#but then i realized that they seem to coincide with my cycle. and with how bad my periods already are i think that tracks.

[leofrith]

yeaaaaah so i think i have pmdd

[jlfletcher]

All I Really Want Is You

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x fem!reader

Warnings: bullet wounds, mentions of potential death (no one dies, just a small injury during a mission). This is told in 3rd person limited POV (of Miguel, mostly?). One-sided kind of. Reader can speak Spanish (is that considered a warning?).

Summary: This is how it all began for Miguel. From mere coincidence to something more. (Fluff/Romance)

Excerpt: "He realizes something and it’s arguable in his mind... Out of all the Spiders, you’re the anomaly."

A/N: This narrative is actually repurposed from my friend's spidersona story. It didn't have any romance in it originally but my version does and the more I wrote, the more it diverged from their initial story. They said they liked this version and gave me the go ahead to post it because they'll probably never share their's anyway.

Special thank you to my friend who edited this thing. I'm grateful that they were able to help me turn my messy notes and ramblings in a cohesive story.

I get really inspired by music. So, if I do continue to publish installments of this story, they'll most likely be written with songs included.

Also, I'm sorry if there are any mistakes. I've never had to format such a long post like this on here before.

Word Count: 13.9k (This is a slow burn)

Breakdown

I'm overworking 'til the sundown

Don't see the light inside my head now

There’s a faint buzzing sound that fills Miguel’s workspace. His eyes are a bit bloodshot and itchy from his lack of blinking. He’s grown irritated by now after hours of surveillance and Lyla badgering him to just take a break already. He keeps swatting her away with languid flicks of his wrist while sighing and rubbing his temple. There’s an ache in his head that’s dull yet ever-present but he feels like rest will not come to him anytime soon. He also remembered that he wanted to run diagnostics on a few of his lab’s systems that would ultimately take a while. The testing is usually run automatically but he’s disabled the scheduled maintenance cycle in order to have tasks to do when he's restless like now. Unfortunately for Miguel’s overactive mind, things have mellowed out in the multiverse for the time being. He's been trying to fill his time as he waits for something, anything to happen. It's caused him to grow a bit on edge as of late. Yes, there are still plenty of anomalies to be dealt with but he’s found the late hours to have grown more quiet. It seems that the uncharacteristic silence has planted an eerie feeling in him that he just can’t shake. What if the moment he steps away, something arises? Lyla calls him paranoid but truthfully, he can’t take the risk of complacency.

Eventually, he plops into his chair and prepares to stare at the monitors for another who knows how many hours. He glances over the society’s various CCTV displays in a sluggish attempt at monitoring the building. Yet, something catches his attention. His eyes zero in on a lone figure in the engineering lab. He blinks a bit slowly and scoots closer to take a better look while disregarding the buttons on the control panel in front of him that actually allows him to zoom in on the feed. The thought had completely escaped his foggy brain thanks to his chronic sleep deprivation. Languidly, his eyes flicker to the time and back up. 4:13 am.

I need to see you in my window

There’s not a doubt in Miguel’s mind about what or more accurately who it may be. It’s your form hunched over the workbench. Your signature pair of shoes gives you away entirely. Frankly, it’s not a surprise at this point. This may be the fourth or fifth time he's noticed your presence at such an unorthodox hour. You always tend to stay late at HQ because of your own odd sleeping schedule. He’s overheard you mention to Jess that your universe has a slight daytime shift compared to the others but he didn’t consider it to be by this much. This was nonetheless a preferred choice of company, albeit in an entirely different area of the building from him, because you're quiet and focus on your work. He's not entirely sure if the two of you have interacted for more than a single minute. Perhaps, that's why he prefers you over others. He's never actually spoken to you outside of very few mission assignments and reports. You've caught his eye before. At first, he noticed you were a bit too quiet. It initially caused suspicion to sew itself within his brain. However, after a brief investigation into you performed by Lyla, he concluded that it's simply the way you behave. Now, when you catch his eye he assumes it's due to how you carry yourself relative to others, professional and efficient. Despite the distance between you two, both figurative and literal in this moment, he finds himself watching you through one of the many floating windows before him. His fingers finally slither among the control panel to switch to a different camera in the lab. After flicking through a couple of feeds, the screen changes to an angle that shows your face. Perhaps he's a bit too tired in this instance because his hazy brain barely registers the way his breath hitches in his throat momentarily.

He's seen your bare face only once before and it summoned the same reaction from him. He's taken aback by how you look. It's a bit of a surprise in all honesty. You're so, for lack of a better term, different. And that's not claimed in some common colloquial way. You are literally different. Here at the society, a handful of faces are circulated between the Spiders. However, yours is unique and undoubtedly you. He's only ever come across one of you, the one that's sitting and tinkering in one of his labs. The last and only time he saw your bare face was a fleeting glance before you quickly shoved your mask back on. He assumes you're a bit shy because of it. However, now he can take his time to really analyze your features. He sees how your brows pinch in concentration and how your eyes look a bit red. Ah, it appears you haven't been blinking properly like him either. He sees how your tongue gently swipes out from your mouth before you nip at your bottom lip. Your hands work on repairing a circuit board with your eyes focused on the corrosion you wipe off. He watches you for a while as you work, finding intrigue in the way you do such mundane tasks as repairing a PCB and reassembling a gadget. Eventually, you sit up and stretch a bit, before rubbing your face in what he collects as either exhaustion or boredom. He understands the feeling, truly. Yet his eyes widen a bit as your eyes look at the camera and he finds himself perking up when he sees you smile. He then zooms out to see that you’re conversing with Lyla. Despite the quick misunderstanding, he finds himself enjoying the scene before him. You speak to her so calmly and casually. Do you often speak with her? Many thoughts start to pop up in his mind about you and your overall enigmatic behavior. Your smile triggers hyperactivity to blossom in his mind, his thoughts reeling at the way you look. Your lips pinch together softly as one side of your mouth curls a bit more than the other. Your brows raise as you speak with Lyla, your contentment is evident. He's caught up in the details of your face and it's nearly instinctual the way the corners of his lips twitch in a subconscious attempt to mirror yours.

And I whisper

All I really want is you

What would you do?

He has formed this habit of watching you in the late nights and early mornings. At first, it was mere coincidence when his eyes lingered on you, maybe even out of some sense of caution, but now he finds himself seeking you out after a month of noticing your constant presence. Lyla teased him about being a creep but he usually just replies with a grunt or the occasional snarky comment. Every night you’re working on something and his curiosity is piqued. However, it appears you work efficiently given how it seems to be a new project every few nights or so. His eyes flutter a bit as he sees Lyla appear next to you. Judging by the way you react to her arrival, it’s just for a chat. He notices how your hands rest over one another in front of you as you nod at what Lyla says, laughing and blinking softly at her. You’re polite when listening, putting down whatever you’re working on to give her your attention. The only assumption he's made from it being that you're simply kind. His eyes are attracted to the way your thumbs twiddle around one another absentmindedly. Do you often fidget like that? He tries to think back on the previous times he witnessed your hands when they were not busy, which is not a common occurrence. And as he watches you, he strokes the panel button under his own thumb subconsciously as if it were the back of your hand. He’s only managed to conclude one thing about them and it’s not about how you fidget.

He mutters to himself deeply in observation, “Pequeñas.”

He looks at your hands, pixelated by the monitor, and then down at his own much bigger ones. He ponders momentarily about just how small they truly are. He's certain that if he were to measure them, the entire length would barely reach 7 inches while his are well past 9, probably even past 10 in actuality. If you placed your palm against his, his hand would completely dwarf yours. If you placed your palm against his... what would it fit like? What would it feel like? What would you do if he held your hand? Wait… why is he thinking about that?

“But,” he mumbles softly as he watches you walk off with Lyla in tow, “I think…”

Laying in the rain with you

Middle of June

It’s been two months since he fully took notice of you that night with his full attention; the night he seen you truly as yourself for the first time. From what Lyla has mentioned, you’ve been here almost every night since you joined the society. It doesn’t bother him that he hadn’t noticed you for so long. To him, it made sense. He often found himself drowned in work. Things were hectic for a while, a long while, but luckily during these past few months, things have been relatively easy. Emergency missions in the middle of the night have been few and far between and usually required only one person to complete them which is why Miguel has been manning the fort all by his lonesome for some time now. However, the only other spider permitted to be at HQ during the overnight hours is you thanks to your completely reversed day-night schedule. The two of you have been on a handful of late night missions together throughout this time but he has yet to speak to you about anything not regarding work. It’s a bit strange if he’s being truthful. You may be the only spider that has never spoken to him casually, ever. Sure, he’s suspected you are antisocial but he hadn’t anticipated it to be by this much. You don’t stand out, you stay focused on your work, and you never talk to anyone. Well, that last one isn’t too unbelievable given the fact that you’re only ever here when everyone else isn’t. Miguel can’t help but wonder if you have ever spoken to anyone in the Society without the intention of completing your professional duties? The closest to such an instance was the one time he heard you speak to Jess which was also the first time he had ever seen you. Jess was going to introduce you to him but he was busy having an argument with Hobie. It never grew to be physical but his shouting certainly must have put you off considering he never saw you around again after that. It makes sense, truthfully, since that was your first impression of him. You must think he's always shouting, irritated, and highly intolerant of disobeying his instruction. That is what he was yelling about at the time after all. Well, that is until he noticed you lingering around the building at night. Honestly, you weren’t even a thought in his mind until Lyla sent him a debriefing of you just before Jess officially assigned you to the night shift. He was going to protest, citing that you have no meritorious experience to do so or something like that but he found out that you don’t actually bother him like everyone else. However, he’s grown very aware of your presence as of late thanks to his more unoccupied overnight schedule.

He even has time to just sit and think about anything other than the multiverse now. Usually, this spare time is occupied by observing you. He likes to sit back and watch all the tasks you do with no one around. He finds it relaxing in a way, which is something he’s grateful for. He’s discovered many things about you through this newfound hobby. You tilt your head with a small pout when you’re confused. You often have music stuck in your head which is made evident by the way you nod your head rhythmically. You rub your face with both hands when you’re tired and only one hand when you’re bored. You like to take power naps under the workbench specifically in the left corner of the lab, closest to the door. You usually wear civilian clothing around HQ at night but always wear the same shoes. You don’t like coffee. You drink tea but it has to be hot with steam billowing from the cup. You drink water more often than tea though, but only at room temperature. You crack your knuckles in 30-minute intervals when you type or tinker for long periods of time. You yawn frequently when the air-conditioner is pointed at you… The list could go on. Honestly, he’s a bit taken aback by how much knowledge he’s retained of your behavior and mannerisms. Why is that exactly? He can’t just claim outright boredom. Watching you is something he avidly chooses to do because he likes it. Bored certainly isn't the word he'd use to describe how observing you makes him feel.

“Why am I doing this?”, he mutters deeply as his eyes watch you type away on a computer. Maybe it’s like a child with an ant farm. It’s simply interesting. No, that doesn’t quite sound right. Even ‘interesting’ doesn’t truly capture how he feels watching you every night.

Soon a bright search window pops up in front of him, making him flinch aggressively. “Lyla!”, he shouts in annoyance as he rubs his stinging eyes; already knowing the culprit.

She pops up next to him with a shrug, “What? You asked a question and I’m answering it.”

He squints softly, his eyes focusing on the window presented to him. There are multiple articles listing words that make him furrow his brows. Intrigue, infatuation, sonder, escapism, comfort-watching. To Lyla’s surprise, he mulls them over but she chalks it up to his sleep deprivation. Some words stick out to him, finding himself unfamiliar with them.

“Comfort-watching.”, he states slowly as he selects the article. It explains what it is and what it stems from, denoting its connection to escapism. “The habitual diversion of the mind to purely imaginative activity or entertainment as an escape from reality or routine.”, he reads aloud, words muffled by his hand stroking his chin. Well, that didn’t make sense, watching you is his routine at this point.

He wouldn’t describe what you do as entertainment in theory and it’s certainly not imaginative. It’s just him watching how you do normal things. He softly chews his lip as he glosses over the other articles.

Lyla mimics his actions and strokes her chin, opening another article in front of her form. “Oh? This’ll be interesting.”, she thinks before speaking to Miguel, who’s now distracted by both the articles and his occasional glances at you. “Why do you like watching y/s/n?” [your spider name]

He replies with a sigh as he waves his hands around, positioning the articles around him, “That's what I’m trying to figure out, Lyla.”

“Just think for a moment. Off the top of your head, what’s one thing you like about doing this?”, she gestures to the monitor containing you. The two of them glance at you through one of the screens standing from your seat and stretching your whole body in an attempt to reduce your exhaustion.

Miguel’s inquisitive eyes soften a bit as he responds earnestly, “It’s familiar.” Lyla’s face flashes a bit in curiosity as she observes his expression. Before she can speak again, he continues, “This is calm and… warm.”

“Warm?”, Lyla asks curiously, her eyes fluttering over the chart in the article she opened. She's notated a couple of checkmarks now, in places she hadn't expected.

His eyes just can’t leave you as he thinks about what he’s said. It’s hard to put exactly into words, “I… appreciate her presence. She’s always there and it makes me feel comfortable.” There’s a strange feeling that stirs inside him upon hearing the words he formulates in response. You, a complete stranger, have somehow become a totem of routine in his eyes. Because after watching you nearly every night, you are always there working. Always. Despite the strange and unpredictable multiverse the two of you reside in, you sit in one of his labs, typing away on a computer. In a sense you’ve become the embodiment of normal.

Lyla repeats quietly but not lacking the casual tone she usually holds, “Her… Do you ever want to talk to y/s/n?”

He hums in thought before replying with an unsure shrug, “Honestly… I never even considered that. I don’t think I need to.”

Lyla glances back at the article and then back to Miguel, “But do you want to?”

His movements stall as her question hangs in the air. He takes a moment to apprehend what she’s asking. His eyes trail slowly from the articles floating around him to you on the CCTV display. You're crawling under that specific workbench in the left corner of the lab for what he knows is a power nap; he finds himself almost smiling at that. Does he want to talk to you? He ponders a situation in which he finds himself conversing with you casually. What would you talk about? He knows you like tea. Would you talk about your favorite kind? What is your favorite kind? How would you pronounce it? How do you pronounce certain words like caramel or aluminum? Maybe like aluminium? Maybe you say it differently than he does. He can imagine a light-hearted debate over phonetics, the two of you drowsy from the late night hours. Maybe you’ll tease him about the way he says it. How would you say… his name? You’ve spoken his name before on missions with a professional tone, always addressing him by his surname. It irks him a bit but he's never gotten around to informing you to just call him Miguel… How would you sound calling out to him in a tone that's amicable and familiar?

He’s broken out of his thoughts by Lyla waving her pixelated arms in front of him and a shout of his name, “Miguel!” He jolts at the sound of an alarm beeping around him. Bold words pop out in front of him, “ANOMALY DETECTED”. He hears his family name called out and straightens at the sound. That’s not Lyla's voice. He turns around to see you in your suit, tucking the hem of your mask into your collar as you trek to his platform. His hand waved behind him, minimizing the displays floating around him to hide the clues to his distraction with a single motion.

He hears you speak in a sober tone as you stand before him, “Lyla informed me that we’re both needed for this one. There’s an anomaly running around a metropolitan area on Earth-26. It travels quickly so we'll have to chase after it. Also, there doesn’t appear to be anyone to help.” He nods quickly, navigating through the multiversal map on his watch to open a portal. He nearly flinches as you gently grasp his forearm, looking up at him slowly.

“O'Hara,” you said calmly, which made him look at you curiously, “full stealth on this one. I’m uncertain how this universe would respond to… our kind.”

His lips nearly press into his natural pout under his mask as you address him by his family name but quickly absorbs what you're truly saying to him. He’s had a couple run-ins with a universe like this before and understands your concern entirely. He slowly pulls your hand from his forearm. The size difference doesn’t skip past him and makes something buzz in the back of his brain. Yet it’s subconscious, the way his fingers linger around yours before he releases them and states firmly, “Stay close to me.” You nod in understanding which he reciprocates before opening a portal. You flip open your watch and quickly calibrate your interface and send sync data to his watch to stay connected during the mission. It’s strange how ready you appear to be but it’s greatly appreciated. He hadn’t realized that he was staring before you turned towards him. You tilt your head softly and unbeknownst to you, he knows without a doubt that it’s out of curiosity. He gives you a nod, hoping it didn’t look as strange as he felt doing it. You step through the portal first and he’s quick to follow after as Lyla observes it all with an inquisitive squint.

All I really want is you

This was an uncommon feeling. You two chased after the anomaly, zipping through the sleeping city's skies quickly. Luckily, you both haven’t been spotted by anyone as you swing through the late-night drizzle. He started feeling a bit… he supposes ‘at ease’ is the best way to put it. He’s not foolish enough to grow complacent mid-mission but being on mission with you, working so seamlessly with him, made this feel easy. You’re professional, giving clear cues and staying on the same page. It’s as if you can hear what he’s thinking. Sure lego Spider-man is a good teammate but you’re a good partner.

The anomaly made its way to a rooftop with you right on its tail. You landed quickly with a soft roll before keeping low to the ground while Miguel landed behind you with a soft grunt. You crouched a bit as you tiptoed around gently, trying not to alarm the anomaly located somewhere nearby. He waits on standby, keeping a lookout for anyone who might see you two while you try to catch the small creature. You freeze as you see the silhouette of it, patting the ground with stubby limbs, seemingly ready to take flight again. That is until you squat down and pat the ground too. It looks at you and tilts its head, another action that you mimic before removing your mask. It slowly walks to its right and you gently shuffle to your left. You release a chuckle as you can see something that looks like a tail wagging. The noise meets Miguel’s ears and he turns to find you squatting and maskless. His eyes widen at the sight, fighting the hitch in his breath as he sees your h/c hair, it looks much softer in person. His eyes narrow is realization as he quickly replaces his intrigue with his usual pragmatism.

Crossing his arms over his chest, he speaks monotone, “What are you doing?”

You release a slow and soft, “Shhhh.” You then gently raise your hand, motioning him to approach you. His fingers twitch instinctively as he looks at your flopping hand and surprises himself by reaching out for it. However, his mellow emotions are doused in confusion as you tug him down quickly. He nearly falls on top of you, clearly not anticipating such sudden strength from you. Luckily, he manages to brace himself, kneeling behind you, and leaning a bit over your shoulder. He’s about to ask what the hell you’re doing when you point to the far corner of the rooftop. His eyes widen as he watches the dark creature slowly slink toward the two of you.

You breathe out quietly to Miguel, “Deactivate your mask.” He turns to you in shock despite you not looking at him. He’s about to protest before you whisper, “It needs to see your face.”

He acquiesces your command and slowly retracts his mask. The air nips at his warm face as he spies the creature tilting its head. You tilt your head too while whispering to him, “Mimic what it does.”

Miguel begins to protest but you quickly cut off his words, “Why-?”

“Just do it.” He nearly rolls his eyes at your sudden command but finds himself following suit as he tilts his head too. He watches curiously as the creature pats the ground with its left paw and you mirror it with your right hand. He grows a bit amused watching the two of you continue this little dance until it slowly crawls closer to you both. Miguel can hear your breath hitch as the creature steps into the light shining from over the door to the rooftop you all are on. It’s dark and covered with scales, with large blue eyes and bat-like wings. Your hand is still placed on the ground as the creature cautiously closes the distance between you. You cautiously turn your hand palm up, Miguel is confused by this but continues to watch nonetheless. The creature's eyes look up at you warily with tightly constricted pupils. You then turn your head, facing away from it and toward Miguel quickly. He barely manages to lean back enough to avoid you smacking your head into his shoulder.

He looks at you quizzically as you whisper to him, “Keep your eyes on me.” His brows furrow which indicates his clear confusion at your command. You respond cautiously yet softly, “Don’t look it in the eyes. It’s still scared.” Miguel slowly nods in understanding as his eyes stay on yours. 

There’s something that fizzles in his ears as he stares at you. Your eyes are oddly… calming. He’s never thought of looking at them before. At least not in an intentional way like this, unlike the usual polite eye contact you’re obligated to give someone you work with. It's so strange seeing you in person up close like this. He also has to fight the heat he feels making its way onto his cheeks at your close proximity. Your eyes sparkle a bit from the dim moonlight and there's drops of rain littered around your hair. You look so soft and inviting. There's not a sliver of malice anywhere across your features. He's sure this small anomaly is smart enough to come to you.

Soon he feels his lungs quiver in his chest as he watches your eyes crinkle as you smile. You’re chuckling. Why are you chuckling? His ears are roaring by the time you turn back toward the creature. His gaze lingers on the side of your face before looking down at the little one who’s currently licking and nuzzling into your hand, giving it playful nips. He smiles at that, grateful that this mission will end easier than expected.

The creature jumps on you and licks your face with a happy warble. Miguel tenses, worried that it may be attacking you until you release a giggle as you coo warmly, slowly standing with the creature wrapped in your arms. The sound tingles in Miguel's ears and he can’t help but watch you almost mesmerized as you carry the creature carefully before he stands back up next to you.

You comfort the creature with soft words as your nimble fingers quickly fashion a tracker to the little beast then click your watch. You speak calmly as you stare down at the baby creature with a smile, “Lyla, may you please check for any residual anomalies?” Lyla appears behind the creature and gives you a little salute before her visage flits around and scans the area. Miguel approaches to inspect the animal but leans back when it attempts to sniff at him which makes you chuckle at his stiffness. Then, you gently scratch between the animal’s horns as you walk closer to him to let it smell him properly. He stands awkwardly, watching its nostrils flare with each sniff of his arm.

You look around at the skyline behind him with a sigh, “What a view. Do you ever-”. Your voice fades off quickly as you squint, looking at something in the distance. Miguel notices as your hand stops moving and you cradle the creature protectively. Before he can even look at you, you shout while shoving him to the ground roughly, “Sniper!”. You yelp as something pierces your forearm violently, making your knees wobble. The creature jumps out of your hold, having sensed your body going limp before you slump into Miguel’s arms. The creature nuzzles into your dangling hand with a sad whine.

Miguel immediately enters high alert. He stays low as shots ring out above you, dragging you behind a structure to obstruct you all from whatever the hell is attacking. You're slumped against him as he shakes you softly with a tense voice, patting your face anxiously, “Y/s/n? Y/s/n wake up!” He sees the creature standing on its hind legs pawing at your thigh, looking up at him with scared eyes. Miguel shouts out into the air, “Lyla!” Immediately, a portal opens in front of you three.

Lyla speaks in a rushed tone, looking down at you worriedly, “I didn’t detect any more anomalies. Hurry.” Miguel scoops up both you and the anomaly, holding you tight as he jumps through the portal quickly.

What would you do?

Sleeping outside, the moon

Tripping with you

Miguel’s quick as he carries you to the med bay, the anomaly’s little legs trying to keep up with his long, wide strides. He places you on a bed and pulls up a med pod. He runs a full scan of your body and finds a bit of relief when it is concluded that you got dosed with a tranquilizer but he’s still tense. Usually a tranq doesn’t work that instantaneously; nor does it cause a strong shift in your blood pressure like this… It’s almost as if it’s thinned your blood. He sanitizes and gloves up quickly before grabbing some supplies to remove the projectile lodged in your arm. Fortunately, it doesn't take too long to remove all the pieces of the dart that broke apart. There's a bad feeling in his stomach as he does. He's never seen a tranq dart do such a thing. Why is it so fragile? Miguel has Lyla analyze the fragments while he cleans the wound.

He steals a glance at the little creature sitting in the doorway, its eyes watching you intently. He speaks evenly as he floods the wound with saline, gently patting it dry, “Don’t worry, she’s okay. She’s just sleeping.” He finishes wrapping your arm gingerly with a bandage and pulls the bed sheet over you, raising each of your arms to rest over the sheet. He stares at your hand in his for a moment. It’s warm. Your hands are warm and tiny compared to his. So, that’s how they feel… He blinks himself out of his thoughts and gently sets your hand down by your side to let you rest.

“You can come over. I’m done but she won’t be awake for a while.” Miguel says before looking over at the little beast. He’s almost surprised when it appears to understand what he’s said. After all, you did mention during the mission that it seemed highly intelligent relative to other wild animals. It stands, slowly trudging over before hopping onto the bed beside your leg. It looks at you and then turns to crawl on you cautiously as if it’s afraid of hurting you. After a few moments of hesitation, it pats the bed, circling a few times before settling down between your feet. Finally, it rests its chin on your leg, looking at you with large eyes while its tail curls around itself, and releases a soft bleat.

The display of how gentle it acts with you nearly makes him scoff in disbelief. It’s hard to believe that this is the same angry little beast that tried to claw at him earlier in the night. He's almost offended, truthfully. Why was it so mean to him? It seems to act like a cat, aggressive one moment then clingy the next. Miguel's eyes drift back up to look at you as he works around the room. He thinks for a moment to himself, "I guess between the two of us, I'd go to her too." He shakes the thoughts from his head. Miguel plops back onto the stool beside your bed with a sigh, having just finished cleaning up the soiled supplies. He yawns and scratches his jaw tiredly before he crosses his arms over his chest. The adrenaline that was once in his body is now long gone and his prior exhaustion floods him tenfold. However, he’s able to mutter with droopy eyes that watch your peaceful sleeping face, “What were you going to ask me?” He soon couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer, his body feeling heavy and slowly slumping over as he drifted off to sleep. 

Head down

Miguel groans as he feels something slimy on his forehead. He squints harshly at the light that penetrates his eyelids but before he can get up to stretch he freezes at what he hears.

"Hey, hey. Don't do that, little one. He needs to rest."

He's about to just sit up to explain that it's too late but your voice breaks through with a gentle coo. "Oh. Look what you did, honey. You messed it up…"

Before his mind can propel itself into countless thoughts of hearing you say the pet name in such an endearing way, he feels something gently card through his hair. There's something that erupts down his spine at the sensation and that faint fizzling in his ears returns. Especially when he can feel your fingers graze against his helix as you sweep some strands of his hair behind it. He feels his body melt at your ministrations.

Now, he chooses not to move or open his eyes. He pretends to be asleep on what he can blindly tell is the edge of the bed you’re resting in. He enjoys this, the sound of your voice as you comfort and hush the little anomaly the two of you caught. He hears sad warbling and feels the bed move a bit. He manages to cautiously crack an eye open to peek at you cradling the creature close as it sniffs and licks your bandage gently.

You speak softly to it, "Hey, shh-shh. It's okay, I'm okay. See?" You poke the bandage, not where the wound is but the edge of it, to prove that it's fine. You point at Miguel which causes him to shut his eyes quickly before you speak again, "He protected me and helped me get better. So, it's okay." He feels the bed shift as you quietly chuckle, "Ah, ah. Don’t do that, love. I don't want to wake him up, he was really tired." He can sense you stopping the creature from approaching him further as you stand.

There's a soft shuffle that can be heard around him before he feels something drape over his shoulders. You speak so delicately near his ear as you cover him, “Thank you for taking care of me. Sweet dreams.”

He hears the rustling of fabric and the soft plodding of your feet along the floor accompanied by your voice, "Okay, baby. Let's go." Miguel's eyes peek open to see you walking out of the infirmary with the little creature trotting next to you.

Once you’re gone he turns his head, pulling the fabric off his back. It's your cardigan. The one that you were wearing earlier before the mission. His eyes still feel heavy as he bunches up the fabric under him. His nose is flooded with a scent he's unused to. It smells warm and comfortable and soon he drifts off again with his arms wrapped securely around your cardigan below his head.

That’s what you are, he thinks. Warm and comfortable.

I don't know when to come up for air now

It's been a couple of days since your e-26 mission together and you haven't spoken since. Like usual, you spend the night in the lab and Miguel busies himself with some backlogged reports. However, his eyes still glance over to the monitor displaying you occasionally. He's noticed that you haven't worked as much as before. Sure, you’ve tinkered with a few things but you mostly just write in a notebook and slump over the workbench now. He pauses to inspect your face then switches to a camera angle that shows what you're writing. Oh. You're not writing, you're sketching something. He zooms in to see a picture of the anomaly you two sent back after Miguel woke up that morning. Just as he thought, you were depressed because your little friend had to go back home. That’s a lie, he hadn’t actually thought of that at all. Truthfully, he was starting to grow concerned that something was wrong with you… He watches as you add detail to the eyes, the tip of your pencil faintly tracing along the paper to simulate each streak across its irises. It's this that reminds him of when he stared into your eyes. They're much richer than expected, drowned in a color that is so… you. It's you because it's comforting and relaxing and deep. Comfortable and warm. He remembers the words with a soft hum.

He catches something bright appearing next to you. It's Lyla. He's found that you two converse almost every night. What do you two talk about? How many things have you discussed? There’s something unknown that bubbles in the pit of his stomach as these thoughts fill his head. Eventually, his curiosity gets the best of him and he switches on the audio feed. The thought of this being a violation of your privacy, completely slipping past him. He gently sits down as he listens to the two of you talk.

"Raon? What does it mean?", Lyla questions curiously.

You rest your chin on your hand as you lean against the table, looking up at Lyla with a warm smile as you reply, "It means joyful. He looks just like… ah, it’s nothing." You trailed softly but soon chuckled with a wave of your hand.

The scene before him makes Miguel smile softly to himself. It’s such a mundane conversation yet he finds enjoyment from it. Especially from the soft chuckle that comes from you. 

"Hey, did you ever get around to-" Lyla begins but is cut off by your quick response.

"Nope… sorry.", You apologize with a bow of your head, realizing you interrupted her, "I should probably soon, huh?"

"Uh, yeah. The window of validity is closing, bud.", Lyla conjures up a window beside her before shutting it slowly as she raises a brow at you.

You nod and sigh, standing from your seat before turning to leave, "You're right. Thanks for reminding me, Lyla."

She hums to you before disappearing off the screen. She soon pops up next to Miguel who’s watching the feed of you walking through a corridor. She leans over his shoulder and speaks near his ear, "Stalker much?"

Miguel jolts at that and quickly exits off the camera display. He grunts and pulls some reports in front of him in a feeble attempt to cover up what he was doing, "I'm not a stalker."

She smirks and sings with an almost smug tone, "Ah, c'mon. It's just a joke, Miguel. Don't pout."

He states evenly as his eyes glance over the files presented before him, “Not pouting.”

“You never answered my question, y’know?”

“What question?”

“Do you want to talk to y/s/n?” She emphasizes her words with raised brows as she slowly orbits around his head to face him.

He blinks in thought, recalling the recent mission. You’re unfinished words wading upon the surface of his mind and truthfully they have been in his thoughts ever since you first uttered them into the night air. It wasn’t in your usually professional tone. It sounded more casual and unfortunately, you were cut short before finishing your sentence. “Do you ever… Do I ever what?”, he muses as his fingers rub at the side of his chin. He nods slowly before mumbling, “Yes… I think I do.”

Lyla bends down to smirk smugly at him with her arms akimbo, “Good.”

He squints at her and voices his confusion, “What do you mean? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“O’Hara?”, he stiffened as his eyes went wide at the sound of your voice. He composes himself quickly with a low grunt before turning to you.

Unfortunately, you misunderstand this, “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt you.”

“You’re not interrupting me. I just remembered something. Did something happen?”

You absorb his fast-paced sentences, “No, I just wanted to talk to you.”

He’s shocked by this but his face doesn’t show it. If only you knew of the discussion you just interrupted by coming here.

“I wanted to formally thank you for taking care of me.”, you spoke calmly while looking up at him on his platform. He noticed your hand resting over your bandaged arm, confusion taking over his features. You noticed this and looked down at your arm too, nodding before your gaze returned to him. You subconsciously rub the bandage as you speak, “Ah, this. I don’t… heal as quickly as the rest of you.”

He mulls over your words, the rest of you. You speak in a way that alienates yourself from the Spiders. It’s a phrase he can understand due to him constantly being put in his own category relative to the other spider-people. Other… He supposes he speaks about himself the same as you. So that’s that sense of familiarity explained, albeit partially. He asks with his naturally stoic expression, “Why is that?” He watches with furrowed brows as you think of how to respond.

You softly shake your head with a shrug, “I just don’t.”

Before either of you can speak again, Lyla questions while pointing at you next to Miguel. There’s a small smirk on her face, “Hey, y/s/n? What’s that?” Miguel looks at her curiously before looking down at the box in your hands.

“Oh, this is just… This is for you, O’Hara.”, you take a step forward towards his platform. Miguel’s brows shoot up not only at what you say but at his now descending platform. He looks over to Lyla who smirks at him, clearly the cause. He clears his throat as his workspace reaches your level, “Is it something to sign off on?” He thinks that maybe you’re ready to beta-test new equipment that needs approval first.

You shake your head and hand the box to him with a small smile, “No. This is a thank you.”

He furrows his brows again as he slowly opens the box with his words trailing off, “A thank you?...” It’s… they’re empanadas. You just gave him a box of empanadas as a thank you? 

“I heard Jess mention you liked empanadas. Sorry, they’re not the ones from the cafeteria though.”

He stares at them for a few more seconds. They’re warm. Are they fresh? How? It’s almost 3 am. Did you pick them up from your universe? “You didn’t have to give me this. I didn’t really-”

“You saved my life.” His eyes widen a bit as they meet yours. Ah. So you found out…

Your hands wring together nervously as you speak, “Lyla showed me the analysis of the fragments you pulled from my arm. Etorphine is a strong agent as is but it was formulated into a high-dose soluble projectile. If you hadn’t helped me so quickly, it would have dissolved into my blood and…”

“Thank you.”, Miguel all but whispers with his head down.

“You don’t have to thank me for thanking yo-”

“You took that shot for me.”, he quickly cuts you off. His eyes slowly trailing up to meet yours with firm sincerity. “Why did you take that shot?”

You rub your nape as you avoid his gaze and reply in an almost soft voice, “Ah. I didn’t really think about it… my body just moved on its own.”

There’s a bit of an awkward silence that spreads between you two as you both avoid each other’s eyes. Miguel stares back down at the food before speaking, “You really didn’t have to give me these.”

You speak with gentle hand gestures, a trait he didn’t know you had until now, “No, no. Please take them. I made them to thank you. It’s how I show proper gratitude. Honestly, I don’t think it’s enough.”

He looks at you in thought before looking back down at them with raised brows and a gentle smirk, “You made them?”

You tense, eyes darting to Lyla but she only offers you a quiet snicker. You sigh before nodding slowly, “Yes, I did. I’m sorry if you think they taste bad.”

He’s amused at your word choice. You didn’t say if they taste bad, you said if he thinks they taste bad. So you cook. And it sounds like you cook well given how confidently you speak about what you make.

Before he speaks, Lyla asks you something and motions you toward the control panel, “Y/n/n, come take a look at this.” [your nickname]

You bow your head briefly at Miguel with a modest smile before making your way to the screen Lyla opens for you. That’s another habit of yours he wasn’t fully aware of. He stands back and watches as you point at the screen and discuss it with Lyla. Your arms cross as you stand before the monitors, your face morphed from your inquisitiveness as you inspect the blueprint Lyla shows you. This makes him calm again. Watching you always made him calm and relaxed. However, it feels a bit stronger when you’re standing just a meter or so away from him. With you here now, so close to him, he actually feels warm. There’s a heat that surrounds him that he just can’t really explain. He continues his musings before taking a bite of the empanada absentmindedly but his eyes shoot down at the food as he tastes it. These aren’t like the ones from the cafeteria, they’re far better. The cafeteria carries standard beef empanadas. Beef and seasoning, it’s hard to mess it up. But these? Is this stew? This is honestly the best thing he's eaten in a long time. His foot stutters as he prevents himself from stepping closer to you and swallows the delicious bite before mumbling, “Are these-”

“Salteñas, sí.” His eyes travel up to see you looking back at him with a warm smile and nod. The way you say it is so natural. It rolls off your tongue so smoothly. Do you speak Spanish?

“Wow, it eats!”, Lyla cheers sarcastically.

“Lyla!”, he groans in annoyance.

“What do you-”, you unfurl your arms and look at him with what he recognizes as concern, “Sir, are you not eating properly?” You turn to face him completely and approach him slowly when all he returns is silence.

Lyla floats over to you, her voice laced with a haughty tone as she tattles, “No. No, he is not.” He grunts and tries to snatch her holographic form. His hand just misses her as she teleports to your other side with a giggle.

“O’Hara,” you call to him in a tone that’s so soft while still holding firmness. That’s new. It’s not as casual as he imagined and you’re still addressing him by his surname but he’s still pleased with how it sounds coming from you in that tone. “How often do you eat?”

He tenses a bit and looks away from your eyes before he gets lost in more of his thoughts. “I eat.” His brows furrowed as he mentally berates himself for his obvious statement. Of course, he eats. Estúpido. His embarrassment quickly triggered his next words despite how unexpected they are, even to him, “What does it matter to you?”

He feels an odd sense of uneasiness as he notices your lack of reaction. He’s quick to attempt to amend his words, “It’s appreciated but it’s none of your concern when I do and don’t eat.” Then there is more silence. It weighs heavily in the air awkwardly. He realizes his words may seem a bit harsh given how tense his voice is. He’s unsure what to say now and for once the silence from you isn’t so comfortable.

“O’Hara.”, you say more sternly as you cross your arms. He can’t help the way he feels like a child being scolded by their teacher. What truly catches him off guard is how firm your tone is despite how gentle you look at him, “Stop deflecting.”

It all makes him feel a bit small despite him being the one looking down at you due to your apparent size difference. He’s never been fond of his height. It’s annoying and cumbersome but the way your body positions itself to stare at him makes him think that it’s not that bad. Your head has to tilt back for your eyes to meet his. Those rich eyes of yours… The e/c encompasses your pupils in such an inviting way [eye color]. And each time you blink he catches a glimpse of how your lashes flutter against your skin. His eyes slowly travel along your features. Your forehead creases softly as your brows raise. The action makes your eyes appear larger as you look up at him. Then he sees your lips moving slowly. They’re not shiny nor are they chapped. But they do look smooth as he sees the tip of your tongue softly curl behind your teeth as you speak. Your words slowly grow less foggy before he flinches at the feeling of your hand gently holding his forearm. There’s a slight ringing in his ears as your voice finally reaches him.

“Mr. O’Hara, are you okay? You’re flushed.”

“What?”, he breathes out in a rushed tone before his eyes focus out to see the entirety of your worried expression. He gently tugs at the collar of his suit uncomfortably. He actually feels the heat now, it’s more intense than before.

“You’re burning up. It’s warm in here too…”. You quickly grab the box of food from his hand and place it on a nearby tabletop before pulling him toward the entrance of his work area. “Here, come with me.”

You take my hand like there's a way out (way out)

And we're escaping through the window

Miguel isn’t sure how but he now finds himself in a rather unfamiliar situation. You’re dragging him around by the wrist. However, it’s apparent that he follows seamlessly behind you. It feels natural for him to just maintain your lead, especially when there’s very little energy within him to resist. He watches how you walk in front of him. You walk in a way that makes you look smaller than you actually are. It’s as if you’re trying to hide. Why is that? Your shoulders are slouched a bit forward as you guide him through the corridors. His eyes drift to the back of your head, watching the way your hair gently bounces with each one of your steps. You halt for a moment which causes him to nearly stumble into you. Your grip on his wrist falters briefly before sliding down to take him by the hand. The action completely slips past you as you decide where to walk next, but it surely does not get past him. He has to fight the urge to squeeze his hand around yours but utterly fails. He’s not too upset about this. Truthfully, most of his awareness was occupied by trying not to let his claws protrude from his fingertips. You turn back to look at him but he’s quick to avoid your eyes, oscillating his head mindlessly.

You must have taken this as a sign of his unwell state because soon you're tugging him through the cafeteria with a firm whisper, “Over there. You need fresh air.”

His red face and his lack of words must make him appear as though he won’t be able to last the trek to the infirmary. You gently squeeze his hand which makes his eyes snap back to you quickly. Making your way to the large terrace, you push the glass door open. The air sweeps past you both as you guide him to sit on one of the patio chairs scattered among the outdoor area. His eyes are dazed as he looks up at you standing in front of him but they haven’t left you for even a moment since you squeezed his hand. But now your hand is no longer in his. He’s surprised to find himself a bit annoyed at that. You’re moving too fast, he thinks. All your actions are slipping away from him thanks to his hazy mind and he doesn’t appreciate it. You pull a handkerchief out of your back pocket and pat his sweaty forehead. His eyes watch you as you do. Your lips press into a line as you gently bite your bottom lip. Your eyes are full of concern as they roam over the sight of his flushed face. You remove your hand from his space as you step back a bit, wanting to let him feel the light breeze.

He spies how your hands start to reach out but retract back to your side, settling on your hips instead. You speak evenly as you look at him, “Are you okay? Does that feel better?” It’s gradual as he breaks out of his cloudy stupor, the wind finally cooling him down. He nods slowly before something slithers out of his brain and past his lips.

And I whisper

“What?”, you tilt your head curiously.

“Miguel….”, he breathes out, “My name is Miguel.”

You blink at him and speak with a bit of concern, “I know tha-”

“I don’t like being called O’Hara or Sir or Mr. O’Hara. Call me Miguel.”

You nod softly as you take in his words before giving him a small smile, “Okay. From now on I’ll call you Miguel.”

He almost smiles at the sound of his name rolling off your tongue but catches himself before it’s too late. His brows furrowed in confusion as you gently extended your hand toward him. You smile softly as you gently grasp his hand and shake it with a kind tone, “My name is y/n. It’s only fair that you address me as such.”

His brain stalls for a few moments, absorbing your name. It’s so fitting in a previously unknown yet expectedly pleasant way. Of course, that’s your name. He looks up at you in thought as you gently pull your hand from his, “Y/n, huh? It’s… pretty.”

He tenses in realization for a moment before slowly speaking, ensuring that his own curiosity remains undetectable, “The other night on e-26, on the rooftop. What were you going to ask me?”

You’re taken aback and stand back up, your lip jutting out in a pout as you try to remember. Your eyes wander to the table beside the two of you in thought but Miguel’s eyes stay on you. He takes in the sight of your face morphed in contemplation. It’s the same look he’s seen countlessly through the late nights. Except this time, it’s not pixelated or blurry from his monitors. Now, he can see you up close. He can see clearly how your chin softly wrinkles as you purse your lips and the way your eyes crinkle at the outer corners. It’s almost comical how earnestly he takes in such ordinary features with the same scrupulousness as a lab experiment.

“Do you ever look out at the skyline… and feel at peace?” The words flow out of you softly as you move to sit on the patio table next to him. Your eyes glide up to look at the lights below that decorate the horizon.

Miguel finally tears his eyes from you to look at the skyline before you both. It’s hard to hear the vehicles from up here but he knows they’re there. He can see the lights flicker and wane in the distance as his body relaxes into the chair. He realizes how familiar he is with the scene and breathes out lowly, “Yes. I do.”

He can see you smile in his peripherals before your voice fills the space between you, “I’ve always found comfort in the horizon and the view of the land below. The sunrise and sunset. I think Raon would have been mesmerized by this view of the city lights.”

He turns to look at you curiously, “Raon?” Truthfully, he was a bit curious about the word you mentioned to Lyla earlier.

You nod with a hum, crossing your legs and propping your chin on your elbows as you get comfortable. “The baby creature from our mission. Raon.”

Miguel notices how the word our rattles around his brain but pushes that feeling aside. He attempts to overpower it with a wry remark, “Did you name the anomaly?”

You release a breathy chuckle and nod, “Kind of. There’s a story from my universe that had a baby dragon named Raon Miru in it. Looked exactly like him too, blue eyes and all.”

He finds relief now not just in observing you but in your close presence and words. He’s intrigued by what you say. He can’t quite place the origin of such a unique name. He knows Japanese but he’s unsure if that is its correct origin. He takes a moment to look at you in thought, certain that he wants to hear more, “That name, what does it mean?”

“It’s a bit on the nose, truthfully. It means ‘joyful dragon’.”

“Raon Miru.”, he repeats to himself as he turns back to look at the skyline with you. There’s a comfortable silence that swells between you both. It takes a few more moments before your voice slithers into the empty space.

“Do you truly not eat well?”

He turns to look at you again but immediately regrets it. Well, not really. Your eyes are full of concern as they meet his. He sighs and shakes his head, “No. I don’t.”

“Why?” You ask so simply as your eyes never leave him.

He bites the inside of his cheeks and contemplates whether he should brush this off and lie or just tell you the truth. He chooses the latter, citing that he genuinely enjoys your consideration. “I’m busy. I lose track of time and just forget.”

Lyla finally decides to pop up next to you, “Hey, y/s/n. You actually remember to eat stuff. Mind keeping Miguel in check for me?”

Miguel stiffens quickly shaking his head to protest but before he can, you respond. “Sure, I don’t see why not.”

“Cool.”, Lyla nods and disappears having completed her job as instigator.

His eyes travel to yours in question only for you to smile gently at him with a tilt of your head. “I need to make sure you’re properly taken care of.”

Need, you say. Not want. The way you say it so matter-of-factly makes his lungs quiver, just like that night. His mouth shuts as he slowly leans back in his chair. The way you look at him lets him know that there’s no room for debate. You nod with a smile as you watch him acquiesce your response. “Good. So, did you like the salteñas?”

He nods and speaks with a low hum, “Yes, they were good.”

You beam at that and lean toward him unconsciously, “Really? I was worried there for a second. By the way you heated up, I thought you had a bad reaction.” You straighten up as your features quickly morph in realization of something before speaking, “That reminds me. Lyla?”

“Yo.”, she appears in front of you like a pop-up ad.

“What’s the temperature in Miguel’s work area?”

She conjures up a thermostat and squints at it, “Yeesh, 85°F and climbing. At the time of reporting, it is approximately 20 degrees higher than average. Excessive heat appears to be emitting from a ground-level display console.”

“Oh, may you please-”

“Filtering and cooling as we speak, captain.”, her little hand bumping her forehead to salute you in assurance. “I’ve shut off the machine since it’s under minimal usage priority. Consider this a work order.”

You chuckle at her antics, “Thank you, dear. I’ll be sure to repair it asap. It also sounds like your active monitoring is on the fritz, I’ll check that too.” You then turn to Miguel, leaning in inquisitively to see if he’s cooled down enough.

He questions absentmindedly with an almost gravelly mumble, “Hablas español?” [Do you speak Spanish?]

You're taken aback but smile softly, “Sí, pero no lo hablo con fluidez.” [Yes, but I’m not fluent in it.]

He finds the corners of his mouth gently lifting at your words, “Me suenas fluido. Tu acento es natural.” [You sound fluent to me. Your accent is natural.]

Your smile seems to grow ever so gently as you nod, “Thank you. I grew up in a diverse place. Lots of people spoke languages other than English.”

Miguel found himself completely relaxed as he spoke with you about anything and everything. Like that, the conversation flowed between you for a long while.

All I really want is you

What would you do?

Your brows shoot up in shock before a small smile blooms on your face. “Good. Let’s meet out on the terrace at 3 am. You better not leave me hanging.”

He smirks at your warning in amusement, you said it in such a way that carries no real malice. He nods in understanding as you two walk side by side languidly, back to his work area. The conversation hasn’t stopped. Miguel thinks this is the longest he’s ever talked to someone, speaking more words in these last couple of hours with you than he has to anyone in months. It’s odd to him how easy it is to talk with you. It makes him feel like he’s conversing with an old friend.

He’s lost in content conversation with you as you two enter back into his lab and continues even after you begin to work. He leans against the main control panel on his platform as he watches you repair the display console that practically turned his work area into an oven. Miguel’s arms are crossed over his chest, somehow unsure of what to do with his hands. He speaks with a more calm tone, “So you’re the one who does repairs around here? You’d think I, of all people, would know that.”

“I actually did think you already knew that but I suppose me coming in here and working on your tech while you’re out during the day is a bit of a clue as to why you didn’t.” You calmly respond to him. Your voice is just a bit louder than normal in order to ensure he can hear you properly. After all, half of your body is inside a relatively large electronics console.

“So what’s the issue here then?”

"Just a basic issue. Overclocked GPUs and faulty heatsinks don't really mix well.", you sigh with a shrug after gently crawling out of the unit to drop some screws into a small tray beside you. You present a damaged PCB to him and point at a burnt section of it with the tip of your screwdriver, “See, a few of them have blown fuses.”

He’s tuned into what you say and nods in acknowledgment. He knows what you’re talking about and enjoys it because it’s not rushed and not frantic like during the day. It’s calm and comfortable.

"Although I told Pete to run manual diagnostics on this which he said he did. Liar." 

Miguel is amused by your annoyed grumble as you work. He’s a bit curious as to why you refer to Peter by nickname when you’ve only started calling him by his given name a couple hours ago but he figures it’s fine since Peter is the one who initially recruited you from what he can recall. 

Miguel leans a bit over to peek at the mess that is the internal hardware before you crawl back inside. "I'm going to guess that he didn't even look at this at all."

"Yeah, pretty safe to assume that. I should have known better than to ask him. He's been preoccupied lately.", you groan from inside the panel. You look a bit funny like this, with half your body inside the console.

“Why did you ask Peter to look at it then?”, Miguel asks a bit curiously.

“Um, my arm was still messed up, Sir. I couldn’t really pronate it without feeling uncomfortable.”

He hears how nonchalantly you say it and senses that you don’t want to bring up the injury again. He nods curtly to himself and continues while changing the subject, “Don't call me Sir. It makes me feel old.”

You smile softly to yourself as you respond, “Sorry, it’s a hard habit to shake. I mean, you are the boss. But you shouldn’t worry, you’re not old by a long shot. In fact, I’m your elder…”

Your last few words are muffled but he manages to pick them up. His brows raise in intrigue as he asks, “Is that so?”

The way you tense at what he says doesn’t slip past him but you soon answer in a calm voice, “My universe’s present year is several decades earlier than here. So despite being biologically younger than you, I am chronologically n/y years older than you.” [number of years]

Miguel turns to work on some reports as he says, “Well, you still look spry enough to handle the duties of a Spider.”

You nearly snort at his comment. You must have not expected it, judging by your reaction. You continue to work, your eyes focused on the components you inspect as you jest in a sardonic tone, “Thanks, jefe. I’m glad to know you think my body is still young enough to be thrown around on missions.”

He has to bite his lip to contain the chuckle that he feels vibrate in his chest. He didn’t expect you to respond so sarcastically but he’s glad that you did. If anything, it makes him want to continue talking with you, “So why haven’t I been formally notified of your work here?”

“Well, if something breaks or needs general maintenance, Lyla is informed and she then passes that information to me. She typically deals with software issues and I’m the hardware person. We don’t usually bother you with these things because you’re always so busy as it is.”, you offer with a shrug as you crawl out and sit on your heels, inspecting yet another PCB.

“It wouldn’t be a bother. I need to know about these things.”

You look up at him and chuckle quietly with a soft shake of your head, “There are reports on file of every single repair I’ve done but… the last thing you need to worry about is a coffee maker gone haywire or someone’s empty web cartridges.”

“Aren’t you busy too? You take missions yet you still pull the Society’s odd jobs. Why?”

“Not really. I’m active mostly at night or in the early morning hours. Even when there is an active mission, I’m D-team at best.”

“D-team? Why do you think that?”, Miguel is genuinely confused by what you say. After all, the two of you worked so well together during the missions you have been on with one another.

“I’m just not that capable when compared to the Spiders.”

There’s that phrasing of yours again. It paints a clear separation between you and the society. Why are you so unwilling to include yourself with them? What exactly makes you speak this way? Miguel then thinks back to your first mission together, when it was just the two of you. Although it felt foreign at first, you two completed it quickly and efficiently. He speaks in a tone that leaves no room for rebuttal, “You are very capable.”

“Yeah, you think so?”

“You wouldn’t be here if you weren’t.”

You sigh casually as you stand up, carrying a small tote against your hip of damaged hardware to be further inspected, “Well, I could just be pleasant to be around.”

He releases a breathy laugh at your arch remark with a shake of his head. If only you knew how important your presence has become to him over all these late nights.

You perked up at the sound as you placed the tote on a nearby desk, turning to him as you asked, “Did I just make you laugh?” 

He was about to groan in annoyance on instinct but caught the look in your eyes before he did. Your face didn’t show a single sign of ill intent. Rather, it carried what he identifies as wonder. His lips purse a bit as he looks away from you, trying to avoid your gaze to spare himself from how overactive he’s found his mind becomes when gazing upon your bare face.

“Oh, now you’re pouting.”

“Not pouting.”

“Yes, you are.”

“No, I am not.” 

Miguel’s brain stalls as his ears pick up a previously unknown yet gratifying sound. Gentle giggling slips from you and it makes that buzzing sensation in his ears return. But he's not upset because he knows you're not laughing at him. It’s that kind of laughter that isn’t rude nor teasing. It’s kind and full of joy. He can’t help the upturn of the corners of his mouth, finding your delight somewhat infectious.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. It’s just too cute.”, you wave your hand softly as your other hand attempts to muffle your chortling before grabbing the tote of hardware to repair again. You turn to leave to your usual lab to work but your joyful sounds have yet to cease.

Miguel’s frozen by your comment. Cute? In reference to him? That’s not… that’s implausible and honestly, unprecedented. The more he speaks with you, the more he learns just how strange you are. You’re different in not only appearance but behavior as well. He's sure now that you are unique to the Society in such an eccentric way. He realizes something and it’s arguable in his mind. It makes sense why you exclude yourself from them all. Out of all the Spiders, you’re the anomaly.

Laying in the rain with you

Middle of June

“Miguel O’Hara! Get your butt out here now!”

He groans and rolls his eyes with a smirk as he looks at the time. 3 am, on the dot. It’s time.

The two have grown very well acquainted with each other over the past 8 months. There was a stint of anomalies surfacing during the early overnight hours. For a while, it seemed you and Miguel were dispatched nearly every night but now the instances have slowed to every week or so. You’ve learned a lot about each other and have acclimated well to each other’s presence. His hands swipe away the monitors floating around him as he calls over his shoulder, “Yeah, yeah. Just a second, needy.”

“Needy?! Puh-lease, you would waste away without me.”, you chuckle as your body swings around the entrance to his work area. You cross your arms and lean against the doorway, “Ven a comer.” [Come eat.]

“Sí, Mami.”, he mumbles amusedly, stroking his chin as he stares at the monitors in front of him. [Yes, Mom.]

You chuckle and walk over to him, “Don’t make me drag you out of here.”

He closes the floating screens around him with a flick of his wrist before turning to you with a smirk. His hands rest on his hips as his platform descends to meet you. The soft fizzling in his ears returns as you look up at him with a small, playful smile. The sensation is no longer foreign to him. It’s welcomed now. Warm and comfortable. “Yeah, uh-huh. And how do you suppose you’d do that?”

Your grin is almost mischievous as he finally stands in front of you, “I’d figure it out. I’m very resourceful, you know?”

He nods and begins to walk with you to complete your late-night ritual. “Oh, are you now?”

“I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t.” You repeat the words he told you from your first night together. At this point, it’s more of an inside joke; a reference that often appears as you two converse.

“I thought you said it was because you were pleasant to be around.”, he hums amusedly.

“Well? Am I?”, you look up at him through your lashes. Your eyes gleam with warmth and he’s not sure if you truly know just how beguiling it is.

He mutters as he avoids your gaze, knowing damn well he wants to say yes, “Don’t fish for compliments.”

“But you would compliment me.”, you state in a way that’s laced with playfulness. You bend a bit at the waist to catch a glimpse of his face with your hands resting neatly upon your lower back.

He meets your teasing gaze for a moment before rolling his eyes, “What’s for dinner?”

He sees your lips curl up in his peripherals before you state nonchalantly, “It’s a surprise.”

“A surprise? What do you mean? What for?”

“What? Don’t you trust me?”, you chuckle in amusement after he rambles a bit. You managed to identify that habit of his despite his general seriousness after the many nights you've spent working together.

“I trust you as far as I can throw you.”, he replies collectedly, or so he hopes.

“Liar.”, you hum with an amused smile on your lips, “Nonetheless, I suppose it’s good that you’re an incredibly strong man that can throw me very, very far.”

You chuckle again as he groans beside you. You’re far too sharp for your own good, having seen right through his strategic word choice. You two enter the terrace and something feels different. The air is a bit warmer tonight. Miguel supposes it’s just that kind of summer night. One where the heat from the day lingers into the late night and rekindles the following morning. His eyes shut for a moment as he absorbs the scent floating around. It’s familiar, it’s… enticing. He blinks softly before turning to you, eyebrows lifting in surprise as he sees that setup you’ve made. Upon the ground is a large blanket with a couple of small pillows. There are a few containers of what he knows is your cooking placed in the center. It’s not extravagant but something does stir in his stomach as he sees you turn to him. You almost look coy as you gesture behind you but your eyes never lack that warmth he knows as yours. “Yeah, it’s a bit silly but… happy 50th successful mission, partner.”

He stiffens at your calm yet happy proclamation. The word partner rattles around his brain for a few moments before the gears in his brain turn again. 50 missions? Have you two truly been on 50 missions already? Oh, who is he kidding? Of course, he knows that already. The two of you have actually been on 58 missions to be exact but they can’t always be successes.

You walk over to pull him gently by the wrist to the blanket, “Come on already. Food’s getting cold.”

He rolls his eyes with a smirk as he indulges your command with reluctance, but only externally.

You let go of his hand and sit at one end of the blanket, “Mira, I made some of your favorites.” You remove the lids of the containers presenting a small variety of his preferred dishes. There’s a smile on your lips as you pull out the final container, presenting it to him with a kind tone of voice, “I even made Stobhach for you. And I’ll let you know I’ve perfected my recipe.”

He can’t help the small curl of his lips as he sits opposite of you. You seem so excited to show him all that you prepared for tonight. It all almost makes him blush. He’s learned fairly early on in your acquaintanceship-turned-friendship that you show affection through care. Especially, by giving someone a home cooked meal. He stares down at the food and hums, “Thank you.”

You return with a hum of your own. Besides the banter and wry humor, words aren’t really necessary between the two of you. You’ve learned to read each other well. Body language, quirks, and even the noises that rumble from each of your chests. It’s almost animalistic in its simplicity. Miguel has come to realize how truly perceptive you can be, similar to himself. You two actually share a lot of similarities like your inquisitive nature and reclusive behavior. And he’s come to the conclusion that that is why you two can exist so harmoniously together. It’s not hard to be around you. To him, your presence is easy.

All I really want is you

What would you do?

You two have been talking for a while, the food long gone and your bellies satiated. There’s a bubble around you two as you converse like you’re in your own little world. 

“Come on. Lay with me.”, you look up at him with warmth in your eyes as you pat the space next to you. He truly can’t find it within himself to deny such a gentle command. He moves to lie next to you and stares up at the few stars that manage to make it through the city’s light pollution. It’s times like these when he ponders upon his actions and realizes how easily he finds himself following your instruction. He’s not upset about it. He just finds it odd although certainly not unwelcome. Truthfully, he’s grateful that he can take your lead and not have to be in charge, even if only for a moment. But these moments fill his chest with something warm. Warm and comfortable are his two choice words to describe you in any situation. Whether it be as you two work in silence in one of the labs or when you patch each other up after rough missions.

Sleeping outside, the moon

Tripping with you

He hears a sweet sigh from your lips as you relax on the blanket next to him. You whisper into the night air with the same gentleness one speaks a secret, “This reminds me of one night when I was a teen. In my universe…”

Miguel’s ears perked a bit as you began. It was very rare for you to speak of yourself, your experiences, or your universe. Every time you did, he was sure to pay attention and commit each word to memory because if you ever spoke of it like this, earnestly and unprompted, it meant you were revealing a part of who you are. That you were trusting him with a part of your very essence. To keep it safe.

“California isn’t gone. There’s a coastal city there called San Francisco that my friends and I traveled to. We spent hours there. We watched the sunset on the bay and the evening fog that rolled in. And eventually, we laid back on the sand and looked up at the stars. Just like this.”

He didn't say anything or make a noise. He just stared up at the stars with you, listening intently.

“I felt so calm that night. I knew in that moment that nothing else mattered. And for the first time, I felt at peace. My whole life I didn’t do much. I stayed at home filling my time with random knowledge and tricks. I avoided people and kept to myself as best as I could because I had learned very young that people were not to be trusted.”

Miguel feels his chest tighten at your words but keeps silent. There’s a darkness that barely laces your voice but it is there. He picks up the sound of hurt in your tone and it grips him tightly. There’s a tumultuous feeling in his stomach. He’s eager to preserve the pieces of yourself that you delicately hand him but it doesn’t change the feeling of helplessness that floods him. Your honesty is encased in sadness, a build-up of fears and insecurity that he’s far too late to have prevented. So he listens because maybe, just maybe, something you reveal to him in these genuine passages of your lore can help him protect the parts of you he keeps.

“I learned that family was everything because family would never hurt you. It’s funny now… Now, I think I’m nothing but a memory yet to be forgotten by them.”

He turns to look at you curiously but the concern is unmistakable in his eyes. Of all the countless nights you’ve spent together, you’re finally revealing why you are the way you are. Why he feels like he knows you without words. Because loss and loneliness radiates off you like bittersweet perfume yet you contain it with walls built of sufferance and capability. He’s always held a certain affinity to you that he could never quite describe until now. Before his thoughts submerge his consciousness, he notices how your eyes are screwed shut and the way your fist is squeezed tightly around the strings of your hoodie. Your clenched fingers resting above your heart almost as if you're quelling pain into passivity.

You sigh quietly as if to prepare yourself for what to say. “Things happen. At one point you think you know where you are. Then you blink and wake up somewhere else entirely.”

There’s a brief pause before your next words. Your eyes slowly flutter open to look up at the stars with glossy eyes and a gentle yet certain voice, “I’m here now and I’m actually very grateful for all that has happened. I’ve learned things I never thought were possible, about reality and the world. About people and about myself.”

He’s a bit surprised as you speak to him with sincerity, “I know I’m strange, Miguel. I know I don't make sense and that I don’t really fit. But you make me feel understood. And you make me feel like I’m not really alone… Thank you.”

You turn to find him staring at you in surprise. Your smile is small but your usual warmth has returned, and truthfully, he thinks that it never left. “Sorry. That was a bit heavy, huh? Just forget I said anything.” You offer with a chuckle before laying back.

All I really want is you

Your eyes are closed as you bask in the moonlight and his eyes travel over you. He takes in the soft curl of your lips and the faint flush on your cheeks from the cool air and candid words. The temperature isn’t too bad but thanks to the extreme altitude of the building, it’s crisp yet foggy. It’s an odd feeling, the air is damp from the clouds rolling through the skyscraper but Miguel feels warm. So soothingly warm. Especially, with you laying so close to him. So earnest and so true. He finds it odd how comforting this feeling is despite it being foreign to him, or rather dormant. He’s astonished by your trust in him. It fills him with something that he wasn’t entirely sure he was missing. Suddenly it's apparent what exactly this feeling is. The same feeling that he's felt for months. And it finally sparks in his mind as you look at him with tired eyes and a warm smile.

I love you. 

All I really want is you

What would you do?

He can nearly taste the words on his tongue but he remains silent as your eyes stare into his. Suddenly he feels very awake as his own thoughts dawn on him. Managing to tear his gaze away from your familiar e/c eyes, he finally speaks as he closes his eyes with a coy smirk.

“Never.”

It’s you. Now, it’s something that’s as certain as fact in his mind. He feels the heat of your hand resting on the blanket between the two of you, right next to his. Right where you belong, he thinks. Right next to him.

All I really want is you

Is you, is you, is you

Appearing near you two and out of sight is Lyla. She watches you two and makes a final checkmark on the chart she pulled from an article months ago, when Miguel was initially questioning his interest in you. She smiles to herself as she looks over the chart then back at you two as you exist in your own little world. The words softly illuminated in the window beside her, Infatuation vs. Love, with all her markings under the latter.

Thank you, thank you, thank you to everyone who took the time to read this! Also, big thanks to everyone who voted on my poll regarding this fic. I am open to your opinions and questions! Please feel free to ask me anything!

[guess-my-next-obsession]

relax

pairing: din djarin x f!reader

warnings: talk of painful menstruation (i’m a pcos girlie and these are my personal symptoms/levels of pain—everyone menstruates differently), din being a worrisome little lad like always

word count: 1.4k

a/n: this is just me living vicariously through reader since i am on my stupid ass cycle and had to fix my leaking air conditioning unit today

You were not one to wait around for a man to do something for you, especially when you were more than capable of doing it yourself.

The cooling system for the Crest had been leaking water for days now, coinciding with the start of this month’s cycle—meaning, you were more than fed up. Din had been out everyday trying to hunt his latest bounty, an illusive one it seemed given Din’s struggle. By the time he got home in the evenings, he was either exhausted, sore, or frustrated—all of which causing him to neglect the leak.

You knew he had his plate full between hunting this bounty, providing for you and the kid, giving the two of you enough attention when he was home, and having to deal with your period symptoms—you may have had a tendency to be a bit snappy with him during your time of the month. So, while Din was out at work, you forced yourself out of bed and onto your feet, your uterus suddenly punishing you for the choice as your lower belly clenched with a pain you could only describe as unbearable.

Still, you were a determined young lady, and you were going to fix this all on your own.

Dragging one of Din’s storage crates over, you slid it right in front of the system, stepping onto it so that you were eye level with the machinery. Your hands used an assortment of Din’s tools to take the face off the cooler, tugging it off and lowering it down to the floor. As you moved to stand up, a contraction-like cramp struck you, causing you to squat down on the crate, your body nearly doubling over and forcing you to the hard durasteel floor of the cargo hold.

“Fuck,” you whined, eyes squeezed shut as your hands held your stomach, hoping the warmth of your palms would soothe the tension.

After a few moments, the pain dwindled back down into just a dull ache, allowing you the ability to finally stand again. Your head spun as you stood up quickly, hands pressing against the wall in front of you, it’s cold steel doing wonders for your overheated flesh.

Gathering your wits, you went back to work with the system, cleaning out the clogged drain until the leak had gone away completely. A proud smile grew on your face as you looked at the results of your handiwork, but it was soon interrupted by another stabbing cramp.

“Oh my god.” You whined again, tears falling down your cheeks as you winced. You lowered yourself into a squat on the crate again, this time struggling to stay upright as the pain kept squeezing and squeezing.

“Finally did it.” Din walked into the ship via the ramp, his bounty handcuffed beside him. When he saw you doubled over on the crate, crying and panting in absolute anguish, he didn’t think twice. He pushed the bounty into the carbonite freezer, not caring much about whether or not the bounty deserved it. He lunged towards you and kneeled by the crate, his hand rubbing your back as the other stroked your sweaty face. “Mesh’la, what happened?”

“Cramps,” you croaked, the cramp finally beginning to fade away as you now laid in the fetal position on the crate, Din’s gloved hand stroking sweat covered locks of hair out of your face. “But at least I fixed the cooler.”

“My sweet angel,” he wanted to chuckle at your sheer determination, knowing well by now just how out of service you become during your time of the month. Then, he suddenly felt terribly guilty as he realized that you were only on your feet doing this because he hadn’t. “I should’ve fixed it three days ago when you mentioned it. You should be in bed, relaxing…not tinkering away on your feet.”

“Well, I knew you had a lot on your shoulders, and I knew how to fix it, so…thought it wouldn’t be too bad.” You finally opened your eyes, looking into the black of his visor, your hand trembling in exhaustion as you reach to touch the cold beskar of his helm with your palm. He leaned into your touch, thumb stroking over your cheekbone. “Can you help me back to bed?”

“Of course,” he stood up, holding his hand out for you as you reached for him, using his body for stability as you climbed off the crate and onto your feet. Din’s arm held your waist as he walked you back to the bunk, Grogu passed out in his sling. “Surprised the kid didn’t wake up to use his powers on you.”

“Why do you think he’s still passed out? He kept doing it all morning. Poor little guy,” you rested your body back against the mattress, tugging your blankets over your form now that the ship was properly beginning to cool.

Din sat at the edge of the cot and took his helmet off, shaking out his half-damp hair before moving to take off his armor, flight suit, and gloves. Before you knew it, he was curling up behind you, his big, warm hands spread out over your lower stomach that was swollen with a painful bloat. He kissed your shoulder and felt you cuddled back against him even further, humming in appreciation for the relief his hands brought.

“You caught the bounty,” you finally spoke after ten minutes of relishing in his soothing presence. Din chuckled against the shell of your ear and nodded, kissing your hairline. “How’d you finally do it?”

“Carefully.” He mumbled before leaving another tickling kiss to your skin. “I hired a lady to flirt with him and get him drunk at the cantina. It’s surprising how easily men get distracted when a woman’s involved.”

“You say it as though it’s a revelation.” You joked, turning a bit so that you were on your back, Din’s body still resting on his side and looking down at you. He smiled at you softly, eyes taking in your every feature. You were completely natural today, not an ounce of makeup on your face, your hair not even brushed. Still, even with your flushed cheeks and sweaty hair, you looked like an angel to him. He leaned in to press a slow, tender kiss to your lips, full of affection and care.

“I know you’re the best mechanic on this ship, but please remember to take it easy. Your body’s working overtime right now. No more tinkering away unless I’m here to catch you when you fall.” He ordered, full of concern and care for your well being. You nodded, grinning at him as you combed your fingers through his messy head of curls. You hadn’t seen him helmetless since the night previous, and although it had only been about a day since, it was too long. “Are you listening to me or checking me out?”

“Both.” He chuckled at your honesty, leaning down and pecking you once more before briefly leaving you. You pouted at the sudden chill at the loss of his hands on your stomach, the pain slowly creeping back to you. Din locked up the ship and the carbonite bounty, making sure everything was secure for the night before coming back to the bunk. He pressed the button to close the door, then flicked off the light, climbing back behind you and hugging you tight once again. “Can you keep your hands on my stomach for a while? It kept the cramps at bay.”

“Of course, mesh��la.” He kissed your shoulder before nuzzling his head against yours, the two of you getting cozy in preparations for a good night’s rest. “You know…there’s a way we could put a stop to this whole ordeal for a while…”

“Din,” you chuckled and shook your head. “Isn’t one baby enough for you?”

“Grogu would love a little pal.” He defended with a smile, his voice turning into mumbles as sleep began to overtake him. You grinned to yourself and allowed sleep to wash over you as well, keeping the fact that the thought of having his child made your heart swell twice it’s size in your chest to yourself for tonight. “Y/N?”

You were almost asleep when you heard him whisper in your ear. “Yeah, baby?”

“I love you. Just realized I haven’t said it today.” A sleep-laced chuckle left your lips, a goofy grin spread across your face.

“I love you, Din. Now, I think it’s my turn to tell you to relax.” He chuckled and nodded. “Let’s get some rest.”

“Goodnight, angel.” He rasped, kissing your head. You nuzzled into the pillow and hummed contently, your hand resting over his on your stomach.

“Goodnight, my love.”

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[prince-kallisto]

Crowley, Grim, and Dark Mirror: Manifestation Link

So if the Dark Mirror is Overblotted…

Where is his Phantom?

Idia has proved that one can keep a general level of self awareness and sanity while in Overblot form- partially because he triggered the Overblot on purpose. The Dark Mirror is secondary proof to this, but he seems to be a unique specimen of Overblot. And I think his Overblot is artificially-caused. But let’s go back a little.

In my previous theories, I’ve said that Grim is Crowley’s phantom- and I’m holding onto this theory for now. What I realized is that Grim is a forced magical fusion between a Direbeast and an ANIMAL. Why would this fusion ever be necessary? But then I also realized that Phantoms can blend in as Direbeasts.

Phantoms don’t have a soul, nor do they have a proper body. They’re a manifestation of dark emotions. If someone wanted to forcefully seperate themselves from their phantom, perhaps they found a way to “seal” the phantom away without getting rid of it entirely. But since the phantom didn’t have a proper body or soul, the phantom needed to be fused with an organic animal. A bit horrifying when you think about it, but the spells cast of Grim are so incredibly complex that I think this idea has merit.

Well, if Grim is Crowley’s phantom that was artificially fused with an animal, what does the mirror have to do with this?

Well, if the Dark Mirror is Overblotted, it means he has a soul. Technically, the Dark Mirror IS a soul- he has no body. He’s stuck in an eternal blot cycle because there’s no body for a phantom to feed off of, and there’s no phantom able to form in the first place.So how would Overblot be possible?

It isn’t. The Mirror must have been infected with blot somehow. Then I noticed Crowley’s peculiar line in Book 6. Manifestation…magic user…and link.

The Manifestation is the phantom, which is Grim.

The Magic User is the Overblotter, which is Crowley.

But what about the link? The link is the Dark Mirror.

Crowley and feral!Grim have extremely similar glowing eyes, so I think that Crowley is stuck in some blot-limbo, where he has a lot of blot trapped in his body, but just not enough to enter into Overblot mode. So to get rid of his blot, he forced it onto the Magic Mirror, who can never die from blot.

Here’s a very helpful and extremely well drawn diagram to illustrate my idea (/s lmao):

Because it’s not it a weird coincidence that all three has existed for a very long time? Grim has extremely ancient magic cast on him and remembers nothing about his past. The Dark Mirror is literally immortal, because the soul is immortal. And Crowley is just a Fae lmao. Plus, Crowley has an overall strange relationship with mirrors, as he wears several of them on his person.

So far, my theory for the end game is that the Dark Mirror will break. Notice how despite being in the mirror chamber, there is no Dark Mirror. Breaking the mirror releases both the blot and the link between Crowley and Grim. Finally connected, Monster!Grim turns into Crowley’s phantom, whose now in Overblot mode, and will cause the end of the TWST world

Sometimes I have good theories and then there’s theories like this (*´∀｀*)

[hwanchaesong]

"Rain"

Choi San X Reader

Synopsis: You have always hated the rain, yet you met him under it.

genre & warnings: fluff, hint of angst, cursing, strangers to friends to lovers au

word count: 912

requested by: @xddjoong

You have never appreciated the droplets of water that falls down from the sky.

It disrupts the cycle that you call 'happiness.'

Rain signifies sadness and a gloomy atmosphere, that is why you have always preferred the sunny days, or any other weather.

Just like that one time where you were supposed to meet up with your friends, while you were walking to the place of rendezvous, it started raining cats and dogs.

You had to run your ass off under a huge oak tree, branches and leaves thick enough to cover you from the shower.

I mean, you could go to the nearest café but you're lazy and taking refuge in there means you have to buy something in return. (which you won't cuz you're broke enough as it is)

Yet you also met him under the rain, the guy with slanted eyes and deep dimples, handing you a steaming cup of coffee and smiling at you brightly.

"Here."

A voice from behind you caught you off guard. Turning your heels at the source, you were greeted by wet hair and joyful expression, his arm extended to offer you a drink.

You raised an eyebrow while looking at the man cautiously, "What's that?"

He returned the gesture to you, "Obviously a hot beverage. You looked cold, and it seems like you need some company out here."

Until now, you still think of what might happen if you didn't accept the drink.

Will he insist or leave you alone?

Either way, that time, you gratefully received it because as much as you don't like interacting with strangers, you really did need some warmth.

You think that was a coincidence, but the second time it happened, standing and conversing with him under that oak tree during the downpour, maybe it was fate working its magic.

Fate in the shape of a man named Choi San, especially when he admitted to you the secret that he had been hiding.

"You what?!" you shrieked at him, eyes quaking and disbelief written in your face that only made him laugh.

"I said," he leaned in closer to you, "I approached you on my own that day. I had an umbrella, but I ditched it and bought a cup of coffee for you."

You were at a loss for words, "What the fuck was that supposed to mean?"

He shrugged nonchalantly, pulling back a bit and looking away momentarily before speaking again, "I guess you look interesting and I want to spend more time with you."

Silence ensued.

"As a friend."

It was baffling to say the least, the story of how you and San became the best of friends.

Attached to the hip and you love each other like siblings. Well that's what you thought.

You hang out daily with him under the tree turns into something more of a 'date.'

Picnics, sharing stories, gossiping, eating and drinking, until all of those evolved into hugs, hand holding and soft kisses on the forehead and cheeks.

All of these moments, paired with the fact that most people would mistake the two of you as a couple, made you realize what you really feel about him.

Like at the present, your hand toying at his fingers and your neck craned to fully examine his sleeping figure on the blanket.

He looks so peaceful, devoid of any negativities that always bring you comfort.

You have read this one quotation on the internet, "Home is a person."

You used to think that it was a hoax yet it was proven true to you when San came into your life like a floating cloud.

He is the nicest guy you could ever wish for, sweet and gentleman yet he also had this energetic and goofy side.

He always asked for your permission or opinion when he had to do something that is in line with you.

He always listens to you attentively, learning and memorizing every detail of you, be it an intangible or tangible aspect of your being.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer." he mumbled all of a sudden, and you took notice that you have been staring at him longer that you had intended.

"Whatever." you rolled your eyes, detaching you hands but he was quick to pull it back in his grasp.

"Nope, you ain't going anywhere lady." he sat down properly, eyes fixated on you as he tried to pull you closer to him.

"San." you voiced out rather shakily and he only responsed with a hum.

Okay, it's now or never.

The surge of confidence and courage in your veins made you talk before you could even register it.

"You know, I think I like you."

Your statement dawned on you and you hastily sputtered out more words, a flurry of incoherent sentences coming out of your mouth.

"It's not like we have to date yeah, and I totally understand if you're seeing someone and gosh I'm so sorry for telling you this a-"

You were cut off when he engulfed you in a tight hug, backing off a bit after a few seconds.

He gave you a wide grin, his eyes are shining and something about it made your poor heart rate spike up.

San cupped your cheeks, and you can't help but reminisce the past.

"You dummy. Aren't we already dating?"

You have always hated the rain, but during that, your destiny took place and led you to the love of your life.

[avatar-saiki]

Do Demons Have Allergies?

Mammon/reader, ~500 words

Summary: Was simping for Mammon with my bestie and how he could sneeze and I’d still swoon and it inspired this little fic 💛

Experiencing the changes in season in the Devildom had made you realize just how much you'd taken for granted in the human realm. Demons still referred to a concept of day and night, but it was more an "active" and "resting" period that happened to coincide with a similar cycle you'd experienced at home. They'd seemed to even borrow the terms "day" and "night" to refer to these cycles in much the same way, even if it was always "night".

Even the wilds, both creatures and fauna, found some sort of rhythm, some sort of pattern that your human eyes and body couldn't naturally detect. It was one of your first favorite things to learn about when studying Devildom science, its inner ecosystems blending with mana in a way you never could've imagined. It was just one of the many things you'd come to love about a realm you'd only heard of through the murmurings and whispers of myth and legend.

Just with some unseen day and night, they also had changes in the season ungoverned by a sun or rotation, instead influenced by the fluctuations in mana expressed from the ground. Demons were unable to store excess energy within their body, and anything that couldn't be burned through their spells or functions was returned to their environment, feeding the fauna that fed the creatures who roamed free.

It was all so fascinating, an entire world evolved from demons who siphoned energy from others, only to have their energy taken to feed their home.

And even more fascinating?

"Achoo!"

You chuckled under your breath, carefully placing a vase filled with freshly bloomed flowers on your nightstand. Spring had seemingly sprung, the forest and gardens all abloom with so many flowers, some of which could be beneficial to you, and many that were not.

And some that were...

"Ah-Ahchoo! Fuck!"

You laughed again, enjoying their soft subtle fragrance.

"Hey, human are you- achoo dammit I- achoo! Fuck- achoo- Me - achoo - AGH!"

"I'm in here, Mammon!" you called.

Your first demon walked into your room, the tip of his nose red and runny, eyes a little puffy. "Ugh, you brought more of 'em inside?" he pouted with a sniff, "Why?"

"Well, they're pretty don't you think?"

"Pretty a- ah-" He held up one finger and closed his eyes, about to sneeze again.

You waited, but nothing happened. "Mammon, are you-"

"Awf-choo!" he sneezed again. "Dammit!"

You giggled and stood up, "Aw, are you allergic? I didn't know demons could have allergies."

"I ain't allergic it's just the smell that makes me-- makes me ah- ah-" He screwed up his face, trying to hold it back.

You sighed and picked up the vase, "Okay, okay I'll go put them back outside."

"Thank- chu! Fuck me!"

"Maybe later," you teased, making his face turn an extra shade of red as you passed him into the hall. It was such a shame, their fragrance really was so sweet. Maybe just one more little sniff... Or maybe that was a bit too much. The pollen made your nose tingle and you reached up to cup your hand over your mouth, letting out one small little sneeze.

"What?! That's it?!"

You laughed and winked at him. "Hey, what can I say? I sneeze cuter than you."

[serephinastardust]

Honest Complexity

Has anyone ever tried to write a story, where the plot seems unique but super simple, but as you progress in the story and developing the characters. It turns out to a lot more complex for a plot. I love my story, because I love the trips down soul memory lane to past lives. But now that I'm working on the antagonist, I've come to realize, that it was made up of one single betrayal, epochs before my characters souls even started their first life, and it was catalyst that caused them to not be able to fullfil their cosmic destinies of writing this wrong until now. And the biggest coincidence, is that even though my Lysandra thought she was body snatching to fullfil her twisted plans that stemmed from that betrayal. She has ultimately, prevented this cycle of death the trio has experienced for many lives because she took over one of their bodies. And my Lysandra will ultimately be the reason this story will be able to continue, even though she's hell bent on keeping the body all too herself forever.

This was not what I had intended when I started this 2-3 weeks ago. But it makes so sense, like the universe was like "Fuck this shit" and set it up where Seraphina just happened to coincidently find the Nexus rift that Lysandra just happened to be near at the time.

The Universe must serious be tired of the dark rippling energy that's slowly erroding the Nexus.

All I had planned innitially was Seraphina getting power going home, and going "Fuck this engagement to hell, and having the power to break the magic seal without harming the families." And in the process ending up with a reverse harem of sorts, but not having much more to go on than that. I'm still aiming for a reverse harem, but mixed gender, but haven't really delved much into those relations or feelings considering how quickly Seraphina was stolen from the 2 men.

And given the past lives I've delved into for the 3, those three are sure thing even if it's just friendship, they wouldn't leave eachother ever after all those lives of death and betrayal.

------

You see what mean? Such simple idea's, and it was like nope, complex everything. Complex characters, complex themes, complex plot, twist here, twist there, knot this, and knot that. And now I'm trying to not fuck it.

I have to ask an AI if my ideas even make sense. If it makes sense to a computer, I have faith it makes sense to a human.

[celestewilllow]

Theory: MH370📝✈️

This unfortunate incident has happened in 2014 and has left a huge mark on me for reasons I don't know so I wanted to check and share the Astro weather that day. I will focus on the negative manifestation of each placement because so was the event.

Backstory- The flight took off at midnight on the 8th of March 2014. Went missing around early morning at 3am (Malaysian standard time). Communication with the flight has been a problem along with the fact that the flight flew off-course. Very little debris has been found after searching far and wide in the ocean and the summary remains "inconclusive". This has attracted a significant amount of attention because they couldn't find debris until years later, most of which is still questionable. You can Google this if you want to know more.

The skies on the 8th of March,2014 -

At 12:42 am in the morning (take off time) rising Sagittarius and 12th house in Scorpio- could be a coincidence that the rising is in sag, which usually denotes expansion, travel, long distance, flights, and countries. ( the flight was one of the biggest passenger airplane models and was flying from Malaysia to China). The 12th house represents the unknown, fate, fear, unseen realm of sorrow or shadow- and it was in Scorpio ( the sign of death, transformation, karma)

Sun in Pisces at 17 degrees in 4H- 17 degrees is a Leo degree, that too a long-term fame Leo degree 9no wonder it was all over the news). Pisces is the sign most connected to the higher unknown realms, something confusing. A trance. There was a looming confusion over where the aircraft is and how did the incident come about because everything seemed ready. This whole placement generally explains the characteristic of the incident.

Moon was in Gemini- conflict

Saturn was in Scorpio at 23 degrees ( in retrograde from 2nd march 2014)- the planet of karma was in the planet of death, transformation, and karma in a Saturnian(Aquarian) degree.

The North node was in Scorpio at 0 degrees- the beginning of a cycle. north node in Scorpio does not mean death, but you might deal with this concept at least once or might have lessons to learn related to it. The 0 degree is a powerful degree when the purpose and lessons for a period of time unfold and that too in the north node in the sign of Scorpio 9 the sign most related to death, rebirth, transformation, disaster, and karma.)

Neptune was in Pisces at 5 degrees in 3h- again another Leo degree. Neptune, the planet of illusions is in its own ruling sign Pisces. one of the most fascinating but also something to be a little careful about. Reading the news reports I realized that the biggest drawback in the whole incident was the communication. It was not proper and the timing wasn't right.

Chiron was in Pisces at 13 degrees- The sun was conjunct Chiron in the 4th house, both in Pisces. The problems arose from the time the aircraft left its home country.

Black moon Lilith in Leo ( the pilot has a Leo stellium btw)- black moon Lilith is a point in the chart where you can experience power struggles, suppression, or downfall.

Astro weather - Jupiter and Neptune are dominant- In my opinion, Neptune is the kinda scary planet out of all, not that we should be scared of planets. it's just harder to figure out which is like it's nature anyway. Neptune signifies dreams and illusions but it can also make things distracting, foggy, and confusing. The outcome is never expected. In mythology, Neptune and Jupiter are brothers, IDK why I'm even mentioning this.

Disclaimer: I'm in no way approving or proving of what happened through astrology and I'm not blaming anyone at all. I only wanted to see what astrology could show me.

To the crew and passengers, may their souls rest in peace 🕊.

[earlgreytea68]

I love your stories about your nieces. They're so funny and you seem like a good aunt :')

2. I was just thinking the other day, this seems like the closest pete and patrick have ever in a while. I may be wrong, though. but I've been in and out of the fandom for years. I was around for the abap and mania rollout, and they were obviously close, but now they - especially patrick - seem very unguarded now? idk, i always thought that they were extremely fond of each other, but seemed to have a sort of cautiousness around each other. with this this era, though, that seems completely gone.

it may just all be in my head though! thank you for being the local peterick askbox lol i love hearing your thoughts

Awww thank you! I keep thinking I should have come up with a tag for them at the beginning so I could locate them easily later, I fail. But I'm glad you're enjoying them!

I have to say that this is my first album cycle as a fan. I wasn't around until the end of the Mania album cycle, and they seemed happy enough with each other, but there also seemed like a bit of distance between them sometimes. My first April as a fan was also the first Patrick birthday Pete missed tweeting since 2007 or whatever and that was so gutting, honestly.

But I am with you that I feel like they have feel extremely close to each other now, especially on Patrick's end. I really do genuinely believe the pandemic made Patrick realize what was important to him -- as it did to all of us -- and made him realize how much he values his relationship with Pete, and refuse to take him for granted, and this revelation coincided with reluctance on Pete's part to leave his cozy pandemic nest, and I think that maybe it just inspired Patrick to be extra-demonstrative regarding how important Pete is to him. It's just been really lovely to witness, they seem very comfortable with each other, and also I think they both just decided life's too short to be worrying about anything other than just being grateful you hit the lottery with this other person, so it's adding to the unguarded, open feel they have when they're answering questions.

[alkhale]

ALK !!! KAPFM CHP 9 BLEW MY MIND. SHSHSHSHHS SORRY THIS WILL BE LONG BC !!! UUUUUUUUUU!!!!!!!

When okkotsu said “Even if you cannot be separate, you have to imagine it so.” , “In this manner, you can easily remember…That you are still two.”

I felt like that sentence felt familiar before i realized that you titled chp 4 by “i want my life in two” AND somehow the cycle of that two different lives are oddly similar ?? Like how mirai found someone that she likes (chi & okkotsu) ; that someone was taken away (the kamo clan & the villagers) ; she went on a rampage (trashing around the small shed & the village massacre)

chp 4 ends with = (A finger stuck itself into the series of tapes, starting to wind it back.) and as the summary for chp 7 goes : The stories that unfolded each time, however, as of late, did tend to be quite a bit different. Perhaps because of one character that did not quite belong with the rest. (1) Gojou Satoru.

YOU YOU YOU MIND BLOWER AHHHHHHH. I love love how you do this thing with naming the chapters that follows the theme of the story u wrote, it may seem like a minor detail but i rlly rlly love it omfg like

atcit : the mc’s rule of threes

memos : hoku as a protagonist has a goal to paint the best story and if u combine the title of the current chapters together and it can already form a prologue of a story which coincides that hoku just joined the strawhats and is painting for the strawhats’ journey

kapfm : mirai is essentially stuck in a loop/ limbo of a monotonous life (even tho it involves more than plenty of adrenaline for sorcerers & non sorcerers) and theyre not even bothered to think much of it unless its rly rly important for the future/ whatever that is in scope in their curse technique and someone new in their latest lifetime who seems like he wont ever fit in her standard script of life. and not only that but, some chapters may seemed like it mirrored the other but its not !!! like one of those games of finding the abnomalies in 2 similar pictures and its bc of that one ridiculous op guy 😭

hmmmmmm how should i put it, ik that its 2 entirely different series and themes but mirai and hoku is actually a good foil for each other SHJSJSJS dunno if anyone else noticed and may sent sth about them both in an ask

Like, mirai’s ability to see the future and is convinced that it is set and even if it changed it wont necessarily be a good thing for everyone involved; and it wont be an exeption to the strongest sorceror in the new era vs hoku’s plan to draw the best story in a world and the boy who she is convinced could overcome his predecessor (i.e gold roger) but that conviction itself it sth that has been set from the very beginning bc luffy is the protagonist and she thought of herself as a bystander and wont make sth as small as ripple

i probably didnt explain any of my thought even tho i just wrote a paragraph HSHSHSJSH IM SORRY BUT TLDR-ing MY THOUGHTS ABT THEM THIS WAY = once u open a book, the stage and ending has been set for the characters, theyre essentially “doomed” to that ending; no matter how much you flip the coin it will always land on tails/ heads and it will always be one of them and never be other but for the one who flip the coin, they may ruled out themselves out of the possibility that they’re (one of) the anomaly and could change sth around them

I just, love all ur stories & ur ocs, and i love u too🥹

anon, i just want you to know that you've absolutely made my night, like you have literally no idea

work and everything else have all melted away after reading this and the spews of thoughts/theories/connections, it always makes me so, SO HAPPY when you guys do stuff like this because i put those lil things for my own love and its just ;-; really, really rewarding to know you all enjoy them too

THANK YOU FOR NOTICING ALL THE LITTLE CONNECTING THREADS, i also love naming chapters with a little extra thought and trying to follow the chosen lyrics for that moment in KAPFM's case

sometimes they hint stuff ;)

GOJOU BEING THE ABNORMALITY IN TWO PICS IM CRYING, yes, because he is exactly that and if only mirai could see the headache he will become :')

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING AND PLEASE LOOK FORWARD TO MORE

[forevertrueblue]

In some ways fandom is a lifeline but in other ways it's so so so unhealthy for me (I have a cycle of becoming so obsessed with something I pin a lot of my hopes and feelings on it and so far it seens the only way to release those feelings is to move on to a new obsession). I'm embarassed by both, and it's something I've never been able to bring myself to discuss with a therapist because I know what they'd say. I hear it in my own head the whole time. And they'd be coming at it from the perspective of someone who most likely wouldn't be able to really relate to it, which is why I wouldn't feel comfortable talking to them.

I was so obsessed with fandom things I willed it into becoming my job and it has been for the past 5 years. I've come to accept that it's probably not good for my long-term mental health for that to remain the case but as of a month from now I have no other feasible options for the forseeable future.

Right now I have a contract position in anither sector I'm really enjoying and it's good timing considering the strikes. It's definitely not a coincidence that I've been in good spirits during the week despite being sick for nearly a month now but then having massive BPD breakdowns over the weekends (basically fandoms and content are like my equivalent to FPs, and I think I managed to contort it that way so I don't unfairly treat actual humans in that mannner). But in a month that's gone and my other prospects seem to have gone nowhere.

I feel discomfort in doing media coverage rn. Not so much because it's scabbing since I know it isn't, but because all I can think about is that things aren't right in the industry right now, a lot of people are suffering, and unlike with COVID where things were simply delayed, some of these experiences are things that won't be able to be "made up for".

I support the strikes and want the unions to get what they deserve for sure. But I don't want Battle of Songbirds and Snakes to come out until the fandom influencers I love can analyse it with me and Rachel Zegler can slay those red carpets. I don't want The Marvels and especially not Loki Season 2 to come out until the cast can do silly interviews together and my fave YouTubers can post breakdown videos (and I can maybe do some press? Possibly? Well, that's another form of FOMO so I'm gonna leave it there for now.) But even regardless of the job side of it, this stuff is a large part of what keeps me going mentally.

And yes, I realize a ton of people have it worse than me with this strike situation, and even to compare it to the pandemic is probably in bad taste. But please don't message or comment about that; you won't change my feelings, you'll just add a heaping helping of shame on top of them, and that won't solve anything. Just read the last paragraph on page 211 (to 212) of The Perks of Being a Wallflower and shut it.

I don't know how to sit with these emotions, and I know it's immature but really the only thing that can snap me out of these kinds of meltdowns is the promise that things will be made up to me, and steps being put into place to make that happen (this is actually growtg from me, because it used to be that I couldn't stop until the problem was completely solved). But this time it won't be. I've had the carrot of "maybe you'll get to do this in the future!" pulled out from my grasp so many times it doesn't help to think of those possibilities.

I truly fear what I will be like once my current contract is up and I have no work or distractions for the next however long.

[babybluesquid]

Consequences of Karrnath Drabble 2

Of Chilling and Regrettable Revenge

“Please, do not continue this cycle of revenge. It killed Tairil, and then it killed her companions. There is no need for it to kill you as well,” Dagne begs. “Revenge is not what killed them. You did. I came here to bring you to justice,” the elf seethes.

------ Dagne first became aware of the elf one day as they went to the market. They didn’t look out of place, per se, dressed plainly and looking around the farm stalls with mild interest, but they still stood out in a way which Dagne could not place. They seemed too intentional, somehow, in their nonchalance. They never looked at Dagne, but Dagne still had the sense that they were being watched. Still, they dismissed the notion as paranoia, reminding themselves that they should be safe in this place, and if not, they would have little difficulty defending themselves regardless.

The second time they see the same elf, walking into their shop a week later, Dagne realizes it was no coincidence. They’re wearing plain clothing again, but now they notice the outlines of armor concealed beneath that outer layer. The way the elf walks is balanced and measured, with a power behind they that could spring forward at any moment. It’s similar to how Vaeren carries themselves. They also have the impression of a dagger or wand sheath at their belt. The elf’s face is unreadable as they approach the counter. Dagne wishes in that moment that they were wearing their armor, that they had their poleaxe strapped to their back or at least their sword at their belt.

“Greetings. What tea do you have in stock?” The visitor asks with a voice that betrays no intent. But it’s a tone that Dagne is immediately suspicious of, as it’s far too similar to the deceit of a practiced liar. “Depends on what you are looking for,” they reply friendly enough. The elf responds, “I’m looking for a morning brew.” That feels like a cold breeze over Dagne. A normal statement, true, but they swear the elf means mourning, not morning. Still, they’re the model of nonchalance, “how do you intend to prepare it? Hot, sweetened, or with milk?” The elf smiles.

“Cold.”

In an instant, their wand is out! They fire off an icy bolt! Dagne is caught square in the ribcage, but the blast does not penetrate the shield of faith they’ve summoned around their bones. The visitor falls back a couple steps, drawing their dagger. “My name is Jhalira of the Valas Tairn, kin of Valfiel whom you slain. I come to avenge my sister. Prepare yourself Dagne, for it is time for you to visit the despair of Dolurrh!” 

Dagne ducks behind the counter as Jhalira lets off another bolt. The ice explodes and spreads across the shop, growing up the walls and floor. While the cold does not bother them, Dagne recognizes that the temperature inside has dropped by dozens of degrees. If they’re not careful, they’ll freeze here and be utterly helpless to stop this would be avenger from destroying them. 

Very well. They reach under the counter, feeling their hand close on the pole of Garthir. The weapon senses their distress immediately, and reassures them. They will not fall here.

Jhalira takes up a chant in elvish, the words perfectly enunciated. Dagne takes the opportunity. They shoot up, leaping over the counter! They bear in quick, weapon lowered. The spearpoint strikes! But glances off a magical shield, sending a shower of blue motes across the room. Undistracted, Jhalira continues their chant and draws a parrying dagger with their offhand. Then, they finish, and smile.

Another blast catches Dagne. They feel the chill brittle their bones, and Jhalira follows up with a swing of their dagger’s pommel. Ribs audibly crack as Dagne’s side is pummeled, and they’re sent reeling to the side. “You are not so powerful,” the elf tells them, “when you have no allies to defend you. I will grind your bones into dust and cast them into the Barren Sea, such that they can never restore your vile unlife.” 

“That is a long way to travel just to spite me!” Dagne replies, coming in with a sweeping chop aimed at Jhalira’s ankles. To their chagrin, it once again deflects off their magical defenses. Light specs dance. Dagne steels themselves, they’ll have to fight harder if they want to make it out. Turning their weapon, they strike their aggressor with the hammer.

It knocks into Jhalira, hard. They fall back several paces, fixing Dagne with a hateful stare. That look chills more than any of the elf’s spells. But Dagne cannot be frozen by their glare. “You were foolish to attack me in my home,” Dagne warns. Jhalira just grins, “I wanted to ruin your place of comfort. There shall be no respite for the wicked.” Another bolt of frost strikes Dagne, punctuating her statement. They’re slowing, they know, with each spell attack. Jhalira intends to make them helpless before taking the kill. But Dagne shall not be laid low so easily.

They touch their own ribs and feel radiance flow through them. Red light shines brightly as their healing repairs the cracks in their bones and chases away the frost. They do not take the moment to let relief take hold. Dagne runs forward again. They strike again.

This time, their axe blade bites flesh. It cuts right through the magical shield, shattering the spell like glass. Their weapon tears a deep gash in Jhalira’s side. In response, they growl, coming in with parrying dagger. It strikes Dagne’s skull, chipping bone, and they keep it wedged at their jaw. Jhalira pulls, trying to pry Dagne’s lower jaw off. Dagne kicks them away. They lose their grip on the dagger, which remains embedded in Dagne’s skull.

Not wasting a moment where their adversary is off balance, Dagne strikes their shoulder with a heavy hammer blow. Jhalira crumbles to the floor. Downed, but they still have their wand. They raise it and start chanting out another enchantment. Dagne’s hammer strikes again, their words falter. They’re knocked back, head hitting the floor loudly.

Still, Jhalira looks up with those hateful eyes, teeth bared. Dagne places the spearpoint of their poleaxe against their chest. The elf does not move. They step on their hand, forcing them to drop the wand. Dagne’s empty eye sockets stare down at them, expression utterly inscrutable to Jhalira.

“Please, do not continue this cycle of revenge. It killed Tairil, and then it killed her companions. There is no need for it to kill you as well,” Dagne begs. “Revenge is not what killed them. You did. I came here to bring you to justice,” the elf seethes in response, “but if you slay me here, know that my kin shall come to avenge me, just as I came in vengeance. It will not end until you have been destroyed, Dagne. Your enemies will only grow with every kill.” “I do not know you,” Dagne replies, “but I know that your life too valuable to discard so recklessly! You had no chance of defeating me in a fight, even with the surprise. Even if you had caught me unarmed. You are no Tairil, neither are you Valfiel or Hilen-” 

“Do not say their names!” Jhalira’s eyes are red, burning from tears just held back, “just kill me now!” A long moment passes with no response, no movement from Dagne. Then, they withdraw their weapon from Jhalira’s chest. “I will not kill you,” they say, “please, go home to your kin, the ones who would love you enough to come after me in revenge. You would honor them much more by living on.”

Jhalira stares up at Dagne, then they lunge for them, screaming. They draw another dagger and bear it down. Dagne takes the stab, catching them in a grapple. Jhalira screams again as Dagne twists their arm, causing them to drop the knife. Their cries mix with sobs as they thrash against uncompromising strength. 

Dagne feels the ache of Jhalira’s tears, their desire for revenge. They did not kill Tairil, nor did they kill Valfiel, Hilen, or the other Valas Tairn they do not know by name. But they did kill Daeleth, at the very start. All of this is their fault. Jhalira has no reason to release them from this continuing cycle of revenge. It is a great injustice that the remain here, animate, dragging the weight of all those they have killed, or caused to die. Once, they sought to be struck down in battle, atoning for their wicked deeds. 

But they do not want to go to Dolurrh anymore. 

Dagne cannot tell how long it is before Jhalira goes quiet, their tears spent. Surely longer than an hour. They loosen their grip, finding that the attacker does not renew their attempt to fight. “Leave,” Dagne says sternly, and lets them go. Jhalira goes. Relief, guilt, grief wash over them as they watch them leave the shop. Dagne survives, but at others expense. Always, it seems.

[anakinskywalkerog]

HEY 🥸 I’m wondering if you wouldn’t mind talking about when you started your Tumblr and how you got into writing fanfic? I’ve been discouraged because I am posting my imagines and it doesn’t get a lot of engagement. It also takes me a long time to write and you seem to be able to write more so good on you, I’m wondering if you wouldn’t mind giving some tips for how to get people to read your work? Obviously your writing is exquisite so maybe tips on how to be a good writer? Or if you could talk about your journey with Tumblr that would be helpful, THANK YOU

hey glad to hear you’re writing and sure i can ramble about my Tumblr experience 🤡🫠 sorry this is long

i first joined Tumblr in like 2011? 2012? and i was a sad little teen posting very shitty poetry and photography. as far as i know that blog still exists (😳) but it hasn’t been updated in like ten years and i don’t have the password to it anymore 😂

the second Tumblr i had was in 2015 or 2016, and it was deep into my disordered eating phase. the “fitblr” trend, if anyone was online and remembers that. posting ridiculous pictures of my “progress” and my “meals”. we don’t need to talk about her. thankfully that brain is dead to us, and that blog has been fully deleted

that brings us to this blog: in i think March? of this year (2022), i, now a fully fledged adult person, made a tumblr page because i was DEEP into a renewed obsession spiral surrounding Hayden Christensen and his return to the Kenobi show. i’ve talked a little about this before, so i’ll keep it short, but basically: i have OCD, which is characterized by obsessions and compulsions. the last time i was obsessed with Hayden Christensen was somewhere around age 11? and having it return and in such a huge way was really weird for me and difficult to deal with. obviously this all coincided with some difficult life stuff i had going on, but the obsession was very uncomfortable—i was searching the internet constantly for any new Hayden content, i was watching old interviews over and over again, and it wasn’t enough to satisfy that compulsive impulse, so i made a Tumblr in order to find and interact with other Hayden fans. and it worked! and posting about Hayden and the OWK press tour became the compulsion that allowed the obsession to express itself comfortably…it’s hard to explain.

part of my compulsive cycle at that point was obviously watching the star wars movies over and over again, and (i don’t think i’ve yet told this part of the story) one night my wifi fully went out and i didn’t have access to the movies/my compulsion. this was anxiety producing for me, so the way i chose to try to cope with it was writing a few thousand words in Anakin’s perspective. those words never made it to the internet, but that’s the moment i realized writing fanfiction made me feel good/calmed me down.

and the rest is history 😂 jk, but idk, i just started maladaptive daydreaming (which i always do) specifically in the star wars universe, and then i started writing those imaginings down. it’s actually difficult, because part of me thinks that doing this whole Tumblr and fanfic thing has kept the obsession active for longer…but, the obsession is not clinical anymore, and i do think fanfic has added more joy/positive things to my life than negative things.

as for being a good writer—as i said, i’m an adult with a college degree and i’ve read a lot. if you are younger and haven’t had as much education, you shouldn’t compare yourself to other writers. i do consider myself a writer and i have been working on other writing projects for years—i was writing other stuff before i got into fanfiction, which i consider a low stakes place for me to play and not worry about the end product. just practice!! imagine stuff in your head and write it down. and make sure to read a lot, because reading gives you a lot in terms of grammar and how to put your ideas into language. how to get people to read your fanfiction? truly i have no idea. give the people romance? haha that seems to work. just keep posting and eventually people will find your stuff!! and feel free to come off anon and i’ll boost your work 😉

that was so long bc i can RAMBLE and i guess i like talking about myself haha! if you read this far, you get a prize

[zaptap]

looking closely at my tricolor battle, i think the deciding factor was luck, specifically the luck of having a team that was well-coordinated and competent by sheer coincidence

all i remembered going into this was that it was important to guard the ultra signals, so that’s what i focused on. i got #1 enemy splatter (when you include assists, apparently?) because i guarded that thing so well (i splatted 2 people with each of those reefsliders. also, see how michael used the ultra stamp twice? they were one of the two both times, and using it right before both, i’m now noticing. sorry michael. maybe stamping in there isn’t quite the right strategy here). anyway i’m very good at continually spinning the camera around to monitor all the threats and i took out several (and they only got me once)

also only just now realizing that “#1 super jump spot” must mean my teammates jumped to me when respawning more than anyone else. holding things down in the center to keep it safe to do that was probably pretty critical. having someone stay where you can safely jump to is good (not that we have to go as far when we’re just spawning on the side of the middle though)

and i love how i was #1 damage taker but only died once. im very slippery

looking over my captures it seems we were pretty much all guarding the center to some extent, i see all my teammates there with me. and everyone got a lot of splats (12 and 16 are technically more than 11, so the medal must either count assists or take your deaths into account). the 7 isaiah got is pretty good (and more than anyone on the other teams got), and they probably cut away from the action some of the time to focus on inking, since they got the most. maybe everyone else kept switching tasks as needed and it just happened to work out properly

but also we had one long range weapon (cheesecake on the splatling, i see them a little further from center in one of my captures) and they other teams had... i guess a zipcaster? but no mains with long range. zipcaster was used once but i didn’t even see it. the team composition was probably a huge factor

also now i’m looking through what i can see from the “users you’ve played with” section of the switch’s friends menu. on my team, isaiah played splatoon 2 for 300 hours (a fairly decent amount), hex only played it 85 (which is still a little while), and i can’t see cheesecake’s play history (they seemed good with that splatling so perhaps they had a lot of hours). and i have over 450 in splatoon 2 (and over 400 in splatoon 1 which i can’t compare with anyone)

on the other teams, morpho played it for 1 hour, it doesn’t show on canadian’s list (the furthest thing down is super mario 35 so it means they at least haven’t played since april 2021. but also maybe never! though considering splatoon 2′s update cycle ended before their least recent software released, it’s a distinct possibility they could have played it before that), cinnaluna doesn’t share play history (based on their performance here i’d assume they didn’t play much if at all), and michael has 800 hours

which means the other teams had one, perhaps two or maybe 3 at most, with a good amount of prior experience with splatoon (guess it’s also possible they played 1 a lot and skipped 2 but i’d say unlikely). and on the other hand we had a possible minimum of 85 hours compared to their possible minimum of 1 (and the fact they have someone with 1 hour is basically confirmation at least one of them has barely played splatoon before, 1 hour is practically nothing)

so basically, we had great coordination, we had better team composition, and we had probably more experience with the series than our opponents, and that’s likely why we won. that all comes down to luck. the matchmaking worked all that out for us

even with all that going for us it felt like they were putting up a bit of a fight though, which i guess just shows how unbalanced this mode is. sure we held the middle the whole time and nobody actually captured a single ultra signal, but they still got a few attempts in. i think if this were regular turf we would’ve spawncamped them probably but the matchup wasn’t nearly as one-sided as a tricolor battle. which says a lot

still kinda jealous of people who got to play more than 6 battles but i think i had a really solid experience for the time that i had. i also won a 10x (also, not included in those 6 was a 100x that someone disconnected from immediately so we all got dumped back into the lobby as soon as it started. insane that i had all this stuff happen in such a short amount of time)

[mayasdeluca]

This are totally my own thoughts but I couldn’t help to think this:

I find very interesting that when Jaina starts losing fans, and it’s pretty clear that the fandom adores Maya and Carina, and she is exposed to be a bit of a self centered drama queen, the writers decided to make her the rightful hero and the only one siding with Maya while all others kinda hate her now, and that Maya is becoming the bad guy, even by destroying her character and all the progress she made, especially ruining out of nowhere, all her relationships with other characters especially Carina…

I mean I’m clearly looking too much into it but it seems so clear to me that they want to make Andy ( and Jaina) shine in every way they can, and put Maya down at the same time, seems a bit a coincidence…

I’m just happy Danielle can turn any shitty storyline into something incredible, also they clearly don’t give a shit about Carina, and they are still going for the redemption hero of all storyline for Jack….Someone in the WR really loves that dude, cause let’s be honest it’s one of the most bland useless characters in the series at least in the last 2 season he’s unrecognizable from the first 3.

Maya had one of the best written characters development in the show and now they are destroying it…It’s sad to watch it unfold!

What a disaster and waste of talent

It is an interesting coincidence and I've thought about it myself and do wonder if it has any impact on anything but sadly we'll never know. I'm also surprised that Andy & Maya are actually interacting this season and it seems pretty natural? I mean even when they rarely interacted last season, you could just tell that things were off BTS between them but this season it seems like they're putting that aside? I don't know if it's because Jaina is now happy with the direction things are going in for her character and everything (of course she would be) and Danielle is just a professional no matter what because even last season she was never the issue but I don't know. I think the plan was always to make Andy captain of 19 anyway obviously so it was just the way they were going to go about it that was in question and you just wonder if it was always in the plan to make Maya go down in this way in order to make Andy shine and get back to the top. They probably never expected or intended on Maya being as popular and likable as she became, so I don't know if that had any affect on anything either but it does make you wonder.

Danielle is incredible and carrying this show, they really better realize how lucky they are to have her and how much of an impact she has on everything because she's capable of elevating everyone around her and making nothing out of something in literally any kind of storyline or situation and that's very rare. Yes someone is definitely obsessed with Jack because his character has been useless for seasons now like you said, I stand by the fact that he should've just left with Inara and Marcus and had his happy ending because he had finally developed and got out of old habits and found a family and people who cared about him and wasn't just sleeping around the station and wrecking relationships of the people he cared about and then suddenly they decided to take that away from him and have him go back to the same toxic cycle and it's just tiresome and I'm sorry but Grey does not have the capability to pull of an emotional trauma storyline like this so it just doesn't add up.

I really wish these writers actually gave a damn about Carina and stopped with the stereotypes because she has so much potential and deserves much better. It's a shame they've messed up Maya's character development too because it feels like they really crossed a line with the last scene in tonight's episode. It's one thing for old feelings/emotions from her dad and other trauma to come up onto the surface again because of Beckett like Krista had mentioned in an interview but it's another thing for all her development to complete disappear...it almost feels worse than Season 3 somehow and I just don't know how it's all going to end up.

[shadetreemusings]

My Spiritual Journey - Navigating The Path To Inner Peace

Embarking on a spiritual journey is a deeply personal and transformative experience. It's a quest for self-discovery, a search for meaning, and a pursuit of inner peace. In this introspective journey, I will share my own spiritual odyssey, the lessons I've learned, and the wisdom gained along the way. Join me as we explore the profound depths of my spiritual journey and discover how it can inspire and guide you on your own path to enlightenment.

The Call to Begin

Every spiritual journey begins with a call—an inner yearning for something more profound than the mundane aspects of life. I'll recount the moments that ignited my own spiritual quest and the questions that set me on this extraordinary path.

Seeking Answers in Silence

Meditation became my refuge—a practice that allowed me to quiet the chaos of the mind and connect with my inner self. I'll delve into the power of meditation, the challenges I faced, and the remarkable clarity it brought to my journey.

The Wisdom of Spiritual Teachers

Throughout my journey, I encountered spiritual teachers and mentors who offered guidance and illumination. I'll share the profound insights and teachings that reshaped my perspective and deepened my understanding of spirituality.

Navigating the Dark Night of the Soul

The spiritual journey is not always a smooth ascent. I'll explore the dark moments and inner conflicts I faced—the "dark night of the soul"—and how these challenges ultimately became catalysts for growth and transformation.

The Miracles of Synchronicity

Synchronicity, those meaningful coincidences that seem to align with the universe's plan, played a pivotal role in my spiritual journey. I'll recount the awe-inspiring synchronicities that reinforced my faith and purpose.

Lessons from Nature

Nature became my sanctuary, a source of solace and spiritual insight. I'll share how the beauty of the natural world taught me profound lessons about interconnectedness, impermanence, and the cycles of life.

Embracing Mindfulness

Mindfulness, the practice of being fully present in the moment, became an integral part of my journey. I'll explore how cultivating mindfulness allowed me to savor life's simple pleasures and find joy in the present.

The Universal Connection

As my spiritual journey unfolded, I began to sense a profound connection with all living beings. I'll discuss the realization of our interconnectedness and the empathy it fostered within me.

Gratitude and Surrender

Gratitude and surrender became guiding principles in my spiritual journey. I'll explain how these practices shifted my perspective and allowed me to find contentment and acceptance in every moment.

The Ongoing Path

A spiritual journey is not a destination but a continuous, evolving process. I'll reflect on where my journey has led me so far and the ongoing exploration of the inner self, spirituality, and the boundless possibilities that await.

Your Spiritual Odyssey Awaits

In sharing my spiritual journey, I hope to inspire and encourage you on your own path to self-discovery and inner peace. Remember that every journey is unique, and there is no one-size-fits-all approach to spirituality. Embrace the call within you, seek your own answers, and trust in the wisdom that unfolds along the way. May your spiritual odyssey be filled with profound insights, transformative experiences, and the radiant light of inner peace.