#mr midnight kin

[murfeelee]

No Save Point - Pt2

I used to pray to God, but I think he took a vacation Cuz now the state of Cali is run by these corporations The skyscrapers shadow the homeless, the population The degradation they're faced with should be an abomination Their body parts are stolen and sold to the richest patient And we're the mercenaries at war with the active agents The legislators that work for the sadists that kill the babies Will die Hit the back of a bullet-riddled Mercedes Justice served Murder them, and the chauffeur Hit pump of herb; let my brain exit the earth That's righteous, huh? Cyberpunk holding a pump Keanu Reeves, cyber arm under my sleeve! I blast 'em all Watch 'em fall like autumn leaves D*mnit I can't leave Night City keeps calling me God*mnit I'm a G And this f*k💩 is all it need Life's a f*kin b!tch, but this b!tch ain't divorcing me!

– No Save Point: by Run the Jewels - Cyberpunk 2077 OST ♫♬

MY THOUGHTS & CC CREDITS

MY THOUGHTS

I've been meaning to do this second part of No Save Point for frikkin EVER, but needed to find a good cyber arm ACC to convert and kept putting it off till now. Oops?

CC CREDITS (No links cuz laziness)

- Dude 1 dreads Midnight Hollow Danjaley edit, fur jacket by JS Sims 3, glow shoes by Semller | chains ACC in beta by me

- Dude 2 Maelstrom goggles by me, scuba suit from IP EP, boots from EA's MVSP | Omni Tool ACC in beta by me

- Girl 1 Zendaya braids by RolloRolls, fang grillz & pose by Kosmokhaos, eyes at MTS, dress 435 by Sims2fanbg at TSR, bracer ACC by LiKo, leggings (IDER oops)

- Girl 2 hair Gramsijms Deja by Carver, fur coat by Nemiga, top at TSR, Balenciaga robot legs by iCON, ITF EP boots

- Gun ACCs by Cloudwalker_NZ at MTS

- Gun poses by Cloudwalker_NZ at MTS, Mr. Pon's gun poses, DHAL's espionage poses

- Lambo car by Dailycard, deco gun & grenade by CapitalSims, deco snakes by Helen & Toreno

- Militech hologram light in beta by me

[meowcats734]

The midnight revelation was the first major lead we had on Jiaola's location, but it was still just that: midnight. Meloai didn't need to sleep, but Lucet had been practicing cold spells relentlessly, and Sansen was an old man who'd hiked through a supernatural blizzard while maintaining a permanent spell of futuresight. As much as I wanted to burst into the storm and save Jiaola myself, we were in no shape to go haring off into the wilderness just yet.

But I sure as hell couldn't sleep, so I decided to try and bleed off my nervous energy by honing my magic. I wasn't going to be able to mess with my friends' emotions for the sake of getting more attunements while they were sleeping, and besides, I'd run through pretty much every attunement that I thought I could get myself without being a massive dick to the people I cared about most. Giving Lucet a friendly prank-scare or sparking a little joy in Meloai's eyes was one thing—intentionally betraying Sansen's trust or snuffing out someone's sense of wonder was a step beyond what I felt I was willing to do in order to touch one more school of magic. And those were the tamer of the attunements I could try to grab for myself. I'd already picked all the low-hanging fruits when it came to attunement.

That being said, although my obsession with piling up attunements had paid off already with saving Mertri's soul, it was far from the only way that I could improve myself. Every spell I practiced, every memory I summoned into my soulspace, every demon I created and trained was another tool in my arsenal for the next time Iola or Mr. Ganrey or Odin showed up to ruin everyone's day. 

And besides... there was a very real possibility that I could do some good for the fallen while I trained my magic. So I told Meloai to keep an eye out and quietly slipped into the storm.

The blizzard had buried the once-fertile plains, swallowing everything from the tiniest of gnats to the light of day itself. Somehow, it almost felt fitting that even the sun would fade before the apocalyptic hailstorm. After all, what went better together than the cold and the dark?

Well. Necromancers and the dead, for one. Idly, I wondered if in some other life I would've answered something cutesy and trite like "peanut butter and jelly," or "puppies and cuddles," or "governments and corruption." Perhaps that other version of me wouldn't be shivering in sub-zero weather, a repulsion spell keeping the hail from caving in my skull, scouring the fields of the dead for souls that I could still knit back together.

Or perhaps that other version of me would have died long ago. Who knew. Not me, for sure; I wasn't an oracle. Maybe I'd ask Sansen to look into some alternate futures for the fun of it, when we were safely away from the center of a battlefield and everyone we loved was safe.

The blizzard may have been blinding to the mundane eye, but my soulsight had grown by leaps and bounds in the past few weeks, and I could see the constant puffs of death drifting up from the ground. There was where a family of mice starved to death, their sparkling souls shattering like raindrops on earth. Then was when a soldier had frozen, succumbing to the supernatural frost, a few glittering motes of fading souldust marking where he'd passed.

I stepped up to the body, closing their eyes with one hand. I wasn't here for the bodies, although I guessed that if there was anyone left to claim the fallen soldier as kin, I would happily reunite the two. As in, I'd bring the claimant to their slain family, not send them to the afterlife together. Man, people had held weird prejudices against necromancers for so long that even my subconscious felt the need to clarify. But the point was, the bodies of the dead weren't why I'd come out here.

I'd come here for the souls.

It was a feat of concentration maintaining the spell keeping the hail away while I worked another piece of magic: I had to simultaneously manage the bile of disgust pouring into the repulsion spell while digging out a shard of sorrow from my soul, slicing open a tiny rift between planes. The emotions I used to fuel my magic were rarely pleasant, and this was no exception.

But it would be worth it.

A sliver of the dead soldier's soul slipped from thoughtspace to realspace, and I concentrated, drawing it closer to me with the memory of a pair of tweezers. The sliver was barely enough to contain more than a moment of the soldier's life, but as the soul shard melded with my mind, a flash of memory shot through me—

"Leave me behind," I gasped, falling to the ground. "Get to the camp. It'll be faster without a wounded soldier weighing you down."

—and I swallowed heavily, taking in a deep, quavering breath.

Other necromancers might have tried to raise an army with the raw corpses left behind. But I was the greatest necromancer still alive beneath this unceasing storm.

I wasn't here to enslave the bodies of the dead.

I was here to remember their stories.

The greatest necromancers always were historians, after all. Any two-bit thug could raise a freshly-fallen corpse, but if you wanted to summon an army of souls bound to skeletons, there was no better way than unearthing a hidden mass grave from a war two centuries ago. I was a historian, too. Trying to catch the sparks of souls before they faded into thoughtspace.

I stood, narrowing my eyes, and plucked the memory back out from my soul. It was an art that I was still getting used to—anyone who would have taught me further soul manipulation was either as in the dark as I was, a mortal enemy, or dead—but with the help of a tweezer of soulstuff, I held the memory so that it barely skimmed the surface of my soul, still as fresh and perfect as the moment I'd absorbed it. The tracks the soldier's companions had left shone bright in my memory, even if they'd long since been swallowed by the snow, and I followed them like a dog on a hunt. Not that there were any living dogs within a hundred miles.

"Getting warmer," I muttered to myself. "Warmer... warmer... hot."

The memory ended abruptly, but it was enough of a lead that I could pick up the finer details. I was no tracker, but one of the soldier's companions must have been a fairly competent mage of freedom—now that I knew what to look for, I could see the telltale signs from here on out of where the path had been blown free of snow. I reached the end of the trail, hope rising. Maybe... maybe, for once in this fucking endless torment of chronicling the dead, I could actually save someone for once. I would dearly love nothing more than my power over death being utterly, completely useless.

"Warmer," I said, pacing towards what I dimly recognized as a snow cave—

And stopped dead.

Because my soulsight pierced all barriers as mundane as physical objects, and I could see very, very clearly that there were no living souls in the shelter.

Just the leftover fragments of shattered souls.

Despite my layers of thick mountain clothing, I suddenly felt very, very cold.

I trudged forwards, blowing aside the front wall of the shelter with a swipe of my hand and a pulse of disgust, to confirm with my eyes what my soul already knew. Two more soldiers laid dead, embracing each other beneath the snow.

Once more, I pressed against the skin of reality and made a single, incisive cut. The soul fragment that came through was disjointed, a mangled whisper, but still I made sense of the broken memory, disentangling it into a single sentence:

We died warm.

I fell still, standing beside the two frozen bodies, and some cold, calculating part of me wondered if a distant observer would be able to tell which of us were the dead and which of us were the living.

Then, mutely, I turned around to return to my shelter. It was time to put today's expedition to an end.

I was getting colder, after all.

A.N.

Soulmage is a serial written in response to writing prompts. Stick around for more episodes, or join my Discord to chat about it!

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[g1rliepop]

INTRODUCTION GO!

Hello! im girliepop. but ya can call me riley<3

Yups, I'm ace and genderfluid. (shhh im actually a shapeshifter!!)

I go by any pronouns, feel free to use the ones you feel like using!

((MINOR))

DNI:

any kind of negative community.

this includes homophobia, racism, and all of those hateful communities.

Now that we set that clear, here are my interests!

Interests:

DapperMrTom<33

@lexusinsannus my fav nerd<3

Team Theorists!

DnD<3

FNAF: The Musical

Random Encounters

Lacey Games :3 <3 (i kin her)

The World of Mr. Plant

Gardening with Argos

Indie horror games!!!! :3

Mean Girls :0

Musicals!! <3

arg's of any type!!

Madilyn Mei!!

Therianthropy

The Midnighters (the book!!)

and obv, any kind of lore!!

other facts that you didn't need to know!!

- I have a red heart cushion which is lavender scented, but when you don't freeze it or warm it up, it smells like chamomile!

-pinterest and Spotify are married, prove me wrong.

-my room is baby purple. it's inspired by my favourite scent! (lavander)

-I act, sing and i voice act! (theatre kid starter pack)

-my fave food is E G G S

-i quote every thing I find funny in Tom's streams. Examples:

«We're gonna die! Woo-hoo!!» -DapperMrTom, 2024

«Oooo power!» -Steffi, 2024

«I'm such a menace to society!» -Tom, 2024

Woo! End of the facts!! And end of the intro!! Now...

S T I C K E R S :

BYE BYE!!! :3

[orangesunsets12]

Keep Him Safe Chapter 1 (Spider-Man & Daredevil fanfic)

Next Chapter (Chapter 2) // MCU Masterlist

Summary:

Peter Parker's world flips upside down when Miles Morales loses his mother, and Peter is declared as Miles' new guardian.

But when a scientist challenges Peter's ability to be a father, Peter enlists the help of Matt Murdock to dispute it.

Because it isn't just about a custody battle. Winning or losing could be the difference between Miles' life or death.

And Peter is going to do everything he can to keep Miles safe.

Rated Teen and Up. Minor Character Death. Word count: 4674

Spider-Man and Daredevil Crossover

Read below or on AO3 above!

It was nearly midnight when Peter got the call. 

He was swinging through New York, keeping an ear out for any signs of trouble, any cry for help. He had plans to meet up with Daredevil later for pizza, but as soon as he saw the unknown number on his phone, something told him that he wouldn’t be able to. 

Was it his Spider-senses? He didn’t know. He just had a bad feeling. 

Landing on a roof, he pulled his mask just above his nose, answering the phone and pressing it to his ear.

“Hello, Peter Parker speaking.”

“Peter Parker? Sorry to call you so late.” It was a woman’s voice, soft, friendly, and professional. “I’m Vivian, I work at Child and Family Services. I’m calling on behalf of Miles Morales.”

Peter’s heart dropped into his stomach, his hands shaking briefly. 

“What? What happened?”

Miles came from a good family. His father was one of the best cops that Peter had the pleasure of knowing before Officer Davis was murdered, and Miles’ mother was one of the sweetest women on the planet. She would protect Miles from anything she could. Then, why was Child and Family Services calling? What happened?

“His mother, Rio Morales, was recently reported dead in Sweden. We were assigned to Miles’ case as soon as we heard. Do you have a moment to talk?”

Dead? Rio? Peter’s head swam, and he crouched down, focusing on the cold wind on the lower half of his face, the way his breath slowly entered his lungs. 

Miles had mentioned that she was going on a trip to Sweden, a vacation. Miles was going to be home alone for a few days during it. Was he home alone when the police, or CPS, or someone came to his door and told him his mother was dead? 

“Mr. Parker?”

“Yes! Yes, I can talk, sorry, the news is just a bit of a shock.” His voice was wavering, that he knew, but he couldn’t hang up. He needed to hear this. He needed to be strong for Miles. 

“I can imagine, I’m so sorry for your loss. Currently, Miles is staying with a family friend, but we would like to speak to you in person. You were listed as the next of kin in Rio’s will.”

The breath was stolen from his lungs, and Peter was left stranded, the words feeling like a bullet in his skull, drilling, drilling, drilling, shocking him down to his core. 

Him? To take care of Miles?

Peter Parker wasn’t a father. He was only 24. He never thought that he was good with kids, he was barely even good at interacting with people his own age. He couldn’t take care of Miles, he would never be capable of it. He was Miles’ mentor, and friend. Not a father. Not even a father figure. 

His mind wandered back to one of his own father figures, his bold attitude, his kindness when it mattered. He saw his picture plastered on the walls of New York, complete with a yellow and red helmet, sometimes those sunglasses that everyone could recognise . Peter had told himself long ago that he would never be Iron Man to the world, he could never be. He knew now that he couldn’t even be Tony Stark to a young hero now, a kid who needed someone to take care of them. He couldn’t be Tony Stark for Miles, not like Mr Stark was for Peter. He couldn’t.

“We’re at the office in downtown New York, if you could get here as soon as possible, Mr. Parker.” The woman, Vivian, finished, and soon Peter was left listening to a droning sound, signifying that the call was over. 

His hands formed fists, frustrated that Miles had lost both of his parents, that Rio had trusted Peter to do a good job taking care of her amazing son, that the world was so cruel to take yet another good person away from them. 

He wanted to throw his phone to the roof beneath him. He wanted to scream. He wanted to find Miles and give him the biggest hug that he could. He wanted to…he wanted…

But he couldn’t. He had to talk to these people. He had to get things sorted out. 

Taking one more deep breath, Peter put his phone back into the hidden pocket, shot his web, and swung towards downtown. 

--------------------------------------------

The office was bathed with a cold white light when he walked in, Spidey suit in his backpack, the receptionist clicking away at the desk, her eyes displaying sorrow. Peter guessed that it was the nature of her job that brought that. 

“Hey, my name is Peter Parker. I’m here on behalf of Miles Morales?” He told her, and she looked up, biting her lips with worry. 

After she confirmed his identity with his drivers license, one that he never used, she let him sign a visitor log before guiding him to Vivian. 

“Down the hall, to your left. There’s someone else in there though, a legal representative.”

“A legal rep?”

Peter hadn’t called his lawyer, well, not for this. He had only called Matt Murdock to let him know that he wouldn’t make it for pizza tonight. He wouldn’t put it past Matt to know what was happening, but he would always, always, talk to Peter before representing him legally. 

“Yes. The two men in there aren’t yours?”

“I…I don’t think so. Thank you.”

Peter gave her a nod before heading to the office, hearing loud voices speaking through the door. Without knocking, he opened it, silencing the conversation on the inside. He didn’t even think of listening to what they were saying, his mind was too wired, his heart too full of emotion to focus on dialing his senses. 

Inside, there were two men standing stiffly, both of whom he didn’t recognise, wearing expensive suits. A woman was sitting at a desk, the nameplate reading Vivian Smith.

“Peter Parker.” She greeted with a nod. “Please, come in.”

Peter made his way inside, yet refused politely to sit down. His spider senses were buzzing in the back of his mind, warning him of some threat, and he didn’t have to wonder where it was coming from for long. 

The two men looked nothing but professional. Stern, serious, and posed a threat to Peter in some way. He was sure to keep himself focused, aware of any movement the men might make. 

“These are the legal representatives of Clarence Fisher, a man who’s contesting the will of Rio Morales.”

“What?” Peter said, resisting forming his hands into fists. Someone was contesting the will? Why? What did this have to do with Peter? 

He hadn’t heard of Clarence Fisher, but who was he to have a right to contest Rio’s will? Why were they here? What did that guy want?

“Mr. Parker.” One of the ment said, stepping forward. “Mr. Fisher has expressed an interest in Miles’ education, Mr. Fisher is one of the sponsors of Brooklyn Visions Academy, the school Miles goes to. He’s seen how exemplary Miles has been in his studies. He believes it best for Miles’ future to be in his own care, not one of a young man who doesn’t have a steady income, like yourself.”

Before Peter could even begin to understand the meaning of the words, Vivian spoke up. 

“They believe that Rio Morales wasn’t in the right mental capacity when writing the will. This version was written right after the death of their husband, and Mr. Fishers’ legal team believes that she would not have given you the guardianship of Miles if she had been in her right mind.”

“Wait. Wait. Are you saying that your employer wants to adopt Miles?” Peter asked, rage and confusion burning in his chest. “Why? Just because he’s smart? And you don’t think I’m fit to take care of him?”

There was a nagging voice in his mind telling him that he wasn’t. But he ignored it, for now. 

“Mrs. Morales wasn’t in her right mind when she made that decision.” The other man said, and Peter shook his head. 

“No. Look, you won’t be taking Miles. I’m taking him.”

He wasn’t ready to be a father, he couldn’t help Miles, he wasn’t capable of taking care of a fifteen year old kid, but Peter would rather die than let Miles be taken by a random man who only liked him for his smarts. 

“Mr. Parker, you’re incapable of being an appropriate guardian.”

He was incapable, Peter would admit that. But he would learn. He would get help. He would do what he could to keep Miles safe. And, right now, Peter adopting him was the safest option. He knew that for certain.

His spider-senses wouldn’t dull, they only got stronger. These people were dangerous. They would hurt Miles.

“You can’t take him. You’re not written in the will, and Miles doesn’t know Mr. Fisher. You have no legal ground for this.” Peter argued, trying to remember all he could about the legal system. “Even if I’m not declared a fit guardian, he would be put in the foster system.”

“I can assure you that my employer will easily convince the court of how his position is a viable option, as he can take care of Miles and give him the life he deserves. The judge will have no opposition to Mr. Fisher adopting Miles.”

Peter let out a harsh laugh. “I won’t let you do this.”

“I suggest that you get a lawyer then, Mr. Parker.” The man to the left said with a frown, “Mr. Fisher won’t give up on this so easily.”

“Then I’ll see you in court.”

-------------------------------------------------

It was about 3:30 in the morning when Peter made it to the home Miles was staying in. Exhaustion clung to Peter’s bones, making every step a battle, yet Peter pushed through it. He needed to see Miles. He needed to make sure that he was okay. 

He knew how Miles must be feeling right now. After Peter lost Aunt May, he felt lost, and  so, so alone. He didn’t want Miles to feel the same way for another second. 

He knocked on the door, and didn’t even have to wait a minute before it opened, casting a warm light onto his face. 

“Oh! You must be Peter! Vivian called and told us that you were coming!”

The woman in front of him was older, with wisps of white hair among the black strands, her kind face smiling sadly at him. He could instantly see why the Morales family was friends with her. The woman made him feel protected, loved, and he had just met her. 

“Hi. Could I see Miles?”

“Oh course! He’s in the basement, he prefers to be alone right now, as expected, the poor boy, but he’ll be happy to see you. Come in, come in! Are you hungry?”

Peter stepped into the door, shaking his head, despite the fact that he was starving. He hadn’t eaten since lunch the previous day. But, he knew that he wouldn’t be able to stomach anything now, anyways.  

“No, thank you.”

“Let me know if either of you need anything, okay, dear?”

“I will.”

Peter went down the stairway right by the door, partially surprised to hear nothing but slow breathing from the lower room. Miles always had music playing, usually pop and hip-hop with rap, music that he had been trying to get Peter to listen to for months. Yet now, no music was heard. It was a true testament to how much Miles was truly hurting. 

And there the kid was, sitting on the couch, frozen where he sat. His phone was discarded on the seat next to him, silent. Miles didn’t even acknowledge that Peter was there, despite the fact that he no doubt heard him. 

“Hey, Miles.” Peter said softly, and that’s when Miles looked up. 

When Peter had made his way around the couch, he could see tears in Miles’ eyes. His face crumbled as soon as his eyes met Peter’s, and Peter didn’t hesitate to wrap him in a hug, letting Miles’ wrap his arms around him with a strength that only Spider-Men possessed. 

He began sobbing, his body trembling with emotion, and Peter didn’t shush him, instead running his hands over his back, tucking his head into Peter’s shoulder. 

“I’m here, Miles, I’m here.” He muttered. Miles bawled at that, and Peter didn’t care. “You’re going to be okay. I’m here. I’m always here, Miles.”

So he held him, held the kid as the world was no doubt crumbling around him. He wanted to be an anchor for him, despite the storm that threatened to drown him, despite how Miles probably felt so alone. 

“I’m here. I’m here.” 

Peter could feel his own throat close up, tears burning at the back of his own eyes, thinking of the death, the loss, the pain that was too familiar to him, and he tucked his chin into Miles’ hair, unwilling to let go, but unwilling to break. He could feel Miles’ tears on his shirt, but he didn’t care. He never would. 

“She’s gone, Pete! She’s dead!” Miles’ voice broke as he screamed, “I couldn’t save her! I couldn’tー”

“She would never blame you, Miles.” A few tears escaped Peter’s own eyes, slowly falling down his cheeks, and his own body shook with a suppressed sob. “She would never blame you.”

Miles didn’t let go, and Peter didn’t either, rocking the younger boy back and forth, trying to give comfort. Peter knew what it felt like to hurt. He knew what it was like to lose someone you loved. And, he knew sometimes all someone could do was be there. So, he would. He would fight to keep Miles safe, and to be there for every high, and every low. 

Especially the lows. 

--------------------------------------------

Matt Murdock had just gotten up to get more coffee when he heard a familiar heartbeat enter the office of Nelson, Murdock, and Page. It was fast, yet strong, pulsing with a purpose, slightly nervous. His only question was if this was Peter Parker walking into his office, or Spider-Man. 

He hoped that the young man didn’t feel bad about canceling pizza the night before, things always came up, and they could always reschedule. But he knew Peter. He knew that Peter always blamed himself for things that were very well out of his control, even something as small as missing dinner. Yet, something told Matt that this visit was more than just an unneeded apology. 

He tilted his head, listening to what Peter would say to Karen, and waited to make an appearance until he knew if Spider-Man was in the office, or just Peter. 

“Hi! Welcome in, how can I help?” Karen greeted cheerily, and Matt could hear the smile on her face. There was the shifting of clothing, and Peter stepped forward. 

“Hi. I’m Peter Parker. I’m friends with Matt. I was wondering if I could maybe talk to him?”

“That’s great, he’s just in his office. Matt!!”

At her call, Matt walked out of the office, acting as if he didn’t know that Peter was there. He knew that everyone in this office knew that he was Daredevil, but he still needed to keep up appearances. The last thing he wanted was to out Peter’s own secret identity. 

As soon as he opened the door, he smiled, heading towards Peter. The young man held himself tall, yet something seemed tight in his posture, something unnerving. Peter was scared. 

“Matt, how are you? It’s Peter. Parker. ” Peter said casually, but MKatt could hear a slight bit of awkwardness. Matt held out his hand, shaking Peter’s hand when it met him in the middle. 

“It’s good to hear your voice, Peter. And I’m doing well, thank you. I see you’ve met Karen, and my partner, Foggy, is just in the office.”

Peter nodded, and Matt noticed that he was holding something in his left hand…a bag? No, a briefcase.

“What can I help you with? I imagine this isn’t a social call.”

All of their social calls took place on top of New York roofs, in red costumes. If Peter was here, he was looking for Matt Murdock, not Daredevil. 

“Yeah, it’s not. I’m looking for a bit of legal advice.”

Matt gestured to the conference room, asked Karen to grab Foggy, and led Peter there, his cane tapping the floor gently as he did so. Peter kept his breathing even, but Matt could tell that it was strained, and put his hand on Peter’s back as he guided him. 

He knew that Peter held a lot of weight on his shoulders, not just as Spider-Man but as the young adult who had lost nearly everyone close to him. He hoped that, whatever was going on, Matt could help. Peter deserved more than to suffer. 

“Are you alright, Pete?”

Peter swallowed. “I’m…I’ve been better. Thanks.”

Peter had sat down when Foggy and Karen entered the room, Karen carrying her notebook, while Foggy came in with his own. 

“Foggy, meet Peter, a friend of mine.” Matt said, and he could tell that the two men shook hands. 

“Matthew Murdock has another friend? Who would’ve thought!” Foggy said, causing Peter to laugh, and Matt wondered if the stress Peter carried was evident even for them.

“How can we help you, Peter?”

Matt wanted to cut to the chase. He knew that Peter was worried, and the less Peter suffered, the better.

“Um…I…” Peter sighed, running his hands through his hair. “There’s this kid I’ve been mentoring, named Miles. He’s fifteen, and we’re really close. His mom just died.”

Karen let out a soft noise of pity, and Matt could hear that Foggy had begun to write something down. 

Matt knew about Miles, he had met the kid a few times as Daredevil. Miles was quick to reveal his identity, trusting Matt easily, and he shared his own name, too. Hearing that he had lost both parents made Matt’s heart ache. No one deserved that. No one. 

Miles was a good kid. Kind, loyal, eager to do good. He hated knowing that that kid was hurting. 

“His father passed away about two years ago.” Peter continued, “He doesn’t have any other family in New York, and his mom, in her will, stated that I would be Miles’ guardian. But, when I went to work things out, I found out that the will is being challenged.”

“Challenged? Like, someone is contesting the will?” Foggy asked, and Peter nodded. 

“They think that his mom wasn’t in her right mind when she wrote it, because she was grieving her husband, and they want their employer to be Miles’ guardian. Not me.”

Karen sighed. “They can’t just contest a will because they want Miles for themself! A will is binding, and I’m sure that she was in her right mind when it was written!”

“Yet, for some reason this employer has decided to.” Matt said, his mind spinning. He had to come up with a reason why the will was being contested. Why did they want Miles? Or, why did they not want Peter to take him in?

Peter Parker fought to keep his identity a secret. And Mysterio just narrowly failed in revealing Spider-Man’s identity, the footage to his final video being cut at the last minute, Peter was being careful who he invited into his fold. Very few villains knew that he was Spider-Man, so it wasn’t likely that whoever this employer is would know that Peter Parker is someone more than he lets on. So, this wasn’t about Peter being Spider-Man. It couldn’t be. 

Then why was Peter being denied being Miles' guardian? He was fit to be a parent, Matt knew it. He was kind, yet stern when the situation called for it. He was a gentle teacher, much more forgiving than Stick ever was. Matt could tell that Miles flourished under Peter’s guidance, and was on his way to becoming one of the finest heroes that New York has ever witnessed. 

“Look, Peter…”Foggy began, his words trailing off. 

“Parker. Peter Parker.”

“Parker. How old are you? I’m not saying this isn’t right, but taking care of a kid is a lot of responsibility. Maybe this isn’t worth fighting.”

Matt listened to Foggy’s observation, tapping the table gently with his fingers. Foggy was both right and wrong. Peter would be under a lot of pressure, but Peter cared for Miles. He would be willing to take the kid under his wing, to face that responsibility, no matter how hard it was. 

Pete always sang Miles’ praises, not only as Miles’ abilities as another Spider-Man, but as a kid who loved people with a pure heart, who loved art and music and wouldn’t stop helping people. Peter would no doubt be honored to be his guardian. 

Peter spoke up, his tone gentle. “I know. And I’m 24. Despite that, I’m…I’m willing to take care of him. I want him to be safe. The men said that their employer was pleased with Miles’ intellect, I’m worried that that’s all he cares for. I don’t feel comfortable sending Miles to someone like that. I would rather keep an eye on him myself. He’s like a brother to me.”

“You think that they’re going to take advantage of him?” Matt asked, and Peter’s heart skipped a beat, not from a lie, but fear. 

“Yeah. He’s a good kid. I don’t want them to use him for…I don’t know. Whatever they want him for.”

Matt heard Karen pull out a laptop, and she began typing. 

“What’s the employer's name, Peter? Did you catch it?”

“Umm. Clarence Fisher, I think.”

Another few taps could be heard, and Karen let out a sigh.

“Karen?” Matt asked. This was where he was lost. He couldn’t read a screen, despite all of his enhanced senses. 

“This guy’s rich. Very rich. He’s the founder of a lot of labs around the city, specializing in biological studies. He’s written a few scientific papers, too.”

“But, why would he want a kid who’s smart?” Foggy asked. “To work at one of the labs?”

The question was met with silence, and Matt took the moment to think. Miles was a genius, sure, but there had to be another motive, as there were plenty of smart kids in New York. Why would someone want Miles specifically?

Perhaps it was innocent. Perhaps this man just wanted a son. 

But Matt didn’t think so. 

“Matt…” Peter said hesitantly, and Matt tilted his head up. 

“Peter?”

“What if Fisher knows? About…everything.”

The thought stuck Matt like a bolt of lightning. A man who had biology labs, who wanted a kid who had the powers of a spider. It made sense, too much sense. Having a child like that could lead to many scientific breakthroughs, some that wouldn’t be found for generations without it. But, would Fisher know that Miles was Spider-Man?

“What? That he knows what?” Foggy asked, but Matt couldn’t reply. Not without giving away Miles’, and Peter’s, identity. “Peter? Matt?”

Peter then spoke up. “I…” 

He clamped his mouth shut, no doubt scared that he would reveal something that he shouldn’t. Thankfully, Matt knew where he was going with it. Their countless days of working together allowed them to predict each other's ideas and thoughts, something that Matt was grateful for. 

“They know I'm Daredevil, Peter, you can trust them.”

“Wait, Matt, he knows?” Karen asked, sounding shocked, and Peter nodded. 

“I do. I’m...” His voice wavered, and Matt didn’t need to wonder why. It was a big responsibility, and a big worry, as whoever knew his identity could be in danger.

Matt could sense Foggy and Karen lean forward. 

“It’s dangerous if you know.” Peter said softly.

“We’re friends with Daredevil.” Foggy said seriously, almost comically, “We can handle it.”

Peter took a deep breath. “I’m Spider-Man. And Miles is my protégé.”

The whole room was quiet, well, as quiet as it could be for Matt. He could hear Foggy and Karen’s heartbeats speed up, with Peter’s beating steadily, unwavering. 

“Miles has told me that I can tell people I trust with this, so please don’t tell anyone else.” Peter asked, yet Matt knew that Peter trusted him, and thus trusted his friends. 

“I…I promise.” Foggy quickly said. “But how? You’re so young!”

Peter sighed. “It’s a long story. But what if Fisher wants Miles for his powers? What if he knows that he’s…different?”

“They could study him. Torture him.” Karen said weakly, raising her hand to her face, and with that said Matt knew that the full gravity of the situation fell upon the room. 

His friends were smart. Peter was smart. They all knew how dangerous this could really be. How badly Miles could get hurt. 

The kid was only fifteen. He didn’t deserve anything like that. He deserved to be happy. 

Matt’s jaw clenched as he thought about it. He could let another kid, another good kid, be robbed of his youth because he wanted to help. Wanted to be better. Wanted to defy the expectations laid on him. 

Matt’s own youth was robbed. Peter’s was robbed. He couldn’t let Miles lose his. Not to a man that might want to study him, cut him open, torture him to figure out how Spider-Man came to be.  

Foggy sighed, running his hand through his hair. “I thought that this was a simple case. Matt, why do you have to be friends with the people with crazy lives?”

Matt managed a small smile. “You’re one of my friends too, Foggy. Careful what you say.”

“Look,” Peter said, speaking up softly. “I know that this isn’t your regular legal case. You guys defend the innocent, not take care of child custody disagreements. But I need Miles to be safe. I need…I want to be his guardian. Is there anyone you can recommend? If Fisher wants him for his powers, I can’t…I can’t lose this case. I can’t let him be hurt.”

Anyone could hear the desperation in his voice, and Matt’s heart broke for him. Peter couldn’t lose this case. He couldn’t lose Miles. 

Their bond was something that Matt himself was shocked to see. Even though Peter had only known him for a few years, they were like brothers. If Peter loses that, after he lost his aunt to the Green Goblin, and his two best friends due to a disagreement that Matt himself didn’t know about yet, he couldn’t imagine the pain Peter would feel. Miles was one of the few people in Peter’s life that was still there. Matt didn’t want to think about how much Peter would suffer if Miles was taken away. 

“What do you think, Matt?” Foggy asked, no doubt sharing a glance with Karen. “I want to take this. I feel like we have to.”

“Peter.” Matt said, tilted his head towards him. “Give us everything you have related to this. Documents, character references, everything. We’ll help you out. I have no doubt that we’ll be able to convince the court and judge that you should be his guardian. But, if this Clarence Fisher is as smart as we think he is, we’ll need to put up a good fight.”

Peter nodded, lifting the briefcase he brought in onto the table. 

“Thank you, Matt. All of you.”

“Don’t thank us yet, Peter. But it’s the least that we can do.”

With those words said, the four of them began pouring over everything Peter brought, from the formal contest of the will, a copy of the will itself, Peter’s own documents and income statements. As they studied, Matt couldn’t help but hope that they would win this, not because he wanted to, but because he had to. 

If they lost this case…no. He wouldn’t think like that. They wouldn’t lose. They couldn’t. 

Next Chapter (Chapter 2) // MCU Masterlist

[brooklynislandgirl]

💚 [For Beth and the system]

Imagine You and Me || Accepting

Beth never assumed she would become entangled with one person, much less three at a time. She absolutely understands DID in a clinical sense, even though psychiatry isn't her field of expertise {and it took one rotation in the discipline to make her blood run cold} but she also doesn't hold it against them. Instead, she takes each identity as they are, and in a way, associates it with there being three roommates living in one house, the body being her point of interaction with them. Sometimes this gives rise to certain insecurities {is this technically considered cheating or a polyandry relationship?} but beyond that, there's a certain kind of charm to it all. Beth does see Marc, Steven, and Jake as different people and not aspects of a single soul in crisis. She can usually pick up on the various mannerisms, quirks, habits of each member of the System, down to the most subtle changes in vocal tone, wording, and micro-expressions. If she's asked, she'll say honestly that Marc was the first she'd been allowed to meet ~through Mr Knight~, and potentially the one that she is closest to. It was Mr Knight who talked with her about the moon and what it means to them, what it was like growing up and not falling into the expectation of parents. It was Marc who held back things about himself, and is the nervous one. She doesn't know why her opinions about him should matter to anyone, but it seems like it does, and Marc is the one who seems to be the most protective of her. It is Marc who is the most like Andy, her point of reference for all men to compete/live up to in her own mind. Marc is the one who lets her feel like she can be a witch, a woman, and Rokea kin all at once without fear. Steven is her sweet and kind friend, the knowledgeable academic, the one enchanted in his own way by her library and her music collection, her artwork, and the world that she feels forced to be present in, even when she doesn't want to be. Steven is the one whom she thinks of when there's cocktail parties and charitable galas, the black tie affairs that involve symphonies, ballets, opera, the theatre in general. Her museum junkie, and really the one she can most easily ask about traditions, beliefs, and just general life lived, without feeling like she's saying something wrong, or that she's somehow...stupid...for not knowing about how the System works, or how to date a Jewish man. Jake is her feral bestie out of the bunch. He's so very funny and irreverent {even if he might be the most spiritual of them all} and of all of them, he feels the most authentically New Yorker. Beth has her guard down the most for Jake, and probably is most protective of him as he comes across as the most innocent of the System's alters. She loves listening to his stories, too, both from his own experiences, and in the recounting of the other two's adventures. Jake is the only one of them that would have her blessing to drive Sally. He's the one that gets invited to karaoke, and maybe even Midnight Margaritas, though sometimes she thinks that he and Jay might actually end up going toe to toe. I love the different energy and themes each member of the System share with and bring out in Beth. There's very little chance of things becoming stale, and Beth is probably one of the few people who sees absolutely no need to "cure" them. If any thing, they are the ones who actually make her feel comfortable in her own self. She's still big mad about the bone structure, though, and how she has to climb counters to look any one of them in the eye. {{11/10 because I adore the potential, the evolution, and wondering what will actually happen as we navigate where they are to where they might end up}}

[toomanyf4ndoms7]

Frustrated by the terrible working conditions and brutal, possibly psychotic masters, Reptile goes to Earthrealm to start anew. He eventually applies to work for a restaurant...

HR Guy: All right, Mr...Tile, we're almost done with the job interview. I just need to ask you one last question. On your application, you left the "Emergency Contacts" space blank. Do you have any next of kin?

Syzoth: (Briefly consumed by murderous thoughts) No.

HR Guy: Friends?

Syzoth: No.

HR Guy: People who are looking for you, and/or might be concerned with knowing your immediate location?

Syzoth: ...No.

HR Guy: Oh! Good, good. Welcome to Fazbear Incorporated, Mr. Tile! We'll get you a purple shirt for you to wear while working.

Syzoth: And what will my duties require?

HR Guy: You'll be acting as security guard for one of our restaurants, during the night's shift. Just sit in the office and watch the security monitors. Couldn't be simpler! Now, the monitors, lights and office doors are battery powered, so try not to run the electricity out. Of course, if the power does run out, the doors will remain open for safety reasons. Oh, I almost forgot to mention, but during the night we like to let our animatronics wander the restaurant. It's something we do to keep their joints from rusting up. But don't worry if one or more of them get near the office, they're perfectly harmless.

Syzoth: Midnight to morning, with only some stupid machines. Sounds simple enough. (Cut to the security guard's office) Why does this room smell like bleach and blood?

How long does he last?

[saint-the-faint]

Fym you didn't find good ideas? Also- You remind me of Dream Sans.

I'm just gonna do my current kins lol- Sorry for having two Hazbins. (not lmao)

@vibing-fictionkin @44-mr-midnight-44 @the-w3irdo @kaceyunderfell @im-just-another-pony @birdofcool @thornsawawa @fivepebbles @stikbr @kuoddo @cherry-b0mber @spearslug-box @adoapplescider @glowingvoid @that-80-s-dude @flickery-fluff @seraphimtv

Not me having some kinda type... Who shall I tag? I think I wanna tagggggg... @mybugsmybugsmybugs @mexicangela @lunar-years @biscuitboxpink but no pressure!! I just thought it would be fun!

[xasha777]

In the heart of the bustling metropolis of Neo-Pollinata, where buildings scraped the skies and neon lights replaced stars, there was a unique corporate hive buzzing with activity. The drone of keyboards was the symphony of progress, and in the midst of it all, there stood an extraordinary figure — Mr. Buzzley, the bee-human hybrid, renowned as the CEO of HoneySolutions Inc., a company that led the way in biotechnological advances.

Mr. Buzzley was no ordinary leader. His eyes, as deep and reflective as pools of midnight oil, saw through the company's data like a predator spots its prey. He wore a suit tailored from the finest materials that the new world provided, a fusion of spider silk and synthetic fibers. His hands, though rough and bearing the textured skin of his apian ancestry, moved with a surprising gentility that belied their appearance.

HoneySolutions Inc. had achieved a breakthrough that was about to revolutionize the world: a Density Gradient Fluid that could alter the weight and density of objects with just a simple application. This fluid had the potential to change transportation, construction, and even space travel. But the secret to its success was not just in its science — it was in its source, a rare flower that bloomed once every decade, pollinated only by a specific species of genetically modified superbees.

These bees were Mr. Buzzley's kin, created from the same gene-splicing technology that had given him life. They had a symbiotic relationship with the company, and Mr. Buzzley was their guardian and their voice. Under his leadership, the bees thrived, the company prospered, and the world stood on the cusp of a new era.

On the morning that changed everything, Mr. Buzzley strolled through the hive of cubicles, his antennae picking up the subtle shifts in the air, the faint electrical charge of innovation at work. He stopped at a large glass wall, peering into the lab where the Density Gradient Fluid was being refined.

There, in a tank of swirling iridescence, floated objects of varying densities, from feather-light alloys to dense metals that now bobbed like apples in water. It was a dance of potential, a visual symphony of science and nature blended into one. Mr. Buzzley's thorax vibrated with a hum of approval, a sound that resonated with the workers, encouraging their diligence and sparking their creativity.

But success breeds envy and danger. A rival corporation, led by the enigmatic Dr. Xenon, sought to claim the Density Gradient Fluid for their own. They planned to use it for less altruistic means — to weaponize it, to control markets, to manipulate the balance of power. And they knew that the key to their ambitions lay in capturing the superbees that pollinated the miraculous flowers.

The day the rival drones attacked was a day of chaos. The skies darkened with their sleek forms, and the air filled with the electric whine of their wings. Mr. Buzzley was ready. He rallied his workers, not just those in suits, but the winged guardians of his lineage. It was a battle that raged amongst the clouds, a flurry of stingers and lasers, a cacophony of human shouts and insectoid war cries.

As Mr. Buzzley fought, he realized that the world he existed in was a fragile construct, as delicate as the wings that carried him. He understood that the future was not in dominating nature or technology but in harmonizing them. With a final, determined effort, he led his kin in a counterstrike that would turn the tide.

The battle ended with the setting of the sun, the rival drones retreating like shadows at the approach of light. And as Mr. Buzzley stood amongst his colleagues and kin, a hero not just of HoneySolutions Inc. but of a balance between worlds, he knew that their work was just beginning.

For in the end, the Density Gradient Fluid was more than a scientific marvel — it was a message, a reminder that the universe was vast, variable, and ever-changing. And it would take all kinds — human, bee, and everything in between — to navigate the complexities of the future.

[therpdirectory]

Site-wide Plot on The Book of Moons

It’s said that if you trip on a cobblestone in Welkinweep, the Arch-Devil will steal your toes. If you see a crow alight on a lamppost at midnight, the Arch-Devil will steal your eyes. It’s become a popular fairy story that children delight in telling for a scare. Often the storyteller will swap out which part of you he will steal; teeth, nails, tongues.

The tale is loosely related to a string of suspicious disappearances over a half-century’s span; each missing person’s next of kin received a package containing one small part of a body, assumed to belong to their loved one. Each was either a current or former resident of Drake street and the areas nearby.

Several innocent denizens have been falsely fingered over the years. Some have been proven to be pranks or copycats, and the true mutilator’s identity has eluded the Recondite Police thus far.

The most recent grisly find took place last year in early winter, 1874, reigniting both the investigation and the imagination of Reconditians:

A package arrived at the doorstep of the Lovett family, a newly wed couple. Valerie Valdez Lovett, the wife, had been missing for several weeks, according to her husband, Hugo Lovett. He opened the package to find a note along with a severed finger which wore Mrs. Lovett’s wedding ring. The contents of the note have not yet been shared to the public.

[rpgadverts]

Site-wide Plot on The Book of Moons

It’s said that if you trip on a cobblestone in Welkinweep, the Arch-Devil will steal your toes. If you see a crow alight on a lamppost at midnight, the Arch-Devil will steal your eyes. It’s become a popular fairy story that children delight in telling for a scare. Often the storyteller will swap out which part of you he will steal; teeth, nails, tongues.

The tale is loosely related to a string of suspicious disappearances over a half-century’s span; each missing person’s next of kin received a package containing one small part of a body, assumed to belong to their loved one. Each was either a current or former resident of Drake street and the areas nearby.

Several innocent denizens have been falsely fingered over the years. Some have been proven to be pranks or copycats, and the true mutilator’s identity has eluded the Recondite Police thus far.

The most recent grisly find took place last year in early winter, 1874, reigniting both the investigation and the imagination of Reconditians:

A package arrived at the doorstep of the Lovett family, a newly wed couple. Valerie Valdez Lovett, the wife, had been missing for several weeks, according to her husband, Hugo Lovett. He opened the package to find a note along with a severed finger which wore Mrs. Lovett’s wedding ring. The contents of the note have not yet been shared to the public.

[jcinktinder]

Site-wide Plot on The Book of Moons

It’s said that if you trip on a cobblestone in Welkinweep, the Arch-Devil will steal your toes. If you see a crow alight on a lamppost at midnight, the Arch-Devil will steal your eyes. It’s become a popular fairy story that children delight in telling for a scare. Often the storyteller will swap out which part of you he will steal; teeth, nails, tongues.

The tale is loosely related to a string of suspicious disappearances over a half-century’s span; each missing person’s next of kin received a package containing one small part of a body, assumed to belong to their loved one. Each was either a current or former resident of Drake street and the areas nearby.

Several innocent denizens have been falsely fingered over the years. Some have been proven to be pranks or copycats, and the true mutilator’s identity has eluded the Recondite Police thus far.

The most recent grisly find took place last year in early winter, 1874, reigniting both the investigation and the imagination of Reconditians:

A package arrived at the doorstep of the Lovett family, a newly wed couple. Valerie Valdez Lovett, the wife, had been missing for several weeks, according to her husband, Hugo Lovett. He opened the package to find a note along with a severed finger which wore Mrs. Lovett’s wedding ring. The contents of the note have not yet been shared to the public.

[allthingsroleplay]

Site-wide Plot on The Book of Moons

It’s said that if you trip on a cobblestone in Welkinweep, the Arch-Devil will steal your toes. If you see a crow alight on a lamppost at midnight, the Arch-Devil will steal your eyes. It’s become a popular fairy story that children delight in telling for a scare. Often the storyteller will swap out which part of you he will steal; teeth, nails, tongues.

The tale is loosely related to a string of suspicious disappearances over a half-century’s span; each missing person’s next of kin received a package containing one small part of a body, assumed to belong to their loved one. Each was either a current or former resident of Drake street and the areas nearby.

Several innocent denizens have been falsely fingered over the years. Some have been proven to be pranks or copycats, and the true mutilator’s identity has eluded the Recondite Police thus far.

The most recent grisly find took place last year in early winter, 1874, reigniting both the investigation and the imagination of Reconditians:

A package arrived at the doorstep of the Lovett family, a newly wed couple. Valerie Valdez Lovett, the wife, had been missing for several weeks, according to her husband, Hugo Lovett. He opened the package to find a note along with a severed finger which wore Mrs. Lovett’s wedding ring. The contents of the note have not yet been shared to the public.

[rpings]

Site-wide Plot on The Book of Moons

It’s said that if you trip on a cobblestone in Welkinweep, the Arch-Devil will steal your toes. If you see a crow alight on a lamppost at midnight, the Arch-Devil will steal your eyes. It’s become a popular fairy story that children delight in telling for a scare. Often the storyteller will swap out which part of you he will steal; teeth, nails, tongues.

The tale is loosely related to a string of suspicious disappearances over a half-century’s span; each missing person’s next of kin received a package containing one small part of a body, assumed to belong to their loved one. Each was either a current or former resident of Drake street and the areas nearby.

Several innocent denizens have been falsely fingered over the years. Some have been proven to be pranks or copycats, and the true mutilator’s identity has eluded the Recondite Police thus far.

The most recent grisly find took place last year in early winter, 1874, reigniting both the investigation and the imagination of Reconditians:

A package arrived at the doorstep of the Lovett family, a newly wed couple. Valerie Valdez Lovett, the wife, had been missing for several weeks, according to her husband, Hugo Lovett. He opened the package to find a note along with a severed finger which wore Mrs. Lovett’s wedding ring. The contents of the note have not yet been shared to the public.

[rockinroleplay]

Site-wide Plot on The Book of Moons

It's said that if you trip on a cobblestone in Welkinweep, the Arch-Devil will steal your toes. If you see a crow alight on a lamppost at midnight, the Arch-Devil will steal your eyes. It's become a popular fairy story that children delight in telling for a scare. Often the storyteller will swap out which part of you he will steal; teeth, nails, tongues.

The tale is loosely related to a string of suspicious disappearances over a half-century’s span; each missing person's next of kin received a package containing one small part of a body, assumed to belong to their loved one. Each was either a current or former resident of Drake street and the areas nearby.

Several innocent denizens have been falsely fingered over the years. Some have been proven to be pranks or copycats, and the true mutilator’s identity has eluded the Recondite Police thus far.

The most recent grisly find took place last year in early winter, 1874, reigniting both the investigation and the imagination of Reconditians:

A package arrived at the doorstep of the Lovett family, a newly wed couple. Valerie Valdez Lovett, the wife, had been missing for several weeks, according to her husband, Hugo Lovett. He opened the package to find a note along with a severed finger which wore Mrs. Lovett’s wedding ring. The contents of the note have not yet been shared to the public.

[bookofmoons]

Site-wide Plot on The Book of Moons

It's said that if you trip on a cobblestone in Welkinweep, the Arch-Devil will steal your toes. If you see a crow alight on a lamppost at midnight, the Arch-Devil will steal your eyes. It's become a popular fairy story that children delight in telling for a scare. Often the storyteller will swap out which part of you he will steal; teeth, nails, tongues.

The tale is loosely related to a string of suspicious disappearances over a half-century’s span; each missing person's next of kin received a package containing one small part of a body, assumed to belong to their loved one. Each was either a current or former resident of Drake street and the areas nearby.

Several innocent denizens have been falsely fingered over the years. Some have been proven to be pranks or copycats, and the true mutilator’s identity has eluded the Recondite Police thus far.

The most recent grisly find took place last year in early winter, 1874, reigniting both the investigation and the imagination of Reconditians:

A package arrived at the doorstep of the Lovett family, a newly wed couple. Valerie Valdez Lovett, the wife, had been missing for several weeks, according to her husband, Hugo Lovett. He opened the package to find a note along with a severed finger which wore Mrs. Lovett’s wedding ring. The contents of the note have not yet been shared to the public.

[rosie-kinniehelp]

Glitchcore Moodboard for Mr. Midnight from Franbow for Anon!! I couldn't think of a good aesthetic for this, so I hope you like it!!!

~ Mod Rose (Chihiro Shift)