#I started buying green stuff left and right

[robertlutecee]

Robertlutecee's Blorbos of 2022 ↺ In reverse Chronological Order ↳ Edward Nygma/The Riddler ♦ Gotham

[lehguru]

FIRST TASK + ONE PIECE MEN

how they would react to their child first task + trafalgar law, roronoa zoro, sanji

info + tw: for the people that dont know— first tasks are something that the kids do alone for their parents in japan, its usually simple stuff, like buying one or two things at the market! also, ive randomized the kids for each of them tw children — ko-fi

trafalgar d.water law thought he wasn't a protective father—when the idea of sending his three year old daughter to buy basic medical supplies alone came up, he was calm about it and agreed. bepo gave her a bag that matched her father's hat, berries to buy the supplies and a pocket den den mushi. while everyone in the crew was almost crying seeing her walk off alone, law let out a soft 'tsk' and said "all of you are overreacting. she will be fine."

it didn't take 10 minutes for him to wonder if she was really fine, where she was, if she was coming back or was still buying things—what if she never made it to the pharmacy at all. he tried to focus on other matters, but those thoughts never left him. he got up and went to leave the submarine, the crew following suit and telling him to wait.

when the door was swung open, golden eyes that mirrored his blinked up at him. she proudly showed the bag with the supplies, her lips splitting into a smile. feeling tears tickling his lower eyelid, law kneeled and gave her a tight hug. "'m so glad you're okay." he murmured, more to himself than anyone else. he pulled away and patted her head. "you did well." while they walked back inside the ship, the little girl started to ramble about her adventure, making a soft smile appear on trafalgar's lips.

roronoa zoro always did things alone as a child, so when nami proposed that he asked his son to do a task in the next island they stop at, zoro groaned a yes. when the day came, he sent off his son with one of his swords—the excuse was to fix it's guard—and just went to take a nap like always. "aren't you worried he might get in trouble?" nami asked, looking at the green haired man with raised eyebrows. zoro shook his head and nami murmured: "okay, well, let's just hope he knows how to use your sword."

upon hearing that, zoro immediately jumped out of the ship, the two swords he still had tied to his belt clicking together. his heart raced as he ran around town, looking for the tiny version of himself—when he found him, it was quite hilarious. "are you challenging the son of the greatest swordsman? how dare you!" the kid yelled, waving his father's sword at a stray cat that didn't seem phased at all. zoro cleared his throat and the green haired child turned fastly, dropping the sword and startling the cat.

"h-hi da—" zoro approaching him made the boy shut himself up. he gulped, his black eyes going wide and his lips pursing. as zoro raised his hand, he prepared himself for a good smack, he closed his eyes and—felt a soft pat on top of his head. "your posture holding the sword was wrong. pick up the sword and let's go, i'll teach you." they started to walk back (away) to the ship, the 'task' long forgotten. but zoro was quite proud of his little one, nonetheless.

sanji adored his son more than everything in the world. even if they didn't look alike appearance wise, the kid behaved so much like him, sanji would do anything to protect him. "i can do it, daddy!" his kid exclaimed one day while they were out getting groceries for the ship. "imma get spices! alone!" the little giggle that left his lips made sanji simply nod and the boy ran away happy before his father could even process his sentences.

after a couple of seconds, sanji ran after the kid, but keeping his distance and watching out for him. surprisingly, the little one was picking up all the right spices and even held the door open for a lady to walk out. feeling his chest swell with pride—and his eyes filling up with tears—, he went back to the store he was previously.

"dad, i got them!" he exclaimed as soon as he saw the blonde. their bright smile could blind everyone around the duo. sanji kneeled to hug him and chuckled. "i'm so proud of you." they walked back home holding hands, talking happily about the exciting dishes they could cook—sanji felt like something inside him was slowly healing.

2024 © content belongs to lehguru, do not repost, translate or feed it into ai without permission

[splishsplashgash]

My Lawrence Oleander headcanons

-he dumpster dives behind gardening and floral shops sometimes.

-Lawrence either eats like he's at 5 star restaurant or like a feral racoon in the trash.

-Lawrence actually deeply cares for his sisters he just doesn't know how to express it.

-His first pet was a fish,he'd sit for hours watching it in the family living room.

-Lawrence developed his plant obsession because his father would often garden,after his parents found out about his hobby with dead animals his father started teaching him about plants in hope that it'd give him a different hobby.

-Lawrence has to listen to either white noise or nature sounds to go to sleep

-Lawrence only showers once a week,and when he does it's an everything shower,aka shave,wash hair,body,etc.

-Lawrence is a rainbow baby,his parents calling him a miracle but once he got older his mother would murmur when he walked past that he was a curse instead

-Lawrence would clean the house when his family left hoping that they'd see him in a different light but they'd come home and say nothing,ignore him.

-Lawrence as a kid didn't eat his boogers like other kids he'd eat and pick at his scabs instead (me too Lawrence me too.)

-Lawrence was designated babysitter when ever his parents would leave for dates or other things.

-Lawrence hated school,we all know that, but I believe that Lawrence's teachers probably loved him,that they would call him sweet and hardworking.

-Lawrence likes routine and when his routines are messed up it angers him

- (Okay this one is more jokingly but...) He uses MC's piss to pass his works drug tests.

-He buys those essential oils that those old white ladies promote saying it will cure everything and all that junk

-He doesn't know much about technology,yeah he'd search stuff up on the family computer and on his phone but besides that he doesn't really know much.

-avid nail biter

-lived off Arizona Green Tea as a teenager

-Let his sisters braid and play with his hair when they were younger

-When he got his hair cut as a kid by his mom he'd cry everytime to the point she gave up on cutting it anymore

That's all I can remember right now I'm sure I have more though lol.

[furbynurby]

Wearing Mischief

Pairing: Loki x Fem!Reader

Summary: You may have treated yourself to a new set of lingerie—Loki themed lingerie… this is ridiculous.

Word Count: 3.0k

Warnings: 18+ | Dom!Loki/Sub!Reader, Dirty talk, Light BDSM, Vaginal Sex, Oral (Fem Recieving), Masturbation, Spanking

Okay, this was embarrassing. Too embarrassing. It was just last week, you were scrolling on your phone when an ad had popped up. Specifically for lingerie. Were you single? Yes, but you wanted to treat yourself. Clicking on it you had realized quite quickly that it was a new themed release, on the Avengers, no doubt.

At first you found it quite funny. Scrolling through the patriotic Captain America themed lingerie to Hulks signature purple and green themed. That was until you saw his. Loki’s. It was gorgeous, no question. It was themed in his signature colors; green, gold, and black. The brassiere was delicately designed, the embroidered lace resembling florals, with snakes encompassing them. A golden pendant –Loki’s helmet– sat in the middle crevice of the bra, holding the thin golden chains that ran down to your waist, before coming back up and meeting the back. The panties were much the same, deep emerald green, and two thin gold chains connecting from hip to hip. The lingerie was soft, and not too uncomfortable to wear. It was stunning.

The price may have been a little hefty, 120$, are they crazy!?, but it took only a few seconds for you to place it in your cart to order. Gosh that was stupid. Why would you do that, who would you even wear that for, you thought. Plus you and Loki were friends, or you would like to think as such. You weren’t close, by all means but he wasn’t very close with anyone. You were probably acquaintances at most in Loki's mind. When you did catch Loki in a good mood your conversations were pleasant enough, and left you wanting to know more of him. But he didn’t seem to give in that easily.

Sighing you shook the nerves off of you, you had decided not dwell on it. Quickly even forgetting that you had bought it in the first place. However just as the week rolled by Tony Stark had waltzed right up to you on the common floor, holding the package in his arm, along with another smaller one. Probably for himself.

“Hey kid, saw that you ordered something for yourself. You never ship to the tower. Whatcha’ buy?”

You immediately flushed, grabbing the package out his arms quickly. No one could read your mind here, or at least had the decency not to. However it still scared you to no end that someone knew what you had in there, and were about to exploit it everyone. Okay that probably won’t happen, but you never know.

“It’s nothing Tony, just some new clothes I bought myself. I’ve been needing to upgrade my wardrobe a little bit, my stuff is uh… kind of out of fashion… yeah.” You said waving a hand in front of you, an awkward half smile plastered on your face. You quickly turn around, not noticing the weird look Nat gives you from the other side of the room before turning to leave to your floor.

“Well, what was that?” Tony said, a bit stunned from the interaction.

“Probably a new vibrator she’s embarrassed about.” Nat said, releasing a puff of air before turning back to the tv.

And that’s what brings you to here, you standing in front of your mirror endowed in nothing but the lingerie you had bought yourself, and some gold jewelry to go with it. Before you also touched up your face, just some light makeup. Not to be so self-absorbed, but you did look great-hot, even.

Posing in front of the mirror time and time again you were starting to get a little turned on. Well, what are you kidding? You were practically dripping on the carpet. Well fuck, the scenarios running through your head a mile a minute were not helping.

What if… you stood on your knees, gazing at yourself in the mirror. Your hands caressed the soft silks, admired the intricate lace, and your stood nipples erect from the gold chains swaying slightly. You imagined it, a faceless man behind you gripping your thigh while the other hand grasps your throat. It made you clench at just the thought of it. Then it switched, you on your knees, maybe getting spanked… yeah definitely getting spanked, punished for being such a dirty girl.

“Oh yes,” you whimpered as you traced the folds of your pussy, the lace soaked from arousal. Glancing at the mirror one more time you noticed the slightly dangling golden glint on the brassiere, it was a charm of Loki’s helmet. You had almost forgotten that this was his, you don’t even know how because once you realized the scene had switched again.

Before you knew it you were scrambling up on your knees to the side of your bed, scavenging through the end table, quickly grabbing your favorite vibrator tor before making your way back to the same spot as before. Not without bringing a pillow with you. You sat back, closing your eyes letting the daydream encompass you.

You were sitting in between his leathered covered legs- you might have a thing for Loki decked out in his armor- as he caresses you from behind, your head in the crook of his neck, his tousled black hair tickling your cheekbones. You imagined his natural minty scent, mixed with his favorite woody cologne. You sat in front of the mirror, watching his every move. His long pale fingertips traveled up your ribs to your breast, groping them harshly, teasing your nipples, while you simultaneously teased yours. One of his hands left and traveled down to your aching pussy. Pushing your panties aside, your- his fingers gently stroked your lips before teasing your clit.

“Such a dirty slut, all dressed up, just for me.” He purred in your ear, pressing down on your clit just a little firmer.

“Is this what you want to be known as, Loki’s whore, always parading around in my colors to let them know who you belong to,” he chuckled, you could almost feel the vibration of it. You choked up a moan, releasing your fantasy for no more than a second when you heard the buzz of your vibrator turn on.

“Just look at you, your pussy is practically begging for me to touch it. All red and swollen, wanting, waiting for me to release you of your woes.” You whimpered at that.

You, he, continued to play with your folds and breasts as your vibe pulsed around your clit. Raising the intensity of your vibrator you basically screamed, you were so close.

“Fuck, come for me, my sweet,” his voiced faded in your head as your moans took over. You arched your back against the wooden bedframe, the rumbling of your vibrator overtook your senses.

“Fuck, yes- yes! Loki please!” You were close, so fucking close, right at the edge about to be tipped off-

“Now, this, I did not expect.”

You nearly screamed, choking up a gasp of shock before you scrambled anywhere, everywhere, for something to conceal you with. Your blankets on your bed were just too far, so you settled on the pillow behind you, yanking it from underneath to hide from him. You flush at your vibrator still buzzing on the floor, scooting slightly to where you tossed it and shut it off.

“Loki!”

“What in god's name were you doing?” He rose a dark brow, almost tauntingly as he stalked forward, you might’ve been so shocked your senses had gone blank, for all you could focus on was the slight taps his boot gave off as he stepped closer. His face might’ve been completely stoic if it wasn't for the hint of mischief resting in his eyes, and his very slightly upturned lip.

“I mean, here I was, just moments before thinking you were in some dire peril, and that you had called out to me for help,” he stopped, just a few feet ahead of you. He was close enough now you noticed the scratches on his face, he was wearing his full battle armor. He must have just gotten back from a mission. “However, you started chanting my name, like a prayer, it ran so smooth off your tongue I couldn’t help but want to hear more.”

“Tell me darling,” he chuckled, “what have you been doing?”

Your face flushed, you could practically see the steam coming off your cheeks in flares. This might’ve been a game for him, nothing more than something to pass the time, but you couldn’t help but be drawn in. Wanting more. So you played along. You opened your mouth to answer, seemingly more turned on than before, but your tongue ran dry.

His jaw clenched, his eyes flashed over you once more, “answer me.”

You swallowed down your nerves, this is unbelievable. “…I was touching myself.”

“To whom?”

“To you,” you buried your head into the pillow.

“Naughty girl,” he smirked, kneeling down next to you, grabbing the pillow off your lap before tossing it somewhere behind him. “Now what, pray tell, are you wearing?”

“I bought it, it’s… styled around you.”

“I can tell,” he growled, reaching over to gently caress the pendant between his fingers. “With this on you might as well have come to me and thrown yourself to my feet. Were you trying to capture my attention? Because you have it.” His eyes clouded over with lust as he took in your form.

You whimpered, his hand moved from the pendant to your face, taking your chin within his hand, his gaze so searing you didn’t know what to do with yourself.

“Were you expecting me to walk in on you, to find you in such a brazen state that all I could think to do is fuck you there, to lay my claim on you?” You kept your eyes fixed on the floor. He growled, his grip on your chin tightening, “look at me when I speak to you. Is this what you wanted, do you want me to own you, pet?”

You couldn’t help but moan at that, squeezing your legs together for some long awaited release. You nod.

“Speak.”

“I want you to own me, Loki. I want to be yours, only yours.”

He let go, his lips tracing the side of your jaw, the way he felt against you, his heated breath on your skin was all that you could feel.

“Do you truly?” He breathed.

“Yes.”

He moaned, pulling the both of you up before settling you down at the edge of the bed. His lips never left your skin, sucking at the nape of your neck, running his tongue over a particularly sensitive crevice before nipping it with his teeth. The hand that rested on your hip traveled down, squeezing the plush of your thigh before meeting your heated core. His lips traveled down to your chest as his fingers toyed with your covered core, you couldn’t help the mewls of pleasure that have been so greedily drawn from you, like a hunger that cannot be sufficed.

“As much as I love you adorned in this, so stately mine, it is much of a hindrance to what I have been wanting to see.” He kissed the top of your breast, maneuvering his other hand under your back, freeing you of your constriction before throwing the brassiere over his shoulder.

Moving back a bit he admired your bare breasts, just for his sight only. Stopping his ministrations he groped them, so soft and perky, just how he liked them. He leaned taking one his mouth, swirling his heated tongue around the erected nipple, while simultaneously pleasuring the other. He sucked the hardened bud before nipping it gently and moving to make the same with the other.

“Yes, Loki ah-.”

His lips grace you down from your breasts over your stomach, running his hands along the soft surface. “This might be one of my favorite parts of you, if it is not all of you.”

He slipped down lower, meeting your awaiting cunt, burying his nose in the lace, taking in your sweet musky scent. Giving it a kiss, he pushed the fabric aside, inserting a long pale finger, then two. Lazily pumping in and out your pussy.

“Fuck, Loki please!” You gasped, grasping at your sheets, wanting anything. Wanting him, more of him. “Please, Loki! I want- ah,” your legs jerk from pleasure as his fingers curled within you, hitting a particularly sensitive spot.

“What do you want, pet? Tell me what you need.” He smirked up at you, continuing to gently tease at your center.

You flushed, never having been so provocative before, so wanton. It almost felt constricting to say, “I want- I want… god.”

“Say it!” He slapped your thigh.

“I want your tongue in my cunt!”

He chuckled, “Of course you do, dirty girl- my dirty girl.” Ripping the remaining cloth off your legs, revealing yourself to him wholly. “Heavenly,” he breathed, peering upon you, an almost wistful look upon his eyes.

Delving back down face first, your thighs resting on his shoulder. He gave a thoughtful lick, groaning at the taste, “you are like no other, darling.”

Diving back into her quivering pussy, he licked one long stripe from the pucker of your ass, up to your clit. You tasted like honey to him, slightly salty, but not unpleasantly so. Thrusting his tongue into your whole he circled your clit. You encompassed him, it felt as if you were in him. Your scent, your touch, your voice. everything. He wanted to be consumed by you. Your hands came down, gripping his hair, pushing him deeper into your leaking pussy. He groaned. You chanted his name like it was the only word you knew.

“Loki, Loki… gods yes Loki! Fuck please!” He lapped your cunt like a dying animal, sucking on your clit.

“I’m-… I’m-!”

“Cum for me pet, cum, love.”

Loki held you, heated with overwhelming desire. Your moans and whimpers filled the room, your body trembled. A wave of bliss coursed through you as you rode out the aftershocks of your orgasm.

“That was-,” Loki started, not even having the moment to finish as you tugged him up, meeting him with a heated kiss. As almost as quickly as it ignited, the shock died down, as all he could focus on was you. You could taste the remnants of his moments with you, your tongue swiping your bottom lip. The sweet tang of your arousal making you groan against his lips. It was addictive.

“Loki, please, I need you…”

“Say it, tell me what you need, I want to hear it from your lips.”

“Fuck me, Loki. Fill me with you, ruin me so no other could desire me.” You begged.

“Temptress.”

Loki magicked away any remaining clothing, positioning you on all fours. “If you are going to act like an animal in heat, I will fuck you as such,”he hissed, lining his throbbing cock at your entrance, and with one swift thrust, he buried himself deep within your tight core. You cry out in pleasure, his grip at your hips holding you in place.

“Oh, gods,” you gasped, the sensation of his thick cock filling you so completely bringing you over the edge. His thrusts were primal, ruthless, reverberating throughout your body. Every smack of his hips against your ass enamored him.

“Such a slut for me,” he lazily slapped your ass, watching it ripple from the contact. Your body burned with need, releasing a guttural moan.

“Harder, Loki!” he obliged, slapping your ass again, with enough force to bruise. Your hips bucked in response, meeting his thrust halfway.

“You’re so wet for me, have you always wanted this? For me to fuck your whorish needy cunt?” He panted, reaching down to circle your engorged clit.

“Yes, L-loki, ah need y-you,” you mewled at his touch, the way he pulsed within you. Every feral thrust makes you whimper with need.

“You’re mine now,” Loki grunted, his chest flush against your back, biting down on your neck, digging his fingernails into your plump hips. He rutted into you with a rough, animalistic ferocity. Your cunt clenching against his cock, trying to trap him within your wet heat. Lacing his finger through your hair, he heaves your head back crashing his lips and entwining his tongue against yours.

“Cum for me, darling.”

You screamed his name, your climax surging over you like a tidal wave, leaving you quivering, breathless. Riding out his own orgasm, his thrusts grew more erratic, his grip on your hips firm. He was close, so fucking close, slamming into you at an unholy pace. You could feel his cock swelling, begging to release into your awaiting heat. His eyes half-lidded, his cock diving as deep as your pussy will let him before releasing his cum within you. You let out a loud moan, feeling every spurt of his seed coating your insides, relishing the feeling. The scent of sex and sweat filled the room, Loki gently slipping his softening cock from your warmth, letting the mix of his sperm slide down your thighs.

Loki collapsed at your side, you doing the same not long after. Loki pulls you to his side, his heavy breath fanning your warmed skin as you lean against his chest. He wraps his arm around you, kissing your temple.

“You are extraordinary,” he sighs, resting his head on yours glancing down at your lips, “may I?”

You giggle, gazing up at his eyes, pretty green eyes. “You’re asking now?”

He frowned, “It’s different now, well?”

“Yes,” you say, without a second thought. Softly, he pulls you towards him, kissing you tenderly. “Loki…”

“Be mine.”

You smile wistfully, “yes, always have been.”

[ginnsbaker]

fic: if i bleed (you'll be the last to know) (3/?)

Part summary: Leigh develops an unhealthy habit as she hits closer to rock bottom

Pairing: Leigh Shaw x Fem!Reader | Word count for this part: 5.370 | Warnings/Tags: Some hetero stuff | A/N: Things will pick up after this part. I think there's going to be a total of 6 parts, but let me confirm that in the next update :)

Masterlist | Part I Part II | Next

-

Leigh is ten minutes late. 

It makes sense. Her willingness to attend this meeting was surprising, because if you were in her shoes, you doubt you'd have agreed to it. Listening to the entire history of a relationship can be exhausting, and it's hard to imagine what it feels like to hear about one that arguably should never have existed.

But just as you're about to think she's bailed or intentionally left you hanging, you spot her sprinting toward the cafe from across the street. She's a mess—hair soaked and sticking everywhere, face bare, missing its usual touch of makeup. But even like this, Leigh doesn't look much different from her usual self. You can't help feeling a bit envious of that.

She rushes into the cafe, attracting a few curious looks, but she barely registers them, her wide green eyes quickly finding you.

“Sorry I'm late,” she pants, struggling to catch her breath, “I got caught in the rain and then missed my bus.” The lie slips out effortlessly. True, it had rained, but the real reason was far more personal—something you didn't need to know.

You shrug off her apology with a smile, signaling the waiter for a menu for Leigh. “No worries, I'm just glad you made it,” you say.

Leigh gives you a quick once-over, then forces a smile and thanks you. Once her coffee order's in, she gets right down to it. “So, Matt,” she starts, her voice dropping to a whisper, “how did you two meet?”

You lean back, carefully thinking about what to say next. You didn't practice your answers ahead of time because you weren't planning to lie about anything. But you're wary of how you word things, not wanting to upset her. Being caught up with a married man is embarrassing enough as it is, and having to relay the details to his widowed wife only adds to it.

“Actually, our first meeting was totally by chance,” you say, bringing your steaming cup of tea to your lips. “I quite literally bumped into Matt one day. It was so brief, I barely gave it a second thought.”

You take a deep breath before continuing, “Then, about a week later, Matt showed up at my clinic with the same friend from before. It turned out, they were there for his friend's dog, who needed a check-up. Matt was just tagging along, helping out.”

Leigh’s face remains passive, making it hard to read. 

“The friend was the one who interacted with me the most that day. He even asked for my number, saying they were grateful for the help with the dog. I assumed he was interested,” you say, the memory coming back to you clearer now as you speak. “But, to my surprise, it was Matt who texted me later, not his friend.”

You barely manage to suppress the slight twitch of your lips, recalling how everything once seemed magical to you. Leigh on the other hand, takes a slow sip of her coffee, buying a moment to process.

“Who was that friend of Matt's? Do you remember his name?” she asks.

You pause, racking your brain for the detail, feeling its importance to Leigh. “Yeah, I think his name was Nick or something,” you say, scratching your head. Whether the name ‘Nick’ rings any bells for her or not, she doesn't let on. 

“Strange,” you mumble under your breath, but then shrug it off. “It doesn't really matter, he's not the one I���” You stop yourself just in time, realizing you're about to say something potentially hurtful about a situation that still feels raw, especially to Leigh.

Instead, you quickly pivot. “Anyway, that's how it all started. On the day of the dog’s follow-up, it was just Matt who came by. We struck up a friendship from there, and one thing led to another until he, uhm, asked me out for dinner.”

At this, you notice a subtle change in Leigh's demeanor. Her entire frame becomes more timid, the first real sign of emotion she's shown since this conversation began. 

You’re about to go on with your story when Leigh suddenly speaks up.

“So, you just said yes, even though he was your client? Don't veterinarians have professional boundaries?”

Ever since meeting Leigh, you've found it challenging to predict what might trigger her reactions—it's like navigating a minefield. Occasionally, you’d find yourself wondering what it would be like to know her without the complications currently defining your interactions. You think about the roles you both involuntarily play in each other's lives, roles neither of you auditioned for but somehow ended up performing.

You feel a lump form in your throat, and your gaze drops to your lap. “Well, he was persistent,” you say, feeling the need to defend your decision. Nevertheless, it sounds weak to your own ears. “But I made it clear nothing could happen until the dog's treatment was complete. And I insisted he'd have to find a different vet for any future appointments. It was... complicated.”

“I bet,” Leigh scoffs, crossing her arms. After a beat, she asks, almost too casually, “So, how quickly did you two... you know, have your first kiss?”

The question hangs awkwardly between you. You know you can’t answer it in any way you could avoid her judgment, so you just decide to spit it out. 

“First date.” Under Leigh’s scrutinizing gaze, it feels like admitting to a minor crime.

Leigh stares at you with unblinking eyes. “And how long after meeting him did this first date happen?”

You draw in a slow breath. “Three weeks,” you mutter. “It was last fall.” You add that bit, proactively laying out the timeline as if it could somehow soften the blow or make the situation less complicated. Leigh, however, looks like you've just knocked the wind out of her. She looks away, her expression shifting into something like shock or deep pain. Alarm bells ring in your head at the picture before you.

“Hey, did I say something wrong?” you say in a rush. “I mean, this whole situation is messed up, but if I—”

Leigh’s eyes are glass as they return to you. When she speaks again, her voice is so soft you almost have to lean in to hear. “Last fall... That's when I told Matt we should start trying for a baby.”

The words drain the color from your face. And suddenly, all the pieces of your story with Matt feels even more tainted.

You're not sure what your face gives away when you hear this news, but Leigh's expression quickly shifts from tearful to furious. “Stop feeling sorry for me,” she hisses. “I don’t need your pity.”

Leigh's tears start to spill over, and it's only 7:30 in the morning. It feels way too early for tears, especially here, in the middle of a coffee shop where the day is just beginning for most. You try to shrink into your seat, wishing you could make both of you invisible as the few other patrons start throwing curious, if not outright concerned, looks your way.

You never realized a simple conversation could cause someone so much pain. You thought providing Leigh with answers would help, but it looks like you're just making things even harder for her. Maybe keeping your distance from her is the kindest thing you can do.

“You know the worst part?” Leigh brushes away the tears that keep streaking down her face.

Clearly, she isn't looking for an answer, so you stay silent.

She makes sure she catches your eye before saying, “He agreed, and we started trying.”

-

Leigh catches her breath after wrapping up her class at the Beautiful Beast. 

She took a day off yesterday, immediately after talking with you, spending the whole day in bed just trying to sort out her thoughts and feelings. Surprisingly, wasting away for a whole day seemed to help, and her concerns gradually drifted back to her fight with Jules. It’s been days, and Leigh feels the urgency of reconciliation pressing on her. By this point, they should be on speaking terms again. By now, Jules should have let go of her anger, right? Leigh knows she can't afford to have her sister hating her. At least not right now. She needs her family, or what’s left of it—on her side. 

“Hey, Jules, got a sec? About the schedule…” Leigh tries, hoping work might be a safe enough topic to get her sister to acknowledge her existence once again.

Jules barely glances her way. Her hands keep moving, adjusting a strap here, aligning yoga mats there, as if the very act could shield her from having to engage. “Sorted. Check your email,” she replies, her voice cold and detached.

Leigh nods, awkwardly shifting from foot to foot. “Great, great... um, did you consider adding that beginners' workshop we talked about?”

Jules stops for a beat, and Leigh thinks, maybe she's going to drop it. But no, Jules resumes fussing over items that hardly require any attention. Then, without even looking up, she says, “Yeah, it's on the list. Anything else?”

Leigh tries to keep her cool, wishing Jules would just cut to the chase and tell her what needs to be done for all to be forgiven. 

Trying a different tactic, Leigh goes, “Hey, found a Starbucks card in my bag. How 'bout I grab us some coffee? My treat.”

Leigh’s trying. She really is. Why can’t they see that?

Jules just gives her that look, the kind that doesn't need words, and heads back to her desk. And there's Leigh, offer of a beverage truce just floating in the air, going nowhere.

Getting ignored really gets under Leigh's skin. Back in the day, Matt's habit of brushing her off would drive her to the edge. She'd respond with over-the-top demands or twist things around just to make sure he’d always pay attention to her. She didn't start off wanting to be that person, but looking back, she sees the lengths she'd go to just to keep his attention from straying. 

Unable to control herself, she heads straight for Jules, grabs her arm despite her trying to wiggle free, and yanks her into the backroom.

“What the hell is your problem?!” Jules explodes, not caring if anyone’s heard her outside.

They're both standing there, kind of shocked by how heated things got so fast. Jules’ shout might've turned a few heads outside, but right now, that's the least of Leigh's worries.

“How many times do I need to apologize, for you to get over this?”

Jules’ eyes are wide in disbelief, her mouth twisting into a sardonic smile, like she can’t believe what she’s hearing.

“You’re so fucking full of yourself, Leigh! This is exactly why I’m not talking to you,” Jules hisses, but keeps her voice down this time.

“What—”

“Do you even know what you’re sorry for?”

Leigh's initial scoff dies in her throat as she watches Jules' expression twist with hurt. “Yeah, okay, I said sorry about the crap I pulled the other day. I know I was out of line, talking about your past like that—”

Jules doesn't let her finish. “You weren't just being ‘out of line’, Leigh. You threw the worst time of my life in my face! Do you have any idea how hurtful that is? Coming from my own sister? From my own family? What, just to win an argument? To cover up for acting like a jerk at the club?”

Leigh goes quiet, but her face hardens, trying not to show how much Jules' words hit her right in the gut. What she said, laid out like that, it sounds…well, unforgivable.

“I'm trying, okay?” Leigh blurts out without thinking.

“Shouldn't be that hard to just be a decent human being, should it?” Jules shoots back, her dismissal sharp as she exits the cramped space, leaving Leigh reeling.

Under her breath, almost like she's talking to the walls, Leigh mumbles, “I'm really sorry…” It's quiet, almost lost in the room, but she means it the most at this very moment, even if no one's around to catch it.

-

Leigh clocks out from work, her day's fatigue hanging off her shoulders like a weighty cloak. Instead of heading straight home, she veers off her usual path, her feet bringing her to places that made breathing difficult the first few weeks after Matt's death. She's walking the same old route she always did when he was still around, back to when her home address was different and she'd pick up takeout from his favorite places along the way.

There’s the park first, the one where she and Matt spent countless afternoons sprawled on the grass, lying side by side as they watched the sky blush into shades of orange at sunset. She allows herself only a fleeting glance at the familiar paths and the bench they claimed theirs, feeling the same regret, the same hollowness as she remembers the good times they had there. 

In the back of her mind, she can't shake off the worry that maybe you've been here too, making your own memories with him. She doesn’t feel the surge of anger at this thought however. Instead, a part of her is almost willing to share these sacred memories if it means holding onto him in any form. She wants to believe that her jealousy has faded into a quieter acceptance that others might also carry pieces of him, pieces she's learning to live with.

Pulling herself away from the park, Leigh's walk inevitably leads her past Matt's favorite Italian restaurant—a quaint, cozy place where they celebrated most of their birthdays and, on occasion, anniversaries, especially when neither felt like cooking (which became an increasingly common choice in the months leading up to his accident).

She remembers how Matt's face would light up at the prospect of their rich, creamy carbonara and the tiramisu he claimed was unrivaled in the city. She recalls the numerous times she attempted to recreate the restaurant's tiramisu at home, aiming to surprise Matt at least once a month. Despite her efforts, if she truly wanted to indulge him, she knew there was no substitute for the real thing. So, on special days, or whenever she felt an extra burst of affection, she'd stop by the restaurant on her way home, picking up takeout. 

A waitress from the restaurant notices Leigh's lingering gaze and asks if she'd like a table. With a shy smile, Leigh declines, then pauses before finally deciding to order a tiramisu to go.

When she returns to her mom's house and eats the tiramisu alone, it tastes different. 

Leigh can't decide if the difference in the tiramisu's taste is good or bad, but that doesn't stop her. She finishes the entire slice in minutes. But instead of feeling full, it makes her feel emptier. Perhaps, it’s not the flavor that's changed; it's the experience of eating it without Matt's enthusiastic commentary, without him lighting up at the first bite or playfully claiming the last one, despite his generous offer to let her have it.

Suddenly, tears just start pouring out of Leigh as she sits there with an empty plate. She didn't see it coming, no chance to stop it or shove it down. Then, she finds herself laughing—a deep, throaty laugh—because she's grieved for him in countless ways, but this, crying over a dessert, has to be the most absurd. It's exactly the kind of moment they would have laughed at together.

Deciding that that would be her dinner, Leigh cleans up the small mess she's made and considers the evening ahead. But just as she’s about to sink into the couch for a quiet night, her phone buzzes, making her jump.

Seeing your name flash on her screen, she sighs, sensing a familiar bitterness creeping back in, disrupting the soothing moments she had just spent reminiscing about Matt. She lets it ring a few times more before picking up.

“Hi, Y/N,” Leigh says, managing to keep her voice steady over the phone.

“Hey,” you start, unsure how to break the ice after everything. Especially with what you’re about to say next.

“Listen, something happened today at the clinic. Someone came in looking for their lost French Bulldog, and they had a picture,” you pause to breathe. “Leigh, it looks a lot like Visitor.”

On the other end of the line, you can practically hear Leigh's heart skip a beat.

“Hello?” you ask, checking to make sure she's still there after she doesn't respond for several seconds.

“Are you sure?” Leigh’s voice cracks slightly.

“Yeah, I'm pretty sure,” you say softly, feeling a surge of empathy. “I'm sending you the picture now. Check it out and tell me what you think.”

You hit send and then wait for Leigh’s confirmation.

“It's him. It's definitely Visitor,” she says a moment later.

You're relieved but also concerned about what comes next. “So, what are you going to do?”

Leigh hesitates, and when she speaks again, she doesn’t give a direct answer. “Thank you, Y/N,” she says, and you pick up something in her tone. Something somber. 

“Everything alright?” 

But the line's already dead, leaving you staring at your phone, wondering what she is up to.

-

Leigh stands outside the community center, her hand lingering on the door longer than usual.  It's been weeks since she last came to a session. First, there was the shock of uncovering Matt's darkest secret, and now, there's the issue of the man inside, already looking her way, waiting to see her next move.

Danny appearing at her doorstep earlier in the week caught her completely off guard—and not in a good way. The moment she realized it was him, Leigh didn't hesitate to close the door in his face. After she shut him out, it escalated to the point where she threatened to call the police because he wouldn't stop pounding on the door and shouting for Leigh to let him in, insisting he just wanted to talk. His last attempt to get through to her fell flat when he flooded her inbox with texts and missed calls, pushing Leigh to the point where she blocked his number for good.

Despite the problem of Danny being here tonight, Leigh isn't willing to walk away from this just because of him. She's already given up so much lately, most recently Visitor—or Chico, as she found out his real name was—and his absence carved a fresh ache in her heart that she hadn't seen coming.

So, she takes a deep breath and pushes the door open, ignoring the smirk on Danny’s face as she proceeds to pretend like he doesn’t exist.

-

Somehow, after the meeting, Leigh ends up saying yes to a quick chat with Danny. He reels her in with the news that he submitted Matt’s remaining works—which he got custody of—to his publisher, and they were keen to publish them posthumously. 

Leigh can't help but throw in a bit of shade. “That's nice of you, doing something good for your brother, even if it's a bit late.”

Danny's face drops a little. Her words were sharp enough to hurt him, but he doesn't bite back or get in her face about it, which totally throws Leigh for a loop. After all the time she'd spent ignoring him, she had expected him to be at his worst around her.

And then he surprises her even more when he says, “Let me give you a ride home? It's the least I can do…”

Leigh arches an eyebrow. She didn’t bring the car tonight because Jules had a thing with Tommy, and she didn’t want to give her sister another reason to resent her. A ride from Danny beats the alternatives of walking or shelling out for a pricey cab, especially now that her phone's battery has given out, nixing the option of booking an Uber.

But this is Danny. Matt’s brother, and the guy she hooked up with because she thought she’d get back some semblance of her dead husband. After Jules pointed out how messed up it was that they'd slept together, Leigh's been all over the place. The rules around what they were doing either turned her off or, weirdly enough, made the whole thing more enticing, taboo and all. That's a big part of why she's been steering clear of him. Hanging out with Danny feels like reaching for a cigarette long after she's sworn off smoking.

Even with all that swirling in her head, Leigh ends up saying, “Sure, why not?”

Before she knows it, she's also agreeing to a drink at his place.

-

The second they step into his apartment, something inside of Leigh snaps. Acting on impulse, she grabs Danny by the collar and kisses him fiercely. She clenches his shirt in her hands, practically tearing it in her grip. Danny's initial surprise melts away in seconds, and then he’s kissing her just as hard, his tongue prying open her lips, taking control of the kiss right away. His hands find her waits, pulling her closer, practically already half-lifting her against the wall.

Leigh, caught up in the moment, begins to move her hips in a rocking motion against him. The action is effective enough to distract him from where he’s kissing every inch of Leigh’s neck, and he retaliates by suddenly pressing her more firmly against the wall, pinning her with his hips, their chests are tightly pressed together.

But as Leigh's fingers begin to fumble with the button of Danny's pants, he catches her hands gently and, panting, says, “Wait, Leigh, hold on for just a sec.” 

Leigh’s eyes fly open at his voice, irritation and impatience coloring them. “What?” she gasps out. 

He ignores the hard edges of her tone. He wants more—something real—and he's hoping she does too.

“I can’t do this again unless I know it’s going somewhere,” Danny says. He gently lets go of Leigh and takes a step back, trying to collect himself. It's a tough task, though, with Leigh looking the way she does—hair all tousled, lips slightly swollen and marked from when he got a bit carried away, her cheeks tinged with a warm flush. He could’ve made her come in the next two minutes, he’s sure of it.

At Danny's confession, Leigh can't help it; she bursts into laughter. The idea of him catching feelings now, of all times, seems absurd to her. As she laughs, Danny's jaw tightens, but he waits patiently for her to finish.

When Leigh finally notices the seriousness etched across Danny's face, her amusement evaporates almost instantly. The realization that he's not joking strikes her, and it doesn't sit well. Not one bit.

“What, you think because your brother's gone, you get to... what? Step in? Take his place?” she spits out, incredulous. “This is never going to be anything more than a quick fuck, Danny.”

In his desperation, he calls her bluff. “You’re lying.”

Leigh's reaction morphs into a cruel sneer. “If you're going to insist on something more, then we're just wasting our time,” she mutters, turning to leave.

Danny's not ready to let her walk away, not yet. He grabs her arm, and for a second, they're just staring each other down, a silent battle raging between them. Leigh’s resolve is impenetrable.

It’s Danny who cracks first, exhaling a defeated, “Fine.”

But Leigh's not having any half-measures. She whirls around, fire in her eyes. “Nope. Say it properly,” she demands.

With a sigh that feels like he's giving away a part of himself, Danny looks at her, worn and resigned. “This doesn't have to mean anything,” he says even if it’s the last thing he wants.

Leigh locks eyes with him, a storm brewing in her look. Just when Danny thinks it's better to just drop it, she throws him a question out of nowhere. 

“Did you know?”

“Know what?” Danny asks, genuinely puzzled.

“About Matt and me... trying for a baby when he... you know.”

“He... he never mentioned anything like that,” he says, feeling the pain she’s radiating. Leigh looks like she’s about to fall apart and all he wants is to be the one to gather her pieces and put them all back together.

No more words follow from Leigh. It's as if the question drained what was left of the conversation. Without warning, she surges forward, her lips meeting Danny’s in a bruising kiss, then she grabs Danny's hands, placing them firmly back on her waist. He gets the message loud and clear, and together they quickly shed their clothes, letting them fall in a heap around their feet. She comes about twelve minutes and thirty seconds later.

-

It's been eight days—not that you're keeping track or anything. But after giving Leigh the heads-up that someone’s been looking for a dog that looks exactly like Visitor, you were kind of expecting she’d at least update you if it really was him or not.

So, when a client strolls in later with Visitor, who's actually called Chico according to the file your secretary slips you, you're a little disappointed it's not Leigh showing up instead. It must have been incredibly tough for her to return Chico to his real family. She invested her heart, time, and not to mention her wallet, into that dog, caring for him as if he were her own.

Thinking she’d be relieved to know he’s in good hands, you send her a text to update her about Chico's visit to the clinic today. You mention how healthy and content he seems, yet you hazard a guess that he's probably missing Leigh too. 

She sees your message right away, and then leaves you on read.

-

Her thing with Danny turns into a late-night ritual, particularly after Drew fails to respond to her following their conversation, not even offering her a guest column in the weeks that followed their talk. Drew continues to invite her for coffee and dinner dates along with his fiancée, but he avoids the topic about the column, so Leigh stops asking.

The hookups are always a post-midnight impulse. She’d find herself sneaking out of her mother's house to meet him, driven by a mix of need and escape, or occasionally, by insomnia. After their moments together, she never lingers in Danny's bed for too long once she's found her satisfaction, eager to shower away his scent from her skin. 

Back at home, she ensures there's no trace of their deed by the time she slips into bed, allowing herself to sleep deep into the middle of the day. This pattern of nocturnal activity and daytime slumber has led her mother to adjust Leigh's responsibilities, moving her to take charge of the afternoon classes instead. This behavior earns her suspicious glances from Jules, but Leigh chooses to ignore them—if Jules isn't interested in reconciling, then she has no right to concern herself with Leigh's personal affairs.

Leigh doesn’t know how she got here, back at the beginning, in an ever messier situation. She can't stop fucking Danny, her emotions for Matt are a rollercoaster—she finds herself forgiving him and cursing him interchangeably a couple of times a day. 

She's astounded this is her life now, seemingly unable to talk herself out of decisions that pull her deeper into chaos.

-

A month later, Leigh becomes a distant memory. Following a series of tumultuous encounters, your life gradually returns to its normal rhythm—quiet, ordinary days filled with clinic work, attending to various cases, meeting new clients, and addressing the myriad issues of small animals. All of these tasks prove easier to deal with than anything involving Leigh Shaw.

The sole noteworthy event in your generally uneventful life lately was your latest visit to a physician for an annual physical exam. The blood tests revealed some numbers outside the normal range, notably elevated cholesterol levels. Consequently, your doctor advised you to integrate exercise into your daily regimen and to reduce your consumption of takeout meals, specifically pizza and Chinese fast food.

It’s a big sacrifice, considering your day usually flies by without much thought for food, except for dinner. It’s the one time in your day you actually look forward to. So, to hold onto that bit of happiness, you've been looking at fitness classes that are actually enjoyable and help burn those extra calories to keep you in shape.

Yoga stands out as the top choice for you, mainly because it all unfolds on a mat. You assume it'll demand the least amount of effort compared to the other options (specifically spinning), which all seem to promise nothing but pain and suffering.

Deciding to give yoga a shot, you choose Beautiful Beast, swayed by its stellar reviews. You secure a slot for a 6pm class, feeling pretty good about this decision.

That is, until Leigh Shaw walks into the said class, clad in a sports bra and tight-fitting leggings that highlight her toned legs. She’s busy on her phone, and without looking up, she walks to the front of the room. 

What are the chances you'd both be in the same class at the same fitness studio? The plot thickens when she pockets her phone and turns to face the class, gesturing for everyone to get their mats ready as the session's about to start.

You swallow hard. Leigh isn't here as a joiner—she's running it.

It takes about a quarter of the session for Leigh to notice you’re in her class. It's only while she's making her rounds, observing each student's camel pose, that her gaze finally lands on you. Struggling through your lack of core strength, you can't quite catch her initial reaction, but then she calls out your name. The surprise makes you gasp as she places her hand on the curve of your spine, just above the small of your back, and gently pushes you upward, deepening your arch. 

The stretch draws a grimace from you, but then she says, “Good, that's it,” and suddenly, you're determined not to let her down. You focus on the pose, on Leigh's instructions, and on not falling apart under her watchful eye. Leigh keeps everyone in the position a few moments longer than expected before instructing the class to transition into the child's pose for recovery. At her cue, your arms collapse, and you find yourself breathing heavily, grateful for the brief respite.

Something tells you it's not the high cholesterol that's going to be the end of you, but rather this yoga class and Leigh's merciless teaching style. 

-

You're all packed up and ready to leave, still reeling from what could easily be the toughest hour of your life, when someone calls out to you.

“Hey, Y/N.”

It's Leigh. Her tone is softer, more fatigued than you remember. She’s still in her gym clothes, looking like the workout barely touched her except for a few strands of hair sticking to her forehead. And somehow, she smells more like a rose garden than the gym floor.

“I didn’t know you work here—” you blurt out, almost apologizing. But before you can add anything else, Leigh just shakes her head, something like amusement in her smile, stopping you mid-sentence. Her smile, warm and a little teasing, eases some of the tension you didn't realize you were holding. 

“Are you a mind reader or something?” she teases. “Cause yeah, I was going to ask if you were following me.”

You’re quick to deny it. “I wasn’t.”

Leigh lets out a chuckle like she's getting a kick out of seeing you on edge. You shuffle your feet, still unsure if she’s trying to scare you off or welcome you to her tutelage.  

“Look, if it's weird for you, me being here... I can find another class,” you offer, the words tumbling out before you can think them through.

Her reaction is swift and a bit surprising, “Why would I want that? So you can duck out and be a rubbish yogi elsewhere and ruin my reputation?”

You’re taken aback by her response. Clearly, Leigh's not pushing you away; it's almost as if she's egging you on, daring you to stick it out. And if there's any hope of moving past this... whatever it is, leaving now because it might get awkward doesn't seem like the right move to make a fresh start.

“All right, I'll stay,” you find yourself saying, more to your surprise than hers. 

Leigh's got this look of triumph, chin lifted just so, when you agree to stick around. “See you at 5:30. Greenway Park,” she throws out casually.

You're there blinking, trying to piece together what she means. But before you can even get a word out, she's one step ahead. 

“We have to work on your endurance,” she clarifies. “Make sure you’re wearing real running shoes. No sneakers.”

[tavolgisvist]

At Laudate in Newdigate I decided that Saturday to take a very modest 250 milligrams of LSD in a final cup of tea with Joan before setting off for St John’s Wood to pick up Paul McCartney and Peter Asher and Tony Bramwell, the Apple team due next day at Bradford. <…> Paul seemed very positive and played us some rare recordings; ‘dubs’ he had made of songs, written by him for others, dubs on which he was singing for the first and last time. Maybe one day they will make an album of them, but maybe it will have to be over his dead body for I don’t see him wishing to complete that particular symphony in his lifetime. I said I had taken a dollop of the dreaded heaven-and-hell, and Paul said it should be an interesting journey, and it was. We stopped at a pub on the way up and I astonished myself by coping remarkably well up until the point where I asked the barman if I could buy a filthy table which stood in a corner covered in cigarette burns and the stains of long dead pints. <…> ‘Drink up,’ said Paul, seeing the signs and playing Dad. ‘Write your name here please, Paul,’ said the barman and we left.

We arrived in Bradford after dark. Some disabled people were operating rowing machines in a charity marathon in a local showroom. We wandered in and looked, leaving some silver in the collecting boxes, neither the first nor the last of the small spenders. It was midnight as we checked into the hotel. There wasn’t a soul or a sound except for the red-nosed night porter, as old as Moses. Paul had brought Martha (My Dear) with him – the sheepdog of the same name. ‘Can you shampoo her?’ he asked the porter who recoiled in terror. ‘It’s her arse,’ said Paul, and he put his fingers in the thick curls around Martha’s back passage and pulled off a cluster of clinkers. ‘Look!’ I nearly fainted. ‘I’m afraid not,’ said the porter. It was very late after all. Next morning, another lovely day. I felt very nice and clean around the brain, always have a lovely morning after acid. A few months earlier Paul and I had gone shopping for suits; he had told me navy blue pinstripe was already on the way back (meaning that he wore it) and I fell for it – and ordered one. I had taken it with me to Bradford; just right for Bradford I said. I wore it down to breakfast and then we went off to the Victoria Hall where the Black Dyke Mills Band were waiting on hard wooden chairs, looking bloody marvellous and real and solid and honourable and stocky and lots of other words like that. Paul had on a magenta shirt and a white jacket, double breasted, with black trousers (no one had ever told him they were on the way back), and the Black Dyke Mills Band was quite stunned by his charm and by the way he handled the music. Marvellous recordings were made, indoors and later in the street, of both ‘Thingumybob’ and ‘Yellow Submarine’. It was a good morning for everyone because the portable recording unit worked, the band and McCartney worked, and the press worked out beautifully – I saw dozens of old friends and we had a few pints and then lunch. At around three o’clock, as we filmed the last TV interview (‘How do you like Bradford?’ ‘It’s great …’; fast-moving stuff like that) I decided to off the suit and black shoes, put on a pair of red corduroys and a white Mexican cotton shirt from Olvera Street, Los Angeles, a couple of beads, an Indian scarf and down my throat went another 250 milligrams of the dreaded heaven-and-hell drug. What a day for a daydream. ‘Should be an interesting journey,’ said Paul. The chauffeur said: ‘Back to London?’ and we said ‘yes’, not sure that it was the right answer.

<…> As we rolled away from the South Midlands and approached the Northern Home Counties the acid really started to bounce. It was late afternoon and if there was a heaven to be found on this soil, then I reckoned it would be found this evening, in the green and gold of this divine countryside. ‘Would you like to swing on a star, carry moonbeams home in a jar?’ ‘Yes,’ said Peter Asher. ‘Where would you like to go?’ I asked. ‘AA Book,’ said Paul. ‘Pick the most beautiful name in Bedfordshire,’ I said, ‘that’s where we should go.’ Peter looked at the map for what seemed like two hours or more. ‘Harrold,’ he said, after fifteen seconds. ‘Harrold?’ said the driver, naturally knocked out with delight to leave the M1 and crawl down B, C and D roads to a village no one in the car, including himself, had ever heard of. We wound through Bedfordshire checking off the signs steadily until we reached the village sign: Harrold. Oh, it was a joyful Sunday sight. It was the village we were supposed to have fought the world wars to defend, for which we would be expected to fight the third when told to, but won’t. It was a Miniver hamlet on the Ouse and there were notices telling of the fete next Saturday, and a war memorial which made me weep. Thrushes and blackbirds sang and swallows dived into thatches and a little old mower wheezed as we walked down the only street there was past the inn which was closed, past the church which was open, nodding to a sandy man with a 1930s moustache and khaki shorts as he clipped his hedge and stared at these city people with funny hair and clothes. It was seven o’clock and acid or no acid, it was opening time and I steered us into the most beautiful village inn the world has ever known and there were three or four people in there, or more or less; magical antique villagers with smocks and shepherd’s crooks and also there was a fruit machine offering Jolly Joker tokens. Through the dancing lights, past the sparkle of the green and tawny bottles, I saw the sandy man with the khaki shorts. <…> ‘Welcome to Harrold, Paul,’ said the sandy man, the local dentist, downing the rich gold beer he had earned with his shears. ‘I can hardly believe it, in fact I think I’m dreaming.’ We next found ourselves in his house, below dipping oak beams, a banquet provided for us, hams and pies and multi-jewelled salads, new bread and cakes, chicken and fruit and wine; and the dentist’s wife, a jolly lady, still young beyond her maddest fantasies, bringing out her finest fare. Paul McCartney was at her table in the village of Harrold.

Hiding at a turn on the crooked staircase stood a little girl, shy and disbelieving. But she had brought a right-handed guitar and landed it in Paul’s (left-handed) hands but the wizards were producing this play by now and floating with the splendour of this, the strangest Happening since Harrold was born, the dentist and his wife, and the neighbours as they crowded the windows and the parlour, and the children, all caught their breath as Paul McCartney began to play the song he had written that week: ‘Hey Jude,’ it began. I sat peacefully, full of the goodness you can find within yourself when goodness is all around and the dentist’s wife picked up on it and asked why life couldn’t always be like this and I told her there was nothing to fear, nothing at all and the dentist brought out the wine he had been saving for the raffle at the fete next Saturday and we drank that to celebrate the death of fear and the coming of music to Harrold and then, and gradually, the dentist was freaking and he asked me what I thought I was talking about and for a moment it was very tough, very. Ah, but Dr Leary’s medicine was good that day and we came back to a good position again, but I didn’t feel quite right about the dentist after that, and I don’t think he felt quite right about me, but how was he to know and what was I to do? You don’t just tell strangers you’ve been taking that naughty old heaven’n’hell drug. It was now eleven o’clock and we were still in the house and the inn was closed but a winged messenger came to say that as this was the night of nights, never to return, the inn was to be re-opened. ‘In your honour, Paul.’ It was 11 p.m. Paul had The Look on his face, the ‘do we don’t we?’ I nodded: tonight we should. The pub was absolutely full. The whole village was here. Paul played the piano until at three o’clock a woman stood and sang ‘The Fool on the Hill’ and he left the piano to dance with her and kiss her on the cheek and then I went and sat in the little garden and cried for joy that we had come to Harrold. It was a most beautiful garden, with hundreds of old-fashioned flowers, lupins, foxgloves – that sort of thing, and Alan Smith came out, pissed as a newt and said, ‘Why so sad, old friend, why so sad on such a night?’ ‘Not sad,’ I said, ‘not sad, old pal, just happy to be alive.’ We left then, waved away by the Harrolds, by all of them, and we never went back and I never looked at the map again, not even to see if Harrold was there.

(As Time Goes by Derek Taylor)

(Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI, Part VII, Part VIII, Part IX, Part X, Part XI)

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[alotofpockets]

Stay the night | Wanda Maximoff

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Prompt: "The weather is getting worse. Why don't you stay the night?"

Masterlist | Marvel masterlist | Words: 1.7k

When Wanda moved into the neighborhood with her two sons a couple years ago, you had quickly befriended your new neighbor. Since then Wanda had become a good friend of yours and you’ve watched the boys a lot over the years, you often worked from home, so you offered to watch them whenever you could. Recently you and Wanda had started dating, everything was still rather new, and you hadn’t told Billy and Tommy yet, though Wanda was convinced they wouldn’t mind it since she knew that they already loved you.

It was Christmas Eve, you had just come back from the store, deciding that you could spoil yourself for Christmas. You bought yourself a PS5 after enjoying your PS4 for a long time. While you were installing the new Playstation, an idea popped into your head, so you reached for your phone to send Wanda a message. Y/n: Hi Wands, I just installed the new playstation, and I was wondering if maybe I could gift my PS4 to the boys. I know they always love playing on it when they are here. I wanted to run it by you first though, what do you think?

Wanda: You got it! I know you’ve been wanting it for a while, so I’m so happy for you :) I think the boys would absolutely love that but after all these Christmas expenses, I don’t think I have the money to buy it from you..

Y/n: Oh no, don’t be silly, a gift is free of charge x 

You smile at your phone, Wanda was such a good person, and such a good mom. 

Wanda: Are you sure? Y/n: Yeah, of course, 100%. I can bring it by tonight after the boys go to bed, that way you can put it under the tree. Does that work for you?”

Wanda: Thank you so much, you are the best. The boys are going to love it. I’ll text you when you can come over. See you tonight x

You pocket your phone and continue installing your new Playstation. The rest of the day goes by quickly, and you light up when you receive Wanda’s text. It had started raining a bit, so you grab your coat and an umbrella, before you make your way over to the Maximoff’s. You text Wanda to let her know that you’re at her door, not wanting to wake the kids. You smile when you hear Wanda’s footsteps reach the door, but your smile falters when you notice how stressed she looks. “Hey, sorry, I still have a lot of wrapping and preparing to do. Vision just dropped off some stuff for the boys, and left them all unwrapped, so I have to do double the wrapping tonight.” You reach out for her and bring her into a hug. “It’s going to be alright, I can help you wrap the gifts.” 

Together you work on wrapping the gifts, making fast progress as a pile of red and green presents filled the bottom of the Christmas tree. Wanda was getting visibly less stressed now that you were there helping her out. Outside it started to rain harder, and the wind was picking up, neither one of you was paying much attention to it though, as your focus was on the presents and each other. 

When you were done wrapping all the presents you took a little break before you would have to clean up the mess you had created in the living room. Wanda makes her way over to the couch, you follow her and pull her down with you. “You are an amazing mom, you know that right?” She leans her head on your shoulder. “Thank you, darling. You know that you are an amazing girlfriend, right?” You smile and kiss her head. “Yeah, we’re both pretty great.” 

After sitting down for a moment, Wanda notices the weather outside, and turns to you. "The weather is getting worse. Why don't you stay the night?" Your brows furrow slightly. “Are you sure?” You had stayed the night before, but never when the boys were also home. “Yes, I know your house is closeby, but I’d rather not have you walk outside in this. Plus, I would love it if you spend Christmas with us, and I think the boys would too.” After placing another kiss onto her head, you tell her that you would love to spend Christmas with them as well. 

Together you clean up the makeshift wrapping station that was the floor, as well as some final touches on the present placement, before heading to the kitchen where the boys left out some cookies and a glass of milk for Santa. The two of you share a look before both grabbing a cookie, and eating it, making sure to leave a lot of crumbs on the plate. Wanda takes a final look around the living room, “Ready?” You hold your hand out for her to take. She nods, “Yes, it looks beautiful. Thank you for all of your help.” She takes your hand, and you head to her room. “Any time.” You say with a soft squeeze to her hand. 

Christmas morning started by the boys knocking loudly on Wanda’s door, “Mom, wake up! We want to see if Santa came.” Even though it was a rough wake up call, you smile at the eagerness of the twins. “Why don’t you go to the kitchen and check if he found the cookies and milk, and I will be right down to check out the tree with you boys.” After you hear them walk downstairs Wanda turns to you. “How do you want to do this?” She asks you. You place your hand on hers, “However you want to, I’ll follow your lead.” You share a quick kiss, before you both make your way downstairs in your Christmas pajamas. 

“Mom, he ate the cookies!” Billy said as soon as Wanda reached the kitchen. The boys both run to hug her, not having noticed you yet. “That’s so exciting! I bet that means he left some presents for you as well.” The boys jump up and down excitedly. “Boys, before we head to the living room, I wanted to check with you both if it’s okay if y/n joins us for Christmas this year.” Both of their eyes widened, “Yes, please mommy, that would be so much fun.” Tommy shares. Their excitement warms your heart. “Merry Christmas!” You say walking down the rest of the stairs, they both come running into your arms. “You’re already here!” 

You eat a quick bite before you check out the living room, a tradition Wanda created because she knew how much the boys would be into their toys later. As you are cleaning up the plates, Billy turns to Wanda. “Mom, we know that you and y/n are together, you don’t have to hide it from us. We just want to see you happy, and y/n makes you happy.” Wanda looks between her kids, they know? “You two sure are smart and observant, boys. So, you’re both okay with that?” They both nod, “Can we go check if there’s presents now?” Wanda smiles, “Yes, we can.” 

Wanda shares a happy look with you before following the boys into the living room. The boys were ecstatic, looking at all the presents under the tree, pointing out the ones that had their names on them. You loved seeing the family so happy, and took a lot of pictures of the boys unwrapping the gifts, knowing that Wanda was too busy with living in the moment with her kids to do so.

“Mom, Santa left a present for you too!” Billy exclaimed, as he handed his mom a small box. Wanda was confused since she didn’t buy herself anything, wanting the focus to be on the boys. She unwraps the box and finds a jewelry case, filled with a beautiful necklace. She shows her kids and then also shows you, even though she knew that this was your doing, as it was the necklace that you saw her looking at last week when you were walking around the mall. “Thank you Santa!” She says, just like the boys do after opening their presents. “Help me put it on?” She asks you. You take the necklace from her hands and gently hang it around her neck. The boys had gone to find their next presents, so Wanda quickly thanked you for the gift. “It’s beautiful, thank you so much. I feel bad that I didn’t get you anything yet, I swear it was on my list, but I must’ve forgotten about it.” You shake your head and place a soft kiss on her shoulder, “You gave me the best gift, spending Christmas with you and the boys.” 

After the boys are done unwrapping all of their presents, and have played with a few of them, you quietly ask Wanda if it’s okay to give your present to them now. She nods and you get their attention. “Hey boys, I know Santa has given you a lot of amazing presents, do you think you have room for one more present?” They both nod their heads like their life depends on it. You grab the present from the cupboard, “This is a gift from me.” You say as you place the present down on the coffee table. Both kids stand up to hug you and thank you, before even knowing what the gift was. They work quickly on opening the gift, eyes widening upon realization. “You’re giving us your PS4?” Tommy exclaims. “I am indeed. I think you will have a lot more fun with it here.” 

You promise the boys to set up the Playstation tomorrow, wanting the boys to spend the day playing with the toys that their parents got them. While they are busy playing with their new toys, Wanda takes you to the kitchen. “Merry Christmas, darling. Thank you so much, I’m so happy you joined us for Christmas.” You step into her open arms and wrap your arms around her waist. “Merry Christmas.” You say back and kiss her lips softly. 

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[inknopewetrust]

𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎

summary: you are recruited to the spider society after conducting a batch of vigilante actions against the men who killed your husband, miguel and well... their leader isn’t like the man you remembered.

pairing: miguel o’hara x spider-woman!reader [wc: 12.7k]

warnings: language. this has got everything: backstory, meeting, conflict, angst, sadness, tie-ins with the film, (i hope you're reading this in a stefon voice), ethical dilemmas, vigilante shit, violence, romantic love strains, etc., etc.

Manhattan was rainy. It was always rainy.

But let’s do this again, shall we?

The skyline was high. Muddled variants of blues and reds, the colors that had painted your life for a decade now. It was silly to imagine a world of color beyond that–it's all you knew, you had nothing left.

And all of that nothing was the consequences of the dealings of a few bad men.

You breathed in deep. They were right there, right below your feet.

Their laughter in their indifference to life was vexing. It made your blood broil and bubble to the surface where you thought your eyes may have been red and your grip on the stone building was onerous.

In the distance, police sirens blared across the city where crime did not take a backseat because their most treasure hero was rogue. People were in trouble but you saw cessation of hope with every second that passed and those in charge did nothing to avenge your husband.

Husband. Nevertheless, what you had was gone and never coming home to you. The least you could do was try to find the justice to be brought by your own hands.

"Nah, man..." One of the men–a blonde, high-tech worker from the east side of town–shook his head. "We can't go there. They've got cameras all over the place! Ain't no way we are gettin' out free."

"Well then we go downtown and hit one alongside the river. We'll set up a boat and get us to Brooklyn before they can even suspect anyone was there," another collaborator said. Blondie shook his head determined.

"You think Spider-Girl isn't gonna be waitin' for us?" He scoffed, scuffing his shoes against the pavement. You perched straighter as you peered down. Spider-Woman. It was Spider-Woman.

“She got Mikey last week, Simon two days ago… we don’t have much left and if you think robbin’ fuckin’ Wall Street is gonna save us, you’re wrong.”

A sensible criminal with blood on his hands. Nice.

“Besides, they got the police captain on her ass and while they’re out lookin’ for her, they won’t sweat the small stuff,” blondie pulled a black ski mask from his jacket.

“It’s now or never,” he slipped it on and walked to the door of the bodega on the corner. He held out his hand as if his friend was actually a true friend and not a piece to his own networked puzzle.

Your stomach turned and the sight made your spine tingle.

Outside on the sidewalk of the street in the rain of New York City, the two men who were left of the dirty dozen walked into the grocer with no intention to buy anything.

It hadn’t dawned on you that as you dropped to the pavement, you weren’t wearing your suit or mask.

The hub was quiet.

In this slick world, everything was silver and green and the headquarters were no different — yet too different for Peter to know that he wasn’t from this universe and always felt out of place.

A picture on desk that wasn’t his grounded him to a separate reality; one of love and hope and a small child’s laughter.

Spider-Byte’s was typing away on the keys beside him while he tapped away on the table top.

Nothing exciting had happened since the… glitch. It had been a long nine months without the glue that had put him back together.

That was until Spider-Byte’s computer started beeping in a manic fashion. It was a sound neither of them had heard before. A high pitched siren blaring loudly from a machine the the left of Peter, a button glowing red and flashing.

“Uh,” Peter pointed to the button, “you got any clue what that’s about?”

Spider-Byte shook her head as she pulled up a database on a screen. Her tech hands glided over the keys like music, fluid and fast and working with a purpose.

“Some system Miguel’s got here,” she muttered and Peter attempted to cover the small speaker beside the button with his hand—it didn’t work.

“Where is he? He said he’d be right back and now we’re facing the end of the wor—“

“I doubt this is the end of the world, Peter!” Spider-Byte cut him off harshly. “Now would you be useful and go find Miguel?”

As the dutiful Spider-Person he was, Peter rushed out of the central lair and into the bright white halls of the headquarters. Everyone he passed he asked the same question:

“Hey! You’ve seen Miguel anywhere?”

“Yo! Seen the big man around?”

He slid up to a group of variant Julia Carpenters as they sipped on coffee in the cafeteria. Peter gave them a sly smirk, trying to be cool, and snapped his fingers.

“Have any of you seen the boss today? Looking fine as usual.”

Synchronized, the Julia’s pointed to the empanada station and sure as shit, there was Miguel, talking with the vender who yes, just happened to also be a Spider-Man.

“Miguel!” Peter screeched from the table and Miguel’s mind went soured. A violent jolt to his instincts as the new father came barreling toward him.

“¡At no…!” Miguel mumbled to himself as Peter skidded to a halt, dropping his hand on Miguel’s shoulder with a clunk.

“Hey, Boss! Whatcha… watcha doin’ out here?” Peter chuckled nervously and Miguel narrowed his eyes. “You said you’d be right back.”

“I did,” Miguel drawled. “I told you five minutes and it’s only been three, Peter.”

Peter laughed, glancing around the space as confused gazes began to pick up on the pebbles of sweat that dripped from his temple.

“Oh! You don’t say?”

“What’s so impo—“ Miguel began but never finished. Lyla appeared out of thin air with a casual urgency unlike Peter’s frantic one.

“We’ve got a doozy here for ya, boss.”

With Lyla, everything came to life smoothly. As she snapped her fingers, holograms of screens appeared like magic and on them, an un-masked, Spider-Woman was beating the shit out of thieves in a bodega.

“Jesus,” Peter whispered to himself.

“He doesn’t come here,” Miguel replied without a smile nor a chuckle but it took Peter back.

Miguel was watching the woman carefully. This Spider-Woman was not apart of the society and was actively doing what no Spider-Person should do. However, Miguel knew the actions. He felt them deep within his bones and the mistakes he had made as a newly minted Spider-Man 2099.

“Name’s Y/n L/n… a former nurse who got mixed up in a bad batch of blood for a transfusion. This isn’t the first time we’ve been alerted about her,” Lyla debriefed and Miguel snapped.

“What do you mean, ‘not the first time?’”

“These are a group of men she’s been targeting. It’s got to do with her,” Lyla cleared her throat that was nonexistent, “canon event.”

“We have to bring her in,” Miguel began walking away from Peter and Lyla followed. “I am NOT having some vigilante shit show up on this doorstep. Peter, get Jess, brief her and get a day pass to bring along.”

“Miguel,” Peter wagered, “what if this is associated with her canon? What if she’s just an anti-hero in her world?”

“She’s not,” Lyla piped back in. “She’s a hero, hero. And this isn’t part of her canon event. You’ve gotta know how grief moves people?”

Miguel grunted, Peter sighed.

“Get Jess. I’ll wait for you,” Miguel pushed on Peter’s shoulder to send him the other way.

Once alone and down the winding halls near the center of the headquarters, Lyla spoke again perched on Miguel’s shoulder.

“Miguel, I think there’s something you should know?”

“Know what, Lyla?” Miguel’s attitude had always been sour—she had been there from his creation and it never changed. He never truly smiled, he never truly laughed.

Miguel O’Hara was a tough nut to crack in a world full of people who lived off joy and laughter.

But she could feel the sensations radiating off of him. Those strident lines of afflictions that were masked by the way he covered his face. The tense nature of his shoulders as he walked further and further away but closer to a person he’d never thought to face again.

It felt like an intrusion all over again.

“You know what, Lyla?”

“I know what you’re thinking,” she defended, hologramed hand squeezing his shoulder. “But there are a million Peter’s and Gwen’s and MJ’s out there.”

“This isn’t her,” Miguel huffed. “She would never do this.”

“But she is, Miguel… and her canon event is you.”

“So a possible disruption?”

“It’s already happened,” Lyla explained, giving immediate explanation to your actions. Miguel did not know you in this way, but he could imagine why such feelings would manifest in violence.

“Good, good.”

Lyla scoffed, hopping to her feet. “I wouldn’t say it’s ‘good,’ boss. You died in her world. You were married in her world. I think she’s gonna wanna slap you for even existing in another timeline.”

“Why?” Miguel quirked a brow. “You know her or something? Keeping secrets from me now?”

To save her, Peter and Jess entered the lair with their bands glowing. Lyla simply shrugged and disappeared before they jumped into an Earth that would feel like they own but be nothing like it.

“Miguel," Jess was already shaking her head. Three months pregnant and still doing work, both Peter and Miguel would not be surprised if the child arrived wearing a suit of their own. "There's no anomaly there–there hasn't been a case in that world of a villain glitching from another."

"It's not about the bad guys," Miguel walked toward them to meet them in the middle. "What she's doing no Spider-Person has done before and what's the purpose of a society if we don't help one of our own?"

Lyla appeared between the three ready to open the portal.

"One last thing, folks!" She walked around casually glowing and pushed up her heart shaped glasses to her hairline. "She's not wearing her suit - so if you don't work fast, her identity will be known to the public and well! We just can't have that, can we?"

"Fantastic!" Peter complained as Miguel opened up the portal. "They are a bit suffocating really, if you asked me."

"Well we didn't," Miguel gruffed.

"What's her name? Just Spider-Woman?" Jess asked. "Should we just yell 'Hey! Spider-Woman! Stop it! You're actually a good person!'"

"Y/n. Her name is Y/n and don't freeze up when you see her, alright bud? Alright! See you all when you get back! Have fun!" Lyla waved, patting Miguel's leg as she walked the floor and disappeared once more.

Stretching out his legs, Peter did not miss the glare Miguel gave Lyla. His eyes cold and hardened; he knew so little of this leader but felt he knew so much. Miguel wasn't like the other Spider-People and well, he assumed perhaps you were not either.

Peter missed that he should have recognized your name.

He had been there with Miguel when the other world collapsed.

"Anything else you wanna tell us, boss?" He pushed. Miguel shook his head and slipped on his mask in more ways than one.

"She's disturbing her own canon by going rogue. I'm not going to let her destroy it because she's... upset."

Jess laughed and Miguel was indignant. "If she's a bad egg, she's a bad egg, Miguel. You can't save everyone."

"She's not a bad one!" Miguel scolded her, pointing out toward the darkness of the portal. "She's not supposed to do this and we need to fix this! Y/n is good!"

Peter smirked, wiggling his brows. He could sense Miguel's anger muddled with a nervous fear he never had. "Y/n, Miguel... first name basis already and we haven't even met her. You move fast, don't you?"

"Oh, you are so fucking annoying! She was my wife!"

Peter's eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. "Oh no! Not again, nope!"

"She doesn't exist in this world anymore, Peter," Earth 928, "and in another timeline, she's taken the mantle."

Jess jutted her hip out as the whirring of the portal loomed over them. "So you exist in her's too then? This won't be too confusing. It's just like Peter and MJ or Gwen in the thousands of realities that exist."

"Sure, sure," Miguel said. "But there are only three realities where she exists and," he cleared his throat as he looked down the portal, "this is the last one left."

"We shouldn't risk it. We can't collapse another world."

"We won't collapse it."

"How do you know that?" Peter questioned. There was always a level of selfishness when it came to those someone loved most.

"I just... I just know! You're not in charge here, Peter. If I don't have any hesitations right now, then neither can you."

"Well then," Peter strutted through the portal and turned around before his body was completely gone, "Let's go get us another Spidey then, yeah?"

And he saluted Miguel and Jess before jumping in.

"You've been monitoring her world?" Jess asked and Miguel looked to his feet. She had never seen him so bashful. Never one to make a scene of rash emotional actions, the causation would need

"I watch over many worlds."

"Yeah but come on," She dug, "this is a lot different than those worlds. You know her."

"I don't know her," Miguel defended himself and took a step further into the portal. "She isn't my wife. She's just a version of her that I don't know."

"Mhm," Jess hummed and drummed on her arm as they remained crossed from the moment Miguel said you were his wife. "Let's go meet her then. Then you can go on and on about how she's everything you remember but not the same."

And she walked through the portal before she disappeared to leave Miguel alone.

With clenched fists, Miguel breathed in deep and appeared in a reality he promised never to interfere with.

Inside of the bodega, the two men bartered with one another in the aisle. They looked to be two friends having a conversation in the middle of the shop but their intentions were not pure.

The bell above the door rang as you entered. Shoulders and hair wet from the rain, the cashier paid you no mind as he changed the station on his portable radio sat on the counter.

There were three civilians inside. One, the cashier who was oblivious and that is the sole reason these thugs decided to hit the bodega. An 'easy' target to get in and out. Two, a woman who was going grey at her temples. And three, a teenage kid with untied sneakers.

You ducked behind a shelf as you watched them in the aisle beside you. Between the chips and pretzels they concocted their idiotic plan in the presence of innocent people as they always did–it was how their bank robbery disaster went sideways six months ago.

When civilians are present, one of them will always try and become the hero. It is what Miguel did and now he's six feet under in a cold box.

"Excuse me, Miss," the older woman pointed to the bag of chips that your hand was resting on. She turned your attention away from the men. "Could I get one of those? I don't mean to be a–"

The men began to make their moves and you were distracted by the woman. She had kind eyes. Easy and familiar and a familial feeling to them as she waited patiently for you to move.

"Yes, yes," you replied as you got out of her way. "Sorry."

You didn't know why you apologized. Maybe you felt sorry she found herself in this bodega at an hour such as this.

"No worries, dear." The boy wasn't far from her either. He was shuffling through a freezer looking for a drink that wasn't there.

As she grabbed onto the bag, the radio dropped to the floor and turned off. It startled everyone inside and the cashier filled the silence with his desperate pleas.

"Oh my," his jaw chattered, "please... I don't have anything.... I-I-I I've gotta lot of student lo-o-oans and I really n-need this job."

He was staring into a silver barrel of a gun by the hands of the blonde who orchestrated everything. The older woman screeched behind you and the freezer door slammed shut with a "oh hell no!" following its thud.

You imagined the fear they felt was the same Miguel felt that day. Sitting there, hostage on the bank floor with a check to cash from his mother for his birthday.

The check was in evidence splattered with his blood.

In the neon light of the bodega, you made a choice to never let that happen again.

The cashier kept muttering whole-hearted pleas and the friend reached over the counter to open the register's drawer but it was locked.

"Unlock it!" Blondie ordered, shaking the gun closer and closer to the cashier who looked close to wetting himself. Behind you, the older woman crouched to the floor began praying to herself.

"Unlock it now, you son-of-a-bitch! You wanna end up on the floor? Open it!"

The cashier, who now you realized had a name badge on that read 'Max', began to reach for the keys that were hooked onto the counter.

Fear in his eyes, anticipation in theirs, anger in yours.

Anger always caused the tides to turn.

You reached your hand forward in a quick motion and the web that released itself from your wrist snatched the keys from the hook. Max flew backwards in a jolt of despair and the barrel was soon pointed at you.

"Oh you have got to be kidding!" Blondie screeched and fired a shot. He missed. It was sent right into a chip bag and exploded them all over the floor. You tossed the keys to the older woman and went for the gun.

Like child's play, the gun flew across the bodega and into your palm to be crushed like a piece of fruit. It was still hot from being fired and its pieces crumbled to the floor.

"What the fuck–" the woman stuttered.

"So," Blondie spoke and you hated his tone. Condescending and mighty. "Spider-Woman has a face..."

This friend pulled a bracelet from his pocket that lit up green. It glowed as brightly as the neon signs in the window blurred by the rain.

"She does," you replied. "And it will be the last face you see."

He laughed. They always did. It was an inescapable pattern of dealing with enemies who thought they would win. They never did, and they all thought the same way.

"Is that so? I would really hate to have the Bugle's headline to read: Spider-Woman killed innocent civilians at the 6th street Bodega." He let out a series of tisks with a shake of his head. "Who knew heroes could be so bad?"

He looked to his friend. "Herman..."

The friend, Herman, locked eyes on you and approached quickly and with a heavy hand charging with the green of the gauntlet. You could hearing the whirring and the loading of the power.

Instead of moving out of the way, you turned and pushed the older woman away. She slid on the slick floor into a corner with her bag of chips still in her hand.

The shock hit you with a staggering power. It blew you backwards into an ice freezer in the back of the store. As you landed on the ground, the woman whimpered in the corner and the boy caught your eye underneath a table by the restrooms.

He couldn't have been more than fifteen.

And he wasn't going to die today.

So, you got back on your feet and brushed off your jacket. The residual sting of the shock began to wear off and the men looked at you with a challenge.

"Who knew fighting the Spider would have been so easy?" Blondie laughed. "Where were you when we started? It would have been a much more fair fight."

"Busy," you spat.

"Huh," he hummed with a nod of his head. It was like he was trying to clock you–the way his eyes squinted and he tilted his head just a bit higher than it normally would have been. "Say, have we met before?"

"I'm sure I would remember. This is certainly a pleasurable encounter."

Blondie didn't let the words sting. You weren't a Spider who stung with a bite.

"I've seen your face before..."

"Maybe I just have one of those faces," you quirked a brow and Herman charged his gauntlet again. "Is this the worst you can do? Threaten a few innocents and have your friend do all the work? What happened to real criminals, huh?"

"Funny," he walked like a villain. Hands in his pockets, shoes scuffing the floor. "I've heard that one before." His mind raked the last time he heard that.

"Well it must say something about you then."

Herman went to shock again and you shot a web at him. He went soaring into a wall, head hitting it hard.

"I know!" He snapped his fingers like a lightbulb went off inside. Clarity now in a world filled of unclear ways. "I've seen your picture before."

"So what?" You matched his movements as he moved toward the center of the store. Every tight aisle blocked your view like a shutter.

"'Is this the worst you can do?' Someone told me that a short time ago. A man who tried to get in my way."

Miguel.

He was at the bank. He had his check ready, he was at the counter. Miguel had his wallet out and prepared.

He had a photo in his wallet.

"And I think you know how that turned out for him. But here's the thing, Spider-Woman... I don't hate the idea of having that same fate met you tonight. I imagine being so deep underneath the ground it gets a little lonely."

He stopped at the center, so did you.

"I think it's time for you to join him."

But all you saw was red.

There was an intense pulsing pressure inside of the bodega. You weren't sure how much time had passed as your fist dug deeper and deeper into the man who spoke too much and had little to act upon.

Whimpers of those left inside were deferred. The begging of his friend fell on deaf ears.

In the corner beside the three civilians–the woman, teen, and cashier–a glowing hexagonal portal opened to the dimension in which they lived. It hummed like a freezer and moved like something from the cinema they watched last year but instead of aliens appearing from the abyss, three people emerged no different than the way they walked.

They were people, human. Three Spider-People in a world that already had a Spider-Woman.

In their perspective the heroes were welcome. They were terrified and huddled within one another as one robber was webbed to the wall and the other was being beaten to a pulp by a woman with super-human strength.

"Peter," Miguel motioned to the civilians in the corner, "get 'em out of here."

The humble servant Peter was, he acted quickly. His nervous high-pitched voice soothing their fears with panic and disbelief that three masked people walked through a portal as though it was any other day.

"Get the man down, Jess," Miguel pointed to the guy webbed to the wall. Jess tipped her head to the side with an amused, sly grin on her face as he wept. Chick's a badass, she thought.

A violent one at the moment, albeit, but a badass nonetheless.

Fist hovered in the air, you went rigid as the sensations coursed through you. A striking feeling that felt more like a severe headache that came on too quickly, the immense pressure your body suddenly took on wasn't unfamiliar.

You had felt them before. It happened when something in the air changed. When something you knew could disappear or when time was suddenly running short. There was no term for it nor did any other person in this world feel what you felt.

The man below you gurgled. It was, just like the sensation, a sound that awoken something within you. It cleared the vision from red to reality and suddenly the harsh lighting of the bodega and the reflections of the neon signs on the linoleum filled in the edges.

"Shit," you stammered as your grip on his body lessened with every second.

Those consistent strums of radiating itching went from the top of your head to the base of your skull. A humming in the distance turned into a whirring sound that was too extraneous to come from a small place such as this one.

In an instant, the aluminum window covers were pulled from the ceiling by a pair of red, glowing lines reminiscent of webs. It shut out the outside world and the rain that had been pouring down for hours. The neon lights no longer reflected themselves on the flooring.

A hero, a villain... at some point those had all become the same to you.

The ideas that propelled them to act were all based in something that made them feel passionate enough to target an opposing force. When a hero turns to the fragmented middle of the road and balances the line of enemy and friend, the revelations of such shame grow from a deeper place of pain.

"Let him go."

The voice in your head sounded so much like Miguel.

And once your senses stopped going wild, your heart lept into your throat at the thought.

You buried him. You buried him six feet under.

The door to the bodega's alley opened and closed.

"Come on," the voice said again, "let him go and we can clean up this mess."

"Stop," you mumbled, shutting your eyes as your fists clenched the man's jacket harder. The one that had been in the air dropped to his chest. It was wet with the mixture of sweat and blood.

"Stop it please. Please stop it."

"Those civilians are gonna go get the police," his voice was low. It was that kind of voice that Miguel would use to talk you down from a nightmare–or maybe what this dimension had made you.

"And when they get here, what do you think they're gonna do when they see you sittin' over him?"

"Stop talking, stop talking, stop talking–" you repeated again and again. A thud in the distance set the blonde's friend on the floor and a web kept him in place once more.

"Boss they're gonna take her," another voice, not one you had ever head before filled the room and suddenly you were terrified that it wasn't voices you were hearing in your head. "We gotta bring her back with us."

"Alright! Three darling innocents saved again by, you guessed it," a far too cheerful voice added to the collection, "me."

You were curled into yourself over the blonde. Peter saw a woman, not dressed in a traditional uniform, use her powers for bad. But he saw the destruction of the man and knew that it wasn't from sheer wickedness.

He had seen you care so much before. It had to come from a place of caring.

"Well," he cleared his throat, "this is... a lot." And then he blanched.

"Jess," Miguel motioned to your static figure. He turned around and walked away as if to say 'you got it.'

There was an inflection in his voice that made Jess bristle. She hated the tone; removed and vacant. He was already living a humorless existence and the idea that this dimension made you act this way fractured himself in a new way.

"You heard him," Peter went scouring the aisles, plucking a bag of dried beef from a shelf to shove his mouth with. "You got this!" He gave a half-hearted thumbs up.

So, Jess had this.

She didn't crouch down. She didn't attempt to place a hand on your shoulder or help clean off your hands.

Jess kneeled on the other side of the man and your distant eyes met hers to know you weren't alone. You weren't alone in your pain and you certainly weren't alone in this world.

Your first thought was that she was pretty. Your second thought was that this woman was pregnant and that made you sad.

"Looks like you've gotten yourself in a bit of a mess," she spoke quietly but acted quickly. She placed her fingers on the pulse of the man.

He was breathing.

"Who are you?"

"Name's Jess."

"Jess," you repeated, "and Jess comes from...?"

She saw your lip tremble, eyes welling with tears. Jesus, she thought, she wasn't ready to be a mother if she couldn't deal with a thirty-something spider-woman who happened to be Miguel's wife in three different dimensions.

"Earth–404."

"Earth?"

"You felt that, right?" She motioned to her head, mimicking a tingling sensation with her fingertips. You nodded.

"Well, a lot of us have it... and I mean people like you and me... and I know it makes no sense, but if you can fight mutant enemies, maybe you can imagine there are other worlds out there."

"Like planets?" You sniffed and your hands began to shake. Everything bubbling to the surface of pain and anger. "You're from another planet?"

"Not really, but kinda, sure," she agreed for your sake.

"And your friends?"

"Different planets too."

You breathed in a shaking breath. Somewhere in the distance, you could hear the sirens begin to blare. It may have been 10 blocks or 6 blocks, but they were coming and they were coming in fast.

"Now," Jess cleared her throat, "it looks like you've gotten yourself in a little situation that needs a bit of help."

Jess was the most sympathetic she had ever been. The way your hands shook, your tiredness expanded beyond you. Maybe it was the fact she knew what made you go off the deep end that made her feel more thoughtful.

"They, um-"

"It's ok," Jess said and didn't let you finish. "We just need to get you somewhere safe, ok? Me and my friends can help you."

The sheen in your eyes was cloudy. Face wet and brushed with splatter of a man who was not yours, there was a lifeline to get you out of here and you had to take it.

You shook your head softly before it became more frantic. "I don't have anyone to go to... I don't have anyone."

"You do," her hand hovered over the man's body as Peter came back and lowered himself beside Jess. "You're gonna have a whole group behind you if you let us help."

"We'll get you all cleaned up and then introduce you. There is a whole universe of us out there."

"Us?"

"Spider-People?" He questioned, brows furrowed. Jess hadn't been explicit.

"A society," she drew back from Peter. "Like myself and Peter," indirectly introducing him, "and you and–" she stopped short.

"And you want me there?"

"Yeah," Peter said. "I mean, we could use some more badass Spider-Women around."

"But I–"

"Don't worry about all this, alright? We all have our moments."

Peter reached out his hand for you to take. There was a certain level of hesitancy you felt; perhaps it was a trick or maybe you were trapped in another nightmare. But Peter gave a small smile. He gave off a warmth that Jess had exuded and made you nearly forget that there were three voices and not their two.

You took Peter's hand.

The man was breathing, he would live even if he didn't deserve to. The sirens were no more than 3 blocks away.

"You gonna need one of these," Jess held out her hand to reveal a rubber bracelet.

"A day pass," she explained, "to help you adjust."

"Adjust?"

"It's better to ask fewer questions," Peter scrunched his face. "Less confusion for you."

You slipped on the bracelet.

"We good here?"

It was that voice again, the one from the back of your head.

"We gotta go. Time is ticking."

Except this voice wasn't the back of your head now that you've realized there were others in this bodega. As you rose from the floor and began walking as Jess led the way, the friend was passed out on the floor and a glowing hexagonal portal was lingering in the back of the store.

The sounds, the sensations... it meant something.

"All good, Boss. The robbers will live."

The man in the blue suit–from what you could tell–nodded and looked in your direction but said nothing. There was something in your body that was sending alarm bells to your mind but you ignored them.

They weren't like the sensations you had felt before. These were different in a way you couldn’t explain.

“Right let’s, ah,” he hesitated as his hands rested on his hips. You looked at him and he looked away. “Get moving then.”

“What’s going to happen when I go through that thing?” You pointed to the portal.

He didn’t look at you. He couldn’t look at you. All he saw was his wife who used to laugh at his corny jokes and rest her head on his shoulder in bed. He saw, in one dimension, the mother of his child and he saw a happy, generous nurse who loved her job.

But when he looked at you know, part of that image was shattered.

You were a little bit broken and a little bit worn down by the world you lived in. You had blood-splattered clothing and tear stained cheeks and it was enough to make his heart ache more than it already did.

“It will pop you out just where we want you,” Peter said as he took a step into the portal and his body began to glitch with the moving sphere around him. “Just walk in and it will do the rest.”

“And it’s safe?”

“So far, yeah!” And he ran off before he disappeared.

“I’ll see you there, alright?” Jess turned to you, then looked at Blue before giving a smile that was as flat as a dead man’s heart beat.

She walked in just as suave as she came.

Suddenly, it was just the two of you and it felt strange.

There were so many feelings lingering that you couldn’t grasp onto. The air was comfortable but hesitant; there was a barrier of distrust and burden, but one that itched to reach out a hand to help.

“You know,” you sniffed back a chuckle, “I half thought I was crazy for a second.”

“About what?” He asked. “The fact that you almost killed a man or the portals? Both are equally crazy.”

In any other circumstance you would have thought he was being sarcastic.

You shook your head. You were beginning to feel the weight of your actions.

“I thought I heard voices… a voice in my head.”

“Mhm.”

“Yeah,” you glanced at the portal.

A lull. The whirring of the portal, the sounds of police cars went mute when you looked back. Blue was looking at you but you couldn’t see his eyes. You couldn’t see a thing and indeed, you didn’t know his name.

Blue.

Miguel’s favorite color was blue.

“Thank you,” you said earnestly. “For coming here. I think I’m still a bit shell-shocked,” you laughed and he knew you were, “but maybe I was waiting for this… I don’t know.”

“It’s our job.”

Blue was done with the conversation at that point. He walked to the portal, his body glitching just like Peter and Jess’s did.

“Come on,” he motioned to you.

“What’s your name? The other two—they introduced themselves.”

“Spider-Man.”

“That’s not your name.”

He let out a huff. “You wanna be caught by the police? Fine.” He began walking again and the glitching became more erratic.

“Who’s to say you’re all not some group of aliens trying to kidnap me? At least the other two looked like me!”

His patience too was skating on thin ice.

“Come on, kid, let’s go.”

Maybe you weren’t crazy.

“What did you just say?”

He turned his body back to you and walked out of the portal. On the precipice of where you stood just beyond and where he did, he towered over you.

“I’m giving you a chance here. You come with me now or you’re dead here.”

“Kid. You said ‘kid.’ Why did you say that? Why did you say I was a kid?”

“I didn’t mean it like that, let’s go.” Like a rhythmic pattern, he turned back around.

“I’m not crazy. I know I’m not fucking crazy.” You sure as hell looked it. “Why did you say kid? Who told you to call me kid?”

“No one—“

A sudden banging on the door to the bodega caught the attention left in the room. Blondie started to gurgle, you stood steadfast, and Blue was agitated.

You took a step into the portal. Progress.

“Nobody calls me kid, no one. Why won’t you tell me your name? Who the hell are you people? Who are you?”

“We don’t have time for this!” The way he said your name that followed was one you had heard a million times.

It was just like Miguel used to say.

“Take off your mask.” You demanded and stepped further again.

“Take off your fucking mask or I’m stepping out of this goddamn thing and going to prison.”

The police began to feverishly hit the glass with their batons.

“Take it off,” you begged, “please. Please let me see you.”

And how could he say no to his wife who begged so mercilessly?

There was a time where you replayed that moment over and over in your mind.

You could still feel the way your breath caught in your chest. An immense wave of emptiness washed from you and filled with a jittery dismay that had no outlet.

His eyes were no different; the way his lips sat and his brow furrowed.

You felt the silent shed of tears mask your face before the glass breaking set Miguel moving toward you, grabbing your hand and pulling you through the portal.

His touch was the same.

And when he opened his mouth, what he sounded like was different from what he said and you were quick to realize that this Miguel was not your Miguel.

This Miguel despised people who lived happy lives.

This Miguel was mean and callous and demanding

This Miguel worked beyond reasonable hours and made being a Spider-Man his life’s purpose.

That was not your Miguel.

There was no making sense in that moment. You either believed it or you didn't and if you didn't, then they'd drop you back off in a world that had your face plastered on wanted posters and big screens in the middle of the city.

So you made sense of it and made some semblance of life within the four walls of the Spider Society headquarters with the Grade A asshole known as Miguel O'hara – not your husband.

The grief of that worked in waves. It came and went when life continued to move. It was strange to think that what brought you here, to this future, occurred one year ago.

Sat by a window looking out into an Earth that was not yours, you swung your legs as those thoughts crossed your mind. The chatter of a thousand Spider-people filled the space around you.

A thud sounded on the beam a few feet from you. Soft, nearly mute shoes tapping their way beside you. Green. The color of artificial grass in a children's playset, nearly blue.

"Watcha doing?"

There was never a moment of peace here. But you closed you eyes, sighed and a smile quirked on your lips.

"You daydreaming? I wonder what it's like out there..." Gwen Stacy joined the Spider-Society three months ago. "It looks so... contempo."

"Contempo? Where did you hear that?"

"I read you know," she tipped her head up in mock offense. "Kids do read when they're in school."

"Yeah, yeah," you brushed her off.

"So... what are you up to today? I was thinking we could monitor the dimensions with Jess and maybe catch a bad guy or two–" Gwen's fists mimicked boxing, "–and then Peter said he'd bring Mayday around–"

"Slow down," you chuckled. "I am up to nothing, thanks for asking and if that's what you want, sure."

Her eyes lit up when on most days they didn't.

"Really!?"

"Mhm, yeah, sure."

"Great!" Gwen got to her feet and wrung her hands. "Jess was in the control center so–"

"Control center?"

Gwen hummed, hands clasping behind her back comically.

"Yep! Just... chillin' by a screen. You know, she's got that baby on the way and all so we thought it'd be best to keep her inside for the time being and she doesn't like that but she said–" Gwen went on and on as the words came pouring out.

"Gwen."

"–that she would rather die than have to sit here and watch screens all day. I told Peter she would hate it and he agreed with me but sometimes he brings–"

"Gwen."

"–Mayday around just to cheer us up that we haven't gone on that many missions and its always well... you know... and we feel like we can't do anything to help out sometimes–"

"Gwen!" You shouted at her. She stopped her rambling; blue eyes wide and ears listening. "Just... take a breath, alright?"

"Sorry," she said sheepishly.

"You don't have to be sorry," a sharp breath steadied you. "I'm not going to go with you to the control room."

"Please," she begged. You imagined this is what it was like having a teenage daughter who wanted the most unattainable of things. "I promise it will be fine! Miguel's not even there so you don't have to worry about what he said last time!"

"That was three days ago, Gwen!"

"So what!?"

The last time was three days ago.

Ever since you arrived, it had been nothing but anger and hostility pushed toward you from him but you were not easy on him either. It was hard facing a piece of your past that had every connection but no foundation at the same time.

Earth 9591 was in ruins and the screens replayed the horrors of the people over and over. It was desolate. Earth was crumbling in on itself and a medieval Rhino had found itself in the mess as Earth 9591 Peter was on his last leg.

According to Miguel, this Peter was supposed to experience this.

"We can't just let him die, Miguel," you argued as he stood up on his platform above you and Peter. "There is a chance he could live and we're reducing him to nothing because of his goddamn canon?"

"We can't mess with it, you know that." Miguel's patience was running thin. "Every time we can't interfere you come here with the same argument and the answer is always no. It will always be no."

"Why?" You pushed. Sometimes just seeing his face now made you mad. The questions of why this Miguel got to live when your's didn't was something that constantly simmered within you.

"You plucked me from my Earth and brought me here so why can't we do that for him? He'd be healthy and safe here."

"This is supposed to happen to him," he huffed your name as he turned back to the screens. "Not every battle is going to be one that Spider-Man wins and if we mess with it, we threaten that whole dimension."

"Well it sure as hell looks like it's in a bit of trouble, boss," Peter let out a nervous chuckle.

"And so it is."

"But what of Rhino, hm?" He hated the way you rose your eyebrows in question. Every version of you did that. "That's not supposed to be his fate."

"One less villain we have to worry about."

You let out a frustrated groan. "When did you become so heartless? We save people here, Miguel. We don't let them suffer."

"I'm not heartless. I'm being realistic and the fact is that 9591 Peter isn't gonna live and his world will become uninhabitable. That is part of his canon, end of story."

"So my canon said to bring me here?" You asked, hands on your hips. Peter inched backwards from you because he could feel the rumblings of the volcano bubbling.

"Take me from my home and bring me here for what? To have another person go along with every decision you make? Newsflash, Miguel, that's not going to happen."

"Oh, really?" He laughed, sarcastically, and looked down at you from above.

"Yes, really. Maybe this canon bullshit is just that, bullshit. Maybe you made a mistake–"

"I didn't make a mistake," he defended loudly. "I am not letting other worlds get destroyed because of stupid decisions."

"So it's only a stupid decision when it's a reality that we both exist in?"

If Peter hadn't known any better this would have sounded like a fight between a married couple.

"That's not what I said," Miguel brought his hand to the bridge of his nose and squeezed. "We can't go around making those same mistakes. I am not putting any other lives in danger."

"But you did it when it benefitted you."

Miguel mumbled to himself up there. You couldn't hear. Peter took more steps back and Spider-Byte ducked behind her consul. Miguel's brown mop of hair slicked back with the motion of his hand.

"Well you would've liked that world too."

"I liked the one I was from."

God, some days he really disliked you.

At the same time, when Miguel looked down at you, he saw the wife he knew in a different capacity and it sent his mind spiraling. He didn't sleep, he barely took the time to care for himself because all he could think about was the dimensions of happiness that you both had and the one you've both found yourselves in now.

He hated that he loved the body of the woman he knew but couldn't fully trust the version of you that existed now.

"We're not going."

"Miguel,"

He lept from the platform and onto the level you stood on. Still as large as before, his shadow filled your space before he did and for some ungodly reason, the presence of this Miguel made your heart pump furiously as your husband had.

Miguel had that look in his eyes that made them appear red. Fist clenched at his sides and that same lingering sadness emitting from his person.

"Not another word."

He hated the challenge you took from him.

"Why is it ok that you took me from my dimension? To serve some sick purpose of remembering your wife?" You spat at him.

You were just like her... just a little more broken.

"I'm not her, Miguel."

"You think I don't know that?" His voice was nearly caught in his throat. "You think I don't know that you're not her? It's pretty goddamn obvious you're not her."

"Oh yeah?" Your voice was no different.

You hated when you fought with Miguel in your dimension and that didn't change in this one.

Peter thought he should look away.

"Well she's not here, is she?"

Miguel stared at you. He couldn't help the way his eyes moved over your face. He saw the same eyes, nose, and lips. You were his wife just as he was your husband.

"No," he said as a ghostly whisper, "she's not."

"And maybe I'm not like her but you're not like my Miguel either... so don't make this fall on me. I didn't ask to come here."

"You're here now," Miguel's voice was devoid of feeling. "So get used to the rules. We're not going."

And he stalked off with Peter following on his tail.

If you closed your eyes you could see fragments of Miguel. Now, however, this Miguel was beginning to eclipse those memories.

"Shit..." Spider-Byte snickered from behind her monitor. Her blue glow filling your vision as you looked at her. "I wouldn't take that, mama. I'd kick his ass."

Miguel wasn't there. He was off saving a dimension because canon was all that mattered and Jess was monitoring that other universes just as Gwen had said.

It was a relief.

So, you sat back and watched as Jess and Gwen flipped through the different footage from the dimensions that either lit up red for an anomaly or maintained green for a perfect balance.

Jess flipped through them quickly. Every world passing by your face within a second of seeing the light on the panel turn green. The few instances of red sent her pressing on a communication button before Gwen could complain that she wanted to go out and fight.

Gwen lingered on worlds. She looked at the images as though she wished to be a part of them.

She hesitated moving on from a boy in a black suit just a second too long.

"Gwen?" You asked her as her hand hovered over the button. She was intently looking at him as he moved about the fire escape.

"Gwen?" You reached out a hand to shake her shoulder. She bristled out of her spell and pressed the button before you could ask any questions.

It would be several months later that you'd learn that the boy was the source of it all.

Miles Morales had heard a million versions of the same story.

It all began with a name and that named person being bit by a radioactive spider that magically gave them powers and they used them to save the world, or fight street crime, or kill mice (in the case of that Spider-Cat he saw in the lobby).

They were all the friendly, neighborhood hero that the world needed.

Until the collider messed with their functions and required a society such as this to take on a much larger purpose.

And Miles was taken aback.

He had never felt so seen sans the moment he walked through the doors of the complex. Every turn he made, a new Spider-Person was uniquely fit into their world so different than his own.

Within the chamber of villains from other dimensions, he saw a Spider-Woman without a suit.

"So people like, live here?" Miles asked Gwen who shrugged.

"Some do. We can stay for as long as we like and then go back to our dimensions when we need to."

"And suits are optional?"

Hobie turned around and gave Miles as questionable gaze.

"A uniform is binding, man," he told Miles. "Use what makes you comfortable."

Gwen nearly galloped ahead to the Spider-Woman with a digital portfolio. Miles saw the way Gwen's eyes lit up just as they did when they saw each other again.

Hobie was the one to introduce you. Your named rolled off his tongue like butter–so casual and cool in a way Miles did not believe he ever could be.

"She lives here," He explained. "Can't really go back to her dimension so she does a lot of cataloguing. The main man doesn't want her out of missions... you know," Hobie spun his finger near his forehead, "little crazy that one."

"I'm not crazy, Hobie," you called out as Gwen pointed toward your group.

"No, you're right," he corrected himself. "He's the crazy one."

"That's more like it," you smiled and Miles felt a boyish crush form in his stomach. "Hi Miles. I've heard a lot about you."

You did. Gwen had been giddy in the way she reminisced about her time with Miles. Even Peter put in his two-cents about the way he trained him and it went incredibly poorly for the greater part of their journey together.

You missed a good chunk of time by not being present when they all converged on the same dimension. It may have saved you from yourself.

"Hi," he waved back nervously.

The party kept walking with your addition. Beyond the orange cells of villains captured and waiting to be returned home, a center of technology he could dream of appeared in front of him.

It was just a tour.

Lyla appeared beside you.

"Miguel's hangry," she complained as she looked at her non-existent nail-beds.

"He's probably just angry."

"No," she shook her bob, "it's the hangry kind. You should have the kid pick up something for him... a gift."

"Gift," you chuckled. Miles looked so green. He was amazed by the technology of the go-home-machine that you weren't sure how he would react when he reached the hub. Walking through all of the test technology before going to Miguel's station... he'd be on cloud nine.

"He'll be expecting the party soon."

"I'll stay behind."

You were certain Miguel would be able to hear this conversation but Lyla had a mind of her own–she was artificial after all.

"You should come with. Miles could use your perspectives."

"What perspectives?" This was the longest conversation you had ever held with her. "Oh, Miles," you mimicked, "don't beat criminals to a pulp... um, don't let your anger get the best of you... don't kill people.... yeah, good advice."

"I meant a motherly figure here."

"I'm not a mother, Lyla. Besides, he's got Jess for that."

Lyla glitched to the other side of you. "Jess hasn't taken to him like she did you and Gwen."

"He's got Peter."

"But he could use you too."

You gave a tight-lipped hum.

"Or," she countered, "maybe you need someone like him. It's always strange what effect kids have on adults... makes them... soft or something. You should see the videos of Miguel!" She laughed, you didn't.

"He liked to play soccer with her."

Her. In another dimension, you had a daughter.

"Why are you telling me this?" You asked her.

She waved her hand dissuasively. "Miguel's not going to, so I might as well."

The party began to make their exit. Down to the liar they went and as they walked, Lyla floated in the air beside you. Miles kept peaking back like a child on a holiday.

"Miles," you called out to him.

"Yes?" He turned around quickly and at attention. He was a cute kid. So nervous and out of his element. If it weren't for his merry misfit group of friends, Miguel was sure to eat him alive.

"Do you have a question or is there a reason you keep looking at me?"

He rubbed his hand on the back of his neck. Miles then pointed to Lyla.

"Is she a Spider-Person too?"

"No," you told him and Lyla glitched to him. "An A.I. that Miguel created. She knows all."

"She flatters me," Lyla murmured back a smile.

Miles turned back around and continued on with his conversation that bounced between Gwen and Hobie. Lyla disappeared from the hallway as the sounds of old, tinkered experiments and Miles' struggles painted a picture of a much different boy in your mind.

While his struggles were not yours and you'd never understand them completely, his want to belong struck a chord with you in a way it did with Gwen.

There was a family that could be built here if the realities of pain could be ignored.

Above on his floating platform, Miguel slowly descended as Miles gaped in a slight awe. Yes, it was dramatic. Yes, it was unnecessary and it made you roll your eyes.

Hobie stuck to the wall in the back. Gwen took Miles to the edge and you leaned up against a pillar not far from Hobie.

"Miguel O'Hara," Gwen introduced, "meet Miles Morales."

And then Miles butchered his introduction with cheer. He offered up those empanadas which Miguel slipped right into the trash.

And like Gwen, he fumbled his words by rambling about how to catch Spot.

Miguel threw the trash can at them both only for Hobie to sneak the empanada out of the box and into his hand without blinking.

And then everything spiraled out of control.

Miguel's meter began to spike an angry red as the frantic nature of his focus within this world had been protecting the multi-verse. Here, in this room, Miles was the supposed source of it.

If it wasn't for Miles, many of his problems wouldn't exist and he'd be grateful but he can't be, simply because they are truly real.

"Hey Miguel!" Peter's voice broke through the silent seconds. Miles perked up at the sound. "Come on, go easy on the kid. He had a terrible teacher. He had no chance."

"Peter!"

The two hugged like old friends.

"Miles!" Peter put a hand on his shoulder. "Don't be afraid of my friend Miguel. He just looks scary. He's got no bite."

He had seen it once. He chose to ignore it.

So he went on with his little break up of Miguel's serious moment and you watched unfold from the shadows, the orange glow of your tablet keeping you busy while Mayday swung around the room and Miles exasperatedly came to terms with Peter being a father.

"-You always say the 'fate of the multiverse' and my brain dies."

You chuckled to yourself, glancing up at Peter as he circled Miguel. Miguel was holding Mayday like he had never held a child in his life.

That was the kind of thing your Miguel did.

"You guys smell that?" Peter sniffed into the air. He swiftly picked up Mayday and swung right by Miles and Gwen and straight to you.

"You smell that right?" He held her up high. Yes, yes you did smell that.

"That is entirely your problem, Peter."

"Miles–" Miguel caught their attention again. "–You disrupted a canon event."

"Canon event?"

"The kid wasn't thinking," Peter interjected. He held onto Mayday as you strung a web for her to bounce on. Miguel was half torn between the conversation he tried to be stern about and the watching you weave a web for that little girl.

"That's not how he works."

"That's insulting," Miles commented.

Hobie got up from the floor to stand next to you. He caught Mayday in the air, saluting her with two fingers.

"Taking a crap on the establishment... I salute you."

"What are you upset about?" Miles furrowed his brows as Miguel stepped off the platform and walked towards him. The boy would be amiss if he hadn't felt his stomach drop to his feet in the menacing way Miguel O'Hara walked.

"When isn't he upset about something?" You murmured from the back.

"I saved those people."

Ah, yes. Pavitr's dimension. Miguel had been in the go-home-department when it happened.

"And that's the problem," Miguel clarified. "Lyla, do the thing."

As she always did, Lyla appeared with a semi-oblivious nature.

"Huh? What thing?"

"The thing... what do you mean 'what thing?' The information explaining thing!"

She gave a casual 'ok' and the room changed before you.

You had never seen everything before.

Jess had talked about it, Peter mentioned what it looked like, and a few others who had seen it claimed it left them more confused than anything.

It was a bright blue tree, in a sense. Woven with a variation of color that reminded you of the sea at mid-day and the sky at night, everything was a timeline of complete facts of the world. Every moment of every person's lives were tied to this one branch of 'everything.'

Expansive and high, the tree of everything bloomed over your heads and Miles was the one trying to come to terms with the sincerity of it. However, just as he had begun to grasp the idea of everything being resembled by a tree with branches that diverged from its timeline, the room changed to a red web.

Hundreds and hundreds of webs interconnected by lines that captured the very lives in that room. All of them facing convergence by multiple lifelines to different events, canons, and realities that make up a person's existence in the, as he had coined, the Spider-Verse.

"The lines... where the nodes converge?" Miles asked aloud.

"They are the canon."

Every web around him had different nodes. Some had more than others, some had barely any. He noticed a cluster of three big webs with few canon nodes.

"Their chapters apart of every Spider's story, every time. Some good, some bad... some very bad."

Miguel pulled down a cluster to showcase the very bad. You had a sinking feeling somewhere along the line the 'very bad' also included you.

A row of Spider-People emerged in the same position. He saw Peter, he saw Gwen, he recognized you, and then himself leaning over the body of a loved one who perished too soon.

Like a story, Miguel walked through varied canon events that were to occur in many Spider stories. A police captain, a lover, the event that turns someone into a hero, the struggles of the hero.

Miles looked at each of you as a fragment of your past appeared before him.

"That's how the story is supposed to go. Canon events are the connections that bind our lives together and those connections can be broken that why anomalies are so dangerous. Inspector Singh's death was a canon event."

A police captain.

"You weren't supposed to be there."

Even though you weren't there, you saw it unfold from the safety of Lyla's simulation. People running, a bridge nearly collapsing.

"And you weren't supposed to save him. That's why Gwen tried to stop you."

You could see the gears in his brain turning. He was hurt, misguided in his efforts to be a good Spider-Man because it was suddenly becoming a conflict for him. Miles tried to be good. He tried to save people and even doing so, he seemed to mess up.

It was so different from the Spider-Woman you used to be.

"I thought you were trying to save me," Miles admitted to Gwen who had turned her back from him. She kept her eyes to the ground.

"I was. I-I was doing both," she took a chance to gaze back at him only to see the hurt.

She was just doing her job.

"And now, Miles," Miguel sighed and he walked around the space. He planted his feet beside you and Miles took a glance and couldn't tell who was friend or foe.

He didn't know where he stood himself.

"Because you changed the story, Pavitr's dimension is unraveling. If we're lucky, we can stop it. We haven't always been lucky."

Miguel looked at you. He looked at you with a sheen in his eyes that you'd hadn't see from this version of him. For once, he looked as sad as he felt on the inside.

And for once, he wasn't fighting with you about what was right or wrong in that moment.

"That wasn't me!" Miles defended. "That was the Spot."

"It's what happens when you break canon."

"How do you know?"

"Because I broke it once myself."

There was a part of you that wanted out. You wanted out right that second because you had seen enough. You had seen the destruction, had been part of some destruction, and seeing Miguel's world crumble animatedly in front of you wasn't something you wanted. But your feet stuck to the floor. Planted, like mud, waiting to be freed.

It was your story too and you didn't even know what happened.

"I found another world where I had a family. Where I was happy."

In the web, the cluster of three was connected by one single strand to a much larger web with varied canon events. Whatever this was, Miles imagined, was Miguel's universe.

"At least a version of me was. And that version of myself was killed."

This time trying to catch a thief who stole a woman's purse. Not a bank robbery.

"So I replaced him. I thought it was harmless."

You looked away at the scenes. Miguel with her. A little brown haired girl who loved soccer and he did her homework at the kitchen table with her. A father who looked adoringly at a daughter who was joyous and knew no pain.

"But I was wrong."

Then the world began to collapse. In his arms, the girl disappeared as though she had never existed.

"Isn't that right, Peter?"

Your head shot up towards Peter who looked away from you. He had seen you before, in a different reality where you too were happy with the life you lived and where you were happy with a daughter who loved Miguel too.

"Peter?" You gave a weak call to him. He shut his eyes tightly. "Peter, you knew?"

Miles felt the way you felt. A shell of a hero without a purpose with people who made very choice feel like a mistake.

You walked up to Peter. Miles saw the white-knuckle grip you had on the pink robe. This was more than just friends making choices feel like a mistake.

"You knew me?"

Miles glanced back at the web. The three small webs that had little to them stuck out like a bouquet of flowers. Each their own small story.

“Whose is that?” Miles gestured as he tried to ignore the way you prodded at Peter for answers. Perhaps Miles already knew that Miguel had made this more complicated than it needed to be.

He had already destroyed one reality for happiness. Miles imagined that this man could ruin many more if it meant one more second of living.

“These ones?” Miguel pointed to the web of three.

You knew it was yours without even realizing it.

“That’s mine," you breathed in deep.

Even though you hadn't gotten along in this world, Miguel felt the weight of his secrecy fall heavily onto his shoulders.

“You see, Miles,” Miguel started, “there are infinite dimensions were we exist. All these webs here,” he pointed to the connecting lines that reappeared of many lives, “are realities were someone like you may exist. Maybe not as Spider-Man but as something.”

Miguel looked to you and for the first time since he met you in your reality, he saw the woman he fell in love with.

“And her dimensions look a bit different.”

“Why?” Miles questioned. “Why don’t ours look like that?”

“Because you can exist in infinite realities, Miles,” you told him in a voice that reminded him of his mother telling him a relative died. “And I can’t.”

“There is only three of her that exist in our… Spider-Verse, as you put it,” Miguel stated. “And one of them collapsed.”

In a hologram, he saw you in the world they had all just witnessed disappear from reality. Miles saw you running and running and he could see the destination, Miguel and that child, so close yet too far away.

And then there was nothing.

“Oh,” Miles felt sadness creep within him. Gwen wanted to comfort both you and Miles but couldn’t muster it in front of Miguel.

Peter wasn't sure what to do.

One strand of three disappeared.

“And in the other, she’s not here anymore.”

"What dimension is that?"

Miguel sighed. Hands on his hips, he met Miles' intense stare instead of yours.

"This one."

“So there is only me now,” you have a half-hearted smile.

“I thought you said you were the only Spider-Man in this dimension?” Miles asked Miguel as he tried to make sense of this world he found himself in.

“I am,” Miguel clarified. “She’s not from this dimension. Her… alternate self isn’t here anymore.”

He recalled the images of all the Peter’s and Gwen’s and Jessica’s mourning their canon disasters. Loved ones, friends, lovers.

The second strand of three disappeared.

“Does that mean if you…?”

You nodded your head at Miles. Peter put his hand on your shoulder at the admission.

Miguel focused on that hand. He saw the comfort, he saw the friendly love and knew he had wasted time. He had wasted months being angry at you when you weren’t the cause of it.

He had watched over your dimension to keep you safe while you struggled and in his own pain, he made the unity between you strained and unrealistic.

But he also knew the greater purpose.

“I guess I just have to pick the right side.”

You tried to bring levity.

You didn’t realize that you’d be picking Miles and your friends or Miguel and the person you knew because if you didn't you'd lose everything.

And you needed to save yourself in one dimension you still existed in.

Earth 42.

A/N: this isn’t proofed yet. I can totally see a million different sequels to dive deeper into the relationship between reader and Miguel.

As always, comments and reblogs are the best feedback a writer can ask for. I love reading any comments you all leave 🥺. Thank you so much for reading.

Tags:

@csmt-m @er4tous @gracielou0518

[songmingisthighs]

Maudit

introduction pt. i | pt. ii | pt. iii

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ch. vi - a fox to catch

cursed!jongho × reader

wc : 1.8 k

genre : mythology!au, smau

rating : mature; crude jokes and filthy language

tw: mentions of death (wanting to die naturally), mentions of attempted suicide

buy me coffee ?

so long i've been here, so long are the stories i've written. of what i gathered and lost, loneliness becomes me and pain refuse to depart from me. i've embraced that which ate me away so when you came along, i had no part of me left to give.

Jongho never really liked going into the woods. Well, he used to be okay with it because he had no choice. But the modernization of South Korean civilization had coddled him with a cool AC breeze and mosquito repellant. Jongho would very much rather doing his responsibilities indoors where he won't end up sweating through his outfit and appearing with red scratch marks around his neck and ear. So he harboured slight resentment against the Fox Keeper who INSIST they meet at the forest behind a temple on the other side of town. No matter how much Jongho insisted that he had seen the Keeper in cafes, the Keeper still wouldn't budge. Not even a tiny bit, not even to meet up at the temple itself.

Whilst cringing, Jongho stepped into the vicinity of the sacred tree and stared up at it, "Okay, hyung, come out now because I don't have a lot of time," he called out.

Knowing that the Fox Keeper is mischievous, Jongho let his eyes roam in anticipation of the guy showing up. The last time he let his guard down, the Fox Keeper led Jongho into a trap and only let him go eight hours later.

Thankfully, this time the Fox Keeper showed himself by peeking out of the back of the tree whilst standing on one of its large trunks. "Hey! There's my favourite cursed human!" He teased, jumping off the high trunk and landing safely on the ground, "Feels like it's been three years since I've last seen you!" Jongho rolled his eyes but stepped closer to him, "That's because I try to keep our meetings rare and short hyung." The Keeper snickered and patted Jongho on the shoulder, "Is that why you still refuse to call me by my name?" Jongho scoffed but smirked teasingly, "No, Yeonjun hyung, I just avoid using it too much in case you work like Beetlejuice." Yeonjun rolled his eyes and detached himself from Jongho in faux annoyance, "Okay, first of all, that man is a fashion icon what with combining black and white and purple and neon green together. Second, I have better things to do other than waiting for one of you to call me up and bother me."

"Is one of those things you do looking for the reincarnation of Ahyoung?" Jongho shot. Yeonjun sighed and shook his head, "You really are a no-bullshit type of man, huh? Can't you spare 15 minutes of chit-chat and catching up BEFORE you shoot straight to the point? I mean for fuck's sake, Jongho, we've known each other for three hundred years, I would imagine we'd see each other more often than this AND outside of necessities!" he complained. Jongho could feel his whole left cheek muscle twitching at the older man's words and through gritted teeth he pointed out, "Well, had we met at say a cafe, I would have DEFINITELY be willing to spare 15 minutes- heck, even half an hour to talk to you about nonsense before we get down to the point but nooooooo you just HAD to meet at this mosquito-infested serial-killer playground." "You do know that they put up a shrine for the Fox Keeper here right? They sort of pray to me for protection and stuff?" "And you do know that I just saw one of your foxes piss on one of your statues, right?" Jongho deadpanned.

Annoyed (at how Jongho was pointing out the truth), Yeonjun scoffed and started walking, signalling for Jongho to follow him along.

Now side by side, Jongho and Yeonjun started talking about the thing that had got Jongho on edge. "Well, I still can't sense anything," Yeonjun started, looking straight at the forest, "All I could sense was your curse and even then, nothing was pulling towards it. Do you still have the bead bracelet I gave you?" Jongho raised his left wrist to show that he was in fact wearing the item in question, "Has it ever changed colours?" "No, never and like you suggested, I've never even taken it off," Jongho sighed.

Yeonjun halted his steps momentarily to turn and put a hand on Jongho's shoulder, effectively also stopping him in his tracks, "You... You've been out and about to meet the potential person, right?" Jongho frowned and nodded slowly, "Yes? I've been out and about?" he was confused by the question. "No, no, no, no, not just out and about, but you've actually been trying to look for her right?" Then he stopped mid-sentence, "Or maybe it's not even a 'her' after all. No, no, no, no, no, what if that sorcerer pulled another stunt and stuck you with a 'him'?" At that, Jongho pushed Yeonjun who was in the middle of thinking a bit too harshly that he stumbled and almost fell down. "What the hell are you talking about!?" Staggering, Yeonjun stood back up and raised both of his hands, "Well, we've never considered this before but is it not a possibility? This is the same man who cursed you to roam the earth until god knows when for funsies just because you shut down his business!" Hearing that, Jongho paused to think if it was even possible because, in all honesty, he had never considered that and as much as he wanna say no, it seemed like something a cruel man would do to punish him. "I can see the wheels in your brain turning. I think if I get close enough, I can hear it and if we wait a bit more I think I can smell the smoke," Yeonjun teased which earned him a (hard) slap on the arm from Jongho but he just laughed it off.

Soon, the two resumed their walk and they did it in silence, just so they could take a moment from the chaos of their lives.

"I don't know how much longer of this I can take," Jongho opened up. "Take what?" Yeonjun asked, "This... Being cursed to live too long while everyone who had ever mattered to me died and I still have to sit in anticipation of meeting her again after all this time," Jongho sighed. Yeonjun pursed his lips in contemplation, "I mean, it's not like she's gonna remember anything, you know? Like yeah sure, you'll be the one bearing all the pain, but... Are you even ready to meet her and face whatever comes next?"

Jongho never really took into consideration what will come AFTER he finds the girl. He was so caught up with well, trying to catch up with times, that he never really considered what that would entail. Back then, during the first year or two of him dealing with being cursed, all he wanted to do was to immediately reverse the curse so he could... you know, die like a normal person. It came as such a surprise for him when he tried to stab himself with his sword during the darkest time of his life. It was after Ahyoung died and the reality came crashing down on him. Luckily, it was then that he met Hongjoong, the reaper who came to inform him that his soul was indefinitely chained to the earth and after a meltdown, Hongjoong (with the help of Yunho and Yeosang) brought the unconscious Jongho back to the library. That "nap" lasted two days and after that, Jongho felt slightly better.

"Was anyone ever ready to face anything?" Jongho asked, chuckling to himself as some sort of a way to hide his fear. Yeonjun smirked and nudged Jongho on the shoulder, "Yeah, I remember you on the cusp of modern civilization, holding onto your horse and carriage, stating that you'll never get into a death machine and now look at you and your ugly ass Hyundai Palisade." Jongho threw a glare at Yeonjun and punched him on his shoulder again, "It's a nice car and my assistant recommended it, you jerk," he huffed.

Yeonjun rubbed his arm whilst hissing to ease the pain of the impact from Jongho's fist but even as he did so, he decided to point out, "For someone who complained about his assistant trying to keep him up with technology, you sure do listen to her like A LOT. How's it going with her anyway? And by that, I do mean when can I meet her because so far, she's the only girl I can sense off of you." There was a hint of red on Jongho's cheeks at the mention of his assistant leaving traces on him but Jongho was quick enough to turn away completely from Yeonjun, "I'm less concerned about her shoving a rectangular fruit-named phone into my hands and more about the fact that you seem to not be able to stop sniffing me even when you don't need to," he muttered to himself. Knowing that he got him, Yeonjun snickered to himself but kept all the comment he could threw in just in case Jongho decide to throw another punch.

As another silenced period washed over them, both Yeonjun and Jongho calmed down until they reached the edge of the forest and the backdoor of the temple was merely a meter or two away.

Yeonjun put a hand out to stop Jongho and stepped in front of him, "Hey man, look, no matter what, I'm... Sorry that I don't have better news to tell you. I would if I could and I did everything I know from the time I worked with sorcerers. Frankly, at this point, the only two options are to expand our search to another continent or... Find the sorcerer and... I don't know, torture him into letting your soul go?"

Despite the bad news, Jongho couldn't help but crack up a bit at Yeonjun's attempt to comfort him. So he nodded and gratefully patted Yeonjun on the shoulder, "I get it hyung. It's been... What? 500 years? If it's not happening then, it's not happening now and I just have to..." A sudden weight appeared on Jongho's chest and as he exhaled, his breath shook, "I have to keep trying and keep searching. I'll try to expand my search or something but... Thanks," he smiled and before Yeonjun could comfort him more, Jongho stepped around him and walked back to the temple, "Say hi to your friend the moon bunny for me!" Jongho called out, grinning as he turned slightly to look at Yeonjun. Yeonjun scoffed and rolled his eyes, "Tell that to him yourself, he's waiting for that gaming rematch and you better set up something soon or else Soobin is just gonna bitch at me!" Yeonjun called back out.

As Jongho walked back to his modern car, memories flooded his head and he couldn't help but think about how such a long time has passed and compare his humble beginning and his current situation. Looking down at the phone in his hand, he saw the last text you sent to him about his schedule and he couldn't help but feel his fingers tingling and his chest burning. The grin on his face dropped and his face turned sullen.

Truly, truly he was tired.

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[freezerbnuuy]

My Quick (ish) Way of Cleaning Up CC

I know that there are other ways to do this, and you don't necessarily need to do it this way, but this is how I quickly clean up CC I no longer need / want whilst the game is open using an older non-Curseforge version of Mod Manager.

Since of course you can't always delete or move game files whilst the game is open (at least not on Windows) what I do is use Mod Manager to tag things as 'to be deleted' so I can delete everything in one go after. Sometimes When it comes to pose pack thumbnails or CAS thumbnails I don't always remember the hair or creator just by looking at the thumbnail, so this works better for me.

Download the old version of Mod Manager. You can download the one that doesn't use / connect to Curseforge by clicking the white 'Download Mod Manager' button, then below the 4 buttons for the different operating systems it says 'Show All Versions' in grey text on the bottom left. Click it, and download the 1.0.9 beta for your Operating System.

I recommend backing up your CC before doing any cleanup in case you delete the wrong thing.

When you're done, open the program and whilst your game is open click Settings.

Click 'Analyse Thumbnail Cache'. This will search for missing item thumbnails in the localthumbcache.package and update them in Mod Manager.

With that done, it'll make cleaning up your CC a lot easier. So now it's the fun part, going through the relevant stuff in-game (buildbuy stuff in Live Mode, CAS stuff in CAS, testing out pose packs in Pose Player etc...)

First, we need to create a Category that we will tag our CC as.

To do that :

Go to the Categories button on the left-hand sidebar.

You'll see a green button saying 'Add New Category'. Call it 'DELETE' or 'TO BE DELETED' or something.

Click 'Add' and you'll see a little header at the top of the screen with your category's name on it.

Whether you're going through Live Mode to clean up Build-Buy, CAS to clean up clothes / accs or the Pose Player to clean up pose packs, you can easily and fairly quickly add all unwanted CC using this program to the 'TO BE DELETED' category to get rid of it all at once.

Let's say you're going through CAS CC, you're starting by cleaning up your hairs, and you've got a hair you've decided you don't like or don't need anymore. Once you've found it in-game:

Provided you've organised your CC to some level, you can look for it by thumbnail in a Hairs folder.

If not, and you have lots of files that are hard to sift through quickly and you know the creator's name, search for the creator instead. I'm going to be using a QR Sims hair as an example (I would never, EVER delete this hair it is one of my favourites! This is just an example)

(You may have problems searching for the creator because some creators have different names on their files than you'll know them by online, and others don't always name their files something that's easily-searchable or tied to them. You may also have issues if you've used the Bulk Rename Utility program to rename CC or remove spaces.)

QR Sims's hairs have their name on the thumbnails and they have their name in the file names. Select Home on the left-hand sidebar, and then you click the little triangle shape in the top left corner and click it to bring up the drop-down.

I've put in QRSims, and it's bought up all of their hairs. I click the 'Hair' to bring up the thumbnails of all the hairs and then I locate the one I'm looking to delete.

Select the hair that you want to delete, and then we're going to add it to the 'TO BE DELETED' category.

Click the little triangle-square-circle icon in the top right icon bar.

A dropdown will appear. Change the drop-down to 'TO BE DELETED' then click the green + button. Click 'Go Back'.

If you've done it correctly, you'll see a little 'TO BE DELETED' tag on the top of the thumbnail.

Once you're done going through CC and tagging stuff as 'TO BE DELETED', save and close your game.

Now, go to Home on the sidebar, and then click the Search triangle in the top right-hand corner.

On the Categories drop-down on the bottom of the menu, change it to be 'TO BE DELETED' and it will come up with all of the CC tagged as such, as well as the folders they are in.

Click the folder name/s to expand them, then click 'Select Filtered' on the bottom of the drop-down menu on the right. If all done correctly, all of the 'TO BE DELETED' files should be highlighted.

Then just click the bin icon in the top-right icon bar, click Yes and it'll delete the files for you.

I hope this is helpful for someone!

You can also use the 'Problems' option on the left sidebar and Duplicates to locate duplicate CC and delete it.

[hedgehog-moss]

Some plant news! I've been waiting impatiently to see if the stuff I planted last autumn had survived the winter, and it's looking good so far. All my young fruit trees are blooming (quince, cherry, apple, mirabelle)

The persimmon has no blossoms but some microscopic leaves, I hope it grows more vigorous... I only lost one baby chestnut tree, which seems to have been massacred by a very angry animal. A boar having a bad day? I'll have to plant a couple more this autumn and protect them better. I can just use the remains of one of the many types of fences that Pampe has defeated.

My greenhouse now has to wear a blanket in the afternoons so it doesn't get too hot inside. I planted four flowering shrubs around it in November, so their roots will consolidate the new terraces, and I'm happy to say they are all accounted for—these two have already doubled in volume, they seem thrilled to be there:

Whereas these two all but disappeared during the winter, the ground just swallowed them; I wasn't too optimistic but they showed up again last month, with timid new leaves :) (The pics are very zoomed in, the resurrected shrubs are about the size of my fist but I'm proud of them)

Also I found wild redcurrants by the stream last year and I snapped a few small branches and just stuck them in a pot without really believing it would work. Internet said it would work but it seemed impossible. I left the pot outside all winter, never watering it or taking care of it in any way, with these four bare sticks that I sometimes looked at dubiously. It worked!!! They have leaves now! I made new redcurrant plants by sticking branches in dirt, it feels magical. They're my favourite berries too...

(My project for next autumn will be to propagate elderberry cuttings alongside the fence.) And speaking of berries, I got to eat my first aquaponic-grown strawberry today, it was delicious <3 Congratulations to the 42 fish who are hard at work fertilising the plants in the towers. There are many more strawberries in preparation!

I leave the greenhouse doors open all day when it's sunny so there are pollinators busily flying in and out, doing their job. I tried to relocate a few ladybirds to the strawberry towers to eat aphids but without success, I think they left immediately...

My lettuce and tomato plants are doing great, but the courgette plants got decimated by slugs despite my efforts to repel them. I ended up buying some organic antislug product a friend of my mum's recommended. I started new courgette seeds, and I'll wait until they're bigger to transplant them to slug territory.

The little Mexican orange tree is blossoming, and finally making new leaves (the new ones are yellow) after looking worryingly bald for a while this winter. The blossoms really do smell like orange blossoms! I know it's right there in the name but I'm still like oh look at you you talented orange tree, you got the smell of your flowers right on the first try and everything

Congrats to Mascarille who was looking for the greenhouse entrance in the above pic (she always has to walk around it a few times, she's confused by glass walls) and eventually triumphed over adversity.

Oh and I'm still getting fresh peas, in homeopathic quantities. I found that they grow well in the middle of winter so I'll plant a lot more this autumn when the towers aren't full of strawberries and herbs; for now I've started just eating them raw like little green candy.

Last but not least, Louise Michel the new hen has finally learnt how to climb my homemade stairs that lead to the greenhouse! Look at her showing off her new skill, all casually like this problem hasn't stumped her for weeks:

[apomaro-mellow]

Hot for Teacher(s) 15

Part 14

Eddie only left long enough to pack a couple bags of the stuff he’d need to stay and then was back right away. It took less than an hour and he still didn’t like being away that long with some asshole alpha sniffing around his future mate and pup. Robin came over for dinner that evening. Apparently Steve had been keeping her at an arm’s length this past week as well and the only reason she didn’t bust down his door was because he texted her each day.

“I knew if I told you everything, you were gonna be pushy”, Steve said.

“Yeah!”, Robin threw her hands up. “Pushy is what you need. I can’t believe you let it get this far. You said you weren’t going to get involved with him again.”

“He’s not gonna lay a hand on you again, Stevie”, Eddie promised. “Robin and I’ll make sure of that.”

Evening came and Robin had to head home. Steve got Shawn ready for bed and once he was ready, he grabbed a book, Magic Treehouse of course. They had to finish where they left off. Steve sat next to him and was about to start when Shawn made him stop.

“What about Mr. Eddie?”

Steve blinked. “You want him to join us for story time?” Even the times when Eddie stayed over before, he gave Steve and Shawn their space during this, waiting for Steve in the master bedroom instead.

“He does really good voices when he reads to us in class”, Shawn said.

Steve stood, bringing the book with him as he went to his room. Eddie was in the middle of reading a book of his own, much thicker but both books had pirates on the cover. Eddie looked up when Steve entered.

“You’ve been given a very exclusive invite to story time.”

Eddie put a hand to his chest. “Moi? To what do I owe this honor?”

“The master of the house says you do good voices”, Steve smiled.

They both went back to Shawn’s room. Steve sat next to his son and put an arm around him, holding him close while Eddie sat at the foot of the bed, clearing his throat as he turned to the bookmarked page. He got right into it, giving each character a different voice. Morgan sounded ancient and wise while Jack sounded responsible, if a bit over-cautious. Shawn was enthralled and Steve almost worried that Eddie would be too exciting to get him to sleep. 

But Steve could tell Eddie was getting to a stopping point and sure enough, he felt Shawn’s head getting heavy on him. Eddie closed the book while Shawn was rubbing his eye. Steve kissed the top of his head.

“Good night, baby.”

“Night, pup”, Eddie whispered.

Shawn yawned through a good night of his own and the two of them walked out almost silently, closing the door behind themselves. Steve couldn’t wait until they got back to his room and kissed Eddie immediately. Sweetly, and then scenting him when he parted from his lips. How did he get so lucky to receive such a good alpha? Why was he so deserving?

“Let’s go to bed, honey”, Eddie said. 

They did and just as the lights turned out, Eddie remembered something that had puzzled him before. 

“Hey, is blue dish soap your favorite?”

“No”, Steve said, voice quiet in the dark. “Why?”

“That’s what you had on the shopping list. Specifically blue.” He heard Steve shift a little beside him and waited for him to respond. 

Steve sighed. “This is going to sound weird.”

“Sweetness, I’m all about weird.”

“I…like to…buy some things…in rainbow order”, Steve confessed like it was a great admission. “So like, the last soap I bought was green, so the next one had to be blue, and the next one will be purple and so on.”

Eddie waited for more and when there wasn’t, he reached for Steve, pulling him close. “Baby you think that’s weird?”

Steve shrugged.

“Are you gonna bite my head off if I forget the order?”

“I always put the color on the list, so you shouldn’t forget. But it’s no big deal if you do.”

“Then I consider it just another thing to love about you.”

It was surprisingly easy to settle into a routine over the next couple of days. Eddie would take Shawn to school and bring him home in the afternoon. Robin spent her spare time at the house too, especially in times when Steve otherwise would have been alone.

All the while, Eddie waited for Billy to show his face. He didn’t consider himself much of a fighter. In fact, back as a teen, he was more likely to run from bullies. But now he had something to fight for, someone that gave him the will to stand his ground. Billy could be seven feet of pure muscle and Eddie would go ten rounds just to keep him away from his mate and pup.

Eddie figured Billy would show up sooner or later, given that he’d been harassing Steve for about a week now. It was why he was loath to leave Steve alone for too long. It was why whenever he did leave the house, he made sure Robin was already on her way. So one afternoon, when Shawn finished his homework early and Robin walked through the door with some ingredients for dinner, Eddie took it upon himself to take Shawn to the park.

Nothing like some jungle gym time to work up an appetite for dinner. Eddie sat on a bench as Shawn ran around with other kids from the neighborhood. Sometimes just chasing each other through the playground equipment, other times coming up with games. He bristled without really understanding why until his brain caught up with his nose and realized it was the scent of the alpha that had been forcing himself onto Steve.

Billy sat down next to him, relaxed and loose like they were old buddies. Eddie held back the growl in his throat. There was no hiding who the other was. They knew each other’s scents too well and for the wrong reasons. 

“Fancy meeting you here”, Billy said.

“I’d fancy not meeting you all the same”, Eddie replied, keeping his eyes forward and on Shawn. 

“Look, I just wanted to talk, alpha to alpha. Steve’s probably told you all sorts of stories about me. But he embellishes. I’m not all that bad.”

“Oh?”

“I took some time off to help both of us. But I’m back now. Back to be a father to my pup and an alpha to my mate. He’s been begging for my bite for years and now it’s time to give it to him.”

“What changed?”, Eddie asked. “Why now?”

“I’m ready now”, Billy shrugged.

That had Eddie turning to face him, eyes blazing with anger. Now? He was ready now? He thought about Steve, sitting alone and feeling unloved in a hospital bed, about to bring Shawn into the world but on the edge of rejection sickness. He thought of the times Billy must’ve held his pup, his own flesh and blood, only to leave him and say nothing for two years.

Had Billy ever indulged Steve when he wanted to talk about a niche topic he covered in class? Did he ever read to Shawn? Was he ever involved in Powerpoint nights? When was the last time he ever made Steve feel wanted and loved and desired?

“Fuck you”, Eddie said. “If you come around our home again, I’m calling the cops.”

“You’d get me arrested? What would Steve think? Or that little boy there?”, Billy pointed and Eddie followed the gesture to where Shawn was, hiding behind the boards of the bridge that connected the slide to the monkey bars. He’d been peering over the edge but ducked down quickly.

“He’d see his dad get hauled off and I don’t think he’d ever forgive you for that”, Billy threatened.

Eddie reigned in his scent. Billy’s words washed off him and no longer meant anything.

“You know, I had to watch that. My old man threw curses at me and my uncle while he was taken away. I got over it.” At the time, he’d hated his dad, his uncle, even himself. Everything sucked and nothing seemed worth doing it. But time passed and he healed thanks to the safety and structure provided by his Uncle Wayne. All he could do was hope he could do the same for Shawn.

“Now if you’ll excuse us”, Eddie said as he stood. “It’s time to be getting home for dinner.” He took a few steps over to the playground. “Shawn! You ready to eat!?”

Shawn scurried to the other side of the bridge, slid down and ran right to Eddie, holding his hand tight. He met Billy’s intense gaze for just a brief moment before Eddie started to walk.

“You don’t have to worry about him”, Eddie promised.

Shawn squeezed his hand and Eddie squeezed back.

Part 16

Taglist

@anne-bennett-cosplayer @aol19 @lololol-1234 @gregre369 @attic-cat-blog

@hippieg1rl420 @spectrum-spectre @a-lovely-craziness @sharingisntkaren

[lehguru]

GYM (STAFF) CRUSH + RORONOA ZORO

getting a part-time job at your local gym during the summer sounded like a good idea. the guy you've been eyeing for months thought the same thing.

info: my submission to the help wanted! collab hosted by the @interstellar-inn!! its been sum time since i last wrote sum this big sob. wc 1.5k — warnings: gym talk, a gym goer is a bit of an weirdo towards reader, swearing || ko-fi

if you focused enough, you could see the heat waves coming from the asphalt outside. the sun seemed unbearable—you felt bad for the people that left their cars in the parking lot—, but the air conditioner hitting you right in the back of your neck ensured you were comfortable. as you were typing away in the reception computer, pretending to do the spreadsheet the manager asked you to fill (before she simply left, the surfboard on top of her car a good clue to where she went), you lost yourself in the song playing on the loud speakers.

fortunately, you managed to put your playlist on that day. All the songs playing not only were the ones you listened to while working out, but also were your favorites to daydream with too. while you were softly dancing and shaking your head to the beats, you didn’t notice one of your coworkers approaching you.

the burly man rested his forearms against the counter, his gray eyes started to watch your movements and one of his eyebrows raised. you finally turned around, you wanted to get some documents to actually submit something to the spreadsheet, and jumped back, one of your hands coming to rest against your chest. your eyes locked into his cold ones, your cheeks immediately heating up. his eyes narrowed for a split second; if you weren’t staring at his face, that would’ve escaped you.

“dude! you scared me!” you took a deep breath, trying to ignore the heavy gaze staring at you.

“sorry,” he muttered, his deep voice making it sound almost like a growl. he placed a clipboard in front of you, the title ‘storage’ making you hum softly. “the inventory and stuff we need to buy.”

you nodded, thanking him quietly and smiling at him. the man didn’t smile back. he never did, anyway. he nodded and turned around, walking back inside the gym and leaving you with your inner turmoil. as you sighed loudly and turned to the computer again, you tried to focus on the work.

getting a summer job wasn’t a bad idea. as a college student, you could use some extra money for emergencies—even if you knew you would end up spending it anyway, it was still extra money. your local gym had some job openings and you, someone who went there everyday, thought it was a good idea to send an application. it was indeed a good idea, the job was easy, you could stay in a cool environment while the heat outside seemed to cook you alive, plus it paid you enough. the only problem was that he had the same idea.

roronoa zoro was your gym crush for a while. you were convinced he was everyone’s gym crush, though. throughout the couple of months since the first time you saw him—you still remember how your eyes widened seeing his broad back flexing during pull ups—, you noticed that you both went to the gym at the same time and, fortunately, sometimes your workout would match his. the longest interaction you two had, before starting to work together, was him asking if you were done with using a specific bench. you murmured a quick and embarrassed ‘yes’, almost tripping over your own feet in the process, and he just nodded, taking your place in the bench as you walked to your next exercise.

you thought that having to see you almost everyday would make him open up, but the green haired man always kept you at arms length, never letting you past the ‘we are coworkers’ wall. you sighed once again, frowning slightly and erasing another random line of letters you typed to look busy. a small cough and an ‘excuse me’ took your attention from the screen, from your thoughts as well, and you turned around, hoping to see zoro standing there. unfortunately, it was one of the guys that always caused some kind of trouble around the gym—your manager didn’t really care enough to kick him out or even give him a warning.

you put on your best customer service smile and blinked sweetly at him. “yes, sir? how may i help you?” you said, trying to not sound like you wanted him gone… which you did.

“can you change the music or something?” he said, placing his hands on the counter and leaning towards you, almost as if he was trying to intimidate you. you raised your eyebrows at his behavior and he carried on, not caring about your reaction. “i forgot my headphones, so i have to listen to what you guys play.”

the smile on your face faltered for a second. the urge to just tell him off, say that him forgetting his headphone wasn't your problem, overwhelmed you quickly; biting your tongue, you answered:

“unfortunately, there's nothing we can do. the playlist is selected by the staff and—”

“you're staff, you can change it then.” he cut you off and smirked, making you almost roll your eyes. “c'mon, this playlist fucking sucks. anything will be better.”

before any other word could escape his crusty lips, a voice you grew used to interjected into the conversation. “i like this playlist.”

you both turned to look at zoro and you bit your lower lip to hide a smile. your coworker was looking terrifying; his arms were crossed, his biceps and shoulders seemed like they were about to burst open the black sleeve of his shirt, and the absolute angry gaze he shot at the man—who was now cowering a little—made you almost feel bad for him.

“is there any problem, sir?” you placed a hand over your mouth, trying to hide your giggle in a subtle way. if you looked at zoro, you would see how the corner of his lips curve up for a moment.

the guy shook his head and put his hands up, slowly backing away from the counter and leaving through the front door. as soon as he left, you allowed a soft chuckle to escape your lips. before you could thank zoro, or call the other guy an asshole, the man in front of you murmured loud enough for you to hear:

“fuckin’ asshole.” he turned to look at you. a deep breath made his chest wave up and down, your eyes flicking from that movement back to his eyes. “you good?”

you nodded. the muscles on his jaw flexed and roronoa opened his lips slightly, as if he was about to say something, but he closed them again. you wish you could be inside his mind, the curiosity of what he wanted to say made you lean forward; you hoped it would make him want to say.

instead, he uncrossed his arms and rubbed the back of his head. “i will be in the back.”

you felt a little bit…disappointed. you hoped he would stay there and talk to you a little more. the situation you just went through was shitty, but it made him stand up for you. you wanted him to stay there, to use the situation as an excuse to be with you for the rest of your shift, but you just nodded.

“i— your buzz cut looks nice.” you blurted out of nowhere, making you want to slap yourself in the face. you prayed he wouldn't notice your embarrassment.

if he did, he didn't mention it. he just chuckled, a deep and husky sound that almost made you giggle again, and growled a ‘thanks’.

as you tried to settle back into your work, you couldn't shake off the small feeling that settled in the pit of your stomach. it wasn't necessarily bad, it just…annoyed you. having the man as your gym crush was already annoying, how would you work with him if you had a real crush? you felt your face heating up even more, but you were pulled away from your thoughts by zoro himself; not even five minutes after he left, he came back to the reception.

“actually…” he started, his eyebrows furrowing. “do you want to work out with me tomorrow?”

the way your eyes widened gave out your surprise, but you quickly answered. “su— sure!” you licked your lips—you were obvious to the way he followed the movement with his eyes and licked his own lips—and sighed. “but the manager did say that thing about ‘no workplace relationships’... not that this would be a relationship, i mean—”

“fuck the manager.” he growled, shutting you instantly. you smiled with joy at his audacity, you wanted to say the same out loud for a while. “see you at the same hour tomorrow, then?”

you nodded. “yeah. same hour.”

he nodded too and walked away, this time a big smirk—it was your first time seeing anything like that—stamped on his face. you scoffed. did you seriously let him defend you and be the one to take the first step?

well…at least that gave you a push to be the one to initiate a kiss.

2024 © content belongs to lehguru, do not repost, translate or feed it into ai without permission

[luvgavii]

the stranger in the airport - (pg6)

summary: on your way home, your flight is delayed and you're stuck in the airport. little did you know you would end up meeting a gorgeous Spanish man with the brightest smile.

You almost couldn't believe the letters you were seeing on the screen indicating the boarding time to each plane, the plane back to your home city having a 2 hour delay. You were pissed, to say the least, and tired and hungry, the airport food being too expensive for your liking.

Your check in was finished, most of the luggage you had was about to be boarded on the plane that wouldn't fly for another two hours because of the weather.

When your stomach started aching from hunger, you decided you had enough and made your way to one of the cafes, hoping they would at least have a sandwich.

The cafe was crowded by people who were waiting for their plane that most likely had been delayed as well. You quickly ordered a coffee and a meal and made your way to what seemed like the only empty table left. It was a two person table, luckily. You started reading your favorite book while sipping your coffee and occasionally taking a bite from your food.

Just as you were about to finish reading the chapter, you noticed a presence near you, and looking up you were met with the figure of a man who was standing in front of your table.

"Hola, te importa si me siento contigo? Este parece ser el único asiento libre que queda." Hi, do you mind if I sit with you? This seems to be the only free seat left. The man wore a white hoodie and army green cargo pants, his hair was hooded, but you could see his chocolate brown eyes and friendly smile.

You have been working in Barcelona only for a few months, so you still weren't very fluent in Spanish but you picked up quickly what he said, and nodded your head at him, smiling.

He smiled again, and you noticed just how handsome he was when he took his hood off. You went back to reading your book, but occasionally looked up to see if he was looking at you, but he was too busy typing on his phone. 'Probably his girlfriend' you thought.

He must have felt your stare because he lifted his eyes and you two made eye contact, the butterflies setting free in your stomach.

"¿Qué estás leyendo?" What are you reading? He asked you.

"I'm sorry, I recently moved to Barcelona so I'm not really fluent in Spanish." You said almost shying away.

"Ah, I should have known, you look like a tourist." He laughed and you noticed just how contagious his laugh was.

"Really? What is that supposed to mean?" You put your hand on your chest where your heart was, jokingly acting offended. The small talk and laughter with the stranger making the other people in the cafe disappear.

"I never saw another girl as beautiful as you." He said with a honest gaze in his brown eyes.

"Flirting with a stranger? What if I'm a serial killer?" You asked him while taking the last sip of your coffee.

"Pablo Martín Páez Gavira." He held his hand out across the table.

"Y/N L/N" You shook his hand.

"There, we're not strangers anymore, and I don't think serial killers read girly books like that." Pablo said pointing to your book, and you giggled knowing he was right. "Can I buy you another coffee?"

"No, thank you, that would be too much caffeine for me." You said and Pablo looked almost disappointed, looking down at his phone awkwardly thinking you rejected him. "But you could give me your number or Instagram?" You said just as your flight got called on the speakers.

He gave you both as you quickly grabbed your stuff and passport, ready to leave for the gates before Pablo grabbed your hand and stopped you.

"Call me when you get back? I would really like to take you out one day." He said looking you in the eyes.

"Yeah, I'll call you." You gave him a quick hug and left him standing there, in the middle of the cafe.

Now on the plane, before shutting your phone off, you decided to quickly stalk his Instagram, and your jaw dropped as soon as you opened his account.

"14 million followers?" You said your eyes wide. "FC BARCELONA PLAYER?" You almost screamed, making most people on the plane turn to look at you with a confused look on their faces.

[lookforthelightsposts]

|Hello, you.|

summery: you have been working at your parents bakery since your were 14, one day at the store, you meet Abby anderson.

warnings: abby has sexual thoughts about you,SPOILERS FOR THE SHOW (YOU) (watch it before you read), perv!abby, everything is in lowercase, masterbating (a&r), you get fuckrf by man lol.

🌱’s notes (🌱 is me): tell me if i missed anything also i suck at spelling and have bad grammar, my phone will probably correct smth into smth completely different then what i ment, also this is my first fic. DONT RUSH ME PLEASE!! (i did add/ change stuff from the show so i know that the ending didn’t happen but stfu)

——————————————————————————

YOUR POV

the sun shines in the room, lighting your face, the sound of footsteps, talking and carts being pushed around you. the new girl, who joined yesterday has been behind you the whole time, you obviously noticed but decided not to say anything. as she got closer and closer to you, you decided to say something. then you lift your head and look at her, holding the peach up, glancing at it then back up at the masculine girl. “do you think this peach looks like a butt?” you ask, making her go silent then she looks at the peach. “there is no wrong answer.” you add, easing your eyebrow with a tiny smile. and she looks back down and back up at you. “it looks at little, like a butt, yeah?” she says, “right?” you reply and hum, turning back around with a “thank you”.

“are you flirting..?, i’d like to think you are, but it’s just—— i can’t.”

the blonde thinks then she looks back up and she walks forward a little. “i should also inform you that..” she starts, walking closer then she’s right next to you and she points to the peaches. “all peaches look like butts.” she says and you take a deep breath, looking around. “oh yes. well, thank you for your honesty…” you start with a small fake sympathetic sigh, “i might go out on a limb and suggest that… bell peppers can be extremely vaginal depending on how you cut them.” you say, pressing your lips together. “i hadn’t noticed that, but i definitely will now. thank you.” the tall woman says. “yeah, no problem.” you say and you lift up off your heels then go back down with a smile. “were you following me?” you throw out, the blonde making a confused expression. “well.. i mean..” she starts, “not initially, but then yes.” she ends, holding the hand up that is holding her lettuce. “i was, completely. i am sorry… if i seem skeevy.” she admits and her dark blonde eyebrows lift up. “no.. i mean, you might’ve…” you start and look the tall blonde up and down, “if you looked like a skeeve, which.. i guess is me saying, good choice… showering today.” you say, nodding your head and your eyebrows lift also. “good. i debated so..” the blonde jokes, a grin forming on her face, her brow raising then going back down, her dark blue eyes meet your again. you let out a hum, “oh! you work here?” you ask, completely knowing that she does but you wanna keep the conversation going, the girls brow raises and she stares at you. “the apron” you say, pointing the the apron that’s hanging out of her backpack. “oh yeah,” she says, looking down at the strand hanging from her bag and she puts her hand that’s holding a green pepper and she puts over to the cafe. “abby. i just started at the cafe.” abby’s dark eyes dart to your again. “me too, um, i uh—— i manage the kitchen. i do most of the buying for the store,” you say, looking over across the room then you lift your left arm that has your basket and then put it back down. “i was just shopping for my dinner. anyway, sorry. y/n.” you say and chuckle, holding your hand out to shake the blondes. “cool, it’s nice to meet you y/n” abby smiles and shakes your hand. “i’ll see you in the break room then, abby.” you say and shrug with a chuckle walking off.

ABBYS POV.

“no, not biting.” abby mutters as she stands there, staring at where you were, “i’m not that person anymore, and i don’t think i ever will be again.” she mutters again along with a “i can’t be, y/n you are not for me.” abby says, walking off.

it’s been a day since the store talk and everything has been fine, you haven’t said a word to her which she wants but also doesn’t.

abby walks over to the shelf, picking up the first book of a stack she has in her hand and she slides it next to many others, her muscles flexing as she does since who ever put the last book in, didn’t fit it right. abby takes one by one and she puts them in order, fixing that one fucking book that wasn’t placed right. “the best it’s gonna be.” abby says under her breath.

“no offense, you look like your ready to puke.” Candace says, abby looking down at the table then up at candace. “just tell me what your want.” abby says, her boot tapping on the ground underneath the table. “i’m getting to it.” candace says, her lips sticky from her awfully bright but somehow dark lipstick. “here you go,” the server says, setting down candace’s drink and abby looks over at the sever setting down candace’s drink then she looks at candace and she raises her eyes browns, her lips pressed together, candace’s eyes darting back to the blonde which who has the palest face she’s ever seen. “now you really look like you’re gonna puke.” candace says dipping a fry into her milkshake then eating it. “sorry excuse me.” abby sayss and she quickly gets up, rushing into the restroom.

“excuse me.” a man’s voice interrupts her thoughts then abby looks up and she walks over to the man. “yeah, how can i help?” abby asks, the clipboard and pencil in her hand. “how can you help? yeah um..” the man starts, taking his sun glasses off, “can you tell me if this Carl Jung book is vegan?” he asks, tilting his head slightly, catching abby off guard and she looks at her clipboard. “uh, if the—— if the book is——?-“ “new here, huh?” the man says, grinning slightly. “yeah, your apron is, like, very fresh.” he says, looking down at the apron tied around abby’s waist. “you got me. i just started this week.” abby says, pointing her pencil to the clipboard, “the books are made from trees. i’m pretty sure those are vegan,” abby says and she looks at the man. “i’m just messing with you old sport.” the brown haired man chuckles, poking at abby’s shoulder. “forty.” calvin’s voice says. “calvin.” forty replies. “you tell our new friend abby here that it was vegan author month at the cafe?” forty asks, turning his head to calvin. “i will get abby on the right page” calvin answers, pointing to abby then putting his hand in his pocket. “abby.. i think you are gonna do really well here. i like your whole look. it’s very um… i’ve-read-a-book.” forty says and his eyebrows raise, abby gives him a small smile and when he turns back to calvin she wipes it right off. “calvin…” forty starts, calvin clearing his throat then forty gives his drink to calvin and walks away. “so that’s..” abby’s starts, “forty’s parents own the place, obviously. shit he was being cool just now, but if he comes back and it’s still wrong…” calvin says quickly then abby looks up from the clipboard. “i got it. don’t worry, calvin.” abby says then looks back down at her clipboard. “watch the register.” calvin says, walking off quickly and abby takes a deep breath then she walks over to the register and she sees you. “let me guess, hurricane forty?” you joke, setting down a plate of croissants on the counter and you smile. “yeah. yeah, i guess so.” abby replies. “don’t worry. he almost never actually fires anyone. you know how some people are, like. starting in their own movie? well, his.. is about a hilarious misunderstood genius working with idiots.” you say as you put the croissants on a same plate filled with others for people to take after they buy something. “right, one of those.” abby replies, smiling with a nod and you chuckle. “what? do- do i have something?” abby says quickly, looking at you when she notices your expression. “oh no, i was just trying to figure out what your movie is.” you say, looking up at abby and she looks down “oh i think it might be the one where the gets the guy in trouble at work for slacking off. i’m sorry, i got to go. thank you, though.” abby says, walking away into the locker room.

abby walks into the room, biting into the croissant and sitting on a pile of wood. “are you running away from me?” your voice crosses over her mind and she glances up at ‘you’, your standing in front of her. “what? no.” abby starts, sitting up slightly. “i feel like you are.” you say and walk closer to her. your right in front of her now and you run your hands down her masculine arms then move your hands to her belt then kiss her, leaning her back and your lips latch onto her neck at your hand moves into her boxers and you shove two fingers into her sopping hole and she leans her head back slightly with a small groan. then abby’s snaps back into reality, her skilled fingers moving quickly in and out of her hole and she leans her head back, her lips parting and she pants slightly, her orgasm building but then she realizes where she is and what she’s doing so she quickly pulls her hand away and she moves her hands away from her body, she quickly stands up and she zips her pants up then fixes her belt.

the sky is now a orange, reddish as the wind blows faster and harsher, the day slowly turning into day. abby walks into her apartment, shutting her door then she sets her bag down and she walks into the living room, sitting down in front of the window, looking down at the scope and what are the odds..? it’s pointed right to your house.

you’re standing in the kitchen, cutting vegetables then she sees you grabbing your phone and something grabs your attention from the other side of the room, abby’s eye brows raise and she zooms in a little more and she sees a man walk inside the kitchen with his arm around you, she bites her lip then she pulls away from the scope for a second. “who the fuck is this y/n” abby grumbles, looking at you two through the scope again and she narrows her eyes, your back to cutting vegetables but the man his behind you, kissing your neck and her hand grips the scope but then she backs off, noticing herself again and she gets up, walking into her small kitchen and she looks down at the counter and makes herself some instant noodles since she hasn’t bought/ got the chance to get anything yet. abby sits down on her couch and she takes her phone out, going onto instagram and she types ‘y/n y/l/n’ which she finds instantly and it’s mostly about cooking but she sees nothing about the man and she scrolls for a little more then likes one of your old posts by accident and her eyes widen, she throws her phone down on the couch, knowing that you’ll see it.

abby eats her noodles then sets the cup down, glancing over at the scope then she gets up and she walks over to the scope and she zooms into your apartment again and her hand grips it to the point it might break, her muscles flexing.

your sitting on the couch, your head leaned back and the man is on top of you, she knows that she should look away but she doesn’t and her face turns red with anger and she sees the man get off of you and she calms down after that’s but she watches as he just leaves you. “fuck buddy, probably.” abby mutters then she grabs her phone again and she looks at your account and she goes to following and sees the man, andrew smith, he has multiple pictures of him with other women then she looks back at you through the scope and sees you sitting on the couch while running your hands through your hair, you clearly didn’t get even close to cumming and abby can tell, he just left you there also, bear and panting. suddenly she sees you laying back down and your legs spread again, her head turns then she quickly zooms in as far as the scope can go, seeing your thighs and you fucking yourself made her squeeze her legs together. abby then shoves her hand down her boxers once again and she starts abusing her cunt, her head falling back and then she tilts it back down to look at you and she starts saying your name over and over again like your actually there then she lets out a loud moan as she comes on her fingers, not even 2 seconds after she sees you leaning your head back and slowing down your movements. abby pulls her hand out of her boxers, not bothering to clean herself then she gets up and she cleans her hands, drying them after and she grabs her phone, seeing a picture in front of a house with andrew in the picture and she walks into her room, throwing a sweatshirt on and she walks outside, looking at the picture then she notices the exact place, it’s her wonderful neighbor, who has a wife.

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🌱: don’t really like this but i promise i will get better at writing and i’ll try to make it more like abby then joe😭.

[slashers-and-rats]

You know those kandi bracelets? Slashers being gifted these bracelets. I saw someone write about this once and it hasn’t left my brain since

rat chat: dude i love those bracelets!! if they didn’t distract me so much i’d wear them more often.

Slashers Receiving Kandi Bracelets from GN!Reader

featured slashers: billy lenz, jason vorhees, micheal myers

Billy Lenz :

i think this would be one of billy’s favourite gifts ever!!

you’d give him something chunky, with blue and green beads and little kitty charms, and maybe some squishy rubber bobbles thrown on too. for awhile, he’d just roll it around in his palms and not even wear it. he’d just feel up the textures and listen to the way it jingled in his hands. it’s really a stim thing for him, i think he’d really enjoy using it to fidget with.

he’s feral, he’d chew on it too. you’d catch him wearing the bracelet, gnawing on it without even thinking about it. whenever he’s focused on something, or you aren’t in the mood to be his chew toy, he’d use the bracelet instead.

he’d never take it off. it’s his now, why would he? plus YOU gave it to him. that makes it even more special. no, he’d always wear it, and when he doesn’t have it on, it would be tucked away into a pocket. he keeps it as close to him as possible.

billy would wanna make new ones too. it would become a little activity for you both to bond over. you’d buy cool beads and pieces, and bring them home, and watch him sort through them all and find the stuff he likes. and then you would make a bracelet for him, and he’d make a matching one for you.

he’d want you two to match. you’d have the same bracelet except in your favourite colours, or maybe with your initials on them. if you managed to get him out of the house, he’d make you wear it, so people knew you were all his.

Jason Vorhees :

jason would definitely see it as a craft for you two to do together. you’d bring up one day that you missed making friendship bracelets at summer camp, and that you’d bought all the stuff to make some. you two would sit for a bit, and once you’ve finished the one you made for him, he’d wear it everywhere.

jason loves seeing you happy he’s wearing it. that’s his favourite part. whenever he’s outside, cutting wood for your fire pit, and you see the big shiny beading sparkling in the sun, you get so excited. and he sees it. he’ll be watching from the corner of his eye, smiling underneath his mask, all proud that he’s making you so smily.

jason would tie it to his belt loop if he couldn’t wear it. maybe he’s working with power tools or the like, and can’t have loose things hanging off of his arms, so he’d connect it to his pants. he wants to keep it on him, since it’s a nice little reminder of you.

you catch him playing with it a lot. his bracelet has red and black beads, and charms that look like little hearts. you’d have put his initials on it too, and it took you awhile to make it fit his thick wrist right. you’d only make him one or two, since bracelets weren’t really his thing, but he’d appreciate them nevertheless.

he has more fun making them for you, actually. you’d have dozens from him. while you were out doing errands or work, he’d be at home making you little bracelets in his free time. you’d come home and they’d be lined up, all decorated in your favourite colours and charms. he just likes making you things, i think.

Micheal Myers :

very confused by the concept at first. micheal isn’t the biggest on jewellery, obviously, and tends to keep pretty plain in what he wears. when you suddenly give him something so chunky and bright, he’s a little off put.

at first, he doesn’t wear it. he’s not trying to insult you at all. you can see it in the breast pocket of his jumpsuit, and he always makes sure to take it out and put it on the nightstand beside the bed before he takes his things off for the night. he cherishes it, since it’s from you, but it’s harder for him to get used to.

once you make a matching bracelet, and start wearing it around so that he notices, he starts wearing it much more often. he never mentions it either. you just see him one day wearing it with you, and when you try to say something, he just covers your mouth and continues whatever he’s doing. he gets flustered when he’s called out on his sweeter actions.

the one you make for you both is navy blue and white, and has little skulls and knives hanging off of it. the beads spell out “y/n + micheal” in sparkly bubble letters. that’s his favourite part. he never really got that sweet teenage romance phase, so getting to do silly little things like this make his heart flutter.

i think he’d also use it as a fidget thing. i think when he’s anxious, maybe out running errands without his mask, he’d be rubbing at the charms in his pocket to keep himself calm. he’d like having a little reminder of you close to him, since you make him feel safe.