#but i have been chipping away at a big project lately

[crabsnpersimmons]

Happy lunar new year! 🐉

i've been busy and feeling under the weather lately so i haven't been drawing much, so here's a short video of what i HAVE accomplished lately:

[ID: A video of a toy brick music box in the shape of a potted mandarin tree decorated with tags and lanterns for the lunar new year. As the tune plays, the mandarin tree in the centre rotates. In the background is my Sun nightlight, glowing next to the music box.]

[togrowoldinv]

Meet Me At Midnight

College!Wanda Maximoff x Reader

You invite Wanda to spend the holidays with you. Will your true feelings for each other be revealed?

Note: I can’t believe it’s almost new years. Enjoy this Wanda fic!

Wanda Maximoff Masterlist, Main Masterlist

You’ve casually known Wanda Maximoff for a few months now. You met her in your literature lecture. The girl seemed mysterious, but not in an off-putting way.

Wanda was assigned to be your project partner for the semester. Like typical college students, you two exchanged numbers that first day but didn’t think about working on the project until late in the semester.

She sent you a text a few weeks ago and the two of you began working on the final project. Upon working with her, you realized just how amazing she is. Her and her brother moved to America for college, that explains her enchanting accent.

By the end of the semester, you completed the project and presented it to your class. Wanda suggested celebrating your successful work with dinner. You agreed, and the two of you went out for dinner and drinks that night.

Somehow, the holidays were brought up, and Wanda told you she was not able to go home to celebrate. You asked her to come with you to your family Christmas. She was so excited to see a true American Christmas, and to not be alone.

It went by quickly. Your family took Wanda in and made her feel at home. The girl loved it so much that she decided to stay for the New Year’s celebrations as well. You take her to the grocery store with you to get last minute needs for the holiday.

“Wanda, do you want red or white wine for tonight?” You ask her.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Wanda says. She leans over you and places her chin on your shoulder. You like how affectionate she is with you. “Whatever you like best.”

“Come on, Max, you gotta pick some food and drinks out too, or my mom will be mad at me,” you tell her.

“Fineee,” she says cutely. “White. And can we get some of those chips I liked the other day?”

“Doritos?” You clarify.

“Yes, them!” Wanda says.

“We can get every flavor.”

Wanda smiles and you put the white wine in the cart before moving to the chip aisle. You stay true to your word and get every flavor of Doritos, even the taco ones. Wanda also picks out some candy and other snacks.

You buy decorations for New Years so that you can go all out for Wanda. You don’t typically go this big, but you want her first real celebration to be a special one. Streamers, hats, glasses with the year on them, and all of your dishware needs are in your cart by the time you leave the store.

Wanda is buzzing with excitement when you arrive home and begin to decorate. Your family helps make the food while you decorate with the girl. You stand on a chair and hang streamers from the ceiling.

“Wouldn’t this have been easier if I got up there?” Wanda asks. “I am taller.”

“No, I got this,” you say, but just as you do you lose your balance on the chair from standing on your tippy toes.

You begin to fall backwards but Wanda’s hands on your hips stop you. She helps you stand upright again.

“Are you okay?” She asks.

“Yeah, thank you,” you reply. Her hands remain on your hips, and she pats them softly, a silent gesture for you to get down from the chair.

“Let me finish for you,” Wanda says. She steps up in the chair.

You can’t help but watch as her sweater rises up as she hangs the decorations. Her perfect frame is distracting. You almost don’t hear her when she asks for a hand to help her down. Her soft hand rests in yours even after she is back on the ground.

“This looks amazing,” Wanda says.

“It really does,” you agree.

The two of you get swept away by your mother to help prepare food for the party. Time flies by and soon the guests begin to arrive. It’s mostly family friends, but a few of your friends from college are here too.

Wanda enjoys meeting everyone and hearing stories about you. You try to keep her away from your gossiping mother’s friends but it’s no use. They reel her in and tell her all about your child and teenage years.

“She seems great,” a voice interrupts your gaze on Wanda.

“Natasha, so good to see you!” You tell the woman.

“You too, y/n,” Nat says. She hugs you. “Is she your girlfriend?”

“Oh no,” you reply. “Just a friend from college.”

“Sure,” Nat says. “That’s why she’s staring daggers through me.”

“What?” You turn to see Wanda is staring at you and Natasha. There’s a look on her face that isn’t quite readable, but you can tell she’s unhappy.

You decide to walk to Wanda and steal her away from the gossipers.

“Hey, there’s some more people I’d like for you to meet,” you tell her. She nods and follows you back to where Nat is standing. “This is Natasha.”

“Nice to meet you,” Natasha speaks to Wanda.

“You too,” Wanda replies a bit grumpily.

Another woman walks up behind Nat and wraps her arms around her. Wanda looks at you confusedly.

“And just in time Maria shows up,” you joke.

“I’ve been here,” she replies. “Just got a little distracted by the fondue.”

“Why does that not surprise me?” Nat asks.

“Maria, this is Wanda,” you say.

“Great to meet you, Wanda,” Maria says. “You’ve got a good one here.”

“Oh, it’s not-” you begin but Wanda interrupts you.

“Thank you,” she says, placing her hand in yours.

Nat and Maria get pulled away, leaving you and Wanda standing there together. She still has her hand in yours.

“Are you alright?” You ask Wanda.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” She drops your hand.

“Okay. Let’s just go get a drink,” you suggest.

For the rest of the night, Wanda seems to have shaken off her weird jealousy of you and Natasha. Or really you and anyone that’s not her. But when it’s five minutes until midnight you can’t find her anywhere.

“Wanda?” You call up the stairs, thinking maybe she went to your room. You get no response but go upstairs anyways.

She is sitting on your bed when you arrive. Four minutes until midnight.

“Hey, what are you doing up here? The ball is about to drop,” you say.

“I just needed a minute,” she says.

“Right, okay. I’m sorry. I know that my family and friends can be a lot.”

“It’s not that,” she says. “Well it is, but it’s not.”

You close the door behind you and sit next to Wanda on your bed.

“You’re missing home?” You ask.

“I always miss home,” Wanda replies. “But being with you here has felt kind of like home.”

“I’m so glad,” you say. You glance at your watch. Three minutes until midnight. “What’s bothering you then?”

“Do you like me?” Wanda blurts out unexpectedly.

“What? Of course I like you, Wanda,” you say.

“No,” she says, shaking her head. “Do you like me like me?”

“Oh.”

“Because well, I like you,” Wanda says. “And what’s bothering me is that everyone else seems to really like you too.”

“What like Nat?” You ask. She nods. “That never happened, Wanda. We’re friends.”

“But you’re attracted to her.”

“Well, you have eyes,” you try to joke, but Wanda doesn’t smile. “She is a friend.”

“And so am I,” Wanda says with a frown on her perfect lips.

“Yeah, but if you want to be more than friends then we could try?”

“Really?” Wanda asks.

“Really,” you say. “You’re so beautiful, Wanda. And so smart, cool, funny, and passionate.”

Wanda smiles the most perfect smile you’ve ever seen. You hold her cheek in your hand and brush her hair back with the other. She leans in closer.

“Wait,” you whisper. You hold up your watch. “Count with me. Ten, nine, eight…”

You count all the way down to one and Wanda kisses you as soon as she can. She practically straddles your lap as she deepens the kiss. It’s everything.

“Wanda,” you say softly, pulling away to breathe. “We need to go celebrate with everyone.”

“But I want to kiss you,” Wanda pouts.

You kiss her pouty lips and almost lose your will to stop.

“We can do this all we want later,” you tell her. “Right now it’s time to celebrate the new year with everyone. What do you say?”

“You promise we’ll do this again?” She asks.

“And again. And again. And again,” you reply, leaving a kiss to each of her cheeks and her forehead with your words.

Wanda smiles and lets you take her hand. You two walk downstairs together and spend the rest of the night celebrating New Years. It’s the best beginning to a year either of you have ever had.

You hope for many many more with Wanda by your side.

[librarycards]

pls ignore this is its too weird or too much labor, but i was wondering if you maybe had any tips or resources for ppl who have creative desires like writing but brain fog and fatigue tends to get in the way?

i do! it may not work for you bc people have very random/unexpected ways of dealing with this, but it's *very* common and there is hope :) [i think a lot of this is applicable across form, but i'm using "writing" here because it's what i'm familiar with]

one way is to be strategic about timing: this includes thinking about when you're least foggy/have the most energy, and/or the most "downtime" where there isn't anything in particular you need to do. many people wake up early so that they have alone time before their responsibilities. some people stay up late to write. i tend to do my daily writing (which I elucidate on below) in the evenings, around 7-10pm. whatever works, works!

relatedly: scheduling/routine is, for me, critical. i think it is for a lot of creative ppl. I write every day, in multiple ways: i keep a journal - i've done this since i was like 12, so it's as ingrained as brushing my teeth and i don't really think about it - and also work on some aspect of my current longest project [so, for the last 4 years, it's been the aforementioned second novel; for the 4ish years before that, it was Failure to Comply. i write other stuff during the daytime, of course, because writing is also my job(s). but if you're looking to establish a consistent creative practice, you don't need to be aiming for a certain hour or word count.

Instead: Aim for consistency and progress. Not perfection, not a "muse," not magic. There is no shame in making something that doesn't seem good, or that you end up deleting. in this particular instance, "perfect is the enemy of good" is 10000% true, and i think especially applicable to people who already experience external + internalized ableist ideologies on a daily basis. your art, regardless of what it is, should be a space where you get to make mistakes, change your mind, and learn new things. it should be something you can come to when you're tired, unsure, confused, scared, etc, even if it means just keysmashing and then closing your notes app for the day.

for me, having a daily practice, regardless of anything, means embracing the days where i write only one word and then despair, as well as the days i write pages. when i feel most depressed, in a very clinicized sense, i try to move from "everything i make now is going to be shitty :(" to "everything i make now is going to be shitty :)", not because i'm happy about it, but because....that's simply part of creating. everything is a bodily function. if you're not feeling good, maybe your poop will look weird. so too with writing. but you still do it. it can be mechanical. but it'll happen, and by doing it consistently, you give yourself the *opportunity* to locate insight hitherto buried, to have an idea creep up on your tiredself.

i guess in sum I'd say that the healthiest thing i ever did for my writing is something tantamount to body neutrality, which has also been an immensely positive addition to my set of frameworks for physical embodimindment. creative neutrality, i guess. this doesn't mean i don't tie my ego and personhood to work/productivity/quality. i mean, i totally do, and it sucks, but there we are. but it also means that i place that in a corner that does not touch my desire to chip away at something big, regularly. i make time every day to summon the urgency of whatever i'm working on, not because i'm proud of it at that moment, but because i want to give it another opportunity to give me something cool.

tl:dr: give yourself the gift of consistency and time, and don't be scared of making stuff that isn't good, or gets deleted, or doesn't make sense. write from wherever you want, physically, mentally, spiritually. give it the opportunity & even the expectation to happen and then work from there.

[goggles-mcgee]

Hi! I hope you’re doing well! Do you have any head canons about your felinette stories (Moving on, finding home; The haunted Bride, The not-so phantom…) and Marinette, the Rolling Stone? I love all of your stories, specially daminette 😈

Hi! Of course I do! But since you're grouping them for the Felinette, I will focus these headcanons on the felinette aspects a bit! Also I am so sorry for the very late reply. Motivation has been very low 😔

Moving On, Finding Home:

•As Marinette starts to work with Amelie, Amelie decided they should go out for lunch along with Felix, but when they got to the cafe she suddenly had some business to take care of and rushed off. Felix took this as an opportunity to really talk to Marinette and apologize for his behavior last time he was in Paris.

•At first she's skeptical but as he went into detail about why he did it, she feels for him. He told her about the loss of his father and that he knew it wasn't an excuse but he had been hurt and angry. Especially at Adrien and his Uncle. He was surprised when she didn't immediately jump to Adrien’s defense.

•Since he was so willing to be vulnerable and he seemed genuine in wanting to start over with her, Marinette told him everything that had happened at school. At first she had just wanted to explain that her and Adrien weren't friends anymore but once she started talking she couldn't stop.

•After this talk, things work a lot smoother, and Felix actually tags along with his mother when she goes to meet Marinette. Somehow them having lunch became a routine as well, but neither teen complains.

•Amelie adores Marinette and has a hard time not spoiling the girl but she can't help that her love language is gift giving and look...if Marinette is going to be taking on as big a project as she is then of course she needs a new design desk...and tablet since her old one had a chip on the corner...and a new mattress because her little designer needs the best sleep to dream up wonderful designs!

•Felix does try to reign her in, but it's hopeless.

•Tom and Amelie are two peas in a protective-parent-pod. They love talking to each other about their respective child and all they do in the name of that love, like the time Tom threw Marinette’s birthday cake in the trash several times in a panic because he didn't want to spoil the surprise. Tom and Amelie basically become bestie with a fond Sabine watching over.

•Amelie being a Petty Betty and allowing paparazzi to take pictures of her, Felix and Marinette when they are out together (with permission, of course) all so she could show off how cute Felix and Marinette are together but also to rub it in the face of her brother-in-law that she nabbed the very talented designer before him.

•Felix does become the new Chat Noir, but he changes his name to Grimalkin and Adrien, who starts not-so-vague posting on his Chat Noir account on social media that the name sucks and nitpicks about everything of the new Cat Hero.

•The class start to think the reason Marinette has "changed" so much is because of Felix, and they start trying to include her in things again in an attempt to lure her away from the "problem" Lila hates this and tries to intervene but it never works out for her.

•Gabriel is having a rough month, what with Lila Rossi being herself, the Dupain-Cheng girl getting snatched up by his dreadful sister-in-law right before he was going to open an early-experience type of internship so he could keep her close and figure out how to akumatize her but also she did have great talent and it would be a waste if he let her slip through his fingers, then Adrien reveals he and Mlle Dupain-Cheng aren't on speaking terms and to top it all off!!! There is a new cat hero who is actually competent, and that is making being a super villain very hard.

The Haunted Bride:

•Marinette had for as long as she remembers, been obsessed with the Culpa Mansion. Her parents thought it was cute and funny at first, but when she still spoke about it and even spoke about details, she couldn't have possibly known, but when she overheard her parents talking about taking her to a professional or something she stopped talking so in depth about it.

•But she dreamt of it almost every night and keeps a dream journal where she drew a lot of things from her dreams. She has it locked and hidden because she fears if anyone found it, they would think she was crazy, especially her parents.

•Hawkmoth is defeated and in jail, but Adrien did somehow get through it all without being suspected of aiding his father. Nathalie is the one taking care of Adrien since Gabriel took the fall for everything.

•Marinette as Ladybug, decided against Ladybug and Chat Noir revealing their identities to each other. Something just told her not too but she did promise that if Chat found her, she would let him know. Her and Adrien dating kind of happened out of nowhere to her, but then he kept making cat puns here and there, and well Marinette came to the conclusion he was Chat and hat found her. So she made her own subtle references.

•Adrien does not know that she is Ladybug, but she thinks he does. He just started dating her because she reminded him of Ladybug, and while he did start to like her, he was still very much in "love" with Ladybug.

•Marinette starts to realize he actually doesn't know who she is, and it kind of opens her eyes to how he tries to manipulate her. She doesn't think he is doing it maliciously or anything, but she can see how much he values the class and keeping things happy, and she sees that he's doing it kind of subconsciously so he can keep his perceived normal and happiness. It's why he never breaks the peace, even if it's the right thing to do.

•When she wins the trip to the Mansion, Marinette actually exchanges letters with the owner of the Mansion, who happens to be her age, and she thinks that's cool. They become pen-pals and friends, and Marinette is just so happy to get to rant to someone just as obsessed with the mansion as much as her.

•When she and her class go to the mansion, she is already trying to break up with Adrien but that's kind of hard to do when he won't spend any time alone with her like a boyfriend should. She finds out that Lila is the one manipulating him in hopes that he would be charmed by her and fall for her. The girl squad (some of them) are helping her.

•Marinette is almost always somehow left alone, and during those times, she meets with Felix, and they just have a fun time hanging out, and Marinette finds herself falling for him. She only ever meets him at night though but it's when she's with him that she feels the happiest and most clear headed. He keeps her grounded.

•But while staying in the mansion, her dreams come back in such vividity that she starts having trouble determining what reality is and what is a dream.

The Not-So Phantom of the Théâtre du Châtelet:

•Felix is not scarred, nor does he live underneath the theater. The Phantom is a character he plays to manipulate and scare those who seek to hurt the theater and the owner, his mother. He doesn't mind the rumor. He plays into it in the name of protecting his mother and the theater she loves. He also does not care nor mind hurting others to do so.

•He works as a permanent stage hand and sometimes a stage manager since he knows the theater better than anyone. Yes, he did build hidden trap doors and such to help with his time as the Phantom.

•But what started as him protecting his mother and their theater kind of morphed into punishing those he thinks deserves it and if you're thinking his mother would not approve of this or not know what her son is doing, nah. She knows and supports her troubled little man.

•When he first meets Marinette, he immediately realizes what potential she has and is charmed by her almost immediately. They become friends as costume designer and stage hand. But when he sees the treatment of her from her ex-boyfriend and the lead actress, he will do anything to protect her.

•Marinette didn't believe in the Phantom until all these strange events started happening, and she keeps getting roses left in her workshop. She doesn't know how she feels about everything and thinks that makes her an awful person.

•She does have a crush on Felix, and they connect so well, but she also can't help but be drawn to the Phantom when they keep having encounters.

Marinette The Rolling-Stone:

•Marinette meets Felix after her big move to London when she goes to her new private school. Yes, Jagged and Penny enrolled her in a private academy because they feared what people would do if she were in a public school, given all that happened and what was televised.

•It's a school that allows her to work from home sometimes. The excuse that was given was that it was due to her adopted father's work schedule, but in actuality, it was because Marinette told Jagged and Penny about being Ladybug and the Guardian and they agreed she could home-school on days she needed to be in Paris.

•She got adopted into the Quantic Kids group by surprisingly Felix. He just felt like she needed friends, and she reminded him of himself before he became friends with his friends.

•It takes a while for her to trust them, but when she does, she cries over how much happier she is. When she starts getting feelings for Felix she's scared but Jagged and Penny help her through it.

•Felix doesn't know when he fell for Marinette, but contrary to what his friends think, he didn't freak out or get angry or anything like that. To him, it made sense, she made sense...they made sense. So no, he isn't scared of his feelings and is more than determined to prove himself to Marinette.

•Her friends find out she is Ladybug and convince her to let them help. Of course, she doesn't want to, but things are getting worse, and she needs people she can trust. Jagged and Penny are also there to help as well.

•Felix, of course, becomes the new Cat Miraculous Holder and becomes known as Carbonel!

[glaciertea]

Masterlist here

Tales the Songs Weave

Ch.11<< >>Ch.13

Notes: Miguel shows you a very important person that was in his life.

CW: Grieving/mourning

Artwork done by @/Melteyyo on Twitter

Chapter 12: Just Let My Love Adorn You

Word count: 6.3K

For the past couple of weeks, you and Miguel have been essentially inseparable. Every other night, he would sneak you into the HQ or cut his days shorter and shorter to hang out at your place or job. 

Occasionally spending an hour at the botanical garden if given the chance.

Miguel's excuses started to become more noticeable and rampant as to why he couldn't be around for certain assignments or missions.

A game of telephone began when a few spiders gossiped and took bets about where their commander vanishes to; however, it escalated quite rampantly when Miguel's attitude seemed slightly less perturbed.

He would still retain those explosive moments, then promptly inhale and exhale, following it up with an actual conversation. It didn't fully waver his palpable tantrums and hostility.

He just came off as less grumpy, and that was enough to get the snowball tumbling towards the steep. Betting pools were established by the braver ones, but they were quickly shut down when Jess caught wind of that.

She finds herself at the forefront exceedingly often now, and it's been grating on her. With her new underling, keeping track of the anomalies, piles of paperwork, and basically dealing with his tasks and her pregnancy.

Needless to say, Jess wasn't in the best of moods. She interrogated Miguel at any chance she was allowed, probing on about these codes and asking about the gizmos and goobers he keeps accumulating over time.

“This project must really be something big if you need all this junk. That's what? The sixth time that you went out to get these items in the span of two weeks, and I've yet to see you actually touch them.”

Jess dryly stated, picking up some busted chips and tossing them back into the cardboard box.

“I told you, Jess, several hundred times. It takes time. I'm going to use them; now let it go all the way. I'm tired of hearing about it.” Miguel typed away, a clear indication of displeasure.

“Oh, you're tired? That's so funny, because I don't think I'm tired of asking.” She crossed her arms over her protuberant stomach.

“Jess, will you just leave it?!” He jeered at her, but she refused to back down.

“And what about that code? Gwen asked me the other day about it. When exactly will you fix the portal's jerky momentum? I would've thought there would have been some prototypes or something.”

Jess knew she was poking the beast, but at this point, all care was thrown out the window.

“And those reports. You've been falling back again after that night when I told you to help. You were doing them for three days, but then you fell right back off!”

The sounds of metal echoed in the air as Miguel scraped his desk, incarcerating the explosion that was sneaking its way out.

A young spider in a gold and green one-piece turtleneck spandex leotard, covered in webs, froze at the ear-piercing noise.

Jess and Miguel faced the spider, who apprehensively shuffled backwards.

“I think I'm distributing something; I-I'll just ask later.”

They shot out a web, swinging as fast as their webs could carry them.

“Right. Miguel, I'm tired. I AM tired. After that first day, you came back two hours late. I said that would be the only time. But I kept letting it slide, trying to give you the benefit of the doubt!”

Jess threw her hands up, marching back and forth. “Now look at where that has gotten me! I'm the fool in your circus!”

He used his breathing techniques, cursing under his breath. He's done this by himself many times. He never got a break; he barely had any. He wanted to scoff at Jess as silence pricked the cold air.

He didn't need this.

“Jeez Miguel, did you have to send us on a mission like that? I nearly busted my back in that fight!”

He didn't need this.

“Peter, we did most of the fighting. You were too busy trying to get a hold of Mayday.”

“I don't know why I let her wear that web shooter today; that was an accident.”

An elated shrill, followed by clapping, sprang from below.

He didn't need this.

“Oi, are you going to acknowledge us? I know you don't like using manners, but at least pretend to show some.”

He REALLY didn't need this.

“Hey Jess, are you talking to Miguel about the portal thing?” Gwen greeted her mentor as the older woman just turned towards Miguel, whose back was the only thing for show.

“He hasn't made any progress.”

“What about portals, Gwendy?”

“Are you finally getting around to fixing it? Now that thing is janky for your back! I told you this before, Miggy!” Peter flung himself up on the high rise.

Miguel really tried using those breathing methods that you'd taught him, but so far, his nerves were winning. May, as usual, fled from her carrier and swung herself all over the room, screeching with full glee.

“Hey, where did you want us to store the anomaly? Peter here forgot to bring the light cages, though I still find that method of holding them in confinement as if they were animals indecent.”

“Look, I just happened to misplace them; it happens! Hey, are you doing alright there, buddy? Seems as if you’re about to blow a fuse.”

Peter scooted closer to the irritated man, as Miguel did everything in his power to not have an outburst. His muscles strained, his eyes drawn shut, mumbling to himself in Spanish. 

Jess apathetically stared, and a hand was planted on her hip. Hobie and Gwen side-eyed each other, curious about how this was going to pan out.

“What were you guys actually discussing, Jess?” Hobie leaned on a nearby steel wall, messing with one of his guitar picks.

Jess was taunting Miguel at this point, unapologetic about this whole situation. 

“He was just about to explain the mass of reports and what we were going to do about them. Isn’t that right, Miguel?”

He knew the game she was playing, and he wasn’t trying to join in. Peter approached even closer and bent over to take a look at his friend. “Hey, you’re good. Just say what you have to say.”

“So, are those portals not getting fixed?” Gwen swayed as Miguel’s anger tempted to jump out when he opened his mouth.

Then the lightbulb switched on.

“Gwen!” Miguel accidentally yelled at the young teen.

“Jeez, dude, you don’t have to do all that, but what’s up?”

“How good are you at filling out reports?”

Jess raised an eyebrow, wondering exactly where he was going with this.

“Uh, they’re pretty easy. Just like a high school essay, you’re bullshi-” Miguel narrowed his gaze at the ghost spider before she quickly caught herself. “Summarizing events by making them sound smart and sophisticated. I can do about, let’s see, fifteen in under an hour if the time permits.”

“You’re free from missions for the rest of the week to help Jess catch up on reports. I will also help out if I’m able to. If that's okay with you, Jess?” Miguel eyeballed her, derisiveness in that question.

Jess tongue was in her cheek as she could only roll her eyes. “Yeah.”

“Also, I do have code written up for the device. It’s just in my unique language, so taking notes will be a hassle for Spider-Byte to understand; however, I can make a simple guide for the ones that she is comfortable with. So tell her she can begin with that.”

Jess clicked her tongue and inclined her head. “Alright. I’ll get to her about that. Let’s go, Gwen, and I’ll supply you with a light cage, Hobie. Have a nice day, Peter. Miguel.”

Gwen shrugged her shoulders at the Brit, who nonchalantly joined in with her, as the three made their way out. 

May, who was crawling on the desk, was picked up by Peter, stunned by that display, as Miguel’s eyes darted from the PCs to the flabbergasted man, making him sweat.

“Will you stop looking at me that way?!”

“I have never seen you so calmly handle yourself like that before!” Peter joyfully slapped the dented desk a few times.

“So?”

“So? You’re learning how to control your temper! That’s really good for you. Have you been watching meditation videos? I do enjoy those zen ones, especially where you’re in a jungle. Hearing those aggressive caws and shrieks from whatever banshee that is really puts Mayday and I to sleep. Isn’t that right? That’s right, Mayday!”

Mayday cooed as Peter bounced her. Miguel just squinted and shook his head.

“No, none of that weird background noise. Just advice someone gave me to just get help from others.”

Peter scoffed and twisted his face at the background comment, then immediately perked up with a glint in his eye. “It’s that girl, isn’t it? It is! Look at you! How have you two been? Wait, you never told me about that date you went on with her; how did it go?”

Miguel stone-faced Peter, but his enthusiasm was oddly contagious. Miguel thought about the days you two have spent together and how you have given nothing but balance and care. He adores being by your side and wouldn’t have it any other way.

“You’re smiling!” Peter pointed at Miguel’s lips.

“N-no! I’m not smiling.” He replaced whatever crept on him with a disgruntled one.

“No, no, you can’t hide it from me." Peter teased him a bit more before patting his back. "I’m happy for you, bud. You deserve this and many more. I’m glad she can give something that many of us can't.”

Miguel bowed his head in thanks and for the recognition in general.

“Going to see her again?”

��Yes, tonight. Don’t tell anyone. And if something were to happen, I’m directing all calls to Lyla, so I’m letting you know in advance.”

“Yes, sir, captain vampire, sir.” Peter stood tall and saluted.

“Don’t ever say that again unless you want to keep that hand.”

“Right, duly noted. Oh! Time to head on off. Mary is making her famous tacos tonight, and I cannot miss that. See you later, Miguel. Don’t have too much fun now. Yes, they are bundles of joy, but I miss my sleep at times.”

“Peter!”

“Have a good rest of the day! Say bye-bye to Miguel, Mayday!” A gurgled attempt rang from the redhead as Peter ventured down the corridor, his babbling baby talk and May’s squeals dying down.

Miguel groaned out and waited until the only sounds he could hear were the machines and nothing more. He pulled out his phone and immediately began to text you.

‘We’re still on for tonight, mi Luna? Also, tell Ronnie to stop slipping her digital business cards in the boxes. I’m not passing them out at the HQ.’

Several seconds went by when a message from you popped up.

‘Yes, mi Estrella. My place or yours? And I told her. She immediately went into a tirade about how you’re being a bad business wing-partner? How it's profession 101, and you’re a “crappy” employee.’

‘Mines, I want to show you something. AND, tell her to stop saying that I'm working for her!’

An instant reply. ‘Got it. And show me something? What is it? Oh, and Ronnie says, and I quote: “You keep denying your work ethics, and I will have to write you up again, lackey.” You’re on thin ice with her, haha.’

‘It’s something that’s… very special to me. And name one time I’m not. I already passed her two-count warning, yet I still managed to garner more.’

‘Ooh, something special. Well, I’m very honored to see it. And she holds this soft spot for you, which she doesn’t give to many. So consider yourself lucky. I think?’

He imagined you giggling over that. 

‘Ay, don’t know if I would, but I don’t want her beating me with that bat, so I guess I’ll just have to accept it. But I’ll come get you later on tonight. I’ll see you then, mi corazón.’

‘You won’t get the weapon. I’ll make sure to put a stop to that! But I'll see you tonight, Miggy. I can’t wait to see you.’

Miguel had a slanted grin and settled the phone next to him. Peeking in the corner, a certain video replayed over and over. He dragged the recording to the middle of the screen, zooming it out.

He bleakly glazed over it, remembering that day so well. A harsh waft dragged from between his lips as his eyes tirelessly drooped as she smiled brighter than any star in the sky.

“Hola, Gabi. No pasa un día sin que te extrañe... I–do you remember that person I was telling you about before? The one where I didn’t know how they would react to all that I'd done? Well, they–they accepted that part of me, and it made me feel so warm. Si, mi osita, just like your favorite polka-dotted, fuzzy socks.” 

He gave a weak chuckle before continuing.

“Well, I want you to meet them tonight. I know it’s scary meeting new people; I understand, but don’t worry; this person is very kind and sweet. Si, sweeter than jamoncillo and sticky toffee pudding combined. Si, osita, I know they will like you, maybe even more than me. I promise you two will be—”

Miguel’s words got caught in his throat. 

“Would've been the best of friends.”

Rapidly blinking his eyes, he concealed the video in plain sight and went straight to work, trying to occupy his mind.

He found himself getting more frustrated as his own mind constricted him. The last few hours were rough on him, somehow worse than previous times, but when that alarm went off, signifying that it was time to get you, that burden parted halfway but was still attached to him.

Miguel dashed around the HQ, hiding in corners or clawing up the ceilings, sneaking into the giant ventilation systems whenever others passed by.

Rounding the exit he needed, he used his inhuman speed, taking a straight shot to the secret back entrance and portal over to your apartments.

Unbeknownst to him, the spider from earlier swung their way back into Miguel's dreary office, anxiously squeaking his name.

“Mr. Miguel? You in here? I have a very serious question regarding my future love life in this establishment!”

They poked their head through, swishing it back and forth.

“Mr. Miguel? Bleh bleh bleh?”

Stepping further in, they were met with an empty space, with Lyla lazily paying attention to the monitors.

“How does he do this all day? It's only been five minutes, and I'm so bored.”

She flicked around some display footage before scrolling over some social media websites.

“Are you kidding, he isn't here? I just need this simple question answered! They told me he's usually here! What the heck gives?” The spider grumbled and impatiently webbed away.

Lyla jumped at the voice before teleporting around, trying to locate who that exactly was as it faded away.

“Uh, I hope that wasn't important.” Lyla shrugged, returning her partial surveillance to the multiverse before immediately going back to scrolling around the internet.

The spider went around, questioning if anyone had seen Jess. After running back and forth for what seemed like ages, they finally tracked her down near the front lobby.

“Jessica! Mrs. Jessica!” The spider called out and flipped their way to the woman.

Jess dropped her arm from her face and blurred at the person wanting them. “Oh, you're that spider from earlier. Um, you're uh-”

“Spider-Tune. I'm from E-75309, but most people call me Jeni.”

“Right, one of the newer recruits. What's up?” Jess rested her back on the drywall.

Not wanting to delay or build up anticipation, Jeni clapped their hands together. “I was just curious about the dating rules and regulations here at the establishment.”

“You want to… date?” Jess raised an eyebrow.

“Mhm! I want to start dating someone.”

Jess gaped, her eyes casting from side to side, slightly perplexed. “Well, I mean, you can date anyone where you're from. No one is really preventing you.”

She waves a hand over her stomach.

“You know you'll just have to go through the training cou-”

“No, I mean, can I date another spider here in the headquarters? I'm aware I can in my world, but I've been talking to this really, really cute Peter, and I won't lie, I want in on that. So is that allowed, or do I have to jump through some hoops?”

Jess barely batted an eye. This wasn't the first time that question had been evoked. It only informs who carefully studied the guidelines versus who skimmed through them.

“Well, establishing a relationship with another spider is possible only within this dimension, but it's highly unacceptable.”

Jeni cocked their head. “So is that a yes?”

“No.”

“No?”

“Yes.”

Jeni deadpanned as they tried to make sense out of it, making Jess heave out an exasperated sigh.

“If you are striving to date another spider, you may only do it on the grounds in this dimension. Sure, you may visit each other with the watches, but you'll eventually have to cut your losses as different people from different universes cannot intermingle. No merging. I am sure you are aware of that.”

Jeni whined and stamped their feet a few times. Jess wearily observed the spider's mini-tantrum and raised her hands.

“I'm sorry, but we have to enforce these rules to keep us all safe.”

“It’s just–it's so unfair how he gets to do it, but we can't. He gets to leave his job whenever, and he gets to date a spider-person? How typical.”

That caught Jess's ear, a probing look etched on her face. “What spiders are seeing each other? Do you know their names or earth numbers? I just want to make sure they know what they're getting themselves into.”

Jeni bobbed their head furiously. “Uh-huh! It's the big man himself. Just because he's the leader, he thinks he gets to go around and bring a Spider-woman from another dimension to his place, but we can't even do that in our own worlds? Such a double standard!”

Jess went dead silent. Her expression is grim. Then her eyebrows knitted together before morphing into a scornful, incredulous one.

“Oh, you have got to be—did you see him with this Spider-woman? Do you know who she is?”

Jeni yelped at the sudden steely, lividness. “Oh, well no, I haven't personally seen it. But one of my new friends said he sees Miguel with her. I wonder if she's a fresh hire as well.”

“Which friend?” Jess sent a chill down their spine.

“Pri- Pete- uh, E-77793 Peter. He only just tells me he sees them but doesn't go into detail because he's scared he'll get in trouble.”

Jess bit her tongue, both hands now firmly placed on her hips, her eyes leering in a specific direction.

“Alright. Alright. This heffa here really thinks he's... You're dismissed. Thank you for that, and have a good rest of your night.”

Jess turned and began to tread off back into the main hub of the building.

Jeni slack-jawed, their brain baffled at what just unfolded. “Think I got the big boss in trouble. Whoops. Well, don't make the rules if you can't follow them.” They mumbled and strolled off in a different direction.

“Lyla!” Jess stormed towards the elevators, a heated drive in her face.

“What's up? What's the rush?” The A.I. popped up next to her shoulder.

“I need access to the security cameras for all sectors near Miguel's apartment. Now.”

Lyla sucked in her teeth and picked the non-existent lint off her coat. “Ooh, no can do, Jess.”

Jess screeched her steps. “What do you mean you can't? I'm allowed access to all footage when he isn't here, and as far as that spider told me, he's not here. Lyla, I'm not in the mood to be playing these games.”

“No, no, I understand. But that's the thing. He's here; that's why I can't give them to you.”

Jess held back her own exploding temper. “Where is he? I need to speak with him.”

“No point in trying to have a pleasant conversation over tea. He barred himself up in the room. Something about working on an invention or something other.” She stretched her arms before crossing them.

“You can go, Lyla.” Her voice contained nothing but strain and sourness.

“Alright. See ya, Jess.” And with that, she was gone.

Jess rubbed her face and groaned furiously. “I'll have to gather evidence the old-fashioned way.”

She tapped her watch a few times, her eyes deeply fixed on trying to search for a certain spider.

“Alright. I hope you have a lot to say.” Jess rotated her body away from the elevators and out towards the front entrance.

• • •

“You did? Look at you!” You merrily jabbed at his arm.

You and Miguel were snuggling on his mattress, munching down on beef and chicken-flavored empanadas Miguel snagged from the canteen.

“It’s not much of a thing to be excited or proud about. I just wanted you to know I took your advice and it worked out.”

You puffed your cheeks and pouted your lips. “Hey, hey, no. It most definitely is. You’re trying to do more for yourself. You are taking into account what you feel as though you want or need to work on and applying it to situations. So yes, it is something to be proud of and excited about!”

Miguel snorted a bit and shook his head. “Ay dios mío, you sound like Peter.”

"Well, clearly, Peter and I have an eye for an eye. We can see something that you’ll see one day. But for now, we are just… transcending on a different quantum level!”

Miguel choked on his empanada, coughing loudly as spurts of laughter would burst out.

“I-is tha-that what you ca-call it?” He regained his breath and wiped away some tears.

You giggled alongside him, patting his back. “I honestly wasn't expecting that to get you.”

“I wasn't expecting it to get me either.”

He placed his empty container on the floor and scooted until his back hit the wall, wiping his hands on his pajama pants.

You followed suit, tossing your half-eaten fried treat in the take-out box. You both sit in comfortable silence, peace flowing in the air as you face ahead, nearly shoulder to shoulder.

You debated if you should ask about that special thing he wanted to show you, but decided to have him present it whenever he was ready. You were highly curious about it but didn’t want to come off as rude and pry too much. Miguel suddenly flopped his head backward.

“You’re allowed to ask, mi corazón. Even though it’s coming from me, you don’t need to feel as though you have to defer or walk around eggshells.”

“How did you know I was thinking of that? And I’m aware; I just don’t want you fraught or to trouble you.”

“Ay, mi Luna, you are the last person to make me go through those things.” He pulled out a tablet shoved underneath the mattress and handed it to you. “And let’s say it was a hunch on how I knew.”

Your eyes peered down at the dark screen, as the only thing casting was a reflection of you and Miguel. You continued gazing upon him, seeing how his expression dropped solemnly.

“I–there is someone I want you to meet. Someone who was... very dear and close to my heart.”

You figured out who might be, but kept your mouth shut and let him continue.

“I talked about her when we went to the botanical garden that first time, and I think now–now would be the best time for you to get to know her.”

You only nodded, allowing him to take over. As you understood, this must have been difficult for him to do. He inputted a password, and there was a single file on the device. He hesitated for a moment before a choking sob nearly escaped him.

He clicked on the image, and the video began to play. It was of a young girl wearing a football uniform who bore a striking resemblance to Miguel. They were both laughing, her on his shoulders with a cupcake in her hand.

“Hola, mi osita, te extraño muchísimo. Do you remember the person I was telling you about? This is her. Mi Luna, this is Gabriella.”

Even though the room was despondent, you managed to display an enthusiastic wave. “Hi Gabriella, it's so nice to meet you!”

Watching the screen together, you both soberly laugh when she gets icing on his cheek.

“How was she in football?”

“Oh, a beast. She was agile and calculating, always a step ahead of her opponent.” 

You darted your eyes up at him before going back to the video.

“She did have moments of playing rough. It wouldn't be a game without her getting at least one penalty, but she would make up for lost time tenfold.”

You grinned. “She sounds like she was the brightest ray of sunshine.”

“It was never a dull day with her, I can tell you that.”

You both continued watching when the video ended and clicked off as you noticed teardrops on the tablet screen. You looked up at Miguel, wiping his eyes and trying to cover them with his hands. You blinked a few times, wanting to hold back your own, but refused and allowed them to fall along with him.

“She was beautiful, Miguel. Is. You–you said she was someone very deep and close to your heart, but I believe she still is. And she will always be as long as she remains in your heart, soul, and mind.”

Miguel tilted his head down and was met with that emphatic smile. You were so compassionate and gentle. Your patience never falters, no matter what. More hot tears splashed down his nose, jaw, and cheeks, and right onto his pants and sheets.

You fully handed him the tablet. When it was in his hands, he hugged it.

He hugged it like it would disappear from his grasp. It would be gone just like that. He trembled as he unclenched his jaw and opened his mouth.

A strangled sob escaped. It was painful, as it took a few heaves, but it eventually flowed out. You rubbed his arm and shoulder, silently weeping with him.

You knew you may never fully understand the pain he's going through, but you knew right now that all he needed was a shoulder to cry on. That you would give him the water he wants and needs to have him grow into that flower that will bring its bloom back.

And Miguel would allow you to give him every drop.

Two strings lie stranded.

Miguel spooned you as you both observed the city and night.

After crying both of your tear ducts dry and cradling each other and the tablet, you two pacified your minds, spending the next hour quiet, cuddling and massaging each other's backs, arms, and shoulders.

“Mi Luna?”

You hummed, nestling more into his warming hold.

“How do you feel about kids? Would you ever have any?”

Your eyes jutted open, and you repositioned yourself so you were looking into his crimson-brown eyes.

“Oh, well. I enjoy being around them. I would like to have some, as they bring joy and all…”

You trailed off, as did your eyes. You felt wrong about this, especially after what he has been and is going through. You didn't think it was the most appropriate thing to delve into.

Miguel noticed your dispirited expression as he cupped your face, rubbing his retracted claw over your soft cheek.

“Corazón, it's okay. I'm asking you. I want to talk about this with you. I know you believe this isn't right, but I'm telling you everything we discuss right now will not hurt me. It'll sting, but I will manage."

Even him speaking those words shocked him.

“Are you sure? I don't want you to feel as if you're required to chat about this.”

“Oye. Ay, te preocupas mucho por mí. Go ahead and finish your answer.”

He knocked his forehead on yours, making you huff and chuckle.

“Okay, okay. I would like to have a pretty big family, but as of now, I think I'll start with one or two. Help me understand the grounding of how it'll go.”

“It makes sense when you lay it out like that.”

You nodded your head as the air suddenly tensed up. Miguel released a spent sigh.

“Ask, mi corazón. I'm not going to get upset or go into a downcast state. I had these thoughts myself if I'm asking you for your opinions and views.”

Squeezing his broad shoulders, you briefly nodded. “Okay, if you say it's okay, it's okay! Well, I know how you feel about kids, but if given the possibility... to have more, how many would you have?”

Miguel looked up at the ceiling, pretending to be deep in thought, before gazing back down. “Like you, I would've wanted a big family. I would want them to be endlessly spawned.”

You beamed at that. “I'm not surprised you would want so many.”

“What's that supposed to mean?” He tickled your sides, making you squeal and fidget.

“Hey! Hey!” You laughed, gently slapping before alluding for him to keep going.

“Let's see, how would you raise your kids? What would you like them to be like?”

"Well, like I said before, kids require a lot of patience, so I'll show them kindness and care. I may have stern moments, but I will want them to understand at their own pace as well. Maybe show more than tell certain actions.” 

You rested your head on his chest. “And how would I want them to be? I mean, I have moments where I imagine them to be a certain way, but I know that at the end of the day, they are still their own people. I can introduce activities and hobbies, but it's up to them if they'll like to continue.”

Your eyes wandered. “Maybe we can do things that will become a tradition. Family cooking on certain days, maybe a big trip once or twice a year. Things like that.”

Miguel stroked your back and smiled. “You put a lot of thought into this.”

Squeezing your eyes shut, you could only gleam. “Your turn, mister.”

“Si, si.” He tittered out. “Let's see, I would want them to be able to venture out and face things for themselves. I will still show them the ropes and love, but I'm sure I can push them to the wolves. They'll be fine. It'll be fun.”

You crumpled your face, causing him to crack up. “Joking! Estoy bromeando, lo prometo. But I would want them to strive and work hard towards the goals and aspirations they will have. With a little bit of being thrown into the den.”

“Miggy!” You nudged him with your chin.

“I'm joking! Joking. Yeah. Let's go with that.” He kisses your forehead.

“What's one thing you would want them to inherit from you?” You perked your head in between his pecs.

“Mentally or physically?”

“Both.”

“Well, my intelligence. As you said, I have that big boy brain for science and math.” You both grinned at that. “And physically? I…”

You watched as Miguel slightly dissociated before faintly blinking back. “I–nothing. I'm too much of a… of a–”

“A strong man with beautiful features and incredible powers?”

“Whose body is horribly genetically altered into this giant freak? That has to deal with these abnormalities to keep this body going.”

A boiling force emerged from you. Pressing your forehead into his, that blazing passion you held for him burned through. 

“Stop that! You have to take extra stuff to help your body keep flowing, but guess what? Some may need more accommodations than others, but that’s okay. It doesn’t make you any less important or valuable. So, one nice thing! One!”

Miguel was taken aback by your firmness and robust determination. But yet, it was oddly nice to have someone have that drive for him.

“I would like for them to have… my enhanced hearing or sight, or my speeds.”

“Ooh, sight. You do have beautiful eyes. But don't talk down on yourself, or else I’ll kiss you until you conform.”

“It sounds more like a reward than a punishment.” He brushed your hair with his palm.

“It can be a mixture.” You snickered, “But know that you are allowed to show yourself a bit of compassion. I would lie and say I don’t struggle with showing it to myself, but I don’t want to expose myself too much.” You stuck your tongue out.

“You will be a good mom.” Miguel caressed your cheek, making you flustered.

“Uh, uh, your turn.”

“You still have to answer the physical and mental question." A smirk creased the left side of his face.

“My knowledge of random trivia and, um, whatever looks good on me!” You swatted him, wanting to change the subject.

“Your smile.” 

Your breath hitched as you tried to hold back that squeal. “Yo-your turn!” You croaked out.

His smirk got even wider.

“Alright, what about baptism?”

“Baptism? I'll be fine with it, but any particular reason?”

“I just don't want my mama crawling out of her grave and beating me with her own casket if I don't. And I'm Irish as well, so I also don't want my ancestors pummeling me with their headstones either.”

A giggle slipped. “That's perfectly understandable.”

“And it's just the baptism part, not so much the ‘pray to the pope,’ Catholic ordeal. Well, only if they want to pray to that old man.”

“I like to think I'm spiritual, but I think I would've weirdly compromised with the religion.”

“Spiritual? Oh wow, I never would've guessed. Nope, none at all.” 

You gently nudged his chest a few times and blew a raspberry.

“¡Oye! You're the one who told me you don't mind a good sarcastic remark.” He entrapped his arms around you, bringing you closer to his chest.

You two begin to playfully wrestle, tussling back and forth for a minute, laughter ricocheting off the bedroom walls, until Miguel allows you to pin him down. Sucking in a good amount of air, you both become entranced by one another's gaze.

“How are you feeling?” You glide your hand down the outline of his jawline, feeling the scratchiness from his stubble.

“Now, or in general?” Miguel lulled at your touch.

“Both.”

“Now? I feel content, a sentiment I'm rarely allowed. In general? I don't know. I always think I know what's going on, whether it's inside or all around. That I have everything under control. But now... now I can't say what direction to face.”

“One thing I learned about life is that it can lead you down many paths. You may never know where it can take you. The one you may trail could suddenly take a left, then a sharp right.”

You pecked his cheek and yawned out, nuzzling the top of your head in the crook of his neck. “Life is a funny thing. Some see it as set in stone, but I believe it's not. You can't really put a timestamp on it. Maybe you can change your outcomes, and that itself can lead you down other routes you didn't even think were possible. You can always plan for it, but that doesn't mean it will always fall through.”

There was a hitch in his breath. A sullen uneasiness rushed him internally as his mind jumbled, screeching to him about what he witnessed and about the canon.

But he decided to ignore it.

One day, he would talk to you about the canon and how the timelines work. Yet for now, he was engaging in this itch. The longing and desire for your presence.

The time will unveil itself in all of its glory. But it can wait.

“Mi Estrella?” Your words slurred a bit as you fought to stay awake.

“Oh, sorry, mi Luna, I'm taking in the wisdom you've imparted onto me. I wish I had that type of smarts.”

“Shush. With that enormous brain, you probably have a bazillion amounts of sagacity running through that you may never even know of.”

An exhale of a chortle puffed out from his mouth and nose. “There are so many I'm unaware of. I should probably start looking into that.”

“You definitely should.”

Tranquility befallen them. He loves this. This serenity.

“I just realized something.”

“And what's that, mi Luna?”

“At the botanical garden, you said daisies represent new beginnings.”

“Mhm?”

“And that the moon is also the start of something new. Miguel, did you do that on purpose? Are you saying I'm a new beginning to something?”

Miguel leaned his head down and kissed the crown of your hair.

“Eres el nuevo paso hacia algo que hace mucho que no puedo dar. Gracias, mi Luna. Gracias por todo.”

You couldn't decipher the first half but were able to translate the last.

Thank you. Thank you for everything.

You didn't fully understand why he was thanking you, but you didn't stall on it much longer than you felt like you needed to.

“I... I love you, mi Estrella.” You snuggled up even more somehow, dozing off on his chest, your soft snores flowing in his ears.

Miguel's heart nearly exploded out of his chest.

Did you mean to say that? Surely you didn't as it was probably the drowsiness that crept up talking for you.

Surely you couldn't love him.

So why did he trust and believe those three simple words?

“Mi Luna, mi corazón. Mi tierra, mi cielo, mi universo. Thank you.”

The flames continue to inflame the singular candlestick in the dusky space.

His head is able to slightly raise. Something he wasn't able to do. There, he gets a glimpse. A glimpse of something peculiar; however, it's still shrouded in the bleak void.

What is the flame wanting to show?

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

@prozacgooble @ella-janehaven @sanguwuxyoonbummy

[xyilous]

Everyone Needs Rest Sometimes

————————————

a friend and someone on here asked, i am (nervously) delivering

comfort fic but this time it’s Optimus getting the care he deserves 💞💞 written as my oc, but no names will be mentioned so it feels more like a self insert thing. Also intended to be read as either platonic or romantic, but my lean towards the latter based on people’s boundaries !! Written with tfp Optimus in mind, uses his holoform (cough cough heres my design cough)

cw for mental health stuff, anxiety, paranoia // might be slightly ooc but shhh

also there’s a bath scene (get your head out of the gutter!!/lh,j)

————————————

It’s been relatively quiet as of late, no new decepticon sightings or M.E.C.H. mischief popping up on the scanner. The peace was welcomed by most of team prime, the kids taking advantage of having free time with their robotic companions while the adults could be at a little ease knowing the youngsters aren’t in immediate danger. Considering there was a bit of a surge of enemy activity, the crew relished in being able to wind down from an intense week. Even Ratchet stepped away from his enhanced computer and projects to watch Raf and Jack go head to head in some (slightly too graphic) fighting game. You just finished prepping different popcorns and gathering a couple large bottles of various sodas, carrying everything including cups and napkins with the help of Arcee.

The only one missing out was Optimus. The old war warn autobot felt uneasy, cautious. While the team did just bust the decepticon’s most recent plan, he can’t help but worry himself by wandering what new scheme they’re coming up with. Seeing everyone having fun and conversing with each other was more than welcomed, the fear of that joy being ripped away from them made anxiety seep into his tired frame. He replaced Ratchet’s usual spot near the ground bridge switch, hitting multiple keys as he typed in the coordinates to yet another location to patrol. This is the third time today alone that he was preparing to drive off and watch for any possible leads, that’s the way it’s been since the updates died down. There wasn’t even enough time between attacks for them to plan something big and yet you could see that it was making him paranoid. Poor thing desperately needed a break, and yet he continues to push through, even though it’s clearly taking a huge toll on his spark. It was sad to witness, you could see how his eyebrows were tilted up in concern, how his steady servos hurriedly danced along the keyboard, it was beyond apparent the Optimus is running himself to the breaking point.

Slinking away from the others, you jogged to where he was standing and leaned against the rails, flagging him down just as the ground bridge started opening. Confusion was written all over his face as he turned towards your much smaller self, wondering why you weren’t mingling with the others. Before Optimus could even get a word out, you opened your mouth.

“You’re not going.” The Prime’s confusion increased at your order, not necessarily out of anger or annoyance, just surprise that you said it so plainly. However you stood your ground and sent him a look that showed you were more than serious. Standing face to face with a 30 foot cybernetic alien would’ve sent anyone else running with their tail between their legs, apparently not you though.

“Excuse me?” Turning to fully face you, Optimus rested his large servos on the railings of the platform, surrounding you like a cage. With a clear view of his front side, you can see just all the scratches and scuffs from recent battles, clearly unchecked by the base’s lone medic. Paint was chipping in areas, mud caked into others, apparently he’s been so caught up in protecting everyone that he didn’t even take his well-being into consideration.

“You’re not going. When’s the last time you recharged? O-Or even had energon?? Have you even seen yourself lately???” With every word that came out of your mouth, you sounded more and more upset, that concern you felt for the bot being beyond apparent in your tone. Optimus’ face drifted from confusion as he thought for a moment, before stating that your worries have been noted. That’s it? Yep. That was indeed it. Silently he turned back toward the still glowing ground bridge, completely brushing off your mini speech.

“No get your ass back here!! Don’t walk away from me!” Charging down the stairs while doing your best to not trip and stumble, you made your way infront of the walkway that led to whatever location he punched in, immediately doing your best to block his path. It didn’t do much, even with your hands sassily propped onto your hips, but it was enough to make his alt mode stop infront of you. By now Ratchet has picked up on your little spiel, alerting the others before inching his way to where he can hear. Not necessarily out of concern for a full argument starting, the old medic just hasn’t seen many tell the high and mighty Optimus Prime off.

It was rather tense, you clearly weren’t going to move from your spot and Optimus was just about as stubborn. After a long pause he folded outward and became upright again, wondering if he should just step around you. You are very small compared to him, he can do it, but he knows both you and Ratchet will chew him out later.

“I must go, if they are planning something it must be stopped before it comes to fruition.” That’s his first reason, usually the first one he says since it’s often times enough to get his teammates to side with his reasoning.

“It’ll be there later, you know that. Besides, they just tried to build some weird giant laser, big Earth threatening plans like that need time. You’ll be alright for a day.” And there’s your counter argument. Although you’ve not been with the autobots for years, you’ve been there long enough to have already thought of ways to get through whatever excuse he tosses at you. At the very least he has good motives.

“I don’t know how cybertronians work, but i do know that any living thing needs a break. That includes you, Optimus. Come on, I know what’ll make you feel better.” It helped convince him a little, but he’s still apprehensive. Ratchet finally buts in, just to confirm what you said, and then goes quiet again. The Prime’s face softened as you rested your hand on his knee, by now he’s kneeled down to be more level with you. Your attitude was harsh, yes, but you still showed that it was because you cared for the mech.

“I’m still a prime. You know this, I have a duty to fulfill.” And there’s the prime excuse. It was often a backup if his original reasoning wasn’t enough, but now isn’t the time for it to be tossed out. His worsening exhaustion is evident in his features and movements, the large digits that attempted to console you felt sluggish, drained. Guilt echoed out of his vocal cords due to the exchange, he felt terrible for making you and his team worry over him. A glance around the room revealed the distressed looks in his teammate’s eyes and optics. They knew just as well as he did that he was being overly cautious and in turn hurting himself, but they weren’t sure of when to intervene.

“Then for a few hours be Optimus. Nothing more.” An ex-vent heaved itself from his chest before he drew back.

“Just a few hours. I will grant you that and then I will patrol. For real this time.” As the words left his mouth you immediately sprung up, somewhat taken back that you got him to reluctantly agree. Ratchet, still hovering behind you, looked beyond bewildered at the fact that you were able to convince him, even when he, a millennia old medic and friend, failed to do so. A few hours isn’t a lot of time so you had to get to work immediately in order to take advantage of the situation. One problem though, a rather large one at that. The art of taking care of massive metal aliens was one far too foreign to your fleshy self, however humans are a different story.

“…Would you mind using your holoform in the meantime…? You don’t have to of course!! It’s just uhh, a bit hard to reach that high.” Rest in peace to your cocky attitude, it was a good run. A small nod and flash of light later, his much smaller and meatier form revealed itself. Technically a very high definition hologram, he still had the sensory inputs that you needed to soothe him the best you knew how. If anything, the softer form would allow you to do better than if it remained stiff. Optimus still towered over you, by the looks of it his intimidating height transferred to his holoform, as well as features to show how tired he is. Scars decorated his exposed bits of skin, a few adorned his face but from what you can see numerous ones were etched into the calloused skin of his hands. His eyes drooped and the bags underneath were beyond visible, the combination of his tired expression and slouched shoulders felt like a crude impersonation of the strong leader you’ve grown to know. It must’ve been obvious that you felt pity towards him since Optimus averted his eyes from your view, almost like an animal preparing for a scolding after doing something it was specifically told not to do.

“Come on, I’ll take care of you.” Your hand took his and you led him down the hall, straight to a bathroom that you did a slight renovation to in attempts to make it more homey. It wasn’t anything spectacular, but the underneath the sink you stored numerous bath salts, some used to help with sore muscles and some infused with lavender to help soothe anyone that could possibly need it. The door swung open effortlessly as the two of you walked into the smaller than ideal room, there was enough space for the both of you to move and exist without knocking into eachother, but it was still a snug fit. With a twist of the faucet knobs cool water flowed out before gradually starting to heat up, while the water slowly filled the tub Optimus found himself lost on what to do besides stand there with his arms stiff at his sides. He wasn’t dirty, you weren’t either, so why did you start a bath,,?

“Here, while this fills up I’m gonna dig out a couple things to help you relax, god knows you need it. Go ahead and get undressed, I promise I won’t look.” Your grin was evident on your voice as you spoke, trying to ease the tension by making joking a bit before hiding behind the now open cabinet doors to dig out the previously mentioned bath salts.

“Is this not an… intimate? thing for humans?” His words were a bit hesitant, unsure if that was the correct term to use. Optimus was always curious about Earth culture and routinely asked you questions about stuff he finds, whether it be online or something he saw a family or friend group do while on patrol, but this time it seems like he was figuring out things on his own.

“To some people, sure. Depends on who you ask in all honesty, for me I don’t mind it. If it makes you feel any better I’ll step out and wait until you’re settled if you want-“

“It’s alright. I’ll let you know when to look.” Turning your head back towards the inside of the cabinet you resumed your hunt for your bath add ins as the sound of rustling clothes filled the room. By the time you finally got a glimpse of the lavender flowers and the word ‘epsom salt’ slapped onto a bag, you could hear rippling water settle before Optimus let you know you’re not at risk of getting flashed.

Crawling on your knees towards the tub, you showed him your miracle workers you salvaged from under the sink, explaining that the salt helps muscles stop aching and that the lavender scent can help people take off the edge, even helps some sleep better. You sprinkled a generous amount of each into the water, getting a glimpse of even more scars that riddled the old Prime’s body. Some were raised, others with lines across them that show just how the skin mended itself together, all caused by a countless amount of battles, some of which were won, some of which were lost. They even speckled his knees and the bits of his legs that weren’t covered by the warm water. He was tense, unsure of what to do. Optimus isn’t used to relaxing like this, the vulnerability of it all made him feel exposed and like danger is lingering around, even with the ‘aromatherapy’ as you called it. His fists were clenched against his own will, he must be ready at all times to protect his team, he has to do anything he can to prevent another loss. Pressure and paranoia gnawed at him, the echoing thoughts in his head didn’t help in the slightest. He shouldn’t be doing this, it’s selfish to stop when everyone could be in danger, he needs to go-

“If something happens the others can handle it. You need to take care of yourself just like the others.” At your words the racing thoughts halted, immediately pausing to let him take in what you said and to wonder how you knew what he was thinking. Your hand rubbed soft circles into his shoulder as you spoke, gently trying to bring him out of his unfavorable headspace. He looked at you for reassurance, eyes wide and nearly timid, you could see his adam’s apple bob as he swallowed rather harshly. Millions of years of wars and battles, and yet one of the coldest things he’s faced is his own anxiety. Nothing to fall back on, nobody he can turn to in hopes of reeling him back from his sea of what ifs. As a prime he felt like he had to hold his head high all the time and did not have the right to step back and let himself rest. You adjusted yourself a bit to try and sit at a better angle, but the second you raised a bit his tattered hand flew out and grabbed onto your shirt like you were going to disappear. The poor thing looked terrified as his knuckles turned white from his death grip, he needed your reassurance and was scared of you being ripped from his grasp like others from his past. Your hand rested against the back of his own, still desperately clinging to your now wet top.

“I’m not leaving, you’re okay, I promise. You know I don’t break promises.” You grazed your thumb against his hand, reassuring him that you just needed to adjust before your knee snapped in two. It took him a bit to give you any response, the only reply being a small nod before his grip loosening slowly before dropping to the edge of the bathtub, followed by the rest of his body.

“Let me wash your hair, hun. You can still hold onto me if you need to, yeah?” Grabbing a cup you had set off to the side specifically for baths, you started the water up again before getting Optimus to tip his head back. It still felt beyond foreign to him, but he couldn’t deny the warm water dancing across his scalp could put him to sleep. When you put shampoo in his hair and began to massage it into the follicles, you could watch as his eyes got heavier, his sleepiness trying to creep up on him. It was tempting to let him doze off, but with the size difference it wouldn’t be a good idea if he started slipping underwater. A light prod to his face was enough to wake him up enough to rinse and finish up with conditioner and a final spritz of water. You stood to grab a couple towels, one for his body and one for the soggy mess of hair on top of his head. The bath alone made his posture a bit less rigid, hopefully that lavender actually did it’s job. While he dried off, you jogged put the door and further down the hallway to a room with spare clothes, grabbing a mostly new t shirt and some pajama bottoms, praying that they were the right size. It felt a little strange to be grabbing a cozy outfit for someone who was tall enough to make some houses look small and someone who happened to be made out of metal, but at least you got him to take it easy-ish. Could be worse.

Upon your return you realized he was probably frozen, your evidence being the goosebumps that littered his crossed arms.

“Sorry for freezing you to death, here’s these. I’ll wait out by the door while you get dressed and when you’re done i’ll blow dry your hair, alright?” With a nod Optimus gratefully took the pajamas as you stepped out into your aforementioned position. In a sense it felt like you were keeping guard of the old man mech, the thought triggers your curiosity and you can’t help but wonder if he’s had someone take care of him like this. If his reactions have told you anything, it’s that he’s not allowed himself to be treated in such a way. Perhaps it’s a matter of not wanting pity, or maybe it’s as simple as he feels like he’s too mature to accept such treatment. It’s a shame really, the one that needs it the most is usually too selfless to allow it. A couple minutes later the door creaked open, revealing a damp, but slightly more relaxed Optimus. You stepped back into the cramped room and instructed him to sit on the toilet seat as you dug out the blow drier and plugged it into the wall outlet. He watched every movement you made with curiosity filled eyes, he always had a fascination with human objects, the way people have invented items for basically everything was so interesting to him, especially considering how primitive Earth’s creations can be.

“What is that in your hands?” He asked you, using his hands to point at the blow dryer in your hands. He’s not seen one before, and the way it resembled a gun made him a little nervous over it, especially considering flesh will suffer much more with a bullet than if he was his usual metal self.

“Oh this? It blows out hot air to help dry your hair. It’s not as scary as it looks, I promise.” As you spoke you used your freehand to lead him to sit down and got to work, flipping the switch that caused the simple device to do what you said. The sudden sound startled him a little at first but with reassurance he calmed enough to let you do your thing, his eyes closing while he absorbed the peace around him. Optimus was still apprehensive to letting you tend to him, but the longer time passed the more he felt his walls chipping away, reluctantly letting his guard down to you. Partway you grabbed a plain comb to send through the synthetic hairs that rested atop his head, the sensation was yet another new one considering his holoform was mainly used as a disguise, not a tool for self care (or in this case care from a trusted individual). It was a nice change of touch, if that made sense. The sensation was a lot more enjoyable compared to battling or trying to track down energon to refuel the already exhausted team. Unfortunately, due to his short hair the moment didn’t last near as long as he wanted or deserved, but at the very least he wasn’t damp anymore. Between the heat from the blow drier and what’s left of the steam from the bath, he felt so cozy and weightless, almost as if the water washed the weight from his tender shoulders. With a click, the air stopped blowing on his scalp and a gentle tap on his shoulder made his eyes open up again.

“Come on, I’m making you watch a movie. Don’t worry, I picked an animated one so it’s nothing too intense.” Despite your order, your tone stayed soft and gentle as you spoke, making sure not to jolt him from his little moment of peace. As you put your tools away Optimus stood and ran a hand through his hair, taking in just how soft it became from something as simple as wind. Being made of metal most of the time didn’t allow him to have such moments, to a human this would be such a normal everyday thing but for him it was a welcomed break. Being able to be over all softer and vulnerable after being alert for Primus knows how long, it was soothing after the first anxieties fizzled away. You took his hand and led him back to the main area of the base, dragging him up the steps and to the slightly worn down couch. A small tv, fit with the kid’s gaming console and various movie and game cases scattered about. By the looks of it, the team has already escorted their human companions home while Ratchet lingered in the background, typing away at his computer as per usual. It was abnormally quiet considering the hubbub that filled the room earlier, but the lack of music blasting or prepubescent voices squeaking their way into everyone’s ears (or audials) wasn’t unwelcome. You led Optimus to sit down before you crouched in front of the tv, popping in your choice of entertainment. Most have already been watched so you made sure to avoid anything overly angsty or gut wrenching, from what you know the prime doesn’t sit down and watch these, hopefully you can get him into something besides recon. Everything was up and ready to go as you made you’re self comfortable next to a rather stiff holoform. His hands were awkwardly tapping against his thighs as his back was straightened, clearly unsure of what to do or even where to look. Has he ever taken the time to actually wind down…?

“You’re stiff as a board, here, get comfy.” A little maneuvering later you managed to get him to lay down with his head in your lap, though the lower part of his legs ended up dangling over the arm rest due to his sheer height. His body was still fairly rigid but, it’s an improvement at the very least. A blanket rested on the back of the couch, it was a thin but fuzzy one that June brought over in case the you or the kids got cold, it’s coming in handy right about now. You draped it over his body and your legs the best you could, it was a bit difficult considering the size difference between you two, but you managed the best you could. After a couple button presses and a huff from Ratchet due to you asking him to turn off the light, the movie began.

The screen displayed whimsical colors as exciting music erupted from the speakers, immediately capturing the prime’s attention. You could see vibrant hues dance along his cheeks and nearly child like wonder swirl in his eyes, the way he processed every sentence and action was endearing, especially considering you’re doing something as small as watching a movie. You could practically see the cogs turning in his head as he clung to every word and movement of the characters, the sight of such a strong bot finally getting a more than well deserved break was heartwarming.

Part way through the movie your hand drifted into his hair, immediately raking your fingers through his soft locks. There was the slightest, almost undetectable, tensing in his body before he eased into the touch, even trying to cuddle closer to the best of his abilities. You could feel how he sunk into you even more as he watched the screen, eventually letting a yawn slip from his mouth. He fought to stay awake though, hellbent on seeing how the main character beats the antagonist and resolves the main issue at hand. Optimus was much more exhausted than he let on, even he didn’t realize just how tired he was. By now he’s twisted to lay on his side and his upper body was layered on top of your abdomen, arm wrapped somewhat around your hip with his head laying on your stomach. Eventually his eyelids grew too heavy and drifted closed, his fleshy frame softened ever so slightly as sleep overcame the poor mech. Your hand still danced around his hair, mindlessly playing with the strands as a similar fatigue settled its way deep into your bones. The ending of the movie will remain unknown (to Optimus at the very least) as you both dozed off, getting some well deserved rest.

————————————

sorry this took me ages!!! between surgery, mental health stuff, and being exhausted every day it’s been in the works for a lot longer than i intended!!!!

[guardevoir]

Fiber arts update:

Warped the loom for a second, simple scarf for practice purposes: (the camera is lying to you btw, the blue is actually really vibrant)

I'm figuring out several things here: Firstly, just plain horizontal stripes are boring. Secondly, my shuttle is a mess because I didn't pay attention to the direction colors would be coming off of it again. Made it work, but notes taken for next time. Thirdly, I've found SO many fun and spicy new ways to utterly fuck up my warp tension! I am studying those fuck-ups like particularly odd bugs. Fourthly, there are ALSO so many interesting ways to fuck up your selvedges! The same thing applies. Fifthly, despite all the ????? I've got going on, I adore doing this nonsense and I can't wait to have my wheel free so I can spin for weaving.

Then, spindles! Still working on the alpaca/merino stuff on the big spindle, and having an excellent time with it, even if alpaca is fuzzy bullshit. I like the way this spindle spins; the slowness of it takes some getting used to, but the more rim-weighted distribution of the weight here is just so forgiving and chill compared to my regular bottom-whorl spindle. You have to fuck up SO badly to drop this one by comparison, too.

Then, the viscose nonsense is also progressing well: Worked on it on the train a lot a couple days ago, because that's something you can actually do with a spindle that small - less space being taken up by the spindle shaft means more space for yarn, even while sitting. Pretty neat!

And on my regular spindle, I've got Merino/silk now! 'Tis the season for not having a single easy, straightforward fiber on a drop spindle, apparently.

Didn't get too much done on it yet, mostly because this one's harder to use while sitting than the Turkish ones and I haven't done a lot of standing around lately.

And on the wheel, I still have the royal blue Merino I'm working on. Also not a huge amount of progress there because I've been out and about quite a bit (also, new shiny loom), but I'm slowly chipping away at it every day!

And on a Temperature Project note: Still haven't made a decision; I'm just tracking temperatures for now while I figure out what I want to do.

I'm also currently looking at blending boards so I can get more creative with my yarns, but idk whether to go for 19cm or 40cm width, and whether I want a prebuilt one or trust myself to find a good cutting board and handle a staple gun.

[just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi]

Please don’t feel obligated to answer this, but what’s your opinion on female whumpees? I know that it’s a big no-no for a lot of people, and I was just curious because I can’t find anything on your page.

Hey anon! It’s okay I understand 💛

Pls don’t like. Cancel me for this I’m trying.

I don’t really write female whumpees, but I’m aware of it. I’m not proud of that either?

To be very honest y’a girl is really struggling with her body. Accepting it. Connecting with it. Struggling with “femininity”. I don’t like being “culturally” female. Honestly I really hate it. It’s A long story. I’m not trans I’m just… damaged lol. (For the love of fuck don’t read this and make some judgment of my stance on trans peeps. 🏳️‍⚧️🏳️‍⚧️🏳️‍⚧️ we love and support our trans peeps 🏳️‍⚧️🏳️‍⚧️🏳️‍⚧️ I’m saying my experience with my gender has been crushed into shameful dirt by the fucking American Fundamental Baptist Church) Purity culture is a real bitch. “Oh, raising my kids in the church is good for them they’ll be fine” ma’am… it will take years of therapy to fix the irreparable damage that American Christianity has done to me. 

My writing is 250% projection, and there are some topics I’m not ready to unpack with an audience.

So yeah, when it comes to writing I have some very serious and painful blocks that I’m slowly chipping away at. Allowing myself to connect to female characters, being open about NSFW content, some other stuff. Yes I’m in therapy lol. Sadly other incredibly painful and Ngl life-altering shit has happened lately and has taken precedence in therapy.

When it comes to other people? Do what you want! I think that reading stories from other perspectives is so important! Fiction is often a fantastic soft entry in to empathy and understanding!

[loominggaia]

FUTURE LG STORIES EXPOSED: PART 2

----> Part 1 Here <---

Please click the Part 1 link above for a full explanation. The following text contains MAJOR SPOILERS for the Looming Gaia series. For this reason I will place it under a cut.

Read at your own discretion!

ChroMight Technologies - The Freelance Good Guys are still in Zareen Capital, as their flight home got delayed due to sky pirate activity. They decide to visit Ojio since they're close by anyway. He's currently living in a crummy condo in the city. He shows them the project he’s been working on in his garage: the Mechaskema(™). He admits he borrowed a lot of money from the Kuzapa (Zareenite mafia) to make this prototype, but he needs a test subject to prove it works. If he doesn’t present something functional to the Kuzapa soon, they will break his kneecaps…or worse. He isn’t too picky about his test subject, but says they must be an adult person, not a monster or animal. There is a decent chance something could go wrong with this novel technology–including death. Once a person is locked into the Mechaskema, they can't remove it, so the volunteers must be warned beforehand. But if it works, it can enhance all of the user's senses, heal their ailments, and even extend their lifespan. The Freelance Good Guys offer to help him find a willing subject.

Ojio doesn’t expect them to find any candidates, but they actually bring him 4: A terminally-ill cancer patient named Nerio, a red elf. A poor, pregnant prostitute named Ditaphyra, a faun. A suicidal tech nerd named Lars, a human. And a legless, homeless, ex-Kuzapa goon named Siege, an ogre.

All of these candidates have little to lose and a lot to gain, so Ojio has a hard time choosing between them. He decides to sleep on it for a while. But then it’s too late: a Kuzapa goon is suddenly on his doorstep, and he’s forced to lock himself into the Mechaskema to spare his kneecaps. Luckily it works, and the Kuzapa goon is impressed enough to leave him alone for the time being.

The device is far from perfect, however, and it’s causing Ojio tremendous pain. His four candidates offer to help him work on it. In the end, they become his loyal friends and employees, and the Kuzapa give him enough money to purchase a warehouse where he can manufacture improved Mechaskema models. Each candidate gets one and their lives are changed for the better. Ojio is still in debt to the Kuzapa and probably will be for quite a while, but if he plays his cards right, his company will strike it big enough to escape their clutches.

Disgraceful Daughter - Disgrace sends Goryx on a mission to capture a priestess of Love and Light. Goryx decides to go the extra mile and capture a minervae. He goes to Taybiya and introduces himself to Patience, telling her he regrets joining the evil Crescent Cult and he wants her help to redeem himself. Patience takes pity on him and wants to help, but his ruse doesn’t fool High Priestess Hope. She tells him to go away and warns Patience that there is no hope for some people. Patience doesn’t believe her and tries to help Goryx behind her back.

Goryx eventually betrays her and uses her as a bargaining chip to capture Hope. Hope sacrifices her freedom to save Patience, and Goryx whisks her away to the Divine of Hate’s lair. Disgrace’s scribes deface her Tome of Infinity with hateful manifestos, written in the blood of tortured innocents. This corrupts Hope into a twisted minervae named Tragedy, who gains power from the suffering of others.

The Princess Slave and the Peasant Prince - The Freelance Good Guys get a contract from a Morite nobleman, who wants them to rescue his wife from bandits. They track down the bandits and find out their “captive” is Skel’s ex-lover, Jasenia. She secretly hired the bandits to  get her away from her terrible husband. Jasenia tells Skel she made a mistake and begs him to take her back. He is reluctant, still angry at her for betraying him in the past, but the Freelance Good Guys at least offer to take her back to the Hollow, as she has nowhere else safe to go.

Jasenia’s beauty quickly attracts attention in the Hollow. Skel rejects her at first, yet he can’t stand the sight of other men flirting with her, so he begrudgingly agrees to be with her again. Jasenia is happy at first, but then Skel begins treating her like a slave as payback for the way she treated him in the past. When she tries to stand up for herself, he reminds her of how much she hurt him, and she convinces herself that she deserves this treatment. Skel’s friends and neighbors take notice and they don’t like what they see. Several of them try to talk Skel into treating Jasenia better, and others try to talk Jasenia into leaving Skel, but neither of them listen and continue to trudge through this miserable relationship together.

Eventually the crew receives a relevant contract, and Evan decides that Skel is just the man for the job. A woman hires him to threaten her abusive husband into treating his family better, but by the time Skel arrives, it’s already too late. He witnesses a grisly scene that hits too close to home and shakes him to his core, and he rushes back to the Hollow.

Jasenia decided to give up on their relationship and began packing her bags while Skel was away. He comes home early and catches her just in time, promising to treat her like his princess from now on. As a fae, he is bound by his own promise, but he doesn’t regret a thing as the two begin working through their pain together. Likewise, Jasenia promises to treat him like her prince. Their relationship improves significantly, and the crew enjoys how much nicer Skel is when Jasenia’s around. At long last, the miserable goblin finally seems to be happy. Lukas tells Evan that Skel’s last contract must have scared him straight after all. Evan replies that the contract was never even completed, and contract or not, it was still Skel’s decision to change the way he treats others.

More parts to come...

(I just want to mention that even if you've read these, you haven't been 100% spoiled. A LOT of details and B-plots are missing from these summaries!)

*

Questions/Comments?

Lore Masterpost

Read the Series

[elialys]

Post 4x22. Peter and Olivia go to Massive Dynamic to discuss the possibility of their unborn child having inherited Cortexiphan from Olivia.

We're playing the odds, Peter. I mean, what do you really think our chances are of having a normal life?

Those words, spoken by Olivia a few months ago, regularly pop in Peter’s mind.

Until her attack, they’d been experiencing what turns out to be a false sense of normalcy for a grand total of six weeks, Peter feeling like they were actually beating those odds, for once.

The move from her apartment to their house had been smooth, smoother by far than any other significant milestone in their relationship up to that point. Nothing was lost, no furniture damaged, and the only things they did leave behind were memories neither of them cared much to hold on to.

This change in location had been oddly therapeutic to Peter, who for the first time since the Incident on that ship embraced the irrefutable truth: the woman he loved was alive and healthy, and so was their baby girl.

Now right in the middle of her second trimester of pregnancy, they’d both been enjoying the side effects that came with Olivia having a changing body overflowing with hormones. Cravings, which were not unusual at this stage, were a big part of it—all kinds of cravings.

The universes permitting, they’d always had a healthy sex life, regularly spiced up by  the occasional ‘we almost died’ workdays. They’d certainly never shied away from seeking the other out whenever that particular need arose.

In Olivia’s case, that need had been arising a lot lately, way beyond the typical cant sleep or the alarm just went off and I’m half-asleep but okay sessions. Bathroom, living room, kitchen…by now they’d officially baptized every room of their house—more than once in some cases.

They’d also indulged outside the house, that one time she’d straddled him as soon as she’d turned her car off, badly parked in their driveway, simply because Peter had stared at her ‘a bit too intently’ at a red light.

Once they were done—Olivia was often done before him these days—she’d rested her forehead on his shoulder and grunted, annoyed.

“This hormonal bullshit is getting out of hand,” she’d muttered.

“Oh, I think it’s fine,” Peter had chipped in, not exactly complaining.

* READ MORE ON AO3 *

[caitemis-art]

project moon debacle thoughts

I’ve had a lot of time to let this stew in my brain so might as well spill my thoughts to get them out of my head. If you have no idea what’s going on (hi mutuals) or aren’t in the mood for reading this kinda thing, scroll past and have a good day i guess

Worst part about all this is probably all the misinformation. I see lots of points cycled as fact despite being dubious at best and “source: dude trust me” at worst (even by those with good intentions). I encourage everyone to do extensive research before committing to an opinion!

As for Veilmori, I doubt they’re coming back. Even if PM extends an offer, they might not even take it at this point. Regardless, I wish them the best!

As for the “firing”? All that’s certain is that the contract isn’t being renewed or something like that. Not quite as extreme as firing, but not illegal afaik and there’s still a safety net for Veilmori. I’m unfortunately not well aware of the contract’s terms. All I know is that it’s somewhat common for Korean contracts to have a clause for the kind of situation that sparked the termination. (EDIT: Apparently the “firing over the phone” was a legit thing - very illegal - and Veilmori was a regular, not an outsourced contract or anything. Doesn’t help that PM is being vague about her employment status atm.)

Also I find it funny that this is the second time a “person fired over feminist social media” thing happened in PM. First time was a lot more clear-cut in comparison (very radical feminist group) but still, deja vu.

Honestly my biggest concern is the treatment of employees if the firsthand statements are to be believed. Hopefully this situation creates some major changes for the better in PM.

I doubt that PM being late on putting out a statement is a sign of something bad. A bit messy, perhaps, but legal red tape can get finicky. The statement we got doesn’t really say much, and it’s still unclear why exactly the termination took place. Honestly, I would be fine with everything if they just outright said the reason. Again, not sure if this is legal red tape or not. Anything’s better than a vague “it wasn’t because of her views” because even that could still relate to the social media stuff (i.e. not because of having views, but because of expressing them on an account publically and clearly connected to the individual). (EDIT: Altho I’ve been told firing employees over social media stuff is a big no-no, I’m sure there’s exceptions and it, sadly, has happened before. This situation’s case against Veilmori is flimsy at best though, and I wouldn’t be surprised if it was illegal outside of loopholes.)

Last thing to note is that this whole situation is a messy cocktail of social problems and long-held frustrations. Nobody wins in this scenario. PM was between a rock and a hard place and are still chipping away at the rock they are being crushed by. I’m not even gonna pretend I’m an expert on the gender war and whatnot. It’s definitely helpful to not view the situation through an ethnocentric lens though. That’s not to say you can’t maintain opinions based on your own views on feminism, but be sure to not ignore the context either.

Hopefully, like last time, everything can be cleared up and PM can get back on its feet. Currently my view is “not angry, just disappointed” for now. For now, though, wait for new developments and take care of yourself. Your feelings, good or bad, are absolutely valid and whether you continue to support PM or not is entirely up to you! You’re not a bad person for choosing either option.

[balkanradfem]

Close to the every end of the year, I go through all of the photos I've taken that year, and select the ones that give me the greatest feeling of joy. I put them into the 'Favourites of x year' folder, and I go thru them when I need some happiness, or just to be reminded of all of the good things I did that year. They're photos of my baby plants growing, then my garden giving produce. Me hanging out with friends, and going on field trips, seeing new things. Me sewing clothes and pillows, paintings I've made, projects I've completed and feel proud of. Every time I found something that I loved or got a gift that would continue to make me happy, I keep those pictures to remind me of how good it felt.

This year, the picture that made me most happy, that makes my heart do a little flip in joy, is this one:

That's the baby basil I grew in the beginning of 2022, and for some reason seeing it just makes me crazy happy. I even borrowed a camera to take a quality picture of it. I stared at that picture longingly, until by the end of the day, I just decided to plant new basil. It's fall, it's late to start anything, it's not going to grow well, or grow big during the winter. But, I want more of that happiness, I want to watch the basil grow!

I already have two little clone basil plants I grew from cuttings, I put them next to the freshly planted ones just for moral support (so the basil knows it's safe to grow here, since, there's elderly basil already there, you see.)

Unrelated to that, I'm on the poison watch again. I've been gathering parasol mushrooms this morning, and I gathered a lot. Now, the way you recognize that the parasol mushroom is the true and edible type, you need to check if the ring on the stem is movable or not. Movable=edible. If it's not movable, then it's a poisonous copy of the mushroom, one of the very deadly ones.

On the picture is a good one, with a movable ring.

However.. I stumbled on some mushrooms that looked exactly like parasol mushrooms, but had no ring at all. I studied them, and figured they had to be the true parasol mushrooms; I can tell a true one from fake just from the texture on the cap. The poisonous ones have a different texture. The mushrooms without the ring were also a bit eaten on the edge. I decided that what happened here, is a slug started climbing this mushroom, ate the ring, then chipped away a bit more, and went away. So the ring was there initially, it was just eaten before I could collect the mushroom. Confident, I took the mushroom home with me.

Now you must be thinking, but balkanradfem, if you had found soo many of these mushrooms, surely you didn't need to risk eating those suspicious ones? Well. I did find a lot, actually, too many. So many I called the plant lady to inform her I'm bringing her a kg of mushrooms. She is usually into poisons, but strangely careful with mushrooms. She won't eat the ones without the rings. There were about 3-4 without rings, so I took those. Brought them home, made a soup. I put some rosemary in the soup out of curiosity how it would taste like; it tasted weird. Couldn't tell if it was because the mushrooms were bad, or because I put too much rosemary in. (I am not gonna put anymore rosemary in mushroom soups.)

Anyway, I'll have to wait for 6-24 hours to find out if I happened to ingest some poison, apparently you're more safe if the poisoning effects come later! I'm not too worried, I'm still confident those were the true parasol mushrooms, but, who knows. I just want to eat more soup.

Also, all of the sources, including the plant lady, claim that the parasol mushroom can't be dried for storage? I don't accept this and I'm currently drying some on my balcony. We'll see.

Look how alien-like it looks tho. Creepy mushroom.

[krsive-writes]

Speedrun

Title: Speedrun

Author: krsive

Rating: T

Tags: Empty Calories, Fluff

They called him Super Rick Fan, which Morty had to admit was a fair assessment. He just couldn’t help it. Ricks were just so cool. They were tall and handsome, with those sapphire eyes and cocky grins. And Ricks could do anything, anything in the world. They made portal guns and drove space ships and captured teams of Mortys to grace them with their godly presence. Super Rick Fan would have been the best Morty a Rick could ever have if only he got the chance, but for some reason they always fled him. Even his own grandpa had pronounced him crazy and dumped him on the Citadel one day, never to return.

On a normal Sunday afternoon, Morty sat in his claustrophobic living room working on his new hat. He had designed it himself, and now he was lovingly rendering the peaks of a classic Rick hairdo in blue felt. In wandered his roommate, Mixologist Morty, late rising after a closing shift at the bar. Morty barely looked up until Mixy came to hover over him, casually holding a bowl and spoon.

"Ok, d-don't start," Morty said, watching Mixy chew on a bite of his cereal.

"This is so cringe," Mixy replied, his mouth full.

"M-Maybe I'm cringe but at least I know what I want."

"There's no 'maybe' about it.” Mixy sat on the other end of the couch.

"I can't help it. Every time I think about a big strong Rick h-holding me close, I just..." He sighed, feeling sappy.

"You're a h-hopeless case," Mixy agreed.

"I want my own Rick so bad. Is that too much to ask? I-I'd be a good Morty. No, the best Morty if a Rick would just give me a chance."

The corner of Mixy's mouth twitched upwards. "Bet you'd do anything to get a date with a Rick."

"To have a Rick pay attention to me a-a-and kiss me and..." He trailed off into private, erotic thoughts, face warming.

"So, say I had a Rick's number right here," said Mixy, holding up a folded piece of paper between his fingers.

"Gimme!" said Morty, making a lunge.

Mixy snatched the paper away. "Ah, ah, ah! What's it worth to you?"

"Anything."

"Like cleaning the food trap in the dishwasher?"

Morty's stomach soured just thinking about it. "The one we haven't cleaned in two years?"

"The one and only."

"Is it a real Rick's real number? And d-don't lie."

"It really is. Last night this guy came to the bar, and..."

The previous night...

"He was such a cute li’l shit, look," Rick slurred, waving the wallet-sized photo in the bartender's face. In it, a 6 year old Morty smiled expansively at the camera, his face smeared with blue from his melting popsicle.

"Uh huh." The bartender spared the picture a glance, which Rick appreciated. He was already planning to tip big because the 'tender was a Morty—probably exploited, poor thing—but he mentally added to the total for the kind gesture. "Tell him I said cute pic."

"He's dead." Rick's melancholy was mellowed by the haze of alcohol.

"Geez. I'm sorry. Another?" The bartender held up the bottle of run he'd been serving Rick from.

Rick nodded and nudged his empty glass towards the boy, who mixed him a new rum and coke. "I never got to meet him in person. He was 8. Car accident."

"That sucks."

"I just want my very own Morty to love." Rick gazed despondently at the photo before putting it away.

"Aren't there tons of Mortys up for adoption?"

"The agencies, uh..." Embarrassed, Rick bought himself a moment by taking a drink. "They all rejected me. Too ‘enthusiastic.’"

"How about catching one?"

"I couldn't do that to a sweet little Morty! Those manipulator chips are barbaric.” He sighed. "I would never hurt a Morty. I just want to hold one close and count his tiny fingers and smell his hair..."

"You're a real Super Fan, aren't you?"

"I'm the number one Morty fan of all time," Rick agreed

"So, actually, I kind of know a guy you m-might like."

"A Morty?" Rick couldn't hide his excitement.

"Yeah. He's really into Ricks. I can give him your number if—“

Rick was already scribbling it down on his receipt.

And now back to the present...

Morty was shaking in his shoes, pacing while the phone rang. What if Rick didn't answer? What if he didn't want to go out? So many things could go wrong. Maybe he should just hang—

''Hello?" a Rickish voice said, flattened a bit by the phone line.

"Rick?"

"Morty?"

"Is this the Rick who wants to go on a date with Mixy's—th-th-the bartender's roommate?''

"You’re the bartender's roommate?"

"Yeah. I'm..." Morty's mouth felt so dry. "I’m F-68—“

"Can I just call you Morty?"

Morty's smile was so big it made his cheeks hurt. "Yeah! I mean y-yeah. I'd like that. What's your—“

"I'd like it if you just call me Rick, too."

"I'd really like that."

"I know it's super fast, but..." Rick took a shaky breath. "Are you doing anything tomorrow?”

"Nope! I-I'm all free," said Morty, now planning to tell his manager he was sick. This was far more important.

''The Gaflorpian cherry trees are blooming. We could have a picnic.”

"I'll pack it! I-I'm a good cook," said Morty, though he had never really tried before. How hard could it be?

"We could meet at the 12th Residential District City Park at noon.”

"Sounds great, Rick."

"Yeah. Sounds great." Morty could hear the sappy smile in Rick's voice.

Cooking went very, very poorly, so Morty waited the next day at the park gate with a backpack stuffed with cheese, fruit, and crackers instead. He was wearing his new Rick-hair hat despite Mixy's efforts to make him leave it behind. It was only ll:41, but he was already crying from the stress, fearing that he would be stood up.

Then a special Rick rounded the corner, headed for the park. He was wearing a homemade felt hat shaped like a Morty's hair, As soon as they saw each other, something sparked between them. The air was electric, fizzing like champagne with barely contained energy as they made introductions. But they were both shy and relatively quiet on their way to a private spot beneath the trees.

Petals fell like rosy snow every time the wind shifted. They made bashful small talk and nibbled the charcuterie (it turned out that Morty wasn't a fan of most of the fancy cheeses, but he pretended anyway), both blushing and giggly. Soon their shoulders began to relax and their words flowed more smoothly.

"Ok, ok. Me next. favorite." color. One, two, three—“

Both answered at the same time.

"Blue!" shouted Morty.

"Yellow!" shouted Rick.

Morty fell into a fit of giggles. "We should both start liking green, then." His eyes flicked up to Rick's. The warmth he saw there gave him palpitations.

"We could live in a little green house," said Rick, though then he seemed to catch himself. "I mean if we—“

"We should!" Morty put his fingers to his lips. "I-I mean..."

Rick reached out, silent, taking Morty's hand tenderly. Morty's eyes welled with tears. This felt like a dream come true. He gazed longingly at Rick, hoping against hope.

"If you let me love you, I'll love you forever," said Rick. Morty could hear a tremble in his voice.

''Oh, Rick..."

"I feel like I've waited for you for so long. I..."

"Me, too. I love you already." Morty moved forward on his knees, and Rick held him close. "Will you be m-my Rick?"

"Of course I will, Morty. And I’ll protect you, I’ll make you smile. I'll be so good to you, Morty. And we'll run around all over the place doing Rick and Morty things, just every day, Rick and Morty stuff. Forever and ever, Rick and Morty, in the green house Rick and—“

Morty couldn't wait any longer. He threw his arms around Rick and crashed their mouths together in an inelegant kiss. Rick pushed his hat off to tangle his fingers in Morty's curls, pulling him in to deepen the kiss. Rick's tongue was so nice against his own, warm and strong and assertive. Morty let himself be kissed, let himself be lowered to the grass on his back. Rick's strong body held him down. Morty's nerves stood on end, and when Rick asked his permission to touch him all he had to say was yes, yes, yes!

Two months later, after the honeymoon, Rick and Morty sat together in a slowly cooling bath in their little green house. Rick's magical fingers were kneading the ache out of Morty's back. They had never been so happy before, neither of them.

"My Morty," Rick sighed, as he sometimes did. It was like he couldn't believe how lucky he was.

"You make me feel s-so special."

"You are special." Rick kissed the tip of his ear. "You're my Morty. The best Morty."

"My Rick. The best Rick." Morty craned around to catch Rick’s lips. They kissed, lingering, heat beginning to build.

"'You’re all..." Rick whispered.

"…I've ever wanted," Morty finished.

[jaxteller87]

Big Papa 2

I meticulously scurried around the house, slowly chipping away at my never-ending list of chores. Jax was out on a run, just a short two-day trip this time. If it were any longer, he wouldn’t have even considered going. Despite being fully healed after my grueling six months of physical rehabilitation, I still didn’t have my full range of energy back, although time would change this. I’m just happy that my hair has grown out completely. Juice had promised to keep an eye on me, but I reassured him that I could handle myself during the day. I just needed him to be at the house by sunset. That was a rule I had recently added to our little agreement. You see when Teller wasn’t around, I couldn’t play the role of my own babysitter. And personally, I knew that I didn’t need one all the time, nor did I want one. For longer than I can remember now, that’s how it’s been, so I struck a deal with Juice – and as long as he was there at sunset, everything would be fine. And surprisingly, Teller agreed to that addition without much fuss.

As I went about my chores, a familiar tune was in the air, and I couldn’t help but sing along, “How I love it when you call me Big Poppa.” The rhythmic beats of 90’s R&B still held a special place in my heart. Although, in all fairness, Biggie was more renowned for his rap rather than R&B back then. Taking a moment to soak in the nostalgia, I glanced around the kitchen before wheeling myself down the hall towards the shower. The sweltering heat in Charming that day was nothing short of miserable and quite disgusting.

Once I entered the steamy bathroom, I turned my gaze towards the shower door, only to find my ol man grinning at me. He had taken off his clothes, wearing nothing more but a mischievous smile. My smile grew wider as Jax swung open the shower door and effortlessly lifted me onto his lap. To say I was ecstatically surprised by his unexpected presence would have been a massive understatement.

“I thought you weren’t coming home until late?” I asked, wrapping my arms around his neck.

“Yeah, well, what can I say? I left early,” he whispered, nibbling my neck and playfully grabbing my breast, “plus, I guess I just missed you too much.”

“Let me guess; you didn’t tell anyone you left?”

“Who would I need to tell?” he answered disconcertingly, kissing my chest.

 “Oh, I don’t know, Clay, maybe?” I said sarcastically.

“Fuck Clay. He could have sent anyone else on that run, but instead, he makes his shit plan my problem.”

“Oh, anything you want to talk about?” I asked, already knowing that he wouldn’t bring me into club business. Not that he didn’t trust me; I just knew how much he needed me in the other world, like an anchor for him to hold onto. I don’t think he’d have much of a life outside the Sons if it weren’t for me.

“Nah, I just heard him telling Bobby that since you’ve been cleared, I need to focus a little more on the club. In the meantime, him and Gemma are rackin’ up quite the bill between Hobby Lobby and Pottery Barn.”

“Hobby Lobby and Pottery Barn? Should I even ask?”

“Nope,” he said, kissing my neck, “just another one of Gemma’s home projects. She has Clay so whipped; I wouldn’t be surprised if she started picking out his outfits soon too.”

“Oh,” I said softly.

“Let’s not talk about them,” he suggested.

“Okay. What do you want to talk about then?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe about how much I missed you today,” he started sucking on my neck, just below my ear.

I moaned uncontrollably, “Easy Teller, I don’t have concealer to cover that up.”

He stopped, moving down my chest, softly using his teeth to bite my breast. I dug my fingertips into his back as I tried to contain my emotion, but I couldn’t help it and moaned even louder. “Oh goodness,” I said softly.

Before I knew it, he had me up against the wall, passionately loving me. “Oh goodness, Big  Poppa,” I closed my eyes and tilted my head back, letting him have his way with me and loving every moment of it.

After a short yet invigorating experience in the shower, we found ourselves naked, cuddling in bed, and enjoying each other’s company. Jax has always been wonderful with aftercare making sure I have a drink, more importantly, cuddles afterward.

“Feel better, sweetheart?” I whispered, nuzzling my head under his chin.

“Much better, darlin’,” he chuckled a little.

“What’s funny?”

“Nothing,” he smiled and then chuckled again.

“No, tell me,” I pinched his nipple and sat up in bed, giving him the look.

“Ow! Okay,” he said, rubbing his chest, “I got you to say, oh goodness, not once but twice.”

“Oh,” I playfully slapped his chest and snuggled up to him again, “don’t get too full of yourself, cowboy.”

“Don’t act like you didn’t like it,” he stroked my back.

“But I didn’t like it,” I said, and the stroking suddenly stopped.

“What?”

“Yeah, I didn’t like it at all,” I paused for dramatic effect, “I LOVED it!”

“Oh, you little shit!” he flipped around, positioning himself on top of me.

He leaned in to kiss me, but I playfully turned away. He tried again, but I turned my head to the other side. Then, with a forceful yet gentle motion, he grabbed both my wrists, pinning me to the bed, and began deeply kissing me.

As we kissed passionately, I felt him enter me. Almost instantly, we found ourselves grinding in a sweet rhythm. My hands slowly glided down his back, leaving marks on him from my fingernails. When I reached his tight ass, I grabbed him, a cheek in each hand, and forced him deeper inside me.

“Fuck me, Big Poppa,” I moan loudly, “fuck me hard!”

“I love you, Amber,” he moaned, nibbling on my earlobe. He continuously penetrated me, just like moments earlier in the shower, but somehow, this time was even more incredible.

“Harder, Poppa,” I managed to say amidst all my moaning, but I was nearly breathless.

Unlike the quick little rendezvous in the shower, this round went the distance, and I climaxed twice before he got off.

            “Have I told you lately that you’re amazing?” he asked, rolling over beside me.

            “Yeah, but I don’t get tired of hearing it,” I looked down and smiled at his manhood as it still throbbed from our little romp.

I love that man. I love him with every fiber of my being.

A few days had passed, and I found myself at the clubhouse, seeking some semblance of entertainment. The croweaters, or as Donna and I affectionately referred to them, the lurking lizards, were hanging around as usual, eyeing the club members with an insatiable hunger. Rolling out of Gemma’s office, I couldn’t help but notice a few of the girls practically drooling over something. Curiosity got the better of me, and I peeked outside.

Unsurprisingly, I spotted Tig, Bobby, and Hap perched on their bikes alongside my ol man. I couldn’t blame those girls; there was an undeniable allure about the boys when they were astride their powerful machines. Good lord, the sight alone made me weak in the knees. “Just take me now,” I thought, unable to resist the primal attraction that stirred within me. And then, as if fate had heard my silent plea, my husband started walking towards me, wearing a devastatingly charming smile.

“Come here,” he said, his voice oozing with confidence as he swept me off my wheelchair, effortlessly carrying me towards his old room. It was another one of Jax’s not-so-subtle ways of staking his claim, letting those lurking lizards know that I belonged to him and him alone.

“Meeting go okay?” I asked as we snuggled on the old bed.

“It did,” he smiled, helping me wrap my leg around his, “but I wanted to have a little meeting with you, one-on-one.”

“Is that so?” I hugged him, pulling him on top of me.

“It is,” he grinned, kissing my lips, “I love you, baby.”

“I love you too, Big Poppa.” And round three commenced.

[do-u-ever-just]

WEEKLY WIP

Something I've been working on in between Drum Sticks and Rose Quartz and a different, bigger project. I think a lot about how Naruto was so alone as a kid, and how a lot of filler episodes in the anime drill this home. And how different his life is now that he's the village's hero, hokage and a doting father.

Tags: SasuNaru, Boruto era but canon divergent, Naruto growing up, feat. original character

Naruto didn't have a lot of money growing up. A monthly stipend given to him by Hiruzen, and probably out of the old man’s own pocket.  It was never enough, but even when he complained, he didn't get any more.  Sometimes even less.  

He remembers having only a few ryo left, and despite knowing the prices by heart, had tottered out to the vending machines to see if maybe, magically, the prices had become cheaper and he could afford a snack.  Maybe even a cup of instant ramen.  His last hot meal had been three days ago; it would be another week before his next.

He stared forlornly at the crisp packets and the bottles of ramune and the strawberry milk.  He stared at the curry ramen, the seafood ramen, the hot, hot ramen.  His stomach hurt.

Tomorrow, he'd have to start stealing from the village vendors. They'd throw stones at him for it.  Maybe, if he was lucky, they'd throw fruit.  If he was even luckier, the fruit wouldn't be bruised or moldy.

His last 3 ryo crunches in his tiny fist.

-

Sasaki tugs on Naruto’s trousers.  Naruto picks up his head from his desk, and looks at his son.  It's getting late.  They'll have to go home soon; Sasaki shouldn't be hanging around his office at night like this.  It's not his fault their teacher got sick and cut the school day short.  Sasuke is away again, and with Sasaki still too young to know the way home, he had made for the Hokage mansion instead.

Everyone in the office knows to let any Uchiha through to Naruto no matter what.  But Naruto had felt guilty being unable to entertain Sasaki all afternoon.

Sasaki looks up at him with big, dark eyes now.

“Papa, I’m hungry.”

Naruto looks at the time.  It’s almost six.  Everyone else in the office has gone home.  Boruto will be heading back from training too.  

Naruto stretches his arms above his head, heaving a satisfied sigh when his shoulders pop.

“It’s definitely that time, isn’t it?” Naruto says.  Sasaki holds fast to his pant leg.  “Let’s get a snack on the way home.”

Sasaki nods.

They stop by the vending machines.  Those same vending machines.  Naruto fishes a few ryo out of his wallet.  

“Which one do you want?” Naruto asks.  He has his eye on a giant chocolate chip cookie for himself.  

Sasaki remains silent.  His brows pinch.  An expression of concentration takes over his face, too heavy for a four year old.

“I can't decide,” he finally admits.  Naruto chuckles.  “The shrimp chips? No!  The strawberry milk with the funny cow.  Wait! Umm-”

Sasaki looks genuinely distressed over the amount of choices.

Naruto looks to the array of snacks again.  He looks to his wallet.  He slides a few coins in and presses the button for the milk with the picture of the funny cow.  Sasaki makes a noise of protest, before he watches as Naruto slides in a few more coins and chooses the packet of shrimp chips beside it.

“Let’s take both!” Naruto announces.  He crouches beside his son and takes the food out of the slot.  Sasaki takes them carefully, like maybe he's not allowed such spoils.  “We should get something for Boruto too.”

Naruto chooses a packet of hard candy that turns their tongues blue.

“And for papa!” Sasaki says.

“Right!” Naruto is out of change, so shoves a note into the slot and picks a can of soda for himself, but just to cover all his bases- “Will papa like the salt and vinegar chips?” He asks Sasaki.

Sasaki, little arms ladened with more snacks than he’s ever seen, jumps for joy while Naruto retrieves the chips for Sasuke.  But at this point, “We may as well just take one of everything!”

Naruto has spent more money than he should, and he has to make a makeshift sack with his hokage coat to carry the rest of the snacks.  Sasaki grips his milk and shrimp chips tight in one arm, the other holding Naruto’s fingers in his tiny fist, as they make their way home.

[neon-junkie]

i feel like eddie would be the king of body worship. feeling bad about your weight? he’ll show you how attractive he thinks you are. self conscious of acne or scars? he’ll think of a way to make you love them. i feel like he would love everything about you, perfect and imperfect, and he’d show it, in any way he can ;)

Oh, he's definitely into body worship, but the reason why isn't so nice.

That man has gone through his fair share of bullying. He's been picked on for everything - long hair, scruffy appearance, acne, skinny frame, fashion sense, music taste, etcetc.

He always brushes it off, bites back, but the words still hurt. It's the type of thing that he thinks about late at night, when he's struggling to fall asleep.

He hates it. He fucking hates it. Eddie can't believe that someone could be so full of hatred, that they project that onto another person, over nothing, as well. What has Eddie done to ever deserve this?!

And when he starts dating you, he notices that you suffer with the same self-conscious issues, and makes it his mission to wipe those thoughts away.

It's little, at first. Ensuring that he's tended to every corner of you during sex, complimenting your appearance on the daily, pointing out the minor things that he really likes about you.

Eddie wants to ensure that you know you're loved, and hopefully, with it, your self-consciousness will slowly begin to chip away.

You can return the favour, but Eddie will brush you off. "You're the one who deserves affection, babe," he'll explain.

Eddie just isn't used to people being nice to him, and whilst he doesn't mean to reject your praise, he has to. But for every ten compliments that he gives you, one brick of his exterior is broken away.

So, yes, body worship is a big thing for Eddie. He gives it straight away, but receiving? Eh, that might take a few months of work on your end, but you'll have him loving himself in no time!