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#machi 💞 #i said 1-3 but maybe its more like 4? #covid really messed up my times #jilly a close second #my girl for life i do fear

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Another AO3 thing I’m curious about, how do yall decide if something is good enough to read? Usually I follow a rule of 1 kudos for every 10 hits. One because it’s easy math and two it’s yet to fail me. Thoughts? Do you just go for it and pray it’s good?

#tags and summary vibes #the fic could have 19273 hits and 3 kudos and ill read that bitch if it says something funny in those tags #and my own fics that have 3 kudos and were FABULOUS

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act ii Cowboy Carter 3.29

#ive listened to absolutely nothing else since

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Bitten

Rated T

Miles watches her finger trace the spider bite. She’s warm, soft, gentle. How he’d like to enjoy this moment with her skin on his, but all he feels is dread. What had bitten him? What had bitten her? He turns her hand over and sees the telltale two pricks of a spider bite. The skin around it is already slightly puffed with swelling. He runs his thumb over it, soothingly. His eyes lift to see Gwen doing the same. They’ve been catching eyes for months. This time is very different. “So,” she starts, but clearly doesn’t know what to say. Miles thinks he does. “Fuck.” She contemplates his response for a moment before nodding. “Fuck.” — Or Miles and Gwen both get bitten. Who knew that navigating new superpowers would be less complicated than navigating their feelings.

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trading paper dolls

Fandom: Masters of the Air Rating: T Word Count: 2228

Summary: Tired of the pin-up girls, Alex draws Buck Cleven in a similar style, never intending for the sketch to fall into the hands of Bucky Egan.

“You even lookin’ at that paper? Ain’t seen you look at that paper in five minutes.”

Alex smiled to himself as he redirected his gaze to the sketch he was working on. Macon was right: he hadn’t been looking. He didn’t need to. He’d done half a dozen of these sketches already since getting forced into this camp and they were all the same—a collection of curves. Eyes, cheeks, lips. Shoulders, breasts, waist. Hips, thighs, calves. Little round rear, if the request came with a specification for that kinda thing. He had his style. He could draw pin-ups in his sleep.

“I thought your neck didn’t work,” he reminded Macon without twisting his own to look up at him in the higher bunk. “Guess it works just fine for snoopin’ over my shoulder.”

“‘Snoopin’’?” Macon echoed, sounding affronted. “Bullshit, snoopin’. Ain’t no privacy here to violate, Alex. You don’t want me to be able to see over your shoulder, you better go sit on the roof.”

Alex released a soft snort and kept sketching. His latest connoisseur of provocative art wanted a brunette. That was easy enough; Alex added a quick outline of hair—more curves—and shaded it in.

“You get tired of that?” Macon asked a few minutes later. Apparently, he’d abandoned the book Alex had brought him.

“Why, you get tired of the smokes these boys are payin’ me to draw ’em?” Alex shot back.

“Not drawin’—drawin’ that. Your little paper dolls.”

Paper dolls. Alex hadn’t thought of it like that. (He liked Macon too much to be insulted; even if he had been insulted, it wouldn’t be enough to put even the smallest dint in the loyalty they had to one another. Nobody was going to watch out for them like they’d watch out for each other.) The drawings were sweet, in a way, with the coy smiles and O’s of surprise on the girls’ mouths, with the way their delicate fingers twirled telephone cords and pressed with childlike thoughtfulness into their dimpled chins. They belied what the boys who asked for them claimed to want: somethin’ sexy to look at while they pulled themselves off whenever they were alone. Or felt alone. Or even felt alone enough.

No, Alex knew what he was really giving them: a little reminder of tenderness. Tenderness even above femininity, because only one guy had asked him to draw a gal in something see-through, another in a negligée (Like Rita Hayworth in Life, he’d said), and the rest had just wanted to see anything that wasn’t a uniform. Props? A tray of muffins coming out of an oven, a basket of kittens, a field of wildflowers. Things that spoke of home comforts and abundance, that evoked softness and pleasing scents. If these drawings of his were like paper dolls, it made sense, because the boys were playing with them—playing make-believe. And so Alex didn’t mind that he’d done six of these already. It made the white boys happy. It passed the time. It kept him and Macon in whatever pitiful item counted as a luxury on this day, this week. If Alex were to be here as long as some of the boys had been here already, he figured it’d help having something to occupy his mind.

“Not yet,” he said, and drew a pair of sunglasses dangling from the girl’s hand, then put a look on her face like she knew you’d watch her bend down to pick them up when she inevitably dropped them. “Anyway, what else would I draw?”

“Pin-up Hitler?”

They both cracked up.

“Alright, alright,” Macon said as their laughter trailed off. “How ’bout these boys?”

Alex lifted his pencil from the paper. That was another one done.

“Our boys?” he checked distractedly, examining his work.

In the silence that followed his words, he could just about hear Macon rolling his eyes.

“The boys in this bunkroom,” Alex corrected.

“Yeah. Think you could draw ’em?”

At this, Alex swivelled around to look at Macon, eyes narrowed and unimpressed.

“Of course I could, but I shouldn’t.” Expression clearing, he raised his eyebrows questioningly. “Don’t you want them to like us? Trust us?”

“Maybe I don’t like or trust them,” Macon replied. Alex sighed, then Macon added, “I never said show the drawings. Just do it for our entertainment, shit.”

“And what are you paying me in for this entertainment?”

“In the promise that I won’t snitch to the white boys that you doin’ pin-ups of ’em,” Macon said, chuckling.

Alex grinned and shook his head.

“I’ll think about it.”

“Well, you know. If you ain’t too busy.”

They laughed harder this time, until Macon swore and laid back, rubbing his neck.

Alex did think for a while. He sat there thinking, then got up and walked over to the window to take a look at the bleak view as he thought some more, then sat again. His pencil was there on his bunk. He had more paper. The other guys from their bunkhouse weren’t about—walking someplace, or scheming, maybe. Buck Cleven had let Alex in on the general idea of a breakout, which was significant, but he knew he was still a newcomer, still on the outside.

It was that frustration that made Alex pick up the pencil. It was the fact that Buck had been the only one to initiate a conversation with him that made Alex choose him as his subject. He just knew his face best, had looked at it openly while they’d talked. Round eyes, full mouth. Not so different from his regular paper dolls.

When Egan and Brady wandered in, Alex calmly slipped the sketch of Buck behind the commissioned drawing of the brunette with the sunglasses. When he got the chance, he’d hide it someplace better, but he doubted there was a more suspicious group on earth than his fellow kriegies; if he tried now, it’d give them reason to distrust him, and if they discovered what he was attempting to conceal... it would be hard to explain.

He retraced lines he’d already drawn, darkened the girl’s hair. Brady and Egan were playing cards on the other side of the room. Alex was thinking about casually lying back and pulling out a book he might tuck the drawing of Buck into when DeMarco swung through the doorway and announced Nazis were ordering men out of the neighbouring hut to toss the rooms.

If he hadn’t had to help Macon down from the higher bunk, Alex might’ve had time. If he could’ve done more than flip the pages over, they might not’ve been noticed. If he hadn’t submitted to Egan’s authority as a superior officer and let him be the last out of the room, ensuring the rest of them got out safely, Alex might not’ve worried as he stood outside in the cold, waiting for Egan to follow them out. Waiting, it seemed, for too long before Egan stepped out and the Nazis shoved past him on their way in.

When it was over, Alex walked back inside to find that one of the pages he’d left on his bunk was no longer there.

—

Bucky leaned against the side of the hut, fingering the folded paper in his pocket. He’d creased it in half quickly, and the edges didn’t line up, giving his fingers something to worry as he stood there, mind swooping and turning like one of the planes the man to whom the paper belonged flew.

It hadn’t been nosiness driving Bucky across the room once DeMarco, Brady, Jefferson, and Macon were out. It hadn’t been mere curiosity. Bucky knew Buck had spoken to the new guy, Jefferson, about helping them work out the topography surrounding the camp. Bucky’s fear, when he saw those pages left behind, was that one of them might have featured some kind of map. And then all their gooses would’ve been cooked. The Nazis would’ve known they were thinking of escape more seriously than a distant fantasy that involved a place to get a steak dinner instead of the crap food that barely kept them alive. Rifling swiftly through Jefferson’s pages was self-preservation—the preservation of the whole group of them. Bucky hadn’t expected to find what was now in his pocket.

Looking at it made him less sure of how to feel, and so he kept teasing himself instead, stroking the edges of the page without taking it out of his coat. Part of what he felt was relief; since it wasn’t a map Jefferson had been drawing, there had been no close call. It also meant Jefferson wasn’t stupid, hadn’t left anything so valuable, so incredibly damning, sitting out in the open like a present for their jailers. But that line of thinking got tangled up with another of the emotions the paper provoked in him: impulsive, hot-headed fury that Jefferson would do a thing like that, would draw Buck like that. Bucky wanted to demand Jefferson tell him who the hell he thought he was to put that down on paper. Only, a confrontation would’ve escalated immediately into a scene—Bucky didn’t trust himself to handle it coolly, not this—which would likely mean having to explain exactly why he was so angry with Jefferson. Buck would see the drawing. Onlookers would see a fracture in their group and think they were weak. It was no fucking good, and so Bucky stood there touching the paper until he couldn’t stand it any longer and, after glancing up and down the corridor between the huts, slipped the page out for further scrutiny.

It was a good likeness; Bucky had known it was Buck right away. If he fought back all the other complex feelings he had about it, he could appreciate that Jefferson had a talent. Bucky cast his gaze around again, then permitted himself to enjoy the drawing on the basis of its artistic merit alone. That was certainly the shape of Buck’s face. Those eyes could belong to no other. He could see what Jefferson had intended with the pose—Buck’s chest thrust forward, his ass pushed out—but it wasn’t as exaggerated as many pin-ups Bucky had seen, and there was still a recognizable Buck-ness in the set of the shoulders, the way the forearms crossed and rested on the bent knee. Jefferson had put Buck in the room they called the library, one of Buck’s shoes planted on a chair as he stared unflinchingly at his observer, those eyes that could belong to no other set in the face with a shape Bucky knew well. And the mouth. The mouth was unmistakably Buck’s too. Like this, Buck could acknowledge what a pretty mouth it was, how swell it would’ve looked on any female pin-up model, but how right it was on the face of his best friend.

Bucky swallowed and refolded the paper. He undid his coat just enough to stuff the drawing into the breast pocket of his shirt, a little closer to his body, a little more secure, he told himself. He possessed no plan for what he’d do with it. Buck, of course, could never see. Jefferson sure as hell wasn’t getting it back; Bucky decided that having to wonder what had happened to the drawing would have to be sufficient punishment for having the nerve to do it in the first place. In a tight moment, Bucky knew he might have to eat the paper. He might have to chew and swallow, forcing Buck’s confident stare and plump lips down his throat. He would hold this depiction of Buck inside himself, break him down and digest him. No one could take it from him. No one would know.

He sniffed and flicked a finger across the end of his nose. He strolled along in the shadow of the hut and, just before stepping out into the pale winter sunshine, pressed his hand to his chest over the place where the drawing rested. No one would know.

Conscious of the need for his shoes to not wear out in case the ideal escape conditions presented themselves, Bucky kept his steps light as he crossed the dirt yard. One of the guards was watching him and Bucky offered a sarcastic smile.

“Beautiful day, huh, Fritz?”

He kept walking until he found Buck. It seemed he was always walking until he found Buck.

They were not yet out of things to say to one another, and there were always new silences to not fill. They could talk close—what petty grievances did they have about the smell of Crank’s socks, the way Murphy had started chewing his fingernails?—and they could talk far—making up baseball scores for the teams back home. Bucky was comforted by their talk, by the undemanding presence of Buck at his side.

Buck was talking to Jefferson, and when Bucky sidled up, he slung an arm around Buck’s shoulders, feeling the paper in his pocket crumple slightly. He looked at Buck as he carried on speaking like Bucky was no interruption. He watched Buck’s lips move, listened to the low, slow, sure sound of his voice. Feeling Jefferson’s eyes on him, Bucky shifted his gaze and stared back. I’ll keep your secret, he told Jefferson with a lift of his eyebrows, and you keep mine.

#i dont go here but the photos are making me think about... #watch me watch something just so i can read a second fic #twouldnt be the first time!!!! #for you murder fans

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Jill and I have been sending each other good morning gifs for over two years 😭😭😭 never missed a full day, and I'm EMOTIONAL ABOUT IT!!!! If one of us misses (I checked, it's been four times), the other is like DID YOU DIE???? And imagine that's how we found out 😭😭😭😭😭

Not tagging her bc she uninstalled when I just send a screen x

#theyre all milkmocha gifs #our love language #also saying us and sending a photo of frogs

[i-lovethatforme]

List some of your favorite fics from other heavily Spideychelle focused writers? :)

WELLLLLLLLLL ofc and here you go! xxxxxxx

@awakening5: his fics here and newbie when???? i count at least 6 wips xxxxx

you look really petty - ha i shortened your title

ripple effect series - as i SHOULD

cat and spider - part two for Halloween when

@coykoii: all her fics here sure would love an update before the princess di show comes out and you jump ship again

growing together series - my BELOVED

i (don't not) love you - clown hours thinking this will ever be updated I'm so sad jillllllly

the love you gave me, darling (nothing else can save me) - jill loves a bracket to be fair

@justmattycakes: fics and comment button to ask for updates here

don't fear the reaper (w wifey credits) - not over mj's bones crushing but okay

with the click of a button - BABIES

the man from shield - my birthday is like four months away matty gotta keep up w traditions

@machiavelien: spicy fics and art here dying w lack of thirst wips xxxxx

a gilded affair - poor boy peter and rich girl mj that loves him anyway exactly

black dahlia - smutty angry girl ty update when (affectionate unless [redacted] dies then derogatory)

what spiders do in the shadows - hehehehehehehe spooky season

don't forget to kudos and comment if you enjoyed! xxxxxxxxx

#this being from 2022 and still no updates to some of these fics... sick!!!!!

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What is it you like about Dune and Spider-Man? I love your rambles

Thank YOU i love to ramble!!!!

Kay well instead of just writing everying I love im sticking to why I love the ships specifically!!!! Spideychelle and paul×chani tho ig they have a ship name???? Idk what it IS!!

One of the similarities I'm abso here for is the tortured love aspect that i am into right now!!!! Like I haven't read messiah or any dune books, so I'm basing what I think will happen/ what I want to happen on vibes 💞💞💞

So , let's say paul didn't really have a choice to become messiah???? Like his mother was over there putting in WORK, he had people ready to believe in him etc etc, and he did it based on his visions so he could spend his life w Chani (selfish!!! And that's love, baby!!!!!) And it turns out she hates him for it!!!! But she still loves him bc ofc she does?!?!?! Omg pls.

Now let's assume peter parker has to choose between one person and a building full of people, and I'd be like, yeah, he's saving the people. But a building full of people vs MJ????? I simply fear MJ is winning out!!!! Now imagine he has to pick MJ vs her fam or wtvr, and he'd STILL PICK MJ AND SHE'D HATE HIM OVER IT. And she'd still love him anyway????

Idk it's just one v specific idea I have that I've shoved to fit my brain rot today and I'm here for it.

Also, I've never not loved a grumpy girl xxxxxxx

#dune #spiderman #jess shut up #ask

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Will you stay with me?

#how long is it reasonable before I'm back in the asks re dune... #we'll SEE!!!!!!

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SOXHQJSBWOHZUQBDISBQI?@[1;2>'Y2VD8XBQOhzhqusbzuh!!!!!!

there’s one AMAZING fic about chani/paul, it’s incomplete but there’s around 14k words rn it’s definitely right up ur alley ermmmm it’s called ‘name a thing, and you own a piece of it’ by formerlyIR

here’s a link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54228100

Thank YOU. Am i terrified of incomplete fics???? Yes and yet on my way xxxxx

#dune

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i’m fairly new to your page (although i already read almost everything you wrote so far and i love it!) so i was wondering if you still write for petermj or if it’s on hold or smth like that?

sorry in advance if i’m asking a stupid question lol

Girl HI! And thank you 💞💞💞💞never be sorry for asking anything! Questions are not stupid mwah mwah

Awhhhhh, Spidey is my first love, yk???? Like they're my BABIES. But I wrote like 77 fics, and I need someeeething new!!! Like, gimme sm4!!!!! I think in my mind I've done all the things I wanted to do. Sure, I could write another fic (my fave faves are meet again after highschool when they didn't really speak, but still crushed on each other???? Still thinking about each other randomly????? Immediately recognise each other????? Ajahsusbdeuh!!!!!) But I'd love to do another canon esque one, so I fear I do actually need another film!!!!!

When I come out of retirement when spidey turns up in venom 3 and I get famous MJ who is secretly still a nerdy obsessed w spidey girl and ty!!!!!! And is the only one that can calm venom!peter down 😌😌😌that's when I win!!!!

Also, if Spidey was in venom (I dont think they're that galaxy brained but I've been a clown before) then watch Jilly and Machi come back from the war and I'll simply be the happiest girlieeeeeeee 💞💞💞💞

God, the breakdowns the fives had over this gif... where is Wake

#ask

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girlllll, if you watched dune and you are now invested in paul and chani then plsssss do us all a favour and write about them!!! You are one of my favourite writers and paulchani is my all time fav ship so it would be a dream come true 🥹

Girl don't be CUTE!!!

What would i even write about???? Paulchani coffee au???? Only one sand worm???? Meet again after the holy war????

Send help xxxxxxx

#dune #ask

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them ( paul and chani ) looking at each other like 6 times during paul’s battle with feyd… they’re soulmates your honour!

Like???? Sir, get your head in the game you're getting stabbed 😭😭😭😭😭

#dune

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“i want you to know, i will love you as long as i breathe.”

dune part ii / ojibwa / waiting for this story to end before i begin another, jan heller lev

#this isnt filliing me with hope

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With him, there was no neutrality, no in between.

#feral #cant believe i go here now

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omg you watched it?!!! fav chani/paul moments in the movie GO

I did i watched BOTH!!!! Dune 1 like.. she said I'm here for 2 minutes max but like they were still giving the eyes 👀

Dune 2 omg pls!!! Ykw mainly its the way they're always LOOKING AT EACH OTHER. Like get a grip, there's a war going on???? You're being attacked why you wasting your body water fucking???? And yet!!!! The smile paul gives her when she's showing him how to work something 😭😭😭😭😭 she was like.. what u doing????? He had no answer???? Couldnt stop????? 😭😭😭

And them blowing up the ship together like Paul reload her gun SLOWER IF YOU WANT. her little giggle when it works oh i am sick.

She's ALWAYS DEFENDING HIM. God forbid her friend says a jokey joke about him turning up and She's like 😒😒😒😒 that's love baby!!!!!

You'll never lose me paul atredes or wtvr his last name is after she spent the whole film calling him something else 😭😭😭 only to then be mad at him for the rest of the film 🫡🫡🫡 peak cinema!!!

And honestly, and TRULY the ending... im never not thinking about it!!!!! His ill love you got me in the gut, and then he went over THERE AND BROKE MY HEART, and chani was so shocked. omg, I'm still so sick to my stomach!!!!! Goddddd I love a ship that are so in love and sooo angsty like sign me the f up!!!!!

#dune part two #dune spoilers #ig #i didnt say much i fear

[i-lovethatforme]

there’s one AMAZING fic about chani/paul, it’s incomplete but there’s around 14k words rn it’s definitely right up ur alley ermmmm it’s called ‘name a thing, and you own a piece of it’ by formerlyIR

here’s a link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54228100

Thank YOU. Am i terrified of incomplete fics???? Yes and yet on my way xxxxx