#which is not going to help me focus on the million responsibilities I have

[whenthegoldrays]

📉

[fangswbenefits]

Family

𓂅 𓄹 Summary: Miguel is a natural when it comes to being a father.

𓂅 𓄹 Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x spider-woman!reader

No warnings! Pure fluff! Dad Miguel.

A flock of birds took flight from a nearby tree and the ruffling of the leaves was a clear indication that there was an intruder nearby.

Your moment of peace and quiet was short-lived, but you remained still, folding under your head as both you an Miguel soaked up the Summer sun.

"Pa~pá!" sang a small voice from inside the canopy.

"Ye~ah?" Miguel said, focused on his dimensional travel watch.

"Look at me~e!"

"I'm looking."

"You're not looking!"

You wrinkled your nose at him behind a faint smile, “Miguel O’Hara, I will smash that watch into a million pieces if you don’t focus on your daughter.”

He glanced up at you. “The multiverse—”

“—can wait,” you reassured him, nudging his arm with an elbow. “Jessica is more than capable of taking over for a couple of days.”

He nodded, but only half convinced, which was good enough, considering this was the first time Miguel was taking a few days off from the never-ending stressful work of keeping the canon intact.

It was pleasant enough to be able to go to earth-616B on a little family trip and enjoy the countryside with the guidance of Peter, MJ and little Mayday.

But Miguel was… well, Miguel. A natural worrier who disliked handing over his responsibilities to others.

“Hey, you have something on your face,” he suddenly said in a low voice.

“What is it?” you immediately brought both hands to tap along your skin, searching for anything unusual.

He leaned in and pressed a soft kiss on your cheek, which sent your heart into overdrive.

“Nice one, O’Hara…”

He replied with a teasing smile that you were so used to loving.

“EEEEW!” your daughter’s voice tore through the empty field, effectively distressing the surrounding fauna.

You watched as Miguel turned off the bleeping device on his wrist and rose from the meadow to his full height, headed toward the tree.

“Alright, little spider, come down.”

You spotted child of five descending upside down from a branch by her web, two front teeth missing, face covered in smudges of dirt, but beaming brightly at the signt of her dad.

“Papá!”

He helped her reach the ground safely and ruffled her unruly hair. “You need to be careful.”

Even from a distance, your heightened senses allowed you to feel the adoration in his voice.

The girl was wiggling now with barely suppressed excitement. "Hey, papá?"

Well, if that wasn't the most mischievous tone of voice you’d ever heard. "Hmm?”

"Do that thing."

"What thing?"

"The thing!"

"What thing?" he asked again, feigning confusion.

"THAT thing!" she cheered. "Where you go bzzzz and vssssssh and then BAM!”

"Oh," said Miguel. “That thing."

"Yep!”

"Maybe not," he sighed, but when her uplifted face began to wobble, you knew he had little choice. "Well, don’t tell mommy.”

"Yeeeaah!"

He brought a finger to his lips that she promptly mimicked. “Shhhhhh,” she then giggled.

“I can hear you!” you shouted, sitting on the grass to offer your seal of approval that came in the form of a wide smile.

You trusted her with Miguel, because Miguel trusted her with no one else but you. He would never consciously endanger his child, so you grew to accept that some of their playtime might involve something a bit riskier — as long as no loss of limbs was on the table.

She looked so tiny next to his impressive height, but was definitely a miniature copy of her father.

“We carry them inside us for months only for them to come out looking exactly like their father,” Jessica had once said and you wholeheartedly agreed.

He was wearing casuals, but his suit quickly began to engulf his entire body, leaving him only unmasked. Your daughter was bobbing happily along beside him.

"Stay back," he warned her lightly before sendind two laser-like red strings to coil around a thick branch, and effortlessly bending it into an arch until the tip hit the ground.

"Yey!" she yelped in excitement, toddling off toward the branch.

"Alright. Now, be careful.”

She met this warning with as much enthusiasm as she had for being offered an unlimited supply of candy of her choice. It didn't take much to excite her and you couldn't help but smile and follow as she began climbing up the branch with steady steps.

As she reached the middle, her knees bent as a way to maintain balance. “Do it, do iiiit!”

Miguel chuckled and the twin strings loosened ever so slightly in order to have it wobble up and down, sending the young child into a spiral of pure bliss.

“Faster! Faster!”

“Steady yourself,” he advised instead and she did as she was told, lowering herself and extending both arms as if riding a wave.

To a young spider, this was the closest thing they could get to a bouncing castle, so you didn’t mind this at all.

And neither did Miguel, because he instructed for her to climb onto his shoulders and offered the sweetest and most genuine smile ever.

He let go of the tree branch slowly, and his suit retracted at once, the little girl sliding both arms down his face for support and planting a kiss on top of his head.

“Did you have fun?”

"Yes!" she immediately said with a screech.

"And you’re strong and brave?”

"Yes!"

"And you know I love you, don't you?” he said as he paced toward you with her bouncing on his shoulders. “And mamá too, right? We'll always love you."

She was, delightfully, still very much of fan of such cheesy displays of affection. "Yes," she chirped happily.

You rose to your feet, feeling warmth spread throughout your body at the wonderful sight in front of you.

Miguel, for all his stubbornness and grumpiness, was a marvelous father. It was second nature to him.

"Another kiss?”

She leaned over and planted a noisy kiss on Miguel’s temple and giggled when he did his best to wipe it off with the back of his hand.

You welcomed them with a tight embrace and the feeling of a soft caress along your face as your daughter gave you a toothless smile.

"Let’s head out to uncle Peter’s house for a bath,” you said, pecking the palm of her hand.

“Don’t need one!”

Miguel squeezed her tiny calfs lightly. “Young lady, you do as your mother says.”

“But—”

Another squeeze and she bared her teeth, two tiny fangs emerging.

“Miguel, she’s showing off her fangs,” you said, feigning terror.

“Fangs away!” he said with a smile, bouncing her up and down his shoulders, which had her explode into a laughter.

Masterlist

[cxrrodedcoffin]

Nightvisions - Spencer Reid

Likes are always appreciated but reblogs and feedback keep artists going!

Summary: This is part 2 to Dead of Night, Reader and Spencer face the fallout of an intense first sexual encounter, which leads to a second one.

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: i’m overjoyed by the positive response to ‘dead of night’ and i’m a woman of the people so despite my lack of plan to do a part 2, i wrote one anyway, and this is it! tbh i’m not too sure how i feel about this but i had fun writing it anyway ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

TW: pervert!spencer, dom!spencer, angst, established relationships, confession of feelings, semi-public sex, noise control, hair pulling, spit, oral sex (reader receiving), unprotected sex (wrap it b4 you tap it), penetration, creampie, panty stealing, references to knifeplay, slight biting, hickey (kinda?) pet names (angel), fem + afab reader, happy ending

Rating: R, 18+

——

As the work day dragged on you could feel your initial shock and intrigue twist into an anger that burned in the pit of your stomach. Every glance Spencer took at you from his desk across the bullpen made your blood pressure spike, unable to properly focus on the paperwork you had been working through for the better half of the day. Your mind kept drifting, trying to rationalize his potential motives, but the more the thought stirred in your mind the less you could justify it to yourself. You had to hear it directly from him, as soon as possible.

“Spencer, can I get your input on something?” You called him over to your desk, masking the frustration in your voice. He scrambled to his feet, eager to be close to you again for the first time since this morning. He leaned over your desk, glancing at the paperwork in front of you.

“How can I help?”

You pointed to an insignificant line of text as you leaned forward, bringing your mouth inches from his ear.

“Meet me in the conference room in 5 minutes.” You whispered, watching as he gulped and nodded.

“That should be good.” He said as a cover, hoping not to draw suspicion to the two of you before returning to his desk.

You grabbed a file for show and walked to the conference room, checking that the blinds were pulled down over the windows overlooking the bullpen. The minutes ticked by agonizingly slow, starting to pace to keep yourself occupied as you waited for him.

Moments later there came a gentle knock at the door before Spencer slowly opened it, dipping quickly in and locking the door behind him. A short silence hung in the air until your emotions got the better of you, his soft expression causing tears to well up in your eyes.

“How? Why?” You blurted out, a mix of confusion, exhaustion, and desperation playing out in your features. He took a step toward you and you took a step back, keeping distance between you. If he touched you, you might break, shatter into a million pieces and never be put back together.

“Please just let me explain.” His tone held such strong desperation that you almost forgot how betrayed you felt. You wiped a tear from your cheek, crossing your arms over your chest as you leaned against the wall, waiting.

“You left your profile up on your computer one night and I couldn’t help myself, I wanted to give you everything you’ve ever wanted, I always have.” He took a deep breath, for once careful to articulate his words as he watched your expression carefully, searching for any sign of forgiveness.

“I know it was wrong, but I never thought I’d stand a chance with a woman like you if I went about it the traditional way. I never intended on hurting you, but I clearly have, and doing so is the biggest regret of my life.” You wanted to believe him, he seemed so earnest, but the doubt was eating you alive by the second. What if it was all an act? Was the connection you felt that night built on lies?

“Was everything you said in our chats a lie just to sleep with me?” You kept a straight face, fighting back more tears to keep your composure. You couldn’t let him know how badly you were hurt, not if he didn’t mean it.

“Oh god no, angel, everything I said was the truth.” He grew more frantic, nervously stretching his fingers as he fought the urge to step toward you again. He just wanted to hold you, to comfort you in the simplest way he knew how, but he couldn’t do anything that might make you more uncomfortable.

“Don’t call me that.” You snapped, still too frustrated with him at the moment to deal with your feelings for him. He nodded, keeping his mouth shut to resist the urge to ramble on and on about what he felt for you.

“I’m not sure I believe you Spencer, I just don’t know if I can trust you anymore.” Your voice cracked, biting the inside of your lip as you watched his face drop.

“You can.” He weighed the risk and took a step closer to you again, and you didn’t move away from him this time.

“How do I know that?”

“I’m in love with you.”

It was the most confident he’d been all day, his voice unwavering with every word.

“Don’t say that if you don’t mean it.” Tears threatened your waterline once more, hanging on his every movement as you tried to read him.

“I do mean it, I’ve known from the first time we spent 2 hours talking nonstop on the jet. No one has ever seen me the way that you do.” His eyes were glassy with tears and your heart began to melt, dropping your arms to your sides and finally closing the gap between you.

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” You took his hand in yours, your thumb swiping over the veins on the back of his hand.

“I didn’t know if you felt the same.” He sighed, averting his gaze from yours.

“I do.” You confirmed, squeezing his hand. He looked at you once more, the tension between you practically suffocating.

He leaned into you, his face dangerously close to yours as he searched your eyes for any lingering apprehension, but there was none to be found. He took a leap of faith, hoping he was reading you right as his lips met yours, his hand cupping the side of your face. You melted into the kiss, allowing him to guide your mouth against his. Your skin grew hot, your hands gripping the front of his shirt as his actions grew more intense, his lips pushing almost bruisingly hard against yours.

His hands moved lower, ghosting down your sides, the slight pressure against your healing cuts from the night before making you shiver. He finally reached the hem of your skirt, slowly hiking the fabric up your thighs. You pulled your mouth away from his, panting for a moment in hopes of catching your breath once more.

“Spencer, we can’t.” You sighed, meeting his hungry gaze.

“We can if we’re careful.” He countered, pushing you gently back until your hips bumped against the large circular table in the center of the room.

“What if someone hears? If we get caught we could lose our jobs.” The rational part of your brain seemed to be dueling with your primal urges, your body betraying your mind as the thought of getting caught only made the wetness between your thighs grow more intense.

“Then you better be quiet.” He whispered, his large hands gripping your hips as he spun you around, bending you over the edge of the conference table. He dropped to his knees, pushing your skirt up the rest of the way to bunch around your hips, humming to himself as he admired your perfect ass. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of your panties, slowly sliding them over the curve of your hips and down your legs before pocketing the lacy fabric.

You whined, wiggling your hips back to urge him on.

“Be patient.” He laughed, his voice low. You didn’t have to wait long, his head dipping between your thighs to find your waiting pussy. His strong grip kept your thighs spread as his tongue delved between your folds, quickly giving ample attention to your swollen clit. He was hungry, plush lips drinking in your arousal with every extended lap of his tongue, practically suffocating himself as his nose brushed against your weeping entrance.

You brought your hand to your mouth, biting your wrist to stifle your whimpers as you rocked back against him, indulging in the way he devoured you. He moaned against you, muffled vibrations sending shockwaves through your body, your clit growing more and more sensitive by the second. You were starting to get desperate, riding his face until the table underneath you began to squeak with every rock of your hips. Spencer suddenly pulled away, sitting back on his calves.

“Your desperation is going to get us caught.” He brought his hand between your legs, fingers massaging your clit for a split second before rearing back and slapping against it, causing you to jolt forward. You yelped, a bit louder than you intended from the shock of it, and you swallowed nervously, anticipating his next move.

He rose to his feet, his clothed hips pushing against your bare ass as he gripped your hair in his fist, firmly pulling you upright. You bit your lip to hide your moan, letting him guide your every step as he pulled you across the room, finally pressing your back against the wall.

“Spencer, please.” You sounded more pathetic than you intended but the way his mouth felt on you got you beyond worked up, and in that moment you felt like you needed him inside you more than you needed air.

“Are you going to be quiet?” He questioned, his hand resting on his belt buckle as he waited for an answer.

“Yes, I’ll be good, I promise.” You looked up at him, giving your best doe-eyed look as you began unbuttoning your blouse. He began to undo his belt, letting his pants and briefs fall to his ankles as he held out his hand in front of you.

“Spit.” He commanded, the dominant side of him coming out more with every sweet sound that left your lips. You did as you were told, spitting in his hand to provide a bit of lubricant for him to stroke his cock, fully preparing himself to enter you.

You were mesmerized, unable to look away from the way his shirt rode up his torso, toned but slender stomach flexing with each movement of his hand, his hair falling messily in his flushed face, a thin layer of sweat forming on his skin. You pulled the cups of your bra down, toying with your nipples as you enjoyed the show, feeling like you were watching the most intimate sex tape you’d ever seen.

“Are you ready?” His voice snapped you out of your trance, blood rushing to your cheeks in embarrassment over how desperate you were for him. You nodded frantically, draping your arms behind his neck, pulling him to you. You raised your leg, wrapping it around his waist, looking down between your chests to watch him lineup his cock with your cunt. He pushed the head in, cutting off the gasp that threatened to rip from your throat as he pulled you into another intense kiss.

He sank fully into your tight walls, the soreness you felt from the night before melting away with every stroke he laid into you. You moaned into his mouth, eyes fluttering shut as you allowed him to take the reins, his controlling grip digging soft bruises into the flesh of your breasts, then your hip, electricity flowing between the two of you. You pulled away from the kiss, coming up for air, so lost in the feeling that you couldn’t make out any coherent sounds, only gentle whimpers and whines.

“You feel so good.” He moaned quietly, quickening his pace, his hand sliding between your bodies to find your clit, the rough pad of his thumb pressing firm swipes up and down over the swollen bundle of nerves. Your whimpers grew louder, and despite your hazy state, you knew you had to quiet yourself quickly. You pulled him closer, burying your face in the side of his neck, your lips latching onto the soft skin behind his ear.

A groan rose from the back of his throat, your mouth sucking against his pressure point pulling him dangerously close to his release. You swore you were seeing stars, supernovas erupting between your thighs as you started to contract around him, your senses overwhelmed with his touch, crying out against his neck. Your knee began to buckle, your leg almost giving out if it wasn’t for his firm hold on your hip. He continued to pump in and out, helping you ride out your orgasm until you had gained a bit more of your composure, able to support yourself again despite how fucked out you felt.

Spencer felt himself falter and anchored his hips against yours, keeping himself seated within your warm walls as they coaxed him to completion. He quietly moaned your name, his head hung to observe the view of himself pulling out of you. You dropped your leg, still in a daze as you began righting your clothing. After you redid the last button of your top and yanked your skirt back down over your ass, you realized you couldn’t find your underwear.

“Looking for something?” He questioned, that familiar dorky smile plastered across his face. You turned to face him, seeing the lace dangling from his fingertip, but as you grabbed for it he pulled it out of reach.

“These are mine now.” He shoved the fabric back in his back pocket before you could attempt to steal them back again.

“Spencer, your cum is dripping down my leg, I kind of need those.” You took a stride toward him to close the gap between you, hoping to wrap your arm around his waist and take them out of his pocket. Your plan was quickly foiled as he grabbed your wrist, pinning it behind your back.

“You better keep your legs closed then, I’m not giving them back.” He whispered in your ear, his tone low but hinted with mischief.

“Whatever, pervert.” You pulled out of his grip, starting to walk toward the door. Your slight annoyance with his teasing quickly faded, unable to deny that walking back out into the bullpen full of Spencer’s cum was an incredibly hot concept.

“What does that make you, then?” He laughed, running his hand through his hair to make it somewhat presentable.

“An angel, according to you.” You turned back to him momentarily to wink in his direction, giving him a comfortable resolution to your slight outburst earlier.

“Can I see you again? Outside of work, I-I mean.” He slightly stumbled over his words, his dominant demeanor fading back into his signature awkward cadence, clearly a bit flustered by your tongue-in-cheek show of affection. You almost laughed, the question feeling a bit absurd given that you’d both just confessed your feelings for one another in more ways than one.

“Take me out to dinner tonight, I’ll be ready by 6. You have my address.” You smiled, watching a blush rise over his cheeks in response to your callback before unlocking the conference room door and returning to your desk to finish out the workday, eagerly awaiting your first real date with Spencer.

——

tag list: @pleasantwitchgarden @lover-of-books-and-tea @theoraekenslover @placidus

DM me or send me an ask if you’d like to be added to my spencer reid taglist :)

also tagging those who requested a part 2, thank you for the inspo!: @silver138 @espressoparis @futuremrsreid @charmedkim @lilcuutiee @cryxbabyxxx @c1rcus-baby

[wokeupinmars]

“How many mimosas does it take...?”

Summary: You and Peter made the jump from friendship to dating a few months ago and have yet to tell your friends until now, over brunch. 

masterlist

You struggle to keep your eyes open, fighting the second wave of sleep begins to wash over you. The room is silent aside from the light snores of the man next to you. You choose to soak up the sight before you. 

Peter. 

He’s laying on his stomach, cheek squished against the pillow, lips slightly parted, facing you. You shift your focus to the state of his back, feeling smug, seeing the scratches down his back from the night before. 

“Hasn’t anyone ever told you it’s rude to stare?” The huskiness of Peter’s morning voice filled your ears. He shuffles closer to you, burying his head in the crook of your neck. 

“It’s the aesthete in me, I can’t help it.” You can feel the smile that graces his lips against your skin.  

Before either of you get the chance to speak again, Peter’s phone starts vibrating from the nightstand. He lets out a groan before reaching for it “Shit, it’s Harry.” 

“Hey man”

“Hey Pete, have you heard from Y/n?” His eyes flick over to you as he replied: “No, I haven’t, why?” 

“She went out with her coworkers last night and never came home. MJ and I tried calling her but the calls just rang out. Can you also try and reach her?” 

“Oh shit, okay. I’ll call but she probably just crashed at Stella’s house and forgot to let you know.” 

“Yeah, probably. But MJ is not having any of that shit since those muggings started happening in the area.” 

The mention of muggings and the indirect implication something might have happened to you caused him to sit up. Peter knew all about the muggings, it was something that he was following closely. Especially because it was in your neighborhood. He knew you were safe with him, but your friends didn’t know that as the two of you opted to keep your relationship under wraps. 

You could vaguely hear what was being said on the other line and screwed your eyes shut silently cursing yourself for worrying your friends, looking over at your boyfriend as he told Harry he’d try to get a hold of you before exchanging goodbyes. 

“I thought you texted Harry about not coming home in the cab?” he questioned, dropping his head back down to the pillow. 

You reach over him to grab your phone, opening up your messages and texting your friends letting them know you’re okay. “I never hit send” showing him the message already typed in the chat bubble waiting to be sent.

His hand rests on the small of your back “So you went out with coworkers, huh? Do you kiss all your coworkers?” 

“Just the pretty ones, now up, we all made plans for brunch,” you say crawling over him and out of bed. 

“I know we did, but it’s only ten. Who has brunch at ten? Just come back to bed, honey, we’ve got plenty of time.” To this you shake your head, slipping on your dress from last night. “I told MJ that I was already on my way back, which I should be…can you zip me up?” 

Peter stands and lets out a groan as he stretches before he pulls the zipper of your dress, fingers lingering a few seconds extra. He moves his hands to wrap around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder. “I know I said it about a million times last night but you look beautiful, you always do.” You only hum in response, grabbing his hand and leading him into the bathroom to brush your teeth. 

It had been just under four months since you and Peter officially got together. After years of dancing around your feelings for each other and insisting that friends do in fact look at each other that way, you both finally have what you’ve always wanted. 

Your relationship was kept quiet because you both understood that finally acknowledging that there was much more than just friendship between you two and actually acting on it would be something that you could never go back from. The idea of the dynamic between the two of you in addition to your entire friend group changing for the worst made you both anxious. 

So the two of you decided to hide your relationship from them. You were going to tell them, but when May pieced everything together herself about a month in, you both figured it was only a matter of time before your friends do the same.

That was several weeks ago. You’d be lying if you said that you didn’t find the situation amusing, and sure, sneaking around at the start did add a bit of thrill but you expected them, especially Harry, to say something. 

Harry had been best friends with the two of you since you were just little kids, he knew you both incredibly well, and he knew about how you felt towards Peter, something that you finally admitted to him (not that you needed to) after moving in together. You also knew Harry well, and you knew that he was a big fan of the idea of you and Peter, but you also knew that if he even suspected that anything truly romantic happened with the two of you, he’d voice it. You also worry that he would think you guys didn’t trust him, even if that wasn’t the case. 

As for MJ, her not knowing isn’t something that you ruled out, at least not completely. She had been privy to the shitshow that was you and Peter being in denial about each other's feelings in high school. She might not have known the two of you as long as Harry has but she didn’t need to, MJ was an observer, and even if she wasn’t, it wasn’t hard to notice that you two essentially orbited around each other. The possibility of her knowing and simply turning a blind eye to it until she was told by you or Peter directly was very likely. 

You can hear the water beat against Peter’s skin, “You sure you don’t want to join me?” You shake your head putting your toothbrush back in the holder next to his. “Very tempting but I’ll have to pass this time.” You watch him pout in the reflection of the mirror. “Fuck, you really did a number on me,” you said stretching your neck to the side analyzing the marks he left there. “Says you, I can only imagine what my back looks like right now,” that causes you to smirk and pull the shower curtain open further. “Is this you taking me up on my offer?” His grin is wide, “I’m afraid not baby, I just wanted a kiss before I left.” His mouth forms into an ‘o’ before pursing his lips and leaning forward to give you a peck.

“I’ll see you soon,” giving him one last kiss. “Yes, you will.”

You unlock the door and push it open. Harry and MJ are seated on the couch. “Well, well, well, look what the cat dragged in.” Harry’s voice echoed through the room. 

“Did you get mauled?” MJ’s eyes widened slightly. 

Harry gasps and is on his feet to get a closer look at you. “Oh my god! You hooked up with someone last night?” 

“I did, but it was more than a hookup, I’ve been seeing him for a while,” you confess, walking away from him and down the hall into your room. Harry and MJ follow close behind. “For a while? What about Peter?” 

“Yeah, what about Peter? We thought you guys were finally going to stop beating around the bush. You guys have been extra touchy and smiley lately. I thought this was going to be it,” MJ adds. 

A frown was present on both of their lips. “Okay, I see where you guys are coming from but this is a conversation to be had after I’ve showered and am dressed for brunch.” You say gathering your clothes and towel and moving past them into the bathroom. 

As you run through your usual morning routine you realize that this would be the right moment to come clean about your relationship. From what your friends had said it was clear they had been biting their tongue for some time. You figured you had some time before Peter arrived and would be able to text him about everything as a heads-up. 

However just as you exit the bathroom, you hear the front door open and Harry letting your boyfriend in. Entering your bedroom, you find MJ sitting on your bed. 

“It’s him isn’t it, Peter? He’s the guy you’ve been seeing.” You can feel your cheeks heat up “Yes, we’ve been dating for a couple of months now-four- to be exact.” 

“I knew it. Well, I wasn’t sure if it was a friends-with-benefits arrangement, which I’m glad it wasn’t because you’d both be hurting each other or if it was serious and he was your boyfriend.” She explained. 

You feel relieved, “We were going to tell you guys but everything was pretty hush-hush because we both thought it would fuck up our friendship and then May found out about a month in when she went over to Peter’s for dinner, we thought you guys would do the same. But then the weeks went by and none of us said anything, and it left like one of those things that the longer you wait the more others would feel like you don’t trust them. Can I ask when you pieced it together? God! Does Harry know too?” 

She laughs as you finish speaking, your pace telling her that you’ve been holding it in for a while. “He doesn’t, he knows that you’ve been in love with each other forever, and is sick of waiting for you two to finally come around and get together. I’m almost positive he’s contemplated locking you two in a room and not letting you out until you talk about your feelings before. I knew something was up when we went to that Oscorp event. Peter smelled like your perfume when you guys arrived.”  

You were sitting at your desk, buffing out your color corrector, about to respond when there was a knock on the door. “Can we come in?” Peter asked, only turning the knob after hearing a yes from both of you. Harry took a seat next to MJ on your bed, while Peter walked over to you and pressed a kiss to your temple before saying hi. 

“Are you almost done?” Harry asks

“Almost, I just need to add concealer and perfume, then we can leave.” 

“Cool, can we continue our conversation from before? I would like answers.” 

“Oh? What were you guys talking about?” You could tell Peter was intrigued. “Y/n’s seeing someone, and she said we’d talk about it after she got out of the shower, so who is it? Because whoever it is can’t hold a candle to-” Harry’s words come to a halt due to MJ’s hand covering his mouth. “Maybe we should wait until after brunch before we pester her with questions, who wants to be interrogated on an empty stomach?” A muffled noise, presumed to be a hum in agreement, is made in response. 

Peter’s gaze is on you, you know he wants to ask what that was about and is waiting for an opening to do exactly that. Lucky for him, MJ gives that to him by telling Harry that you're just about finished and that they should go put on their shoes and wait for you by the door. 

“I didn’t know you were seeing someone” Peter jokes once they’re out of earshot. 

“Oh ha ha, MJ knows, or we’ll she already knew and I confirmed it for her.” 

“Since when?” He runs his hands over the fabric of your sundress, “Is this new?” 

“Since the Oscorp gala, said you smelled like my perfume and it tipped her off. This is new, I bought it the other day, you like?” He takes your hand and spins you around, “I love, you look gorgeous. What about Harry?” 

You rummage through your closet before holding up two different pairs of sandals. “MJ says he’s none the wiser, but is kind of sick of the pining, which ones go better with the dress?” He points to the shoe in your right hand, “That one. Let’s just tell him at the restaurant.” You nod your head. “I was going to text you about telling both of them when you got here because the first words out of their mouths after I said I've been seeing someone were ‘What about Peter’ but you were already here. Alright, I’m done.” 

The four of you make your way out of the apartment and down into the subway station at the corner of your block. One train ride later, you were all sitting in the outdoor section of the restaurant waiting for your meals to come sipping on mimosas and gossiping amongst yourselves. 

Until Harry turns his attention to you “How many mimosas does it take for you to finally spill your guts about this guy? Because as your best friend, I am deeply offended that today was the first I’m hearing about it, especially since we talked about you building up the courage to tell you know who about how you feel.”

“It’s Peter.” 

“It’s me.”  You and Peter say at the same time, statements that cause your friend to choke on his drink. You all watch Harry intently, as he wipes his mouth with a napkin waiting for his reaction, for a second you're worried he’d be upset but any worry you had fades as he grins. 

“It’s about time, how long? When’d you tell him? Or did he tell you? I’ve been waiting for this moment since our middle school dance. Can I be the best man at your wedding? Oh my god! I can't believe you did that to her neck. Do you know that you two were awful at hiding your feelings, you’ve basically been dating each other all our lives. It’s important to me that you know that, because I was probably one ‘she’s just a friend’ or ‘he doesn’t like me like that’ away from losing my mind.”

read about May finding out here.

[alwaysurvalentine]

the luck I've had can make a good man turn bad - fic

Written for Day 5 of @steddieangstyaugust - prompt: Please, Please, Please Let Me Get What I Want by the Smiths - word count: 4.1k (this one got away from me) - cw: some cussing, allusions to parents fighting in another room, allusions to money issues, bullying mentioned (nothing graphic)

enjoy! 💛

When Eddie is five years old, his Uncle Wayne takes him to the aquarium. He talks the entire car ride, reading out the road signs they pass and counting the dashes in the road. He’s so excited that he doesn’t have to play the Quiet Game on the way there that he doesn’t even question it when Wayne comes to pick him up.

Eddie’s Mama helped him pack a bag and said he gets to stay with his Uncle Wayne the whole weekend, he’s so excited! Uncle Wayne always lets him stay up late and tells the best bedtime stories. 

They’ve been on the road for a couple hours when they end up in a city. Uncle Wayne says it’s Louisville, but all Eddie can focus on is the tallest buildings he’s ever seen his whole life. They can fit millions of people in there! When he voices this, Wayne says only a couple thousand are in there. Which is basically the same thing - but Eddie’s not gonna correct his math when he sees them pulling into a Denny’s parking lot.

“We get to have Denny’s?! You’re the bestest!!!!” Eddie’s already unbuckling his belt by the time Wayne’s at his door, opening it to help him out. “Can I get pancakes? Please, please, please!” 

Another chuckle and a shake of the head is his response from Wayne, who’s holding out a hand for Eddie to grab. They cross the parking lot together, Eddie skipping with a toothy grin. 

“Well, go on then, find us a table.” At his uncle’s words, Eddie’s brown eyes scan the room. There’s a few tables next to the windows, but most of those already have people there - and then he sees it. The best table ever. It’s closer to the middle of the room but it’s got two booth seats opposite each other. Perfect for him and his Uncle Wayne! He darts over without saying anything and Wayne follows, slower, but still with a quirk of his lip that Eddie’s Mama said means he’s smiling.

He can’t read the whole menu, but he finds chocolate chip pancakes based on the picture on the side - which he points to when he orders from the nice lady named Sarah. When it’s Wayne’s turn to order he just gets nasty coffee. (Eddie snuck a sip of his mama’s cup once - it tastes like dirt.) 

~

“WHAT is THAT?” Eddie yells - tiny finger pointed at the whale shark swimming above them. A couple of people around them turn to look at him when he yells, but Wayne doesn’t seem bothered - pointing at the words on the wall. 

“This says it’s a whale shark. They’re the biggest sharks in the ocean.”

“What’s the ocean?” 

~

There’s a stuffed whale shark in the gift shop when they’re leaving. Eddie’s seen so many fish today, but none of them were nearly as cool as the whale shark. His eyes find it, and before he knows it his legs have carried him over to the stack of them. A couple friendly clown fish sit nearby, but nothing interests him as much as the whale shark. It looks like it’s the size of his bed, but he doesn’t care - he has to take this home. Mama and him can lay on it when she sings him to sleep and he can cuddle up with it when Mama and Dad get loud in the living room. 

“Eddie? What’d you find?” Eddie grins up at Wayne, smiling big enough to cause his dimples to show. He’s holding on to one of the sharks now, and he was right, it’s bigger than he is. The tail is bent slightly on the ground with his arms wrapped around its sewn gills. 

“I love him. Can we get him Uncle Wayne? Mama would love him! I know he’s not as big as the real thing but this will help her believe me when I tell her it was the size of a car! Dad might even like him, since sharks are the coolest animal.” 

As Eddie rambles, Wayne checks the price tag dangling off of the shark’s front fin. He knew his nephew was going to ask for something from the gift shop, and if this had been a planned visit instead of a quick phone call from Eddie’s mom type of visit, he might’ve had the money. But as it was, the only thing he knew for sure he could afford was the tiny key chain he’d grabbed on his way over to find Eddie. Now it’s just trying to convince Eddie that the keychain is just as cool.

~

Eddie’s pouting in his car seat, brown eyes focused on the trees outside instead of singing along to the station Wayne turned on to the radio. He did buy the keychain but that didn’t stop the tears that streamed down Eddie’s face for the first 30 minutes of the ride. The tears have stopped, but Wayne’s heart breaks at each quiet sniffle coming from the back seat.

***

Uncle Wayne is at the door again. Except this time Eddie’s ten years old and he’s the one that called. He can’t stand being in the house all alone. His mom passed four years ago and his dad’s never been the same - not that he was a stand up guy to begin with. Good old dad said he was going out to “shoot some pool with a couple of buddies”, and while this would normally be fine, Eddie’s run out of Kraft mac and cheese to eat.

“Hey, Uncle Wayne. Sorry I had to call, I was just thinking I haven’t stayed over in a little while. Would it be okay-”

“Where’s Al?” As always, his uncle cuts straight to the chase. His voice is gruff, but Eddie’s had plenty of practice now in reading his uncle and can hear the concern laced in his words. 

He scuffs his converse against the floor and shrugs. “I dunno. He said he was gonna play pool with some guys.” Eddie looks up again to see Wayne looking around the trailer. He should’ve cleaned up after he called him; the dirty dishes in the sink and the trashcan full of candy wrappers says more than he meant to share. 

“Eddie, how-”

“Just forget it. I shouldn’t have called - it was stupid.” Brown eyes meet Wayne’s green ones defiantly, daring him to finish the sentence. 

“Alright, c’mon boy. Let’s go get Denny’s.”

~

The pancakes on Eddie’s plate are drowned in syrup, chocolate chips smeared across the top of them. A cup of black coffee sits in front of Wayne.

“What time does school start on Monday?”

A disbelieving smile starts to spread on Eddie’s face. “I can stay with you all weekend?!”

Wayne nods and sips his coffee, a small smile of his own hidden by the lip of the cup. “We’ll leave a note for your dad, but yeah. I don’t see why not.”

~

Unfortunately, Al Munson is at home when they get back, and with him comes the end of all of Eddie’s weekend plans. Al pitches a fit, sends Eddie to his room so he and Wayne can “have some words”. Eddie doesn’t know why he bothered sending him to his room when his dad’s shouting can be heard through the whole trailer anyway. 

“Don’t need you telling me how to raise my own damn son!”

Wayne’s words don’t carry as well as his dad’s but he can hear some kind of murmur in response. 

“Fuck off Wayne, you always thought you were better than me. I don’t care what you think, he lives under my roof so he follows my rules. He doesn’t need somebody babying him!”

Another murmur. 

“Get the hell out of my house! Don’t even bother coming back! I don’t care if that brat calls you or not!”

Eddie’s back is pressed against his door, knees tucked to his chest as he listens. He was stupid to call Wayne. Stupid to think his dad would let him go stay the weekend with him. He’s just tired. 

He’s tired of having cereal and mac and cheese for dinner. He’s tired of having to eat off of his friend’s lunch trays because his dad hasn’t paid for his school lunches. He’s tired of using duct tape to keep the bottom of his shoes attached because Al won’t buy him more. He’s tired of being left alone for days on end. His dad is right, he can take care of himself - he just doesn’t want to. 

He misses his mom.

***

“Eddie? What happened?” 

The teen brushes off his uncle’s words and heads into the trailer, bee-lining to his room. Eddie knows he looks rough, but seeing his reflection from the mirror on his dresser tells him not about this with Wayne isn’t going to be an option.

“Eddie, can I come in?” Speak of the devil; there he is knocking at Eddie’s door. 

“Yeah. C’mon.” He sits back on his bed, eyes focused on the floor instead of the man stepping carefully into his space, and Wayne lets him sit in silence for a moment before sitting at the foot of Eddie’s bed. 

“You gonna tell me what happened? Or are we just acting like your nose isn’t a bit more crooked than it was this mornin’?” Eddie stays silent. “I know you’re about as graceful as a bull in a china shop, but normally it’s your knees coming home bloody - not your nose. If you’re not gonna talk about it, you gonna at least let me have a look?”

“Why does it matter? No one cares in this fucking town anyway. Everyone always has something to say. Oh did you hear that Munson boy had to move because his dad’s in jail? Eddie’s a weirdo, don’t be friends with him. Have you seen his clothes? Doesn’t even have enough money to get new pants when he rips out the knees. Oh well, I heard that his uncle took him in just for the tax benefits - Lord knows it wouldn’t be worth it to have him otherwise. He’s going to be just like his daddy when he gets older, scamming people - don’t listen to a word he says.”

“Shut your mouth, boy!” 

Eddie’s mouth clamps shut, teeth slamming together with an audible click. He’s shaking slightly, fists clenched at his sides. He can’t meet Wayne’s eyes. 

“You listen to me, and you listen good.” Wayne’s voice is stern but like always, Eddie can hear the affection in it. 

“Look at me,” Eddie raises his eyes slowly, jaw tense even if it causes his nose to throb.

“You ain’t nothing like your daddy. You’re your mama through and through, God bless her. And just because people can’t see past their own noses don’t mean you need to be listening to their shit. You’ve been nothing but a good kid since I met you, so unless you committed some crazy crimes that first week of your life then I think I’m good authority on this. I mean it, Eddie, you’re nothing like him. You keep being you, and you never will be him. Now lemme take a look at your nose.”

***

“Welcome to Family Video!” Eddie looks to the counter, eyes locking with none other than Steve Harrington’s before smirking.

“Is that any way to greet me? Your favorite customer?” He saunters to the counter, limp slowing him down only slightly - physical therapy the past 3 months making it possible at all.

Steve rolls his eyes but the huge smile on his face gives him away. “Sorry, let me try again.” And then he turns around, hazel eyes catching Eddie’s again, fluttering his eyelashes. “Oh! Hello Eddie!” He finishes his new welcome with a wink and then leans against the counter. The sun coming in through the windows makes Steve look like a painting, a modern day Adonis. He’s made to be in the sunlight.

“Anyway, what’s the occasion today? Came to finally return Alien?” Steve’s hair is a little floppier than usual, and he’s been letting it grow out since the end of July so it’s curling up slightly at the end of his neck. It doesn’t cover the two moles on Steve’s neck, the perfect place to bite - and Eddie’s getting off track. 

“As if. That movie’s basically mine and Wayne’s now. No point in trying to get it back.” Eddie shrugs, shaking his head mockingly. He and Steve know he’s had it checked out for at least a year now. They both also know that Steve waived his late fees the moment he got promoted to manager. 

“Just came to bother Hawkins’ favorite babysitter.” Steve’s eyes narrow at him now, leaning away from the counter to peer outside. 

“Which one put you up to this? What do you need?” His hands are on his hips, opening the green vest to tease Eddie with the broad expanse of his chest hidden by a light blue polo. Eddie’s mouth feels a lot dryer than it was when he walked in. Okay - stop looking at the silver buckle on his belt, look at something else. Yeah, yeah, the tangled phone cord - that’s interesting.

“Why does it always have to be something?”

Hazel eyes level him with a look that paints a blush on his cheeks, causing Eddie to cough. 

“Okay, maybe Will’s got a campaign planned for us to play. Buuuut-”

“But the cabin isn’t big enough for all of you to play in?” Steve cuts him off, crossing his arms over his chest instead. Which does nothing to help Eddie’s blush, eyes now distracted by the bulge of his arms. Which makes him think of Steve’s arm behind his back during the last group movie night. Which then makes him think of Steve offering his arms during physical therapy, easily holding Eddie up as he stumbled along. Which then makes Eddie think of how easily Steve was able to help him into the wheelchair he had for a few weeks. 

“-ie? Are you okay? Do you need to sit down for a minute?” Eddie blinks and shakes his head, bringing into focus Steve’s brows furrowed in worry.

“Yeah, no, I’m okay. Gotta head out - Wayne’s waiting in the van. So we can host it at your place? Thanks!”

And then Eddie’s limping back towards the door, thoroughly embarrassed. Leave it to him to get a massive crush on THE Steve Harrington and become a huge idiot in front of him. Screw Robin for making him realize he’d fallen for the guy in the first place, no more late night smoking sessions with Birdie. 

“Yeah, okay. Tell Wayne I said hi!” Steve calls behind him and he flashes a smile over his shoulder as he steps through the door. 

~

There’s an open notebook to Eddie’s right and a pencil tucked behind his ear while he sits crouched over his guitar. He hasn’t written anything new in the last 30 minutes, his mind wandering to Steve again. He wishes he and Robin hadn’t decided to play truth or dare last night. If he’d only picked dare! Instead he picked truth and just like the teenage girl she is, Robin had to ask about crushes. And then he just - started talking about Steve and couldn’t stop. Robin got this weirdly focused look in her eyes and then just cryptically said that he should “tell Steve how you feel!” which had him choking on air. 

“I’m sorry, what?” Brown eyes widened, staring into Robin’s blue ones. 

“You should tell him how you feel!” She’d grinned, eyes red rimmed but nonetheless sincere. 

“Birdie…he doesn’t even know I’m like that…what if he acts weird after? I can’t lose him.” 

“Eddie.” Robin placed her hand on his shoulder, peering into his eyes, close enough that their noses were almost touching. 

“He knows about me. And he’s my Platonic soulmate, knowing this isn’t going to do anything but make things better. He’s a good guy. I promise Eddie, nothing bad is going to happen if you tell him.”

And then she’d backed up to her side of the couch again, reaching for the bag of popcorn they’d made earlier. 

“Eddie! Phone for you! Sounds like your boy!” Wayne’s teasing voice calls through the trailer and Eddie almost drops his guitar in his haste to grab at the phone on his bedside table (a perk from being stuck at the house for recovery).

“Waaaynee!” His voice comes out like a petulant teenager but he doesn’t catch his uncle’s response because he’s already holding the phone up to his ear.

“Hey, Stevie.” He’s breathless even though Steve hasn’t said anything, face warming just like earlier.

“Eddie! Hey! So I said I’d host, but you didn’t say what day.” 

He can hear the smile in Steve’s voice, can imagine him peering into his fridge with the phone tucked in between his shoulder and ear. Eddie sets his guitar against the end of his bed and leans back against his pillows. 

“My bad, yeah, Will the Wise said he wanted to do it next weekend, that work for you?” 

“I have to open next Saturday but if you guys are okay with starting around dinner time, that works for me? I can talk to Mrs. Byers and the Sinclairs about doing a sleepover, can you ask Dustin’s mom and see about giving Max a ride? I’m sure Nancy can let her mom know Mike will be staying over. What kind of snacks do you guys need? I can go to the store on Thursday when I’m off. I can rearrange the living room too���I’ll have to tidy up the guest rooms. Maybe Hopper has some extra firewood we could use and have a little bonfire too? I’ll see if Robin wants to come, we could watch some kind of movie while you play.” 

Steve’s in his own world and Eddie can almost hear the faint scratch of the pen he knows Steve is using to write out a checklist. The list will help keep Steve from forgetting anything, something that Steve has admitted he’s had some trouble with. Remembering the small things, that is. Has to write down dates and specific plans otherwise the day will creep up on him and he’ll only remember when one of the kids contacts him on the radio. It’s happened more times than he’s comfortable with, and now he writes everything down. Has a notebook near his home phone and even keeps a small handheld notebook in his car just in case. Eddie saw it once, accidentally sitting on it; got to see a page covered in bullet points. 

Eddie Physical Therapy MWF 2-3 PM!!

Dustin back from Camp Know Where on Tuesday the 17th

Eddie says to listen to Black Sabbath ??

Will and El staying over on the 3rd so Hopper and Mrs. Byers can go on date

Give Eddie back his vest ???

Oil Change

Ask Eddie

  But he couldn’t finish reading the list before Steve had grabbed the notebook to shove into the center console. 

“Stevie, sweetheart-” and he swears he can hear a stutter in Steve’s breath, “we can just order a couple pizzas and be fine. Don’t worry about getting specific snacks or anything. I’ll talk to Claudia and you know I’ll make sure Max gets there in one piece. Everyone’s gonna be excited just to play, let alone stay the night and get some of that breakfast casserole you always make for us.” He’s joking with his words and is rewarded with a chuckle from Steve. 

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll make it only when I get some help in the kitchen. Peeling and cutting all those potatoes is hard work. But yeah, we can order pizza for the group.” The stress has eased from his voice, and the Steve in Eddie’s mind’s eye is ripping away the previous notes to replace it with one that just says pizza for dinner and the ingredients for Steve’s breakfast casserole (potatoes, eggs, shredded cheese). 

“Uh-huh. You tell me when you stop needing the potatoes in perfect cubes and I’ll help. Little Stevie Homemaker has to have his food perfect otherwise no one’s allowed to eat it.” He teases again, pulling a strand of his hair to his mouth, chewing on the end slightly. 

~

Steve’s messing with something in the kitchen when Eddie and Max walk in. Max beelines to the living room, circling the coffee table before plopping down on the left side of the couch. Her hair is in two haphazard braids that Eddie knows El will offer to fix as soon as she walks in. She cuts her eyes to him and nods towards the kitchen, a knowing smirk on her face.

“Don’t look at me like that, Mayfield.” He pokes a finger in her direction and squints his eyes. The effect is lost on her though because she’s already turned back towards the TV, remote in hand, while he heads towards the kitchen. 

At least three cabinet doors are slammed shut before Eddie steps into the kitchen. Steve’s back is to him, a green T-shirt stretched across his back - his shoulders are tense and Eddie can almost see an exact outline of the boy’s shoulders. He can’t make out what he’s saying, but Steve’s mumbling as he works. There’s a towel covered bowl behind him on the island, but he’s pulling out smaller bowls and setting them on the counter next to the fridge. 

“What’s all this, Stevie?” And Steve jumps about 2 feet in the air at his voice, whipping around quick enough that his bangs settle back down on his head while he scowls at Eddie. 

“I thought I told you to be here at 6.” 

“And I thought I told you that we would order pizza tonight.” Eddie’s looking down at the homemade dough he sees sitting in the bowl he uncovered. Now that Steve’s turned around, he can see that he was pulling bowls out to dump toppings into. A jar of olives, cut green peppers, mushrooms, a bag of pepperoni, and a large bag of cheese - all the makings of a pizza, just no sauce. When he looks back to the boy in front of him, he’s wiping his hands on a gray towel he had over his shoulder. A light blush is on his cheeks, traveling down to the collar of his shirt - Eddie thinks if he didn’t have it on that pretty pink would travel further down his chest. He hears another mumble from Steve but he turns as he’s talking so he misses it, and Steve’s shoulders seem more tense than before. 

“What was that? Hey, please?” Eddie rounds the corner of the island and reaches a hand out to rest on Steve’s shoulder, turning him slightly. He’s looking down but lets Eddie turn him, hands slowing their fidgeting with the towel. 

“Mario’s pizza has too much grease, and this way all of the kids can put their own toppings on theirs.” 

Again, Eddie is reminded of how sweet Steve really is. He’s so glad he’s gotten to know this Steve instead of the “King” he thought the younger man was. His hand travels from Steve’s shoulder with a mind of its own, resting against his right cheek. If he moves his thumb slightly he could cover up the moles right there on Steve’s left cheek. Hazel eyes are hidden from him, Steve’s eyes closed as he leans slightly into the contact. 

Eddie really wants to kiss him. 

“Stevie…” His voice is little more than a whisper but Steve opens his eyes regardless. The light from the kitchen window highlights the gold in Steve’s eyes and Eddie’s breath stutters at what he sees there. 

Does Steve want to kiss him?

Loud knocking shocks both them and Eddie drops his hand like it’s been burned. “STEVE!! Why is your door locked? Let us in!!” Dustin’s voice is muffled only because there’s a door and room between them, and Steve rolls his eyes. 

“Let me go let them in, can you stir that for me?” Then he just nods towards a simmering pan on the stove like nothing happened. And Eddie can do nothing but nod once before watching Steve walk away. He hopes he’s not imagining how red Steve’s face is before he leaves the kitchen.

Maybe after the kids leave he and Steve can have a little chat - seems like Robin might be right. If he’s lucky maybe he’ll even get to kiss Steve before the night ends. 

But until then, he’ll stir Steve’s homemade pizza sauce and play the most distracted D&D game he’s ever played. He might’ve been through hell and back, with or without the Upside Down, but things might just be looking up for him now.

(Now with a part two!)

[madebycloud]

Streets

street racer!jenna ortega x reader — 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

summary: you had no idea your girlfriend was a daredevil on the streets. warnings/themes: street racing (motorcycle), kissing, smoking, and some talkie-talkie at the end cause idk what's the term??? words: 0.8k

The wind howls around you, carrying the scent of burning rubber and the screams of revving engines. You glance down at your phone for what feels like the hundredth time, searching for some explanation as to why your girlfriend wanted to meet here.

Dozens of people stood shoulder to shoulder on the sidewalk, their gaze locked on the road ahead. You wonder what could possibly captivate so many strangers. 

You spot a row of motorcycles, ready to rumble for pride, for money, or for the sheer thrill of it all. 

A street race.

“Hey baby.”

You turn to face her. Her black leather jacket matches her stylishly messy hair. You blink a few times, trying to gather your thoughts.

Before you can say anything, she starts walking towards you, her eyes locked on yours. “You okay?”

You clear your throat and stammer out an attempt at a response. “Uh, yeah, I'm fine. And you?”

Jenna's smirk grows wider as she takes in your awkward reaction, her finger tracing along the lip you're biting. “What?”

You shake your head, trying to focus on something—anything—other than her. “Nothing. You just look...”

Jenna's smirk turns into a full-on grin, and she shrugs lightly before leaning in to kiss you. Your knees go weak as she leans into you. You lose yourself in the moment, pulling her close as you kiss her back, your hands running through her hair.

When you finally break apart, you ask, “What are we doing here again? Watching the street racers?” You point at the line of bikes waiting to take off.

“You watch me.”

“Wait what? Are you seriously going to-”

“You're going to watch me beat those losers,” Jenna says as she saunters away from you and towards the street racers. You follow her closely, watching her hips sway with each step.

When you catch up, she's already putting on her helmet and gloves.

“Who's that?” you hear a man shout, pointing at Jenna as she stands next to her motorcycle. He raises an eyebrow, curious about the beautiful woman who's about to blow them all away. The light reflecting off his bald head.

You turn to them with a cocky grin on your face. “That's my girl,” you say, pointing to Jenna.

Jenna looks over at you, her eyes smoldering as she gives you one last wink before straddling her bike and revving the engine, which roars to life

The man raises his eyebrows, “You're dating her? Nice.” With that, he takes a sip from his drink and turns his attention towards the racing.

She takes off with a burst of speed, shooting forward into the distance like a bullet. The man looks stunned for a moment, and then he lets out a loud cheer, holding his beer bottle in the air.

You hold your breath as she passes each obstacle, each turn, each straightaway, until she reaches the finish line and comes to a slow stop.

“My girl!” you shout, raising your fist in the air.

Meanwhile, the announcer on the mic is listing down the results of the race, with Jenna's name taking the top spot. “And here we have the winner, Jenna Ortega, with a time of 45 seconds in this street race!” The crowd goes wild, cheering for her.

The man beside you looks impressed too. “Looks like you got yourself a real racer there, buddy.”

“Yeah,” you reply, “She's the best.” Jenna is the best of the best, and she's shown it over and over again. 

You walk over to Jenna. “That was amazing!" you exclaim. “Are you okay? You were really flying out there!”

Jenna just chuckles. “Of course, I'm fine. I've done this a million times.” She brushes off a few pieces of dirt from her leather jacket and holds out her hand, inviting you to help her off her motorcycle.

You grab her hand and swing her off the motorcycle. “I had no idea you were such an amazing racer.”

“I've been racing since I was a kid. It's no big deal.”

You shake your head.“It is a big deal. You're the best racer I've ever seen.”

Jenna chuckles again and shrugs, but you can tell she's pleased with your compliment. She grabs her helmet and gloves and sets them on the hood of the motorcycle.

She takes a step closer to you, locking her eyes on yours. She leans in closer, her breath soft on your lips. “Let's celebrate.”

“Obviously,” you answer. “What do you want?”

She bites her lip, her eyes locked with yours, and then, she just smiles. Oh, you know that look all too well. She's not just planning something, she's planning everything.

“You choose,” she whispers, running a finger along your chest.

You look over to the motorcycle and then back to her, your eyes locked with hers. “I don't mind riding both.”

Notes: now i wanna write street racing au 

[naturalswimmingspirit]

elaine_doyle_

Kneeling faintly at the footsteps of the deep initiations that crash like waves over me again and again and again

I deeply bow & surrender And I say thank you Thank you for pulling me into truth The truth that dissolves all shadows

Deep into my inner well of knowing That I called you in Every single one of you Cracking me open Into the utter destruction that is the awakening path For change is my natural state Like a caterpillar morphing into the butterfly The beast becoming the beauty Crawling out of the shell of my ancestral pains & deep untruths For the bud to become the rose

Through the crashing waves I rebirth myself again and again and again A million thousand pieces I lie on the womb of the ocean floor Calling all parts of my higher self back into my body to be become whole & holy once again

Chaos, heartbreak, pain & love I say thank you For reminding me of why I came here For my soul to expand and stretch beyond all limitations A promise I made to myself eons ago To return here now In the midst of this golden age To reclaim the way of love To remember the mysteries of the rose

Grounded in peace, heart wide open ,kneeling at the footsteps of these crashing waves I trust, from the ecstasy to the agony, to the joy to the grief, the bloom to the fall, that life is happening for me not to me for the pain is the portal to my souls liberation & I am no longer afraid of these crashing waves 🕊✨🌹🐍

📸 @kateflomurphy

elaine_doyle_

Can you feel the intense energy? 2022 was predicted to be the most intense year of the great awakening yet. A reminder ,this transition that earth is in, this falling away of all that isn’t in alignment so she can increase her vibration and frequency started in 2012 and is said to last until 2032 and is the initiation into the golden age that will last 2’000 years. This is why so many of us are feeling the pull to heal ourselves and others. As the earth increases her vibration none of us can escape the intensity whether we are conscious of it or not. 🌀 So we are smack bang in the middle of this transition, summer solstice 2022 being the midpoint between 2012 & 2032. So of course this is going to feel like perhaps the most intense, density & also the crossing over into a magical threshold of ourmost divine , authentic, passionate, focused self. For me personally when I tuned into the energy of 2022 the word that kept coming to me was solitude. 🌀 There is so much transmissions, healing & remembrance that deep silence and solitude has been essential. Which is hard because I love and desire community deeply but the last while has showed me I cannot deny my need for deep silence and aloneness & honestly in that space I am finding the bliss & remembrance my soul is yearning for. Which is ironic as there is now so much gatherings and opportunities for social contact . It’s like spirit is testing me (us) how much can you really give your body and soul what it needs. How much can you trust that in solitude you will meet all of your own needs. I do feel the unpredictable weather in Ireland is also reflecting the energy ; the need for hibernation and rest for us all. 🌀 For me It feels to good to finally acknowledge the part of me that is a massive introvert and witnessing it’s power. I want to acknowledge here my lack of response to messages gatherings etc is in no way personal and I feel it’s important to mention this and for us all to set some boundaries with a device that can force us into constant informal contact which is now way beneficial to our soul. 🌀

I feel I am transforming and changing so rapidly right now I just don’t have the ability to have anything less than solid boundaries to allow the space the upgrades deeply need. 🌀 Also for me there is so much remembrance flooding in from other lifetimes that I am continuing to pause offering regular space holding of others to truly focus on my own path. It feels strange at times as for along time my life was dedicated to helping others and honestly one of the most courageous things I’ve done is pulling back from all of that, to really hold and give space to myself, my heart, my longing for freedom and deep healing & remembrance. 🌀 The past few weeks I have had another massive death and rebirth again wow this has just been so continuous over the past 3 years and as magical as it is it’s also extremely exhausting . As I rebirth each time my energy is that of a new born and I am thrown into deep surrender of what is possible given the energy levels & within this the most DIVINE consciousness arrives, that of unconditional love, forgiveness, non judgment and that is what this golden age is all about. Raising our vibration by raising our consciousness. 🌀 I am also excited for the time when it comes , to share and hold space again I have just so much juicy reflections of this healing journey to share but you know there is no rush this great awakening is only getting started and as we honour our own path we fall back into the flow on the divine. 🌀 Would love to hear what you are all navigating during this midpoint? As we share our story we allow humanity to breath and remember they are not alone on this path. 🌀 Míle Buíochas to the priestess herself @kateflomurphy for capturing this moment at the sacred waters in Donegal. My first social outing in weeks 😂 Grà Mòr Léan 🌀🌹✨

[hetalian-veteran]

How about this rare pair?

Prussia x Ukraine!

Well, this turned into quite the essay...

Okay, given their personalities and their histories, I have a lot of opinions and thoughts about this. Way more than I thought I would.

My opinions on this ship definitely changed as I wrote about them, prompting me to actually change up the board multiple times in the process.

I will be giving (sort of) two answers here. One is based on history, and the other is based on the characters personalities.

Let's start off by talking about their history.

It's not pleasant. I won't get into all the details here as I like to keep things on this blog relatively light-hearted, but the history regarding Prussia and Ukraine during WWII was fairly awful and complicated. Overall, 8 million Ukrainians died throughout the war. I don't know everything about their history, but these are some facts I was able to dig up.

I'd also like to add that a lot of Germans migrated from West Prussia to Ukraine at some point in the 1700s, which I feel would inevitably establish some kind of connection between the two. But again, I'm no expert historian. Feel free to research more into this topic and add on if you feel so inclined.

Because of this history, I can definitely see these two having a very... Strained relationship, to say the least. Some see this as a reason to never ship a pairing like this, while others don't. I like to believe that the Hetalia countries aren't responsible for war crimes, as those would be perpetuated by the orders of their bosses, but I suppose that's just my own personal headcanon.

Now let's talk about what I like to usually focus on when it comes to shipping. Their personalities.

First off, they definitely play into my shipping preferences when it comes to opposites attract. Ukraine, to me, comes across as shy and soft-spoken. Someone who wants to interact with others and make friends but is socially awkward and doesn't know how to go about it. I also see her as a nurturing and maternal figure, given what we see of her interactions with Russia and Belarus when they were younger. She's overall very sweet and well-meaning.

Now, contrast that with Prussia. Prussia is loud, eccentric, egotistical, and isn't afraid to get in someone's face and take up room. He is outgoing and extroverted to a degree that borders, or even crosses over, into obnoxiousness. Even to the point where he makes some people uncomfortable. All of this points to him being a polar opposite to Ukraine. However, one thing he has in common with Ukraine is understanding the responsibility of having to play the role of parent or caretaker to a younger sibling. Remember, Prussia not only cared for HRE in his final days but also raised Germany. Prussia absolutely has a parental side to him, not unlike Ukraine.

Because of this, I can see them finding common ground regarding responsibility and caring for others, primarily children. I can definitely see Ukraine as a sweet, gentle, nurturing mother to children of her own. And at the same time, I can see Prussia being a very fun, protective, and even strict father (you gotta remember, this guy was once the Teutonic Knights). As fun as he is, I can see him being the kind of dad to step in and settle things quickly whenever there's an argument. As parents, I can see them balancing one another surprisingly well.

When it comes to how they'd get along as a couple, that can go one of two ways:

On one hand, Prussia may be able to help Ukraine when it comes to making friends. At the same time, her calm demeanor may be able to help rein in some of Prussia's more impulsive habits. As well as help him to understand that not everything is a competition, and that sometimes it's better to just let things be.

On the other hand, I can definitely see how Prussia's over-the-top attitude and way of doing things may be too intimidating for Ukraine to deal with, prompting her to distance herself. And while Prussia may try to be understanding, his boisterous attitude may just be a bit more than Ukraine feels she can handle.

Oh, and here's a surprise third element to this ship I want to discuss: Russia.

Prussia doesn't have a very good relationship with Russia in the comics, especially after having had to deal with Russian/Soviet occupation in East Germany for years after WWII. We don't know everything that happened between these two during that time, but we do know for a fact that Prussia pukes up blood whenever he's around Russia. So I'm gonna go out on a limb and say that it wasn't good.

But my mind is now spinning with the potential drama and angst of a story where Prussia and Ukraine want to be together, and Russia absolutely forbids it. (Possible fanfic idea???).

Sidenote:

Through writing this, I believe I've gained a much better understanding of why it can be so controversial to ship certain pairings in Hetalia. You can have two characters who have a strained or even horrific history. But at the same time, they can have character traits or personalities that work so well together. And then, of course, you can add in your own personal headcanons and fanon to the mix if you so wish.

I guess it sort of depends on you and what you like to consider when shipping a pairing.

[vintageshanny]

Officer Presley and the Librarian - Part 9 - Hidden Messages

Writing Prompt: Fall/Halloween

This is very late and basically ignores the prompt (does it count that I mention it’s fall?), but other than that, I follow directions well. 😂 I did a Halloween story for my other series a few weeks ago, if that counts for anything.

Content: the usual (fluff, smut, essentially an unapologetic love letter to Elvis, 18+)

Trying to focus on the beautiful fall foliage, you drummed your fingers nervously against the steering wheel as you drove home from the library.  Well, not home.  Back to Graceland.  Was that home?  Sometimes you felt like you were floating through a fantasy world and couldn’t distinguish what was real and what wasn’t.  You still had your apartment, but Elvis hated for you to go there. “Baby, you ain’t gonna weave me all ‘wone in this giant bed, are ya?” he’d pout in his baby voice.  You loved how needed he made you feel, but you worried you wouldn’t be able to give him enough.  

It had been a difficult month since coming home from Las Vegas.  Elvis had become moody by the end of the residency, and whatever was troubling him seemed to have followed him home.  He clammed up a little bit when you asked him what was wrong, but you gathered that the audience reaction to the new material was not as enthusiastic as he’d hoped.  You wished he would allow himself to be creative without worrying so much about the response, but you were still navigating how to talk to him about his frustrations with his career without upsetting him.

On the bright side, by some miracle, you still had a job.  Your boss actually had been extra nice to you when you went in to meet with him after getting back, which gave you a sneaking suspicion that Elvis had either buttered him up with some funding for the library or had someone make some kind of veiled threat on his life.  You wouldn’t put either option past him.  When you asked him about it, though, he just gave you his trademark crooked smirk and said, “Now, sweetheart, why would I help ya go back ta work when ya know I want ya here with me all the time?”  

After pulling up the winding drive and parking your car, you walked in the front door.  As was your custom, you looked into the mirrored paneling on the side of the staircase and blew a kiss.  Elvis had a small window in his bedroom where he could look out and see the reflection in the mirror of whoever was coming in the front door.  The first time you had blown a kiss to him in this way, he was so delighted that he came bounding down the stairs to see you, bursting with his infectious laughter.  Ever since then, you entered the house this way each time, just in case he was watching.  

Today, though, he did not come running to greet you.  You could actually feel the tension in the air as you headed back toward the den looking for him.  No Elvis, but Charlie and Nancy were there cleaning up the remnants of a broken ceramic monkey.  “Oh no, what happened?” you asked as you came toward them.  Charlie looked up and paused, no doubt trying to figure out how much information he should give you..  “Oh, uh, the boss just accidentally knocked this over…” his voice trailed off as he noticed you could see right through this explanation.  “He’s a little upset right now.  You should maybe go up and see him?” he suggested softly.  You nodded and headed for the staircase.  

The heavy door to Elvis’ room was closed.  You knocked gently and then cracked it open.  He was sitting up in bed in his monogrammed pajamas with a book on his lap, but his mind looked a million miles away.  “Baby?” you said softly as you approached him.  “Is everything okay?  Are you having a rough day?”  Elvis snapped his attention to your face and his body language softened a little bit at the sight of you.  “Oh, sweetheart, I’m glad you’re home,” he said, avoiding your questions.  “I’ve been thinkin’ ‘bout ya all day.”  

You leaned over and tousled his soft hair.  “I was thinking about you too, Elvis.  Are you all right?  I saw there was some broken glass downstairs.”  He shook his head a little bit, as if trying to get rid of the negative thoughts.  “I’m fine, honey, I jus, um, w-w-well, I g-g-got a little fed up with the material they want me to look at.”  You kicked your heels off and climbed up on the bed next to him.  “You should record whatever you want to record, baby, you’re the artist,” you said, hoping it sounded encouraging and not critical.  Elvis nodded slowly.  “That’s true…I-I-I’m the artist,” he repeated.  He seemed pleased by this thought.

“I might have something that will cheer you up,” you continued hesitantly.  “Oh?  What’s that?”  Elvis perked right up, turning to face you and running his fingers along the hem of your pencil skirt.  “Not that,” you giggled, pushing his hand down closer to your knee.  “At least, not yet,” you teased.  “Remember how you asked if I would still write you a poem even though we were together in Las Vegas?”  Elvis’ eyes sparkled with excitement.  “Of course I do, baby.  Ya wrote somethin’ for me?  Or for him?” his eyes glanced down at where the outline of his cock lay against his thigh.  You blushed and let out a nervous little laugh.  “This is mostly for you this time.  I’m just nervous to read it,” you whispered.  “Pwease baby, wet me hear it,” Elvis pleaded in his baby voice, making you smile as you nervously reached into your blouse and pulled the folded-up paper from your bra.  “I’m gonna have to start checkin’ there for hidden messages,” Elvis teased as you swatted at him playfully.  “Okay, ready?” you whispered hoarsely. Elvis nodded eagerly.

“When I was younger, I had posters of the most handsome man on my wall

And every time he’d sing to me, deeper in love with him I’d fall

I had dreams that someday we’d get to meet so I could tell him how I feel

Let him know that every time I was feeling bad, he was the one to help me heal

I’ve heard you shouldn’t meet your heroes because you’ll end up disappointed

And I know it’s a heavy burden to bear, the feeling that you’ve somehow been anointed

A wise man once said the image doesn’t match the human being

But I need for him to know that it’s the real man inside who I love seeing

He’s sweet and sensitive and funny and kind

He’s human and flawed, but he has the most beautiful heart and mind

I love every single part of him, every molecule from head to feet

I never thought I’d find someone who could make me feel so complete”

Your hands still shaking, you nervously looked over at Elvis, tears welling in your eyes.  You were stunned to see that his eyes were also brimming with tears.  “Honey, I-I-I, um, I can’t even speak.  Th-th-that was so beautiful.  I loved it.  And I love you.”  “You really liked it?” you questioned, your heart still racing from the anxiety of sharing your innermost thoughts.  “Of course, baby.  Who was it about?”  he teased, unable to stop his silly sense of humor from kicking in.  You giggled through the tears that had spilled onto your cheeks and gave him a playful smack on the shoulder.  “Just some handsome police officer,” you joked.  Elvis chuckled.  “Baby, thank you for sharin’ that with me.  I didn’t know I’d had that effect on ya - to make ya feel better like that - even before we met.”  

You looked into his deep blue eyes.  “Elvis, I think you have that effect on everyone who really listens to you.  I meant it when I said that you’re an artist.  You should be able to share your gift in whatever way you want to.”  Elvis smiled at that, his eyes still wet with emotion.  “Baby, I don’ know what I did to deserve ya, but I’m so glad you’re mine.  No one’s ever made me feel so good about myself.”  

You couldn’t stop your hands from wandering over his body as you leaned up and straddled his lap, your tight skirt riding up on your thighs. “Elvis, I love to make you feel good in every single way,” you whispered in his ear, feeling his breath hitch a little bit as you nipped ever so gently at his ear lobe.  “Is that right?  How else do ya wanna make me feel good?” he let out a little moan as your lips tickled over his neck and down toward his chest.  You started unbuttoning his pajama top as you explained, “Well, I wouldn't want Little Elvis to feel left out just because he wasn’t mentioned in the poem.  I need to let him know how perfect he is.”  Elvis smiled even as his face turned bright red.  “You always blush when I tell you that,” you said with a grin.  “Th-th-that’s cuz I know you’re jus’ sayin’ that t-t-ta make me feel good,” Elvis said, sounding a bit embarrassed.  “I know he don’ look perfect.”  

You finished unbuttoning his shirt and paused before moving on to his pants, trying to decide if you should say what you were thinking.  “Let me show you one of my favorite things about him,” you said, reaching to pull Elvis’ pajama pants down.  “W-w-wait, he ain’t quite ready,” Elvis said nervously.  “I know,” you whispered as you gently tugged down the pants, revealing his cock still laying soft and heavy against his thigh.  You took him gently in your hand and leaned down to kiss the soft salty skin of him.  “My favorite thing,” you whispered as you watched him tremble under your warm breath, “is when he first gets excited and makes his entrance.”  Elvis’ eyes widened as you continued to caress him until he started to grow, the foreskin slowly rolling back to reveal the tip.  “Oh,” you breathed out in awe, as if laying your eyes on one of the seven wonders of the world.  “He is majestic.” You felt a little embarrassed at the way you were ogling him, but you were not going to allow him to feel that any part of him was inadequate.  

As you rolled your tongue over the hard length of him, he tilted his head back and moaned louder, his large hands running through your hair, over your body, squeezing your breasts.  “Mmm take your clothes off, baby, I need ta see ya,” he groaned as you pulled your mouth off of him.  You stood up and undressed, feeling a little self-conscious as his eyes roamed over your naked body.  “What are you looking at?” you asked nervously as you climbed back on top of him.  “An angel,” he whispered as he gazed lovingly into your face.  “A gift from God.”  You blushed as you lowered your body onto his, feeling him spread you open with a pleasure that felt divine.  As your body enveloped his in the most intimate way, you leaned forward and pressed your lips against his furry chest, licking his little pink nipples, eliciting the music of him moaning your name out in ecstasy.  

“That was beautiful,” Elvis whispered as you cuddled into each other, basking in the euphoric afterglow of love-making.  “Do you think I’m beautiful?” you whispered, your insecurities suddenly taking hold again.  Elvis turned and looked at you in surprise.  “I mean, what do you like about me?” you continued nervously.  Elvis reached out and stroked your face with the most tender touch.  “Sweetheart, naming all the things I love about you would be like trying to name every star in the sky.”  You smiled at his sweet response.  “Well, I guess I just get nervous sometimes.  You could have anyone.  And I, um, I think my clothes aren’t fitting right anymore,” you stumbled on, feeling stupid.  “Baby, first of all, I only want you.  And Little Elvis only wants you,” he teased. “Secondly, I love the way you fill out your clothes.”  He gave your bottom a gentle smack.  “I have noticed you’re even a little fuller right here,” he added, softly squeezing one of your bare breasts.  “I’m jus’ worried because ya seem so tired all the time…” he trailed off as you both widened your eyes in recognition at the same time.  “Oh my…”

Tag List: @whositmcwhatsit @be-my-ally @ellie-24 @thatbanditqueen @missmaywemeetagain @from-memphis-with-love @eliseinmemphis @18lkpeters @doll-elvis @elvispresleygf @artlover8992 @richardslady121 @lookingforrainbows @arrolyn1114 @powerofelvis

[batboyblog]

Oh this isn’t an anti Biden thing more so I’m just pointing out that I think in this case some people are definitely more culpable then others, I feel like otherwise we fall into that idea that humans are the problem inherently which reeks of “original sin”

Like, the fact we don’t have more public transport is due to lobbying from the automotive industry, we aren’t often given options outside of fossil fuel because those who house real power rarely want to change things, which is why things like democracy exist but once you’re in power it becomes a lot easier to feed propaganda, it’s admittedly still more complex then some people treat it but it’s still not a “everyone is equally responsible” thing,

I kind of see it like being Sandra Bullock in Speed, should the terrorist who strapped a bomb onto the bus go to jail? yeah of course, but maybe we focus on getting off the bus alive first?

so like that the conversation of who's most responsible just doesn't interest me as much as "okay but how do we fix it?" and I think the conversation of responsibility often times distracts or demotivates from the conversation of fixing it, I think its very very easy to go from "I didn't cause this" to "I can't effect this" and from "Its not my fault" to "why should I do anything about it?"

and like if the CEO of Exxon goes to jail for this or that I'll raise a glass and be happy for a day because yeah they are bad people and yes in many cases they knowingly did things to make climate change worse because it would help stock prices in the next quarter or whatever. But its like not the conversation I want to be having most of the time, I'm less interested in who's fault it is and more on what do we do to fix it and I feel like there are a lot of people for whom the reverse is true their focus is much more on "who's fault" and much less on "how do we fix it"

I remember there's an episode of Queer Eye, where the person they're making over is a young climate activist with Sunrise Movement. And normally the 5 drive in a huge SUV but for this they all hopped on bikes and biked to her house and they explained this all pleased and she was like "oh you didn't need to do that, what normal people do doesn't really matter because climate change is just 10 companies" I'm not going back to get her word for word but that was the thrust, and that's really stuck with me that this girl had a chance to talk to millions of people and ask them to change their day to day behaviors and she dismissed the idea that even collectively any one could do anything.

[hislittleraincloud]

How would you feel if Wenclair will actually become canon?

If romantic Wenclair became canon, I would feel like Millar & Gough caved and capitulated, allowing their vision for the non-romantic sister/friendship of Wenclair to be influenced by fans, and that artists/creatives are no longer allowed to create something without being severely pressured by a whacky minority of fans.

Because while romantic Wenclair makes up a big chunk of online fandom, it's not the majority of viewers, which are who the very straight M&G are writing for. These are the creators (AND some crew!) of fucking Smallville, FFS. These guys aren't looking to tell our stories (which is another thing that irritates me...why are we even looking to straight cismales like M&G and Burton to tell any of our stories?) and the people in charge are still awkward as fuck around the issues that surround 🏳️‍🌈 and 🏳️‍⚧️ issues.

Creatively, I'd probably ignore it. I'm already going to ignore Wednesday 2's storyline because Afterburn has a specific story written over several years in the future and includes the character of Xavier Thorpe. Wednesday 1 canon is the only thing I'll be using.

But honestly, all them bitches will become a million times even more insufferable, like spoiled kids who keep screaming until they get what they want. It shouldn't work that way, because when you force people to go off their scripts (especially awkward cismale writers like them 💀 and the women who help write their cisstories), that force will show. It will be obvious, especially to the unsuspecting masses who aren't looking for that in an unserious tweenie teen show like this one.

I have a couple of people expecting me to have Xavier get together with Wednesday if she fucks Donovan to death Donovan keels over on her, but that's not in the AB Bible either (a very strong Wenclairish sisterhood is, however) and I'm not seeing a path towards it given what ABW's life trajectory is. I'm different though, I'm fan fiction, and I can literally do anything, I can wish fulfill if I wanted to...but I don't want to. I want to tell the story/my story/the story of Wednesday and Donovan, and I'm gathering from everything that Millar and Gough have said about it even in the face of romantic Wenclair, they want to tell their story of Wednesday and Enid's friendship.

Maybe yanno...just let the creatives do what they're gonna do? Netflix's Wednesday was not meant to focus on or even hint at queer representation. Wednesday Addams's queer rep is allegorical, not literal.

ETA: Politically it would be a disaster and make things worse for us as well, because the right wing will be able to use it as an example of how the "gays are pushing their agenda" on kids/entertainment/etc. Fact: There never has been a gay agenda that's been pushed anywhere on anyone. That's been a fabrication of the right wing for decades. But this? This would be [yet another, the first one being the Wenclair response to the novelization] a gift to the right wing because it'd be true: By successfully pressuring a media entity to make a primary IP character who's been straight up until then to be gay, the 🏳️‍🌈 will have successfully pushed the writers into changing their story. I really wish the fucking left would stop giving the right gifts to trample us with. We made so much goddamn progress but then started getting ripped backwards. I'm not sure humans even know how to behave towards one another anymore, in terms of sex and sexuality.

[alexisnoir]

Turning poison into positivity

Now that I had time to process the last episode of season 2 of OFMD, took out my anger and frustration out on few dick-ish customers at work (they deserved it!), took on vaping in the span of one day (not very good for my health but that's just life). I can finally focus on the show itself and what I did love about it.

I loved it as a whole because we finally got what we fans yearned for for years sometimes, I know I have. Love between two characters without judgement of the outside, where their journey is not too colorized but painted in various color of life - like heartbreak, hurt, love, anger, sadness, hope, excitement and so on.

We finally got many characters we can relate to without fear of being told we see too much into something. What we see is what we get (most of the time but let's not let poison back in)

I enjoyed Roach this season, he was more sure of himself, tried to take command of the Blackbeards crew, be their balast so to speak.

Archie is very nice addition, I liked her character, she's a bit like me, doesn't hide from a fight and can kick ass when needs to but can be soft when needs too. What I missed this season is where and when they picked her up. Hopefully when Season 3 happens we will get that information and a bit more of her backstory

Zheng, well I don't know what to think of her, her character is okay, too short of a season to really pass out judgement. I neither loved her nor hated her. She was just there.

Absolutely fell in love with Wee John this season and his seagoddess Calypso! You can't not fall in love with him for that!

Stede and Ed both went through a journey. Stede of course from a child to a young adult and Ed from angry hurt man, to finding peace of mind, at least some form of a peace. He learned thanks to Fang how to center himself, how to quiet himself which in turn will help him keep his more negative emotions at bay.

The season as a whole was very good alas a bit too short but what can we do on cut budget right? If only I had million to spare I'd gladly pay for the next season myself and get 20+ 40 minutes episodes

What are my hopes for the next season?

Well, as I mentioned in one of my previous posts I'd love for Mary, Doug and the kids to come back and meet Ed and the rest of the crew.

Now that we know that the weasel of a prince is out there, I hope the Revenge crew alongside Stede and Ed will hunt him down and serve justice to him for what he did to Izzy. Hopefully it's going to be a theme for the next season - the REVENGE.

As to anything else...

a dance between Stede and Ed, we need to see that and since THAT LOOK of Ed's toward Stede at Lucius and Pete wedding, I can safely bet we would get a wedding dance between these two - if we are lucky

no more death

Izzy coming back

Stede and Ed taking on a responsibility for another person - a child. Just like Ed was somehow taken care of by pirates after running away after killing his father it would be interesting to see his take on someone young and in need with Stede helping him. Let's not forget Stede has some experience in taking care of for children

Stede and Ed renovating that shack into an Inn. I'd love to see some of the process, even as a montage

the Revenge crew visiting them on their island, getting them supplies, having parties etc

THE TALK - I need them to talk through their emotions, their grief

This is more like a speculation but I'd not be surprised if Ricky the dick went after Stede's family as a Revenge. Which paints a interesting plot IMHO

That is for now. I may or may not add something later, you will know if you find the word EDIT somewhere below in the future.

[fandomsareforlife]

Cold Water And Cold Feet

Summary:

Water was dangerous. It killed so many people. Why would anyone willing go into it?

OR Kai is scared of water, and has to swim for gym class. Zane tries to help with that.

A/N: This is for NWOD Who Wrote That, with the prompt being "write about something a ninja would fear, no matter how big or small it is." Kai is canonically scared of water so I thought it fit.

Warnings: Panic attack, descriptions of hydrophobia

READ ON AO3

Kai's mouth was dry as he was led out of the doors of the changing rooms, the halls only illuminated by the weak overhead. Kai weakly tried to pull his arm out of Zane's grasp, but the self proclaimed 'wild teen' wasn't letting him.

Resisted the urge to whine, Kai gently kicked Zane with his flip-flop.

"Come on, babe, we really don't have to do this," Kai whined.

"We really do have to do this. You need to take swimming to pass gym, and you can not currently be in any body of water without panicking," was Zane's calm response. Kai groaned, rubbing his face with his hand,prompting Zane to laugh. "It will be fun! I promise!"

Kai shook his head. "Maybe it's fun for you, watching your boyfriend suffer, but it won't be for me." Zane shrugged, not dignifying Kaï's comment with a response. Which was fair, it was pretty dumb, considering Zane didn't like seeing his friends in distress.

The pair managed to get to the glass double doors of the pool and hot tub area. Kai felt his chest get taught at the sight of the 12-foot deep pool. He couldn't figure out why anyone would go into such a massive death trap willingly. Didn't they know 390 people drowned in a pool a year?

Entering the room, Kai pulled his swim shirt over his nose, gagging at the strong scent of chlorine. Master, he was going to vomit or something. The bright lights, a million times brighter than the ones in the hall, and the humidness were not helping. Kai's head pounded from the fear and the overwhelmingness, and his legs wouldn't move, no matter how much he wanted to bolt.

All he could do was stare at the bright blue body of water.

Why was no else there? Did they all drown? That life guard didn't look that attentive, it wasn't impossible.

A cold hand cupped Kai's cheek, causing Kai to yelp and jerk away, almost stumbling without having any traction from these stupid flip flops. The hand reached out, steadying him and turning him away from the pool. Trying to take a deep breath to calm himself, Kai realized his nose was stuffed up from crying.

Whining, Kai scrubbed his face to get rid of the tears.

"Kai? Can you take a deep breath for me?" Zane's voice broke through the fog that had eclipsed Kai's mind, and Kai latched onto it like it was a life preserver. Zane's hand was on his chest, and his hand was on Zane's, and Zane's soft voice was instructing him to match his breathing.

Kai could do that. He could focus on the calm, steady voice forcing him to breath. He can do that, even in a place like this, surrounded by death.

Eventually, Kaï's crying was reduced to mostly coughing, and Zane was using the towel he brough to wipe at his face. Kai closed his eyes, feeling exhausted. He couldn't relax, though, not with the source of so many of his nightmares still there.

Cold arms wrapped around him, allowing Kai to bury his face in Zane's chest, hiding from the world for a few minutes. Zane didn't say anything as Kai took shaky breaths, kicking his leg behind him. Kai could have kissed him, probably would when they were out of this fucking room and in Kai's car.

"Are you feeling better?' Zane's soft voice broke through the fuzziness that threatened to overcome Kai, and it took everything to nod in response. Kai wasn't sure he could do much more.

Humming, Zane took a look around the room. Kai couldn't figure out what he was looking for, because there wasn't anything here but just two places you could die and the exit. Kai let Zane look around, figuring they would go soon enough.

"What do you think about trying to get your feet wet in the hot tub?" was not what Kai expected to hear.

"They are very similar to a bath, but would help you get used to the chlorine."

Kai whined and shook his head. "No! No! I can't-I don't want to die."

Zane cupped his face. "Kai, you can't drown in a hot tub without trying very hard to, and I'll be right next to you. Can you try for me?" Even though his words were gentle, and Kai knew it would make Zane very happy, he shook his head. He didn't think he could handle going into the water.

Zane sighed but nodded. "Alright then, that's the goal then. We will work up to being in the water, okay?" His words were gentle, as was his hand when it guided Kai out of the room into the hall. Kai nodded, shame filling up in him.

"Yeah. That sounds good." Kai wiped his face with his towel. "Sorry, by the way."

Zane shrugged. "I expected this to happen. Thankfully, we have 4 months to get you over your fear. I have no doubt we will be accomplish that."

Ah, Kai always appreciated Zane's never ending optimism. It was refreshing to hear.

Weakly laughing, Kai leaned against Zane, causing the taller teen to run a hand through his hair. "Okay. I can try."

"That's all I asked for," was the soft response.

Maybe Kai couldn't get his feet wet now, but he will eventually, with Zane's help.

[lastthroes]

Dreamwidth crosspost, as a reply to lrb:

1.    How many fics have you worked on since January?

I spent a good part of the year not doing much, mostly due to how unpredictable my health became. There’s way more I worked on that what ended up actually finished and posted. However, counting some non-exchange but still Anonymous works, and if my math is mathing right… I got twenty whole works posted! 🥳

2.    What’s something new that you tried in a fic this year? I made a conscious effort to focus on my descriptions. I feel that one of my strongest points is introspection, which often causes White Room Syndrome. Even if I might have not always been successful, I did force myself to actually remember there’s a world that exists outside of the characters too. It’s particularly noticeable in between a life that we expected and the way it’s always been and eigengrau which, besides the inclusion of interpersonal conflict, also count as worldbuilding exploration: F41DB AKA Victor’s original dimension, and then the world after the Julius Ending, respectively.

3.    What piece of media inspired you the most? (This can be the fandom you wrote the most for, the one that spawned the most ideas, the one you thought about the most, etc.) Xillia 2, much like the past year, and I predict a lot more of it for the new year to come as well.

4.    How many fandoms did you write for this year?

Legendia, Rays, Asteria, Xillia 2, Zestiria, Berseria,… That makes up for seven different canons. A decent amount of variety, in my opinion. 5.    What ships captured your heart?

Looks like it was Julius/Ludger taking the crown of having the biggest number of works! 6.    What characters captured your heart?

Victor, the Kresnik brothers, the earth siblings… Even if we add some new characters into the bunch, we stay mostly consistent. 7.    Did you write for any new fandoms or ships this year?

I sure did! Finally wrote for Rays like I had been meaning to since I came back to it after Crestoria’s EoS.

As for ships, in one hand, I got to write (and start the tags for) Rays!Victor and Asteria!Elle in from a missed connection, and then Asteria!Victor/Asteria!Elle in a rock upon which i stand. In the other hand, from here on in made me write Prime!Julius/Victor, then Julius/Ludger/Victor in living mirage, which also started its own tag.

I also got to write Legendia with Chloe/Shirley in a place to call home. This one is not really a new ship for me, but it is one I didn’t really had the chance to create anything for before. It’s also the ship that finally broke my shipcest streak. It wasn’t on purpose, but wow: I really wrote nothing but gen fic and incest for two years straight...

Finally, I also dipped my toes into Velvet/Eizen by writing them in an implied canon divergence with illiagne red. 8.    What fic meant the most to you to write?

That’s probably if i could start again, a million miles away.

A particular pet-peeve I have is the use of MCD for nothing else but shameless shock value, with cases like Fractured Milla and Dezel being the worst contenders: they get not only forgotten, but also effectively replaced by Prime Milla and Zaveid respectively. I wrote that fic as a response to how much the canon shrugs Ludger’s pain under the carpet, particularly in the context of the normal/neutral ending. The weight of the Trial and having to destroy all the dimensions, letting go of Milla’s hand knowing it’ll kill her and then, as the cherry on top, having to watch the two people he loved most killing themselves to save his life? Ignoring all this simply isn’t realistic.

… However, it’s also not the first fic that I ended up throwing into an unrevealed collection shortly after publication due to feeling disastisfied. It doesn’t help that it’s the kind of fic I’m reluctant to have anyone beta through it, less because of the length and more because of the content warnings.

So, for this question, I think I will cheat a little and choose "To show you a smile", a ship manifesto for Edna/Eizen. It’s a ship that’s very close to my heart. 9.    What fic made you feel the happiest to work on? Everything does, kind of? If I didn’t enjoy myself, why would I write it? I know it’s kind of a cliche answer, but that really is how I feel. 10.    What fic was the most satisfying to finish writing? Probably anything involving Rays, considering all the canon checking that it involves, which means from a missed connection, enemy lines, and perfect world in the cradle. And man, is Rays a complicated canon to be reviewing for… It comes with the territory of being a seven-years long game, but still. 11.    What fic was the most difficult to write? I’m going to go with the former answer again. They were both difficult and satisfying. 12.    What fic was the easiest to write? Not counting the ficlets, then the ship manifesto I mentioned earlier, "To show you a smile": I sat down and wrote ~4k of it in one go. It had been bouncing in my brain for so many years that it just flowed without issues once I finally told myself to do it.

13.    What were your shortest and longest fics posted this year? Shortest: unsaid, at 404 words. Sometimes a ficlet format is best for some stories, because what’s most important is what isn’t said out loud, much like the title implies.

Longest: if i could start again, a million miles away again, at ~20k words. But considering the aforementioned circumstances, looks like it’s eigengrau which gets the honors instead with ~11k words. 14.    What were your go-to writing songs?

This one’s easy if you recognize some titles, because they are parts of songs more often than not.

15.    What was the hardest fic to title? I usually let the fic simmer for enough time that I can come up with a decent title, but that wasn’t the case for a rock upon which i stand, just like it also wasn’t for illiagne red, because both of them were late treats. They went through several different title changes and I still don’t like what I settled with, they feel basic and boring... But well, what can you do. 16.    What's your favorite title of the year?

eigengrau, a German word for intrinsic gray, the not-truly-pitch-black that you see when you close your eyes. It ended up fitting the fic really well, considering the tone and the state of the world with Bisley’s full control. Or, as the fic itself puts it:

"No matter how twisted and submerged in darkness this world may be, it was the only one Julius knew that let them stay together. This was the world he had wanted, and not the perfect world he’d decided to push Ludger to create. This was the life they had chosen—both of them."

17.    Share your favorite opening line

"Regardless of how much he regretted it, the scorpion had still killed the frog in those stories Claudia always read to him.

Maybe it was just how things were meant to be. Maybe their differences were irreconcilable."

(From: binding blood.)

This intro is meant to foreshadow the ending. And, though this is a different tale (a fable that is probably popular enough to be recognizable, the scorpion that wanted to cross the river and then drowned from killing the frog because he couldn’t help it), I still vaguely wanted to connect it to Night on the Galactic Railroad, a popular japanese novel—I love thinking of Julius as the scorpion of fire mentioned in it. I have done a few references to NotGR in different Xillia 2 fics, and I cannot stress enough my disappointment at canon completely wasting the opportunity of referencing it, especially with the theme of sacrifice at the end and the train visuals from the first chapters. Besides, you already have a NPC in Drellin referencing real japanese literature with "Two-thousand Years of Solitude", or 『二千年の孤独』. 18.    Share your favorite ending line I am torn between two of them. First, from binding blood:

"Julius laughed feverishly, his whole body weight falling on Ludger’s open chest as he cradled his heart against him.

“I knew it…! I knew it… I knew you had a kind heart…”

The world faded into bright red."This unfortunately does not work well in English, but in Japanese 温かい can be read as warm (and blood is warm) and also kind—and Ludger’s kindness is the last thing Stribog!Julius remarks before he dies: “I know you have… a kind heart… And that’s why--I told you to stay away!”.

The second one comes from perfect world in the cradle:

"But Julius had been wrong. This dream wasn’t ending. This was not the end of their story. This was reality now: this blue and bright sky filled with hope was his—their—actual world now, and Julius’ heart swelled with possibilities.

Closed off from everything else, there was a chance that Tir Na Nog would someday fall into yet another crisis, but Julius realized he was at peace with that: he would face whatever new crisis that came head-on. Both of them would, always together." Just like the fic points out, Julius references quite a few times in Rays that everything is so good it just feels like a dream. This is also connected to Rays showing a close version of the perfect world he creates after completing his transformation into a divergence catalyst, one in which he can actually live happily with Ludger.

19.    Share your favorite piece of dialogue

"“Elle was meant to bring you to me. I would take your place and get to Canaan to restart my life as a true denizen of the prime dimension.”

Reincarnation would turn them into different people but, in a way, they would still be ‘Elle’ and ‘Ludger’. Left with no better choices, Victor had come to peace with such an end to their story: it was miles better than vanishing away.

“But Elle...”

“Yes, she didn’t know,” Victor confirmed before smirking. “You are in the house of the unrepentant man who dreamed of killing you for years, Ludger Will Kresnik of the prime dimension.”"

This is from enemy lines. I still cannot believe how Rays closed without ever addressing everything that Victor did (and everything else that he was planning to do) in the canon. Talk about a wasted opportunity. 20.    Share your funniest line

From perfect world in the cradle again: "“Rollo, my boy, come here. Let’s get you down, safe and round.”"

I wrote this one for an exchange, and both the beta and the recipient liked it, so it must be a good line! 21.    What's something that surprised you while you were working on a fic? Did it change the story? eigengrau went through a lot, and I really mean a lot, of changes. I had no idea back when I started it that it would eventually mutate into a whole AU—Most of what remained was the core concept of them running away and camping, of the news causing conflict between them, and of Julius worrying about Ludger while submerged in the night’s dark. Initially, the title as a reference didn’t work because I had forgotten about Canaan being in the sky permanently after you summon it (and until you complete the Trial), which means no sun and moons and perpetual purple-ish light, which also rendered the theme/concept I was using and I had titled the fic after unusable. Later, as I tried to fix it, I also realized that it was a total downer of a fic, which I couldn’t know if the recipient would like. As I envisioned how to fix that as well, I added the scene of them living happily in a random fractured dimension... And one thing led to another, and that is how I somehow wrote 11k for an exchange. But I also had a lot of time, so maybe it’s a sign that I shouldn’t be given that much time to write? Hah.

22.    What writing programs did you use? Did you write by hand? Well, I still use the 2007 version of Word… Device-wise, my now dead phone (I’d be lying if I said the life without a phone isn’t also kind of more relaxed), notebook margins,... just whatever I had close whenever inspiration struck.

("Boss makes a dollar, I make a dime 🎵 That's why I write incest on company time 🎵") 23.    If you had to choose one, what was THE most satisfying writing moment of your year? Some point of time as I worked in eigengrau and perfect world in the cradle, because I realized my writing was actually improving. If you compare any of them to some burdens are so in more ways than one, which was the first time I wrote in English in years, the difference is noticeable. 24.    Did you do anything special to celebrate finishing a fic? Ehhh, no, I don’t really do anything like that. 25.    How did you recharge between fics? This question assumes that I don’t post something and then open a different document next. 26.    Did you create fanworks other than fic? Besides the Edna/Eizen ship meta mentioned earlier, I did some art. Not much as I’d have liked to due to the circumstances: writing you can do it anywhere, but drawing? You have to be in front of your computer, with your drawing tablet, with no interruptions, with no painful and distracting illnesses… So just stay at hotel fenntasia, a place to call home which is an art to accompany the fic of the same name (and the first time in almost a whole year that I drew something), and avant-garde cooking. 27.    How many events did you take part in? (bangs, exchanges, ship weeks, zines, prompt memes, they all count!) Year of the OTP Prompt Event 2023, the Stuffed With Love multifandom incest exchange, Cestember 2024 (as well as the Microcest weekly event), the Tales of Secret Santa 2023 and 2024, and Yuletide—in which I also snuck a small treat for the Madness collection.

I also filled an old prompt for Tales of Spicy Cocktail 2022, as well as another one for the Tales of Prompts NSFW collection that was a crosspost. I imagine familyromantic’s shipcest contest on Tumblr counts as well. I really like participating in fandom events. Having a deadline forces me to actually get things done. 28.    If this were an awards show, who would you thank? Hah. I guess my friends who put up with my random ramblings as I try to figure out a plot, and of course everyone who’s left me a comment or a kudos. It’s very appreciated, especially when I seem to get nicher and nicher. 29.    What's left on your to-do list for 2024? I would say that the rest of my YOTP 2023 entries. I will try to finish them through 2025, even if the collection is closed and I can no longer submit.

I also would like to get properly back into drawing... There is a certain art trade that I have left hanging for so long that it’s a bit embarrassing. It was mainly caused by my deteriorating health, and later I got hit by the overwhelming "after such a long wait, I need to turn it into the absolute best drawing I have ever made" perfectionism, but still.

30.    What would you like to write next year? Some of the Eizen/Edna (maybe more like Edna/Eizen) ideas that keep bouncing inside my head. It’s my OTP among the OTPs for a good reason. The main thing that always stops me is that they literally never interact onscreen in canon (with crossover mobile games often coming up with wildly different interpretations—just look at how they speak to each other in Crestoria and then look at Asteria, for example). They also come from two different videogames that heavily contradict each other, which means I have to do a lot of reviewing and pick-and-choose. Xillia 2 has a very similar problem, but it’s also much easier to compartmentalize what doesn’t fit with the original game in terms of characters and worldbuilding. I also hope to get some claimed prompts done once Spicy Cocktail returns.

[tokiro07]

Undead Unluck ep.23 thoughts

[Mamaaa! Didn't Mean to Make You Cryyy!]

I guess if any episodes had to be the best episodes, it's appropriate that they be the end of the season, but god dammit, why wasn't every episode this good???

The animation, the music, the emotional weight, this episode was a real all-rounder. Even with how comparatively little action there was, it was great!

I actually feel like there's nothing for me to say, it was so good. There weren't any big reinterpretations of the source material for me to latch onto, mostly just little details like the pages crumpling under Sean's feet to convey his presence or a subtle Easter egg when Rip cut off Anno Un's arm. The coolest detail was definitely that Akira couldn't narrate the preview anymore now that we know who he is, but I get the feeling I wouldn't have noticed that if other people hadn't pointed it out first

If we're lucky, maybe that'll mean there's no recap next week...

Something this episode did help me realize, though, was that Yuki Yase's style really lends itself well to dramatic weight rather than pulse-pounding action. As we saw, the latter is still possible, but I think the thing that killed the pacing for the season as a whole was the insistence on pregnant pauses and atmospheric shots over a consistent flow of events and ideas. The dark lighting and zoomed-out shots are both pretty indicative of this, and were definitely my least favorite elements of the season. Those moments that reduced visual clarity to presumably focus on what was being said were, ironically, very distracting for me, as I always found myself trying to figure out where the cast was (though I think they were usually hiding behind Hulu's garishly huge subtitles) instead of focusing on what was being said

As near as I remember, though, this episode didn't really have moments like that, and if it did, they went by quick enough that I didn't really notice them. I remember this episode being very bright with the exception of the brief moment of sepia with Akira sitting next to his grieving mother, which was extremely poignant without the directorial style I was complaining about. If I had to guess, aside from the amazing moments of sakuga, this was the biggest reason this episode left such a good impression

I'm not really good at understanding this sort of thing, but I hope to learn at some point who was in charge of what in each episode; Yuki Yase is the director of the series as a whole, not individual episodes, so it's possible that he's not responsible for most of my gripes this past half year, but it's also possible that his overall style overshadowed everyone else's decisions, so he may well be responsible either way. I hope that someone like Totally Not Mark will cover UU down the road so I can get insight on this from someone who's good at hunting down that kind of information and comparing one bit of an artist's works to the rest. I may not like researching that kind of thing, but I do love hearing about it!

With that, we have one final episode to go. Will it be up to snuff with the last two episodes, will it miss the landing, or will it go above and beyond and convince a million people to sit through 20 episodes of recaps just to see how it gets to this point? We'll find out next week, and I can't wait!

Until next time, let's enjoy life!

[thejournalofawanderer]

Surgery and How I Got Here

Hello all! It’s been such a long time since I last made a post. So much has happened to me. So much has changed. I’ll start with some life changing stuff first. I had surgery in April of 2024 (nearly a year ago now).

It took me a long time to get to that point. I noticed that my health and my overall state of being wasn’t quite right. I just wasn’t feeling like myself. I started out by going to my primary care physician (PCP), and I felt dismissed and greatly understood. My labs were “normal”, and I was told that I just needed to focus on sleep, exercise, drinking water, a healthy diet, and acknowledging I was getting “older”.

I was not satisfied with this response. I started doing some digging and some investigation on myself. I opted to seek further treatment from an endocrinologist. I had expressed my concerns and how I felt. She also said similar things my PCP said. But, she opted to run more labs and more tests.

Meanwhile, I met with my naturopath physician to make sure I was covering all my bases. I didn’t want to leave any stones unturned. I had a Dutch test done on my urine. I tried it all. I learned that not all doctors respect other doctors tests and forms of medicine. I mean, it’s all backed by science, so what’s the issue?

BUT, before I went to see my endo. I opted to fly to Colorado to meet with a different doctor that my friend had a lot of success with. Needless to say, she was a dud for me. She tried diagnosing my with PCOS based on no further testing. Cushing’s is oftentimes misdiagnosed for PCOS. I was on medications that did not help or support me. Luckily I went with my gut and opted not to take those medications anymore, and move forward with meeting my endo.

I got a sleep study done, because of my excessive daytime sleepiness. Let me tell you. I don’t know how those studies could tell you anything. It is literally the worlds worst sleep. You’re in an unfamiliar place looking the scene in Star Wars, where C3PO and R2D2 get all dissembled with wires everywhere. It was so uncomfortable, and they wake you up a million times. After all was said and done, the results were, “You do in fact have daytime sleepiness”…..NO SHIT!

I had mentioned my ADHD and anxiety, and my endo wanted to blame all of my symptoms on that. Like, I’ve ADHD and anxiety my whole life. My sudden change in weight and everyday functionality is not a result of these things. Something else is wrong, and it isn’t that or the medication that I sometimes take for my ailments.

I continued with more labs and 24 urine collections. I got a CT scan, and it came back showing that I had a 2 inch mass on my right adrenal gland. I was kind of surprised, and excited, because I was FINALLY getting closer to some sort of answer or diagnosis.

SO, after nearly a year of almost 20 different labs and tests, she then referred me to a super specialist endocrinologist at the main hospital. My labs were in this gray area, and I wasn’t satisfied with my answers. My labs were 50/50 for Cushing’s.

I met with my second endo, which my first meeting was abysmal. It was her resident that I met with…a guy. You see the thing is, I always request women doctors. I feel more comfortable with them, and I usually feel understood. When I got into this appointment (which I waited 4 months for), I was a bit disappointed to see a guy. He was very dismissive of my self diagnosis. I was under the impression that I had Cushing’s. He did not.

So, I got more labs and more tests. I got a second CT scan that confirmed the 2 inch mass on my right adrenal gland. Due to the size of the mass or nodule, they were going to opt for surgery, regardless of the results on my labs. But, my labs came back supporting the findings.

I think met with my surgeon. We discussed my pre-surgery expectations and scheduled my surgery. He was the one that told me I had Cushing’s. I felt relieved and accomplished. I had finally had an answer. All of my self advocacy was finally paying off. (Huzzah!)

So, I had my surgery on Thursday, April 18th. It was the first surgery I’ve ever had. I was nervous and not nervous at the same time. I remember the operating room. I remember how kind everyone was. I knew that I was in good hands. I remember waking up to see my mom and brother in my room. I was so tired, and kinda nauseous.

My time in the hospital after that was interesting. My IVs kept blowing my veins. I had put myself on a liquid diet a week prior to surgery, per my surgeon, and I hadn’t eaten real food. Post-op, I was so repulsed by food, but I had to eat. I couldn’t go to the bathroom without help out of bed. They took my blood from a vein that was receiving fluids, and it through everyone into a panic, because obviously my labs were dangerously wrong. So, I then had to become a human pin cushion every 1/2 hour to run my labs again to make sure I wasn’t going to die. Good times! Did I mention the IV blew my veins 4 times?

Overall, the worst part of post-op was trying to pass all of the gas or CO2 they pumped into my abdomen. It was HORRIBLE. The pressure had moved up into my chest, and it felt like someone was sitting on my chest. I couldn’t breathe. I only felt comfortable laying down. It took about a week for it to finally dissipate. Just in time for me to head back to work!

Then 6 weeks post op, I had to fly to Wisconsin/Minnesota to take a rock climbing assessment. Haha wild times.

Anyways, I am healed up from the actual surgery. Sometimes I feel like a little part of me is missing. They ended up taking out my whole adrenal gland with the mass. So, I am left with just my left adrenal gland. My cortisol levels have evened themselves out for the time being.

But here’s the kicker. Since surgery, I’ve had follow up appointments and my endo was like, “You don’t have Cushing’s, you have MACS”….I’m like, what are you talking about. My surgeon said I had Cushing’s and that having this surgery would cure me. Apparently I have a subclinical form of Cushing’s. MACS, which stands for Mild Autonomous Cortisol Secretion. (Mind was blown)

With this condition that I have, it’s an overproduction of cortisol in a system. So, imagine being in a state of fight or flight for so long that your body starts packing on weight to protect itself. That’s how I ended up where I am. It’s wild and exhausting. It’s a condition that takes time to recover from.

Folks keep asking how I am, and I honestly don’t know. I feel the same, but different. I’m still trying to lose all the weight I gained (50lbs) and find some sort of normalcy in my life again. I feel like an alien in my body. I don’t recognize the person I see looking back. I have my ups and my downs. I am trying my best to get through it. It’s hard, but I’m here.

Women are forever dealt the shitty hand. Our hormones dictate so much of our lives and when things go array, the whole body is in red alert. It’s frustrating and exhausting. I still feel deeply misunderstood when I am battling an illness that no one can see. It’s an invisible battle, that receives little sympathy or praise for how well I’m doing. I just wake pt wake up and hope for the best.

In the end I met with so many doctors (8). They all ran so many tests and labs (30+). I also juggled an extremely toxic relationship in all of this, that did not help my health and overall mental wellbeing. To say that this has been a challenge is an understatement. I am on a path to healing my physical wellbeing and my mental wellbeing. Thanks to everyone who has been with me through it all. It truly means a lot. Life is hard. It continues to be hard, but I am taking steps that will give me the strength to get through it.

For more information on MACS