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ichorai · 11 months

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snow spider ; miguel o'hara.

pairing ; miguel o'hara x spider!reader (gender-neutral)

synopsis ; you were the ice to his fire—and miguel was burning for you.

words ; 4.4k

themes ; fluff, slight angst

warnings / includes ; set before the events of atsv, descriptions of injury/violence, cursing, a bit suggestive, mentions/appearances of other spidey characters, ben being a dramatic idiot, peter & may being adorable, cameos of magneto and doc ock, miguel is down so bad, can you guys tell i'm also in an asoiaf phase ? (winter is coming !!)

a/n ; there will be a part two set during the events of atsv !!

main masterlist.

You were Miguel’s seventeenth recruit. The first of your name. The first that wasn’t a Peter Parker, or a Jessica Drew, or a Ben Reilly.

When Miguel dropped into your universe, one rife with crime and tragedy, stricken by a never-ending winter, he fell into a large pile of snow.

“Damn it,” he whispered through chattering teeth, brushing off the frigid frost clinging to his suit and glancing around the iced-over city. There were sparse few people littering the streets, hovering over trash-fires and clutching rumbling stomachs. This was certainly a stark contrast to Nueva York—the universe looked dead, almost. A ghost town, frozen over into nothing but a glacial artifact.

Before Miguel could start forward to look for the Spider of the universe, a sticky web shot out from seemingly nowhere, binding his hands together. Ah. It seemed that you’d found him before he could find you.

“You’re not from here. I can’t smell the winter on you,” a voice echoed, saturated with curiosity, edged with caution. A second later, you materialized in front of him, clad in a white suit, sharp silver lines running over your form. On your chest was a spider, a pale snowflake engraved into its abdomen. Miguel stared at you with wide eyes. “Who are you?”

A beat of silence.

“Your universe is cold,” was all he could think of saying, still caught off-guard.

You took a step back. “My universe…?”

After clearing his throat, he shook himself out of his reverie. “My name is Miguel O’Hara. I’m from a different universe. I’m here to recruit you into my team to help keep the multiverse from collapsing.”

You shifted, muscles still tense. “How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

Lifting his wrists, Miguel twisted a hand and used his sharp claws to cut himself free of the sticky bonds. “Let me show you.”

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Miguel wasn’t supposed to like you this much. You were just meant to be another recruit for the Spider Society… maybe a close work companion, or a trusted friend at best.

But as he watched you dart in and out of visibility, your suit only but flashes of white and silver, he couldn’t help but marvel at how easy it was to work with you. How much he genuinely enjoyed working with you, spending time with you, listening to you laugh at his stiff quips. And he really thought he was being subtle about it, but Jessica had already picked up on Miguel’s keen interest in you, always teasing him about having a crush on another Spider.

It wasn’t a crush, though. No, Miguel just really liked your work ethic.

Right?

“Heads up!” you yelled, swinging forward and using the momentum to kick an incoming car barreling right in his direction. The metal doors caved in beneath the power of your strike, veering to the left just in time to miss him.

The two of you were taking down another anomaly that’d cropped up, one of the several dozens in only the past week. This anomaly, however, wasn’t the regular neighborhood villain they’d usually get, but instead an omega-level mutant: Magneto.

Shards of metal rained down around you, but you were quick to deflect by thwipping out large, sticky webs to catch them before they could impale you.

“This guy manipulates metal, Miguel!” you yelled. “Cuffs won’t work on him!”

Another large metal pole rocketed straight for you, but Miguel dove towards you, yanking you out of the way.

“Thanks!” you told him, a bit too wound up to notice his large hands tightly wound around your midriff. “Can you distract him for me?”

Nodding wordlessly, Miguel shot out several glowing, synthetic webs in quick succession to momentarily blind Magneto. You used his shoulder to launch yourself upward, turning invisible in mid-air.

Before the man could realize what was happening, you yanked his protective helmet off, landing a calculated strike to the back of his head. Immediately, all the bits of metal floating in the air came plummeting to the ground, and Magneto went limp in your hold. You swung down to the ground, coming back into view.

“You’re gonna have to alert one of the Spiders that we need a metal-free cage for him,” you told Miguel, a bit breathless.

Okay, a lot breathless. There was a sharp sting on your side—a broken piece of metal must have grazed you during the fight.

Miguel wound an arm around you to help you walk, concern festering within his chest at the sight of crimson staining your once-pristine white suit, his other hand dragging an unconscious Magneto by the scruff of his collar. With a tap of the watch, a portal opened up, flashing a multitude of bright oranges and purples.

Back in his universe, Miguel was quick to hand Magneto over to a few Peters, telling them to be careful not to get any metal near him. You pulled off your mask and squeezed Miguel’s bicep in gratitude when he shifted his hold on you, ensuring that you wouldn’t put any weight on your injured side. Even exhausted, you were beautiful. Miguel remembered the first time he saw you without your mask: the entirety of his linguistic vernacular went flying out the window and he was left embarrassingly spluttering out a long string of incoherent sentences. You were patient with him, beaming wide and nodding emphatically, even though none of what he said had made sense.

Yeah, alright, fine. Miguel had a crush. It really wasn’t a big deal (it was a very big deal). He’d be damned if he’d ever admit it to Jessica, though—that woman would never let him live it down.

Several Spiders waved hello to the two of you as you hobbled by, and you could only give them a winded half-smile in return. Some of them asked if you were alright, noticing the blood on your suit, but you reassured their worries away, “I’m fine. Miguel’s got me.”

A rush of protectiveness fell over him, and he clutched onto you all the tighter, hurrying to make his way back to the base. There were a few Spiders hanging around the control panels, chattering amongst themselves, and Miguel gave them a quick scan to make sure things were going smoothly since his departure. Once everything seemed to be in order, he finally tugged you into a more secluded room, helping you sit on a table as he grabbed the first aid kit.

“Sorry,” he murmured, ripping off his mask as well. His dark hair was disheveled, sharp brown eyes softening with guilt. “I got distracted during the fight.”

“Hey, it happens,” you replied warmly, fingers lifting to pat his cheek. The feeling of your cold skin pressed up against the blistering heat emanating from his cheeks made a shiver dance up his spine. “We’re alive, and we got the anomaly. Everything’s fine.”

“But you’re hurt.”

“I’ll heal.”

With careful, fleeting touches, Miguel drew back the ripped fabric of your suit to inspect the gash in your side. He cleaned away as much blood as he could, murmuring gruff apologies every time you flinched. The guilt worsened when he began deftly stitching up your wound—it didn’t go past his notice when your face twisted with the pain, and you bit your lip in a fruitless attempt to keep the sharp agony at bay.

“You did good out there, Y/N,” he said, desperate to distract you. “What was it like being the Spider in your universe?”

You spared him a loose grin, appreciating his attempts to keep you entertained.

“Tiring,” you admitted, fingers digging into his shoulders when he began another stitch. “I mean, I’m sure you’ve heard the same story a million times by now. I was a scientist, trying to find a way to reverse the never-ending winter. I was bitten by a radioactive winter-spider… the only kind of spider left after our world iced over. I, uhm… I lost my uncle. My mom, shortly after. She was captain of the police force.”

There was a long pause. It was obvious that you weren’t too keen on divulging all the details just yet. Your eyes watered with the memory, a glimmering film of tears warbling over your lower lashes, and Miguel gently patted your knee in understanding, silently reassuring you that you didn’t have to tell him everything.

You drew in a deep breath. “I realized I had powers—I had all the abilities of a spider, and I could turn invisible, and withstand the cold much more than before. I was known as the Snow Spider. A lot of people died from the frost. I couldn’t save them. I tried to help as much as I could, but it was just never enough. And then… I met you.” A smile graced your expression, one that sparked life into Miguel’s heart. “I moved from just helping my city, to helping the entire multiverse.”

Before you knew it, Miguel was tying off the last stitch, biting the thread short with his sharp fangs once he was done. You murmured a sincere thanks, placing your palm flat against his chest, feeling the quick thrum of his heart slamming against his ribcage.

If you noticed how his pulse seemed to kick up a notch with your ministrations, you didn’t say anything. For that, Miguel was grateful.

“There you go. That’s a brief summary of my life story. It’s only fair if you tell me yours.”

The man met your gaze, irises dark and warring with conflict.

“What’s there to say? I got powers, just like you. I lost people, just like you. I built the Spider Society… and then I met you.” The last bit was said as he nudged you gently, and he offered you a tentative smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Hesitant, you lifted your hand, softly grazing your knuckles against his cheek. Icy was your touch, but it felt nice—almost addicting. He found himself leaning against your hand, shutting his eyes as he exhaled.

“You’re a mystery, Miguel,” you murmured, leaning forward to press a chaste kiss to his cheek as thanks for patching you up, before sliding off the table to stride away. Miguel watched you go with a lump in his throat. “Luckily for you, I like mysteries.”

“How long has that been a thing? I haven’t noticed because I’ve been too busy thinking about my… miserable past,” sighed Ben, coming to stand beside Jessica, the two of them watching Miguel follow after you like a lost puppy, face uncharacteristically mellowed with an undeniable lovesick expression.

“It’s not a thing,” she replied with an amused scoff. “Not yet, at least.”

You halted what you were doing and turned around to grin at Miguel. “Look, I stitched my suit back together. It’s good as new!”

His dark, molten eyes gleamed with affection. “It looks great.” He caught sight of your web-shooters, fixed against the base of your hand. “I still can’t believe you need those.”

“Well, I can’t believe you have spinnerets embedded into your skin. I can’t tell if I’m more grossed out or curious to know more,” you shot back, taking his hand to inspect his wrist with narrowed eyes. “What other kind of powers do you have?”

With a roguish grin, he bared his teeth, sharp fangs drawing out.

“I can never get over those. They’re kinda intimidating, but in a cool way.” Before you could stop yourself, you tacked on, “And really fucking hot.”

Heat crawled up his neck. He stared blankly at you. “They’re poisonous.”

Still, you smiled at him, all sweet and flustered. “Hm. It’s a shame, really. I definitely would’ve asked you to bite me if not for the venom.” Neither of you were quite sure if you were joking or not.

Miguel was certain he was going to combust into flames. “I can still bite you without injecting the poison into your system. It’s a voluntary response.”

To his surprise, you burst into a fit of laughter. Gods, he was absolutely smitten with that sound. The way your nose wrinkled, the side of your eyes creased, the shaking of your shoulders as you chuckled… it was all too much for Miguel.

“Don’t tempt me with a good time,” you warned.

“Oh, I can do much more than just tempt,” said the man in front of you, making your laughter taper away into silence.

You studied him for a moment longer. Before you could say anything, both of your watches beeped simultaneously. With one more amused huff, you patted his shoulder, brushing past him and pulling your mask over your face. “Come on, mister. Anomalies to catch, universes to save… we can continue this conversation later.”

The months pass by in a blur.

You were wrangling back another Doc Ock anomaly, having webbed up all his metal tentacles, easily tossing him into a temporary laser cage with a sweet smile. The villain was spitting obscenities, going on and on about the power of the sun in his grasp, how you’d ruined everything for him.

“You’ll pay for this!” he yelled, slamming his fist against the glowing barrier.

“Sorry, Doc,” you said with a mild grin. “I’ve met around a dozen of you, and so far, you were the most compliant. That makes you my favorite!”

You saluted him with a wink, before turning on your heel and striding away. It wasn’t long before Miguel found you, falling into step with your stride.

“Look at you, taking on anomalies all on your own,” he murmured lowly, nudging your side with his elbow. “Good job.”

With a scoff, you pulled off your mask, regarding him with an expectant gaze as you leaned forward, so close that your nose nearly brushed against his. He could feel the cold frost of your breath blow over the heated planes of his cheeks. “Well, then, Mr. O’Hara, wouldn’t I deserve a reward?”

The vampire-spider only flushed at your words, mouth falling open and shut as he struggled with a rebuttal.

Your laugh, soft and tinkering, made his heart nearly seize within his chest. Still chuckling, you shoved away from him, saying that you had to get back to your universe to make sure everything was still in order there.

As you made your way out of the room, using your watch to portal through to your wintry hellscape, Jessica appeared out of nowhere beside him, one hand on her heavily pregnant belly, and the other cocked upon her hip.

“God, you really can’t be more obvious, can you?” she asked.

Miguel spared her a glance, snapping out of his reverie and standing up straighter. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Everyone knows you’re in love with the Snow Spider. And don’t you deny it—I know a liar when I see one.” She watched Miguel frown, but didn’t bother protesting her claim. “Yeah. That’s what I thought. Tell them, you big grump. Y/N deserves to know.”

Before he could reply, Jessica was already hastening away, yelling over her shoulder that she had to go to the bathroom because the damn baby was kicking against her bladder again.

Jealousy was not an emotion Miguel was well acquainted with. Ever since he witnessed an entire universe crumbling away in front of him, he was careful not to get too attached to anything. To anyone.

But he did. He grew attached to Jessica, who was his most trusted friend, always giving him the best advice and always available to lend him a helping hand. Though he’d never admit it, Miguel was also rather fond of Ben and his obnoxious penchant for his dramatic tragedies. And, most obvious of all, he was undoubtedly very close to his best soldier, Lego Peter.

Then there was you.

It infuriated him—the way you’d smile around him, give him the most fleeting of touches, always pleasantly cold, leaving prickly goosebumps in your wake. You would offer him an affectionate nudge and a myriad of teasing compliments that made his stomach want to fold in upon itself. But Miguel tried not to think too much of it: you were a generally kind person, with many of the Spiders in the society taking a certain liking to you. It didn’t go past his notice that you’d caught more than a few romantic eyes. Every time a Peter or a Ben would openly flirt with you, he could feel himself bristling, bile rising within his throat.

Again, Miguel wasn’t used to feeling jealous. He wanted to be the one cooking dinner for you, holding you in his arms, kissing you, touching you—

To his relief, you never paid them much mind, often politely declining with a poorly-forged excuse of having to return to your universe.

It was nearly a year since you’d first met Miguel when you were at Headquarters, holding a babbling Mayday as she crawled all over you. You laughed when she climbed up onto your shoulders, slipping down into your hands with a gleeful coo, blue eyes bright and wide. With gentle hands, you brushed her messy ginger hair away from her face.

“She doesn’t look like you, huh?” you asked Peter B. Parker. “She must be a carbon copy of her momma.”

“A good thing,” admitted the man beside you, muffling a yawn as he dug the heels of his palms into his sleep-deprived eyes, adorned with dark bags. “Wouldn’t want her taking after her old man, now would I?”

“Why not?” you asked, amusedly watching when May shot out a web from her tiny shooters, swinging away to clumsily scale a nearby wall. “I think you’re very handsome. Trust me, the sleep-deprived look is very trendy right now. In my universe, at least. Nobody can really sleep well with the never-ending cold we got going there.”

Peter gave you a loose smile. “You know what, you’re right. Dad bods are making a comeback. By the way, did I tell you about my coin collection—”

Before Peter could finish what he was saying, your watch beeped noisily, and Ben’s slumped hologram appeared over your wrist. “Y/N, I’m glad you’re here,” he said. You had to hold your tongue not to retort that he was the one that’d called you. “I need you to come comfort me and hold onto my strong, muscular arms as I tell you about my gruesome past.” The pale image of Ben flickered as he flexed his biceps.

You rolled your eyes to the side. Ben had become a close friend during your time with the Spider Society, nearly inseparable after you’d saved his life from an Electro anomaly once. That man was quite the emotional one, he was.

“I’ll be there, just give me a minute.”

“Bring me one of those Spider-burgers, will you? Extra ketchup and no p—”

You tapped at your watch and his hologram disappeared before he could finish his request. With a mild wince, you glanced at Peter. “You wanna come with me and listen to Ben dramatically mope for an hour? I’ll treat you and May to Spider-burgers, because it looks like I’ll have to stop by there, anyway.”

“I would, I really would, but I gotta put May down for a nap,” he said with a sympathetic slant of his lips. As if on cue, the baby fell back into Peter’s arms, yawning widely. Bouncing her up and down, Peter absent-mindedly remarked, “Make sure Miguel doesn’t catch you being all sweet with Ben. That guy is crazy about you. Hah, he’d lose his marbles!”

You blinked.

“What?”

Peter froze, realizing what he’d just said.

“What?” he parroted.

“No, uh, what did you say, about Miguel being…”

“Nothing! Huh? I didn’t say anything.”

“Yes, you did. I heard you. Peter, what are you saying? Miguel is—?”

Sheepish, Peter scratched the back of his head. “Oh, wow, would you look at the time!” Peter pulled down the sleeve of his pink bathrobe to mimic looking at the watch. He hastily stepped away. “I have to go. I didn’t say anything. Bye! I’d love a Spider-burger with you another time! Bye! See you later!”

You watched in bewilderment when the older man swung away with his baby in his hands, muttering out a long string of panicked curses under his breath.

Miguel was crazy about you?

After a few seconds of deliberating your next move, you shot out a web and swung away, heading to Miguel’s private office, where you knew he would be buried in figuring out a solution to the influx of new anomalies. Surely Ben would be alright with you showing up a bit late (he wouldn’t, but you had more pressing matters at hand).

“Hey, Miguel,” you greeted with a soft voice, slipping inside after knocking twice. “Hope I’m not catching you at a bad time.”

The man offered you a warm grin. “Never a bad time with you. What’s going on?”

“Well, I just… I had a rather interesting talk with Peter B,” you started, striding across the office until you stood just in front of his desk, with Miguel on the other side.

He tilted his head. “Was it about that collection of coins he lost to an anomaly? He needs to get over that.”

“I—what? The poor guy lost his coin collection? He’d been working on that for years!” Shaking your head, you mindfully got back on track. “Well, no, that’s not what we talked about.”

Dark eyes narrowing, Miguel crossed his arms, deadpanning, “What did he tell you?”

There was a rather mischievous hue to your expression that Miguel misliked. Slow and deliberate, you stepped around the desk, fingers dragging along the smooth top. You stood so close to him that your chest was only a hair’s breadth from his—if he were to take too deep a breath, the two of you would be touching by now.

“Hm… Peter accidentally let slip that you have feelings for me. Is that true, Miguel?” The way his name rolled off your tongue nearly made him choke as his brain short-circuited.

“I… I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, echoing the exact thing he had said to Jess a month ago.

You studied him, gaze dragging from his stiff face, to his tense stature, and back up again. It may have been a trick of light, but Miguel could swear he saw your eyes linger on his lips.

With a hum, you leaned even closer. He could hear your heart thrumming now, a steady, strong beat—which completely juxtaposed against his own rapid pulse, drumming loud within his ears. Up this close, he could smell your perfume, see the flecks of color within your pretty eyes, notice the way your lips quirked up with a sweet smile. Even whilst teasing him, you made sure that you weren’t overstepping any bounds, giving him ample time to step away if need be.

“Oh,” you said, feigning confusion. Your hand rested upon his clavicle, nails lightly dragging down his neck. A sharp thrill struck down Miguel’s spine at the sensation. You were barely touching him, for God’s sake! “So you wouldn’t mind if I… go ask Ben out for dinner?”

A beat of silence. Miguel’s brows knitted together.

The next words were susurrated as you dipped forward to nudge your nose along his neck, pressing a cold whisper of a kiss along the underside of his jaw. “Or if I… I don’t know… if I invite him to stay at my place for the night?”

Of course, there was no real weight to your words. Ben was simply a good friend, but damn if you didn’t enjoy the way Miguel’s eyes twitched.

Finally snapping, a low growl rumbled within his chest, his hands shooting out to grab your waist. You were cold to the touch, the ice to his fire, as his fingers curled over your back, shoving you up against the wall behind his desk. As if on instinct, your hands came to clutch at his broad shoulders.

You smiled, wide and triumphant. You’d finally broke him.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” he gruffed, staring deep into your eyes to make sure you were alright with this. The last thing he wanted to do was make you uncomfortable. From your gleeful expression, Miguel could see that you were just the opposite.

“Oka—mmph!”

His lips slanted over yours, warm and rough, yet cold and soft at the same time. It was a kiss of starkly juxtaposing contrasts, heavy with months and months of unspoken yearning. His large nose brushed against your cheek, angling his face to kiss you harder—deeper.

When one of your hands slithered up the back of his neck to tug at the roots of his dark hair, he sighed against your mouth, breaking the kiss to lean his forehead over yours.

“He was right,” said Miguel.

“Who was?”

“Peter. I do have feelings for you.”

You kissed the corner of his mouth, nudging your nose against his sharp cheekbone. “Really? I would’ve never guessed.” He surged forward to kiss you again, relishing in the way you just about melted into his touch. “If it wasn’t obvious already, I really like you, too.”

At your admission, Miguel beamed, loose and hesitant. “You still planning on asking Ben out to dinner and having him stay over at your place, then?”

You tapped a finger onto your chin, pretending to have a good, long think about it. “Give me a good reason to stay, and I won’t.” At Miguel’s slightly crestfallen expression, you patted his cheek, quick to say, “God, Miguel, I was just kidding. Ben and I are good friends. You and I, however… I wouldn’t exactly call you a friend—”

His lips met yours again, stealing the rest of your words from you.

When you smiled into the kiss, he smiled back. It was a bit too early for love, sure, but Miguel already knew he was in too deep to back out.

He was falling in love with you.

The thought terrified him to no end, but he merely kissed you harder, and clutched you all the closer to him.

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara fluff #miguel o'hara angst #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara fanfic #across the spiderverse fanfiction #spiderverse fanfiction #miguel o'hara imagines #miguel o'hara #spider-man 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 x reader #atsv fanfiction

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ghostheadlock · 1 year

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please hook jeongyeon up with somebody from blackpink or red velvet hell maybe all of them since she’s a player 😭 it would be so funny if every time somebody asks who’s she with she says a different name lmaooo

Haha you’re really onto something there! I was planning for those little cameos in that way 😏

I like the idea of her ending up with a bp or rv girl too, what do y’all think?? 😎

#asks #I included Irene as nayeon’s friend and Seulgi as her ex so far so they may be off the table #we got a few other bp cameos coming up too

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neil-gaiman · 1 month

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Were there any issues about the Jesus cameo in the first season of good omens in creation of the show like any higher-ups now wanting to include it? If not, would you ever want to include one again (for example Crowley trying to tempt Jesus in the desert, and giving it a twist like him just trying to be helpful so he wouldn't starve [turn stone to bread] or realise he's not as save as he may think [jump, god wouldn't let you get hurt would she?])

I'm sorry if it's something you don't wish to answer and if you do, Thank you! (Writing this feels like a scene in GOS2 when job asks god. I may not be answered, but it's wonderful to at least be able to ask!)

Either way, have a wonderful day! 🐍🪽❤️🤍

All of the historical scenes in Episode 3 had people who didn't want to make them, but it was always about budget. I'm sure the crucifixion was no exception.

I'm happy with what we did.

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indigovigilance · 6 months

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Neil Gaiman's 3 cameos

"But Neil only has one cameo, it's in the movie theater!" Come now. What show are we watching? There is not just one cameo. There are three. The first one is...

The one that actually happened:

but then there is also...

The one that was supposed to happen, but didn't:

See those two people in the background? Lower left-hand corner of the screen? By rights, that should have been Neil and Terry, but Terry was taken from us too soon. Neil wrote this scene intending to do the cameo by himself, in honor of his friend, but on that day couldn't bring himself to do it:

Terry Pratchett and I, had a standing… not even a standing joke, just a standing plan, that we were going to have sushi - there was going to be a scene in Good Omens where sushi was eaten and we were gonna be extras, we were gonna sit in the background, eating sushi while it was done. And I was so looking forward to this and, so I wrote this scene with it being sushi, even though Terry was gone, with that in mind and I thought: Oh, I’ll sit and I’ll eat lots of sushi as an extra, this will be my scene as an extra, I’ll just be in the background. And then, on the day, or a couple of days before, I realized that I couldn’t do it. [...] it was written for Terry and all of the sushi meals we’d ever had and all of the strange way that sushi ran through Good Omens.

The fact that the scene exists at all, I think, can be taken as a cameo. I would interpret it as one of Neil's cameos, since he wrote it as a self-insert of an important aspect of his relationship to the work, but it is also Terry's cameo. Focusing on the empty space where something ought to be is itself a representation of what is missing; there is something to be said for drawing attention to absence, which is what our knowledge of how this scene came to be accomplishes.

There's no good way for me to transition to the next part of this meta other than to encourage you to take a deep breath and remember that Terry Pratchett has been immortalized by this and other works. He is beloved, and not forgotten, and lives on in our hearts, and we honor him by celebrating his works not only in mourning but in the full range of emotion that his works inspired in us, including laughter.

Because this next part is just silly.

Neil's AU Gary Stu cameo:

Neil Gaiman has told the story multiple times about how a careers advisor tried to redirect his life course from storytelling to... *shudder* accountancy. Here's one quote [source]:

Gaiman: I very much wanted to write comics. I remember as a kid, I was 15, and I had a meeting with an outside careers adviser. I was asked, “OK, well, what do you want to be?” And I said, “Well, I really want to write American comics.” There was a long pause, and then the outside careers adviser said, “Well, how do you go about doing that then?” I said, “You’re the careers adviser. You tell me.” And then there was another seriously long pause, and the adviser said, “Have you ever thought about accountancy?” I said, “No, I have never thought about accountancy.” And then we just sat and stared at each other.

We are all very lucky that teenager!Neil decided to completely disregard this advice, but Good Omens S1E2 contains a character that seems to resemble who Neil would have become (or thought he would have become) if he had let that careers advisor drag him into a life of bean-counting mundanity.

We may not see Neil's face in this scene, but we do get to experience his existential dread of the what if: what if I had never become a storyteller? What if I had listened to that wanker, and lived a life without following my dreams?

I'd say it counts as a cameo.

#good omens #good omens meta #neil gaiman #cameos #this meta somehow got a second life I have no idea how or why but we’re on our way to being blessed by Beelzebub

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theabigailthorn · 10 months

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Hey Abby! So this is a weird one. I am a Strange Aeons fan and am (with her blanket consent) writing an rpf fic about her and I want want to include cameos of other youtubers (only one will have a major role, withcindy who indirectly consented already (tho i might still double check with her) in that she said she was honored to have been included in another Strange rpf written by someone else) and ofc i wanna ask for consent where possible. Since you've interacted with her irl at vidcon and are also just really cool in general, you were one of my first choices. So... yea, may i write an rpf cameo of you?

Just texted Teya to confirm she's okay with it so yeah, go for it lol

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packet-of-staples · 7 months

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Day 196 of drawing Papyrus until he cameos in deltarune. Its amazing what MTT’s beautify cream can do for your skin*! It even works for your bones**!

*note there may be side effects including permanent sparkling and possible burning

**does not work actually for bones

#undertale #papyrus #drawing papyrus until he cameos in deltarune #mettaton

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halfhoursonearth-writes · 27 days

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Can you recommend fanfiction that you personally really like?

Yes! Love this ask. I’ve never made a Zutara fic rec list partially because I’ve read so many wonderful stories over time that I find the prospect daunting!

But there are absolutely certain stories that I have a personal soft spot for, that I return to again and again. And that’s my criteria for what’s included below. This is a sampling of fics that I find myself coming back to, in no particular order. I may come back and add more, because this list is so far from exhaustive. A mix of ratings (marked), so keep that in mind.

Wish I Was the Moon by Like a Dove (T), post-canon: There’s so much that I love about the way this one-shot explores Katara’s character and what she faces post-canon, how she frees herself, strikes out in the world and finds her way home. Her feelings for Zuko, and her inner-conflict around them, are rendered tangibly, both through scene and subtext. A really good example of how an author can show a character’s lack of/journey to self-knowledge without breaking voice.

Refraction by caroes3725 (E), post-canon: When I started reading Zutara fanfic (for me this was in 2020), this was the fic I was looking for—a deep, realistic-to-canon, in-character exploration of how Zutara could unfold after the events of ATLA in a way that gives Katara in particular the arc she deserves. Really well-done development of the Fire Nation court world, well-developed characters, shining dialogue. An amazingly well-worth-it slow burn.

Wildfire by rainstormdragon (E), post-canon: To me this story is kind of a steamy Zutara thesis. The characters are so spot on and alive, their flaws are on full display in a way that feels realistic, and their chemistry is powered by their compatibility—matched in passion and stubbornness, and also in what they want from life. And I think it really gets Aang, too, which is something that can be hard to find in ZK fic. Also really hot, but that's only part of what makes it really shine.

Partners in Learning by evergreenonthehorizon (T), Modern AU: One of the things I love in modern AUs is watching an author weave that invisible string between these characters. Sometimes, it’s by writing narrative arcs that parallel the series, and sometimes it’s by drawing out the personality traits that make the characters both lovable to readers and such a compelling match and watching that spark bloom into flame. This beautifully written story does that so, so well in a really compelling Modern AU setting. Zuko and Katara here are so wonderfully lovable, and it’s a joy to watch them fall for one another, too.

Journeys by Smediterranea (E), Modern AU: In real life, I want to see my friends in relationships with people who can recognize why they’re so particularly amazing. That potential, I think, part of the appeal of ZK as a ship, and that’s part of the special magic of this fic. Watching these two characters get to know one another—really see one another—and fall in love deliciously sweeps the reader up. Plus, really fun, in character cameos from the rest of the Gaang along the way.

Spark, set fire by marijayne (T), Modern AU: literary fanfic, and I mean that in the best way. This story is beautiful and bittersweet, the latter is not often something I seek out in fanfic (where I hide from life), but here it’s gorgeous and worth it. The world building here is really cool—allows the author to explore some of a set of cultural issues/interactions that both echo the ATLA world and ours. The characters are so tenderly drawn (dadko especially)—and the connection between them builds beautifully and tangibly—and the longing is…chef’s kiss.

Wrong when it's right by nire (T), Book 1 Canon Divergence: Before I read this, I couldn't imagine wanting to read a Book 1 Zutara. After, I wanted more. Bickering, bed-roll sharing, shared heat, tenderness and common ground. A delight from start to finish.

Anyway, thanks for asking and happy reading! <3 And if you want more recs, let me know.

#zutara #zutara fanfiction #zutara fanfic #zutara fic recs #zutara fanfic reccomendations

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hotvintagepoll · 2 months

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Welcome to the HOT AND VINTAGE MOVIE STARS tournament! We are now finished with the Hot & Vintage Men Tournament; The Hot & Vintage Movie Women Tournament is ongoing. Submissions for hot vintage women are now closed, but we are accepting propaganda for those already in the bracket.

Round 1 of the Hot & Vintage Women Tournament began with 540 hot women in prelims. Round 1 starts Saturday, March 2nd, with posts going up over several days. All polls—including ongoing polls, previous rounds, old tournaments, the various shadow brackets, and fun mini polls—can be found in the #hotvintagepoll tag. Every poll in the Hot & Vintage Women Tournament will be tagged with the hot woman in it if you need to search for a hot woman in particular.

FAQs:

“Where is [my favorite hot woman]?” It depends. Are all the Round 1 polls up yet? Have you checked all the polls in the tag? Have you done a tag search for her? If you still haven’t found her, either nobody submitted her or she did not fit the criteria of being a movie woman from 1910-1970.

“Can I still submit hot women?” No, the submission window has closed. Please do not send in women you wish had made it into the bracket. I can’t do anything with those asks and they just make me sad.

“I have additional propaganda for the hot women!” Great! Send me an ask or reblog the poll and add your propaganda to it. If you see a separate post that relates to your hot woman, like a fancam or a gifset, you can tag me in it. I don’t boost all the propaganda I see or receive, but I try to boost the best of the best.

If you’re submitting propaganda for your hot lady, I don’t accept propaganda that’s from beyond the end of this tournament’s era (ie don’t send me pics of them from before 1910 or after 1970). I also don’t accept propaganda of TV appearances unless it’s clearly a cameo where they’re playing themselves. If you have a TON of photos to submit, please send a few asks instead of one long one. I watch every video I receive so I can add trigger warnings, so please don't send long videos—I don't have time to review them.

I don’t post or boost negative propaganda about any hot woman. If you really hate that a certain hot woman is winning, send me positive propaganda for their hot opponent. If you think a hot woman shouldn’t even be included in the tournaments because of scummy things she did in her lifetime, please read my take on it here.

If I see repetitive, trolling, and/or bigoted remarks in the comments, I may block you from this bracket. If you want to point out a hot woman’s flaws or misdemeanors, that’s fine, but if I see consistent bad-faith trolling, you will be blocked.

The views expressed in the propaganda are not my own. I don’t submit my own propaganda, and I don’t change what’s submitted beyond fixing spelling mistakes. If you hate a poll bio or a pic, let me know and send me something I can use instead. Thoughtless bitching will get blocked.

"Where are the hot men?" Most of them are in the shadow realm! Toshiro Mifune was crowned the winner of the Hot & Vintage Men Tournament, and the rest were banished where the sun never shines. You can find all the round 1 matchups here (thank you @markwatnae!), or you can search the archive by tag to find out more about what happened to all the different hot men.

"Why didn't my propaganda make it into the poll post?" Either I couldn't open the link, or there was so much submitted I could only pick a few. Because this tournament is so much bigger than the Hot & Vintage Men one, I'm limiting propaganda to 5 pics per hot lady for Round 1. I know, a bummer! I have to do it this way to keep myself sane. If you have a photo you really want the world to see, follow the propaganda guidelines above.

“My FAQ isn’t on here :(” send me an ask! I love hearing from you guys—just please check these basics first.

Thank you for being here! Enjoy the tournament.

#ladies 1 #new masterpost!#this has some new guidelines so please give it a skim #housekeeping

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yeah-yeah-beebiss-1 · 2 years

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I feel like if people had any sort of common sense at all, they would've realized that Nintendo firing a voice actor over an apparent pay dispute but then hiring someone that costs much more might have meant that there was more to the story than just money. Perhaps unrelated, Hellena Taylor is a TERF.

Thing is, “video game voice acting pays like dogshit” and “companies can and will use lowball offers to get contractors to leave of their own accord” are both commonly-known facts. With this in mind, I don’t blame people (myself included) for taking Taylor’s initial claims at face value because they were plausible. The multiple-session rate that it turned out Platinum actually offered was still low in a general sense, but it was at least consistent with union rates in the field. From what I can tell, if this new information is correct, it seems like it went something like this:

-Platinum approached Taylor with an industry-standard offer, five several-hour sessions at $3-4k each. VAs absolutely should be getting more than this, but it isn’t a lowball offer by current industry standards.

-Taylor declined and asked for six figures plus residuals, which is frankly unrealistic in the current industry (even if game VAs absolutely should be getting residuals).

-Platinum opted to bring on a new VA who would take the standard union rate (Jennifer Hale). Platinum initially announced to the public that the change was due to “scheduling conflicts.” They still offered Taylor a cameo role that would be a single $4k session.

-For whatever reason, Taylor took to the social-media warpath and spun the cameo offer as her being offered $4k for the entire game. People took her at face value because, again, plenty of VAs have been paid less for similar projects. Other VAs in turn speak up about some of the dogshit rates they’ve been offered for games that are frankly much bigger than Bayonetta.

-When Taylor’s story went viral, rather than hunkering down and letting PR do their thing, Hideki Kamiya went on his usual hyper-abrasive Twitter routine. When people started roasting him online over the allegations, he made very angry vaguetweets about the situation and blocked so many people that the Twitter suspicious-account-activity algorithm flagged his account. This is, as the kids say, not a good look for someone whose studio is facing scrutiny.

-Someone within Platinum or familiar with the project leaks documents showing the full situation to journalists, Jason Schreier is the first to break the story. He’s generally been pretty aggressively pro-worker when reporting on stories related to labor issues in the games industry, so the fact that he’s vouching for these documents suggests that he’s pretty confident in their legitimacy.

-Taylor doubles down on her side of the story. Jennifer Hale has mostly been silent on the matter (likely due to NDAs), but has liked tweets alluding to the idea that there are two sides to the story. Platinum has yet to issue a direct statement about the situation beyond the initial “scheduling conflicts” claim.

This is just my attempt to piece the situation together based on the public information available right now. For all I know, some new development may crop up that completely vindicates Platinum or proves Taylor correct. We’ll watch this space, I guess. My gaming time is still being consumed by Xenoblade 3 so I’m in no rush to get the new Bayonetta at launch, as much as I love the series.

(And yeah, Hellena Taylor’s dodgy politics don’t strike me as surprising in retrospect; I’m already on a “probably transphobic until proven otherwise” attitude with any Brit over the age of, like, 40. But if her claims of being offered $4k for the lead role of the whole game are true, then her being a shitty person doesn’t change the fact that Platinum made a ridiculously low offer.)

#anonymous #customer support

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callingauguste · 2 months

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I am of the personal opinion that out of all the adaptations of PJO. INCLUDING THE ONE THE AUTHOR WROTE. The most accurate, true to the story, and entertaining one is, in fact, the musical.

Like c’mon Luke’s Reprise of Good Kid? Normal is a Myth? The Di Angelo Sibling Cameo? Hades being the most homo man to exist??? GOOD KID??

All of Charon’s song is iconic. MY GRAND PLAN???? THE CAMPFIRE SONG?? LOST! ???

Luke’s Song makes me want to cry it gets the essence of his character while still making him sound INSANE. Everyone is characterized to be themselves and funny at the same time. INCLUDING ANNABETH.

And the characters can be played by ANYBODY!!

THE ICONIC QUOTES:

Poseidon *pointing happy*: It’s a seashell

Percy *to the audience*: like I said…weird

Hades: And WHYYY…WOUUULD…IIII…WHANT…THAHAT???

Bianca(?): Why me and my brother got here just yesterday!! May 1st…

The Gang: Oh

Bianca(?): 1939

Percy: Uh…we can sleep on the road instead!!!

Chiron *to himself* Hmmm…well…it could be…the prophecy does state….

Chiron *to Percy*: BUUUUuut I’m sure it’s nothing, have a nice day Percy. *happily trots away*

Annabeth: Sexist much??

Percy: Oh no, I love girls… I think they’re very nice.😄

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gretahayes · 1 year

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Favourite tim drake recs? :0

Assuming you mean fanfic recs, I've got probably the most for him and this is long, so it's going under the cut;

This is genuinely one of my favorites, it's set post-Red Robin, and deals with Tim's vigilante stalking habits, his family finding out, Cass realizing there's no photos of Tim, them setting out to take/find some of him (a much harder feat than you'd think) and finally, Tim seeing the photos. It's amazing and sweet, and I can't recommend it enough. (I especially like the Bruce & Tim and Tim & Damian in this)

This is by the same author, also set post-Red Robin. This is Damian and Tim focused, Damian POV, in which Damian sees Bruce's contingency plans for him and the rest of the family, and with nobody else to turn to, runs for Tim. Canon divergent in the way Bruce doesn't have a contingency for his children, neither does Tim for his team, or them for him, but it kinda makes sense in this setting. Their interactions are amazing here, and seems so real.

In this, Tim gets a tonsillectomy. An elaboration in the form of a long fic. A must-read, I feel. It's funny and has so many feels and such good characterization.

!!! Can't believe I almost forgot about this one! Tim is Bruce's assistant, not son, and never became a vigilante. He's incredibly overworked, but no less dedicated to the Waynes. It's heartwrenching and sweet and funny and—words can't do it justice. It's a must read. The Al Ghuls make a cameo but Tim knows how to deal with them. Tim's deeply sad but next to nobody knows and those that do just accept it (including him). Kon is the MVP. Cass. Damian and Tim have an odd bond built of mutual respect and disdain for everyone around them. Luthor tries to recruit Tim every year and fails.

This is funny and amazing—Tim lands in a universe where he's technically considered a drug addict, since coffee is a drug and in the regular universe everyone drinks it.

The YJ fic Ever. I've recced this at least three times, and I will continue to. It's amazing characterization all around—both YJ and batfam—and genuinely is so fun. I love everyone in this. When an unknown enemy threatens Robin, Gotham's vigilantes come together to keep him safe. Unfortunately, they're protecting the wrong Robin. Or: Tim Drake plans his own rescue. Things get complicated.

This is Tim & Damian—Tim gets his overprotective big brother moment :) love love LOVE the way everyone is written here.

This is short and hilarious—Tim has amnesia after a head wound (can only remember back to his YJ days) and tries to bullshit his way out of anyone noticing. He might have succeeded if not for Cass.

This is a time loop fic, switching POVs. Tim's stuck in a time loop in which Jason always dies. The loop before the one this was set in, he accidentally kills Damian out of stress and too-fast reflexes. He breaks down when he sees Damian again, the whole thing unravels, and they resolve to help him out of it.

THIS SERIES MAKES ME FERAL. Jack, Tim and sometimes Dana, set when Jack made Tim quit from Robin. Horror-type elements and beautifully poetic, but centered around Jack's POV of the son he realizes he doesn't know, and him realizing he may be a shit dad. Dana's the best stepmom ever, and Tim's far nicer to her than he is Jack. This is the first work, in which Jack tries and fails to understand this Tim, and realizes that this Tim is Robin, not Tim. This is the second (and last) work in the series, in which Tim hasn't fully quit the lifestyle even though he's not going out as Robin, but Jack has no proof he hasn't. Just a hunch and a few odd occurrences that us, the readers, who are familiar with Tim's hero life will find obvious, but Jack does not. Dana makes Tim happier, more Tim than Tim-Robin, than Jack does, and Jack hates it. Near the end, he starts calling Tim Robin, not Tim. I LOVE it. Even if you hate Jack (like I do) you need to read this, for the Tim characterization if nothing else. Outsider POV, except he shouldn't be an outsider. But he is.

This is so fucking funny. Tim gets a matching tattoo with Kon, and hides it from Bruce. When Bruce—and the rest of his family—find out, all goes to hell.

Remember when I said the Jack and Tim series was only slightly horror? This is horror. Bruce's got a habit of picking up monsters, and this one is about Tim. If you're sensitive to horror, please read the tags and maybe avoid it, because this is delightful but not for everyone.

In this, Tim becomes an unintentional sugar daddy to the caped community. It's a bit iffy in some places, but hilarious.

This is Dick and Tim (surprised it took me this long to rec one with them as the main focus tbh) and it's Dick checking up on his little brother. Pure fluff, and genuinely amazing.

This is Tim & Bruce but also Tim & Tam in some places. Bruce forgets Tim is the majority shareholder for WE and is thus invited to shareholder meetings, Tim finds this very amusing and is generally a menace. You can FEEL the teenager in this Tim. Amazing.

Tim's de-aged to a kid in this, and re-meets his family. Fluff and feels ensue.

This is Bruce and Tim. Bruce isn't prepared for his newest Robin's neuroses.

This has Tim & Cassie meeting at an archaeologist event as kids and having to fight a monster thing :) it's cute

GODDD this fic? This fic ruined me. Beautiful Tim characterization, a gorgeous look at Bruce and how much he fucks up despite caring, and Dick being a stressed but amazing big brother with gorgeous writing. I love their brotherly affections here, and Tim's weird neuroses being shown here. Tim & Bruce is how it starts, and it's very much centered around their relationship, but it tapers off into Dick & Tim, which I'm not complaining about. Kon (and Bart!) makes a cameo and is an amazing friend. Can't rec this enough. If you read none of the other fics, please read this one.

This is Dick and Tim again. Dick forces Tim to go undercover with him to an Elvis convention in a thinly veiled attempt to spend time with the brother who he doesn't think knows how much he loves him. It's set in Tim's POV, though, so until Dick says this, Tim doesn't know. Hilarious and short.

This is Dick and Tim (who's surprised? Nobody) where Dick goes to Robin!Tim's science fair because Tim mentioned it and well, nobody else was going. Short and sweet.

This deals with the batfam finding out about the shitshow that was Tim's BruceQuest. If you're a stickler for canon I'd recommend you skip this one, but if not, it's a great read.

This is Dick and Tim again, and it's amazing. Tim's alone on Christmas Eve. Dick finds out, and does something about it. It's Robin!Tim, so this is Dick, Babs and Tim. This author is amazing at writing their interactions, plus inside Dick's head is a tricky place to write and they nail it perfectly. Mostly Dick & Tim, but since he invites Tim to Babs' holiday party, Babs makes a good number of cameos.

This is Tim talking a jumper off the ledge while Damian watches. Then they talk about it. Tim from Damian's POV is always interesting, but this especially is amazing.

This is a core four fic, Tim's POV! Pure humor. Tim finds a dildo in the dishwasher and he drags them for a team meeting so he can sus out whose it is.

I've recced this before, I think, but I'll do it again. Red Robin canon divergence fic in which Bruce is actually dead, and Tim calls Dick to tell him he thinks he may have been wrong. Dick's POV, short, but the emotion in this is outstanding.

In this fic, Damian has trouble with the transition from Dick's Batman to Bruce's Batman. Tim, who's also had both, is surprisingly helpful. This has so many Tim and Damian feels that I'm literally bursting at the seams. Melancholy, camaraderie, and all the good stuff. Damian's POV, and since he sucks at so much as guessing at what's going on in Tim's head, it's all the more great.

This is Dick and Tim, a soft Christmastime fic.

This is Bruce and Tim. Bruce and Tim have a sort-of game that started when Tim was thirteen. Initially, it was Tim stealing sips (or occasionally whole mugs) of Bruce’s coffee, back when he was too young for Alfred to allow him to drink it. Now, though, Bruce is getting his own back, and steals Tim’s coffee when he can. Sweet and fluffy.

Here, Tim gets a headwound and only remembers back to his Robin days, and forgets to be awkward around Dick and Damian. Tugs at the heartstrings. Dick's reminded of how much he misses this Tim.

This is really funny. Remember that time during the YJ days where the adult heroes were de-aged and the kid ones grew to be adults? Tim didn't reach six foot. In this, he's mocked ruthlessly for it.

Here, Tim goes to high school again after dropping out :) it's core four and hilarious

In this, Tim accidentally kills his dad in self defense—or rather, thinks he does, Jack's still alive but he doesn't know that until Dick shows up—and scrambles to call Dick. He calls Jason instead. Dick eventually gets called and shows up, and the brotherly feels in this are amazing. Tim's in shock for a good portion of it, and it's his POV, so you've got to piece some stuff together. Bad dad Jack, as in worse than canon bad dad Jack. Tugs on the heartstrings, and have I said I love Dick in this? Because I do. Bruce shows up near the end, and to everyone's surprise, doesn't absolutely fuck things up and/or fail as a parent.

Here, Tim is sick and alone. Dick, after not hearing from Tim at all for three days, goes to his apartment, finds him sick, and takes care of him. Eventually he gets dragged to the Manor for some actual r&r. It's sweet, and this writer has an amazing way with words and an intriguing flow.

In this, Bruce knows Tim. They have a routine, have habits, they know each other. This is so so touching, and I love it so much.

Here, Tim and Steph give Bruce a headache. It's amazing.

I..can't even begin to describe this. Bruce is fresh from the timeline, and this is a sort of introspection/character study type thing about him and Tim and how Tim's changed. Mostly, though? Mostly, Bruce just gives his son a hug.

Here, Kon is Tim's work husband. Bruce suffers. Pure fluff and humor, with a touch of feels.

Here, Bruce takes Tim to get his wisdom teeth out. They're both worried, but together, they're alright. Tim cries while doped up on the drugs. He cries a lot.

Here, 90's!Tim Drake wakes up in his Red Robin body. Exhausted from a YJ mission, he chooses to focus on getting through a normal day so as not to disrupt things for his future self. But, y'know, his way. Hilarious and so in-character, if exaggerated for comedy.

This is Tim and Damian—Damian gets hit with truth serum on patrol, and a pissed off Tim has to come and get him. Damian resolves to not tell Tim he's been hit with truth serum. They get closer as a result. Love their dynamic in this.

This is core four again, but just general teenager superhero chaos. Can't rec it enough

Here, Tim tries to build a LEGO Gotham, but his family just can't leave it—or him—alone. He calls a family meeting to tell them to knock it off, and they do not. Fluff and humor.

Here, Tim has appendicitis and gets his appendix removed. The best mix of fluff, feels, and good old complicated family dynamics ever

In this, Bruce tries to navigate giving affection to his odd son, Tim. Touching and funny.

This is Tim and Damian—Damian crashes on Tim's bed in the Watchtower when injured, Tim finds him. They talk, and maybe bond a bit, even though they'd never admit it.

Here, Bruce hugs Tim. Really nothing else to it.

Another fic where Tim wakes up with amnesia and pretends to know his family so he's not rude. He's found out when he correctly deduces Bruce is his dad, but makes the mistake of calling Bruce dad.

This is Dick and Tim again. Tim gets de-aged into a six-month-old, and Dick takes care of him. Soft and so so sweet.

In this, Tim's trying to work in his apartment when his siblings keep showing up to distract him and get him to take a break. It's sweet of them, if very annoying.

This is Bruce and Tim. Tim's injured and lying in bed, Bruce gets him takeout. Feels fuzzy and just...good. You've got to read it to know what I'm talking about, no summary does it justice.

Here, Damian tries to make amends with Tim. He does it very oddly though, so Tim thinks he has a crush on him, and avoids him all the more for it because ew-gross-ew-ew.

In this, Tim gets his teeth knocked out and grabs Dick as a mediator so he tells Bruce. Short and funny-sweet. You can tell this is in Tim's Robin run, due to all the little hints dropped.

This is Tim and Kon, funny and nonsensical. Tim calls Kon in the early hours of the morning, drunk. Kon thinks he deserves sainthood for this.

In this, Tim has road rage and most of his family find that out in the most hilarious way possible.

Bruce and Tim—a test sort of fic? Interesting, definitely.

This is timkon, Tim has memory loss and is amazed by Kon all over again.

Core four go to a gala :)

This is Dick and Tim, Tim breaks into Dick's house, accidentally interrupts his nap, tries to leave out of guilt, and gets wrangled into hugs. So so soft and so so sweet.

Another de-aged Tim fic, but this time with six year old Tim and Bruce taking care of him. This is so melancholy and...ugh. I love them.

Here, Tim and Dick are thrown into an alternate universe and have to try and get back with no other support system and no way out. They meet this world's version of Bruce and Alfred, though.

CEO Tim, and hates it. He makes that Luthor's problem.

Timkon, in which Tim plans all his dates VIA corkboard and Kon is so attracted to that.

CEO Tim (again), except he's still a teenager and people end up thinking he's a communist. This is short and hilarious all the way through. Also, Bruce is there.

This is The kid!Tim fic ever. Tim, having found a weird hole after a storm, decides to go exploring ignoring the fact that This Is Gotham and They Probably Have Cursed Stuff Down There.Luckily, it was just a cave system that spans the entire Gotham underground. Unluckily, Tim is a very curious child. Tim's a sorta eldritch being at the end?? Amazing, 100 would recommend.

In this, Tim finds out he isn't his parents' biological son. This changes everything. This changes nothing. Can't say anything else without spoiling, but I can't rec it enough.

In this fic, Bruce is back in time in Drake Manor, and meets baby Tim. It's like you're frozen in time, and all that matters is Bruce and his infant not-yet-son.

Here, Kon and Tim date. Tim's a cryptid stalker that refuses to be photographed, Dick is a big brother that loves his little brother, and it's cute.

Sorry it took me so long to compile this list anon, happy reading!

#asks #anon #tim drake #fic rec #god this is. a lot #took me a while to compile

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ladybirdswritings · 4 months

Text

Silken Webs & Pirouettes - Miguel O’Hara x Reader

Summary: (transitional chapter) you are far too drunk to understand what just happened on the dance floor. Ballerina!Reader & CEO!Miguel. Alternate Universe with most of the characters included as seen in "Across the Spiderverse." Many cameos ahead. Miguel is a successful business owner but personality is canon. This is a steamy reader insert, Miguel x You! Enjoy and pls leave me lots of love and comments as it keeps me motivated <333

TW: indications of sexual ab*se, coercion.

chap nine 1/2

You’ve made many interesting decisions in your life. Some of them causing you to lose the only all you’ve ever had. This, however. This is new. This is different for you. Dancing with a man who made you hyperventilate only a week prior. A man who you can’t be in a room with for more than five seconds before becoming infuriated.

God, your head is spinning.

Your heels feel too tight now, your dress too stuffy and scratchy. You need to change everything, including your rose print panties. You’re not thinking of anything else other than the doors as you push through the crowd.

Only this time? You actually make it out, away from him.

The December chill greets you viciously, like an old friend scorned. Oh, you forgot your sweater inside. It wasn’t on your mind. Your dress is not enough to keep you warm, so you create one with the hug of your arms against your ice bathed body.

The chill turns your nose pink, alongside the apples of your cheeks. Gusts of December’s breath are like harsh slashes against your supple skin.

It’s so terribly cold that you can see each and every exhale that leaves you, your breaths tangling in the air for your gaze to follow. The cold hurts your eyes, as do the faint streetlights that look like blurred watercolor from where you stand. You hide them.

It’s only until your eyes shift from being squeezed tightly shut to opening that you realize how truly drunk you are right now.

Oh…

You need to get home, the stars in the sky are spinning and your head is pounding. You’re so nauseous, so tired. Jagged rocks meet your palm as you steady yourself upon the wall. You can’t decipher where you are. The street signs seem so far away, but the stop sign is close and it’s doing pirouettes before your very eyes.

Did you take the wrong exit?

Oh you must have, no wonder there’s no crowd. Regardless, it doesn’t matter right now. A taxi will have to stop by eventually.

The chill makes you shiver, nails digging into your arms as your teeth chatter. You don’t think you can stay upright for much longer without emptying dry cereal and free alcohol onto the concrete. Your back falls against the jagged rocks.

You’re bound to be beyond hungover when sunrise greets you, you’ll dwell over what you ran from no doubt. The thought is already plaguing you. You tilt your head back, watching your breaths float all the way up to the sky.

You feel it far too much now. What you were chasing away with the dancing. God, why did you drink this much?

You attempt a weak whistle, hoping a taxi man will take the wrong exit too. None do. Cars pass you by, probably amused by how pathetic you must look trying to keep yourself upright against the rocky wall.

You need to sit down, you’re about to faint.

“Hey hey, you alright?”

Your eyes snap open, body doing its best to straighten up as a stranger with two heads and bodies comes to your sights. Sight.

You don’t know.

“Oh yeah yeah, m’ fine.. just waiting for a cab.”

The man smells of boxed beer, and he looks scruffy even in double vision. Both pairs of his eyes are glistening for a reason you’re unaware of, and his voice seems so far away. Even so, your body knows he’s close. His hands— donned in itchy gloves, they fall upon your elbows.

“Come on sweetie, I’ll take you back home.

Before you get the chance to inhale a breath so you may protest, the man slides an arm round your lower back, pulling you off the rocks. Oh, he really does smell like beer. Your eyes are glazed over with tequila’s hold on your stability, but they still wander upon his features to find that he’s missing a tooth.

The handsy one, from earlier. The one Cindy scared away.

“Wait I know— know you.” You attempt, a hiccup breaking apart your sentence into two. You find yourself stumbling as he tugs you a bit further now and with a bit more force. He’s quiet, focused. Rushing.

You don’t like this.

He’s so sweaty, so close. His skin upon your own, it’s nauseating. Perhaps he’s getting the wrong message. You’ll just be kind.

“Oh no no it’s okay mister— I have a cab it’s coming.”

He’s not listening.

Your breaths get a bit quicker now, more panicked as realization begins to settle in. He’s taking you. Even though you know this, you can’t find the energy to form more words. To tell him to stop— to do anything.

Your body stumbles alongside his and you try to plant your heels into the concrete divots but he’s far too quick and far too big.

He’s stronger than you.

His car is worn and adorned with tinted windows.

“What are you doi-” Your speech is slurred, he interrupts you.

“Shut up.” It’s all he says as he opens the paint-chipped door. Your heart is pounding fast, banging against its bone cages. If it could, it would leap right from your throat.

And god— you are so sleepy, but fear won’t let your eyes rest. It’s all so quick and sudden. You hear the same metal doors you escaped from close, you jump. He doesn’t spare them a glance; he’s trying to push you into the back seat with even more urgency now.

“Wait— n-no.” You whisper as your trembling, numb fingertips which must be frost bitten by now, shoot up to grasp the snow fallen metal; attempting to keep your body out from the car. Though he is relentless. He pushes harder, you fall in.

Your head presses against the cool leather, body laid out long ways in the back seat of his dirty vehicle. It smells even worse than him. There are cigarette buds on the carpet, and empty beer cans in the seat pockets. You’re so drained, you could just close your eyes right now. But you feel his own gaze, looking over you.

You can’t give into it, not right now. You won’t.

Your mind is on autopilot, dazed by the shots you downed. Your body? It’s trained. You try to sit up but he immediately pushes you back down with a calloused and rough palm. His gloves are off now.

“But my cab mister… I gotta leave n’ I gotta-”

You hear a grunt, and in one swift motion— toothless is snatched back from where he once stood over you. The car creaks and shifts with force as he’s slammed up against it and in a spout of adrenaline, you shoot up— body steadying itself by leaning against the door.

Oh, woah… what a nightmare. Two Miguel O’Haras— and both of them have picked this overweight man up off of his feet.

Wait—

You blink lazily, watching as Mr. O’Hara— er a guy who really looks like him, drags the one-gloved man to the same jagged wall you once leaned up against. Your eyes watch through the tinted window as he slams him against it, sharp teeth bared like an animal while his veins protrude.

Must suck to be that guy.

You know what it’s like to be cased up against a wall while he’s angry with you. While his jaw is tense and his eyes are wild and overflowing the brim with fury.

Why is he so angry?

You hear his voice, far far away.

“Te gusta aprovecharte de las chicas? Eh, cabrón? Tienes suerta de que no te arranque el resto de los dientes de la boca…”

Something about his mouth. Something about his nauseating ways. If it were any other girl, this would be chivalrous. Maybe he just feels pity for you. The thought makes you wince.

The toothless man, his eyes are wide as he shakes his head back and forth. Panicked, frightened and desperate.

“Come on man, I don’t know what you’re saying! I don’t understand!” He’s pleading with a madman.

You don’t know how it’s possible, but Miguel drags him even further up the wall with just the strength of his arms alone. He does have big arms…

The jagged rocks slide into his tan skin, slicing it open until crimson pours from the fresh wounds— making him cry out.

Mr. O’Hara’s voice is low now, scarier. He speaks through clenched teeth.

“Understand this. If I see your face here again, I’m gonna bludgeon it. Get out of my club.”

His club?

You can’t unpack the idea of it, the door suddenly isn’t enough to keep you upright. You huff as you fall back against the cold leather. It smells of cigarettes and sex in here. It’s nauseating.

You can’t feel your feet, the chill has eaten away at them too. Faint footsteps kiss the worn pavement— closer and closer but you’re too unavoidably tired now to move from them. You can hear your own heart pound, hear each breath muffled in your pink-kissed ears.

You hope the toothless man doesn’t come back. Maybe he already has… maybe you’ve already fallen asleep, maybe you’re just dreaming.

No. The scent of firewood and bourbon is an entirely new and undiscovered sensation to the rest of the world— singular to you, it has recently become. Far too vivid and warm to simply exist in a state of your slumber.

“Dios mío…” he whispers for only the night to hear, for the wind to take with it.

Warmth, familiar and baffling wraps around your ankle. He tugs your body to him with ease, but your dress lifts. You’re not wearing anything but your soft, rosy panties beneath it.

Your eyes fall shut, lashes fanning upon your skin— hearing an echoed noise from the back of his throat. He smells more of bourbon than firewood today. He’s been drinking too.

He doesn’t tug again.

“Vente, cariño.” His voice, it sends a shiver up the base of your spine. So filled with heat, honey and silk even in this horrid weather.

Maybe your mind wants to stay right where it is, not by choice but rather impairment. Yet one command from him and your body complies, unsteadily forcing you to sit upright. You practically slump right over when you do.

He robs his shoulders of his navy coat— but it’s not like he will suffer much without it. He must have an internal heater built within his chest. He wraps the soft material around you tight. It’s far too big, it engulfs you.

When you’re close enough to him, he reaches his arms around you. God— so warm. Mm, and he smells intoxicating. Intoxicating enough to forget the events of the week prior, and even the events of tonight. Yes, he’s a stranger. Kind and chivalrous. Sweeping you away to keep you warm.

Beyond the firewood and bourbon, he smells of spices. Strong and sultry in his hair. You’re up in his arms in a swift movement, so high up from the ground where he always towers over the rest of the world. You understand now why he feels so powerful all the time.

He holds you in a fireman’s cradle, your face buried in his neck. It’s heated there too, and you don’t have the strength or energy to part from it.

His leather shoe kicks the car door shut with force— annoyance. No— anger.

“Man I’m sorry again I-”

“Cállate.” He practically hisses. The stranger complies, quick footsteps hurrying off.

You’re so exhausted, and he’s so cozy. Just a quick nap, maybe. You’ll have plenty of time to feel embarrassment tomorrow. Not now. No— you’re just so drained right now. Not just from the shots, but the feelings. The dance, the gaze, the intensity. You’ve had enough for one night.

Your soft breaths kiss the place where his pulse rises and falls, body moving in a soft sway with each commanding step he takes. A singular metal door creaks open.

“Thank you, Cindy.”

“Yes sir, of course. Everything is in there— her keys, wallet, phone. She left her sweater too, but we can’t seem to find that…”

“She doesn’t need it, I’ll get her home.”

“Sir…”

The door slams shut— and no other words are spoken, you only feel movement. You only hear breaths. His… and maybe your own. Though they are softer now, your heart doesn’t pound as loudly. Your breathing is drastically different. His is laced with the remnants of his fury, and yours is only laced with your peace.

He must feel on top of the world, so high up like this. His feet pound against the pavement, it echoes in your ears. The soft hiss of tires rolling against pebble halts at the curb. Another different set of footsteps open the car door and scurry to open another. Mr. O’Hara approaches and you’re immediately placed inside. The seats are warm, heated you think— and the car smells of him. Far different from the one you were once inside of.

Your seatbelt is fastened, hair brushed away from where it tickles your face. The warmth, it’s as if you’re a child again— aching from the harshness of the icy world until steamed milk is offered to you. The feeling lulls you— and it isn’t long before your eyes fall shut.

Just for a little while, that’s all…

Then? You’re fast asleep…

🏷️’s @reirain @needybitez @migueloharastruelove @laysmt @maomaimao @daisy-artfield @poutysprouty @chorizobeets @tabalittlelong @iitangerine @dprmoon @neptunieesworld @cyd2301 @amelialysm @justanothers-things

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