoughts. You can’t help but take this time to look at him. The sight of him in your kitchen is really something. You think about how great he is at these things like looking after a woman when they’re on their period or cooking. You want to facepalm yourself as you realize it’s obvious he would be good at these things. He did have a wife and daughter at one point, you remind yourself. You look down at your plate.

“Oh, I made this for you, too,” Miguel says at last, breaking the silence.

You look up curiously, wondering what else he had made. He turns around towards the stove and you watch carefully as he retrieves a mug from one of the cabinets. Again, you feel surprised seeing how he knows exactly where to find what he’s looking for. It disappears from your view in front of him and you hear him pour something. He turns around again, holding one of your mugs. Whatever it is, is hot as you can see steam from the top. He sets the mug down on the counter and slides it over to you. Again, his movements are gentle. You lean forward and reach for it.

“Careful. It’s hot,” he warns, as you pull the mug towards you gently.

The scent fills your nostrils quickly and you recognize the sweet scent that met you earlier when you exited your bedroom. You look up at him.

“Canelita,” you say, grinning.

Miguel nods. “Growing up, my mom said it helped with cramps. It used to help my…” he trails off.

You nod. “Yeah, my grandma used to say that, too.” You pause as you inhale the sweetness of cinnamon. “Thank you…” you reply, with sincerity, still meeting his eyes.

Miguel only nods. You drink the warm liquid, enjoying the warmth that spreads down your throat, chest, and finally your stomach. As it settles in your stomach, you feel warm and cozy.

Miguel clears his throat then and looks down at his gizmo. “Well – I should get going. I have some things to catch up on,” he says turning his attention back to you.

You nod as you place the mug on the counter gently and get up. He walks out of the kitchen portion and heads to the middle of the room. He starts clicking on his gizmo, presumably starting a multidimensional portal. You walk towards him, leaving some distance, of course. He looks up at you as the portal appears in the middle of your apartment behind him.

You clear your throat. “Hey – I just wanted to say thank you… For everything. I know Jessica asked you to check up on me, but you did much more than that. I truly appreciate it,” you say, hoping that you’re fully expressing how grateful you are.

You can’t help but think about how you’d probably still be in bed right now. Miguel nods.

“It’s no problem…” Miguel replies, though he looks like he wants to say more. You watch, waiting but he just stares back with little emotion until he nods at you and turns around. He starts walking into the portal. The bright lights coming from the portal create shadows in your apartment. You watch wordlessly until he looks behind his shoulder. “Don’t forget – don’t mention it to Jessica. She can be weird about being thanked sometimes.”

You nod. “I won’t bring it up, no worries. Thank you again. Enjoy your night!” you call out and he just nods before he disappears into the portal. The portal disappears a few seconds after him, taking away its shadows with it.

You sigh as you stand there for a few more seconds before taking a seat again on the counter island. You drink more canelita, still cherishing the warm feeling. You look at the stove. Everything is in containers and there’s no sight of dirty pans, pots, or utensils.

“Cooked and washed the dishes…” you say to yourself before taking a sip again.

Your attention turns to the cabinet you found him fixing earlier. You get up and walk towards it. You open it with no issue. You think about all the little nicks this kitchen has. Like the drawer that doesn’t come out fully or the other cabinet door that makes a noise every time you open it. Curiosity gets the best of you because before you know it, you are pulling said drawer. Your lips part in surprise as the drawer fully slides out without issues. You check the other cabinet door. No sound.

You sigh as you look around, your eyes landing on the containers. One of them is full of leftover pasta and the other one contains the canelita. Your thoughts are interrupted as you hear your gizmo go off. You turn in the direction it came from, trying to remember where you left it last night. You are usually very careful with it but last night you barely made it through the door.

You find the gizmo on the console table in the living room section of your apartment. You realize there are a few messages from your colleagues like Hobie, Miles, Ben, and Jessica. You quickly reply to the first three who asked about your whereabouts before you move to Jessica’s. You realize she sent multiple messages all ranging from asking how your last mission went to why you weren’t answering to asking if you were okay. The last one makes you stop. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion as you read it.

“Okay… You haven’t replied to any of my messages. Do I need to send someone to check on you? You’ve been MIA all day. Let me know you’re okay!!”

You look up towards where the portal was opened just minutes ago. You shake your head and reply to Jessica, notifying her about what happened. You leave out Miguel though. You put away your gizmo in its usual spot and look around your apartment, thinking. The lamps in the living room section are still on, the record player has stopped playing, however.

“Hm.”

---------------------------------------------

Might do part two. If it matters, I listened to "Nonviolent Communication" from the ATSV album as inspiration. Such a lovely song for Miguel, I think.

Translation for italicized words:

Coño - fuck (it varies by country)

Mierda - Shit

Canelita - a tea made out of cinnamon sticks

I love Miguel O'Hara. That's all.

[redr0sewrites]

Okay as an absolute Lute stan I have been STARVING for more content for her omg 💀 I've always wondered though about her angel form and stuff like that, like specifically her wings. Do you think the wings are like any other part of her body, or are they like especially sensitive? And I wonder if they preen like birds do because omg that would be so cute. Just imagine Lute having a super stressful day from work and you come home and just gently start fixing her wings and she just melts 😭 or imagine that someone in heaven being a dick to you (because Adam proves that there can be assholes in heaven) and she gets all protective and wraps a wing around you like a shield. And omg, if they are a sensitive or even erogenous part of her, don't even get me STARTED on wing sex cause gah damn 😤 I want to do the most unspeakable things to this woman and have her do the most unspeakable things to me

URGRHRHRHRG SO REALLLLLL!!!!! i love lute sm we need more lute content fr!!!!!

🥀Cw: fluff, smut, wing kink (??), sappy/soft lute, lots of trust

🥀minors dni with the nsfw portion

sfw:

for lute to even be in a relationship, she has to trust you a LOT, and the same goes for touching her wings

i def hc them as sensitive, and there is def a lot of intimacy and trust that comes with touching someone elses wings, so shes def hesitant to let you touch them at first

she warms up to it over time tho, and pretty soon shes internally begging for you to touch her wings

she LOOOVES it but would never admit it

lute also enjoys back massages in general, being an exterminator means a lot of training and stress so she loves coming home and collapsing on top of you while you rub her wings :(

she def returns the favor too, she's always giving you massages and taking care of you, even going so far as to prioritizing you over herself

as much as shes a giver, deep down lute wants to be loved

she craves validation from those she cared about, and while she doesn't like seeming weak, there is something so freeing about knowing that you'll always take care of her, even in a vulnerable state

lute isn't huge on PDA or physical contact in general, but def uses her wings to steer you around and keep you close to her

yk how birds have mating dances and rituals w their wings?? when lute first met you, her wings kept subconsciously gravitating towards you, and she kept subconsciously fluffing them up and flapping them around you (much to her dismay, adam noticed and teased her MERCILESSLY)

shes pretty protective in general, but she also trusts you can take care of yourself. however, that doesn't mean she won't tuck you against her side if someone comes up to you and tries to give you unwarranted attention

i hc her as the jealous type, and her wings have the tendency to twitch and wrap around you when shes jealous (you think its ADORABLE)

i also think lute would love it if you wore one of her feathers, angel wings shed a lot when preened and her heart would skip a beat if she realized you kept one

it may not seem significant to you, but the fact that you're keeping a part of her close at all times means a lot to her

preening oneself can be difficult, and i hc that lute def doesn't take good care of herself often

sure she has good hygiene, but shes never been one to do extensive self care or care much ab herself at all

so she's never really done a lot of work on her wings, when it gets really uncomfortable she'll clean them but she's not super meticulous about it

once you come around tho, lute is gen surprised that you would even bother to do it for her

she tries to convince you not to, that its okay and that she can do it herself, but you shush her

lute can't help but feel a little embarrassed as you comb through the soft feathers, picking out all the dead foliage and cleaning her plumage

once its over, she's shocked at how nice it feels and has ever since asked you to do it for her

overall its really intimate and means a lot to her

nsfw:

the majority of the time, lute is a dom, her whole life she's been in control, especially in the bedroom

once you come along though, that starts to change

she always kept her wings hidden during sex, and was shocked when you asked her to keep them out.

when you said you wanted to try something new, she agreed, but was still a bit confused

lute never really had the time to masturbate or have long term partners, most of the sex she's had was quick hookups just to relieve tension

when you first touch her wings, she MELTS

she did not expect them to be so sensitive, but after years of neglect, she nearly comes on the spot just from your gentle strokes

lute is a quivering mess, begging you to keep going as you explore her wings

theres a level of trust that's unprecedented to any relationship she's ever had before, and you explore and memorize every reaction she has

each spot that makes her tick, which places make her moan the loudest, you store all of it in your brain as you slowly bring her to relesse

lute isn't used to being treated so sweetly, to being touched as if she were made of glass, and the whole circumstance makes her emotional

if you have wings she def returns the favor (very much willing to elaborate on a reader w sensitive wings😇)

after the first couple times, lute wouldn't mind you getting a little rougher with her wings

hell, she might even ask for you to tie them down, to play with them mercilessly as she squirms below you

lute is the ultimate switch, she can be a rough dom or a soft dom, a bratty sub or a pillow princess, it all depends on how shes feeling

sure, she loves it when you pamper her wings, but there's something so fucking hot about you fucking her senseless without even touching her

RAHHHH LUTE MY BELOVED <33333 the sapphic within me is begging to be set free i am a certified lute kisser yall

[vivmaek]

SUN IN THE 6th HOUSE: Observations

Some of the hardest working people you’ll ever meet will have this placement. Their sense of identity is tied to service, they feel an inherent need to get stuff done. Unlike other people, these types are set aglow when caught up within a busy schedule. They have a lot of energy, almost too much, and they need a proper outlet. They’re at their best when settled into a healthy routine. It can be tricky for them to work in time for relaxation or leisure, but they should try to make this more of a priority. Working overtime at the office every day will eventually catch up with them. And since their health is directly linked to their routines, this may leave them feeling depleted or sick. Oftentimes, Sun sixth housers will try to push through. But, ignoring the needs of their tired body will lead to a collapse similar to that of a dead star. This shouldn’t be too much of an issue though. People with this placement intuitively understand that if they're tired they won't be as productive as they want to be. Sun sixth housers also hold themselves to high standards when working, and their self-image may become damaged if they receive criticism. They take negative comments towards their work to heart. A need to be respected by their employers is present here. Expecting admiration can lead to hurt feelings but it also leads to an excellent sense of work ethic. Being lazy will only bring them negative attention, and this is the last thing they want. They take duty and service very seriously. Co-workers know they can depend upon people with this placement, and they naturally gravitate towards them. They always help without complaint and uplift the atmosphere of their work place through their positive attitude. Sun sixth housers remain charismatic under pressure and aren’t likely to have emotional outbursts at work. This attitude shoots them up into leadership positions. They’re always considered to be an obvious candidate and rarely face competition for promotions. Outside of work, people still look up to them for their healthy habits. Others wonder how they can take care of themselves with such ease. As children, it never took much convincing to get them to eat vegetables. They’re naturally drawn to a healthier lifestyle and it's never been something they’ve had to put too much thought into. This is very much an underrated placement.

✰ my masterlist

[confused-wanderer]

Ghost is slipping.

He remembers the first time it started:

Fresh out of a hundred hour mission where the man barely slept and was sitting next to Captain Price.

Simon was sitting in attention, with his back straight, mind waiting for the violent outburst to happen from anyone at anytime.

And so he waits, and waits, and waits.

He doesn’t even remember everything going black, simply feels something stiffen under his head before slowly relaxing and murmurs of something far far away from where he wants to be.

When he wakes up, there’s a blanket around him. He’s back on base somehow, resting on the couch.

It sets him on edge, trying to figure out what happened, if he was drugged, before seeing Price walk out the door, massaging his shoulder.

None of them say anything.

And then it happened again.

Taskforce 141 had become safe before he even knew it.

Gaz startled the man when he’d gone to make something at 3 in the morning.

Gaz had gotten the drop on him. And what was more concerning was Ghost hadn’t even thought twice about bringing a weapon when he left his room.

And then again.

Alejandro invites them all out for drinks, and he obliges. They all go out, with laughter and stories, and it’s only when they’ve left that Ghost realise he wasn’t gravitating towards the seat nearest to the exit in the bar.

Or when the team was exhausted after a mission and collapsed on the floor, Ghost didn’t flinch when Johnnys head fell on his shoulder, or Gaz’s legs tangled up with his while his head lay on the Scot.

He doesn’t even mind when his head comes to rest atop the Mohawk and he hears heavy footsteps- Price.

Didn’t even open his eyes when he felt Price stop in front of them, and heard the sound of a camera before he drifted off.

Ghost was slipping, bringing back more of Simon that both of them knew existed.

[lovelettersforthedamned]

Idkidk mean or depressed peter trying to push you away bc he’s afraid of falling for reader (he already is) but one night reader catches him after a nasty fight and cleans him up and sexy times happens but he’s finally opening up to her?

It’s Not Your Fault, It’s Mine!

--genre + trope: hurt/comfort, college!au, angst, flufffff.

--pairing: college!tasm!peter parker x college!gn!reader

--word count: 1.5k

--summary: something has been off about your friend, peter. he's been giving you the cold shoulder, and one bad night leads to the reason why he's been so distant.

--warnings: mentions of blood (bleeding nose), peter gets kinda mean, mention of alcohol, bruises, hurt/comfort, FLUFF.

There’s been a weird tension between you and Peter lately. Although you two are strictly friends, Peter has always been quite touchy. Both of your friends have seen you snuggled up next to him at parties, and holding hands while walking through campus. It was never weird for you and you never noticed how comfortable you were doing it until Peter stopped initiating it entirely. 

The beginning of the week seemed fine, October brings midterms, which means more work, for the both of you. It began to get harder to find time to see Peter, either you were in class, or he was busy. 

That’s how it was the entire week, until Thursday. You finally scheduled a time to hang out at his apartment to watch a movie and get takeout. As you head up the flights of stairs to Peter’s place, a weird pit in your stomach continues to drop, making you anxious. After finally reaching his apartment and knocking, he opens the door. You could’ve blinked and missed it, but right under his jaw was a sickening black and blue bruise, along with some dried blood right under his nose. His hood from his jacket is up, who knows what else he could be hiding underneath it. 

Once he opens the door, he immediately turns away, trying hard not to let you look at his face further. Walking in quickly, you shut the door behind you, “What the fuck happened?”

Still facing away from you, he walks towards the fridge, opens it, and takes a long look inside. “Nothing happened,” a monotone voice meets your ears.

He reaches deep into the fridge and pulls out a beer, opening it and taking a swig as he leans against the kitchen counter. You take a few steps toward him until you’re in his direct line of sight. Reaching up to inspect his face more, his hand comes up to swat you away.

You open your mouth to speak, but you are quickly interrupted by the boy in front of you, “(Y/N), can we talk?”

This catches your attention fully, crossing your arms as you peer up at him, frustration lighting your body on fire, “Sure.”

“Whatever we are, or whatever this is,” his eyes are avoiding contact with yours at all costs, he’s nervous, “I don’t want to be involved with you anymore, and I don’t want to see you around anymore.” 

Your once worried demeanor turns into one of shock. You suddenly feel like a deer in headlights, the warm air of Peter’s apartment now becoming too hot. Taking a step back, you speak before your mind can think of a real sentence, “What?”

“I’m telling you to leave, (Y/N),” his tone coming out harsher. His gaze finally meets yours, and he regrets he ever dared to look. Your lower lash line is filled with tears that are threatening to spill at any second. In reality, Peter would never in a million years tell you this, but fuck, does the thought of you scare him terribly. 

He was comfortable in this safe middle ground of romance with you, there were no titles, strings, or commitments. It was nice having you, you brought a familiar sense of safety wherever you went. Maybe that’s why Peter gravitated towards you. 

He thought he was going crazy one night, his mind had seemed to collapse at the mere thought of you. There was no escaping the thought of your smile, the warmth you brought to him, and the way your touch lit up his skin. All he could think of was you, and it was killing him. He wanted whatever you had to stay where it was, but it seemed impossible the more he thought of you. In all honesty, he’s afraid to love you. 

Stepping back from him, your voice starts to shake, “You don’t mean that.” 

“Please…please, just leave (Y/N),” his head dips, a tear falling from his eye, “just go.”

Looking at his slouched form, you bite your lip to prevent it from wobbling anymore. You remain there for a second, hoping that this is some sick dream, you’re waiting to wake up from it at any second. 

Peter still sees your feet planted in front of him, he finally looks back up at you, but now his nose is bleeding again. Wiping the sleeve of his jacket against his nose, the fabric is now stained with the deep liquid. “Fuck,” he mutters to himself before he turns around to face the sink, turning on the water and running his sleeve under it. 

You walk silently behind him, reaching your hand up to rest on his back and leaning into his arm. This time, he doesn’t push you away. You stay there for a few minutes before he turns to face you completely, “I’m sorry.” That’s all he says before he falls into your frame, wrapping you in a hug so tight that you almost can’t breathe. Pushing your second wave of shock and confusion aside, you hug him back. You’re not sure what was going on, but what you did know was that he needs you right now. And although the words he spewed at you were harsh, you pushed them aside, because Peter is hurting. 

That was another reason why Peter loved you, you care for people selflessly, even after being hurt by those same people. “Let’s go sit on the couch,” you suggest, grabbing a few tissues before following Peter. Sitting down, you’re able to look at his face closely, noticing his nose first, you grab a tissue to clean him up. There was a gentleness to your touch, he wouldn’t blame you for hurting him more, especially after what he said to you. But no, your touch is feather-like. 

Throwing the dirty tissues on the coffee table, you ask, “Can I take off your hood?” A nod is seen in response. Lifting both hands to pull down his hood, you see another bruise forming on his temple. Your fingers dance over it, scrutinizing it. Even though you barely touched his face, he craves your touch more. Quickly standing up, you make your way back to the fridge and grab a pack of frozen peas from the freezer, along with a kitchen towel to wrap around it. 

As he watches you walk back, all he can think about is how he hurt you. He hurt you and you're helping him. Placing the cold bag on his face, you grab his hand to hold it there. Right as you start to pull away, he traps your hand inside of his, grasping your attention, “I’m sorry for what I said earlier.”

You sigh as you realize what’s about to come up, pulling your hand away from him and putting both your hands in your lap. “Why did you say that? There has to be a reason, right? What did I do?”

His heart cracks at your last question, his outburst caused you to think that you did something wrong. He swallows before responding, “You didn’t do anything wrong. I have no excuse for what I did, and I’m sorry. I just–the thought of us scares me.”

“That’s why we said we would keep this platonic,” you say, “we’re just friends.” That’s what you told everyone, that’s what you told yourself, but you couldn’t keep ignoring that inkling feeling whenever you were with him. There was always a pull towards the feeling of being something more, but the second it popped into your mind, you shut it down immediately. You couldn’t lose Peter. 

He was panicking at your response, was he making a fool out of himself for making this such a big deal? “I know we are,” he starts, dropping the cold bag of peas to the side, “and that’s great, don’t get me wrong, but god (Y/N) you make it so hard to be just that. And it’s so annoying because it’s not your fault! It’s mine! I’m in love with you, and it’s driving me crazy because the thought of you not existing in my life hurts me. There’s not a moment in the day when I am not grateful for you. You have changed my life and you don’t even realize it! Fuck! I am in love with you.”

You look at him with wide eyes, you weren’t sure what you were expecting, but it was not that. He’s breathless, panting at his hurried confession. On the inside, he was freaking out, you weren't responding. 

“Can you please say something–”

Your response contains no words, your kiss says enough. 

You softly cradle his head, keeping his bruises in mind. The kiss was soft, a pour of emotions flowing through your lips. Pulling away, you finally give him a verbal response, “I love you too, does that answer it?”

“I don’t know,” he teases, “I think you need to kiss me more to fully confirm your answer.”

“You’re such an idiot, Parker,” you laugh, leaning in to kiss him again. 

--author's note: HELLO!!! thank you so much for the request anon! im sorry, there's not a lot of spiciness in this one:(( my allergies are literally killing me right now, so apologies for posting so late and the lack of posts recently! BUTTTTT, be aware of a fic tomorrow featuring someone else on my masterlist...don't forget to support your writers by liking, commenting, and reblogging! my asks/inbox is open, so send me anything!! ok, bye ily<3