#terrible idea to binge it all at once

[konumbra]

GOOD OMENS SEASON 2 DID TERRIBLE THINGS TO MY HEART

[theheartbreakprincesss]

red lips and rosy cheeks, a criminal minds imagine

pairings: fem!reader x bau!team (platonically of course) and fem!reader x spencer reid (if you squint a little)

word count: 800ish

warnings: none i think. no use of y/n because i don’t really vibe with that. no angst, a little fluff, maybe? it’s mostly just funny i think. also not beta-read, or like we say in ao3, no beta we die like men.

author’s note: i have been binge-watching criminal minds for a couple weeks now and of course i’m obsessed with it, and this visual of spencer becoming a little flustered over seeing his crush all dressed up popped into my mind. it’s my first time writing an imagine with the reader as the main piece in the story, so idk be gentle with me? i also never wrote for criminal minds and i’m only in season 4. i just wrote this instead of sleeping or actually writing my other fics. sorry if this is terrible anyway. i’m open to feedback! thanks for reading <3

Working for the FBI could be a handful, sometimes, but the job had its benefits. You could catch criminals and help people, make a difference, you know? But something you would never expect to count as a benefit was the possibility of being called in the middle of a date.

You didn’t even want to go on that date, but your long-time friend Emma had insisted she knew a guy that would be perfect for you. Emma knew you since you both were undergraduates working on their degrees, so you had figured it wouldn’t hurt to give the guy a chance.

It wasn’t your best moment.

Not that the guy turned out to be a psychopath or something like that. But the ice of your drink had barely started to melt when it became clear that Sean wasn’t the guy for you, and by the end of your martini, you could see that Sean was too self-centered and trying too hard to be something he was not, with the fake watch and the well-pressed but clearly cheap suit and exaggerated tales of his life. An hour into the date and you were begging to the universe to offer you a way out of that bar.

Thankfully the universe seemed to listen to your plea, and you let out a relieved sigh when you saw Garcia’s name on the screen as the phone rang. Apparently, Hotch wanted everyone at the office right that moment.

That hurry was what prompted you to go into the BAU headquarters straight from your date, thinking that a stop by your apartment to change would take too much time and that you could take the clothes out of your go bag and change out of your outfit once you got there.

“Hey there.” you greeted as you walked into the bullpen. “Is everyone here yet?”

“Rossi and Prentiss are on their way.” Morgan said from his desk. “Wonder boy is getting coffee.”

“Oh, okay.” you mumbled, moving to take off your coat and wondering if you would have time to wipe off the red lipstick before the briefing.

“Damn, pretty girl.” you heard Morgan say, that suggestive tone in his voice that annoyed the life out of you. “Did we interrupt something?”

“Only the most boring date I have ever been on.” you scoffed, nervously fixing your dress. It wasn’t inappropriate or something, just very different from what you used to wear. It had been Emma’s idea, actually, to pair that black sleeveless dress with knee-high boots. “He spent the entire time talking about himself.” you rolled your eyes.

“Oh, look at you!” Garcia exclaimed as she got into the bullpen. “You look like a million bucks, darling.”

“Thank you, Pen.” you said. “What’s the case about?”

“A woman went missing in Indiana this morning in the same way three more disappeared in the last month before they were found dead.” JJ told, walking out of her office. “Oh, hot date tonight?” she asked.

“Disappointing, actually.” you laughed. “Can we not talk about it?”

“Talk about what?” you heard Spencer’s voice from behind Penelope.

“About her date.” Garcia said. Spencer joined them as they all stood near your desk, two coffee mugs in his hands. His messy hair was the first thing you noticed, looking like he had been dragged out of his bed. He handed you the second coffee mug, the one with little cartoon kittens stamped on it, then his eyes really focused on you.

“Oh, thank you.” you mumbled, taking a sip of it.

“I– yeah, I…” he stammered, eyes moving up and down, up and down.

“Are you alright, Doc?” you asked, using the nickname you had given him a few weeks into working together.

“Ooh, I think you broke pretty boy.” Morgan laughed.

“It’s probably the red lipstick.” Garcia pointed out, joining Derek in his laughs. You waited for one of Spencer’s famous info-dumps, where he would talk about how red lipstick used to be made out of crushed beetles in Ancient Egypt or something, but he was still silent, lips parted like he meant to say something but couldn’t figure out what.

“Do you need me to reset you or something?” you were now having a bit of fun with it. It wasn’t like you were trying to be mean, but both of you had been dancing around unspoken feelings for a while now.

“I… you look pretty.” Spencer finally managed to say.

You put the mug to your lips, trying to hide the blood that was rushing to your cheeks as Morgan whistled.

“Go on, wonder boy.”

“Derek? Shut up.” then, you looked at Spencer again, who was timidly smiling at you.“Thanks.” you mumbled.

Spencer looked at the mug on your hands, focusing on the stain of your lipstick on the rim of the mug.

“Uh, did you know that the first known red lipsticks were created by crushing gemstones in Mesopotamia over 5.000 years ago?”

•

[hanniluvi]

( 📞 ) LOVERS’ TV — JUNGWON SHORT FIC

[ DAY ONE ] of the advent calendar !

( 📞 ) NOW CALLING . . . a christmas movie night with your lover was a great idea, until someone fell asleep before the movie could end…

( ꕤ ) NOW PAIRING . . . bf!jungwon x gn!reader

( 📞 ) NOW GENRES . . . fluff, established relationship

( ꕤ ) NOW WARNINGS . . . none i think ~~ WC 600+ !

( 📞 ) NOW HANGING UP . . . first fic for the winter mlist yay !! with jungwon being the first idol i ever made a fic about , i just had to make him the first day for this event 🫶 !!

You've long dreamt of having a movie night, especially the idea of binge-watching Christmas films with someone special. Jungwon holds that idea in mind—he never forgets what you want. Eager to be the best partner he can be, he’s all in for sharing the activities you've been wishing for, like this movie night.

The only problem was that he was on a trip, being far apart from you. What stung more was that he wouldn’t be around for the initial days of December; he was due to return mid-month. However, he's known for making efforts just for you.

So, how about an online movie date?

He was really excited about this idea because he was still able to bond with you overseas in a special way. And to his excitement, you thought it was also a great idea, having the movie night happen at 8 PM—well, in your timezone. Despite the huge time zone differences, Jungwon set the date night that could fit within your schedule.

And with that, the hours quickly flew by, and with Jungwon setting up his laptop. He stared at the time eagerly, watching it hit 8 PM, calling you at that exact time. You quickly answered, and he had the brightest smile on his face.

“Hi,” you said as you got yourself comfortable in your bed, setting your laptop onto your lap. “Hey love,” you heard that sweet tone in his voice, making you break into a smile. You looked at the screen, looking at your boyfriend in a gray hoodie, fiddling around with the strings of it. “What movie do you want to watch?”

"Hm…Oh! How about watching 'The Nightmares Before Christmas?'" you suggested enthusiastically, noticing your boyfriend's questionable expression. "I heard that movie was more on the scary side rather than Christmassy..."

"It can't be something you can't handle!" you assured him, which he eventually agreed to share his screen and stream the movie.

"I'll trust your word on it."

"Lying down was not a good idea," Jungwon admitted as he felt his eyelids growing heavy. No matter how many times he rubbed his eyes or blinked repeatedly, drowsiness weighed heavily on him. He let out a yawn, drawing your attention.

“Jungwon?” You interrupted his yawn, slightly surprising him as if you caught him doing something terrible.

“Yeah?”

“You tired?”

“Just getting myself comfortable, that’s all.”

“What time is it for you?”

"2:30 A.M," he glanced at the clock, instantly regretting revealing he was up at such a late hour. He might have gotten away with it if he'd said it was 10 PM, but no, he had to ruin his cover. Oh how ready he was for another scolding.

“Jungwon!” You stared at the screen, watching him awkwardly scratch the back of his head. “Why are you even up at this time?”

“Because you wanted to have a movie night, and I wanted to spend the first few days of December with you—and I picked a timezone suitable for you.” He confessed, and you just couldn’t help but have a smile. “It just didn’t work out on my end…I guess?”

“Won, I appreciate that, but shouldn’t you be asleep right now? I mean, we can always pause the movie and continue next time—you’ve got things to do tomorrow.” you suggested. However, he was set on finishing the movie that night. You knew Jungwon well enough to realize he was determined, and so you both continued watching.

But as anticipated, once Jungwon settled into a comfortable position, it was inevitable that he'd fall asleep. Within ten minutes, there was no longer any commentary about the movie.

“Won?” you whispered loud enough, noticing he didn’t move a single bit. Smiling at his peaceful appearance, you paused the movie and ended the call, already feeling his absence.

You opened the messaging app and began typing with a playful smirk,

Who said we had to finish the movie tonight?

You, but you feel asleep! It’s okay though, we can always watch together next time!

And maybe, you won’t doze off <3

You shut your laptop, rolling onto your side and tugging the blanket closer. Sleep was much needed, not only for rest but also to ensure you'd have extra time to see Jungwon in the morning, you figured.

ENHA PERM TAGLIST (1) — @flwoie @ixomiyu @haruavrse @shinsou-rii @bearseulgs @ilovewonyo @yenqa @dimplewonie @bubblytaetae @wtfhyuck @ineedaherosavemeenow @ml8dy @starikizs @wonioml @chirokookie @xiaoderrrr @neozon3nha @en-chantedtomeetyou @millksea @enhaz1 @eundiarys @hyeosi @ja4hyvn @judeduartewannabe @j-wyoung @thia-aep @vampcharxter @softpia @officiallyjaehyuns @itsactuallylina @hsheart @sweetjaemss @ahnneyong @hanienie @jwnghyuns @kpoplover718 @jiawji @rikizm @haknom @yeokii @wvnkoi @whoschr @teddywonss @shinunoga-iie-wa @isoobie @skzenhalove @misokei @s00buwu @ox1-lovesick @miercerise @litttlestars @enhapocketz

[frazzledsoul]

A non exhaustive list of terrible things Liz Danes did/said after she showed up:

- Makes a beeline straight for the pot the minute she shows up

- Hasn't called to check on Jess once in the nine (!) months he's been gone from Stars Hollow

- It's established that she generally has a terrible track record with men/employment/stable housing

- It's also established she is easily able to manipulate Luke into doing her bidding and in pretending that every new terrible idea is no big deal

- Makes a show of introducing Jess to TJ and acting like she's the best mom ever despite his obvious discomfort

-Makes several statements to Lorelai to the effect that Luke has been cleaning up after her for her entire life and finding her jobs, apartments, helping her out financially, getting rid of dangerous men

- To quote Jess verbatim: "I don't like this guy. I don't like any of the guys. She doesn't give a crap what I think. I've got nineteen years of proof to back me up". She always chose her men over him, no matter how terrible they were.

- Luke is involved in sussing out Jess's whereabouts and living situation, giving him a place to sleep (thanks to Lorelai), offering him money to fix his car. Liz is not involved in any of that and doesn't offer. She signed off on being the parent a long time ago.

- Liz shows back up for the wedding and immediately manipulates Luke into helping arrange the wedding, selling jewelry in the diner, inviting strippers to the diner...when she's around, he ends up doing her bidding almost automatically. Zero boundaries.

- There's more references to her sketchy self-employment and the many times Luke watched it fall apart.

- Luke's the one who goes to New York, finds Jess, has him go back to Stars Hollow as a favor to him. No comment from Liz on his lifestyle or offering him a place to stay. Luke is the only one who fights with him about it. Luke's also the one to give him romantic advice as Liz is not involved in that at all.

- Liz reveals her romantic history right before the wedding. Second husband was okay, third husband was not and died mysteriously, boyfriend after third husband was also okay. This is also the only wedding she's not been drunk at.

- Liz assumes Jess broke Rory's heart even though she has no idea who that is. Lorelai steps in and defends Jess, saying it just didn't work out.

- Luke is roped into taking care of Liz and TJ for several weeks after they are in a car accident and following them around on the Ren Faire circuit. I only mention this because he is, as always, forever her caretaker.

- Liz and TJ get into a screaming fight early in S5 and ruin Luke and Lorelai 's date.

- Sometime in S5 or S6 Liz mentions that she's never made dinner, not once. Jess is around 20 years old at this time period. How did he eat?

-Liz manipulates Luke into letting TJ work at the construction at Lorelai's house. She cries and throws a tantrum until he gives in. TJ somehow knocks a big hole in the upstairs of Lorelai's house.

-Liz does not show up to Jess's open house, nor does she ever mention it (or him at all) afterwards. Luke shows up to support him and tells him he's proud of him. Mom can't be bothered.

-When Liz finds out she's pregnant with Doula, she casually mentions to Luke (in public!) that she binge drank while she was pregnant with Jess. Luke isn't shocked by this.

-Liz claims to Luke that TJ abandoned her after she told him she was pregnant. Luke goes to TJ and TJ reveals that Liz got violent and threw half the household objects at his head and kicked him out when he was excited about it. Luke goes to Liz afterwards and she rants that if she stays with TJ her kid's going to end up ruined and she'll have to send it away. Luke is the one who reminds her that Jess turned out OK and that he's actually doing great (not that Liz has any knowledge of this at all or should receive any credit for it). Liz and TJ reconcile.

- Liz and TJ invite Luke over for dinner in early S7. Their stove is broken. He has to make dinner himself (because of course he does). Despite formerly being supportive, they tell him Lorelai was bad for him and Liz says some mumbo jumbo about how they were never meant to be together. Luke runs into Lorelai at the grocery store and says the whole thing was a bad idea and he'll be civil to her, but he's not interested in a personal relationship again. Lorelai basically doesn't go anywhere in town she could run into him for the next six months (okay, the romantic advice isn't terrible per se but Liz is seriously inconsistent on this issue).

- Luke attends Doula's birth. Liz is excited about April being a free babysitter.

- Liz dumps Doula on Luke at work a few weeks after she is born because she "needs a break" and disappears for hours.

-Liz and TJ invite themselves to stay at Luke's apartment some weeks later, shortly after Lorelai and Christopher have broken up. Now Liz is all excited about Lorelai and Luke getting back together (pick a lane, woman).

-In the series finale, Liz tries to dump Doula on Luke at work AGAIN (how often does she do this?) Luke stops her before she can leave, and makes her take the baby with her.

-Liz and TJ are mercifully offscreen for AYITL. Jess fulfills the role of being Luke's sounding board and attempting to comfort him when he has problems with Lorelai and there are already enough quirky townies, so she isn't needed. TJ and Liz are involved in a mysterious vegetable cult that they eventually get kicked out of, which provides a reason for Jess to come into town every so often. He's now the support to his family that Luke used to be on his own. It's implied that this is not the first time TJ and Liz have gotten involved in a cult over the past few years

My point to all of this is that Liz is not stable, she's not a decent person, she has not "redeemed" herself, she may be clean and sober but she's still horribly selfish, unreliable, and a pain in Luke's ass. There's a bunch of stuff that is implied in Jess's behavior that indicates she was a horrible mom, but we don't get the full picture until she shows up. The full picture is...a lot worse.

[quitealotofsodapop]

me and @silverlycanthropelover have been discussing LMK Nezha x Ao Bing focused ideas in the notes of this post, and I'm obsessing cus of S5 going to be focused on Nezha's family issues and his tumultuous relationship with his bio dad Li Jing.

I just want Nezha and Ao Bing to meet again and chill about their terrible fathers.

And maybe fall in love.

One idea is that their legendary fight was orchestrated to pit the in-love kids against one another.

Mostly because the love match of the Jade Emperor's Grandson and a Dragon Prince would pose immense political unrest between the factions - they were all notably fighting during the Investiture Crisis/pre-Zhou Dynasty. The Celestial Realm wouldn't stand the next potential royal Consort/Empress being a Dragon, and the Royal Dragons did not wish for their lineage to be tied to the celestials that oppressed them.

So someone in the background stoked unrest that led to the two royal children destroying one another and themselves.

I love ideas of Ao Bing being alive in the LMK timeline, either in stasis in the Underworld, frozen, or confined to a wing of the Eastern Sea Palace. Mostly so he and Nezha can meet once more and confront their childhood mistakes.

We agree that "Utpala/Blue Lotus" would be the name of a fanchild - if not an au version of Mei. Mostly cus the Utpala flower is another sacred flower in Indian Buddhism, and is used to symbolise the "Cold Hells/Narakas" of the Underworld. A very appropriate name for a Divine Serpent/Royal Dragon combo with flower imagery and ice powers respectively. And for a pairing where both have technically died.

One idea we shared is that the "dragon pearl" that Ao Lie "destroyed" in his introduction in Jttw was actually him hiding a pearl-turned-egg Nezha and Ao Bing had unknowingly created together (via the Power of Love™), and refusing to snitch on his fave cousin to the Celestial Realm/Royal Dragons.

The baby dragon/celestial lotus-snake is lavender coloured, and contains enough power to bring gods and dragons alike to their knees (cus she's so cute). <3

[dulcewrites]

White Christmas

Pairing: Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd x wife!reader (a spy/The Americans au)

Summary: Bob has never been one to reminisce - his job keeps him ever-moving forward. But the holidays calls for reflection. (Wc: 1k +)

Warning: this came out more angsty than I thought :/

A/N: First, just want to say Happy Holidays and or Merry Christmas to those that celebrate. I wanted to get this out a bit earlier but life was life-ing lmao. This is my submission for @lewmagoo’s a lew magoo Christmas. I can’t wait to go back and read/interact everyone’s submissions. This is based off the song by Bing Crosby. This was not the original idea I had; this is much more melancholy but I think it came out well. I could not decide if I wanted to do a fic or moodboard so I kind of put them together. Please like, reblog, and or comment if you read something you enjoy ❤️❄️

Masterlist

I'm dreaming of a white Christmas

With every Christmas card I write

May your days be merry and bright

And may all your Christmases be white

Bob has been able to mark his life through events. Not exactly just with time or his age. Instead through a series of actions and domino effects that have set his life up to where it is now. He does not remember being 10, he just remembers the little house he was taken from. He doesn’t remember being 16, just the cold, smooth metal of his first revolver. His 26th birthday, with the real day he was born, was uneventful and terribly dull.

… that was until he got the envelope.

A face. A name. A never-ending mission. A wife to be.

27 was marked by a quick wedding. 28 was cemented by a crying baby girl and the sickly-sweet smell of baby wipes he grew to love. By 30, he saw his first gray hair and one little girl turned into two. Now he wonders what he can hang 37 on. He doesn't want it to be the bodies that have been left behind or 'daddy's business trips' as Georgia says.

Bob wants more. For once he wants something different. Something softer.

An idealist with the bloody ledger of a cynic, you call him. It is always with a smile but the biting edge that your voice can have never fully leaves. Bob thinks you resent that about him while likes to believe that it is a good thing - the little tug in the bottom of his stomach that he gets. Bob does his job, and he has done it valiantly for. Some days he may say he even loves what he does. But with his love comes a soft layer of sadness. It comes with wondering if there could be more outside of kills and mission and the bullshit, he would not have chosen for himself as a child. When things were syrupy in the way everything is when you're a kid.

The wistfulness grows stronger as the weather changes, and a dusty of white magic settles over the ground. The first winter snow he can remember in a long time.

The cabin idea comes with apprehension from you. Christmas was a holiday the two of you grinned and bared for the sake of the girls, but Bob found the words slipping out of his mouth. His fingers already inched looking into places - a little blue house in the snow. He knows that face well. Brows drawn tight and mouth pursed in thought.

“Emmie mentioned wanting to go camping.”

It was a bit unfair to mention your youngest daughter, Emerson. The frown lines on your face softened a bit, followed by a resigned sigh. There was little that made you like that - malleable. He knows you would never say it out loud but only the girls could do that.

I’ll have to talk with Maverick about it. He may need us.

Then it was his turn to frown. The growing dissolution bubbled under, and it all started with Pete Mitchell. But how does one turn his back on the only real family he has known. Bob cannot say he knows Regina and Don, - the people he should think to be parents; instead, thinks he was made in Mav’s image. Just like every other agent that has come through Top Gun. Your loyalty to Mav in admirable as it is a thorn in Bob’s side.

He likes to say there is three in your relationship if he could even call it that.

But he takes what he can get from you. A knowing smile when Aria says something completely out of left field. A kiss where you don’t flinch away or tense up.

It all works together in the oxymoron that is his marriage with you. Husband and wife. Partners in crime. He loathes you as much as he couldn’t imagine doing this without you. He endlessly pines for a woman he has two children with.

Nothing has ever been easy for the two of you, and he supposes he would not have it any other way.

———

“I don’t know your real name.”

The general statement made you pause as your looked away from the fireplace in front of you. Bob was sitting on the bed, the green reindeer slippers the girls gave him matched his pullover. While him and girls seem to thrive in the cold, you hated it. You liked the uncomfortableness that came with humidity and heat. You were used to beads of sweat above the brow and clothes sticking to you back. Uneasiness was your default setting.

A snow-covered cabin is beautiful in theory, tortuous in practice.

“What,” you muttered, gaze going back to the fire. The flames danced against the brick surrounding it. The name thing was an issue he pressed. For reasons you still don’t get.

“I don’t know your real name,” he repeats. “And you don’t know mine. You don’t know anything about me before we…”

He trails off contemplatively. You shrug softly. “I think Robert suits you fine. Perfectly, even.”

There was a beat of silence. You wanted to tell him it was better this way. Life has been separated into two different parts: BB and AB. Before Bob and After Bob. It was no use focusing on what happened before then. You hope he drops the conversation, but Bob has never been one to let things go. A dog with a bone.

“Do you know why I suggested coming here?”

“You enjoy watching me freeze,” it was a joke but there is little mirth in the room.

“I grew up in a little blue cabin, sort of like this one -,”

“Bob”

“In a small town in Illinois.”

“Bob,” you hate him for this… or at least you want to hate him for this. Hate him for trying so damn hard.

“Every winter, I remember sheets of snow on ground and - and my ma-,”

“Robert,” your voice echoes a bit off the room. You fully turn to him, wishing to have bit of venom in your voice but it comes out broken. “What do you want from this? From me?”

“Why does it have to be something? Why can’t I just want you, all of you?”

Penny warned you about this. She’s taught you everything you know. And for better or worse, it has led you done a straight and narrow path.

Even in our business, people grow… attached. It will be up to you to either let them in or close it before it gets to be too much.

You wouldn’t call yourself frigid, but you are sure others would. It never bothered you really. Not as you grew older. There was a weakness in others that you simply did not have. The coldness was an easy barrier that deterred most, if not everyone you came across.

“You have me,” your fingernail scrapes across the wool blanket wrapped around you. “I am right here, aren’t I?”

Cobalt eyes mute with sadness.

“That isn’t what I meant.”

You grow more exasperated. “And you think me telling you about my past life will do that?”

“No, but I think you being honest would. Honest about how you feel about me, about the girls, would.”

Does he want you to write on a piece of paper if he loves you and make him check yes or no like you’re in the fifth grade. There was something so innocent about the look he gave you. The stunted nature of how the two of you work around each other may be less of your faults and more of the world that failed the both of you. You look at Bob now and he doesn’t seem like the man you have seen dodging bullets or choking out men twice his size. He seems so utterly human. And despite yourself, all you can think about is how much Maverick would hate it. The spurred want others to think the same.

You do love the girls, frankly more that you would like to admit. Two little knives to which people can twist. And Robert…

People get hurt, killed, when feelings are involved.

let them in or close it.

“I am tired,” you mutter. “I really don’t feel like rehashing the past. Certainly not with you.”

It is the end of the discussion, and you try not to flinch when the door closes behind him. The silence had become a gentle friend of yours. A safe companion to embrace. You wait for him to come back, thinking he must be letting off some steam outside in the cold. But 30 minutes turns into an hour and you start to think he may have crashed in one of the other rooms in the cabin.

After numbingly sitting at the fireplace, the only thing you can think to do is get ready for bed. You crave a bottle of wine but agreed to a painfully dry Christmas.

Your fingers don’t go towards the drawers where you unpacked the plethora of long Johns and sweaters you brought; they go to Bob’s instead. You know he’d probably laugh at you if he could see it, and you’d deserve it. Can’t even admit your feelings but want to sleep in one his shirts. While digging for an old Led Zeppelin shirt. Your digging is thwarted when your hand grazes across a chest inside the drawer. Biting your lip, you look towards the door. Bad things come in threes. He’s already upset you; you’re digging in his stuff… might at well get your third strike.

A familiar sinking feeling muddled in your stomach as you lift the chest to see tinier ring box in it, along with a mini snow globe. You both promised no presents this year for Christmas, but of course he wouldn’t stick to that. Your gaze goes to the simple ring on your left hand. It wasn’t something either of you picked out. It was left in the envelope you received.

“You should be happy you even get one off the bat,” Natasha sighed. “Jake gave me a ring pop as joke before Mav stepped in.”

You don’t have it in you to open the ring box, a bile stuck in your throat. But you do pick up the mini snow globe. It is like nothing you have seen before; it looks homemade. Inside a little blue cabin with sparkles dusted around it. On the bottom, tiny writing painted on. Chicken scratch that could only come from kids.

To the best wife and mommy in the world. May all your Christmases be merry and bright.

You set the snow globe back in the chest hastily, as if you have been burned.

God you’re fucked.

[angelsmist]

WAR OF HEARTS

prompt: your sister, princess afia and princess shuri had been placed into an arranged marriage. this did not work in your favor, because of your secret feelings towards shuri. soon, it grew into hatred, and you and shuri could barely be in the same room without some type of argument ensuing. but, that tension’s gotta be released somehow…

contains: sexual themes, cursing, kinda ooc shuri (?)

authors note: i swear i’m not capable of one-shots like i’m always making a series 😭 this don’t gotta be a series but just lmk if you guys would like more and get specific 🧘🏾‍♀️

also this is heavily inspired by bridgerton because i started binging and got obsessed w anthony and kate and their TENSIONNN.

got a lil carried away w this one 🤭

you adjusted your dress, shifting in your seat uncomfortably. you were getting quite sick of these out-of-the-blue dinners.

your nation, seynyti was currently in the process of forming some sort of alliance with wakanda. the two nations had lived in peace with one another for many, many centuries. it made sense, seeing as both of the kingdoms were private and closed off from the world, but not secret. but to seal the deal, your sister, princess afia and princess shuri were arranged a marriage.

this had been decided about a year ago. there wasn’t any immediate action to start the wedding, as both of the rulers of the nations wanted a proper proposal. though, there was yet to be one.

your parents believed it was because your sister and shuri wanted to take your time. but truthfully, neither of them could feel much for the other. this marriage was for the sake of their country, and thankfully, they had their nation’s best interest at heart. it was a good agreement, and everyone should’ve been at the very least satisfied.

keyword “should’ve”. you were terribly miserable.

before the idea of your sister marrying shuri was proposed, you two were best friends. like, inseparable. you both bonded over the fact that the two of you were scientists. it was refreshing to have someone your age understand half of the things you talked about. it only made sense that you’d eventually grow feelings for her. you kept quiet about it, though, fearful of what the outcome would be.

it was too late now, anyway.

when you found out about this arranged marriage, you slowly began to resent shuri. and the love you once had for her soon turned to bitterness. at least that’s what you had told yourself.

the both of you had gone from being attached to the hip to having an attitude whenever you’d have to be in a room together. you felt guilty for ruining your friendship with her, but you feared that you’d put the marriage in jeopardy if you remained close with the princess.

so, you convinced yourself that you hated the princess. shuri slowly began to return the attitude. she was hurt by your sudden switch-up, but she refused to show the effects it had on her.

honestly, all it did was build up tension. the hateful eye contact that had just pinches of love in it, the constant bickering, the disagreements. the list could go on. you and shuri had so many unsaid words, that it drove you crazy. hence, why you couldn’t bear to even be in a room with her.

you didn’t have a choice this time, though. your parents had scheduled a dinner with the family of wakanda for a reason that you did not know of.

the dress your mother picked out for you made you feel slightly overdressed. it was a navy blue bodycon dress that happened to capture your curves, even the ones you preferred not to display at a family dinner.

it matched nicely with your golden collar necklace, as well as your earrings that were made with vibranium, a gift given to you by shuri herself before all of the marriage plans went down.

you had been fiddling with an earring unintentionally, attracting shuri’s attention from across the table. you felt her brown orbs burning into your skin. instinctively, you locked eyes with her. a sly grin washed over her features when she noticed your choice in jewelry. not wanting to give her the satisfaction of making you melt under her gaze, you maintained eye contact. it stayed like that until your sister, afia, tapped on shuri’s shoulder to gain her attention. still, her head moved towards afia’s face, but her eyes stayed on you for just a few seconds before averting your gaze completely.

“your dress looks lovely,” nakia complimented next to you. a smile tugged at your lips from her words.

“thank you, nakia. you look stunning as well. i see your matching outfit with t’challa. it’s beautiful,” you complimented, momentarily looking at what the king wore.

your mother used this as an opportunity to bring attention to afia and shuri. “speaking of matching outfits, we should try to get you two to match more.”

unintentionally, you let out a giggle at the idea of afia and shuri matching outfits. it worked for nakia and t’challa, but you knew if they tried it, they’d look like complete dorks.

your short laugh was loud enough for only those at the table to hear. they stared at you expectantly, thinking you’d say something to explain yourself.

shuri spoke before you could mutter an apology, wanting to add fuel to the fire. “did i miss a joke? i’d like to laugh.”

“oh, sorry. i just coughed,” you lied, attempting to keep your face neutral since all eyes were on you. “it wasn’t a laugh.”

for some reason, that still wasn’t enough for shuri. “good. maybe you could match with someone as well. all you have to do is find someone that can tolerate you for longer than five minutes.”

this wasn’t anything new. as disrespectful as it seemed to say, everyone was perfectly aware of you and shuri’s constant bickering. that’s why most of the time they try to keep you two at a distance. but when it came to dinners like these, an argument was unavoidable. everyone liked to brush it off as a joke in hopes of deescalating the situation.

“shuri!” queen ramonda scolded, narrowing her eyes at her daughter.

“it’s okay, queen ramonda,” you dismissed politely, stirring up a combination of words to fire back at the princess. “shuri’s right, if we’re being honest.”

the younger udaku stared at you in shock. “am i?”

“yes,” you confirmed, nodding. you stuck your fork into a piece of chicken and picked at it. “you’re very lucky you had your spouse picked out for you. if that hadn’t happened, you probably wouldn’t have found anybody for at least another ten years.”

there it was. not your best comeback, but it was enough to light some kind of fire in her.

shuri set her fork down. “okay. i’d like to talk to princess (name) for a second outside.”

your brother finally spoke after being silently occupied with the jollof rice. “please, go ahead. we are tired of your bickering.”

your mother gave him a look that told him to stay quiet, but it was easy to tell that she did not disagree with him.

“fine,” you complied, rising from your chair as shuri did the same.

once the two exited the great hall and were out of view from the rest of the family, shuri forcefully dragged you into a smaller room that look as if it were meant for two. it had a fireplace that happened to be one, along with two seats around it.

you shook off shuri’s grasp, the anger evident in your face. “you better not give me shit. you’re the one who started it this time.”

“only because you embarrassed me last week in the lab,” she retorted, making sure to to lock the door behind her.

“i was just correctly your calculations. you’re welcome, by the way,” you sarcastically spoke. “it’s not my fault that you’re not as smart as me.”

“and it’s not my fault that all your manners suddenly disappear when i enter a room.”

you crossed your arms over your chest, your eyes drifting over to the fireplace that lit up the room. shuri moved from the door and walked close enough to you to the point where you’d probably have to look up a bit to meet her eyes.

when your gaze shifted back to her face, you realized her eyes were no longer on yours. rather, slightly below them. turns out, crossing your arms in a dress that already showed enough cleavage would only push them up more. and as it seems, it was a enough to catch the princess’s attention.

you quickly realized what her gaze was stuck on, and a smirk appeared on your lips. “my eyes are up here, princess.”

your words snapped her out of the state she was in, and when your facials registered in her mind, her irritation grew even more. you loved it.

“are you aware of how annoying you are?” she inquired, playing off what had taken place merely seconds ago. “you actually drive me insane.”

you simply just raised your eyebrows at her question, displaying sarcasm.

when shuri didn’t say anything else, you took it upon yourself to end the conversation. “if that’s all.”

you took a few steps so you could go past shuri and to the door, but when you began to pass her, you felt something, or someone stop you.

your orbs looked downwards to see one of shuri’s hands on your waist to keep you from moving any further.

“princess shuri,” you said firmly. “let me go.”

you finally looked away from her hand that was still on your waist, and back to her.

you two were much closer now, and the height difference didn’t help either.

“so formal.” she clicked her tongue, looking away from your for only a second to shake her head.

“shuri,” you repeated. “let.me.go.”

she lowered her head to reach yours as you lifted your head up to meet in the middle. she brought her lips to your ear, making your breath hitch in your throat. “and if i don’t want to?”

you stayed completely still. if you even moved an inch, chances are, your lips would at the very least brush over shuri’s. and you weren’t sure what would’ve happened next.

it hadn’t dawned to you how much tension had built up between the two of you until now. it sucked, because you were fighting every bone in your body to refrain from pouncing.

you could hear the arrogance dripping from shuri’s words as she spoke. “you know, when i told you that you drive me crazy, i meant in more ways than one.”

you let out a shaky breath, moving your head to the side to look shuri in the eye. you inched your head backwards to avoid any contact of her lips, but her head chased yours slightly. you realized the side of your nose was in contact with hers.

you couldn’t help it. your orbs flickered down to the princess’ lips that were barely centimeters from yours. by the time you caught yourself staring, shuri had already noticed, hence the growing grin on her face.

“we should…we should head…back.” your words came out breathy and just a bit unclear. you seriously, seriously couldn’t help it. you found every part of you craving her more than anything. images flashed in your mind. the kind of images that one should not think of. especially not with your sister’s future wife.

shuri placed herself in a place where her lips just hovered over yours. and just when you thought they’d touch, she pulled back.

“you’re right,” she stated, dropping her hand from your waist. “we should.”

she looked more than pleased with herself as she walked away from you and exited the room.

you stood there for about a minute, dumbfounded. did that actually just happen? was that a mindfuck?

regardless, both you and shuri knew that she had won the battle for tonight. but like they always say, the war was far from over.

[hexalianrebel-blackfeathers]

 (Tickle) Fight Club

Panda's Notes: Hello, hi, yes, I have been slightly obsessing over this AU for the past few months, and I finally finished...a part. >w< Buckle in, kids, this is a lot longer than I first thought it would be. You can once again thank the lovely @rosileeduckie for facilitating my nonsense.

...What? No, I totally don't have recent commitments that have an encroaching deadline. What are you talking about?!

[Ao3] || [Commissions] || [Ko-fi]

Warning: ~10K words about Miles brutalizing some folks. Enjoy. >w<

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Miles had a terrible habit of getting drawn in by Ganke’s nonsense.

“Hey, that character looks sick; you make that?” turned into binging episodes of an anime every night through junior year. He wasn’t complaining, but somewhere between the third movie and the 700th episode, it was a miracle his grades hadn’t completely tanked.

“Dude, nice shirt! Do those, like, spell something, or…?” became an entirely different binge through half of senior year. And Miles maybe fudged the truth a bit with one of his art teachers when he submitted a project that was only loosely inspired. Again, not complaining!

“Oh, nice mash-up, man; I loved that song when I was a kid, but I don’t know where it’s from.” You’ll never guess what happened after that. Those games were fire, though, and at least this time, he could move at his own pace, even if Ganke was nagging him over text every few days while he was away at college to geek out.

When Freshman year ended—finally, thank the gods—and Miles returned to New York, he was met at the train station by Ganke and immediately dragged to the apartment he was sharing with—

“You moved in with my brother?!” He asked in disbelief. “Wait, I didn’t even know he left home!”

“Well, technically… Your parents don’t entirely know yet—”

“What?!”

“—And he hasn’t actually moved out. I did. We just split rent here. Both of us have jobs and projects going pretty well, and he kinda just tells them he’s hanging out at my place, which is technically still true; they just don’t know my parents aren’t here—”

“Hold up, wait—” Miles flailed a bit to interrupt Ganke’s rambling. “Gross; is this like ya’ll’s love nest or something?”

Ganke’s arms dropped to his sides, a bright blush coloring his pouting face as he glared at Miles. Miles just snickered and crossed his arms tauntingly. “I’m not hearing a no, Mr. Lee~”

“Y’know, when he tossed out the idea of letting you borrow his room while he’s at school—just, like, use it as an extra little art room or whatever—I thought ‘wow, just like when we were roommates at Visions; how funny!’. But now, I’m gonna tell him you’re banned.”

“Pfft, what?!” Miles giggled, following Ganke toward the back of the apartment.

“Yep, calling him right now…” Ganke pulled his phone out of his pocket all dramatically, pretending to scroll through it.

“Ooh, I bet you have him saved under something dorky~” Miles had lunged forward, hands squeezing playfully at Ganke’s sides as he made obviously fake efforts to peek at his phone. He had a sort of squawking-type laugh whenever he was caught off guard, and Miles loved it. Even when they first met back in high school, Miles had made a habit of sneaking up and prodding him. They liked to get into little fights, usually ending in Miles wrestling Ganke into an easy pin while sneaking scribbles up his sides.

This is important information, because today, and today alone, Ganke suddenly wrenched his arm out from under his own weight, hooking Miles by the arm and rolling both of them into a reversed position. He sat heavily on Miles’ waist, his hands quickly moving to try and worm fingers into his armpits. Miles’ legs kicked as he hugged his arms tight to his sides, and his voice was tangled in nervous squeaks and giggles.

“Someone’s awfully squeaky for starting a fight with the one who knows your weak spots.” Ganke sneered, pressing lightly along the edges of Miles’ ribs to try and slip through his defenses.

“W-When did you get good at wrestling?” He asked through clenched teeth, trying to twist to one side.

“Hm, probably around the time you started sucking at it.” Ganke taunted, raising his hands slightly and wiggling his fingers.

“I do not!” Miles argued with a laugh, his leg kicking out when a few fingers traced along his neck. There was a jarring thump, and despite Miles apparently not feeling pain all of a sudden, both of them were concerned when a few things fell off of the dresser he’d kicked.

“Goddamn, you have been here for ten minutes, and you’re destroying the place!” Ganke teased, pushing himself up off of his poor guest.

“That was not my fault, and you know it.” Miles giggled as he sat up, picking up the picture frame that had fallen beside him. He glanced at it as he stood up, curiosity taking over his face as he realized something.

“Hey, wait a second; I’ve never seen you wear this!” He noted with a laugh as he got to his feet. Ganke peeked over his shoulder, and a chuckle slipped out as he remembered the photo. He was in some costume, mostly purple and some bright green. Looked like a cut-off t-shirt under a biker jacket. There was a paw print drawn on his stomach and whiskers drawn on his cheeks, and he was grinning like a champion as he held up what looked like a gold medal. If it was the same medal dangling from a hook next to the mirror, it was definitely plastic.

“Haven’t worn it in a while either.” Ganke shrugged, taking the frame and setting it just so under where the medal hung. “I should probably bring it home and wash it, actually.” He reached up and pulled the medal off the hook, smiling fondly as he ran his thumb over the feathers embossed in the plastic. He smirked slightly as he caught Miles staring at it in that all-too-familiar way.

“You wanna know how I got it~?” He asked almost tauntingly, and he laughed as Miles slapped his arm and pouted.

He seemed to be physically struggling with himself, crossing his arms as he kicked childishly at the carpet. “…Yeah.” He admitted, smiling in defeat.

-----------

“Okay, so, final checklist: the safe word is Blackout.” Ganke explained as he led Miles down the hall from the changing room. “It’s the real deal though; we basically shut the whole thing down. Very different from tapping out. Do not confuse the two. What’s the safe word?”

“Blackout.” Miles said firmly, wrapping the last loop of tape around his hand and cracking his knuckles softly.

“Nice.”

Miles was wearing a slightly loose t-shirt—kindly loaned by Ganke—and some old basketball shorts. Ganke had been pretty coy about what all this was supposed to be. He seemed to struggle with what to tell Miles without giving the whole thing away. He eventually settled on saying it was somewhere between wrestling and improv club. And, coincidentally, there was an “open tournament” coming up. It was one of the ways they invited new members; the “hands-on” way, so to speak.

“Let me see your nails…” Ganke murmured, taking each of Miles’ hands for a moment as they walked. “Okay, so, we have a little side room you’ll be waiting in. You’ll know the signal when you hear it. You’re still cool with the audience, right? It’s just the theater dorks from the other side of the building; twenty people, max.”

“I’m fine with a little crowd.” Miles chuckled, shifting closer to elbow him gently. “You still haven’t told me what’s going to happen though.”

Ganke laughed lightly and shrugged. “What’s to know? You either pin your opponent for ten seconds or you tap out if you can’t handle it. Nothing else at all~”

“You are awful.”

They chuckled with each other for a moment before quick footsteps suddenly approached from behind them. Two people jogged past them with hoods up, laughing casually as they waved at Ganke and kept running.

“Hey, you guys are late!” Ganke scolded playfully as they disappeared through a door.

“Oh, we’re late?” Miles almost flinched at the sound of a third, heavily accented voice, and someone purposefully shouldered past him. More like elbowed past him, really, which Miles realized when he turned to see a man at least a head taller than him sauntering by. “Shouldn’t you be in the booth then, mate?” His hair was done up in thick locs, and those were tied back behind his head. The man’s dark eyes fell on Miles like a weight, but he smirked as he lifted a hand from his pocket and lightly tapped Miles’ shoulder with the back of it. “Ey, you brought a new fish. Looks like he won’t last a minute.”

Miles scoffed silently, managing to contain his offended face as the man sneered and stepped away. “What’s his problem?” He asked Ganke, trying not to smile.

Ganke shrugged and snickered. “We wonder that every day, man.”

“He thinks he’s the final boss or something?” Miles asked just a bit louder than necessary, a grin pulling his lips as the man stopped and looked pointedly back at them.

Ganke looked between them for a moment, grinning a bit himself as he moved to block them. “Okay, I see where this is going. Save it for the ring, you nerds!” He teased, pressing his palm to Miles’ chest and shooing the other man away. “On ya bike, then!”

The tall man snorted, throwing his hands up as he turned and went through the door the others had used. Ganke smirked as he nudged Miles to a different door.

“You go in through here. There’s an exit on the other side. Like I said: you’ll know the signal when you hear it.” He instructed, giving his shoulder a squeeze. “Good luck! You know I’m rooting for you—Oh! Real quick, uh…” He pulled his hand back with an apologetic wince after grabbing Miles’ arm. “Since this is just a trial thing, we usually don’t use challengers’ real names. Privacy; just in case. You, uh, got a name in mind?”

“Geez, put me on the spot, why don’t you?” Miles wrung his hands a bit, looking away as he itched the side of his head. “I…I kinda like New Fish…” He admitted a bit hesitantly.

Ganke snorted, almost giggling. “Seriously?”

“Shut up…”

“Hey, I’m not judging~ Much.” He taunted, shoving Miles playfully before starting to pull the door closed. “What’s your safeword?”

“Blackout.” Miles spoke with an audible pout as Ganke still smirked at him.

“This is going to be great.” He snickered, motioning to Miles with one hand. “No shoes in the ring, man. See you out there.”

Miles rolled his eyes, pulling his sneakers off as he sat on a bench to wait for this supposedly obvious signal.

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

There was always something about the ring. Okay, look, it’s not actually a real fighting ring or anything, but just—Here, try to imagine:

There’s the timbre of the crowd: the rhythm of applause and little echoes of folks calling out their favorite cheers. When Ganke jogged into the room and the cheers redoubled, he couldn’t stop himself from basking with a grin before continuing his rush to the “Commentators’ Booth”. Frankly, they owed the theater club a lot for being such good sports; it almost felt like it was grander than eighteen chairs situated around a large square arrangement of blue gym mats.

“Little late, aren’t we, Mr. Lee~?” The young lady in the chair beside him taunted as Ganke slid into the booth. “I almost wanted to start without you.”

“Very funny, Margo.” He chuckled, leaning under their table to fiddle with the volume knob on the boombox their microphones were plugged into. “I wouldn’t miss tonight for the world; not with this turnout either!”

The audience cheered in response. They knew their roles well for not being around in a while.

“Ooh, I do love a good crowd.” Margo readjusted the cat ears clipped into her braids. “More importantly, though, we finally have a challenger again. Feels like it’s been forever.”

“Hasn’t it been, though?” Ganke sighed dramatically, resting the back of his hand on his forehead. “Reminds me of our time in the ring; those were the days.”

“Ganke, that was only, like, four months ago.”

He leaned back in his chair, draping his whole arm across his face as he pulled his microphone closer with the other hand. “An eternity in my heart, Margie.”

Margo rolled her eyes and snuck a poke at his exposed side. “Anyway, I hear this one’s a friend of yours. Any details you can sneak us?”

Ganke snickered and bat her hand away. “Nah, you’re not getting anything out of me that easily. Just know I’m betting on him. Honestly, I can’t believe he didn’t join sooner.”

“Only thing I can’t believe is that he actually let himself be called New Fish.” Margo murmured intentionally into the microphone, earning chuckles from the crowd. She blinked as her watch buzzed against her wrist. “Ooh, the gang is getting restless. Make noise; make noise!” She hit the table with open palms, signaling the audience to clap and stomp while she stood from her chair. “Yeah, get hype! And let’s welcome our newest challenger!”

Right on cue, the “challengers’” locker room door opened, and the audience cheered as Miles walked out into the small gym. He seemed just a bit nervous, but he smiled as he walked, fidgeting with his hands while he approached the mat.

“Ooh, you didn’t tell me he was cute!” Margo giggled as she sat back down. “Looks a bit familiar though, doesn’t he~?” She’d placed her hand slightly over the microphone, sneering at Ganke as she elbowed his side.

“You shut up.” He shot back, looking away as he blushed. “Absolutely irrelevant. Although, actually, I don’t really know why he never came until now.”

“Did you tell him what we’re all about?” She glanced between him and their guest waving shyly at some audience members.

Ganke leaned back in the chair, unable to keep the mischief out of his grin. “Oh…I told him enough.”

She laughed softly, giving him a little kick under the table. “Terrible.”

He smirked, letting his chair’s legs thump on the floor as he hopped to his feet. “Alright, Fish!” He called, motioning Miles over to the so-called ring. “Let’s get you in the tank, because we’re bringing out your first opponent!”

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

The second locker room door was pushed open, and the small crowd cheered excitedly. Miles watched warily as one of the robed figures they’d passed in the hallway casually walked out. Halfway to the mat, they finally lifted their hood off, revealing a young man just about Miles’ height with light brown skin, the brightest, most joyful eyes, and some amazing shiny hair that he started to tie under a gold headband after handing his robe over to Ganke.

He was dressed almost identically to Miles in terms of shirt and shorts style—which he was quick to point out as he stepped onto the mat—but he had several different spider shapes tattooed—or maybe just drawn—up and down his arms in glittery gold ink.

“If I had known we were going to dress the same, I’d have asked Claw to give you a color to match, machhalee.” He spoke with an Indian accent, and he took a few steps slowly to hint Miles to do the same. His eyes seemed to light up as Miles matched his circular movement, but he schooled his expression and casually set his hands behind his back. “Sooo, New Fish, since you’re new, Fish, we’ll be using our names too. They call me Sona here. Well, they call me a lot of things, but Sona’s the one I picked out.”

Miles chuckled softly, resting his hands in his pockets as they circled each other. “Sounds nice. Kinda like it means something when you say it like that.”

“Oh, it does.” Sona grinned playfully. “If you survive, I’ll tell you what it means.”

“Survive?” Miles brought a hand on his chest, letting his face act shocked. “Oh, it’s a death match, eh? I see you.”

Sona paused, giggling as he started to walk again. “He didn’t tell you, did he?”

Miles shrugged with a grin. “Well, I’ve known…Claw?” He glanced over at Ganke, who nodded smugly. “I’ve known him a while. ‘No Spoilers’ is one of his Nerd Laws.”

“Hey!” Ganke called as the audience chuckled. “Pretty sure I didn’t drag you out here to insult me!”

Sona snickered. “Ah, I don’t really know how I feel about them hiding stuff from challengers, buuut, I admit I like a little surprise. So, I guess I’ll give you a hint.” He stopped, and Miles grew wary as he closed a bit of distance with slow steps. “…Tickle fight!” He laughed as he lunged.

Miles flinched, nervous excitement shooting through him at the call before he really processed what had just been said. He planted his feet firmly, catching Sona’s hands in his own and holding him back. “W-Wait; what?!” He asked in disbelief.

“Ooh, subtlety be damned; let’s go!” Ganke called as the audience cheered them on.

“Shine bright, Golden Boy!” The girl beside him—Margo, he was pretty sure—laughed, picking up her microphone.

“You’ve got some reflexes on you, huh?” Sona teased, curling his fingers where they were caught between Miles’.

“Were you actually serious?” He felt like he’d been blindsided, and, well, he had been. “It’s a tickle fight?!”

“Well~ We try not to be too serious around here.” Sona giggled. “But I wasn’t kidding.” He leaned suddenly to one side, and Miles stumbled as he yanked his hands back and shoved them against Miles’ sides. Sona followed him as he fell to the mat, kneeling beside Miles and scribbling across his stomach.

“Little early in the game to be floundering, isn’t it, Fish?” Sona teased, grabbing at Miles’ wrist as he giggled loudly. The audience groaned around sparse snickers, and Sona nearly giggled too.

Miles let out a harder laugh of his own, trying to pull his hand back. “Oho, he’s got jokes, huh? I—Hey!” He squeaked and twisted as Sona’s hand moved to squeeze up and down his flank.

“You what?” Sona smirked a bit as Miles’ free hand caught his wrist, letting his fingers scratch insistently at his hipbone as he squirmed. “You’re ticklish? You still seem a little shellshocked.” Sona walked his hand up Miles’ side, clawing quickly into his ribcage.

Miles tried to glare up at his opponent, but he couldn't fight the grin on his face. Sona was goofy and gentle; he didn’t seem to weigh much—Miles tested with weak pulls on his wrist. Oh, this was definitely going to be fun. In a quick, fluid motion, he let go of Sona’s hand and grabbed ahold of his shirt, pushing off the mat with one foot as he pulled Sona down. The audience cheered excitedly when Miles managed to roll them over, and he boxed his knees firmly against Sona’s shins.

Sona’s eyes were lit up with panic, and his cheeks ran a bit red as he laughed nervously. “Hi…” He giggled, holding his hands close to his chest.

Miles smirked, resting his hands on Sona’s wrists. “Hey.” He pulled the other man up suddenly, wrapping him in a hug and squeezing tight to pin his arms against his ribs.

“Oh, my God.” Ganke snorted, holding the mic away from his face for a moment. “I know this one.”

His cohost sat up straighter, leaning to nudge him with her shoulder. “Yeah? You want to clue us in?”

He started to say something when Sona let out a loud squeak and writhed.

“Aw, seriously?” Miles chuckled just a bit overdramatically, drawing one finger slowly back down Sona’s spine. “You totally seem like the type to have Angel Wings. Hm, maybe…” He shifted both of his hands, scribbling his nails across his shoulder blades and grinning as Sona giggled brightly and seemed to try more not to move.

“Ohh, I see now~” Miles teased right in Sona’s ear, smiling brighter at the way his giggles escalated. “That’s almost a shame.”

“N-No talking!” He whined halfheartedly, just barely managing to twist his hands enough to scribble at Miles’ waist. This quickly backfired when Miles’ flinch made him squeeze Sona closer.

“But if I don’t talk…” Miles nearly bit his tongue as he stifled a squeak. “How am I going to count these ribs of yours?” He pressed circles against the highest bone on his ribcage, sneaking his hand to that spot right under his armpit.

Sona let out a loud laugh, wrenching his arms out of Miles’ hold—almost as if he wasn’t holding him at all, actually—and shoving against Miles’ shoulders. The effort wound up pushing Sona’s back against the mat, and Miles was happy to reward him with all ten fingers digging into his ribs without a hint of mercy. This time, he didn’t even bother to grab at Miles’ hands, his arms wrapping loosely around himself as he laughed loudly.

Miles chuckled and shook his head, kneading along his lowest ribs and smirking when he squealed. “Shine bright, Golden Boy~!” He taunted, grinning brightly at the incredulous noise he heard Margo make behind him.

Sona blushed and put one arm over his face, the other flailing light slaps on Miles’ shoulder.

“That’s a tap!” Ganke called excitedly, standing up as the crowd applauded. “Sona is out!”

Miles blinked, letting his fingers go still as he glanced around the room. They were cheering for him—for both of them, really. Sona smiled up at him as he giggled and caught his breath.

“Don’t clap too hard now,” Margo snarked a bit teasingly while Miles was pulling his opponent to his feet. “Literally everyone beats Sona.”

Ganke scoffed, clearly in disbelief. “Oh, yeah?! Where was that energy when he had you on the mat last week?”

They took their time with their playful argument, and Miles took the opportunity to shake Sona’s hand, which he returned excitedly.

“You were amazing.” He said in a near whisper, his eyes bright as giggles still lined his voice.

“Yeah?” Miles said coolly, leaning a bit closer to him. “Well, next time, I want a real fight.”

Sona visibly prickled, his face running a bit redder before he just…smirked. His eyes had gone from playful to almost devious. “Oh, I don’t know if you’re ready for all that, Fish.”

It gave Miles a bit of pause. He might have just been hooked. Sona grinned again, bright as the sun, and caught Miles in a hug before taking his walk of shame. He grabbed his robe off of Ganke’s chair as he passed it and slung it across his shoulders, speeding up to a jog as he went back through the locker room door he’d originally come from. Miles stood just a bit awkwardly alone on the mat, a slight smirk pulling his lips as he fidgeted with his hands.

“Someone looks proud of himself~” Miles shot a slight glare at Margo, and she sneered back tauntingly. “Hey, keep that attitude, tough guy. Ladies and gentlemen, put your hands together; because we’re giving up the Ghost!”

The audience was suddenly loud and talkative; Miles could hear playful teases and jabs—particularly some coos about Ghost being adorable—under the clapping as the door opened again. Sure enough, it was the second character he remembered passing in the hallway. Pale-skinned hands came up to pull the hood back and…Miles was definitely not going to survive today unscathed.

“Ghost” was a blonde with bright blue eyes and one side of her head shaved down, and when she grinned over at Miles, he caught the piercing on her eyebrow. He gave an internal pout as he remembered his studs were with his jacket. She seemed to whisper something to Margo before letting the robe drop from her shoulders and handing it off. She was wearing a cropped t-shirt, cut just above her stomach, a loose long-sleeved jacket that stopped under her chest, and, frankly, Miles was pretty sure those were just pajama pants. Something that quickly caught his eye was the spider drawn on one side of her stomach in blue and pink. He couldn’t help but grin as she stepped onto the mat, stepping back slightly as she took a mark and rested her hands in her pants pockets.

“Eyes are up here, thanks.” She teased with a little wave; he could tell she couldn’t resist.

Miles almost laughed too, resting his hand slightly over his mouth as he tore his gaze from her little tattoo. “I’ll have you know I’m actually terrible at eye contact.”

She snickered, shaking her head as they started to circle each other, and Miles already knew he had to hear her laugh.

“Ooh, she’s hooked him.” Miles had a feeling he and Margo would get along.

“That quick? No way.” Ganke snickered.

“That’s Ghost; she’s a cutie!” Margo laughed. “It’s why everyone loves her.”

Miles pouted as he felt his face heat up, and Ghost chuckled, twirling casually as they continued to walk.

“Don’t worry, Li’l Fish,” She called playfully. “You learn to ignore the peanut gallery.”

“Excuse the hell outta you?” Ganke said firmly, causing Ghost to freeze, and Margo and the audience “Ooh~”-ed teasingly.

Ghost cringed and blushed, covering her face with both hands as she giggled.

Miles had kept walking, and he let his shoulder nudge against hers as he spoke. “So…how’s that ignoring thing workin’ out for you?”

She gave him a playful shove as the audience snickered, putting the distance between them again and smirking. “You hush.”

Miles smirked back, resting his hands on his hips. “So, why Ghost? You don’t seem so scary.”

“You think that now, sure.” She fished under her sleeve and pulled a hair tie off of her wrist, pulling her hair up into a ponytail before putting one hand back in her pocket. “But I’m told I can be haunting.” She wiggled her fingers teasingly, showing off brightly painted nails, and Miles chuckled.

“Okay, okay; you’re cute. Is that what you want to hear?”

She nearly froze up again, hints of red filling her cheeks as she smiled shyly. “Am not.”

“You so are, though. And besides, between the two of us, I’m not the one with their weak spot all exposed.”

She eyed him warily, giggles lining her voice. “You’re asking for it, huh?”

“Why don’t you come over and give it to me, then?” Miles was glad his back was to the crowd by now, but he found himself smirking as they shouted playfully. Margo and Ganke watched him with shocked smiles, and she pawed at his shoulder.

“Where were you hiding this guy?! Definitely my new favorite.” She laughed.

Ghost, similarly, had laughed in disbelief, and Miles almost sneered as he shrugged.

 “Hey, if she giggles herself half to death before I even get my hands on her, do I still win?” He snickered as Ghost looked absolutely offended.

“I’m gonna say yes!” Ganke said quickly, grinning as Ghost glared at him.

“You guys can’t just change the rules!”

Ganke looked to Margo. “I think we can.”

Margo nodded with a shrug. “I think we should.”

He smirked back at Ghost. “Just for you. Since we love you so much.”

As they spoke, Miles had inched forward, lifting one hand to aim a poke at her very exposed stomach.

And she sidestepped him easily, her hand clutching tightly on his wrist. She grinned toothily as he looked up at her, and she yanked him off balance as she swept his legs with one foot. Well, this felt familiar. He managed to keep his chin from hitting the mat, and he felt Ghost’s hand press on his back as she leaned over him. He glanced up at her, but as he made eye contact, she smirked and pushed herself away.

He felt her weight settle on his thighs, and before he could try to twist, he burst into loud laughter as her nails snuck under his shirt to scribble against his lower back. He pulled his hands in close to his chest to keep himself from flailing before reaching to grab at one of her wrists. She seemed perfectly fine to let him, and her other hand was quick to zip up his spine and pinch gingerly at the back of his neck. Miles would definitely deny the shriek he let out, but he laughed and tried to push himself over. Ghost chuckled, twisting her wrist to get ahold of his while she stood up again. She pulled him quickly onto his back, straddling his waist this time as she slipped her wrist suddenly out of his hand by pulling it back through her sleeve. She snatched his wrist with her free hand when he tried for her stomach again, and she grinned nervously as he sneered up at her.

“I’m so gonna get you~” He taunted, laughing lightly as her face went red again.

There was a hint of a stalemate, with Miles trying to read her eyes while she watched his face. All of a sudden, her sleeve was yanked out of his grip, and her hand was shooting to scribble her nails against his neck. Instantly, he cracked, laughing loudly and flailing to grab ahold of her wrists. Even when she let go of his wrist to get both hands against his neck, he couldn’t help but focus on trying to block her, and, dammit, she was much stronger than she looked.

He could hear the audience going wild as he tried to struggle, and Ghost giggled softly as she leaned closer to him. “What happened to all that big talk, Li’l Fish~?” She whispered into his ear. “Not so tough now, are we?” She took a breath before blowing gently into his ear, and Miles kicked against the mat as he practically shrieked again. The audience got a bit louder as Ghost looked expectantly at the judges.

“Aw, he kicks; that’s so cute!” Margo laughed, only for a bit of panic to shoot through her expression when Ghost turned to them. “Wait, does kicking count?! We didn’t talk about that.”

Ganke had bit his lip, glancing between the two women and the audience, and he realized he wasn’t containing his smirk very well. “I’m gonna say kicking doesn’t count today!”

“Wha—Since when?!” Ghost’s voice was pretty close to real outrage as her hands suddenly stopped, and a select few audience members backed her up with jeers.

“Since I said so!” He said more firmly, chuckling. “Consider it a perk of being in the peanut gallery.”

The audience laughed, and Ghost rolled her eyes before looking back down at Miles. As she did, he’d moved his hands, managing to land them on her waist and pressing his thumbs into her hips. She squeaked and shoved herself back, stumbling slightly as she scrambled out of his reach.

“Now she wants to run, huh?” Miles snorted, his hand catching around her ankle only for her to slip his hold before he had a full grip. She was quick to return the gesture, yanking his ankles before he could try to get up and kneeling on one of them. He struggled to push himself up onto his hands, only to nearly fall again when she dug all ten fingers into his socked sole. Keeping his hands still now was definitely nearing impossible, but he tried to also keep in mind to not kick her off of him. But, wow, she was merciless.

“So, toes are bad, huh?” She teased over his laughter, scratching under his toes as they curled tightly. “Not your weak spot, but you might get along with—Eek!”

Miles couldn’t tell if she actually didn’t expect it or she just got cocky, but she didn’t duck away this time. He’d pushed himself forward, snatching the back of her hoodie and pulling her into his arms before falling backwards. The audience was loud again as she tried to flail out of his grip, her voice already tangling itself in giggly protests as he fought to wrestle both of her arms against her sides without losing his grip on her.

“Quit that!” He giggled along with her when she kept trying to shove his face. “And what are you laughing about? I haven’t done anything yet!”

“Shut up!” She squeaked, laughing softly as she tried to catch her breath.

“You tired now, li’l fish? Flopping all over the damn place like that.” Miles taunted into her ear, smirking as she cringed and giggled. He spoke a bit louder as he heaved them both upright while keeping her square in his lap. “I’ve figured you out, by the way, they call you Ghost ‘cause you’re slippery, right? You ‘phase through’ grabs like that a lot?”

Ghost turned her head, not that she could really look at him from this angle, but he saw her grin as she shrugged casually. “Well, y’know, it’s what stuck.”

Miles scoffed, squeezing her a bit tighter. “Stuck like you, huh? I’d love to see you slip this one.” Without any more hesitation, he let one of his hands drop to her stomach and skitter across her bare skin, and he was definitely not disappointed. She squealed and immediately started to struggle again, giggles jumping to loud laughter within a fraction of a second.

“No, no; I wasn’t ready!” She whined through her squeals.

“Oh, she’s not ready…” Miles huffed with a roll of his eyes, letting his fingers go still as he dragged his hand slowly.

“You bastard…” She spat in a giggly half-whisper.

“Ghost, be nice!” Margo called down to them.

Miles teasingly blew into her ear again, dragging his nails softly before sneaking a few squeezes on her side. “Tell me when you’re ready for tummy tickles, okay?”

She blushed, shaking her head as she whined and squeaked at each little pinch. “You’re terrible! N-No…”

“Mm-hm?” He curled his fingers and tapped them against her stomach before tracing one slowly around her bellybutton. “If I press this button, will you be ready then?”

She’d had a full-body flinch at the tracing alone, kicking against the floor as she giggled loudly. “Don’t you dare!”

“Aw, c’mon~ You have to work with me here.” Miles poked her a few more times. “You ready now~?”

“Stop teasing!” Her head tipped back on his shoulder, and she yelped when he blew across the side of her neck.

He laughed, smirking softly. “You said you weren’t ready! I do have to tell you, though…” He let his fingers walk to about where he remembered that little drawing on her skin. “You’ve had this spider on you this entire time and it hasn’t moved at—” He suddenly started scribbling his fingers, absolutely relishing in the surprised shriek it got out of her. She kicked hard, knocking them both over, but he didn’t dare let her go. She barely got a chance to protest between her squealy laughs, and Miles could hear her feet flailing against the mat under the cheers of the crowd.

“Think she’s happy we let them keep the kicks now?” Ganke asked playfully, leaning on one hand.

“Yeah, she looks like she’s having fun.” Margo snickered. Both of them flinched a little when Ghost squealed again.

“Hey, do you think he can get one?” Ganke asked with a smirk.

Margo let out a cackle. “If he gets her that bad in his initiation, she will hate him.”

Miles, meanwhile, was starting to have a little bit of pity on the poor Ghost. She seemed to have tired herself out again, having stopped kicking in favor of trying futilely to curl up. She was tough; he could admit that in a heartbeat, but, frankly, his arm was getting tired.

“I’m still wondering what this does, you know.” He mused, and the only bit of mercy he offered her was slowing his fingers down just a little as he finally focused his tickling on her bellybutton.

She absolutely lost it, breaking into loud cackles as she struggled to move her arms. “N-Not there! Please, I-I can’t—!” She squealed, snorts breaking through her laughter as her cheeks ran red. The crowd went wild with cheers and teases, and Miles was pretty sure his heart was melting.

“Tap! I tap! Let go…” She cried out through squeaks, and Miles lifted his hand away and let her go. She curled up beside him, pulling her hood up to hide her face as a few more snorts slipped into her giggles.

“Ghost is out! Make some noise!” Ganke shouted, grinning as they already clapped excitedly. Miles smirked back at him, softly rubbing one hand on Ghost’s back while she caught her breath.

“You good?” He asked quietly, trying not to tease too much. “Need a hand?”

“You’re a natural.” She whispered back, smiling a bit tiredly as she looked up at him. “But you’re not ready for Spider-Punk.”

“Wha—?” He was about to ask, but she started to get up, and he stood quickly to help her.

“And anyway,” She spoke up this time, for the others to hear. “You wouldn’t have won if you weren’t pals with the judges.”

“No, honey,” Margo called back. “You might not have lost if you didn’t run your mouth off.”

Ghost pouted, crossing her arms as she levelled a glare. “Fuck you both.” She huffed, rolling her eyes and smirking.

“Ooh, Swear Jar. Five seconds.” Ganke said quickly. Without being told, Miles grabbed at her sides. He made sure to be gentle this time, barely scribbling with his nails, but she still burst into giggly squeals as she tried to push away from him. It was definitely more like three seconds, but Miles didn’t mind giving her some grace, except for the poke he landed on her bellybutton before pulling his hands back. She didn’t snort this time, but she did punch him in the arm while she grinned at him, and he could settle for that.

“Make nice, you two, let’s get moving.” Margo insisted. Miles offered his hand to Ghost, smirking broadly when she actually hesitated to take it. He might have itched the palm of her hand with one finger when he went to shake it, and she snickered and shook her head.

“You might want to think about whether you want to stick around, because I’m getting you back.” She said softly, grinning.

“Yeah, alright, Tickle Button.” He taunted playfully, laughing as she punched his shoulder again. She squeezed his hand as she turned to do the walk, snatching her robe off of Margo’s chair and flicking the side of Ganke’s glasses.

“I’ll see you in the ring next week, asshole.” She growled with a sneer, and Ganke smirked back at her.

“That’s ten seconds, Ghost.” He chuckled, covering the microphone. “I’ll see you too.”

Her face nearly faltered, but she ruffled his hair, and the audience cheered as she walked back to the locker room.

Margo stretched her arms over her head—Ganke smirked knowingly toward Miles and the audience, but he didn’t do anything—and she shook her hands out with a sigh. “My, oh my, Mr. Lee. Our first challenger in months, and he’s tearing through us. Maybe we should have gotten back in the ring instead of letting these cute little bugs handle it.”

There were claps and murmurs from the crowd, and Miles couldn’t help but be curious about that story.

“At this rate, I think you might be right, Kitty.” Ganke sighed dramatically. “But, then again, if we destroyed him first try, we wouldn’t have anything for this great crowd!” The audience cheered, and Miles couldn’t help but clap along. “And you all really have been wonderful tonight; thank you all so much for coming out—”

“You do know we’re not done, right?” Margo asked playfully.

Ganke pulled a face and pretended to wince. “Are you sure we can’t be done now?” He groaned, resting an arm over his eyes. “You know how he gets.”

Margo smirked, thumping a rhythm on the table that the audience was quick to copy with their hands. “Ladies and Gentlemen—and, of course, our dear New Fish—I want you to give me your best!” The volume grew louder, and Miles felt tingly with the energy swelling. “It’s down to the wire; the last roundup; this one’s for all the marbles! Let’s hear it for Spider-Punk!”

The audience roared—as much as, like, twenty people could compare to a roar—and a good number of them stomped as they clapped. The locker room door opened, and, predictably, Miles saw the tall British man that had inspired his dumb stage name. He bounced a bit on his toes, smiling excitedly as he watched his approach.

Spider-Punk walked confidently, with his robe already thrown over his shoulder instead of being worn. He was also wearing a cropped shirt, funny enough, but it was underneath a battle vest covered in cool patches. He wore a pair of pajama pants too—much more obvious than Ghost’s just by the pattern—and they were cut off just below his knees. He was wearing black lipstick, which he definitely hadn’t been the first time Miles had passed him. He motioned to the crowd with one hand as he purposefully draped the robe over Margo’s head, encouraging them to get louder before he stepped onto the mat.

“Well, well, well…” He practically purred, and Miles felt like a shock ran through him. “Big fish in a small pond, aren’t ya?”

Miles’ eyes lit up, and his hands flapped a bit as his brain failed to process a response.

“You’re doing the thing.” His opponent half-whispered to him, gesturing to his hands, and Miles flinched just a bit nervously. Spider-Punk grinned, chuckling. “Not sayin’ you should stop, love. Ghost’ll get you wound up like that, she’s pretty fun.”

Miles let himself giggle at that and nodded. “I mean, yeah, she’s pretty cool for a ghost.” He said coolly. “Shrieks like one, too.”

Spider-Punk snorted, shaking his head as he smirked. “Fair play, fair play.”

Miles crossed his arms as they started to circle each other. “So, turns out you actually were the final boss, huh? What was that about me not lasting a minute?”

“Oh, you remember that, eh?” He laughed just a bit mockingly, his eyes scanning over Miles before his grin somehow grew even more smug. “I still stand by it.” He asserted with a shrug, resting his hands on his hips.

Miles scoffed, mimicking his little pose and rolling his eyes. “You really want to say that when you know I just wrecked two of your friends?”

Spider-Punk suddenly broke from his path, walking straight toward Miles and spooking him into a half stumble. “Do you really want to ask that when you don't know why they saved me for last?” He reached out quickly to grab Miles by his shirt to stop him from falling, pulling him sharply into a tight hug. Miles flailed slightly, bringing his hands to rest on his opponent’s arms where they squeezed softly around his neck. His own arms were completely free, but his brain also might have been overheating. He could hear the sneer in Spider-Punk’s voice when it tickled his ear. “Your freckles pop up when you blush~”

Miles fell into squeaky giggles, pulling at Spider-Punk’s arms as best he could, and his opponent only hummed casually at the effort, rolling his eyes as he rested his chin on Miles’ head and scribbled gently at his shoulders. Miles quickly switched tactics, digging his fingers into the punk’s armpits. The taller man flinched pretty hard, half a snort slipping out as he let himself laugh. Or, actually, he kind of giggled. It was rough and bass-sounding, almost scratchy, like he was just barely resisting. The crowd behind him murmured softly.

“Oh, not this again.” Miles chuckled teasingly, keeping his voice mostly low this time. “You just want to get tickles, tough guy?” He squirmed just a bit when long fingers trailed down the center of his back.

“Wouldn’t you like to kn—” Spider-Punk’s voice hitched on a louder laugh when Miles dropped his hands to scribble on bare skin and squeeze his sides, and he flinched backwards when Miles pressed his thumbs against his hipbones. Miles grinned a bit smugly as the punk stepped back, and he crossed his arms as he stepped forward.

“I wouldn’t have thought someone so cool would be so cute when he gets a few little scratches.” He taunted before faking a pout. “I expected more fight out of you though, punk.”

Spider-Punk chuckled lightly, making a bit of a show in slightly covering his sides. “You sure know how to make a girl feel special, don’t you?” He teased right back, setting his chin on one hand and batting his eyes. His nail polish matched his lipstick perfectly. “You should watch yourself though~ Could be in bigger trouble than you think.”

 Miles laughed, cracking his knuckles. “Well, the bigger they are…”

“That doesn’t even work for—” Spider-Punk didn’t put up much resistance when Miles hooked his arm and more or less dragged him to the floor, and he laughed brightly Miles tickled across his stomach.

“Ooh, he’s got him on the ropes, huh~?” Margo asked playfully, nudging Ganke with her elbow.

Ganke shot her a sideways glance, pout set on his lips. “Shut up.” He huffed with a chuckle, and she laughed.

Miles’ focus was stuck on Spider-Punk, his grin turning more playful as he let his fingers skitter lightly on his opponent’s back and relished the giggles it brought out of him. He had pulled Spider-Punk’s arm across his shoulders, clutching his wrist in his left hand while he tickled along his back and opposite side.

“Y’know, ‘Spider-Punk’…” Miles mused softly. “If Claw had told me that I’d just be thrown into a fake tournament to tease a bunch of adorable lees to death, I probably wouldn’t have even believed him. I’d say I’m disappointed, but it’s been pretty fun.”

The punk huffed out a laugh, sounding much more derisive than ticklish all of a sudden. “Is that what you think?”

Without any warning, Spider-Punk shifted the hand in Miles’ grip, his fingers managing to scratch along his ribcage and chip some startled giggles out of him. His other hand shot to dig into Miles’ side, completely exposed with how his arm was wrapped around the punk’s back. Miles yelped, immediately letting go of the wrist he held to flee; his opponent snickered, keeping his arm hooked across Miles’ shoulders and holding him close as he pulled some squeaky laughs from his side.

“And there it is.” Ganke fake-pouted as the audience started to get riled up. “Every time with this one.”

Margo was absolutely ecstatic, giggling brightly as she leaned on his shoulder. “If it ain’t broke, y’know? Maybe you should have warned him~”

Miles laughed and tried to flail, but the tickles he landed on the punk’s ribs were hardly distracting him. Instead, Spider-Punk leaned back, pulling his arm from around Miles’ shoulder while his other hand shoved him down to the mat. He was strong. Like, way stronger than Miles expected. When Miles tried to grab at his arm and pull, he couldn’t move an inch, and he wasn’t even sure if Spider-Punk was using his full weight. The giddy sort of panic must have shown in his eyes, because the taller man sneered as he loomed over him.

“Caught in a web, poor thing.” He taunted as he locked his knees around Miles’ legs, ruffling his hair with his free hand before leaning close. “You got a lot to learn, New Fish. For example…” He took a deep breath, and Miles didn’t even get time to panic before he was squealing with laughter as a loud raspberry was blown into the crook of his neck. His legs tried to kick, but his opponent gave him zero leeway. It didn’t help at all when he tried to push him away, only to get scribbling fingers in both of his armpits as another raspberry hit him.

Miles might have broken a little under all that; sue him.

“Oh, yeah, he’s dead.” Margo snickered as their challenger shrieked and writhed under Spider-Punk’s hold.

“Yeah…” Ganke admitted, but he glanced at Margo with a smirk. “You would know though, wouldn’t you? You have a thing or two in common with him.” He snuck a poke just under her arm, and she nearly whacked him with her microphone with how hard she flinched.

Miles, meanwhile, was trying his best to be tough, his hands gripping Spider-Punk’s sleeves to keep from flailing. Those long fingers drilled right into the center of his hollows, and his head fell back against the mat as he cackled. Spider-Punk chuckled over him, finally pulling away from his neck to whisper in his ear again.

“So, who’s the adorable little lee here again, bruv~? You talk so big, but I break brats like you.”

Miles tried to shove the punk’s face, earning some faster scribbles whenever his arms moved an inch. Spider-Punk sneered and pulled one of his hands back, catching Miles’ wrist and blowing another raspberry against his palm. His reaction was much squeakier than attacks on his weak spots, but Miles more or less collapsed in a slight daze. The punk slowly lifted his hands, chuckling a bit deviously as the poor fish tried to catch his breath.

“I’ll give it to ya, mate; you’re a tough one.” Spider-Punk taunted, slipping his hand into his pocket. “Or you’re a hypocrite. Hopin’ it’s the former, since a funny thing happens to hypocrites around here~” He drew his hand back up, and it was covered by a strange-looking glove.

“Oh, Murder Claw!” Margo shouted, and the audience went wild.

“You actual cheating bastard!” Ganke scolded with a grin. “I told you not to bring that!”

“Murder Claw! Murder Claw!” Half of the audience chanted with Margo leading on her mic.

“Margo, don’t encourage this!”

She elbowed him teasingly before playfully punching his side. “Aw, c’mon, Tiger, where’s that Panther blood?!”

“We're supposed to be behaving!” Ganke couldn't help but laugh as the energy swelled.

Miles watched nervously as Spider-Punk wound a little dial on the wrist of the glove. Something about the sound of the mechanism clicking felt…familiar. Coiling springs? It all happened within a few seconds; Miles tried to grab Spider-Punk’s sleeve, only for him to snatch his wrist and pin it firmly over his head. The pure mischief on his face was going to kill Miles before his hands did.

“Go on and give ‘em a show, lovely.” He whispered, showing off the glove on his hand before pressing one of the fingers to the side of Miles’ neck. He felt a sort of click, instantly followed by rapid vibrations that had him nearly screeching. It was barely more than two seconds, but it was almost worse than the raspberries. When the four other fingers pressed into his armpit all at the same time, Miles knew it was over. Quick as it was, that buzzing sensation had him hysterical, and his free hand flailed against the mat as he tried to writhe.

“The Fish is cooked! It’s all over!” Margo shouted over the roar of the crowd.

Spider-Punk gave him another smirk and a cheeky-bastard wink before pushing himself onto his feet, except Miles caught him gently by his wrist.

“That…was definitely more than a minute.” Miles said softly through quiet breaths.

Spider-Punk seemed to light up, barely stifling an incredulous laugh. “You don’t quit! I like it.” He said softly, taking Miles’ hand in a quick handshake before letting it fall. He grinned smugly as Margo ran to his side and hugged him with one arm.

“Your reigning champion, folks!” She called out to the audience. “Give it up for Spider-Punk!” The tall man raised his hands dramatically as the crowd clapped excitedly, seeming to relish in the attention as they started to get up and talk to him and each other.

Miles was content to stay on the mat for a moment with his tired giggles, and Ganke approached to offer him a hand. He might have gotten a little dizzy when he was heaved to stand up, but he played it off with a smirk. Ganke ruffled his hair and snuck a tickle behind his ear, and Miles shouldered him playfully as he went to do his walk of shame. But Ganke grabbed him by his shirt, pointing him toward the locker room door that his opponents had been entering from. Miles glanced at him for confirmation, getting a quick nod and a shooing motion before Ganke went to stand beside Spider-Punk.

“What a freakin’ upset, huh?” Margo said teasingly, leaning to look at Ganke.

“Yeah, I’m upset!” He insisted exaggeratedly, shaking his head as Spider-Punk hugged him to his side. “Should have known you’d let him cheat again.”

Margo laughed right back. “Well, since you want to be boring all of a sudden, and the crew’s on leave, someone has to keep up the Panther vibe, yeah?!”

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

Miles let them and the crowd’s chatter fade behind him as he entered the locker room. He wasn’t sure why he was so nervous. It wasn’t even any different from the first one. Except, well, this one had a ghost leaning in from the door leading to the hallway. She quickly motioned him to follow her, holding the door open before jogging away.

They wound up at a meeting room upstairs, where Sona opened the door after they knocked.

“Told you so.” Ghost said playfully as they entered the room, and Miles rolled his eyes as Sona laughed. There were six pizza boxes on the tables in the back and a cooler stashed underneath next to what he assumed were their bags and things.

“He cheated, didn’t he?” Sona asked once the door was closed, playfully nudging Miles with his elbow.

“Is it really cheating when we know he’s going to do it though?” Ghost rummaged in the cooler for a juice pouch before also snatching a half-finished water bottle from the edge of the table.

“I feel kind of cheated.” Miles said with a shrug, crossing his arms.

The pair of them looked at him with wary expectation, seemingly worried about him.

“I mean, I had a whole fight with you—” He looked pointedly as Ghost. “—And I didn’t even know raspberries were legal. Seems unfair to me.”

He let a taunting grin spread across his lips as Ghost glared at him with a rising blush. Sona had burst out laughing, patting him on his shoulder.

“I really hope you stick around, Fish; you’re hilarious.” He giggled.

“Yeah, you’ll be laughing, all right.” Ghost pouted for a moment, but she started to laugh along with Sona.

“Oh, that reminds me!” Sona stood in front of him, resting his hands on his hips as if he was a superhero or something. “My name is Pavitr. Forgive me if it’s forward, but you’re Miles, right? It’s so cool to finally meet you!”

Miles was a little surprised, but he quickly realized what had happened. “I take it Ganke talks about me a lot?” He asked with a chuckle.

“Oh, definitely.” Ghost nodded, smiling as she leaned slightly on the circular table in the middle of the room. “And somehow, he neglected to mention that you’re a five-alarm tease.”

“Well, time and place, y’know.” He shrugged, chuckling. “Although, I guess I haven’t teased him in a while~”

“You are something else.” Ghost said, playfully flinging the now empty water bottle at Miles’ head before offering a handshake. “I’m Gwen, by the way.”

Miles accepted it without any mischief this time, and she smiled much more genuinely this time. Pavitr approached him from the side, pressing a cold bottle of water against his arm and giggling as he snatched it from him.

“You can grab a plate, by the way.” He offered, opening his own water bottle to take a drink. “We kind of got them for you. Oh, except those two big ones on the end.”

“Oh, yeah?” Miles chuckled, as if he hadn’t been eying the table since he’d walked in. Of course, he had to have been raised to never take the first plate.

Gwen nodded, pushing herself up to sit on the table. “We haven’t had a tournament in a long time, and it’s been even longer since we had a new challenger. We’re celebrating a little, and since somebody didn’t win, it’s more a little party for all of us.”

“You really do snark a lot for someone in a crop top.” Miles grinned and shook his head.

“Maybe, but at least I’m not the one with spider bites on my neck.” She taunted, and Miles could feel his face heating up as he realized what she meant. She laughed teasingly as he covered the side of his neck with one hand.

The door opened suddenly, and a very loud Spider-Punk burst in with Ganke, Margo, and a couple of faces from the audience in tow. “Oi, oi, what’s up, losers?!”

Gwen sighed loudly. “There goes the neighborhood.” She rolled her eyes and smirked as he approached her first.

“Love you too, Gwendy~” He said playfully, ruffling her hair as he leaned to kiss her forehead. His smile widened as he spotted Miles, and he strode up to him like he could definitely tell Miles’ head was spinning. “You stuck around, huh?” He offered his hand and that stupid wink. “Hobie Brown, at ya service, love.”

Accepting the handshake was apparently the wrong decision, because it ended in Miles being yanked into a tight hug as Hobie laughed a bit mockingly. He wasn’t even doing anything, but Miles couldn’t help laughing with him and trying to squirm away, only for Pavitr and Gwen to pile on the two of them.

Ganke had placed Miles’ shoes and things under the table with the others’ stuff, and Margo had done the same with their boombox and microphones. She grabbed the two set-aside pizza boxes, handing them over to the theater club members along with heaps of gratitude for their presence. They happily accepted both before waving to all of them as they left. As soon as they did, the pair of former hosts turned to the interesting little hug-fight their four friends had gotten into.

“Guys!” Margo called, managing to get their attention. “You were all fantastic out there! Miles, they loved you! Hell, we loved you!” She stepped forward, and Hobie let Miles go so she could grab onto his hands excitedly as she spoke. “I wasn’t even kidding, Ganke, where on Earth were you hiding this one?!”

Ganke shrugged, crossing his arms. “What can I say? I like to have an ace or two up my sleeve.” He said with a smirk. “It has been a while since I’ve seen you go all out like that though, hasn’t it?”

Miles grinned a bit proudly. “You know I like to make a good first impression.”

“I have literally never heard that about you, but go off, I guess.”

Miles pouted a bit as the others laughed.

Within minutes, they were all around the circular table, plates piled with pizza slices and cracking soda cans. Miles leaned on his hand to look Ganke in the eye.

“So, how long has this been going on anyway?” He asked, just a bit incredulously. “You never mentioned it while I was gone.”

Ganke nearly glared at him halfway through a bite of pizza. “I told you I made some new friends after you left! And I definitely remember telling you I joined a club.”

“Yeah, and I thought you meant a robotics club or something, not, like, tickle tournaments! You didn’t think I’d be interested in that part?”

Ganke chuckled. “It’s not that I didn’t think you'd be interested.” He set down the slice and leveled a sneer at him. “I just know you get weak around too many cute people.”

Miles nearly choked on the sip of water he’d taken, and he could feel eyes on him as the table got quiet. They were all smiling, some more smugly than others, and Miles buried his face in his hands.

“Asshole…” He groaned, only to flinch a little when Gwen poked his cheek. He glanced at her, and she giggled, and Hobie smirked, and Pavitr grinned.

“Especially cute lees~” Ganke whispered, blowing across the side of his neck, and he barely stopped himself from jumping out of the chair. The others stifled laughter as Miles felt like he was going to melt from the heat rushing to his face, which he promptly dropped into his arms on the table.

“You’re all rosy, mate.” Yeah, like Hobie really needed to tell him that.

He recognized Ganke’s hand patting him on the back. “Sooo~?”

“’M free on Friday…?” He offered.

“We’ve got an Initiation Day!” Ganke shook him by the shoulder as the whole table cheered, and Miles felt himself smiling as hands ruffled his hair and pat his back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Panda's Extra Notes: Some minor things for consideration.

*I might go back and retcon it, but I'm considering using one of Hobie's beta designs for this AU. Specifically the one with his long braids.

*Miles falls under the Ace umbrella here, hence the joke Ganke makes toward the end. He is very vulnerable to "tickle-crushes", though. And actual crushes, obviously, but we'll get to that later. >w<

[worriedvision]

Cgkxulrztjdti I just read an albedo prompted of yours and I gave me an idea. Sadly I'm not a writer so I gib this idea to you only if you like it. It's the I didn't stand a chance prompt!!!!

So reader is sad because you know they didn't really have a chance but since it's windblume how about they get closer to cyno or Tighnari maybe even Kaeya. And it just makes Albedo feel jealous but he doesn't really understand the feeling. All he knows it's just a bitter taste and it feels like his heartrate is dropping and he can't explain it but it's definitely irrigating to witness reader with another but even when Albedo tries to approach reader they avoid him because they don't want to keep holding onto that false hope of maybe he'll like me back

So the initial post was this one! Gender neutral reader, Cynos the 'love interest' here.

--

Albedo couldn't help but feel relieved to see the traveler walking down the steps to sit with him while he waited for Klee to wake up, hoping to figure out the best way to act on his interpreted feelings. He felt so comforted by them, and it felt right.

The traveler looks at the paper that had the illustration on it, and Paimon looks over their shoulder to see.

"Oh, Klee must have a very...hmm..." The traveler hums out, unsure how they felt about the picture.

"Oh, Paimon thinks Klee thinks of you like a sibling!" Paimon cheers, Klee waking up at the voice.

"No, the travelers like my parent. Like big brother Albedo!" Klee cheers, a silence afterwards.

Albedo felt embarrassed because it implies the traveler was in a partnership with him, a thing he thought he very much hopes for. The traveler felt uncomfortable, because the picture implied Klee expected the traveler to be with Albedo, and they knew once the whole thing with their sibling got resolved it would only be a matter of time until they left Teyvat. Even if they stayed in Teyvat, being stuck to Mondstadt most of the time just didn't feel right.

"Paimons hungry! Let's eat!" Paimon fills the silence, everyone relieved for different reasons.

--

The next week was when the traveler knocked on your door, realising you hadn't been seen by anyone. Hoping to check on your welfare, they wait patiently.

When you open the door, the traveler shakes their head.

"Have you been keeping yourself in there all this time?" They tut.

"I'd rather not be reminded of..." You cut yourself off, knowing better than to ruin the mood by talking about your unrequited love and how you had been eating binge foods and crying as you tried to think up new TCG strategies.

"...Come with me." They state, not giving you an option. "You're obsessed with that card game, I have a friend that you may get along with."

"Ooooh, Cyno? Paimon totally agreed, Cynos good with the game but bad with his jokes!" Paimon states, you finally deciding to grab your latest creation before following the traveler.

To your surprise, you actually get on very well with Cyno. The first round you played was a round consisting of you slamming the cards down without realising it, and Cyno matching your energy.

"How is the Stormblume festival?" Cyno states, you looking up as you process the terrible joke. "Something unfortunate must have happened. You're playing like you're angry."

"Angry isn't the word I would use...I guess I'm just lonely." You shrug, deciding against ranting about your lovelife.

"Well, how about we play a couple more rounds? If we get on, I can tell you more about myself and you can return the favour." Cyno suggests, you nodding.

--

You land up talking casually to each other each round, growing more comfortable with each other. Before you knew it, you were walking with Cyno, feeling the same first impression you had with Albedo where you knew you were in love. Cyno must have felt the same way, as he asked you on a first date after being told you both had to leave since it was closing time for the Cat's Tail.

Tighnari was standing next to Albedo, focusing on the crafting bench before his ears pick up on something.

"...Did you just whimper?" Tighnari asks, caught off-guard by the sound Albedo let out.

"No I didn't." He protests a little too quickly, Tighnari raising his brow to express he didn't buy the lie. Tighnari looks over, seeing Cyno with you, and he tilts his head.

"Are you interested in Cyno?" Tighnari asks, Albedo shaking his head.

"I don't understand what I am feeling." Albedo simply states. "I thought I knew my feelings, but now? I'm not so sure."

"I'm sure you can dig in deep and find out what you're feeling." Tighnari brushes off, turning back to the crafting bench. "Just make sure you think before you act."

--

Albedo tried to approach you a few times in the times he spotted you. When you weren't working on a case, you were spotted with Cyno. He had no idea why he felt this strange feeling about you, the yearning.

When the first attempt doesn't work, he decides to approach the traveler to explain his feelings for them. They lightly reject him, explaining they couldn't keep a relationship up with their current circumstances regarding their sibling, and Albedo feels surprised. He expected to feel hurt by this rejection, but he didn't feel anything of the sort.

"Albedo, are you okay?" Paimon yells, Albedo nodding.

"I..Traveler, what does love feel like? Or Jealousy? Or Yearning?" He lists off, the traveler clearing their throat.

"That's not a question I expected." The traveler eases out. "Feelings are complex, Albedo. People experience them in different ways, and some people...don't."

"Oh, I see..." Albedo trails off, looking at you who was now holding hands with Cyno as you take a walk.

"Was that a whimper?" Paimon gasps, Albedo realising he let out that sound again. The traveler looks in the same direction as Albedo, and they realise you were the source.

"...What happened with you two in the Library?" The traveler asks, Albedo thinking to himself.

"I told them about my feelings for you, and they didn't take it well." Albedo thinks out loud. "Now I'm not so sure my feelings are romantic. They may be only friendly."

--

The last day Cyno was in Mondstadt, you accompany him to the gates with his colleagues and Albedo.

"I'll write to you." You smile, Cyno nodding before he plants a kiss on your lips. You can't help but steal a second one, hearing a variety of noises.

An 'aww' from Collei, a groan from Tighnari, and a whimper from Albedo.

"Be sure to visit." Cyno states at the same time you do, both of you nodding before he finally takes his leave. After they disappear from your line of sight, you turn to return home only to feel Albedo grasp your wrist.

"May I have a moment?" Albedo asks. "I...wanted to ask you about your relationship with Cyno."

"Well, you saw." You state.

"I did, however...Are you both sure you can maintain this long distance?" Albedo asks, you narrowing your eyes at him.

"My relationship is none of your business." You begin, hand on your hip.

"Why are you trying to ask me about him? Did your confession to the traveler go wrong?" You ask, Albedo rubbing his neck as he decides to try something.

"It was rejected, but it clarified that I don't feel that way about them..." Albedo states, clearing his throat before looking directly at you. "I think I have these feelings for you instead."

"I've moved on, Albedo. If your feelings were true, you need to do the same." You tut, walking away from Albedo as he experiences the pain of unrequited love by himself.

[bakubunny]

Bing bong another fandom you're probably not in 💀👍 I just need to gush about this guy and honestly I think you may like him too.

CW: Slight monsterfucking mention

Context: I've been getting back into playing Genshin Impact recently and have been going through the recent main story quests and in them is a character named Wriothesley (pronounced as writhe-sley).

(Just to give you a visual. This is official art btw dw LMAO)

He's known as "The Duke of the Fortress of Meropide". He's a warden for a prison called the Fortress of Meropide (and it's fun bc the Fortress is deep underwater to the point where people call it the underworld and Wrio has a bunch of Cerberus imagery in his entire character) I've only just started the last act of the most recent main quest so I don't know too much about his backstory or anything yet but I do know that he was once also a prisoner in the Fortress and that he's captured my heart. A lot of people in universe see him as this big scary guy who's able to beat people to a pulp if they step out of line (which he is don't get me wrong—) but in reality he's a really nice, really witty and chill individual who's honestly like a pitbull. Super intimidating on the outside but is actually just a big cheeky muscley sweetie pie who has a lot of scars and absolutely adores anything having to do with tea. Also no sadly he doesn't have wolf ears that's just how his hair looks.

But going along with that and context aside—

I have not seen enough of Werewolf!Wriothesley and it's bugging me >:( /j. He's literally the perfect candidate yet I haven't seen like ANYTHING about him as a werewolf. I know he'd be the textbook example of one. Super doting and loving but also a tad possessive and SO protective. And then him in his wolf form??? Lord help me. He'd be massive, and all scarred and scary looking with black and grey fur and piercing icy blue eyes. But despite that he'd always take such good care of you, making sure you always felt safe and warm and protected, I'm— Also the breeding kink he absolutely has and the thought of wrestling with him 😵‍💫😵‍💫

HES JUST SO MMMMMSNWN Someone sedate me. Or lock me up. Preferably in the Fortr— *explosion*

okay but i never told y’all abt my time spent playing genshin so i am lowkey HERE for this. i didn’t get terribly far, but i got far enough to be hyper fixated on it for a hot minute.

i may have waited until i could sit down to hear the voice lines and watch his gameplay demo to answer you. 🫣

so here are my (werewolf) wriothesley thoughts.

he’s so pretty, like what?? send help sos i will not make it bc he sounds and looks just lovely. he might not think it’s ethical to keep pets, but i’d still gladly be one.

all that rough, playful, sweetie pie goodness wrapped up into a big, warm, werewolf package?? no. not fair. he’s not allowed bc i’m already sweating. 😵‍💫

can i impart the idea of him having a need to make a nest for his precious darling every time he goes into a rut? wriothesley only wants what’s best for his partner. and that means keeping you comfortable when you’re wrapped up in his arms for a week straight or simply handcuffed to the bed.

v. possessive, he doesn’t let you leave his sight in wolf form. you might as well take a week off. he likes when you’re the little spoon because in his mind, then you’re ‘protected’ by him. you can’t escape with his strong arms holding you to his chest, his muzzle pushed into your neck, and his tail wrapped around your body.

[utilitycaster]

Orym for the trauma ask. Besides the fandom's treatment of The Nod, one discrepancy that really stuck out to me was that in the middle of all the 'Orym is consumed by vengeance and that's terrible BS' was going on, we saw Keyleth explicitly vow revenge against the Ruby Vanguard ("The last thing that I saw, before the light took us, was someone important to me. Someone I lost long ago. And I will do everything in my power to destroy them who did this.") and I didn't see anyone giving her shit over it, even though her anger is directed at the same people and comes from a nigh-identical place. Was it because Vax, unlike Will, is someone the audience knows and his orbification happened onscreen, and that forced people to recognize how awful it would be to expect her to calm down and Be Reasonable™ about the whole thing?

throwing in the anon who asked me about Orym in general.

I think the core problem is again that this fandom has a truly awful track record re: people who lose romantic partners young and more generally about people who are grieving. That is the more useful Keyleth comparison; it's gotten better but the post-campaign meta for C1 (that I saw about a year after C1 had ended, after I had binged it) truly just treated Vex and Keyleth as boxes of grief and grief alone instead of people with lives marked by but not ended by tragedy. Once Yasha said she had lost her wife people started treating her notably differently; again, we had the people claiming Orym would be happier had he stayed dead despite Liam explicitly saying death felt like a failure; and this is ultimately the core of lifespan angst and why I find lifespan angst mostly tiresome. Like, Essek will outlive Caleb by centuries! Keyleth was, even had Vax lived a full and long life, going to outlive him by over a thousand years! Unless you die very young you will outlive someone you love. It doesn't mean it doesn't hurt, but like, this fandom (and probably others) truly seems to treat grief as a life-ending thing for the grieving rather than just the dead. So that's the big problem re: fandom response.

The other is that Orym gets thrown under the bus for Laudna a lot, for some reason. That's where the "Orym would be happier if he were dead with Will" came from and that's where the dumb discourse about the nod came from. It's just people who cannot abide by the idea that bad things can happen to Laudna and that she can do bad things deciding to pin it on Orym. I also think that Liam explicitly said on 4-Sided Dive that Orym could not be objective about this, and because they are very stupid and cannot understand things that are not explicitly spelled out, they could not put together that, for example, Imogen, whose mother is deeply tied up in the Ruby Vanguard, cannot be objective either. Ashton just nearly exploded due to a critical lack of objectivity about the situation.

Sort of as a companion to talking about Caleb but I think Liam makes his characters' trauma and how they feel about it fairly explicit and plainly stated, more so than most in the cast, and this is an entirely valid choice but I think it means that, for better or for worse, people who lack the skill to interpret characters whose feelings and motivations are not quite as clearly laid out will gravitate to them to make their arguments, either for or against them.

[ultranos]

Hello,

You mention some podcast you love once in a while and I gotta tell you they are usually very good recs and have made me discover some great ones. Do you have a rec list somewhere, or a few podcasts you'd like to give a shoutout to ?

Thanks a lot !

Sure! I don't have a rec list, but I'll make one now here of what's in my general rotation (or was, if it's a limited series):

Ongoing

Behind the Bastards (https://www.iheart.com/podcast/105-behind-the-bastards-29236323/) A podcast about the worst people in all of history, hosted by Robert Evans (former war correspondent and Cracked.com writer). My current binge-listen, it's highly engaging on some of the most difficult to process subject matter there is, that being human atrocities and the people who commit them. It's a deep dive into the history and background of these people that in every case that reminds us that all too often "history's greatest monsters"...are just people. (As a note, Evans acknowledges fucked-up things as fucked up, but he doesn't pretend they didn't occur)

This Podcast Will Kill You (https://thispodcastwillkillyou.com/) A podcast about diseases and epidemiology, as well as other medical mysteries. Each episode will go over the biology of a disease or condition, the history of it, and the current state of where we stand with it in the world. Also, each episode comes with an original cocktail and mocktail recipe.

Criminal (https://thisiscriminal.com/) The only true crime podcast I listen to, hosted by Phoebe Judge, the woman with the most soothing podcast voice ever. It's a podcast about crime, but unlike a lot of true crime podcasts, it's just as likely to be a story about the victim or the people caught in the middle as it is the actual perpetrator.

5-4 (https://www.fivefourpod.com/) "A podcast about how much the Supreme Court sucks." Three lawyers dissect and analyze SCOTUS cases, and not just present ones, that illustrate just how reactionary and adversarial the Court has been throughout almost all it's history.

Noble Blood (https://www.grimandmild.com/nobleblood) Host Dana Schwartz takes you on a trip each episode into the lives, bad decisions, and usually very bloody ends of many of history's royals and nobility.

You're Wrong About (https://yourewrongabout.com/) Events, people, and phenomenon from the semi-recent past that have been miscast in the public understanding. From McDonalds Hot Coffee to Princess Diana to Sinead O'Connor. Also you'll probably learn more about the Satanic Panic than you ever thought about before.

If Books Could Kill (https://www.ifbookspod.com/) Does the idea of "two hosts ripping into really terrible nonfiction bestsellers that have causes some really harmful ideas to spread" sound entertaining? Because that's pretty much what this is. You're not going to look at airport books the same way again.

Queer as Fact (https://www.queerasfact.com/) Four Australian historians explore queer historical topics and figures from all over the world and from different time periods. The research is often damn good, especially considering how thin on the ground sources can be, and they take pains to not limit themselves to the usual Eurocentric view of history.

99% Invisible (https://99percentinvisible.org/) Probably the longest-running podcast in my rotation, host Roman Mars and crew say it's a podcast about design. It's probably more accurate to say it's about the design and impact of the things we don't usually see or think about, the little things we take for granted that have been designed and developed and have had a profound impact on people's lives, in both the hyperlocal and global sense.

Limited Series

Ars Paradoxica (https://arsparadoxica.com/) Sci-fi audio serial drama. Time-travel, the Cold War, secret agencies, and human choices.

The Big Dig (https://www.wgbh.org/podcasts/the-big-dig) 9-ep series produced by GBH hosted by Ian Coss about how Boston's Big Dig happened. It's also about American infrastructure and politics, and how the local sometimes is the national.

[nanowrimo]

50k is Overrated: NaNoWriMo from a Disabled Author's Perspective

While it’s great to reach 50,000 words, it should not be a measure of success! Being a successful writer can be different for everyone, especially if you’re disabled. NaNo participant Quinn Clark talks about their experiences participating in NaNo as a disabled writer and writing tips to keep in mind.

NaNoWriMo is the gold standard for adrenaline fueled productivity. Oh, the allure of telling all your friends you wrote 50,000 words in a month! No wonder we all get so excited each year.

But what happens when you have a disability which conflicts with the caffeine-bingeing, late-night-sprint lifestyle so associated with NaNo?

Here’s the secret: NaNoWriMo isn’t really about the 50k. It’s about progress — whatever that looks like to you. The path to 50k is just the most well-known version of NaNoWriMo: it’s less a hard-and-fast rule, and more a landmark to guide your writing journey.

I’m an author, and I’ve participated in NaNoWriMo every year for twelve years. I also have a disability called Complex Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (CPTSD). CPTSD affects me in a variety of ways: dissociation, panic attacks, and a medley of unpredictable physical symptoms which make my day-to-day life difficult to navigate. As is true for countless disabled and/or neurodivergent writers, no matter how much I want to do everything at once, some days my functioning is reduced and I need time for rest, support, and recovery.

So, what does my NaNoWriMo success rate look like? Well, I’ve ‘won’ NaNoWriMo (hit the 50k words within November) seven times out of those twelve attempts, with a cumulative word count of 446,760 words.

“Oh, that’s terrible!” some of you may cry. “How have you lost so many times?”

“Man, I wish I could write that much,” others might lament. “How have you done NaNo every year for so long?”

I’ve had both of these responses from different writers before, and that fact reveals something important. Your writing process is a unique and personal thing, and it won’t always be compatible with other people’s standards. Here’s a question:

Does the 1k someone writes for one NaNoWriMo matter less than the 50k they wrote for another?

Of course not. Everyday, we wake up to our social media feeds glutted with success stories and the pervasive idea that burnout is the path to success. This notion is incompatible with disability and neurodiversity, and is therefore inaccessible. While this style of breakneck working is great for meeting your short-term goals, it is awful for consistent, meaningful progress — and even more so for your well-being. Forcing yourself to write when you’re fatigued, nauseous, exhausted, dissociated and/or depressed is a sure-fire way to associate writing with punishment, rather than joy and weirdness and creativity. Yes, many of us enjoy writing when we’re feeling bad as a form of escapism — but foregoing self-care in the name of hitting arbitrary word targets is unhealthy, and is not in the spirit of NaNoWriMo. No matter how many words you make yourself write, if you are suffering to get them down, your writing will suffer alongside you.

…So how do we win?

Don’t worry — it’s not all doom and gloom. You deserve to take care of yourself, whether you’re writing or not. Here are some tips for making NaNoWriMo a disability-friendly experience:

1. Listen to your body and brain now, not later.

Many of us are guilty of this (I’m looking at you, fellow neurodivergent writers!): pushing past the need to eat, or drink, or use the bathroom because you ‘need’ to hit today’s target. Perhaps you’re deep in hyperfocus, or are feeling guilty for taking yesterday off because you couldn’t get out of bed. That’s okay — don’t beat yourself up! Remember to treat accountability for your needs the same way you treat accountability for your writing. Listen to what your brain and body are trying to tell you: NaNoWriMo, or any similar project, is not more important than your well-being. Take that nap, grab that snack, and spend the day bundled in bed if you need to. A burnt-out writer will just start to hate the writing process. I promise you start responding to your own needs, your desire to write will gradually return. After all, writers find it impossible to stay away from the craft!

2. Commiserate with others.

There is great power in sharing your experiences. For years I kept quiet about my mental health struggles, thinking that if people knew about my condition, I wouldn’t be seen as a ‘real’ writer. But something magical happened the first time I spoke to a friend about my disability affecting my writing: they felt able to open up too. Being honest about your bad days in a way which is comfortable for you is a magnificent vulnerability. You humanise yourself in the eyes of others, and in turn are humbled by the strength of your fellow writers. Regardless of diagnosis, label or background, the human desire to be understood and validated is incredibly valuable. You may find that talking helps make your writing journey a good bit lighter.

3. Allow yourself to fail.

‘Failure’is an acidic word to writers — but it doesn’t need to be. You are not a failure because you didn’t reach a goal. You are not a failure because you changed plans. You are not a failure because you are sick, or tired, or working on a different schedule. All those NaNos I did where I didn’t hit the 50k are still so important: one sentence, one word, one idea is still better than nothing at all. You don’t need to plot every missed deadline or ‘unproductive’ work day against a graph of your own self-worth. Be proud of your achievements, and look to the next challenge — whatever that may be.

Good luck to you all on your writing journeys! And the next time you start down that self-flagellating hate-spiral for needing a couple hours off, remember: You can’t pour from an empty cup, and you can’t write as an empty writer.

Quinn Clark is an award-winning author, poet and researcher from the North East of England. A fan of unfiction, folklore and etymology, Quinn weaves narratives of trauma with fantastical characters to provide an insight into the misunderstood experiences of disability.Quinn has a children's colouring book commissioned by Ladybird Books due for publication next year, and is working on their ACE-funded debut novel: the science fiction-fantasy romp Out of Your Depth, following an exhausted scientist who gains the ability to transform into an octopus. You can learn more about their work on their website (https://quinnclark.co.uk), or over on their Twitter (@adashofseaglass). They also have an essay in Kat Brown's upcoming Unbound publication, 'No One Talks About This Stuff'. Photo by Keren Fedida on Unsplash

[stick-ball]

I was asked to write some of my sad headcanons on Jean and Kevin's relationship by @thelittlelostgraycat so here we go:

The first thing that comes to mind when I think about this dynamic is this really silly scenario. Doing grocery shopping, you have this great idea. You're going to make crepes for breakfast the next day. It's the weekend after a really long week, and you're feeling like having something nice, you know. So you stock up on all the ingredients. But then when it comes to it you stayed up late that night, binging your currently favourite series, and you get up later than usual and you're not really in the mood to stand in front of the pan for half an hour before you get to eat something. So, dismayed or not, you kill off the hunger with something quick and easy and get on with the day's plans. Then the next week comes and since you work long hours obviously you don't have the time for it either. By the time you remember, you really wanted to eat pancakes some time has passed. But you're excited again because that's what we are like with the things we love. The joy is always there even when we aren't doing those things. So you go take the pan out, the flour and bowl. You open the fridge and see you only have one egg left. That's a problem. You forgot to stock up, but well. It's still possible to make pancakes with one egg. You'll just have thinner batter. Then you get lit the milk and here's the problem, it expired. The dismay is pretty monumental for such a small tragedy. You taste it, just to make sure, and yeah, it's terrible you feel like retching. And the thing is, you could still make the pancakes. You could run to the store, but it was never really about being hungry. It was about the sentiment, and now you remember how if you made them in the first place, this wouldn't happen, and you wasted a whole carton of milk on a fancy you couldn't even commit to.

And that's how I see Kevin and Jean. It's love and it's sentiment and it's something really deep. But when push comes to shove it's always too little, too late. Too little words said, an apology wasted on a cold argument. Too much hassle, too much risk, too much grief if it goes wrong. Let's leave things as they are. It's not good but it'd stable. Too little time, between Riko and training and the dreams of freedom and illusions of grandour and the pain, all that pain and gore. It all ends up coming first.

But there's love, and I don't necessarily mean it as romantic love, although it could be. There's love, there's a whole language built around it. It's words of affirmation in a language no one else can understand. It's small tokens of care, small enough not to be put to an end by someone else, but meaningful enough to make the heart soar like they can touch the blue sky above the tomb they grew up in. It's stolen moments of peace, because both their hearts are for once free of worry when it's just the two of them together - noone there to harm them, noone to make them watch as the other suffers. It's time spent practising, not because they aren't good enough, but because when it's them they can freely love the sport they play. It's a shoulder to lean on and a body that keeps you warm, and that will never take more what you offer it.

But it's always too little and too late to grow into something defined. It's a safe chrysalis that makes the caterpillar endure, but there's no surety, no promises. As much as the chrysalis helps, the caterpillar transform, thr butterfly has to break out of it to fly. So no, it's not enough to last.

They care deeply for each other, but Kevin leaves Jean in the Nest. And Jean could hate him, could resent him, but he doesn't - because he understands when you have a chance you need to take it because life is cruel and it doesn't smile at you twice. He understands that he would probably do the same. It still hurts.

I think Kevin doesn't have many regrets bigger than leaving Jean behind. He still does it, though. But if he didn't, the story wouldn't happen. If he didn't, the whole chain reaction would not be set in motion, so he can't fix it, but he can be better from there on. He starts by getting Jean to a place as far from the Nest as humanly possible. In the hands of the person he holds in the highest esteem.

And that's fear, but that's also love.

Jean's new Jersey number is a 29 for both Kevin and Renee. So I think he understands, I think he doesn't hold a grudge. He starts to pick up his phone and sometimes even calls him himself, even if to trashtalk the team he knows Kevin is also watching play back in his dorm in Palmetto right now.

So they couldn't commit to it then, when there was nothing to lean on. But would it really be too little too late?

[muchelburstenstein]

Totally Natural

(CONTENT WARNING: BURST)

It had been a terrible day at work. I was working on some various genetic materials for one of the more dangerous of the local forest species, doing some deconstruction of their genetic code and some of their more interesting abilities. But then one of the new hires messed up, there had been a spill nasty spill. All sorts of materials had gone everywhere, some of it even splashed onto me. Everyone else got out quickly, but I'd ended up getting really dizzy, ended up trapped with the fumes for a while, and the material we'd been working with had plenty of time to sink into my clothes.

Eventually, I'd gotten rinsed off and changed. Everyone had to go home early because of cleanup and documentation. Physical and mental examinations were required, which was fine. I'd seen some of the materials from other creatures end up on co-workers, or had them inhale the wrong pheromones, and it messed them up bad. Mutated their bodies, or altered their brains, they'd forget who they were or why, think they were only bodies to be bread. It always seems half sad and half pathetic. I couldn't imagine forgetting how important my family was to me, or how important the work I was doing was.

I'd checked out fine, although I did still feel pretty light headed. I was told to take tomorrow off too, that it was probably just a stress reaction from the accident. I HAD been in there a pretty long time, after all.

On the drive home, I'd felt the desperate desire to see my husband. I found myself missing him terribly, just wanting to hug and kiss and snuggle with him. And once I saw the man... well, I'd needed a bit more than cuddles.

For some reason, his seed gushing into my belly was the most satisfying thing I'd ever felt. So perfectly right. I assumed it was just the stress finally getting worked off. I got up to shower, and he got up to go back to doing housework.

After I got cleaned up and dressed though, I found myself binge-watching videos. Ones I'd never really had any interest in. Mating habits of bizarre creatures, especially things that laid eggs. Just... whenever I saw something that involved eggs lined up in a nest, I felt odd and shivery. Whenever they started hatching out... I couldn't help but touch myself. After the seventh or eighth time, I found myself whispering to the babies on the screen. Encouraging them, telling them how much further they had to go, how proud I was.

I had no idea what was going on. And I was so focused on the videos, I didn't notice that the hard, tense feeling in my belly wasn't from cumming so much. Bit by bit, my midsection was growing. Swelling. Several videos in, I looked well into my second trimester.

Then, I felt the first kick. But, for some reason, it didn't alarm me. I just reached down, rubbed my warm, tight midriff, and whispered "Soon. So soon, just be patient."

It didn't even occur to me. Just... everything felt right. Slowly, the thought I was pregnant had just become... ok. Not alarming or curious, just exactly how it should be. Every movement was deeply satisfying, every kick sending shivers of anticipation deep into me.

And still, for some reason, every time the eggs on screen started shifting and cracking, I became intensely aroused. My sweatpants were soaked, my panties ruined, the whole room reeked of my cum. Every time, I climaxed as the first baby animal broke through the shell of the egg. It just felt like the most perfect thing in the world to me. Exactly how it should be, that's how babies are born, they hatch.

I was big. Ripe. So close to being ready to birth. But... birth didn't sound right. That's not what babies do, not how they come into the world. They hatch. They break out of their egg. And it's the job of a good mommy to help them, however possible.

I hit play on another video as I felt a hard shove inside me. "Mmm... it's almost time..." I whispered breathlessly. I skipped forward, not looking away from the screen. I needed to see one part. Just one, the perfect part, the part that is exactly what it should be.

The egg. It was moving. The baby inside was pressing against the shell, ready to be born.

My sweet baby was pushing against my womb. It's shell. It was ready to be born, like a good baby. I rubbed my egg. "You're so good. You're ready to be born, you're so strong..." I whispered to my child.

Thrust. My breath caught as pain surged. The egg shuddered and wiggled, the baby onscreen eager to emerge. "There we go baby, nice and hard... just gotta break the shell..."

Thrust. I moned. He was so strong, tears of pride filled my eyes. "Mmm, yes, push baby, push against the egg..." I stroked the shell gently, letting my child know how eager I was to meet them.

Strange sounds began to come from inside as the animal on the screen tried even hard to escape. The egg was strong, but it had done what it was supposed to, and now only existed to break. The hard shell was starting to buckle.

Thrust! I threw my head back, a deep guttural groan escaping from between my teeth as a strange sound came from inside. "Ohhh god I'm hatching... He's hatching out of meee... Good baby, come out, let mommy meet you..." I gasped, stroking the prison hanging off the front of me.

Now was the difficult time. On the video, the egg was starting to crack, but not break. Damage was being done, bit by bit, weakening the shell. But it wasn't enough to tear it apart yet.

Thrust! I cried out in pain. It hurt so bad, but then it didn't matter. All that mattered was that my little one needed to be born, just how nature intends. "Yes baby, hatch from mommy! Nice and hard, you can do it!" I cried, just like I did at the videos. I hear my husband's voice from downstairs, but I don't respond.

Thrust! There's an awful sound from inside, and searing agony radiates out. "Oh god, I'm cracking, I'm cracking open for you! Go ahead sweetie, break mommy, break me open and be born just like you're meant to, hatch from your egg and live!"

There! A little piece of shell begins to tent out, the weakest point. Over and over, with each push, it goes a little further, until finally it falls out. The little cutie is only moments from emerging!

Thrust! "It burns, it buuurns, I can feel it bleeding, you're so close, just come out, break mommy wide open, nice and fast!" Tears well in my eyes, but I don't give in. I have to be a good mother, that's all that matters. This is my entire world, right here, between my hands, skin bruising and skin bulging as my little one assaults my insides.

Thrust! I hear a concerned call, loud steps running upstairs as I scream in pain, a stomach-churning tearing noise coming from inside. I was so close to breaking open, like a good egg. All I needed to do was let my baby hatch and it would all be over! I was such a good mommy, such a perfect egg, All I wanted, all I ever wanted was to hatch for my baby, everything was just as it should be.

THRUST! More voices, panicked as I let myself go, being as loud as I need to endure the beauty of childbirth. Apparently someone came over. I can't even comprehend them, the only languige I care to speak, that I ever want to speak again is the agonized cries of a perfect egg splitting apart for their beautiful baby! How could I have ever had a life prior to this, how could I have ever wanted anything else?!

THRUST! My skin splits as I feel my womb rupture. Fluids run from the wound. Well, if you can call an ovum breaking to let the baby come out "wounds" or "dying". Apparently these people do, as they slam the door open. A woman, I dimly recognize her as having been my boss an impossibly long time ago, in a different life. Now, the only life I have is pressing its snout against the unspeakably painful hole in the egg its trying to be born from.

The egg on the screen holds for just a moment more before breaking open, an adorable little creature tumbling out into the world. "Oh no, it brainwashed her!" The dark-haired boss human laments. Some strange creature I think I used to be. But now, I'm nothing more than a shell, and I'm about to do what good eggshells do. And I am a perfect egg.

THRUST!!! The wound grows, and grows, I'm tearing apart as I shriek, half in agony, and half in orgasm! "YES, COME OUT OF MOMMY, BE BORN LITTLE ONE, HATCH FROM MOMMY!!!" There's noise everywhere, a blonde human is preparing a syringe of some nature, the male is screaming and crying, the dark-haired one looks furious, reaching for my precious child. Probably to welcome it into the world. Or congratulate me on being a perfect mother.

It's hard to breathe now, and my vision is blurring. There's a weird stabby pain in my arm, the blonde one went near it. Dark hair mutters something about "should stabilize her, she'll survive, but it's her mind I'm worried about..." but it means nothing to me. I am overjoyed, I've been hatched from. I'm a beautiful egg, and I've done my purpose. I close my eyes, exhaustion overwhelming me...

[anaalnathrakhs]

it fucking breaks my heart i've been killing myself for months trying to repair my relationship w my parents and the three of us are just fucking deficient human beings. we're incapable of changing we're fucking incapable of it there's no going back everything was set from the moment i was born. they never should've had a child, but what the fuck could i blame on them? once the kid is here you just do your best you can't just decide it was a bad idea and get rid of it. they did their best. there's no good way to deal with a fucked up child. but holy fuck i wish i wasnt just idk born wrong. i wish life didn't suck and wasn't so hard. i wish when my mom said she'd take more time for family and relaxing she didn't go back to working until 8pm at least every day in the following month, but there's realities pushing her to. i wish when we saw each other we had things to do rather than just stare at each other awkwardly. i can't ever do anything because everything impacts my parents. and god knows i owe them to stop impacting them so much i did enough shit already. i can't enjoy a trip out with them because then we go home and it's MORE incredibly unsatisfactory socializing and forced eating lest they look at me like a monster. i can't leave because then it's WE leave not I leave. i can't just live my life after school because i have to be back to have the terrible binge-inducing dinner with them else i'm a fucking monster who makes them stay awake and worry at night. i have to make them aware of my every move because else they're gonna worry, i can't do that to them i have no valid reason to. i can't ever relax. i have no safe place anymore. there's always food in the house, we always have to go grocery shopping the same day and fill up the pantry. i can't buy anything substantial or component of a "normal" meal because then they just sit there while my mom never uses them despite knowing about them the whole time. there's been bricks of soup in the pantry for like two months she hasn't even MENTIONNED CONSIDERING THEM for the whole time. we bought, and i mean WE bought, WE took a couple canned vegetables from the shelves and we said good idea and we put them in the cart, and then she NEVER used them until i desperately broke the agreement that i was not to have control over what's for dinner and suggested we could perhaps maybe eat the food we had bought to eat, and she was like yeah sure great idea! we ate one can, and then for WEEKS afterwards we still don't touch any of the other cans. she keeps adding and adding and adding a billion things to every meal it makes me wanna rope. she keeps putting huge slabs of butter in pasta MOTHER it tastes the same except it's gross and five billion calories now can you stop doing that thanks. i've had my parents pretty much at my will for many many things all of my life, because they're completely floating in the meaningless void on what it means to be a parent, and it's just not healthy in ways i cannot possibly wholly imagine, and now we're stuck in some sort of circle that if i don't DEMAND something it's like i never said anything. but i can't DEMAND things because that is not a control a kid should have over their own parents and there's no nuance of possible things it's either they'll bend over backwards for even the most ill-advised demand or they will not budge an inch for the most structured three-parted argument doubled with the plead of my failing mental health even if it has demonstrably not worked before, and i certainly do not want to have a relationship with ANYONE where they feel forced to act a certain way because of me. and it's been so weird having developped this kind of very marked independance on like, DRIVE, while i was a neet, that now that i'm older and more legitimate to slowly leave the nest it feels incredibly weird and bad to entrap myself more closely instead.

so i keep trying to give them the elements of what consequences this or that thing has on me, and letting them evaluate themselves what they value, and so far the result has been that they don't give a shit about making me suffer, and they're completely cool with watching me act like i'm coked up in public bc i'm in pain or about to jump out of my skin in fearful anticipation of the next meal. i can handle myself all day and literally just ramble a little under my breath when we're going home at 9pm because it helps with the pain, and they're like "WHAT NOW we say something and you start sighing, what the hell did we do wrong this time??" which i guess is their genuine answer to the situation so i got what i wanted, i didn't control their reactions, but i guess it's pretty disappointing anyway.

and i can't really tell them because hey, how is that conversation gonna go? mom, dad, living with you is unbearable, all of my life you've done nothing but hurt me despite your best loving intentions, and i honestly don't think we're ever gonna fully repair that. cheers. i can't fucking do that to them. i've been the worst child to deal with my entire life i can't do that i just have to hold on until i move out anyway. it itches SO BAD to hurt them to blame them to throw every nasty thing i've ever wanted to yell at them to push them down the stairs and run away in the middle of the night. but i can't because they've done their best. genuinely. i wouldn't have handled it better if i had to parent kid-me. i don't think there's any right answer to a situation like that. i just can't wait until i can live for myself and not for walking around eggshells being the normal kid my parents never got to have now that i can force myself to. it feels like i try my best to give them respect and foster a good mutually-trusting relationship with them, and they don't give back anything different in return. and i do think part of that is that i'm WAAAAAY too in my own head about it and i have massive "nobody is allowed in the kitchen when i'm there" syndrome except my entire existence is the kitchen and anything i do besides "staying the usual unshowered neet disappointment in my room" being seen by my parents feels to me like if walking around naked in public. like how people ask out as a joke, like HA you really believe you could be more than a depressed piece of shit, but you're really nothing more than a pathetic failure barely keeping up the mask of a normal person. and that is totally my responsability to deal with except idk seems like every time i step out it turns out to be a disaster. and the coming down is even harsher, having to turn back into some featureless zombie picking and choosing what interests are undisruptive and inoffensive enough for me to tell my parents about it. i havent even managed to try to get into a sport club because the thought of my parents knowing this and that about my schedule and knowing i do sports and what sports i do and perhaps asking about it just makes my skin crawl. and i can't be spending their money, and i don't have a job, so.

they wont leave me the hell alone, and i can't refuse else i just become defined by my avoidance of them. it's rotting in my bed without any of the recharging. i don't fucking want to eat dinner with them, but else WHAT DO I DO? the kitchen is upstairs, upstairs is where they are, especially during dinner time but also they can hear i'm there if they're awake at home. and i owe them to spend that time bonding w them since we never did, and it's pretty much the only time my mom is home. i don't want to go with them to random events i don't really care about, because they're unenjoyable anyway since they're followed by MORE proximity and shit, but i kinda have to because i owe them that after i was nothing but a fucking emotional leech for my entire life, and also if i don't go to these events with them i go NOWHERE, cf the problem with my parents seeing anything about me mentionned above.

you might notice i've been saying "they" the whole time, rest assured, i mean my mom, or the united parental authority driven by my mom. i barely even have a dad anyway, i have a guy who lives in the same house and comes when my mom calls family reunion time, but spends his entire time every day following his own intellectual pursuits while floating through every actualy physical situation he's in. he barely listens. he barely reacts. he's not stupid or wholly incompetent, he functions alone pretty well, but in most situations in life he just stands to the side and goes "damn" whenever anything would require a reaction. i'm not really sure he fully realizes (or cares) that his actions impact other people. it scares me to be like him. i know how similar i am to him, and i really really hope i don't end up hurting anyone by being like that.