codenameredkrystalmatrix

[codenameredkrystalmatrix]

A Moment Together

◦ 𓂂❅synopsis:

Often, too much time passes before you can see your beloved Pierro. You have to create these moments yourself, and he will always be grateful for them.

◦ 𓂂❅genres:

fluff, angst, hurt/comfort

◦ 𓂂❅word count:

703

◦ 𓂂❅warnings:

panic attack

"The Director's schedule, please."

"The updated Enkanomiyan text translations and the latest Phlogiston sample reports from the Third are ready, there is the meeting with acting Head of Surveillance Training, the informants from the Chasm have returned, and the lead on Project Krasnyj is requesting permission to proceed under the new guidelines."

"Redirect the documents to the office of the Seventh, and the Fifth shall speak to the acting Head. Please provide the most recent feasibility study for Krasnyj, and set up a meeting with myself and the leads this Thursday."

"But, my lady: these really do need executive approval...."

"I hope you don't mean to insult three executive members of the Fatui in a single breath."

"Understood, my lady."

You dismissed the Fatuus with a satisfied smile and returned- not to your office (as you'd done many times throughout your scheming)-but to your shared bedroom.

You changed into a teal, silken gown that was all sweetness in its simplicity, and sat on the bed.

It had been an almost-playful game you'd been playing the past couple weeks with Pierro- reassigning his tasks and often taking the load on yourself to ensure they were well-done. He'd pretend to not notice, but you'd seen the beginnings of light and warmth in his demeanour. The silence he'd kept in the face of your deeds spoke the loudest.

The wait wasn't long before you heard his footfalls. You met his gaze honestly and longingly, watching the ice in them begin to melt into warm springtime rains.

He inched forward, each step straining against The Jester's strings, until he stopped right before you. Those fate-threads seemed to wind even tighter, paralysing him within his own body. Your husband needed you. You rose, extending your hands to pull him back to himself.

You undid the weighty cloak, waiscoat, pins and pieces. A fearful shock reignited his reason : that mind prone to casting up its defenses at the slightest perceived threat. Wasn't this too much? He could feel every errant draught- he was too open. "I-I fear it's been too long-"

"We have eternity to remember, my dear. And we need do nothing you're afraid of."

He could see the surface, where gentle light and refreshing air called to him. He needed so very, very much to collapse into you and forget who and what he was.

One surge forward, and he clung to his lifeline. Body and spirit scarred, eyes wearied but truly here at last.

You lightly raked your fingers through his hair and down the back of his neck. As you always could, you felt his still, silent pain. Seating, then laying you both on the bed, you spoke to the fatigue and hollownesses using the name only you knew- that name from a long, long time ago.

His breath came in shudders: they with every groove in his fingertips and every beat of his heart clamouring for you in inexpressible screams. They called for him to rip himself open, to show you he'd inscribed your every kindness on his lungs so he could breathe. Oh, that you could listen to your praises chimed by the blood in his bones, harmonies resounding from the secret stores in his marrow.

How could he ever tell you that your kisses left stars on the firmament of his skin that shone long after the suns in your eyes were hidden? That his connective tissue only anchored his organs in place, enduring maledictive rot, because you wished it? That your love stirred the acid in the boiling fleshly bowl of his stomach which must one day be poured out on the world?

He couldn't.

But he was here, momentarily unburdened thanks to your maneuvering. He'd have to make do with being kind to you.

His grip relaxing, he began just barely tracing his lips along your shoulder, then your collarbone. The pain had let him be, banished and retreating deeper within him. His head lifted, and pale blue eyes stared into yours, a little glazed with melancholic softness. Reaching up, he cradled your cheek. He wished to gift you words that at least approximated those sentiments, and that he, despite all his regrets and darkness, could express.

"My dearest."

◦ 𓂂❅Author's Notes:

Thank you for reading.

◦ 𓂂❅dividers:

@omi-resources @strangergraphics

◦ 𓂂❅kaomojis:

@cksikey

[codenameredkrystalmatrix]

Revelation's Light

.ᐟ.°◦synopsis:

In the end, the light could only shine on one of them. Maul regrets that it was him.

.ᐟ.°◦genres:

angst, hurt/comfort, platonic love

.ᐟ.°◦word count:

690

.ᐟ.°◦warnings:

electrocution

It was happening again.

Bursts of light ignited the cave with explosive cracks that Maul could hear even on clear days. He tried to quiet his mind- as he'd been learning how in his solitary training. But the deadened eyes persisted, serpentine tendrils drifting up to show all that body had gone through before its soul had found him. 

Another crash echoed around and overhead. He fled.

Demonic cackles surged, dancing through the air and never too far behind. Each stumble was proof of them snatching at his robes. The Temple would not serve as solace. He did not belong in a place so holy it reverberated with the Force's peaceful thrum. Maul and his filthiness were for the cold and wet. Outlining his silhouette as he hurtled to the plains, lightning snaked through the black.

The umber robes stained darker, weighing heavier and heavier on grief-laden shoulders. The rain beat down, as his limbs seized and writhed and trembled in belated longing for his once-truest ally.

That name hadn’t suited him. Savage, to this wretched Maul, had been anything but.

Not once had he seen hunger for conquest in his brother's eyes. That had never been what determined his loyalty. There'd been that glaze that implied a fetid spell on his psyche, steely resolve in each fight, yet under all that- devotion. He’d been the only family Savage had had left. And Maul used him- taken him for granted- worse: subordinated one that had been much his superior. He'd been no better than the Nightsisters that sullied his soul.

It was so, so lovely that you'd never been like me.

Foolish, blind, sweet creature that he'd been, Savage's flaw was that he loved too much. He'd loved Maul too earnestly, and trusted him too much to even question his decisions. And the fool he'd trusted in pushed him deeper into the horrors of the Dark Side, and into the hands of that monster. If he'd left sooner- if only he'd left sooner, and taken him with him. He'd have led him to the light he deserved.

One bolt bore down- straight to his prosthetics and up through his body. The light seared his eyes, burning them as the landscape dissolved in a white-out. Struck down into the mud, Maul screamed and screamed and screamed, curling into a ball and clutching at his chest as his hearts froze mid-beat.

Forgive this creature. Please. Please forgive him, my brother.

He tried to gasp that plea out past the hollows in his throat and chest-past the eyes- past the black of Sidious' cloak. Perhaps the storm would carry it to wherever his brother was, with his sorrow and regret. It should not have been him.

Savage would have made a much nobler Jedi than Maul could ever be. He could see it vividly. Savage would have released his anger so much sooner- for it had never been his to begin with. He would have loved training without being brutalized. His protective instinct would have extended to beings who much more deserved it. Maul suspected that even the Jedi robes would have suited him better. Yet he, at the very least cleansed of jealousy, would have been infinitely proud.

Maul sensed a barrier shimmering into form around him. He was hoisted over someone's shoulders as they raced back to the Temple.

He felt the mud-soaked robes peel off. The burnt skin underneath was exposed, stinging all over and smelling all too familiar. His twitching body was seated on something soft- a cot. Even with most of his senses indisposed, he knew a healing wing when he sensed it.

Skywalker's outline appeared through the white spots, then...Kenobi's. Their words slowly began to make sense past the whining in his head. Maul's lips took half-forms to explain, to warn, to beg, but only sobs and foolish babbles verbalised.

"Breathe, Maul. No need to speak yet."

He obeyed, feeling the upwell of Force-healing through his organic parts. Kenobi's hand supported the back of his neck, then his torso as the skin smoothed over. But it couldn't stop the shivers as the ribbons split through the sky.

.ᐟ.°◦Author's notes:

Thank you for reading, and yes, that was quite necessary. He deserved it. Can you tell which Opress brother I like better? :)

.ᐟ.°◦dividers:

@cafekitsune

.ᐟ.°◦kaomojis:

https://emojicombos.com/kaomoji

[codenameredkrystalmatrix]

A Leaden Diadem

❄𓂂𐬹synopsis:

Of the man trying to save the world, and the woman trying to save him. Just some drabbles about you, and the Director of the Fatui Harbingers.

❄𓂂𐬹genres:

fluff, angst

❄𓂂𐬹word count:

932

❄𓂂𐬹warnings:

Character death

Quiet

His posture was as austere as ever, eyes closed, and hands clasped behind his back. To anyone else, he was contemplative. And why not, for all that he had to do? But you, privy to much more than the persona of The Jester, knew that Pierro's silences were much more expressive than he allowed himself to be with words. And this morning's was that of fatigue- one of which you saw more than you liked.

Slipping out from behind your desk, you walked over and reached for his shoulders. Without opening his eyes, he brought your hands to his lips for a barely-there kiss. Always a gentleman.

You undid his brooch and cravat to take the weight off. His protest was cut off in a groan as he felt your fingers glide around his neck. Those shoulders began to show the weight of all he'd been forced to bear. You retraced the path to his mask. Easing it up just a little, you warmed the cursed blue-black skin.

Court

There was a time he'd loved events like these. Weaving among men to learn their secrets had been a game he'd hungrily sought to master. Now, the voices rang hollow, and the same faces whirled around the ballroom floors. At least there was one of which he wouldn't tire.

Emerald ruching swirled around the contours for which he so often longed. The silk communed at your waist before all but floating from your silhouette, leaving rivers to cascade in your wake. Life had, at last, descended upon the cold marble halls.

For you, like him, the dinners and dances of Snezhnayan court blended into each other. Some mildly spiced white wine could wash down the food you'd picked at, but could not quite stave off the growing weariness. You made for your special place: a courtyard gazebo with a view of the lighted palace entryway.

Icicles hung from the awnings, catching moonlight and memories. Here, all those centuries ago, you'd had your first moments of real respite after your escape from the devastation. This place had witnessed you and Pierro's shared tears and eventually, hesitant laughter. And with the low footfalls you heard advancing, it seemed they would witness even more.

All that could have been said, had been long ago. One arm slipped around your waist, and the other held your hand. To your own rhythm, you whirled in the night.

Bedtime

Dancing husks-wormwood-writhing-taste of principles sundered-seething thrones-feelings and sounds and smells that weighed down the air in his lungs, and froze the very blood forming in his bones, leaving him in sweats under that corpse of a moon.

His people's tranquillity, their anticipation and their exuberance- even their bodies were turned to strange, flickering shadows in his mind's tormented eye. Proper nightmares were too much of a blessing for Celestia to bestow. He would have seen them as they'd been, and been able to properly mourn.

He often fled to his office, until days and nights blended in a maelstrom of ink and snowflakes. They were his allies now, the grains through which he could vaguely perceive changing time. But he'd never meant to abandon you, who'd been so dear to him. Even without looking, he saw that furrowed brow, those pained eyes, and those unsure, powerless hands that wished they could do more.

Your weight settled in his lap and against his chest. A smile threatened to break through his worn expression. Ah, you'd forced his hand. He was mandated to carry you to bed. You had your own, affectionate form of cunning when you deemed it necessary.

Blizzard

Metal-energy clashes chimed through the air. Puffs of frost left your lips as your blood roared through your body. Your husband was not known to be merciful- not even in sparring. The ivory battleground was awash in gold as you summoned your Geo constructs, trying to create distance between you and he. The delusion burned warm on your hip as you flew backwards, watching him use the constructs as a forward path despite your best attempts. His imposing physique looked almost weightless as he leapt to the grey clouds above, repositioned mid-air, and pointed the tip of his claymore right at his target- you.

A freezing snow cyclone swirled down-you were too slow- paralyzed-a telltale icy shine-

His claymore embedded itself just right of your head, not producing so much as a squeak from you. You both knew he was far too skilled for careless mistakes.

"You've bested me." You panted.

There was a tiny twinkle in his eyes as his fingertips moved from the hilt to secure your chin. "Do not fear your capture."

"Do I... have your word?"

"Of course."

He bent down, parted lips ghosting along yours as they shared air in fleeting gasps. The sweat from your faces mingled, your chests heaved and the warmth of your bodies each reached into the other's.

Remains

Blood and Abyssal filth clung to his skin, his breath shallow with exertion. But the goal had been attained. Those ethereal pillars had at last lost their lustre, falling to the earth. Dust adorned the brows of the once-Heavenly Principles. Humans staggered out from the rubble, glancing around in bewilderment as Visions crumbled away. Millions-billions of souls once trapped in the Ley Lines to fuel the illusions, soared beyond the ark's shattered borders.

It all had been birthed anew.

The Director leaned against the walls of Zapolyarny Palace, he and they numb to the awakening. His consciousness seemed to lie with you- entombed in the Old World.

Author's notes:

Thank you for reading, and Merry Christmas! Sorry for being away for so long, but life has been a lot recently.

❄𓂂𐬹dividers:

@kodaswrld

❄𓂂𐬹kaomojis:

@cksikey

[codenameredkrystalmatrix]

The Porcelain Soldier

ʚɞ˚ synopsis:

Wanderer reflects on his journey, and that which began it all- the nature of hearts. Set post-Sumeru Archon Quest, pre-Simulanka.

ʚɞ˚ genres:

fluff, angst, found family, friendship, platonic love

ʚɞ˚ word count:

1204

ʚɞ˚ warnings:

light horror, allusions to depression, existential musings,

The darkness was home for people such as themselves. People like them found safety in it- thrived, even. Easier to conceal things within it. It covered them in a blanket, obscuring gesture and transaction. It was home. It had been home for so long- instilling comfort, and even a measure of daring. But all these bordered on folly. Such was not to be endured in the land of Wisdom.

A smell was slithering in. That... shouldn't be. The leader signalled a henchman to investigate. Trying to quell the turning in his stomach, he rounded the corner and screamed.

The hallway was full of them. Eyes stared wide and pleading from the slop that was once their bodies. The blood-become-ooze slunk into the rooms, crying out in a brightening blue-green glow. A figure floated in, ghostly in his pallor. His teeth glinted. His lips curved. His eyes narrowed. But call that expression what you will, it was not a smile.

The leader uttered a string of expletives, his accomplices scrambling back and arming themselves as best they could. "Nahida's dog!"

"Woof."

The winds and their victims howled. The fruit of their deeds made the humans choke and heave, staggering-slipping-sloshing in the slime. "Mercy! Please!"

"Those words should sound familiar-let me jog your memory."

He knocked them out and began gathering evidence samples. Buer's plan had been both practical, and kinder than anything he would have concocted. She even knew him well enough to grant him some creative licence in rounding them up. Satisfying- but not completely. This scene was all-too familiar.

The good doctor's plumes still flitted around his subconscious, snickering and pricking at the scars left behind. Those scars weren't leaving him in agony these days, but he splashed in no clear river, either. He just sat on the ledge, dangling his feet over his own personal abyss.

"Such a waste." He griped, watching the cleanup team work. What he thought was a void throbbed at such sights. He was never quite sure what to do about that. The irony of his unlife was that he'd tried to both crush whatever was in his chest and fill it with all he could find. And if this was his lot, he could not imagine what the humans felt in those hearts of theirs- the canisters of meat, energy, dreams and wishes that bound the world to the "transcendental" Principles.

The humans didn’t live that long- why did they even need something powerful enough to endure childhood's death and a rebirth into man or woman? How could it rationalize agony as the background for their joy and fulfilment? And how did it give them enough peace to put up a brave face for their young in turn? Not all made it, naturally, but enough had shone through to be astounding. Those hearts had powered lives more than well-lived, and without them one faced death that caused one to die, then devour.

That process was quite familiar to him.

As his (core?) corroded, it wished to corrode. And that invited the whispering, writhing mass of the Abyss. He'd thought that if he’d aligned with it (submitted to it, if he were being honest), he'd have a similar strength. It was that of which he’d seen the purest demonstration of destruction. But he couldn't ignore the truth. The Abyss held no sway over the numb, or those with the true power. It couldn't look at a casket and slowly build something capable of navigating the bubble on the water. Not like what exposure to the heart-energy had done to him through Buer and the Traveler.

And somehow, humans still were callous about it, giving this force the remarkably stupid name of love which really meant animalistic lust and half-baked fairytales. Their foolishness would guarantee failure in the war against the heavens. But, maybe a puppet could honour the true legacy- and to best do so, he'd have to experience this “love”. Maybe someone other than Beelzebub had overseen his creation for such a time as this.

He dragged the “scientists’” sorry meat sacks to the Corps of Thirty and reported in to Buer.

"Thank you, as always, Hat Guy!"

Past the sunshiny façade, he saw her restraining her tears. Grief suppressed crushed a griever. This was an area in which he had no expertise. He turned his back and began striding out-

"W-wait..."

He felt himself bristle. After all she’d done for him, the greatest kindness he could bestow was to leave. "I'm no therapist."

I’m not the person you need me to be.

A wet chuckle. She wiped her eyes with a little smile. "Understanding all aspects of human nature is necessary to lead them with kindness. But, it is a burden I can't bear alone. Thank you, Wanderer."

He nodded, feeling uncharacteristically exposed. "Anything else you need, let me know."

Gratitude- she’d always been so sweet to him, despite his sourly self. Something...stretched or snapped in him. He wanted to pay her back. He wasn't screaming inside as much, and he was doing things- things that...helped.

He’d be teased about this relentlessly, but he decided he was strong enough for a bit of ribbing. Removing his hat, he knelt, then took and kissed her tiny hand. In his own, slightly uncomfortable way he thanked her for her longsuffering, playful kindness and dedicated himself to fighting for the love which she’d shown him could lend strength. An Archon's dog, sure. But he had a nice kennel and some entertaining walks.

Buer giggled, still a little choked, but in a happy way this time. Lifting his chin, she lightly pinched his cheeks and hugged him. His world really had shifted. Sickly pale cyan could be warmed with the hues of the forests. Maybe a change of pace wouldn't be a waste of time.

A twinkle started lighting up her eyes that had nothing to do with her tears. "As a matter of fact, there is a mission of the utmost priority: visiting the local village!"

The Wanderer froze. "I… don’t have the skill set for this mission. Besides, there are still hundreds of-!""

"Oh, that's alright! You're off-duty."

"What a ridiculous idea.”

"All criminals are being identified and tracked as we speak. They won't disappear. Too long listening to the shadows, and you start dancing to their song."

He chuckled. Kindness and cunning- Sumeru had an Archon to be proud of. "Thank you, Buer."

"You're welcome, Hat Guy."

The little ones started crowding around them the moment they arrived. Their guardians managed flustered bows before showing them around. Nahida insisted on baking cookies, and that meant having a trusty assistant on hand to play keep-away.

As the first batch left the oven, muddy feet were drawn to its scent. Oddly enough, he had the sense that he was exactly where he was supposed to be, despite the long road it took to get there.

The Kabukimono had had no say in whether he wanted to play this game. If he'd been able to choose, Kunikuzushi may not have decided to participate at all. Scaramouche, with his blind bloodthirst, had been purged from reality. But he was here, something close to alive and breathing.

And the Wanderer hated losing.

Author's Notes:

Thank you for reading! Also, if anyone knows how to code Google fonts into the HTML, please let me know! Other than that, I am super proud of the decorative elements on this one. As to the story itself, I'm not 100% satisfied, but I still wanted to give you guys something I had for a while, and to at least do something that I can improve on later.

ʚɞ˚ dividers:

@taurus-magicka @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

ʚɞ˚ kaomojis:

@yoonitosi

[codenameredkrystalmatrix]

˚⟡˖NOTICE˚⟡˖

Slow uploads until around December. Thank you to everyone who's read, left kudos, commented, subscribed and reblogged! It's so very appreciated! (kaomojis by @nicodefresas)

[codenameredkrystalmatrix]

Illness (Savage Opress x Fem!Reader)

ᛝ𝅄‎۫ synopsis:

Is it not weakness, he wonders? You gently help him through, but it takes some coaxing first.

ᛝ𝅄‎۫ genres:

angst, hurt/comfort

ᛝ𝅄‎۫ word count:

1315

"Hey. Want me to take your tunics to wash?"

He nodded, on his knees in meditation. When he opened them, though, there was a lack of focus in his eyes.

"Everything ok, honey?"

You touched his face, and gasped at the heat. "You're sick! Savage, you should be lying down."

"It will pass." He rasped, voice sounding slurred as well.

"And it will pass faster if we treat it properly. Come."

You motioned to his bed, but he backed away, spun on his heel and strode to the bathroom. What in the ga-!

Horrible retching sounds soon came from that room, seeming as though his very organs were being emptied and slowly being reintroduced down his throat. Racing in, you tried to help, coming closer to the toilet bowl as he was almost crumpled in front of it. But he shook his head weakly, moving away before standing again and avoiding eye contact. He gripped the sink's rim, shoulders heaving in the effort. You then noted the ashen taint to his skin.

Sadness tugged at you, but you realized the look on your face perhaps would leave him even more ashamed. You looked away to clean up the toilet, giving him some degree of privacy. His gaze followed your movements- you could sense it. You heard the sound of the faucet after a few moments, and continued on your own efforts. You'd just scrub and flush for now. Chemical scents might aggravate any nausea he most likely had.

You turned back to assess him a little more once you were done. The glassy look hadn't left his eyes, and he seemed to be panting as well. You neared and carefully traced cheeks and a neck burning with fever. How long had he been like this, with you being too preoccupied to notice his pain and him too hesitant to voice it?

A whimper left his throat, sounding as though he'd been fighting to stifle it, but was losing the will to continue. His eyes slipped shut, and his body started swaying. Lunging forward before any damage could be done, you caught and helped him sit on the floor. Given his weight and height, that was no easy task.

"Are you dizzy, love?”

One second, two, three, four....Then, the whispered admission. "Yes."

"Ok. Let's get you more comfortable."

Yet, the very sight of the bed seemed to scare him once you returned to the bedroom. He started resisting you again, eyeing the piece of furniture like it could swallow him whole if he wasn't careful.

You sighed, exasperated at that point. An idea all but screamed at you, but it hurt to just think about.  Well, how else would you reach him? It was the only language he knew. Guilt-racked, you decided to enact it. As soon as you could, you'd banish that part of him. But for now, you had to do it.

"Kneel."

He dropped with almost startling suddenness.

"Savage Opress. For the next few days, you will lie down, so you can get the rest you need. I will be taking care of you during this time. Understood?"

"Understood."

"Good. Now, relax."

Reaching out, you drew his head to your stomach. You felt his laboured breathing against you, and let him be for a moment. "You can hold onto me if it helps you feel steadier."

His arms reached around your stomach and waist, bringing himself in a little more. Even his grip had weakened. Savage eventually released you, looking up with resigned, but trusting eyes. "I am ready."

At last, he let you help him lie on the bed. You thought to check him for any infected injuries he may have been hiding. If him being sick was from that, it would make things much harder.

"I'm going to have to examine you. I'll be as quick as I can."

A nod. You undressed his lower half and got to work. No fresh bruising or lacerations. Pressing into his skin (to make sure there were no injuries hidden by the ink) didn't evoke any sudden reactions. Once you asked, he rolled over and let you check his back as well. Nothing but a virus. That was a relief.

You mentally scanned the kitchen for things that would best help. Bone broth would be perfect but would take hours to cook. That, and you'd need more meat. But first, you should check the pantry to see what you did have. How different was Zabrak biology from yours?

"What did you do back home? I don't want to risk hurting you more."

"I...do not remember. And none of my masters...helped me."

His eyes went blank in confusion. You exhaled slowly, shakily, wanting to sob at the realization. The irritation drained from your body. That was why it was so hard for him. He, for as long as he could remember, had had to heal himself alone. You'd get started on the food and medicine imme-

He reached over, gripped your wrist and brought it to his cheek. "No...please..."

"Savage, sweetheart..."

You cooed, sitting on the edge of the bed and thumbing his skin with that trapped hand. "I have to go get more things to make you feel better."

He only held on tighter, turning his face into your palm a little more. Seemed you needed to put that off for a while. "Ok. When you fall asleep, then."

The fever made your body heat feel uncomfortable to him, but he clung regardless. He could barely recognize reality, with the heat and dizziness and weakness and nausea. As his own body betrayed and shut down on him, you were the only thing that made sense.

He needed you near.

It felt so strange to be reassured- to admit something was wrong, and be met with compassion instead of punishment. He couldn't dwell on that for too long, however. He'd been pushing through the sickness for days. In that moment a while ago, when you'd touched his face, he'd let his defences slip. He'd...just wanted to enjoy that a little more. But the second he shifted his focus from suppressing them, all the symptoms rushed up in a wave. Now that you knew, he supposed he'd give in. It would be ok. You'd already done a world of good...

You monitored his breathing and movements. They slowed, grew less purposeful. And after a while, the hand holding yours loosened its grip. He was still somewhat restless, but it was clear he'd fallen asleep. Leaving one kiss to his temple, you propped his body up with pillows and stole away to the markets.

You picked out vapour rub, Tibidon sand whale meat and bones for the broth, and fish so he could eat in the meantime. Last was an extended visit to an apothecary for the best remedies. You made for home a while after sunset.

On your return, you cooled some face towels in icy water, and began on the food. You also read the medicine dosages, and times for consumption, organising them for easy access throughout the day. Satisfied, you sat at his bedside again, wiping the sweat away with a cloth and applying the rub to his throat.

Savage opened his eyes with a groan, and relaxed as he sensed you again. A minty, strong scent filled his nose and lungs, easing the passage of oxygen through his body. The coolness of the cloths, and the breezy night air flowing through the room fought the fever.

His eyes met yours, with a less hazy look to them. Perhaps the pillar had crumbled, but that was the result of having to weather brutality for so long. It would be rebuilt, with etchings more beautiful than it had ever known- subtle delicacy to interlace with its newfound strength. But for now, he would rest, his gaze reflecting the exhausted relief of a warrior who no longer had to fight.

Author's Notes:

Thank you for reading! Can you tell I just want this sweet baby to have a break? I'll be doing things a bit differently for the next Savage fic, seeing as this one has a pretty similar feel to the last. Until then, ciao!

ᛝ‎𝅄۫ dividers:

@cafekitsune @div1nepetal

ᛝ‎𝅄۫ kaomojis:

@nicodefresas

[codenameredkrystalmatrix]

One of Those Nights: Miguel O'Hara x (Fem!)Reader

♡‧₊˚synopsis:

Fluff fic featuring Miggy!

♡‧₊˚word count:

933

♡‧₊˚genres:

domestic fluff

Huh...no wonder you'd been feeling so down. The place was a mess. Between the increased anomaly activity, and the ensuing stress at the Spider Society, you hadn't gotten to deep-clean in an embarrassingly long time. You were home, so there was no time like the present to correct that. Popping in your earbuds, you got to work scrubbing, disinfecting and organizing the place until it sparkled. You barely even noticed the time until the text got harder to read on your phone and you were forced to look up. The stars barely peeked out from behind the clouds of a dark night's sky.

Leaning on the windowsill, you rested your muscles and appreciated the cool air. Your skin was a bit sticky from all your running about the house, so the combination gave you goosebumps. But you were contented. A ballad drifted through your ears and into your mind, the singer whispering of woodlands where fairies sailed down old logs after the rain. Fantastical, yes. But you loved to dream, if even for only a little while.

You were finished for the day, so you took a shower and decided on reading before bed. Much to your surprise, you heard a portal opening long before ungodly hours. Miguel was back already?

His muscular figure was in the living room when you returned, suit deactivating as he shook his sweaty curls. When your lover turned to you, the crimson frustration in his eyes deepened to relieved mahogany.

"Ah, mi tesoro."

That was all the warning you received before he pulled you into a tight hug. Gentle nips and kisses blessed your neck and cheeks, making you giggle. "Migs, I showered already!"

"Looks like you'll have to do that again. We can go together to save time."

"How convenient."

"Mhm. I'm a genius."

His hands wandered up your shirt, caressing your stomach, sides and back. You didn't want to deny him when he was in such a tender mood, but...

"Bathtime, mister-now that you've made us both stinky."

"We're going, we're going..."

...

......

.........

"Mig?"

"Hmm?"

"Did you...fall asleep standing up?"

"No."

"Right. I definitely believe that. C'mon."

Once the water was running, you squeezed out some body wash and worked it into his skin. "Hitting the right spot?"

"Yeah."

"Did you get to eat today?"

"Mhm."

He smiled, remembering how terrible he'd been at that before you became insistent. He felt so much more clear-minded and energetic. You were always so good to him- his dear, dear sweetheart. Miguel's heart fluttered as he remembered the meals you prepared together, and his surprise at finding kind little notes in the lunch containers upon opening them. His subsequent happiness made the meals ten times better. Honestly, you were almost too much for him. For now, he'd like to enjoy the feeling of your skin under his hands. "May I wash you now?"

You beamed, a little flushed at the prospect. "Yes."

He offered you a helping hand once finished, tenderly thumbing it until you were outside. The cool of the bedroom with Miguel's heat right beside you made for a comforting sensation. As the rains began again, you turned on the amber side lamp to the left of the bed. Its warm light made for an inviting atmosphere. The only thing that would make it better, in your eyes, would be a few sweet treats.

"Want to finish the brownies?"

"Yes- definitely."

You laughed at his enthusiasm. Putting on one of his shirts, you headed down, reheated the container and returned to his arms with your prizes.

When he had a taste, it was almost as though you could see Miguel's eyes light up. Compared to when you'd met a few years ago, where he'd barely survive off of stale pre-made food, he'd come such a long way.

Selecting one, you had a bite and sighed as their soft, chocolatey goodness hit your tongue. "You know, I think these get better and better the more you eat them. Want one more?"

He nodded. But, instead of handing him the container, you held the brownie near his mouth. "Open up!"

Smirking, he obeyed, but took much longer than necessary to release your fingers.

"Hey! No eating me!"

You heard something like 'I never saw that mentioned in the contract.' and rolled your eyes. Taking your fingers out of his mouth, you flicked his cheek, washed your hands and curled up facing away from him to resume reading.

Placing his arm over you to spoon, Miguel nudged his nose against your shoulder. "'His rock-hard abs rippled in the Texan sunlight', eh?"

Shoot- he'd been reading with you? "Uuuhh..."

"Didn't know you were into cowboys, sweetheart. I'll buy us a ranch."

"Miguel! It's just a book! Let me have a little fantasy, ok?!"

You felt him shift, gliding his lips up to your neck as he whispered into it. "Wanna take me for a ride, l'il lady?"

You snorted, turning away as your giggles got the better of you. "Your accent is terrible!"

"Yeah? You try!"

"No!"

"Well then mine's better!"

"That's not how it works!"

He blew raspberries on your cheek, making you laugh outright. Past your tears of joy, you caught his smile. And when they cleared, you looked into loving, deep brown eyes that caught just a twinge of gold from the lamplight.

"Thank you for cleaning, mi alma. That and…everything you've done for me."

"You're welcome, Miguel. Let's brush our teeth and get some sleep."

And, once done, you both could at last enjoy the peace of drifting off in your lover's arms.

Author's Notes:

I've wanted to write simpler, more wholesome fics. I hope you like it!

♡‧₊˚translations:

Ah, mi tesoro- Oh, my treasure mi alma- My soul

♡‧₊˚divider:

@strangergraphics

♡‧₊˚kaomojis:

@dientesdeporcelana @whoisyen

[codenameredkrystalmatrix]

Helpful tips for our aesthetically-minded folks!

I probably sound very stupid but how did you make the fonts in your bio have the ombré effect?

If you don't mind telling ofc

this is a complicated one so i need you to stick with me ok?

I'm sure you mean this one

TEST~

I use this website: https://www.stuffbydavid.com/textcolorizer

You simply type in any text you want at the top, you can then chose the colors you want on the wheel. If you want specific colors you can also type then in! And if you wanna use the same colors again and again just make sure to take a Screenshot so you remember or save it somewhere idk-

You then copy the very last text, the HTML

Now, if you wanna add it on tumblr you make a post. You have this little setting icon at the very top right. Click on it and then go to text editor.

You simply switch from rich text to HTML. Now your typed in words might look weird, don't worry. Just copy in what you just copied from the website and switch from the HTML to Preview.

here a Screenshot so its easier.

once you switched to preview your gradient words should be seen normally!

I hope thos helps and my explanation was easy to understand--

and dw this wasn't a stupid question I'm ready to help!!

[codenameredkrystalmatrix]

⁘꩜⚓Hurricane (Neuvillette x Fem! Sailor Reader)⚓꩜⁘

synopsis:

With those ominous thunderclaps, you know your husband needs you.

word count:

1380

genres:

angst, hurt/comfort, domestic fluff

warnings:

Mentions of schizophrenia, cannibalism.

There were darkly elegant swirls in the clouds. Lightning danced through the air. The smell of ozone left notes of something that clung to your windpipe. This was not the typical ocean storm. Racing below deck, you checked to ensure the supplies were secured, and raced to the navigation cabin.

In your earlier sailing days, they'd been known as freak storms that strangely coincided with the more dramatic trials. No meteorologist could explain them, and they were eventually theorized to be a quirk of The Oratrice or something to do with the Primordial Sea. But time, and your secret marriage to a certain Iudex, had taught you better.

"Check the equipment and divert more power to the engines. We make a break for the port."

"Yes, Captain."

On land, all a storm was something of the outside. It could be avoided entirely, or admired from within well-enforced walls. On the seas, however, they swallowed one whole. The primeval roar of the waves was to be endured (and soothed the moment you had the chance).

A sailor's report- there were enough reserves for the return. You nodded distractedly when they complimented your judgement. Some would go as far as to say you challenged the seas themselves with the might of Fontainian technology. You knew better than to let that flattery get to your head.

After minutes that felt like hours of struggle, electric blue lamplight cut through fog and fear. Cheering, the crew guided the ship to Fontaine's southwestern inlet. Their work was near its end- but not yours. Pulling a greatcoat around your shoulders, you left your first mate to supervise things and headed to the hurricane's true eye.

Just wait a little longer for me.

The wind and rain battered you, making every step a battle to keep balance. The drops lashed against your face and left stinging pain in your eyes. Not that they could help the scenario- they couldn’t even make out the cobblestone past the grey all around. The shapes of the people and Melusines were only outlines and shadows caught in the haze. It was hard to even hear their shouts.

The city lamps (to your eyes now fuzzy blue orbs), and your experience served as guides. They led you to Quartier Nabonnais, past the now eerily glowing fountain. Racing through the passageway below a deceptively designed arch, you found a brief respite. It led to the outskirts of the city proper, and you headed through the muddy fields up the slopes to your home.

Though inside the moderate, but tastefully decorated villa, the thunderclaps were very much still audible. The lights were off, rendering the once-cozy home black and frigid. You flung off your uniform and headed across the hallway and up the stairs to the bedroom. Your heart ached at the sight.

He was crumpled on the ground, facing away from the doorway and tail wrapped around his body. Crossing the room, you reached your arms around his stomach and rested your forehead on his back.

He seized once, violently- not expecting you back so soon. Patrols around Fontaine could take weeks. He'd encumbered upon your life again. But in that moment, he had not the strength to act on the guilt.

The case had been that of a man in Poisson, struggling under poverty. The voices in his head had fed on his desperation, his isolation and his hunger. That ever-growling beast that made him tremble all over, that stole the time he had in flashes of unconsciousness. And, once back in waking moments, made him salivate after the warm, young, tender flesh of the children he once loved so.

And with the sentencing he handed down, it seemed he'd given them license to take his life too.

For the lives of the little ones lost, for the nightmares of the witnesses who'd heard the screams, for the sick dread that would eternally haunt the officers who'd been called to the scene, the judgement had to be severe. But what about him? He, who'd not had a clear thought for months and drifted half-aware of reality? He, for whom the iron stench and sizzling meat brought a sickening clarity. He, who'd been found sobbing, screaming, and clutching what little was left of his son's hand.

In the man's earlier pictures, the Iudex saw Vautrin's eyes- worn, yet determined. His children clung to him, sensing nothing but their father's devotion. None of them, not even this perpetrator, could have perceived what was to come. What was the use of his justice, if it could not have saved this family? All this power, and yet he could do nothing but condemn one already living a nightmare.

You'd been inching around, trying to reach his front. But with smooth, scaly hands, he gripped your arms.

“Do not look at me.”

You complied, returning to your position behind him.

He wished not to hide the fangs or the scales or the tail, but the tears. Tiny, ever-so tiny-pools sang of the distillation of that which he'd never seemed to master. Each pat onto the ground tolled a damning accusation for which he had no counter. The prosecution found him guilty of unquantifiable counts of failure to protect the innocent and an unpardonable lack of self-control. His sentence- to drown within his own mind, where images of the ones he'd left behind would dance in time to a throbbing heartbeat.

And yet, here you were- laying your head against the centre of his spine and leaving warmth to blossom. He knew you'd hear of the trial. And yet, as always, you'd trust that he'd made the best choice.

A lone dewdrop dissolved in love's and agony's deluge.

Teeth gritted, revealing his fangs. Lightning once more cracked and clawed through the clouds. Rain lashed against the windows and the winds gave agonizing howls. But he knew that, any longer, and the city would have to be evacuated. He could almost see them- human and Melusine alike clinging to anything they could reach. This had to end.

He began relaxing his posture. Your body was there, reassuring as always.

Focus on that, Neuvillette.

Her breathing is even- match her tempo.

They...are cool. Like the zephyrs of fall that comfort the workers, dance around the children and refresh all the people of Fontaine. All these souls still need me. They, too, trust my judgement.

This man is now a danger to Fontaine, and to himself. He was lost long before the case came to you. There are many more that can still be saved. Many others can find closure in the court over which you preside.

May the light of Justice cast burning upon the fog of sin, that her children may glory in her warmth.

With time, the frenetic drumbeats above softened to rumbles. He could at last, loosen his grip and turn to you. Gently, but still a little desperately, he nuzzled in under your jaw. His tail inched around your body and drew you closer. A huge improvement.

"May I, now?"

A low, choked assent. You lifted his head so he could look into your eyes.

Scale patterns had risen, transforming the texture of his skin. Their faint indigo was being lent a beautiful, though poignant shine from saline stars. And his eyes, though a beautiful shade of lavender, seemed darkened in grief.

He could not voice his thoughts, and he would not for a long time. But you did not ask it of him. Instead, you gave. You traced the bumps and ridges, warming them with your touch while you wiped away the tears.

Once you ceased, drawing back to smile at him, he stared in awe. The floods within his heart and the city's streets began to ebb. Your gentle, powerful hands had showed once again the road to peace, and to the strength he needed.

With hesitant, but nonetheless earnest adoration, he kissed those hands. They always accepted his offerings of affection- bloodied, raw and trembling as they were. He kissed them, while whispering your name as one would a prayer in their darkest hours. For somehow, you knew the spells to part the sea of tears, perform the tenderest of hydromancies, and through its reflection divine a dragon-man worthy of love.

⚓⁘꩜⁘Author's Notes⁘꩜⁘⚓

Dividers:

@firefly-graphics @div1nepetal

Kaomojis:

@junghwansy2k  @yvbiko @dientesdeporcelana @itmodelblog

Thank you for reading!

[codenameredkrystalmatrix]

Feline Shenanigans (Miguel O'Hara x Fem!Reader)

Chapter 6

Your house finally felt like a home. As opposed to the cold, stark order, there were the odd corners of chaos that made a place look lived in. There were more dishes to wash, the carpets looked just a little more worn, little scuffs and marks were on the furniture and the scent of a man's cologne lingered on the fabrics.

Your mind, so often racing with formulae and hypothetical scenarios, had times to rest. Someone was there to check in on you, who'd trail light kisses up your arms when they grew sore from your projects. Someone who'd offer you all the gentle touches your body longed for. Someone who'd hold you whenever you asked, and help you find your way back from the darkness in yourself.

The room took on a golden tint, and you heard the familiar whirring of a portal opening behind you. Despite you grabbing onto your chair handles, you still felt yourself being lifted up. But that was alright. As they always did, his arms caught you. His gaze, chocolate with the barest hints of crimson, swirled with love.

He sat on the couch, positioning you so you sat on both his thighs. "I'm back. Took your vitamins this morning?"

"Yes. Though I do think an evaluation with the most expensive doctor in your city to get them was a bit much."

"Can't hear you over your struggling immune system."

"...Touché."

Shaking his head, he started to trace your back using his knuckles. They left a warm, soothing sensation that lulled you into a relaxed state. "But, I really was scared when I saw all those issues on the file. Please work with me, sweetheart."

You smiled softly, and nodded. Now that you had a reason to care for yourself, it would be much easier to build those habits. It was funny how you'd been spoiling "your cat" while you'd apparently been running on fumes. And, that reminded you...

"Care to tell me why you didn't indicate you were a human before?"

"The power source was set to time out after 2 weeks, and the others at the Society were making progress on it. Also..."

He kissed his way down your shoulder, both to give you affection, and to hide the bashful look on his face. "It felt good to have someone take care of me."

"So...may I...do a little more for you? I can rub it. Y-your stomach, that is."

You perceived a soft, shaky exhale, the breath fanning down your collarbone. For a superhero that always had to protect that part of his body, revealing it perhaps felt more intimidating than for most.

"I think I want that."

He laid on his back, adjusting to give you better access. Scooting down, you placed your palm on his core, and rubbed in slow circles. His fists clenched, worrying you for a bit. But they gradually relaxed. His stomach expanded and contracted with steadying breaths.

Once finished, you stacked your arms horizontally on him, placing your chin on top them. You laid in the quiet for a while, until a question of his interrupted your partial doze.

"Was there a message on that all the time?"

He'd have the bookshelf in his line of sight, so he was likely talking about the puzzle/power source. You'd placed it there as a little memento.

"No. Could you bring it over?"

He retrieved it, sitting down with you in his lap once more. Sure enough, there was new text scrolling across one of its faces.

[My dearest daughter,

What did we say about getting out more? Well, I suppose we're all a work in progress. Anyway, to help you along, I decided to arrange a little present to your precise specifications. Fret not about me breaking out, my dear. How will I ever have grandchildren if I keep giving you trouble, hm? Keep well, and get some sun.

Kisses,

Mama. :) ]

At that point, your cheeks were flaming red. Trapping a superhero in a nearly powerless form, sending the one thing that could de-transform him as a gadget, and doing goodness-knows-what to determine your tastes in men. That sounded like your mom, alright.

You groaned, massaging your temples. You'd need to do a sweep for spyware- but she'd anticipate that. It had to have been something remote. Not to mention arranging something for Miguel to make up for-!

"No te preocupes, mi tesoro."

He moved your hands away, tracing the ridges of your undereyes, then the bridge of your nose. So that you could see the reassuring look in his eyes, he tilted your chin up.

"Whatever happens, we'll face it together."

His lips met yours, teasing and warming, but so gentle that your unease melted to gratitude for his strength and love.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

A/N:

Dividers: @cafekitsune , @inklore

Translation: Do not worry, my treasure.

That's a wrap! Thank you all for reading. This was pretty experimental in terms of plot and presentation, but I hope it didn't stray too far.

[codenameredkrystalmatrix]

Feline Shenanigans (Miguel O'Hara x Fem!Reader)

Chapter 5

The fated day arrived. You mentally prepared yourself, purchased a (massive) outfit for him and organized the lab for the de-transformation. Miguel sat patiently on one of the consoles.

"Ready?"

He fixed those sagely feline eyes on you one last time, and dipped his head a little.

"Go on in."

You were not hiccuping. That was just a random noise you did sometimes. You stepped behind the protective screen and lowered your goggles as he entered the cylinder. The once-puzzle inserted, the machine could be powered up. Everything was stable. Hopefully, Calypso hadn't left any other surprises. Energy discharged with a crimson burst, and gradually faded.

Spiderman-2099 stepped out, and you slipped into the persona of Dr. Octavius. The woman who'd never reveal such unprofessional vulnerability to a victim of her negligence- the cool, calm scientist.

You wheeled into the room. "My apologies for this. The recover-!"

He knelt in front of you, cupping both your cheeks. You avoided his eyes, but he spoke your name as though it was something to be treasured. Hesitantly, you looked at him again.

"No one has cared about me so much in a long time. I know it was hard for you to let go."

A massive hand moved to the back of your neck, and he started lightly stroking the nape. All the while, deep reddish-brown eyes shone with affection. He remembered. That thought had tears running down your cheeks.

"Let me pay that back, hm?"

You tried to gauge his sincerity, but that was a little difficult with blurred vision. Wasn't he just making a cruel joke to get back at you? Maybe it had all been just that- a drawn out punishment.

"You didn't say...well, do anything before so I knew."

"Didn't have to. But something tells me an explanation isn't really what you need right now."

His arms reached around your torso and guided you into his chest. You could smell his musk, and it somehow made you aware that you were so, so tired. It would be ok? After all this?

"It's alright. Come here."

Addled with caffeine, sleep deprivation and a storm of emotions, you sank in and held him with all the strength you had left. Such security, warmth and gentleness was disorienting for you, who'd grown all too accustomed to an ache in her chest. At long last, the psychological weight began to release in a wave of sobs.

"That's it. That's been in you for a while, hasn't it?"

He cooed, rubbing circles into your back and holding you closer. "How about I take care of you this time?"

You couldn't find any more reasons to push back- not when you, for the first time in years, were remembering what affection felt like. "I-If you'll have me..."

His chest vibrated in a light chuckle.

"I'll have you, sweet thing."

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 6

A/N:

Divider: @across-the-art-verse

My apologies for the late update. Was agonizing over a few things.

[codenameredkrystalmatrix]

Hullo!

I am Krys! Greetings! Use this to find your way around these parts. Fics in red are WIPs. I'm also on AO3 for more longform stories under the same username.

Ecclesiastes 9: 10:

Whatever your hand finds to do, do it with all your might, for in the realm of the dead, where you are going, there is neither working nor planning nor knowledge nor wisdom.

The Spiderverse Trilogy

⟢。Rest Under the Moonlight ⟢。Encounter ⟢。Gentle ⟢。Made with Love ⟢。Feline Shenanigans

Jojo's Bizarre Adventure

･ﾟ𔑘｡ Laughter ･ﾟ����｡ Emotional Breakdowns ･ﾟ𔑘｡ Starting a Family

Star Wars

➳｡ﾟ Colours ➳｡ﾟQotsisajak ➳｡ﾟStanding Sentinel ➳｡ﾟAnother Life ➳｡ﾟIllness ➳｡ﾟRevelation's Light

Genshin Impact

･ﾟ･⊹ Hurricane ･ﾟ･⊹The Porcelain Soldier ･ﾟ･⊹A Leaden Diadem ･ﾟ･⊹A Moment Together

Won't be doing anything too suggestive. Happy browsing!

dividers:

@cafekitsune

kaomojis:

@s4k0m1 @lqccnt @notfound-nin @dummydumbbee @narcisu-x

kaomojis (cont'd):

@dientesdeporcelana @yvbiko

gifs:

@fangsnpaws

[codenameredkrystalmatrix]

Feline Shenanigans (Miguel O'Hara x Fem!Reader)

Chapter 4

"Nice!"

You correctly completed a circuit, and the next layer of the puzzle clicked into place. Another magic-based component was revealed. You had to scan through both the conjugation tables and magic guides to make sense of it.

Wait...this symbol represented a verb. But it wasn't in the future or conditional tenses, but in the past. The puzzle had reacted to being activated. In this state, it wasn't that it 'will' or 'would' transform someone into a cat.

It already had.

As your blood ran cold, it all started falling into place. The strange look in his eyes and his food preferences made sense. You hadn't been imagining his oddly correct responses at all when you spoke to him.

Scrambling, you researched the recent supervillain battles. You normally didn't look these things up. Seeing your mother in full villainess mode...would be hard to stomach. Sure enough, there was a recent log of a successful 'operation' carried out on on a certain. Spiderman-2099.

Not even from this universe.

A hero trapped in a body not his own and away from the people who needed him. And his stay stretched on because of your utter naivete. This was an oversight of truly epic proportions. The multiverse was no surprise to you (your mother had proven its existence and had been continuing the investigations for a while), but the personal implications...did more than they really should have to drain your spirits.

Just for a minute, you headed back upstairs. The apartment was too small- too cold. There would never- should never have been a pet in here. You were negligent- unobservant. Things would simply be returning to how they'd meant to be. You, alone.

Bringing your hands up to mute your sobs, you cried, and cried and cried. Why couldn't he have just been a normal cat?

After a while, you heard his little footsteps. A check-up, you guessed.

"You...should have signalled me, Spiderman."

He froze. Then he walked to the side of the chair, and placed a paw on your foot. Small comfort, really.

Out of habit, you'd leaned down a bit to pick him up and snuggle his fur. But you couldn't be selfish. Steeling your nerves, you headed up to the kitchen, brewed your strongest pot of coffee, and prepared to crack the stupid thing wide open.

Past trembling fingers and swimming vision, you figured the last component out. The glow hurt your eyes. The little device rose into the air, reconstructing itself into a power source for...exactly the kind of teleporting machine your mother had built.

This felt highly orchestrated.

You'd found your method of returning him. Now to establish a motive so you could tie up any loose ends. You input the date Cinn-Spiderman-2099 had entered the house into the database, your mother's code for Calypso's magical signature, and radiation data for effects on the environment in the city.

The story unfolded. Several Spidermen had arrived to contain an anomaly, including him. He'd been separated from the team during combat and lured towards Calypso's stakeout location. She shot two bursts of magic- one that transformed him, and another that destroyed his own teleportation device. Despite his struggles, she managed to attach the collar in his new form. Then, there was a pause (them communicating, no doubt), after which he ran off to your address.

But...why?

Her movements traced back to...your mother's...cell. That was where she'd gotten the puzzle from. But it seemed the cameras had been oh-so mysteriously tampered with during their planning phase. You'd have to grill her once the most important things were out of the way. Spiderman likely only received the broad strokes of the situation. A headache was already starting.

Absentmindedly, you'd reached out to pet Cinnamon and soothe your nerves. But your palm only swiped at air. The hero-turned-feline was reviewing the footage a respectful distance away. When he sensed you staring, he turned to acknowledge you.

"Habit. My apologies, Spiderman. If it helps, I'm not professionally affiliated with DockOck."

A long moment featuring his stare. Padding over, he swished the tip of his tail over the 'M' on your keypad. You entered that, then he followed up with the 'I'- then, 'G', 'U', 'E', 'L'.

"Miguel?"

He stared at the panel, then you.

"Ah. I take it that's your name."

A head dip.

"Pleased to meet you, Miguel. Let's get you back to where you need to be."

Deep breaths. Deep breaths.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6

[codenameredkrystalmatrix]

reblog if you’ve read fanfictions that are more professional, better written than some actual novels. I’m trying to see something

[codenameredkrystalmatrix]

Feline Shenanigans (Miguel O'Hara x Fem!Reader)

Chapter 3

You surveyed your flat, and realized things looked a bit different. A plush mini-bed was against the wall and some photos of Cinnamon were stood on the shelves. You'd also gotten colourful bowls for his (still very-human) food. They were good changes. All those trophies and plaques had long ago begun turning your quiet, lonely flat into even colder metal. Cinnamon had staved off the creeping invasion. You smiled.

Speaking of which, your furry friend had come in and was about to request food again, but turned- as though something had caught his eye. He looked back and forth between you and a photo on the wall. It was easy to pretend he was asking you to talk more about it.

"That...was from a long time ago. You wouldn't want to meet her, and I hope I don't become any more like her."

You already saw her in your ambition, your love of science, your curiosity, and your sometimes cold fury. It was those moments, where you felt yourself becoming dangerously close to the woman in the photograph. It was that of your mother, and designer of the original tentacle prosthetics-Dr. Ophelia Octavius. She'd done a lot for you- even things you never wanted.

Turning away, you headed back down for another go at the puzzle. A few leads seemed to get you down the right path, but you could feel the strain in your neck.

"Almost there, I think. Let's watch a movie."

Predictable plot, so you didn't have to think too much. But for some reason, a scene got to you. As the leading lady cried at a tragic event, her husband held her, gently rubbing the nape of her neck in a gesture meant to reassure.

That would be nice...

You hugged your arms, suddenly struggling under a wave of sadness. All the money and research awards in the world wouldn't give that. You didn't even know why you watched romance movies any more, given they opened up a hole of pain in your soul.

"I think that... no one would care if I ended up in some horrible accident that left me as a brain in a jar. That's...all I-hm?"

Cinnamon leapt onto your lap. Giving you a long, long stare, he started slow-blinking. Your eyes widened as your vision started to blur. He felt safe here. He was happy here- with you. At least one being in this reality benefitted from you existing. You wiped away your tears with your forearm, laughing when his tail brushed your legs a few times.

"You're the sweetest, smartest cat I've ever met, you know that?"

Putting his head down, he let loose a steady round of purring. You smiled and lightly petted him. When your eyes next opened, there was a crick in your neck, but a smile on your face.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6

[codenameredkrystalmatrix]

CALLING ALL SPIDER VERSE FANS!!🕷️🕸️

As you know, June 2nd is the release date of our iconic and favorite movie, Across the Spider verse and the one year anniversary is coming up really soon! So I have an idea, on June 2nd, can we pretend that the movie came out and bring back the hype?? I remember it was so popular and every social media platform was talking about it, ESPECIALLY on Tumblr. I really miss the old days of the Spiderverse fandom in June-August of last year.

The fanarts, edits, the spidersonas, EVERYTHING!! I miss it so much, can we do this???

PLEASE REBLOG/SHARE!!

tags: @daisies-daydreams @gltzpzy @punkeropercyjackson @hobies-gf @whorexis @eyesxxyou @k4lenz @gwenstacyluvr @yoitsrubes @hobiebrownbrowser @spdrwdw @spidrvrseframes @cherryredstars @teenidlegirl @juniperarts @nightowl374art @bluumey

[codenameredkrystalmatrix]

Feline Shenanigans (Miguel O'Hara x Fem!Reader)

Chapter 2

In addition to seemingly having a hole in his stomach, your new housemate despised cat food. He instead came to your dining chair for all three meals (plus snack times), sitting on your feet until you gave him some of yours.

"Ah, you prefer fine dining."

He looked to be at a healthy weight. A Saturday vet visit also showed no illnesses. That was good for your wallet and time. Alright- time to work on the puzzle in the downstairs lab. You'd probably be more productive down there. You mixed up a mug of coffee, and looked at your companion. "Want to see what else I got?"

He padded alongside you as you wheeled down the corridor, and keyed in the code on the wall keypad.

"The chair's nice for everyday work- but this gives me a lot more mobility."

With a touch to your wrist chip, your cybernetic tentacles activated and walked themselves over.

"Mrow?!"

"It's ok- it's ok! See?"

You input the "attach" command, and once it was around your waist, guided one of the arms closer to him. The hair on Cinnamon's back bristled, he leaned away and growled.

"Eh- I guess that's fair. Let me see what this little gadget's about."

You put a little distance between yourself and him. Maybe he just needed to see you in them for a bit. Then again, machines probably looked five times bigger to cats. He seemed to get used to rest of the lab quickly, though. Exploring and sniffing the tools occupied him for a good while into your work.

"Will you help me, kitty-cat?"

You were ignored. Shaking your head and smiling, you continued on.

The gadget seemed to need both engineering knowledge and magical symbology to unlock. How she'd known about your little side hobby, you weren't sure. It seemed harmless enough, though.

It was easy to lose all sense of time in the lab, and that night was no different. At a certain point, Cinnamon hopped onto the counter, curled up near the clock and mewed loudly. His swishing tail drew your eye.

"Huh. That late already? Alright- bedtime."

Rolling your shoulders to dispel the stiffness, you used the tentacles to head back up and prepare for bed. Once they undid the covers and lowered you in, you noticed him staring again.

"Need cuddles?"

Cinnamon turned his head away and reached a paw up to the side of his head, as if trying to shield his eyes. Hm. It didn't look as intense as a fear response. Was he...bashful? You laughed to yourself.

"Alright, Cinny. Whatever suits you. Night night."

He was such a quiet cat. No 'zoomies', no knocking things over, and he didn't chase or pounce much at all. It was like he didn't quite know or remember how to be playful, and not even treats distracted him long enough. He'd flat out run from you if you tried to snuggle him for scratch his stomach for more than four seconds- and even that was a stretch. He must have been really tired the first night. Maybe he'd been abandoned...

With some coaxing, you managed to get him onto the couch while you were in the chair alongside it.

"Hey. Why so scared?"

When he saw your hand lift slightly, he froze.

"I don't know what happened to you before. But you're safe with me here. Let me have all the human-problems, ok? Just be a silly kitty."

He looked at you again, before his eyes closed and he leaned into your palm. You held your breath and kept still. But he didn't jump away. Carefully, you scratched his head.

"That feels better- I know it does."

After that, he came around more a little more often for affection. He'd just climb into your lap and slump, letting you do as much as you wanted. His underside was still a vulnerable spot for him, so you kept with the back stratches. For now, this was a great step forward, and you couldn't be happier.

A/N: Divider- @saradika

Chapter 1 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6