#what kind of energy am i putting out into these computers??

[qyriaha]

i think i need to not use tiktok for a while. i just saw an edit for tectonic plates. like a dramatic one. set to night shift. ??????

[goblin-enjoyer]

I swear why are half the things i like/fandoms im in made of mostly younger people while the other half are mostly older people? what are the zoggin odds with that?

How it feels being 20 in a fandom with a bunch of 30-40 somethings.

VS how it feels being 20 in a fandom with a bunch of 14-17 somethings.

like am do i just have extremely odd luck with things i like or is this just what being 20 is like?

[ziggymars]

mirror, mirror (18+) - cl.16

Charles Leclerc x Reader

winner from this poll

warning(s): sentences that would have gotten me lobotomized in the 1900s, terribly translated Italian AND French, established relationship, fingering, squirting, daddy kink, praise kink, unprotected pnv, cream pie, horn dog charles and awful writing probably, please don’t hate me im intimidated by the f1 fandom even though i am in it ..... also i didn't proofread the whole thing please forgive any errors, they will probably be fixed soon. minors pls DNI.

word count: 3.7k+

A/N: mama an inchident behind you ! I know I was going to post this like a month ago, but I'm going through it sis AND my computer ate the original so I had to rewrite this oop. i'm very sorry to everyone who was expecting timo, the mexico city gp had me feral so you get this monstrosity. don’t hesitate to send any dirty thoughts you have about charles, perhaps inspiration will strike and i will give you the gift of sinful prose. i'm nervous to post this but i'm going to anyways xoxo zigs

The first thing you usually hear that is a clear indication that Charles is home, is the purr of his engine pulling into the driveway. A sound that had quickly become one of your favorites. A cacophony that drove your neighbors completely mad, music to your ears. Next came the jingling of his keys, echoing in the foyer. Which was very clear to you from where you stood. Today you were faced in front of a ginormous mirror. It had just gotten delivered but the installation guys wouldn't be able to make it until next week; so now it was placed, halfhazardly, against the wall in the living room. Definitely not where it was supposed to go. It looked kind of nice there regardless, reflecting the warm glow of lights in your shared home.

You glanced over at the clock, a familiar anticipation bubbling inside of you. He had mentioned an interview with Max earlier, and you could only imagine how it had gone. The door creaked open, and you turned your head -- a warm smile spread across your face at the sight of him. There he was, looking so effortlessly handsome as he always does. "Honey, I'm home!" He chirped, once again, as he always did. Charles strode to where you stood, and he stopped in his tracks for a moment as his eyes fell on the mirror. "Wow, um.... that's huge," he said with a raised brow, astonishment clear on his features. He continued walking towards it and ran a finger along the ornate frame, your eyes following it the entire time "I didn't expect it to be this big."

You couldn't help but chuckle at his observations, you had thought the same thing when it came. "Neither did I." You said as you followed closer to him to wrap an arm around his side, head on his shoulder. "What do you think?" You asked, "I think it will look really nice in the stairway. Installation guys can't make it until next week though.”

Charles mirrored you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. He tilted his head to the side as he studied his reflection and then he began to study yours. "I think it will look really amazing once it's put up. For now it takes up a lot of space, no? I guess that's alright." He said, the last part mostly to himself.

For a moment, you both stood there, caught in the sight of your reflection. There was something intimate about it, even if both of you were fully clothed. It captured your visage but also the energy in the room; remnants of shared memories and love. An idea came to him that made all of his cares about its current placement fly out the window.

"Do you want to try it out?" Charles asked suddenly, catching you off guard. There was a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Come on, don't you want to see how we look together?"

A warm flush spread across your cheeks and you ripped your eyes from his reflection to look at him for real as you asked "Together?"

"Of course. You know what I mean." He laughed and turned his gaze to look at you too, the intensity making your heart skip just a beat. "Please. Let me play with you, il mio cuore."

Your shoulders brushed as you turned to face him, your mouth opening to protest. You had two Cornish hen's in the oven that you desperately did not want to burn. It wouldn't have been the first time you nearly started a fire because of Charles' obsession with pleasing you. It was a protest that he didn't even let escape your mind before he was placing a finger over your lips to silence you. "Just turn it off, if you're worried about dinner." He knew without you even having to say it, he could smell the aroma from the kitchen. And while it did smell really, really good -- the pull to explore this mirror’s capabilities was too strong for him. Too strong to miss this opportunity.

You gave a playful roll of your eyes before you kissed the finger pressed to your lips, a sigh of “Fine.” slipping through the space around it.

Too excited to wait even a moment longer, he gives your ass a light spank, saying "Hurry along." The commanding tone sending a shiver down your spine and a skip in your step as you did as he told; scampering to the kitchen to turn the oven off. It took you no time and even less to get back to him.

"Good girl." He purred and then pulled you closer to him by the shirt you were wearing, his shirt, maneuvering your body until you were both facing the mirror. Charles towered over you, his torso brushing against your shoulder blades. He ran one hand across your collarbone and then down your clothed stomach. "This will be fun, I promise."

"I don't doubt that," you breathed, goosebumps starting to rise in the wake of his fingertips as your eyes closed, "it's just a bit awkward, watching myself."

"No.." Charles cooed, his fingers gliding back to where they came from, tracing along the swell of your breast, the feeling of it causing him to take a sharp inhale. "You're beautiful, please, look at you."

When they found their way to your nipples, which were already pert under his touch, your eyes finally fluttered open. A soft, almost indiscernible grunt leaving your already parted lips. "You're so excited already, and I've barely touched you." He said, a cocky grin slipping to his lips as he pinched at one of them absentmindedly. You let out a quiet yelp and your back can't help but arch into the touch, "More, please." coming from your lips.

Nearly every time he heard you say that, he would oblige. Right now was one of those times. Charles slid his hand down, slipping it under your shirt; fingertips gliding across your flesh, "So soft." He remarked, his voice becoming more thick the closer his hand got to cupping around your breast. Where he kneaded, his fingers melding to your skin deliciously. You gave off another soft grunt, your thighs wriggling in an attempt to rub them together. "Oh, feeling needy today?"

You were tempted to roll your eyes but decided against it, not wanting to thwart any chances of getting what you now desperately wanted. He took notice of your self restraint so he rewarded you by snaking his hand down and into the hem of your spandex shorts, the ones he loved so much. Charles was met immediately with the feel of your already slick folds. "No underwear, mon lapinou?" (my bunny).

All you could do was nod your head and look at his reflection with a pleading look as the pad of his middle finger circled in the slick you produced. "Use your words." His voice was a gentle coo urging you on.

"No underwear." You confirmed with a shaky voice "Please, Charles, you're driving me crazy."

"You drive me crazy all the time," he said "perhaps this is payback." The same smirk glued to his lips from before as he moved his finger up and down gently against your clit. "Fine," he huffed "I'll give you what you want though." It was partly for you, but also selfish reasons. He was eager to watch the show you were about to provide for no one but him; the thought of it intoxicating him relentlessly.

Without another word, he's tugging your shorts down and allowing you to step out of them before he dramatically, and honestly, a bit comically threw them to the side. Not giving a single care to where they went, tunnel visioned on nothing but making full use of the mirror.

Next, Charles started to pull the leather arm chair that was skewed beside the couch to sit in front of the mirror; patting his legs with a look to you. “Take off your shirt and come sit on my lap.”

Finally finding courage and clarity through swirling vestiges of lust, you purred a simple "Yes, papà."

Something you didn't call him often. Something you saved in your back pocket for when you really wanted to rile him up. A special treat, for a very special man.

One "Oh, Gesù Cristo." (Jesus Christ) and you knew it had worked. Perfect.

Charles' pupils blow wide and stuck to your hands that were now removing the last remaining piece of clothing. Your eyes, however, were settled on the wet patch that had formed on his shirt, almost the very instant that you had called him the name he loved so much. "Do you like what you see, papà?" You asked, metaphorically poking the sleeping bear.

"Love what I see," he said, beckoning you closer "but I'd love to see what you look like with my fingers inside you a little bit more, come here. Please." Near the end of the sentence, his voice was almost a whine. Giving away just how much he wanted to feel your body against his. You weren't cruel, and to be fair you wanted this just as bad as he did. So you were doing as you were told for the second time this evening. You clambered to settle in his lap and he was quick to adjust your legs. Spreading them impossibly wide with rough hands, your breath already beginning to bait at the implication alone.

Then Charles did something that left your cheeks burning; he spread apart your folds. His mouth fell open as he gazed at the sight in the mirror, admiring your beauty. “Look at that," he swooned, "so pretty. So fucking gorgeous.”

Feeling sheepish from being so exposed, you tried to turn your head and bury it inside the crook of his neck but there was absolutely no way he was going to let that happen. With his other hand he grabbed your chin, not hard enough to actually hurt you but hard enough to make you look; forcing your gaze to where his fingers held open his prize. "See? What did papà say?" He said, his tone scolding yet still warm "So pretty."

Your hips wriggled in his lap, a futile attempt to grind back against the now achingly hard length that was flush against his stomach. Trying to urge him on, to do anything else besides continue to wordlessly look at you like he was going to swallow you whole.

"I'm speaking to you, mon lapinou." Charles tsked, his index finger now circling around your entrance, "don't be rude."

Realizing you didn't have another option, you couldn’t be shy now that you had opened this can of worms with one simple name, you managed to parrot him “So pretty.” Followed by a choked and begging “Please, touch me.”

“Good girl.” He cooed, simple and sweet before he was plunging one finger into your depths; a soft, languid moan falling from your lips. If your vision had been any more clouded, you might have missed the way his eyes nearly rolled back at the sound alone.

Charles’ grip tightened on your chin, keeping your focus steady to where he was now slowly, but surely drawing his finger out, and then back in at an excruciatingly slow pace. Enough to give you what you want but not getting ahead of himself just yet. His eyes dipped closed for only a moment as he leaned forward to pepper gentle kisses to your shoulder. When his eyes open he had to still all of his movements for a moment, genuinely fearing he might cum in his pants at the very sight of you perched in his lap. Your lips parted, legs spread, arousal dripping down his wrist. It was enough to make him weak.

You let out needy whines, hips bucking against his hand, urging him silently. Charles chuckled and obliged, slowly pumping a second digit into your tight heat. “That’s it, ma belle. Let me make you feel good.” He purred, his accent becoming more evident the more he lost himself in the sight. He watched, ever intently, entranced by the way you fell apart under his touch — filthy, breathless moans tumbling from your lips like a leaky faucet.

Charles’ deft fingers continued their filthy dance, pumping in and out of your dripping core, his thumb coming to circle your throbbing clit. Your breaths come in short and labored gasps, chest heaving as you started to lean back against him, pleasure washing over your body. Your hips began to stutter and he made the executive decision to remove his other hand from your chin so he could use it to press them back down against him — spreading your thighs even further. “Oh fuck!” You gasped, a choked moan as he was able to pump his fingers even deeper. Your eyes fluttered shut in ecstasy, head falling back to his shoulder. He tilted his own to capture your lips in a searing kiss, tongue immediately dipping into your warm mouth to taste your sweetness.

Charles fingers continued to work, curling them just right. He stroked against the sensitive spot inside of you that made you see stars. A loud and wanton mewl is ripped through your throat, forcing you to pull away from the kiss so you could throw your head back against his shoulder. Obscene wet sounds filled the room as he began to finger-fuck you even harder, reveling in the way your smooth walls fluttered around him. Finally, you manage to pick your head up from his shoulder so you can look into the mirror. Blood rushes down between your thighs as the scene before you comes to view.

A third finger came to play and you were a goner. He reveled in the way your smooth, velvety walls pulsed around him. You became a whimpering mess, your mouth falling open as he met your gaze in the mirror. His eyes were dark and you could see he was holding himself back from just shoving you onto the floor and fucking you into oblivion. It made your eyes roll back, a slow moan of “Charles!” accompanying it.

“You’re close, I can tell.” He says, his voice course but somehow also boastful; knowing he’s the one who knows how to make you come undone like this, writhing in his lap like a first rate whore. One of the ways he can tell is now, how your moans grow even louder, higher pitched. Your hips started to buck against his hand frantically as you babbled “Yes, yes, yes!” over and over in his ear.

“That’s it, amore.” Charles encouraged you, voice husky in your ear. He gritted his teeth, “Cum all over my fingers, pretty girl. Come on, that’s it.”

It was enough for you, it was always enough for you. To hear him commanding you to cum. Like a sleeper agent only activated by a carefully constructed phrase. So with a loud and keening cry, your entire body seized. Thighs clamping around Charles’ wrist, a gush of liquid splashing against his hand and soaking his fingers. It dripped down the leather chair and onto the floor. His eyes widened in shock — you had never done that before. Charles could practically feel his chest swell with pride, satisfied smirk etched on his face. The puddle on the floor in front of you serving as a physical reminder to him of just how well he had done.

Somehow he managed to keep himself composed, grunting as he continued to pump his fingers, coaxing every wave of your orgasm. “Jesus, fuck! Baby!” He growled in appreciation, never ceasing his fingers movements until you were collapsing back, breathlessly, against his chest.

Slowly, he withdrew his fingers and brought them to his lips. You could only watch, mesmerized, when he sucked them clean. A deep moan rose from his throat that reverberated around his fingers. “Delicious,” he said, pulling them from his mouth with a satisfied hum. Charles can barely even hold himself back now, his cock straining against fabric as he stared at the ethereally erotic display before him. You panted, legs shaking from the orgasm he had given you. "Enough of that, mon cherie. I need to be inside of you."

He doesn't give you any time to respond before he is standing, and in one swift motion bending you over the side of the chair. Your face is pressed into the cool leather, your gaze stuck on the reflection of the two of you in the mirror. You didn't mind it being stuck there now, the aftershocks of how good he had made you feel helped your guard come down. And now all you could do was stare at him in the mirror, Charles missed it because he was quick to push both his pants and boxers down, settling himself behind you. You arched your back further and wiggled your hips, a giggle escaping as you presented your glistening pussy for him. He let out a low groan, hands roaming over your ass and up your back. "Fuuuck, look at that." Charles said, taking a moment to admire the view, slowly stroking himself a few times.

Positioning himself behind you, finally, he rubs the tip of his cock across your slick folds, teasing at your entrance. And then without warning, he sheathes himself fully inside of you with one powerful thrust. A long and low moan escapes both of your lips, a sweet symphony of soprano and tenor. Your hands grip onto the leather arm of the chair, trying to ground yourself into reality.

But it's hard. Really hard. Especially when he starts to set a steady rhythm, pulling out almost all the way before slamming back in. Setting a primal pace that leaves the both of you gasping in pleasure. His pelvis slaps forward against your ass with each and every powerful thrust -- each one driving you forward just a little bit more. Your eyes are half-lidded now, heavy with lust. But you will them to stay open. You can see everything in the mirror. The ecstacy etched in your furrowed brows, the bounce of your ass with every jolt of his hips, and his muscles flexing subtly as he fucked into you at a relentless pace. Hands down the hottest thing you had ever been privy to witness.

Another thing you're keen to notice is the way he's so focused on not losing himself. For a man so ready to fuck you in front of a mirror, it sure seemed like he couldn't handle it anymore. Evident by the way his head was thrown back, curses of your name tumbling from his lips over and over. Your eyes begin to roll, overwhelmed by the pleasure and the knowledge that you were the one who made this usually so confident and domineering man feel like this.

Almost as if he could sense your thoughts, his head comes back forward, his hands gripping tightly onto your ass now. "You like this, non?" It comes out with a quiet grunt "You like when I fuck you like this?"

When you're not answering as quickly as he'd like, he's suddenly bringing one hand down to slap against your ass harshly. You let out a yelp that turns into a pathetically pleasured whine, "Yes, Charles! Feels so good!"

Charles rubs his hand along where it had previously struck, soothing the angry flesh. "Good girl," he cooed through gritted teeth "milking this cock so good." One of his hands abandons its grip on your ass to reach and rub tight circles against your clit. It sends cascading shockwaves of bliss pulsing through your bones. Determined to make you cum again, he says "Come on, baby. Cum all over this cock," Charles can feel you tightening around him, your moans growing more insistent and drawn out "I want to feel you." He clenched his jaw, eyes squeezed shut in concentration.

He leans forward and loops an arm under you to palm at one of your breasts, rolling a nipple between his fingers as he pounds into you. The new angle allowing him to hit that spot inside of you. His thrusts grow even more erratic, teeth grazing the sensitive skin against your neck -- rapidly chasing his own release. The thought of him cumming, the look on his face, it was too much. You cried out his name and your walls rhythmically pulsed around his cock as you came for the second time this evening. It was his Achilles' heel. Charles' snapped his hips one final time, burying himself deep as he possibly could. There was a long and low grunt that bellowed from his throat as he emptied himself inside of you, both arms wrapping around your middle to hold you close to him.

There was a long moment where the both of you just stayed like that. Your heart rates coming back to normal, still joined together. "You are incredible. The sounds you make, how you take me..." Charles' praises you softly, his thumb running along your swollen lower lip "c'est magnifique. I love you." He presses a soft kiss to your shoulder before he pulls out, slow and careful. Watching as his release trickles from you, a wolfish grin spreads across his lips, but you're momentarily displeased. A whimper bubbles from your lips, wishing he could just stay inside of you forever.

You unfurled your body from it's position across the chair, trying to keep your thighs clamped together as best as you could, "I love you, too."

Before you can even blink, Charles is by your side, giving you his arm so he could walk you to the bathroom. He was sweet like that. Always making sure that he took the best care of you after he had done sacrilegious things to your body.

Together, you made your way down the hallway. Albeit, you had to practically waddle to ensure you didn't spill on the floors you had just so meticulously cleaned hours before.

"Maybe we could just keep the mirror there?" He looked over at you to suggest, cheeky grin in tow. Amusing suggestion from someone who just said that it was taking up too much space.

You laughed and then grimaced, your hand flying between your legs "Please, don't make me laugh right now, Charles."

[kremlin]

i actually do know who needs to hear this, it’s most people, in fact, it’s likely you, statistically; we are entering the american election campaign season, and there are caveats i’d like you to be aware of, and to that effect, i am cashing in on my many years of demonstrated knowledge about The Computer.

you indeed cannot trust what you read on the internet. someone will, indeed, go on here and tell lies. this is no shocker to you, you know this, i know this, i know you know this, but i insist you think about it.

you must know my beliefs regarding conspiracy theories fall far, far to one side of the spectrum: i do not believe them. i dismiss them out of hand on principle. axiomatically. and i am here today to tell you the concept, existence, execution, and proximity of paid, phony, engagement-manipulated, political advertisement is not only real, it is the status quo.

would you describe yourself to others as:

A.) smarter than than they think you are

or

B.) not as dumb as they think you are

if you responded with option A, you are more than likely to be greatly more susceptible to these underhanded messages than you think. option B respondent’s outlook is brighter, only relatively. to restate this in a more digestible way, there are two wolves inside you, one takes top-voted comments to reddit posts on face value. the other, takes top-voted comments to reddit posts on face value. you take top-voted comments to reddit posts on face value.

those responsible for such comments are effective in their endeavors, because they think about it. they do not approach their work mystically nor inefficiently. they know what to say to you, because they know what language you speak.

a thoughtless individual would read one of the only proper noun phrases in this post, “american election season”, and limit their perspective to exactly two possible entities to watch out for. this individual has, with a pep in their step and a whistle on their lips, stepped directly on a land mine. maybe this individual was you, if so, don’t sweat it, allow me to yank you away at the last moment by your shirt collar. there's tertiary actors at play, and possibly even more, if only we could invent a word that mean's "the fourth thing" and so on

a very large, very easily guessable country has, for some time now, engaged in organized astroturfing or misinformation or disinformation or whatever-you-want-to-call-it campaigns, to great effect, with their angle being to flood the airwaves with so much conflicting information that you, the individual, feel hopeless, and lose your confidence in discerning truth from fiction.

i use this example not because that country or my country or this election or whatever is a key component here, they're not, this applies to everyone using the internet socially, and if you don't think there are disingenuous actors' words appearing on your computer screen at some regular rate, you're also stepping on a landmine.

you just have to think about things, and maybe, from time to time, turn on an electric stove and put your finger on it to remind yourself that there is indeed a very real, objective reality we live in, and that if you find yourself asking, "how can we see if our eyes aren't real", someone has put rats in your head

it goes beyond just politics though, hell, i would describe all of modern marketing to use essentially these same tricks. don't fall for them! my technique is to just approach any written text found online, most especially "comments", with the same utter hater energy as salieri in amadeus.

and hey, while you're at it, pass this thinking along to kids, they're kind-of the first generation that has to deal with an internet that is mostly ingenuine meaningless bullshit, not like we had it, when it was mostly genuine meaningless bullshit.

[cripplecharacters]

Can people with flat/blunted affect mask and if so how common is it for people with the symptom to be able to do that?

Hi!

I'm assuming you mean an autistic person who has a flat affect?

Short answer: yes.

Long answer:

Flat affect is one small part of autism. Tone is often difficult for autistic people to recognize and reproduce. But there are plenty of things that go into masking!

Masking can involve suppressing stims, avoiding talking about special interests, putting focus into body and facial expressions, and many other things too!

Also, masking takes a lot of energy. If your character is more focused on making sure they are sitting still, for example, they may not be focused so much on their tone of voice.

Keep in mind that masking isn't widespread in the autistic community. Many of us, especially higher support needs autistics, cannot mask at all. (Personally I understand masking in theory but am unable to mask myself.)

It's certainly possible to be higher masking and have a flat or "unusual" affect, just consider how else that might affect them.

Mod Rock

Hello!

I mask almost constantly whenever I'm able to. It's a survival mechanism that I haven't been able to break out of. I also have a very flat tone and what's usually referred to as 'resting bitch face'. I'm not very expressive naturally.

When I'm masking, I don't usually mask my tone. The rare times when I do is usually for short interactions at parties/events or during job interviews; both places where it's short term and rather necessary for me (To get the interaction over with at parties and to have a better chance at getting a job at the interview).

Even when I'm masking, my tone and expressions don't always come across as natural or real. They can seem fake or superficial, at least from what I'm told.

If I had to keep it up for longer than those short interactions, it would be very exhausting and, as Rock suggested, I'd have a harder time focusing on other aspects of my mask.

To answer your question: Yes, it is possible for somebody to do that but as for how common it is, that really depends on the person. Not all autistic people have a flat affect and not all of those who do can or will choose to mask it.

Cheers,

~ Mod Icarus

Hello,

I'm medium support needs autistic with flat tone and facial expression. While I can mask some things, I can't mask everything at once.

It's kind of like my brain is a computer, and masking different things is like running different programs. if I try to run too many at once, all of the programs start struggling. I can mask my tone, injecting what I think is an appropriate amount of emotion, but, beyond a few things that come easily to me such as a genuine-looking smile, can't really mask my expression while masking my tone. If I'm masking my expression and trying to follow what I think non-autistics would expect based on what I'm saying, I struggle to mask my tone. If I try to mask both at once, both masks start to slip. Tone and expression are larger programs, so it's harder for other programs to run while those are running. Maybe a small program, like simulating eye contact by looking at someone's forehead, can run at the same time, but trying to run too many little programs while running a big program will lead to the same problem. All of this also takes an enormous amount of energy. So while I can kind of mask, I can't mask everything at once. There are only so many programs I can run before my computer crashes.

If your character is medium support needs, masking perfectly is probably nigh impossible. If they're high support needs, there's absolutely no way they can mask. Masking is a lot harder for M-HSN people, so if your character is medium of high support needs, they probably aren't going to be able to mask at all or, if they can mask, will likely mask imperfectly like me. It'll also take a lot more effort than it would for a character who has no support needs or light support needs, it would exhaust them way quicker. And, again, a lot of medium support needs individuals may struggle severely with masking or won't be able to mask at all. High support needs individuals often, if not always, cannot mask at all.

So if your character is M-HSN, their ability to mask will depend on where they are on that spectrum and what else they're trying to do as they talk.

Mod Aaron

[ad-caelestia]

i've spent a lot of time saying "here's what you could do" as a witch versus "here is what i actually do" as a witch, so let's go.

as much as i try to stir my coffee in one direction or another, it always ends up counter-clockwise - instead of seeing it as a mistake, i just work around it by thinking of it like, i'm banishing (counter-clockwise) negativity from my day versus attracting (clockwise) positivity.

i tend to use colors that align with planets versus other folkloric associations - instead of a green candle for money, i'll use a blue one because blue is associated with jupiter which is associated with wealth and good fortune. lucky for me, all the other planets have colors that align appropriately so i don't have to think about those as much (sun - gold, moon - silver, mercury - ehhhhh a mix of like, yellow/violet/indigo, venus - baby pink/mint, mars - red/rust, etc etc.).

i have a money bowl that i redo on the first of every month and i set a cinnamon stick above my front door for prosperity - i have a tiny little angel of a bunny whose health means more to me than the ritualistic act of blowing cinnamon into your home from outside the front door.

my "grimoire" or book of shadows or WHATEVER you wanna call it lives on my computer via onenote and is also scattered through many many notebooks i have collected over the years - if i'm being honest, i am way too picky about my handwriting and messing things up when i am writing in pen that i would just rather keep it somewhere i can type and alt+f to get where i need to go.

my main altar lives on a pretty gold and faux marble bookshelf but honestly, my whole house is my altar - there are sacred spaces at every corner if you know what to look for.

if i want something for my craft, i try to repurpose old things or thrift for them - you'd be amazed what you can do with some of the most basic things (i found my money bowl, which is a crystal dish, at the thrift store for 99 cents); the dollar 25 tree is also a good spot to shop for cheap trinkets.

much of my craft is muscle memory, which has come from YEARS of practice - if i'm cooking and need to use like, basil for example (luck, money, protection), i just kind of already know what it's "good for" and keep that in the front of my mind while i'm cooking so the intent doesn't get buried.

i really REALLY prefer to make my own stuff but that's not always feasible - i really thought the other day that i could just start making candles for myself and had to put that thought on HOLD because let's be real, i'm not doing all that. instead, i will continue to use all the chime candles i have collected over the years instead of immediately going out to find something new.

cleansing ritual who? every time i mop my floor or clean the baseboards or wipe down the counter, i'm cleansing my space. i very much believe that mundane cleaning can be equally as magical and therapeutic if the intent is there.

same thing with literally any other magical thing i do these days: i won't go digging for new items to serve me and my spellwork, i will just use what i already have.

doing spells when the opportunity presents itself versus days of planning - i got a new body wash the other day whose main ingredient and scent is rose so i figured i could use it for a glamour at some point; needed some cinnamon the other day for pancakes and stashed some away for use as a catalyst later on; stuck a bay leaf in my pasta sauce while cooking and made a little wish beforehand.

tethers. everywhere. this one's a bit personal for me but generally speaking, i like to tie energy to a physical object and store it for later use.

i have never buried anything in my yard for any reason - i usually just stick it in a box if the spell isn't finished, cleanse and reuse, or discard all together after thanking it for its assistance.

i swear i have a mean tarot deck and a nice one so i tend to be biased and choose accordingly. 🙃

i also have two pendulums i don't use and a set of blue goldstone runes that i have had for 8 years but don't touch anymore. let that be a gentle reminder that you don't have to do all the things, i promise.

anyway, those are some things about my craft ok bye

[tekumaniac311]

Open Arms: Admittance.

One day later.

Dogday got up like any normal day, got his coffee, his breakfast and was discussing the latest information with his fellow Space Riders.

Picky Piggy was collecting the empty dishes preparing to clean them when she asked "Hey, captain? Did you hear that-" "My brother got suspended? Yeah." Dogday said with a tone. "The guy..honestly had it coming, i heard from Poppy he caused a lot of property damage, costing a cargo shuttle load of Credits." Bubba spoke

Dogday sighed "Maybe....I should go visit him, Poppy told me he was spending his suspension on Eden." Hoppy however just shrugged "Your brother's kind of a jerk, FixFox was gonna let me test ride one of her vehicles until I got a call from her saying that Dogbite wouldn't let her allow me."

"Prettybird told me she spent over an hour in the mirror only for your brother to cancel her date with me." Kickin added "I think it's my fault." Their captain sighed "Yours?" Catnap signed, to which Dogday nodded "Remember back at the academy, I was focused on classes, you guys and...justice. Not my brother, when he joined a year later I heard he had formed his own team and thought he was doing well."

"Did you visit him by chance?" Bubba asked, only for Dogday to shake his head "No. I just thought he was doing okay." He sighed and looked out the window "If i just talked, just TALKED to him time to time back in the academy. Asked how he was. Or congratulated him on his successes. Things would've been different.."

"You blame yourself for the way he acts?" Bubba deduced, Dogday just nodded, agreeing. Dogday's ears flicked hearing the sound of hooves clicking closer and fast, Craftycorn rushed in with a package "Captain! Captain!" She cried "What's the matter, Crafty?" Dogday asked before Craftycorn presented the package to him "You have a package. It's from The Seraphim.."

Within a minute, the crew had gathered in the meeting room as Bubba opened the package to reveal a holodisk, putting it in the tables computer, the hologram activated to reveal The Seraphim herself. "Dogday Solaris. I am sure you are most delighted to see me."

"Oh boy, wonder why.." Hoppy moaned as the hologram played. "I have something that may inquire your interest." With a smooth gesture of her hand she reveals..Dogbite, strung up with his arms apart and his legs tied, Dogday immediately got up from his seat as he saw in horror.

"I believe this person is of most importance to you, Dogday." The Seraphim said calmly, the loud humming of generators activated and shot a blast of electric energy down on Dogbite, all Dogbite could do was scream in agony. "No..!" Dogday whined. After the electric energies subsided, Seraphim softly stroked Dogbite's chin. "Smile, Space Rider. Your brother is watching this."

"SCREW YOU!!" Dogbite growled, spitting at the Seraphim "What a charmer your brother is.." Seraphim replied, "Your brother, as well as your parents must be proud of you for this." She said, caressing Dogbite's head "Do you have anything to say, Dogbite?"

Dogbite, lifting his body against the ropes holding him up looked directly at the camera, his eyes sunken with tiredness. "Ludwig, Poppy, my team...my brother...they were all right. Right about me..." He whimpered before lowering his head.

"Dogbite..." Dogday whispered as he continued to watch the video. "No need to plant a rescue, Space Riders. I will have my fellow followers deliver him to you in due time...perhaps his legs first."

With that, the hologram ended and Dogday was silent, still as a rock. Taking in the news that his brother is captive...suddenly screaming in anger Dogday picked up his chair and tossed it at the wall, shocking everyone.

Dogday slowly calmed down, his breathing calmer as he turned to his friends. "Sorry...I just snapped..I gotta save him!"

"You mean WE, right?" Kickin stood up replying. "Yeah...Bubba, can you track where Dogbite is?" Dogday asked

"For sure, it was the Seraphim's factory in the Calypso galaxy. On a dead planet." Bubba told him "Right, Catnap, you and I will contact Dogbite's team. Bubba, you Picky and Bobby set course for that planet, this will be an all hands on deck rescue mission!" Dogday ordered.

"All hands on deck, so all of us?" Hoppy asked "That's right." Dogday responded and looked out the window "Please be alive when we get there, little brother.."

On the dead planet, the Seraphim walked into the chamber holding Dogbite, still strung up and weakened. "Your brother should have received my present by now." She said softly "Shut up you witch..." Dogbite groaned "Lights out for now, Space Rider. Tomorrow, your legs will be my 'pets' breakfast." She said as she left, leaving Dogbite in the darkness.

While Dogbite was alone with his thoughts, he had finally, after all this time, realized his behavior was indeed souring his team, his recklessness was getting himself and others in danger, his alienating was incredibly unfair to his team and that his grudge was only going to get him killed. A single tear ran down his cheek as he admitted to himself.

"I am my own worst enemy..."

TO BE CONTINUED

Space Riders belong to @onyxonline

[lewdmommie]

🕷️Caught in your web🕷️

Miguel O’haraxspiderwoman!reader

Warning:18+NSFW,Breeding,Praise,language,violence, blood play, rough sex, Bondage, size kink etc

Summary: Spider y/n falls through a portal and ends up in the year 2099

Comment if you’d like part 2🎀

Word count: 5.k

The cuffs around your wrist squeeze tighter the more you struggle against them. That weird electric prickly feeling begins to set in before you decide to conserve your energy. It was useless with your web supply cut off, A burning sears across your cheek as the guard delivers another blow. A metallic taste of blood pools in your mouth,you spit resentfully at his army green boots.

“If that’s all you got we’re gonna be here all day.” You sneer. The guard raises his hand pulling back with more momentum than before, striking you again. Your head hangs with exhaustion, sweat dripping onto the concrete floor. “The serum. I want it.” The sound of calculated clicks fill the space as a voice makes its way closer and closer. The footsteps get louder before stopping completely, Your spidey senses are off the charts. A calloused finger taps the underside of your chin putting your bloodied face on display. “Fascinating…your wounds have already started repairing themselves” your head whips away from his touch,repulsed. He continues “That serum is the missing link to a suit that could withstand the molecular pressure of traveling through the multiverse. The human body is far too fragile to have its cells ripped apart and woven back together, trust me we’ve tested that theory.” The blind fold is snatched away from your eyes. You squint at the sudden change in lighting, the room is fuzzy before coming into focus. You’re in what seems to be a warehouse… a huge warehouse. This building had to be connected to something bigger and judging by the advanced technology, Array of computers, and Enormous Hexagonal machine at the center of the room, it was most likely a laboratory of some kind. A man in a midnight suit towers over you with an unhinged look in his eye. “You’re my missing link.” He practically drools. A feeling of dread stabs you, this wasn't looking good.

“You’ll have to kill me. Oh wait you can’t… because… your missing link…it’s in my head.” You smile giving a small labored laugh.

“Oh Doctor Y/LN who needs your mind when I have your body. These powers you have…I assume you weren’t born this way. This isn’t some comic book fairytale. People aren’t born special. We make ourselves special…and that’s exactly what you did, isn't it doctor?” He crouches glaring deeply into your eyes.

“I am going to wring every last drop of serum from your body, you will be nothing but a husk when I am done with you.” He grins before shooting back to his feet.

“Activate the machine and get her hooked up to the destabilizer. I want this thing up and running by tonight” He places a cigarette between his lips, striking it with a gold plated lighter, smoke swirls in the air.

“Kill her nice and slow for wasting so much of my time.” He Flicks the still burning cigarette in your direction,the red hot cherry barely missing your skin.

Two guards force you to your feet, dragging you to a chair riddled with tubes and wires.

Shit.shit.shit. You think, going limp and using your body weight to slow them down. They unlock your handcuffs in order to strap you into the machine, without thinking you shoot two webs in random directions grabbing whatever they land on and yank them towards the guards. A desk and filing shelf come flying at the men knocking them unconscious. You attempt to shoot a web at the guard who stood at the entrance but they unfortunately got away, you hear them call for backup on their radio.

I’m outnumbered… your mind races

A red button in the middle of the control center catches your eye.

That’s my way out, you conclude flipping over the unconscious men and landing gracefully on top of the command center.

Big scary red button…what can go wrong? With nothing to lose you slam the button. The machine activates with an obnoxious roar, lights begin to flicker from the insane power output. You walk up the stairs leading to the device, it seems to be made up of millions of tiny pixels, each spec representing a possible reality or dimension. Colors you didn’t even know existed vibrated within this portal.

“Don’t you dare! This is my life’s work!” A guttural scream shreds the air.

“Well I guess…better luck next life?” You give a cheeky salute before falling into the unknown.

~

“ay dios mío, I don’t need a spidey sense to see she’s wearing a suit.” The voice sounds distant but close enough for you to make out their conversation. “Yes I am sure, I checked, there are web shooters…right, she hasn’t woken up yet…Okay.” he sighs. Your eyes flutter open and you’re greeted by a blue sky and fluffy white clouds. A Dark shadow cast over your view before you can fully appreciate it. Another me?… you think to yourself unsure if you’re seeing things right or if it’s a hallucination from the interdimensional travel.

“Where am I?” You push off the ground with a grunt.

“Nueva York” He states with an annoyed tone.

“Nueva York? You mean New York City? How did I end up in New York City…” You ramble frantically.

“Idiota, Nueva York, have you been living under a rock for the last century?” He kneels down edging forward evaluating your features. With a curious hand, he brushes your hair back. You wince as his finger accidentally glides over the fresh slash on your cheek. For a split second his eyes go wide with concern before resting back to judgemental slits.

“What happened here?” His hand hovers over your wound, keeping a good distance to avoid hurting you any further. Miguel didn’t have many moral compasses but one of his top three rules was to always protect women and children. Any villains who dared make the mistake of harming either were given no mercy. Killing was never his first option, but it wasn’t completely off the table if needed. His blood boils at the sight of you, his instinct is to destroy whoever would do something so vile. His teeth bare down, the tips of his fangs prick the smooth skin of his inner lip, a subtle hint of blood hits his tongue.

“Who did this to you?” He asks again, more aggressive than before.

“The Director.” You mutter. Running from a fight wasn’t in your nature but The Director’s forces were too much to handle. You needed to get away, regroup, and being shackled to a cold slab of metal wasn’t the best place to do that.

“Director, most likely a new wannabe villain…leave this to me. You’ve had enough fun playing dress up for one day.” He says as he gets back up. His eyebrow perks inquisitively for a second before turning around. “Cool toy by the way.” He waves off. Impulsively you shoot a web that whips around his ankles holding him in place. Knees bending Miguel centers himself, stabilizing his balance.

“How’s that for a toy?” You push off the ground, palms flat, landing a forward front flip straight onto your feet.

You approach cautiously, nearly walking on the tips of your toes, he doesn’t budge or even speak. He looks dangerous, measuring in at 6'9, his chiseled physique, red eyes that seemed to see right through you, and fangs didn’t help much with looking friendly. Standing at arm's length. You speak slowly.

“I’m not here to fight-”

“Wouldn’t be much of a fight.” he growls, baring his claws.

“It’s my turn for questioning.” You say.

“You must have stolen that device. I will have to detain you.” He lunges at you stumbling clumsily.

“What’s your name?” You question. Miguel stays silent for a while pondering if he should give out such sensitive information to an imposter.

“Isn’t it obvious,Spider-Man.” He states finally looking down at the red spider symbol on his suit.

“This can’t be real. It couldn’t have actually worked. I thought I’d get sent to a McDonald’s a few blocks away or something…I’m really in a different universe” you grumble to yourself, pacing back and forth.

“Are you on something right now?” His brow scrunches accentuating the lines in his forehead.

“W-what do you mean by that! Are you asking if I’m on drugs?” You’re snatched away from your personal monologue by his ludicrous accusation.

“It’s alright I'm used to super fans, just tell me where you live and I can get you back home safely.”

“Super fans? Do you think I’m supposed to be dressed up as you? My suit is way better than yours; if anything you’re cosplaying me!” You wince, doubling over, the adrenaline has started wearing off.

“You need a hospital. Libérame(set me free), I can help you.” He struggles against your webs once more,failing to break free.

“I am fine I just need to rest for…a…minute-“ your words trail off.

Miguel breaks into action, the webs resist before shredding apart as he surges forward catching you in his solid arms.

“Joder(fuck),she’s out cold” he supports your body. His web shoots, sticking to the opposite building. A strong arm locks you in place as he jumps swinging through the maze of businesses and skyscrapers.

~

shooting up in a cold sweat, your chest heaves heavily struggling for breath.

“Just a dream” you exhale relieved holding the blanket to your bare chest.

“Oh great,You’re awake.” At the corner of the room Spider-Man leans against the wall,smirking.

Your hands scramble for more blanket to shield your nude body.

“Where are my clothes?!” A hot blush creeps on your cheeks.

“I haven’t quite figured that out myself, some time after you passed out your…suit somehow submerged itself into your flesh. Disintegrating right in front of my eyes” He looks down stroking his chin.

“The suit deactivated because of my low brain activity, it thought I was transforming back. Oh god did you see anything?” You ask curling into yourself.

“Wasn’t much to see.” He shrugs.

You scoff before noticing a fresh set of clothes sprawled in the chair beside the bed.

“I came to let you know where the bathroom is, I’m sure you want to get cleaned up after everything that’s happened.”

“Why did you bring me here…and where is here exactly?”

“This is my place. I couldn’t just leave a fellow spider person unconscious on a rooftop. It doesn’t really help the brand. Whatever you have inside you is way too powerful to let a villian get lucky and stumble upon.” He explains. So it’s about my powers huh? Typical. You think holding eye contact with the spider jerk. The color of his eyes stand out to you, their vibrant red hue shines in the dim light. The more you observe him the more intense his features become, he’s extremely handsome under that constant grimace. You find your eyes lingering on his spandex clad body, tracing how the fabric molds to the shape of each muscle. So tight you could see even the slightest twitch or flex. He folds his arms awaiting your reply, This movement forces you to look down at the sheets,flustered.

“Y-yeah that’s true, thanks, I’ll uh go take that shower now.”

“The bathrooms down the hall to the left, I have towels folded on the sink along with toiletries. Have a nice bath…you need it.” He holds his nostrils closed exiting the room dramatically.

Lifting your arm you take a quick sniff. Your nose scrunches at the smell of battle. Interdimensional travel is quite the workout. Your toes wiggle on the cool hardwood floor seeing if it’d crumble underneath your feet. To your surprise it doesn’t, meaning this place is actually real life and not just some simulation. Peeking your head from behind the security of the door frame, you scan the area before scurrying down the hall. Miguel stands in the living area mumbling something under his breath.

“So her picture is nowhere in the police database?…no, ugh Tan molesto(so annoying), check again lyla.” He commands.

He really thinks I’m a crazy stalker fan you think in disbelief, you sneak down the hall stepping through the open bathroom door, you close it behind yourself . The bathroom had dark simplistic themes with splashes of red that popped. The sink and bathtub are made with the same charcoal colored marble, the sink is neatly decorated with necessities such as a toothbrush, electric razor, hair brush, cologne and deodorant. To the left of the sink are expertly folded black towels, one for washing and one for drying. The mirror is larger than average and sits rectangular at the same length as the sink.Turning around a glimpse of your back stops you in your tracks. The wounds have closed but the scars and bruises remain. A reminder of your goal…to take down the director. Your fingers trail the scar on your cheek and anger

bubbles from a place deep within . He’d taken everything from you and he had a debt to pay for those atrocities. You wanted his life as payment. Pulling back the scarlet shower curtain you twist the handle all the way to hot, nothing was better than a steaming hot shower to wash away a day. Grabbing the small washcloth you unroll it and step into the tub, holding it under the water before lathering with the body wash propped at the edge of the bathtub. It smelled strongly of musk and deep woody undertones befitting for an attractive egotistical Superhero. The scent of him causes your thighs to squeeze shut as the throbbing sets in. You close your eyes, gliding the towel slowly over your skin imagining his touch. Your head falls back as the towel travels up your neck, the muscles in your throat contract as you swallow back a moan imagining his large hands gripping you there. Washing your chest the fibers of the towel cause a gentle friction over your now stiff nipples earning a small yelp from you. Everything is feeling too good. The bathroom is steamy, the scent of him floating all around you. Absent-mindedly your fingers slide down the length of your stomach trailing a line to your pulsating heat. The hot shower stream collides with your sensitive flesh. The water sprays firmly on your chest stimulating your taut pearls. It’s too much to handle, behind your eye lids you can see him stepping into this shower and fucking you ruthlessly against the shower wall. That rebellious finger teases the slick line of your womanhood, just barely pushing past the soft folds. The tip of your finger slides over your slippery bud, a soft moan falls from your lips. Miguel notices you’ve been in the shower for some time now and begins to worry for your well-being. Just as his fist hovers over the door to knock, he is stopped in his tracks at the sound of desperate whimpers and groans. She isn’t…she couldn’t be. He shakes away the notion concluding you may just be sick from today's events. Regardless he didn’t want to disturb you unless you called for him. For some reason he couldn’t seem to walk away from the door, on the contrary he takes a step closer, curiosity getting the better of him. His heart rate skyrockets as he listens intently.

“Uhn p-please touch me…please.” You beg.

The tips of his ears are warm with blush. The crotch of his suit tightens, suffocating the raging hard on he desperately tries to suppress. His forehead rests on the door as he tries to slow his heavy breathing. Blood rushes through his veins enhancing his already heightened senses. It’s almost as if he could feel you through the wall, the only thing separating him was the door,which he could break down with ease. His lips part exposing sharp ivory fangs, his breath is labored and his body shaking with need. He needed to release these feelings deep inside you. breaking down that door and completely having his way with you on the bathroom floor was the only way to tame the fire burning deep inside him. Every muscle in his body tensed and quivered as he became solid with arousal. I need her. I need to be inside her now. A voice growls in his mind. Suddenly the water cuts off. He steps away from the door chest heaving up and down. Biting his lip he walks away, going into his bedroom to find a change of clothes that will allow his throbbing erection to feel a bit more comfortable. You grab the dry off towel and secure it around your frame.

The clothes. You think realizing they were left in the bedroom.

With a quick peek outside, the coast is clear the spider jerk is nowhere in sight so you B line it to the bedroom. An audible gasp escapes as you cover your mouth in shock. There he stood half naked wearing only a pair of navy blue briefs. His body could have been sculpted by gods, never had you seen someone so beautiful. He turns around glaring at you through his curly hair, eyes gleaming like ruby’s.

“I-I left my clothes, I’m sorry I didn’t know you were in here.” You quickly look away, the image still fresh in your mind.

“It’s fine. I was just changing.” He slips on his white tee shirt, closing the drawer.

“Right of course this is your room, in your house, and your clothes…” you ramble.

“Yeah. Sure. Hurry and get dressed, we need to talk.” He says with an unamused tone.

“O-kay!” He bumps your shoulder as he exits the room.

“Ouch.” You exclaim, holding your arm.

Grumbling angrily under your breath, you pick up the oversized tee and shorts combo. The clothes swallow you naturally considering his massive size. You make your way to the living room. your hands work tying your hair back as you sit on the opposite side of the couch watching him closely.

“I was thinking about your suit.” He starts.

“Please don’t bring up how I was naked earlier.” You plead hiding your face.

“W- no I’m not talking about…that.” His voice becomes deeper as he rubs the back of his neck reminiscing on how hard the sound of your voice made him just minutes ago.

“I’m talking about the technology. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen…something that hasn’t been explored, Ever. Something almost otherworldly.” He scratches his head in confusion.

“Okay so now do you believe I’m not some psycho fangirl?”

“It isn’t completely off the table. But if you are really a spider person…prove it. Prove it isn’t some kind of illusion.” He leans back, arms stretched across the back of the couch, his legs parted comfortably. You can’t help your eyes wandering to the visible bulge that tented between his thighs.

“What was the question again?” Your eyes are glossy and cheeks flustered. Miguel follows your line of vision seeing the lustful gaze consume you. His cock twitches, making him shoot up, using his arms to cover the evidence.

“Prove you have powers!” He raises his voice slightly.

“Okay okay no need to yell.” You stand taking a few steps away from the couch.

His eyes follow you curiously as you stop about three feet in front of him. In mere seconds his hands are forced together by a string of abnormally strong webbing. Wrapping the loose string Around your palm,you pull yanking him to his feet.

“The more you struggle the tighter it becomes.” You inform him. His eyes are low and his lips have a rosy hot blush. You advance forward using the remaining web to bind his wrist tighter. With one final pull it is secured firmly in place.

“ Te deseo tanto(I want you so much)” Miguel moans before quickly regaining his composure.

“Huh what does that mean?” You inquire unsure if you heard him correctly.

“N-nothing it doesn’t mean anything. Where are the webs coming from?”

“Here.” You point to your wrist.

“Then why do you have a web shooter? Sounds like a trick to me.” He says through clenched teeth.

“The shooter strengthens the quality of my webs. It wouldn't be fun swinging fifty feet in the air and having a web break on you.”

“That’s true. You seem to have some experience with this lifestyle. I can assume you’ve been this way for a long time.”

“Yeah…a few years actually.” You sound far away.

“I can’t believe another spider person has gone undetected for so long.” He looks deep in thought.

“I'm not from here exactly.”

“Did you move from a different state? A lot of things have changed after the Heroic age so it would make sense you were in hiding-“ he speaks matter-a factly.

“What year is it?” You interrupt.

“Year? I think you might have hit your head pretty hard. It's the year 2099 don’t you remember?” The world starts spinning around you.

“20…99.You’re Spider-Man from the year 2099? This isn’t right, I shouldn't be here!” Tears stream down your face as you realize just how far away from home you really are.

Without thinking he lifts his bound hands over your head pulling you flush against his rock solid chest.

His chin nestles in your hair, you can feel his warm breath on your cheek. With each sob he pulls you closer,deeper into him.

“Eres demasiado bonita para llorar.” He whispers in your ear. The sudden change in language catches your attention, halting the flow of tears.

“W-what does that mean?” Your head leans back, staring up at him with blurry eyes.

“You’re too pretty to cry.” He breathes.

Giving into the temptation his arms lock around your waist hoisting you to his eye level. You nod, wanting to listen to the only thing that made sense in that moment ,the only thing that felt real…your body. He exhales a sigh of relief at your nod of consent taking advantage of your position he closes the distance with his lips. You hadn’t even recognized the amount of tension in your body until completely relaxing in his arms. The kiss is hungry as you two struggle for power, he clearly wants to take control but you wouldn’t make it that easy. You snake your arms out of his grasp, tangling your hands in his chestnut curls. Your feet are dangling off the ground, taking advantage of this you wrap your legs around his waist. His tongue sneakily slips past your lips petting the inside of your mouth, tasting you for the very first time.

“Tan deliciosa(so delicious)” he mumbles into your mouth.

His warm wet appendage entangles with your eager tongue dancing together in a tango of passion. With a pained groan he forces his wrist apart breaking through the barrier of your webs, desperate to touch you.

“Need…more” he is no longer able to articulate full sentences. The lust drowns him and he pulls you down with him. His now free hands roam your body leaving no place undiscovered. His giant hand grips the back of your neck pulling you deeper into the kiss. He holds you still as he finds solace in your lips, there is no place he’d rather be in this moment than Buried hilt deep inside your walls. His other hand grips your ass kneading the soft skin. As you begin to slip, he bounces you with one arm, holding you even tighter. He blindly sits down on the couch, a bit of a bumpy ride but you land gently straddling his hips. He pulls away to stare fervently at you with rose colored eyes. Without bothering to remove your shirt in a humane way, he slashed a talon between your breasts, roughly splitting the fabric.

“So fucking beautiful” he runs his tongue up the length of your torso all the way to your neck. You tremble beneath his touch. He plants warm kisses up your throat, sucking and nipping the smooth flesh. His fang pokes dangerously close with each lap, threatening to sink in at any moment. He softly bares down breaking just the surface of your skin, a small trickle of blood pools at both sides of the bite. You gasp at the sudden pain but quickly melt as he licks it away. The fact you’re both spider people his venom doesn’t work the same way it would on a human. It is not poisonous or toxic. Your body processes it by turning it into dopamine intensifying your bodily sensitivity. The effects take action immediately; electricity vibrates every cell in your body.

“W-wait i don’t even know your name…your real name.” You huff trying to catch your breath.

“Miguel. Yours?” He smiles, the lines in his face stand out making him look even more charming.

“Y/n” your eyes move side to side as he leans in again this time lower.

“Nice to meet you, Now por favor fóllame(please fuck me)

“Oh god…ah…please” you plead as he sucks your erect peaks. He sucks and teases your nipples, he moans as you grab his hair for support.

“Uhn…mamita harder, pull harder” he groans, flicking his tongue over your hard pearls. You obey, pulling with a little more force than before. A shiver runs down his spine, his eyes flutter as they roll back.

In an instant he turns around flipping you onto your back, he kneels between your legs on the living room floor. He ejects a web plastering your ankles together. Your back is flat on the couch cushion and your lower half hangs being supported only by his firm grip on your ankles. Just as before he doesn’t bother with removing your bottoms. He lifts your legs up, creating tension in the fabric and slicing at the resistance point splitting the shorts in two exposing your eager slit.

“Oh dios te necesito ahora(oh god I need you right now)” he pants.

Using the hand grasping your ankles, he pushes your legs back putting your plush entrance on display. He salivates at the sight of you so vulnerable and open before him, the muscles in your legs tremble as he bends down splaying soft kisses on your inner thighs. You can feel his warm breath on your wet folds. A growl rumbles in his throat as he traces the line of your flower with his tongue, savoring your nectar .

“f-fuck…s-so good” you moan, biting back a scream of pleasure. Utilizing his free hand, he teases your slick canal with two thick digits before easing them inside. His tongue and fingers work in unison petting your inner and outer sweet spots. Never had he felt someone so tight and inviting, his cock twitches as your walls squeeze his fingers. Pumping his fingers in and out he simultaneously licks your clit, sucking and lapping at the bundle of nerves. Your hips buck and hands find his hair grinding deeper into his touch. He picks up the pace as your pussy quivers. his head moves rhythmically as he absolutely devours you. His chin is slick with your juices as he licks and sucks every inch of your inner labia. Your legs twitch and shake as the climax edges near, maintaining the same speed he pushes you past your breaking point.

“Can’t take anymore…i-its too much.” You sob gripping him tighter.

“It’s okay estás haciendo un buen trabajo(You’re doing such a good job) don’t give up on me…that’s it…good girl.” He praises finger fucking you through your orgasm. With a final yelp the gates open and you cum harder than you’ve came before, coating his fingers in your delicious cream. Slow and gently he slips his fingers from your spent cunt leaving you shivering and incoherent. Instinctively he puts those same fingers in his mouth sucking away the mess you made. Before you can even think of catching your breath, he sits up removing the barrier of his shirt and shorts. The elastic waistband of his shorts slides down exposing the defined V lines on his hips. His throbbing manhood burst free, the veins pulsing visibly with frustration. His head hangs hiding his red hot blush and low set eyelids, this feeling could only be described as animalistic. Using his fangs he shreds the webbing holding your ankles in place, setting you free. Your knees fall in exhaustion at either side of you giving him full access to your cunt once again. He towers over you, hands on the back of the couch to support his massive weight. You feel his cock fall thick and heavy on your glistening lips. He breathes deeply, rubbing his member along your split, his mouth opens slightly a pained expression pulls to his face.

“Me vuelves loca(you drive me crazy) I can’t wait anymore.” He growls lining his tip with your slick hole. He plunges deep and desperately inside you, his claws slice the back of the couch as he ruts into you. Those piercing red eyes bore into yours as he pistons into your pillowy heat. Your pussy clenches sucking him in further, the tip of his cock slams your g spot with each stroke. The grooves of your inner walls massage all eight inches of his thick rod.

“Me encanta tu cuerpo(I love your body)…te sientes muy bien(you feel so good)…No puedo resistirme a ti(I can’t resist you)” he groans low in your ear. He places his calloused hand under your knee pushing it back and opening you wider. He pumps in and out at a fervent pace, suddenly he switches the position of his hands to rest on your hips. With his Cock buried deep inside you, he stands hoisting you by your waist. Naturally your legs hang around his hips leaving you at his mercy. You’re a frightening 6’9 inches from the ground being fucked like a rag doll. His hands grip your ass as he rocks you back and forth on his dick. Your toes curl as he rails you slamming up while forcing you down on his cock. It’s hard and needy. He can’t control himself, his talons prick your flesh as he grips you tightly. His manhood throbs begging for release,head falling back as he forces you up and down on his shaft.

“Need to cum…can’t hold it f-fuck.” With a final thrust he slams deep within exploding and spraying your walls with hot cum. He holds you close as his body trembles, a thin layer of sweat glistens on his body. His cock twitches still hard inside you.

“Another round,hermosa(beautiful)?” He pants.

“Yes please.” You breathe.

[coldgoldlazarus]

Okay, mostly done screeching in excitement, now it's analysis time.

First point: That purple blast of the turret getting taken out looks great.

Looks like we're opening hot, a lot like Corruption's beginning. Hopefully won't be quite as protracted as the Norion battle, though, lol.

Also, I've seen some jokes already about how this section will end with Samus getting depowered like the openings of Prime and Echoes, but given how barebones her arsenal seems to be here, (missiles and morph ball, which sometimes she just starts with and keeps, maybe bombs too) I don't expect that to happen.

The HUD and helmet edges are a lot more dialed back this time, pushed as far into the corners as they can go. Probably better for visibility this way, but I am gonna miss the more wraparound feel of the previous setup, with the missile count and hazard meter along the sides. But this isn't a bad look by any means, and we still have a fair few items here.

A & B: My bet is this is the replacement for the old hazard meter. In addition to keeping it out of the way, putting it right next to the motion tracker is a good move. I may actually remember to use that more this way.

C: Health bar is obvious, of course, but I really like the move of tucking it away into the notch on the top of the Echoes/Corruption/Beyond(!) helmet visor. The lines around it suggest an empty row above, undoubtedly for the energy tank pips once those are picked up.

D & E: Minimap is present as usual, not really much to say there, but I love the addition of a compass direction scroll beneath it, which should be helpful for putting places in context of the broader map. (Tallon IV's elevator label system, anyone?)

F: Missile count has been shunted down from the side to the bottom corner. I'm interested to see if it will grow upward, or just stay in its present spot and scale accordingly, as you collect more expansions.

G: This is the one everyone's already pointed out, but it seems that we won't have a visor OR beam swap readout.

Scan Visor is still an option as shown in the next bit, but based on the lack of an indicator in the hud, it's probably just going to be a toggle between that and combat, without anything else like X-Ray or Thermal or Echo or what have you. (Or it could be that that would only get added to the HUD after picking up a third visor, but I won't hold my breath for it.) Kinda disappointing to deemphasize one of the cool new mechanics the Prime subseries brought to the table, on one hand, but I'm still grateful to have the Scanner, and the extra ones always did struggle a bit to see much use.

Similarly, a bit disappointed this means we're probably looking at a stacking beam like in Corruption and the 2D games, (unless of course beam swapping is still there and just being left off the HUD until relevant for the sake of cleanliness #copium) but not entirely surprising; I'll live.

But what is interesting is what's there instead. The D-Pad seems to be tied to non-Beam weapons or tools instead, with the missile launcher as the only one available at present. I'm really curious to see what the other items will be; I imagine this is going to be Prime 4's unique spin on things. I saw someone suggest affinity weapons like in Hunters, but given those all function like Beams, it feels weird to me to set them against Missiles instead, ammunition requirements notwithstanding. I'm not going to rule those out, of course, but I could see this being something completely different entirely.

Again, I am very glad to see the Scan Visor is still here at least. Even better is that it uses the full-body highlighting of objects like Echoes and Corruption instead of Prime 1's icons. Pretty minimalistic layout, all told; I like that the scanning bar is a ring now. And it doesn't reflect Samus's face by default like in Corruption, which makes sense since we're not liable to have the same kind of mutation shenaniganry happening here.

I forgot to snag a screencap of this bit on my computer, so forgive the lower quality, but this scene is interesting for a few reasons.

The Pirates' breaching charges letting them into this room just as Samus passes through a gap in the wall overhead is a nice touch, and also remniscent of some sequences from early on in Corruption.

The Federation guys in here seem to be wheeling away someone or something on a stretcher in a hurry. That could be important.

Energy tank up in the rail section, but blocked by a box. Are we just going to bomb through to get it right away, or will we drop down into the room, and have to come back from the other direction to pick it up? (Please be the other direction)

Samus looking spiffy here, even at a distance. And as some have pointed out, looks like she's walking out of a portal instead of a door, pointing to either more dimension-hopping shenanigans like in Echoes, or possibly the time travel elements I recall hearing Tanabe wanted to play with at some point. (This plus the black hole look of the logo makes me think this could be more likely.)

Whatever the nature of the portal, though, the interesting thing to me is the sort of circular structure in the rock around it, suggesting a doorframe almost. A lot of the portals on Aether seemed to actively cut into the environment at random, the rock carved out in perfect spheres with fucked-up edges, and interrupting the pre-existing architecture or geology. In contrast, this looks like it was put here on purpose, implying a more controlled creation. Potentially really fascinating implications in that.

I also kinda wonder if these portals will be replacing elevators as a way to get between regions.

Ignoring the big numbers in the middle, (though they do kinda mess with my prediction that Prime 4 was going to be a 2024 holiday title to avoid getting eaten by Switch 2's inevitable 3D Mario launch title,) a couple things stand out to me here.

Giant tree in the background is giant, and I love it for that. Also looks like it's not the only giant tree here, even if still probably the biggest. I hope we get to go there later.

But in addition, we have a bridge in the middle distance, and a tunnel opening in the foreground. I will eat my hat if we don't get to cross that bridge, and my bet is that they're going to pull a similar trick here as with Skytown, letting low-poly versions of other "rooms" be visible from the current one, but dividing them with interior sections for optimization reasons, allowing for amazing landscapes of all traversible terrain. I loved that there, it looks great here, I can't wait to go explore all this myself next year.

[eggwishing]

LORD alfuckingmighty i don't think there is a single string of words i could piece 2gether to properly describe the absolute magnificence of ur art . you have such a vast understanding of art & so many of its intricacies. ur character designs are ALWAYS incredible, so so endearing & memorable. every time i see one i get incredibly excited & am strangled by the urge to make fanart because just. oh my god. you have some of the BEST color work i have ever fucking seen like it is genuinely fucking spectacular what you are able to create & look good with combinations of colors i would NOT think to place in the way you do if i were given the same palette. i feel like calling your doodles just "doodles" is like, WRONG, because every single one is something u could spend ages looking at on its own. i'd pick favorites to describe but we would be here for hours . you have the insane ability to keep your style consistent but are able to stretch it & change it for whatevers appropriate/the receive your desired result for the particular drawing and its just SO. SO. COOL. take literally all of this and add it to the fact that you can fucking ANIMATE !!! while still keeping all of these features of ur style intact and that fact is just OTHERWORLDLY to me in the best way possible . not only that but ur stories r always so very intriguing and it makes me SOO ANGRY that oc artwork & original stories dont receive the same attention as fandom work or otherwise because i swear 2 fucking god you go absolutely ABOVE and beyond in terms of creativity for ur stories & DESERVE THE RECOGNITION AAAAAAAAUUUUUUGHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!! GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRORWGGGGGGGGGGGGRWGGGGGGGGGGRGGGGGGGGGRGGGGGGGGGGGGGRGGGGGGGGGGGGGG okay im done. i hav been up for almost 24 hours and saw one of ur drawings and got real emotional ihope uhave an awesome day eebrt i hope to be at least 10th place in ur list of biggest fans .

oh my god . I'm responding to this on a computer which doesn't have any of my usual images OR emojis that I would usually throw at you like. I don't know Someone who's really really REALLY good at throwing stuff. so I'll just use my words. THANK YOU SO MUCH !!!!!! this means the absolute world to me.. I did not expect to be blasted in the face by one million kisses when I checked my inbox, I had to sit back in my chair like WOW.... I love you .... I love youuuu...... thank you so much for the encouragement, I've been feeling not so confident And kind of afraid (leaving to study animation in college very soon) for the last few days n your words are lifting me out of the void like bingbong's rocket from inside out. not gonna lie your comments are one of the highlights of posting on Tumblr, I love reading them so much when you reblog my stuff. they're beautiful and always make me feel better when I'm feeling down... you were there from the days of homestuck dragons... you were always there for my ocs... You are a "real one." If I had a heart locket I'd print out your icon and put it in there along with all the other people I treasure ^_^ so yeah, definitely in the ranks... when I'm up on stage wearing a solid gold tuxedo (they had to wheel me in because I could not walk in the Solid Gold Tuxedo) and giving my speech to the world before I take it over my i will start by saying First of all I'd like to thank Mel Tumblr user Melissa-titanium On Tumblr for always hyping me up... could not have made it this far without him. And then I'd press the doomsday button and blow up every world leader.

I wish I could respond with something that appropriately returns the energy of what you sent me, but this is all I've got. Just know I am vibrating in my chair right now... hope you got some sleep!!!!! <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

[nobylu]

Long Ass Logical Lore Conclusion Of The Balor (art at the end)

Let me put you on two trains of thought that will crash together like trucks on Mythbusters in a way that will make sense when they're together.

Train 1: Healing via putting numbers back on your health bar during battle is pretty rare in Lancer. There's really only two robots in the current edition of the game that can do it - the Lancaster can heal everyone and the Balor can fix itself. In fact, I'd argue that the Balor is defined more by healing than the Lancaster - you heal on your turn, you heal more on your turn if you activate your core power, you heal immediately after battle without expending repairs IF YOU ARE A BALOR AND YOU HAVE DAMAGE YOU HEAL and your DM vows to focus all fire on you so at least you take some kind of damage that's permanent (but then you activate your core power and say fuck you DM i rolled a d6 and got a 6 so actually there's no structure damage i am fine because I am a Balor)

Train 2: We all know and love that the Balor is just nanites on some sort of structure and that it goes yum yum yum on anything standing near it via the power of Scouring Swarm and Swarm Body (2-11dmg if you're standing next to one, if you dont know), but now we gotta ask - how do the nanites know where the robot ends and where the pilot begins? WHAT IS STOPPING THE NANITES FROM GOING AUTO YUM YUM YUM ON MY PILOT BECAUSE MY PILOT IS VERY ADJACENT TO THEM. I argue that what is keeping the nanites from snacking on their pilots is that the swarm knows what a human body is supposed to look like on several different levels. If they just know to not eat the skin, then the moment the pilot gets hurt because something got them when an enemy was shooting at the quote "angry water" that is the Balor then they get eaten from the inside out and turned into a fashionable human-sized human-shaped artisan raw leather bag because all the swarm knows not to touch is the pilot's skin. They also gotta know more than "a person is a head, torso, and four limbs" because then the bees will be the Diogenes to our Plato the moment, say, a space murder tiger comes into contact with the nanites and the bees will also cease to recognize the pilot when the space murder tiger rips off a leg because you know what's gonna happen the moment the pilot becomes a head, torso, and THREE limbs you guessed it it's yum yum yum time and now the swarm is the space murder tiger's, congratulations to the lucky tiger. So they gotta know skin, muscle, bones, blood, pilot's DNA, nerves - THE WHOLE NINE YARDS and probably how they sort of go together. (also probably clothes because i'd hate to pilot my bees and come out with my whole entire dick and balls and titties in the breeze because my bees atomized my fit and won't give it back). The subsequent collision of Train 1 and Train 2:

If Balors are greedy heal bots and know how people are put together, what is keeping them from healing their pilots. NOTHING, IS WHAT I SAY. I posit that Balor nanites can, in fact, fix their pilots because bodies are just the frames for the computational core that is the brain. How well you want them to fix their pilots is up to you - for me, the answer is poorly and with balor-ification. Mechanically, it can't be instantly because that would be busted and poor sport, but you can theme your Balor Pilot's revival upon their unfortunate death likely of reactor stress (RIP my shit heat cap) as "they got fixed up by their nanites". And if you really really want, you can add nanites to your Pilot like I did with my guy, Diederik.

Nanite Infestation and the Small Balor Stability Problem

You're familiar with that part of Balor lore that says that they don't work on anything smaller than size 2 because they just need SO MUCH ENERGY, so how do I justify through lore that my pilot has these nanites while also not acting as a size 1/4 Balor. The way I've perceived it is that Diederik, my boy my man my guy, is host to a swarm that 1) does not operate in its fullest capacity and 2) subsequently cannot do mech-level combat.

Balors have specialist nanites used in specific weapons like the Hellswarm, CONSUME/HIVE, and SWARM/HIVE. Something that can damage a mech probably is super energy-hungry, so we can have those be turned off. The only activated nanites would be structural nanites, sensor nanites, greywash (the part that eats), and reconstruction nanites that take what the greywash atomizes and glues it together like a 10 year old making a clay model of a person that makes you go "oohhh, thats... nice. Great job??? It looks just like me?". Just enough nanite activity that it can be powered by the human body at the low low price of "eat more food". (For Diederik, I've gone another step and will say that the reactor of the Balor is made of reactor nanites but that running them inside a human body uuuhhhh cooks it so those are off too.)

The cool thing about having Balor nanites permanently on you is that you can flavor all sorts of things as nanite shit. My pilot melee weapon is nanite knuckle dusters. I flavor my successful pilot-level rolls as the nanites doing something or alerting of something. I'm running the Bond Magus so all my Magus powers are just nanites doing their thing - skincrawl (get a bad feeling and react fast) is just the nanites telling Diederik about the bad thing in time for him to react, Geist (touch someone and experience what they do while unobserved even when far away) is just planting a nanite bug on them, Possession (ask the dark presence inside you a question) is just asking The Maw their/its opinion, etc.

(Another tidbit to chew on is that the swarm is still going to run a little toasty, so pilots hosting Balor nanites post healing are in turn going to be a little toasty just kind of always. Hello 100 freedom degree perma-fever.)

[betterbemeta]

I think something interesting about the star trek world is its combination of both replicator and holodeck technology. I understand these are literal 'plot devices' to explain the availability of food, materials, and the ability to visit locations for sci-fi premises that can't be found on an alien planet. However, they are worth thinking about in terms of how they change the world.

(Let's assume 'ideal' circumstances where we have a stable renewable non-polluting source of lots and lots of energy and aren't rationing it like on Voyager or something)

Replicators can use energy and raw materials to configure items, and presumably dis-configure items. While the potential for '3D printing' basically anything so long as its materials aren't too rare is really cool, it is also a near-perfect recycling machine. Beyond making sure your replicated dishes and cups don't infinitely pile up, that's SO IMPORTANT. Not only does that mean many items are 'temporary' that otherwise would be 'forever', you can instantly refresh the wear on many items without having to replace them and generate trash.

For example, tennis balls. It's currently really hard to recycle tennis balls, and serious players wear them out extremely quickly. Every serve you make after the first will be with a slightly worn, degraded tennis ball until you replace it, which generates trash. The production facilities to make all those tennis balls have to exist, they have to be shipped, the space to store them exists, the space to store their waste exists, the waste must be transported to a tennis ball recycling facility or a landfill...

but with replicators, you could play tennis without owning/paying a club to access a single tennis ball, without wasting a tennis ball.

And then there's the possibility of holodeck sports where you don't even need to make ANY material items. You could program the tennis ball to never run out. As long as you have the power to run it, maybe the most you'd need to 'own' is a tennis outfit. I am not sure if it's consistent that holodecks can 'dress you' or if you always must bring in costumes from the outside. And the costume itself could be replicated and then recycled!

There's a vast amount of stuff that we retain as personal property that just has to do with accessing activities or amenities. It's not really property that has emotional significance to us, but we still have attachments to it as its a facilitator of our active identity. Our dishes and cookware. Sports equipment. Certain kinds of clothing items. Some types of personal care items. Non-heirloom/generic holiday decorations. Stuff that is usually sacrificed first when we become homeless, when losing access to what they enable is more devastating than the items themselves.

If we could basically conjure and dismiss these things at-will, or access them on a temporary basis for free, we wouldn't need to own them or keep them around in our homes. No supply chain would be dedicated to them. Their waste would be completely eliminated. Ideas of 'what stuff I need to have as a person, to have a dignified life' would change completely.

It wouldn't surprise me if there were people in the star trek universe running around on earth with basically nothing we consider permanent physical property. Not because they're homeless and have no place to put them, and not because they're rich and their assets are liquid-- because the only reason to 'keep' mundane items, even something as complex as a communication device or computer, might be because they are emotionally important to you. And not everybody has 'stuff' like that at every time in their lives.

[maltmealo]

Chapter 10: Call me

"You sound like the stars."

"What do they sound like?"

"Hurt."

The ride back to the base was relatively quiet, the food you brought had been eaten and the trash had been stored in his ‘subspace’, whatever that was. Cliffjumper had put on some music, some random country song you couldn’t be bothered to pay attention to because hey, you’re a multidimensional traveler now, thinking about that beats trying to pay attention to a country song.

You just barely snapped back to reality when you heard Cliffjumper asking for a groundbridge, Ratchet responding in a gruff hold on and only a few moments later the bright light appeared in front of you. Now that you weren’t freaking out about car robots you could actually feel yourself being transported, your whole body felt fuzzy and your hair stood on end.

The bright light subsided and you were back in that metal room, Ratchet and Optimus waiting for the two of you. Cliffjumper’s door popped and you climbed out, he transformed and leaned on the nearby wall. He didn’t even look at you, he was literally facing the opposite way and acting like none of that actually happened. How rude.

“I assume Cliffjumper kept you unharmed?” Ratchet asked, scanning over you with the same instrument he did when he brought you here. The windchimes were back, even if they were calm you still cringed.

“I’m okay.” you say, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot as you stare at the instrument, “Should you be scanning me with that thing after what happened?”

“Yes, it's perfectly safe, the only reason all of that happened is because the reader is supposed to take a chunk off your EM barrier and analyze that, but it seems that your EMF is so weak that as soon as the barrier was broken everything just came spilling out.”

Your blank stare alerted Ratchet to the fact that you understand nothing of what he just said and he let out a frustrated sigh, scooping you up with one hand and setting you down beside the monitor.

“Think of it like a dome around you, that dome keeps in all your feeling, emotions, and in your case, your spark,” Ratchet begins, typing into the computer and pulling up an image of what he was talking about, “Usually when they’re broken, they regrow or reshape to keep all of that in, but in your instance your dome was to weak and stayed open.”

“I thought you said my EMF was strong though, why would the barrier be weak?”

“That's just it, your EMF is so strong that your barrier is struggling to keep it inside.” Ratchet says, turning back to you with a glint in his eyes, “The only reason you’re alive right now is because you merged with Optimus’ EMF field.”

“She what?” Cliffjumper interjected, walking up to the table quickly, an incredulous look on his face, “How?”

“As i said, her barrier is incredibly weak, it’s malleable, instead of it just pressing up against another EM it simply slips inside it and uses the natural energy given off to heal itself.”

“You were right there, why did she only heal when Optimus was around?” Cliffjumper asked, looking at you from the corner of his eyes for a moment before turning his attention back to the dear doctor.

Ratchet goes silent for a moment before he sighs and leans on the table, trapping you in his shadow, the light shining around him making him seem that much more threatening.

“I have to admit, it is my fault you experienced so much pain, when I scanned you, I wasn't in the right mindset, so when you attempted to merge with my field it harmed you instead of healing you.” he uttered, the bright blue eyes staring down at you with remorse. “I am sorry.”

You look up at the looming giant, trying to formulate an answer. On one hand, he hurt you, on the other, it was an accident and you’re fine now, right?

“It's okay.” you manage to get out, giving him a weak smile, it was fine, sort of, your chest was still kind of achy but that was it,, “i’m okay now.”

“If it's all the same with you, I'd like to keep you nearby just in case.”He says, his expression softening silently when you said you were okay, was he relieved that he didn’t kill you? Or relieved that he wouldn't have the government up his ass?

“Yeah, sure, you’re the doctor, doctor.” You nod. Ratchet huffs and turns away, going back to the computer. You subsequently turn away but out of the corner of your eye you could swear you saw him smiling. Optimus was waiting for you, staring down at you with the same intensity he did when you arrived.

“Miss, if I may, may I ask a question?” Optimus asked, kneeling down to be eye level with you, patiently waiting for your response.

“Um, yeah go ahead.” You almost whisper, a bit nervous under his intense gaze, his eyes were brighter then Ratchet you soon learned, even staring at them for more than a few seconds burned the light into your retinas.

“What happened in the hallway?”

“Um, I thought I already told you.” You say, gulping down the salvia gathering your mouth, did he believe you? Did he think you were some spy?

“Humor me.” he rumbles, his gaze narrowing.

“Well… after i got hit, I woke up in this stone hallway, it had statues of robots, there was a pool of water behind me, when i stood up this dude in a cloak told me to run, something big was behind him and i tripped into the pool, then i woke up here.” you recount, averting your gaze towards the ground, your eyes hurt now, and whenever you blinked you saw his eyes.

It was silent for a moment,then you heard him stand back up, towering over you.

“You do not need to be scared.”

“I'm not.” you lie, looking back up at the looming bot.

“Our EMF is merged, I can feel everything you feel.” Optimus said, offering you a hand to step up on.

“Oh.” you answer blankly, staring at his open hand. “Listen, I'm not trying to be rude or anything, but I'm not too keen on being picked up right now.”

“That is understandable.” He says, lowering his hand, “but you are still scared.”

“Well, um yeah, in the span of a week I died, found out giant alien robots are real, oh wait, real in this universe, and i’m not even from this universe, my friend is probably dead, and earth is under attack from evil alien robots, so yes, i am scared!” you shout as you begin to pace around on the counter, your gaze turned to the ground as you let out your frustrations, “I can’t go home until this war ends, and as far as I know, I can’t leave without having an escort, unless i want to be experienced on by evil robots!”

It was calm. The humming. It drowned out the sounds of the windchimes. It was surrounding you, pulling you further and further away-

“Stop doing that!” you shout, hugging yourself tightly, on the verge of breaking down in front of them. Optimus and Ratchet freeze and the humming subsides, Optimus takes a step back.

“My apologies.” Optimus mutters after having a realization, then he walks away, leaving you, Ratchet, and Cliffjumper alone.

You sit down on the cold metal, pulling your knees up and resting your head in between them. It felt nice, the humming, it calmed you down, but you didn’t want to be calm. A knot forms in your throat as you try to breathe, it hurts, it hurts so much. You wanted your family, you wanted home, you wanted your friend back.

You wanted to wake up.

“What happened?” Cliffjumper asked, he had gotten closer. It was… Bacon? No, oil, it was oil. It was popping and sizzling, just getting going in the pan.

“I don’t know.” you mutter, your voice muffled by your knees.

“Listen, the big guy is right, you ain’t gotta be scared.” He pauses, looking up at the ceiling in thought, “Well, you do but not of us.”

“Cliffjumper.” Ratchet growls out warning, he had been watching this entire time, with either pity or sympathy, it was hard to tell from your obscured view.

“Listen, all I'm sayin’ is that all of this is new to us, humans, multiverse, earth.” He sighs, “You.”

“Didn’t you guys say that this happened before?” you ask, looking up from your knees. The red horned autobot was right in front of you, kneeling to look you in the eyes.

“Yeah, it happened a while ago, way before the old Docbot over there was even thought about being made.” he makes a jerking motion with his thumb towards Ratchet.

“Don’t call me that.” He scoffs, crossing his arms.

“Point being-” Cliffjumper starts, looking back at you, “Big guy is trying his best with what he knows, and EMF merging is kinda a big deal for us, like laying naked for you humans, third biggest thing for trusting someone besides becoming a conjunx or amica for us.”

“Latin.”

They were both silent for a moment before they looked down at you with a confused expression.

“Latin? What's that?” Cliffjumper asked.

“It's a language here, conjunx means joint and amica means friend.” You say quietly, taking a deep breath, “it’s just a guess but you guys must have come here earlier in earth's history and spread your language.”

“Can I ask why you think that?” Ratchet butts in, stepping closer to you and Cliffjumper.

“Your species is older than ours, right? It makes sense that you guys would have spread your language here because I doubt two species from different planets that had no contact would develop languages the same way.”

“That is scarily accurate.” Cliffjumper whispers to himself, moving his face a bit closer to you, “You sure you’re not a ‘bot?” he asked teasingly, reaching out and poking your head, not hard enough to even move you.

“Not really.” You look back at the floor, rubbing your arms up and down.

They were silent again, how were they supposed to deal with this, you were of the same species, so they couldn’t even relate to you on that.

“Cliffjumper, go help Arcee with the recovery.” Ratchet commands rather than asks, the groundbridge already opening up for him.

“But-”

“Go, it’ll be fine.”

Cliffjumper’s conflicted, you need comfort and he knows the dear doctor's bedside manner needs some working on, but his partner does need help, the Decepticons could attack at any moment and she’s by herself.

“Sorry, Fleshy,” he apologies, but before he stands up and walks away he whispers, “Don’t be put off by his bad manners, he means well.”

He winks and stands up, you give him a weak smile and then he's gone. The portal thing gone.

“Kid, it’s not Optimus’ fault, his servos are tied, he’s trying his best to end this war but he can’t get you home, none of us can.” Ratchet says after a moment, he had turned back to his computer.

“So I'm just supposed to sit in the middle of this war that I have no business being a part of?” you ask, looking up at him, he doesn’t answer, he doesn't even look at you. “Ratchet, please say no.”

“I can’t, kid, you can’t leave or else you’ll die, and we can’t get you home, I'm sorry.” He said sympathetically.

You can’t go home, not until this war is over. You run our hands through your hair, sniffling as you take a deep breath.

“Then let me help.”

“Excuse me?”

“Let me help you end the war, then you guys can get me home.” you decide, standing up and brushing off your pants, taking a moment to collect yourself. “Right?”

“You can’t seriously be serious.” He deadpans, walking up to you and looming over you again, “you look like you won’t survive a nano-click in a fight, let alone against a Con.”

“I don’t have to face them head on, I'm a scientist, I can research, find new ways for you guys to fight.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“You’re human, that's why.” he scoffed, his bright blue eyes staring down at him.

“So? That doesn’t make me any less than you.” you put your hands on your hips, you had to help, you had to get home.

“You don’t know the first thing about Cybertronians! Let alone our war!”

“I can learn! You said I can't go home until this war is over, then I'm going to help!”

He goes silent, staring down at you in shock, a human that would rather fight than hide in an office was rare for him.

“I can’t promise anything… but I'll talk to Optimus.” he sighed, straightening his back and turning to his computer. “It’s best to leave him alone right now, I doubt he feels well after what happened.”

“What happened?” you ask, frowning as you stare up at him.

“When your barrier was open, Optimus made the active decision to let you enter and use his EMF, and as Cliffjumper said, it's a very intimate act, and Optimus didn’t mind that,” he turns back to you, a look of concern on his face, “When you were… speaking your mind, he felt your distress and in an attempt to comfort you, he didn’t realize it would distress you even further.” he paused again, trying to find the words, “Optimus is very rigid in his beliefs, everyone should have a choice and nobody should be forced to do anything.”

“It's… that intimate.” you state, looking down at the ground, how were you supposed to feel? Everything is so new and strange, it hurts your head to think about it.

“Yes, he’s probably going to keep his distance from you for a while, but in the meantime, you need to learn.”

He offers you a hand to step up on and a half smile.

“If you’re going to help us,you at least need to know the basics.”

[getvalentined]

I really love all your Vincent analysis, I get very excited whenever you post them. I was wondering something, Grimoire has always seemed a very distant figure in canon, (yet he affects so much) and it is very likely that his and Vincent's relationship wasn't the best. But I am curious as to what you think his reaction to the experiments Hojo and Lucretia put him through would be if he was informed? Especially given that Grimoire knew Lu well. (I know this is completely non-canon)

Believe it or not, way back in 2011 I posted a hastily-drawn Ask Vincent Valentine entry that addresses exactly this! It's been a really long time, and my opinion there hasn't really changed, but I'm more than happy to expand on the concept in more detail now.

We don't actually have a lot of information on Grimoire as a character, and even less on his relationship with Vincent, so most of my opinion here is definitely headcanon, and I'll be tagging this post accordingly. That said, we do know a few things, and establishing the details of their relationship as I understand it is pretty integral to my opinion of how Grimoire would handle Vincent's inclusion in Lucrecia's terrifying thesis project.

First, Grimoire and Vincent seem to have had some kind of falling out in the past. Although it's impossible to say what caused it or how recent this was, it's fairly clear based on Grimoire's last words being a request for Lucrecia to apologize to Vincent on his behalf, and Vincent being unaware of the circumstances of his father's death until finding his file open on Lucrecia's computer. (I've seen it argued that Vincent may not even have been aware that his father was dead until that point—I don't generally subscribe to that idea, but this may actually be the case.)

Secondly, although this is more up for interpretation, Vincent's feeling toward his father appear to be somewhat...harsh? I reach this conclusion based on the word he uses to refer to him in the original Japanese, which is 親父 (oyaji). While this is a term for "father," it's also colloquially used as equivalent to "old man," and is kind of a catch-all term for middle-aged men in general. It's pretty rough in comparison to other terms that could have been used here, and also seems fairly out of place for how Vincent speaks otherwise, making it seem to me that he uses this harsher term in order to indicate either a lack of formality or a lack of respect for his father.

In headcanon territory, my take on their relationship has always been that Grimoire is extremely disappointed in Vincent for failing to pursue a career in academia, opting instead for the Turks—a role in which he excelled to such a degree that the Turk Vincent sim battle in Dirge PlayOnline indicates the assessment and training records he set were still standing when the Crisis took place. We know that Vincent is intelligent and highly educated (there is a complex series of interconnected equations scrawled on the wall of the Shinra Manor basement in Rebirth that was canonically written by Vincent, he's obviously very smart), so he could certainly have pursued the same career path as his father, and for whatever reason he chose not to.

One thing that isn't up in the air is whether or not Grimoire loved his son. Vincent was the last thing on his mind, as Chaos ate away at his body and ripped him apart into pyreflies, the last thing that mattered was that Vincent know he was sorry. Grimoire loved Vincent, even if they didn't always get along.

But Grimoire was, unfortunately, a Shinra scientist. According to Dirge PlayOnline, Grimoire was the first Shinra scientist to theorize about using foreign energies and excavated materials in the creation of an otherwise human child, with the goal of creating a hybrid able to communicate with humankind with ease. Grimoire loved his son, but he was comfortable with the idea of turning someone else's into a monster in utero if it meant that science could progress. This hypothesis is probably one of the leading reasons that Lucrecia volunteered for her role in Project S; she loved her mentor very much, and what better way to honor his memory than to prove at least one part of his theory right?

At the end of the day, it's the expansion of human knowledge that mattered to Grimoire. He would have been thrilled to know that he was right—proven with Sephiroth, with Vincent, and eventually with Nero. The three of them exist, even if only in part, because of Grimoire's thirst to understand the world beyond humanity, and all three of them changed the face of scientific progress. Sephiroth and Vincent's projects both helped to facilitate the creation of SOLDIER, while Nero literally proved the existence of a secondary plane of reality which had only ever been considered theoretical—if not simply written off as a myth—prior to his birth. That's amazing. That's wonderful.

The only problem Grimoire would have with any of it is that it was his child in the tank. Also unfortunate is that the other two were technically his grandchildren—Nero is pretty much undeniably made from genetic material harvested from Vincent, and my headcanon for why Vincent was assigned to Nibelheim at all is that Gast also wanted some way to honor the memory of the late Professor Grimoire Valentine, and selected Vincent to be the "sire" to the main subject of Project S. Vincent was never meant to know, and Lucrecia was never meant to care. It did not work out that way.

Grimoire would initially be horrified to realize what Lucrecia had done—and then fall right into complete understanding, because she did it to her own child too. She experimented on Vincent, yes, but it was in an attempt to save him! Who could blame her for using what she learned in her thesis? Two birds with one stone, salvation and enlightenment both from a single questionable act. He might disagree with her methods, with her disorganization and her lack of foresight, but he couldn't blame her.

He'd be devastated to know how his theories had ruined his child in every possible respect—but only because it was his child, not because of what was actually done. He'd grieve the loss of those grandchildren that neither he nor Vincent ever had a chance to know—but only because they were Vincent's children, torn away before he ever got to know they existed at all.

And, deep down, Grimoire would feel the slightest swell of pride that the only subjects that worked, the only ones that survived and excelled, the few that could literally call themselves gods even if only for a short period of time, were part of his bloodline.

It turns out that Valentines are amazing at anything they do, whether they choose to do anything or not. Vincent rejected science, and science took him anyway, because science is what Valentines do. It's what all of them do, and they do it better than anyone. How could he not be proud of that?

[lellalombardiapologist]

on the occasion of Niki Lauda's birthday I want to share this specific quote from his autobiography because it made me see shrimp colors:

... which also helps you influence and keep a tight rein on your emotions - which is probably one reason for the "computer" image you present to the world at large. I am not prepared to allow my feelings to run riot. I'm too sensitive, too emotional as it is, to let it happen. That would be the end of me. You really mean that? Emotional? Sensitive? Yes, deep down, certainly. I am afraid to let myself go. I think that, if I did, I would exhibit a remarkable aptitude for coming apart at the seams. That is why I have developed what I call my "system" - to protect myself and to apportion my time and energy. And part of that system - as you have already said - is keeping my feelings under control. That doesn't mean to say I have to be some kind of robot, just because I try to channel my emotions and make the best out of them.

this was the first time in my life I ever encountered someone who felt like me, who, like me, felt things with such a great intensity that he have to learn to put dams around it. and the person in question is niki lauda.

[winterflowersftw]

“I think I outgrew this place”

Richard Grayson just realised that it is about time he left home.

“You were wrong to do that,” Batman told Robin after their nightly patrol as he sat in his Batmobile and they headed back to the mansion.

“I had to take care of the robbers, Bruce. They…” There was a slight hesitation in his voice, “They had guns. What if they had shot someone?”

Bruce paused and said, “The robbers should have been my problem. You’re here to assist me, Robin, not to take over.”

What a cold way of saying, “Don’t put yourself in danger, Grayson,” Dick thought.

But it had been getting frequent now. These disagreements sometimes even resulted in a fight between the two.

***

“I understand what you mean, Master Dick. It’s as if you’re not content with your current standings with Master Bruce.” Alfred remarked as Dick recounted the night’s events.

Maybe that’s right. After all, Dick had been Robin for three years now. Perhaps he wanted something more, more than just being an assistant to Batman. He wanted to be his true partner.

***

“If any kind of danger is ahead of us, it should be me who runs towards it, Dick. Not you. Understand that.” And yet Richard showed no signs of cooperation on his face. Seeing that, Bruce added, “Think about it.” Then he left the room.

***

These types of conversations had been happening for a while now. Dick assumed this was because he was growing up and, at his age, disagreements with parents were normal. It was funny though; after the death of his parents, it had been Bruce who had adopted him and even though he never said it out loud, Dick did think of him as his father.

But the arguments were not happening just because he was in his adolescent years and fresh out of high school. It wasn’t because he had a short temper the past week due to his breakup with Barbara. It was because he realized he had outgrown his previous position, which was: Robin. Now that his skills had grown enough, he felt that he could do..more.

There were times when Batman was out of Gotham on a mission and sometimes he’d have to go on their nightly patrols alone. His approach on how to deal with problems was …different than Bruce’s, but sometimes it would turn out to be more efficient. He never told this to anyone though; not Alfred, not Bruce. 3 years as Batman’s right hand had made home realise that without him, he was a team player. Maybe it was because he isn’t The Batman, and because of that sometimes people would have a warmer response his questions, to his presence even. And Bruce would not even call him “Son”.

He wasn’t The Batman.

He knew that.

But what was he then? It’s not like he ever tried to figure out. Other people his age were starting college now, and they knew what they are supposed to do in their lives. Grayson knew he wanted to be a vigilante for as long as he can, but exactly what would that life look like? To find that out and to find out what he was without his father, Robin had to leave his nest.

To say this realization was devastating would be an understatement.

As he sat down in the Batcave buried in his thoughts, there it was: his out.

It was an alert from one of the seven satellites Bruce owned. Two objects had crashed 500 km away from Gotham.

It was identified that one of them was a ship and the other was, a person. The person, a woman, had fiery green energy all around her and was flying. From the ship, emerged another woman. They both looked similar. The woman who emerged from the ship wore a heavy black coloured armour.

ALIENS

Humanoid aliens.

This was bigger than what he could handle but he wanted to go either way. He deleted the information that the computer had given him in order to hide it from Bruce and later made a plan on how to reach the required coordinates.

He had found a case worth leaving and with a heavy heart, he left.

“I have to grow up and evolve. I have to find out who I am without you, father.”

The last word had some weight to it. He wrote it all on a note and left it to Alfred.

Notes: so this is the first time im writing for Robin(Dick) and im so excited! I added the last few paragraphs in hope that I would make a story out of this snippet.