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moondirti · 1 year ago

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12. PUSH COMES TO SHOVE

CHAPTER TWELVE OF ANIMALIC | MIGUEL O'HARA X F!READER

↼ chapter eleven / chapter thirteen ⇀

summary: you cross a line you can't turn back to. miguel takes you up on a joke.

explicit (18+) | 5.6k words warnings: smut, female masturbation, sexual fantasies (including unprotected p-in-v, breeding, biting, paralysis, bondage, aftercare), everyone is bad at feelings, insecurity, fear of heights, mentions of death notes: nothing i wrote sounded right so i just had to publish before i decided to scrap it all and reqrite

It’s a shameful, awful thing to do.

One with no excuse for it – not really.

You were just bored. Pent up on an endless routine; familiar people, recurring places. Your night and day mirror images of one another. Even in the post-apocalyptic landscape of your old home did you have something to do with your spare time – wandering wrecks and cleaning the devastation left in the wake of your mistake.

But here, visiting an Earth where the expectations for your stay had never been clearly defined – where you can go, who you can talk to, what freedoms you’re permitted – you’re technically no more enriched than a prisoner, peering listlessly from their window at the bustling lives outside. And with a track record of dragging chaos along no matter your intentions, you’re much too afraid to push the hang fire state in which you live in.

So, containment or self-sabotage, it doesn’t really matter. Not when both have the same, invariable conclusion. This. Dangerous boredom; the type that always, always feeds into thoughts of him.

They’ve gotten worse too. Of late, your previously honed scorn and resentment for the futuristic spider-man has ebbed into something more… mellow. Understated. It’s a peculiar condition, hard to name. Fuzzy in the places it once stung and barrelling down an unmarked path. Confusion, maybe. Indecision. And while your chest twinges with the not knowing of it all, you’ve already decided that you hate this more than the antagonism you felt before. At least it had been logical, founded on a bank of valid evidence, with bruises and scars to show for it. This is bolstered by nothing; vague impressions of his smirk and strict approval. A pulse between your legs. Sweaty palms before seeing him, wondering what state you’ll be greeted with.

(You always hope it’s washed, snugly dressed and wounds tended to. He’s in a significantly better mood when refreshed, you find. Enough of a difference from post-fights to make you wonder whether you’ve ever known him at all.)

And it’s pathetic because Miguel has a life where you don’t. You’ve disproved your theory on his marital status, but that doesn’t change the fact that this is his home. A world where every possibility is open to him – walks in the park, ice cream from a quaint corner shop, a group of highschool friends, maybe, who he sees on occasion. Kids – you’re certain of that, the reality imbued in everything he does. The man has to be the father of at least one darling angel, someone he can dedicate all his work to. He’s too committed not to be.

So, every hour he spends outside of your meetings, he’s probably off doing something worthwhile. Daycare pickups. Stopping crime. Running a building full of spider-folk. And you–

Well, that’s the mortifying point.

You’re here, leaning against your shower wall, soaked to the bone while two fingers work your cunt. And you’re thinking of him.

Broad shoulders, packed with ineffable strength, curving down to tree-trunk arms. They man-handle you in the best of ways – clamped around your thighs, upturning you onto his plump, magical fucking lips. That mouth had been expert, quick or slow when need be, much like his touch. He’s good at working them in tandem to make a mess of you, searching for devastation somewhere in your core. He’s good at finding it, at rendering you pliant enough to spill it onto him.

Are you crossing a line?

It’s been pseudo-professional so far; sex in favour for another milestone crossed. Encouragement on the only degree you respond well to. But now you’re fingering yourself to mere notions of him, alone, for no reason other than what his imagined presence does to you.

Fuck. You’re perverse. Worse than that. There’s no verbiage available to capture how depraved you are – you’ve just never gone through this before. Everyone you’ve ever wanted, you’ve taken and promptly abandoned the next morning. One night stands. Fleeting flings. No one has ever stuck around long enough to make things complicated.

Of course he would, though. You have to laugh at the irony of it. Miguel’s always made life hard for you, whether intentionally or not. And now he’s taken root in your mind, forcing you to face all its flowering consequences.

Like how he simultaneously sates you and leaves you wanting more. You’ve had his fingers and tongue – a great deal more than you can attribute to yourself in the past year. And they’re great, brilliant. But it isn’t enough. Not when you’ve seen his cock; thick-set, throbbing, splitting your jaw open with brutal efficiency. He was big and eager and much less restrained that day than he has been since you established your new dynamic. He’d come closer than he dared to before.

Or again.

(Whatever’s changed, you’d give everything to reserve it. To feel him – not down your throat, but in you. Mushroomed head spearing you open, imprinting itself on your walls. Ramming your cervix, made easy as his large hands fold you into a mating press. The position would give him the added benefit of watching you come undone, every miniscule expression laid out to spur him on. Or maybe he wouldn’t like that – maybe he’s the type to grab your hair and pull your head back so his tongue can lather over your neck.

You’d take whatever you can get, no hesitation.)

Your index and middle sandwich your clit, scissored open as you rub the swollen bud. Blood rushes downward, fattening under pressurised pleasure. The wet smeared on your thighs is slippery, much too slick to be a product of the hot water beating down on you. It points to what you already know; that, no matter what you do to scour it off, all you’ll ever be is a wanton idiot.

Vapour latches onto oxygen, the bathroom air growing suffocating, humid, heady with the scent of sex. Nerve ends prickle at the drag of pruned skin, your orgasm on a never-ending approach. No matter what you do, you can’t seem to beckon it. You’ve been here for far too long, cycling through every trick in the book, testing sweet spots that’ve become accustomed to another’s manipulation. You’ve pinched yourself, used the shower head until its pipes hissed, stuffed your slit full and curled forward, looking for that patch of spongy tissue.

None of it works. Nothing helps you see stars, unable to drag you to the heavens you’ve reached with your mentor.

(Wanton idiot is a tolerant title, too lenient for you. At least one would be able to satisfy themselves.

But now, in the wake of your frustration, you’re reduced to a roll of drenched cotton, numb to everything but the fire at Miguel’s fingertips.)

Still, you try. You anchor a foot to the faucet, plastering yourself on the glass pane that separates the shower from the rest of your bathroom. It’s frigid, a stark contrast to the water heating your flesh, and the temperature drop strikes your senses awake, flooding you with new vigour. If it’s possible, the proof it offers to your fever – the gooseflesh that erupts at your waist or the blurry line between where sweat begins and soap-buds end – only eggs you further, hardening the truth to startling clarity:

You’re crossing a line and drawing it out with a frustration that benefits no one. Cum, that’s all you need to do. To finally be done with it and put this whole blip behind you.

Spread open, your hand returns to your cunt. You’re wet enough to do so without fuss, the fingers that had been at your clit plunging in until they’re sheathed to the knuckle. It’s a tight fit, walls greedily sucking you in, vacuum-sealed and clenching. The stretch burns and you find solace in it, the tender skin of your hole straining to accommodate another digit once the two find their rhythm.

How much better would his dick be? Would it cleave you apart like his fingers do? You imagine it so well, the reverie blossoming like second nature.

(Miguel, planking above you, hair flopping onto his forehead after being ruffled out of its usual push-back. It’d be a sight of your own doing, your nails combing through dark waves on their way to his shoulders. He’s marked you several times over now – claw wounds above your wrist and a deep scar on the back of your arm. Would he let you mark him, in turn? Scratch red lines down his muscled back, rolling as he fucks into you. Or suckle his neck, leave it purple and angry to pay back for the punctures at your collar? It’s been weeks and they’re still there.)

Your free hand finds them, smoothing over the pocks left by his fangs. The heel of your other presses on your clit, kneading the sore centre. It buckles with the abuse, pouring into your rising orgasm. The tide promises violence for when you eventually let it loose.

(In this crude fantasy, he isn’t much of a masochist. He gets irritated with your wandering hurt, turned off the pursuit in pumping you full of his seed. Maybe he pins your arms over your head, holds them down with ease to get you to stop. But he needs his palms free, your bouncing tits all-too tempting not to squeeze, so he uses his webs to bind you to the headboard. Or–)

Your core grows sloppier with every passing second. It weeps, slurping whatever you give it – the feral force of your fingers. Your knees tremble. Your pelvis aches. The amalgamation of your effort knots your organs together, weaving an impossible pattern out of desire and desperation.

(– he bites you again, injects you with venom so you stay nice and still for him regardless.)

God, it’s perfect. It’s the tart, slightly-salty pour of caramel over toffee pudding, topped with vanilla and the memory of his paralytic essence ballooning through your veins. It’d been cold and graceful, so bloody efficient you wonder how he didn’t think of it as a means of incapacitation sooner. Perhaps it’s tough to measure – how much is too much before you kill your victim, or something along the lines. But back then, despite hating no one more than he did you, he kept you alive.

Would he risk it again, if you asked?

Does he think about you? Like this, when the day drags and there’s no adequate excuse to see you through it. You quiver with the thought. Holed up in his own bath, spacier than yours, pumping his cock slick. He wouldn’t trail it out. Miguel has his own life, and if you somehow manage to worm your way into it, he’d spill himself quick. Not for disgust – it’s clear that he’s at least attracted to you. No. Just because he’s a better man than you can hope to be.

Rough around the edges but decent. Moral.

(There it is again – the apollonian. If he’s the olympian deity for the Sun, of truth and prophecy and order, then you’re Dionysus while you bring yourself to ecstasy, caught on the tip of his sharpened arrowhead.)

You groan, letting your head fall back as your efforts gain traction. The bottom of your stomach lurches, making way for the combustion taking space in your chest. It sputters, gorging on a kindling flame, and travels downwards to the pocket between your gut and pubic bone. The fulfilment borders on painful, skinned raw by your relentless assault on it. Once-warm water adds to the overstimulation, turned bitter by its prolonged use. Hair clings to your brow, obscuring your eyesight. Your orgasm snowballs, knocking everything in its determined path.

(And afterward, wrapped up somewhere in your pipe dream, he would empty himself inside you, drunk off the pleading whine that clawed its way out from your throat. He’d made you cum several times – the only addition you can guarantee would be fact – but it wouldn’t end there. Not while you remain still, all wandering eyes and diving comedowns, looking at him in your peripheral.

He’d linger, his cum dribbling out of you in thick globs, waiting by your side as the paralysis wears off. Gaining control of your body would be a slow process, as it was before, and he’d have a wetted towel to clean you off in the meantime. The room would remain quiet – founded on that same limbo state from after he ate you out – and neither of you speaking a word until you nod off, drowsy and properly fucked. If only to exchange hummed goodnights. An appreciative pat on the head, maybe. Detached praise, stunted communication.

Because even in your wildest fantasies, Miguel does not stoop to kiss you.)

You’re a wreck when it finally hits. Seized muscles release, disgorging the built-up tension of the last hour. You cum – not as powerfully as you might’ve done had he been here – though that’s trivial. He’s present in your mind, praising you through it, working you despite encroaching sensitivity. And you break down not at the thought, the sheer salacity of it all, but to the tenderness you can only imagine. Unrestrained. Given freely. Not because you earned it, but because you're worthy even when you haven’t.

A sob captures your lungs. Your skin prickles.

Phasing right through the glass partition, you fall backward to smack your temple on the edge of your sink. A throbbing pain immediately engulfs the site. Black speckles your vision.

And if it isn’t the perfect illustration of your concurrent dopamine crash, then you’ll be damned.

Curse him.

“You… You’re kidding, right?”

You don’t necessarily need an answer, but you ask to give yourself a distraction from the anxiety torrenting through you. With the way he leans on the glass railing, self-satisfied against the backdrop of Nueva York at noon, you can glean every bit of genuineness from his expression alone.

Miguel gives a vague gesture to the rooftop you stand upon. “You said it yourself.”

“First of all, no. I said I would climb up buildings, not jump off one. Second of all, it was a joke. I hope you know what a joke is, O’hara – otherwise I have a list of situations that make much more sense with hindsight.”

“I’m not asking you to jump off.” He ignores your barb, pushing off the edge to usher you closer. Your heels dig into the ground, an obstacle proved to be done in vain when his hand skims the small of your back. The heat of it penetrates your shirt, weaving its way to your dimpled flesh like it knows how much you crave it. One would think he’s burnt you with how rapidly you move to brush it off, and by the end – whether you like it or not – you find yourself peering over the palisades to the four-foot drop below. Bile spikes the back of your gullet.

“Are we here to sight-see, then? It’s an apartment complex, nothing special about that.” Breathing, you try to suppress the nausea that overrules your systems. The descent isn’t that high – about fifty feet, give or take your own height – but that does nothing to combat the fear gradually creeping up your nerves.

“Very funny.” He says, rolling his eyes at something you refuse to see. You’ve no energy to decipher it, either, zeroed in on the task expected of you. “Leaving your room got me thinking–”

“That’s dangerous.” You snap.

The man must be used to your little tantrums by now, for he continues like you hadn’t interrupted him, delineating the perplexing logic that lured him into thinking this was a good idea.

“– about what you meant by your suggestion. You’d pitched it instinctively.”

(‘If you promised this earlier, I would’ve climbed up fucking buildings to earn it.’

You remember. Somehow, it infuriates you that he does too – that even raptured in the throes of pleasure, his tongue buried between your folds, he’d been stewing over ways to better you. It pokes a fresh sore spot – like the maturating bruise on your temple, consequence of your scene in the shower – that reminds you you’re not good enough.)

“Okay, smart ass. Since you think you know everything, allow me to explain to you the definition of hyperbole. I was–”

“Exaggerating, yes. But I figured, to make that specific example during such… unsober circumstances, it must’ve originated from a sincere place.” He joins your observation of the street below, flicking over the trimmed bushes, surveying for wandering pedestrians. He’d picked somewhere secluded – a neighbourhood two blocks down from HQ, whose residents are likely employees at the bustling base. If anything, it explains their absence at twelve o’clock on a weekday. “So, here we are.”

You blink up at him, incredulous. He still hasn’t explicitly stated what he wants you to do. If this conversation had taken place on the ground, then perhaps you would’ve caught on quicker. Find your way to the top, just like he’s implying. As it stands though, you’re teetering on the crown of a stubby building that still seems too tall given your aversion to heights, with nothing but a stubborn spider-man and a locked stairwell for aid. It only dawns on you now why he made the conscious decision to close it after coming up here – to prevent your cheating.

Another strike towards his lack of faith. Charming.

In the bout of bewildered silence, Miguel sighs and spells it out for you.

“I want you to scale down the side of it.”

You could choke on your heart with how high it skyrockets.

“With what?” You squeak. The protest is weak, ungrounded as your bones start to give out. You’re not sure whether it’s mental, your brain tricking you into distrusting your body, or if you’re truly about to collapse. In either case, your distress threatens to unman you. Sickening. You’re green to your stomach.

His eyebrows raise, humoured. It’s a call to land on the solution yourself – like it’s obvious, like you’re not losing yourself just picturing it.

Quaking, you return to an age-old mantra. Miguel doesn’t know you, no matter how good he is at reading the bits he’s privy to. You’ve never highlighted to him the extent and end of your abilities – and yes, that’s partly for lack of understanding them yourself. But as it so happens, you do know a few, indispensable attributes; ones that should be considered before you’re made to defy gravity and saunter down the face of a wall.

Like how you can’t control your powers, the reigns ever-elusive, slipping from your grip whenever you actively try to run them. Or that your super-strength and enhanced healing are fickle things, arising only in impractical episodes. How your spider-sense is unpractised, severely underutilised by the mundane life you lead, and, perhaps most relevantly:

“I have no webs to harness me.” You emphasise. “And my hands can’t stick to surfaces to make that a negligible factor.”

He listens, contemplative, digesting the latter piece of information and what it means for his lesson plan.

“If they did, then I wouldn’t have been in nearly as much trouble at that quarry as I was, hanging on with just my fingers. But…” You wave your palms at him as if to punctuate your point. “Unfortunately for me, I’m normal below the wrist.”

“Below the wrist.” He repeats, picking up on the contrivance in your choice of phrase. Cringing, you scramble for an excuse, looking to get off the road he leads you on. It’s frenzied, unbecoming of this arrangement. You’ve learnt to lend your begrudging trust to his methods, their validity proved over weeks of training – but something about his current tone, the interrogative way with which he singles out faults in your diction. It sends you back to an era where all you worried about was his pursuit, about a capture made inevitable by your clumsy side steps.

You won’t forget, either. At the pinnacle of it, he was ready to step on your hold to a crane and send you plummeting to supposed death.

(If push comes to shove, would he force you to descend this hurdle – worried about a more forgiving yet just as terrifying end, given you should trip and lose pace on the right-angled wall?

But then you think of food shared over a makeshift dining table – navigating the new peace found between your legs. He’d allowed your skipping class. He took concern for your health in spite of it – and you’re reminded of another thing. One more constant, there since the beginning too.

Miguel O’Hara does not want you dead.

That, at the very most, is consolation that he won’t throw you off this ledge.)

“My feet can, from what I’ve tested. I can tread on steep slopes and hang upside down. Just… not very well.” You elaborate, then feel the urge to grant him less room for argument, just in case. “I don’t know what kind of scientists you are, O’Hara. A biologist, maybe, which would explain a whole ton, but take it from me. Physics won’t agree with this. You’re asking me to walk down a wall completely perpendicular to the ground, reliant on a weak abdomen and capabilities I haven’t taught myself to use properly.”

And when your words run their course, feeding into the husk of an alarmed echo, you can’t stop warmth from pooling behind your cheeks, or when your pulse flutters, feeble as the flap of a baby bird’s wings. You’re dangled over a branch you’ve known your whole life, nest torn out from under you. A condition of your own doing, of course, seeing as he stays quiet, compliant to your rant.

A moment later, he adds. “Geneticist.”

“Huh.”

“I was a geneticist.” The nugget of background he offers flares like a treaty, a temporary campaign for goodwill. And, as if intentionally building upon your theory of armistice, Miguel tips away, popping out your personal space. The afternoon breeze hits you then, chillier without his immediate presence. You don’t voice your wish for him to come back. “Why haven’t you?” He seeks, testing his luck now that you’re placated.

It works.

“Pushed my potential?”

He hums in the affirmative.

“I have. It helped nothing but my upchuck reflex.” You evoke. “Perhaps you’ve forgotten my doomed history with hard drops. We don’t work well, particularly not when you’re around.” Beyond the quarry, he’d witnessed your misfortunate swinging around Earth-15 too. You’d phased right through his arms, bound to solidify before splattering onto the pavement below. It’d been peaceful then only because you had so much less to lose. “Besides, I don’t see the point. I won’t be going back home to fight crime, in any case. And scaling apartment complexes won’t magically lend me enough virtue to want to return.”

When he speaks next, it’s tacitly, an intrusion to jog your memory like you did his, however subtly. “You’re okay now, though.” He says, and implies a truth too heavy to audibly assert. I caught you. Every time. The understanding lingers, oscillating between you two, before he starts again. “But I get it.”

You scoff. In turn, he sounds his question – hm? – rumbled deep from within his chest. If you focus, you can sense the way it vibrates the particles separating you.

“I doubt it, is’all.”

“That’s condemning.”

“Please, as if you need the ego boost.” Ducking from his scrutiny, you rest your elbows on the glass lining the rooftop to look out on the cityscape before you. It glitters, contemporary blue architecture slated on fields of green. This world is utopia compared to the many you’ve visited; amongst them, you’re hit with the vivid memory of your own – peppered with red fires under a perpetual cover of smoke. Blown to unrecognisable bits by a product of your ignorance.

You swallow to shake the tangent off. He’s still staring at you. You can feel his solemn study, dimmed from its previous challenge, severe enough to penetrate the marge of your skull.

“Are you really going to make me say it?”

He shrugs, not in the least bit teasing. It’s the straw that finally breaks your back – the integrity he regards you with. Sighing, you smother your pride before it can change your mind.

“Fucking look at you. You’re like… the peak of spider prowess. All muscle and righteousness. And I don’t even know where to begin, scared to even cash in on the powers I've been handed. What kind of hero is nervous of heights, for God’s sake.”

The admission escapes as hushed, warbled by string-plucked insecurity. You don’t attempt to assess his reaction to it, following the motions of a cirrus cloud instead, swaying like tufts of hair on a cerulean scalp. It makes his next course of action jarring – frightening for all you don’t expect it.

Miguel’s hand appears before you, face down so the digital suit-patterns on his palm are exposed. You half-think he’s offering you hold it, or wants to pinion you to something before he pulls you off the roof. But his body turns to overlook your side, and with a sudden schwip, his talons protrude from the pads of his fingers. Before you can fully process it, you stumble back, phantom pain pounding where he once gripped you with them.

He notices it, though doesn’t comment on your misgivings, waiting patiently until you steel yourself and return to your post. He must be used to the hesitation.

“Do you know what these are for?”

To claw run-away anomalies – you’re compelled to say, but decide against the low blow. You shake your head no.

“I didn’t either. Not when I first developed them. They seemed inconvenient and hard to handle. Got in the way of everyday life.” You struggle to picture it. Miguel, younger, troubled with defects he never asked for. Did it hurt, you wonder – the ingrowth of fangs and talons?

Does it still?

“Biology isn’t a lesser science though, despite what certain physicists may believe.” He continues, raising a brow at you. You can’t suppress the sheepish expression that threads the corners of your mouth. “I remembered the spiders I worked with, what features of theirs might come to be represented by this. The fangs I realised the purpose of much faster.”

“To paralyse.”

“Right.” His gaze flicks to the slip of neck exposed by your loose collared shirt, finding the bite marks bridged over your clavicle. You’d been good at ignoring your masturbatory fantasies thus far, yet at his cue, flashes of them occur to you. Your knees knock together, timid that he can perhaps smell the shame on you. “My claws weren’t so obvious. Not until I met another spider-man who could climb walls. It occurred to me then, the microscopic setules on the end of spiders’ legs. They create an electromagnetic charge with any molecule at their nanometric radius. And while he, like many others, gained a figurative interpretation of it, I got something more literal.”

“So, they adhere to anything.”

“No. But they help me hold on.” Miguel corrects. “I’m not guaranteed proper fixture, so climbing buildings – scaling any surface – is a labour entirely dependent on me.”

You trail over his wide shoulders – the top heavy form you’ve spent so much time revering. You’ve never so much as considered why he’s built so differently from other spider-heroes, burly in contrast to their lithe figures. (For good reason, maybe – you would’ve assumed incorrectly as recently as three minutes ago.) It’s not to set himself apart, or being that he was blessed with it. But because it was necessary. Pure proof of the effort it took to hone his skills.

Guilt is swift in sweeping you off your feet; you feel foolish for ever suggesting it was talent that got him to this point. And–

“That’s… tough.” Is the only response you can conjure.

It’s so stupid you want to punch yourself over it. Miguel, on the other hand, just chuckles. A brief huff from upturned lips.

“Sure.” He takes one last look down the verge of the rooftop before turning his back on it. You keep facing forward. “The crux is – we don’t always see the point of things, or why they are the way they are. Sometimes, we might even refuse to when all seems unfair. But the second mark of a hero, as I’ve come to know it, is having the courage to address them despite your ignorance. Firmness of mind when confronted with danger – or, in your case, a burden of great difficulty.”

And piece by piece, it starts to come together. The small revelation of his backstory as nothing more than an allegory. His bringing you here, to start from the top and not the bottom, instilling in you the fear of falling. And what it all means – courage being the point of this little exercise, a step up from resilience now that you’ve proved your tenacity. Priming you for the eventuality of returning home – a burden of great difficulty.

“Of course you’d turn this into a philosophical seminar.” You deride, rubbing the wariness from your expression. “And here I believed we were bonding.”

“The two aren’t mutually exclusive.” He says. You don’t have it in you to disagree, searching for the pluck to get this over with. Yet what he adds next takes you completely off-guard. “You don’t have to do this.”

A compromise – you thought you’d have to fight for one.

“I’m a few plank-sessions short of having the core strength to walk down a wall.” You circumvent, not ready to admit your failure.

Miguel nods, yielding now that he’s gotten his opinion on the matter across. Nothing about him betrays disappointment, but you somehow still squirm, distressed at the very notion that you let him down.

As he breaks away, you catch sight of the platforms protruding from the windows below you, and a haphazard idea forms.

“But… if it’s courage you want, then maybe we can start smaller?” You raise, worrying the inside of your cheek. It’s rushed, not expertly planned through, but he cocks his head, and you’re forced to toss it out now that he’s all ears. “I can hang from the bottom of a balcony – upside down – until I’m better at trusting my powers over gravity. And, y’know, there are still the odds that I fall, just onto the deck below and not four stories. Less fatal that way.”

There’s hardly a spark of deliberation before his eyes narrow, cheekbones projecting with a smile. It has to be your insatiable itch for praise, consequence of anything over what he actually thinks – but a bright glint streaks upon those red pupils and, remarkably, it feels a lot like pride.

(You’ll take what you can get.)

“Yeah. That works.” He approaches, sinking closer once more. It’s warm again and you stand self-assured, regardless of the trepidation still bubbling within you. “I suppose not everyone has a death wish.”

“Wishful thinking on your part, maybe.” You taunt. “Sorry to be the one to break it to you, but you’re stuck with me for the time being.”

What feels like hours later, your head throbs violently, and under the novelty of it all, you learn of three new things.

One – an observation most idle yet, embarrassingly, the first to be made – is that Miguel looks just as handsome the other way around as he does proper side up. Elevated, too, given that you’re finally at his level like this. Staring him down, nose-to-nose, able to capture his face outside the forced perspective that comes with being shorter. He occupies the balcony below while you stand, hang, on the belly of the one above. There’s a tiny, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it mole by the corner of his mouth. He’s still smiling at you.

Two – a facet you haven’t stopped imprecating since you started, one that technically isn't even new to you – is that, while your external body seems to defy gravity, fastened in place by your feet, your internal systems aren’t granted the same luxury. Gallons worth of blood pools to your brain, distending the soft tissue until it weighs like lead on your crown. You never thought your organs would be this heavy, especially the ones that stack on top of your lungs. Your stomach, liver, kidneys, intestines. They make it hard to breathe. You can barely feel your hands anymore.

And three – perhaps your proudest realisation yet – is that this isn't so bad once you get the hang of it. Sure, your mentor is a few paces away, ready to grab you should you spontaneously collapse. And if he didn’t, then yes, the worst that could come of it is a broken arm. You certainly need more practice before you test it on taller heights, and you don’t think you trust your abilities yet to walk down building planes, but–

It’s easy. Bodily effects aside, it’s easy. Supernaturally so. In a way that bends every one of Newton’s laws and you’re left reeling trying to string together mechanical equations that could make sense of it. The tension between you and the ceiling and how great it must be to combat your weight. The equal and opposite force perpetually acting against gravity.

Because you’re upside down, despite having no cable or chain to keep you situated, no hooks on your heels. You’re stuck to a surface by just the soles of your shoes, and when you walk around, lift one to put in front of the other, you stay fixed. You don’t – can’t – fall.

(Secretly, you thank him for pushing you to this stage. The euphoria of it is just enough to supersede any nausea you worried about before.)

“How’s that?” Miguel asks, tone low and smooth like velvet. Something tugs your heart – your arteries, perhaps, shrivelling around it.

“Weird. Great. If I didn’t feel like throwing up, I’d stay here forever.”

“Try to refrain from projecting it on me.”

“Copy that.”

“But,” He says, tipping his head so he can assess you the right way around. “You’re doing it.” “Yeah.” You giggle. The bloodrush must be making you loopy. You’d have never been so animated on the ground. “I’m doing it.”

chapter thirteen

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amarynthian-chronicles · 5 months ago

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New arrival

Y/N: I would like to check in, please.

Officer Sun, looking up from his papers: Forgive me, there seems to be a misunderstanding. Do you have something to report?

Y/N: Yes, I would like to report the ungodly living costs during this recession. I am not paying the bills in this city anymore, I am moving in. Can somebody help me carry my things?

Officer Moon, leaning over the desk: I have never seen so much luggage in my life, I must say. Did you rob a furniture shop on your way here?

Officer Sun, eye twitching in shock: what the...now wait just a darn minute here! This is a prison, not a hotel!

Y/N: Could you show me around?

Officer Moon, shrugging: We could give you a tour. I am happy to answer any questions you may have, kitten.

Y/N: is there any air conditioning here?

Officer Moon: there is a crack in the window there. Helps during the Summer heat. Bit windy in the Winter, we should get that fixed.

Y/N: what is the pet policy?

Officer Moon: I suppose everyone is allowed to keep one spider on the ceiling.

Officer Sun: Are you people insane?! Moon, stop enabling them!

Officer Moon, leaning over to whisper to Sun: boredom breeds chaos, brother. Let me have some joy in my life. I was already two mood swings away from playing with explosives in the basement. Again.

Officer Sun: we really need to talk about your questionable forms of enrichment, Moon.

10 minutes later

Y/N, waiting for Sun and Moon to carry their bags in the largest cell available: thank you for your help, my dear sirs, I appreciate it.

Officer Moon: is there anything else you need, kitten?

Y/N: could we repaint the walls into a more stimulating colour?

Officer Sun:...I did not go to police academy to work as room service!

Y/N: I say you'd slay the maid uniform look, though.

#sundrop #moondrop #sundrop x reader #moondrop x reader #sun fnaf #moon fnaf #fnaf sun x reader #fnaf moon x reader #sun x reader #moon x reader #five nights at freddy's #the daycare attendant #daycare attendant x reader #daycare attendant #amary's chronicles

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mysecretlittlelibrary · 1 year ago

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Shades of Green

Pairing: Thor x Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: nothing really just jealous Thor

Genre: it’s pretty floofy

Summary: Thor does not appreciate another man chatting you up

***

"Y/n dear you need to go and get ready before people start arriving." Frigga tells as you help her finalize plans for tonight's ball. Thor and Loki have returned two days ago from some quest Odin sent them on and Frigga has insisted on a party to properly welcome her sons.

"Are you sure you don't need any more help, my queen? I don't mind staying to-"

"Nonsense. I have everything under control. This party honors your betrothed, you need to look like you belong at his side. So go." She shoos you away before you can protest again so you make your way back to your room to dress for the party. Your gown is a sharp red, matching that of Thor's cape, long and draping over you flatteringly. It cascades around you at your feet in a way you think may be inconvenient in a crowded hall but Frigga seems confident it will not cause any issues.

It doesn't take you long to get ready but Frigga was very clear about you joining the festivities at a specific time so you have to wait for her cue before returning to the hall. By that time the celebration is practically in full swing, all that's missing is your lover and his brother.

You circle the room in tandem with Frigga, mingling with guests wherever she is not, charming everyone you speak to with ease until Odin demands the room's attention. Frigga joins him at the front of the crowd and together they announce Thor and Loki with words of praise and pride.

You smile brightly watching Thor and Loki flank their parents in front of the crowd blushing when the former catches your gaze and winks at you. The entire room erupts at the sight of them and they're swept into the swarm of people as soon as they finish their greeting.

"Y/N!" Thor's voice booms even over the sea of voices and the upbeat music. It's hard to pinpoint the direction it's coming from but soon his arms are wrapped around you, pulling you towards him swiftly. "Oh how I've missed you, my lady." He sighs before kissing you which you return immediately. He may have returned two days ago but it seems the work never stops for your prince, he's been busy from the moment he came back as such you've only seen him in passing since he's been home.

"And I've missed you." You tell him with a giggle once you break the kiss.

"I'm sorry I've not had time to spend with you these past two days-"

"Nonsense Thor, you have responsibilities. I understand. It's not like I sit around waiting for you to spend time with me you know." You wink at him.

"Do you not?" He smiles.

"If I did I'd be rather bored most days and boredom breeds chaos." You muse and Thor laughs.

"Growing up with Loki I am certainly no stranger to that." He says.

"Thor my friend! You must tell us of your latest travels! I have a million questions!" One of Thor's friends Hogun claps Thor on the back to grab his attention. Before Thor can even answer, Hogun is already leading Thor off and Thor shoots you an apologetic look that you meet with a smile mouthing that you'll find him later. A glance through the crowd allows you to find Loki amongst a group of giggling maidens all seemingly vying for his attention. You make your way to the group looping an arm through Loki's and shooting the girls a smile.

"Apologies ladies, I'm going to steal Loki from you all for a bit." You say kindly. A couple of them toss you looks that you pointedly ignore as you tug Loki away from his fan club.

"Something the matter y/n?" He asks with a concerned frown on his face.

"Not at all, I just haven't seen you since you've been back which is ridiculous."

"You should see the to-do list Father has me and Thor on since we've gotten back. It feels like it's getting longer every day. Honestly, this party is the first break we've had." Loki shakes his head.

"Yeah you seem quite occupied."

"Absolutely and Thor complains about not seeing you all the time. You have spoken to him, right? I expected him to be glued to your side."

"We've spoken, but his friends grabbed him to discuss your adventures."

"And he let them?" Loki jokes making you laugh.

"You two will be pulled in many directions tonight I'm sure." You smile.

"Yes well, I can count on you to rescue me right?"

"Come now Loki don't pretend you aren't loving the positive attention here."

"It's strange."

"You deserve it, but if you really want to escape a conversation of course I've got you." You tell him.

"Brilliant." He nods.

"Excuse me." A voice calls and you snap your head in the direction of the sound.

"Hello." You say, both you and Loki sizing the stranger up.

"I don't mean to interrupt, welcome home your highness, but I simply couldn't risk missing an opportunity to introduce myself to a beauty such as yourself." The man smiles. Loki stifles a laugh at the obvious line and you have to stop yourself from making a face at him.

"Thank you, and you are-?" You ask, not hiding the confusion in your voice.

"Khristofer Eriksson." The man says with a bow. Loki can barely contain the smile threatening to split his face as he watches the interaction.

"Khristofer. It is- nice to meet you." You say.

"The pleasure is all mine, my lady. May I be so lucky that you might share your name?"

"You are- quite a character. My name is y/n."

"A name as gorgeous as the owner of it."

"You're rather forward." Loki muses.

"Is there any other way to be?" Khristofer smirks.

"Perhaps with the betrothed of a prince, you'd do well to watch your words." Loki suggests.

"Betrothed of a prince?" Khristofer looks at you.

"Thor." You smile.

"Really? Interesting that he's left you alone." Khristofer hums.

"Not alone." Loki says.

"He and Loki are the men of the hour. Everyone will be vying for their attentions all night. I know it's my attention he wants more than any of this." You shrug casually.

"You sound quite sure of yourself." Khristofer says.

"Thor makes it impossible to doubt him." You smile. Loki is again fighting a smile at the underlying warning in your tone. This, your ability to subtly take on challenges is exactly how he grew to like you enough to now call you friend, to be happy you're marrying his brother.

"Smart man, it would be a shame for someone to be able to turn your head away from him." Khristofer says with a slight smile.

"I think you'll find I'm not so easily swayed."

"Then, would you be so kind as to gift me a dance?"

"A dance?"

"Just one. Harmless enough." His smile tells you otherwise but there's a challenge in his words and if you are to survive as a member of Asgard's royal family you will not allow this man room to see you as weak.

"I'm feeling charitable tonight so one dance I'll allow." You say matching both his tone and the daring look in his eye as you place your hand in his waiting palm. Loki watches with faint amusement as Khristofer leads you to the dancefloor, but only for a moment. When the man's hand settles on your back Loki finds his brother.

"You've left your betrothed alone for too long brother." Loki says interrupting Thor's conversation with a group of partygoers.

"Who is she with?" Thor's gaze has hardly left you since he was dragged off by his friends. He did watch the unfamiliar man walk up to you and Loki but as his brother was with you he worried less until he watched the man lead you to dance.

"He calls himself Khristofer. The man attempts to woo her. He's failing but- seems rather determined." Loki informs Thor.

"She accepted a dance." Thor observes.

"He's been challenging her. It's a battle of wits between them."

"What do you say, brother? Should I intervene?"

"I certainly would."

"Very well." Thor nods. He politely dismisses himself from the group he's a part of and crosses the room to where you're dancing with Khristofer.

"Y/n." Thor's hand at your back abruptly stops Khristofer's movements.

"Thor, hello my love." You smile at him, stepping out of Khristofer's arms and closer to Thor.

"Your highness." Khristofer addresses him but Thor barely spares him a glance.

"Finally escaped the adoring fans?" You joke with Thor.

"I hope you don't mind me cutting in. It hardly seems fair that someone else should enjoy the pleasure of dancing with you when I have not." Thor smiles.

"Thor this is Khristofer Eriksson. He is- I actually do not know much about him. He spoke to me and Loki for a bit and then he asked for a dance. I was feeling generous." You say.

"And for that I thank you, lady y/n but now I'll leave you in the hands of the prince." Khristofer says with a bow before walking away.

"A dance, my lady?" Thor asks.

"Of course, my prince." You smile allowing him to pull you into his arms and lead you across the floor.

"That man." Thor mutters.

"Hm? Khristofer? What of him?" You ask.

"Who was he?"

"Well I'm not sure. As I said he didn't share much. Not that I was particularly interested enough to ask."

"Loki told me he attempted to woo you."

"Loki told you?"

"Yes. What is he talking about?"

"You know I think you look good in all colors my love, but perhaps green is not your finest shade." You giggle.

"Y/n." Thor says in warning making you laugh more.

"Oh he was just running his mouth Thor, honestly I can hardly remember what he was on about. Some nonsense about you leaving me alone, but I handled it." You say, amusement clear in your voice. "I can't believe Loki left that part out."

"I'll admit I was a bit too distracted to think of asking him for details."

"Distracted?" You ask with a knowing smile.

"You were dancing with a stranger. Why wouldn't I be distracted?"

"I had no idea were such the jealous type, my dear prince." You chuckle.

"I normally wouldn't class myself that way but it would seem things are different with you my darling." Thor hums. You smile as you lay your head against his chest while you continue to dance. It's silly for him to worry about such things but your heart warms at the thought that he cares so much.

***

#marvel #marvel fanfiction #thor fanfiction #thor #thor fluff #thor x reader

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narrators-journal · 4 days ago

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Could you write Katsumaya with both of them having a breeding kink please

I decided not to push myself to write a scenario if I’ve got nothing in me, because that’s! How a bitch gets burn out lmao. So, I decided to settle for some headcanons for these two right now. I might return to the vague concept that I had for some other fic, but not today, I’ve gotta practice some form of self-care in my life, and this is kinda my baby step to do that, lol.

That being said! I hope these blurbs feed u at least a lil, if not, you can always just send in an ask for a scenario and keep an eye out on the blog for when I get to it!

Katsuya Suou does not strike me as wanting children for a good long while after the chaos of the plot.

Not to say I think he doesn’t want children, because I do think Katsuya would want children later on. But, after the events of eternal punishment, some therapy, and coming to terms with the fact that he might have spent a good chunk of his childhood and young adult years parenting Tatsuya, he would probably slow down on that goal.

Of course, that does not exclude him from having a breeding kink. I can attest, you do not need to want a baby to want to be bred/breed someone.

I simply think that Katsuya might be unaware of his kink, or hesitant to indulge until he’s ready.

Maya, on the other hand, I imagine can clock that shit quickly, and at a minimum loves to torment him with it.

She handles her own breeding kink a bit differently too.

As in, she’s pretty shameless with it.

She strikes me as the type to be very playful about her own sexual desires.

She is the type to beg to be bred in the heat of the moment. Which wears on Katsuya’s willpower to not comply lmao.

Unlike Katsuya, tho, I do not think Maya wants children because of her own issues after the events of eternal punishment. It’s kinda hard to want to bring a child into the world, when that world is run by petty gods who are very willing to use children as pawns to cure their boredom.

Like Katsuya, she saw the effect being a persona user had on Tatsuya, the misery he lived with. So, no, she does not want kids. Just to be bred.

That does not keep her from doing shit to torment Katsuya though.

She will still very much wear clothes or costumes that accentuate her hips, talk about her body and fertility openly, dirty talk, whatever it takes.

“Oh my boobs are getting sooooo big, jeez, you’d think I’m lactating.”

“Katsu, do you think this dress makes my butt look big? I feel like the belt sinches in my waist too much…”

“God, why did I have to get these breeder hips…”

Despite her playful prods and all the ways she feeds his fantasies, Katsuya would still be very careful.

Maya’s probably on birth control, and he uses condoms if she doesn’t, but he’s still very cautious. Even when he caves and humors her flirtatious little demands and pleading.

#Persona 2 #KatsuMaya #persona #Katsuya Suou #Maya Amano #headcanons #ask #not sfw #spicy #minors do not interact #mdni #lemon

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alparslan0 · 12 days ago

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Fear breeds hatred, hatred breeds boredom, boredom breeds liberation, and liberation breeds anger. Anger is the beginning of chaos.

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rose-and-thorn-fanfics · 2 months ago

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“A Far Fall From The Heights Of Heaven” (Dio Brando x Self Insert) JJBA Fic: Part 3

I hadn’t had a slip up yet in my rehabilitation. Not drinking was hard, but I had plenty of… distractions.

Lord Dio kept me busy with sex, and yes, I did learn to swallow his absurdly large cock. It took a lot of training but I was becoming the perfect mate for him. I could tell by his reactions to the moves I’d pull during our usual late night breeding ritual. He seemed to be enjoying it even more than when he took my virginity.

My favorite moments were always after an amazing night of sex. We’d stay up into the early morning, talking about life and death, and just about the most random things. Dio was a very intelligent guy. I mean, his knowledge surpassed mine in so many ways on so many subjects, but he still listened to me without any sign of boredom or irritation. He still found it in his hundreds of years old heart to be fascinated by my ideas. I felt valued, understood even… And I knew he was right for me.

“What are you smiling about, my little rose?” Dio said smugly, leaning down and kissing me on the cheek.

“Oh! I…. I was thinking…. About how happy I am with you!” I said shyly, heart fluttering. “I never thought I’d feel this way. About anyone.”

Lord Dio chuckled. “Baby fever?”

I giggled. “No no… I mean… well…. Kind of. I want to live a full long life with you. I want us to someday be able to leave this fortress, and have lots of kids… and my sister Denise could bring over her kids on holidays… we could get married… I… I’m sorry it sounds silly saying it out loud.”

Dio hummed, feigning deep contemplation, before spinning on his heel and legitimately just leaving the room. My shoulders dropped. What kind of a response was that?

Then he returned. “Marriage means something to you… I should’ve known.” He said, smirking. “I don’t really put too much weight into these sorts of traditions. As far as I’m concerned we are already married. You’ve been mine since I first held you in my arms. But if a ring on your finger will serve as a reminder of our bond…” Dio pulled a dainty Victorian emerald and white-gold ring out of his pocket. He knelt. “You will have exactly that, my dear.”

I blinked, speechless. I didn’t think he’d have a pre-designated ring for the occasion. Much less that he knelt to me… my heart was racing.

“I feel silly asking you to be what you already are.” Dio explained. “But will you be my wife?”

“—-uh YES!” I squeaked, taking the ring and putting it on my ring finger. It fit. Perfectly. He must’ve measured my ring size in my sleep.

Thanks for reading! This was a short one but one of my fav so far ☺️

TUMBLR FANFIC TAG-LIST!

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#fanfic #dio brando x oc #dio brando x reader #dio brando fanfic #dio jjba #jjba #jojo's bizarre adventure x reader #fanfiction #self ship

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macawritesupdates · 6 months ago

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Ah thank goodness you did get the comment I was so worried I would have to type all that again I had just typed it all out right in the ask so this time I'm typing out my comment on a Google doc and I'll copy and paste it so if something goes wrong again I'll have a copy.

Man you work so fast I still haven't finished commenting on lessons and you've already got another prompt chapter and a chapter of the modern a/b/o fic 😅 how am I going to keep up lol. Actually this is probably good for me because I'm not taking any summer classes but I have two writing intensive classes coming up in the fall so commenting on your fics over the summer might help keep me from getting rusty. It's enrichment for me this summer I'm taking Sukuna studies, hah. Ok so back to lessons I didn't even get to how Sukuna planned a surprise honeymoon for them in my last comment that's so cute but he's also being a complete bastard about it by sowing chaos the man is setting up all these little dominoes to fall while he's gone like a rube Goldberg machine of pure spite. I'm looking forward to seeing him go head to head with Kenjaku honestly if we could just get those two to focus all their energy on fucking with each other instead of ending or reshaping the world out of boredom everyone would be better off. Aww the wedding night was very cute Sukuna teasing that breeding kink was hot and then he got honest when Yuuji was all tired out damn buddy I'm counting that as progress to be honest it's baby steps to emotional maturity idk if he'll get there in this lifetime but clearly being together with his husband is good for him. Yuuji was sooo cute too love him being all cuddly and happy to be Sukuna's husband 💕 💖 ☺️. Anyway, delightful chapter. Thanks for writing and sharing with us!!

It appears as if I work fast as I often work on several pieces of writing at once, so sometimes a few of them may finish at the same time XD but I try to post regularly just to keep the dear readers well fed!

And yes...Sukuna is setting a lot of little dominoes to fall sooooon! I always felt like he was a character that even if you took away his ability to slice and dice would find ways to come out on top. He's a man with a mind that is always making schemes!

Glad you enjoyed the chapter! <3

#maca answers asks #The long comments are life! <3

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abyssin · 1 year ago

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mlb verse headcanon time! WE NEED TO GO DEEPER. what is childe's kwami's name? what concept does it preside over? what power does it give him? what is his relationship with his kwami like and why does it encourage him to be Like That™? how did he get his miraculous? what are his motives and/or goals for using it? what was he doing before he got his miraculous and how did becoming a holder change him? how does him being a miraculous holder affect his relationship with his family?

everything i am about to say is all come up with on the spot so it is subject to change! BUT HELLO HERE WE GO MIRACULOUS VERSE CHILDE THOUGHTS:

i. ㅤok so we already have a name for the whale thanks to the genshin leaks but just because i feel like it phonetically sounds close to the kwami names, i wanna name his kwami flood! he's a very calm and collected little guy who greatly contrasts childe in personality, but their goals for chaos to qualm boredom is the same! they're two peas in a pod as much as flood will try to criticize him for being reckless /: and yes he looks like an itty bitty narwhal, with the teeny horn and all!

ii.ㅤ i'd like to place flood as the kwami of disorder. it's rather close to plagg, but basically i think of it as a concept that breeds conflict, opposition, confusion. it thrives off the conflict between hawk moth and the ladybug-chat noir duo and Would like things to continue the way they are. perhaps he and childe have even helped one side or the other in order to keep things interesting? they're so annoying fr fr. ㅤㅤㅤbonus: ㅤflood takes the shape of a singular earring on his left ear, much alike to the one he has in canon. it glows a pretty blue shade much like ajax's own eyes when flood is communicating

iii. ㅤif not already hinted by the above answers, tartaglia (ajax's transformation) and flood are ironically neutral parties to miraculous conflict conceptually, but in action they both enable the conflict for their own amusement. of course, the last thing he wants is paris destroyed while he's here (i'm going to assume he's a transfer student in college rn but, we'll see!), but with flood as his companion, they can do absolutely anything together (❁´◡`❁) ㅤtoday, he's an ally to ladybug. tomorrow?ㅤ who knows...

iv. ㅤi haven't quite figured out how he found his miraculous... it isn't unusual for him to be finding different objects to send back home as gifts for his family, so i imagine it was something he picked up by accident and he awakened flood. i will have to get back on this for specifics on How it was found though...

v. ㅤi do like the thought that he's studying business management here, or if i do peg his age to the one i have in canon, he could be working as a toymaker? the reason i wanted to place him in college was to make interaction with the miraculous kids more likely and much easier to bump into HAJDAHD

the thing about how meeting flood is something i'm going to leave up in the air. i do want it to parallel to canon that perhaps flood corrupted childe too, and childe was a willing host? i also like the thought of tartaglia being able to consume the akuma butterflies 🤔 many thoughts!

anyways tartaglia here to be a nuisance. je suis fuck off dude!

#yinbug #╰ *ㅤoocㅤ⧽ㅤcertified childe hater!#possessed with the urge to answer this out of nowhere #HI CECE... ARE U SATISFIED...

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impishtubist · 1 year ago

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Hello, my lovely. I do hope you feel much better soon and that the boredom doesn’t kill you (that would be just dreadful. where would we go for all the hot takes and chaos nights? can’t even imagine). I’m breathing productivity into you as we speak.

Additionally, I might be working a new hmm…different version of breeding kink. If that cheers you up. Lights a fire. Makes you want to chatter incessantly. Whatever and however. 😉

🥺🥺🥺 Omg thank you so much, it's so lovely to hear from you! And yes, I hope the post-surgery boredom doesn't kill me. Where, indeed, would you all go for chaos and hot takes???

Oh this cheers me up immensely and I'm going to definitely be poking you for more info 👀

#is it prongsfoot breeding kink?????#is it????#my only wish in life is to get all my wolfstar followers to become multishippers and ship prongsfoot #so i have more things to read #but i will happily take any and all breeding kink #ALSO i still think about your 30s wolfstar falling in love on a weekly basis #imp speaks #lovely mutuals are lovely #thank you for entertaining me in my time of need

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candikin · 2 years ago

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[TAPE RECORDING STARTING...] The Nekane Condition, quite a interesting one. It's a condition that causes the person who holds it to be unable to feel or understand most emotions. They can feel lust, confusion, and boredom. Other emotions are felt unclearly. It's inaccurate to say they are emotionless, as they feel every emotion... it's just weak. It seems to be purely genetic and cannot be cured

According to our files, there's quite a few people in this city with the Nekane Condition or have family members with it... hmm 1. Henry Stickmin, ancestors had this condition but not him 2. Ana "Loser" Glorica, parents have this condition but not her 3. Aaron Greyson, related to people with this condition but not him 4. Will Greyson, seems to have a weaker version of this condition 5. Gabriel Greyson, seems to have this condition 6. Mr. Greyson, seems to have this condition 7. Dave Panpa, ancestors had this condition but not him 8. Bruno Izzy Orange, ancestors had this condition but not her 9. Morena Elone, parents have this condition but not her 10. G- Oh, this file is damaged 11. Mr. F- So as this one... weird

The Nekane Condition can be bred out by making a carrier of the condition breed with someone without it, though we can't let them have many children. The Greyson family is a perfect example of that, the father had the condition and they had 3 children with someone who doesn't. 2 didn't have the condition but carried it, 1 had a weaker version of the condition. The father eventually cheated and got with someone with the condition, which led to another kid with the condition.

I don't get why the C.C.C doesn't allow us to capture them. They can cause the whole city to have it, and that would be chaotic. We are supposed to contain chaos, not let it continue. After we capture them, we should be allowed to keep them until they die or force them to breed their condition out, so we won't have to deal with this ever again.

People with the Nekane Condition are all stickfigures, and doesn't seem to exist in monsters or humans. They also seem to hide their condition by exaggerating how they feel, or learning by watching others interact. It is unclear how this genetic condition is caused, and it is unknown if the condition can actually be bred out... but I think it can. If it can't... we're doomed. [TAPE RECORDING ENDING...]

#hidden lore within #lettertale

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perkypawspethospitalmckinney · 5 months ago

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Essential Puppy Health Care Tips for First-Time Pet Owners

Welcome to the world of puppy parenthood! Bringing home a new puppy is a joyous occasion filled with love, laughter, and, of course, a bit of chaos. As a first-time pet owner, you might be wondering how to take care of a puppy and ensure they grow up healthy and happy. At Perky Paws Pet Hospital, we’re here to guide you through every step of your puppy's health care journey

Preparing Your Home for a Puppy

Creating a Safe Space

Before your puppy arrives, create a safe and comfortable space for them. This area should be free of hazards, such as electrical cords and small objects they could swallow. A cozy bed, some toys, and a water bowl will make your puppy feel at home.

Essential Supplies

Stock up on essential supplies like puppy food, a collar, a leash, grooming tools, and puppy pads. Having everything ready will make the transition smoother for both you and your new furry friend.

Puppy-Proofing Your Home

Just like baby-proofing, puppy-proofing is crucial. Keep harmful substances like cleaning products and medications out of reach. Ensure your puppy can't access areas where they might get stuck or hurt.

Understanding Puppy Health Care

Initial Vet Visits

One of the first steps in puppy care is scheduling an initial vet visit. At Perky Paws Pet Hospital, we’ll conduct a thorough health check to ensure your puppy is in good shape. This visit is also an excellent opportunity to discuss any concerns you might have.

Vaccination Schedule

Vaccinations are vital for protecting your puppy from various diseases. Your vet will provide a vaccination schedule, which typically starts at six to eight weeks of age. Sticking to this schedule is crucial for your puppy’s health.

Preventative Care

Preventative care includes regular check-ups, parasite control, and dental care. These measures help detect potential issues early and keep your puppy healthy.

Nutrition and Feeding

Choosing the Right Food

Puppies have specific nutritional needs. Choose high-quality puppy food that provides balanced nutrition. Your vet can recommend the best options based on your puppy’s breed and size.

Establishing a Feeding Schedule

Consistency is key. Establish a regular feeding schedule to help your puppy develop good eating habits. Typically, puppies need to eat three to four times a day.

Avoiding Harmful Foods

Certain foods, like chocolate, grapes, and onions, are toxic to dogs. Make sure you know which foods to avoid and keep them out of your puppy’s reach.

Puppy Hygiene and Grooming

Bathing Basics

Bathing your puppy regularly keeps their coat clean and healthy. Use a gentle, puppy-specific shampoo and make bath time a positive experience.

Brushing and Coat Care

Regular brushing prevents matting and reduces shedding. It’s also a great bonding activity and helps you check for any skin issues.

Nail Trimming

Keep your puppy’s nails trimmed to avoid discomfort and potential injuries. If you’re unsure how to do it, ask your vet or groomer for a demonstration.

Exercise and Playtime

Importance of Physical Activity

Puppies are full of energy! Regular exercise helps them stay fit and healthy. Short walks and play sessions are perfect for burning off that puppy energy.

Safe Toys and Activities

Provide a variety of safe toys to keep your puppy entertained and mentally stimulated. Interactive toys and puzzles are great for preventing boredom.

Socialization with Other Pets

Socializing your puppy with other dogs and pets is crucial. It helps them develop good behavior and reduces fear and aggression. Start with controlled, positive encounters.

Basic Puppy Training and Behavior

Housebreaking Tips

Housebreaking requires patience and consistency. Take your puppy outside frequently, especially after meals and naps. Praise and reward them for going potty outside.

Basic Commands

Teaching basic commands like “sit,” “stay,” and “come” helps manage your puppy’s behavior. Use positive reinforcement techniques to encourage good behavior.

Positive Reinforcement Techniques

Reward-based training builds a strong bond between you and your puppy. Use treats, praise, and playtime as rewards for good behavior.

Monitoring Your Puppy’s Health

Recognizing Signs of Illness

Be vigilant about any changes in your puppy’s behavior or appearance. Symptoms like lethargy, vomiting, or diarrhea require prompt veterinary attention.

Regular Health Checks

Regular check-ups at Perky Paws Pet Hospital ensure your puppy stays healthy. These visits allow early detection and treatment of potential health issues.

Importance of Dental Care

Good dental hygiene is vital for your puppy’s overall health. Brush their teeth regularly and provide dental chews to keep their teeth clean and strong.

Conclusion

Taking care of a puppy involves a lot of love, patience, and dedication. By following these essential puppy care tips, you’ll set your furry friend up for a healthy and happy life. Remember, Perky Paws Pet Hospital in McKinney is here to support you every step of the way. Schedule regular check-ups and stay proactive about your puppy’s health.

#Puppy Care #Puppy Health Care #Pet Ownership Advice #New Puppy Guide #Pet Health Tips #Puppy Training #Puppy Nutrition #Veterinary Care for Puppies #Puppy Grooming Tips #Socializing a Puppy #Puppy Vaccinations

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paradoxicallytragic · 11 months ago

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Will we stay the same?

You stood outside my window, watching me avoid your calls, but I picked up the third one.

You told me to come outside, but I said I haven't showered yet, and you said it doesn't matter, so I threw on a jacket over my pajamas and ventured out in the cold.

You were leaving the next day and you wanted to see me before you did, why?

If this just exists behind closed doors, why did you come knock on mine? This back and forth, the hot and cold, the 'I'll get attached to you if we chat' feels childish, we're too old for this. I'm too old for this. So I had already decided that I wouldn't carry you into the new year.

We walked in the winter rain while you tended to phone calls, like always. I really wonder why you do that, am I that unbearable?

I walked you till the corner of the street cause I couldn't walk you home and you hugged me, it was long, it was the end. I whispered bye in your ear, and we pulled apart.

But you hugged me again, and you kissed me on the cheek, all this while my head repeating 'it's all a goodbye' so I said, 'don't text me' and honestly I meant it. But you chuckled and held my hand still.

I wished you safe travels and said 'bye' for the last time and turned around, left you at that corner of the street. Our hands slowly parting as I walked away. I didn't look back, normally I do, I always do, I really wanted to but I kept telling myself it's goodbye. You're not someone I like.

I can't keep breeding infatuation out of boredom and then keep shooting myself over it. I can't be in pain cause I'm bored and neither can I be so love starved that I'd walk right into chaos. I'm choosing different this time.

I'm choosing goodbye.

~If.its.not.hell.yes.its.no.thank.you

#feelings #2am thoughts #all the feels #sad quotes #sadgirl #sorry for the rant #feels #my post #love #song

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redemptioninterlude · 1 year ago

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there's a little thrill within marlene for the gossip of it. in a town this small, there's few things that could spark a little mystery. she'd grown up too used to the fast clip of the city, and the motives of this town read terribly DULL. she isn't someone who's used to things standing still around her... and perhaps she's always had a live wire of energy, coursing right through her, but oh, how there's nothing quite as dangerous as the boredom of teenaged girls, how she'll find with lo ways that the two of them could get up to no good, despite harlen's trepidation. it's the by product of their circumstance... it's the consequence of exitence.

and it's what BONDS THE TWO GIRLS fast as thick as thieves. for better, or for worse. she thinks of herself as the bad influence perhaps, but it's not as if that's wholly unwelcome. after all, all girls go through a moment in time in which they bloom within the presence of a friend, who introduces them to all the odd things that only ever came up in a life well lived. but this place chafes at her skin - it reminds her oh what it costs to stand still. or maybe she was a girl who was born to be killed, the one to dive in head first, regardless of the danger. maybe that was why the two of them had someone like harlen in their lives...

... someone who, for example, looked between them now with a pinched concern within his levelled gaze. as if he, alone, might stand between them and chaos, and it's a bit of a romantic idea, isn't it? in a way. at least for her, who's daydreams are hungrier than her practicality, as the hours PILE UP and this small time life begins to consume her, raw. poor harlen... he represented the best, and the worst of what small town living could be like, how he knew every part of the clockwork of this place, and all the people who scurried amongst the cogs... it's why her words seemed to unsettle him for a moment, and while she should, marlene stretched, as if almost proud of the knowledge that she sat upon.

"yes, the reporter." it sounds a bit like a threat, falling off of her tongue so sweetly like that. how the southern heat swelters around the words, and breed off the infectiousness of all that it could insinuate. that there was a reporter, and therefore there were secrets that were being hidden. that would be unearthed, perhaps, to the prying eyes of some outsider, someone who had no roots, no qualms, to quarry to this disastrous little town. "do you remember that ACCIDENT where they found the body out in the woods? turns out the lady's husband is like, some big shot lawyer in mobile or something like that. he hired a bunch of people to look into it, and now this reporter's in town trying to follow all the interest in it. i think the lady was working over at the safeco on 5th. you know the one? i didn't know she was married, though... i suppose you learn all kinds of things in moments like this."

- @444fm

DOLORES HAS ONLY KNOWN THE QUIET , there was nothing inherently flashy about the life that she's lived . in her dreams , she idealizes a life so much different than her own . perhaps it's the reason that she pries into marlene's life ; all too eager to know of a life different than her own . she talks of moving far away , somewhere to a city that never sleeps and where people won't think twice about her last name . she no longer wanted to be known , but to be just a cog in the machine . branded by a name , where she's forced to act in a way that's palatable to family friends . it was no way to live , and she desperately yearned to shed the skin she'd grown into .

a wistful kind of sigh that parts her lips , her chin propped against the palm of her hand as bony elbows bore into the rickety wood of the front desk . her gaze shoots between the two , a small smile threatening to tug at the ends of her lips . for a small moment , she's content to be here . to listen to the two of them talk about the news , and how it would always be plagued by some illness , some bloodshed . for a second , everything is simple in a way that brings her peace . " yeah , but have we got to focus so much on it all ? " dolores hums the inquiry , her free hand swatting at the air to dismiss the glooming negativity that all that kind of talk brings . she's always been the blind kind of optimist , and it's always been a chore to those around her . to see the very best in people , despite their inherent urge to be the very worst . she'd bloody her hands in a feeble effort to fix someone who was determined to be broken .

HARLEN'S DIFFERENT , HE'S MADE PEACE with the fact that not everybody in this world harbors the same intentions as his own . skeptical , yet logical . the kind of man that bases his opionions on facts , and what could be proved true . he stands in stark contrast to the girl before him . dolores was a headache and a handful , all at once . he can't recall the amount of times he'd come to her rescue , because she's always gotten in over her head in her fruitless efforts to dig deep enough into bottomless pits . he stands besides dolores , brows furrowed towards the two . there's a look that stumbles between disbelief and giving up . he can appreciate marlene's skeptical demeanor , and he hopes it pushes some sense into dolores . maybe she'd learn , maybe she'd ignore it all . regardless , it was always his mess to clean up after .

" i base this all on factual information , by the way . the sheriff is one of dad's old friends , it takes a phone call and five minutes to run someone's name and know that they're not a threat . you need to stop watching so much television , " he hums , eyes rolling in the very slightest . quietly appreciative , although he'd never really vocalize it . airy laughter parts his lips , his hip resting against the worn wood of the front desk . there's exhaustion evident in his eyes , the way discoration prickles at the skin beneath his eyes . his hands busied for a moment , pulling his long hair into a mess of a low bun . his gaze narrows towards marlene when she speaks of reporters . normally , harlen took stock of all the ins and outs of this town - he's not sure how he's missed it . " reporter ? since when ? for what ? "

#444fm #❝ threads ❞ ┆ the revolution will be televised !#❝ m. mckinnon ❞ ┆ interactions ┆ will you still love me when i'm no longer young and beautiful !#❝ m. mckinnon ❞ ┆ modern verse ┆ comin through satellites while cruisin !

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mistress-ofmagic · 2 years ago

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Unexpected Encounters

Request: Can you write an imagine similar to "Around the Realms in 80 days" where reader and Loki are sharing a tent and reader walks in on Fandral and Lady Loki making out?

A/N: this is my first request! I hope I've done okay lol!

It was getting late and you were cold. The sun was almost down, but you took a second to admire the beauty of the Asgardian sunset.

Sighing, you decided it was probably time to leave your post, and head back to camp. You hadn’t exactly been fruitful; you were hoping to catch something for dinner but nothing had appeared. At least that’s what you told yourself; to be honest you weren’t completely sure what you would even do if some sort of animal did turn up. You were pretty sure you wouldn’t have the gaul to catch it or kill it for food.

You shuddered. No, best perhaps to stick to the vegetables you had found.

Although the last time you had brought some “vegetables”, Loki had immediately smacked the food out of your hands and informed you they were definitely poisonous.

At lest you tried.

This time you were hoping the food you found was at least edible.

You held on for a few moments more, reluctant to head back. Travelling with a hoard of Asgardian guards was not a quiet affair, and you enjoyed the peacefulness of being outdoors away from the men.

To be honest, you were sort of sick of the arguments; for grown men they sure as hell bickered a lot.

The worst by far was Loki and well…everyone now you thought about it. You weren’t sure if it was actually possible for Loki to go a whole day without causing chaos. Being the God of mischief you wondered if it might actually be out of his control.

You had been suck in the same place for a while now too, the weather had been awful over the past few weeks, causing floods to grow across the land. Until the water died down, the party was stranded.

The lack of movement of course created a breeding ground for boredom, arguments and pettiness, and you tried to stay out of it as best as possible.

Perhaps though, actually, the worst of it was the arguments between Loki and Fandral. You knew there was some sort of past between the two although you hadn’t been privy to those particulars, the situation you were currently in was resurfacing some sort of drama.

If you could sit from a far and watch it, you might have found it somewhat entertaining. As it was, you were currently sharing a tent with the Prince, meaning that you were more often than not in the vicinity when the arguments erupted.

They seemed to know exactly how to wind each other up, and you couldn’t decide if they actually secretly enjoyed it or not. Why else did they make any excuse to get the other ones attention?

You picked your feet up and slowly headed back to camp. Ignoring the sound of shuffling animals in the bushes so you didn’t feel too guilty about bringing nothing back.

To your surprise (or not) it looked like the men had already eaten and had started to head to bed. The feeling of stagnation had irritated even the most patient of men, meaning they headed off to their own tents to get away from each other.

You scoffed the food that had been left for you, and left your vegetables near the camp; someone could decide tomorrow if it was suitable to eat.

Ready for a good nights sleep, you started to walk round to Loki’s tent. Loki preferred to sleep away from the rest of the men, so had set up a little further out. As it turns out, this was a good thing, and meant you didn’t get woken up at an ungodly hour every time someone wandered past to relieve themselves.

As you got closer, you felt something was off. For starters, the tent flaps were slightly open; Loki normally loved privacy. You guard was up, and you tiptoed gingerly closer to the tent, listening out for anything that could be wrong.

You could hear movement and the sound of rustling and… wait was that a moan?

You stood at the edge of the tent and slowly, quietly peaked round, worried about what you would find.

There, sat on the bed was Fandral, naked from the waist up, making out with a lady who straddled him.

Your brain short circuited, and your first stupid thought was “why is Fandral getting it on with someone in my tent, doesn’t he have his own?”

You almost interrupted them to tell them that but something stopped you. There was something almost familiar about the woman but you couldn’t remember where you’d seen her before. She had long silky black hair, and high cheek-bones. She was wearing a short silky green robe that was tight with thin belt, demonstrating her long thin legs. The robe was rather askew in a haphazard way, displaying one of her full breasts. On her head, she wore Loki’s helmet.

Loki’s going to be soooo pissed you thought, as you assumed this was some sort of set up on Fandral’s behalf to get back at him from an earlier argument.

The couple came up for a breath, and Fandral caressed the lady’s face gently. You were surprised at the gesture, you had never seen him look so tender; to be honest you hadn’t really thought it possible.

His chest heaved,

“Mm, Loki…”

....

What??

Suddenly it clicked in place, that the lady currently looking adoringly down into Fandral’s eyes was Loki.

You knew Loki was a shapeshifter sure, but you had never actually seen them as a female before.

Not that you would ever tell Loki, but it was a good look.

After the initial shock, the next feeling you felt was irritation. This was your bed too, why couldn’t they have gone to Fandral’s tent?

Loki suddenly pushed Fandral hard down onto the bed and moved her hips over his groin.

Fandral moaned. “What are you going to do to me, Mistress?”

You hadn’t necessarily taken Fandral for the submissive type, although, you mused, you hadn’t necessarily ever really thought about it before.

You suddenly remembered back to yesterday afternoon, when Loki had shoved an unsuspecting Fandral into the nearby pond and told him to watch his step. Fandral had gone quite pink, you thought out of anger but perhaps he rather enjoyed it.

“Oh, Lo-Lo!” Fandral moaned.

Lo-Lo? Forgetting for a second, completely the situation you were in, you chortled.

The couple on the bed stopped suddenly and Loki whipped round to face you.

“Um…bye then.” You turned quickly and tried to leave.

In a flash of green magic, you were sitting on the chair in the middle of the room.

Fandral looked anxious and Loki was glaring at you. Luckily you knew Loki enough to not be too scared of him.

“Oh come on… I won’t tell anyone!” You groaned. “Or could you at least put some clothes on before you kill me, this is not the last view I want to have before I die.”

Loki rolled her eyes.

“How long have you been there?”

“Far too long, it just took me by surprise. So… is this like a thing then?”

Loki and Fandral glanced at each other, and after a pause Loki nodded curtly.

You grinned,

“And I’m the first to know?”

Loki eyed you suspiciously. “What do you want mortal?”

“Who me?” You blinked innocently. “Come on, I’m genuinely happy for you! I think this is a good thing.” You said sincerely.

Loki raised an eyebrow.

“Ugh, can I go now? This is way worse for me than it is for you.” You complained.

Fandral and Loki sighed and Loki rolled her eyes again.

“Fine. Leave.”