#herding cats out here

[chaotic-neutral-knitter]

currently facing the final gauntlet of my escape from graduate school which is, of course, getting two people to sign a form over email. I’ve got one signature down and it has taken TWO WHOLE DAYS.

[trainingdummyrabbit]

I Regret To Inform You The Girls Are Fighting Again

[girlscience]

Well, I went from 970 words to 1203 words and the order is better and a lot of editing was done (went up to ~1500 words for a bit and edited back down), but wow I can't focus for shit. This paper is still definitely not the quality it needs to be and for trying to work on it for about 9 hours today and only ending up here, I am honestly super disappointed with myself. I have never been the fastest writer, but this is abysmal. I will not make it through grad school if I can't write papers.

[teaboot]

As someone who learnt english as a second language via textbook, I have to say "flying by the seat of my pants" is a hilarious idiom xD

It's the first time I've seen/heard it.

Could you share another one you like using?

Idk about idioms specifically, but there's a bunch of phrases I learned from my mom!

Lord love a duck! (Incredulous, like 'oh my god')

Lord suffer in sheep dip! (Sheep dip meaning sheep poop. Incredulous, but for annoying things- like 'are you kidding me?')

Is there a piano tied to your ass? ('Don't be lazy, do it yourself')

Someone's cruising for a bruising. (You're picking a fight.)

I don't give a rat's rip. ('I don't care'- a rat's 'rip' is it's butt crack.)

Pull up a stump! (Get yourself a chair, sit down.)

Everybody out of the pool! (Get out of the car)

I'm flying by the seat of my pants. (I have no idea what I'm doing, but I'm doing it.)

Don't go blowing smoke up my ass. (Don't over-compliment me, don't flatter me, don't stroke my ego, don't tell me positive lies)

Looks like it's gonna rain on our parade. (A storm is coming.)

Sorry to rain on your parade. (I've given you bad news- can be used sincerely or sarcastically to denote sympathy for incurring a bad mood.)

Better button that lip. (Stop talking.)

Someone's gonna stick a boot up your ass. ('Stick a boot up your ass'- fight you, beat you, kick your ass.)

Stick that lip out any further, and a pigeon'll shit on it. (Stop whining.)

Suck it up, buttercup. (Stop whining.)

Dumber than a fence post. (Very stupid.)

The back forty. (The wild or forested area behind a rural home. The 'forty' being forty acres, or farmland.)

Don't go begging for a fat lip. (Whatever you're saying or doing is going to bother people and get you in trouble.)

What on God's green earth (What the fuck)

I'm sweating like a pig in a porta-potty (like a pig in a plastic outhouse- I'm very warm, it's hot here)

He thinks the universe flew out of his ass. (He thinks he's more impressive than he is.)

Your mouth wrote a cheque your ass couldn't cash. (You promised more than you were capable of providing.)

You've got a horseshoe up your ass. (You're very, very lucky.)

Taking a dirt nap. (Dead.)

Pushing (up) daisies. (Dead.)

Give me forty acres to turn this rig around. (I need time and space to move this large, heavy, or unwieldy thing. Usually about navigating a vehicle. Taken from a song lyric.)

Jesus take the wheel. (God help me, I can't handle this, I give up.)

Gone belly-up. (Has died.)

We've got a floater. (This one is dead.)

Herding cats. (Trying to organize chaos, managing an impossibly complicated situation.)

I've got a black thumb. (I am bad at growing plants, all my plants die- reference to having a 'green thumb', or being good at growing plants.)

Stop trackin' floor cookies. (Floor cookies are bits of animal shit that fall off your work boots- 'tracking floor cookies' means wearing your boots in the house; take your shoes off at the door.)

Running around like a headless chicken. (Frantic, disorganized, stressed out by many tasks or panicked by a big situation.)

Spinning my wheels. (Waiting around for something to happen, getting nowhere, frustrated by inactivity, not making any progress towards a goal.)

He's gonna blow a gasket. (He's going to lose his temper, he's going to be angry.)

They'll tan your hide. (They'll punish you severely; usually through violence. Specifically in reference to a spanking.)

He's a few bricks short a load. (He's not clever / he doesn't think things through / he's crazy)

Not the sharpest tool in the shed. (Not the smartest person. Very dumb, clumsy, or absent-minded.)

I'm not going to bail you out. (Not going to save your sinking boat- not going to help you out of your bad situation.)

Looks like things are going south. (The situation is growing worse.)

I'll start making tracks. (I'll leave now, I'll start working, I'll get going.)

He's fucking the dog. (He's not being productive, he's doing a bad job, he's made things worse, he's screwing around.)

He's making puppies. (Less graphic version of 'fucking the dog'.)

Plant your ass. (Sit.)

Playing grab-ass. (Procrastinating- accomplishing nothing, slowing people down.)

He couldn't find his ass in the dark. (He's stupid, ineffective, underqualified, or incompetent.)

He couldn't pour water out of a boot if the instructions were on the heel. (He is unbelievably, comically dumb or ineffective. He can't do anything right.)

One foot in the ground. (Dying, or half-dead.)

I'm kicking rocks. (I'm not doing anything productive.)

I'm hauling ass. (I'm running away.)

Madder than a wet hen. (Very, very angry.)

Like I said I'm not sure that these are all idioms but they're all the phrases and sayings from my childhood that I can remember right now

EDIT: Cannot BELIEVE I forgot my mom's favourite

52. Wish in one hand, shit in the other, see which gets filled first. (Wishes don't come true by themselves)

Plus some more I forgot:

53. You make a better door than a window. (You're in the way of my view.)

54. You can take a long walk off a short pier. (Go fuck yourself.)

55. He's about as sharp as a bowling ball. (He's stupid.)

56. Scoot your poot. (Move over.)

57. Not my first rodeo. (I know what I'm doing.)

58. He's built like a brick shithouse. (He's broad and sturdy and very strong, solid.)

59. I smell bacon. (I saw a cop nearby.)

60. I don't want to hear a peep. (Stop talking.)

61. You're thinking with the wrong head. (You're making bad decisions because you're horny.)

62. I'd lose my ass/head if it wasn't tied on. (I'm very absent-minded, forgetful.)

63. That went down like a lead balloon. (That situation was bad.)

[gallusrostromegalus]

hi i see that you have much smart dog experience. i may have accidentally purchased such a dog. she's only 10 weeks, and ive had her 1, and she's already outmatched every puzzle feeder i got or have made. to the point that she is morosely disappointed when her food comes in an actual food bowl. do you know where i can find like. "heres 100 enrichment toys you can make out of free trash so your dog stops eating fucking rocks for enrichment" lists. i only have so many paper towel tubes XD

Herschel now just disassembles puzzle feeders, so I've been focusing on "Toys that, even if he already knows how to operate them, will still take TIME for him to collect the treat from" to give him something to fuss with.

Herschel eats all his meals out of a Kong Wobbler, because he will otherwise eat so fast he will literally inhale and choke on his kibble and I do not need him developing pneumonia from aspiration. Even though it's a "Simple" toy it slows him down and he does have to think a bit to tip it in the most efficient manner possible. Kong's "Flipz", "Gyro" and "Rewards Wally" are also really good "dog needs to think/carefully manipulate the toy for food" toys that act as both mental stimulation and exercise and "give human a break for up to twelve minutes" toys.

I highly reccomend KONG as a brand- they're local to Denver and have an impeccable saftey record and all of the toys I have gotten from them have held up extremely well vs. the ravages of three entirely too smart and strong-jawed dogs at once.

Some more thoughts:

If she's not prone to shredding rubber, the kind of treat toys she has to chew are also good stimulation.

If you don't want to give her That Many treats, my vet said that dogs can have as many green beans as they want. Just make sure that the beans haven't had salt added to them- canned usually does, but frozen green beans usually don't, but always check the label.

You can make nearly any toy last longer, or make a cheap long-puzzle by freezing the treats so they take longer to eat AND provides hydration. Herschel's most favorite treat of all time is literally a wad of sliced green beans in a dixie cup, filled with water and frozen. Just peel off the cup and hand him the chunk of ice and he's good for up to half an hour and more chill afterwards.

You can also freeze lick mats

If your girl is like Charlie and doesn't like greenbeans, you can also try freezing paper cups of: Canned pumpkin, apple slices in water, putting some ice cubes in the bottom of the cup, a gob of peanut butter in the middle and then fill it with water to make a peanutbutter filled ice cube.

If your girl is REALLY like charlie who has figured out how to use labor negotiation and strike tactics for better treats: boiled chicken chunks frozen in some of the water you boiled them in.

Walkies are as much mental stimulation as they are physical exercise. Take her out and let her sniff to her heart's content.

Also Puppies in particular need like, SO MUCH exercise.

Let her participate in activities with you. Herschel and charlie sit in the kitchen and I narrate cooking dinner to them, which seems to interest them, even if I don't have spare veggie ends to give them. I also frequently bring them along in the car if I'm running errands when it's cold enough to do that, so they have something new to look at, and get to participate. I also am more likely to stop at a new park and give myself some exercise and mental stimulation.

Training her to do tasks is GREAT Smart Dog enrichment- esp if she's a herding or heeler, they LOVE being helpful. I taught the dogs they get a small treat if they come in from the yard without me having to go chase them down, which saved me a lot of hassle, and now I'm working on teaching herschel to pick things up off the floor for me if I drop them and alert for chickpeas, which my housemate is allergic to.

A lot of dogs like cat-type toys. Tie a stick or some fleece to some paracord and drag or flycast it around for her to chase/play tug with when she catches it. Toys that bounce unexpectedly were also a huge hit. or just wave the string around the cat and the corgi both like that.

If you live in farm country or know other people with pets, you can grab something with the scent of another animal on it and bring it home for her to smell. Charlie and Herschel spent the better part of three days investigating the wad of horse undercoat I brought home and put in the spare wobbler for them to smell.

[ddejavvu]

Hiii! Could you write a Spencer Reid x fem reader who are dating & she’s super drunk, he needs to take care of her and she’s all “no I have a boyfriend who I love so much” and goes on a ramble about Spencer, not releasing she’s talking to him & he’s all heart eyes and giggly at her whilst trying to take care of her? Lots of fluff? Thank you!

The minute Spencer tries taking your hand to help you down from the booth you're squeezed into, you push his hand away, "No."

"No," You repeat, shaking your head with all the coordination of a baby deer, "Nooo sir. I am not going to be partaking in anything with you, because I have a boyfriend," You announce, your voice spanning over the entire table, even reaching Rossi who's at the head, "And I love him, and you're- just- fuck off."

Spencer's mouth falls open incredulously at your expletive, though a laugh escapes it rather than one of his own. "Oh, really? You've got a boyfriend?"

"Mhm." You nod proudly, settling back into your seat and burrowing away from his waiting hands into Emily's side, "He's tall, and he has a gun, so don't-" You choke on what Spencer presumes is a hiccup, but could very well be a belch, "Don't mess with me."

"You tell'im," Emily laughs, wrapping her arm around your shoulder and rubbing the chilly skin beneath the cutoff of your sleeves, "Do you want me to call Spencer for you, sweetheart? Have him come pick you up?"

"Yeah," You nod easily, your eyes set greedily on your friend's drink now that yours have been downed, "Can you tell him to bring me a blanket, too? I'm cold."

Unbeknownst to you, Penelope herds Spencer away to the edge of the patio your team is seated on, and there's a lingering smile on his face as he listens to what she whispers in his ear.

"I have a blanket in my car," She tells him, "It might have some cat hair on it, but you can totally take it! Go get it, and you can come back like we called you."

"Okay," Spencer's eager to take Penelope's keys from her when she shoves them into Spencer's hands, "Thanks, Garcia. Just make sure she doesn't drink any more, okay?"

A quick glance back at your table reveals Emily holding her glass to your lips, helping you tilt it backwards to dump the concoction down your throat.

"Uh- any more than that." Spencer clarifies. Penelope nods, rushing off to make sure you don't find Rossi's scotch.

Spencer returns barely two minutes later, discreetly dumping Penelope's keys back into her purse. Hotch and Morgan share a knowing smirk when Spencer pats you on the shoulder, and JJ pinches your side from across Emily to get you to notice the man standing beside you.

"Hi angel," Spencer croons, and your face lights up, shining brighter than the fairy lights strung above you, "Emily called me, she said you wanted me to come get you?"

"Spencer!" You cheer, and Emily shares her strength with you to hoist you into his arms where you cling to him like a koala bear, "Spence, you're here! There was this guy, and he tried holding my hand, and-"

"Oh, no," Spencer scrunches his nose, unable to stop himself from laughing when you take it as an invitation to smear yours against his own, "Not a guy! Are you okay, angel?"

"Mhm," You hum, tucking your face into his shoulder, "You're here now, Spence. And you brought a blanket, just like I asked."

"Of course I did," He beams, wrapping his arm tightly around your back as you settle over him like dead weight, "Uh- guys, can we get a bill?"

"Just go," Rossi waves him off, patting his pocket where you all know his rather thick wallet lies, "Take her home now, so that she can't run up my card with any more drinks, and I'll pay for the ones she already had."

"Thanks Rossi," Spencer grins awkwardly at him, flashing the man a strained thumbs-up before he has to use that hand to support the backs of your thighs once more, "Okay, honey, ready to go?"

You don't answer, and Derek leans sideways to peek at you.

"She's out," He snickers, "Pretty boy, make sure she's still breathing when you get home, alright?"

"Got it," Spencer chuckles breathily, "Okay, uh- bye guys."

There's a chorus of send-offs, and Hotch tilts his glass at Reid with an amused twinkle in his dark eyes, "Make sure you're both on time Monday. Hangovers don't excuse you from duty."

[nekoisadumbname]

i have got to remind people on my art blog that this is a furry household 😔

[cordeliawhohung]

*taps mic*

shy!reader getting drunk with prices wife maybe i the club cuz its prices wife’s birthday? and then when simon arrives she’s giddy and all over him

this kind of turned into a drabble because i thought the idea was cute. however i am writing this past my bedtime so... enjoy :)

"come get your girlfriend."

those words hardly processed in Simon's mind no matter how many times he repeated them in his head. with a groan, he rubbed his eyes before he pulled his phone away from his ear to check the time. 1:07. the one time the man tried to go to bed early, of course he would get a phone call from his boss. he just didn't expect it to be about you.

"she alright?" Simon asked as he returned the phone to his ear.

"she's fine, just properly pissed at the moment. trying to get the wife home and it's like herding cats when those two are drunk," John sighed. a fit of laughter sounded on the end of his line, and even through the fuzziness and poor quality, Simon was able to pick out your giggles like it was his favorite song.

"i'll be there in ten."

Simon wasn't all too surprised to find you, John, and his wife holed up in one of the VIP rooms, and if anything he was a little relieved. the thought of you so exposed and not in your right mind around a bunch of strangers made him a little anxious, but he knew you wouldn't be caught dead in a situation like that. yet there you were, sitting in the conversation pit chatting away with your friend who wore some cheesy birthday girl sash and a dollar store crown to go with it. the way you talked and gestured was so... unlike you. it was more confident, less stiff and more fluid, like you didn't have a care in the world.

on the other hand, John looked like he was ten minutes away from falling asleep. his shirt was ruffled, and there were slight lipstick marks along the side of his chin. work of art from his wife, no doubt. Simon couldn't help but smirk at the sight of the mess that had been made, and he was just glad he wouldn't be expected to clean it up.

"hey sweetheart," he greeted as he stepped into the pit.

your eyes slowly flickered around the room until they landed on him. a glossy sort of drunkenness clouded your eyes and yet they shined just as bright when you grinned up at him.

"baby! you came to hang out with us?" you asked as you hopped off of the couch.

Simon watched you stumble toward him with arms ready to catch you, and not even a moment later you collided with his chest as you wrapped your arms around his waist. caught off guard but still pleased with your reaction, Simon chuckled as he settled his arms around you to return your drunken hug.

"i came to take you home. it's gettin' late," he explained.

"home? like to my place?' you asked.

Simon shrugged. "or you can stay the night with me, if you like."

"yes," you said, drawing out the last letter to the point you nearly sounded like a snake. "i like sleeping in your bed, it smells nice."

taken aback by your unfiltered comment, Simon couldn't help but smile and shake his head slightly. he rubbed your back in an attempt to coax you into relinquishing your grip on his torso, but you wouldn't budge.

"c'mon," he urged with a small chuckle, "let's get goin' yeah? it's late."

"but this feels nice," you retorted.

"i'll hug you all you like when we get home."

you hummed for quite some time as you swayed back and forth, forcing Simon into your movements. eventually you gave in and pulled away from him just enough to look up at him with a sleepy smile.

"okay. but you have to hold my hand when we walk out of here because i think i'll cry if i walk through that crowd," you relented.

John was right about one thing: getting you home really was like herding cats. you clung to him as if you were a parasite and you chatted away the entire ride back to his apartment, and though he was surprised it wasn't unwelcome. things got easier by the time he got you settled in bed. burrowing underneath the covers, you breathed in the musk of him and the faint hint of cigarettes as you hid your face in his chest.

"i love you," you mumbled as you settled further into him.

"i love you more," he countered.

"impossible."

[hedgehog-moss]

The blueberry tart moral quandary has been very fun to ponder! Thank you for sharing it with us. I think the real question, however, is what each of your animals would think about ordering two slices of tart under the circumstances

You're right, that IS the true question here. Let's situate this in a universe where blueberry tart is safe & delicious to eat for all animal species.

CHICKENS. The chickens would definitely want that second helping of tart because chickens live in a solipsistic moral universe and would hesitate to share tart even if it was their dying sister's last wish. However if you place two slices of tart on the ground for 2 chickens, they will immediately and violently start fighting each other over the same slice, thus giving you the opportunity to discreetly retrieve the first slice for yourself. Moreover, if a chicken manages to break off half of the slice and starts running like hell to go eat it elsewhere in peace, the other chicken will take off after her instead of eating the other half happily by herself. If they then break this half in two while fighting over it, they will resume fighting over that half of the half, allowing you to retrieve 3/4 of the second slice. And so on. This is Zeno's paradox applied to chickens and tart: the hens will spend the rest of eternity fighting over diminishing crumbs while you get almost all of the second slice back (albeit broken in increasingly minuscule halves.)

CATS. Not only would the cats want that second slice regardless of who else wants it, they would also sit & start grooming themselves on the rest of the pie with great serenity, rendering it inedible for anyone else. However, my original post established that the pies were under large bell jars. Two of my three cats are (to their everlasting torment) stymied by this sadistic human invention. If the bell jar is heavy enough that you can't push it off the table (a popular strategy), then Mascarille and Merricat will just circle it a few times, ram their faces into the glass, do a full body swipe against it in case this might open a secret door, and then walk away in frustration. Morille on the other hand is a cat possessed of extreme patience, diabolical intelligence and acute interest in forbidden food. She will get the tart no matter how long she has to lie in wait.

DOG. Pandolf would not want a second slice or even a first one, if he is made to understand that this might make other people sad. The thing with Pandolf is, he can smell disappointment. His great big nose picks up on every particle of human disappointment in the air and they go straight to his heart. He is also too polite to even defend his bone from thieving chickens. There's no way he would claim any tart at all unless someone gave it to him and made it clear they would be happy for him to eat it. However Pandolf is very cute when he sits there with a lolling tongue, happy for others to have a good time, and there is also no way one or several persons wouldn't give him their slice of tart. He would definitely end up with tart.

LLAMAS. Pampelune is the matriarch and since her duties involve dying to protect her herd in case of predator attacks, she considers it her prerogative to eat first and as much as she damn pleases in compensation. She would get two slices. I believe Poldine would choose to have only one slice and kiss everyone in the restaurant on the cheek for good measure, and I also believe she would actually get zero tart. As shown in the salt video, Poldine understands her place in the pasture hierarchy (the one who eats last) and has to resort to subterfuge to get even 1 lick of salt while others are gorging themselves. She will be very dependent on other people's temperance and decency to get any tart (so, Pandolf is her best bet.) Meanwhile Pampérigouste is trying to figure out how to escape the restaurant undetected to go on an adventure while the sheeple are talking about tart. She will get one or two or three slices but only if they can facilitate her various stratagems (for example, to bribe a guard at the door.)

The FISH—do not have the cognitive abilities to worry about morals but more importantly, do not experience soul-deep desires in the way the birds and mammals in this list do. My fish live in a smooth and quiet world where the gods make food rain from the sky every day. In this luminescent existence of untroubled abundance their capacity for longing has atrophied. They do not understand what wanting tart means, let alone the complex philosophical agonies humans can put themselves through when faced with culinary conundrums.

DONKEY. Pirlouit's first instinct would be to claim all the tart he can eat and then some. However donkeys and fish sit at opposite ends of the philosophical spectrum; Pirlouit strikes me as an animal who would be interested in exploring the ethical ramifications of the issue, as an intellectual exercise. 70% of his life consists in quiet deep ponderings. I think Pirlouit could get distracted ruminating the blueberry tart quandary in light of the rich philosophical heritage of donkey civilisation, and arrive too late to get any tart by the time he determined whether one or two slices is the right answer. Kind of like that time he got distracted by his need for revenge and was late for breakfast and the llamas had already claimed the hay.

IN CONCLUSION.

[comicaurora]

Are there any tropes or lessons you like to see used on the five man band.

I.E.: the lancer needs to learn the power of friendship or the heart needing to learn self care

Oh man. So many. Just off the top of my head-

The Leader is out of commission and The Lancer gets their wish of being in charge! Oh god why is everything so difficult this is like herding cats how does The Leader stand it

The Smart Guy has friends now, so it's easy to forget that before The Band they were isolated and awkward and overall very alone. Let's unpack that!

Oh nooooo The Lancer was overconfident and got their ass beat by bad guys and now they need to get rescuuuuuued nooooooo what if they learn a lesson about truuuuuust

The Heart supports the team without complaint… but what happens when they need support? (hugs. hugs happen)

Has The Lancer… betrayed us?? (maybe a little, as a treat, but not for long so relax)

Everyone else is out of commission! It's up to The Smart Guy to sneakily save the day!

The villain of the week made someone in the group experience Deep Emotional Issues and now The Heart is going to straight-up murder them if nobody stops them

hey bad news they brainwashed the chillest friendliest member of the gang and now we have to do an absolutely terrifying fight scene about it

Everyone on the team is relying on one member's unique skill to save them all while the rest of them buy time, and the only person who isn't sure they can do it is the person doing it

One of them is cornered, but wins using a skill they picked up from a teammate (and possibly complains about it nonstop)

Everyone is being independently interrogated about something they all did and every single one of them is either stonewalling or lying outrageously

Okay one of the team is out of commission let's try REALLY HARD to take care of them and handle any problems WITHOUT BOTHERING THEM I'm sure this won't result in a comedy of errors

Everyone gets knocked flat in a one-shot move but how cool is it when the powerhouse is the only one who manages to get back up

Okay you guys go handle the main villain I'll stay here by myself and hold off the entire army of minions no sweat

Oh hey, turns out this Heart character we've been underestimating isn't weak or underpowered, they're just usually much too nice to kick anyone's ass half as hard as they deserve. congrats on finally finding their breaking point tho

One of the characters is feeling useless, sure hope they don't push themself to deeply self-destructive extremes to compensate

Somehow The Leader has been temporarily compromised to the side of Evil I sure hope The Lancer doesn't take it upon themself to solve this the only way they know how (running off on their own and getting their shit rocked)

Local Lancer Unfortunately Concludes They Are Undyingly Loyal To These Idiots

[midnight-bay-if]

"If silence claims the waters of Midnight Bay, death has come to stay."

"Every day, I miss him, and every day, I’m scared that I’ll miss him less. That one day, I’ll wake up, and I won’t remember how his hair would stick up in odd angles in the morning or how black he liked his coffee. That the bedtime stories he would read me before bed no longer guide my morals nor parse their wisdom in his voice..."

If you ask me why I still seek revenge, this is what I'll say: I will not forget.

Because nothing could be more terrifying than the idea of time passing without my father's death having any justice or resolution, and years down the line, I’ll be sitting in this diner with you, but we won’t be talking about my dad at all anymore."

Come on. Let's kill the killer.

Demo: Out Now (26,000) words.

Simon/Simone [f/m] Task Force Leader. Human Simon/Simone comes from a wealthy family with a long history of government service and civil partnerships. Simon/Simone is somewhat of a black sheep and is estranged from a large portion of their family. After a bout of teenage rebellion, Simon/Simone find themselves enlisted in the military to ‘correct’ their behaviour. However, with a penchant for leadership and a tactician's mind, they are recruited by a strange, secretive organisation with questionable goals.

After two more victims of 'The Bay Slasher' are found discarded on the bay, Simon/Simone drives themselves and their team into town, on orders from their mysterious higher-ups, ready to put away this killer for good. But cases such as these are never simple, and even more so with a far too clever and far too perceptive P.I. hot on their heels.

Rain [non-binary] The Mediator. Supernatural type; Pixie Rain grew up in a very wet biome of the world associated with fairies, pixies and elementals. After a great conflict, Rain was practically herded into the arms of a greater power, who guided them into the arms of Simon/Simone, who became their new leader.

When Simon/Simone tells them that one day, they will be going to the practically derelict town of Albach Bay to catch a dangerous killer, they shrug, smile, and pack their bags without a second thought. It doesn't take long for them to realise this isn't a typical case, even by their standards.

Taj [f/m] The Infiltrator. Supernatural type: Qita Taj is part of an ever-shrinking community hidden well in the Egyptian underbellies. Qita are a humanoid cat race native to Egypt and were once revered by humans at the dawn of their civilisation. However, that reverence began to fizzle out when a greater power, deciding their people had become too powerful,

After a great conflict, Taj is captured and 'recruited' to join a mysterious organisation dedicating themselves to maintaining balance. Taj is ultimately led to Simon/Simone and becomes the final member of their specialised team. Showing great resistance at first, eventually, Taj learns to accept and respect Simon/Simone, so when their leader declares they are to travel to the backwater town of Albach Bay, well... Taj comes along. Though not without reluctance.

Nazu/Naera [f/m] Supernatural type: Demon Nazu/Naera is a demon prince/princess from Hael. During a terrible conflict, their great power was muzzled as punishment for their part in the war. They've been seeking the people responsible so they can regain the power they lost.

Their search has lasted more than a decade, but now... Now they find themselves in a small, human town where sin oozes from every shadow, beckoning every passer-by to partake in its debauchery. To top it off? They can hear their power singing to them. It's close. Heh... They might even end up liking it here.

Umbra [f/m] Supernatural type: ??? Umbra is an anomaly. Nothing about them is real. None of it should exist. Every facet of their being has been strung together out of sheer will and barely held together by a thread. One wrong touch and they may fall apart, like unravelling a ball of yarn or pulling apart a puppet on a string.

So, why? Why do they exist? Simple.

They exist for you.

RO's appearances:

Simon: Broad-shouldered, athletic build with reasonably short black hair and light warm skin. He has warm brown eyes hidden behind fashionable square frames and is often wearing tailored suits designed to move in.

Simone: Athletic build with long black hair (typically pinned up) and light, warm skin. She has warm brown eyes hidden behind fashionable square frames and is often wearing tailored suits designed to move in.

Rain: They have a slim, petite build with flawless tawny skin, which is amplified by their pale blue hair and matching pale eyes. They tend to opt for a more colourful wardrobe in the pastel range.

Taj (male): He has a lean build, golden brown skin, and dark, curly brown hair that tends to have a mind of its own. His ears and tail are matching brown, reminiscent of a Havana Brown cat. (He keeps them hidden underneath his clothes, which are often oversized to hide this face.) He also has very serious grey eyes and numerous scars marking his body.

Taj (female): She has a lean build, golden brown skin, and dark curly brown hair that tends to have a mind of its own. Her ears and tail are a matching brown, reminiscent of a Havana Brown cat. (She keeps them hidden underneath her clothes.) She also has very serious grey eyes and numerous scars marking her body.

Nazu: (As a human)He is very built with dark skin, which ensures his almost luminescent amber eyes stand out. His long, dark dreads are usually pulled up in a bun. Nazu tends to opt for clothes designed to tantalise, as well as show off the hair dusting his chest and arms.

When in his usual form, he also has large horns that curl out of his head, with a more reddish hue to his dark skin. Plus, the whites of his eyes will turn black.

Naera: (As a human) She is very curvy, opting instead to amplify her femininity in human form. Her dark skin ensures her luminescent amber eyes stand out. Her long, dark hair is in tight braids that flow down her back. Naera will opt for clothing designed to tantalise, teasing her assets in a flirty way.

When in her usual form, her horns curl out of her head, with a reddish hue to her dark skin. Plus, the whites of her eyes will turn black.

Umbra (male): Tall and lean build with black shoulder-length hair that contrasts against his pale, almost ghostly skin. He tends to have dark circles under his equally black eyes, as well as a deep scar cut through his left brow. His clothing usually consists of a black leather jacket, black pants and black combat boots.

Umbra (female): Tall and slim build with long black hair, half up in a pony, that contrasts against her pale, almost ghostly skin. She tends to have dark circles under her equally black eyes, as well as a deep scar cut through her left brow. Her clothing usually includes a black leather jacket, plaid skirt and black combat boots.

An urban fantasy/romance IF based in the fictional town of 'Albach Bay'.

Customise your private investigator: choose name, gender, appearance, sexuality, skill set and personality.

Play as male, female, or non-binary: straight, gay, bisexual, pansexual, as well as aromantic, asexual, or aro-ace.

Late 90s setting with limited technology, so be prepared to wait ten minutes for your PC to boot up.

Roleplay your private investigator how you want to. My intention is no 'game over' screens. There are no wrong answers in this game.

5 main companions to befriend or romance, each with their own personalities and stories to tell.

Collect evidence in your notebook as you scour the dilapidated streets and beaches of Albach Bay for clues to finally catch your father's killer for good.

Revenge is best served cold.

Rated 18+

[trainingdummyrabbit]

the actual downside of taking a 4-year gap year isnt the "getting academically rusty" thing its the "no longer having the tolerance for the ''professionalism speak'' song and dance"

[woso-dreamzzz]

Reina

Natalia Guijarro (OC) x Hardersson!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: You meet Natalia's cat

If you were to describe yourself, you would say you were an animal person. You didn't really make distinctions between whether you were a dog or cat person. You like all animals equally.

Prins was an absolute darling and stuck firmly to your side like he was made for it. He was soft and excitable and was more than able to keep up on your daily runs.

But, it had to be said, there was something about soft, cuddly cats that really got you.

Exactly like the one that was currently rubbing herself all over you.

"She likes you!" Natalia looks delighted, face split wide open in a big smile.

"I like her!"

Reina purrs as you scratch behind her ears, bumping her head more firmly into your hand. Her calico ears twitch slightly when you stop stroking so you redouble your efforts.

Meeting Reina was something that Natalia had been trying to get you to do for weeks now. You'd fully settled in at Barcelona now, even gaining the confidence to stray from her side every now and then and get to know your new teammates privately.

Natalia had been begging you to come over for dinner and meet Reina since the very first week.

You'd put it off for a while with the excuse of getting settled in and then the day you had planned to do it had been taken over by Tia Tana dropping in with strict instructions from your mothers to check you were taking care of yourself.

So, that was why now, you were soaking up all the cat cuddles you could get.

Reina certainly lived up to her name. Elegance seemed to be her main character trait. She was practically show perfect with her long fur and large body.

"Did you just take a picture of me?" You ask when you hear the sound of a phone shutter.

Natalia grins at you. "I have to document this. My two girls, finally meeting." Her tone was wistful and your face burnt red.

You think you kind of like that, being one of Natalia's girls.

"You're lucky she's cute," You reply before smiling down at Reina again," Yes, you are. So cute."

Reina lets out a little chirp before leaning into your space to sniff at your neck. You let her, looking down at the ground to where Prins was whining.

He was doing a good job behaving himself for a puppy so little and Natalia had practically insisted that you bring him along for this occasion.

"Are they ignoring you, little man?" Natalia coos," I'm sorry." She kneels down on the floor to pet him as Reina finally stops sniffing at you.

She brushes her cheek against your shoulder before turning around to peer down at Prins.

Happy with all of this new attention, he jumps up to rest against your legs, stretching as far as he could to greet Reina.

She looks a little insulted by him but leans down to properly make her decision. She stares, unblinking for several seconds before leaping down from your lap.

She inspects Prins at his level which is kind of funny because she towers over him.

She baps him over the head a few times before clearly deciding that he's hers because she tries to pick him up by the scuff of his neck.

It doesn't quite work because he's a bit too big for that so she just kind of ends up herding him where she wants him to go before settling down and grooming him.

Natalia joins you on the sofa, an arm automatically thrown over your shoulders as she settles by your side.

"She likes him."

"I think she thinks that he's her kitten."

"That's sweet. I'm glad they're getting along." She smirks at you, her arm tightening around you. "That means I never have to let you leave."

You roll your eyes. "Except for training."

"Except for training," Natalia agrees," But you agree then? That I should keep you and Prins here?"

"I don't think Reina will let him leave."

You both look over to watch Reina firmly drag Prins back into the cat bed when he tries to leave. He sends you a wounded look as you laugh when Reina practically sits on him and focusses her attention on grooming his back.

"It's the Scandinavian in her," You reply.

Natalia groans good-naturedly. "I take it back. You and Prins can leave. I don't want to be outnumbered by three Scandinavians."

"I mean," You shrug," Technically only Reina and I are Scandinavians. Finland doesn't count."

"But Norway does?! How's that fair?"

You laugh. "Have you ever looked at a map? Finland doesn't count as Scandinavia."

"Your countries confuse me," Natalia laughs too.

"I can leave now, if you really want." You jokingly move to get up but Natalia keeps a firm grip on you. It feels nice, like being wrapped up safely in your baby blanket again and you sag into Natalia's body against yours.

Her arms move from your shoulders because of the change of position. You're sitting between her legs now, splayed out on the sofa and she wraps her arms gently around your waist.

Her grip is firm though and two fingers draw soft patterns on your hip, occasionally going up and under your shirt to draw circles on your side.

The pressure of her hands on you makes your head go a little floaty. You've never seen Natalia do this with any of your teammates at training but it's private here, in her home, so you suppose that she feels like she can be a bit more touchy.

Friendships back home weren't like this. You'd be hard pressed to find any of your friends willing to even hold your hand let alone your waist so this is dangerously new territory.

Selfishly, you wish that her hand would go a bit lower. It makes you feel guilty even entertaining the thought because Natalia's your friend and it isn't right to take advantage of her touchiness.

You can feel her breath on the back of your neck though and it makes your blush spread all through your body.

"So," You manage to get out, desperately trying to not get lost in the feeling of Natalia against you," Are we having dinner or what?"

"My company isn't enough?"

"Your company is perfect," You assure her, desperately wishing she knew just how perfect she really was," But, seriously, I was promised cat cuddles and food. I've had the cuddles. I need the food."

"Maybe we'll hold off on dinner for a bit longer," Natalia says," I like this position too much to move. Is that good with you?"

"That's perfectly fine with me."

[queenie-the-court-jester]

It's raining cats and dogs

My cat and dog hybrids, and random things about them! [Not proofread]

•°. *࿐ ⋆ •°. *࿐ ⋆ •°. *࿐ ⋆ •°. *࿐ ⋆

★ Brutus the german shepherd

He's a big boy alright. A startling 6'6 frame, but that doesn't stop him from acting like a little bastard. He's playful and cocky, a little protective but that's just in his instincts to protect his little herd! In his physical appearance, He's starting to grow out his buzz cut, a pair of German shepherd ears ontop. he's hoping to maybe dye a couple strands of hair blond once they're long enough. green eyes that stare into your soul, absolutely no thought process behind them

★ dolly the doberman

Everyone loves dolly. There used to be another doberman named Danny but they sent him to the pound when he bit both the farmer and his granddaughter. She used to have puppies with Danny but they didn't survive the winter, they got sick and passed the coming spring. She's a little rough around the edges but you'll love her too right? Don't let Brutus hog all the love! In her physical appearance, she has very short brown hair and a pair or doberman ears, with one of them being a little bit, ontop of her head. 5'7 with a deadly brown eyed stare.

★ bladviba the black Russian terrier

A messy mop of brown curls he calls hair sits atop his head. He's usually out in the fields observing the cattle, black eyes staring out Into the distance. The others say he used to be a fisherman's dog but then he had to find a new home since he passed away one night. Stoic and serious, he's secretly a 5'8 softie who wants to hide and cuddle you somewhere. But that bastard Brutus would probably find you in less than an hour.

★ molly the chow chow

molly may be the smallest out of all them, but that doesn't mean she won't let them do all the work. Usually she's trailing behind dolly, claiming that since their names are similar they have to stick close together. She has a short temper and a little brutish, but you'll get used to her. Spiky short brown hair, with dark black eyes that sparkle when she sees you. A 5'2 sweetheart- wait who gave molly a knife-

★ sweet pea the Samoyed

Sweet pea loves many things! You, bones, their house, sleep. Okay maybe not many things but atleast some things! Usually quiet and following you from behind, they quietly take up the role of your 6'1 guard dog. Helping you around the barn, and in exchange all you have to do is let them scent you for another 2 hours every 4 hours! Dirty white hair, with black eyes as dark as charcoal.

★ bubba the borzoi

Bubba is so fucking done with both you and the others. Can you stop fucking singing 'let me do it for you' like shut up he's trying to do his job here. He refuses to let you see the slightest smile but just know he is smiling. He's just stubborn. Like VERY stubborn. Sarcastic and empathetic, a deadly combo. He could be comforting you and then calling you a blubbering fool the next. 6/10, would bite my ass. He's a startling 6'11, with blue eyes and light blonde hair

★ princess the ragdoll

Name the most spoiled housecat who ever lived. She lives up to her name, she's been in many beauty pageants and won a many prizes. Ribbons, trophies, photographs all align the walls of her room. She'll give you a side eyed look before making you go through a 600 step beauty routine, before ever allowing you to touch her. Atleast she'll cuddle you for hours on end, so the torture was worth it all. King is the only person she respects, aside from her owners. White long curly hair, blue eyes and 5'5

★ prince the Norwegian forest cat

He's the most humble cat ever known, all he really wants is to settle down, have a couple litters, and be a good dad. But princess hated his guts and quite frankly, he hated her. He much preferred you, he wondered how you'd look with a belly full of his kits.. he'll respect your wishes, but don't mind him breaking into your room every now and then. (He leaves hair everywhere, don't let him.) Ginger fluffy hair, green eyes and 5'7

★ king the Khao manee

King could either be planning your downfall or planning the entire family you'll have together. The greatest manipulator ever known to cat kind. He could convince you orange is red and red is blue if you let him (don't let him), he manipulates princess to do things for him but now that you're here, you won't mind taking over now will you? Sandy blonde hair with heterochromiac eyes. 5'6

Bonus: the forest pack ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ- ︶︶︶︶༉‧

★ Roxy the wolf

butch werewolf? Butch werewolf. She's stoic and quiet, but she's just a gentle giant. Following her brothers around, she's very obedient and surprisingly, loves gardening! Long Spiky black hair, red eyes and 6'7

★ Silas the wolf

Silas is the leader, commanding his siblings when to act and when to fall behind. But he just wants a break and to lay down, take a nice long nap. Until one of his siblings comes running to him for help. Oh well, he had a nice sleep. He loves them, he truly does, but he wants a nap in peace. Very short spiky black hair, red eyes, 6'9

★ Milo the wolf

Milo is selectively mute. With a deadpan look always on their face and they seem emotionless, but that's not the case. They're just always distracted and can't really focus on many things. Be a little patient will you? Medium long spiky black hair, red eyes, 6'6

★ Kiki the Pomeranian

Kiki is some dog hybrid they found off the road and decided they're one of them. Feral and has a big dog complex. Tries to be intimidating but they just aren't. Sometimes they watch you work on the farm from the edge of the forest, a little jealous of the animals that get to watch you everyday. Messy blonde hair, black eyes that hold the anger of a toddler being forced into A school play, and very short. 4'9

•°. *࿐ ⋆ •°. *࿐ ⋆ •°. *࿐ ⋆ •°. *࿐ ⋆

[buryustogether]

lilac - chapter 4

miguel o’hara x f!reader

summary: you accidentally overhear a conversation between miguel and his ai at work.

wc: 4.5k

warnings/tags: domestic lifestyle, mentions of violence, mentions of choking and death, swearing, mentions of office sex, strippers, sex workers, strip club, private dances, cuddling

author’s note: he’s so lana del rey coded guys

Anybody with experience knew that trying to keep twenty third graders together was like herding cats. Anybody with further experience knew that keeping twenty third graders together in a sharp, sleek, trillion-dollar facility like Alchemax was like herding cats who were soaking wet and high on all the catnip they could have stuffed their stupid little faces with in the span of five minutes.

“Alexander,” you snapped as you helped your coworker count little bodies as they piled off the bus. “If I have to tell you one more time to keep your hands off James, I’m going to drive this bus myself back to school and give you a fifty-page packet while everyone else here has fun.”

While your words had the effect you hoped they did, you wouldn’t exactly classify a field trip to Alchemax as fun. It was a megacorporation that dabbled in exploits from clean energy to genetics to god knew whatever else they did in there between those fancy metal walls. The building looked as though it should have come straight from a sci-fi film compared to the other foundations on the block, all floor-to-ceiling windows and fifty-some floors and armed guards that stood at the front doors. Certainly not a place to take a field trip with a bunch of nine year olds. Again, you would have thought some place like the zoo or even an interactive museum would have been better, but when the principal wanted something, she got it.

To be honest, you had a suspicion she was hooking up with one of the guards here, but you had nothing to prove your theory.

Like the pack of raging little animals that they were, your students filed across the front way of the building and up the stone stairs to the doors, where they waited in a mass of wiggles and excited spasms. Each of them held their partner’s hand, a rule you pressed with each field trip. Going into a freaky building like this, you almost wished you had a hand to hold yourself.

“That’s all of them,” said your coworkers, one of the three teachers who had come to chaperone the trip. She looked up from her clipboard of names, double checking each kid as you both followed the crowd of children up the steps. “Christ, this is going to be a shitshow. I just know we’re going to be escorted out of here after… I don’t know, a molecular leveler gets demolished by tiny, sticky hands.”

You snuffed out a little snort, reaching up to adjust the necklace perched about your collarbones. In your free hand, you carried a coffee cup that still had the tab in; it wasn’t for you. “I think it’ll be alright,” you said, but not nearly as confidently as you would have liked. “We had an entire assembly over this.”

“And since when has that ever helped?” She followed your movements, her eyes trailing over your form. You blinked at her. “Are you wearing lipstick?”

“Hah! No…!” Quickly, before she could ask any more questions, you turned away and pressed your lips to your sleeve, trying to wipe off some of the excess lipstick you’d applied right before leaving the school. Fuck, it was too much, wasn’t it?

Definitely too much for popping in to visit during a school field trip when you should have been watching your kids.

After passing through multiple tall, sleek-looking metal detectors (and scolding a few kids for bringing their phones when they were specifically told to leave them at school), you met the man who would be giving the tour of the facility in the lobby. Overhead, modern-art-classified light fixtures hung from the ceiling like someone had captured starlight and crammed it into bulbs. A cafeteria filled with scientists and researchers and everyone in between stood to your left, each of them donned in a stark white lab coat. Some of them spoke on phones, others clacked away on laptops and futuristic-looking tablets with such an intensity you would have thought they were taking a test for their lives. A few of them spared a glace or two at your group, but they didn’t last long. Apparently field trips to designated areas in the building were normal.

You heard the tour guide talking animatedly to the kids, but his words didn’t quite register as you kept your head on a swivel, searching out something specific. After a moment, when you leaned back on the heels of your feet, you found what you were looking for; the elevators.

“Hey,” you said to your coworker as the kids began to move deeper into the lobby, “will you cover for me? I’ve got to run to the restroom real quick.”

After they had moved along to where they couldn’t see you, you grasped the coffee cup tighter in your grasp and made a beeline for the elevators. Your footsteps against the polished marble seemed deafening as you quickened your pace, realizing the cup wasn’t as hot as it had been earlier. How fucking humiliating would it be if you brought him cold coffee? There was a part of you that knew, really, he wouldn’t mind, but the larger, more insecure bit insisted he would mentally cringe and throw it out the second you left.

Fuck, you thought. This man had you whipped.

You had just reached the elevators, reaching out to tap the call button, when a voice called out to you from your left. “Excuse me,” said a woman sitting behind a large metal desk you hadn’t seen in your haste. She eyed you from behind thick lenses, brow quirked over the top of her monitor. “We do ask that you stay with your group, if you’re here for a tour.”

“Oh! Uhm…” Gripping the cup tight enough that you felt the cardboard bend ever so slightly against your fingers, you padded closer to the desk and put on your best tight-lipped smile. “I’m sorry. I was just bringing a drink to someone who worked here. He’s, uhm… he’s -”

Before you could force your tongue to get out some kind of excuse, some kind of title, the woman was pulling out a small paper sheet from a drawer beside her leg. “Are you a significant other?” she asked, pulling a visitor sticker from the sheet and leaning forward to press it to your shirt. She didn’t seem to want to wait for an answer before sitting back down and clicking away at her screen. “Just a security question before you go; name and floor number?”

Goddamn; suddenly you were so fucking glad some people sucked at their jobs.

Taking a breath, you inhaled and plastered on a grin. “O’Hara,” you replied. “Floor seven.”

“Alright,” she said without looking up again. “You’re free to go up. Please stay in the public hallways.”

The entire elevator ride up to the third floor, you were unable to keep a goofy, surely stupid-looking smile from your face. You liked the idea of being called Miguel’s ‘significant other.’ It made your stomach clench, made your pulse race and your heart thunder and your core throb with a dull ache. For just a moment, you allowed yourself to imagine that kind of role, being deserving of such a title.

Coming home from your teaching job not to immediately race to do your makeup in loud, flashy colors, but to stay in the warm, basking glow of a house or a roomy apartment each evening. The keys would always fit just right in the lock, never click or jump. The air would be filled with the sound of a little girl’s quiet giggles from her bedroom, along with the smell of dinner cooking on the stove. Small soccer cleats by the door. Trinkets and photographs and everything else that made the house a home strewn about the rooms. And a tall, sinewy figure that towered over you there to greet you when you walked inside, all warm smiles and wide, calloused hands on your hips and full lips to press against yours with enough gentleness and passion and adoration to keep you on your toes the rest of the night.

A bed big enough for the both of you, with enough blankets and comforters that you wouldn’t be cold even if you couldn’t afford to keep the heat on. Sheets and pillows that knew your white-knuckled grip, that would mold to your hands as you laid out bare for him and allowed him to worship the very ground you walked on with his mouth, his fingers, what lay beneath his slim, narrow hips…

By the time the elevator reached the seventh floor and the doors opened with a gentle chime, your cheeks were hot and your palms were sweaty enough you were sure you’d heated the coffee back up to steaming.

Wandering through the halls of Alechmax’s third floor and feeling incredibly out of place amongst the scientists flipping through reports and chattering on calls, you shuffled from office to office, searching for that familiar name that made your stomach flip. It seemed an awkwardly insane amount of time before you finally spotted his name on a plate beside a door left slightly ajar. You approached and smoothed out your shirt, preparing to present the coffee, when you heard voices inside.

“This isn’t like you, boss,” a woman was saying, her voice slightly warped from speaking over a computer. “You’re always preaching to the others that messing with canon events and triggering changes that aren’t meant to happen is wrong. You know it’s wrong.”

From across the room, a voice you recognized as Miguel’s scoffed. “This one is different. I’m balancing out the changes. I’ve got it under control.”

“Some control you’ve got. You do realize you’ve already altered enough canon events that even this universe itself doesn’t know where it’s going anymore? The bad guys here aren’t supposed to be in jail. Things aren’t supposed to get better. You know why? Because here, there is no Spiderman.”

Spiderman? Your gut clenched slightly as you inched closer to the gap between the door and the frame. If they were talking about Spiderman, then surely - he must have come from here. Some of those conspiracy theorists were right.

“Like I said, Lyla,” Miguel replied, his voice a touch deeper than it had been just a moment ago, “I have it under control.”

The woman named Lyla went on despite the dangerous rumble in Miguel’s throat you’d never heard before. “Here’s another one. That friend of yours? She was supposed to be engaged by now to her boyfriend. Her actual boyfriend. They’re supposed to have the whole angsty proposal thing, go back and forth for another three months, then end things. When he ends her. Asphyxiation by choking for approximately seven minutes, by the way.”

For a long, long while, there was silence. You realized you had been holding your breath, trying desperately to connect these pieces that just refused to fit together. What on earth were they talking about? Universes? Spiderman? Someone getting choked to death by their fiance? It sounded like a bad movie plot.

“Lyla?” came Miguel’s voice.

“Yeah, boss?”

“...Shut down and mute all alerts.”

Again, there came that horrible, palpable silence. Lyla seemed to be in some kind of shock. “Boss, I’m not sure that’s really what you want. You’re in a state of denial. Maybe you should take a break there, come back to headquarters. Jessica’s tried reaching out. Peter and Ben, too. I advise spending time with friends to decrease levels of -”

“Shut down. Now. I’m not going to tell you again.”

“...Yes, boss.”

When you heard his footsteps crossing the room, you took a small step back and clutched the surely-lukewarm coffee to your stomach. You’d never heard him take such a tone before, always used to that warm, content baritone that rumbled comfortably from deep within his throat. This kind of voice you’d just heard was cold and emotionless, without an ounce of feeling in a single one of his words.

You took a breath and exhaled it softly.

Then, as if he heard it from inside his office, the door was opened at an alarming rate to reveal Miguel on the other side. His brow was furrowed and a line had appeared at the corner of his mouth with his frown, obviously expecting one of his coworkers to be intruding at his door. Yet when his gaze met yours, when his frame towered over your smaller one, he realized just who you were, recognized that gleam in your eyes when you locked stares. His gaze softened like an airbag deflating. That line by his mouth disappeared. His tensed figure slowly relaxed, his shoulders coming down from where they’d been set.

For a short moment, you simply stared at one another. You were forced to admit to yourself that tone he’d spoken with had intimidated you.

It reminded you of the one Ferris used when he cornered you and threatened to take off for good.

Finally, Miguel’s lips parted. “Hey,” he breathed out, like he was trying his damn fucking best not to let that tone leak through to you.

You swallowed and slowly allowed yourself to relax. He wouldn’t ever speak to you like that. You didn’t know how you knew. You could just sense it in the warmth that poured from him, from the gentle honey of his dark eyes, from the way he held himself and carried his weight and set down each step like he knew the outcome of each and every movement he made. “Hi.”

Miguel inhaled, as if he were relieved you decided to speak. “Sorry about that,” he said and gestured over his shoulder into his office. “We’ve been testing out some new AI lately. Throwing it curveballs to see if it can keep up.” A small smile graced his face, close-lipped and sweet. Again, you realized - he never smiled with his teeth. “It hasn’t been going well.”

Like a dam breaking and letting a flood of water into a canal, relief rocketed through your systems and worked to ease your stress. Of course he had been talking to a computer. You doubted he could ever speak to a woman like that, much less anyone else. And that also explained all the wild things they had been discussing. Universes? Some poor chick getting murdered by her fiance?

Just the complicated workings of an out of sorts AI.

“I have to admit, I was wondering,” you let yourself laugh. “But, you know… who am I to question Alchemax’s best geneticist?” You watched in fascination as the corner of his mouth quirked upward and one eye squinted with the smile. God, you could watch him do that all damn day. Suddenly remembering the coffee in your hands, you held it up to him with an embarrassed grin. “I meant to bring you this while it was still hot, but I guess you know how hellish it can be getting a bunch of third graders on a bus.”

He took the cup with a rather confused expression.

“The field trip,” you said and folded your hands in front of you, because you knew if you didn’t, you would surely reach out and touch his face. “It’s today. You signed the permission slip about a month ago.”

Miguel blinked a few times, then took a breath and lifted his face. “Right. Right, sorry. Must have slipped my mind. I’ve - heh.” He shook his head and reached up to scratch at the delicate skin of his throat in that way he did when he spoke to you. “More going on than you would know.”

“Believe me,” you said softly, looking down at your shoes. You thought of dishes still in the sink, and band practices in your living room, and threats of leaving you all on your own because, really, that was truly your worst fear. “I know.”

You thought from there you would smile and turn, say something like, ‘Well, just thought I’d stop by,’ and leave him in the doorway of his office so that he wouldn’t see the yearning swimming in your irises. Maybe if you were feeling bold, you’d reach out and touch his wrist for just a moment before pulling away and practically sprinting back to the elevators.

But when you went to turn, he beat you to all of that. He reached out to touch your upper arm, the tips of his calloused fingers brushing along the fabric of your shirt, and he asked if you’d like to come inside, sit down for a minute. And inside his office, he told you what his department was working on, explained it in ways he knew you would understand. He spoke of a molecular collider that, in theory, would open a doorway to parallel universes.

You could have spent hours sitting in that office that smelled like his cologne, listening to him talk.

But life moved on. You were forced to pull yourself away, travel back downstairs and hold Gabriella’s hand like you hadn’t just thought about Miguel folding you over his desk, hushing your desperate cries, and gripping onto your hips with a hold that would bruise. You were forced to drive home and argue with Ferris about dirty laundry and his new keyboard girl constantly texting him. You were forced to land in the dressing room at The Menagerie, carefully dotting rhinestones to your collarbones in the mirror while the other girls buzzed around you.

“And he brought you flowers, too?” asked Shawna from where she was spread out on the couch across the room. She sighed deeply and hung her head over the armrest. “Girl. When are you going to stop playing and give that little girl of his a new mom?”

“You know why I can’t,” you replied as you pressed a small plastic rhinestone to your skin.

Zara met your eyes in the mirror as she grabbed the back of your chair, already dressed in her colorful, skimpy outfit and her mask. “We know why,” she hissed, but not at you. “That Ferris dude has got you held under the water, babe. Serious ball and chain kind of deal here. You really need to do something.”

If you could have found the strength to, you would have rolled your eyes at their words. But you really couldn’t. You were nothing short of exhausted after the field trip today, so much that you wouldn’t be surprised if you were unable to keep your eyes open while you were on stage. God, you loved your teaching gig, but sometimes it was so, so stressful. And so was this job. Teaching, dancing, disciplining, teasing. They all collided into one big, neverending hurricane of fatigue.

“Maybe in another universe,” you found yourself mumbling under your breath, remembering everything Miguel had told you about this morning, “I could have been a flower shop keeper.”

Behind you in the mirror, a few of the girls looked at you with strange expressions.

Before you could go back to applying your rhinestones, one of the newer girls entered the room and pushed her mask up so that her face was visible. She looked to you. “Boss said you’re canceled on the stage,” she said, and you hoped for a moment you were going to go home early, before she added, “Guy paid for a private dance in Room 7.”

“Goddammit.” You groaned and leaned forward to rest your forehead on your arms. You were way too fucking tired to do a private dance right now.

“M’sure he won’t be that bad,” said Shawna as she let herself slip further over the arm of the couch.

Grumbling beneath your breath, you stood, finished off your rhinestones the best you could, and slipped your cold porcelain mask over your features. At least like this, your customer wouldn’t be able to see your exhausted eyes and lost expression.

The beating, thrumming music of the club seemed to vibrate your very soul in your chest as you wound your way past patrons and around the stage, sure to throw half-assed smiles at the people you were forced to wiggle past just a bit too close. The short corridor leading to the private rooms were lit with neons, playing with shadows across your costumed form as you found Room 7 and gently knocked on the door. You blinked a few times to clear the blur from your eyes, then cleared your throat and stepped inside.

“Hi, handsome,” you said as you turned to shut the door - your classic line, no matter who the buyer. “How are you doing tonight?” You turned around to face your customer, then came to a complete stop. Even your heart jumped a beat or two.

The man you’d seen in the shadows that night of the robbery, the man with the little scar on his collarbone, had gotten to his feet from his chair when you entered the room. He wore that same spider mask, still had his dark hair slicked back over his head.

You swallowed thick as you felt his eyes traveling over your form behind the gaps in his mask. “Hello… Spiderman.”

He hesitated for a moment, like he was lost on just what to do. “Hey,” he said in an equally soft voice. It was muted in the same way it was behind his spandex mask.

You placed your hands behind your back as you leaned up against the door - and locked it. “I didn’t think you’d come.”

“...You asked.”

“Did I?” Putting on your best flirty, coy smile, you slowly crossed the room to meet him. “I thought all I said was… if you stopped by, to ask for me.” You reached out to touch the edge of his shirt, past his dress jacket, and skim your knuckle over the tan skin of his exposed collarbone. That scar sat just where you’d seen it before. “But you’re here.”

“...I’m here.”

There was a soft lilt to his voice, one that you had not heard before. Then again, you hadn’t spoken to him much, just in the bank and on the rooftop. But it seemed long enough to know that it wasn’t normal.

“What’s wrong, Spiderman?” you asked gently, taking a step closer. Your knees brushed against his, and when you gave him a gentle push on the shoulder, he sat back in the chair positioned in the center of the room. You gingerly climbed up so that your knees rested on either side of his thighs, so that your center was just inches above his. You didn’t miss the slight hitch in his breath, the way his eyes widened ever just so behind that spider mask. “Have a bad day? Some criminals get the better of you?”

You knew, in a way, that he wasn’t going to do it himself, so you took his wide, warm hands in your own and rested them on your hips. They stayed there for a long, long moment. Then they moved not down, toward your ass and your core, but up. They felt tentatively along your middle, his thumb tickling your stomach just a bit, and stopped just below your breasts before sliding back down again.

“No,” he replied in a low, raspy voice. He paused when you slowly lowered yourself so that you were seated on his lap now, your hips pressed against his. You felt his thigh twitch beneath your ass. “Pretty good day, actually. Just… heard some bad news.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You hummed, letting your fingers drag along the delicate skin of his throat, just barely shaded with stubble. “What can I do to make you feel better?”

You expected him to hesitate, then make a request. Strip for him. Dance. Whisper in his ear all the things you wanted to do to him.

But there came none of that. Instead of touching you like you were used to, his hands - which were still respectfully resting against your middle - slowly slid across to your back and gently, gingerly, pulled you against him so that you were lying against his front. So that your chests were pressed together. So that you were slumped comfortably in his lap. He held you there against him, one hand on the small of your back and the other on the base of your neck.

“Just this,” he murmured.

You were stunned, to say the least. This was not the first time a customer just wanted to hold, or be held, or anything of the sort. But even then, those touches were desperate and needy, clingy and awkward. But this was everything they were not. This was gentle and considerate, kind and… romantic. Like he didn’t just need to be touched, he needed to be touched by you.

When you inhaled you thought you recognized the scent you breathed in. But with his body so close and his hands holding you so securely, you dismissed it like a runaway thought.

“Here.” Spiderman pulled you back for just a second, raising his fingers up to pull at the ribbon keeping your mask on your face, mindful not to catch any hair. Your breath hitched when he set the monarch mask aside, your face now bare as you stared down at him. This was against the rules. You were not supposed to do this. Customers were not supposed to see your face, know you like this.

But this?

This was far beyond any rules.

Your lips parted and your heart thundering in your chest so loud you were sure he could hear it, you found your own fingers slowly reaching up to graze at his porcelain mask. Your fingertips grazed the edge, began to hitch it up…

He caught your wrist in a hold that was so gentle, yet so commanding, that you immediately let your hand drop. But there was no venomous feeling there, no edge. Just a warning. A soft, quiet warning.

Exhaling, you wrapped your arms around his neck and settled yourself against his wide, powerful frame. Your face nestled itself into the crook of his neck, your chin resting atop his shoulder, as his hands came back to hold your form against his. One of his thumbs glided across your shoulder blade, sending goosebumps rising across your skin.

Gripping onto his jacket collar, you opened your eyes to look at yourself in the mirror that faced the back of the chair. Here you couldn’t see the mask over Spiderman’s face, just his slicked-back hair and his broad shoulders keeping you caged against him. His head tilted toward yours, your temples resting together.

For a moment, in your exhaustion and fatigue, you thought he resembled someone else you knew. But you let the thought pass, instead shutting your eyes and basking in his soft, gentle, perfect touch.

tags: @mooomeadows @twentysomethingwereyote @screamforyani @fangirlreice7 @axdjelx @ornamentalnecromancy @faust-pda @ilikethemoon28 @mrm-pachypoda @wadafrick @natthernandez @bakgoktski @soupsexsunsalutationsss @roxannarichie @lovagirlxxx @soggyeyeballsss @yoyoyoyoyo55555 @sophipet @quaintii @lavnderluv @cookiezxx @euphorica @its-a-polyglot @nicalysm @maxi-ride @exzidss @crappwr0m @femme-is-dead @bitch-onthemoon @hier—soir @takayomi @kirke-is-my-name @d1lf-loverrr @might-be-a-rat @brooks-lin @maki-z @bookfreakk @act1839 @dollscircus @sleepingaway @anxietybutterfly @bioticboot @mxkn @freeingrebels @digitalcreature404 @aimee777 @hunnaye @blahbahed @cyanide-mustard @impettywhenyouare @mental-illness-is-my-friend @bobfood

[shushmal]

hi! since you were asking for prompts. I have two Steddie ones. you can just choose if you'd like to do one, or none, it's all cool I appreciate you even taking them. tysm: - 1. Steve hosts a Hellfire game night and Eddie stays afterward to help clean up. (maybe first kisses?) 2. filler scene of Eddie helping Steve clean his wounds and get dressed after they buy the outfits from TWZ.

sorry i was waiting for my demons to find me again before i could fill this prompt

"You are NOT pouring vodka on your open wounds, Harrington."

Steve, the absolute madman, doesn't even look up at Eddie when he replies. "I don't think everclear is vodka," he says, turning the bottle in his hand. He squints at the label. "...Yeah, definitely doesn't say the word vodka anywhere on here. So probably fine, right?"

"I need you to understand that that's worse," Eddie hisses. This week is going to be the death of him—he's never been so stressed out in his life. "You're going to burn your skin off."

Finally, Steve looks up at him. "Everclear burns skin off?" he asks, incredulous, like Eddie's being serious. "Why do people drink it then?"

Steve Harrington is determined to be Eddie's last straw.

"Probably to forget the monster portals that apparently keep popping up around town, now give me that, you psycho," Eddie says, snatching the alcohol from him. "And it's cheap. But, you're gonna do more damage than good with that crap, and it'll hurt worse than rubbing alcohol."

But Steve puffs up, shoulder's back. "I can handle pain, it's fine!" he insists. "I need to be in top shape for this!"

Eddie blows out a frustrated breath. Damn this guy. Eddie had just had a heartfelt moment with Dustin and he was feeling pretty gooey about there little group afterwards, and then Robin Buckley, looking a little green, had asked Eddie to help Steve with his rabies. If Eddie had known it's be like herding cats, he might have refused.

"Just trust me, man," Eddie says, tossing the bottle out the door. Someone squawks in surprise, but Eddie doesn't spare them a thought. "Now let's go find you some niiice peroxide or literally anything NOT specifically made to destroy your liver and flesh."

"Fine," Steve grumbles. And then has the audacity to pout, which has the added consequence of being cute and Eddie's going to have an aneurysm before it's all over. "They do it in the movies all the time."

"Yeah," Eddie sighs. He grabs Steve's arm and drags him towards the little bathroom. "Unfortunately, this isn't a movie, big guy."

Steve huffs again, but he doesn't shake off Eddie's hold. His skin is warm under Eddie's hand, his pulse jumping against his cold fingers. Eddie squeezes a little, just to feel the thump, thump, thump of Steve being alive—pretends Steve's heartbeat is an unspoken promise, that all of this is going to be okay.