#wouldn’t exactly be canon to oc universe

[totaleclipse573]

I just had an idea for a Freaky (/pos) oc (probably sonic) but I don’t know if I should make this character into a character…..👀

[strawwritesfic]

Joel x Female!Amputee!Reader: (Don't) Hold Your Breath [Ch. 3]

Summary: You’ve made a lot of monumental mistakes in your life. Cutting your arm off isn’t even at the top of the list. Now you’re about to learn a lot of life lessons at the hands of your savior and her brute of a guardian–and they’re not about to let you learn them the easy way either.

Challenge: "#32 in His Rulebook" by Edible Heart Monster on Lunaescence Archives

Rating/Warnings/Tags: M (post-The Last of Us; excessive swearing; sexual references; violence against children; infected children; references to abortion; references to cannibalism; references to starvation; references to riots; implied domestic abuse; implied grooming; implied sexual relationship between an adult and a minor; death of a parent; violence; gore; blood; gun use; ableism; amputee!Reader; enemies to lovers; not canon compliant)

Pairings/Relationships: Joel/Female!Reader; Tommy/Maria; Reader/Male!OC; Ellie & Reader; Ellie & Joel; Ellie & Maria & Tommy

Tag List: @imaginesfire

Master List (with important note!)

Rule Number #3: Try not to get yourself killed. God, are you that stupid?

It soon became clear that despite her situation, Ellie was anything but depressed. Your first day behind on her on the back of Callus Two showed you that much. You found balancing with only one arm no easy feat, and she wouldn’t quit harping on your struggles. But during the long spaces of time wherein you hadn’t had to grip her desperately to stay upright, she chattered like conversation was going out of style—which, you supposed, it had.

Ellie seemed happy to ramble on about just about anything, so long as she had a captive audience. Before her endless stream of nonsense paused around noon so that she could follow a deer trail she spotted, you’d heard Ellie’s views on everything from descriptions of her last hunt to a summary of the last comic book she’d found. You listened with just about as bored an expression as you could manage. Why the fuck did she think you cared about her life? But she was the one driving, so there wasn’t much you could do. At least it looked like her nattering at you for hours on end appeased Joel, who you could have sworn you caught almost smiling once or twice.

When no one was willing to listen, she whistled. When she wasn’t allowed to do that, she read. It seemed an awful waste of pack space to let her bring magazines, and that on top of all the talking she did made you wonder why Joel had even brought her along at all. Surely the damn kid was just a liability. But whenever Joel was awake—which was, admittedly, most of the time—he glared at you every fucking time you threatened her. Hell, he even seemed to orient himself around her, like she was his sun, the entire damn center of his universe.

But you still couldn’t figure out exactly what the fuck the two of them were doing. You didn’t just drag children into those kinds of situations, not unless you were trying to repay some debt, or at least trying to look like you were. But Joel and Ellie knew each other—what was more, they seemed to like each other. Ellie called him “Joel” happily, not like a kid trying distance itself from a shitty parent. Besides, Joel was way too old to be her dad. But then, he didn’t act much like he had around girls that age.

So what did Joel gain from keeping Ellie around?

“Anyway, after that, it was a pretty simple job of untying the knot. Boy, Joel sure was lucky to have me around for that. Not that he thanked me for that rescue either.”

“Kid,” you said, not bothering to keep the haggard note from your voice. “Do you ever shut up? How the fuck haven’t you got you and your friend turned into fucking Clicker chow by now?”

“Because,” Joel said testily as his horse clopped up beside Callus Two, “she can actually take care of herself, and knows to keep her fucking voice down.”

Instead of bothering to respond to him, you glowered. Joel was, as of that moment, an unknown. He barely spoke unless he wanted to tell Ellie what a mistake you were. During those times Ellie had run off to chase after rabbits and left you alone with Joel, it seemed pretty obvious that he had to restrain himself from shooting you.

“Keep it up, Ellie,” he added with a nod in her direction.

“Oh, we have a guest party member that Joel doesn’t like, so I get free rein to do whatever I want?” She beamed. “I’m going to have to adopt people more often!”

“Don’t even think about it.”

With another scowl in your direction, Joel picked up Shadowfax’s reins, and the horses started to move again. You let a long breath of air out of your nose as you looked around. The forest was starting to thin. Judging by the direction your troop had been moving the past day and a half, you were now farther west than you’d started. What that meant, you had no idea. It was not as though state lines meant anything those days.

But it did mean that you were getting sick of traveling with Ellie and Joel. Owing Ellie so much was just another bur under your skin. As you stared around, you leaned farther back from her, farther and farther, until you could only see the sky.

The horse below you whinnied. That was the only warning you had. The very next second, it reared. Your arm scrabbled around Ellie; your breath came fast in your ears, but you certainly hadn’t regained any of your missing balance. Before the horse had even thought of setting its hooves back on the ground, you fell backwards, landing on your back with a single, loud expletive.

“See, now,” came Joel’s voice from somewhere above you. “Ellie would have known not to shout at something as simple as falling off a fucking horse.”

“Fuck you,” you growled as you sat up.

Your head spun, but through that haze you could see that Joel had stopped his horse right in front of Ellie’s. He stood on the ground while Ellie, still perched atop Callus Two, looked irritably between the two of you. Her expression changed when she caught yours, swiftly rearranging into one of vague concern.

“It was time to dismount anyway,” she said hastily, as though this fact would somehow make you feel less shitty.

In a trice, she had got her two feet back on the ground. As much as you loathed the idea of following either of them anywhere, your only other option was sticking around the edge of the forest, waiting to be eaten. You stood and attempted to appear haughtily unconcerned as you took several steps past them.

“Why bother with the horses if you can’t ride them all the way?” you asked over your shoulder.

“That’s none of your business,” said Joel, but Ellie ignored him:

“Safety precaution. We still have to get identified before they’ll let us, and we don’t want the horses shot out from under us while we’re too far away.”

“So we’re almost there?” you asked.

“Yeah, it’s that right there.” Ellie gestured to a building in the distance while she stroked Callus Two’s nose with her other hand.

“That’s a power plant.”

“And that’s where we live.”

Well, by then you’d seen plenty of other stupid-ass ideas. You supposed living in a power plant was one of the better ones at least. Ellie interrupted your staring by wordlessly holding out a trio of dead rabbits. Although the ends of your mouth pressed down, you took them just as silently, then went back to looking while the rest of the meat got divided up between her and Joel for transportation. Whatever Ellie had said to the contrary, her community didn’t look like much—not enough to give up your freedom for, at any rate.

“Ellie, I’m telling you, this is a bad idea.”

As usual, Joel didn’t bother to keep his voice down when he spoke about how much he didn’t want you there. Not that you could blame him. If it wasn’t for the fact that Ellie had taken your gun (“until you can show me you can use it responsibly”), you would have shot them. If it wasn’t for the fact you were pretty sure even the fucking teenager could wrestle you to the ground, you would have stabbed them with the knife Ellie kept lending you. Because that would have meant you didn’t need them. Joel had you pegged much better than the kid, which couldn’t have been more apparent than when she whispered back:

“No, it’s not. She hasn’t hurt us.”

“Because she can’t.”

“So, what were we supposed to do? Just leave here there to die?”

“Ideally.”

“Well, you know what, Joel? I—”

“You owe it to the world. Yeah, I know. Would you reel in the Messiah delusion for ten seconds? We don’t even know her name!”

Whatever Ellie’s response to that was, you lost it. Even just standing there exhausted you. If there was food and shelter and—most importantly—a break from Ellie’s voice ahead, you weren’t going to wait around to find it. Maybe the rabbits would provide you with enough of a toll to pay your way inside. Who was going to believe that she killed them anyhow? Fifteen-year-olds weren’t taught how to hunt small game.

The ground beneath your feet slanted downwards. The tilt, combined with the remaining after-effects of chopping off an arm, had you stumbling forward. But at least you were moving, without a horse or Ellie or Joel to carry you. You certainly hadn’t been capable of that much the day before. Maybe you would only have to stay a night! Then you could give Ellie her knife back, show her that you weren’t someone to trifle with, and then disappear again. After all, you’d already learned the hard way that civilization didn’t always engender civility.

Something ahead gleamed in the sunlight, causing your awkward loping to come to a halt. Your eyes flicked up toward the gate ahead. Surely they got stragglers out in the middle of nowhere like this. If anything, hunters would want to cut through just to see if they could collect anything useful. You did not, however, want to appear to be a threat. Getting shot through with bullets so close to relative safety would not be conducive to your plans to survive.

The gleaming got closer, then materialized into a chain-link fence. It didn’t look new, exactly, but someone had obviously gone to the trouble of scraping off some of the rust. A low humming emitted from the metal. Confused, you stepped closer still, hand outstretched—

—only to feel someone else’s massive hand clutch the back of your jacket right before they threw you forcefully to the ground. Stars popped across your vision, but not so distractingly that you couldn’t hear Joel’s angry snap:

“Are you trying to get yourself killed? Are you really that fucking stupid?”

Your face twisted once more into scowl, though you didn’t bother to sit up that time. Pain rocketed up and down your spine. If your missing arm didn’t kill you, the broken back Joel was going to give you fucking would. Be that as it may, your constant angry reaction to things only seemed to be giving you a reputation for not having any fucking clue how to live on your own. You didn’t even want to look at Joel. Giving him the satisfaction of seeing how frustrated you were would only make things, in your opinion, worse.

Ellie stepped into your field of vision, her eyebrows raised. “It’s electrified,” she explained.

That got you sitting up again. “No fucking way!” you said, almost too impressed to work in your regular note of sarcasm.

Without missing a beat, Ellie bent, plucked a piece of grass from the near-barren dirt, and then poked it at the fence. A spark shot up. A moment later, she held the blackened stub of vegetation out toward you.

You could not help widening your eyes. “You guys have electricity?”

“Most of us aren’t stupid enough to walk straight into the fence,” Joel said. “But if you’re all that keen to die, go ahead. Save me the fucking trouble.”

“What the fuck did I do to you, bastard?” you demanded hotly, mostly to cover the cold rushing through your veins at the thought of how close you had come to being fried. You weren’t about to tell fucking Joel thanks for saving your life, though.

He opened his mouth to reply, but he didn’t have the time to do so before two figures walking across the grass towards captured your group’s attention.

“Hey there, Joel,” a man said as he approached.

The humming, you noted, had stopped. If you weren’t so sore from falling so much, you might have tried to clamber over the gate before anyone could stop you. As it was, you couldn’t, and had to content yourself with observing the newcomers.

“Hey, Tommy,” Joel said shortly.

The other man didn’t look at him. This “Tommy” appeared younger than Joel, much less gray, and had longer hair. Still, his resemblance to Joel was unmistakable, even if the openly fond look he shot Ellie wasn’t similar to any expression you'd seen on Joel's face at all.

Behind Tommy stood a woman with a scowl drawn permanently into the skin around her mouth.

“Hey, Ellie,” Tommy said with a wink in the kid’s direction. “How was the trip?”

“Great!” Ellie grinned. “We got some rabbits.”

All eyes fell upon the rabbits sitting next to your shoes. Perhaps Ellie was afraid of explaining you because she jogged a few steps backward to take Shadowfax’s bridle and added:

“And a deer. A whole fucking deer!”

“That’s great, Ellie!” Tommy said enthusiastically. “Did you get it yourself this time?”

She looked a bit crestfallen at that. “Well…No. But I’ll fucking do it next time, mark my words!”

Tommy laughed and made to open the gate. “I’m sure you will.”

“If there’s a next time,” Joel said.

When you looked at him, his eyes bored into yours. Suddenly, the woman stood in the space Tommy had opened, her gun pointed straight at you.

“Is she a problem?” she asked, her voice cold.

Tommy frowned at you, but made no attempt to prevent the woman from shooting you.

“Yes, I’m a fucking problem,” you answered hotly. “I—”

“We brought a friend!” she cried into the tense silence.

You scowled more deeply still at the “friend” comment, but if it got you past the electric fence, you’d forgive it. After all, you hadn’t eaten since the day before your disaster of a hunting trip.

“Ellie brought a friend,” Joel grumbled.

Neither Tommy nor the woman moved. Ellie took a deep, shaky breath, then tugged you to your feet and forward. Their eyes fell upon your stump, then quickly shifted back to Ellie’s face.

“She’s hurt,” she said. “She can’t make it on her own.”

“I—”

“Shut up,” Ellie muttered.

Tommy and the woman’s eyes met, then Tommy shrugged. The woman looked just as happy about the situation as Joel did, but she took a step back before stuffing her pistol back into her halter. Joel shoved past you, and even Ellie was quick to take off after him. With your heart pounding in your throat, you snatched up the rabbits.

Although he did not smile, his voice remained casual as he made to lead you down to the power plant with only a soft, “Welcome to Jackson.”

With one final second look over your shoulder, you stepped past Tommy into Joel and Ellie’s mysteriously self-governing settlement. You wondered if it was the last time you'd ever breathe free air.

[capnmachete]

Johnny Davis x plus-size fem!OC (Period piece -- mid-1960s, Bikeriders universe but canon-divergent) PART 2: Corinne, Corinna Just another truck jockey, just another rainy night. By-request tags: @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler; @zablife Link to Part 1 here ____

It ain’t the first time you’ve seen him.  He’s been in once or twice before. You ain’t really ever paid him much mind since he’s usually gettin’ there just as you’re clockin’ out.  And he don't seem especially noteworthy. Don't look any different than any of the other guys that roll in late at night, air-brakes squeakin’ and huffin’, big tires crunchin’ gravel in the parkin’ lot. 

Tonight you’re workin’ a few minutes over, waitin’ on always-late Sharlette to show up.  It’s startin’ to rain – one of those big boomers that rolls in all of a sudden, dark purple clouds pilin’ up, wind whippin’ the corn around on the other side of the highway.  A bolt of lightnin’ flashes outside, and the thunder cracks so loud it startles you.  You near-about drop a plate of scrambled eggs, catch it just in time and cuss under your breath a little. 

By the time you look up, on your way to deliver the eggs, there’s a big red Peterbilt in the lot.  The driver trots in, shoulders hunched up, hands in pockets and head down, bill of a tattered feed cap pulled down low against the heavy raindrops.  Just another truck jockey on another rainy night.

And about to be somebody else’s customer.  You’re already takin’ your little white apron off, ready to clock out and call it a day, when Gus hollers at you to come in the kitchen.  “Sharlette’s kid’s sick; she ain’t comin’ in tonight after all.  You up to workin’ a double?”

No.  Not just no but hell no.  Your feet are tired and it’s been a slow night. Tips have been lousy, and you really just wanna go home and unclip your damn nylons, unpin your hair and put on a robe and fuzzy slippers.  Eat ice cream.  Read one of those silly romance novels you get from the library until you fall asleep. 

But more hours means more pay, and Gus ain’t got nobody to cover anyway.  Stuck-up Tiffany won’t work the night shift, and Darlene quit a week ago.  “C’mon, Corinna, I’m beggin’ ya,” Gus implores, all big-eyed.

And you cave.  Because you got more heart than common sense – that’s what Momma always says, and you’re startin’ to reckon she’s right.

And later on you’re glad you did. Else it mighta been Sharlette – or God forbid, Tiffany and her snooty self -– that wound up sittin’ down and drinkin’ coffee with the just-another-truck-jockey that turned out to be a dreamboat in disguise.  Mighta been one of them that wound up out here in the bed of Johnny’s pickup truck tonight, instead of you, and wouldn’t that be a cryin’ shame?

That first night, you come trudgin’ back out of the kitchen, tyin’ your apron back on, mad as a wet hen.  Not Sharlette’s fault – kids get sick, and her husband took off, so it ain’t like she’s got anybody to help out.  Doesn’t improve your mood any though, and you probably ain’t at your perkiest when you slap a menu down in front of the man at the counter.  Certainly not in a flirtin’ mood.

It don’t matter, not really, because he ain’t the flirtin’ type anyway.  Not in the way you’re used to, anyhow – wolf whistles and big toothy grins, cheesy questions about what a fine healthy broad like you is doin’ in a place like this. 

He pulls his feed cap off – Eastern Freightways –  and sets it down on the counter.  Not a bad lookin’ guy underneath – thick dark hair slicked back neat, beard growin’ in.  Just tired lookin’, past thirty for sure.  Big grimy-knuckled trucker hands, heavy lines carved into his forehead.  Ears that poke out a little.  And a pretty, girlish mouth that sticks out in the middle of an otherwise all-man face. 

He orders a coffee, eyes flickin’ down to the laminated menu – Corinna’s Diner, Breakfast Served 24/7 – and back up again, at your nametag.  “This your place?”

That makes you laugh.  A snort, not exactly dainty and fetchin’, but it’s been a long night.  And it ain’t the first time you’ve heard the question.  “Heck, no.  Not the Corinna, just a Corinna.  Mama named me after an old-time country song.”

His eyes light up, when it clicks in his head.  “Yeah, hey, I know that one, right?"  Corinne, Corinna – where you been so long?  He hums a few bars. “That one?”

You’re a little surprised; you’ve never heard him say more than a word or two.  Always polite – yes ma’am, no ma’am, please and thank you – but not a whole lot more.  “Mm-hm, that’s the one,” you nod. 

He laughs – a low chuckle, cigarette-raspy.  “Prolly datin’ myself a little there, right?”  he asks you, and grins. 

Turns out Mr. Eastern Freightways has got a smile that lights his face up – peels the years and the weariness back.  Teeth a little crooked but it's endearin', in a boyish kinda way. And his eyes are kind, blue-gray and crinkled around the corners.  Maybe that’s the first time he steals a little sliver of your heart; you can see it now, lookin’ back, although you didn’t notice it then. 

It’s hard not to smile back, so you do, even though you’re tired as all getout.  “A little.  Maybe,” you admit, flashin’ him your pearly whites.  Everybody says you have a nice smile.  Pretty, for a big girl.

He says so too.  “You got a nice smile,” he tells you, soundin’ sincere.  “Pretty.”   He leaves off the last part - for a big girl.  You wonder if he’s thinkin’ it; if he is, he don’t say it. 

"Thank you," you tell him.  And then Gus hollers from behind the kitchen pass-through, slaps his hand down hard on the little silver bell.  “Order up!  Heart attack on a rack!” 

By the time you come back from droppin' the plate off at a booth and refillin' a coffee, Mr. Eastern Freightways is gone – out into the rain again, glass door swingin’ shut behind him, bell jinglin'.  Nothin’ left at the counter but a half-smoked Marlboro, stubbed out, and two singles pinned under an empty cup. Big tipper; coffee only costs sixty cents.

You turn to the cash register to ring it out, just in time to hear the needle drop on the jukebox.  Corinna, Corinna – where you been so long?  Some doo-wop version, not the old country-and-western one Momma likes – but still.  Ain't that somethin'?

Outside there’s the squeak and sigh of airbrakes; tires crunching gravel in the rain, a flash of red and chrome movin’ out onto the highway.  You catch yourself smiling – laugh to yourself, and tuck the extra buck-forty away in your apron.  Maybe not such a bad night after all. __ Song inspo: Corinne, Corinna by Bob Wills and the Texas Playboys (1942) Corinne, Corinna by Big Joe Turner (1956) heart attack on a rack: bacon sandwich on toast

[musings-of-a-rose]

Jump Then Fall - Part 2

Pairing: Javier Peña x ofc “Vanessa Morales”

Word Count: 5100+

Rating: M for mature - 18+ only!

Warnings: Please be aware there is an 11 year age gap. Mature themes and some canon mentioned. Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story.

Notes: This one doesn’t have any Javier, but I promise the rest of them will! When the story starts, Vanessa is 19 and Javier is 30.

**Shoutout to @vanemando15 for listening and bouncing ideas from me, for holding my hand, and for her guidance with being a Latina herself. Without her, this wouldn’t even be a thing, just another line on my WIP spreadsheet. And also to my husband, who is also Latino and answered any questions I had (along with taking me to Colombia back in 2014). And to @wyn-n-tonic, who listened to my rambles and insecurities about writing an oc in first person.

**If you want to be added to the taglist, join here or let me know!

❤If you enjoy the fic, please consider giving me a warm beverage! (It is not required in any way!)

Jump Then Fall Masterlist

General Masterlist

Javier Peña Masterlist

<<Part 1<<

The drive back to Corpus Christi was uneventful, although my thoughts were anything but. Memories of the night before kept flashing through my mind, the way he touched me, made me feel, the way his nose just barely skirted across my skin, the way he nipped at my chin. The care he gave me and how he took his time when he found out I was inexperienced, rather than running away. There was much more to Javier Peña than what was on the surface, one quick glance into his deep brown eyes was enough to convince me of that. Which made me sad, considering I’d never see him again. 

I blink and I’m in the driveway, putting the car into park. I have no memory of the drive here, which is slightly terrifying. But before I can think any more on that, my mother comes running out of the house, taking my face in her hands and saying a quick prayer in Spanish to bless my safe return before kissing me on both cheeks. It’s then she looks over my shoulder and realizes no one else is in the car with me.

“Did you drive alone, mija?”

Time to lie. “No. I dropped off some people just past Laredo.”

Her face relaxes. “Oh good. I’m glad you made friends.” She claps her hands together. “Come! Tell us all about your trip while you help me with dinner.”

I tell my parents all about my time in Mexico, how I not only taught English but helped to build the church and the school house, how I made some friends and how others got called to another mission.

“The university wants to talk to me tomorrow and talk about the summer. To see if they should continue the program.”

My dad smiles at me. “We are so proud of you, mi niña. Setting such a good example to others.”

“Speaking of good examples…Miguel is still single.”

“Mami!” I blush, heat rising up my cheeks at the mention of Miguel. She had been trying to get us together for years, but neither of us had feelings beyond friendship. 

She points at me. “Miguel es un buen muchacho [Miguel is a good boy]. When will you see that and go on a date with him? I want nietos already.”

I groan. “Mami! I’m not ready for kids right now.”

She looks at me, waving her hand. “No entiendo Vanessa [I don’t understand] . By your age, I was already engaged to your father.”

—-

My life settled back into its normal monotonous routine: class, job, home, sleep. Repeat. I never realized exactly how boring my life was until I had spent the summer in Mexico. 

More like, until I spent the night with Javier.

I wonder where he is now. Is he still on his business trip? It’s been just over a month since we had our…meet. I got the feeling he was going to be gone for a while and that he either wouldn’t or couldn’t talk about it. Maybe he’s a spy? I chuckle at the thought. Wherever he is, I hope he’s doing well. 

Based on my report, the university decides to repeat the program the following summer with new teachers and asks me to give a little seminar on what I did, what to expect, what to pack, and everything that I think they should know. I have to admit, it was nerve wracking getting up in front of everyone. I felt nauseous all day thinking about getting on that stage and talking. But everyone was interested and asked great questions, immediately putting me at ease. My professors thanked me for everything and said they’d be in touch with me about possibly returning the next summer. I’d never really thought about going back, but the thought is definitely tempting. 

And maybe I can stop in Laredo on the way back. No, Vanessa. It was a one time thing. You’re probably making up the connection you felt. There’s no way he felt anything for you. 

—-

A couple months later, my mom calls me down to the kitchen where she’s gathering up her purse, a paper list in her hand. 

“Do you need anything from the store, mija?” 

“I don’t think so. Just….maybe no pork? I can’t stand the smell of it now.”

My mom chuckles. “Mexico really changed you. Carnitas used to be your favorite.”

Even just the thought of pork, which I hadn’t had the entire time I was in Mexico, made my stomach churn. 

“I guess I just got used to not eating it a few times a week.”

She nods and then looks around. Spotting no one, she leans in close to me and nearly whispers. “Do you need more…lady things?”

I furrow my eyebrows together. What is she - oh. My mom was always sort of embarrassed by periods, and so, if she had to talk about it, she would always whisper, afraid anyone would hear her talk about something that is experienced by arguably more than half the planet. 

“Uh, no. I don’t think so?”

“You haven’t gotten any more since Mexico. Do you still have some?”

“Uh…let me check.”

I go upstairs and into my bathroom, kneeling to open the under the sink cabinet. I shuffle some things around and grab the boxes of pads I had put back when I returned from Mexico. There’s a bunch left, almost as if I hadn’t used any since I got back.

Had I used any since I got back?

I close the doors and head back to my mom, telling her I was still good with pads. She looks slightly relieved at not having to traverse the feminine hygiene isle, giving me a small smile and squeezing my shoulder. 

“When I get back, I’ll need help with dinner.”

I don’t mind helping with dinner, as I do like to eat, but I wish she’d stop asking me about Miguel. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that Miguel was now dating Maria - they just weren’t telling anyone yet. I wasn’t supposed to know either, but I went into the church storeroom one day to grab a few extra Bibles and I saw them making out. Which immediately made me think of Javier, the place between my thighs tingling at the mere thought of his name. I wish I knew more about him- no, Vanessa. Don’t go down that path any more.

“...you invite Miguel over after church?”

“Hhmm?” I hadn’t been listening to anything my mom had been saying.

“Miguel. Why don’t we invite him to our after church lunch?”

“Uh..no. Miguel won’t want to do that.”

She looks at me out of the corner of her eye as she continues chopping.. “And why not? You are a beautiful girl, smart. You would have good babies-”

“He’s already with Maria, mom.”

She stops chopping and looks at me. “Maria?”

“Delgado.”

“Ay. That girl is bad news.”

“Miguel seems to like her.”

“Ah, well..men can be blind.”

—-

“We’re going to be late, mija! Hurry up!”

“Just a minute!” I yell, desperately trying to zip up my church dress. 

I wear this one often but it had been a few weeks and for some reason, the zipper won’t budge. I let out a puff of air in frustration, yanking the dress back down my body. Now that the dress is off my body, I look at the zipper, seeing no fabric stuck in it. I try to zip it closed and it glides easily up. 

“Oh sure. Now you want to zip.”

I toss it on my bed, turning back towards my closet when I catch sight of myself in the mirror. I stand there in my bra and underwear, looking at my body. Did I…did I gain weight? I haven’t changed my eating. If anything, I’ve been eating less. I turn to the side, my hands gliding over the skin on my lower stomach. I can see a small pooch there and I grunt in confusion. How did I gain weight if I’ve been avoiding so much food? 

“Vanessa!”

I poke my head out of my door. “I’m not feeling well, mom. I’m going to stay home.”

She pauses. “You shouldn’t miss church.”

“I don’t want to get everyone sick.”

She pauses again and I swear I can hear her nod. “Ok. We will be back after lunch. I’ll bring you back some soup.”

“Thanks, mom.”

I hear the door downstairs close, the car pulling out of the driveway and driving off down the road. I wait about 15 minutes before I pull on whatever clothes I can find that fit me, grabbing my wallet and keys before getting in my car. I have to get some stomach medicine or something. I head to the pharmacy, thankful that the people I know who work here are all at church. I don’t want anyone to see me buying medicine to stop me throwing up my insides. I scan the rows of bottles for the ones for upset stomach. I grab one, flipping the box over for directions, my lips moving with the words as I read them.

“.....as long as symptoms persist. If symptoms worsen or do not improve after 3 days, call your doctor right away. Do not use if pregnant or breastfeeding. May cause interactions with certain medications…”

I freeze, my eyes rewinding the words I just read.

“Do not use if pregnant or breastfeeding….pregnant…pregnant…”

My brain kicks into high gear, and I stare at the bottle, not really seeing it. The boxes of pads that were sitting unused from my time in Mexico still sit unused under my sink. My aversion to foods I normally loved. The fact I can only keep about half of my food down. The weight gain despite this. My lower belly…my hand instinctively comes up to my belly, placing my hand there for a moment as panic starts to set in.

Could I be…no. Javier used a condom. He showed me as he did it. That’s supposed to prevent…prevent…

I grip the bottle of medicine in my hand, knuckles going white. Slowly, I turn and head out of the isle, looking for the one with the women’s products. I turn it down, grateful that it’s empty. I stand in front of the pads, pretending I’m looking for some while my eyes scan down the rows of pregnancy tests. It’s all overwhelming and I can feel the panic rising rapidly in my body. I quickly grab a box at random, hiding it under my arm as I make my way up to the register. No one is in line and I don’t know the cashier. I place the bottle of medicine and the pregnancy test on the counter, looking around nervously for anyone I may know. If the cashier thought anything of my purchase, they didn’t show it, scanning the items and quickly placing them in a bag as I handed them cash. 

When I get home, I run upstairs, locking my bathroom door behind me just in case my parents come back early. My parents. What am I going to say to them? One step at a time, Vanessa. You may just have some weird stomach thing. I take a breath and open the bag, setting the bottle down on the counter and pulling out the small box of pregnancy tests. I throw up once more before opening the box and pulling out the directions, reading them several times through tear blurred vision. I somehow manage to pee on the stick, setting it aside and looking at my watch to check the time. 

This has got to be the slowest 3 minutes of my life. 

When I check my watch and it’s finally time, I take a deep breath before…taking another deep breath. And then I flip the test over. 2 bright pink lines stare up at me and I hold the stick against the directions comparing them. Double lines means pregnant. Pregnant. I’m pregnant. 

I drop the stick, sinking down to the floor as I put my back against the wall. How am I pregnant? I only ever had sex with Javier and that was only one time. And he wore one of those condoms. Aren’t they supposed to stop people from having babies? Wait, if I’ve been pregnant since then, I’m like 3 months along. I should be making a doctor’s appointment. What doctor can I go to that doesn’t know my parents? 

My parents.

There’s no way I’m going to be able to hide a baby from them. How do I explain it? Hey mom, dad. I met a stranger in Laredo and we had sex and now I’m pregnant even though he wore a condom. 

What do I do?

—--

I spent the next 2 weeks trying to figure out what I was going to do. I wasn’t sure how my parents would react, considering they did want grandkids. But there’s no way they’re going to approve of this baby. In case of the worst, I start gathering up little things here and there - a few random pieces of clothes, the toiletry kit I had brought to Mexico, some little trinkets. I managed to sneak them down to my car, leaving them in the trunk in case I had to leave quickly. I really hope it didn’t come to that. But when I could no longer zip up my favorite pair of pants, I knew I had to tell them. 

We all sit down to dinner, mom passing out plates and filling my papá’s plate with a large portion of food. Once everyone is settled, and grace is said, I clear my throat, my mom glancing up at me as she picks up her fork. 

“I uh…I have to tell you something.”

My papá spears some food on his fork and takes a bite, chewing as he turns his head towards me, a questioning look on his face. 

“Did that Miguel finally get rid of Maria?” My mom asks.

“What? No. I don’t know? That’s not-”

“I knew that girl was trouble. Always showing off in choir. You know, her mom said she got some fancy scholarship to a music school, but here she is, still here. I wonder why-”

“Mami. I need to say something.”

“-why she’s still here? She probably stayed for that boy. Maybe it’s good-”

“MAMI!”

“-good that Miguel didn’t ask Vanessa out. Maybe he’s no good-”

“I’m pregnant.”

Silence. You could hear the grass growing outside it’s so quiet. My parents stare at me, the fork halfway to my papá’s open mouth. 

“What?” My mom asks.

I hesitate a moment. “I’m…I’m pregnant.”

“That’s not funny, Vanessa. Don’t you joke about something like this. You know I don’t like the humor you young people think is funny.”

I look down at my plate before looking back at her. “I’m not…I’m not joking.”

Silence again. No movement. But I can feel the disappointment, the anger building in them.

“I’m about…3 months? I think?”

Still silence.

“I only just found out.” I cast my eyes down, looking at my plate of untouched food and realize that half of it I actually want to eat, while the other half makes me want to run to the bathroom. 

“Salga [Get out].” He says it quietly, but his tone has layers of anger, hurt, and disappointment all trying to bubble out.

I look up, surprised that it’s my papi saying it. 

“What?”

“Salga. Yo no te quiero en esta casa. [Get out. You are no longer welcome in this house].”

“But papi-”

“Don’t! Largarte!  Now.”

I glance at my mom, who has tears in her eyes. She gives me a look of utter disgust and looks away from me, showing her support of her husband’s decision. 

I stand, pushing the chair away from the table. “Can I just grab some thing-”

“You should have thought of that before you opened yourself up for a man. What were you thinking? You are no longer a daughter of mine!”

My papi’s words slice through me like butter, stabbing me so hard that tears start to fall before I even know they’re there. I walk to the front door, pausing only to put on my shoes before getting in my car and driving about a block before I sit at the stop sign. I knew deep down this may be their reaction, which is why I started packing my trunk. But it still hurts. I need my parents right now, but…

Where do I go?

I turn left, driving a few blocks to knock on my friend Ximena’s door. But instead of my friend, her mom comes to the door, a stern look on her face as she shoos me away, telling me I’m not welcome in their home. I’m met with the same reaction at the next 3 places I go and I realize that my parents must have called everyone we knew to tell them not to let me in, that I had done something so terrible. I doubt they told anyone the truth, that their only child was unwed, single, and pregnant, but our church community is so strong, they apparently didn’t need more than my parent’s word to kick me out. 

I stop at a little diner across town, a burger actually sounding really good to me. As I eat, I think about what to do next. It’s getting late, and while I could rent a hotel room, I won’t have enough money to do that for very long. I have no friends left in Corpus Christi, that much is clear. So…where do I go? As I eat and let the tears fall, I think about that night, about Javier. And I realize, there’s only one place left for me to go, even if it’s just until I get on my feet. I finish eating, leaving money on the table for the bill and tip, and head out to my car. It’s a 4 hour drive there, which I can’t do in the dead of night. I drive to the highway and find the closest motel, getting a room for the night that I can cry myself to sleep in.

—----

The next day, I start the drive to Laredo, oddly calm considering the situation. I can do this next step - get to Laredo. I’ll ask around for Javier and see if anyone knows where he lives. I don’t expect anything from him, and I’ll tell him as much. But I would appreciate a place to stay while I figure out where to go next. 

After a few bathroom stops, I finally make it to Laredo, finding the bar I had met Javier in that night. It’s not open for a few hours, so I take that time to have some lunch and a short nap in my car, waking to the sound of the main door closing. I walk up to it and push it open, walking inside. The bartender is cleaning down the bar, getting things set up for the rush in a few hours.

“Excuse me?”

He turns to me, wiping out the glass in his hand.  “Yes, ma’am?”

“I’m looking for a Javier Peña? He’s about this tall-”

The bartender chuckles. “I know Javier. Haven’t seen him in a bit though.”

“Oh.”

The bartender seems to sense my despair and he sets the now clean glass down. “Look, his dad lives on a farm just outside of town. I’ll give you the address and maybe he can tell you where Javier is.” He scribbles down an address on a napkin and hands it to me, giving me a small smile. 

“Thanks.”

“No problem.”

—-

I pull up to the Peña farm about 40 minutes later, after the bartender had given me some general directions. It’s not a large farm but it’s not small either, and I think I can see a river in the far distance. I park in front of the farmhouse and get out, smoothing out my dress before walking to the front door and knocking. At first, no one answers. But then I hear clanging coming from the barn around back, so I head in that direction, poking my head just inside the barn door.

“Excuse me?”

The man in the barn stops hammering and turns quickly to look at me, hammer slightly raised in defense. He’s older, a nearly all white mustache with matching hair poking out from under a white cowboy hat, glasses poised on the edge of his nose. His eyes remind me of Javier’s and I realize this must be his dad. 

“You must have taken a wrong turn, señorita. Town is several miles that way.” He points and I give him a small smile.

“Actually…are you señor Peña?”

He studies me for a moment. “Depends. Which Peña are you looking for?”

“Javier’s papá?”

He looks at me, trying to figure out why I would be here talking to him. “He’s not here.”

“Not back from his business trip?”

He shakes his head. “No.”

“Any idea when he will be back?

“No. Probably not anytime soon.”

I nod, my face falling slightly. 

“Can I help you with anything?”

“I uh…I’m not sure. Maybe this was a stupid idea.”

I turn to leave, willing the tears that had been building in my eyes to not fall.

“Wait.”

I stop, looking up at the older Peña. His eyes glance down towards my belly, where I had unconsciously placed my hand. A look of realization washes over him and his kind eyes meet mine, an odd expression in them.

“How old are you?”

“N..nineteen.”

He swears, glancing up at the ceiling before back at me, a hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck. “He’s the father?”

I nod, looking down at the dirt covered floor.

“You’re sure?”

I blus, not able to meet his gaze. “He’s the only one I..I’ve ever…”

He puts his hand up. “Ok ok. I understand.” He takes a deep breath and lets it out. “Are you hungry?”

That was not what I was expecting. “Oh I…I don’t expect anything.”

He smiles and it reaches his eyes, instantly calming me. “You’re not an inconvenience, you’re the mother of my only grandchild. Come.”

He waves his hand for me to follow him, placing the hammer down on his workbench before we head to the main house. It’s a 2 story farm house, sparsley decorated with furniture that he most likely got when Javier was born. It’s worn but well loved and I instantly feel a sense of safety, despite never having been here. He leads me into the kitchen and has me sit at the little island bar while he makes me a simple sandwich, asking me what I’m not eating and what is safe. He slides me a glass or orange juice, saying it was fresh squeezed and good for the vitamin c. I take it, thanking him while I try not to inhale the food, not having eaten in several hours. Chucho clears his throat and I swallow the last bite of my sandwich, looking at him as I take a sip of the juice.

“Did you tell him?”

I set the glass down, spinning it counterclockwise for a moment. “No. I only found out a couple of weeks ago.”

He nods. “How far along?”

“Around 3 and a half months?”

“Have you been to a doctor?”

I shake my head. “Like I said, I only found out a couple weeks ago and my parents kicked me out when they found out so…”

He swears under his breath. “We need to get you to a doctor.”

“I don’t have the money for that. I don’t have the money for anything. Oh God, I don’t have money! How am I going to…to…”

Tears start flowing out of nowhere, uncontrollable as I sob at this man’s table. Chucho comes to stand next to me, turning my body to hug me as he lets me sob into his shirt. He makes calming sounds, telling me everything will be fine. That I’m not alone. 

“But…but I am alone, Chucho.”

“Not anymore. You have me.”

I look up at him, blinking away the last of my tears. “Oh no, I couldn’t-”

“What did I say earlier? You’re the mother of my only grandchild. Can I assume you have nowhere to stay?”

“I’m ok in my car.”

He gives me a stern look. “That won’t do. You’ll take one of the rooms here.”

I shake my head, starting to wave him off. “Oh, I couldn’t-”

“You can. What you can’t do is live in your car pregnant and with a baby.”

He feels fatherly, warm and safe and I can feel the tears coming on again so I nod, accepting the help that I desperately need. “Th-thank you. I promise I’ll earn my keep.”

He shakes his head. “There’s no need-”

“Please. Let me at least clean and cook? My mami taught me how and I can make really good food.”

“It’s not necessary-”

“Please let me do this?”

He studies me for several long moments. “Alright. But when you’re near your time, you’re going to rest, understand?”

I nod, smiling slightly. “Thank you, Chucho.” I take another sip of my juice while he takes a swig of his beer, the sound of the ticking clock loud in the silence of the house.

“You said Javier won’t be back anytime soon. Can I ask what he does?”

“He didn’t tell you?”

I blush. “Oh, well we uh..didn’t really…he didn’t-”

“Ay I don’t need to know,” he chuckles. “But Javier is in Colombia, working hard to take down Pablo Escobar.”

I spit out my juice, apologizing profusely as I try to dry it up with a paper towel. “He’s what?”

“Yeah. DEA. So when I said it won’t be anytime soon…”

“Was he happy to go?”

“He definitely saw it as a promotion, a chance to go and prove himself.”

I knew about Pablo Escobar of course, but to hear that my Javier- no, not my Javier. Just Javier - was trying to catch him? That is impressive.

“He doesn’t call often, but next time he does, you can tell him about the baby-”

“No!”

Chucho looks at me, straightening himself up and squaring his shoulders. “No?”

I take a breath. “I know I only spent a….little time with Javier, but he seems like the guy to try and be honorable?” Chucho shrugs and nods. “Then I can’t tell him.”

“Why?”

“Because if I do, he’ll come home. And then he will resent us. I can take it, but the baby? I can’t do that to my child. He will resent us both for bringing him home from this huge career move. We are only 2 people. The entire world needs him. Plus, what if....what if he doesn't come back?”

Chucho’s eyes are hard as he processes what I’ve said. “You’re right about Javi, but I still think you should tell him. He deserves to know.”

“I’ll tell him. I will. When he catches Escobar.”

“That could be years, Vanessa.”

I nod. “I know. And I take full responsibility.”

“That you are.”

—----

Chucho holds true to his word, inviting me to live in his home. I cook and clean for him and, even though he grumbles about it, I see him coming to dinner on time more and more, being able to rest after a long day on the farm as opposed to cleaning. As we eat, he tells me more about Javier, his childhood and the man he grew to become. What I don’t tell Chucho is that with every story, even the bad ones, I fall a little harder for his son.

He also works out a deal with a doctor in town so I can get OB care until I can get insurance. One day, he comes home from church with a crib and several boxes of baby stuff, saying the women in his church donated their old baby things to me (he’d told them I was his new live in maid, a young girl who was recently single. Not an exact lie, but they all assumed the man either left me or I was widowed, which made them open their hearts a little more to me). 

He made me stop working so hard around 33 weeks, saying I should’ve stopped sooner. He insists I rest and relax, feed into my nesting instinct. He had cleaned out one of the other rooms to make nursery, putting the crib in there but pulling out an old bassinet from the attic, telling me it was Javier’s. 

Chucho is there holding my hand when I go into labor and is there when my son is born. Javier Alexander Morales Peña came screaming into the world, just as every bit as stubborn as his dad, according to Chucho anyway. Tears well up in his eyes when he holds Alex for the first time, telling him how handsome and strong he is. That he’s truly a Peña man. 

When Alex turns 2, Chucho demands that I go back to school, as I was only a year away from getting my degree in education. He watches Alex at night while I go to school and, a year later, I graduate with my degree, landing a job that coming school year at Laredo Elementary, which gives Alex, who will be 4 soon after, a slot in their pre-k program. 

As Alex grows, he asks about his dad. I decided to tell him the truth - that his dad is a hero, trying to catch a very bad man in another country and that he can’t come back until he does. That the world won’t be safe until the bad man is caught. Alex accepts this and makes up stories about his dad, flying around with a cape and fighting off bad guys to give us all a better world. 

One summer afternoon a couple years later, Alex had just gone off to camp for a couple of weeks. He’s 6 now and “a big boy”, so he begged to go off to a science camp with his friends for a few weeks. It was hard to not have him around, but I knew he was having a great time. I’m elbow deep in sink water, washing the pans from breakfast when the phone rings. Chucho picks it up upstairs after a couple rings and when he doesn’t call for me, I know it’s for him. I finish with the last pan, setting it off to side, sliding my rubber gloves off and reaching for the drying towel. I pick up the pan, drying it off when I hear Chucho coming downstairs. He walks into the kitchen and stands there for a moment watching me.

“Chucho? You ok?”

“I uh…I’m going to the airport.”

“Chucho…Are you finally taking a vacation?”

He gives me a small smile before it leaves his face. “Actually, I’m going to pick up Javier.”

—----

>>Part 3>>

General Taglist:

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[esta-elavaris]

Flufftober Day 15: Emergency, Confession, Adventure [2,778 words]

My Flufftober '23 masterpost can be found here 💜✨

Notes: So I’m using Ada as the OC in this, and if you’ve read Catch the Wind, you’ll recognise her from that. But you don’t need to know that to understand this, it doesn’t have to take place in the same universe, it’s mostly just me taking a wee shortcut so I don’t need to built a whole new OC for the sake of this one little story.

This one was very difficult – not only because of, well, Jack, but because if I was going to do this well, it would be a good 50k words with a lot of build-up and development and all of my usual bullshit. But it’s flufftober and there’s no time for that, so it had to be super mega condensed instead. I figure you guys understand that, and shortcuts can be taken. The thing with Jack is that he's never going to be a fairytale prince (*cough*Norrington*cough*) so this was the closest I could get to a kinda sorta sweet romance involving him.

And it features murder.

Anyway, warning for canon-typical violence here 💜

Jack and Ada had something that she liked to think of as an understanding. It had begun one time, a couple of years ago, when he’d come to her tavern seeking a woman to pass the night with – before promptly finding something wrong with every single available choice on offer. Ada knew he was playing games with her then, for any woman who she employed was beautiful in some way or another, truly one for any and every taste, and so if none were to his liking (he declared that one had unsightly elbows, for god’s sake), it was because he was determined not to like any of them.

Then, when she’d asked him what exactly it was he was seeking, he’d gone to great pains…to describe her. Simply fixing her with that dark stare of his and watching with a smirk when she brought forth a girl who did look somewhat like her, before waving that girl away. Ada had laughed at him for it, and the laugh lost much of its impact when she fell into bed with him later that night.

She didn’t charge him. Not because she balked at the idea of being considered a whore, and not because she was soft on him either. No, mostly it was because she had a good time, and she knew that charging would set a dangerous precedent for the other men here. If they all thought she had a price, she’d never be rid of them. But a casual arrangement for some fun with a handsome captain who would never desire anything more from her? That wasn’t a half bad thing.

Until he got it in his head to start playing mind games.

“Jack,” she greeted when he swaggered into her tavern one night – the first night in months. “How can we help you tonight?”

By her reckoning, it had been upwards of five visits in a row that he’d chosen to wait for her to be free for the night rather than paying for the company of one of her girls. But it wouldn’t do to assume – and she knew him well enough to know his choice could be a decision to save gold…or a point of masculine pride, perhaps, for she wouldn’t fake a thing without monetary incentive. But the gold thing didn’t much check out, considering he could charm plenty of women across the island free of charge.

Still, when he sniffed and dug his hands into his pockets, she knew this time was different.

“That blonde lass, I think. Cheery one. Name like…Opal? Amethyst?...Topaz?”

Ada chuckled – something he didn’t seem to like as his dark eyes remained fixed on her for any hint of a reaction to the status quo being upended.

“I would never employ a girl called Topaz,” she teased. “It’s Pearl you’re after. I’d have thought you’d remember that easily enough. Make yourself at home and I’ll send her over.”

 He hesitated, eyes narrowing for a moment, and then he sniffed and went to his usual table. And Ada? Ada put the matter from her mind. To not expect something like this from Jack was to be an idiot, and she was not an idiot. Indeed, her greatest reaction was to secure some company for herself for the night – only once he’d absconded with Pearl, otherwise the fool would get it in his head that she was trying to make him jealous. The only thing worse than giving someone the reaction they sought was having them mistakenly think you’d done so.

There was a particular sailor in for the night – handsome, and with the outrageous confidence to match. He was happy enough to hang around until her business for the night could be left in the hands of her right-hand man, who was always complaining about not having enough responsibility. Everybody won. A fair enough form of salvaging the night, she thought.

She slipped out of her quarters in the wee small hours, the tavern empty save for those who were passed out and too heavy to haul away, clad in a silk robe that had been a gift from a captain from the east who’d sought to seduce her. He’d succeeded, for a time. The stale smell of drink, smoke, and sweat lingered in the humid air – on the rare occasion they managed to get rid of it while they were closed, it would be gone just in time for them to reopen again the next day, repeating the process. When she found Jack sitting in the dark at the bar without that usual smug post-fuck look on his face, she suspected he could not say the same. Which was surprising, for Pearl was very talented – and more than charming.

“Drink?” she asked.

“Do I have to pay for it?”

“Usually I’d charge you double for the cheek of asking,” she snorted. “But we’re closed…and this is from my own stash.”

Retrieving a bottle of wine from beneath the loose wooden floorboard, she slid atop the stool beside his, uncorked it, took a gulp, and then handed it in his direction. Ordinarily at this hour, had they spent the night with one another, they’d have lapsed into quiet chat about nothing in particular – in a way that circled around to be about everything. He’d tell tales of his adventures, of the fantastical things he had seen in such a way that she was often left wondering if he was teasing her or not.

And Ada? Well, Ada hadn’t seen much beyond Tortuga. She’d come here young, very young, with her parents and worked her way up to where she was now once they died not long thereafter. So she told him what she wanted to see. Not in a dirty way, either. Of myths and legends she’d heard, and how she planned to find out for herself one day whether they were true or not. She had a plan for that, too, in the form of her ‘one day’ fund, carefully hidden in her room. She’d been adding to it ever since she stopped living hand to mouth, and one day was drawing nearer and nearer – she just knew it.

Jack was one of the few who did not laugh at her when she told him that.

“Busy night, love?” he asked.

“A lady doesn’t kiss and tell,” she teased.

His moustache twitched as his lips threatened to purse, and Ada arched one dark eyebrow at him.

“A more irrational woman might think you’re showing signs of jealousy, Captain. But that would be hypocritical, would it not?”

His brow furrowed for a moment, but then he sniffed, shrugged, and handed the bottle back to her before speaking lightly.

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“You wouldn’t?”

“No. I would not. It’s different for men.”

Ada cracked a dangerous, disbelieving smile. “Oh?”

“Take the King of England. He – they, all of them collectively…consecutively, in their time King-ing – have mistresses. The queens never do. See. Different.”

“And when did you decide that the King’s standard is the one you wish to follow?”

“I’ve robbed many of his men. Allows me to make a decent assessment of what he must be like.”

Scoffing, she toyed with the neck of the bottle and rolled her eyes at how Jack’s eyes seemed to struggle in distancing themselves from the gesture.

“The queens cannot stray because it calls the line of succession into question. That is not a problem here – unless you’re truly suggesting we have a child?”

There was nothing Ada liked the idea of less. Not with him, nor with anybody. Ever.

“I might be,” he sniffed.

“Ugh.”

He grinned – but then a thud sounded from the door to her quarters, tucked where they were behind the bar, and his eyes narrowed as they sought the source of the noise.

“A moment,” she murmured, slipping from the stool and making to go and see her guest out, like any good host would.

“Ada,” Jack said.

In hindsight, she would realise she should have noted the shift in his voice. The way it morphed from teasing and casual to suddenly insistent and serious. For Jack was never serious.

“I’m saying goodbye, Jack, not going for round two,” she snorted, shrugging off the hand that tried to grab at her arm.

 Leaving swiftly so as to avoid any bickering on the topic, she rounded the bar and strode to her room. She entered to find it torn apart, the mattress askew in the frame, one of her pillows cut open, her drawers emptied and overturned. By the time she’d finished demanding what the hell he thought he was doing, he had a pistol aimed at her chest.

“Who were you talking to out there?”

God, she hoped Jack was hearing this. More still – she hoped, against all hope, that he would help.

“No one.”

“Liar.”

“No one!” she insisted loudly. “Mr Drake is passed out drunk, I was trying to wake him so he’d leave, but there was no managing it.”

The sailor’s lip curled, but he seemed satisfied enough – although he did not lower the gun.

“Where are the jewels? The gold?”

“Jewels and gold?” she breathed a laugh. “If I had much of either, I wouldn’t live here, lad.”

“This place makes a killing every night,” he jabbed the gun in her direction. “I’ve watched. I’ve noticed.”

“How observant of you,” she said drily, crossing her arms as though he was being ridiculous.

It allowed her to feel the racing of her heart all the more.

“You have to spend money to make money. Most of it goes back into the running of the establishment. Once the staff have been taken care of, I can barely afford to eat.”

“Your windows are cracked, your door is rotting, and your rum is second-rate. You’ve got a stash somewhere.”

“I have an old onyx necklace you’re more than welcome to,” she scoffed, “It only has one scratch across it, and the setting is tarnished. It might earn you a few shillings. Beyond that, I’m afraid I can’t help.”

A creak sounded in the tavern proper behind her, the sailor’s attention shot towards it, and Ada made her mistake. Her eyes darted in the direction of the porcelain dolls lined up neatly atop her wardrobe, and when she looked back to the sailor, he was already following her gaze. And then he was grinning.

He took a step in their direction, and the cocking of the pistol stopped her in her tracks when she made to follow. Tall as he was, it was little problem for him to retrieve one of the dolls – and when he shook it, it rattled heavily.

The shutters to the window were open, and he threw them one by one out of it. Ada listened to them hit the sand outside – years of careful saving and dreaming, all gone in a matter of minutes. Because she’d sought to salvage the night with the wrong person.

When the final doll was flung outside, he grinned and turned to her.

“Not often I get a bit of fun and paid for my troubles.”

“A pity your mother couldn’t say the same,” Ada shot back.

It was difficult to regret it, even as his trigger finger twitched. But, finally, he lowered the gun, grin in place as he smoothed back his blond hair.

“You’re emotional. I’ll let you have that one.”

Turning back towards the window, he leaned out of it and looked down. The tavern was on sandy terrain, and therefore on stilts, so no doubt he sought to make sure he wouldn’t land on his new prize in the dark. But then a shot rang out through the night, and his body slumped over the window frame, arms slackening and boots twitching against the floor.

Ada went down almost as quickly, arms curled over her head. A double-crossing accomplice, maybe? One who sought to double his prize? She remained there, crouched down low, poised to duck under the bed or run for Jack at the first sign of trouble, when the voice of that very pirate hissed through the night.

“Are you going to come and get these Ada, love, or am I to throw these very breakable dolls at you?”

She gawped, and then she was up in the next moment, dragging aside the corpse – it was far from the first she’d seen – and leaning over the bloodied frame. Jack stood there, smug as all hell, the very bloodied dolls gathered in his arms. Once she’d accepted them, he leapt up and grasped the sill with both hands, pulling himself up and into the room in a very annoying feat of upper body strength.

“Now,” he grunted as he clambered into the room. “I can’t say I’m not tempted to say I told you so.”

To illustrate his point, he knocked a boot against the leg of the corpse. Ada didn’t laugh. She was unable to, shakier than she’d like to show, counting and recounting the dolls over and over again, furious at her own stupidity in how she’d given the game away.

“Strange place to hide your gold, love,” he grunted.

Silently, she wrenched the head from one of the dolls, pulled a string of very fine pearls from within, and held it out in his direction.

“For your trouble,” she said flatly. “I’ll give you more if you handle the body for me.”

“I’ve never needed payment to handle bodies,” he teased, voice adopting a low note.

She didn’t laugh, taking in the wreckage of her room, still caught between shock, fury, and terror. The stock of very strong drinks next door was sounding very, very good. Even if they were second-rate.

“Ada, darlin’,” he changed tact, approaching and regarding the dolls. “If they’re all stocked up with goods like these…you’ve enough to book passage a hundred times over. What is it exactly you’re waiting for?"

"It’s not just about booking passage,” she shook her head. “I’m not looking to go from one shack to another. I want…I want adventure. Freedom. To go everywhere, see everything. I can’t do that alone – not as a woman. Look at what just happened here tonight under my own roof. I need…I need enough to pay a man or two to watch my back. Protection, food, passage for me and them, room and board…all of it.”

“Most men here would slit your throat and take the lot if they cottoned on to the stock you’ve got here.”

“I can be very charming when I need to be, Jack.”

“…Think that might only harm your case, depending on the man, love.”

Ada sighed, in no mood for this debate.

“Three necklaces,” Jack said finally.

“You’re haggling with me? Now?”

“I am not,” he looked offended at the very notion. “One for that. Two for getting rid of it. Another…for passage on the Pearl.”

Ada stared at him in disbelief. When he saw the look, he cleared his throat, frowned, and stared straight ahead – leaving her with the impression that the offer could be rescinded if she so much as breathed in a way that unsettled him in the next few minutes.

“They can spare you here for a few weeks, can’t they? Come out, see…whatever there is to see, after that…” he trailed off, shrugged, and sniffed. “That’s for after.”

“You’re asking me to travel with you?”

“Don’t get…clingy,” he made a vague sort of gesture – as if she’d ever clung – but the insult was taken from the rule when he added at a grumble. “…And don’t cavort with any of me men.”

He was offering this. Truly. Her disbelief was sharply morphing into delight.

“What about the women?”

Jack grinned. “Only if I’m invited, love.”

That could be arranged.

Links: AO3 -- FF.net -- flufftober masterpost -- dividers by cafekitsune

[astragreenwoode]

The Spitfire Curse - Chapter One

Next: Chapter Two • Masterlist • AO3 Version

Rating: Explicit(18+ ONLY)

Pairings: Eddie Munson x Fem!OC(Endgame), Billy Hargrove x Fem!OC, Steve Harrington x Fem!OC, Robin Buckley x Fem!OC, Chrissy Cunningham x Fem!OC,

Warnings: Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-Con, Canon-Typical Violence, Graphic Descriptions of Violence, Non-specified Mental Illness, Self-Harm, Drug Use, Hypersexuality, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms

Genre: Adventure, Thriller, Horror, Slow-Burn Romance, Angst, Hurt/Comfort. Smut, Fluff, Slight Canon-Divergence, Fix-it fic

And a special thanks to my beta-reader @take-everything-you-can! Thank you so much for all your feedback and ideas, love!

Chapter One: Someone Who Loves You Wouldn't Do This.

Word Count: 7681

Chapter Warnings: Recreational Drug Use, Divorce, Implied Trauma, Language, Slight Smut, Domestic Arguments, Implied Mental Illness(not specified what kind)

Chapter Summary: Maeven looks back on the day her life took a turn, leading to her and her family down a painful path, and her life being relocated to the middle of nowhere, Indiana.

I used to make a joke that I was cursed. I was blissfully unaware as the clock stroke midnight and I welcomed 1983 with my friends and family the hard turn things would take. My life would go through a painful metamorphosis that wouldn’t stop for a while. Eventually, I learned that life was chaos and the best way to cope with existing was to be the calming breeze in the middle of the storm. Unfortunately, the best lessons are taught the hard way; through pain and suffering. It took becoming too acquainted with facing death and pushing through a secret dimension that is the closest thing to hell ever seen by human eyes.

For the longest time, it seemed that my life went in a loop. Too often, my livelihood would be torn apart, leaving me to struggle as I licked my wounds and tried to move on. And just when it seemed safe enough to get comfortable and happy, another knot in the chain of rot, ruin, and pain would be added. The cycle would start anew, leaving me to spiral down like blood in water circling the drain of the shower.

But despite all the bullshit I was put through, I wouldn’t trade my life in Hawkins, Indiana for the world.

. . .

February 1983

The year started off like any other. We spent those first few months in quiet anticipation of the new goals we had set for ourselves. My Dad made a vow to not work overtime at the University of San Diego as much so he could be home for dinner and kiss us goodnight. My Mom made a vow to work hard and earn a promotion in her job at the bank. Max made a vow to compete in a local skate contest and wanted me to join her. I made a vow with my friends that we’d collaborate for the Newport High Arts Festival.

None of those resolutions ended up being met. Max and I were too occupied by whatever pulled our parents apart to accomplish them.

That February, a week after I won a prize in the science fair and two weeks after Max’s twelfth birthday, we left the house for school with a deafening silence between us. My little sister and I fast walked toward the bus stop gripping each other’s sweaty hands like a vice. I clenched my knuckles tightly around the shoelaces of my skates slung over my shoulder as Max nervously tapped her nails on her skateboard clutched in her other hand. Normally, we’d have skate-offs to see who could reach the bus stop first. It wasn’t one of those days; Max needed her sister, and I needed mine.

Dad was supposed to drive us that morning. He even promised he’d get up early so he could make breakfast and watch the morning news with us and Mom. These things used to make up our regular morning routine, but Dad hadn’t been able to join us and be present the way he did before for at least the past six months. I couldn’t tell anymore, and I couldn’t remember exactly the last time I saw him awake before school. He would either be too tired after getting home from work or passed out from drinking too much. 

I was looking forward to it so much that the excitement caused me to wake up before my alarm clock went off. But when Max and I came downstairs all packed for school and eager for breakfast, we found him passed out on the couch with the T.V. still on and a cluster of beer bottles on the table.

That morning, our Mom and Dad had their earliest and most intense argument that we’d yet seen. The last thing we heard as I pulled Max along with me out the door was my mother yelling “Sometimes, I wonder if you even care about us at all!”

Up until now, they had usually been in the next room or so over trying to muffle their yelling between the walls. This was the first time they knowingly fought in front of us. I was in such a hurry to get us out of there that I didn’t turn the doorknob three times before locking it like I always do.

We started walking slower as soon as we couldn’t hear the screams anymore and loosened our grip on our things and each other.

“Sooooo. . .what classes do you have today?”

I laughed at her timing and felt relief at the break in the tension that hung heavy in the air like a storm cloud. But as soon as I noticed Max’s lack of sarcasm in her tone and that she wasn’t laughing with me, the weight on my shoulders returned.

I didn't blame her for not wanting to talk about it. But we had to do it eventually. The elephant in the room was growing unruly and anxious. It threatened to tear the house apart.

“Are we seriously not gonna talk about what just happened?”

“You tell me," Max grumbled, staring at the ground as we continued walking. "You haven’t said shit this last month or so.”

I wasn't blameless in ignoring the situation. But up until this morning, I didn't think the tension between our parents would lead to this.

“It’s not like I don’t want to, Max. I’m still trying to process what Mom yelled back there.”

“Yeah. . ." she scoffed. "She’s sure one to talk, huh? It’s not like she’s never been passed out drunk on the couch instead of paying attention to her family, right?”

“You’re not wrong," I wheezed out at her.

Before getting her job as a bank teller, Mom had been working as a nurse at the busiest hospital in San Diego since before she married my Dad and had me. But the E.R. got busier and busier. The HIV crisis turned it grim. Mom and Dad ended up losing a few of their close friends from back in the 60s. It hit both of them hard, but Mom was the one who had to witness the disease rotting people from the inside out first-hand.

At first, her drinking wasn't anything serious; just one bottle every night at dinner to help take the edge off. But then, my uncle tested positive, and it was all suddenly so personal. He went so quickly before we even really got a grasp that it was happening. It tore Mom apart, losing her baby brother so brutally.

“Dad was there for her through her crap. Why can’t she do the same?” Max let go of my hand and wiped the sweat off her palms before gripping her skateboard in her arms. I wiped my palm, too.

“Hey. Be nice. She’s trying. It definitely wasn’t always easy for Dad to keep his shit together for her," I pointed out, lifting her chin gently to meet her ocean-blue eyes, a shade or two lighter than my own.

Mom was able to get sober with our and Dad's help, but she couldn't be a nurse anymore. The whole situation made the mention of the word "hospital" leave her sick with melancholy.

“Okay, fine. I guess you’re right. But it’s not just her, y’know? Ever since Dad came back, he’s been. . .different.”

As things were just getting back to normal, Dad was called back by the Army to help fight in the cold war. He was an engineer who helped fight in the Vietnam War and was absent for the first year and a half of Max’s life. After he played his part and came back home, he was different in the best way. Throughout our childhoods, he no longer took like for granted and spent his days making up for the time he wasn’t here with us.

 He didn’t go back to fight in the Cold War for too long, but that short time made a big difference in his personality. I didn't know much about what happened to him during his time fighting overseas. All I knew was that he was awarded a lot of medals for his service. Too often, Max and I would look at them and ask him what they were for. Max didn’t understand what all of them exactly meant, which Dad was grateful for. He wanted us to stay kids for as long as we could. But he couldn’t stop me from theorizing what orders he had to follow for him to earn those medals. My favorite was his Purple Heart.

He was even able to bring back his partner home to us; a retired military dog named Bullet. He got along nicely with Lucy, our other dog, and Nutmeg, our cat. They were immediately the best of friends. I could tell Bullet's presence kept Dad calmer.

“Yeah. He’s quieter," I said. But Max wasn't satisfied with me boiling it all down to that word.

“Quiet? Try distant," she snapped, the vibes in the February air turning sour. "I’m pretty sure he forgot it was my birthday this month."

My stomach sank. I remember when Mom was once too drunk to remember my birthday. It broke my heart. But Dad wasn't like that. He was different, right?

“He did not. He got your new board, didn’t he?”

“I heard them talking a week before my party. Mom had to remind him.”

If it was possible, my broken heart then shattered for my baby sister. I was angry. I couldn't believe Dad would get so bad that he forgot the day he had to coach my mom through childbirth in his parent's house. But that didn't necessarily change anything. He still kisses the picture of our family in his wallet three times a day for good luck. That had to count for something.

“You don’t believe it right?”

“Believe what?”

“What Mom said before we left the house," I reminded her. I was still trying to process the fact that those words came out of my Mother's mouth. They were laced with hatred, and I was angry at her for letting us leave the house knowing they echoed in our heads.

“I don’t know what I believe anymore.” As soon as Max's broken voice said that, my shattered heart burned up and the ashes blew in the wind.

“Hey. Don’t talk like that." I pulled her arm and stopped us a block before her bus stop. I crouched down slightly to be at her level, taking a deep breath before continuing. "Dad didn’t stop loving us, okay? And he never will.”

“You don’t know that.” Max started choking up a little, fighting to hold back the tears.

“Yes I do,” I told her, reaching my hand up to cup her cheek. But before our skin could touch, she smacked my hand away.

“Why are you defending him?”

“I’m not defending him, Max. I just think there's something else going on," I said, pulling her along to reach her block. I felt her pull me back before I had the chance to look both ways before crossing the street.

“What, Maevey? What else could possibly be going on that he’d rather drink than come home on time to eat dinner with us?”

“We didn’t see him for months before he came back to us. I don’t know exactly all that happened when he was overseas, but I can’t imagine all of it was pleasant for him."

I was starting to lose my patience as I debated picking her up before crossing the street. But her friends were gathered at the bus stop. They didn't need to hear this.

“How are we supposed to know what happened if he won’t talk about it?”

“There's probably a reason he isn’t talking about it, Max. I don't think who he was forced to kill and the brutal war crimes he may have witnessed are ideal conversation topics."

Her face went from mad to concerned, and I could breathe easier knowing she understood a little more than before.

". . .I didn't think about that."

"It's okay, Squirt. C'mere." I pulled Max into a hug. Her embrace squeezed my ribs, but I didn't care. I wasn't too tall, but I was tall enough that her head was tucked comfortably under my chin.

"If they get divorced, do you think they'll split us up, too?" She mumbled into my coat. My heart was now completely gone from my chest. I looked both ways before eagerly pulling her along to cross the street and turned to face her again as soon as we were safe on the other side. She pulled me to the side behind the bushes, so the other kids at the bus stop couldn’t see or interrupt our conversation.

"They're not gonna get divorced, Max. Okay? And they sure as hell aren’t splitting us up. They've gone through rough patches before. This one isn't any different from the last ones," I explained, reaching out to hug her again. She pushed back a little too aggressively, but I couldn't bring myself to care. She needed to feel her feelings and I didn’t blame her for not wanting to be touched.

"Don't do that! Don't act like you know everything's gonna be fine!” Max yelled. “You don't know that, Maevey! You can't know that!"

Her breathing started to quicken as she began to hyperventilate. Like I had done a thousand times before, I put my hand on her shoulder and coached her

"Hey, don't yell. Just calm down, Max. Look at me, okay? Breathe. In. Out. Thats it.” As soon as her breathing was stable again, she pulled me back into the hug she denied herself before.

She was right. I didn’t know what was gonna happen. I couldn’t tell the future. I may read tarot cards all the time, but it wasn’t an exact science. I couldn’t guarantee what would happen to Mom and Dad. But I could guarantee that no matter where this whole fiasco would go, I’d have her back; we’d have each other.

"Everything's gonna be fine, okay? We'll get through this. We always do,” I murmured into the top of her head as her bus came into view.

"Promise?"

"Promise,” I said, pressing one last kiss on her head. I momentarily locked our pinkies together like we had done a million times before. She pulled back as we heard the high-pitched sound of the bus hitting its brakes.

 “I'll see you this afternoon, okay? I have Farming Club today after classes,” I explained as I guided her toward the line of children. “. . .so I'll be home at 5 instead of 3. We'll do something fun after dinner."

I could tell she was still worked up over Mom and Dad and annoyed once again by my packed schedule. But she agreed anyway. She needed the distraction. We both did.

". . .okay."

I tussled her hair and gave her one last quick hug. "Alright, Squirt. Gotta go. Love you."

". . .I love you, too. . ."

As I moved on my way to where I usually catch my bus, I heard my sister call back to me one more time.

"And I'm not a squirt, Maevey!" I turned toward Max to see her head poking out of the school-bus window. I let out a laugh. Ever since she could talk, we’d hold our own little competitions to see who could have the last word. We had lost count by now, but we didn’t care about that anymore. We liked the rush in our blood we got from the heat of the race.

"Compared to me you are, Squirt!"

“You’re not even that tall!”

“Bye, Max!”

I wouldn’t know it until later in the day, but when I told my sister everything would be alright, that would be the very first time I ever lied to her.

. . .

Every time I left Farming Club, I left with a little more dirt under my nails and a few more animal scratches. I had many passions; from music to skating to books to art. But I knew I wanted to work with wildlife and the outdoors since I was five years old. That was the day I made friends with a gentle raccoon and brought it inside the house. I named him ‘Oscar,’ because he loved trash. Later that night, my Dad gifted me with a field journal and helped me make my first entry on raccoons.

Mom is the reason Max and I loved the beach so much. She was the reason we loved bright things like the sun and rainbows. I took on her love of arts and crafts. But neither Max nor I was as girly as she would’ve liked us to be. Dad passed his love of science and research onto me. Max adopted his love of comic books and handy skills. We both inherited his stubbornness and rebellious spirit.

But I never thought his rebellion from my Mom’s nagging would end up like this.

That afternoon, I tied my rainbow laces tightly on my light-teal skates on the bus taking me home from club. As the door opened, I held onto the handrails on the steps and jumped from the top step and outside the bus, sliding my hands down on the way to support my weight on my wheels. All the bus drivers I had nagged me to stop that lest I hurt myself. They all eventually gave up. When a Mayfield is determined, good luck trying to dissuade them.

Like I had done in my life routines a million times before, I skated down the road back home. I nailed turning on the hard curves of the neighborhood that Max and I had conquered growing up. Ever since I was little, I loved repeating myself. I thrived on routine and found comfort in everyday repetitions. It took me a while before I became comfortable with accepting changes big and small. I still counted in groups of two or three. The sequences brought me a sense of control and comfort.

No matter how far I had come in going with the flow and controlling only what I am able to, I never wanted my little sister sitting on the curb of our driveway to escape my parents’ screaming match to become a part of my routine. We had spent the last couple of nights eating dinner outside on the back porch, skating until the sun went down, and watching the sunset before the sky filled up with stars. This was the first time during our parents' fighting that I saw Max cry.

She was sitting on the curb next to our mailbox with her board in one hand and the other stroking the top of Lucy’s head as she lay down with her head in her lap. Bullet was standing guard with Nutmeg between his front legs, cleaning her face with her paws. As soon as our pets saw me, they perked up to welcome me back home.

“Hey, guys. Hey.” I gave them each a friendly pat on the head before I skidded my skates to a halt and stood on my toe stops before kneeling down to cup her face in my hands. Max didn’t even seem to notice for a moment until I wiped her tears off her cheek. Before I could say anything, she desperately wrapped her arms around me and buried her face in my shoulder.

“Max, what’s going on? What’re you doing out here?”

“They’re fighting again.”

I could hear the muffled yelling coming from our childhood home. Whatever went down in there while I was at club, it wasn’t anything good.

Enough was enough. I wasn’t going to allow my sister or myself to be spectators in the middle of their shitstorm any longer. After I aggressively unlaced my skates and let my backpack carelessly drop on the lawn, I stood up.

“Stay here,” I told Max. Only Nutmeg followed after me. I marched toward the house with anger lit in my veins the same way gas would light when met with a match. The freshly watered grass soaked through my socks and chilled my feet. It helped me keep calm and grounded.

As I reached the front door, I focused my hearing on my parents’ conversation. Nutmeg rubbed on my legs and meowed at me to pick her up.

“You can’t keep doing this, Norman! You can’t keep making promises and breaking them when it’s convenient for you! You can’t keep fucking up and then come crawling back to me like that’s somehow going to fix everything! You need to do better! Be better! You need help!”

My breathing quickened and shallowed as I hugged Nutmeg closer to my chest. She nuzzled her face into my shoulder as she sensed my growing anxiety, but her actions did nothing to stop it from spreading in my lungs and head. I heard my Mom scream before; sometimes she would get frustrated parenting me and Max. But I’d never heard her like this before.

“Do you honestly think that's what I’m doing, Susan?! Do you think I’d rather drink until I black out instead of coming home to you and the girls?! I’m sorry that I’m hurting you, but I’m not going back! I’m not gonna be interrogated by a shrink just so they can punch my crazy card again and throw me in a padded cell!”

I knew very little about my Dad’s mental history. I figured it had something to do with what he saw during his time in the military.

“Maybe you should! Maybe you are crazy, Norm! I feel fucking crazy watching you rot for over a month! I’m not gonna watch you do this to yourself! I don’t deserve to see that, and neither do our girls!”

Maybe Mom was right. Maybe my Dad was crazy, but that didn’t mean it was okay to talk to him like his state of mind made him a bad person. I never saw either of them as bad people, but that was starting to change. Slowly, but surely, my sweaty palms wrapped around the doorknob and I turned it one, two, three times before I opened it.

“Do not bring them into this! Do you realize how hard it is keeping my shit together in front of them?! You should! You did the exact same thing to us! Don’t act like you haven’t! I am trying my best to be better for them! For both of them!”

“Well, your best isn’t enough, Norm!”

“STOP IT!”

They were so caught up in the heat of the moment that they didn’t even notice me open the door until my outburst. Nutmeg jumped out of my arms and pranced up the stairs. I had never seen either of my parents look so broken before, Not even after Mom lost her brother or when Dad had to bury his father. It was scary, to see this side of them.

“Mae-Mae. . .I. . .I didn’t know you were back, yet.”

Mom wiped the tears from her cheeks and stifled her breaking voice.

“Yeah, clearly,” I said, slamming the door and shaking the house around us. Somehow, it felt louder and more intense than when they were yelling.

Mom sat in the chair by the fireplace and turned away to pull herself together. Dad let out a heavy sigh, running his hands through his hair before adjusting his glasses.

“Maevey, I know how this looks. I know I haven’t been. . .present for a while-”

“Yeah, no shit, Dad! Neither of you have!”

“Excuse me?” Mom practically leaped from her chair. “I have been making you dinner, doing your laundry, and driving you to and from all your little clubs! You will not talk to me that way!”

Here we go again; right to the Martyr role.

“Yeah, but when was the last time you’ve actually been here, Mom? Huh? Do you even remember what clubs I’m in? Do you even remember what I won the science fair for last week?”

Both of their eyes widened like this was the first time they were hearing about this.

“Honey, you were in the science fair?”

“Seriously, guys?!”

They were there; both of them. But I was so caught up with everything else happening that night. I didn’t realize in the midst of everything that Dad was so antisocial that he just stayed on the sidelines and occasionally come to my booth. Mom only came up to my booth once, going around to congratulate the other kids on all of their hard work instead of my own. 

They both took off after I won the blue ribbon, leaving me with a hollow ‘good job, Maeven’ before going back to fighting in the school parking lot. Why couldn’t they put their fighting on hold? Just for one night? They were so preoccupied with their sudden hatred for each other that caring for Max and I had become a chore, rather than a necessity. My parents might’ve been there, but they weren’t there . They weren’t present.

Mom rubbed her hands together, fiddling with her jewelry as she looked for the right words.

“Mae-Mae, we-”

“Don’t you ‘Mae-Mae’ me, Mom!” I pleaded with her, looking up at the ceiling and wondering what it would feel like to spontaneously combust just to escape this conversation.

“Max and I have been putting up with your shit, both of yours, for all our lives! But, this? This takes the cake.”

“Maeven, I know it's been hard seeing us fight, but I promise you, we’re working through it, okay? You and Max don’t have anything to worry about.”

It always came back to this point. We had this conversation many times in the last few months. I was tired of going around in circles. I was tired of them acting like we didn’t need to know what was happening to their marriage. I wasn’t a kid anymore, and neither was Max.

Before I knew it, I combusted. The brutal words mixed with the finger-pointing and dramatic gestures came out without warning. I probably looked like I was having a classic teenage girl tantrum; I didn’t recognize myself. It was as if I was floating outside my body, no longer in control and puppeteered by the past month of built-up frustration.

“Oh, bullshit! This is not ‘working through it, guys! This is chaos! Now will you just fucking fix your marriage or get a divorce all ready so Max and I don’t have to suffer anymore?! Jesus H. Fucking Christ!”

By the time I was given control of myself again, it took me a moment to realize what happened. It was the first time I had blacked out, and it would be far from the last time. I didn’t remember going back outside to sit next to Max. It was a scary sensation, but my body, heart and mind were hyper-focused on other things.

“Are you okay?”

“Huh?”

At the sound of my sister's voice and the feeling of my hands absentmindedly running through Bullet’s fur, my thoughts suddenly weren’t so loud.

“You kinda spaced out there for a moment,” Max said, her hand joining mine to double Bullet’s reassuring pats. I wasn’t sure whether it was more soothing for us or for him.

“I’m fine,” I murmured, tilting my head back to look at the night sky and letting the soft breeze cool down my heated cheeks. I almost wished Dad would come out and sit with us to look at the stars as if it was just a normal night.

“How much of that did you hear?”

“Enough.”

I mentally slapped myself. Earlier that day, we had preached to each other about how sickened we were to be in the middle of Mom and Dad’s fights. It felt so hypocritical of me; to blow up like that while knowing Max could most likely hear my yelling, too. Until I felt the sudden urge to start breathing again and sniff, I didn’t even feel like I was crying.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have exploded like that, God, . .I’m just like them. . .No, I’m worse.” My voice was broken up. I sounded so pathetic. Max scooched over and leaned her head on my shoulder. I moved my arm around her as she slipped hers along my hip.

“No, you’re not,” she said, still recovering from her own crying fit from before I came home. “They had it coming.”

I breathlessly let out a laugh as ‘Call Block Tango’ crawled its way into my head. Never before had I felt so relieved and yet so angry. It was as if I just finished a long hike in the mountains and finally let my shoulders rest and stretch without a backpack on. But as I packed up my camp the next morning, I was painfully reminded that I still had a long way to go.

“I’m sorry you had to hear that. I just. . .I didn’t know what else to do. . .”

“Do you really want them to get a divorce?”

At this point, I didn’t care what happened to them. I couldn’t picture what I wanted for us in the future. I just wanted all this bullshit to end.

“Yes? No? I don’t know, Max. I just. . .I just want the fighting to stop.”

“Yeah. . .me, too,” she sighed, letting her shoulders fall as she tilted her head up and her eyes met mine.

“Do you still believe her?” I asked.

“What?”

“Do you still believe Mom when she said Dad doesn’t love us?”

Max pondered for a moment, her eyes focusing on the way my evil-eye necklace sparkled in the sunset barely shining over the neighborhood. She had the same look in her eye she got when planning her next move in a family game of Monopoly.

“No. I don’t think I even did before.”

“Good. Mom still loves us, too. Y’know that right?”

“Yeah, I know. . .I mean, God knows she tells us all the damn time.”

As much of a hard-ass our Mom could be, a day never went by where she didn’t tell us how much she loved us. Dad made sure to remind us, too, but had fallen out of practice the more time he spent away from us. He didn’t see us enough to tell us.

“Why don’t they love each other anymore?”

I knew that wasn’t true to a degree. Mom and Dad were no longer fit to be partners, but that didn’t erase the life they built together. Max and I were living proof of that.

“I wish I knew, Squirt.”

People fell out of love all the time. It happened every day. It just wasn’t as preached as much as the ‘happily ever after’ narrative. The divorce rate was currently skyrocketing ever since ‘no-fault divorce’ was legalized in the mid-70s. Until then, domestic violence wasn’t considered a valid reason for divorce. It wasn’t a bad thing that it was finally able to those who really needed it and then some. I just never thought my family would need it, too.

“You know this isn’t your fault, right?”

“Whose fault is it, then?”

Max’s question wasn’t one that could be answered simply. She was just starting puberty, just starting to learn that the world wouldn’t be simple from here on out. People shouldn’t be so romanticized. People were. . .complicated, to say the least. I guess that was why I preferred to find comfort in the study of flora and fauna. Everything else in nature made sense but humans.

“No ones, Max. They didn’t want to hurt each other, it just. . .happened.”

I barely believed my own words. I knew their fighting had nothing to do with us. But I also knew how easy it was to feel like it was your fault when you were stuck in the middle of it all.

“They seem to want to hurt each other right now.”

“Because they’re scared. I don’t blame them. I’m scared, too.”

“Yeah. . .what’s gonna happen to us?”

I was so naive to think everything would always stay the same, to think that my family was untouchable to tragedy. The only thing I was certain of was that I wasn’t going to let the impending divorce break what my sister and I had with each other. All I could do was give her a hug and be as truthful with her as she could handle.

“I. . .I don’t know. I’m sorry. I wish I did.”

The divorce didn’t break us. Everything that followed afterward did.

. . .

19 Months Later

No matter how difficult it was hauling her entire life across the country, Maeven was probably the only one who saw the move to Indiana as a good thing. Of course, Susan and Neil were the ones who wanted it the most from the beginning. They had a chance to start a whole new life together, far away from the painful troubles and annoying inconveniences in California; far away from Norman Mayfield and the threat he posed to the newly blended family. Neil didn’t like the idea of being challenged that way. And he absolutely loathed the thought of his bride’s ex-husband still having a big influence on his new family

Susan wanted this for her daughters, too. The Mayfield sisters have always had trouble fitting in, of course. They both shared a tendency to not be properly labeled by others. Maeven had so many interests to keep up with, and Max practically danced on the spectrum of being a tomboy on one side and a ‘proper girl’ on the opposite. Susan hoped the move from the big city to small-town America would possibly. . .straighten them out, as she and Neil liked to put it. They all needed a fresh start. Maeven, especially.

The nineteen months that followed her parents’ divorce were a blur of unhealthy coping mechanisms, illegal activities, soul-crushing trauma, and a lot of therapy and pills. Her good clean reputation as an eccentric honors student had mutated into one carved with violence and pain. Repeating her Junior Year at Newport High after everyone witnessed her at her most vulnerable and angry felt like a death sentence. Maeven saw the move to Indiana as a clean slate, a blank canvas; a chance to find peace and start over where nobody had to know of her past sins.

Besides, she no longer felt like she belonged in California. There just wasn’t a place for her there, anymore. It was her home for such a long time, but it no longer felt that way. It now felt tainted and ruined, just like she had become. Maeven no longer felt like herself, and was convinced that she had to find herself again no matter where the road took her. All she knew was she wouldn’t find what she was looking for in California. Plus, the increase in population made her want to crawl into a hole like a wild animal and wait or all the chaos to die down.

Of course, Billy and Max objected to the move. Both of them had their own lives to live in California. It wasn’t fair to just uproot them without asking how they’d hypothetically feel first. It wasn’t fair to force them to uproot their lives so their parents could live a fantasy they never wanted a part in. The whole charade gave them another reason to hate each other; something they didn’t want but couldn’t help once Susan and Neil made up their minds. But Maeven? She had nothing that tied her there, apart from her friends, Dad, and pets; all the things Susan and Neil convinced her that she didn’t need in order to be happy.

The newly blended Hargrove/Mayfield family spent the second to last week of September moving east across eight states and directing a team of movers to move furniture and boxes into their new home. The house on Cherry Street was a few miles away from downtown Hawkins; a nice, upper-middle-class neighborhood tucked amidst the trees. Maeven was excited to explore the woods that lay across the street from them and discover the creatures who inhabited it.  She could already picture herself finding a particularly interesting tree, plant, or creature to fill her sketchbook with. The cicadas were still chirping, so they’d probably be the easiest to sketch. If she was quiet and lucky enough, maybe she’d cross paths with an owl or fox.

In between helping with moving boxes and furniture, Maeven and Max skated on their new driveway and around the neighborhood despite their mother’s protests. Billy dropped the sisters off closer to town in his Camaro after Neil practically forced him to. As they explored downtown Hawkins, they managed to find an arcade connected to a video rental place. Seriously. How bad could this place really be if it had an arcade?

Max spent the next two hours working her magic, adding her name to the top of the scoreboards on each game she had already beaten back in California. Maeven snuck around to the alley behind the building to smoke a couple of hits of a joint before going back inside to lose herself amongst the 8-bit shooting noises. She shoved her face with strawberry Fanta and cool-ranch Doritos, buzzed on sugar, carbs, and weed as she hyper-focused on topping the Galaga scoreboard with IRNMVN.

The first week exploring their new home felt like heaven to Maeven. It was really the first time she truly felt at peace in over a year. Despite the abrupt adjustment from city living to small-town America, and the strange vibe she felt from Hawkins, she found her new home comforting and charming.

The last nineteen months of Maeven’s life had been a hazy blur of school scandals, bullying drugs, fighting, and police mixed with pills, mental institutions, isolation, and trauma, just to name a few. It all blended together to make up a cocktail of ups and downs, misery and pleasure. She was once on the honor roll at Newport High School, well on her way to becoming the Valedictorian of her class. Now, Maeven would have to repeat her Junior Year at Hawkins High. Indiana was a chance for her to start over; a place where no one knew of her or her past sins.

She was tired in every sense of the word; physically, mentally, emotionally. All she really wanted was not to be the center of attention like she was before. Maeven just wanted to be normal for a while, even if she wasn’t. At the very least, she wanted to be as normal as she could be. All she had to do was follow a very specific set of rules; put in place to build herself back up.

(1). Don’t be a slut

(2). Act like the smart, athletic girl she was inside

(3). Be herself, but also blend into the crowd. Don’t stand out too much,

(4). Don’t be Weird.

(5). Don’t let them find out what happened to you in California.

The last rule was easier said than done. But Billy would help her just like he always did. He was always there for her.

Maeven and Billy knew each other long before their parents started dating each other. They were classmates since sixth grade but didn’t really talk to each other until High School when Maeven started going through her rebellious phase after her parents got divorced. After all the fighting and verbally humiliating the bullies and jocks, and the snarky attitude she had with both teachers and students during class, Maeven caught Billy’s attention.

He approached her at a party, one of the last weekend ones before the end of sophomore year. She was relaxed in a lounge chair by the pool, smoking a joint and staring up at the stars. Billy unintentionally startled her before asking if he could share with her. She accepted. In between passing the joint to each other, they talked about anything and everything they could until the cops came to shut the party down. They didn’t really have any other choice but to scatter off together.

Amidst all the panic, Maeven climbed inside Billy’s Camaro and they sped off together. They probably should’ve gone home, but somehow ended up going on a long drive to a point on the mountains that looked out over the vastness of San Diego. Although they never told each other, both of them secretly wished the night would never end. The longer they talked, the tighter the tension grew before it turned into a warm tenderness they found in each other’s bodies, hearts, and minds. Billy and Maeven stayed awake together until the sun started peaking over the horizon that early Sunday morning. He made sure to savor the moment, brushing the sweat and weed from her lips to taste her one more time before she walked into her friend’s house.

Up until that night, Maeven had never seen Billy as anything more than an asshole; he was a showoff and a bully, and proud of it, too. But he could also be charming and soft when he wanted to. And for some reason, he felt safe enough to be so around her. The fact that he complimented her sudden new ability to ‘kick ass and take no shit and look super hot at the same time.’ And apparently, her ass looked really good when she skated. Maeven thought she had all the jocks properly pegged, but she noticed how Billy’s baby blue eyes had a dark sadness behind them. He was carrying a pain in his heart and soul all too similar to the one she had just taken on; his parents were divorced, too. Although, the circumstances of his situation were much worse than hers.

His mother abandoned him when he was eleven, not able to deal with her husband’s abuse toward her anymore. Before his dad started raising his fist at her, Billy’s mother was a gorgeous, loving mother to her son. In some odd way, Maeven reminded him of her. Despite the freckles and the wild red hair, she was bright, warm, and full of unconditional love, according to his fond, yet fading memory of her. He ended up being a pleasant surprise.

Of course, Billy wasn’t someone Maeven would’ve normally hung out with. She felt like he got her. They felt like they got each other. He looked at her like she was the only other person in the world. She loved his sun-yellow mullet that reminded her of a lion’s mane and could rarely ever stop herself from weaving her fingers through it. He didn’t mind in the least. Billy didn’t care about Maeven’s quirks and fidgets or cringed at the gap between her teeth as he kissed her. He made her feel safe; a special feeling of safe that she hadn’t felt since her dad moved to San Fransisco.

The fact that he knew the exact right way to make her scream his name as he fucked her hard into the cushions didn’t hurt, either. He was fast and hard-edged like his Camaro; he meant business. Maeven was Billy’s dirty little secret, and he was hers. And they liked it to stay that way. But once they officially became family, things got a whole lot harder.

Max was suspicious from the start of how close they were. Billy didn’t seem like the kind of person Maeven would be friends with. He could be a dick, and she was definitely frightened of him and what he could do. She was already forced to witness him burning a dead cat and berating her on a daily basis, among other things. Maeven had yet to find out that he was the one who broke the arm of one of Max’s best friends in San Diego. Then again, Max wasn’t really certain she wanted her big sister to know. And despite everything, Billy was really growing on her. She liked the idea of having a big brother, even if it might take longer for him to properly fill the role and all it entailed.

Maeven took every precaution to make sure Max didn’t know about her relationship with Billy. Her little sister was already dealing with her life being uprooted and relocated away from everything she knew and loved. Finding out her big sister, her idol was fucking their new step-brother would be heartbreaking. She didn’t need more chaos in her life. Once Maeven found out last November the Neil dating her mom was indeed Neil Hargrove, she immediately broke things off with Billy. Obviously, they didn’t stay that way. And after what happened to her last New Year’s Eve, she needed him more than ever.

By the time the movers finished unpacking, the sun had set far west enough so that the sky was both warm and cool at the same time. As Maeven sat next to the woods across the house to smoke, the cicadas’ chirps rang throughout the late summer hair. Susan and Neil were fast asleep by now after an exhausting day of the finishing steps of their moving process. They were way too braindead to throw a tantrum over Maeven smoking to help with her anxiety and sleep disorders. She knew neither Billy nor Max would tattle on her. Neither of them cared. In fact, Maeven made sure to put her blunt out whenever her sister came within six feet of her. They wouldn’t narc on her for a drug ten times less harmless than what she used to use. 

Despite all the painful detoxing that she went through while in recovery, smoking pot had always remained Maeven’s best vice. The very act of it made her feel like she was drifting in a warm ocean, safely guarded by a pod of orcas and whale sharks. Weed was a hell of a lot better than snorting cocaine or popping pills like candy. How bad could it really be for her if it grew from the fucking ground? Besides, she knew better now than to even think about doing drugs that hardcore.

Before she left for Indiana, Maeven’s best friend and former dealer, Madison, gifted her an altoid tin filled with her legendary hand-rolled joints. They were famous around Newport High for how fat they were and how big of a buzz they gave the smoker. The matriarch of her family owned an off-the-grid farm in the heart of the Emerald Triangle. Norman Mayfield was a good friend of theirs and didn’t care if his daughter wanted to self-medicate at his house in California. After ashing her joint with the toe of her boot one, two, three times for good luck, Maeven went back inside. The voices finally managed to quiet down in her head enough for her to feel like she could get to sleep easily. Her stash wouldn’t last forever, though. Even if no one could replace Madison, she would have to investigate and find Hawkins’ resident dealer soon.

Maeven secretly envied everyone else in the house and their bodies' ability to rest without needing any extra help. She couldn’t remember the last time she slept without the assistance of 40mg of melatonin, some tea with honey, and a joint or two before bed. Thoughts of wanting nothing more than eternal sleep always lingered in her mind.

Her new room was barren of any personality save for the muted blueberry floral rug and her quilted bedspread with warm technicolored squares covering her full-sized bed. How soft the mattress was as she threw herself down face-first was all that Maeven had the energy for. She didn’t even bother trying to get under the covers properly. It was too warm that evening to curl up like that, but the breeze blowing softly through the open windows felt so nice on her bare skin.

Not feeling Nutmeg curl up on the bed by her feet or on her side was still strange. Maeven didn’t know if she’d ever get used to that, Nutmeg was with her Dad, along with Bullet and Lucy, back in San Francisco. Of course, Maeven and Max wanted to bring their beloved kitty with them when they moved. But Neil would never allow it. And after the incident with Billy setting fire to a dead cat’s corpse without hesitation, Max convinced her sister that she was safer in California. Maeven could understand the anxiety that moment must’ve given her, but Billy would never kill an animal in cold blood like that. Would he?

She didn’t even realize until the mattress dipped to her right and felt him curl his body to fill against hers that Billy managed to sneak in her room unnoticed. His sudden presence made Maeven flinch, but she melted back into his almost immediately as he ghosted his stubble-kissed lips against the nape of her neck to coax a giggle out of her.

“Hey, Dollface. . .” he whispered into her hair, sending a shiver down her back.

“Hey, yourself, Big Guy. . .” she mumbled, shifting in place to face him through her sleepy, probably bloodshot eyes. Billy pulled her tighter against him, gently gripping her knee to hook her leg around his hip.

“You feeling alright? Can smell the pot on you,” he asked, stroking Maeven’s bare thigh.

“I’m good, Billy, just needed to chill.”

“And you didn’t invite me?” he playfully accused, pressing his lips to hers as if to get a secondhand high off the taste of pot lingering on her mouth. Or maybe just because he trembled at the comforting taste of her body

“I thought you were sleeping. The house was so quiet,” she laughed, burying her hands in his golden-yellow locks. Billy’s hand traveled to her shoulders, tenderly kneading against the knots. Maeven let out a slight hiss.

“You’re so tense, Doll,” Billy whispered, nuzzling his face in the junction between her neck and shoulder, tickling her with his beard.

Maeven already knew where he was hoping this would lead. She knew him too long to not notice his telltale signs of arousal. She could already feel his erection growing as he rutted against the front of her underwear. He knew that smoking weed could make her libido rise quickly, always making sure to try and seize the open opportunity to relieve each others’ stress.

“Yeah, heavy lifting for a week will do that to you,” Maeven innocently answered, but Billy wasn’t one to easily pick up on hints.

“Think you can stay quiet for me, baby?” His hand on her thigh crept upward to squeeze one of her ass-cheeks

“Nuh-uh. Keep those hands to yourself. It’s too hot.”

“Mmm-hmm. . .and we can make things even hotter.”

As delicious as his offer was, she couldn’t. Maeven wanted nothing more than to lean into his sinful touches and let the overwhelming intrusive compulsions win. But she was tired. And even if an orgasm could help her with her insomnia, she had been doing so well compartmentalizing her dark thoughts and compulsions. 

“Sorry, Big Guy. I’m too tired. . .too sore.”

His hands stopped just above the waistband of Maeven’s sleep shorts before profoundly sighing. Billy was the one out of both of them who actually liked to give in to their impulses, but he always stopped when she wanted him to. 

Whenever Maeven blacked out, she had the tendency to obey every intrusive thought that poisoned her mind. She often entered a fight-or-flight state of mind, like a wild animal being hunted. In those moments, she wasn’t a person any longer. She was a monster; the one they always told her she was.

Billy sat up on Maeven’s bed and leaned over to the wooden side table, grabbing something she didn’t see him bring in before.

“Brought ya some water, thought you might be thirsty.”

He offered her now full water bottle that she didn’t even notice was missing from her room. Maeven sat up and took it, not realizing until just now how parched she was. She ended up drinking down half her bottle, just in case Cottonmouth got the better of her later in the night. Ever since she was hospitalized for dehydration, Maeven didn’t mess around when it came to water.

“Ever the gentleman,” she thanked him, closing her bottle before leaning over Billy to put it back on the table. She suddenly felt extraordinarily drowsy and dizzy, closing her eyes to escape it as she leaned on Billy’s torso for support.

“You sure you don’t need a massage, baby?” he asked, tenderly rubbing the small of her back.

She rolled her closed eyes at him, not wanting him to be right and also not fully trusting him to curb his lustful appetite. But Maeven would be able to sleep better without her body being so pent up.

“. . .okay, fine,” she murmured, rolling off of Billy and onto her stomach on the bed next to him so he could get better access to her back. Almost as soon as his hands started loosening the knots in her shoulders, Maeven moaned into her pillow as she felt her mind drifting away.

“That’s it, Dollface. Just let me take care of you,” were the last words she heard from Billy as his hands traveled down her body, sneaking their way across her hips.

When you look at someone you think the world of through rose-colored glasses, all the red flags are practically invisible. But Maeven wasn’t able to see them until it was almost too late for her.

A/N: Thanks so much to everyone who showed love on the preview for this chapter! It's uplifting and refreshing knowing that people are actually interested in my work. Let me know what you think about the first chapter, what you like, and what you might wanna see.

Thumbs up to those who can name the songs where all my chapter titles come from. If you wanna be added to the tag list for this fic, let me know down below!

The Spitfire Curse Taglist:

@yaidothat

[dichromaticdyke]

Kloktober Day 20 - Original character or self-insert

Abigail gets to know her regular bartender.

she’s not a self-insert, she’s nothing like me—she doesn’t have heterochromia.

anyway, at first this was just gna be shameless mtl lesbian smut but then i figured most ppl wouldn’t want to read about an oc they’ve never heard of fucking abigail. so i made it two chapters—first chapter is totally tame, just serves to have them meet, second chapter isn’t necessary to read at all it’s just sexy times. it’s oc/self insert day i’m gonna be as cringe as i want.

and under the cut i put some more character details and a shipping chart, if you’re interested. <3

Devon Amalgamedle

any/all pronouns, no preference

white, short red hair shaved at the sides, brown eyes; fairly muscled frame, has gotten top surgery

black and red floral sleeve tattoos on both arms; facebones tattoo, not visible unless they WANT you to see it

eyebrow piercing on left eyebrow, snakebite piercings (studs), several ear piercings, tongue piercing

black t-shirt tucked into dark jeans, belt, chain wallet, black boots—wears a battle vest at shows that is so covered in patches that he just safety pins on so that he can remove them or mix them up when he feels like

bartender at the Mastodon

metalhead, closet dethklok superfan—at one point considered becoming a klokateer but never followed through, though she does show up during the climax of aotd (has a horizontal scar on their left cheek from that)

music autism but can’t play a single instrument or sing to save their life

tries hard enough to be cool and casual that they pass as exactly that, until meeting someone from the industry (happens a LOT at the Mastodon, still hasn’t gotten used to it)

has served dethklok multiple times—would pretend he doesn’t know/care who they are while working, but then would run in the back and scream after they left

eavesdrops on conversations between musical professionals, sometimes sends anonymous tips to gossip magazines/the Dethklok Minute—was the one to tell the press Pickles doesn’t drink as much as he lets on, for example

eventually develops a serious case of “don’t meet your idols” syndrome with dethklok in particular. will absolutely still listen to all their music and go to all their shows and buy all their merch still though.

the below shipping meme goes into their character a bit more, including ideas of how their relationship with abigail might go. we obviously know very little about abigail, and i am . NOT shy about taking some creative liberties with her (my day 5 fic lmfao—which is canon in this universe btw). that extends to this. i also used the same picrew maker to make an abigail in casual clothes and so that they match <3

i feel like their relationship is probably pretty boring compared to others' oc relationships (i love all the deranged shit y'all write w ur ocs btw <3 <3 <3), but i kinda did that intentionally, to an extent. they don't get together until during aotd, so i really just want abigail to have a good easy time after everything she's been through. i could also definitely be down to writing some devon stuff that would happen during canon or just interactions between them and dethklok in general.

aahhhh it's all just the idea of, if people are interested in this character, i'll make more stuff. i'm very happy to, but i also know they might not be interesting to people, and as true as it is that i write for myself before anyone else, it's hard to want to write stuff that i know people don't care about. so 🤷🏻 que será, será.

[theroseceleste]

Taaren and Miguel - A Commission

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@smileyrhi717 Commissioned me to write a short story of her OC Taaren. A kick ass, strong and tall woman who's capabilities can comfortably rival Miguel's.

Contains : SMUT - 18+ ONLY also contains, fight scene, mild description of injuries (cuts, bruises, scars, injections), oral, penetrative sex, praise, angst.

Thank you so much SmileyRhi for the opportunity of writing Taaren. She was great fun and I loved her character to pieces.

Word count - 5397

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The control room in Spider Society HQ was deathly silent. A large console sat atop a platform in the middle of the cavernous room. Symbols blinking away on the many bright orange screens as the system ran algorithms, detecting canon events and searching for anomalies popping up throughout the multiverse.

Blue lights criss-crossed from the ceiling, but never seemed to reach the darkest depths particularly around the perimeter of the expansive room.

The stillness was finally disturbed as large reddish orange hexagonal shapes grew out of nowhere. A portal had opened - someone was returning to Earth-928…

Two large, muscular beings emerged from the portal. Although, one was being carried by the other in their arms.

A woman with long, thick black hair in a half up - half down style carried a man in a red and blue skin tight suit, covering him from head to toe. Her large biceps supported the hulking frame of the man as she strode out of the portal.

The six-foot-eight-inch tall woman wore an all-in-one black skin tight bodysuit, although her face wasn’t covered, unlike the man she carried. Her muscular arms exposed, displaying her tattoos that she wore with pride. They were a symbol of her bravery and survivalistic nature.

Her serious, vibrant indigo coloured eyes rested on the man as she set him down on the dark tiled flooring.

“Lyla; can you remove Miguel’s mask?” She spoke suddenly, her voice deep.

The man’s suit was mostly intact, however there were gashes in the strange material covering his body. Bright, thin blue lines spread across the damaged sections, flickering as they slowly repaired over time.

A moment later, his mask dissolved away, revealing a battered and bruised, tanned coloured face. Despite the cuts and scrapes, this man was beautiful. His eyes were closed, unconscious from taking multiple, heavy blows; particularly to his head. The man's lips were parted as he breathed softly. His dishevelled, dark, chocolate brown hair had fallen into his face the moment his restrictive mask had come away.

The look of concern spread over the woman’s face as she assessed the man she called Miguel. Her large, strong hands turned his head this way and that to check him over. Thankfully it was only superficial - the cuts and bruises would heal over time.

As she knelt silently next to the unconscious man, she cast her mind back to the events before returning to HQ.

The pair were on an anomaly mission. Their goal was to find the Green Goblin, capture him and send him back to his universe. However this particular anomaly was a far stronger variant of the villain. Both Miguel and this woman were considered the heavies of the Spider Society; their tall, muscular forms providing strength and brute force when required. However, this villain was too much for them. He wouldn’t have been, if Miguel hadn’t tried to take him down single handed.

Things had started off well. It didn’t take long to locate the anomaly. An overgrown villain running rampant around a city wasn't exactly hard to spot.

The mutant Green Goblin had been cornered in an evacuated shopping mall, but his large, clumsy form meant he could bash the both of them out of the way without too much trouble.

She had been sideswiped violently, slamming into a wall; making it crumble and fall on top of her. Her arms covered her head protectively as large grey bricks buried her. As she pushed the rubble off, she witnessed an enraged Miguel attack the mutant anomaly without assistance.

For a while, Miguel looked like he was handling it. However, his anger caused him to make mistakes. He attempted to restrain the Green Goblin by using his glowing red webs. But before he finished his final revolution around the villain, the inhumanely strong anomaly turned violently, dragging the Spider Society leader heavily into a different wall.

Wriggling out of the loose restraints, the mutant Green Goblin pounced on Miguel, pummeling him in a punishing fashion. Miguel let out multiple anguished grunts as he struggled to hold back each powerful strike against him.

The Green Goblin pulled his large, scaly fist back, preparing to deliver a devastating blow to Miguel; he suddenly felt someone climb up his back and wrap their arms tightly around his neck, strangling him.

The incredibly strong woman had managed to pull herself out from under the rubble and intercept the anomaly’s attack. The Green Goblin choked and stumbled backwards. The pure strength of the woman gripping around his neck was incredible. He slammed his back against a wall behind him, causing the woman to grunt through gritted teeth. She released him and fell to the floor, feeling momentarily dazed and breathless.

Rushing forward, the Green Goblin attempted to bludgeon Miguel who was even more dazed than the woman. However a sudden pulling sensation on his tail got his attention. A pain shot up his spine as two hands yanked him backwards, keeping him away from the Spider Society leader.

A tug of war ensued. The mutant villain scrambling desperately towards Miguel. His claws scratched along the floor, while the buff woman heaved him backwards again and again. She growled aggressively as she stood her ground. Her heels digging into the floor, countering the Green Goblin’s pulling.

The agonising pain in his extended spine was becoming too much. Using his oversized frame, he turned on the spot, throwing the woman off balance, stumbling into yet another wall, leaving a sizable dent.

At great speed, he advanced on the woman; his priority had now changed. His jaws snapped angrily and threateningly over her as he approached with menace.

Feeling - and smelling - the foul breath of the villain fanning over her face, her hands lashed out and caught his ginormous upper and lower jaws. Every muscle in her arms, back and abdomen tensed and strained as she used her strength to keep the snapping, razor sharp teeth at bay.

An angry red web suddenly wrapped around the Green Goblin’s neck. Miguel had managed to get back up after the barrage of abuse he received just moments before. Despite now standing again, he was weakened and his suit had taken damage.

Turning his attention away from the woman, the Green Goblin pulled at the web that was latched onto his neck. Yanking Miguel closer, the anomaly slammed his clenched fist into the Spider Society leader’s face, knocking him out instantly.

The woman saw red. Rising to her feet, she seized Miguel’s web and dragged the villain away from her teammate. The web slackened. The Green Goblin charged at her. If she hadn’t ducked out of the way in time, she would have been steamrollered into a nearby deserted store window.

Without Miguel working beside her, she stood next to no chance. She would be able to put up a fight, a valiant one; however it wasn’t quite enough. Something had to be done to buy her enough time to call for backup and get Miguel out of there safely.

While still holding onto the web, she leapt onto the back of the mutant anomaly, using her powerful thighs to grip onto him. It felt like riding a mechanical bull. The Green Goblin bucked wildly, trying anything he could to shake her off.

“Lyla! Call for backup!” she yelled, gripping onto the web that was still firmly attached to the villain’s neck. Her muscular body rode each buck like an expert cow-girl during a rodeo. If it wasn’t for her worry for Miguel, she might have had some fun!

Gripping firmly onto the web with her right hand, she brought her left elbow crashing down onto the top of the Green Goblin’s head. An anguished cry echoed in the long, wide walkway of the mall as his body slumped momentarily. The woman lurched forward, almost falling off. Her thighs gripped tighter to try and stay on.

The villain was dazed, but it still wasn’t enough for her to dismount safely, summon a portal and hightail it out of there. 

The beast reared up again after he shook his head to clear his mind. Once more, the woman raised her elbow and struck him a second time, harder than the last. The Green Goblin lashed his tail angrily, tossing a market stall like it was nothing.

A dangerous, low growl erupted from her chest. “Go - to - sleep!” she urged before delivering a series of more heavy blows over the Green Goblin’s head. Angry, deep feminine grunts echoed between the walls with every strike. Her loose hair flopped over her face as the final blow knocked him out. A deafening crash shook the surrounding area as the overgrown anomaly collapsed in a giant green heap.

There was no time to waste. The woman tumbled off of the Green Goblin and sprinted over to Miguel, who was still out cold.

The hologram of Lyla, Miguel’s AI appeared. “He’s just unconscious, Taaren, but we should get him back to HQ before Norman decides to wake up again,” she said, referring to the Green Goblin.

With a nod, the woman named Taaren punched in the coordinates to Earth-928 on her watch. The bright colours of the portal already began to swell behind her as she scooped Miguel up in her arms.

A chuckle came from the flickering AI figure. “You know - you’re the only one in the Spider Society who can do that. And it’ll kill Miguel to know you did it.” Taaren knew Lyla enjoyed teasing Miguel. A small smile flitted across her lips. While she had a sense of pride being the only one strong enough to lift his hulking frame, she would have preferred a conscious team mate at the end of a successful mission. For now, the relief team would be arriving momentarily while she escaped back to HQ with Miguel in her arms. She hoped the Green Goblin would still be out cold by the time the backup team arrived.

A sudden groan from the Spider Society leader brought Taaren back from her thoughts. Her eyes widened as she watched Miguel’s face intently.

The bleary eyed man raised his hand to his aching head. “Ay, coñyo… I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck.” He looked around, surprised to find himself in HQ and a concerned Taaren kneeling next to him. “What happened to the Green Goblin? Why are we here?”

Taaren looked at him with a stunned expression on her face. “I called for backup and got us out of there. I knocked him out, don’t worry,” she paused, “it was too dangerous, I had to get you to safety. The anomaly nearly killed you.”

A frown formed across Miguel’s face. “I nearly had him,” his voice was low and carried a hint of disappointment.

That comment upset Taaren slightly. “If we worked together we might have had him restrained and packed off to his universe already.”

Miguel sat up slowly, another groan escaped his lips. His ribs were sore and most likely bruised. “I said, I nearly had him.” If he was to be honest, he was embarrassed that Taaren felt the need to save him. Running his fingers through his hair, he gave a frustrated sigh.

“Are you mad at me?” Taaren asked, her brows knitted together as she got up, giving Miguel some space.

With a bit of effort, the Spider Society leader got up to his feet and limped over to his platform. “No, I’m not mad at you,” he replied, however his tone suggested he was unhappy about something. A grunt echoed around the control room as he took a large step up to where his console stood. He was looking for something.

“Well, something’s pissed you off,” Taaren observed coolly.

Grabbing a small gun-shaped item, Miguel loaded a vial of green liquid into it. His suit peeled away from his shoulder before he injected the contents into his body. He closed his eyes and let out a shaky breath as he felt the effects of the serum start to work.

Colour drained from Taaren’s face as she watched in horror. A flashback of her past shot through her mind causing her to flinch and gasp suddenly. She felt overwhelmed with queasiness. “Why must you do that?” she asked, her voice quivered slightly.

Miguel turned suddenly to face her. “Because I have to!” he snapped angrily. His eyes fell upon a very pale looking Taaren. Regret filled his mind instantly. He felt like a total jerk. “Taaren, I-” he paused as he cautiously stepped down from his platform again, “I’m sorry. I forget that watching me do that brings back painful memories for you.” Standing opposite his team mate he rested his hands on his hips. “It’s fine - I’m fine. I’m feeling better now and no harm done, okay?” he said reassuringly as his concerned gaze rested on her.

Taaren swallowed hard and nodded, breathing heavily to try and clear the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach.

After a moment of silence between them, she decided to speak again. “You still haven’t explained why you’re pissed off.” She was keen to find out. Her trauma from her earlier years made her worry that she’d be deserted by people she cared about if she upset them or for no good reason at all.

Taaren was always cautious about the way she behaved in front of her team members in the Spider Society. She knew she was different from the others. No spider-like abilities were bestowed upon her by a radioactive spider bite. In fact, no radioactive spider had ever been anywhere near her. It was her mutant, superhuman strength that had got Miguel’s attention. However, for Miguel, having Taaren around was like a double edged sword. Her strength was indeed useful but he felt that it challenged his masculinity. He kept those thoughts to himself though.

Miguel wasn’t particularly good with his words, especially when he was upset. It was undeniable that he was pissed about something. He couldn’t keep lying. The Spider Society team leader sighed.

“I feel less of a man around you,” he explained, however he knew instantly those were the wrong choice of words.

A hurt expression spread across Taaren’s face. Her brows knitted together. “But - you are a man,” she paused, “I - I don’t mean to emasculate you… It’s my past, those damn experiments and injections I was subjected to. I didn’t ask for this-” her voice broke and couldn’t continue.

Mierda… This conversation was going south and not at all turning out as well as it did in his head. He stepped forward, reaching out to rest his hands on Taaren’s broad shoulders. “Shhh… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I’m such an idiot.” He sounded more annoyed with himself now as he squeezed his hands reassuringly on her. After giving it more thought, he decided to try again.

“It’s me. It’s my fault. I feel like I’m not enough - for you.” His eyes locked onto Taaren’s. His words made her double-take at him.

“W-what?”

“I got mad when the Green Goblin knocked you into the wall earlier. My instinct was to protect you; to stop him from hurting you any more than he had already.” Miguel began to explain, his hands still resting on her shoulders. Her warm skin emanated through his suit. “I should have helped you up and allowed us to attack him together. Instead, I got it into my head that I’d protect you and made possibly the worst decision, compromising our chances during the mission.”

Taaren’s eyes searched every aspect of the Spider Society leader’s body as he spoke. Looking for tell-tale signs he was lying. However his body language suggested he was being sincere. His raised eyebrows and a concerned look in his eyes made her feel as though he was desperate for her to understand him. Like he couldn’t bear her thinking it was her fault for the way he felt.

“You think you’re not good enough for me?” she eventually asked after processing his words. A slight pink hue spread across her cheeks.

“Look at you,” he began, his voice barely above a whisper. One of his hands left her shoulder and stroked her dark hair. “You’re perfect. The way you held off the anomaly earlier was admirable. I felt choked up for a moment before I fired my web at him.”

Miguel’s eyes wandered over her tattoos on her arms. “You’re so brave, strong-minded, and to top it all off, you’re probably one of the most gentle people I know. You don’t need me to protect you-”

“I did need you, Miguel,” Taaren interjected, her eyes wide and looking deeply into his. “I did need you,” she repeated with a quieter voice. Her hand rose and met his, which was still caressing her hair.

Now it was Miguel’s turn to look stunned. Her words from earlier now made sense. If they worked together, the mission wouldn’t have become a disaster and backup wouldn’t have been required. If he worked with her, rather than being desperate to show her his strength; they both would have been safe and protected by the other. How could he not have realised this sooner?

“You think I’m perfect?” Another question from Taaren. This one made his heart flutter slightly.

Miguel gave a subtle nod.

This was totally unexpected for Taaren. She had always thought Miguel was into smaller, less muscular women. Standing side by side, they almost looked exactly the same build wise. Except her shoulders weren’t quite as broad as his and her hips were slightly wider.

Taaren’s mind raced as she processed the last few minutes that had just passed. Silence fell between them as their eyes locked onto each other.

In a split second, they came together in a clash. Their lips locked passionately while their hands went to the other’s face and held them firmly, making sure their kiss would not be broken easily.

Fingers ran through Taaren’s hair, grasping a few strands and tugging them gently to start with. But as the kiss progressed, there was more need and aggression put into each pull of her long, black locks. Her breath hitched against his lips as their intimate moment grew in intensity.

Miguel’s tongue teased at her lips, encouraging her to open them for him, to allow him to enter. A moan left his lips as he felt her tongue meet his. He invaded deep into her mouth, expressing his ever growing need and desire for her.

Scooping her up in his arms, he lifted her onto his platform and pressed her against his desk. Fumbling hands tried to negotiate the back of her black bodysuit to remove it. 

Their breathing was deep, air rushed through their noses while their mouths were busy.

Finally her suit was off and he broke the kiss before looking deep into her eyes. They panted heavily to catch their breath.

His eyes wandered from hers and fell on the large scar on her face. A smile spread across his lips. To him, her scars added to her beauty, giving her character. A testament of her strength, bravery and strong willedness. Evidence that this fierce tigress had been through her wars, gained her stripes and came out the other side, strong and fearless. In his opinion, there was nothing more attractive than that.

With his hands back in her hair again, he brought his lips to the scar on her face, delivering tender kisses along it. “Mi hermosa,” he purred between his displays of affection with his mouth. After the scar on her face, he located the next one on her now naked body. His lips travelled to her right shoulder. Planting more tantalising, delicate kisses, making her gasp and blush slightly.

Releasing her hair, his hands travelled to her hips, feeling every curve and contours of her muscles along the way. His head travelled further down her body in search of more scars.

Taaren felt his hands grip her hips more firmly as he began to push her backwards, making her sit on his desk. His hands then moved from her hips, even lower to her thighs. Giving her a slight squeeze as he slowly prized her legs apart while he looked up into her beautiful, enchanting indigo eyes. “May I?” he asked before licking his lips. A glint in his eyes suggested he was hungry and wanted a taste of her.

With a moan and a bite of her lip, Taaren nodded. An ache had developed between her legs, followed by a throb deep inside.

Miguel didn’t waste any time hesitating. He moved his head forward, between her legs, his lips capturing her clit while his tongue flicked over the sensitive bundle of nerves relentlessly. Within an instant, Taaren arched her back and tilted her head, as if a moan so loud and powerful erupted from her. Like there was nothing she could do to contain it. Her hands gripped the edge of his desk, the pleasure he was giving her was already driving her wild.

Every now and then, she felt his hands change position on her legs. Holding under her thighs, he pushed upwards forcing her to tilt her pelvis. This way he could access lower down more easily. His tongue pushed deep inside her pussy, eating her out with fervour, eliciting yet more moans from Taaren. Then he’d return to her clit, lowering her thighs back down to the desk. He would repeat this several times.

“Cum for me Taaren,” he’d mumble between her legs before flicking her sensitive bud mercilessly with his tongue.

Taaren was a hot, whimpering mess. She was panting desperately and on the edge of feeling the ultimate pleasure, all thanks to his expert tongue. His command to cum for him turned her on even more, making her increasingly desperate to do what he wanted.

With her breath faltering, he knew she was exceedingly close. Trapping her clit with his lips, he sucked hard as his tongue continued its assault on her. Instantly, a moan ripped out of her and echoed throughout the control room. “Yes,” he growled as her cries and whimpers gave away that she was climaxing. “That’s it; good girl,” he continued before latching back onto her clit again and restarting the stimulation.

Her body shuddered and jolted as her climax tore through her body, every lick and flick of his tongue made her plunge even deeper into pleasure.

As her climax subsided, his efforts slowed to a stop. He stood shortly after and allowed his suit to dissolve away. Evidence of his arousal was clear as day, his hard throbbing, dripping cock twitched before her.

“Taste me, hermosa…” he whispered into her ear before gently pulling her off the desk and taking her place.

She didn’t need to be told twice. Biting her lip, she sank to her knees. Her hands dragged down his sides and abs, stopping at his hips.

Taking in the glorious sight of his large, twitching shaft, a needy growl rumbled from her throat. Seeing pre-cum beading at the tip excited her. She could feel another throb of need pulsing from between her legs.

“Por favor…” His voice shook with need. He longed to feel her mouth wrapped around him, licking him, sucking him.

Leaning further forward, her lips kissed the tip in a teasing fashion, making him gasp and groan. His hips jolted slightly, desperately seeking more contact.

“Mierda!” he exclaimed before whimpering.

Slowly, her mouth enveloped deliciously around his cock, sinking as deep as she could go on him. Closing her eyes as her hands grasped his gorgeous narrow hips, squeezing them, feeling his smooth skin under her fingers and palms.

She could taste him as her tongue circled tantalisingly around the head of his length. A slight hint of coffee danced across her tongue as she flicked it over the tip.

Miguel threw his head back, his enlarged canines made an appearance as his jaw dropped at the sensation of Taaren’s mouth pleasuring him. His hands gripped the desk, generating the sound of his claws scratching the metal of the console. A deep groan escaped his throat as his hips slowly thrusted forward, easing himself further in.

When she found a depth she was comfortable having him in, she started to bob her head up and down while her tongue massaged the underside of his length. The feeling of his hands in her hair returned. Her thick black locks tangled around his fingers as he gripped it tightly.

Then the sucking sensation began around his shaft. A lusty moan vibrated in her mouth, around him, sending a wave of tingles up his spine.

“Ah… fuck, Taaren. You’re going to make me cum too early doing that…” he groaned. “I’m not anywhere near done with you, if I can help it.”

If Taaren could smile, she would have done. But her mouth was a little busy pleasuring him. Hearing how good she was making him feel was like music to her ears. She felt tempted to keep sucking.

The irresistible pleasure didn’t relent. His hips lurched forward again. “Taaren!” he gasped. Such a bad girl… A slight chuckle from her only made things worse.

Using his hand in her hair, he pulled her head away. A choke or two filled the room before she gasped for air.

Taaren stood to face him again, he pulled her in for another kiss. His aggressive and assertive side was out on display and she loved every second of it. It drove her wild.

As they kissed, Miguel could feel her teeth catch his bottom lip. He gasped as he felt her pull on it. A low growl emanated from her as she bit and sucked him gently. Oh fuck…

Releasing his lip, Taaren’s mouth travelled down his neck. Kissing, licking and nibbling him along the way. Her hands snaked around his body, feeling the rise and fall of his chest, his muscles flexing as he reacted to her delicate and tender touch.

An urgent throb down below told him he needed more of her. Placing his hands on her shoulders, he spun her around, her back facing his front. One hand remained on her shoulder while the other went to her hip. His grip on her manipulated her position, pressing her forward to lean her over his desk; she bent to his will without complaint. Her lips parted as she waited with excited anticipation over what he was going to do to her next. She was the absolute perfect height for him. He could enter her with ease.

Releasing her shoulder, his hand guided the head of his cock to her entrance. “Are you ready, mi hermosa?” he asked breathlessly.

“Yes Miguel,” Taaren’s response was shaky. She opened the gap between her feet to allow him to enter her more easily. To be taken roughly by Miguel was something she craved. Her fingers gripped onto the console, preparing herself for a wild ride - she hoped.

Her pussy was slick and ready for him. His tip slipped inside with ease. Miguel threw his head back again as he felt her take him completely.

Taaren groaned heavily as she took his entire length. She could feel little pricking sensations on her hip. Miguel’s claws came out slightly but he was careful not to hurt her. His other hand returned to her shoulder, holding her tightly. This felt promising.

Using his firm grip on her, he pulled her body into his as he thrusted hard, slamming his hips against her ass cheeks.

The muscles in Taaren’s back flexed intensely as tingles ran like wildfire over her skin.

A symphony of moans and groans filled the air as he fucked her relentlessly from behind. Passion was running incredibly high between them, that it had become primal. She wasn’t disappointed.

Miguel’s hair flopped over his face. With every aggressive thrust, his once slicked back hair became increasingly dishevelled. He was letting everything go and it seemed his actions reflected in her desperate vocal responses. Each thrust slammed into her harder than the last.

“Ay Dios…” he moaned as his hand kneaded her hip. He had retracted his claws - for now.

Tension was building up fast within him, and yet he still wanted to play. He wasn’t prepared to blow a load inside her just yet.

Just when he felt like he could cum, he decided to edge himself. He pulled out and groaned intensely, desperately cooling down his impending climax. Taaren let out a shocked gasp the moment she felt his heat leave her so suddenly. The tingles that were raging within her suddenly died down. A frustrated growl rumbled low in her chest. Turning her head to face him, she stared wildly, awaiting a reason for the rude interruption.

“Let me sit, por favor,” he asked Taaren. Another position popped into his mind and he was eager to try it with her. He watched her glare at him. It seems rough sex with her had unlocked a side of Taaren that he had never seen before. He had to admit, he loved it.

Despite the frustration, she was intrigued with what he had in store. Standing up, she moved out of the way for him. 

Miguel took her place back on the desk again. “Turn your back to me again, mi hermosa, and sit on my lap,” he instructed.

Taaren eagerly obliged, perching her perfectly defined ass on his thighs as he rested on the desk.

With Miguel’s guidance, she was positioned crouching over his cock, her feet rested on the edge of the console. “Rest your hands on my knees, Taaren.”

She followed his instructions perfectly. Using her legs and flexibility, she sank down onto him. His cock filling every inch of her once again. That inviting and delicious warmth soothing her soul once again.

For the third time, Miguel tilted his head back. With this angle, it felt like an even tighter fit for him. His hands supported her ass and hips and began assisting her in bouncing up and down on his shaft.

The both of them moaned, letting their noises of pleasure echo around the room.

His climax was starting to build again. The pitch of his grunts and groans rose slightly the closer to orgasm he became. He could hear Taaren pant with every bounce on his throbbing cock. “More,” he groaned. His eyes were closing. His heart was pounding. His muscles were tensing.

Taaren bounced harder on him.

“More!” The urgency in his voice increased. That familiar feeling began to build up in his balls.

She bounced even harder on him. Her panting and grunting had increased as she ramped up her effort.

“MORE!” Miguel bared his teeth, his enlarged canines revealed themselves once again.

A roar of pure, intense pleasure ripped from his throat. His hands gripped her hips and pulled her down onto him hard as he released hot, thick spurts of his seed inside her. His fingers released her hips slightly as his claws protruded from his fingertips once more, to their fullest extent.

Taaren could feel every throb deep inside her. A moan of blissful satisfaction filled the air.

Once they had both caught their breath, Miguel’s arms slowly wrapped around her. Pressing her back into his chest, his mouth breathing hot air into her ear.

As his climax ebbed away and the afterglow began, Miguel whispered to her, still holding her close. “You do not need to change. You are perfection, and I wouldn’t have you any other way.” His voice was soft and calm. Taaren could tell he meant every word. She melted at the feeling of him playing with her hair. The sensation of his fingers tickling the back of her neck made her shiver.

With a sweet smile playing across her lips, she turned her head so she could see him more. “And you are enough,” she whispered as her lips grazed his own. “I need you more than you think.” Her lips captured his momentarily. “I love you.”

Miguel opened his eyes and looked at hers before nuzzling into her cheek gently. “Yo también te amo…” he purred in response.

Silence filled the room as they became lost in each other's embrace, feeling full of love for each other.

----------

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[supergito]

Fusion Revived - CH 4 (Flight)

➤ This story is actually complete (finished Sep 2021) over on my Ao3 already; I'm just publishing it here on tumblr too for archival purposes. I hope any and all curious readers enjoy if they haven't checked it out yet!

SUMMARY: Majin Buu has been destroyed, and the Earth has known peace for close to a year now. Life hasn't been too peaceful for the person responsible for saving the world and the entire universe however, but when an ordinary woman meets him one day, things start to change.

RATING: Teen and Up. PAIRING(S): Vegito x OC/Reader, alluded Gochi, alluded Vegebul CONTENT: Canon Divergence, Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, Family Drama CW(s) THIS CHAPTER: None.

She still didn’t understand what was going on, but she couldn’t find it without herself to complain.

Now that Vegito knew where she lived, he visited surprisingly often. It wasn’t every day, and he didn’t hang around for too long, but she could expect to see him at least once or twice a week. He didn’t do much other than raid her kitchen and nap on her couch, but the fact that he kept coming back was…touching. In a way that made her squirm.

When the opportunity came, she did make sure to ask how he got into her house. His answer was one that interested her greatly, not only as to how it was accomplished, but how he was capable of it in the first place.

                                                                                                             ༻ ❁ ༺

“Instant…what?”

“Instant Transmission.”

He spoke through the mash of chewed up pork dumplings puffing his cheeks out. They were sitting down and eating take out that she got from the city, considering how empty her pantry and fridge were. Her wallet was going to soon follow suit, because Vegito ate far more than what the average human was capable of. Their first meeting in the orchard should’ve told her that.

She didn’t have to feed him anything, and she was tempted to ban him from her kitchen, but once he gave her those puppy-dog eyes of his…she was powerless.

“How’s that work?” She watched him shovel chow mein into his mouth with his chopsticks, and gawked when he swallowed it without evidently chewing.

“It’s a technique where you can teleport to a ki signature or close to it. It’s the best way to travel.”

“…So, you locked onto my ki and teleported to me?”

“Exactly.” He reached over to grab another container of food. “There’s no need to go through any doors or the like when you can bypass them all instantly.”

She probably didn’t need to tell him that just warping into her house unannounced was rude and a bit creepy, but even if she did, he wouldn’t have cared. There’s no way to prevent him from sensing her ki anyway…right?

“That reminds me. How do you sense ki?”

“Explaining that is difficult.” He glanced at her. “It’s something that just comes naturally to you. Words can’t do it much justice.”

“So, there’s no way to learn it then?”

“Hm?” He fully faced her, smiling with that innocent look she remembered from their conversation on the hilltop before.

“Do you want to learn?”

“…Kind of. I’m just, curious.” She averted her eyes, looking down at her food.

“I think, the best way to get a feel of sensing ki is to learn how to fly, since you manipulate ki for that. So? Will you accept my flying lesson offer?”

A pang of nervousness clamped her jaw shut, and she poked a spring roll in her container.

“What, are you scared of heights? Is that why you’re hesitant?” He snickered, and embarrassment spread throughout her body in a wave of heat.

“It’s not that. It’s just…the danger of it. What if I fall?”

“I’ll catch you.”

“That so?”

“Yes.” He was incredulous. “Do you think I would just let you fall?”

She didn’t comment. Vegito let it go, and went on.

“C’mon, you can’t tell me you’ve NEVER thought about what it would be like to fly. I heard that’s a common daydream people share.”

“Well…” She recalled a memory she had, back when she was young.

“I have wondered…what it would be like to float in the sky and watch the sun rise. What it would look like.”

She admitted with a clear display of bashfulness. She’s never told anyone this before, and she struggled to think of a reason why telling Vegito came so easily.

“Hmph. That’s all?”

Her usual expression of irritation was back, and she scowled while the man gave a toothy grin. To her disbelief, his face softened, and the prior teasing air faded.

“Just let me know whenever you feel up to trying it. I have plenty of free time these days.”

That statement made her look sideways at him, but any read she could’ve made on him was blocked by how he resumed eating. Shortly after, he let out a pleased sigh and put the last styrofoam container down on the table. The dozen or so sat in stacks across it. She still hasn’t finished her first and only portion.

“That was a nice snack! Thanks for the grub ____.” He pat his stomach in satisfaction.

If a dozen containers of food was a ‘snack’ to him, she feared what a feast would be. She already knew she would have to be the one to get rid of all this trash, but by seeing how happy he was, she didn’t have the heart to be annoyed by that.

Vegito had his moments of charm, in spite of however insufferable he could be.

                                                                                                             ༻ ❁ ༺

What he told her about Instant Transmission clung to her thoughts when she laid down for bed one night. She failed to ask just how and where he learned that technique, as it certainly didn’t sound like a lesson you could get from any average martial arts teacher. If it even was related to martial arts at all.

During her ponderings, staring up at her bedroom’s ceiling, she became aware that she had no idea what kind of fighter Vegito was. He had the physique for serious combat, but she could only imagine what he was like in it. Maybe she could try asking him, and hopefully not have to deal with he wanting to fight her as a demonstration. She’d rather not end up in the hospital.

Eventually, she dozed off. As the night passed, her slumber was dreamless and peaceful. When the time arrived, she’d be awakened by her alarm clock in the morning, and would follow her normal routine to get ready for work…

…But she would find herself being awakened early, with the sky still dark but being slowly illuminated. Something was shaking her shoulder, with a firmness that stirred her from unconsciousness immediately.

“Morning!”

“W-Wha…” Her vision was blurry, and she had to take a second to rub her eyes to clear it. When she registered that there was a person standing next to her bed, she sat up with a start.

“What the- What are you doing here?!”

“Geez. I guess you aren’t a morning person.” She could make out his silhouette. Vegito had his hands on his hips, and his cheekiness made her teeth grind. Having a quick look at her alarm clock, she saw it was just past 5am.

“Why are you in my room?” She instinctively brought up her blanket in an attempt to cover herself, although she was wearing a long nightgown underneath it. No one has ever been inside her bedroom, let alone a man, and especially not at first light.

Damn Instant Transmission.

“I recalled you said something about wanting to see what sunrise was like in the sky, and now I think is a good time to do so.”

“…Huh? Wh-Why?”

“Why not?” He shot back, and leaned in. She shied away, pressing herself into her pillows.

“I’ll carry you.”

“…Right now?”

“Yes, right now. Come on, before the sky brightens too much.”

What was this guy’s deal? Maybe she would be flattered that he remembered what she told him, if he didn’t just show up unannounced and uninvited in her bedroom while she was sleeping. But he seemed serious about this, and she knew him well enough to understand it wasn’t easy to change his mind once it’s made up.

“… … …Fine. Let me change clothes-”

She was cut off by he grasping her blanket and tugging it off of her.

“What you’re wearing now is fine.”

“You-”

Her furious shout wasn’t wholly voiced, as Vegito reached down. He plucked her up with no effort whatsoever, and held her in his arms. Her head came to rest against his collarbone, virtually tucked underneath his chin. That, paired with how incredibly warm his body was, had whatever protests she could’ve spoken silenced.

Wordlessly, he walked over to her door and switched to hold her with only one arm so he could open it. It was like she weighed nothing to him, nothing at all. His degree of strength and the vast well it must have been was beginning to dawn on her.

Her cheek was pressed against him as he opened her front door, and the rush of cold air involuntarily made her nestle more into him. Through the thin fabric of her gown, and his own clothing, she could feel the curves and grooves of his muscles. She could feel his heart beating at a fast rate, funnily enough. She knew her heart was doing the same. She wondered if he was feeling as flustered as she was. If so, he was doing very well at hiding it.

The sky was losing its dark colors as time went on. Vegito stopped walking after moving a certain distance away from her house, and she tried to level her breathing.

When she noticed that everything around them was moving down however, she choked. The ground was getting smaller.

Alarmed, her arms flew on their own accord to wrap around Vegito’s neck. His snigger was a soft rumble in her ears, and she wished she was not only back on the ground, but miles under the surface.

“D-Don’t drop me please…”

Her plea had the force of a mouse’s squeak.

“Don’t worry ____. Why don’t you take a look forward?”

Her face was nearly buried into his chest, but hearing his request, uncertainty kept her still. Vegito said previously that he wouldn’t let her fall; that counted for this too right? He wouldn’t just drop her for the hell of it? Regardless, there wasn’t anything she could do about it now. She was at his mercy, so she figured she should enjoy this before things potentially went south.

When she perceived the height they were at, she did her best to not look down and instead did what Vegito asked. In front of them, the horizon stretched across in a slight curve. She could see for miles around them; the green of the countryline was dotted with different colored plant life. Further to their right, she could see the skyline of West City, and the mountains that encircled it.

What was most breathtaking, was the sun. The halo around it was a strong orange that cut through the dark blue of twilight. As it peeked over the horizon as a sheer white disk, its rays provided a range of brilliance that she couldn’t stare at for too long. But it was beautiful regardless.

Naturally, it was very cold at their current altitude, even more so to her as she was clothed only in a mere nightgown. When a gust of wind blew, she started shivering again, quivering against her companion. She could feel his muscles tighten in response, and discerned a faint glow materialize around his form. It was pale in color and danced in the appearance of translucent fire, covering her in a gentle kind of heat. What it was exactly, it escaped her, but she didn’t feel pressed enough to disturb the tranquil atmosphere by questioning it.

But, she was grateful that he did whatever he did. He cared about her…a tiny bit, she could see.

Temporarily unaffected by the cold now, and having grown comfortable in Vegito’s hold, there was a veil being placed over her mind. Drowsiness was returning, thanks in part to her premature awakening, and her eyelids were like miniature weights. She ever so slowly became limp, and could feel herself teetering on the edge of sleep.

…The peace was shattered when her body was tilted forward. Her eyelids flew back open, but then shut with the tightness of a clam’s shell when the chilling wind battered her skin mercilessly. She was going to demand just what was going on, but when she felt herself being spun around, all she could do was scream.

Beyond that, she could hear unrestrained, giddy laughter.

It was when she thought the contents of her stomach would be ejected, that the chaos ended. Upon recognizing that she was on the ground, on her knees with the grass in between her fingers, she breathed a sigh of relief that was mixed with nausea.

“W-What…what….”

“-Was that for?” Vegito finished for her, his mirth a total contrast to how she was feeling. “I saw you were falling asleep on me, so I wanted to wake you up real quick!”

And he couldn’t have done that by…calling her name, or jostling her, or something like a normal person? No, silly her. He wasn’t a normal person. Not at all. She knew this, but time and time again, it was proven to her as if she still didn’t completely understand. Honestly, she didn’t.

She only knew Vegito on the surface level. There was far more to him than he let on, but there has yet been an opportunity for she to slip past that wall he kept up.

Did she even want to get past it? She wasn’t sure what she would discover.

“…Hmph...”

She grunted, numb due to the inertia changes that ransacked her just a minute before. That was the only reason why she wasn’t a snarling, furious mess at the moment.

Finally tilting her head to the side to look at him, she saw that he was sitting right next to her. His smile matched the sun in vibrancy, as did the light in his eyes, despite how dark his irises were. A fast movement was captured in her peripheral vision.

A brown tail was extended behind the man, swaying side to side.

“You have a tail?”

“You just noticed?” His head tilted, a motion she found endearing.

“I thought it was a belt.”

“Heh. I’ve heard that one before.” He remarked. The furry appendage continued to sway, but as she kept watching it, it started to twitch in a more agitated fashion before partially hiding behind Vegito’s back.

“Does it bother you?”

The question was unanticipated, and she drew a blank before her brain readjusted itself. In all sincerity, she was staring at it because she was pressed by the urge to pet it. It looked fluffy.

“No.” She wouldn’t admit that, not now anyway. When her gaze met his again his previous calm demeanor was gone, replaced by a rigid stare and frown. What was the cause of it, she guessed it had something to do with the tail, but her next words dissolved his sudden guard.

“It’s just another new thing I learned about you.”

His frown lessened, until his mouth was a straight line. Then, the corners of it curved upwards, and his eyebrows slacked. That feather-soft bearing was back.

In this moment, though she wasn’t entirely aware of it, she formed a similar countenance. Save for the wind, and the distant birdsong, it was blissfully quiet. She wasn’t a mind reader, so who knew what he was thinking right now, but for her…she realized something that made the pace of her heartbeat spike.

Was…Vegito always this handsome?

The answer was elusive, but the revelation sat on her shoulders with the pressure of lead. His bangs repeatedly fluttered against his forehead from a breeze, but he showed no signs of it bothering him, having his attention focused solely on her. Distinguishing the emotion he regarded her with was an impossible task, and it made her fidget, tackled by feelings of nervousness and…delight all at once.

She wanted to press a hand against his cheek and get him to stop looking at her like that, but on the other hand, part of her wished he would never stop.

Sadly, he did. Their pleasant stare down was done when there was something that sparked in his eyes, and it wasn’t warmth.

The next second, he was standing, turned away from her.

“I need to go.”

He spoke in a monotone, that cut though her with the sharpness of chipped ice. One of his hands went up to his forehead, and there was a pause. Onyx spheres flicked to her.

“Sorry.”

The apology was said more softly. There was an intangible disturbance that shifted the air, and he vanished in a blur.

She being alone didn’t set in until a gale raced by, billowing her nightgown and chilling her down to her bones. Having lost all of the good feelings she was experiencing, the woman shakily stood up, hugging herself as confusion and a degree of hurt plagued her.

Did she do something wrong? Maybe she would never find out. She had no inkling as to where he went, and judging by how his attitude did a 180, if she would even see him again anytime soon.

Or, ever again.

The only thing to do now was to go back home, so she could get ready for work. What a morning this ended up being.

[raewrites42]

FALLING Part. 3.2

SPOILERS ATSV!!! i dont Really think there's any spoilers for ATSV in here but i'll put it just in case.

This is an OC story.

~SIDE NOTE FROM RAE~

The second half as promised. I don't know why it wouldn't let me put it all in 1 post but here it is.

~EARTH 199999 ~

Taylor, Peter and Strange are sitting after having their long conversation. All 3 of them are exhausted, well Strange is more annoyed. Strange is rubbing temples. “That was one of the most exhausting experiences I have ever went through and I fought against Thanos.” “Who?” Peter and Taylor question at the same time. Strange shakes his head at both of them, “Never mind. Is there anything else or have we covered it all.” Taylor speaks, “No, I think we’re good on my end Peter?” “Nope all questions answered.” “Great, now as long as you 2 promise to not disturb the fabric of the multi-verse we can conclude this conversation and I can send you both on your way.” Peter questions, “Wait! What about the super collider? Wont it like tear a hole in my universe or something?” Strange rolls his eyes, “Not at all. Whoever built that thing was lazy and didn’t know what he was doing. If anything, the collider would have gone off and exploded the blast radius would have whipped out half the city.”

Taylor furrows her eyebrows, “Then how did you-? Why did you say we were trying to destroy the multi-verse if it would have only affected the city in our universe?” “The chemicals and the radiation from the blast left an unknown outcome.” “Meaning?” “The results from the explosion would have caused the damage to the multi-verse not the collider itself.” “So, like stopping a canon event.” Strange rolls his eyes, “stopping, causing whatever you want to say. Super colliders are just bad all around.” Peter nods his head, “noted.” “Now as fun as this has been its time for you to go.” Strange opens a portal back to Peters universe. “Wait!” Taylor yells, stopping him. “What?” “Can’t you just send me home?” “That’s what I’m doing.” “No not Peters home my home. Back to Miguel.” “No.” “What!” “Why?” Peter and I yell at the same time. “You’re a wizard! Why can’t you use your powers for good!” “I told you about the balance of the multi-verse.” “But I’m not from his universe, wouldn’t that throw off the balance!” “Exactly! Sending her home would balance things out!” Strange shakes his head. “It would throw off the balance, because you come to his universe with that watch, right?” I nod my head. “Yes.” “Then you have to go back the same way.” Peter shakes his head. “That doesn’t make any sense.” Ears start to blur my vision, I steady my voice before speaking, “I don’t understand.” Strange sighs,” Magic is a part of nature, your watch goes against that natural balance. If I try to send you back home through a magic portal it could kill you.” I let out a humorless laugh, “so what your saying is all of this was for nothing.” Peter tries to argue, “You’re really telling us there’s nothing you can do?” My strange face remains the same, “There’s nothing I can do. I’m sorry.” I wordlessly step through the portal not looking back. I see that I’m in an alley, so I just keep walking. No destination in mind.

I’m stuck here. A wizard couldn’t even help me. This is where I live now. Here? No more Hobie, No more Peter B, No more Mayday, No more Mi- no I can’t that. If I say that then this is real and this can’t be real, I’m having a nightmare. A month-long nightmare that I can’t seem to wake up from. I don’t know how long I’ve been walking when Peter runs up to me in his normal clothes, I didn’t even know he brought those. “Hey!” Peter tried to stop me, but I just kept walking. “Hey!” Too numb to speak. Peter grabs me by both of my shoulders, forcing me to stop. “Hey! Taylor look at me.” I slowly bring my vision up to meet his eyes. “We’re going to figure it out, ok? We’ll fix your watch and send you home.” “We both know there’s no way for me to go home Peter. I’m stuck here.” “Don’t say that.” “Say what the truth?” “You can’t give up, ok? I haven’t given up so you can’t give up. Ok?” I didn’t answer him. “Taylor, I need to hear you say ok. You can’t give up, ok?” He looks at me expectantly. “Ok, yeah Peter I wont give up.” “Well, that’s a start. We’ll get you to believe that eventually.” He drops his hands from my shoulders. “Can we just go home. We were in that place for hours and I’m starving.”  “Yeah. Let’s go home. Its only 9:30 May should be done with dinner by now.” “we’ve been gone since last night; do you think she’ll be mad?” “At you? Never but I’ll definitely be hearing about it.” Me and Peter walk home its 10 by the time we finally get there. May meets us at the door with a frown on her face. Peter goes to explain, “May I know we’re late I’m sorry.” May holds up her hand, “don’t say sorry to me Peter say sorry to your friend. He’s been here waiting for you for 3 hours.” Peter and I exchange confused looks. Peter turns back to May, “Friend?” Peter, May and I walk further into the house, into the living room. We see a hulking figure sitting on the couch, this guy is huge. I think the only person I’ve ever seen this big was-. My though is interrupted as the figure stands and turns to face us. I let out a loud gasp, “Miguel?”

[thousandbuns]

Tonight, on Bottom Gear: Ylthin gets extra sentimental about the spiky lads, and especially her fictional dysfunctional more-or-less-spiky children

(AKA I’m going to vaguely ramble about why I ticked so hard with Chaos and Chaos Marines as a faction, and how my personal experiences may or may not have seeped through into my renegade/CSM OCs)

---

Maybe I should begin by bringing up what exactly spurred this - and it’s a meme posted in a mutual’s Discord server this evening:

I saw it and nodded, for it is good and righteous to call the canon dumb and elope with some harlot to the wild frontier of headcanon, fanon and others. But at the same time - how about acknowledging canon... by defying it? How about taking the grand founding rule of this fictional universe and asking “okay, but what would happen if something didn’t conform to it”? Taking the one in a hundred, one in a thousand, one in a million... one-period, the sole existing or known exception to what’s considered the norm?

And then it struck me - it’s what Chaos and otherwise rogue Marines are to the Imperium. They’re the impossible, the anathema, the living defiance of both its founding principles and current ideological line, a thing so blasphemous their very existence is a desperately guarded state secret. They’re thoroughly brainwashed into total obedience, yet somehow break out of it, betray their sovereign - be it for the Ruinous Powers, their own agenda or both. They’re the exception to the rule - and an exception so powerful, so fundamental, it dates back to the founding of the Imperium and originally covered nearly half of the Legiones Astartes. They prove that the rule is hardly as set in stone as the Imperium would like you to believe, and if you think about it for more than a second...

Wouldn’t it mean other exceptions are possible, too?

Wouldn’t it mean that an Astartes can be of other gender than “male”? That they can experience sexual or romantic attraction? That they can feel the full spectrum of human emotions and desires, or at least parts of it?

And what would happen if they did so in an environment that denies them the knowledge or space to express themselves? One that seeks to repress those feelings and behaviors, directly or indirectly?

For example, what would happen if the hypno-conditioning was flawed beyond just allowing for “too much” free will or “not enough” attachment to the Imperium over the Marine’s own brotherhood? If he was unusually sympathetic and protective of mortals, genuinely invested in fighting “for the good of mankind”? Or if he felt particularly responsible for the brothers assigned to his command, seeing himself as a teacher and a role model, but more importantly someone they could confide in and seek advice from?

What would happen if a Marine found himself falling in love with - and simultaneously also feeling physically attracted to - another battle brother while understanding in theory how human sexuality operates but remaining firmly convinced it doesn’t - and shouldn’t - extend to Astartes? If “he” felt off about his hypermasculine appearance and secretly questioned the logic behind artificially maintaining an environment with only one, nominally “male” gender?

What would happen if a Marine was drafted into a war, but not given a cause to believe in or rally around, thrust into another man’s conflict without any personal conviction or stake, nothing beyond a vague claim of “duty” and “sole purpose”?

What would happen if this was confounded by snippets of knowledge - surviving memories of the past, direct experiences with mortals, overheard words - yet also faced with opposition in some way, quiet or loud, with misunderstanding, denial, hostility, punishment or deterrence? If this experience seemed to be an isolated case, a one-of-a-kind event at best and a major defect at worst?

What would happen to those one-in-many, to isolated grains of sand that slipped through a hair-thin crack?

And what if those unique experiences became compounded, layered on top of other, more conventionally-unconventional exceptions? A Rubric exile partially afflicted by the spell they helped cast, a noble-hearted Fenrisian who fought on Armageddon only to slip into Khorne’s clutches, an Imperial Fist successor who fought his way into the ranks of Iron Warriors to lead a squad of young, disheartened recruits...

After all, the galaxy is so massive that one-in-a-million events can basically happen every other day. One percent - one in a hundred - out of one million is ten thousand, and from our limited human perspective there’s almost nothing stopping reality from somehow hitting that one percent chance several times in a row.

After all, life spun the wheel with me and checked off a whole bunch of boxes in one go, making me queer, neurodivergent, mentally ill and very angry about a number of things in retrospect - and I wouldn’t be able to describe myself as either of these things if I haven’t heard from people who experienced them as well. Go figure.

[archaictold]

PERMANENT PLOTTER.

wowie, it has been a hot minute since i've done one of these!!! seeing as i've gotten into the groove with zhilan here in isola, i think it's about time i cast my reel into the pond and start developing some long-term plots for him. i'll preface this by saying we do not need to have threaded before for you to express your interest! if you think your muse can vibe with any of these  ( or even if you have an idea i haven't covered here! ) , you're more than welcome to hop onto this plotter call. 'what does this do, exactly?' you might be asking. i'll tell you! by liking this, you can guarantee:

me hopping into your IMs to plot!

memes for meme day!

spontaneous starters! ( with your permission, of course! )

… and all things good for development! now! onto the real meat of this post!

RELATIONSHIPS. these are the bonds i want to see zhilan develop! some of these include—— FRIENDS. if you've been around zhilan for longer than 5 seconds, you've probably noticed that he is extremely friendly! zhilan has the personality of a sunbeam: it's bright, it's cheerful, it's warm and everything you would expect of a walking beacon of positivity. he's pretty talkative, even when faced with less talkative muses. he's also really trusting and believes the best in people, sometimes to his own detriment. he'd make a good friend to just about anyone, being a rather personable individual! plus, i think he ought to make some friends! the guy's kind of a hermit when it comes to his work. GEEK SQUAD. do you have a muse that's also super nerdy? you're in luck! they probably stand a chance of coming across zhilan in his natural element, that being his lab at the university or one of the libraries scattered about spirale. there is no greater joy to him than positing theories and discussing the nature of one's work. even if their fields differ, he'll want to hear all about it! ENEMIES. now, i feel like it's hard to get under zhilan's skin unless you're the absolute anarchy of humanity, BUT! i do think his optimism can rub people the wrong way, especially if they're more jaded. i'm not expressly looking for people to antagonize zhilan, but i do think it's impossible for him to get along with everyone. thus, i'm leaving this here! SPARRING PARTNERS. you wouldn't know it from zhilan's scrawny stature, but he does dabble a bit in martial arts! now that he's gotten his polearm back, he's actively looking to improve his combat skills… which are admittedly not that impressive, unless he's acting as a support. maybe your muse could act as a mentor, or even a fellow peer! THE MUSEUM. zhilan plans to take up a job position here! it's… kind of an odd choice, yes, but he doesn't exactly want to pursue an academic position at the university. so where better to put that treasure trove of knowledge to use than a museum! if you're visiting for any reason, you'll likely come across him among the gallery. just, er… not the abyssal gallery. he tends to keep out of there. YESTERYEAR. zhilan frequents this branch rather often, being to sort to gravitate to old dilapidated ruins and forgotten history. if you know a thing or two about this branch, he'll be incredibly interested to hear about it! who knows! maybe the two of you can explore it together… CASTMATES. zhilan might be a fandom oc, but i'm really keen on the idea of him developing some established bonds with his canon counterparts.  ;v;  their shared canon background already gives them a good basis for interactions, so i'd like to nurture some connections for him with his genshin fellows! aaaand that’s about it! of course this doesn’t cover everything, so if you’ve got an idea and you don’t see it here you’re free to hop on this post and shoot it my way! thanks for reading!  :^)

[slicing-clovers]

Eyyo...!

Once again, I see that it’s been a bit of a while... yes, again again. Of course, as much as this blog is alive and kicking, there’s a couple updates I want to cover, and more groundwork that I want to lay.

Thankfully, nothing serious or worrying has been going on here, but since I am thinking about tackling some larger projects than usual lately, I thought it was best for myself to line things out, as follows.

So, without further ado:

Since my last message, I’ve since gone through my first quarter of junior year in university, and as of this writing, I’m about to enter my second.

As it turns out, dropping into an empty apartment without any roommates for the weekend (...and frankly, not really being around people for a day) has done poorly for my motivation today. I was meaning to tackle some more threads, but I think those may have to wait just a little longer, until I gather my bearings again– hopefully soon!

So, to those of you who are continuing those with me, thank you for your patience and your perseverance. It has been and is lovely to write with you guys– you know who you are!

Additionally, I have been making plans to create a new multimuse blog alongside this one.

In my previous experience in creating single-muse OC and canon blogs, I’ve noticed that activity has sort of... fizzled out between them– after attempting some threads with them, my willingness to keep them up to the level this one carried unfortunately ran short, due to responsibilities and the like.

So, I’ve come up with an idea– I’ve got multiple potential muses I want to play in a single multimuse, both OCs and some canon characters, including ones from my time playing Dungeons and Dragons, and Final Fantasy 14. I’m thinking activity will be variable there, but in the least, it wouldn’t be spread so thin, as multiple single-muse blogs have turned out for me.

As it stands, the blog itself is still a work-in-progress. I’m still trying to find a proper theme for it, and how exactly I should go about organizing the roster... but those aside, do stay tuned! I’ll definitely be yeeting the URL over here once things are ready enough.

So— with those lined out, that should hopefully cover the things I plan to do relatively soon. Of course, things may change with my workflow in university, but I still see myself having time to work on nice pastimes like this.

Again, it’s always been a pleasure writing with you guys, and I’ve come to love all the stories we’ve crafted together. Here’s to more– many more.

With love and appreciation, Pownan

[maddieautobot273]

Silk & Cologne (51)

A Miguel O'hara x OC fanfic - link to AO3 (X)

Chapter 51: Unravel - previous chapter (X)

Pairing: Miguel O'hara x Female OC

Words: 5.8K+

Warnings: Mentions of violence and action, attempted murder.

Summary: The villains invade Earth-1218, and won't stop until Lisa is in Harry Osborne's clutches.

/////////

One moment Touga was standing protectively in front of me as Chameleon had a gun pointed at him. Next, I was on the stage floor with my arms wrapped around Touga’s back, his skin bone white as if his life had flashed before his eyes. With the sound of the gun shot, all hell broke loose as the members of the audience scrambled to get as far from the stage as they could. 

The last few seconds came flooding into my head in a blur. My spider-sense had gone off as Chameleon pulled out the trigger. I tackled Touga to the floor. 

I could hear Hannah’s scream from behind me. My pupils shrank as a whimpered cry escaped me as I looked him over. “TOUGA!” No blood stains, no sign of a wound. 

“Lisa?!” Touga gasped, his eyes darting wildly as he looked over towards me. 

I saved him. 

My eyes were wide as I desperately tried to control my breathing. I watched as Chameleon’s body morphed and contorted back to his signature size and height, the fabric and seams of Kasey’s smaller spider suit costume on his body ripping and tearing. I thought I was going to be sick. 

“Where is she?” I found myself asking him again, my voice heavy. “How long were you pretending to be her?!” 

“Long enough to put that into motion,” Chameleon answered me as he motioned his head towards the night sky. 

Towards the portal. 

I sat up to my knees as I looked up at the portal, the colours of the spinning vortex spirling as if I were staring into a cauldron. From personal experience, portals were usually made for someone to traverse from one place to another, for the person to step through. In this case, someone was coming out. 

‘Are you alright? Please tell me you’re alright!’ 

Miguel’s near desperate sounding voice rang in my mind, causing my heart to flutter. 

‘For now. Is my mom with you?’ 

‘She nearly fainted hearing the gunshot. I got her to safety. Security is escorting her and civilians back to the mainland on the ferries.’ 

My stomach dropped as I felt some anxiety seeping out of my body. Miguel protected my mother, and now. . . 

‘I’m coming. Help is on the way.’ 

Help? 

Shifting metal gears caught my ear as I snapped out of the bond and refocused on the present, looking over to see Chameleon reloading his weapon. As he took aim towards Touga again, I quickly crawled in front of him, using my body as a human shield. “Leave him alone! If it’s me you want, leave them out of this!”

“And how exactly do you plan on fighting back without your powers?” Chameleon challenged. “Wouldn’t want to disrupt the precious canon of your already so pure and vulnerable world,”

“Canon event?” Toya repeated, pulling a struggling Hannah to her feet. 

“Powers?” She mumbled, her voice breathless. 

No, no, no, no! Not here, anywhere but here and anytime but now. What the hell was happening right now?

‘Miguel…!?’ 

My mind was racing. Chameleon doesn’t know. He doesn’t know that Lyla figured out that my universe doesn’t have a canon. 

If he doesn’t know it, chances are Harry doesn’t know either, and he must have orchestrated this attack thinking I could do nothing about it. 

Was it finally time for me to take the risk?

Could I finally use my powers?

‘Help is coming!!’ Miguel’s voice yelled through my mind, shouting into the bond. 

Time. I needed time to stall Chameleon long enough for Miguel and whoever else was here to arrive. Particularly before Chameleon tries to pick a fight or before anyone else comes through that portal. 

“. . . I can handle myself without needing to use them,” I narrowed my eyes at him, squaring my fists. “I have two hands after all,”

“Then you have a choice to make, Spider-Muse, turn yourself in, or turn over your universe,” Chameleon offered the ultimatum with a sly grin. “The choice is yours.”

My hands trembled, my heart pounding as if I had punched in the gut. Give myself up or give up my home? It had to be the most superhero cliché in the book when it came to negotiation with super villains. 

Yet I was still terrified. 

“Lisa, you know this psycho?” Touga gawked, looking between us. 

“Unfortunately,” I grimaced. 

“Hey, Chameleon!” A familiar voice shouted as a web sling stuck onto Chameleon’s gun, yanking it out of his hand. Gwen emerged from above, along with a kick to Chameleon’s cheek as he stumbled. “It’s not that kind of cosplay party, I’d go return your costume to the kiddie shop where you found it.”

“Spider-Woman,” Chameleon purred, recovering from the blow as Gwen stood protectively in front of Touga and I. “If you’re here, I’m assuming…?”

“Don’t assume we’re alone,” A familiar baritone voice called out as Spider-Man Noir swung down to my right while Webslinger emerged to my left. “Never assume.”

“Guys!” An eliated whimper fluttered from my lips as I glanced at the both of them. 

“At your service, Miss Muse,” Webslinger tipped his hat towards me. 

Something moved in the distance, and as I blinked, a large blue and red figure touched down at the foot of the stage, slowly standing menacingly behind Chameleon. Miguel summoned his talons, the red eyelets of his mask glaring daggers at Chameleon’s back. If Miguel possessed laser eye powers, Chameleon would have been dead already. 

“Shut it down, Chameleon,” Miguel ordered. 

“I’m afraid I can't do that, Mr. O’Hara,” Chameleon almost seemed impressed by the word play. “Allow me to remind you to never assume that I am alone.”

Chameleon had reached for something in his pocket with his other hand, pushing a button. My eyes widened as I thunder roared, my gaze whipping towards the portal in the sky. Lightning crackled from the doorway as one by one I witnessed the horrific scene of villain anomalies pour through. 

“No– NO!” The breath was taken from my lungs as I screamed. 

All eyes turned to the portal, watching the scene play out. A vulture variant, one that looked like something out of a drawing of the great Leonardo Di Vinci took a nosedive before pulling up as he dropped grenades, the orbs erupting in flames as they made contact with the ground. It was quickly followed by a maniacal laughter as a jester looking variant of Green Goblin could be seen literally skipping through the flames, tossing his own smoke bombs like they were candy. 

“Them again?!” Miguel snarled, red eyelets flaring as he witnessed their destruction. 

Were these anomalies that Miguel and the Spider-Society had dealt with before?

I could hear screams in the distance as the last of the civilians scrambled to get to safety on the ferry. Innocent people were on that ferry. My mother was on that ferry. 

“It’s a simple proposition, Miss Lisa,” Chameleon snickered with a sinister grin. “Turn yourself over to us and I make the pain stop. Dr. Octavious is very eager to meet you,”

“Dr. Octavious?” I repeated, my voice quivering. 

Dr. Octavious of Earth-1997? The one supposedly designed the collars? Now that I think about it, both the Vulture and Green Goblin variants were wearing them. 

“H-How does he know your name?” Hannah asked nervously. 

“Lisa, don’t listen to a word he says,” Miguel stated as he turned his attention back towards Chameleon, keeping me in his line of sight. 

“Oh, I think you should,” Chameleon challenged.

Laughter erupted from behind us as a giant metal claw reached out, snatching Miguel by the back and yanked him away from the stage. “Let’s go for a ride!” Vulture snickered. 

Miguel cried out angrily as he was pulled into the air, summoning his claws to try and slice at the chain. “GET THEM OUT OF HERE!”

“You heard the boss, let’s go!” Noir yanked some smoke pellets from his jacket, tossing them at Chameleon's feet.

The pellets exploded, creating a harsh black smoke cloud that clouded not just Chameleon, but my vision as well. You think after all my practice and training with my own smoke bombs, I’d be able to see more clearly through all this smoke. It was a little hard to focus considering that a portal to another dimension had opened and was hovering above the statue of liberty and I just found out that a super villain had been pretending to be one of my dearest friends for over a week, maybe even longer. 

I felt hands on me as I was yanked out of the smoke cloud, Gwen pulling me and Touga along. 

“Go where?!” I cried, my feet stumbling as I tried to keep up. 

“Anywhere but here!” Webslinger yelled back as he glanced at me, taking the lead with the group. 

“We can’t risk taking them to the ferry,” Gwen shook her head. “Too many innocent civilians.”

“We have a boat!” Toya spoke his, his voice still clearly shaken up from what was transpiring in front of him as he kept Hannah close, Noir ushering them forward. “It’s our parents, but they let us borrow it.”

“Where is it?” Webslinger asked him. 

“In a private dock, on the other side of the island,” Toya explained with baited breath as we all jumped off the stage. “It’s black with gold trimmings. Look for the name ‘S.S. Saki’ on the side of the hull.”

“Gwen, scout ahead and try and get the boat ready,” Webslinger commanded, hanging back to idle with me and Touga. “I’ll cover them,”

“Right!” Gwen sprang up ahead, firing a websling as she shot up in the air, swinging a head of us. 

I didn’t miss the look of sheer awesomeness and disbelief on Touga’s as he anxiously nudged my arm. “She just–!”

“Yep!” I grabbed his arm for extra support as we kept running, now following Toya as he led Webslinger and the rest of us in the direction of the other set of docks on the island. 

“That means the others can–?!” He gawked. 

“Also yep,” I nodded. 

“How?” He exclaimed. 

“I’ll explain later when we’re not in the midst of a super villain invasion!” I yelled back, gripping his hand tighter as we ran to catch up with the others. 

We made it to the opposite end of the island, the sounds of explosions and laughter dimming in the distance as we took cover in the trees. We found the boat that Toya described, and when I saw it, my friend had clearly underestimated the term. We weren’t staring at a boat, we were staring at a yacht. 

The S.S. Saki was a beautiful yacht, don’t get me wrong. But it also looked very, very expensive. Who exactly were their parents and what did they do to afford a yacht?

A question for another time.

“I found the key for the engine and grabbed lift vests,” She called out as we approached. “Where’s the ignition?”

“Under the steering wheel!” Toya shouted as he leaped on ahead, jumping onto the boat. “I’ll untie the boat, everyone get on!”

“Wait, what about Kasey?” Hannah’s body was trembling as Noir took gentle care in helping her on the boat. 

“I’m sorry little miss,” Spider-Man Noir tipped his fedora in sadness. “I don’t believe she’s here,”

“Not on this island,” I quickly added, watching as Touga climbed in next. “She has to be here somewhere. She was to be,”

I was trying to reassure her, but to be completely honest, I was mostly saying it for myself. 

“Noir, you go with them and make sure they make it to the mainland,” Webslinger commanded before whistling loudly. “I’ll go backup the boss,”

Widow quickly came into view, galloping through the trees they came to Webslinger’s side. He climbed into the saddle, making sure his revolver was primed with bullets and web cartridges. Webslinger offered me a look, trying to shoo me away. 

“The boss will have our heads if you get hurt out here, now go!” Webslinger commanded before taking off, riding back towards the fight. 

I watched him ride off, my hair blowing in the wind. I could see the hue of fire burning back where the stage was. We knew an attack like this could be possible, and I didn’t do anything about it. 

“Lisa, let’s go!” Noir yelled at me, reaching his hand out for me. 

By now Touga had unraveled the rope and started the mechanism to bring up the anchor. Toya had run up to the helm of the ship, taking over the controls from Gwen as she raced down the steps to be with Noir. My feet were frozen, planted to the ground as I looked between them and the path back towards the stage. 

I should go back. I should go back and help. 

“Lisa!” Gwen called out for me. 

My body had barely moved an inch when a maniacal laughter caught my ear, and I felt my heart stop. I turned to see the renaissance inspired Vulture flying through the air, his wings literally slicing through branches and shaking leaves. He was flying closer towards us. 

Towards me. 

“Non andrai da nessuna parte!” He cackled, spreading his wings up as he momentarily hovered in the air. - You’re not going anywhere! 

Just long enough to let loose a barrage of more of those egg shaped bombs

I could hear my friends screaming for me, but even they died down to nothing as my gaze was focused solely on the disaster that was before me. Unless I did something, the whole dock was going to blow, including my friends. I could feel the sizzle of my web fluid flowing in the lumps on the inside of my wrists.

I had to do something. 

Just as I was reaching a hand out to fire a websling, movement caught my eye behind Vulture. 

I watched as Miguel sprang up, using Vulture’s body as a booster whilst kicking him down and into the ground. With his talons, Miguel swiped and slashed at the egg bombs, small explosions going off around him. He unleashes his red webbing, taking out a cluster of bombs in one swing as I ducked for cover. 

When the smoke cleared and I stood back up, Miguel was standing right in front of me, his eyelets flaring. 

“What are you doing here?” He demanded. 

“I should stay and help!” I argued, squaring my fingers into tight fists. 

“Lisa, the boat is moving!” Hannah’s cry could be heard from behind me, along with the splashing of water as the yacht began to ease from the dock. 

“No, it’s way too dangerous right now,” Miguel insisted with a hard shake of his head. 

“This is my home,” I stated, my fist pounding against his chest. “I should have a say in whether I want to stay and defend it, it’s my responsibility!” 

More explosions could be heard off in the distance as the ground shook at our feet. Miguel’s arm hovered, prepared to catch me as he glanced back in the direction of the fighting. Webslinger was all alone back there for all I knew. 

Miguel cursed under his breath in his native tongue, turning back to look down at me. “With great power, comes great responsibility, and it’s my responsibility to not get you killed, mi Mona Lisa,”

I tried channeling the bond, searching for what he was thinking at that moment. But it was like he had built up a wall, brick by brick to shut me out. I couldn’t get a read on him. 

Miguel began to turn, his powerful back facing me.

“Go, I’ll come find you!” Miguel yells towards me, brandishing his talons at his fingertips. 

“But–!” My voice cracked, reaching out to him. 

“GO!” he screamed back at me. 

Whirling towards me, Miguel scooped my body in his arms. With all the strength he could muster, he threw me over the edge of the dock, my body soaring over the cold, black water. Web fluid caught at my side as both Gwen and Noir broke my fall by preparing a cushion. 

I struggled out of the webbing, staggering to my feet as I pulled myself to the edge of the boat, tears in my eyes. “No. . .” I choked. 

Miguel briefly watches the yacht cruise away from the island before turning and running back to the fight. 

//////////

We docked in the mainland of New York City in a private dock from what looked like some sort of fancy country club. No security was around to stop us as we all disembarked and ran for the entrance and stepped out into the city. Police officers were urging everyone to stay inside.

“You guys have somewhere safe you can lay low for the time being that’s nearby?” Gwen asked us. 

Our dance studio would more than likely be closed with news spreading that quickly about the attack, and my apartment was just a few streets further down from it so it would take even longer to get there. I had no idea where Hannah lived, but by judging the look on her face, it seemed like it wasn’t close enough either. 

“Our place is close by,” Touga spoke up, “It’s just a few blocks down from here,”

“Okay, you four take shelter there,” Noir ordered before placing a hand on Gwen’s shoulder, “You and I will patrol the mainland border and make sure none of those villains gets near the city.”

“On it,” Gwen nodded before glancing my way, the eyelets of her mask lowering into a sympathetic look. “I’m. . . sorry this is all happening. Be careful.”

“You too,” I nodded softly. 

Gwen offered me her hand, giving me a gentle squeeze before pulling away. My friends and I watched as the pair web slinged down the street, catching a few looks from some of the officers but they were too dazed to really do anything. 

“Follow us, it’s just down this way,” Toya stepped up, offering a hand to Hannah. 

Hannah huddled close to him as the pair walked a head, and while hesitating at first, Touga offered me his arm as I leaned on his side and we quickly followed behind them. After walking through the eric silence of the city, we entered a large glass plated building that looked iron black in the night sky. “What is this place?”

The lobby of the building was sleek with modern furniture that looked near identical to the ones that Miguel got me for my apartment. The door man had a worried expression as he let us in before taking shelter inside for himself. Quick footsteps against the marble flooring neared and I looked up to see a well dressed man approach us. 

“Mr. Toya, Mr. Touga, thank goodness you’re both alright,” He greeted us with an enormous sigh of relief. 

Based on the fancy uniform he was wearing, he looked like the manager of the building. 

“Thanks Charles,” Toya nodded softly, offering the man a kind smile. “Have our parents heard the news yet?”

“I just got off the phone with them mere moments ago,” He nodded vigorously, “They are terrified for your safety and insist on flying down themselves to retrieve you,”

“No, don’t waste the family jet, it’s way too dangerous,” Toya insisted. “Call them and tell them to stay put in London,” 

“You remember Hannah, right?” Touga glanced over towards her. “And this is Lisa. They’ll be taking shelter with us in the penthouse.”

“As you wish,” Charles nodded. 

As Charles went off to do his task, the boys led Hannah and I to an elevator that looked something straight out of a 1930’s hotel and pressed the top button on the panel. The penthouse suite. Were they–?

“You guys live here?” I glanced over at them in surprise. 

“That’s right! We’ve never invited you over before,” A look of apology washed over Touga. “Once all this craziness is over, you should come down for dinner. Our mom cooks a mean salmon.”

“If you mean…?” Toya gulped nervously. 

“Let’s just get inside, and. . . breathe for a few seconds first?” Hannah suggested, looking between us all. 

“Agreed. . .” I nodded. 

I’d need more than a few seconds. 

There was a chime and the elevator doors opened. The penthouse suite was a massive 30 ft. unit with white marble flooring and sleek black and gray painted walls. The primary floor was a big open area fitting the living room, dining room, and kitchen, with a glass staircase that led to the second floor. 

Oh yeah. They were definitely rich. 

“So, make yourselves at home, and help yourself to the fridge or wine cellar,” Toya offered. “It’s looking like the end of the world out there, so I won’t judge. . .”

“Thanks, Toya,” I nodded softly as I walked over towards the living room area and just sat down. 

I’m not sure how long I sat there for, just staring out into nothing. The others seemed cautious to approach me, as I could hear their light footsteps as the twins raided the kitchen, trying to make something to help keep their minds calm. But judging by the sounds of cursing under their breath and clattering utensils, their hands weren’t calm. 

My wrist vibrates suddenly, as I glanced over to see my gizmo ringing. Miguel was calling me. My finger shakes over the screen before I hit the green button, and a holographic screen pops up taking Miguel’s form. The nanites worked tirelessly to weave and repair torn parts of his suit as the static sizzles back into place in some areas, but I don’t see blood. 

“Are you okay?” I asked him, my voice quiet. 

His face seemed to sulk a little through the mask, “Better, now that I can see you, and hear your voice,”

My heart ached at his tone, his words. Now more than ever I want nothing more than to just hold him. To never let go. 

“Webslinger took a hit, but he’ll live,” Miguel nodded reassuringly. “I sent him back to HQ to heal.”

“Oh thank god,” I sighed, sinking into my knees. 

That still doesn’t change the fact that he got hurt because of me. 

“Where are you right now?” He asked me. “I’ll come find you.”

“Toya, Touga, what’s the address so I can have Miguel meet us here?” I asked the twins, looking over at them with a tired expression. 

“The Arcadia building, on 5th and Broadway,” Toya nodded towards me, “30th floor,”

“Thank you,” I nodded back before looking over at the screen on my gizmo. “Did you get that?”

“On my way, just sit tight,” Miguel’s voice tried to sound as calming and reassuring as he could, despite his near breathless state, adrenaline clearly seeping through his veins. “I’ll be there soon.”

“Be careful,” my eyes softened, trying to get a read of his expression through the mask. 

Those piercing red eyelets looked my way, his head tilting to the side with a curt nod. “I promise,” his tone was a tad softer this time before he ended the call. 

I slouched in my chair, my arms perched against my thighs as I leaned forward. I examined my arms, looking at the patterns of my spider-suit before my fingers curled into a fist. I felt useless, helpless even to do anything. 

Everyone saw what happened when I tried to use my powers. I felt the pain that coursed through my body. It felt like glitching, only it was immensely more painful. 

There had to be some sort of logical explanation. Was it the venom that was seeping through my veins that gave me my spider powers? Was it because the spider that bit me came from another dimension?

Was there anything more painful than your atoms being ripped apart?

“I’ll call Charles and let him know to let Miguel inside,” Touga perked up as he grabbed the house phone, beginning to dial the number of the building’s front desk. 

I continued to pout in my chair, looking down at the floor. There were light footsteps, followed by shuffling as a shadow took form in front of me. I looked up to see Hannah knelt down in front of me. She looked extremely shaken by everything she had seen the last few minutes, her hands trembling as her eyes were red from crying back on stage when she watched Chameleon shoot Touga. 

I hated it. I hated that I was part of the cause of all this. Part of making her cry. 

“Are you–?” Before I could even finish my sentence, Hannah leaned forward and wrapped her arms around me, capturing me in a very tight hug as her face nuzzled into the crock of my neck. 

“. . . You looked like you could use one,”

Tears raced down my cheeks as I slowly wrapped an arm around her shoulders, managing a shaky breath as I buried my face into her blonde hair. “Thank you, Hannah,”

“Lisa, I get that you’re going through the motions right now,” Touga shook his head in disbelief, his mind reeling about what he’s seen. “But what the hell is going on out there?” 

“Why did that guy know your name?” Hannah asked me with worry in her voice as she pulled away from our hug. 

I looked over at her, squeezing her hands tightly as I found the strength to stand again, Hannah sitting up with me as I looked over at Touga, “Guys, I promise I’ll try to explain everything. I’m just waiting for Miguel to meet us here first,” 

“He was with your mother in the crowd, wasn’t he?” Hannah recalled, her voice soft until the thought processed fully in her mind. Her eyes went wide, her hand coming to grasp my shoulder. “Are they—?!” 

“They’re okay,” I reassured her gently, as well as myself, “Miguel helped her evacuate with the rest of the audience onto the ferry.”

“Does he know what’s going on? Why is that portal looking like something straight out of Independence Day?” Toya gawked as he walked back towards us with the house phone. 

“Are they aliens? Oh my god, it is aliens isn’t it?” Touga began to pace. “I had a feeling, but nothing like this-!” 

“Where is Kasey?” Hannah asked. “Was she. . . Him? Or even real?”

“Guys!” I snapped, all heads turning towards me. I took a moment to calm myself before speaking. “I’m sorry, but I promise I’ll explain everything when Miguel gets here.” 

“So you’ve claimed,” Toya crossed his arms, giving me a sceptical look. 

“He’ll be able to explain everything a lot better than I can,” I reassured them all, my hopeful gaze washing over each and every one of them. “But. . . To make a long story short—“ 

‘I’m here.’

A sudden knocking on glass made us all jump as Hannah latched on to me. I grabbed on to her as my eyes frantically scanned the room, searching for any danger. When my eyes came upon the large glass windows overlooking the city, my heart stopped when I saw the familiar blue and red. 

Miguel O’Hara held on to his red web sling, swinging upside down as he knocked on the glass to gain our attention. 

I thought I was going to drop to my knees right there and then. I didn’t see any signs of injury, or rips or tears in his suit. He was okay, just like he said he would be. 

‘Can they let me in?’ 

Miguel pointed a talon red finger to the side of the window where on our end, a latch was located. 

“Toya, Touga, open the window,” I looked over to them. 

“NANI?” They both yelled. - What?

“Trust me,” I insisted, “Open the window!” 

“How do we know if it’s not another one of those psychos from before?!” Toya exclaimed, looking between me and the window. 

I looked at Miguel through the window, my eyes pulsing apologetically as I reached through the bond. ‘They won’t believe me unless I tell them’. 

He nodded softly. ‘Do what you need to do.’ 

‘I’m sorry. I’m sure this was the last thing you wanted to happen.’ 

‘I’d do anything to help you save your universe from meeting the fates of the ones I couldn’t save.’ He stated, a wave of warmth washing over me as if hugging me from behind. 

“Lisa, what is it?” Touga asked me. 

I took a deep breath. “It’s Miguel,” 

The twins' shoulders slacked, appearing confused. “What’s Miguel?” Touga asked again. 

I pointed to Spider-Man 2099 dangling from the other side of the window. “That’s Miguel.”

The silence in the room was so thick you could cut it with a knife. 

“You’re not playing us right?” Touga looked at me as if I had three heads. 

“I’m not!” I growled in frustration. “That’s Miguel O’Hara outside right now, waiting patiently I may add, for you to let him in!” 

“Wait, Miguel O’Hara. . .” I saw the gears in Toya’s head turning. “As in Spider-Man 2099? Like the comic book character?” 

“Jebal! Open the window, or I will!” I growled in frustration, daring a step forward. - Please 

I could see the fear flash in their eyes as Toya staggered back, hiding behind Touga. I immediately stopped, regret washing over me as I lowered my head in shame. Hannah came to my side, her comforting hand returning to my shoulder. 

“Guys, listen to Lisa,” She pleaded softly. “I recognize him. He was one of the– super people that saved us,”

The twins heard their friends plea, the both of them sharing a glance as their anxious and stiff postures relaxed. Looking back towards me, I clapped my hands together, praying that they’d listen. I’d go so far as to even beg. “Please!”

They glanced toward the window, looking at Spider-Man 2099. Nervously, Touga reached for a broom as he cautiously walked over to the window. He reached out, using the stick end of the broom to flick the switch of the window and eased it open. 

My heart gave out as I sighed in relief, nearly dropping to my feet if it weren’t for Hannah holding on to me. I watched as Miguel flipped over, swinging inside the penthouse suite through the window. He landed on his feet in a low crouch before slowly sitting up, his cape vanishing, the muscles on his back rippling as he stood.

My friends looked up at him in awe as he flexed his fingers, his talons retracting. His neck turned, cracking the joints before glancing over towards the twins. The poor boys would be shaking in their boots if they were wearing any and they gasped when Spider-Man 2099’s mask pulled back and the nano-tech gave way to his familiar sharp cheekbones, brown tanned skin and silky combed back curls. 

Miguel O’Hara nodded in thanks. “Arigatō,” - Thank you 

The twins' cheeks flushed, appearing surprised at the very concept of him speaking. But it seemed like seeing his face from under the mask and hearing his voice being the cherry on top was enough for them to realize I was telling the truth. 

Miguel O’Hara is the actual Miguel O’Hara, Spider-Man 2099. 

I was also dating said Spider-Man, but given our current circumstances, I didn’t voice it aloud. I didn’t have to either, for as soon as Miguel set his eyes on my form, his expression changed immediately, appearing relieved. He took broad strides towards me, hips swaying with a confident swagger as he reached for me. 

Hannah offered my shoulder a tight squeeze before pulling away. I met Miguel half way, wrapping my arms around him. I shuddered an eliated whimper, burying my face into his chest. “I was so worried,”

“You took the words right out of my mouth,” Miguel sighed, his arms wrapped around me tightly. His voice was muffled as he lowered his head, buried his face into my hair. “It wasn’t my intention to snap at you like that earlier. I could feel things going sideways fast. Are you hurt?”

I took a breath, channeling it and focusing. I didn’t feel any pain as I exhaled, pulling away from his embrace to look up at him. “I don’t think so,”

“Good,” Miguel nodded, squeezing my hands tightly in his. “I asked Noir and Webslinger to safeguard your mother. She’s back at the hotel, unharmed. Gwen is keeping an eye on the perimeter.”

“Oh, thank goodness,” I sighed in relief, and Miguel looked about ready to catch me in the event my knees gave out. I huddled in his warmth, trying to take deep breaths as I thought back to everything that had happened. Despite it all, one major part of it had been in a chokehold. “They got Kasey. . .”

“I know,” Miguel grimaced, his arms tightening around me. “I felt your panic, your fear, all of it.”

“Is she still here? Did they bring her back to Harry’s dimension?” Endless questions were flooding my brain, threatening to overwhelm me as more tears perked up in my eyes, my vision going blurry. “Is she even still al–”

“Lisa, look at me,” Miguel’s voice was calm, gentle, yet stern all at the same time as his hands moved to cup my cheeks, his thumbs caressing my skin. I willed myself to look at him. “Don’t you dare think that. We’ll find her. . .”

The tears broke free as they raced down my cheeks and Miguel’s thumbs were quick to brush them away. 

“We’ll find her together,” He stated. 

I choked back a sob as I buried my face into his chest, hugging him with every fiber of my being. 

Miguel kept an arm around me, his hand at the small of my back as he turned to face my friends. Hannah walked around, coming to the twins' side as the three of them looked in awe. Touga dropped the broomstick, the household tool clattering to the floor. 

“So I wasn’t too far off on the basketball player theory?” Toya spoke up, trying to break the ice. 

Miguel huffed a strained chuckle, shaking his head. “Cracking jokes now of all times. But if you helps you stay calm, who am I to judge,”

“So. . . Miguel?” Hannah’s voice was quiet and suspenseful as Touga reached for her hand. “Is this really you?”

Miguel looked at her, offering Hannah a soft expression. “Yes, this is the real me,” Miguel shared a glance with me, his palm rubbing along my back gently before glancing back at the trio. “I believe you three are owed an explanation.”

“. . . So, what’s the sitch?” Toya managed a calm grin, crossing his arms over his chest. 

Miguel looked over at me, signaling me to take the lead. “Well. . . would you believe me if it all started with a radioactive spider?”

I told them everything. 

//////////

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[halfrican-heat]

Ain't Shit (R. Drysdale)

SUMMARY: Set in the Knives Out universe. Ransom wants to be a big happy family and reunite with his girl. But as always, there is more to the story...

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Black!OC

Warnings: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Cursing, OOC!Ransom, Toxic relationship, Arguing, Single Mom!OC, Ransom cries lol, Heated discussions, Mentions of cheating (It's Ransom, I mean...), Mentions of character death (canon-compliant), Discussions of sex

A/N: I believe that is everything in the warnings, but please let me know if I missed something. As always, please enjoy. Beta'd by @serpentico and my bf :) -Lyv <3

Song Inspo: Ain't Shit - Doja Cat

Masterlist

“No, Steph, I just don’t see the point of having a rich baby daddy if he’s still gonna behave like a fucking deadbeat,” I complain to my sister, rifling through my purse for my keys. “Like he don’t do shit for his damn son or me.”

I sigh, all I wanted was to get into the house. Not be stuck on the damn porch. A cool breeze flutters around me as I shift the phone to my other ear. I shiver a little, digging through my purse a little faster. I know I had them when I got out the car!

“We tried to warn you, sis. That boy ain’t shit and them Thrombey motherfuckers ain’t nothing to mess with. Marta told me they thought she was fucking the grandaddy, girl.”

“Who, Harlan?” I pause. “Marta’s into that geriatric shit?”

“Bitch, for the right amount of money--”

“Stephania,” I warn teasingly, but she continues.

“--I would be, too! They couldn’t prove it. But if she was fucking that old man, I wouldn’t blame her.”

“But ain’t she just his day nurse?” I ask, cradling the phone on my shoulder.  

I rifle more rigorously through my purse. Where the hell are my keys? 

“Yeah, girl! But they asses can’t imagine someone actually being a decent person ‘cause they’re all crooked as hell. They just assume everyone else is, too.”

I suck my teeth, growing irritated because my keys are still missing. “Fuck, Steph, let me call you back. I can’t find my--”

“Keys?”

The deep timbre of his voice sends shivers down my spine. I suck in a short breath, exhaling as I address my sister again. 

“Steph, let me call you back.”

“Wait! Wa--”

I hang up the phone and drop it in my purse. I turn to face Ransom Drysdale who leans casually against my stair railing, dangling my keys from his finger. A lazy smirk graces his features as he shakes my keys at me tauntingly. 

“You dropped ‘em on your way out of the car. You should really pay attention to your surroundings, kitten.”

His grin is cocky as he tosses my keys in the air and catches them. I keep my gaze impassive, crossing my arms over my chest. 

“Ransom, how the hell did you get here?” I ask.

“I drove,” He replies, shrugging. 

“Nig-- Ransom, no. How the hell did you find my house? We don’t exactly share the same area code anymore.”

“Oh,” he replies easily. “Darling, I’m rich. You don’t think I have ways of keeping tabs on my son?”

“Well, you’ve never shown much of an interest in him until now, so…”

Hurt flashes in his eyes, and I feel guilty for a moment. His tone becomes serious as he speaks again. 

“That’s not true, Amalia. Don’t do that.”

“Yeah. Well, Facetime calls aren’t enough, Ransom.”

I snatch my keys from him, quickly opening the door. I intend to slam it behind me, but Ransom shoves his heavy-ass boot in the door. I groan in exasperation, as he follows me inside. I drop my purse on the chair by the door and slip off my shoes. The door shuts quietly behind me. I look back to see Ransom hovering by the door, surveying the space. For a moment, I feel insecure.

My little duplex isn’t much. The living room is modest with nice but inexpensive furniture decorating it. Baby toys are scattered all over the place along with paperwork from my job. A doorway leads directly to the kitchen with a pass-through and barstools. There’s also a little hallway off to the side that leads to the bedrooms and the bathroom. I know it’s not as lavish as Ransom is accustomed to, so I immediately feel defensive over my little home.

But as soon as the insecurity rises, I stomp it down. I did this on my own. Without him. So who gives a fuck what he thinks. After a while, Ransom still has yet to speak.

I sigh, turning my back to him. 

“Take your shoes off if you’re planning on staying.”

I leave Ransom behind, wandering into the kitchen. Rummaging through the fridge, I find some leftovers from the night before and pop them into the microwave. Ransom takes a seat at one of the barstools as I go back to the fridge, pulling out a jar of Arizona tea. I fill a glass and slide it to him wordlessly. I fill up a glass for myself and lean against the counter furthest from him. The low hum of the microwave fills our otherwise silent environment. 

I size Ransom up, taking in the noticeable changes I see in him. He’s not clean-shaven like he was the last time I saw him. Instead, he has a short, well-maintained beard. His hair is parted to the left and gelled precisely enough to give him a “lightly tousled” look. Very corporate. Very…not Ransom. 

His greenish-blue eyes look dull. I would write it off as the lights not doing his eyes justice if not for the reflective glare he’s leveled his cup with. His eyes have lost that vitality and fire I always admired. Instead, there’s something vulnerable about him right now.

Despite this, his physique has not changed one bit. If anything, he’s been working out more. His shoulders fill out his off-white cable knit sweater, a soft look that contrasts his otherwise muscular frame. The muscles of his jaw tense, and I force myself to take a sip of tea instead of reaching to rest my hand on his face. 

The shrill beep of the microwave startles both of us. I whirl around, spilling a bit of my drink on the floor. 

“Fuck,” I curse, pulling my food from the microwave. 

I set the steaming container and my cup on the counter near Ransom and grab some paper towels. 

“Still clumsy as ever, huh, kitten?”

I scoff, wiping at the small puddle on the floor. Standing up, I trash the damp towel and turn to him with my hand on my hip.

“Don’t call me that.”

“Don’t call you what, kitten?” He shoots back, not missing a beat.

I roll my eyes. Just like that, the pensive, tired man from moments ago has disappeared. In his place is the insufferable man-child I fucked around and had a baby with. 

“What are you doing here, anyway?” I ask, fishing through my drawer for a fork.

“I can’t see the mother of my son?” He teases. “After all, I never do anything for you or my son, right?”

Though I know he means it to come across lightheartedly, I can hear the edge in his voice. For the second time today, I feel guilty. I didn’t know he heard that. Still, I’m not going back on a damn thing I said. It’s not like I lied.

“It’s the fucking truth, Ransom. If you want me to take it back then you’re shit out of luck.” 

 He presses a hand to his chest, feigning offense. I toss the lid from the container aside and shove a bite of pasta into my mouth. Ransom continues with the dramatics, of course. 

“How could you possibly say such a thing to the father of your child?”

He continues to “clutch his pearls”, his mouth agape. I chew slowly, arching my eyebrow at him. 

“Are you done?” 

Ransom huffs, rolling his eyes. 

“You act like I had a choice in the matter. Besides, I didn’t make you leave,” He retorts. “You did that on your own.”

I squint at him, swallowing. 

“You wanna go there, Ransom? You wanna do this right now?”

He twists his mouth, tugging his bottom lip with his teeth. Ransom slides from the barstool and strolls around the living room, shoving his hands in his jeans. 

“Where’s my son?”

“That’s not your business,” I say, taking another bite.

He scoffs, flopping himself on the chair by the door. He fidgets in the seat, shifting to remove a stuffed bear from underneath him. He holds the well-loved toy between his fingers, grimacing before tossing it away.

“My son’s whereabouts are my business, kitten. I’m not asking the world of you to tell me where he is.”

“You’re right, you’re not asking the world of me,” I shrug, pushing my food around the bowl. 

Ransom relaxes in the recliner, a smile stretching across his face. He starts to speak.

“Exactly, I’m glad--”

“But I’m not obligated to answer any of your damn questions. So either tell me what you brought your sorry ass here for or leave.”

Ransom’s blue eyes blaze, anger crossing his features.

“You’re a piece of fucking work, you know that?” He bites back, leaning forward. “Get off your high horse, Amalia. You’re the one that fucked off to Albany without a word.”

“Oh, so you do wanna go there!” I exclaim, rounding the pass-through. “Then let’s fucking do it, Drysdale. I’ve been waiting for this conversation.”

He stands to his full height as I confront him. Ransom is heads above me with his six-foot frame, but that doesn’t intimate me in the slightest. I stand chest to chest with him-- well, chest to midsection-- and talk my shit.

“You were the one that couldn’t keep your dick in your pants to save your life! Two hours before our son was born, where were you?”

Ransom grits his teeth, looking to the side. His stance falters a bit. 

“Yeah, you didn’t think I knew that, did you? Tanya can’t keep her mouth closed for shit. If you gonna sleep around, at least find a bitch that doesn’t kiss and tell.”

Ransom at least has the sense to look guilty for one moment before he schools his features into an impassive glare. He crosses his arms, sneering down at me. 

“I didn’t take you for the sensitive type, Amalia. Mad ‘cause that pregnancy pussy wasn’t hitting like you thought it was?” He mocks.

I laugh incredulously. “You wanna make this about my body while I was carrying your child? You wanna act like you didn’t damn near bust a nut every time you looked at me let alone fucked me? Fine, then let’s talk about where you were one week after your son was born.”

“What the hell are you on about? I was in Boston that entire time.”

I scoff. “Ok. Bet.”

I walk away from him, swiftly moving to snatch my phone from my purse. I tap around for a few minutes before shoving the phone in his face.

“That’s not your ass on a beach in Florida then?”

The picture shows Ransom, clear as day, cuddled up with an overly tanned blonde in Tampa, Florida.

Caught, Ransom pushes the phone out of his face. He drags his hand over his mouth, pacing away from me. He crosses back toward the kitchen as I place my phone in my pocket, turning to him with crossed arms. 

“Cat got your tongue, bitch? Ain’t shit to say now, right?”

“Watch it, Amalia.” He snaps. “Who the hell sent you that?”

“It doesn’t matter. You’re a liar.”

“Yeah, okay I’m a liar. And you’re a fucking runner. What a pair we make,” He says dryly. “But none of this will hold up in court. Especially not against the best lawyers money can buy.”

The implications of his words hang in the air. His words are like a cold bucket of water suddenly being dropped on my head. For a moment, my world freezes. Questions swirl around my brain, bouncing against every nook and cranny. 

Court? He wants to take this to court? Ransom wants to…what? Petition the courts for custody? Why now? Why is he doing this? What does he want with Shiloh?

 I feel my body go cold as numbness seeps into my bones. The air feels static, almost sharp. Like breathing in tiny bits of glass. Then all at once, everything inside of me becomes deathly calm. My eyes meet his, brown and blue clashing as I step toward him. 

“No, but you know what will hold up? Every sleepless fucking night I’ve had taking care of Shiloh. Every bill, every piece of clothing, and every bit of food I buy for that boy. Every moment I’ve spent with that baby since the second he was born will hold up in court.” I say, moving toward him. 

“And if you think I don’t got the receipts to prove it then you got another motherfucking thing coming.”

I stand directly in front of him, my voice lowering as I look up at him. 

“You wanna take this to court? Let’s. Fucking. Do it.”

Ransom stares down at me, his glare impassive. I steel my resolve, refusing to back down. His eyes search mine. I know he wants to call my bluff, but he can’t. Tucking his lips, Ransom finally looks away and sighs. He runs a hand over his face and then through his hair before pacing around the living room again. I wrap my arms around myself.

The coldness in my bones has settled, leaving me rattled and frozen in place. I stare at Ransom’s discarded glass on the counter. 

Half-empty. 

He paces silently. I stand there, continuing to stare into space. A heaviness settles around us as tension strangles the room. Then, Ransom sighs. A deep, heavy sigh laden with fatigue. He drops onto the recliner as if all the fight in him has vanished. He holds his head in his hands, breathing in deeply. 

He exhales and lifts his head to look at me. His elbows are propped on his knees, hands clasped in front of his mouth. The man from earlier returns. The pensive, tired man with creased eyebrows and the entire world on his shoulders. 

I swallow the pity I feel and give him a heated glare, daring him to break the silence. To piss me off further. 

Instead, his eyes swarm with tears. I watch as his face contorts, a broken sob escaping him. He covers his face with his hands, sobbing silently. 

I stand there watching him, frozen. Unsure of how to proceed. Ransom was never very forthcoming with his emotions. For once, I feel out of my depth with him. Do I comfort him? Or do I leave him alone to deal with his feelings? 

The bitch in me wants to tell him to clean himself up and get the fuck out. 

So, I shift awkwardly on my feet. I go back and forth for what seems like forever as he sits in front of me crying. I avoid looking at him, but the sound of his sobs isn’t exactly something I can ignore. I screw up when I take a glance at him, feeling immediately drawn in by the unabashed emotion on display. I feel myself giving in and wanting to succumb to the desire to console him. My resolve starts to crack and then…

Then, he looks up at me with pained, heavy eyes. My heart wrenches in my chest as he mumbles a garbled apology. I cross to him, sliding to the floor just as he crashes into my arms. The weight of his hug nearly knocks me over but I keep myself upright, holding him close to me. Ransom grips me tightly as I stroke his hair, whispering soft reassurances. He buries his face in my neck as apology after apology tumbles from his lips. 

“I’m sorry, Amalia. I’m so fucking sorry.”

Were he not sobbing his face off, I might feel vindicated. I deserve this apology after all, right? 

I gently shift his face from my neck, encouraging him to sit up on his own. I smile softly at him as he sniffs, wiping his eyes on his sleeve. I brush away a stray tear, stroking his face. He leans into my touch, giving me an all too familiar look. 

I clear my throat and pull my hand away, wiping it on my pant leg. 

“Ransom, what’s going on?” I ask quietly. “Why are you here?”

I steal a glance at him. He stares intently at me as if weighing his options. He licks his lips before releasing a heavy sigh. 

“Harlan is dead.”

The words come out quietly and quickly. They roll off his tongue as easily as a “hello” or “goodbye”. But these words cause my heart to drop and lead fills my chest. My vision blurs and suddenly I can’t see. I blink the tears away and shake my head, searching his face for a lie. He stares back solemnly, tears leaking from his eyes.

“He…no, that’s not possible! He was just…” I trail off. “No…”

He props his arm up on one knee, dragging his other hand over his face. His head lolls back, resting on the recliner. He sniffs, wiping at his nose. 

“He’s dead, Amalia. Died three days ago.”

My lungs feel as though they’re about to give out. 

“How?” I push out, struggling to keep my emotions at bay. “How did he--”

I cut myself off, pressing a hand to my mouth. Ransom’s mouth presses into a thin line. He hesitates before speaking again. 

“Heart complications.”

I release a heavy breath, my chest caving. My hand presses into my chest, trying o relieve the tightness that has accumulated. His words swirl in my mind as I try to comprehend them. Pressure rises in my head, and I think I’m sobbing but I can’t tell. My body feels foreign-- like it’s no longer mine. Like I’m floating above it. 

He was just here, my brain screams. He was fine. He told me he was fine!

I talked to Harlan all the time. After Shiloh was born, Harlan Thrombey was the only person from that damn family to reach out to me at all. He offered money and moral support. I told him I didn’t want a dime. After all, it was Ransom’s responsibility. Not his.

“I guess I have a habit of cleaning up that boy’s messes,” He had said to me. 

Still, the old man reached out weekly to update me on his health and to facetime with Shiloh. Now and then he still tried to send me cash, but I wouldn’t have it. His constant support meant more to me than his money. He stepped in when I felt like I had no one else in the world and, for that, I am eternally grateful. I had plans to surprise him with a visit next month so he could meet Shiloh in person.

But it’s too late now.

Suddenly, I slam back into my body and find myself wracked with sobs that echo off the walls. The tears tumble from my eyes of their own accord as I shrink into myself, curling into a fetal position. Ransom reaches for me, trying to comfort me. I thrash in his arms and push away from him. I don’t want his comfort. I don’t need it. 

But he won’t give up. Instead, he pulls me closer and cages me between his legs, one propped up with the other stretched out. I scream and I cry and I struggle in his arms. Still, he holds me tighter. Eventually, I tire myself out and slump against his chest. I listen to the familiar thrum of his heartbeat and, against my better judgment, start to relax. One of his hands rests gently but solidly on the back of my head while the other rubs my back. I grip his sweater, rubbing the fabric between my fingers. My sniffles fill the otherwise quiet space as everything suddenly comes to a standstill. 

The subtle rise and fall of his chest reminds me of a time before this. Before Shiloh. Before the arguments and the cheating. Before I ever knew who he truly was. My eyes burn again as a new wave of sadness rushes over me. But I stop myself short, refusing to give in to that pain. I buried it, and I can’t go back. 

There are more important things to deal with now. 

I sit up, untangling myself from Ransom. I feel his stare on me as I wipe my face and tuck my hair behind my ear. I cringe inwardly at how much of a mess I’ve probably made of myself. Self-consciously, I run my fingers through my hair and detangle some of the kinks. If this wig wasn’t laid as fuck, I’m sure it would be crooked and matted by now. I drop my hand to my lap with a sigh and bite my lip, searching for something to say. But for once, my words fail me. So, I settle for silence instead. 

But Ransom has other plans it seems. 

He reaches for the hand resting on my lap and holds it in his. He squeezes lightly and I look at him hesitantly. He smiles softly and releases a quiet breath. His thumb strokes the back of my hand as he looks away from me. He faces the direction of the large window behind the chair. The setting sun shines on his face, giving him a warm glow that highlights the green undertones in his eyes. 

He draws his bottom lip in, running his teeth over it before releasing it. He lets out a short breath and nods to himself slightly. His gaze returns to mine, determined. I frown, uncertain of him. I move to withdraw my hand but he rests his other hand on top of mine. He gazes at me imploringly and this sudden change unnerves me further.

“Ransom, what is it?”

“Kitten, I need you to listen carefully to me,” He starts, his voice low. “Promise you’ll hear me out?”

I remove my hand, choosing to stand. Ransom sighs and stands as well. I cross my arms, arching an eyebrow. 

“What is it,” I repeat. 

He rests his hands on his hips. His head tilts towards me a little as he frowns, his forehead creasing. Then, he crosses his arms and turns away from me for a moment. He faces the window, placing one hand over his mouth. I grow impatient and huff. 

“What the hell is it? What are you not saying!”

Ransom sighs and looks at me over his shoulder. He looks back out of the window before finally turning back to me. He lifts his hands, his palms out toward me. 

“Okay, okay. There’s…Harlan left a will,” He says.

I shake my head, shrugging. 

“Okay, and?”

A hand drops to his hip as he drags the other through his hair. 

“Look, my granddad was incredibly fond of you. He loved Shiloh,” Ransom rambles. “And…and so he wanted to take care of the two of you.”

“Yeah, and I told him that I never wanted his money. That Shiloh was your son and that I would be fine. Y’all know that. He knew that.”

Ransom laughs shortly, shrugging. “He was a stubborn bastard. We all knew that.”

I rub at my temples as the beginnings of a headache rise. 

“Get to the fucking point, please.”

“Fuck, okay. Listen,” He says, exasperated. 

He places his hands on my shoulders and levels me with a deep stare. 

“Amalia. Harlan…he left-- fuck.” He pauses, swallowing thickly. “He left half of his estate to you.”

Next Chapter: Bad Reputation

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Masterlist

[thewertsearch]

Asks Compilation 09/06

God, I really should, shouldn’t I? I’ve heard only good things about it, and obviously I love alt-self shenanigans. I might go in a week or two - it’s been way too long since I took a trip to the cinema.

Yeah!!! Welcome to the party! It’s a good time for you to catch up, since I’m pausing for a week or so before I start Act 5. (I’ll probably start it late next week, but that’s subject to change!)

Illuminating, eh? *Adds 5 points to the Light Player column of my notepad*

Never too late to analyze something you love! And doing a close reading of something you’ve read before sometimes works even better, because you know exactly how things are going to pay off. You can see all the foreshadowing you missed!

The obvious answer is Dave and Bro, but I think the most likely Player to do the tbh stare is actually AT.

I think he stared at his computer exactly like this when Dave rapped him into oblivion. 

Totally missed it. We don’t learn muck Mark Twain Lore here, but it seems that in the universe of Homestuck, he lived a double life...

Who knew not having a schedule to speak of would ever be a positive? My old manager clearly didn’t know what he was talking about. 

It really does keep happening. I’ve already made an OC, and it’s a good thing I don’t write fanfic, because otherwise I’d be fending the writing impulses off with a stick. 

[ it goes around a lot as a rumor. I think people get confused because the team put effort into making it canon compliant - and it also uses an official (unused) HS song. 99% sure Hussie never said anything about it tho... - Cat ] 

Ah, I see. Still, it definitely sounds like a fan project worth checking out! 

Honestly, my excitement is immeasurable. SAHLEE is evolving...

Been a while since I watched any new ones, but yeah, I’m a huge anime fan! I actually re-watched Mob Psycho 100 last week in preparation for the new season. The final two arcs of the manga are fantastic, and I, for one, cannot wait. 

I watched Your Name a couple of weeks ago, and I’d definitely recommend that. It’s gorgeous, and the story goes to some places that I didn’t expect it to, going in. 

I could talk a lot about the movies I like - and I will, if people are interested - but it’d take a while to gather my thoughts. Like I said before, it’s hard for me to pick out favorites. 

They’re completely unnecessary - but then again, so are their glasses and headbands. It is my intuition that Sburb wouldn’t make it so easy for Players to realize that they weren’t born naturally, since they’re supposed to learn about their destiny themselves. I think they probably have bellybuttons. 

All I’m getting from it is that Life does not equal Doom, which I’m sure is too obvious to be the right answer. In other words, this is just another intriguing hint about what’s up with Aspects. 

Aw, fantastic, I’m happy you enjoyed!! Even learning some basic computer science reveals a whole new dimension to this comic. If you ever want any pointers, or links to resources to learn more, let me know!

That game’s a real standout among idle games. Last time I played, I’d just finished completing all the game’s Milestones, and I won’t spoil you on what happens next ;) 

It’s funny how things work out. Weird chains of causality aren’t something that Homestuck has a monopoly on!

I have to wonder what Toby would be up to now without Homestuck’s influence. Would we have got radically different versions of Undertale/Deltarune?

Definitely going to do it! I’m actually probably going to catch up on it in the next week or two, before Act 5. 

...yeah, that tracks.

The question of probability as it applies to Homestuck’s cosmology is kind of complicated. Sburb’s lore seems to treat things like the Paradox Clones as certain outcomes, with a probability of 1, even as its multiverse disproves this. 

This is the kind of thing I really want to see more of, going forward. Just what are the real rules here? 

Universal translation is as good an explanation as any!

It would be kind of funny if, when the kids complete the game and exit the Incipisphere, all the trolls’ messages instantly turn into gibberish, because they never actually shared a language. 

lmaoo considering how the trolls talk to these kids, especially in earlier conversations, I think it’s more likely they found a human disetiquette book! 

My favorite is probably a more saturated version of my text color - something like this:

I think you can probably get a pretty picture out of any color if you use it right, but I’ve never really been into muddy brown.

I need you to know that I spent an hour earlier trying to edit Jack Noir into that Eggman scene I referenced earlier, so I could post it with this ask. I failed, but this ask succeeded in making me laugh my ass off. 

If anyone here hasn’t watched the Snapcube fandubs, I implore you - check this shit out. You won’t be sorry!

She’s no man!

I actually like that more than the ‘8 looks like a snowman’ explanation that I came up with. That ‘quarters = 1/4′ thing is a good secondary pun, too. 

This is a good point, regarding why Jade’s prototyping didn’t show up on Prospit’s iconography. Whatever comes out of Jade’s kernel, it will enter the Spire of a planet in ruins. There might not even be anyone to see it arrive.