#let's blame sharpy for this

[anglbnny]

You bouta have ALL my babies ♡ Multiple blue lock

.ᐟcw: suggestive, mentions of doing it, mentions of pregnancy, fluffy stupidness

Isagi Yoichi

He FREEZES. Like mid-bite of his sandwich, just blinking at you. You casually go, “Yeah... I’m marrying you. You’re about to have all my babies.” Isagi short-circuits. “HUH?!”

Face bright red, ears burning, sandwich forgotten. “B-Babies?! Now?! You can’t just— I mean—” He fidgets, rubbing the back of his neck, flustered but clearly thinking about it way too seriously now.

Later that night, he hugs you way too tight while mumbling, "…wouldn't mind though. You’d look really cute pregnant..."

Shidou Ryusei

You say it once, and this man immediately pulls you into his lap. Grinning all sharp and wide, eyes glinting mischievously. "Oh? Is that right, princess?"

You can feel how excited he instantly gets against you. "Then c'mere," he whispers against your neck, voice low and rough. "Let's get started on that army, huh? Hope you’re ready to be walking funny tomorrow."

He’s so serious about it you have to literally scramble away before he acts on it immediately.

Alexis Ness

You say it so casually while he’s fixing his hair. And poor Ness just short-circuits. Goes beet red and drops his comb. "Wh-what?! Babies?! Marrying?! U-Uh—uhm!!"

He frantically tries to fix his hair again even though his hands are shaking.

Would 100% start nervously rambling about how he needs to start planning everything— "Where would we live? Would you want a pet too? O-Or a garden? Maybe we could—!"

You just giggle while he’s literally spiraling, thinking about your entire married life together. "you're so cute, baby!" you squeal, hugging him

Rin Itoshi

You’re chilling together, scrolling through your phone, and you just casually mumble, "Yeah, I’m marrying you. You’re gonna give me all your babies." Rin CHOKES on his water. Then glares at you, cheeks tinted pink.

"Shut up," he grumbles—but he can’t meet your eyes and the tips of his ears are bright red.

Later, when you're dozing off on the couch, he whispers, “.. 's not like I'd mind...” and presses a kiss to your temple.

Michael Kaiser

Kaiser would smirk like the cockiest mf alive. "Really, princess? Can't blame you, schatz." He’d grab your chin gently and make you look at him. "All my babies, hm?"

He says it mockingly, but the way his voice drops an octave... you KNOW he's taking it seriously. He’d lean in real close and whisper against your lips, "If you want it that bad... I'll fill you up right now, hübsches Mädchen." (You’re not escaping without getting absolutely ruined.)

Sae Itoshi

You say it after he does something mundane—like handing you your favorite snack without being asked, or casually fixing your computer like it was nothing. You're half-joking, dramatic on purpose. But Sae freezes mid-step. "…What?"

You grin. “You ‘bout to have all my babies, Sae. I’m locking this down.” He stares at you like you’ve grown another head. Then scoffs, shaking his head. “…Tch. You’re annoying.” But the tips of his ears are red.

Later, when you're curled up next to him watching a movie, he mumbles under his breath, “You’d probably look good with my babies…”

(He thinks about it for days. And suddenly starts pulling out less. )

Bachira Meguru

You say it while he’s being cute. Like handing you your favorite hoodie or offering you a weird snack combo only he would think of. You go full dramatic “Meguru. I’m marrying you. You’re about to have ALL my babies.” He gasps, eyes sparkling.

“All of them?! Even the chaos goblin ones??” Then he tackles you onto the couch, giggling.

"You really wanna be stuck with me forever, huh~?"

Later, he doodles a lil stick-figure family on your arm with hearts and writes “Future Bachira babies” in Sharpie.

Taglist:@samm1e13 @demiitria @syleepy @chaoslibra @bontenxo @pinkymangacaps @riinniies @samthesimp1 @sapphireluv @s4turnx1 @nevvynev @cookiesandcreammy @rinniebinniebay @ravenbc @kamelika @luvsymai @werfiedeii @mikemsmm @silverwings920 @cyberheartrebel @arwawawa2 @yanderebluelockfan @valexqpt @bigclownshoes @rinniewinnie787 @satorella @sillykittiessss

A/n: This made me giggle, lol

ꨄ︎Anglbunny | Do not copy, steal or translate my work and pngs. you'll be blocked.

[Masterlist]

[webslingingslasher]

peters nerdy side>>>> can we get more hot nerdy peter pretty pleaseeeee

nerdy peter makes me feral.

Peter Parker was finally rewarded for all the shit he deals with. 

A teen, who was a silent walker in school, but a near lethal hero at night, one that has to deal with more stress and traumas than any other kid at seventeen. Night after night, his spirit being broken down a little more each bad guy he’s put away. 

Queens see a hero that keeps the streets clean. 

Sometimes, all Peter could see was someone’s dad, or husband, or son he was putting away. 

All that bullshit he’s been dealt, the bullshit about power and responsibility, was washed away when he finally got something good, something he really thought he deserved. 

He got you, and that’s why he’ll stop at nothing to keep you. 

“You got yourself a good one, parker. Don’t fuck it all up with your nerdy shit, pretty girls hate that.”

Was it dumb to listen to Flash of all people? Maybe. 

Does he know more about girls and has a better track record at keeping them? Yes. 

But of course, just like how you were the one to approach him, ask him out, kiss him first and ask for him to be your boyfriend, he should’ve trusted you. Could you really blame him though, not totally trusting he can have a purely good thing with no consequences? 

He couldn’t, that’s why it shocked him when you made it clear you only wanted him. 

You wanted Peter Parker, however he came. Science facts, nerdy hobbies, tirades and all. 

—---------------------

Have you ever built up an idea of who someone was in your head, and when you date the other shoe drops and they’re nothing like you thought? 

That was you with Peter Parker. 

He was adorably perfect, noticing him when sharing a history class. Peter sat three seats up from you on the left, perfect position for you to watch his habits. The shake in his leg, tapping pencils on his desk, blowing a breath every time someone answered incorrectly, sitting up and leaning over his desk when something catches his attention, chewing his bottom lip while going over notes, poking his tongue out when he takes a test. 

Peter Parker was the constant subject on your mind, starting in history and causing you to look for him in other classes, you only shared one more, typing class. He was three rows behind you, there wasn’t a good way to look at him, instead having to rely on his quiet murmurs when the teacher stands behind his computer. 

After two weeks of pining you couldn’t stand it, stomping over to his table at lunch you sit down right next to him. His friends paused at your sudden and aggressive entrance. 

“Hi. We haven’t really talked but we share typing and history. For two weeks straight I’ve been watching you and I can’t get you out of my head, and I would really, really like to go on a date with you.” 

You can see it on his face, how he goes from shock to excitement, then as he looks you over his face falls. He thinks you’re fucking with him, you don’t know how to make him believe it’s real. 

“Here,” you pull at your backpack and rip the front pocket open, you pull a sharpie out and with a slight tremble you grab his arm, pushing his sleeve up you uncap the marker with your teeth. Scribbling your number onto his skin, “think about it, let me know.” 

Before you lose your steam you scramble to stand and grab your bag, “okay, that’s all. Um,” you nod at his friends, silence deafening as everyone at the table takes in the scenario. “Thank you, and… enjoy lunch?” Cringing, you turn to leave, whispering an ‘oh my god,’ to yourself while pressing a hand to your cheek. 

Peter is sure in that moment you were a hundred percent serious and you just mortified yourself, spilling your guts and being met with nothing.

 Six steps away he calls out, “yes!” 

You pause, then turn, “what?” 

“Yes! I’ll go on a date with you.” 

Oh, that’s a new feeling. It felt like your heart had wings, your stomach felt like you were on a rollercoaster, flutters everywhere. You couldn’t even try to play it cool, the guy you’ve been crazy about just as interested and curious as you were. A toothy smile overtook your face, eyes lit up. 

Taking a few steps closer, you felt giddy. 

“Really? You will?” 

Peter’s smile matched yours, he laughed through his answer, he can’t believe you actually like him that much. “Yeah.” Biting your bottom lip you pull it together, “cool, text me and we’ll plan something?” 

“You got it.” 

Nodding you walk off, Peter’s riding on a high like never has. He’s never had such a pretty girl like you like him, want him, notice him. He felt like he’s been rewarded, that he does deserve a good thing. 

Flash scoffs when you sit back at your table, immediately talking and watching faces gasp and squeal. 

“You got yourself a good one, parker. Don’t fuck it all up with your nerdy shit, pretty girls hate that.”

The last thing he wants to do, before he even gets you, is send you off. So, he listens and promises to be someone that should be with a girl like you, someone that isn’t really him. 

—---------------------

You figured it was first date nerves. 

That or just the fact you’ve never been alone with each other, especially under the guise of a date. It wasn’t like he was weird, but he was off. The person you watched in class was goofy, using his body to express himself, confident when speaking because he could back every word up. 

This Peter was quiet, guarded and almost… boring. 

You tried to give him the benefit of the doubt, he just had some jitters. Maybe if you kissed him it would settle him, you could prove that you liked him and he had nothing to be nervous about. Trying to look past his awkwardness you took the night as it was, wishing he was making you laugh like he had in class, or wishing he would ramble on in a story like you’ve watched him do with his friends at lunch or at his locker. 

It may have been different than you thought but he’d come around after a date or two surly, you’d kiss him and after another few dates he’ll open up and be his true self. It was hope, but you were riding on it. 

Peter ended the night by walking you home, conversation slowly dwindling as you approached closer, falling flat when you were  in front of the building. Waiting for a moment you looked at his mouth, he made no reaction, you hadn’t expected him to sweep you off your feet but to not offer anything made you feel unsure. 

“Can I kiss you?” 

It was obvious from the look on his face that he wasn’t expecting anything in the slightest, but he licked his bottom lip and nodded softly, “yeah,” leaning in you wait for a moment, he makes no move, he has to be extremely nervous, no other option. You kissed him, you pressed into him and grabbed his face, his hands gently hovered and you pulled away. 

Maybe he just pitied you, just agreed because you put him on the spot. 

“Um, you know if you didn’t want-” 

“Can we do this again, please?” 

And just because he asked, and because it seemed like he realized he acted off and he wanted another chance, and because you really do believe in first date jitters, you say yes. 

—--------------

The first time you went over to his house his room was oddly clean, empty spaces on his bookshelf and shelves, almost like he’d put things away. Eyeing a bin by his closet you walked closer, “you collect comics?” Hoping you wouldn’t find, but still opening the top and starting to look through the ones on top. 

Peter took a deep breath, “as a kid, kinda stupid now, don’t you think?” 

You furrow your eyebrows and shake your head, looking back down at the comic in your hand. You thought when you started dating he’d open up more, instead he got more closed off. 

Clearing your throat you place the comics back in, in the exact same order and putting the lid back on. “No, I don’t think they’re stupid. I was hoping you had some new ones I could catch up on, but if you think they’re stupid now I guess I’ll have to get ‘em myself.” 

If he had known you like comics he would’ve never said that. It’s his fault for leaving them out, he should’ve put them away like everything else that screamed ‘nerd alert’. 

“I didn’t mean they’re stupid, just you know… collecting them as an adult… is.. weird?” 

The lamest excuse you’ve ever heard, but you keep your patience. It hasn't even been two weeks, he’ll come around. You know it. 

—------

Surprising Peter with a hug he budged against your weight before supporting you, talking to a friend while he wrapped his arms around your back. Picking up on pieces of the conversation you nudge your head up, interested in his words. 

The Peter you like, the one that’s animated and rambling, moving his hands across your back as he talks. You place a kiss at the bottom of his neck, “whatcha talking about?”  It sounded like a new program that was going to change the future of computer engineering, when you questioned he blew you off. “Nothing important.” 

You had tried, you tried to be kind and patient and understanding but he just wasn’t who you wanted. You wanted that person, the person that’s excited about new technology and collected comic books. 

Peter closed off when you asked, guarded back up, you wished it could’ve been different. Maybe one day he’d open up more, you didn’t want anything but his true self. 

You gave it a month before you had to accept that Peter Parker wasn’t the person you thought he was, today, you had to accept that you were breaking up with Peter Parker. Pulling away you grab his arm, silently telling him to look at you. 

“Can I come over later?” 

“Yeah, of course. Wanna come with me after school?” 

“Sure,” you wondered if he could see through your smile. It doesn’t seem like it, he leans down and gives you a quick kiss, you pull away and back away through the halls. 

He has no idea what’s coming. 

—------------

Gently pushing Peter’s shoulders down to coax him into sitting on the edge of his bed, you grin politely when he follows instruction. Dragging his desk chair to sit in front of him you pause to think about what you were going to say, clearing your throat you begin. 

“So, I like you a lot, and I’ve enjoyed having you as my boyfriend for the past month-” 

Peter’s eyebrows furrow, he holds his hand up, “enjoyed? Are you breaking up with me?” 

You bite your lip and nod solemnly, “I’m sorry, Peter.” 

The silence is unsettling, you look away from him, his figures deflated and his mind races. 

“Why?” 

Taking a deep breath and blowing it out you shrug, “I don’t want to hurt your feelings, Peter. But, uh, you’re just… not what I thought you’d be like.” 

How could you not like him? He’s done everything right. He was the perfect suitor, he acted like the typical non nerd male. The kind of all american guy every girl wanted. 

“I don’t… what does that mean?” 

You laugh, “I have a type, and you’re not it. I like nerds, like, straight up goofy, funny guys that know something about everything and collect comic books and get excited at new, humanity altering technology. I thought you were that guy, but I guess not.” 

Oh my god. 

He’s fucked it all up, he was dumb enough to believe you wanted something else. 

He can show you he’s a nerd, he’s been one his entire goddamn life, he’s about to nerd olympics the hell out of you. 

Peter jumps from his seat so quickly it startles you, his hands come down on the armrests of your chair, the seat tilting backwards as he pushes his weight towards you. 

“I’m the biggest nerd you’ll ever meet.” 

Your seat jostles when he lets go and opens his closet, pulling out a box he sets it on his bed. 

“This is everything I put away when we started dating,” he turns with three rubik’s cubes, each one in various sizes. “,these are my rubik’s cubes, I can finish the standard in forty three seconds, the six by six took me about thirty minutes and this baby?” he bounced the biggest one in his hold, “, this is a twenty one by twenty one, it took me about three hours.” 

Peter dropped them to the bed and continued, “and this is my national championship trophy for chess club,” he shoves it in your face before he keeps digging, a small picture frames come next, “this is when I won the states most innovative science fair project,” frantic digging, “, this is a figurine of my favorite video game,” two large disc sets next, “lord of the rings and star wars,” 

He spins around, flying past your body where he picks up his comic book container, “remember when I was late to our date last week? I was getting these,” three new additions of an old comic you had just started to pick up, “, and currently?” Peter moved to his desk, tapping on his keyboard until his screen woke up, code covered the screen, he pointed between the monitor and a notebook, “I’m learning to read binary code.” 

You felt like the grinch because your heart grew the times the size, adoration blossomed, you could feel your chest crack and glow. The Peter you wanted, the person you thought he was from the start, was real and in front of you. 

This was who he was, so why was he hiding it? 

“Why did you hide that from me? Peter, that’s like, the entire reason I wanted to date you. I liked who you were, then you turned into someone else.” 

Peter rested against his desk and sighed, crossing his arms over his chest. “I figured a pretty girl like you wouldn’t want some nerdy guy, it might be cute at first but when I’m stoked about something I read on wikipedia and make it my thing for a day and talk your ear off about it, you’re gonna wish you had a boyfriend that just watches sport clips for fun.”

That’s the point you were trying to make, “that’s what I want! I was literally dumping you because you weren’t that.” 

“Well, I am that. So there’s no point in breaking up, right?” 

You hum and spin in his chair, “I dunno… you dragged me along for a month, hiding yourself from me, making me question everything. I mean, you have a lot to make up for, parker.” 

“C’mere,” you’re not given an option, he reaches forward and pulls the chair towards him and pulls you from the seat, flopping himself down and tugging you into his lap. Your stomach clenches, this was the confident Peter you wanted, it was confidence in himself. 

His pointer finger taps on the monitor, “you read binary from right to left, and you separate them into groups of eight. Now the key is knowing that each one and zero mean-” 

Your mouth on his, cutting his words off with a kiss, you held his face tightly, never wanting him to separate from you. Caught off guard he froze for a moment, then wrapped his hands around your middle. Pressing into him, separating for air but giving small pecks. 

“Baby,” kiss, “, I’m sorry,” kiss, “, I shut,” kiss, “, you out,” kiss, “I didn’t,” kiss, “, know it meant,” kiss, “, so much,” kiss, “, to you,” kiss. 

“You’re so much smarter than me,” a chaste kiss, “it’s so hot,” you look into his eyes, he’s flushed out and breathing harshly. “You’re so hot,” another kiss, Peter feels like the room is spinning, he’s never felt so wanted, so needed, the way you can’t stop kissing him, how tight you’re holding him to you, how blown your pupils are, the way you’re gulping him like water. 

“I mean if you,” he grunts when you kiss down his neck, biting into his collarbone. “, if you want, I could show you how quick I can solve my rubik’s cube.” Your hands drag up his hair, gripping and tilting his head away, better access to nibble and lick the skin. “Or, recite the first seventy nine numbers of pi.” 

Attention caught, “you know the first seventy nine numbers of pi?” 

“Mm hmm, I could also tell you” a whimper,  “, all the elements. Want me to start rattling them off?” 

Kissing the middle of his throat you hum, “I’d rather you take your pants off.” 

For the first time in Peter Parker’s life, memorizing the periodic table got him laid. 

[madhatterbri]

Valentine in the Shadows | D.P.

Summary: Reader is part of the Wyatt Sicks & is always leaving a black rose for their victims to let them know they’re next & Reader has been seen lurking in the shadows every time Damian is on screen. After qualifying for the Elimination Chamber Damian cuts his interview short to confront reader. He knows she’s been watching him & assumes the W6 blame him for what happen with TJD, but instead of giving him a black rose she takes out a red one & kisses it before handing it to him to say Happy Valentine’s Day.

Happy Monday Night RAW, babes. ❤️

Author's Note: Sorry it took so long. This idea is amazing!!!

Damian Priest Masterlist

WWE Masterlist

Taglist: @theworldofotps @smallestsnarkestgirl @mrsarcherofinfamy @terrortwinunicorn @brideofinfamy @miss-kuki-nz @hotwheels1108 @new-zealand-chic @magicalbuttertarts @missbmc94 @surdelcielo @hodgepodge-musings

Damian Priest barely noticed the camera was on him. He just gave his all to qualify for the Elimination Chamber. It still didn't feel real despite the referee raising his hand as the winner. This was his final shot at challenging Cody Rhodes for the championship belt at Wrestlemania. He knew he had to lock in.

“I am currently with the newest qualifier for the Elimination Chamber match. Damian, congratulations on your victory over Braun Strowman and Jacob Fatu. How are you feeling after—”

Byron Saxton's question seemed to fade away. His attention had never been on the Smackdown backstage interviewer. His attention wasn’t even on the camera. His full attention was on the woman lurking nearby in the shadows.

You had been haunting him ever since he joined Smackdown, always lurking in a nearby corner or shadow. Damian always felt your presence, even when he knew you weren't scheduled to appear that night. Your eyes always lingered on him. He wasn't sure the reasoning behind your infatuation behind him, but he had a hunch.

Known as the messenger for the Wyatt Sicks, you left a black rose to the next potential victims. This was for anyone who did wrong in the eyes of Uncle Howdy. Damian had a falling out with Judgment Day. His hands weren't completely clean, but they were nothing compared to what Finn did to him. His former best friend stabbed him in the back.

“Hold that thought. I got some business I need to take care of,” Damian told him. The wrestler walked towards the corridor he saw you hiding in.

As he walked closer, he could see the small smile on your face. Your long black coat covered your wrestling gear. The same black coat that hid the black rose for him no doubt.

“You’ve been watching me,” he stated. “You got something to say, or are you just going to follow me around while I'm handling my business?”

Silence. That was the answer Damian was given. He noticably tensed when you reached inside of your coat. He expected a black rose in your hands. The mark that his championship quest was going to be ten times harder. His eyes furrowed in confusion when you pulled out something he wasn't expecting. A red rose.

You gently touched the rose petals with your fingertips. Damian watched closely as you kissed the soft petals. Satisfied, you suddenly reached your arm out for him to take the rose.

“What’s this supposed to mean? Did they run out of black Sharpies at Staples or something?” he asked cautiously. Damian laughed nervously. Accepting his fate from the Wyatt Sicks, he grabbed the rose from you. His fingers touched yours softly. His brown eyes lingered on the blood red rose.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Damian," you whispered.

His eyes shot up to look at you, but you were gone in the shadows. A red rose was the only evidence that you had been there.

[saylorsuniverse]

RED-HANDED --- nika muhl

summary: you and nika muhl are neighbors who constantly get on each other’s nerves, from loud music to indoor basketball games due to your paper thin walls. but, when you’re stuck in an elevator with her, the undeniable tension between the two of you finally breaks.

warnings: kind of public makeout sesh (sluts)

author's note: ty to @nikamewing for posting this request because i honestly had sm fun writing it. title came from shaggy's "it wasn't me" which has nothinggg to do with the story but fuck it's so catchy. Errrrrr, yeah, sorry it’s rushed because i have class in 4 hours and i am also multitasking an assignment right now. Ok bye.

word count: 3.4k

–

You don’t know when or how it started, but somewhere along the way, your neighbor had become your personal nemesis—and you were certain the feeling was mutual.

The first time you properly met Nika was the night you knocked on her door, doing your best to stay civil as you asked if she could please keep the noise down. Between the blaring music and the shrill bursts of laughter, you were convinced you’d go deaf before midnight.

She opened the door with a smirk, like she’d been waiting for this moment—like she’d rehearsed it. Her hair was in a perfectly disheveled messy bun, and her silk pajamas looked far too luxurious for someone causing such chaos. She leaned casually against the doorframe, one brow arched like she was already bored of you.

“Hi, I’m sorry to bother you,” you began, forcing your tone into something that resembled polite, “but I was wondering if you could keep it down a bit?”

You tried to peek past her into the apartment. A group of tall girls stared back at you, mid-laugh, drinks in hand.

“I’m trying to study for my chemical analysis exam,” you continued, “but between the music, the laughter, and—whatever game it is you’re playing—I’d really appreciate a little peace and quiet.”

“Oh? Was it too loud for you?” she asked, her voice dripping with mock concern. “Sorry, I just thought a little sound of life might be refreshing for you.”

You blinked. Was that a dig? It sure felt like one.

You repeated your request, this time with a tight-lipped smile that said, don’t push me. She promised to turn it down—but, of course, she didn’t. Needless to say, you didn’t do so well on your exam the next morning, and you blamed it on your wonderful next-door neighbor.

It didn’t take long for the petty games to start.

You left a passive-aggressive sticky note on her door after she let her garbage bag sit in the hallway for two days. The next day, you found it stuck to your door—with your spelling corrected in red Sharpie and a little note telling you to work on your handwriting.

Nika started playing Europop at exactly 6:57 a.m. every Saturday—just loud enough to jolt you awake but not loud enough to file a noise complaint. You retaliated by vacuuming your floor and firing up the blender for a smoothie at midnight.

It took less than five minutes.

There was a furious knock, and when you opened the door, there stood Nika—hair a mess, hoodie half-zipped, and fury in her eyes. She launched into a full-blown rant, switching between English and what you assumed was Croatian, hands flailing dramatically as she accused you of ruining her “very essential beauty rest.”

“You think this is normal behavior?” she snapped, gesturing wildly toward your blender still humming behind you. “It’s midnight! People sleep at midnight!”

You crossed your arms, utterly unfazed. “Oh? I thought the sound of life might be refreshing for you.”

That earned you a glare sharp enough to slice glass. And maybe—just maybe—a twitch of a smile.

“Sleep tight, and don’t let the bedbugs bite,” you called after her, just before she slammed her door shut.

Exactly one week later, you came home to find your doormat missing. Relocated, actually. It was now sitting in front of Nika’s door, flipped upside down like it had always belonged there.

You stopped in your tracks, staring at it like it might explode. It wasn’t even a nice mat—just something you grabbed on sale at Target. But seeing it in front of her door, like it had been claimed in some silent, smug victory, made your jaw tighten.

You took a slow breath, telling yourself not to overreact. It’s just a mat. Just a petty, passive-aggressive power move by a woman who clearly had too much time and not enough hobbies. Still, your fingers itched to knock on her door and ask if she wanted to borrow your toothbrush too.

Or maybe just set the whole hallway on fire. You hadn’t decided yet.

You stared at the mat for another beat, then marched over and knocked on her door—sharp, deliberate, not even pretending to be polite. Nika answered after a few seconds, like she’d been waiting for you. She was in leggings and an oversized tee, hair damp from a shower, face bare and smug.

“Oh,” she said, blinking innocently. “Did you lose something again?”

You gave her a deadpan look. “Cute move. What was it this time—boredom? A dare?”

She leaned on the doorframe, arms crossed, eyes dancing. “It was crooked. I thought I’d rescue it from your tragic design choices.”

“Uh-huh.” You tilted your head. “Well, if you’re in the mood to rearrange other people’s things, I can always return the favor. Want me to start with your trash bin or your Spotify playlist?”

Her smirk faltered—just for a second.

You stepped forward, grabbed the mat without breaking eye contact, and flipped it back the right way before tucking it under your arm.

“Touch my stuff again,” you said quietly, “and I’ll start charging rent.”

She just grinned, but you saw the shift—something sharper, more curious behind the smug exterior.

“Noted,” she said.

You turned and walked back to your door, letting it shut with the kind of calm finality that said game on.

Nika managed to tick you off in ways you thought were unimaginable.

It was the little things—the sharp-edged comments, the calculated annoyances, the way she never took things too far but always just far enough to make your blood boil. The way she’d always show up at the most inconvenient times—whether it was blasting her Europop at seven in the morning or parking in your spot with a wink and a, “Oops, sorry!”

Her casual smirk had started to mean something now. Something personal. And it was wearing thin.

It wasn’t that you wanted to hate her. Really, you didn’t. But when every exchange with her felt like a battle for the smallest shred of peace, it was hard to ignore the irritation building inside you.

So, you thought about it. Long and hard. You considered your options. You could ignore it all and pretend like you didn’t care, but you were already annoyed just thinking about it. The more you thought about it, the more you realized that you did care. And maybe—just maybe—it was time to push back.

You weren’t plotting anything insidious. No, that would be too much effort. But you could be clever, crafty... and leave your mark.

That night, you put your plan into motion. You weren’t going to overdo it. Nothing outrageous. Just a little thing that would nudge her ego.

You’d found the perfect doormat online. Bright, pastel-colored, with glittery letters spelling out “Live, Laugh, Love”—the most obnoxious, basic thing you could find. You knew it would make her lose it.

You waited for the perfect opportunity. Late Friday night, after you knew she’d be out for drinks, you grabbed the mat and swapped it out with hers. Then, you added a little touch of your own: A small handwritten note on her door: “Thanks for the style inspo! Thought I’d return the favor <3”

You added a heart just to seal the deal, feeling a small sense of glee as you stuck it to her front door. Then, you went back inside, made a cup of tea, and waited.

The hours ticked by. Around 1:03 a.m., you heard the unmistakable sound of high heels clacking against the floor, followed by a frustrated exhale.

You peeked out your peephole just in time to catch Nika’s reaction.

She stood in front of her door for a few seconds, staring at the mat with wide eyes. Then, you heard it—a strangled laugh and a string of curses in Croatian.

You didn’t even need to see her face to know what that meant. You felt a small victory bubbling up inside you. You relished in your win because, suddenly, the loud music stopped. There was no obnoxious laughter echoing through the walls, no more welcome mats being relocated. The silence was almost too sweet. Then, everything started up again like it never stopped in the first place.

There was the time she stole your package.

Well, not stole, but she signed for it when it was clearly addressed to you, then took her sweet time “forgetting” to give it back. You had to knock on her door three times before she finally handed over the box with a smile like she’d just done you a favor.

“Oh,” she said innocently. “I was wondering who ordered the self-care face masks and vibrator combo. Thought maybe you were finally taking some initiative.”

You didn’t even blink. “Oh, don’t flatter yourself. If I was desperate, I’d come knock on your door.”

The smile dropped from her face for half a second. Half a second. But you saw it.

And then, one Thursday night, everything changed.

You’d spent an hour getting ready for a date—something fancy, someone new. You would never consider yourself a narcissist, but you had to admit it: you looked too good just for one measly date that if it didn’t land you anywhere, you would start a riot. After grabbing your keys and putting on one last swipe of lipstick, you stepped out and made your way to the elevator – only to find Nika standing there as well. 

Of course.

She was in gym shorts and a hoodie, earbuds slung around her neck, a smug half-smile playing on her lips as she took one look at you and said, “Big plans?”

You didn’t even dignify her with a response. You just turned to face the door, praying it would hurry up and get to the ground floor before she started talking again.

But the universe, as always, had other plans.

With a lurch and a groan, the elevator shuddered to a stop. You both froze. The lights flickered. Then silence.

“…You’ve got to be kidding me,” you muttered, pressing the emergency button. Nothing.

Beside you, Nika snorted. “Guess the universe decided this date of yours isn’t worth it.”

You turned to her, ready to snap—but stopped short when you saw the look on her face. It wasn’t smug. Not really. It was something else. Something unreadable.

Maybe it was the closeness. The fact that the elevator was just a little too small, and she was just a little too close. Or maybe it was the months of tension finally bubbling over.

Either way, your breath caught.

And for once, she didn’t say anything clever. She just stared at you.

You stared back.You both stood there, the air thick with the kind of silence that felt like it was charged with electricity. Nika’s gaze lingered on you, just a little too intense, a little too long. You could feel the heat of her proximity—her breath, faint and warm against the air. It made your pulse spike, your thoughts scattering like leaves in a windstorm.

The elevator creaked again, jolting both of you slightly. You shook your head, trying to shake off the weird tension that had settled between you two.

“So,” you said, finally breaking the silence. “What now?”

Nika leaned back against the wall, crossing her arms casually as if the situation didn’t faze her in the slightest. “Guess we wait. Maybe talk about all the things you never wanted to say.”

You couldn’t help but scoff. “What would we even talk about? Your playlist? Your collection of obnoxious doormats?”

She smirked, clearly amused. “You know, for someone who ‘doesn’t care,’ you sure seem to care a lot.”

You fought the urge to roll your eyes. “Whatever. Not like it matters now. We’re stuck here. Again, thanks for that.”

Nika raised an eyebrow, leaning a little closer. “Oh, please. Don’t blame me for your bad timing. I was just minding my business, and here we are, both of us trapped in this tiny box.”

The proximity was getting uncomfortable. You could practically feel the heat radiating off her. The space was small enough that every movement of hers felt exaggerated, every shift of her weight more pronounced.

“I don’t need your sympathy, Nika,” you muttered, trying to focus on anything other than the fact that you could smell her—vanilla and citrus, a combination so distinctly her.

“I’m not offering it,” she shot back, but there was something in her tone that suggested she was a little more invested in this situation than she let on. “Just stating the obvious.”

You took a deep breath, leaning against the wall and folding your arms, trying to regain some composure. The elevator wasn’t moving, and there was no sign of help. You could feel the minutes stretch out, each one heavier than the last.

“Don’t suppose you have any ideas on how to get this thing moving, do you?” you asked, trying to steer the conversation away from the awkwardness that had started to settle in your chest.

“Not really. I’m more of a ‘deal with the chaos as it comes’ kind of person.” Nika's lips curled into a knowing smile. “But you? You like to have a plan. Always trying to control the situation. Like with our little friendly neighborly feud.”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes, but barely. “That’s a bit of a stretch, don’t you think?”

Nika shrugged, unfazed. “Maybe. But it’s kind of obvious. You spend all your time trying to fix things, trying to make everything neat and predictable. Like when you knocked on my door about the noise or tried to control the entire hallway with your passive-aggressive notes. It’s cute, really.”

Your heart skipped, but you forced yourself to stay calm, to not let her bait you into another back-and-forth. “I’m just asking for some peace and quiet. Not sure why that’s such a problem for you.”

Her eyes sparkled with that infuriating mixture of amusement and challenge. “It’s not a problem. I just don’t get why you’re so obsessed with controlling everything around you. Maybe you should let go, for once. Just let things... unfold.”

You inhaled deeply, trying to push down the frustration rising inside you. “I don’t need to let go,” you replied coolly. “I know what I’m doing. I’ve always known.”

Nika tilted her head, studying you in that way she did, like she was trying to peel back all the layers of your carefully constructed exterior. “I don’t know. Seems like you’re trying to manage everything except what’s really going on. You’re not fooling me, you know.”

Your chest tightened. “What’s that supposed to mean?” You didn’t mean to sound defensive, but the words left your mouth before you could stop them.

Nika leaned in a little closer, her voice lower now, like she was telling you a secret only the two of you shared. “I’m not blind, you know. You can’t hide it from me. There’s something going on here. Between us. And you’re pretending like it’s just some... rivalry, some game. But I don’t think it is.” Her gaze locked onto yours, intensity flickering in her eyes.

Your breath hitched, caught in the rawness of her words, and suddenly, the air between you felt different. The space that had always been filled with annoyance, competition, and petty little jabs seemed... thinner now. More fragile. For the first time, you didn’t have a sharp retort. No witty comebacks or perfectly timed insults.

Instead, all you could do was stare at her, heart pounding, trying to make sense of the knot forming in your stomach. You didn’t want to admit it, but Nika had a point. And it terrified you more than anything.

The silence stretched between the two of you, coated in thick tension and something unspoken. The air felt heavier, the distance between you and her was too small, too charged, too energized. Your eyes flicker from hers then to her lips, just for a quick second, before you quickly looked away. 

You weren’t sure what had gotten into you – it definitely wasn’t liquid courage from the one measly little shot you pregamed as you were getting ready – but you suddenly closed the space between her in one swift motion, your lips crashing onto hers.

Nika wasn’t surprised or startled. Instead of pushing you away and yelling at you in that stupid language of hers that you always found so oddly attractive – as much as you hate to admit that to yourself –, she pulled you closer to her body. Arms wrapping around you, she lifted you up and you instinctively wrapped your legs around her waist. Your back collides with the cool metal of the elevator wall as Nika moves from your lips to your neck, placing heated kisses to your pulse point as your hands desperately pull her closer to you.

Nika murmurs something inaudible to you against your skin, her warm breath sending a shiver down your spine. Mouth moving from your neck down to your collarbone, she stops where your cleavage was and glances up at you. Despite the elevator being filled with dim light, you could make out the little smirk on her face and her dark eyes filled with burning desire – for you.

You liked to pride yourself on your decorum, to keep things cordial and professional. But with the way Nika was looking at you and the slightly growing slick building in your core, you could care less if anyone walked in on you both right now with Nika holding you in this position. 

Your lips pressed onto hers again, but with more desperation this time. Your hands brought her face closer to yours as you slipped your tongue into her mouth. The taste of your mint flavor gum earned you a small groan from the brunette, her hand ghosting over the skin of your breasts. 

Suddenly, the elevator jerked. The lights flickered on, and the door nearly exposed the two of you in a heated mess to the entire lobby floor. The tension between you thickened, a crackling current in the air. For a split second, it felt like time held its breath, just waiting to see if either of you would make the first move.

You both stood frozen, not quite touching, but closer than you'd ever been. Your pulse quickened, and you could feel the heat radiating off her skin, her presence all-encompassing in the cramped space. Her eyes flickered down to your lips, a glance that sent a shiver through you.

Nika's breath hitched just slightly, her eyes darting to the door, and then back to you, a mischievous smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “You know,” she murmured, her voice low and teasing, “maybe the universe is telling me to stop messing with you... or maybe it’s telling me to mess with you more.”

The space between you seemed to shrink, and for a moment, it felt like you were both teetering on the edge of something much more than the usual back-and-forth. Then, with that wicked glint in her eyes, she leaned in a little closer, her voice turning more suggestive.

“Bet you wanna go on that date, huh?” she asked, her words dripping with a challenge, a dare that hung in the air, heavy and tantalizing.

You felt a rush of heat surge through you, but instead of the usual retort, a wave of clarity washed over you. The push and pull of your rivalry had gone on long enough. This was different.

Without thinking, you reached for the button to close the doors, your finger pressing it firmly. The doors slid shut with a soft hiss, sealing the two of you inside. You turned toward her, feeling the weight of her gaze on you.

Instead of responding to her comment with more teasing or biting words, you simply met her eyes, your voice steady but carrying that hint of something more.

“Your place or mine?” you asked, the words slipping out almost casually—but the weight of them, the heat in the air, told a very different story.

Nika's smirk faltered for a moment, her eyes narrowing with intrigue, like she was testing the waters to see if this was a bluff.

She took a small step closer, almost daring you with that same spark in her eyes, and whispered, “We’ll see who can keep up.”

[flowery-mess]

Midnights of October🍁🧡🎃

October 23rd

Pumpkin carving [dad!Noah]

warnings: Noah being a dad and lot's of fluff🥲

author's note: not edited or proof read, feedback is welcomed!💗

taglist: @concreteangel92 @sorrowsofsilence @lma1986 @stardustsirenmelody (let me know if you want to be tagged or deleted!😊)

words: 1.6k

Midnights of October masterlist

*

„Dad! Dad! I want this one!“ your little one screamed when he saw middle sized pumpkin in the box in the store you were currently in. Your son, Milo, did pumpkin curving in kindergarten earlier this week and became obsessed with it, so you had to do family date on the weekend, starting with trip for pumpkins.

“This one?” Noah made sure which one was Milo pointing at.

“Yep.” It was really cute how excited he was, jumping and clapping his little hands.

“How many should we buy babe?” Noah turned his attention to you, but before you could answer, Milo answered for you.

“A lot! Like hundred!”

“Okay buddy, that’s too much. How about 6?” Noah asked you again.

“Yeah that’s ideal.” You approved.

“So you’ve got one, which one is next?” As Noah started analysing the pile of pumpkins in front of him, you noticed the two of them standing next to each other with intense stare as if their lives depended on choosing the right pumpkin.

“Can we make a pumpkin family? You make daddy pumpkin, mom makes mommy pumpkin, and I make a baby, like me.” Milo asked.

“Wow that’s a great idea.” You stated and thought you’d melt right at the spot from how cute that idea actually was.

So few minutes and arguments later you left the store with enough pumpkins to entertain your son enough for the day. Milo chose small one for the baby, middle one for you and the oval “tall” one for Noah, which made you laugh out loud for a few seconds, saying that this kid got your sense of humour. Then you also brought three other ones for the classic scary faces so you have enough decoration around the whole house.

When you arrived back home you all changed into some comfy clothes, made cocoa and played some Halloween music for the atmosphere. It was actually really cosy, spending Saturday evening with your husband and kid at your own house, while the weather was foggy, but you could still see the colourful leaves on the trees outside.

You and Noah started the preparations, cutting the top of each pumpkin and emptying the insides in a big bowl. While Milo was sitting across the table, commenting on everything you two did.

“Mom but miss Smith did it differently.” he sighed, shaking his head.

Or “Dad be careful and don’t cut yourself.”

Or “Why are they orange mom?”

Or “Why is Halloween called Halloween?”

Because he entered the “why?” phase and had questions about everything.

“Do you have your sharpies ready?” Noah asked Milo to gently shut his little mouth, because he knew he didn’t have it ready. So when Milo paddled to his room to get one for each of you, Noah turned his head in your direction.

“How can two introverted and quiet people make human that never stops talking.” Noah really tried to think how that’s possible, because you two were scared that your kid is going to be the shy one, but reality was different. Milo was so outgoing and making friends easily. He also managed to put both of you in an uncomfortable situation by just talking to strangers in public or making you talk to other’s kids’ parents at the playground.

“I blame that one on you, you’re the rockstar with a confidence on stage. He get’s that from you.” Nothing else was said, because you heard two little feet running back to the dining area.

“I have black, red and green and also thick and thin one, so everyone can choose what they want to use.” At least you did your job teaching him to be well spoken.

“Do you want to start with the scary one or the pumpkin family?” you asked while you put the bowl away.

“With the family please.”

So you started drawing your pumpkin version of yourself while Noah helped Milo to draw the baby pumpkin. It was really cute watching them doing any activity together, because they had the same face full of concertation and patience, which you lacked, so it was good thing that Noah was the one drawing an outline for the eye for the tenth time and not you.

Even their brows were furrowed the same way. You managed to take a few pictures of them without them even noticing, because they are both perfectionists, so their attention was only on that pumpkin.

You loved watching Noah being dad. You savoured every moment like this, taking a mental picture to remember it when Noah’s away on tour.

The way his eyes full of affection watch his mini version do the simplest things, because he knows that he will leave you for five weeks the next month. He hates leaving you, but that’s a thing you two had to agree on before having a baby. It’s hard for all of you, but you always find ways to be in touch as much as possible.

You love the way Noah messes Milo’s hair when he says silly joke or how he kisses his head right after it. You love the bond they have between them.

“Mom your nose is much bigger than you drew on your pumpkin.” And there goes your sentimental moment.

“Hey watch your mouth!” Noah tells him, but then you turn your pumpkin to face him and he adds “but your nose is really a bit bigger then this little dot honey.”

After you all have the faces outlined you and Noah start cutting it with knife, with Milo carefully supervising that you’re doing it right.

“And it’s done! Pumpkin Davis family!” Noah says with a childish grin on his face, proud of the job you’ve done.

Milo put them all next to each other and a big smile broke out on his face.

“That’s us, look mommy, this one is tall like daddy!”

“It is, right?” you gently caressed his head while he hugged your leg with his small posture.

“Let’s put candles in them and see how they look in the dark.” Noah then made his way to turn off the lights while you started with the candles.

And wow, did they look good.

Noah took Milo in his arms as you stood and admired your work, while the flames brought the pumpkins to life.

“Can we keep them inside tonight? I don’t want them to be cold.” Milo said out of nowhere.

“And he’s caring just like you.” Noah whispered in your ear before he gave you kiss just above it. “Of course they can bug.”

You took thousand of pictures of the pumpkins, separately with your pumpkin twin each, family pictures and then found great spot to put them to decor your home. You made sure to send pictures to the BO group chat and Folio replied with a request for Milo to make him his own pumpkin version.

“Uncle Folio wants one too? I’ll make him one!” turned out that Folio started list of requests from everyone, because they all love their little nephew.

After the list was made, Noah and Milo started with the typical scary pumpkins and you took one that was left and started cooking pumpkin soup. You wanted to give Noah some time alone with Milo, knowing he will appreciate it.

You could see them from the kitchen counter, so once in a while you’d glance in their direction or listen to their small talk. Smile never leaving your lips, because it was like watching your dream come true.

For a moment your eyes locked with Noah’s, moment that said more that thousands of words could. Noah sent big smile your way, mouthing “I love you” before turning back to finish his art.

After the soup and their second round of carving pumpkins was finished, they made you chose which one you like more, not knowing who did which. After Noah’s little hint you correctly guessed Milo’s, sending him into a big round of celebration.

You then put those two outside your front door, ate the soup for dinner and settled down for a movie night.

After changing into pyjamas and making some snack, you all laid on your spread-out couch. Milo between the two of you, laying his head in your lap for head scratches and his legs in Noah’s lap for feet massage. He has you wrapped around his fingers what can I say.

After he told you “I had so much fun, I love you mommy, I love you daddy.” he fell asleep on you like 15 minutes into the movie he chose, but instead of carrying him in his room, you decided for living room sleepover.

You managed to change positions with Noah being the closest to the edge, you in the middle and then Milo. And in that moment, everything felt right, you laying between your boys, feeling protected from everything bad.

“I had fun tonight.” Noah whispered in your ear, while you felt the warmth of his body behind you.

“Me too.” You squeezed his arms that were gently laying around your waist.

“It’s moment like these that keep me sane when I’m away.” You heard bit of sadness in Noah’s voice, aware of how much he hated leaving you.

“I know Noah, me too. But Milo’s very understanding about things, so you don’t have to be sad. We will always wait for you to come home.”

“I know, and I’ll always come back home to you.”

“I love you, Noah.”

“I love you more.”

And with a final kiss from Noah you two fell asleep after the you all had the nicest evening in a long time.

[noctiva]

Tiiiv, It's me again..

OMG, OMG, wait! There's something I've always wondered... what do you think of Toby's relationship with his sister Lyra?

Many people leave this character aside, and it is not surprising, since he does not have much relevance in the story, Even though it was a BIG trigger for the killer we all want <3.

Do you have any thoughts on Lyra? How does she influence your version of Toby? And of course, depending on your thoughts, at some point in our relationship with Toby, can he open up and talk directly about his sister?

This is an excuse to comfort him and never let go, yeah

I'm leaving a song that sounds incredible with these siblings... I think Lyra would be the best sister-in-law, she's so beautiful in a horrible family.

OHHHHHHH Lyra :(

okay yes I do I have a lot to say about her actually!

growing up I think toby and lyra were closer than thieves

toby spent a lot of time in the hospital growing up bc of his conditions, and obviously that’s got to be a big mental strain on somebody so young. the isolation, the constant poking and prodding from nurses and doctors, the sickly smell of antiseptic day in and day out (not to mention his father’s horrid attitude, blaming all of the family’s financial issues on a son who didn’t ask for ANY OF THIS) - so Lyra keeping him company there was the only thing that would really keep him sane tbh

she’d skip school to go see him, sneak in all of his favourite snacks and sodas, fill an mp3 player with songs she thought he’d like just so that he had something to do when she was gone. she’d bring over sketchbooks and pencils, doodle on his bandages with sharpies much to the nurses distaste, play card games at his bedside and tell him dumb stories from her own life (dramatically, of course)

out of the hospital they were just as close. she’d let toby hang out on the floor of her room while she did homework on her bed, try out makeup on him just for the laughs, cut his hair for him when their dad would start picking on him for letting it grow out too long.

Lyra was quite literally Toby’s everything. She was the only one who really got it, who never judged him or teased him, who just let him be himself (their mom too, but honestly I think that the stress would really get to Connie, so I see her getting more distant from him as toby got older)

so losing her… that’s where the abandonment issues in my version of toby come from. he quite literally watched his everything - the only person who actually cared - get ripped away from him right in front of his eyes. had to watch the cops carry her away and everything.

i think he had nightmares for years. honestly, probably still does - and that’s most likely the driving force for his insomnia. he doesn’t want to sleep, because he knows that when he does he’s just going to see a replay of that horrid horrid day all over again

he isn’t quick to get attached to people - especially other proxies - because he’s got this irrational fear that life is just going to come along and snatch away anyone who makes him happy. like he’s cursed or some shit

she affects him in positive ways too I think though! I think he’s so caring and protective other those he loves because of her - he got that from seeing the way she treated him. he’s also very very appreciative + respectful towards women in general and would definitely break someone’s wrist if he ever saw them lay a hand on a girl

he had seen his mom and lyra bruised up from his dad way too many times to ever think about tolerating anything of the sort ever again. to him, it’s deplorable behaviour - he’d place an abuser below himself and he’s a serial killer. needless to say, he would never even THINK about laying a hand on his so either.

I think he still has the mp3 player Lyra gave him all those years ago. it’s busted, the screens cracked, and it’s broken from water damage - but he doesn’t care. it was hers, and it’s the only thing he’s got left - so you’ll usually find it hidden away snug inside of his inner jacket pocket, close to his heart.

I think it would take awhileeeeeeee for him to open up and talk about lyra. it’s the type of thing that still makes his tongue feel dry when he thinks about it - a wound that never heals. so bringing her up just makes him relive those memories allll over again. the good ones, but the bad ones too. but as well as that, I think he’ll come to a point where he feels almost as if he’s doing lyra a disservice by not speaking about her - like he’s leaving her behind, pretending she doesn’t exist. so, eventually yes, he’ll open up.

I also think he catches himself still referring to her in the present tense, even after all these years. it’s tough for his brain to wrap around the fact that she’s really truly gone - and the scariest part is that he’s starting to forget her.

can barely remember her face, but he remember that she had bright blonde hair like their dad. he can remember her laugh, but can’t remember all those funny jokes she used to tell him.

like grains of sand slipping through his fingers, and he knows that one day they’ll be nothing left to cling on to - but he’s still going to try to anyway

[ladyelissarose]

‘Me & My Broken Heart’

Miguel O’Hara x Teen Spider-Woman Reader

Spider-Woman goes by - ‘Dulce’ means ‘sweet’ in Spanish.

Summary: Miguel finds a daughter in you.

Warnings: FLUFF. period. It’s very short but it’s cute

“All I need is a little love in my life... all I need is a little love in the daaaaaark... A little but I'm hoping it might kick start... Me and my broken heart... nah nuh nah nuh na na na..”

Miguel typed away on his numerous screens, trying to ignore the way you sounded from afar off... as you sang this song ‘Me & My Broken Heart’ for the 1 millionth time. It was a sweet melody to his ears, you sounded almost angelic and carried the chords and lines perfectly... but it was the lyrics that shot him to his soul and made his heart squeeze painfully.

He hadn’t let himself feel love for a very long time now.. and he desperately craved it. Especially when he had you around, yes you were a teenager, but he felt a special care for you, ever sense you saved his life when he first came to your universe. He hadn’t seen anyone do such for him in a long time. And it made him feel in a way he hadn’t felt in a while.. a fatherly love submerge him.

Now he always has an eye on you, making sure you were safe and sound, he guarded you like a father would. If he couldn’t get being a father to Gabriella right, then he’d be your guardian as best as he could.. back in your home you didn’t have a family anyways, you fended for yourself and worked hard in between your two lives. Being Spider-woman sacrificed your family.

So Miguel went as far as providing a home for you in your universe and paying for your early college classes, when you admitted to him you wanted to be a chemist. You told him it wasn’t necessary but he swore by his decision that it was, and that you deserved it after all you’ve done for your city.

You two ended up being around one another a lot, on missions and even in your civil lives, he’d come to see you and make sure no one was bothering you or just hang out around your favorite places.

Miguel would be quiet most of the time, but he was genuinely happy and invested in you as he watched you be care-free around him, with your talk about teenage drama from school to your silly pranks on him.

And when you were a little quiet he spoke to cheer you up or teach you something new, like making a mess with empanadas or a cool swinging trick.

At the end of the day he either had a new bruise from try skateboarding with you or a sharpie drawn heart or cheesy joke on his arm. But nonetheless he was a listening ear and wise voice to you too, and he protected you with his life.

Everyone knew Miguel had a special place for you, and they left it at that, not wanting to take away what he found peace in- even if he hardly showed it or ever admitted it. Ever so often they’d push you to be around him when he was the grumpiest, and you gladly stuck to his side like glue, even if he told you he didn’t want to hear your voice at all or tell you to sit where he couldn’t see you.

But that was only because he wanted to control himself from hurting you with words or actions, like when he tosses things out of anger or frustration. He knew he’d kill himself if he ever hurt you, you were his best little buddy, his ‘little me’ and shadow.

Although he kept you around for he found a sense of comfort at knowing your peaceful and sweet soul was around to calm his raging feelings. Even when seen and not heard- or vice versa.

And today he wasn’t feeling his best… today was Gabriella’s birthday. The anger and guilt he felt towards himself weighed heavier than anything he had ever carried. So he asked Lyla to nicely ask you to go on a mission check with Gwen, and to come back later.

Soon when he didn’t hear your sweet voice singing anymore, he broke out and tossed his stuff everywhere, shouting curses and blaming himself for screwing up, regretting what he did.

Amongst everything he tossed around, a sticky note got stuck to his arm, and seeing he bright pink paper on him caught his attention and he ripped it off, but his curiosity had his honey eyes reading it intently, not remembering if he had ever used such papers.

Miguel’s emotions swirled around like a angry hurricane in him, it was ready to swallow him while as he let himself drown, refusing to crawl out again. But.. the simple words he read off the note in your messy teenage handwriting, caught his heart in your grip before he went under.

‘All is not lost, hold onto what still yours.’

He released the breath he was clinging onto, believing it’d be his last, and he clutched the paper tightly against his chest, over his heart. Tears brimmed in his eyes, but he choked them away when he heard Lyla claim,

“She’s on her way in here Miggy, she finished her mission.”

He cleared his throat and huffed to himself, his heart wanting to see you again,

“Ok.. that’s fine.”

Not even a minute passed when he heard you skipping and humming the toon from earlier… and he couldn’t help but sing it himself, even if he didn’t remember all the words,

“all I need is a little love in my life... all I need is a little love in the mmm mmm... a lil’ but I hope it might kick start.. mm hmm mm hmm.”

———-

You had just walked in, when you heard the soft words being spoken with a rhythm, it was pretty good and calming.

Like a warm breeze on a cool day, it made a warm feeling seep into your chest as you embraced the peaceful atmosphere of it. You thought that it was perhaps one of the Spiderlings that was always singing around, for the voice was pretty smooth and came out like a low rumble, but it rocked your soul in a warm embrace.

You searched as you walked deeper into the lair, but it made you realized no one was around- not even Hobie Brown. It made you frown in confusion as to where it came from as you continued to hear the voice of what was deciphered to belong to a man, it made your heart swoon like when you danced in the rain or saw it puppy... it made you feel nice as it was your favorite song.

‘Sounds so beautiful...’

“all I need is a little love in my life... all I need is a lil’ mmmhm in the mmm mmm... a lil’ but I hope it might kick start.. mm hmm mm hmm.”

The last hum was a deep rumble from the heart out, it was like a sweet groan of a perfect motor that drove the perfect night drives. You've heard this comforting tone, though he never used it in a way to comfort others.. it was usually given when he was tired of someone or arguing. So it had clicked for you who it was, though it surprised you,

'Miguel.'

Quietly to not disturb him you swung up to his liar that was lifted high (which was usually like that when he didn't want to be bothered) but you just wanted to listen closely, not bother, so you were good right?

Once your feet touched the ground, you got a clear visual of him as you looked up to him, and your heart sunk. He was hunched over his desk, and in his hand he held onto the pink sticky not, holding on to it very tightly. The note appeared tiny in his hold, as his hands were larger than normal- not that it was bad of course ;)

His other hand delicately swiped the screens around as he looked at them all attentively. His face reflected off the screen, and you could see the most endearing, hearts took over the size of his pupils and he didn't look so dark as usual... pink practically covered his cheeks... even a soft smile made it on to his lips. A photo of him and you on a polaroid, the one you snapped while hanging off the Statue of Liberty that one evening.

You had on rare occasions seen Miguel’s sweet side, but that was only when he had a full tummy and was not being bothered by Hobie. But either way you cherished every part of him, he had become your father figure, with the harsh scoldings and comfortable silences. With the pat on the head or smacking your shoulder when the most ridiculous things came out of your mouth or actions- he meant the world to you.

As you drew closer, you remembered he didn’t have strong spider-senses, so you went with your gut, and let your intrusive thoughts win the best of you. Regardless of what he could do- it was Miguel.

Letting your hand extend towards him, you pushed on your wrists and webbed his back, hearing the web smack his brick-wall looking back, giggling when you heard him scowl nicely,

“What are you doing? I know it’s you Dulc- oh!”

You smiled to yourself and closed you eyes, sighing,

“I love you Miguel..”

You had pulled yourself against him, squeezing his waist tightly and leaning your head on his broad back- well like on his lower back, he was a giant compared to you. You could feel the way his muscles tensed as he sucked in a breath. It was like if he was afraid of touch- a strong, loving embrace, but slowly he let the air out from his lungs, and relaxed into you.. allowing himself to be loved and feel loved. His large hand rested on your little one, patting it gently, he then squeezed your hand and replied softly,

“I know you do Dulce... I know.”

His arm then came around behind him and grabbed onto the back of the collar of your suit, bringing you in front of him. You looked up to him right away, wanting to read him before he spoke, but you could hear his heart beat.. it was calm and steady, as he radiated peace and wore a small smile. Hope surged you as you mirrored his expression, a small ‘oof’ left your lips when he pressed the sticky note to your forehead, then pulled you in for a hug.

He cradled you close with his hands while you wrapped your arms around him once again, your head against his stomach this time, feeling his calm breathing an hearing his heart more clearly. It was the sound of home and undeniable peace. Miguel rested his hand on your head and the other reached your shoulders, where he pressed you closer to him.

You took in a deep breath and sighed happily, feeling safe and sound in him, knowing he was your safe haven and that he’d never let you go to be alone.

And Miguel smiled to himself, knowing he had you, confident that he would never let you slip away ever, and that you wouldn’t go either.. so with a tight squeeze he admitted,

“I love you too mija.” (Darling)

[just-your-average-author]

TIT RECAP/THOUGHTS

SPOILERS OBV

Okay so firstly the open PSA that Dan wrote about "no photos or videos if you do, I will sue your ass to the ground" and "no flash photography do you want Phil to fall off the stage...again?!?!?" killed me. it was so cute

preshow playlist, stunning, beautiful all around bops.

the sudden cut off of the music and lights to signal the show started, genuinely shocked and I was SAT let me tell you.

THEY CAME OUT AND THEY WERE REAL?!? NOT A SIMULATION?? listen I still can't get over that, I can't believe they were real people who look and sound exactly like they do on my tv at home!! I was so focused on them and soaking every moment in, I couldn't handle it

have I mentioned how attractive they are?!?!?

okay also literally Phil straight up STOPPED THE SHOW BECAUSE HE HAD TO SNEEZE AND DAN JUST STARED AND WAS LIKE PHIL WTF and I loved every second I was like yes this is straight up what they do in videos, let's have our little squirrel moment babes.

plus it made it feel even more silly and improv, overall I know obv they scripted a lot but it was sooo interactive and they ad libbed so much and I adored it

the dollhouse recap i swear wtf. first off, it was such a creative and fun idea and the different sets, and dressed up dolls that the clothes matched!! also okay I'm so sorry I had no idea the random sex positions would be a theme of the show so I was gobsmacked, but the 69ing during pinof??? "so we did what 2 closeted twinks did upon meeting each other for the first time.... put sharpie's cat whiskers on!!!" shut up for the love.

I genuinely loved the role model or no-el model segment. my show was in NC so they first option for Dan as the Mr. Lawyer was he bans ___ and someone said south carolina and they both just were rendered speechless and were like damn oh dear but laughing too.

The boxing match was so hot dear heavens, Dan's expression when Phil came out in the fake- *cough* I mean very real abs. He was acting for his LIFE.

the confessions were so good, just wish it lasted a little longer. the yapping was good and also idk if this was standardized but the whole thing where Phil said "I have a cute but also sociopathic thing going on and I think it's working for me 😌" like shut up you're so adorable

omg the quick change where they kept their mics on and narrated so many innuendos I was dying omg so silly and so funny I loved it. I was really impressed with how fast they changed, but also talked the whole time.

I loved every single solitary part of this show and I loved how they joked about how they were sorry we all went to school with whiskers then got out in the trash (cause yeah basically) and how they literally did raise us and should be blamed for us being feral not our actual legal guardians.

okay so. this show 9/10. here's where the last 1 point went.

please don't kill me, but I wasn't a fan of the song. I'm not entirely sure what it was, but the whole show was so raw and perfect and then the song was just really synthetic and overly autotuned where I personally didn't even hear their voices. like I couldn't tell who was singing which part. the ukulele part was cute, and I really hoped that would've been all of it, I guess the internet is here and interactive introverts and everything's fine just was so good you couldn't raise the bar again, but that was just my personal opinion, I know a lot of people loved the song and it was catchy and cute, I'm just not personally a fan of kpop/synthesized music so I was a little disappointed in the song but the dancing slapped so hard.

Dan flawlessly executing every move and strut and making eye contact with us while Phil very intentionally was focused on not tripping or walking off the stage and looking at Dan a few times to check if he was doing it right MY HEART.

cuties, gay, both of them, love them

overall I spent last night frantically calculating if I could afford to spontaneously go see the Nashville show as well and spend another 10 hours in the car today but regretfully thought against it.

[cardentist]

"haha Wow can you Believe how crazy it is that jay outed tim's medical records?"

Hoody:

1: stole tim's records from when he was 8 years old, which meant that he had to Specifically and Intentionally track them down To steal them. from his house? Maybe, we certainly see him breaking into tim's house plenty. (though why would tim even still have those)

2: baited jay both in person and online implying that tim was lying to him (reminder, the last guy who lied to jay about his intentions tried to kill him with a gun and turned out to have tried to murder all of his friends. and tim himself had watched jay sleep, been in videos threatening him right before jay's apartment burned down, and tried to physically attack him.)

3: intentionally planted the records in a scary tunnel under the abandoned burned down mental hospital and lead jay there by the nose, going so far to write how much of liar tim is in big bold sharpie on the files themselves.

4: after all of this happened hoodie's immediate next step was to break into tim's house, steal his medication, and intentionally set off and film tim having a seizure and post it on the internet.

Hoodie leaked tim's medical records, he specifically and Intentionally baited jay into finding and documenting them because it proved that tim was lying about the slender haunting only starting recently for him.

and it's important to note that jay's response wasn't to get angry with tim, it was to Blame Himself and express empathy for tim.

it's Also worth noting that the majority of the records were redacted (including tim's Name), which is a point in favor of both jay And hoodie (hoodie still cares about tim, even if he's angry at him and willing to hurt him to push him towards what he thinks needs to be done).

moreover, jay's censored tim's last name before (several times, actually), just like he's censored amy and jessica's phone numbers. I think it's safe to assume that part of the reason why jay filmed it was because those details Were redacted (that and, of course, evidence keeps disappearing from his house and from his laptop. which means if he forgets about them and they're stolen then they're just gone- if there isn't some other record of them online, of course).

my point being, it burns my ass that people blame jay for this and hold it against him like it's the worst thing that he could've done, without ever holding it against hoodie.

I feel like this is a cross section of fans only holding characters accountable for what other characters get mad about (tim was Right to be angry at jay for it, but he didn't call out hoodie. probably because there'd be no point, he can't exactly hold him responsible. likewise jay Deliberately didn't get mad at tim about what he did as masky, at least not openly, so fans tend to not understand his perspective)

And fans holding jay to a different standard than they do other characters in general. whether it's because most of his personal information is on his twitter (secondary material people are less likely to go through, especially while watching), because his voice acting tends to be less emotionally charged (it was probably just that troy's acting was a little awkward, but I personally like to read him as autistic), Or because he's just generally not as cool.

either way, people tend to hold jay accountable for things they let tim and hoody off the hook for. and it's kind of Really insane in this case.

[clotpolesonly]

it's such a shame that we play strangers

it's been almost exactly 4 years since i actually wrote this, lol. i intended to write more at the time, but i've long since forgotten what else i'd intended to do with it. looking back on it now, i think it's pretty self-contained, in a tragic cathartic kinda way, so you're getting it as is! | Scott & Stiles | Gen | 1.6k | Canon Compliant | Post-Season 5 | Angst | Dissociation | Ambiguous Ending | (also on AO3)

.

Stiles hasn’t slept well in weeks. Months, probably. Years?

It doesn’t matter. It just means that he’s awake when a light thump sounds outside his window. There’s a weird, dizzying moment where adrenaline blasts through him, primed and ready to help him fight or flee, but he just…doesn’t. He’d like to think that some buried instinct is telling him it’s not a threat, but, honestly, it’s more likely that he’s just too burned out to care. After everything that’s gone down lately, he doesn’t have any more fight left in him, threat or no.

He watches as a shadow falls across his floor. It stays there for a while. Then his window creaks open and someone slips inside.

Stiles hasn’t seen Scott in a few days. That’s not too abnormal—the pack usually goes their separate ways for a while after crises, spending time with family and catching up on everything they neglected for the sake of fighting for their lives—but also it kind of is. For them, at least. Stiles doesn’t think they’ve gone this long without talking since they decided they were best friends way back in third grade.

He can’t blame Scott for the radio silence. He hasn’t picked up the phone either.

He doesn’t say anything now. Scott knows he’s awake, so he doesn’t bother pretending that he isn’t. For a long few seconds, they just look at each other. Then Scott looks away. He shifts on his feet. Through the darkness, Stiles can just make out the way he opens his mouth and then closes it again.

Stiles finds the energy to push himself upright. He rubs at his forehead and says, with a tiredness that goes far deeper than just a lack of sleep, “Is something wrong? What’s happening?”

“No,” Scott says. “No, there’s nothing— Everything’s fine, I just—”

He trails off, and Stiles lets him. Scott’s hand comes up to run roughly through his hair. Silhouetted against the streetlamp outside the window, Stiles can see that it’s shaking. Scott lets out a sharp breath and meets Stiles’ eye again.

“I just miss you.”

The words sit heavy between them. Stiles feels like they should mean more to him, like they should hit him harder. But he’s having a hard time feeling much of anything lately, these last few days especially. He doesn’t know what it is, but everything is five steps away and he doesn’t have the strength to reach for it. Scott is five steps away. He’s right there, and isn’t this what Stiles has wanted? Isn’t that what he’s been fighting for this whole time? Not to lose Scott?

He still wants that, doesn’t he?

Scott is watching him. Waiting for him to say something. Backlit as he is, Stiles can’t really see his face. His mind is quick to fill in the blank with rain-drenched memories that burrow into his gut and twist like a sword, but even that feels distant and a little unreal.

The silence stretches on.

Scott is still waiting, shaking hands fisted into the hem of his t-shirt. He’s in sweatpants. Bare feet, like he got out of bed and just started running. Maybe he did.

Stiles doesn’t know what to say to that. Instead, he pulls back the covers and shifts over to make room.

It’s been a few years since the last time they shared a bed. Sometime around middle school, they decided that they were too grown up for that, too manly and independent. There’s a well-worn sleeping bag in the closet with Scott’s name written on the tag in sharpie. But Scott doesn’t hesitate to climb into Stiles’ bed now, all thoughts of manliness and sleeping bags abandoned.

They’re close enough to touch, but they don’t. They settle down side by side, a two-inch chasm between them and the silence a second blanket. It should feel familiar, but it doesn’t. Everything about it is foreign and the uncomfortableness prickles along Stiles’ skin like the feeling of unseen eyes on him. His breathing feels too loud.

Scott shifts beside him. “Do you remember that game we used to play?” he asks, barely more than a whisper. “When we were kids?”

Stiles’ breath catches. He swallows. “Yeah.”

“Can we play it again?”

Eyes already stinging, Stiles lets them close. “Yeah.”

It’s another minute before Scott says anything else. He used to be quick on the draw, back when they were kids, always full of words bubbling up and spilling out. Even the stuff he would never tell anyone else, he didn’t hesitate to tell Stiles. And that was the whole point of the game, wasn’t it? They started playing it after Stiles’ mom died and his dad insisted he needed to “talk to someone”. He meant a therapist, but Stiles threw a fit. He didn’t want to talk to someone, and he definitely didn’t want some old guy asking him a bunch of invasive questions and telling him how to feel.

“You can talk to me instead,” Scott said then, earnest as anything. “I won’t even talk back at you! I’ll just be nobody, and I won’t ask you any questions or tell you anything. You just say whatever you want to. I won’t even look at you, if you don’t want.”

It doesn’t qualify as a game, really. But they played it a lot, in those months after he lost his mom. And they played it again, after Scott’s dad left. Whenever one of them had feelings they didn’t want to admit to anybody, the other would be nobody for a night and just let them talk until they’d talked themselves out. No questions, no responses, no eye contact. Just words in open air, heard but unacknowledged.

It wasn’t therapy, but it worked for them.

Now, they lie side by side in the dark, and it takes an age for Scott to force words past his lips when even the most shameful admission used to come so easily to him.

What he finally says is, “I feel like a failure.” His voice is hoarse with the weight of it, scraping against his throat, but that doesn’t stop him. “I feel like I let everyone down. Like I always let everyone down. And not just with—”

Scott stops and the unspoken name rings in the silence. He’s gone, but he’s not. And even if he was, what he did to them wouldn’t be. The cracks in the foundation that Theo stuck his dynamite into were there long before he rolled back into town.

“I’m scared all the time,” Scott goes on. “The monsters that keep coming scare me. Hunters scare me. The way people look at me like they expect me to have all the answers scares me. Because I don’t know anything! I don’t know what to do, but everyone thinks I should, and when I make even the smallest mistake, people die, and I—”

Stiles curls his fingers in the sheets, throat tight and aching. But he doesn’t speak. Those are the rules.

“I miss Allison,” Scott whispers to the ceiling. “And I miss Kira. I miss Derek. I miss you.”

Screw the rules. “I’m still here.”

“Are you?”

Stiles breaks another rule. He looks. Scott’s profile is a dim silhouette in the darkness of the room. He doesn’t turn to look back.

“So much has happened,” Scott says. “Everything has changed so much. I just feel…wrong. Like I’m not myself anymore. I look in the mirror and see a person that I don’t even recognize. I don’t want to be that person, but I am, and I hate it.”

His voice breaks.

“I don’t even know when it happened. Everything is just so messed up. I feel like I just looked up one day and I wasn’t me, and you weren’t you. And I don’t mean that like—”

Empty eyes, bloody hands, dusty riddles in the dark. Stiles looks away. He almost wishes it was as simple as that, when he was him and then he wasn’t. At least then he knew what he was becoming. Now the empty eyes in the mirror are no one’s but his own. 

He doesn’t look in mirrors much anymore.

Scott hasn’t moved this whole time, but he does now, one hand coming up to rub at his face: wiping away tears. Stiles’ own tears stubbornly refuse to spill over. The hand falls back to the bed between them. Scott’s fingers dig into the sheets too, an inch away.

“I feel like I don’t know you anymore.” He laughs—a pitiful, hollow sound. “You’re my brother, one of the people I love more than anything, but I don’t know how to talk to you anymore. I don’t know what you’ll say like I used to, or how you’ll react. I don’t even know if you want me to try, or if it would be better to just—”

Stiles releases his stranglehold on the sheets and scrabbles blindly for Scott’s hand instead. His next blink set the tears to falling, thick and fast, but Scott lets him tangle their fingers together tight enough to hurt.

“I’m here,” is all he has. “I’m here.”

It feels like a lie. Every beat of his heart in his chest feels like a lie, like something trying to convince him that he still exists when the person he remembers being died a long time ago. His hand fits differently in Scott’s than it used to, and why shouldn’t it? There’s blood between their fingers now.

He doesn’t have a confession of his own. All he’s got is a sucking emptiness in his chest and the buzz of static in his head. He grips tighter to Scott’s hand, bones creaking under the force of it, but he barely feels the pressure. The salt on his lips tastes like dust. 

[pumpkinsy0]

Can I get more Ponyboy and Darry getting along hc’s

no actually u cant, i killed pony off screen and darrys never seeing him again

•darry doesnt smoke, but sometimes he just has it in his mouth and accidentally chews on it jusssttttt a tad bit. bc he didnt smoke it he gives it to pony and ponys staring at the teethmarks, will he drop it???? NO hes a smoke addict he smokes it like a MAN

•darry once took pony w him on one of his water skiing trips, let me tell u first AND LAST times pony went, pony didnt wanna ski but darry was telling him its alright, 10 minutes late pony face palmed into the water and his wholleeeee front part of the body was red he hit that water HARD. didnt help darry and his friends were laughing a lil

•adult pony toootttalllyyy has a pic of darry in his wallet, its the other half to the pic darry has of pony in his wallet!!! soda thinks its so cute and loves stealing their wallets to connect them, but darry and pony r embarrassed

•bc darry spent most of his adult hood acting like a parent more than anything, when ponys FINALLY an adult thatssss when darry rlly starts acting like a brother, hes basically catching up on all the stupid things siblings r “supposed to do when theyre younger” aka telling ponys hes adopted

•and yknow what??? ponys gotta appreciate the time darrys wait to do that stupid prank, he even used the ”i didnt wanna tell u that when u were youger after all u went through so im telling u this now” line

•yknow darrys not that bad of an artist, hes not picasso now, aint gettin no awards any time soon, but ponys seen his work and likes it, so to darry, thats enough for him. thank god pony hasnt seen the drawings hes done of him though, landscapes r darrys thing, faces???? notttt so much

•darry still has his football uniform and he hasnt washed the short bit in theeee longest time bc he let pony write on it w sharpie and he doesnt want that washed out, everyone has written in that jersey but he always pays attention to what pony wrote cause thats one of the last times darrys rlly talked to pony as a brother and not a parent

•same thing w pony and his track uniform, what darry wrote is faded bc pony has a habit if just pouring water on himself after his meets/competitions and its hard to read bc of the color of it, but pony knows its there and that motivated him

•i have such a specific memory of being hit DIRECTLY in the ear w a football and im giving that memory to pony, it was a DIRECT hit too, literal bullseye. darry hot pony on accident and while he was taking care of pony, they were both thinking “my god what a good arm”

•the gang learning gymnastics was a mistake, like a genuine mistake, it started off as darry wanting to teach pony how to do a simple handstand but soda and steve walked in, and demanded to learn too, then it snowballed. earlier though pony busted his lip trying out the handstand and he will foreverrrrr blame darry, darry said he was holding his feet only for him to let go and ponys arm placement to not b so good

[oneforthemunny]

Thinkin' about carving pumpkins with Cowboy Eddie. (And by "carving pumpkins", I mean you draw faces on them and make him do all the dirty work. 😂)

"You're shittin' me." Eddie laughed, shaking his head when he looked at the pumpkin you passed him.

You frowned, looking at the Sharpie stenciled outline. "No." You pouted lightly. "What? What's wrong with it?"

Eddie blinked, scoffing lightly in amusement before bumming his cigarette in the tray on the porch. "Nothin', baby." He muttered, a dimpled grin that made you frown.

"You're making fun of me." You glared at him. "What? What's wrong with my pumpkin?"

"Nothin', baby. You just said it was gonna be easy." Eddie grinned, digging in his pant pocket for his pocket knife.

"This is easy." You insisted.

"Says you, darlin', 'm the one cuttin' it." Eddie smirked, taking the pumpkin from you, settling it between his legs.

"It's star eyes! That's it!" You gawk, throwing a hand out towards the outlined eyes of the pumpkin. "How is that any different from a regular one?"

"Because," Eddie grinned, far too amused for your liking. "Regular one is just a triangle."

"So?" You scoff, rolling your eyes at him lightly. "That's basically a triangle."

"That so?"

"Yeah," You hum, looking over at your design. "It's, like, a bunch of triangles."

Eddie howled in laughter, eyes shining when they looked over at you, the light from the porch illuminating your silhouette. You looked so pretty. He'd carve a million fucking pumpkins if you wanted him to.

"I got it." Eddie flicked the knife open.

You frowned. "I think you need a bigger knife."

"I think you need to let me work." Eddie countered, a light glare that had your tummy flipping in excitement. "Go get that scooper spoon thing." He nodded behind you, sawing through the pumpkin.

You reached towards the plastic, orange scooper, past the newspaper you laid out and the tiny carving tools that came with it- the ones Eddie scoffed at when you showed him. "Gonna need somethin' sharper than that, baby."

"You gonna get the guts out?" Eddie's eyes flicked to yours, biting back his grin of amusement when your nose crinkled.

"No."

"So he's keepin' them in?"

"No, Eddie." You huffed, voice coasting on a whine. "You scoop them out."

"You got me doin' all the work?" Eddie laughed, eyes shining up at yours.

"You said you would help me!" You countered. "And I'm not touching that. It'll get under my nails." You snarled, shaking your head in disgust, lips puckered like you ate something sour.

Eddie laughed, pulling the top off with the stringy contents, seeds and "guts" with them. "So they gotta go under my nails, huh?"

"You don't have nails." You nodded at his short, trimmed nails. Eddie barely had any, and you didn't blame him, not working with animals all day.

Eddie stopped, looking over at you with a goofy, lopsided grin. "Alright, I guess I'll do it f'ya." He purred. "If you do somethin' for me?"

You frowned lightly. "What?"

"Gimme a kiss now, maybe some head after it's done." He shrugged casually.

You fought back a grin and an eye roll. Fair enough, you were gonna do that anyways.

"Fine." You groan, feigning irritation, leaning towards him on the wooden planks of the porch.

Eddie's lips enveloped yours easily, tongue slipping past your teeth cheekily, until you were giggling, pulling back with a raised brow. "Gotta finish the pumpkin if you want me to suck you off." You nodded towards the pumpkin in between his legs, smug at how he blushed under the moonlight.

[ponett]

with the fallout of bandai namco's idiotic "it's up to interpretation" bs, do you think that it's possible to enjoy queer media made in a corporate environment in addition to independent works? is it even worthwhile to attempt making queer media in a corporate environment? i find it special how well the g-witch production team managed to tell the story they wanted even with the challenges and pressures they faced, but i have to admit that independent works like slarpg are always going to more completely tell queer stories. as someone who has resonated with both slarpg and g-witch, i was curious to know your perspective.

i'm probably less cynical about this than a lot of my peers are - not that i can blame anyone for feeling cynical about queer rep from corporate-owned media. (we've been through so many First Ever Gay Disney Characters at this point, and lord knows blizzard loves to tease that another overwatch character might be gay every year or so as a PR move.) unfortunately it's just extremely hard to get something like a full season of an animated series funded and produced independently, so the artists looking to enter these fields and pour their hearts and souls into meaningful queer stories as a full-time job don't have many options

going indie gives you theoretically endless creative freedom to tell your stories without corporate censorship, but it's also a massive gamble. only an extreme minority of indie creatives in any medium are actually able to make a living. the fact that i came out the other side of slarpg's development with enough money that i can keep being a full-time indie instead of being in massive debt makes me one of the lucky ones. and even with my modest success, i sure as hell don't have the money to hire a whole team, which limits the scope of what i can make. so i can't turn my nose up at the queer people writing disney channel cartoons where they can't say the word "gay" out loud. they have health insurance, i don't. for most people, what i do is simply not an option

with the corporate-produced Queer Stories i enjoy, i'm often able to squint and see what the creatives were trying to do, wishing that they could have done more while understanding that they probably had to fight tooth and nail for what's there

in the realm of children's animation in particular, i'm thankful that the people working at these studios ARE fighting for more, because it means that kids today have so many more positive queer stories to relate with. i didn't have a single gay character i felt i could relate to until i read scott pilgrim at age 16 and saw wallace wells. before that, i felt so alone in the world. i denied who i was for years because it felt like there would be no place for me. i didn't know anyone openly gay in real life, growing up in the south, and in fiction gay people either existed as the butt of a joke or not at all. the fact that queer kids are now able to see people like themselves in so many shows means something, even if we still have a long way to go and the big studios continue to be a major obstacle

on the subject of g-witch, i'm honestly unfazed by the statement from bandai-namco. i guess i wish they could've let suletta and miorine kiss, but like... the text of the show is extremely blunt about them being a couple by the end. it's not up for debate. and it's not like a gundam series having a meaningful story in spite of the wishes of the toy-producing overlords is anything new, this is just our latest example

all that being said, i do think people should branch out more and explore more weird indie shit if they want more wholeheartedly, openly queer stories. people gotta suck it up and embrace more outsider art instead of only valuing things with studio-level production values. start looking at ren'py visual novels, rpg maker games, obscure webcomics, zines drawn in sharpie, artists on bandcamp who aren't signed to a label, all that jazz. maybe part of the reason why i'm not more fazed by the state of affairs with corporate-funded fiction is that i'm constantly surrounded by furry artists who are telling their own little gay stories

[twistedwonderlandshenanigans]

Random HC's About The Cast's Parents

As it sounds. Other Family Headcanons can be found here. Warning, some of these are angsty, including reference substance abuse. Also no Diasomnia bc. like I need to WAIT, no spoilers please

Heartslaybul Parents

Carlotta Rosehearts owns dozens and dozens of health and medical textbooks, but before she let Riddle read them, she went over passages that she didn't agree with in Sharpie.

The Clovers were high-school sweethearts, Trey having been conceived when his mom was 16. Her side of the family is from Harveston. After his father was disowned by his family, her mom let them move in. As a community they raised enough money to help them open a small bakery in the Queendom of Roses, supplying them with free apples for the first few years until they were well established.

Regina Diamond and her (name undecided) husband got into a relationship early on in college, and got married only four weeks later as his family was well off and happy for him to have found someone, and she had made up a sob story about her family disowning her when she had really been the one to cut off her very concerned, very caring family. Their relationship became sour very quickly, but he didn't feel like he could leave once she revealed she was pregnant with their eldest daughter.

Delia Spade's late husband was also her high school sweetheart, but they waited a few years before deciding they wanted their family to grow. She hated that he was in the military, so when he was called to serve a month into her pregnancy, she had a sinking feeling that she wouldn't be seeing him again...and she was right. At least with the military, when Deuce was born deaf/hoh she had a little bit of extra support financially, but ultimately decided she would rather not have ties with the organization that cost her child's father's life. She moved in with her late husband's mother for the first four years of Deuce's life, until she found a small house she could afford on her own for her and Deuce.

Clark Trappola is a severe alcoholic with a gambling problem. Jack (Ace's big brother) spent most of his at home life acting as a buffer between his dad and Ace. Their father blames the loss of their mother on Ace's birth, so they do not get along. For the years that Jack was at NRC, Ace spent crashing at other friends houses, or when he absolutely had to, in the attic of his house because he knew their dad wouldn't find him up there. (Jack helped him renovate it before he left). As soon as Jack graduated, he was able to find a place to rent with a few other graduates, and let Ace move in. Savanaclaw Parents

We already know that the Kingscholars were not the most attentive or fair of parents, but Leona had a maid named Lesedi who absolutely adored him, and treated him like it. He adores her, and sees her as more of a maternal figure than his biological mother. She's very old and retired now, but she is the first person he sees willingly when he gets home, and has made sure she is given the highest quality of care the royal family has to offer. She's also very blunt and to the point, and was never afraid of disciplining the young prince.

Ruggie was raised by his grandma, but that was because his lesbian mothers were....one of them cheated and he was living proof. Ultimately, his mother decided she couldn't care for him the way he deserved to be cared for and gave him to her own mother.

Jack's parents couldn't be more polar opposite of each other. His mother is tiny, she has really thick, curly hair, very expressive, and pretty eccentric. His father is rather stoic and hard to read, always having a rather unimpressed look on his face. and built like a tank. His dad used to be a pro wrestler, but now he's part of a motorcycle "gang" that rides to raise money for amputee/accessibility inclusivity and rights, and his mom hosts art shows for the same reason. This is because Jack's aunt- (his Dad's brother's sister) was in an accident that resulted in her prosthetic arm. Octavinelle Parents

Azul was raised by his mother and his grandma (insert dark joke about his mom and grandma having eaten their mates) who absolutely ADORE him, he can do no wrong. His grandma's UM is called Siren's Song, which allows her to pick up on the true desires of an individual...which in turn allows her to offer the most appealing services to them, or how to make someone so driven just by indulging in the desires they have. His mom is magicless, but has the most gorgeous voice under the sea. The restaurant under the sea is also connected to a casino, which has a lot of the Leech's uh...Help to run.

The Leech parents are adorable, childhood friends to lovers, and yes they have a vial of each others blood on a string around their necks because that's what you do if you really love each other right? They're unhinged in everything, including the way they love. Jade takes after his father, Floyd takes after his mother. Scarabia Parents

Kalim's parents....well his mother, Adrika, was and is very doting but gets easily distracted. She is heavily involved in the textiles industry of the Scalding Sands. While she could leave tailoring and whatnot to her servants, for Kalim, she chooses to create all of his formal (?) outfits for him from scratch. She always manages to hide an tiger face in the stitching somewhere so as to give him a little extra surprise to look forward to.

Jamil doesn't consider his parents to be his parents. They've treated him like a tool since he was young, and he practically raised Najma on his own while they worked. He understands the sacrifices they had to make, but can't excuse the way he was treated. He treats them like acquaintances, and because of this, the little Jamil in my brain does not want to tell me anything about his parents. Pomefiore Parents

Vil's father is not only famous for directing (or whatever it is in canon), but he's a famous classical music compose (yes bc for some reason I immediately associated him with Eric Whitacre shhhhhh)

Rook's parents are both extreme hoarders. He hates talking about himself or home as a result. The siblings he has, he's never met because of the age gap between him and them being over 16 years. He used to pretend he would go on trips around the world with them as a means of escaping his reality.

Tanya and Adam Felmeir have an annual tradition to celebrate their wedding anniversary. They've always wanted to include Epel as a part of it, so at the beginning of the year he assigns them an animal, and by the time their anniversary rolls around they've both made tiny hand-carved figurines of said animal. The past few years have been difficult for his mother as she has been battling an undiagnosed illness, so he's been her hands and sits and carves with her until she's happy with the product so she still has something nice to give to her husband, Ignihyde Parents

Mama Shroud used to be part of a different research lab for blot, investigating the effects of blot on the human body more than the progression of blot and how to contain it. Her parents and Idia's paternal grandparents lowkey pushed their kids to Chat. As they did, they realized that they found each other's research fascinating and resulted in years of pining between the two of them until Mama Shroud finally just kissed her now husband. Also, Idia is not their first born child, he's just the one that survived. Diasomnia Parents I ain't getting into this sorry. I'm sorry. I can't. No spoilers of my queen in the tags ok?? or of anything chapter 7 related. Thank You

[they-call-me-emmy]

Memories - Tara Carpenter

I'm using da lyrics from 'Memories' by my angelic sweet angel face Conan Gray. I worship him. Thank you.

i dont even know how to classifiy this or whatever but lie eyhahh

yey.

It's been a couple months That's just about enough time For me to stop crying when I look at all the pictures

The Polaroids on your bed sheet. The small, scribbled dates in blue sharpie on the back. The way you genuinely looked happy in the photo. The way your own face looked back at you. The way her face looked back at you. It's been months. Get over it. That's what your friends tell you. What your family tells you. What you tell yourself.

Now I kinda smile, I haven't felt that in a while It's late, I hear the door Bell ringing and it's pouring

Tears well up in your eyes, blurring your vision and causing the lights to disable it completely. You needed to put these pictures down. Throw them away, lock them up, anything. Anything to make you stop looking. The sad, sarcastic laugh escapes your throat and you feel weird the moment it comes out.

You jump as the doorbell rings. You don't know who it could be. Its raining outside, you can hardly see the streetlamps. Your wearing the same baggy, stained shirt you'd been wearing for the previous week and a half. It might have been hers, you honestly can't remember.

You stumble to the door, opening it and feeling your eyes widen.

I open up that door, see your brown eyes at the entrance You just wanna talk and I can't turn away a wet dog

"Tara." You say, a slight twinge of coldness to your tone, although you were too shocked and hurt to muster up enough to shoot at her.

"Y/n." She said softly, the same tone as yours but the coldness replaced with what normally you would label as guilt. But Tara doesn't feel guilty....does she?

"Can I..." You clear your throat, willing yourself not to shout or cry or blame her for everything. It takes a lot of strength to not shut the door in her face, but you've always had a soft spot for her. "Can I help you?"

"I just...I just want to talk." She stares at her feet.

"Oh."

"Okay."

But please don't ruin this for me Please don't make it harder than it already is I'm trying to get over this

You can't have this girl ruining everything. Barging back in, to 'talk'. But you knew. You knew how much you wanted her back. But you're working for it. Working on getting over it. You're trying, you really are, but fuck. It might not be working. She's making this harder by coming here, bugging you. If she'd let you be, you'd forget about her, at some point.

Right?

I wish that you would stay in my memories But you show up today, just to ruin things I wanna put you in the past 'cause I'm traumatized

You wanted to forget. Have it all gone. Burn those fucking photos. But she's here, and she's real, and she's talking about how sorry she is, how her life is a mess and she needs a place to stay. And you can't do it now, you couldn't do it before and certainly not when she's crying in your living room. But you needed to get over her. You were scared.

But you're not letting me do that, 'cause tonight You're all drunk in my kitchen, curled in the fetal position Too busy playing the victim to be listening to me when I say

She's been drinking. The daze in her eyes and her wobbly movements and speech would show that to anyone. She's crying, telling you she left you for your own sake, that she didn't mean it and she was just having a hard time with life.

But now you were having a hard time. Because of her. And here she was, drunkenly crying to you. And here you were, letting her back in, for what? What're you getting out of this?

But you just can't turn her away.

"I wish that you would stay in my memories" In my memories, stay in my memories

"Tara, it's not right. You should leave. You're in my past. Go."

"G-God, please Y/n...d-don't k-kick me out-t." She sniffled, and her big brown eyes filled with more tears and suddenly you felt guilty, like kicking a bird from it's nest. But this wasn't her place. She didn't live here, you weren't with her. She had no right to stay.

But for some crazy reason you'd definitely regret in a day, you let her stay.

Now I can't say goodbye if you stay here the whole night You see, it's hard to find an end to something that you keep beginning Over and over again

"Can I stay over?" She asked you softly, her eyes wide and you couldn't say no.

Why can't you ever say no?

You knew that you'd never leave her behind if she kept coming back, forcing her way back into your heart. You knew you'd never get over her when she's laying on you couch like she used to, eyes closed and a sweet, innocent aura surrounding her sleeping figure.

I promise that the ending always stays the same So there's no good reason in make believing that we could ever exist again

You weren't ever going to go back to the way it was. She needs to stop trying. There's nothing in your favor. In your relationships favor. There's nothing that makes you two an important couple. You were just two people. You couldn't be with her anymore. That ship had sailed, and relationships never last through the second round.

I can't be your friend, can't be your lover Can't be the reason we hold back each other from falling in love With somebody other than me

You couldn't be her friend, it's too much to bear. The knowledge that you'd been with her, felt her, held her and loved her was too much. And she knew that. You couldn't be her girlfriend again. That hadn't worked out the first round, why would you suffer to try to survive the second? But she can't feel a connection, no, because then, she'd be stuck pity filled and guilty, and she too, just like you, would never move on and never find love. But it can't be with you, and it will never be because god fucking dammit that didn't work out and you ruined your chance. She ruined your chance.

She ruined this for you, and there was no going back. There was no fixing what had been broken.

And for that, she deeply regretted.

I clearly cannot write sad stuff

please comment because those are my favorites <3

[jortschronicles]

The Don Marcus Project - a costuming diary

At Vindheim's first Accademia della Spada, the tournament for Princess Octavia's champion was held. My brother white scarf, Master Marcus von Furth, WSA was chosen as HSH's personal champion to be sicced on her foes and to defend her good name and honor. Several years ago, when Marcus was chosen to be Deanna I's champion, she approached my wife to make him one new suit so he could better look the role. That she did, and in addition a second hand silk suit (seen below) we had bought hoping it would fit me did not, but it sure did fit our boy!

(I'm still mad about that suit not fitting me, I'm OBSESSED)

This time, Marcus approached me about making 1 new suit and 2 extra doublets to help him better look the part and to accommodate his sick new gains! Ah, the joys of working out and eating sufficient protein. All your old stuff no longer fits right, and specifically in the difficult areas to let out and take in. Marcus's preferred style of doublet is almost more of a jerkin, with little sleeve puffs as seen in his old doublet and in Don Gabriel de la Cueva y Giron Duke of Albuquerque by Giovanni Battista Moroni (Moroni my beloved <3333) as seen below. Obviously, the heat of Ansteorra contributes to certain styling decisions and the removal of the full length doublet between the undershirt and the puff-sleeved doublet.

The time had come for my second attempt to figure out the barra system and pattern drafting method featured in Matthew Gnagy's The Modern Maker. For those of you who haven't yet used it, it is genius and intuitive in how counterintuitive it can feel. Gnagy walks even an intermediate (begrudgingly) sewist through a historical pattern drafting method that relies on the tendency of the human body to be proportional in certain measurements to the bust, waist, hip, and height. It makes an incredibly good first draft which, for the doublet I'm working on myself concurrently, only took one pass. In defense of the mockup for Marcus, I was figuring it out as I went, okay?

I used multiple colors of sharpies to keep my brain from melting as I went, starting with a fine pointed light pink as a "sketching" sharpie and frequently clarifying lines with an orange or blue sharpie. I did run into issues where my math failed me and had to insert extra fabric, as seen above, but who knew what chaos those simple insertions would portend....

Behold, the frankendoublet. The result of me screwing up and miscalculating in some places, learning after the first try on that the wearer had gained 2 inches of bicep and almost 3 inches of chest and back muscle in the months since I'd last measured him, and in confirming his preference for a more modern, long-torsoed garment than the higher waistline seen in late period. I swear there was a method to this madness, but it gives a few of my apprentice siblings headaches looking at it and I don't blame them. I transferred the pattern to paper, and we were off to the races!

A quick interjection about the fabric choices: we are both in the middle of financial tight spots, so as much as I'd like to work with natural materials (that don't melt by campfires at the very least) we agreed to opt for 1 silvery-blue shot silk-look polyester doublet, 1 crimson shot silk-look polyester doublet, and 1 royal blue polycotton striped brocade full suit, all intended to be interchangable for a variety of outfits. I bought 2 yards for each of the doublets and 3 yards for the pants, rocking out at $40 flat for the self fabric. While not ideal for breathability and late night campfires, right now it's hard to beat costs like that. The silvery-blue can be seen for the remainder of this post as I chose to use it for the first doublet.

In one full day's work I have managed to chalk and cut out the full doublet from the self and the lining (a slate blue linen I pulled from stash) and used approximately 1.6 yards of each. Behold my selection of pattern weights, including a remote, a basket hilt, 3 bottles of paint, most of a block of wax, some drill blocks, sticky notes, and a can of coke I was putting off drinking so it could continue to serve as a pattern weight.

By the end of day 1 of sewing I had assembled the full body and sleeves and begun pinning the collar. This is my first suit lined doublet so I am definitely taking things a little slower than usual. Thus far all the seams have been machine sewn aside from the finishing on the sleeve cuff. After some extra thought considering biceps and the volume of fabric, I patterned the bicep cuffs to have approximately 2 inches of excess cuff to hide within the seam to be easily let out if further size changes do occur. At this point I left the cuffs open for one more fitting before seaming them closed. By the end of the night I also finished the strip of waist eyelets, sewn on linen canvas provided by Asa inn blindi, so in the future pants can be pointed to this doublet. By this time, however, I was a little too dangerously sleepy to be trusted with a sewing machine so with the collar pinned I ended for the night.

The next day saw the attaching of the collar, the reopening of the shoulder seam to "zhuzh" more of the length of the back into the shoulder to accommodate the natural volume of shoulder muscles and to make the collar fall correctly. The eyelet strip was first sewn to the seam allowance of the waist line, after which the seam allowance + eyelet strip was pressed to the body and stitched down securely. After that, some lovely hand dyed wool twill tape was donated by Asa in blinda to cover and protect the raw edges along the waist line.

Rather than the strip of silk taffeta Gnagy recommends the tailor tacks in to the left side to reinforce the buttonholes, I ironed in a strip of fusible interfacing as reinforcement.

Glamor shot of the interfacing being sewn in by hand. My hand seams are getting a wee bit straighter.

In absence of the much sturdier taffeta Gnagy recommends for both trimming and reinforcement, I used scraps of a much lighter weight silvery-gray silk fished out of Asa's scraps, like a raccoon through a trash can. This does not provide the same structural benefit as the taffeta trimming, but it does introduce a little extra "pop" to the colors imho.

Then I tackled my first-ever hand sewn buttonholes. I opted for 3 strands of DMC 930 cotton embroidery floss on the final project after testing with buttonhole thread, all 6 strands, and 2 strands.

And finally, some glamor shots of the completed garment. From left to right, the "secret ease" on the bicep meant to make adjustments for more muscle growth easier to accommodate, the collar lining sewn in, and the final garment waiting in my office to be handed to the recipient at Coronation.

Overall, I think we're both very pleased with the results. Master Marcus retained his full (and simply absurd) range of motion on and off the field, the garment is machine washable, and it is a lovely color on him. The combined power of the ladies of our Princess's household has convinced him to let me raise the waistline on doublet 2 a whole two inches, which I am very excited about.

What did I learn?

The barra method is not nearly as terrifying to manage as I think it is, as long as you trust the process

Multiple colors of sharpies are a game changer.

I'm actually faster at hand-sewing buttonholes than I am at machine sewing them, because I get so anxious about sewing them by machine.

Suit-lined garments are SO much easier to do seam finishing on, it's absolutely night and day.

I think I want to make an entire doublet of silk taffeta. This is a problem. I need money and confidence to do so.

What's next?

Update the 14th C English clothing powerpoint to what I currently use for classes

I am currently making an Elizabethan suit for Darien de Shameless with my apprentice sibling Asa in blinda, with aims of finishing it for Queens Champion

I am currently making an Elizabethan-ish suit for Viscount Micauley Morison ahead of Winter Crown (but cheating on the pants so he has one pair of breezy breeches). The construction is largely the same to this one, so if I make a post about it it probably won't include an entire construction diary. Just some glamor shots.

I am making Rus for Dona Halldora Hrafnsdottir, but I keep getting distracted on which Navershnik I want to finish first.

I am looking forward to making some new and improved Rus for myself and Centurion Runa Bjarki ahead of the Crown/Coronet season, with an eye towards moving us to more accurate pieces.

I need to do a Shift Weekend where I just churn out shifts, chemises, and rubakhas