fantasyqueen502

[fantasyqueen502]

WOW!!!!

Over 100 hearts in less than a week! Was not expecting that. Thinking about turning this little dabble idea into a series. No more than 5 parts most likely, but I dunno. What do you guys think?

Thanks for the love.

Officer O’Hara

Rated: PG

Word count: 950

Summery: Officer O'Hara hates spider-man, but doesn't know she's married to him.

“You're under arrest!” An officer barks, her gun raised and aimed at the luchador's skull, glaring at her. She steels her nerves, meeting the eyes that were concentrated on hog-tying an unconscious Lizard with its own tail. 

“I think the words you are looking for are 'thank you,'” the man says, speaking through a voice distorter. 

She maintains her distance. “Nueva York police department, you are under arrest for tampering, vigilantism, battery, bodily assault, and contaminating and jeopardizing numerous crime signs.” She lists. 

“I thought we had something, Officer L/N.” 

“And getting on my damn nerves. It's officer O'Hara now,” she corrects. 

“Is that against the law?” He quips. 

Gripping the walkie, pinned over her heart. “I need...” she managed only three syllables. And that's being generous before an electric hiss sliced the air, a force shoving her into a far wall. The wind knocked out of her two more zips, sound bright red webs pinning her hands to the brick. 

"Awww, we can't have our fun now that you're off the market.” He whines. 

“You're gonna pay for this. You hear me. There are consequences. You can’t continue evading the law---mmm.” Webbing glues her mouth shut.

“Till next time, officer O'hara,” he chirps. 

“Congratulations to the new beau.” He swings off. 

“You look like a chipmunk, mommy.” Gabriella observes. 

Her cheeks and lips are red and puffy. One hand holding an ice pack to her left cheek. 

“And you will be too if you don't finish your peas.” 

“I did.” She points at her empty plate with her fork. 

The mom lifts the plate, revealing a grouping of peas hidden under it. Using a butter knife, she slid them back into the plate, placing them before her. Gabriella pouts, slouching back in her seat, kicking her feet in a mild tantrum. “But I don't wanna!” She whales. “They’re yucky.” 

“Finish your dinner, and you'll get a slice of tres leche cake, Daddy made.'' She coos cleaning the dishes. Holding the ice pack with her shoulder. 

“With strawberries,” she mumbles.

“And raspberries,” she nods, smiling to herself, seeing the reflection in the window of Gabriella begrudgingly eating her peas. 

“I'm home!” Calls from the front door.

“Kitchen!” She returns.

“Ow.” She yelps as her husband sneaks a kiss on her cheek. 

“What’s wrong?” He asks, looking to get a good look at her face. “Did adhesive solvent help?” He asks. He had received a slurry of texts while at work about the situation. Trying the call only to be declined until she sent him a selfie of herself. Red webbing covered her from below her nose to her chin. 

“Yes, but my face is now burning from scrubbing it raw,” she groans. 

“I'm sorry, honey.” Placing a kiss on her forehead. 

“Another reason to the list to keep myself restrained from wringing that thick neck.” She grits out

“Why do you not like Spider-Man, mommy?” She mumbles while taking a break from her peas. “He's so cool and saves people like you, mommy.” 

“That's right.” 

“No, honey.” 

The couple looks at each other. 

“He didn't go to school like mommy did, followed the rules, and not just swing around as I pleased and assault an officer. Me!” 

“But he's a good guy. He even wears your colors.” 

“Why are you defending him?” 

“I'm just playing devil's advocate.” He holds his hands up. 

“Finished!!!” Exclaimed the young girl. “Cake, now.” 

“Dinner’s in the microwave,” she sighs before leaving the kitchen.

Reading and rereading the same line from her tablet of a book she downloaded a while ago but never got the time to finish, thanks to life. 

Knock!!! Knock!!!

“We got ice cream for you, mommy.” 

Gabriella says, nudging the door with her hip. Big bowl in hand. Throwing the now useless melted ice pack to the side. To greet her daughter, taking the bowl as she focused on climbing into bed. Snuggling up close to her mom. 

"Thank you.” She coos kissing her cheek. “Got your slice of cake?” 

She nods. “Big slice.” 

“Did you brush your teeth?” She asks. From the smell of whipped cream and fruit, that was a no. 

Gabriella nods, hiding her mischevious grin. 

“Gabriella.” Calls from the doorway. 

“Uh-oh.” the young girl coos. 

“Busted.” the mother laughs. 

“Teeth and bed; I'll be there in a minute.” He instructs.

The tiny tot scampers out of bed past her dad. He pats her head as she makes her way to her bathroom. 

“I'm sorry,” she exhales through her nose. Eyes tired. 

“For what?” His voice is soft and gentle. Kissed her ears.

“I know how much Spiderman means to the city, seeing the looks on you and Gabby's faces when he’s on TV and the daily bugle.” She sighs, massaging the space between her brows. 

“I understand your feelings with the webslinger.” 

“The only feelings I have I can't say in fear of our five-year-old hearing and repeating.” 

He chuckles. She looks at her bowl of moose tracks topped with chocolate syrup and takes a heaping spoonful of cold goodness. Sighing as she closes her eyes and moans from the relief it brought to her lips. 

“Let me say all of the no-no words for you,” he offers. “Give him a piece of my mind.” 

“Really.” She chuckles. 

“Really,” he assures. “I’ll get him a stern talk on lowering the polymer strength in the adhesive in those weds.”

She laughs, but squeaks, holding her cheek, but laughs anyway through the pain. “I feel bad now,” she says through her breaks for breath. “I don’t want him to die from your science talk.” 

"Well, too bad for him,” he tuts. She leans in, giving his lips a peck. He smiles and licks his lips.

[fantasyqueen502]

Officer O’Hara

Rated: PG

Word count: 950

Summery: Officer O'Hara hates spider-man, but doesn't know she's married to him.

“You're under arrest!” An officer barks, her gun raised and aimed at the luchador's skull, glaring at her. She steels her nerves, meeting the eyes that were concentrated on hog-tying an unconscious Lizard with its own tail. 

“I think the words you are looking for are 'thank you,'” the man says, speaking through a voice distorter. 

She maintains her distance. “Nueva York police department, you are under arrest for tampering, vigilantism, battery, bodily assault, and contaminating and jeopardizing numerous crime signs.” She lists. 

“I thought we had something, Officer L/N.” 

“And getting on my damn nerves. It's officer O'Hara now,” she corrects. 

“Is that against the law?” He quips. 

Gripping the walkie, pinned over her heart. “I need...” she managed only three syllables. And that's being generous before an electric hiss sliced the air, a force shoving her into a far wall. The wind knocked out of her two more zips, sound bright red webs pinning her hands to the brick. 

"Awww, we can't have our fun now that you're off the market.” He whines. 

“You're gonna pay for this. You hear me. There are consequences. You can’t continue evading the law---mmm.” Webbing glues her mouth shut.

“Till next time, officer O'hara,” he chirps. 

“Congratulations to the new beau.” He swings off. 

“You look like a chipmunk, mommy.” Gabriella observes. 

Her cheeks and lips are red and puffy. One hand holding an ice pack to her left cheek. 

“And you will be too if you don't finish your peas.” 

“I did.” She points at her empty plate with her fork. 

The mom lifts the plate, revealing a grouping of peas hidden under it. Using a butter knife, she slid them back into the plate, placing them before her. Gabriella pouts, slouching back in her seat, kicking her feet in a mild tantrum. “But I don't wanna!” She whales. “They’re yucky.” 

“Finish your dinner, and you'll get a slice of tres leche cake, Daddy made.'' She coos cleaning the dishes. Holding the ice pack with her shoulder. 

“With strawberries,” she mumbles.

“And raspberries,” she nods, smiling to herself, seeing the reflection in the window of Gabriella begrudgingly eating her peas. 

“I'm home!” Calls from the front door.

“Kitchen!” She returns.

“Ow.” She yelps as her husband sneaks a kiss on her cheek. 

“What’s wrong?” He asks, looking to get a good look at her face. “Did adhesive solvent help?” He asks. He had received a slurry of texts while at work about the situation. Trying the call only to be declined until she sent him a selfie of herself. Red webbing covered her from below her nose to her chin. 

“Yes, but my face is now burning from scrubbing it raw,” she groans. 

“I'm sorry, honey.” Placing a kiss on her forehead. 

“Another reason to the list to keep myself restrained from wringing that thick neck.” She grits out

“Why do you not like Spider-Man, mommy?” She mumbles while taking a break from her peas. “He's so cool and saves people like you, mommy.” 

“That's right.” 

“No, honey.” 

The couple looks at each other. 

“He didn't go to school like mommy did, followed the rules, and not just swing around as I pleased and assault an officer. Me!” 

“But he's a good guy. He even wears your colors.” 

“Why are you defending him?” 

“I'm just playing devil's advocate.” He holds his hands up. 

“Finished!!!” Exclaimed the young girl. “Cake, now.” 

“Dinner’s in the microwave,” she sighs before leaving the kitchen.

Reading and rereading the same line from her tablet of a book she downloaded a while ago but never got the time to finish, thanks to life. 

Knock!!! Knock!!!

“We got ice cream for you, mommy.” 

Gabriella says, nudging the door with her hip. Big bowl in hand. Throwing the now useless melted ice pack to the side. To greet her daughter, taking the bowl as she focused on climbing into bed. Snuggling up close to her mom. 

"Thank you.” She coos kissing her cheek. “Got your slice of cake?” 

She nods. “Big slice.” 

“Did you brush your teeth?” She asks. From the smell of whipped cream and fruit, that was a no. 

Gabriella nods, hiding her mischevious grin. 

“Gabriella.” Calls from the doorway. 

“Uh-oh.” the young girl coos. 

“Busted.” the mother laughs. 

“Teeth and bed; I'll be there in a minute.” He instructs.

The tiny tot scampers out of bed past her dad. He pats her head as she makes her way to her bathroom. 

“I'm sorry,” she exhales through her nose. Eyes tired. 

“For what?” His voice is soft and gentle. Kissed her ears.

“I know how much Spiderman means to the city, seeing the looks on you and Gabby's faces when he’s on TV and the daily bugle.” She sighs, massaging the space between her brows. 

“I understand your feelings with the webslinger.” 

“The only feelings I have I can't say in fear of our five-year-old hearing and repeating.” 

He chuckles. She looks at her bowl of moose tracks topped with chocolate syrup and takes a heaping spoonful of cold goodness. Sighing as she closes her eyes and moans from the relief it brought to her lips. 

“Let me say all of the no-no words for you,” he offers. “Give him a piece of my mind.” 

“Really.” She chuckles. 

“Really,” he assures. “I’ll get him a stern talk on lowering the polymer strength in the adhesive in those weds.”

She laughs, but squeaks, holding her cheek, but laughs anyway through the pain. “I feel bad now,” she says through her breaks for breath. “I don’t want him to die from your science talk.” 

"Well, too bad for him,” he tuts. She leans in, giving his lips a peck. He smiles and licks his lips.

[fantasyqueen502]

Why are hands so hard!!!

They look backwards to me (particularly the left one). Oh well. I’ll just live with my backwards hand.

(All thanks goes to _catbread_ for the inspiration of their beautiful helluva/Hazbin combinations)

Feel free to reblog, and chat, and all that good stuff.

[fantasyqueen502]

I just love how this piece turned out. ❤️❤️❤️

(Check out _catbread_ who inspired me to jump back into digital art.)

Feel free to reblog, chat, like to your heart’s desire.

[fantasyqueen502]

Leave it to Helluva boss and Hazbin Hotel to spark my digital drawing interest.

Watch and follow _catbread_ for helping my writers block with their beautiful YouTube shorts.

Had a lot of fun with this combo. 🥰👍😘

Feel free to reblog, tell me what you think, like and all that jazz.

[fantasyqueen502]

I want to put my work there more, but I can't decide on one solid platform to use. I guess I'll continue using them all (Wattpad, Tumblr, Quotev) I also wanna get into AO3.

Here's a little taste

His eyes danced about the titles plucking a book piling them into her waiting arms. Taking their pile of research to a table he sits with her even going over some of the corrections and mistakes the books have.

"Why are they depicted as animals, but in our form?" She asks.

"Very good question." he praises with a lopsided smile. "Animals are sacred..." he begins. "Perhaps it is a simple way for us to understand a higher power."

"We could be facing a second coming of gods today." she says drawing his eye. "Spiderman, Antman, Falcon, Hawkeye. Black widow." she references.

"That's a unique way of thinking." he chuckles. "Maybe you're right."

At the check out desk. "Thank you..." she trails off realizing she didn't get his name. Glancing at his nametag. "...Steven." she smiles, catching his eyes. "You make Egyptian lore very..." she trails off for the right word.

"Boring. I'm sorry I must have talked your ear off." He apologizes, continuing to scan her books.

"Entertaining." She chirps. "I was going to say entertaining." taking the receipt, "I hope to learn more in the future if you don't mind." She flutters her lashes collecting her bags.

"Y-Yeah. Of course." He stutters.

"See you 'round, Steven with a V."

"Bye, Levii." Returning with a stiff wave handing back her library card. "With two I's." he watches her leave, staring at the doors a few moments more.

"Quit it." Steven grumbles.

"Quit what?" Marc asks his reflection shrugs with a cocked brow in the computer monitor's screen.

"I can feel your eyes. Judging me." Steven grumbles.

"Levii with two I's." He repeats.

[fantasyqueen502]

Guys I think there is a virus spreading in the animation department

[fantasyqueen502]

Kiss of Life

Author's note: A scenario I thought up of our favorite pilot and my OC Kit. I had a lot of fun writing it. May make it a series out of this drabble. I don't know.

Rated: PG-13

The war was over.

Every member big and small of the rebel alliance was awarded with medals of valor in a grand ball. 

“Great speech General.” Finn laughs shoving his bestfriend’s arm mid sip causing him to dribble down his chin. “Grade A General Dameron.” 

He glares, but the smile couldn’t help, but make an appearance.

“Children. I’m cursed to play mother.” Ray states scolding and joking, but mostly scolding at the two full grown man. 

“I don’t know?” Finn wonders sauntering around her. She stifles a shriek as he snatches her waist holding her close. “We can play later, mommy.” he smiles, speaking lowly making Ray snicker, but punching his chest. Not full strength, but enough to get her message across. 

“My ears, my ears are bleeding!” Poe shouts dramatically covering his ears “La, la, la, la, naughty talk, Poe no like naughty talk.” he continues in a childlike voice. 

“You’re one to talk.” Finn counters. 

“Yes, talk. I talk nicely and gently for I am always a gentleman.” he states purring over the words gentle and gentleman. 

“ Po---I mean General Dameron, sir?” the address sounded more like a question of a statement unsure of the proper title in a social gathering. 

The trio turn towards the voice Poe the last to do so turning his head to peek over his shoulder at a Felis, an endangered species 200 recorded in the entire galaxy thanks to the First Order through genicide and or enslavement. Red orange eyes and healing cut along her widows peak. 

“BB, alert medical!” He instructs hopping a quarter of the way on one leg loosing the laces on his right boot swiping and doing the same to his left. Kicking them off leaping into the water towards a sinking X-wing. Routine evasive maneuvers.

Bad things seem to happen to the veterans outside of battle and war.

Through the merky blue pressing his palm to the wind screen finding the entire left window broken. He flinches feeling something trace his jaw gaping it recognizing the orange of the flight suit and four fingered hand. Following the arm finding her body still buckled in. Bubbles erupted from his mouth, swallowing the urge to inhale.

Breaking the surface grunting to lift her head above water. Mohawk of fire red hair mopped over her face he almost looked over the obvious open wound on her widows peak lines of blood with her black markings he wasn’t sure were from birth or ink. Pulling her body onto shore. Gasping for breath he goes into rescue mode. Feeling for a pulse snapping her fingers in her ears not seeing them flinch. 

He begins chest compressions pinching her nose giving three breaths going back to chest compressions. After four, five rounds her body spasms spitting up pond water. He helps her up by patting her back as she breathed. 

“Cadet Kit” he nods.

“My apologies, I didn’t mean to intrude, Miss Ray, Mr. Finn.'' she bows her head in respect. She stood pencil straight dawning a deep v cut neckline black dress that changes hues to red in certain lights. Duel tails flicked from side to side. 

“Don’t be.” Rey waves off giving a gentle smile. “We’ll catch up later, Poe.” she excused, taking an unsuspecting Finn by the arm. 

“General Dam---”

“No need for formalities, Kit. Come have a drink.” he gestures to the empty seats at his sides.

She sighs taking a seat smoothing out the wrinkles in her dress reaching back to preen her impressive mohawk that ran down her spine mid back for all to see thanks to the open back dress. 

The bartender approached. 

“Ummm…” red orange eyes darting over the wall of bottles. “...just a star lyte.” She orders meekly. Shortly a tall glass of bubbly starting from yellow to a clear. 

“Is everything alright since…” he trails off not wanting to tear out wounds, but genuinely wanting to know a cadet under his watch is ‘well’. 

 

“No.” She assures. “I mean yes…everything is fine. I've been evaluated and tested and given the green light to return to work.” 

“I'm waiting for a but.” Poe speaks his mind. 

“I don't want anything from you, I'm not blaming or-or pressuring you, because you didn't know, I mean how could you know.” she rattles off sporadically. 

“Kit, Kit, Kit.” He calls. Catching one of her flailing arms. She’s breathing hard guiding her hand to the bar tenderly rubbing his thumb along her hand. 

“I'm pregnant.” She sighs. 

“Congratulations?” He trails off in confusion from such a display having any connection to him. 

“It's yours.” She quickly adds ears drawn back anticipating an outburst. 

“You're joking.” He laughs

“No.” 

“You are.” 

“No.” 

“We've never…” he gulps deep in thought going through his list of intimate partners over the past few months. “...we never…” he states, but isn’t even unsure of himself. 

“No, we've never…did that, but that's not required for me.” 

“How then…” 

“When…when you kissed me---I know it wasn't a kiss.” She cuts in. “But that is how my…” she wills herself to continue. “That is how my kind conceives.” She states as if the very words pained her. “Any form of dna substance in organisms.” 

Poe stares at her. Unblinking brows furrowed she could hear the gears in his mind working overtime. When his unblinking stare became unbearable she opens her mouth, but he turns he head breathing in deeply covering his face with his hands. 

“I've already filed a request a transfer so you don't have to---” 

“Wait transfer. Wait---stop, stop, stop..” he shakes his head turning his body toward her. “...why would I want you to transfer?” 

“It's unprofessional and irresponsible to continue working together…” 

“Says who?” He asks. 

She scolds a ping of warmth in her heart at his rebellious ‘fuck the rules attitude’.

“You are my superior. Any promotion or demotion will be scrutinized.”  

“I would never---”

“I know.” she coos. “But on the outside what will it look like?” She reasons. 

“I assume you're keeping…” he could finish his thought. 

He? She? It? Them? Everything was just moving so fast. 

She nods. “You don't have to feel obligated, I'm fully prepared to do all of this on my own.” 

“I want to be a part of this. My mom would haunt me and beat me senseless if I didn't man up and take some responsibility.” 

She laughs at that. 

“Did you get a scan or is that---is it too early.” he asks. 

“Can't really tell anything yet. Just that little colo is there.” 

Scooting closer touching shoulders. Tapping her wrist band, projecting an image on the bar top. 

“Colo?” He recites. 

“It's stupid. It's just…looks like little Colo claw fish egg.” 

Taping the still image plays. A small blob in a sea of static. Rotating it to show small darker spots within flickering rhythmically. 

A heartbeat. 

[fantasyqueen502]

Not a Robot

Author's note: cute fluff scene idea of an encounter with a spider person (gender neutral) and 2099.

Rated: G

Another late night. Finding his mug empty, Miguel ventures the vacant halls to the cafeteria.

Nights like these were thankful, he could venture out of his cave undisturbed to fill his mug and maybe an empanada or barmbrack if he was lucky.

Cold black coffee it was.

“Flare it!” shouts accompanied by a pounding of a fist.

Miguel didn’t flinch a muscle not having to turn to know who it was.

A spider person of course.

Who?

Guess he’ll find out.

Taking a sip lifting his piercing red eyes, scaling the vending machines that was an entire wall about six stories, which was nothing to spider people (Especially ones who can stick to surfaces.) A figure squishing their face against the glass to read off the beverages basking in fluorescent lights.

“Apple juice, grape juice, tomato juice, corn juice, coconut milk, manatee milk, blobfish milk, and no fucking alcahol.” grumbles angrily.

“SWI.” he says catching the spiderperson’s attention. “Many aren’t of age, and I don’t need the headache.”

“Swinging while intoxicated.” chuckles.

The figure leaps down, meeting the ground springing up to full height animatedly.

Large goggles with pink lenses give them a bug-like appearance. They looked as though the circular lenses were furrowed. Gas mask with neon green mohawk sprouting between the belts and buckles tied to their skull.

The way they move was insect-like too. Quick short steps, the head moving out of sync with the body and feet lagging behind.

They were unlike the others. Unafraid of his presence and “Not so friendly” aura as Jessica and Peter constantly remarked. He ignores them, but watches with his peripheral.

“Your drinking coffee.” they speak

He raises a brow reading “no shit sherlock”

“Some say you must be a robot. You’re drinking something. If you were a robot you wouldn’t risk malfunctioning by eating or drinking.” they rattled off. “But you would, to keep up appearances, or you could be an advanced robot who can eat and drink.”

He chuckles, this encounter being the most unusual. He had no rebuttal exhausted brain, fried thoughts couldn’t string together a witty combat. Maybe he was a robot. He glanced over his mug, lowering it to meet the spider person’s gaze head on.

“Shhhh.” holding a finger to his lips.

Seeing the widened eyes through the lenses as the spider person is stunned speechless.

Priceless.

[fantasyqueen502]

In Sickness and in Health

Rated: PG-13

Author's note: An idea I had of Leto and Jessica having an enemies to lovers relationship in the beginning. In addition to a polyamerus relationship with the Duchess in the beginning before Paul's birth. Happy reading.

The door to the master bedroom opens. The sliver of entry allows Duke Leto to see Jessica and only Jessica. The Bene Gesserit handmaiden of his Duchess. He eyes her in annoyance exhaling a long breath through his nose. Grinding his teeth to remain cordial.

“My Lady wishes not to see any visitors at this time.” She states leaving no room for negotiation.

“I am her husband, not no mere visitor.” he corrects.

“Advised by the doctors, the Duchess needs rest.”

“Jessica.” He hissed.

She doesn’t miss a beat, continuing her thought. “I'm sure you have lots to talk about to ensure her swift recovery in the meantime.” she ends with a proud smile. Closing the door he attempted to barge his way into the room.

Key word being attempted.

Within two moves the Duke was now on his knees, the petite woman having him in a headlock.

“Stop it Jess.” The Duchess croaks from her place on the bed.

Earning a look from the Duchess. Jessica huffs letting the Duke go, his face flushed and eyes teary as he inhaled and coughed to steady his breathing.

Running her hands over her blouse and dress to smooth out any wrinkles from its ruffled state.

“I would have you dead if it wasn't for my child.” he growls getting to his feet.

“Leto!” The Duchess scolds weakly struggling to sit up from her place in bed.

“Watch me tremble before the grand Duke Atreides” She cowares mockingly.

“Jess!” shouts pushing the blankets away. Prepared to intervene if necessary.

“Witch!” He spat.

“Leto!”

“Bastard!” Jessica pushes through gritted teeth.

“Stop it you two!” The Duchess commands falling into a coughing fit. The two direct their full attention to her.

Jessica picking up a clean handkerchief. Helping her sit up holding the cloth in front of her mouth. Patting her back painting the white cloth yellow and red. Leto pours a glass of water. Breathing easier now Jessica folds up the cloth after cleaning the edges of her lips.

She cradles her face, the Duchess humming as she leans into Jessica's cool hands. “I'll clean up.” She informs placing a kiss on her nose.

“Ok.” the duchess whispers.

Jessica cleans her hands and disposes of a plate of untouched breakfast, used bloody rags and wash bowl.

Leto takes her place on the bed assisting his wife in grasping the full glass. His hands ghosted her own as they trembled as she sipped.

“You must be disgusted.” She mumbles face flushed with embarrassment.

“Worried? Yes, absolutely, but you can never disgust me.” He assures placing a peck on her lips.

“Well I'm disgusted you did that.” She chuckles softly.

“In sickness and in health, right?”

She hums, giving a nod as he holds her close. Raising his chin for her to snuggle her head perfectly under it.

“How was your morning?” she mumbles into his chest.

“Uneventful. Didn't realize how unbearable council meetings were without my favorite councilwoman.”

“I’m sure it wasn't that bad.”

“No, it was. So hurry up and get better.”

She laughs. “Shhhhhh…I'm faking so I can sleep in and be fawned over.”

Leto laughs. The two fall into comfortable peace in each other's company.

Jessica returns seeing her spot is taken and Leto has no plans of moving.

The duchess perks up. “I wanna talk to Paul some more.” Making grabby hands towards Jessica.

Smiling smugly rounding the bed to the Duchess’ free side. Embracing Jessica’s waist snuggling her cheek against the side of her belly. Jessica placed a hand on her head raking her fingers over scalp, a calming ritual.

“Mommy and Daddy are driving me insane.” She snickers feeling the soft kicks against her cheek. Humming along as if in conversation. “I don't know?” She coos. “I love them both. They love me. They'd do anything for you. You'd think with so much in common they'd be thick as thieves.” She wonders.

Jessica bites her lip to mask the expression of discomfort on her face.

“He's upset you two woke him from his nap.” The Duchess informs them.

“You don't say.” Jessica quips wincing as she rubs the side of her stomach where their child began this post nap cartwheels.

“Paul and I will greatly appreciate it if you two apologize and cease this childish rivalry.” She mumbles.

Jessica and Leto go stiff, breaking their gaze from the Duchess to themselves. Quickly looking away at anything else.

“You’ll be here soon. Feels like I already know you. Mommy and Daddy will fight over you. Without me to ref, they will.” She slurs succumbing to fatigue. “The time I spend with you is a reward in itself.”

Leto swallows thickly looking at Jessica. She holds her lips in a thin line, but her eyes glitter with tears.

“They’ll fight a lot… probably kill each other.” she continues.

Jessica and the Duke chuckle at how true the scenario was.

“My money's on Jessie.” She chuckles. “Don't tell anyone.”

“Leto would put up a good fight.” Jessica coos.

“Put up a good fight.” He echos laughing. “That has to be the most kindhearted statement you've ever said to me.”

The Duchess takes Leto's hand that was clasping hers placing his hand on the front of Jessica's bump.

“I'm sorry, Leto.”

He raises his eyebrows in surprise. Leaning over Jessica doesn't flutter a lash. He places a kiss on her forehead. “I'm sorry, Jessica.”

She flushes looking away. “All is forgiven.”

“He’s really active.” Leto comments smoothing his thumb over her popped belly button.

“He's happy everyone is finally getting along.” The Duchess coos giving Jessica's belly a kiss.

[fantasyqueen502]

Chili Mango Run

Rated: PG

Author’s note: Dialogue in () means it's spoken in a different language. In this case Spanish.

Example:

“Good morning, Miguel.”

“(Good morning, Miguel.)”

“(Thank you Jermain, have a good night.)” A man calls over his shoulder whilst leaving the small gasoline station shop. The swishing of the very grateful plastic bag as he shoved his hands into his pockets for the persistent cries of his phone. “Hello.” lifting his hood at the downpour before him. “(Hon-Honey, slow down)…what happened?)” he asks shoulders square turning his ears away from the pounding rain. He listens, eyes flashing with guilt. “I was hoping to be out and back before you woke up.” he explains. He exhales a chuckle taking a quick glance at his phone. “3:18 am, beautiful out.” he says cheerfully. “I know…I know.” he nods along. “...I couldn’t sleep anyway and you needed a pick-me-up.” he smirks. “...I wanted to.” he smiles. “On my way home….(Love you, too)”

Weathering the downpour. Feeling unease of being watched. Staring into the alley bathed in shadows. The rain continued wiping his eyes without the aid of an umbrella, the curtain of hair getting in the way of his eyes. Shadows shifted into figures created by his imagination, but his mind had doubts. Lightning strikes bring everything below the skies with blinding light a looming figure standing in front of him. Two glowing red dots.

They looked like eyes.

A woman yelps, holding a baseball bat prepared to swing, lowering it to her side, holding her pounding heart from the flash of lightning and boom seeing a dark figure through the glass in the backdoor. Steadying her breath she shuffles to the door swinging it open in a huff.

“What is wrong with you!” she scolds through clenched teeth. “I thought you were a creeper.” she shutters . “Almost peed myself, scaring me half to death.”

“(Forgot my keys. Didn’t want to wake you.)”

“I told you I was gonna wait till you got in.” she sighs, placing her weapon onto the table. Rubbing her tired eyes mind foggy with sleep or the lack thereof. A cool misty breeze from the open door she turns to see him where she had left him. “Come in before you freeze to death!” she scolds in annoyance, but it was in the vain of love.

Stepping inside, closing the door behind him. He stood awkwardly in the center of the kitchen.

Out of place.

His eyes landed on the fridge. Beelining for it takes in the silver doors consumed by postcards, takeout menus, coupons, and pictures.

Lots of pictures.

Some of himself, some of you, many together. Happily eating, lounging at the beach, hot coco snuggling, and…”

“Gabriella.” falls from his lips. Plucking a sonogram photo from under a banana magnet.

“Being out in the cold, walking in the rain with no coat, at three in the morning like an insane person…” She rattles in frustration, but is interrupted by giggles. “...your papa is loco.” she chuckles parting her fluffy pink bathrobe to rub the side of a very pronounced baby bump.

“I’d do it again for you…” the words got stuck in his throat. Eyes darting down then up again. “...both of you.” he rasps tears now falling.

“(Oh, honey. Why the tears?)” she coos, collecting him into her hold. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I just woke up and couldn’t find you anywhere…with the hormones, fatigue, and achiness…my imagination got the better of me and I thought the worst.” she exhales a breath through her nose.

Wiping under his eyes and nose with her robe sleeve. “How about I take care of you now.'' She smiles with a nod of assurement.

He slowly lifts the plastic bag covered in repeated thank yous. She takes it face alight with joy doing a shimmy as she clutches a family sized bag of sweet chili dusted dried mangos.

“(I’m sorry, darling.)” she says in a hushed tone. “(I woke you.)” she asks, rubbing the top other belly. She gives his lips a peck. “I’ll run you a nice hot bath, throw your clothes in the wash---”

He captures her lips, his large hand grasping the back of her head reeling her in deepening the kiss. He inhales sharply through his nose leaning forward as she pulls away face flushed heaving for air.

She eyes him taking him in up and down. “Who are you and what have you done with my husband?” a crooked smirk pulled at her lips.

It takes him a moment, but he joins in laughing along with you.

[fantasyqueen502]

Love this 💜💜💜

My deaf spiderwoman OC, Marisol 🕷

Miles knows ASL and even tho it's the Insomniac version of him Imma headcanon all versions of Miles know ASL because that cool asf!

Marisol communicates solely in ASL. She's Italian-American and LOVES pastels and hearts.

In deaf culture they use light to alert and get others attention so I wanted to incorporate light into her fighting style. She uses flash bombs and the main part of her suit, which is based off of the Mirror Spider's reflective back, can blind temporarily enemies. The eyes of her suit allow her to see in the intense light and are very expressive (an important part of signing).

She's not fully flushed out yet and this is only the 2nd iteration of her design so she will definitely change in the future. But for now I want to figure out what her face looks like and draw her with clothes over her suit because she does so all the time.

[fantasyqueen502]

😈💜😈💜😈

I love foils. So, here's a collection of similarities between Vox and Alastor!

The classic angry table clawing - everyone knows that one:

Smiling for heightened control and influence (and smiling through annoyance):

The [demonic shock] [slow head turn] [extra filtered voice] "haha, what did you [just] say?" scenes:

These scenes, at the beginning and end of Stayed Gone:

Depicting themselves as a member of a religious institution to vie for the audience's trust:

[fantasyqueen502]

I can see this happening. Love the art. 💜💜💜

@chaoticace2005

[fantasyqueen502]

Husk and Angel dust body swap. Done in procreate. Love the show on prime. Was just in a drawing mood.

[fantasyqueen502]

50 posts!

I'm on a roll!!! My new year's resolution is to draw and write more in 2024. Not be so frozen by not meeting perfection. Just to write no matter what. 💜💜💜

[fantasyqueen502]

Sam the Samaritan

Relationship: Poe Dameron x male alien

Rated: PG

Mentions of mental injury

Summery: A small tale of events to how Poe survived and separated from Finn after the TIE fighter crashed on Jakku.

A loud bang startles the pilot awake. Waking up laid out flat in the hot sun throwing from the TIE just behind him hissing and smoking in disarray. Yanking off his jacket fanning out the flames. Hanging up his now smoking article up on the broken panel catching a glimpse inside the craft.

“Finn!” He screams, breaking into a cough from the heat, the smoke, and the sand that clawed his throat. “Fi----” the beaten up ship groans, the entire craft shifting in the soft sand.

Sand hissed as a current washed over his feet piling up to his ankles, to his calf then… his legs were knocked from under him. Taken by the stream of sand. Down the dune braving with his hand clawing at an attempt to stop. Baring his teeth at the burn from the white hot sun baked sand and friction. He drifts sideways, leaning forward tumbling down. Head over heel head over heel. Blue skies orange sand blue skies orange sand. Landing on his back in a heap. The world spins, he swore he saw small stars and BB droids dancing about his head. His vision began to tunnel and succumbed to darkness.

Panting throwing his head left and right brows pulled together in distress as grunts and whimpers left his lips. It’s night now found and taken in by a passerby. Sheltered under a small tent and fire. The passerby, the good Samaritan, catches the sounds Poe made. Setting the stew aside, steps over to the man laying on the cot. Bandages wrapped around his head. He lifts his arms shielding himself from an attack for the shadow that casted over him.

The Samaritan took hold of his flailing arms, eyes snapping open, breathing more easily after a few moments. His eyes unfocused, staring past him. Groaning as he closed his eyes, his head pounding from the heat, the crash, or all of the above.

"I must be dead." He swallows.

"Your mind is trying to heal." The Samaritan coos and hushes the man still. Two hands pinning Poe's arms to his chest, the pilot flinched as another pair of three fingered hands held the sides of his head. "Torn, defiled, you're in a lot of pain." He closes his eyes and swallows thickly.

Leaning forward until their foreheads touched.

"Thank you." He clears his throat taking the bowl of soup. "For taking care of me. The food, and my mind." he chuckles. It has been a few days. The X-wing pilot was now able to sit up and feed himself. "I would be as good as dead if it wasn't for you. What was that thing you did?”

“Mind linking. My kind's way of 'levating pain. Shared pain.”

"So you felt it." He whispers now realizing his eyes are beginning to water at the faint fragments of Kylo Ren.

"You're a strong one. I've never seen someone's mind…" he trails off. Moments pass as the two sit in silence to the sounds of the crackling fire. "... you're a very lucky man, Dameron."

"You get to know my name, but I only get to call you The Good Samaritan."

"My title cannot be repeated by your primal lips."

"I take that as a compliment. Try me." He gestures.

A string of chirps and screeches. He chuckles seeing the blank stare on his face.

"I wasn't ready for that one more time, but slower." Poe assures.

"You're not eating the sounds, stop chewing on them." Sam instructs.

"That is how “My Kind Talk.” We speak and eat through the same hole." the pilot informs matter of fact. He doesn’t flinch when Sam leans forward eye level with his lips. Sam couldn’t help himself. Squeezing his cheeks, lifting his lips, tracing his teeth. Startling Sam when he attempts to chop his finger that inches too close.

Poe chuckles as Sam gives him a dismissive glare.

"I guess Sam will have to do."

"Sam?"

"Short for Sam-aritan. A good samaritan is someone who helps another in need." He nods and shrugs. "I'm afraid of offending someone with my butchering of your language with my primitive mouth."

"I like your mouth." Sam hums. "When it's not chewing words."

"I think you just told me I talk too much."