#sorry if this isn’t up to standard i’m trying to clear through some of these asks while i’m Out

[foursaints]

saints, we neeeeed you to make an ao3 account. There’re only 8 works for bartylily… EIGHT. You would be great for the ecosystem

to be honest i have something in the works… it’s like tier 3 priority though i have other things i want to clear through but i have negative free time with my double major. inconsolable.

it is a lilyrosekiller high school au lily character study where they all work a terrible summer job at a backwater amusement park. the vision is cooler beer & lipsmackers ice cream lip balm & 4th of july tailgates & denim cutoffs. barty is the sleazy college guy who calls her “kiddo” and helps her restock the cotton candy machine. evan’s entire personality is sitting at that tall chair working the ferris wheel and glowering but she asks him to readjust the knot on her friendship bracelet in the break room and he blushes touching her wrist. she just broke up with james and is only having a slight world-ending catastrophic identity crisis about it but he does drop a cardboard box of gigantic novelty stuffed pandas on his foot when he sees her spilling out of the front seat of barty crouch’s pick-up truck

[dragonsholygrail]

A monster boyfriend would be fantastic.... Can you imagine him coming to your defense when you have a toxic parent? I'm on the obese side but very short. Last night......a parent called me lazy and fat....despite my efforts t olose weight for health reasons. Now, I feel too scared to eat.

I cried so hard, and wish I had some intimidating boyfriend that would've made my mom shut up and come to my defense. Also, I feel like monsters would not care so much about human standards of beauty. (Even at my healthiest weight, I wasn't like stick thin)

Oh, hunny, I feel you. I’m in the same boat. I’m so sorry you went through that. You are absolutely beautiful the way you are. Do what you need for your health but know that being skinny doesn’t equal being healthy. Please eat, love, because making sure you’re eating all your meals is a part of health. I know that a monster would love you no matter what and would embrace you entirely.

I’ve been through a similar experience and I know I would’ve loved to read something to comfort me so I hope this can comfort you <3

Perfection to Me

Monster bf x chubby fem!reader - tw fatphobia, toxic parent[ing], hurt/comfort, protective bf, body worshipping, multiple orgasms, creampie

You had been so excited. You had recently gotten your very first boyfriend and you were so excited to introduce him to your family and friends.

Of course, all of your friends had been a bit surprised when they first met and they were faced with a huge and intimidating monster. But in reality, your monster bf was the sweetest man you had ever met. He was protective and he cared for you more than you ever could’ve imagined.

And he proved it to you time and time again how seriously he took your courtship. How deeply he considered you already to be his mate. Not shying away from using the term regularly.

All of this just drove your excitement to the point where you couldn’t wait to introduce him to your mother. To show her you’d finally found someone.

That excitement slowly dwindled. More and more as the night went on. It had all been going so well. Your mother greeted your monster bf with delight. Clearly happy, if not surprised, by his presence. It was easily overlooked.

But then the comments started. Snide in-passing comments. Comments about your relationship, your weight, and worst of all your eats habits.

You focus on staring down at the table, trying to keep your tears at bay. Having been so used to swallowing down these comments without a retort. Luckily your monster bf isn’t.

A loud slamming of fists rattles the dinner table, causing you to look at your bf with a sharp gasp. From the corner of your eye you can see your mother do the same.

“Who do you think you are?” Your bf snaps, his hands clenched. Only barely holding back his simmering rage.

Word after word he had been tortured by your mother’s lashing tongue. He had no idea how you must be feeling. But after seeing the tears in your eyes he could no longer sit back and take it.

“Excuse me?” Your mother asks, eyes wide and partially frightened by the aura which radiated from your monster bf.

“Was I not clear?! Who do you think you are to be speaking to my mate like that?” He questions, standing up. Only making his form that much more intimidating to witness. Not willing to listen to any bullshit from your mother.

“Well, I.. I am her mother!” Your mother replies weakly, visibly shrinking back in her chair.

“I have known mothers that eat their young who are kinder than you,” your bf lashes out, claws sinking into his own skin. You wince seeing it, your worry for him growing. Not wanting him to hurt himself because of her.

“How dare you!” Your mother shrieks, hand clutching her chest.

“Baby, plea-“

“No!” Your bf snarls, head whipping to face you, and stopping the excuse from leaving your lips. His arm joining it to stop you from reaching for him.

But as his eyes meet yours, they immediately soften. He leans down, licking and nuzzling into your cheek in a silent apology.

“I will not stand idly by and watch as an insignificant disrespects you,” his voice rumbles into your skin as he moves down to your neck, scenting you. Marking you as his to care for now.

“Insignificant!”

Monster bf tenses hearing your mother’s voice again. Returning to his full height he glowers down at her.

“It is a mother’s job to nurture and protect,” he states simply, making his opinion of her treatment of you quite clear.

“I am protecting her! Protecting her from herself and from everyone out there,” your mother finally snaps. Standing up from the table even in the face of your bf.

Your bf bristles, needing to pause for a moment. Ensuring he doesn’t lose control of himself. After a silent beat he slowly walks around the table and towers over her.

“In this moment you are a far greater enemy to her than anything she will face out in the world…”

You watch as his words sink in. Your mother’s face growing pale and her mouth finally staying closed.

When he’s sure she won’t try and reply, your monster bf moves around her, heading back to you. He holds out his hand which you take without hesitation. Your heart nearly beating out of your chest.

It’s only when your bf immediately reaches with his free hand to wipe softly at your cheeks do you realize you had been crying.

“Come, sweet mate. I think it’s time we leave,” he says lowly as he gathers you up in his arms. You don’t even think about resisting, just letting your bf swiftly lead you out of the home.

You could tell your monster bf was angry. He was furious. And it showed in the way he ravishes you the moment you two get home.

As soon as the door closes behind you he’s plucking you up from the floor with ease and throwing your body gently down on the bed. Endless praises leave his lips, clearly setting out to replace every mean word your mother had uttered throughout the night.

He peels your clothes off slowly, despite the fact he was practically shaking with his restraint. Revealing your beautiful big body inch by inch. As soon as you are bare he pounces on you, showing how much he treasures every curve of your body.

His face nuzzles into your thick neck as he grinds his cock against your pussy lips, all while telling you how hard you make him. Not stopping until you come apart, dousing his length with your essence.

He makes sure to take care of every inch of you. Moving down to latch onto your nipples. Sucking and massaging at your supple flesh until you gush all over the sheets from the toe-curling stimulation. Your body spent but your monster bf not having finished with you, evident by the feral glint in his eye.

Taking his time, setting his own aching need aside, to slowly kiss down the curve of your stomach. His claws digging into your sides and loving how you fill up his hands.

Though his hands suddenly have a far better use as they spread your meaty thighs for him. He dives right in, stuffing his face into your fat pussy and completely smothering himself in your folds. His tongue devouring you like you’re the only thing he’ll ever want to eat again.

Fingers joining soon after, needing to fill you up even deeper as his tongue laps up your essence. His hand and mouth work in total sync till your body is shaking with the need to cum. His mouth sucks greedily at your clit while his fingers curl along your walls. As soon as he finds that sweet spot within you, you’re erupting all over his tongue. White dots briefly clouding your vision from the intensity.

Monster bf barely gives you a moment to breathe as he rises onto his knees, that look in his eyes only growing darker with each orgasm that overtakes you. His eyes rake over your limp form.

“You are perfection,” he breathes out before finally sinking into your tight cunt. You both moan as your bodies connect, your back arching as you show off that body that’s so beautiful to him.

He can’t hold back any longer as he furiously fucks his cock into you, bodies slapping together in perfect harmony. Growls and deep rumbling noises escaping him as your body brings him a pleasure he’s never otherwise experienced.

Together you two bring each other to orgasm after orgasm, never getting enough of each other. It’s not until neither of you can physically not move that you take a break.

“You hungry, love?” He asks as you two lay back on the bed, limbs completely wrapped around each other.

“Hmm, no. Not really,” you reply quietly, your appetite not quite having returned after dinner was interrupted. Monster bf senses this, his lip quivering as he visibly holds back a growl.

“Well, what if we change the venue, huh? You can eat off of me,” he suggests, a lighthearted smugness moving across his features. His free arm moving to rest behind his head while the other keeps a firm grip on you.

“Oh, well that changes things then,” you say through your laughter. Your bfs smugness grows as he shifts down and spreads out across the bed. Showing off his body to you. A body that’s goal is to give you more pleasure than you could dream of.

“Yeah, it does. You can eat a fucking feast off of me…” your bf says with a grin, all in order to bring more of that sweet laughter out of you. To have it tickle his senses. He’d do anything to make you laugh. He leans down and nibbles at your neck, causing you to giggle lightly. That’s it. “And that’s exactly what I plan to have you do.”

Monster bf doesn’t given you any time to respond before he’s back to kissing the daylights out of you.

[pommunist]

I’m sorry but the fact your trying to say Quackity is a CEO of a corporate company is sooo fucked. QSMP is funded by only one man. QSMP’s team was made by one man. The project was put together by one man. QSMP does even fit the qualifications to a corporate company and it is Quackity’s very first project. Is there problems yes I’m not denying that but Quackity has made it clear he is trying and you seriously cannot be comparing him to fucking Amazon. Like the two arnt remotely similar. I think people hold QSMP to a higher standard because it’s so public but the difference between Amazon and Quackity is that Amazon has been running their company with a huge team of multiple people to make decisions for 30 years Quackity is a man who put together a team but is still largely making the decisions and has been doing it for a year. The man has a lot to learn I admit that but you can’t expect the same amount of perfection you get from a corporate company. Before you demonize Quackity we should let him try to actually learn get better and improve.

hey anon ! I don’t remember having referred to Q as the ceo of a corporate company but if I did and it’s inaccurate I’m sorry ! I’ll admit that I’m not super familiar with business-related english terms and what each of them specifically encapsulates, maybe owner of the company/face of the brand is more accurate ?

I agree that Qstudios isn’t Amazon however I don’t think QSMP is being held to an higher standard because it’s public. In fact I think that everyone, be it a huge corporation, a small business or someone on the Internet launching a project, from the point they start hiring people and having workers under their care, should be held to the standard of treating these workers fairly. And it’s not just my personal opinion, it’s also the legal standard in many countries.

A lot of businesses start with just one or a few people, and when it grows, it’s up to them to make sure everything they’re doing is in accordance with the law and that their workers aren’t being mistreated in the workplace/work environment. Obviously this is a lot of work in itself, especially in a international project because with each new country you hire someone from you basically double the number of norms to abide to, and would be overwhelming for just one person. That’s when it also becomes your responsibility to hire or at least contact lawyers, HR people, to help you navigate through this.

To me, this isn’t expecting perfection, it’s expecting the bare minimum.

Also please don’t assume I’m trying to demonise Quackity, I don’t have any intention to paint him as this big evil guy who woke up every morning thinking "hehe another good day of exploiting young people and make money off of them" as that is not how I view him and I hope my posts so far have not conveyed that idea.

My own take is that he had a great idea for a project but severely underestimated the amount of work and research that would actually have to be done to achieve it, didn’t take the necessary steps to help avoid this whole mess, wasn’t mindful enough of people working for him and on top of that, hired some bad people who enforced their toxic idea of what management should be.

[queer-in-a-cornfield]

Some of us on the discord were discussing what Dewey would be like as an adult yesterday, prompting this little fic (1325 words) based on my hc that Dewey would become a stage actor

Dewey walks down the busy streets of New York, humming some vocal warmups. While he appears as calm and collected as he ever does, his mind is racing a mile a minute.

Today was his Broadway debut, and he was equal parts excited and nervous. He’d done many a show in the past but those were different. This was BROADWAY, the gold standard of theatre. Sure, this wasn’t a principal role or anything, he was just replacing a departing ensemble member, but still! A Broadway debut is a Broadway debut. It’s a big day, and he’s freaking out a little.

He rounds the corner of the theatre and opens the stage door, making a pit stop to check in for the day and readjust his bag. He nearly drops his coffee but manages to set it down to adjust his grip before continuing on to his dressing room.

He swings the door open and finds that Rico and Alex, the castmates who share the room with him had already arrived.

“Hey, guys!” Dewey says as he walks over to his designated area. He pauses suddenly before he can put his things down. “What’s all this?”

Surrounding his mirror were a pair of blue balloons, some confetti, and a handwritten banner on top that read “Congrats on your debut!”

Rico speaks up, “It’s your first show tonight, Dewey! If that isn’t cause for celebration I don’t know what is.” Alex nods in agreement.

“Aw, thanks guys,” Dewey smiles, clearing away some of the confetti to put down his bag.

“So how’re you feeling? Ready to show the world what you’re made of?” Alex asks.

“Yeah, I’m really excited, I’ve been dreaming about this for years,” he says, pulling out his notes to review once he finishes warming up.

He spends the next few minutes stretching, uncharacteristically quiet, before sighing and asking, “Guys, you’ve both done this for a while, so… how did you get over the nerves? It still feels insane that I’m even here, and I’m really worried that something’ll go wrong and ruin my chances of continuing here.”

Rico sighs, “I’m not gonna lie, that fear just takes time to get over. But trust me, you’re gonna do great tonight, and soon enough you won’t be so anxious anymore.”

The trio sit in silence for a moment before Alex pipes up, “Didn’t you mention that one of your brothers had a history with anxiety? Maybe he’ll have some advice for you.”

Dewey nods, then grabs his phone from his pocket, pulls up Huey’s contact, and starts a video call.

“Hey Dewey, what’s up?” Huey’s voice picks up through the phone speakers.

“Hi, Hubert. Did you guys just land or something?” Dewey asks, noticing Huey’s surroundings.

“Yeah, we just landed, oh… fifteen minutes ago? We just got to baggage claim- sorry, one sec,” he says, turning to talk to someone off-screen.

Suddenly Uncle Scrooge appears on screen. “Dewey, lad! Can- can ya see me- how does this thing- curse me kilts, what did Ah just-“ Scrooge says as he confusedly fiddles with the phone.

“Uncle Scrooge, I’ll hold the phone for you,” Huey interjects as he grabs his phone back and centers them both on screen.

“So why’d you want to talk to me, Dew?” Huey asks.

Dewey pauses for a moment to gather his thoughts before explaining. But he pauses a moment too long because more faces suddenly attempt to crowd into the view of Huey’s phone camera, all trying to greet him at once. Dewey snickers a little watching Uncle Donald, the last one to get back from claiming their baggage, trying to squeeze into view with little success.

“Hey guys,” Dewey says. “I love you all, but if I could maybe just talk to Huey for a second? I’ll see you guys tonight.”

Reluctantly the rest of the group backs out of frame, leaving once again only Huey.

Sighing amusedly, Huey asks, “Okay, so what did you want me for, Dew?”

“Okay, so, like, I was wondering, basically, like-,” Dewey pauses for a second. “How do you handle your anxiety? Cause I’m kinda freaking out a little right now.”

Huey thinks for a moment. “Well, different things work for different people, but whenever my nerves are getting to me I usually like to take some deep breaths, or you could do the 5-4-3-2-1 exercise, ummm… yeah, I’d say those are my go-to's. I’d also say that drinking coffee wouldn’t help with nerves at all but I don’t think you’d listen to that one, so…”

Dewey laughs, “Thanks, Huey.”

“Of course, Dew. And also remember, we’re all gonna be there cheering for yo-,” Huey gets cut off by a nearby thud, which he turns to look at.

“Uncle Donald’s suitcase just broke,” Huey explains, walking over to help. “You’re gonna do great tonight and we can’t wait to see you after the show! Break a leg!” Huey signs off.

“Bye Huey, see you guys later,” Dewey replies, ending the call.

“Man, it’s still so weird to me that the richest duck in the world is your uncle,” Alex says.

“I don’t know if that’s more surprising or the fact that he doesn’t have a private plane to get here on,” Rico adds.

“Well, we do have a plane but the pilot can’t make it out here until next week. Aaaaand I’m realizing how much of a spoiled rich kid I sound like right now,” Dewey starts laughing again.

“Nah, if you want a really spoiled rich kid that would be more of a… what’s his name? That creep who got all his money from his grandmeemawmaw or whatever?” Alex retorts.

“Doofus Drake?” Rico supplies.

“Yes, him!”

“Oh, you guys don’t even know the half of it,” Dewey exclaims, getting back into his stretching.

——————————————————————-

Dewey opens up the stage door to exit the building. It was dark out now. He was one of the earlier cast members out of the doors, so there was a pretty good-sized crowd greeting him. As he worms his way through them, some congratulate him for making his Broadway debut, and one woman even asks for a picture, which catches him slightly off guard.

Eventually, he makes his way past the main crowd where he is finally greeted by his family, who all promptly give him a bear hug.

“Dewey!!! That was amazing!” Webby exclaims once they all pull away.

“I knew you’d do great,” Huey concurs, grinning.

“Theatre has never been my thing, so believe me when I say that that absolutely blew me away,” Louie adds.

“I’m so proud of ye, lad,” Scrooge says. “Ye’ve done well for yerself.”

Uncle Donald, at a loss for words, smiles and gives him another bear hug.

Della then pries Donald off of him to give him her own hug.

“You boys never cease to make me proud,” she says as she lets him go.

“Aw, you guys,” Dewey says, laughing a little. “You’re gonna get me emotional.”

“We’ve all been emotional since you came on stage, it’s your turn now,” Huey jokes.

Dewey laughs, “Okay, that’s fair.”

“Not to interrupt a nice family moment, but would you guys like a picture?” Rico says suddenly from behind Dewey, startling him.

“Oh my god, Rico! You can’t scare me like that!”

Dewey recollects himself and turns back to face his family.

“Guys, this is Rico, one of my castmates. Fam, Rico, Rico, fam. And yeah, I think we’d like a picture.”

An obscene amount of pictures later, everyone has their phones back with significantly less storage space than before.

“Thanks, Rico!” Dewey calls out as his castmate departs.

“See you tomorrow,” he yells back.

“Well,” Della says. “I think it’s time for some celebration! What time were those reservations for, Uncle Scrooge?”

“… In ten minutes.”

“Oh. Well, let’s get going then!” She exclaims, prompting the group to hurry off to this restaurant, dragging a confused but happy Dewey along with them.

[midnight-pluto]

I have an idea feel free to write it or not (childe x fem reader)

Playing truth or dare and someone dared y/n to kiss Childe (they did that bc they knew he was in love with her) she got a little angry and shy about it but she approached him pulling him by his collar to kiss him and everyone in the room start to scream and laugh and Ayato is recording what happened for later use

A DARE.mp4 — childe

TROPES: fluff, crack

PAIRING(S): childe x fem!reader

UNIVERSE: modern

WARNING: someone gets called an orphan at the end, swearing

A/N: I’m sorry if this isn’t what you wanted! I did my best to write it in a sense where I could include all your details but if you do plan on requesting some more please be more specific so I can do your request justice

THE AUDIO IS quite distorted at first but then clears out to the point where you can hear distinct voices yelling at one another as well as faint sounds of laughter in the background.

As Ayato shuffles with his phone, he quickly sets his phone up, leaning on the wall in order to properly catch what was occurring. After seeing it balance on the wall he turns back to the problem at hand.

“I REFUSE to kiss this ginger! I have standards!” Y/N declares.

From the camera’s recording, on the left was Ayato’s back and on the right was Yoimiya holding back laughter at her friends despair which so happened to be displayed to the camera between the gap of the two.

“C’mon Y/N~ it’s a dare! Besides Childe won’t mind, right Childe?” Ayato teased, looking towards the man next to the girl having a crisis on whether or not to listen to the dare.

“I’m not confirming nor denying that information,” he chuckled.

“What do you MEAN you’re not going to confirm nor deny that information?!” Y/N exclaimed, grabbing Childe by his collar to look at her in the eyes and shaking him back and forth.

“He means he wouldn’t mind making out with you,” Yoimiya whisper yelled through her hands in the direction of the two with a giggle.

Y/N then turns to the blond in shock, “Hold on! Making out and kissing are two different things! I’m not making out with this,” she turns to Childe and pauses, “Twink.”

“Twink?! Excuse you?!” he yelled horrified, face turning pink not only because of the close proximity between his crush and him, but because of the whirlwind of emotions he felt when being called a twink - causing Yoimiya to fall over with laughter while taking photos of the current scene revealing a stunned Ayaka and Thoma next to Y/N.

“You’re excused bitch!” Y/N turned back to face Childe, creating and intense stare-off between the two.

“Y’know, I don’t think Y/N doesn’t need to kiss Childe if she doesn’t want to; we can all just get a free pass,” Ayaka begins, immediately getting cut off by a loud string of gasps and yells as she looks towards her right she covers her mouth in shock trying to prevent any noise from escaping.

The kiss was gentle yet exhilarating - with watchful eyes around them, their loud cheering just became faint background noise in the distance.

Y/N’s eyes with squeezed shut, but soon relaxed as she slipped her hand into his.

Childe’s breath was swept away and gone in an instant. He had been so sure she would’ve followed through with Ayaka’s words but as it turned out she planned to go against her words the moment she spoke them. Well, not like he was complaining any ways.

Ayato hurriedly snatches his phone back up into his hands and points the camera towards the now kissing friends.

Moving 180°, Ayato pans the already landscape view so the whole room and all the participants is now in the frame - him included - pointing to the two opposite of him saying, “That was me. I’m the one who gave her that dare. You’re welcome.”

Immediately pulling away from Childe, Y/N turns her attention towards the blue haired man and yells, “Are you fucking filming us right now?! Give that shit to me right now you little fucking orphan-“

A/N: I’m including this into my 200 follower event since idk if n e one will request but if anyone else would like to, feel free! also I swear I write things much longer than this I jus didn’t know where else to go with this I’m sorry 😭

[w33nies]

Qué Maravilla CH.8 - 'The Point of No Return'

Previous Chapter

Miguel O'hara x SpiderReader rating: E for Everyone bby warnings: none? lots of angst tbh summary: the adventures of Spiderman and the Prowler art is not mine !!! @yunkaan on twitter!!!

------------ Ch.8 - The Point of No Return ---------------

As Miles followed closely behind his doppelganger through the city, he couldn't help but be fascinated with his suit. The engineering feats it displayed seemed to surpass even that of his own Uncle Aaron’ suit. He was blown away by his sneakers, which seemed to possess some kind of jet propulsion mechanism which allowed him to leap unprecedented heights, the robotic neon-lit helmet he was able to control seemingly like it was just another muscle in his own body. And of course, those steel claws which were incredibly versatile in combat and travel. He thought back to their fight moments ago. How he blindsided him with that spray paint bomb. Were there any other features of his suit he hadn't seen yet?

“I like your shoes,” Miles blurts out, “Are they pneumatic?” 

The Prowler pauses for a moment on the corner edge of a skyscraper, posed in a low squat next to a gargoyle. If he had been in a better mood, Miles would have joked about the resemblance in demeanor between the two. ‘Now probably isn’t the time to poke fun at him.’ He told himself, ‘Doubt this is the type of guy that can take a joke.’

“Yeah.. And?” His voice is nothing like his own. The glowing mask obscuring his face was designed to distort it. It was lower, almost machine-like, in a way that was entirely unnerving.

“That’s sick. They look pretty dope too. Better than the one Uncle Aaron used to wear,haha. ” Prowler doesn’t respond, instead blankly staring through him with that intimidating mask.

“Or..I guess my Uncle Aaron…I've neer seen…I mean…I'm sure your Unc’s shoes are dope too..”

Silence. 

Miles clears his throat in an awkward attempt to ease the tension. “Oh and those paint bombs you threw earlier. Are they activated based on a standard timer fuse or do you use an explode-on-impact type of trigger because-” 

 “-Do you ever shut up?”

‘Ouch.’

“Um okay then…”  Miles raises his palms defensively, slowing his pace so that Prowler was ahead of him. “....I’m sorry I guess?” Miles couldn’t help the disgusted expression creeping in on his face. ‘Bet he’s a real hit at parties.’ 

“Also-” 

“-What,” Prowler responds curtly.

“...Your shoe is untied.” Miles said with a grin, attempting to feign innocence for intentionally pestering him.

“I’m aware.” Somehow the robotic tone seemed to emphasize his annoyance. Then he leaped off the building, almost like he was trying to get as far away from Miles as he could.

Miles shrugged, “Just thought you should know,” he jested before following after him. 

It was not long after when they reached the subway underneath Fitz Tower. Miles found the layout of this subway to be similar to his own Brooklyn. All the tracks, tunnel, the stairs, the overhead lights, even the benches. The difference was in the small details like the colors of the terminal signs or the horde of unfamiliar graffiti tags littering the walls. The advertisements (also covered in graffiti) were almost exclusively names that he recognized. Some of them being for villains he had defeated in his own dimension. Vulture Telecom? Rhino had a casino? Kraven was running for city mayor? The thought of these kinds of individuals holding substantial power made his blood run cold. It was like his own personal hell.

After what felt like ages (though probably only minutes) they reached a locked metal gate that wore a giant sign on the front that read, “RESTRICTED AREA AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY”. Immediately Prowler breaks toward it.  With the added momentum of his sneakers, he leaps in the air, grabs the top of the gate and pulls himself up and over the fence in one fell swoop. Upon landing with a thud, he turns around with a grimace of impatience that makes the unspoken message clear, ‘You coming or not?’ 

Miles casually walks up to the gate. Sticking his palms and feet onto the wired fence, he climbs its side with ease. Upon reaching the top, he jumps off landing right next to the Prowler. The other boy let out a peeved ‘tsk’ before he continued forward.

When they reach the end of the dark corridor Prowler pulls down on a lever. The lights stagger on and reveal to them is a dome shaped, high ceiling room with several arches leading to who-knows-where. In the center of this room a certain mural stopped Miles in his tracks. “No expectations” it read in yellow and blue spray paint with a black, shadowy figure in its center surrounded by a background of pink and orange geometric shapes and bubbles. He and his Uncle Aaron had made this same mural, in this same spot, in his Brooklyn. He remembers that day so clearly. It was here where he got bitten. Ever since then his life has never been the same. It was the day his destiny changed for good. For better or for worse that was the point of no return. 

 Miles took a few cautious steps toward the painting. His stomach dropped. Yes, it was the same exact piece. Well…except for the silhouetted figure in the center. Instead of a blank, shadowy figure this one had a giant white dot in the center of his head and a myriad of smaller white specks on his body. It was similar to - no- it was exactly how he looked when he last saw him back in Mumbattan. The man who had threatened to take away everything he had ever cared about. The man destined to kill his father. 

For a moment he could feel his heart beating in his ears. His hands began to tremble. Every breath he took was like a blow to his lungs. ‘See you back home, spider man.’ His last words to him echoed over and over again in his head. He was all he could hear. He was all he could see. For a moment, which felt like hours, Miles remained glued to the mural with a kind of tunnel vision born only out of panic.

“Hey, cabrón…” The Prowler was about to chastise him but paused upon seeing Miles' fearful face.

 “Aye, muchacho.” Nothing. 

“Chacho!”

Miles is startled from his trance. 

“¿Estás bien?” 

“Yeah…Yeah… I’m good.” He spoke distractedly.

“...Then let’s go,” The Prowler whirls around and begins walking away before-

“-Did you make this?” 

“What?” Prowler turns to see Miles pointing at the piece, “Yeah, with my Uncle Aaron ¿Porque?”

“…Me and Uncle Aaron painted a mural just like this.”

Prowler sighed, he could practically feel the patience slipping from his body. 

“Cool, now can we-”

Out of nowhere a large blast rips through the air, startling both boys. The ground begins trembling under their feet. A blinding glare emits from one of the tunnels on their right.

“Is that-” 

“-COME ON!” Prowler books it toward the tunnel motioning for him to follow. Just looking down the passageway, Miles had to squint his eyes. The more he ventured in, the more his eyes watered from the intense onslaught. Shielding his face with his hands, he frantically tried to scan his surroundings. Eventually, he’s able to make out a tiny figure in the distance.

“HELP!” The individual screams were muffled as was their banging on the force field surrounding them. “SOMEBODY! HELP ME! PLEASE!” The figure begins the glitch violently while various pieces of debris and wreckage around behind them. 

Miles webs forward without a second. He finds difficulty due to the pushback from the ongoing, well, whatever the hell was going on.  

“DUDE, WAIT!” The Prowler shouts but Miles ignores him, leaving him exasperatingly rushing after him.

Miles fights the current, inching closer and closer until he’s finally able to place his hands on the shield (and it’s taking all of his strength to even keep them on there). Now he’s face to face with the trapped man, “PLEASE!” he begged, “PLEASE! GET ME OUT OF HERE!” 

Miles musters all the electricity he possibly can into breaking the force field, the impact sending in flying backwards. Then…darkness.  After a few seconds, a few of the lights flicker back on, just managing to dimly light the room. Miles slowly brings his aching body to his feet. As he looks around he realizes he was blasted through the observation window of the collider wall, smashing several desks, monitors, computers, and other various tech. ‘Whoops. Hope that wasn’t important.’ He then makes his way to the unknown man, laying at the bottom of the spherical room which houses the collider. ‘I really hope he isn’t dead.’

Miles kneeled down and lightly shook the man by his shoulders, “Sir, are you alright?”

Nothing.

“Sir?...”. He checked the man’s pulse, it was faint. 

Miles rubs his hands together, generating a slight amount of electricity in his palms. He saw people do this in movies all the time, though he had never had to do it himself before. ‘Please don’t have me kill this man,’ he prayed silently. Warily, he puts his palms to the man's chest, shocking him. 

“Oh my god!” he ye;[ with a start, his outburst startling Miles. As he began painfully scrambling to his feet, Miles followed suit. The man opened his mouth to speak before holding a finger in the air then subsequently bending down to support himself with his hands on his knees, loudly wheezing.

“Are you alright?” Miles asked, hands held out ready to support him in case he were to collapse.

“Thanks to you I am,” The man grabs Miles's shoulder, stabilizing himself. “I thought I was going to die in there,” he continued to gasp through deep breaths. “Thank you. Truly. Thank you.” Once he finally regained his breath he scanned the masked vigilante up and down, bewildered. “To whom do I owe the pleasure of saving my life?” 

Miles studied the man before him, the spitting image of a scientist. He’s pretty tall, taller than him, with a lanky build. His dark hair was a wavy and unkept mess atop his head, except for the sides which were completely shaved. He wore an oversized lab coat that reached all the way down to his knees with tan khakis and a baby blue button up underneath. As well as a soft, welcoming smile that crinkled his eyes, showing sincerity. He wore large square glasses which rested on the bump of his aquiline nose.  Behind them sat heavy-lidded brown eyes with deep set bags. His hand was extended for him to shake, Miles took it. 

“I’m spider-”

“- Jonathon. Ohnn.'' The Prowler’s booming voice cut through the air, making himself known before he was visible to the two men. The menacing sound of debris crunching under his feet follows as his large shadow creeps on the wall. 

“Oh, no.” Ohnn shields himself behind Miles.

“What the hell is wrong with you? Are you trying to blow up my city?” 

“No! No, no, no, no, no. You’ve got it all wrong.” Ohnn frantically waved his hands in the air, “I-I was just, uh, running some tests!” 

“Running tests my ass. If our last talk didn’t get it through your thick skull,” The prowler flashed his clawed gloves, taking menacing strides towards Miles and the man, “I guess I’ll have to knock some sense into you.”

“Woah, woah, woah. Easy now.” Miles attempts to mediate, but Prowler practically ignores him. 

“I have a perfectly reasonable explanation for this.” Jonathan speaks, still cowering  behind the boy.

“Which is?”

“Um…Well, heh, it’s a looooong story… ,” Jonathan rubbed the back of his neck with his hand.

“We got time,” Prowler crosses his arms impatiently, “Say your piece.”

“Um, I-” Jonathan tries to get up, slipping on the floors of the cylindrical room. 

“Here.” Miles shoots a web towards the broken observation window embedded in the wall. 

“What the-”  

Before Jonathon can finish Miles grabs him and slings both of them through the window, and into the wrecked lab behind it.

“Wha-What the… I mean, thank you young man.”Ohnn musters, completely frazzled. 

“Don’t mention it.”

Before Ohnn could ask any of his burning questions, Prowler lands next to them with a thud, “Spill,” he says, “Before I make you.” 

“Well, uh, I can put on a kettle!” Jonathan makes his way to a ruined desk to a ruined desk pulling out a portable electric stove along with a now heavily dented kettle. “Do you like tea?I have Chai!”

An amused smile tugged on the The Prowlers lips “Do you have anything… stronger?” 

“Like…Oolong?” Ohnn asked sheepishly, holding up another box of tea.

“Like whiskey.”

“Um, well, I work here so…no.” Jonathan spoke through nervous laughter, “I like to keep my brain sharp! ”

“WHAT? YOU DRINK?” Miles interjected. He put his hand to his chest, borderline offended, “Aren’t we 16!”

“Ugh, let's just get this over with”, In a swift movement Prowler snatches Ohnn and slings him over his shoulder and begins to walk away.

“AH- WOAH MY GOD!”

“What are you doing!?” Miles runs after him. 

 “I'm just gonna ask him some questions,” Miles-42 plops Jonathon into a nearby wobbly office chair and begins to duct tape him. 

“You don’t have to tie him up to do that! He was cooperating! He was just about to tell us what happened!” 

“What do you mean we?” the boy scoffed, “Our deal is done man. There's the collider right there. Just zip-zap-zop it back on, or whatever, and leave. Go home.” 

“Oh no, no, no, no. I wouldn’t do that.” Jonathan leaned forward as far as he could given his whole bottom half now taped

“Why not?” the boys asked in unison.

“Ha, well, you see….uh…,” Jonathan sighed, “Okay…Full disclosure…I wasn’t just running tests earlier.” 

“Go figure,” Prowler said sarcastically.

“I was going to destroy it.” 

“Huh?” 

“The collider?” Miles asked in disbelief. 

“ Yes..” the man said ashamedly, “Well, I was trying to corrupt the files but then I got distracted when this random signal appeared on my radar … from another dimension. Earth-50101 I remember it said.  Location was a place I had never heard of… ManMumb? MamBatt?”

“Mumbattan?” Miles asked worriedly.

“Yes! It was something like that. Anyways, when I investigated the signal the strangest thing happened. This…,” Jonathan paused with a deep breath, “...I don’t know what it was- computer virus or a major malfunction or ghost of sorts took hold of everything. All the computers turned on by themselves, screeching and glitching horribly. Showing nothing but white screens. I tried to reboot the system, but none of the computers would, corporate… So I went to investigate the collider itself. Out of nowhere it too began to power on by itself.” The scientist shuddered, “For hours, I was stuck in here while that thing turned glitched on and off. Matter from that 50101 dimension even began merging with our own…” Jonathan motioned with his head for the boys to turn around. Scattered around were miscellaneous items fused together , violently glitching in and out. 

“Yeah…” Prowler concurred grimly, “Some of that stuff was randomly happening around the city. That’s why the boss called.”  

“While I was trapped…I even  began hallucinating. These black dots clouded my vision. I even saw a figure covered…It was like he was talking to me…”.

“What did he say?” Mile’s asked, his voice was laced with anxiety.

“Most of it was a garbled mess, um…” Jonathan shuts his eyes in concentration, “...Something along the lines of… ‘Won’t they be sorry?’... Well, he was very upset, that's for sure.”

“Yeah,” Miles mumbled to himself, “Like you wouldn’t believe.”

“Look, I’m not a spiritual man, but that has to be an omen of sorts. We can’t turn that thing back on.” Jonathan pleaded, “Even if it hasn’t somehow been fried in the blast, who knows what we’d be risking. If our dimensions keep merging and trading matter…”

A foreboding silence takes hold. Miles feels his body run cold. “Black dots…” he recalled, “You said you saw black dots everywhere?” 

“Yes.”

‘Shoot.’  Miles cursed under his breath. Spot did this. He’s the reason why there was that black hole swallowing Mumbattan. He thought about Pavitir, the shame of failing to stop Spot back then hitting him full force. It was all his fault, and now he had inadvertently ruined his own chances of getting home.

‘Wait a minute.’ Miles thought, ‘If Spot is responsible for the chaos in Mumbattan, then… it wasn’t because I disrupted the canon.’ Miles found himself with a renewed sense of hope, ‘Canon’s really can be broken. As long as I can figure out a way home, I can save my father.’ 

He straightened his posture and gave a deep exhale. “My name is Miles… Miles Morales. I crashed here by accident-” suddenly the boy glitches violently. This one left him gasping for air, holding his stomach on the floor.

 "-From another dimension,” he finished with a strained voice. Prowler, stunned for a moment, helps him up, awkwardly pats him on the back.

“Thanks,” Miles huffs

“Yeah. Whatever.” Prowler mumbles dismissively 

“...Those dots you saw. I know who’s responsible,” Miles continued holding his side despite himself, “His name is Spot. He’s dangerous. The spots you saw can open a portal to anywhere, dimensions included, and this guy is covered in them. If I don't leave, a lot of people including my father will be in danger.”

“Another dimension…,” Jonthon is fascinated, attempting to take in all this newfound information all at once, “I want to help you young man, I really do but…” Jonathan shoots a nervous glance at the collider just ahead of him, “It’s too risky. I’m sorry…”

“...Let me look,” Miles pleaded “I’m sure I can figure out something.” 

“Ummm-” 

“-I got an A in Physics and Auto-Robotics. Oh, and I can do this,” Miles generated some electricity from his fingertips, putting on an impressive display of blue lighting,“I’m sure that can help somehow.”

“...I don't know.”

Prowler steps forward and cracks his neck from side to side, “I���ll take it from here.”

“I know you want the collider, but please understand what's at stake-,”

Jonathon tries to protest, but to no avail. The Prowler smashes down on a big red button. A loud grating sound pierces the air as a walkway stemming from the observation deck to the collider inches forward at an agonizingly slow speed. Once finished, The Prowler simply just picks him up and wheels him down the path giving him a front row view to the machine.

 “-I wasn’t asking.” Miles-42 simply strolls up to the contraption and starts tinkering away. 

As Miles steps foot onto the metal walkway, he’s finally able to take in the surroundings of the lab. It was a lot more rudimentary than his own in brooklyn. It was an odd mix of retro and futuristic elements. The desk he had been flown into possessed a lot of older equipment, those blocky computer monitors and chunky keyboards. And yet there were also damaged, futuristic holograms flickering on and off as well as some more recent looking laptops and tablets. He looked out onto the collider itself. It was a lot bigger than the one in his own dimension, more intimidating. It took up most of the space in the room, its massive and intricate metal casings covered in various wires and panels residing on the flat walls of the cylindrical room.  If he had to guess, this collider was probably more powerful than the one at home. He thought back to Jonathon and what would’ve happened if he hadn’t saved him in time. He shuddered at the thought, ‘No wonder they had to make an emergency shield for this thing.’

“Cabrón!” Prowler shouts, “Are you helping or what?” 

“Yeah. Sorry.” Miles quickly webs over to the opposite side of the machine and begins probing at the machine. 

 “Amazing…,” Jonathan watches Miles with bated breath, “Your suit young man, is that what’s responsible for your powers?”

“Nah, I was bitten by a radioactive spider, which gave me powers,” Miles walks along the side of the machine, parallel to the ground, to further prove his point. “But the spider that bit me was a spider from this dimension, so when the machine that was to send me home scanned my DNA-”

“-It brought you here instead.”

“Exactly.” Miles squats down and lowers himself into the tunnel leading inside the collider. 

“Unprecedented. Hence the webs and…electricity?

“I can also turn invisible!” Miles yells, his voice echoing from inside the tunnel.

“Oh…my…If you don’t mind, I have a ton of questions. Are you half-spider? Do you have heightened senses? Do you excrete webs from your posterior as well?”

“No. Yes. And no, but I did have a dream about that one time and it was very… unsettling,” Miles recounted with a shudder

“Tell. Me. Everything.”  Jonathan says eyes wide through his glasses

“Please don’t!” Miles-42 speaks up, finally poking his head out from the inside of the machine. 

Jonathon turns his attention to The Prowler. He attempts to swivel his body in a chair, rolling forward using the tip of his shoes,  “And you,” he gasped slightly.  “Your weaponry is amazing. Pneumonic shoes, steel claws and a full automated retractable helmet-”

“-Not steel,” Prowler corrects, “Titanium-alloy, actually.”

“And you made it yourself?”

“Some of it. The blueprints already existed. I just… made it my own,” The Prowler shrugged halfheartedly, his interest being with the machine in front of him. He pulls out various tech parts in large clawed handfuls, “The generator Is completely fried and the motherboards are burnt to a crisp. They’ll need to be replaced completely.” He continues looking inside, “The vacuum seal and conducting coils are also out of alignment, but it shouldn't be impossible to fix.”

“Same over here!” Miles concurred, “The blast was probably what did ‘em in!”

Jonathon tries, in vain, to get a good look inside the machine from his chair. “I’d have to see it myself but if what you say is true then…yeah. It should be an easy fix.”

Prowler leaps back on the platform landing next to Jonathon. “¡Chico Araña!

Miles pops his head out the contraption “Yeah?”

“You focus on the seals, and I’ll fix the generator. Capiche?”

“Why are you helping me?” 

“I’m not. There’s a lot of money riding on this job. I’m Not quitting now.”

“Right…” Miles says clearly unconvinced

“You don’t know anything about me.”

“I think I know a bit about you. We have the same face, same age, same birthmarks probably-”

“-How do you two know each other exactly,” Jonathon cocked his head to the side “What are you…twins?...Clones?,” 

“Not exactly. I’m him from another dimension,'' Miles clarified. 

Jonathan looks back and forth, fear slowly turning to fascination. “Wha-WHa-What!? Well…This is…Miraculous! Unprecedented. Could I- May I please study you?”

“Um,I don’t know....” 

“...No.” Prowler immediately declines.

“No?” 

The boy gestures to the collider, “We got work to do, bobo.” 

“I can assure you there is valuable information, in studying the two of you-” \

“-It’s a waste of our time.” The Prowler shoved a thumb towards the inside of the machine, “We don’t need to study. We just need to fix this el hijo de puta so he can leave and I can get my money.”

“OH PLEASE! PRETTY PRETTY PLEASE!” Ohnn thrashes around excitedly, his chair to wobbly bounce  up and down, “It would only take just a few seconds. This-is-a-once-a-lifetime-opportunity-I-would-be-absolutely-HONORED-if-you-allowed-me-even-an-IOTA-of-your-valuable-time-I-”  

“-Alright. ALRIGHT!” The Prowler relents, “Before you go and give yourself a hernia.” He jumps to the deck and grabs one end of the tape and begins spinning Jonathon around at a furious speed, all the way until the tape is unraveled. 

“Thank…you,’ Jonathan dizzily wobbles off the chair before falling at Prowler's feet, “Your shoe is untied…by the way.”

“I know,” he spoke curtly, “it's a choice.” 

Once sober, Jonathon runs over the metal walkway, climbing through the broken glass window to get to the lab. 

“Careful puto!” The Prowler tsked after him loudly. 

Jonathan continues forward nonetheless, rushing to his lab with reckless abandon. “Thank god this still works, just gotta…” the scientist smacks the large monitor with his fist, “There we go.” He then hastily goes to one of the few working computers, “Alright. Now I just need DNA from the both of you.” 

The two boys look at one another with pause. 

“OH. I could turn around if you-”

Before he could say another word, the Prowler’s mask began to recede into his suit. Miles watches in bewilderment as the stone-faced boy nonchalantly pulls a strand of hair out and hands it to the man. 

“Thank y-”

Prowler places a stiff hand on his shoulder, “-You tell anyone what I look like and I will kill you.” 

Jonathon gulps and nods in response “You have my word.” Swayed, Miles peels off his mask and plucks a hair as well.

Jonathan takes both hair strands and lays them on a machine that resembles an office scanner. “Do you guys mind if I just…,” Jonathon grabs a large handheld scanner tool (Miles giggled at how it just looked like a supermarket tool) and scans both the boy's faces and then their entire persons. “Thank yooou.” He says in a sing-songy voice, giddy with glee as he ran to his computers to input more data.

 After some back and forth between typing into the chunky keyboard and eyeing the projection screens, he finally speaks. “Incredible,” the scientist mumbled under his breath, standing in marvel at the data on his huge monitors. The everchanging calculations and numbers reflecting at light speed against his glasses. 

Ohnn clears his throat “Physiological speaking, you guys are essentially 100% carbon copies of one another. Except for specimen-1610 who possesses interdimensional DNA.” 

“No shit,” Miles-42 chided.

Just then a notification pops on the screen. “Wait a minute.” Jonathan examines further, typing diligently, “I guess not. It says here that specimens from Earth-42, that’s you,” Jonathan points a sassy finger at the Prowler, “has…5 cavities.”

Miles giggles, “Really Miles?” 

Miles-42 pouts and elbows him in the side, “Shut up, Miles.” 

“Miles and Miles?”  Jonathan shakes his head like a dog, slightly disoriented his glasses, “This is going to get confusing,” He readjusted his lenses.  “How do you guys differentiate between each other?”

“Um, we don’t,” Miles said with chuckle 

“We literally just met soo…” 

“I see,” Jonathan thinks hard with his pointer finger on his chin, "How about…One of you is Miles… and the other one can be Wiles.” 

“UM-”

“-Absolutely not.”

“We’ll workshop it,” Jonathan says with a wave of his hand. Jonathan sees Prowler’s confused face through the holographic screen, making eye contact. 

“Can I ask you a question?”

“What is it, young man?”

“Why didn’t you just sell the collider? You would’ve been set for life. Easy.”

The scientist exhaled softly, “There are some things more important than money…” Jonathan stares off into space before coming to, “...Now may I ask you a question Miles?”

Both boys point at one another in confusion.

“Um…Miles of Earth 42.”

The boy snorts, “Shoot.”

“Did they…” Jonathon absentmindedly fiddles with his glasses, “...Were you sent here to kill me?”

Prowler’s eyes widen with surprise, but then he quickly composes himself. “...I’m sure you know the answer to that. You really pissed ‘em off,” he chuckled grimly, “Calling ‘em fascists and what-not.” 

“I see.” Jonathon gave a dejected laugh, “...Can I ask you another question?”

The Prowler nods. 

“Why do you do it?”

“I’m sorry?”

“You have engineering skills that can rival some of my colleagues. You possess a technical prowess that would have any major tech company begging to recruit you, yet you use those skills to do some… questionable things.” Jonathan sighs, “You are, truly, a brilliant human being, Miles. So why?... Why do you do it? ” 

 Prowler’s usual scowl softens, just for a moment, before shortly resuming his tough exterior, “Because it puts food on the table.” Prowler shifts his attention to his untied laces, “It’s not lost on me ya know, the kinds of people I work for…The less I know the easier it is to do the job.”  Miles-42 meets Jonathon’s gaze through the translucent, blue toned holograms “Never had anything against you Ohnn, but you know how it is. It’s every man for himself.” 

“You don’t know?” The scientist stumbled backwards in aghast, “You don’t know what they want to do with this?”

“No? That’s why I said-” 

“-Miles…” Jonathan scans the boy’s face in disbelief.

“...What?”

“You really have no idea?” 

“What is it?” Spiderman Morales speaks up, “What are they gonna-

“-It doesn’t matter,” Prowler interjects. “That’s none of my business.”

“Tell us,” Miles insists. However, Prowler has already begun walking away, “Well I'm not listening.”

“Bro are you serious right now-”

“-Deadass.” 

“ don’t you think it would be-

“-NEEDLESS TO SAY I KEEP HER IN CHECK, SHE WAS A BAD-BAD NEVERTHELESS” Miles-42 begin to sing noisily, hands covering his ears like a child.

“I think you’d really want to know this Miles,” Jonathan tries to reason. Undeterred, Prowler continues his tone deaf belting, mumbling over some of the lyrics before skipping to singing the few he actually knew, “OOOOOOO SOMETHINGS SHE JUST CAN'T REFUSE. SHE WANNA RIDE ME LIKE A CRUISE-”

“-Miles please-”

“-AND THEN YOU’RE LEFT IN THE DUST, UNLESS I STUCK BY YAAAH-” 

“-What are you so scared of?” \

“...Excuse me?” The Prowler finally unplugs his ears, shooting daggers into Miles’ direction. 

‘Damn, hit a nerve,’ the boy thought to himself. “I just think that maybe you’re a bit afraid to-”

“I’m not scared of anything, pendejo,” Prowler steps up to Miles instinctively straightening his back, sneering into his face. Miles puffs his chest and stands his ground. 

“Too scared to listen apparently.”

“Don’t try to psychoanalyze me, cabrón,”  "You wanna play hero in your own Brooklyn? Good for you. You go do that, but don’t come here on your fucking high horse talking some shit about boy scout-good samaritan crap.” The Prowler puts a claw to Miles' chest, “You’re in my city, boy. We play by a different set of rules here.”

Miles tried to hide the grimace on his face. He hated being called kid or boy on any given day, but this especially grinded his gear. This boy was the exact same age as him and he was still being looked down on. He still saw him as naive. Miles really couldn’t catch a break, not even from himself. 

“Then why don't you want to know? Will it kill you? Or is it because you don’t want to see how badly your actions are affecting the city you pretend to care so much about-”

“-Watch your mouth.” Prowler sneers, face dangerously close to Miles. The boy was preparing for a fight.

 “You have a choice. I know you want to be good-”

Prowler cuts him off with a violent shove, “-YOU. DON'T. KNOW. ME.”

“You know what...Fine.” Miles relents. He straightens his posture forcing Prowler to step backwards. “You know what? You’re right about one thing, I don’t know you. Maybe you don’t have a choice. Maybe this,” Miles says with a gesture to the Prowler’s suit, “is all you have. I’m not trying to tell you how to feel when you got the short end of the stick. But what I do know is that people need you Miles. Mom, Uncle Aaron, hell even Jonathon.” Miles points to the scientist, who gives a sheepish wave to his doppelganger. “

“So maybe you’re not a good guy, but I can tell you're not heartless. At least not as much as you like to pretend to be. So please man, for them… Just, hear him out. Please” 

Prowler takes a moment to mull over his words. After a prolonged silence he annoyedly clicks his tongue. “Fine… Since Softy here wants to hear a story so bad...” Prowler crosses his arms and turns to face Jonathon, “...What’s the deal with this collider?” 

“Alright…Well…” Jonathan takes a large gulp, hands placed on his desk to steady himself. “I’m sure you’re familiar with rapture.” 

“...Yes.” Prowler responded grimly

“Um, no I don’t.” 

“It’s a highly addictive drug,” Jonathon pulls up various monitors with diagrams and pictures, “Most commonly injected, but it can be ingested in any form. Smoked, snorted, you name it.”

“Symptoms include anything from hallucinations, feelings of euphoria, anxiety, paranoia.” Miles-42 adds, “Withdrawal symptoms are even worse…Half the patients my mom treats are on it.” - Prowler

“Your boss or shall I say bosses are behind it.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“They've been distributing it all around Brooklyn. They’ve been bribing the police and the mayor to turn a blind eye.”

“Yeah I’m aware.” Prowler scoffed, “But there’s an antidote If more people could afford-”

“-They make that too. That’s their whole scheme. By making the poison and the cure…’-

 “...They’re making lambs for slaughter” 

“Exactly. Unless, of course, they can pay their way out.”

“I see.” Prowler clicks his teeth, stoic face.“What’s this got to do with the collider?” 

“Everything. If the Sinister Six get this collider they’re going to distribute the drug into every multiverse they can get their hands on. And they won’t just stop there. Internet, casinos, technology, politics even. They want to monopolize every industry they can get their hands on and they won’t stop until they have complete and total control. Once they take Brooklyn… No one is safe.

 “Mierda…” Prowler mumbled under his breath

“Scorpio Pharmaceutical has even made a new, more addictive batch. Who knows how long before that strain hits the streets-”

Prowler interrupts with a loud sharp inhale. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he paces around for a few moments, eyes scanning the ground like a vulture looking for scraps. 

“FUCK!” Miles-42 shouts, brutally kicking a piece of glitching material

“Dude-”

”-FUCK! FUCK! FUCKING! FUCK!¡MALDITA SEA!”

Prowler has angry tears, hiding his face in his clawed hands  “I don’t want to deal with this shit again”. 

Jonathon and Miles concerned glances, “Again?” Jonathan says. 

Prowler doesn’t budge. Instead, he just looks at the two with red teary eyes and a despondent frown

“Whatever you say here will stay between us.” Miles assures “Promise.”

Prowler takes a deep breath, speaking with his eyes glued to the ground “My dad used to investigate the rapture cartel. He was incredibly passionate about it, said it was the main reason he joined the force."He gave a somber chuckle, “I wanted to be just like him. I would sneak out in my own homemade Prowler suit and steal medicine, dropping it off at my mom’s hospital. Everyone was telling him to lay off it . Even my Uncle Aaron. One time these big scary guys came to the house with these suitcases full of money trying to bribe him. You wanna know what he said, he told them to fuck right off,” Miles-42 recalled with a bitter laugh. “Man, nothing could get that man down…One day during a haul I messed up. Big time. The police were called and he got caught in the crossfire and…” 

“I’m sorry. That must’ve been hard… I-I know what it feels like to lose someone you love, Just know it’s not your fault.”

“...I know” .

“It doesn't have to be this way man. I’m sure we can figure out another way to do things. And I'll do whatever I can to help. I promise.”

“It’s too late for me...I’ve given up too much to stop now..” 

    “Just…” Miles pats him on the shoulder reassuringly “Sigue adelante hermano.”

Miles-42 chuckled, “You know, you talk like a gringo.” 

Miles shrugs embarrassedly “Well, I did get a B in Spanish.” 

 “Aye Dios Mio,” Prowler cringes, “If my mom found out she would tear me a new one.”  

“Nearly killed mine,” Miles chuckled, “Long story short, I’m grounded…For a month”

“Aye.” Prowler shook his head, “Sounds like ma. ”

“At least she’s stopped using the chancla.” 

Prowler shuddered at the thought, “On the culito?’

“Yep.” Miles instinctively rubbed his backside at the thought. It had been years since he was spanked by his parents out of discipline. Luckily, they grew out of the practice. They got more results out of him just by talking to one another as opposed to hitting him. Though, that’s probably not how they felt right now. His heart ached at the reminder of his last conversation with his parents. How he left without saying a word. They were probably worried sick about him. He definitely deserved the chancla from them, that was if he ever saw them again…

“She would alway say ‘I’m doing this because I love you.” Miles recalled out loud with a shake of his head, 

“Or when they would be like, ‘This hurts me more than it hurts you.”

“YES!” Miles exclaimed, “What was with that? As they're literally whooping my ass, like, UGH!” 

“Damn,” Prowler chuckled, “Never thought I would have anyone to talk to about this.”

“Good to know that some things stay the same across the multiverse.” 

 Prowler looked stunned, his demeanor softened “Yeah… Yeah. Of course.” 

   “Okay, so I’m not usually supposed to tell people this buuut, Scorpo sends a lot of their products to Alchemex for…,” Jonathan bit his lip, “...Testing. If you catch my drift. I’d bet money that there’s a batch sitting in the medical laboratory on the bottom floor.” Jonathon gave an innocent, yet knowing shrug. “Soooo, do with that what you will…”

“I’ll get it,” both boys spoke up in unison. 

“No way man.” Prowler refuses.

“I can turn invisible, it’ll be a lot safer.” Miles refutes, “Plus you’re probably the smarter one out of us two. I'm sure Jonathon can use your help here. ”

Prowler shook his head “Yeah but this is my problem, not yours.” He pointed towards the collider behind them, “Don’t you want to make sure this goes off without a hitch? That it doesn’t fall into the wrong hands.

 “I trust you.” Miles spoke amicably with a shrug and a smile, “I promised to do whatever I can to help you out. And I meant it.” he playfully patted his arm. “See you in a bit, man.” 

As Miles turns to pull on his mask, it hits him.The spider senses. Not the usual kind. This one was more rare. It felt like…family. Community. It was similar to when he first met Peter Parker, the spider predecessor of his own Brooklyn. What would usually be a comforting feeling instead sent his heart into overdrive. 

‘They found me.’ 

“I need you guys to listen to me very carefully.” Miles' carefree attitude has been swapped for a more frantic disposition.

“What is it?”

“Que?” 

“There’s these people, this interdimensional spider cult, and they’re trying to keep me some saving my dad-”

“-What? Why?”

“Because of this weird algorithm they follow. They believe if I save him, it'll be the end of the world. If they find me they’ll lock me up.” 

Prowler and Jonathon looked stunned and at loss for words. They share a look of disbelief amongst themselves before returning their gaze back at Miles. 

“Interdimensonal cult?” Jonathan asked. 

“They’re gonna lock you up?” Prowler inquired amused.

“Just tell them that you haven’t seen me. Whoever comes here looking for me, they can't be trusted.”

“...Okey dokey...” 

“...Whatever you say man...”

“Thank you guys.” Miles pulls them all into a quick hug which Jonathon willingly returns. Prowler, whoever is completely caught off guard, his arms remain stiffly at his sides. 

“You guys are the best!” Miles shouts before shooting a web and 

“Yeah, whatever,” Prowler mumbles to himself  before he resumes working. Feeling watched, he turns to Jonathan who, low and behold, is looking at him, beaming with delight.

What?”

“It’s just- When you first came here you came with the intention to do god-knows-what to me. Now look at you, spoiling the Sinister Six’s plans and helping that young man find his way home. Forgive me for saying this, but you’re a lot nicer than you let on.”

“I’m just returning the favor,” he spoke dismissively, intentionally avoiding the gaze of the man next to him. 

“Which means you’re a decent man.”

“You say that when I was sent here to kill you.”

“And you didn’t! Even when I saw your face. You may put on a tough act but deep down you’re like a cute little cinnamon roll!”

Miles wrinkled his nose, “Call me that again and I just might.”

Jonathan let out a boisterous laugh, “You’re funny.”

“Yeah…You too I guess… Maybe there's another you on Earth-1610.”

“Perhaps, given the two of you boys exist.” Jonathan begins filling a kettle with water, “I wonder what I’m like. OOH! What if I have super powers too? And I’m like a superhero-super scientist.” He readjusts his glasses, running a hand through his hair, “I bet I’m really handsome.” 

“Really?” 

  Jonathon chuckles, “Not to brag, but I’ve been told I’m pretty handsome by scientist standards.” 

Miles snorts, “I’m sure you are, Ohn.”  Jonathan beams and resumes his work. ‘What an interesting turn of events’, the scientist thought to himself. Not too long ago, he was sure he was going to be murdered, noe; he felt endeared to the young man and his identical counterpart. Plus the new found discovery of new dimensions and… multiversal cults? The man shook his head at the thought, it was all definitely a first for him.  ‘Nonetheless, it's a new dawn.’ He assured himself,‘Good things are coming, I can feel it.’

sorry for the long wait. new chapter soon. happy new year :)

[ohtobemare]

✨ to anyone who bothers to read my stuffs✨

this is just a little update to tell you—i’m going through some stuff. some writer-person things. been actively struggling with this for a few months, now, which is why writing updates from me have all but dropped off. 

writer’s sometimes go through this transition phase of where we’re in our lane for a hot minute but then we hit a brick wall. like, full force, ram-that-f14-right-into-the-wall kinda brick wall. i, personally, sometimes loose the plot and get into this groove where when I sit down to write, it doesn’t feel like me. it feels claustrophobic or plain, messy and just not right. like clothes that “work” but aren’t “it,” that make you just the slightest bit uncomfortable and you think you can deal with it, but in reality, it’s just going to bother you all day and sit right in the forefront of your headspace. 

that’s where i am, right now, with writing. 

for a couple of weeks i’ve been so caught up in trying to sound and write like everyone else that i’ve kinda just…lost the plot. i’ve been pulling at this shirt in all its troublesome places and it still just doesn’t fit right. something is off, and i’m gonna get to the bottom of it. i think i just need to sit down, re-read some of the stuff i was definitely confident in, and clear my headspace on the blank page and just…write. 

there’s so much pressure to perform and please and rack up the numbers on top of everything else i’m currently dealing with in my headspace that writing has become, well—it’s felt like a chore. a fight. like i’m Maverick dogfighting a gen 5, out of ammo and out of options. it’s hard and it hurts; is ugly and making me second guess myself in ways that I haven’t in a long time.  i don’t like it, want it to go away, and i’m gonna figure it out. 

that said, i think i’m going to pull my latest Val piece that I started because while it’s workable, it isn’t up to my standard. yeah, sure, some people have feral-reblogged it and commented, and i am insatiably grateful for that, but it’s a personal thing. if i am not smiling-proud of it and being like, “wow, can’t believe i wrote that!” then it isn’t it, fam. maybe it’s a me thing, perhaps others get it. regardless, i want to work at it more, and make it really shine. 

which brings me to a piece i most definitely want to dive back into: abstracts. my beautiful love letter to Val himself; i as a personal thing, absolutely need to finish this story. it’s been crawling around my head for God knows how long and at mach 10, so it needs to get out on paper. i have so much i want to accomplish with Ice and his art girlie, that it just needs to happen. if i can get back in my lane. 

this is a whole ‘lotta rambling to let you know i’m in a funk. and if you’ve made it this far, thank you for bearing with me. almost 400 followers in this space is wild and unheard of, i can barely believe it. i really wanna get this dialed in so i can do something special for my 400 followers celebration that will inevitably come down the pike. 

anyway, ya’ll are beautiful, sorry for being such a crash and burning writer-girl mess. 

xoxoxo, 

mare

[citylawns]

Hi lovely! Do you have any tips for clearing out your wardrobe? I’m pretty minimalist and it seems each time I try to build one I’m struck with more of a capsule. ♥️

I’ve been really eager to answer this question since you first sent it weeks ago, I’m so sorry I’m only getting around to it! I can only speak to what I value in a wardrobe and what I’m doing when I clear mine out, and hopefully some of it is relevant or useful to you.

I clear out my wardrobe for the purpose of going through everything I own and making sure I like how things look and feel. The main source of my wardrobe dissatisfaction is when my clothing doesn’t have the right fit or material. I always buy things that are somewhat in my “style” (style being a separate and nebulous thing) but what I have discovered really puts me off wearing certain pieces and feeling uncomfortable in my outfits is when the items don’t flatter my proportions or aren’t made of quality materials so they end up looking shabby and almost toy like - if that makes sense? They don’t look or feel like real clothes… but an imitation of clothing. That’s what a lot of fast fashion garments feel and look like to me. I enjoy thing that are worn in looking, but there’s a difference between that and between a garment that is designed to be disposable. I find it hard to get the right size in a lot of clothes so things often are unflattering on me because they are too oversized, and I have to be careful about making sure something fits me in the right places and creates the silhouette I’m looking for. I have worked in luxury retail for quite a few years and over time I have got better at recognising and learning about quality construction and materials and the older you get and the more you learn about yourself the better you are at knowing which items you want to express your style, that comes from life experience. A lot of the time when I dislike an outfit I’m wearing it’s because the quality of some of the items isn’t the standard I want

So those are the things I keep in mind when trying items on.

Wardrobe Process

1. Try everything on

2. Sort items into 3 piles: Keep / Maybe / Sell or Donate based on what you value in clothing (maybe you need to reflect on this before doing this process)

3. Re-fold and put back all the items you are keeping, take a break for a day or two and revisit your maybe pile and sort it into Keep or Sell

[fanfic-phoenix]

QuinObi Week 2023, Day 5 - Author!AU

Rating: Gen

Word Count: 910

Read on AO3

“Correct.”  Obi-Wan’s smile turned into a grin, and he held out a… something.  “Have a torch.”

“How do you think they’ve set us up?”

The man at the table next to Quinlan’s startled, head jerking as if coming out of a trance.  It was dull enough right now to put anyone to sleep, but Quinlan still felt a slight flash of guilt.

“Sorry?” said the man.

“It’s not by genre.”  Quinlan gestured to his own noir-style detective/spy fare, and then to the man’s own grisly looking covers.

The man smiled.  “Assuredly not.  Perhaps alphabetically?”

“Vos, Quinlan,” he said.

“Ah.  Kenobi, Ben.  Or rather, Obi-Wan.”  Ben or rather Obi-Wan smiled.  “If you can guess which is the pen name, you can have one of the very strange merchandise… things that Mr Palpatine has lumbered me with.”

“Ben.”

“Correct.”  Obi-Wan’s smile turned into a grin, and he held out a… something.  “Have a torch.”

Quinlan took it, inspected it, and raised an eyebrow.  “Is it plot relevant?”

“No.  Not a single torch is mentioned.  I was trying my hand at Sci-Fi; everything’s bioluminescent.”

He clicked the button a few times.  “Does it even work?”

“I don’t think so.  I haven’t managed it.”

“Wow.”

“Indeed.”

Republic Books was underfunded, even by Indie standards, but this was rather pushing it.  Quinlan shook his head.  “Honestly, sometimes I think he wants us to fail.”

Obi-Wan hummed.  “I confess he’s never seemed particularly enthusiastic about books.  Or writing.  Or people.”

“Or anything.”

They both laughed, a little hollow, and glanced as one to the clock.

“I’m scheduled for another six hours,” Quinlan said.

“I’m afraid I am, too.”  Obi-Wan sighed, stretched his neck until it popped.  “My brother is bringing coffee in one hour.”

“My sister’s doing the same.  And some biscuits.”

Obi-Wan nodded appreciatively.  “Very wise.  I take it this isn’t your first rodeo?”

“No,” he said.  “The third.  Maybe fourth.  You?”  He dismissed his next line as too much, then said it anyway.  “I’d definitely remember seeing you here.”

“Flatterer,” Obi-Wan said.  He did not sound disapproving.  “This is my first.  I’ve been able to beg off on account of my father before.  He was ill, but now he’s better.”

“You could lie.”

“I could,” Obi-Wan said, “but then I wouldn’t have been here to talk to you, and that would be a shame.”

“Flatterer,” Quinlan said.

Time ticked on.  Visitors were few and far between, and usually more interested in the other authors scattered about the hall.

“Master Yoda has a new philosophy book out,” Obi-Wan said as another three people walked by without acknowledging either of them.  “I imagine most people are here for him.”

“Maybe,” Quinlan said.  “But I think Mace Windu has a new play.”

“Mace has a play out?”  Obi-Wan tutted.  “He might have told me.”

“You know him?”

“Since childhood; he’s friends with my father.”

“Nice.”  Quinlan may or may not have been a dedicated follower of Mace Windu’s work and may or may not have owned a copy of every play, but he wasn’t going to admit it now, when he was fairly sure he was flirting.  Semi-successfully, too.  “Do you want to swap books?”

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow.

“We both have plenty spare.”

“True.”  He seemed to be considering it.  “Alright.”

Obi-Wan’s book was good.  Very good.  It had an easy sort of prose Quinlan would ordinarily race through, and the descriptions were vivid without lagging.  The problem, unfortunately, was that Ben Kenobi was a prolific and celebrated horror writer, and Quinlan Vos was allergic to horror.

He cleared his throat.  “It’s good.”

“Hm?”  Obi-Wan blinked at him, then smiled, focussing.  “Sorry.  I was just at the part where he discovers the true identity of the informant.”

Quinlan gaped.  “That’s almost halfway through.”

Obi-Wan blushed lightly.  “It’s compelling.  In fact I…”  He pursed his lips, then pushed on.  “I’m afraid I race through almost all of your books.”

“You what?”

“You heard me,” he said with a sniff.  “Anyway, I suggest we trade back.  I can see you flinching from here.”

“Sorry-”

“Don’t be.  I take utter fear as a complement.”  He smiled, as if to prove that he really wasn’t offended.  “I just don’t see the point in extending your suffering.”

“It is good,” he said, “but let’s get back to the fact I’m apparently sitting next to a super fan.”

Obi-Wan snorted.  “I wouldn’t go that far.”

“So you’re not a fan?”

Obi-Wan Kenobi - excellent writer, apparently not a super-fan, and Quinlan’s crush for all of forty minutes - flicked him a supremely dry look.  “If I take an early lunch and kiss you stupid for the twenty minutes it takes our siblings to bring coffee, will you hush about my literary tastes?”

Quinlan just about choked on his tongue.  “I-  Yes?  Yeah.  Definitely.”

“Wonderful.”  He placed an almost disturbingly cheerful Back Soon! sign on his table.  “Come on then.”

He hurried after him into the dark corner of the staircase behind the Staff Only banner.  “This is the first time anyone’s kissed me just to shut me up.”

“I’m kissing you because you’re hot and good company,” Obi-Wan corrected.  “Shutting you up is a side effect.”

“Oh,” he said.

“And if you’re amenable,” Obi-Wan continued, “I’ll take you to dinner once we’re no longer contractually obliged to remain in the building.”

“I’m amenable,” he said.

“Good.”  Obi-Wan nodded in a self-satisfied sort of way, and set to the business of kissing him silly.

It was, in Quinlan’s opinion, the best publicity event he’d ever been forced into.

Tagging: @quinobiweek

Thanks for a great week!!

[hollers-and-holmes]

Guys this isn’t my usual sort of thing but it’s been a gradual sort of understanding that it is not unlawful to write about one’s sorrow and that maybe sometimes it’s even okay to let someone else see it.

Wildfire in Her Last Five Weeks

She has thrashed out a hollow in the wheatgrass.

A hollow like the hollow around a cow’s carcass pounded down

by coyote tracks and wireclaws of ravens and

the parhelion dust halo

that shawls an unsown corpse.

She is not a carcass yet. But nearing it.

Her germinating bones strain up for the light.

She flails her hairskinned head against the ground.

My daughter (nine) has never seen a dying horse

but needs no one to tell her to fling her sapling weight across a sorrel-painted neck

and try to pin it there.

Watch your feet. I am going to get water. Get out of her way if she tries to stand up. Babe, will you be home soon? I am out at the end of the alfalfa field with four babies and our good mare who has lost so much weight in a week I cannot stand to look straight at her. She cannot get up. It is starting to rain. I cannot get her up.

You’re like a pioneer! they tell me.

What this means is that I lie beside the dying thing alone.

I tell the babies to look the other way.

A week.

Flunixin gouged up past her teeth and jetted onto her tongue does not stop her febrile trembling quickly enough.

I have to go, he says

We’re weaning heifers at the feedyards

Maybe try to vein her, I don’t know.

If you put it in an artery you’ll kill her.

I love you. I’m sorry. You’ll have to figure it out.

I get the babies started on their phonics and

pull up a YouTube video on my phone.

Occlude the vein

See how it bulges?

The middle third of the neck is where the artery is deepest.

Roll the bevel away from yourself.

Getting through the skin is where it hurts so

do it fast.

There are entire channels video after video of satisfying haircuts cake decorating slime smooth textures Japanese chefs cleaving perfect watermelon bowls that man who makes dragons and dishwashers out of chocolate here is someone freehanding a perfect straight line with a stylus ingrown hair removal ASMR and none of them as breathtaking as a flash of blood wrung dark of oxygen that blossoms into the barrel of a ten-cc syringe drawn up to the seven with clear delaying banamine.

She starts to have a few good days. Is she getting better? Hard to tell. She drags the stifled leg still. Her strip-face filly tries to suck. Must be getting something, or her money-colored hair would roughen and her belly swell with air.

Sometimes the paint mare lies down and can’t rise and so she wears a cracked and adipose-deep

ulcer over every nailsharp point of jaw and hock and pelvis

boring down against the ground.

We have to throw a halter rope around her feet and heave her over the ridge

of her thin-coated spinous processes

so she can get her sound leg underneath her

and ratchet herself standing

one more time.

He says, I probably ought to shoot her. She’s not getting better. It’s fixing to get cold and then what? We have to be realistic about this. It’s hard to watch her suffer.

I get belligerent and rally to the standard. More NSAID, more sixty-dollar supplemented showhorse grain we can’t afford, more vitamin B injections (it leaks in rusty runnels down her fatless neck because intramuscular only works when the muscle is not atrophied to ribbons).

I flew to see my dad in March when he woke smothered soundless by

whatever Adam-remnant we knew already had assailed

into his lungs and kidneys.

Lesions on the frontal lobe. They had not yet occluded shut his verbal pathways.

And in all these things Job did not sin with his mouth.

I sat beside him on the white-columned Everglade porch. The skin of his throat had stretched out baggy and unshaven since Christmas when sixty pounds of his big lanky body lain down for us joyful and ungrumbling and unwithheld for thirty-some sweet gentle-humored years had not yet dripped away into the coyote-waste.

He says he wants to grow it out, my mother said.

The shape inside was still the same.

It formed that same old rumbling laugh when I read to him a paragraph of

Ruth Stout being snarky about newfangled gardening practices.

Two nights later it was his turn to read to me, before he crept to bed in a Tampa Bay hotel room.

In the morning I would wing back to the wind-gaunted wheat prairies and he

would ride a rented wheelchair

up a cement ramp once more into the

breach of beveled needles and wafer skin spanned

too thin across acromion bones.

Tried believer, thy Lord hath a tear-bottle in which the costly drops of scared grief are put away, and a book in which thy holy groanings are numbered. By and by, thy holy suit shall prevail. Canst thou not be content to wait a little? Will not the Lord’s time be better than thy time?

Every magpie doesn’t have a coyote but every coyote has a magpie.

I know the morning the zinnias freeze to rustles what the tailbirds tattering out over the corral-fence have come to tell me.

I cannot find a vein this time. The anatomy is different when a horse is lying down. I keep having to leap aside when she rears high hindquarter-beached and thunder-hearted and fracks her sixty-pound head against the frozen ground.

The dormant alarms on my phone are still labeled for morphine and Haldol on rotation every two hours and have been for a year.

There is no hair left on the right side of her face.

Merciful Father, deliver us quickly from this.

Death is like childbirth, labor upon narrowing necessary labor. Good job, I said to him, my cheek on the same pillow, you are doing good work. Not long now. It’s been a lot of work. It’s okay to be done. You are doing good work.

I printed it and pinned it on the wall above the hospice bed:

Defeated, outmaneuvered fool! Did you mark how naturally—as if he had been born for it—the earthborn vermin entered the new life? All his doubts became, in the twinkling of an eye, ridiculous…

[sophfandoms53]

I agree I wish people could view things with more neutrality because it would greatly improve the type of gameplay that we see but It feels sometimes like the fandom has these unrealistic borderline double standard expectations for how houseguests should act. There is so much negativity and hate around things like players getting frustrated if someone is making a move that will negatively impact them, or crying when someone they like gets voted out, or venting and shit talking other houseguests who are getting on their nerves. There is anger if players make up lies about their faves but also anger if people in the house get mad about people lying because lying is part of the game. I could go on but I won’t bore you any further lol. but the fandom who isn’t even competing couldn’t stop doing any of those things if their life depended on it so it’s like why then do those same people insist that the ones actually playing the high stress game for a life changing amount of money should are bad and wrong and silly for being emotional when things aren’t going their way.

Omg im so sorry for responding late to this 😭

I am answering this now bc i still think its kinda relevant especially when it comes to how people talk about Cirie or Cory’s game recently.

You can’t appreciate or criticize how either of them play without someone trying to bash them or misinterpreting how they’re playing for the sake of wanting to feel valid for disliking them.

I really like Cirie and Cory as players and people but I’m not gonna act like they’re flawless in every way or that their strategies don’t have issues. They for sure do, Cory’s been cracking a lot recently especially with Jared treating him the way he has. And Cirie and Izzy spiral every hour and change plans constantly, its a disaster in there LMAO

But they’re also just trying to play the game and their moves don’t need to be over analyzed with some deeper motivation behind it bc they’re going after someone or they aren’t working with someone you personally favor.

Full disclosure though, you’re allowed to dislike any houseguest for any reason. It doesn’t have to be this essay of reasons or you searching for evidence so you feel valid about it. That’s kinda the problem with ppl here and on twitter, they wanna feel validated for not vibing with a houseguest so they constantly misinterpret things that arent that big a deal and want ppl to agree with them. And its kinda not necessary imo.

I think we’re just so used to disliking a majority of the hgs that people don’t know what to do with a cast that’s messy all around as people and players but are overall decent (cameron, red, and jared suck tho lemme be clear they are not part of what im talking about), so some people wanna just hate so they reach to the most extremes because that’s what we’ve come to expect. But humans don’t work in such a good or bad way, and i think this season is a reminder that people are messy and complex but aren’t bad.

It’s hard for players to truly play BB and it’s hard as a viewer to talk about gameplay bc of this “this or that” lense ppl watch the game through.

[alluralater]

Not my normal type of ask but I just saw your reply about what parts of your body you like and it got me thinking. I’m on a journey of working on/finding myself and am trying to regain the body confidence I had a couple years ago.

It doesn’t help that both at home and at uni I’m around some very weight and body critical people, who I can’t exactly cut out. So, I was just wondering if you have any advice on learning to love yourself. Obviously you’re so, so gorgeous it would make sense for it to come naturally to you, I just wish I could see myself the way I see other women.

I get really upset and frustrated when my friends say I look like a mum or an aunty because of my face and figure (I’m quite curvy and they are mostly East Asian so have naturally straighter builds). I think I struggle with it at the moment too because everyone always says how straight I look, and I am a RAGING lesbian, like, will never touch a man again, so being told I look like I’m about to settle with one and pop out some kids at 20 is really weird.

Sorry if that was too much for an ask, it’s tough to work through alone.

-🍯

don’t be sorry <3 you’re right! it is really tough to work through alone.

tw: trauma

let me be clear though, yes i understand that i’m pretty but i had exactly the opposite of things coming naturally to me when it came to the way i was raised. i am one of three sisters and i’m the only one who feels the way i do about myself. the only reason i have this intrinsic feeling like my body is perfect to me is because self love and self worth are skills that can be developed. i was an extremely traumatized child and completely missed that portion of time when people are starting to hate themselves for the appearance of their physical vessels. i had other things to worry about.

when it comes to any hatred toward my body, that’s a doozy. the first time i became aware of how i looked was when my mother literally stood me in front of a mirror and asked me what i wanted to look like and if “this” was what i wanted when i was 4 years old and then proceeded to tell me what her plan was to make me look different. im 24 now and i think about that every single time i look in a mirror. she confided in my uncle and told him of that particular experience among plenty of others and said she regretted them so much. she passed away before we could ever properly talk about any of it. i will never be that way. the way i talk and feel about myself is not something that comes from a feeling like i’m genetically blessed and ignorant to the idea that i fit current beauty standards. i know what i look like. i was bullied for being biracial when i was growing up. i think my experiences are what kept me from ever comparing myself heavily to others. i’ve never wanted to look like someone else. i moved around constantly and yes i saw everyone else feeling that societal pressure to look a certain way. i’m bipolar so my awareness was always really high as a child, i just didn’t… want to be that way. i saw how my mom was, how my sisters were. how everyone was. i didn’t want that for me.

i made a point to try and condition myself. i look in the mirror and i hear those things and i don’t think about it negatively. yes i do love what i look like. yes i do love myself. when i was younger and i got my first ipod touch, i started taking pictures of myself smiling so that i’d immediately feel happy whenever i looked at them, which then turned into me loving the way i smile. i started taking pictures of my body, conditioning that as well. honestly… i think i just cheated the system. now i don’t even question if i’m pretty or not. i don’t compare myself to other people. i work on my style, my hair, my love for my personality and emotional growth over anything physical. i’ve had so many awful things happen to me. when i was 4 i was convinced that i wouldn’t be alive past the age of 18. and here i am!

i know this probably isn’t the answer you were looking for but it’s the truth. i didn’t just stumble upon loving myself. i love myself in spite of every experience and people using my body for their own greed and pleasure. i’m still here and i refuse to waste my time hating any part of myself. self love will ALWAYS feel intrinsic to me because that’s the relationship i’ve created with myself, the way i cheated my brain, the way i want to set an example for others. i love myself passionately and madly, the way i should have always been loved and cared for. the way i care for people and love people is the way i love myself.

btw- fuck anyone else. if they’re so focused on looks then their personality will surely be lacking. if i got third degree burns all over my body tomorrow, i would still pull because i’m hot on the inside too lmao. and it does actually fucking matter. people calling me pretty or gorgeous is something i honestly don’t give a fuck about. same thing for any negative physical comments i could receive. i know my worth and that’s all i need. don’t be afraid to love yourself in spite of other people. you’re beautiful as you are, lean into that FACT. lean AWAY from societal pressure and conditioning. trends change. i’m considered hot as fuck now but in the 2000s it was all white girls built like toothpicks. don’t be too concerned about what anyone thinks, what YOU think is all that matters. body confidence is an aura as well as a skill. fake it till you make it. starting a habit and saying “i love [insert 20 things you love about yourself]” will actually CHANGE the way you view yourself. the human brain is highly suggestible. cheat the system, hack your brain if you have to. self love comes from the self and becomes automatic when you actually lean into it. you have to realize, self love is our natural state. societal pressure and conditioning is what changes us. reclaim what is natural <3

[fuwabloom]

It's been a while since I posted anything! So sorry but I've been in a bit of creative funk and had to scrap a lot of the chapter I was working on so... I'm gonna post it here!

--

Context: Ayano is being discharged from the hospital after fainting due to stress. Her father is worried for her and she thinks back on a very specific memory of appeasing him as a child.

--

It took several more tests and evaluations before Ayano was finally released from the hospital. Her mother was, once again, roped into another meeting with Director Mukai and assured her family that they could leave without her.

The three idle outside the entrance of the hospital, her father carrying a bag of clothes in one hand and a paperbag full of books and other miscellaneous trinkets Ayano was gifted. Mukai Kinu was bashfully obvious with trying to win over the girl's affections,

She laughed off the concerns of the two, and gently patted them on the shoulders, affirming her initial offer,

"Now, now," she cooed, affection sparkling in her eyes. A wide grin blossomed on her lips, reaching her eyes with sheer delight. "I know today is our first day altogether out of the hospital, but duty calls! I'll have Mukai-kun drive me home and pay for some prime wagyu beef, doesn't that sound nice?"

Ayano isn't slow, she knows what her mother looks for with how she stares back, batting her lashes in am attempt to garner a favorable response. Her father is quick, a natural charmer when it came to Ryoba, and he utters a pathetic excuse of being concerned that maybe they should all take a night to relax. It's been so long, hasn't it? They've rarely had a chance to sit at the table and negotiate who gets to finish what side dish.

Ayano follows up, picking up the cue from her father's trailing pleas. She forces a heavy pout, eyes downcast, and as soon as she feels her mother's loving attention on her, she crosses her arms and turns away. Most parents would reprimand such insolence but Ryoba was an anomaly. She had no standard criteria. No control group to be compared to. Nothing. She was a being of whims and wants with no manual someone can pick up and read.

An adolescent of a parent with an ounce of normality would get scolded. But this was not that type of setting. Instead, Ryoba giggles, validating the poor acting, and gently kisses her daughter's temple. She's a woman who is not easily swayed and faulted to being amused than endeared.

"I wish you could act spoiled like this before you start high school," she sighs and her husband relents a nervous chuckle. "Maybe I'll also drop by Wakuri Bakery and pick up some cream puffs? I know my dearest Ayano's are the best but for now, you need to get reacquainted with our home after being away so long!"

She repeated her consolation until a man in a black suit arrived and cleared his throat. He was an older gentleman, clean shaven, with black hair swept over a pair of shades. His shoulders were broad and the way he stood made him appear bigger than he actually was for his average height. "Aishi-san," he calls, tapping on his wrist. A flash of light reflected on his watch, showing off a hint of his wage.

"Hmph!" Ryoba whines but laughs it off when the man refrains from flinching. "Oh you young blood," she chides and waves to her family. "Don't worry, my loves, just make sure not to eat too late!"

The two leave, approaching a loitering vehicle with the suit opening the passenger's door, waiting for Ryoba to slide in. She turns one last time and blows affectionate kisses to her husband and daughter and, finally, seats herself in the car. Visibly, the man's shoulders slack, and he hurries to the driver's seat. A few more seconds pass and the engine murmurs before the vehicle departs.

Ayano hears her father breathe out in an ironic mix of distress and relief. "How are you feeling, sweetie?" His tone is unsteady as his eyes are tracking the tail end of the car circling through the parking lot and entering the high way. "Mukai-sensei said everything was fine, great even, and praised how healthy you are... But, uh, how was your appetite? Was it okay? Did you eat enough?"

Her father danced around the worries of her well-being often. Meanwhile, Ryoba batted away such issues like they were someone else's problem or something absurd like the Aishi family's genes were above such trivial things like fevers. They both exercised caution of Ayano's health, leaving it to regular evaluations in school. There was never anything wrong outside of the mild concern that Ayano, as a growing child, didn't eat much compared to other children.

It wasn’t urgent nor something to worry about, but it left a gnawing feeling in his stomach. A worry that he once brought up when it was just him and a seven-year-old Ayano. They sat across each other at a quiet family restaurant. Laminated menus placed before them, wiped clean from previous diners, colorful to entice their childish patrons, and used silly names to further entrance curious eyes.

Sundae specials like 'A Berry Banana Bonanza' for a banana split chock-full of strawberries and raspberries; 'Choco-Mint Mayhem' where the sea green of mint was sprinkled with chocolate chunks and decorated with sticks of Pocky; and 'My Neopolitean Regime' is a strange name for a childish delight, what with its dedicated embodiment of its three flavors and candies that resided inside. It's supposed to be a statement, Ayano once thought, possibly one that denied dentists everywhere a smooth appointment.

Her father's eyes shone briefly after she rose her head, asking with eagerness if she wanted ice cream. She knows she needs to act spoiled, yanking at her father's shaky hands, and sobbing crocodile tears with a thousand pleases falling from her tongue. She knows he wants that, to witness an ounce of a normal child across him. She knows he is struggling, desperation the only thing he can feel when around his family.

She knows and yet, she can't act like what he wants. All she can do is pick up a mask that she made specifically for him and wear it while reciting a script. As the playwright, the producer, the actress, she performs and does it well.

"Daddy," she meekly began, batting her eyes like she's seen Midori do a thousand times. "Can I get the Neopolitean one?" She tapped her finger against the disgustingly bright photo of said dessert.

A smile escaped him and the crows feet around his eyes crinkle. "You can, but then you'll be too full for dinner," he gently reprimanded, relief flooding from his voice. His muscles loosen, as if something inside him unwound. "Can you promise me that you'll have room for some yummy dinner?"

Like he could breathe.

She figured this was enough for him to feel like this could be normal. So she nods, stubborn with cheeks puffed and brows furrowed, similar to Kuu who debated with her parents often. She'd fight for adding 'just one more book!' to the cart as they wandered from aisle to aisle in a bookstore. Funny faces seeped onto Kuu's parents' faces as though they were doing their best not to laugh, and were easily swayed by the soured look of their child. 'Okay,' they'd say with a shake of their head, 'just one more.'

So, as always, Ayano feeds off her companions' lives and processes it as artificially as possible.

"I promise!"

And that memory drifts into nothingness. Her stomach was too small to handle such a behemoth of a sundae and they wound up boxing it, brought it home, and had it as dessert for dinner. She recalled having stomach cramps but managed to hide it and finish dinner her mother crooned on about loving to make. Ayano excused herself to take a bath first and relished in the hot water for as long as she could.

Why would anyone want to eat more than one scoop of ice cream? Impossible. She felt her teeth decay at the thought of attempting it a second time.

And so, the feeling drifts again.

"Mukai-sensei made sure I've eaten everything on my plate," she assured, feigning bashfulness. "I might gain weight because of it..." Gingerly her hands pat at her nearly nonexistent flab. She always worked out, not even thinking about it, scultped by her mother's designed lifestyle. Her posture was always upright, she did light cardio, she put her all into physical education, and was on constant alert. If anything, the pink-haired nurse commented how Ayano had a surprising amount of muscle for someone who wasn't part of an athletic club.

"It's almost as if you're training to join a sports meet!"

It was a kind observation. Something someone innocent, ignorant, of the world would assume. Or someone normal.

Her father cracked a smile, crows feet prominent.

[safyresky]

Crystal Springs Chapter 22 EXCERPT: Blinter my BELOVED

In HONOUR of uh, Welsh Valentine's Day today, and because I feel like TRASH and THRIVE on NICE THINGS and fucking. LOVE LOVE SO GODDAMN MUCH (the Dite just JUMPED OUT), please enjoy this lil sneaky peaky of Crystal Springs Chapter 22: Deck the Halls, featuring some soft (then saucy) Blinter post-nightmare (it's new to CS 202X Edition!) 🧡💙🧡💙😍😍😍🥰🥰🥰💥💥💥💥💥

---

“Blaise?!”

He shot up, breathing heavily. Something was burning.

He looked down.

Oh. That was his hands on the sheets. Whoops.

A cold touch on his face. His heart rate began to slow as the soft pad of Winter’s thumb rubbed gentle circles on his cheek.

“Winter,” he said, gruffly, relieved. His shoulders dropped; he reached out, pulling her onto his lap and holding her very, very close and tight.

“Oh thank the goddess,” she said, gently squeezing him back before pulling out of the embrace, caressing his face. “I was worried. You were near thrashing, dearest. Another nightmare?”

Blaise nodded, dragging her hand to his mouth, pressing a kiss on her knuckles. “Yeah. ‘M okay now that you’re here,” he said, pulling her back in and hugging her, so, so tightly, as though if he let go she would cease to exist, and he’d be falling through the days once again—

He cleared his throat. Squished her tighter.

“Did you just get back from work?”

“Oh yes,” Winter said, excitedly. “And Blaise, what a storm! The northeast isn’t going to know what hit them! Was it the schoolroom again?”

Blaise nodded, his head buried in her neck. “Yeah.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry, dear. I’m here for you. It’s okay; it’s alright. That was long ago. You’re safe now. The kids are safe. We’re safe,” she whispered, kissing the top of his head.

“I know,” Blaise said, unburying himself from her neck and gazing at her soft face. He held her head in his hands, rubbing her cheek now. She smiled, warmly, pulling his forehead down to touch hers. “I know,” he repeated, with a soft smile full of love that was reserved just for her. “Do I have to go pick Jacqueline out of a snowbank?”

Winter laughed. “No, she’s awake. She’s been talking Jack’s ear off all night. She’s still going. I think he’s met his match! Listen closely,” Winter said, their foreheads still touching.

Straining his ears, Blaise made himself aware of the sounds surrounding them. The Twins were snoring. Soft footsteps were heading up to the next floor. The quietly animated voice of Jacqueline, talking about something called the Black Parade? It’s a classic by alternative and punk rock standards, completely revolutionary, she was saying, only to be cut off by Jack saying that’s not what I mean when I say CLASSICS, Jacqueline!

Blaise chuckled.

"This is almost a week straight of nightmares,” Winter said, concern lining her features.

Blaise sighed. “I can’t figure it out. It’s like my subconscious is trying to tell me something, but I can’t figure out what. I can’t remember; as soon as I wake up, the details are gone. Not that they’re there in the first place,” he said with a sigh, dropping his hands and closing his eyes. Feeling the cool touch of Winter’s forehead on his.

“Same progression, then?”

Blaise nodded against her forehead. “Yeah. Lessons. Fighting. Then too much power. Then the moment I quit,” he said with a sigh. “Though there were drinks this time," he added, brow furrowed. "I just can’t figure it out!”

“Oh, darling. I do think you need a break. You’re hard at work every day, and when you come home you have even more work to do. Have you had a moment to breath? To sit down and relax, in the last two weeks or so?”

“She needs our help, Winter. I can’t just. I can’t just let someone take advantage of our baby girl like that! I need to figure out who it is and what they’re doing and why they’re—”

“We,” Winter gently reminded him. “It’s not just you, darling. Jack’s been a big help, and I’ve been doing my fair share, too, when I can. Even the Twins have been helping! Fino brought home all those books on ancient liquids the other day. Fiera keeps thinking of other things to look into, and as wacky as some of them are, they’re not bad suggestions. We’ve been narrowing it down, together! You’re not alone in this. I know your shoulders are strong but darling, you need to stop carrying everything on them! I don’t like when they’re carrying the weight of the world. They sag. It makes it hard to spot you in a crowd,” she said, the corners of her lips twitching slightly.

"And it hurts my back something fierce,” Blaise joked, leaning back with a grin, his hair flickering to life.

Winter laughed, a delicate hand in front of her mouth. “You need to give yourself a break, dear. Cash in on your days off.”

“I can’t just take days off.”

“Yes you can. You’re the frostbitten governor of the entire country.”

“City, not country.”

“You keep telling yourself that, dear. Maybe one day someone will believe it.”

Blaise chuckled. “This week’s busy. Town Hall is coming up, and the fairies are at it again with the dryads, and there’s always so many requests and inquiries leading up to the holidays—”

“Just let Dave take care of it. I bet it’ll make his Christmas.”

Blaise laughed, thinking of his angry, no-nonsense, satyr-like secretary who would, indeed, love to tell people to buzz off on Blaise’s behalf.

“Besides, the Assembly can take care of things without you, Blaise. Mother has a handle on things, as do the other governors and their lieutenants. Things won’t fall apart here if you take some time to make sure you don’t fall apart,” she said, booping the tip of his nose.

He smiled. Tired. Soft. “Maybe you’re right.”

“I know I am, dear. The break will do you some good! Give yourself time to process everything. Focus on one job at a time. Spend some time with the kids. Seeing as how all four are home for Christmas. Perhaps it will give your subconscious some time to figure out why that dream. Why that memory, of all the ones to make a nightmare out of. All your hard work is important,” she said, caressing his face once more. “But feeling good is important, too. Giving yourself breaks. You can’t keep burning the candle at both ends, Blaise dear. At least, not this one,” she said, gently pushing back the light simmer that was his hair.

Blaise sighed, reaching over to the drawer in his night table. He pulled out a scrap of paper and a pencil, quickly wrote something down, and snapped, the note disappearing in a smattering of sparks. He smiled, a goofy little tired smile that reminded Winter of when they were both much, much younger. “Are you going to join me, or what? It’s been a rough night. I could use a cuddle or two.”

Winter laughed, sliding off of his lap. “Yes, yes. Let me get my jim-jams on,” she said, heading into the closet.

So many layers, Blaise thought to himself, as he watched her silhouette throw off the heavy fur cloak, an outer layer to her dress, the inner layer, and a third portion to her skirt that she tossed in a corner. He sighed, regretfully taking his eyes off of his wife and slumping back on the headboard, deep in thought.

The nightmares had started after they talked to Jacqueline. What she had told them, about the blackouts, had rung a bell. Blaise hadn’t stopped thinking about it; not even in his sleep. And as the nights passed, the shadowy dreams with wisps of chatter had slowly taken shape. He could make out figures; he could place where and when and who he was with. But the details got weirder and weirder. Drinks. What did drinks have to do with anything?! What couldn’t he remember?

“Perhaps a nice family outing is in order for tomorrow,” Winter said, sliding into the bed in a tiny pair of sleep shorts and one of Blaise’s rarely worn t-shirts. She pulled some ice out of her hair, smooshing it into a ball and throwing it into the washroom. It curved around the doorway, landing with a solid THUNK in the tub.

“Nice curveball,” Blaise said. “Nice curves,” he added with a growl, grabbing her around the waist and dragging them both up against the headboard.

Winter giggled, curling up against him and looking into his warm eyes. “I grew them myself,” she said with a silly little grin that reminded Blaise of when they were both much, much younger.

“Well you did a phenomenal job,” he said, dragging her right up against his chest, kissing the top of her head as he felt the tired creep back.

“As did you with this chest of yours,” she said, her fingertips gently trailing down his sternum.

Blaise laughed, tilting her head up and aiming for her lips.

“Mmm,” she said, mid kiss. He smiled against her lips; he felt her do the same. Regrettably pulling away, he rested the tip of his nose on hers.

“A nice family day, huh?”

“Mhmm,” Winter said, her fingers tracing his shoulder now. “We haven’t decorated yet, and December is flying by.”

“And the boys did bring back even more festive florals. That’s not a bad idea. What do you think? Should we decorate tomorrow?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Winter said, pulling him down for another kiss. She pulled away all too soon. “Those kids of ours have far too much energy; the tree farm is as good a place as any to let them burn some of it off. Or freeze it off.”

“And how about you, Winter? You seem very energetic tonight.”

“I am, and I happen to have a lovely idea to help with that,” she said, bringing him in closer. “Care to join me?” she asked Blaise, coyly.

His hair went from simmering to roaring in an instant. “Would I ever,” he said, closing the distance and pulling her in for the kiss she had been dangling in front of him for far too long, in his humble opinion.

“I love you so goddess damned much,” Blaise said, breathlessly, pulling away for the quickest of moments before swooping back in.

“Mmm, I know,” she replied between kisses, breathlessly, the two falling into the slightly singed sheets.

That was certainly one way to keep nightmares at bay.

[my-secret-shame]

My fictional soulmate?

🔮THE FATES HAVE DECIDED🔮

Your soulmate is: Steven Grant

And you met: at the hot dog stand

(Wtf Fates?) Okay, so after having a chat with the Fates, they made a few things clear and are telling me this:

Alright, so the Fates are telling me off for doubting them, it’s a VEGAN hot dog stand. 

A new hot dog stand had opened not far from where you work, one of those totally bougie, pretending to be temporary but are actually unmovable, stands. Where the hot dogs cost £15 for the basics.

However, they were meant to be amazing and you deserved a treat after the day you’d had. 

There were only a few people in front of you when you joined the line, but a sudden sea of people came from somewhere, and when you were third in line there were easily twenty behind you. 

You were just checked your phone when someone nudged your arm. There was a guy trying to move in front of you, you looked at him for a second - he didn’t make eye contact. Didn’t say ‘excuse me’ or motion like he was just trying to pass through. 

He just kept nudging, stepping closer. 

It took you a second longer than you’d like to admit to realise he was trying to cut in line. 

“Erm, excuse me?” You said, the bad day you’d had making your voice firmer than it would usually be. 

He didn’t look, but continued to edge in front of you.

“There’s a line.” You gestured. 

He tutted, rolling his eyes like you were something he’d stepped in. 

Your blood boiled. Anger spiking at the base of your skull like a pin. 

You opened your mouth to speak, but never got the words out.

“There’s a bloody line mate!” The guy behind you said. “And don’t look at them like that, you’re the one being daft!” 

You glanced behind you and couldn’t help the smile that bloomed on your face. 

“Stop being a scrounger, and get to the back of the line, or better yet, just clear off!” 

The man trying to cut in scowled. For a second you thought he was going to say something, do something, but he just looked at the guy behind you and apparently thought better of it. He muttered something that was guaranteed to be rude before walking off. 

You gave the guy behind you a grin. “Thank you.” 

He gave you a sheepish smile back, shrugging as he looked down. “Ah, it’s nothing, isn’t it? I don’t get people like that, he knew there’s a line.” 

You nod. “Thank you anyway.”

His smile widens into a grin, but you're called on by the server before he gets a chance to speak again. 

You order, then pause just as you're paying. “Erm, could I buy, or just put some money towards the guy who’s behind me’s order?”

The server smiles and nods. You pay for an extra standard hot dog, before your nerve fails. 

You give the guy behind you a little wave and nod before you walk away to find a bench in the park. 

It’s not long before you hear, “wait!” The sound of it cutting through the music on your headphones. 

You turn, the man from before jogging to catch up with you, his own hot dog bag in his hand. 

There’s a sudden jolt of embarrassment in your gut, you overstepped here. Maybe he’s insulted, maybe he’s-

“Thank you so much.” There’s such a heartfelt honesty in his words. “You didn’t need to do that, you know? Thank you.” He fiddles with his hands as he comes to stop in front of you. 

“I’m,” he swallows, “Steven, by the way. Nice to meet you, well, again, we did just meet before. I, erm, I don’t know how to properly say thank you.”

You grin. “I do, why don’t you eat lunch with me Steven?” 

Thank you so much! - sorry for the delay! I have an inner & middle ear infection at the moment that is kicking my butt.

My Secret Shame's Little Party

[theavengerfairy]

One Step Closer - Chapter 7

Hello everyone. I'm sorry this chapter took so long and I thank you for your patience. The last year of my life has been hectic to say the least, and while this did take me much longer than I would've liked, finishing it now is a small victory in itself. During the past year, I have received questions about whether this story was discontinued, which is understandable, so I wanted to share a little general explanation here for all of you of what my standard practice when it comes to this matter as it is a bit different from what I've seen most people do. If I decide I will not be finishing one of my stories for any reason, I will delete or archive the story rather than leave it up as I do not want to mislead readers new and old into thinking there is still more to come when I have already moved on. I know for some this may seem like a waste of time and effort, but the way I see it, the love and attention while the story was active still makes the energy and time I put into it worthwhile. If an unfinished story is still up, even if considerable time has passed since the last update as happened with this one, that means that I still hope to continue the story. I hope this clears things up, and I thank you again for your patience.

__________________________________________________________________

"Staring at it isn't going to make anything happen, ya know. You're just causing yourself to worry even more."

A jolt shot through every fiber of Callum's being as he finally noticed Rayla's reflection hovering beside his own in the lake's eerily still surface, her arms folded and her head slightly cocked to one side as she stared at him. As he silently observed her mirror image, he saw her lips purse and her brows pinch together in a crystal clear expression of annoyance when she received no response from him.

"She hasn't been down there that long; it just feels like it's been a while because we're all on edge." she prodded again, doing her best to keep her irritation from permeating her tone with moderate success. "All we can do right now is trust in her."

Callum's stomach dropped into some impossibly deep crevice within him while his tongue remained glued to the roof of his mouth. Tearing his gaze from Rayla's reflection, he searched for a distraction upon which he could fixate his attention to try and drown out the millions of thoughts swirling in his mind, all of them competing for his immediate attention. Eventually, his eyes settled on Madeleine and Zym, both of whom had taken refuge beneath a particularly large willow that loomed a short distance from the water's edge. Maddie had fished some random bits and baubles from the depths of her satchel and was now fiddling busily with them while an intrigued Zym looked on. However, more than once Callum observed the girl's gaze wander from the odds and ends in her hands to the lake as well, wearing the same look of helplessness he had seen plastered upon his own face as it stared back at him earlier. Each time, she peered unblinkingly at the water's surface for several long moments before snapping back to her senses, and after a sharp shake of her head, she returned her attention to the items in her lap, thus starting the futile cycle of resistance over once more. The desire to offer her some comfort tugged relentlessly at Callum's core, yet he could not will himself to move as any reassurance he offered would be but hollow words uttered by lips that did not themselves fully believe what they were saying. But it would get him away for a little bit longer, give him a little more time to try and sort through his feelings before he had to step into this moment he so dreaded.

"So are we going to talk about it or are you just going to keep ignoring me?"

Even with racing thoughts further muddling his already foggy mind as they all competed for his immediate attention, Rayla's voice was familiar enough to Callum now for his ear to detect the traces of dejection that dulled the bite of her words. Though some part of him pleaded that he keep his eyes averted, he swallowed a steadying breath before swiveling his gaze back to Rayla's reflection. His heart started a little when his stare found hers almost immediately within the water's surface, and yet he held fast, meeting the scrutiny of those amethystine eyes head on.

From amid the flurry in his mind rang his mother's voice, perfectly clear despite being no more than a gentle whisper. "Breathe, sweetie. Just breathe."

"I..." Shaking his head a bit, Callum gulped down some more of the cool evening air and tried again. "What if you don't like what I have to say? I don't want to hurt you, Rayla."

Rayla's ears drooped slightly. "You're already hurting me though. You can assume all you want, but how can you know for sure what I'm thinking and feeling if you won't let me speak for myself? I get needing space to process, but this feels like more than that. It feels like you don't trust me to try and work this out between us. That's not fair, Callum."

"That's not-" Callum's voice broke off, the young prince already recognizing his folly. "...You're right. You should get to speak for yourself instead of me just assuming things. I'm sorry for being a jerk. I'm just...I'm really struggling..."

The sand of the shore shifting slightly beneath her, Rayla eased herself down beside Callum. Reaching out her hand, she placed it gently atop one of his as it picked absently at the fingerless glove adorning his other hand.

"Then let me help you. That's part of being friends, isn't it? Being there for each other during hard times?" she pleaded, every word emphasized by the earnesty in her eyes as she gazed at Callum. "Just weeks ago, I don't think either of us could've imagined we'd be sitting here like this, not just as allies but as friends. We've already overcome so many things that once seemed impossible, Callum. We can work through this too—together."

Rotating his hand so his palm pressed against Rayla's, Callum interlaced his fingers with hers before squeezing her hand lightly. It was a small gesture, and yet there was something reassuring about feeling her hand clasped in his, especially when she returned the squeeze almost immediately.

"So how much did you overhear?"

"Of your conversation with Anora? Just the tail end of it really." Rayla shrugged. "I kinda had an idea already of what was bothering you. Now I know I was right on the mark."

While he yearned to curl in further on himself and hide his face, Callum instead forced his head to tilt upward towards the night sky, where he found himself studying the stars as if the answers to his plight might be hidden somewhere between them. "I don't know what to do, Rayla. Part of me wants to stay angry at him, and why shouldn't I? Even after seeing with his own eyes that the Dragon Prince's egg hadn't been destroyed after all, he still murdered my stepdad and tried to kill Ezran. I'm supposed to just forgive that and let it go?"

It wasn't until something warm and salty touched the corner of his lips that Callum realized hot tears had begun to spill down his cheeks. Using his free hand, he started to brush them away but eventually gave up after a few moments of futile wiping that left his face stinging.

"You're right," Rayla mumbled, her ears drooping again, "That is a lot to ask of you..."

Gazing down at her now, Callum gave Rayla's hand another squeeze, "But that kind of thinking is why we're on the brink of war now, isn't it? Staying bitter and holding onto grudges, it's all part of the cycle, and the longer we stay stuck in this loop, the worse things are going to get. Keeping Runaan in that coin won't change anything. It won't bring my stepdad back; it won't even make me feel better because I know leaving him in there will hurt you. I know all of this, so why can't I just..."

Feeling Rayla's arms wrap around him, Callum did not resist as she pulled him into a tight hug, guiding his head down onto her shoulder. His whole body shook as he snaked his arms around her middle and up her back, clinging onto her as though his life depended on it.

"I know I need to choose, but I'm scared of what might happen if I make the wrong choice." he sniffled. "The only thing I feel like I know for certain right now is that I need to protect Ez, and so far, I've been given no reason to think Runaan won't try to attack again once he's free."

Rayla's expression hardened. "If he did, we would stop him. I stood up to him for you and Ez once already, and I would do it again."

"Would we really stand a chance against him though? I mean, he's an experienced assassin, Rayla. It just seems like too risky of a gamble. I'm not saying he should stay in there forever, but maybe right now isn't the best time to bring him back out. I don't want to decide anything without talking to Ez first either; he deserves to have a say in all this too."

For a moment, silence once again fell over them save for the racing of Callum's heart and the gurgling of his somewhat nauseous stomach. Pulling back in the embrace so he could look Rayla in the eye again, he studied her face for a moment before continuing.

"So...do you hate me now?"

A heavy sigh puffed from Rayla's lips, the weight of the coin in her pocket increasing tenfold from what it had been just moments earlier. "No, I don't hate you, ya dummy. All of this just isn't easy to hear, especially because I understand your thinking. I would never want to put Ez in danger either, and I feel awful for what Runaan has put you both through. I just...I know there's good in him. He may be stubborn and strict and biased against humans, but there is more to him than that. He's devoted to his people and protective of his loved ones, and though he hides it well, the things his job requires of him do weigh on him at times. I know he made his choice, but the idea of him spending the rest of his life locked up, even if logically he doesn't deserve a second chance..."

Now it was Rayla who felt the sting of tears pricking her eyes and tried to rub them away with the heel of her hand. Removing his scarf, Callum offered it to her but she shied away, eying the piece of cloth with mild revulsion.

"I washed it, I promise." he reassured her, waiting for a bit longer until she finally took the scarf and began to dab at her eyes with it. "I can't make any promises about what will happen, Rayla, but I want us to figure it out together, alright? What you have to say about all of this is important too, and...and I'm starting to see now that maybe the best way for us to solve this is to work together as a team instead of me trying to figure it all out myself."

A coy "I could've told you that" danced on the edge of Rayla's tongue, but instead she handed Callum's slightly damp scarf back to him and gently grabbed his wrist before he had pulled it out of reach. "You know that means you're going to actually have to talk to me like this, right? No more shutting me out even if you're scared of what I might have to say."

"Right. Understood." Callum replied with a sheepish nod, warmth blooming in his cheeks as he intertwined his fingers with Rayla's once more.

"Together then? Just like we've been doing things so far?"

"Yeah...I think that's best...Thank you, Rayla."

As some of the weight rolled off of their shoulders, the faintest traces of smiles appeared on both Callum and Rayla's faces ever so briefly. However, in the blink of an eye, their grins had disappeared as the splash of something piercing through the water's surface caught their ears and drew their eyes back to the lake where Anora was swimming swiftly towards the shore, which was still several yards away.

"Anora!" As he jumped to his feet, Callum's eyes shifted from Anora's face to the damp, dark brown mane that he could just make out over he shoulder. His heart leaping into his throat as his little brother lifted his head, the prince sprinted down the shore. "Ez!"

"STAY BACK! GET AWAY FROM THE WATER!" Anora screeched, trying to frantically wave one arm while still dragging herself along with the little boy and the glow toad on her back towards the shore.

Callum skidded to a halt at the water's edge, his face contorting in confusion until he shifted his attention to a section of the lake not far behind Anora just as the mirror-like surface exploded into a shower of crystalline droplets.

__________________________________________________________________

She was being watched. She had yet to spot a single fish lurking in this section of the lake's flora, and yet Anora could feel eyes upon, observing her every move with an almost predatory interest. As she brushed aside more plants with a wide sweep of her arm, she half expected a hand or face to suddenly appear, but only more lakebed and vegetation stretched out before her. Still, her gut told her she had to be close given how deserted the area was, and after swimming a bit farther forward, a dark patch of stone amid the greenery and earth eventually caught her eye. Paddling her way over, she felt the humming of Callum's cube growing stronger until the vibration permeated her entire arm as she came to hover above the opening. This was it; this was the place.

After eying the darkness apprehensively for a moment, Anora glanced briefly overhead at the distant surface of the water before diving down into the hole, the cube tucked protectively against her chest. The shadows swallowed her eagerly, almost unnaturally so as though they had a mind of their own, and as her eyes adjusted, she resumed actively inspecting every nook and crevice around her for any sign of life. As she wove her way down the long, winding passage, she felt almost as if she was traveling down the throat of a monstrous sea beast with a grisly fate awaiting her at the end of her journey. Gradually, the tunnel began to widen into a larger cavern, and just as she crossed the threshold, a flash of movement caught Anora's eye. Starting, she whipped around while drawing in as great of a breath as her lungs could hold only for several perfect copies of her own panicked face to greet her. Arranged in a row that followed the curvature of the stone wall behind them, the mirrors were all about the same size but boasted their own unique qualities, be it their shapes or the ornamental variety of the frames that somehow showed no sign of tarnish or elemental damage. Though her heart was still thundering in her chest, Anora couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at the display that showcased its owner's vanity almost as clearly as her reflection.

Her attention drifting from the mirrors to analyze the rest of the room, gold, jewels, and other items of finery that should have been destroyed by the nature of their watery home long ago crossed her vision, practically spilling off of the shelves naturally eroded into the cave wall upon which they sat. She drank it all in, the knot in her stomach tightening as her mind momentarily wandered down the twisting side path of speculating just where all these riches had come from. However, her eyes continued to roam as she pondered and she was jolted back to reality as they settled upon a more sparsely decorated section of the wall, a curious inconsistency amid the rest of the gaudy display. Here a faint, pulsing glow reflected off of the slick stone, the light gleaming brightest just around the mouth of an alcove embedded in the rock. It beckoned her to come closer, yet she drifted but a few inches nearer before sharply drawing to a halt. Ignoring the bountiful riches, the cave was eerily empty with not so much as one wandering fish swimming about. The back of her neck still prickled in that foreboding way, but as she scanned the cave once more, only the many treasures stared back at her. Her heart rang deafeningly in her ears as she darted over to the wall, pressing herself flat on her stomach against a section of the stone just below the glowing crevice, and as she poked her head over the edge, she found herself staring up into a collage of bright yellow and turquoise which framed a pair of large blue eyes which glared back down at her.

Grunting, Bait began to glow brighter than before, his scowl still trained on Anora. Scooting back a bit, the Oceancry elf threw her hands up in front of her face and turned her head a bit to shield her eyes.

"Wait, wait, wait! Hold on a minute! I'm not here to hurt you, I promise!"

"Who's there?"

Lowering her hands a bit, Anora risked a glance back at the crevice, and though Bait's radiance stung her eyes a bit, she could just make out the somewhat smaller humanoid shape of Ezran crouched behind the glow toad, tucked further back within the recess. Lips curling back into a threatening snarl, Bait inched closer to the edge of the alcove, trying to hide the prince from Anora's view as best he could.

"Ezran? My name's Anora. Corvus and your brother sent me to come get you."

Ezran's gaze glanced from Anora's face to the Key of Aaravos, which was still clutched tightly in one of her raised hands, and though Anora couldn't tell from her viewpoint, his face paled a little. "Why do you have that?"

Realizing what he was referring to, Anora shot a glimpse at the cube as well before bringing it back to her chest. "Callum gave it to me to use as a bargaining chip to get you back."

"But that's something our dad wanted us to have! It's one of the last things he gave to us! We can't just hand it over!"

"...We might not have to." Gliding up to the edge of the recess once more, Anora began tracing out in the water the same rune which glowed on her own throat, which Ezran recognized as the rune that Castel had also used on Corvus days earlier. "I'm not keen on trying to strike a deal with that merman. We might be able to slip away before he gets back from wherever he is, but we need to hurry-"

In that moment, Anora's blood instantly went cold as she felt the water stir behind her, and Ezran's eyes went wide as a familiar face suddenly appeared over her shoulder from out of nowhere, as if conjured into being by the water and shadows of the cave themselves.

"Look out!"

The warning was futile, of course. Anora didn't even have time to turn her head before Castel's tail smacked forcefully between her shoulder blades, sending her slamming against the cave floor so hard it caused Ezran to yelp. Propelling herself back up with her arms, Anora whipped around, her lungs swelling with air, but in the blink of an eye, Castel's hand had snatched her by the neck and hurled her into the wall behind her, black spots dancing in front of her eyes as the back of her head collided with the stone. Whimpering, Ezran yanked Bait away from the hollow's entrance and tucked him securely under one arm before crawling further back into the depths of the hollow again, all the while craning his head to try and catch a glimpse of Anora.

"My my, this is a surprise, Annie. I can't say I ever expected to find you lurking about in my home uninvited. And plotting to cross me no less? I'm shocked you had it in you." Castel sneered, eyes glinting with the somewhat sadistic delight of a predator that had just ensnared its unsuspecting prey. As Anora's mouth gaped, he clenched his hand that was still clutching her throat, his fingernails digging into her skin as she instinctively squirmed. "Ah ah ah, don't be even more stupid now. You try one of your little screams and I'll end you, the boy, and the toad, understand? Although, I did warn the human not to bring along extra help-"

"It isn't his fault!" Anora blurted out quickly, refusing to avert her gaze from Castel's despite feeling as though those golden eyes were burrowing their way into the depths of her soul. "Corvus was badly hurt during an attack and in no condition to make it back here himself."

"So you came in his place, did you?" In a single dramatic, flowy motion, Castel swiveled his head to scan the entire cave. "I don't see my mirror though."

"We don't have it."

"Then you've squandered your life for nothing. I would've thought you smarter than this, Annie, but you continue to disappoint me today."

"I never said I came empty-handed."

One of Castel's brows arched upward skeptically, but the other rose up alongside it as soon as Anora pulled the cube out from behind her back, having instinctively hid when she was first pinned to the wall. Some of the wickedness drained from his smile, leaving it softer and only slightly less menacing, and his head cocked to one side as he stared at the item with genuine intrigue.

"What is it?"

"Another magical artifact belonging to the royal family of Katolis. If it is near something that contains magic from one of the Primal Sources, the respective rune will glow." Sneaking a glance down at the item as well, she noticed for the first time that all sides of the cube save for the Stars rune were glowing now with the Ocean rune shining the brightest. As the light radiated from the cube pulsed with energy, a tickle arose in the back of Anora's brain, a tickle that transformed into an idea.

Reaching out a hand, Castel chuckled as Anora's grip on the cube tightened before hovering his palm about an inch above each rune. Delight warmed his entire face as each rune gleamed a little bit brighter in turn until his hand reached the lone dark rune, which didn't even flicker in response to his presence. His smile souring to a bitter snarl, he tried to brush his fingers against the side of the cube but Anora sharply jerked it back out of reach.

"Is that all it does?" the merman drawled while his attention shifted back to Anora's face, entirely missing her free hand that had subtly inched its way to the edge of Ezran's hollow and was now slowly tracing out different shapes in the hole's watery barrier. "It's an intriguing little trinket, but mere curiousness doesn't make it valuable to me."

"It's supposed to be a key of some kind. I'm not sure to what, but it must be something significant to require such an unusual key," Anora crooned, silently pleading that she appeared calmer than she felt and that Castel wouldn't happen to glance down at any moment to notice as her fingers strained to reach as far as they could into the hollow from the somewhat awkward angle at which her arm was bent.

"Perhaps...However, there is no guarantee this supposed treasure's worth to me will equal that of my original prize. Normally, I would find such a gamble tantalizing, but this time-"

Anora's heart dropped as the jeering smirk vanished from Castel's face, an ominous frigidity creeping up to take its place.

"-this time, I want only what I asked for. If you can't bring it to me, then someone else will."

In that moment, Anora finally felt Ezran's smaller hand tightly grasp hers, the signal she had been waiting for; it seemed that the boy had miraculously understood the message of her rather chaotic gesturing. Adrenaline flooding into her veins, she twisted her other arm around and rammed her elbow up into the side of Castel's, catching him by surprise. His grip on her throat slackened only slightly, but it was enough for her to wrench herself free, his nails carving a few superficial gashes along the sides of her neck as she tore loose. With a grunt, she raised her knees to her chest and then thrust them outward, ramming her heels into the merman's chest and forcing him back a bit as his brain scrambled to catch up to what was happening. Tightening her grip on Ezran, she hauled him out into the water, the runes she had drawn glimmering against his and Bait's throats as they drew in their first breaths, and as she pulled the two to her, she and Ezran both squeezed their eyes shut in the nick of time. Bait's brilliant flash was accompanied by a howl of pain and frustration from Castel, and when Ezran and Anora opened their eyes, they saw the merman rubbing at his own with a pained grimace.

"Hold on tight!" Anora demanded, draping Ezran's arm around her neck as Bait snuggled himself deeper into the prince's other arm. Pressing her heels against the wall behind her, she propelled herself towards the cave's exit, narrowly avoiding Castel's hand that swiped at her legs as she darted past. The mirrors twinkled up at her as she hurried by, and on instinct, she grasped the one closest to the passageway and dragged it down behind her, partially obscuring the opening. It probably wouldn't do much, but hopefully it could buy them at least a couple extra seconds.

The tunnel somehow seemed even longer than it had earlier as Anora raced along, refusing to glance behind them. As soon as they jettisoned themselves back out into the open water with the greenery of the lake floor swaying back and forth with a deceiving calmness, she and Ezran both fixed their gazes on the surface of the water above. Their hearts hammered harder and harder against their chests as they climbed closer and closer, but just before their heads broke the surface, Anora's eyes caught a glimpse of something behind them, something approaching with incredible speed and tangible fury.