#holding onto this one for myself. for reasons

[nathaslosthershit]

Emotional Times (OP81)

Summary: Pregnancy was a time full of hardships. Hormones on high, stress of the incoming baby, and all the sudden changes were what this father-to-be was expecting, ready to face. What he wasn't expecting was having to battle his pregnant wife's newfound sensitivity to everything that could have her emotions changing in an instant Part of my summer event!

It has been a rough time in the Piastri household. Oscar loves his wife, he really does, and god, would he move heaven and earth for her. In her current state though, she doesn’t know whether she wants heaven or earth and if he brings her the wrong one she will burst into tears, but if he brings her the right one, she will also burst into tears.

There wasn’t any winning. During moments like that, he just had to remember that greener grass on the other side. The other side where he finally has his own little family. 

The couple had also both made peace with the fact he would be traveling a lot during the season and she would have to spend some of her pregnancy by herself. It was easy while she could travel in the beginning but a few complications cut her ability to do so off much sooner than the two would have liked. And she did not like this. 

“Honey, please, get back in bed.” Oscar begged at 5 am. He was ready to head off to his next race, when he unintentionally woke his very pregnant wife up after giving her a kiss on the forehead.

This made her frustrated, she had finally gone to sleep after spending so much of the night tossing and trying to turn and the minute she drifts off he has the audacity to-

Then she realized he kissed her on the forehead because he was leaving her. 

Now, she was holding onto him by the front door, in absolute tears at the thought she would have to do another race weekend alone.

“Please, my love. It absolutely breaks my heart to leave you but I have no choice. Don’t make this harder for me…” Oscar tried to reason with her, but he was on the brink of tears himself seeing how much she wanted him to stay, realizing how much he wanted to stay. But he couldn’t.

“Oscar, I can’t do it, please it's so hard being here all alone. I know it's cliché but I can’t even tie my shoes. How am I supposed to do anything? How am I supposed to take care of a baby when I can’t take care of myself?”

He knew she wasn’t trying to guilt him into staying or make him feel bad if he did leave. These were real concerns she had voiced before. But he felt so helpless in this moment, almost as helpless as she felt constantly. 

The realization hit him, he couldn’t leave her like this. It was unfair to both of them. He had to do something.

“I will figure something out, don’t worry, Honey. Go back to sleep and when you wake up it will be much better, I promise.” He really shouldn’t promise that when he didn’t have a plan, but he couldn’t come up with one while she was sobbing into his neck and holding on for dear life.

With a few hiccups and a small nod, he wiped her tears and gave her a kiss as he left the apartment. 45 minutes later than he would have liked, hopefully the group he was sharing the jet with didn’t leave him behind. 

She already felt better when she woke up, having gotten hours of sleep, finally. It felt so good to wake up well rested and without that many aches. Nothing could bring her mood down.

Except when she couldn’t get in touch with her husband.

She knew he was traveling, that the minute his plane landed he was off to start preparing for the upcoming race. But no calls and no messages soured her mood real fast. 

She tried to shake it off, she went about her day trying not to dwell on it, trying not to send him threatening messages for not answering her the second she texted him. 

A call woke her up the next morning, well it was noon but she still wasn't pleased. Not till she saw who was calling.

“Oh sweetheart! How are you?” Nicole Piastri asked.

If there was one person she loved almost as much as her husband, it was his mother.

“I’m okay, haven’t heard from Oscar much, that asshole.” she grumbled.

“Oh I remember the days, that's why I have my twitter afterall.” Nicole said, making her laugh. It was sometimes a wonder how her husband was Nicole’s son. 

“Yeah well i-”

“Oh crap, honey, I have to go! But I’ll see you soon, okay? Hang tight!” Nicole said before hanging up.

She didn’t have time to dwell on the abrupt end to the call as a knock came from the front door. Connecting the two, she wobbled as fast as she could to the door, where her mother-in-law stood. 

And then she burst into tears.

“Oh, he told me you were going to do that but I didn’t know it would be that immediate,” Nicole said as she went to hug her. 

Through the tears and snot, she asked “Oscar? What do you mean?”

“He said he texted you, gosh, he is the worst at communication for someone who spends so much time on his phone,” she frowned at her daughter-in-law.

Quickly opening her texts, she saw he had messaged her a few hours ago:

Oscar: I told you I had a plan, just a few more hours, my love. I can’t wait to see you in a few days :) 

Thus the mother and daughter-in-law started their girls weekend. My god, it was exactly what she needed. As much as she loved her husband, this was 1000 times better than what she would have done if he was here. And despite how much she missed him, the weekend seemed to fly by. 

Oscar: How is she? I am only half an hour away.

Nicole: Currently napping, but she has been good! Relaxed and happy. Hasn’t even cried in the past few days

Oscar: Wow, I am almost offended she didn’t miss me more?

Nicole: She needed girl time, you couldn’t give that to her sweetheart. She also needed someone who actually knew how to correctly do laundry.

Oscar: Alright, mum, nice talking to you. I'll be back soon, please don’t turn my wife against me.

Nicole: 😉

Just as he did when he was leaving, Oscar unintentionally woke his pregnant wife up when kissing her on the forehead. Unlike when he was leaving, she didn’t get upset. She was too happy to see him that the thought hadn’t even occurred to her.

Holding him in a death grip, she recounted all she did while he was gone. She couldn’t really go out much at this point, so hearing his mom still found a way to make her weekend enjoyable was a relief. 

“I haven’t even cried over something stupid in a while!” She said as she finished her account of the past few days.

“I heard, I am glad you are feeling so much better, my love. I hated being gone but hearing you had a wonderful time makes me so happy.” He said as he began to tear up, thinking about how awful it was to leave. 

“Oscar, come on, just cause i'm not as emotional doesn’t mean you have to make up for it” She teased.

After pestering him about how his time away was, he remembered he had picked up something for her, and while he bought it thinking he would use it to stop her tears, why not just give it to her while she is this happy.

“I picked up your favorite,” he said as he reluctantly handed her the food he got, shuddering at the unusual combination she loved oh so much.

The sound of her son gagging as he watched his wife eat had Nicole coming into the room to investigate. The picture of her pregnant daughter-in-law, happy as a clam while she ate her food, and her son holding his nose and trying to stop himself from throwing up was a sight she committed to memory and knew she was going to bring up for years to come. 

“What have you got there?” Nicole asked, knowingly making Oscar gag again as he was reminded of the food combination.

“Cottage cheese and ketchup,” she answered. Instead of disgust, the couple was confused by the light bulb moment Nicole seemed to have.

“My goodness! That is what I craved with Oscar. Gross to think about now but I loved it then.”

“What! You never told me this?” Oscar asked, astounded he would be the reason his mom had to eat a combination that disgusted him so.

“I was saving it for the next podcast I did. Think I’ll have to talk about this moment too.” His mom teased. 

Rolling his eyes, he turned to his wife and immediately clocked in on the frown beginning to form.

Both mother and son had the same exact thought: Uh oh.

“You- you craved the same thing?” She stuttered out.

“Um, yeah? You okay, Honey?” Nicole asked, now on edge at the incoming storm.

Seconds of silence went by but were soon disrupted by the sounds of his wife’s cries as she took in the information.

“Baby, what's wrong? Why are you upset at that?” Oscar questioned as he went to rub her back in comfort.

“Its just- that is so sweet, and the thought that- that I could be having the same cravings, is just- I just-” His wife didn’t get to finish her sentence as more wails came out, followed by hiccuping.  

Nicole and Oscar looked at each other in alarm as they realized that this was most likely the consequence of a weekend with no breakdowns. They had a long night ahead of them. 

[jflemings]

— loose lips sink ships pt7

pairing: jessie fleming x reader

synopsis: a light begins to shine at the end of the tunnel

warnings: shorter than i wanted it to be 🥴

୧ ‧₊˚ 🍁 ⋅ ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

jessie rounds the corner slowly, almost like you’re going to bolt. her face softens and she leans her hip on the counter “i don’t… i don’t know if i have one”

you visibly deflate at jessie’s words. on one hand, you’re relieved to know that she didn’t do it out of malice, but on the other, the way a simple lie slipped off her tongue so easily didn’t feel good. you didn’t want to question your whole relationship with jessie, but you were beginning to think that maybe you had too.

you sighed. “is there anything else you’ve lied to me about?”

she tucks her wet hair behind her ear “other than birthday presents, surprises and the few times i’ve had to lie to you about what time an event started so we could arrive on time? no.” she says with a small smile “i’ve been nothing but honest with you through our whole relationship. every time i’ve told you that i love you, that i would do anything for you, that there’s no one else in the world for me. i meant it. i don’t have an excuse or an answer you want and, i’m sorry for that, but it was never my intention to lie to you about my previous relationship.”

you take in everything she’s saying, listen to every word intently, and pause for a moment. she looks more confident standing in front of you now — unlike how she was when you first walked in — and you can’t help but begin to relent.

sitting on a bar stool, you drop the charger and your keys onto the counter, propping your feet on the footrest. for the first time since you walked in you take in the appearance of your shared apartment and your girlfriend. there’s a few dirty dishes in the sink, the shoe rack by the front door is in disarray, and if you look down the hallway you think you can see dirty laundry on the bedroom floor. then you look at jessie, and begin to notice how worn she looks. her eyes aren’t lively like they usually are and she looks like she hasn’t slept. you purse your lips.

“have you slept?” you question abruptly with your eyes narrowed at her

jessie squirms under your gaze “uh— no. not really”

you nod towards the barstool that’s opposite you and kick it out from the bench so she can sit down. the canadian hesitates for a moment before doing as you wordlessly asked, keeping the towel secure around her as she sits and shuffles to get comfortable.

“have you eaten?”

“that’s irrelevant”

“jessie” you level her with a look and hook your foot around the leg of the stool, dragging it towards you.

jessie looks towards the fridge “i was just about to make myself something”

silence once again begins to suffocate you. you don’t know where to go from here, especially after she told you that there was no rhyme or reason for her apparent mistake and as you sit in front of her, you don’t know if you want to kiss or kill her.

you’re angry at her for something so careless so early on, for telling you a lie about something and somebody so important to her. this wasn’t a college fling — this was jessie’s first love.

“you never answered my question about your old feelings resurfacing” you say quietly.

jessie looks into your eyes “there’s no romantic feelings” she says without missing a beat “none at all”

“why didn’t you just tell me that before?”

“because,” she rubs her hand over her brow bone “what i felt when i saw her again was hard to explain. it wasn’t love, but it was a sense of nostalgia. i hadn’t seen her since before i left for london and, i don’t know, i couldn’t really pin point what i was feeling at the time”

“i don’t think i understand” your voice cracks “how can you be nostalgic over a past relationship but feel nothing towards her?”

jessie pauses in contemplation for a moment before grabbing your hand and holding it firm in her own. “because by the time olivia and i split up i had fallen out of love with her. we had held on for the last few months until i started getting offers from clubs overseas but it was clear to the both of us that it was over”

she squeezes your hand “she was my first love, that’s true, but you are the one i want to be with for the rest of my life. i’m sorry that my actions made you doubt everything, and i’m sorry that i let you walk out without even trying to give you a real explanation, but please believe me. i don’t feel anything towards olivia”

your eyes glass over as you tip your head back to look at the ceiling. you believe her. you know you believe the love of your life. but you just can’t shake the way you felt when you walked out on her. the way the betrayal caved in your heart and made it hard to breathe was something you never want to experience again, especially not as the hands of someone as warm as jessie.

“you really hurt me, jess” a shaky breath stutters it’s way out of your throat as you look her in the eyes again “and i never, ever, want to feel that way again”

“i never want to make you feel that way again,” she squeezes your hand again and tears brim her eyes “and i’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you if you give me the chance”

“i think i’m still going to stay at sam’s, at least for the rest of the week”

disappointment flashes across jessie’s face before she gives you a small smile “okay, just let me know if you need anything for the rest of the week”

“i’m gonna grab some clean clothes whilst i’m here”

jessie nods and stands “okay. i’ll just be getting changed” she jerks her thumb back towards the bathroom “don’t mind the state of the bedroom”

jessie retreats back to the bathroom whilst you grab your duffel from the couch and head for the bedroom. you were right, it was a bit of a mess. at least by jessie’s standards.

it was weird to see the room in such general disorder considering the fact that your girlfriend was so good at keeping her space clean. you pick things up off the floor and throw them into the dirty washing before beginning to pull out your own clean clothes, grabbing at least three more day’s worth of things you’re going to need.

you also straighten up the bed and throw the small amount of rubbish that has accumulated before jessie comes back into the bedroom, a look of apology already on her face. her eyes go slightly wide when she walks in.

“you didn’t have to clean up my mess. i can do it myself”

you shrug and zip up your bag once you’re sure you have enough pairs of socks “yeah, but i was in here anyway and you do the same for me all the time”

“thank you” she says, stuffing her hands into the pockets of her hoodie “and you should take the ice pack, you know the one you fill up instead of freeze? it’ll probably be more comfortable on your nose”

your eyes soften “i will” you step towards her and put a hand on her face softly, searching her eyes before giving her a quick kiss on the corner of her mouth. her face goes ablaze. “i love you,” you say to her softly “and i’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

jessie’s hand cups yours “okay”

you pat her face lovingly and pull away, heading out of the bedroom before you look over your shoulder “please eat something”

“i will” she responds, a blush still dusting her freckled cheeks.

your heart flutters as you leave the apartment as quietly as you came, the weight lifting off your shoulders with ease. your relationship wasn’t back to where it was before, but you no longer felt like jessie was beginning to be out of your reach like you had for the past few days. at the very least you knew that she still loved you and for the moment, that’s all that mattered.

[warlocksoup]

into the spider-verse: nishinoya yuu

volume one, chapter two: calls

word count: 2.5k

masterlist | main masterlist | taglist

On the rooftop of the Flatiron Building, she leans back, and stares at the sky above her. She’s learned that looking down gives her vertigo, and if she’s lying down, she can pretend she’s not twenty-two stories off the ground.

Noya laughs at her, because he always does, but he still holds her hand, because he knows it makes her feel better. “I can’t believe you’re still afraid of heights.”

“I feel like this is a super reasonable fear to have.” She inches a little but further away from the edge as she speaks. She doesn’t even wanna be close to it. “Plummeting to my death isn’t like, a big priority for me right now.”

He squeezes her hand. “You know I’ll catch you if you fall.”

He would. She doesn’t even doubt that for a second. If right now she stood up and decided to take a swan dive off the side of the building, there would be nothing getting in between him and her, and Noya would have her safely in his arms before she hit the fifteenth floor.

But still. It fucking terrifies her.

“Okay, sorry my primal instinct does not recognize that you got bit by some weird science experiment spider and now you defy all laws of nature,” she rolls her eyes, still tightly holding onto his hand as he sits upright beside her. “I’ll work on that.”

Nishinoya leans over a lightly pinches the soft skin of her stomach under her t-shirt. She squeals. “Keep it up with the attitude and I’ll throw you off the side of this building myself.”

“Hmm, not very hero-like of you, Spider-Man.”

“You bring out the worst in me.”

She grins. “I’m going to have to write an article about this. ‘Spider-Man throws innocent journalist with fear of heights off Flatiron Building.’ Jameson will love it.”

Nishinoya scoffs. “Yeah, I’m sure he would. Too bad you’ll be busy being a sidewalk pancake.”

Her eyes find their intertwined hands. It’s always been natural, their friendship, everything that happens between them feels like it’s supposed to. The handholding and the couch-sharing and the arm over her shoulder. It’s always right, with Nishinoya. She doesn’t even have to think about it.

She watches his thumb as it brushes against her skin. “How’s it been out there lately?” she asks.

“Quiet,” Nishinoya replies. “Saving kittens from trees and helping old ladies across the street. Besides Sytsevich, everything’s been quiet since Osborn died. It’s kinda weird, y’know? Like eerie.”

“Yeah, I imagine waiting for the next disaster to strike can feel like that,” she comments, leaning back to stare up at the empty sky. You can’t ever see stars out here. “Hey, Noya?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you think you’re gonna stay here forever?” she asks. “Just stick around and be Spider-Man for the rest of your life.”

He hums a bit. “I dunno. I think I’ll probably just go wherever you end up.”

🕸 ｡𖦹°‧✩｡🕷˚⋆｡

She’s sitting on the train, a hot cup of coffee in one hand, and her phone in the other. She’s looking down at an email from her favorite Yahoo user: If you don’t want the whole world to find out, do as I say.

It’s pretty explicit. It’s hard to misinterpret that kind of message, as much as she’s deliberately trying to. Her fingers tap against the paper cup, trying not to let panic work its way up her throat in the middle of this train cab, surrounded by bored commuters that wouldn’t flinch twice at any sort of breakdown she could have.

A heavy breath leaves her lung, and she pockets her phone, trying, with a tight feeling of desperation around her throat, not to think of it. If it’s not in her face, it’ll be marginally easier to pretend.

Yachi’s waiting for her at her desk when she gets into work. She slides into her chair, and Yachi skips the greeting. “Jameson’s pissed,” Yachi says, tapping a pencil against her desk.

“Yeah? What’d Spider-Man do now?” she questions, typing her password in. She mistypes it, and curses slightly under her breath.

“The PI he hired to find out his identity quit,” Yachi laughs. “Apparently there wasn’t enough for him to go off, and the guy got tired of Jameson raising his blood pressure at him for forty minutes a day.���

She snorts. Noya’s told her about private investigators before. Everyone touts that they’re going to be the one to unmask Spider-Man, but it’s kinda tricky trailing a man with superhuman sixth sense and the ability to basically fly through the city. “I give it another three months before he tries this one again.”

“I give it one,” Yachi counters.

Her desktop loads up, and she is immediately hit with a barrage of emails, looking like they’re coming in all at once, all in caps lock. “Fuck, looks like he’s taking it out on me again.”

Email after email, the subject lines varying from things like, “This piece is crap!” to “How are you still employed here?”

Yachi leans forward to get a better at her screen. “Oh, that’s bad. I’ll leave you to that.”

And it’s just that Yachi gives her a sharp grin and two-finger salute that another email pops up. No subject line, just a simple: Wait for my instruction.

🕸 ｡𖦹°‧✩｡🕷˚⋆｡

Harry Osborn looks smarmy on the television screen, a thin layer of sweat shining on his forehead and slick smile that looks a little bit too pleased for his father’s funeral. She knocks her knee into Noya’s leg underneath the blanket they share. “That guy’s such a piece of shit,” she comments, jerking her chin forward towards the younger Osborn.

Noya knocks his leg back into hers. “My guy looks like he just won the lottery,” he remarks, eyes not leaving the screen. There’s a bit of history between Spider-Man and the Osborn family, mainly consisting of Norman committing acts of domestic terrorism from the vantage point of a hoverboard, dressed like a fucking goblin.

“Yeah, well he basically did,” she snarks. “Imagine inheriting Oscorp before you’re twenty-five. Basically guarantees you a fucking thirty under thirty spot.”

He snorts. “I’d rather not have anything to do with Oscorp. I’d rather be broke.”

"Oh, you mean the company that basically sponsored the lizard-ification of Dr. Connors? I can't imagine why." She lops her head to the side to look at him. “And anyway, I’m broke. You’re a freeloader.”

Nishinoya waves her off. “Same difference.”

She snorts, turning to face the television again to see they’re playing old footage of Norman Osborn in a lab (coat and everything), explaining the mission statement of Oscorp. To build a better future.

There were rumors about Norman, post-mortem. Details floating around about how he was driven mad in his final year. That the Osborn curse had infected him beyond hope, and his mind had began to decay, along with his body. Some people think he’s been dead for much longer. Some people think a group of investors had been secretly running Oscorp for years while Norman received private care upstate. Some people even suspect him of being the Goblin.

She wonders if that was the better future he had envisioned.

Noya shifts uncomfortably in his seat. She reaches over and grabs his hand, squeezing it tightly in hers. She’s sure he’s wishing the son will be better than his father. She’s hoping too.

His thumb traces circles over her knuckle. He doesn’t look in her direction. She tries to focus on the news and enjoy the way his hand feels in hers before there’s some police broadcast or distant siren or whatever to call him back to duty.

🕸 ｡𖦹°‧✩｡🕷˚⋆｡

Meet me @ 300 W 57th St tomorrow at 8am. Or I tell everyone about him.

She sits at her desk, biting down on the end of a pencil, and weighing her options.

One: she could tell Noya.

There’s not even a chance he would let her go. Not even if he were there. No matter the argument she would present. Nishinoya would sooner web her to the couch than let her go meet up with some mystery blackmailer. She also knows that this threat would do little to sway him. If she tells Noya, the most likely outcome is him, masked up and aggravated, showing up to fight.

Which would result in ijs99ETJfdhsg@yahoo.com telling everyone.

Two: she could do nothing.

There’s really been no hard proof presented to her that shows that Yahoo user ijs99ETJfdhsg knows what he claims he knows. This could all very well be a big misunderstanding on her end. And so what? Even if he does know what he claims to, it’s not like the world would so easily believe that Nishinoya Yuu, random unemployed man, is Spider-Man. Random liars claim to be Spider-Man every day. Noya could easily blend in with random liars.

The consequence of doing nothing though is, of course, him telling everyone. And still, the possibility that the masses believe him or that Yahoo user ijs99ETJfdhsg does have some hard evidence on his side gnaw away at her. She can’t shoulder that.

Three: she could show up.

She could put some pepper spray in her bag and give Noya the address just in case something happens, and she could go and meet with this mystery blackmailer to see exactly what the fuck it is he wants.

And then, he wouldn’t tell anyone.

The thought of it puts knots in her stomach, and those knots are worsened by the acknowledgement that it’s probably her best course of action.

She sighs, using her cursor to highlight the address he provided and plopping it back into search bar. She’s envisioning some deserted alley, an abandoned storefront or someplace that would leave no witnesses if she were to be kidnapped and/or murdered.

What she wasn’t expecting was fucking Oscorp.

🕸 ｡𖦹°‧✩｡🕷˚⋆｡

Harry Osborn’s office is neat. Almost empty, save for a few hard-drives and a stack of unopened newspapers at his desk. The wall to ceiling windows provide a view of the city she’s never seen before, and standing in the middle of it, she feels so starkly out of place. She looks behind her, just to see the assistant that led her up here closing the door behind him.

She feels trapped, at once.

Harry himself is leaning against a window, and as if operating on a que, he turns on his heel, a sickly grin plastered on his face, and, if she squints, she can almost see a greenish sort of hue in the undertones of his skin. “There’s my favorite journalist,” he greets, arms extended out as if he was going to hug her.

She steps back. “Erm, yeah,” she responds, head turning slightly to eye the closed door behind her. There’s something off in the air of room, something off-putting in the way Harry is looking at her. “Is there a reason you summoned me here through cryptic emails, or did you just wanna like, hang out?”

He stops, and lets his arms drop back down to his side, stuffing his hands in his pant pockets. “Straight to the point. I like that. I like that quality.”

It’s strange to be in the same room as him, New York City’s prodigal son. She’s seen his face on the cover of magazines and on news segments and she’s written articles about him. Harry Osborn has almost always been some kind of mythic figure in her head. An untouchable prince. Nothing she could get away with printing in the Bugle would ever have any impact on him.

But here before her, he does not look mythic, or untouchable, he looks like a very sick man. His hair falls flatly on his forehead, and he uses the back of sleeve to wipe off droplets of sweat. The longer she looks at him, the greener he seems, like his whole body is lightly stained.

Harry takes another step towards her. She steps back again.

“Y’know,” he drawls, and moves to stand behind the large desk that takes up most of the room; she watches him carefully, eyes trained on his every movement, “one of the most underrated parts of a power acquisition in a company like Oscorp, is that you suddenly have a lot more information at your disposal. A lot of information that money can’t buy.”

There’s something about the way he talks that is starkly unnatural. The PR training bleeds out of every word, and though he looks young, but the way he carries himself is eerily like his father. It makes goosebumps rise on the back of her neck. She looks over her shoulder, back at the door behind her. “O-okay.”

Harry takes a seat, like he’s unbothered by her presence. His hand lingers over one of the hard drives. “Did you know that, back in the early two-thousands, this company poured millions into researched on genetically enhanced spiders. They were supposed to be this miracle cure. A magic spider that could cure any illness. Until, of course, the head scientist died in some accident, and they had to kill off the whole project, including all the spiders they bred. Y’know, today, I think we only have one thing to show for that project.”

Her face is hot, and her ears feel like they’re stuffed with cotton. This all suddenly feels like a mistake, like she’s in over her head and she never should’ve come here without Noya. Her tongue is dry when she tries to speak. “Is this, is this on the record, or…?”

Harry leans forward in her chair, and sneers. It chills her blood, that expression, cold and gnarled. “I’m not interested in going on the record with some second-rate journalist at a trash paper. I’m interested in this.”

Harry Osborn grabs the newspaper on his desk and slams it forward. She takes a step forward to get a better look and knows immediately what it is. It’s the Daily Bugle, with Spider-Man on the front page and her name printed on the bottom.

The First-Ever On-The-Record Interview with the One and Only Spider-Man!

Her hands are shaking. She looks up to see Harry grinning at her. “It’s funny, actually, how someone right out of school, with no credentials and no reputation to go off, could get this kind of interview.”

She can hear her heartbeat, and all she can think of is how unbelievably, colossally fucked she is.

Harry Osborn stands and makes his way to stand directly in front of her. The closer he is, the more of him she can see. The green tint of his skin, the almost scaly quality, the point of his teeth. “I want you to find Spider-Man, and I want you to get him to give me his blood.”

🕸 ｡𖦹°‧✩｡🕷˚⋆｡

On the busy street beneath the Oscorp building, her fingers tremble as she dials Noya’s number. He answers after the first ring. “Hey, what’s up? I’m just dropping this bodega thief off at the station-“

“Noya,” she cuts him off, trying to hold back the sob in her voice. “I fucked up.”

taglist: @wyrcan @causenessus @seroh @19calicos @w4nyoung @soulfullystarry @chocolains @jaynawayna @baylz @vuntysharck @mollyrolls @boooolame @staileykout @angee444 @kameyyy @choerry-picking @giocriedpower @sunakeiji @sleepzyy @lunasfics @thecoolestlia @yoshit-he-dinosaur @bectoshi @thatonecroc @karasyuu @iatethemochi @itsdragonius @syverse @savemebrazilhinata @localgaytrainwreck @snail-squasher @atzixo @ahdbodhr @nbcvs @dailyakira @kasumiixs @s1ckntw1st3d @noble-17 @atsumuenthusiast @jino0ix @boobilater @keeboismine @scxrcherr @acowboykisser @acowboykisser @impatienscush @loverlunaire @oneiratxxia10 @kattiscrying @dazqa @termite-joe @quikhs @cupidsblonde @izukuwus

[narugen]

i seriously need more narumi and mina moments because just imagine the relief mina felt when narumi joined, similar age to her and was also considered a prodigy in the force.

to have someone to share the burden of the defence force’s future with must’ve felt so freeing. because before he joined it was just her, age 18, being told that she was going to change kaiju extermination with her exceptional synergy with firearms. and she was so, so scared.

narumi doesn’t have the kind of skills or talent for long range combat like she does, but he’s also a top candidate (despite his behavioural issues- which aren’t much of a hinderance anyway) and mina doesn’t have to carry the burden of the future alone anymore

(although she’d never admit, given she probably views narumi as someone completely shocking i just think it’s so funny how she stood there like O_O when she first saw him)

like i LOVE seeing the contrast. mina who was sent onto the battlefield for the first time and was deathly afraid vs narumi who was sent out and immediately took action because that’s how he always lived (fighting)

and now they’re the top two strongest captains in the force and they will be the ones to lead the new generation..

[wildflowerteas]

TSP 2 Week Hiatus ( so sorry )

[invinciblerodent]

an issue i'm finding myself (or, my elf, eeyyyy) running into is that as their relationship progresses, Astarion and Iona become progressively harder to write together, because I'm kind of finding that the closer they are, the less they express themselves verbally.

like, for the earlier scenes, there is a lot of semi-clever back-and-forth which I enjoy writing, I love silly banter and teasing/flirting/bonding, and since they don't touch much early on, most of the relationship development happens in dialogue. but act 3?????? a lot of the emotional sludge that is between them feels most natural to, idk, leave unsaid, and have them rely on the understanding that they had been kind of hesitantly fostering since early act 2.

i know this is a stupid fucking thing to be gnawing on, especially considering that nobody has ever read a word of this damn fic, it's just.

it's a lot easier to write fun dialogue, than to somehow communicate, clearly and without headhopping or getting overly flowery/sanctimonious about it,

"aight chucklefucks, in this scene, he's climbing wordlessly under the covers with her both by way of an unwarranted apology that wasn't actually his to give (y'know, for the whole 'attacked in the middle of the night, bit to shit by his sibling while he stood by uselessly' deal that happened the previous night and is making him feel rotten and guilty for some reason), and as an acknowledgement that he's rattled, scared, and feeling vulnerable, which is why him actively seeking comfort in her instead of slinking off to lick his wounds alone is a big fuckin' deal."

"on the flipside, her not saying anything or asking why he's standing at the foot of her bed but just opening her arms to receive that silent request, invite him in (like one would a vampire, geddit), and giving him the affection with no preamble or caveat, is simultaneously an acceptance of that apology, a confirmation that despite all that's been going on during the daytime she still purposefully elects to trust him, and a reassurance that she is there, she's alive, unhurt, and her feelings haven't changed because of all this either."

"this cuddle is emotionally significant, it intentionally mirrors the one from which they were spurned by the vampire attack as a way to show that regardless of what happens, this undercurrent of tenderness still exists, but nobody is going to say a goddamn word about it, because not only would putting any of this into words be far, far beyond both of them in terms of emotional intelligence, acknowledging that he views her as a point of security and that her anxiety is eased by easing his would also feel wrong and like whoever mentions it is speaking fluent therapese. plus, breaking the silence with lengthy internal monologues would also fucking ruin the simplicity and the impact of the whole goddamn thing, even though all that actually bloody happens is 1.) she flips the covers back, 2.) he climbs in and nuzzles her chest, and 3.) she pulls the covers over his shoulder."

meanwhile i'm just looking at the maybe two actual paragraphs that i've written like

[rainbowsandwhumperflies]

cws: bloody nose, fainting

um not to project or anything but what if a whumpee could tell they were really lightheaded and probably close to passing out so they were just gonna stay laying down for a few hours to prevent anything from happening. But then they got a bloody nose and now they have to go to the bathroom to take care of that but if they stand up they might pass out

Also both of those things can happen out of nowhere! Fainting and bloody noses! (not completely out of nowhere but it doesn't take too much.) I used to live in a place with high altitude and oh me oh my I did not do well. Dehydration can also do that to a person. And wouldn't it be scary if Whumpee's head started spinning when they stood up and they knew if they passed out they'd fall over and bleed over the entire floor? What if no one else was home to find them? What if there was someone home that they could call out to, but they just hated asking for help, and if they pass out and bleed everywhere it would be all their fault for not asking for help that was totally available? hm

[min-kit]

"why are you dropping e**ie for to**y? you just want to see bvck with a man, it's not about him having a good relationship!"

btch i could give you a 100 reasons why T0mmy is a good relationship for Bvck (not that any of you would listen) & that there's nothing wrong with enjoying the actual canon queer couple on my screen over a fanon one just cuz YOU think the story is heading in a direction that has never been promised to you and you can't let go of your fandom ideals.

in the mean time i'll be over here cheering on Bvck's canon happiness with his possible soon-to-be future canon boyfriend.

[kiruyeen]

there should be more artists doing stuff with the dbd models that isnt porn

[seokmattchuus]

hey saw u got asks about the kamdens dad situation and i kinda wanted to share more just since the entire situation is really crazy. basically mr na has been hosting twitter spaces where he’s been sharing incredibly personal family details about things like family suicides and keeps giving these really backhanded compliments to kamden. he said “Tbh, I’m his biggest critic. I was worried about his singing despite him working so hard on his dancing. He worked really hard on his rapping and now, he’s not bad.” he also made some really insensitive comments about how the bit with the native american headdress wasn’t cultural appropriation even tho kamden was the only one who wasn’t laughing at it during the show. kamden actually called him in the middle of his last space to ask him to end it. i felt like i should share just cuz while some ppl r being rude i didnt want ppl calling mr na’s actions wrong to be misinterpreted as talking about a different situation.

I'll start by saying I guess this is a continuation from the earlier stuff? Like, he's just going on and on? But, again, this is a grown man. Of course, it can be seen as off putting, but he's no different than any parent on facebook oversharing on what their kids are up to (maybe not but I don't know how twt really works so I'm not sure what the spaces were like). There's really nothing wrong with any of this, except for the suicides, that's a bit questionable. He's not keeping up with the internet the way most bp watchers are. He's just a middle-aged man talking to the void. He's probably just really into the fact that he can talk to people who know who kamden is (parents aren't exactly known to be the most private about their kids, les be real here). Or the fact that he can talk to people who support his son the same way he does.

The criticisms aren't that much of a red flag either, in my opinion (could be because I grew up in the same boat) but from my understanding, most parents are their kids' #1 critic, and maybe it's just the quote you chose, but that doesn't seem so backhanded. It seems pretty objective to me? He's not coming off as insulting or overly praising. Just stating what it is.

The cultural stuff isn't really my place to comment on because I missed that bit entirely. I don't know what was said.

And I think the person who called had to have been kamden's twin. Trainees can't have their phones. Or at least can't make it known that they have them. Everyone who's ever been on the show makes a big deal of having no personal technology.

[whoreishghost]

like how do i even articulate that no matter what i do and how hard i try its not getting better? i dont sleep rlly at all, maybe a 3 ish hours total on a good night given how often i wake up and how late i get to sleep. im not rlly eating either bc im never fucking hungry and everything feels idk Repulsive to even consider putting in my mouth even when i am. im in pain and it doesnt end no matter how gentle i am w myself. i am in a constant state of almost complete panic bc of how much i am having to manage in terms of admin and life issues bc those dont ever seem to end either. i havent been able to take my medication in almost a month bc of nhs incompetence and i Know its making me worse bc im so fucking irritable all the time. i feel so fucking existentially empty and devoid of purpose or meaning or justification for my existence. i am alive so that the like 7 ppl who only talk to me so i can get the hrt wont lose access. im only alive bc if im not itll be my fault if my wife dies and it doesnt matter if i wouldnt know it bc i was dead the thought, the guilt of it as a concept forces me to continue against every fucking screaming molecule of my body begging me to just fucking give up. im almost constantly overwhelmed by this feeling that is so completely indescribable that i dont even know where to begin to explain it to myself let alone to someone else. im in pain and its not just bc im overworked or burned out or whatever, the mental fucking suffering im forcing myself to endure every day so everyone else around me can be ok, can be happy, can thrive and do what they need feels like its fucking shredding my nerves and ripping through my flesh. and im fucking trying and no one fucking gets that. no amount of being told "the change comes from within" is going to do anything about the fact that this is as much as i can do this is as hard as i can try i have no more effort or energy than i am already forcing myself to keep using even when i feel like i am empty and there is nothing left for me to use to keep going. i do all the things i shld as much as i can. but the longer it goes on the harder it is for me to help myself and then i just get accused of "not trying hard enough to get better" as if i am not giving it my fucking all. u try spending every night alone, in pain, caught in spiraling obsession after spiraling obsession of ur own fucking inadequacy and failure and immorality. u try to manage the fucking effort of trying and trying and reaching out and begging for help and being so fucking explicit about how bad it is only to be told it cant be as bad u say or that its not bad enough for support but that even if it were ud be too damaged and unstable to access it. i feel like im dying, or more like, i feel like im fading, like soon there will be so little left of me of who i want to be who i put so much effort into being that even the fragments of damage that make up the core of who i am are coming apart and disintegrating. there is going to be nothing left and i feel like im watching myself slowly fucking evaporate and lose everything over and over again and vanish more and more from reality from existence from myself that it wont be much longer till theres nothing left to salvage. i try and tell myself its temporary. it wont last forever. i look at photos to remind myself when it wasnt this bad but i cant believe it i cant fucking trust that its true and even more than that i cant make myself understand that it can change, it can be that again. bc i know it cant. i know it at such a deep and intrinsic level of myself. and its not even like im gna kms. theres no point. what is left to kill?

[fuzzyunicorn]

Fully meant it when I asked what’s ur🖤 toxicology report? Hopefully high as hell

[lotus-ignis]

I listened to the second 'the diary of River Song' episode. I keep falling more in love with River. She is so awesome. I love her. Also, I refused to believe that that was the doctor at the end, until he said 'Hello Sweetie.' Yup. Alright. It's him.

[crushmeeren]

omg but imagine secretly giving the mha boys aphrodisiac chocolate and seeing how they react..

No but you’re RIGHT…. ( ੭ ˙ᗜ˙ )੭

𝛏 Master List Link 𝛏

Katsuki would stare at you with narrowed eyes when you hold your hand out and offer the piece of chocolate to him, your gaze wide and innocent until he pops the candy in his mouth.

Katsuki would be in a meeting not too long after, jaw clenched and teeth creaking when his uniform pants get too fucking snug for no reason. His cheeks will flush bubblegum pink, biting the head off of some hero he can’t remember the name of when asked what’s wrong.

Why the fuck can he only picture you face down and ass up in the air?

Why does he have to sink his nails into his thighs to hang onto his last thread of self control and restrain himself from palming his stiff cock when he thinks of your pussy split open for him?

Why the hell is sweat running down his temples and along his jaw like a goddamn river??

He doesn’t know.

What he is certain of, is his plan to tackle you to the bed as soon as he gets home. To cum the second he slides his achy cock inside your tight pussy, and then to fuck you until neither of you can stand to climax one more time.

Eijirou would happily accept the chocolate, humming in delight once he begins chewing.

Eijirou would then be relaxing with you on the couch, using every ounce of willpower to concentrate on the movie you’re watching together. His cheeks would turn as scarlet as his hair and he’d try to hide his face with the loose strands when you glance at him.

He’d squeak out that’s he’s fine when you ask if he’s feeling feverish. He’ll clumsily cover his cock with large hands, knees knocking into one another when he tries to close his legs.

Eijirou would whimper in your ear “fuck, I’m sorry baby, I need your pussy. I can’t stop myself,” as he gives in to the heat churning in his belly and bends you over the armrest of your couch to fuck you like a dog.

You’ll babble and gasp it’s okay, crying out his name when he makes you orgasm for what feels like the hundredth time — only for his dick to remain hot and full after he’s already cum inside you so much that you’re sure you’re going to get pregnant.

Shouto would take a bit more convincing. He doesn’t ordinarily eat chocolate, but he’s willing to try it if you’re the one presenting it to him.

Shouto would be leisurely walking alongside you in the grocery store, occasionally making noises of agreement as you tell him about your day.

Shouto would suddenly freeze mid stride, becoming rigid in the middle of the aisle. He’ll blink owlish eyes at you several times when you turn back to question what he’s doing.

You’ll snap your fingers to get his attention when he starts to stare at the swell of your tits for way too long instead of listening to you, cheeks filling out with a blush when he meets your gaze.

The next thing you know, your half full grocery cart is abandoned in the aisle and you’re yanked by the wrist back to your car in the parking lot.

Shouto would mutter breathlessly “sorry baby, I can’t seem to control myself,” when he gets your pants off, leaving the material to dangle from one ankle before tugging you down to straddle his lap in the backseat.

He’ll unbutton his pants and shove them down far enough to free himself, not bothering with your panties and sliding them to the side as he sits you down on his cock and let’s out a low moan.

Shouto will match your every move, thrusting upwards harshly each time you sit down. He won’t give a single fuck if someone walks past the car, he just knows he needs your pussy to keep swallowing his cock until the insatiable burn in his lower belly subsides.

It takes…awhile.

[ribbonprincess]

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

"Do a lil twirl for me,yeah...your ass looks so good baby." Rafe chuckles,fixing his pants as they tightened around his crotch,the sight of you in a tiny white mini skirt the reason.

"You like it rafey? I bought It thinking of you" "yeah,no shit- you used my credit card" he chuckles. Moving from his spot on the bed,he walks over you,laying his hands on your hips as he squishes the skin. "You should wear it today while I go golfing,you can look pretty in the cart and if you're good enough daddy will buy you a drink."

He smiles before tilting his head down to press his lips against yours as you whine almost immediately,slapping his chest "my lipgloss! you just smeared it all over,daddy." Turning around to face the mirror as you try to deescalate the situation of your almost ruined makeup,dabbing at the area around your lips with a beauty blender.

"Yeah yeah,'s just lip gloss,it's nothing serious." Gasping dramatically you turn around,hand on your chest as if you've been shot as you point a finger at his chest "'s not just lipgloss.."

Chuckling to himself Rafe presses a kiss against your shoulder "I'm sorry cupcake, daddy's being mean yeah?" Nodding as you run your manicured fingers over his jawline,pressing your chest against his,making your tits more visible as you smile softly- a tragic contrast to your action.

꒦꒷︶°꒷︶°︶₊˚ʚɞ˚₊︶°︶꒦˚︶꒷꒦

As you sit prettily in the golf cart,sipping at your drink while watching rafe play with his friends,you can't help but feel lonely,so you decide to approach as he stands a few feet behind the others. "rayray?"

Turning around almost immediately Rafe's expression softens a bit before turning hard. "What are you doing here,told you to sit in the cart" "Yeah... I know,but I missed you" Emphasizing your words you run a hand over his chest,playing with the button of his slacks.

"Missed me huh?" Looking over his shoulder he shouts a quick "Little lady is feeling sick!" Before dragging you over the Golf cart and driving over a more secluded area of the field,covered by trees and bushes.

"Since you've been missing me sooo much,might as well show it. C'mon get on your knees" Taking one last look around you move to your knees on the moist grass,quickly unbuckling his belt as you pull down his pants and boxer just as much needed. Wrapping a hand around the base of his shaft you kiss the vein that runs on the underside of it, resulting in a harsh tug of your hair. "Don't fucking tease me."

Wrapping your lips around his tip before slowly moving down,twisting your hand around what you couldn't fit "Deeper...I've trained you better than this,kid" Rafe mumble from above you,shoving your head down until you gag harshly,tears already pooling at your lash line. "Yeah,there you go...nice and warm for me." Looking up through your clamped wispy lashes you start to move your head again,twirling your tongue around his length like a popsicle as Rafe groans from above you "Got myself the best girl,right? Sucking my dick like this where everyone can pass by"

Nodding as best as you can,you pull off him with a loud "pop". "Wanna make you feel good,daddy." Smiling to himself, Rafe wipes at your saliva coated lower lip before bringing your mouth back on him with a satisfied moan,brushing some strand of hair that have fallen over your face away. "Fuck,keep doing that and I'm gonna cum. You want daddy to cum in your mouth? Yeah,you do."

Meeting you midway as he thrust into your mouth,giving you no time to react or even understand. "shit- 'm cumming" As his rhythm gets sloppier,you suck around his tip holding onto his thigh as you feel a milky substance flood your mouth. Breathing loudly he pulls you away from him as he smirks "Show me your tongue,angel" showcasing your tongue with a proud smile you look up at him in search of praise. "good girl,what do we say now?" "thank you daddy!"

[cursingtoji]

thinking about the first time toji gets to fuck you in your bedroom surrounded by stuffed animals. he knew you were a girly girl and he absolutely adored that about you, your always glossy lips, pink outfit and short skirts were what made him approach you at first. i’m

being older and making more money than you, toji had a better apartment, a spacious and nice located flat, so the first few encounters were always there until things started to get serious and he asked to go to your place tonight.

toji was far from surprised when you open the door and he was welcomed to a colourful living room and a sweet vanilla smell, he noticed a couple teddy bears by the couch and a few action figures next to the tv, but as soon as you started to make out on the couch you got up and took him by the hand to your bedroom.

“wow” he let it scape when he saw all your plushies, the big ones were in the floor, a bunch on the shelves and a few more in the nightstand, “sweetheart are you sure this is your room and not a 6 year old’s?” he teased and chuckled when you slapped his chest.

“i like them okay? most of it is from those claws machines so it’s not like i spent crazy money on it…”

“oh yeah? and you got all of those in the first try?” he poked your waist as you laid down in your bed.

“well…” no you didn’t “never mind, kiss me please” you pulled him by his shirt and he placed his knee on the bed before hovering you.

“i’m not gonna support this addiction of yours you know” he reached back and pulled his shirt off.

“shut up smoker” you giggled and proceeded to take your clothes off as well.

nights with toji usually escalated very quickly but that night he seemed more distracted and a bit uneasy. when he finally had you on your hands and knees his pace was not as fast as normal, in fact he seemed to be shifting a lot.

“toji? you okay?” you asked looking over your shoulder.

“we’re switching.”

“wha—“ before you could process he had already laid on his back and manhandled you onto his lap, “toji~” you whined.

“be a good girl and ride me” he slapped your ass as he helped you sit on his dick, and how could you deny when he bosses you around like that, “that way i don’t have to see those…” he murmured and slapped away some teddy bears in your nightstand. you stopped your movements and started to laugh.

“wait is that the reason?” you chuckled but one hard trust he gave you made you lose your balance and fall on his chest.

“there must be like a thousand eyes in this bedroom” he said looking around and massaging your waist to relieve his own tension.

“oh come on old man” you teased biting his lobe, “those thousand eyes watch me touch myself every time i think about you and you’re not around” that seemed to be enough to bring the big man back to his usual self. toji placed both his feet on the mattress and proceeded to fuck into you as you got up from chest to find a better position holding onto his flexed knees.

“and who gave you the right to touch my pussy huh?”

suddenly the stuffed animals were not a problem anymore.