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simpcityy · 2 months

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My Little Spawn Pt.1 (Dadstarion X Child!Reader)

Summary: Astarion was finally free from Cazador after being kidnapped by a mindflayer but he was stuck with one annoying task, you.

Disclaimer: I do not own Baldur's Gate 3 or any of its characters.

Word Count: 2.1K

Warnings: Use of (Y/N), Cazador, language, spoilers for those who haven't gone far in the game....Uhhh...I think that is all.

Everything was dark and blurry in his eyes. All he remembers was stalking in the shadows looking for his next prey and suddenly he was kidnapped. He felt mixed emotions, fear but importantly joy, he was finally away from Cazador. It would be like he suddenly disappeared in thin air and Cazador will need him no more. Until he was stuck with another burden, You. “Would you keep quiet, dammit!?” He whispered rather loudly. You stopped shifting around the tall grass and peaked out of it. “I’m sorry” You whispered before going back to hiding. He looked over seeing two people walking by, “Perfect” He mutters and gets ready to put on his performance.

After almost getting incinerated, you and Astarion have found a group and camp for the remainder of the period till the little wiggly worm is out of your mind but of course, you wouldn’t comprehend, for you were so young.

“Who’s the little adorable bugger?” Gale smiles letting you try to read the books he has found so far. “For the record this annoying little sp-human is not mine, they just seem to be attached to me.” Astarion watches you trying to pronounce the big words only to butcher them. “But it’s getting rather late and I hate to deal with a cranky annoying child tomorrow.” He picked you up keeping his arms outstretched and walked to his tent. Once everyone was out of earshot, he squats at your height. “Listen here, you must not tell anyone what we are understood?” His red eyes look down at your innocent (E/C) ones. “But why not?” You sat on top of the pillow looking up at Astarion seeing him take a deep breath in. Of course, Astarion knows he has to make it simple. “Because we are playing a game” He grins “ We are all hiding our identity. You and I are a team and the rest are a team. Whoever is the first one to discover their real identity, is the sore loser.” He gives a smile sitting down next to you. You pouted, your cheeks puffed up “We will win, okay! I won’t tell.” You lean back before yawning “ If they ask what do I say?” You cute little doe eyes look at him tiredly. “Hmm…we are just normal elves got it?” He looks away in deep thought, “it’s for the best for now” He mutters before leaning back “ You know for a being the youngest Spawn he created…you still need rest like a human, you are such an odd little creature” He gently plays with the ends of your hair “ Why did he even turn you?” He whispers as you slowly slip into sleep. “What use does he even have for you?” He kept asking himself all the questions ever since you were part of the “Family”

You were the youngest spawn Cazador has ever gotten. You were only 5 soon turning 6. Astarion was first shocked to see Cazador holding you in his arms when he came back from bringing a pretty prey for his master. He never dared question, he kept all his unanswered questions to himself. Astarion felt anger towards you both. Why was Cazador more tender with you, not treating you like he does to his other spawns. Why did you get the special treatment? He was mostly angry towards Cazador as always, why did he turn you, you didn’t even reach your half way milestone of your life. You were going to stay that age and size forever. He has been treated like shit for 200 years but you, you would never experience the things a child should be, the things teenerages and young adults go through. Once again Cazador has robbed you of your life just how Astarion was robbed of his.

Morning rolled by, You picked up a little flower near Gale’s tent, “Astarion! Look what I found!” You ran up to him as he was getting ready to set foot on finding a healer with the others. “What is it this time?” He mutters looking up before seeing a flower being gently shoved to his face. “A flower.” You smile waiting for him to take it. “ A flower…you called my attention for a flower…this is why I don’t work with little annoying monsters.” He sighs already feeling annoyed from the lack of blood. “I’m sorry…” You whisper looking down, putting the flower away from his face, small tears forming in your doe eyes. He stops putting things into his bag and sighs “ Why must you be such a crybaby” He sits down pulling your tiny form on his lap, taking the flower. “Wow, thank you. I feel the luckiest person to get a flower from you.” He says in a bored voice looking at you. You sniff and rub your eyes, “You mean it?” The tears no longer present in your eyes. He looks at you unamused. “Yes, now shoo, I have to pack. Go bother Gale, Shadowheart or even Tav but not me got it?” He makes you get off his lap before freezing feeling you give him a light peck on his cheek “Okay! I’ll collect more flowers for the others!” You giggle before running off. He placed a hand over his cheek and watched the direction you left. “What an odd little spawn.” He whispers before continuing to pack.

You hummed a tune as you collected more flowers near Gale’s camp where Gale was sitting on the pillow, reading a book. He looks up hearing you hum. “Say (Y/n), that tune you must be from the upper city aren’t you?” He smiles placing the book down as your little feet shuffle over to him. “Mmhm! Papa would always sing me this lullaby at night!” You grin “It’s my favorite and he always wants me to sing! He says I’m his little singing bird!” Placing the flowers down, you sat on the ground in front of gale. Thinking back to what Astarion said last night, remembering to not give away too much information. “Judging by your clothes, I bet your father is a rather important man?” He smiles rubbing down those stubborn baby hairs that lift up from your hair. You only nodded “Papa is the best! I miss him and I want to go home…” You look around the wilderness that you and Astarion crashed in. “I want him to hold me close…I always dream of those monsters…and the little wormy” Whimpering you scoot into Gale’s arms. “I don’t want them to come back!” You tear up, “I want papa to hold me but he’s not here!” You wail. Gale quickly panics “Oh…crying child…what to do…wish Tara was here…” He mutters before rubbing your back “Hey now, you can always come to me, Shadowheart and even Tav if you ever have a nightmare. How about this, before you go to bed, I will tell you a story so you can dream of that story rather than the scary monsters. Trust me, I have read so many books, I know them by heart.” He grins as you finally stopped the water works. “Which is why he’s a walking library in this case.” Shadowheart smiles walking over “Now, we should get going, the closer we find a healer, the faster you can go to your papa” She smiles leaning to your height. “Really!” You smiled, your eyes widened at the thought of seeing your father soon. “Let’s go!” Grabbing the flowers, you ran to Astarion to share the news.

“Astarion!”

“What now!?”

Walking to find a healer seems like eternity to you, “I wanna rest!” You whined to Astarion tugging at his shirt. “Then complained to Tav, they are leading the damn group, not me.” He sighs, breathing in heavily to compose himself from lashing out. “Up! Up!” You lifted your arms. “The hell I won’t!” He walks faster only for you to follow him whining even more. The rest of the small group look over watching the two of you, seeing you bothering Astarion even more. “Is it me or do these two know each other very much?” Shadowheart watches you keep tugging on his shirt. “Yet he says he doesn’t know (Y/N), that they only tagged along with him.” Gale crossed his arms. Tav smiles “I don’t know, (Y/n) looks nothing like Astarion so I doubt they are related and (Y/N) always mentions a papa.” Shadowheart and Gale nodded. “What in the nine hells! Where did you go!?” Astarion looks around for you as you stop tugging on his shirt a while ago. “Where did they go?” Tav walks back to the pale elf. “ I don’t know, the moment they were annoying the hell out of me! Next thing I know, they are go- wait…” He smells it, blood. You must have run off to the smell. “ I…um…heard them, this way” He quickly follows the scent with the rest following.

You carefully walked down the ladder, the smell of blood getting stronger. Turning around a corner, you are met with a woman with red skin, burning and importantly with a broken horn. Slowly walking over to the tiefling, you look up at her “Are you okay?” You meekly whisper seeing how tall she was according to your height. She looks up hearing the childish voice, “Hells, what is a child doing all alone?” She looks at you shocked before feeling the tadpoles connect. “Fuck” Karlach whispers holding her head “You were also in that ship…” She whispers before calming herself down and kneels down to make it seem less intimidating to you. “Hey there little soldier, What are you doing all alone?” She smiles as you slowly take small steps towards her. “I…you’re hurt…are you okay?” You go to place your small hand on her but she backs away quickly. “Careful there, I’m not like any other tiefling, I can burn you.” She smiles “I'm Karlach, what’s your name, little soldier?” She chuckles admiring your little face as you try to say her name slowly. “Car…Ka…la…Karlach.” You finally get it right, before giving her your name, someone else beat you to it.

“(Y/N)!?” Tav runs over, crossing the log and quickly pulls you back from Karlach, putting you behind. “Get away from them” Tav frowns weapons out. “Are you okay?” Shadowheart checks you over for any injuries as Gale also checked along with her. Astarion catches up and lets out a small sigh seeing you alive and safe. “What in the sweet hells were you thinking running off like that?! A goblin could’ve gotten you or a wild animal?!” He looks down at you but stops himself seeing you tear up. “I-I’m sorry….don’t get mad like papa!” You cried. “Like papa….” He glares down at you. “Don’t ever compare me to him you litt-” He stops himself seeing the fear in your eyes. Him, being like Cazador. He would rather kill himself than be exactly like his old master. He sighs before kneeling to you as the others were busy with Karlach. “Sorry…I was…I guess you can say I was very worried…I know it wasn’t your intention to run off…” He then whispers “You must be hungry…for blood like me…I know you are craving that sweet and yet bitter flavor but you need to hold it in like I am…tonight we’ll find some small vermin okay?” He slowly pats your head as you nod. Standing up, he walks over to the rest as you follow closely to him. “My, I feel so much better knowing we have a strong wall to protect us from any arrows” He smirks after learning Karlach was recruited. “I like her! She’s nice!” You popped out from behind walking over to Karlach. “And I like you little soldier” She smiles.

After going back to camp for the day, Astarion watches as you listen to Gale’s stories. He sat from his tent looking at a book but his mind wandered back to what you said. Like papa…when has Cazador ever punished you? He thinks back but nothing comes to him. He turns the page to the book to make it look like he was reading. He looks back at you with that question still haunting his thoughts. It really ticked him off when you compared him to Cazador, he will never be like him…no he will be better. He wants to get back at him and back at him good. He smirks looking at you. Why not get him back with the thing he treasures the most, or rather the person he treasures the more.

You

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Authors Notes: Thank you everyone for reading this, please like, reblog and share it with others. I will be working on Part 2 soon hopefully. I also started another series a month ago or more about Astarion and a Gur! Reader. There is only part 1 out as well but I will be working out on that. Please remember to stay hydrated and to get some rest. Love you all! You are welcome to ask to be tagged as well for the next part.

-Axie

#father figure Astarion #astarion #bg3 #bg3 astarion #bg3 fic #astarion fic #fatherfigure #dadstarion x child reader #dadstarion #tav #gale #shadowheart #Karlach #baldurs gate 3

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wangxianficrecs · 4 months

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Work of Heart by Witch_Nova221

Work of Heart

by Witch_Nova221 (@witchnova221)

T, 17k, Wangxian

Part of the MDZS Secret Santa 2023

Summary: Lan Zhan is challenged by Lan Qiren to survive on a simple budget, rather than the family fortune, for his final year of university. He finds himself a apartment share with art student, Wei Ying, and they slowly become friends. As their relationship grows though, he learns more about his roommate's family situation and the true reason why he is always so busy. Kay's comments: A truly sweet and lovely story, filled with fluff and a hint of angst for the seasoning! I absolutely loved the fast burn between Wangxian and that there were no misunderstandings between them, just love and care and so much sweetness! Also, living for supportive uncle Lan Qiren in this story and the re-appearing dunks on Lan Huan's dating life. In this story, Lan Zhan and Wei Ying live together during their final year at university and immediately fall for each other. Everything would have been perfect for Wei Ying, if it wasn't for Yu Ziyuan making unreasonable demands of him! Excerpt: Living with Wei Ying was an experience. There were days when Lan Zhan believed it was the worst mistake he had ever made. Days when he was tripping over the discarded shoes that never made it into the rack or found himself completing two loads of washing up when Wei Ying had forgotten again that their chore chart existed. Other days though, he could not wish for a better companion, Wei Ying teaching him how to laugh at himself and how to talk of everything and nothing where before Lan Zhan had kept to his own company. His favourite evenings were the ones where he would bring his qin into the living room and play the latest piece he had been composing whilst Wei Ying would set up an easel and canvas and paint to the music Lan Zhan created. It was a joy to watch as his music was brought to life in colour and movement, the paintings as unique and beautiful as the artist that created them.

pov lan wangji, modern setting, modern no powers, college/university, roommates, artist wei wuxian, musician lan wangji, college student wei wuxian, college student lan wangji, strangers to lovers, friends to lovers, getting together, developing relationship, love confessions, emotional hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending, yu ziyuan being an asshole, emotional manipulation, good uncle lan qiren, good sibling jiang cheng, good sibling jiang yanli, blackmail

~*~

(Please REBLOG as a signal boost for this hard-working author if you like – or think others might like – this story.)

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brickcentral · 11 months

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Hello community!

We've asked to our spotlighted artist Yuan He to provide an exclusive picture for Brickcentral along with some insights on how he made it, and here's what he have to say:

"I’m an interior designer, therefore most of my MOC projects are setting up in interior spaces or architectural scenes. I haven’t done too many projects in natural environment, which sometimes I found it very challenging and interesting. In this shot, I wanted to create a scene of bunch of friends gathering together in a forest, sort of like a camping trip, and in this case, it’s the characters from Winnie the pooh. In this project, in order to hide the boundary of the scene and creating a more realistic environment, I designed some rocky structure on the back, along with some trees and bushes. There is an awning at the center, and the friends of Winnie are playing music, telling stories and dancing, surrounding a fire pit, enjoying themselves and having fun. I planned the scene to be set in night time, in that way I can create contrast of cold and warm lighting colors in this shot, and the viewer can easily focus on the characters, to experience their joy.

Despite the scene looks complicated, it’s actually a relatively simple scene, just lots of random items and repeatable steps, and takes time to build. I spent almost two weeks on it, most of the time are just placing flowers, grasses and trees.

As I mentioned this is a night time scene, I needed to set up some camping lighting to light up the awning area. I’m using micro-LED lights inside of the translucent bricks, but they are not that bright, just for decorative purpose. Another light source is in the fire pit, again it’s not bright, but sometimes it would be helpful to add more details at the scene.

After posting all the minifigures, and it’s time for the big boys to actually light up the whole scene. As you can see in this photo, I have 4 blue lighting fixtures to create the night time atmosphere. The two tubes on the back are for slightly lighting up the blue backdrop paper, to separate the trees and also mimicking the night sky, will get into that later. Besides of those, the front left light is serving the purpose of creating the general blue-sky light at night, which can be reflected on the front elements like trees, grasses etc. There is only one warm lights in front of the scene, since those decorative micro-LED lights are too weak, this small cube light is the key to light up the awning and minifigures, and generating a growing spot at the center. The small LED tube at the front right acts as a fill light, specifically for brightening minifigures, restores more details on the dark side.

If we are shooting indoor, there are few tricks to create more realistic background for the photos. I used to have my computer monitor as a background to simulate the sky, distanced buildings etc. But sometimes it can be tricky, I might need to adjust lighting and monitor brightness levels to accommodate each other, or my scene is just too big to move. In this project, since the trees needed to be blended in with the “sky”, I’m using a blue paper as a backdrop to creates more depth on the scene and making it look bigger, it works great for night scene, but different scenarios like broad daylight might be too bland for just using a paper.

Hope you enjoy this project and found it useful for creating your LEGO photos. I’ve learned a lot from other amazing photographers and creators all these years, I found it very interesting and inspiring to watch how others create their amazing photos. And like I said earlier, for LEGO photographers, camera gears are not that important, what matters is how your story want to be told."

Thanks for all the insights Yuan He! If you want to read this artist profile, head to our blog at https://brickentral.net/ - @theaphol, Community Outreach Manager

#afol #legophotography #toyphotography #photography tips #toy photography #brickcentral #brickcentral member #lego photography #lego #minifigures #moc #lego bts #lego behind the scenes #behind the scenes #photograhic setup #lights

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meangreenbeanz · 5 months

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When I was a kid there was this thing my church did every couple of months where we’d spend a Sunday singing old hymns for hours.

For the very last song, we’d turn off the lights and everyone would hold a candle, and we’d pass the flames from person to person till the room glowed with soft song and flickers of warmth. We all had different pacing so the words were incoherent, and there was never really a key, but it was still beautiful. Something about coming together and making music, not caring how good it sounds. Just the act of creating, of collectively rejoicing in something greater than ourselves.

And I don’t believe in that stuff anymore, and was honestly never super religious, but as a kid, I’d get literal chills. I thought that was God speaking. I remember trying to hide my candle from my parents so I never had to extinguish the flame. I’d pour the wax into one of the little collection envelopes so I could take the memory home with me. I wanted to live in the warm moment forever.

But the flame went out, and I grew up, and forgot. It has been so long since I’ve sung just for the joy. Too long since I’ve gone to church and felt that unique combination of reveling in glory and religious guilt that I still haven’t processed. Too long, much too long since I’ve felt like a part of something more.

I’d forgotten that specific type of joy until tonight at the Mountain Goats concert when the speakers broke but the crowd just kept singing and the JD walked off the stage to join us in the floor and we just…sang

It was so simple, but beautiful. We were singing “You were cool” a capella and just kept repeating the chorus and people started crying and JD reached out and comforted this one crying girl and then transitioned to singing “No Children” right as the speakers came back on and I remembered what it felt like to be a kid in church again

Something about singing a capella, taking a pause to breathe whilst in the crowded concert hall

Something about being an individual with my own interpretation of the lyrics related to my own specific experiences, but also a part of the whole. We are all here, singing, rejoicing, exalting. We all matter.

Something about the collective happiness despite the difficulty, how complete strangers were crying together, how we all got swept into the magic… if that’s not religious glory then I don’t know what is

#the mountain goats #church #religious trauma #essay #rant post #tmg #concert #religion #remember when

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my-fancy-hat · 6 months

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I don't think the fate of Asa and Yoshida is settle in this conflict nor that Yoshida's strike is aimed to kill Asa (fjmt is an expert in making us believe things that aren't), for the simple reason that both of them still have not completed their own personal arcs nor have reached the culmination of their development, especially Yoshida, a character who remains a mystery for what he allows us to see from him. However, this last chapter showed a new facet of Yoshida which overthrows a previous assumption that us readers had about him.

Kishibe himself praised Yoshida for his combat skills and his templance as a devil hunter: a few screew loose reflected in a malicious almost childish smile while killing a man barehand. It comes natural for him to act as a weapon, the problem is to be human while being trapped in a problem/system way bigger than him. This time, he's about to kill Asa Mitaka, another enemy for PS, but the feeling is not the same as we saw in part 1: he's tired, definitelly sad. He knows he won't find joy in getting his hands dirty with her blood. It's safe to assume he doesn't want to do this. But, why now? why Asa? what change?

The maximum exposure of his personal conflict was through his conversation with Mitaka about the advantages of solitude through the construction of parasocial relationships, and how both of them should better continue down this path, an advice he assumed it would help her to content her need of connections: his own theory of happiness.

This topic is what later drags Asa Mitaka into a depresive episode due to the dissapointment of her attempts to connect with people, and how she cannot stop herself from becoming attached and creating expectations from relationships that barely exist to only end with her feeling stupid and miserable, where the last nail of the coffin were Denji standing her up on their second date and Yoshida rejecting her feelings again all in the same day. Why do I mention all of this? If you think that Asa is quick to create ideas in her mind out of her extreme emotional starvation, we can say the same thing about Yoshida. His phylosophy of interpersonal relationships takes an expector seat in the movie about his own life, where his feelings are well secured out of the reach of what the screen projects, where he's away from the pain and dissapointment to interact with the reality of rejection. While Asa suffers because she's stubborn and doesn't give up trying again and again to someday end her pain, Yoshida accepts and lives with it as an unchangable reality.

Yet, I believe his theory started to fail to him even before he noticed, during his time in highschool his world-view started to crack little by little (most likely by Denji's influence on him). Even if he didn't share significant moment with the rest of the cast, he enjoyed his time as a highschooler and, well, it isn't what parasocial relationships are about? happiness comes from the ilusion of companionship, and during all this time we've seen Yoshida chatting with someone or reacting about his surroundings in a group, especially with Denji at his side, feeding this needed ilusion of belonging. After all, the deep of these bonds doesn't matter but they're still important/meaningful to the person in question.

Maybe this expression shows that he does care about the people he spend time with pretending to be human just as them, maybe feels sorry to destroy this little life he believes doesn't fit into but had the opportunity to experience. He wants something like that for him too, a normal life where his lack of humanity isn't in the way to his desire of connection.

This is why I find this line very powerful for him to say, he apologize because he couldn't be of help to Asa, to have separate her from Denji while securing her to follow his theory of happiness, and by that to have made her situation worse than before and for things end up like this. He failed to fight the unchangeable once again.

#his last attempt of revolution is on protecting denji from PS interests. and that's what will kill him in the end #wont adjunt his moments w denji bc there's too many and we already know he's important to him and this post is about yoshida+asa #yoshida hirofumi #asa mitaka #chainsaw man #csm #chainsaw man spoilers #i enjoy reading characters better so i leave the plot to smarter people #some people say he will get clapped next chapter bc yoru will gain a power-up for what nayuta said but like. fear doesnt work like that?#the fear of war to that scale grows slower than in a spawn of seconds lets be real

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daisynik7 · 7 months

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Hello, I hope you've been doing well! When you have the time, could you please write about Nanami with a s/o who's creative and kind of hippiesque? I'm making that a word now haha but this is very much a self insert and I felt comfortable enough to ask you ☺

I've been tapping into my creative side more lately and even experimented with clay for the first time! I typically alternate between writing and sewing, sometimes I doodle. When it comes to clothes and just overall aesthetic - think thrifting, knick knacks, flowly/light fabrics, and things like that. I'm tempted to call it romantic but idk about that lol. Anyway, here's flowers and tea for you 💐🍵💓

p.s.: the idea of making him a bag for his work things 😭

Author’s Note: Hello friend! I’m so sorry this took SO LONG to complete, I know it’s been months since you requested, so I appreciate your patience on this! I hope you enjoy this little drabble!

Nanami wasn’t always reserved and rigid. Growing up and joining the workforce unfortunately led him to this mundane lifestyle, often following the same routines day-by-day, with little-to-no color in his life. He often reminisces about his high school days, when he used to sneak off from class to listen to punk rock music with his best friend Yu Haibara, who always used to radiate bright energy, enough to warm even Nanami. When his friend passed away, it seemed that the void he left would never be filled again.

That is, until he meets you.

You are vastly different from Nanami, but that’s what he loves so much about you. Where he lacks in creativity, you do more to cover the both of you. Most of your décor and accessories are homemade, crafted from your very own hands. The pieces displayed on the walls of your shared apartment are all original artworks. Watercolors, acrylics, charcoal, pen and ink. You like to experience with different medias, creating a variety of scenes, depending on an image that captivates you that day. Flowers you see on your daily walks to the park, a golden sunset you watch together on the beach, Nanami sitting on the couch resting his eyes after a long week at work. It’s simple in the grand scheme of things, but when it’s captured forever on canvas or paper, it becomes something special.

It takes a while for Nanami to get used to being the main focus in your artwork. He’s never liked standing out. When you show him one of your first sketches of him just standing in the kitchen, he’s surprised. Not only at your talent, but at how accurately you were able to portray his personality with a couple strokes of your pencil. That’s when he knows he should appreciate this for all that it’s worth.

His outfits soon become accessorized by your crafts. A knitted red scarf he uses when it’s cold out, with a beanie to match. Sewn mittens for his hands, keeping him warm throughout the train ride to work. He even replaces his briefcase with the bag you crochet for him, insisting that it’s perfect for all his belongings, even if there are a few places on it where his papers stick out. He gets used to the little trinkets and figurines you collect from various flea markets or thrift shops. Half the closet is his muted natural colors while yours is a rainbow that brings him joy every morning he has to get dressed for work.

Nanami absolutely loves how much of you bleeds into him, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. His daily routine now sparks with something special, all thanks to you.

#nanami kento #kento nanami #nanami #nanami fluff #nanami drabble #nanami drabbles #nanami imagine #nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami kento x you #nanami kento x reader #kento nanami x you #kento nanami x reader #kento nanami fluff #nanami kento fluff

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swordheld · 8 months

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how do you think in poems? i really enjoy the tags under your posts i've always wanted to write down my own thoughts that way bc in my head they feel so thorough and magical but whenever i put it in words i feel it just gets so much flatter and i no longer see a point and give up

oh oh oh, but lovely, can't you see that you've already started? it's a perspective that you hone, over time, something that is specific to you and you alone – that's the piece of it that makes it so special! you've already begun, and it only goes forward, up, sideways from here, wherever you wish to go!

think of it like a skill, for a moment, or a kind of muscle, if you'd prefer. you have to work at it, with it, over time and differing experiences, in order to progress.

(a quick important note: not progression as in the kind of quality-check of a grading scale, but progression as in evolution. shifting change. think of the leaves and their colors across the months of autumn, or temperatures rising with the sun and cooling with the evening dark. change isn't intrinsically a qualifying thing, it can just be, sometimes. this is difficult to remember, especially in the midst of frustration, but it is worth it. you are always doing better than you think you are – harshest critic, and all that.)

which is not to say that it's a simple thing to do! compare this to the vibe of me picking up crochet recently, with my shaking hands and too-quickly dwindling adhd focus – my first attempts at making a lil headphone sprout have not been going as well as i once hoped. my stitches are either too big and sloppy bc i'm not holding the yarn tightly enough to get clean ones, or i feel frustrated due to it not looking like how i'd like it to look in my mind when i started it, or even as i begin my umpteenth attempt.

but!! i know that it won't ever look the way i want it do if i set it down and never keep trying. it'll take awhile, like everything does, even the seasons take their time, the moon and its phases; but what i do know, is that, eventually, it'll resemble something i want it to. vaguely, maybe, but it is something. it doesn't have to look exactly like the guide i'm following, or the examples i'm inspired by, because it's mine – something made by my own hands, my own time and experience with every mistake and thrilling joy along the way to learn by.

take it from me: i want to be good at things i want to be good at so badly. and that excitement makes me want to be at the skill level i need to be at in order to do so right then and there, no learning curves or building blocks allowed. which is never how it happens, unfortunately, but –

i think, gently, that we tend to overlook what a pleasure it is to learn. to see the slow progression of things, to begin and change and continue and get better. and even if it's different as we go along, in a way it's our own little kind of magic, maybe, to create and never be done if we don't want to be.

which is all to say: it's already yours. why does it have to be anything else, anything more? why can't it just be good as it is now, where it might never be again? what is there to lose by enjoying the moment of where you are?

like everything, it will grow and shift and evolve with time, maybe into something you'd hoped for, or maybe into something you don't even have the words to describe right now at all. but that's the fun of it: how even now, even then, there, across time and distance and skill, there is a common thread of things; it will always come from your heart, your experience, where you are right then and there and now.

and if you think of that like magic, well, it becomes a little like magic, doesn't it?

also, something to consider: sometimes things you feel or think can't be put into words at that moment, or even at all! something else you could try (that i certainly do) is making something else with whatever it makes you feel - whether that's another form of art, or any other kind of media. if it makes you want to go outside and take a walk or get cozy and read or play a video game? that counts too! that's still an experience, you're still feeling.

i think that counts a little more than anything else, you know?

and as a little ending fun side-note, can i share something cool? i've never thought of it that way before, as thinking in poems. in my mind it's always been a kind of perspective of personal wonder, but you're right – it's poetry, in it's own way. you gave me that – so thank you, from the heart of me. i hope your journey finds you with every bright joy.

#rainsdowninkerala #q&a.#this is truly so much longer than i had originally thought it would be so i do hope it's less rambly and more help-y?#the art of creation goes hand in hand with the exploration and discovery of feeling and it is sooooo important n fascinating to me.#truly tho this can all be boiled down into a kind of: keep going? keep going. you can only get better.#i didn't want the post itself to get even longer & winded BUT if you want a lil fun vibe? watch meet the robinsons. it's a lil silly; but -#truly nothing changed my creative experiences more than hearing ' keep moving forward ' paired with joy at the result of failure.#how it is that you never learn if you don't fail; you have to keep trying; keep going at it; and if we only ever succeeded –#there would never be that? that checkpoint of progression? it changed that frustrating moment into a kind of art; for me.#how each time i fail and feel that sadness or anger it reframes it into oh. i'm learning. i'm doing something new and i'm learning.#isn't that amazing? spectacular? that i can do this? that it's me / you / us together?#i think ab that a lot in terms of inspiring my mindset. i hope it helps you too. wishing u all my best !!!! <3

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trulybetty · 10 months

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Baked Goods

Pairing: Marcus Pike x F!Reader (no use of Y/N) Word Count: 815 Warnings: Baked goods, indecisiveness, a little fluff & early Sunday mornings. Summary: Sunday morning traditions for you and Marcus

A/N: I currently have no patience for my current WIP's and found distraction in @wildemaven's @wildemaven-prompts and I'm trying my hand at the second-person perspective, something very new to me. So, any feedback is very much appreciated, please!

Baked Goods.

The glimmer of dawn breached the quiet, sleepy town. The soft hum of the world waking up was just beginning to filter through, punctuated by the occasional far-off murmur of a car. You found yourself standing in front of Sweet Jane's, a bakery tucked in a cobblestone corner of your town.

Marcus stepped into the bakery first, the bell above the door announcing your arrival. You followed after him, the aroma of fresh dough and the sweet perfume of baked goods wrapping around you like a warm, inviting blanket. This was your local bakery, the kind of place where the faces were familiar and the pastries were heavenly.

A simple place with painted walls the colour of custard, and a glass counter full of tantalizing confections that never failed to lure you in. It was Sunday morning, a time when people were in no rush, enjoying their coffee, reading newspapers, chatting amicably about life and the neighbourhood, creating a humming background to your little drama.

“You're going to have to make a decision soon,” Marcus said, a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth as he observed you peering into the glass counter, your brows furrowed in intense scrutiny.

“How am I supposed to choose?” You replied, your voice holding a hint of desperate amusement. A sea of eclairs, danishes, croissants, and tarts seemed to call out to you, each promising a different, decadent delight. You were certain you could taste the pastries through your gaze alone.

Marcus chuckled, his closeness was a sense of calm that easy Sunday morning. He gestured toward the display with a playful nod. "Choose that one." he suggested, pointing at a raspberry tart glinting with sweet glaze on a bed of paper doilies.

Your eyes followed his indication, its glaze shimmering under the bakery's soft, warm light. It looked divine, but so did the eclair next to it, and the apple Danish on its left. "I don't know, they all look so good," you protested, the whine in your voice taking on a childlike innocence.

“The weekend will be over before you make a decision, and we haven't even ordered coffee yet,” Marcus warned, glancing at his watch. He was leaning against the counter now, one arm folded across his chest, a picture of patience, but increasingly exasperated, affection.

"That's easy," you countered, your gaze shifting from the pastries to him. Coffee, unlike the myriad of pastries, was a simple decision for you - a black americano, no sugar, just the way you liked it.

His lips curled into a smile, the lines at the corners of his eyes deepening, raising an eyebrow at you, "I'm glad something is easy."

“This is frustrating,” you grumbled, your eyes once again drawn to the beautiful pastries before you. In the low murmur of the bakery, the laughter of patrons, the soft hissing of the espresso machine in the background, your frustration felt comfortable, a ritual you both played out with warmth and familiarity each week.

Marcus’s laughed, his chest vibrating against your shoulder, was the melody against your frustration's discordant beat. "Imagine how I feel," he retorted, a playful note in his voice. His eyes sparkled with mirth and something else - something warmer, something that made your heart thump a little louder in your chest.

Choosing a pastry wasn’t just about tasting something delicious, it was the experience: the joy in the anticipation, the first bite melting in your mouth, the taste lingering on your tongue. It was an art, a sensory journey you undertook every Sunday with Marcus by your side.

Your attention remained on the pastries, but your mind was elsewhere. It was filled with images of Marcus. The way his eyes twinkled when he laughed. The way his arm casually draped around your shoulder when you walked side by side. The way his voice, always calm and steady, made you feel grounded. And suddenly, you realized that it wasn’t the allure of pastries making your decision hard, it was the comfort of this moment, the fleeting essence of Sunday mornings spent with Marcus in a bustling bakery. It was a haven from the week ahead where work for you both would mean small glimpses of one another before the weekend was back again.

Finally, you pointed at a custard slice. The bakery worker, who had been waiting with an air of amused patience, moved to box it up for you. As Marcus ordered the coffee, you looked around the bakery, taking in the comforting ambience.

And so, you let go of your worries, your eyes once now tracing the man to your side, Marcus’s warm laugh echoed in your ears as he made small talk with the server. Here, on this Sunday morning, you were more than content with the choices you had made - especially the one standing right beside you.

#marcus pike #marcus pike x you #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x f!reader #marcus pike x female reader #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal character fanfiction

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fictionkinfessions · 12 days

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what a wild experience it is to be relatively young while also having a large number of past lives constantly popping up in my memory.

i've been nonhuman more times than i know, but just like i suited myself then, humanity fits me perfectly now. i have more estranged family members than the combined amount of everyone i've met in this life, but still act awkward around my blood relatives because i haven't quite gotten confident in this new self yet. i've worked any imaginable number of jobs but my new first one still seems just as intimidating, at least socially. i've held unbelievable, unsustainable power and more times than not used it for good, for the sake of my people, but i feel guilty accepting simple help from my loved ones. every past and present social convention is more suggestion to me now, yet still i follow, knowing there's nothing worse than being above or below everything where the only part of you others can see is your shadow.

where i once was the pitch black void of destruction for my enemies, i'm now small and soft and doting, and the craziest part is, i was always both.

i cycle between feeling intimidated by/estranged to those older than me and thinking of people my age or older as kids. just like most anyone, they're rambunctious and unafraid and openly, adorably don't know what they're doing because, in their eyes, it's the beginning of their first time. i've done that, too, but remembering it from the perspective of beyond keeps me from experiencing it quite the same way again. the amount of times even before adulthood i have been referred to as an "old soul" is comical- i am old, so old that my highest desire is to teach, to care, to protect others whenever they need it, yet i'll never be too old to remain young in the ways that matter. every menial "coming of age" thing i have done and will go on to do i have done once, twice, a thousand times, but this time is not special in that it won't be when i stop getting excited. my brain prevents me from remembering it all, but if i've learned anything, it's that excitement and joy are all that remain when all else fades away. knowing this means every choice i make will not be a missed or seized opportunity, rather a dedication to love and life itself.

i've had the hard truths of existence carved into my mind over and over. i've been broken and reassembled and built up to tumble back again, yet each time i move on, the burning remnants become nothing more than a fuzzy afterimage that superimposes itself on my being, now entirely different in the exact same way. really, that's the beauty of it; a different body and mind with the same information will come to a different conclusion, even if similar. no set of hands can sculpt a lump of clay the exact same way twice. i am the clay and i am the hands and i am the eyes that gaze upon my self-creation in admiration, in a way some may wish to but cannot in quite as much depth. one day i will hold an entirely new form and choose a new, yet equally true, metaphor to describe the ways in which i've changed. and then, too, i will be young and grown, and grow up while remaining young, and love relentlessly, unconditionally. in this, i will never be alone.

collectively, i'd say my age outranks that of this universe itself. but just like it, i am still a kid, marvelling at the gift of life with bright eyes despite every wild possibility. beauty is within the love you create. so i say to you, another irreplicable creation within the crushing embrace of existence:

reread that cringe book you like, or replay that game that used to be your favorite as a kid, or pick up the hobby you've wanted to try that you know the people around you would think is lame. rant about the most seemingly meaningless things just because you wanna. be as spiritual or non-spiritual as you wish. embrace your various identities and interests with a whole heart, and if they change, let them. you change every day you exist, and you will never be precisely as you were or will be, which makes the you you are now infinitely valuable. if your people are too blinded by the biases of this world to make peace with the harmless things that bring you joy, find new people who can admire the story of each smudged fingerprint in your surface just as readily as every smooth curve and minute detail. whether it be through friendship, romance or family, let yourself be shaped by the influence of others in that irreplicable way you would never achieve on your own. stand on your business when you have to, act the way you feel, speak your mind. make mistakes and learn from them, and make them again, and learn something entirely new. take it from me: you will never run out of things to learn or to love, and that's the greatest gift of all. learn what you need and what you can, and most importantly of all, learn what you love so that you might have the time to love it for as long as possible. remember your time is limited, but acknowledge anything you do to fulfill yourself or something important/necessary to you is not a waste, despite how limited you may be. take whatever pace makes you comfortable, no matter what vindictive minds may insist, and live a life full of all the things you and your loved ones desire, so that no matter when the day comes that you move on, you will know it was worth it.

and, if you can, leave a positive impact on those you meet who could use your irreplicable influence. never force yourself to become beholden to another (just as any other shouldn't be to you) and uphold your personal safety before anyone else's, but if you have the chance to change something for the better, don't choose to let it go. if nothing else, you'll thank yourself for it, as will i. i know you're struggling, and you are trying, and i love you. i believe in you. as long as you always protect and value your own voice, you will live in the best way. never give up on that.

(p.s: also don't give up on your sleep schedule! i'm sitting in tumblr writing this at 4 am on a friday morning. when this is posted, chances are you will never know me or even want to, but remember those you do know and hold them fondly in your heart. and especially appreciate those who choose to work for the benefit of others, like mpc! (thank you for providing this space for people to share things they otherwise couldn't.))

to whoever you might be today, take it easy out there.

- a friend

#fictionkinfessions #fictionkin #memories issue #seekin #ableist language cw #mod party cat

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alwaystoovoid · 4 months

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OK really feel like delivering this "life changing", "brand new" information. It's just a simple reminder for me (in case I'll ever forget) and maybe for someone who struggles with it either:

YOU DON'T NEED TO USE METHODS/TECHNIQUES ONLY BECAUSE THEY ARE POPULAR IF THEY DON'T RESONATE WITH YOU..

What I mean is literally drop the shit that stresses you out right now, stop doing it immediately. It won't lead to anything, only frustration and doubts.

Just a life story: when I was in my "loa information consumer" era, robotic affirming has been blowing up. Like it was everywhere, every single coach/teacher/loa youtuber was saying like "oh just robotically affirm for a day and you will get what you want by tomorrow morning" which is COMPLETELY TRUE IF YOU RESONATE WITH IT, but just hear me out.

I was overloaded with information, success stories and people's positive experiences. And since all the amazing coaches I trusted (I still do, I just filter information now) said that this method is "a key" to getting all your desires, all this situation just led me to the most wrong thought I've ever had (yeah drama): "robotic affirmations are what creates. It doesn't really matter what I'm embodying, it's only matter what I'm thinking". But I didn't really realize the fact that this is just a technique that is supposed to help me to embody the state of being the person who has everything. I put this on SUCH A HIGH PEDESTAL.

So I started to do a challenge in the beginning of December '23. I was supposed to robotically affirm until the end of december, and I needed to affirm like ALL DAY. It didn't matter what I was doing, I needed to affirm. And after 2 weeks of living like this I decided that I would not do this ever again, like never. Because for this 2 weeks I had been so stressed over 3d, waiting for it to conform and exhausted. I stopped and now even the idea of robotically affirming for something is scaring the shit out of me, I'm dead serious. What was positioned like "the ultimate key to receiving everything you desire" appeared to be just simply not for me.

The moral of this extremely long story: there is no technique that suits everyone. Like it doesn't exist, so there is no need to allow this pressure affect your life. If you feel like something is not your cup of tea, but proceeding to do it because people said it's ultimate - drop it and leave it behind, go back to whatever method that brings you joy and gets you into the state and do it. Do it and know that everything will come even faster than you expect. Listen to yourself, not others.

#manifesting #loassumption #loa #void state #the void state

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isabellehemlock · 1 year

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Tips and Resources for curating your fandom experience across platforms

Hi loves,

I wanted to write up a curating resource post for fandom spaces, so here are some things I’ve learned along the way, and though only you can decide what your digital boundaries look like, I do hope that for anyone looking for them, this list might find its way to you.

For tumblr

How to make your DM’s only open to people you follow

How to make it so only people you follow, or people who follow you for a week can reply

How to have your ask box open, but closed to anon’s - no longer needed, there's a simple toggle button near the ask settings for whether to allow anons or not :)

Use the filtering function for your dash (this is also an option for a blocked user - who you might still see if a mutual reblogs them. You can add their name to your filtered list, and then their post will be hidden on your dash). This tip brought to you by @quiquimora tumblr resource post (great post if you’re new to tumblr)

For AO3

How to filter out keywords that might appear in summary or author notes, but not in tags (handy for when an author is trying to understandably avoid spoilers in the tags)

A script option for filtering (especially nice if there are certain tags you'll always avoid across fandoms).

Muting authors (a nice option if you don’t necessarily mind engaging with authors in comments, etc, but don’t want to see their content) - this secondary link includes a how to video you can now use the muting feature on AO3, no scripts needed :)

You can block authors now on AO3 as well, and here’s a tweet thread that shows you how, but also what it does, and doesn’t do

If you’d like to avoid certain ship pairings

How to use a few extra search symbols to filter out certain content

Quick tip: don't forget to save your curated search results in either a bookmark, or as a link on your mobile home screen - that way you can just do all the filtering once, vs typing it all over again every time you're loading up AO3

For twitter

Muting words/content

How to set up various privacy settings

For discord

Privacy & Server settings master list

Accessibility settings

Please feel free to reblog with your own tips!

Under the cut, a few extra tips for dipping into new fandom spaces:

Interact with reblogs and hashtags (this isn’t the end all to be all, but one way to showcase your sense of humor with commentary, or digitally applaud a content creator). People can get to know you a bit ;)

If you enjoy content creating, sign up for fandom events: big bangs, reverse big bangs, zines - a fantastic way to connect with several people at once sharing the same hyperfixation as you <3

Look up certain hashtags in someone’s blogs - not in the sense of digging up ten years of posts, but a quick search if you have squicks and triggers that someone might blog about a lot. It’s not a judgment on them, for many might not follow you for the things you post about either. It’s just self care to be aware of things you do not want to see on your dash and keep your following list to things that bring you joy - nothing says you can’t do the occasional reblog, or even connect with them on other platforms!

On the flipside - block liberally. If you look up their blog and you both are on opposite ends of a spectrum on a topic? Want to ensure they can never say such things to you in DM’s, etc? Block.

And guess what? People have the right to do the same to you. Do not under any circumstances block evade. This includes going to other platforms to engage with them if you know you’ve been blocked. Just.don’t.do.it.please.

And if you've made it to the end, you get a digital cookie or hug of your choice 🍪🫂

#curating #filtering #curating your online experience #respect the inherent dignity of every person #respect your own boundaries - it's self care loves #use all the tools you need #can't curate the world - but we can curate our dashes #curating resource #filtering resource

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simpcityy · 2 months

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My Little Spawn "Preview" (Dadstarion X Child!Reader)

Here is a little preview of the works, I hope you like it and please like, reblog, let others know. Thank you.

“Who’s the little adorable bugger?” Gale smiles letting you try to read the books he has found so far. “For the record this annoying little sp-human is not mine, they just seem to be attached to me.” Astarion watches you trying to pronounce the big words only to butcher them. “But it’s getting rather late and I hate to deal with a cranky annoying child tomorrow.” He picked you up keeping his arms outstretched and walked to his tent. Once everyone was out of earshot, he squats at your height. “Listen here, you must not tell anyone what we are understood?” His red eyes look down at your innocent (E/C) ones. “But why not?” You sat on top of the pillow looking up at Astarion seeing him take a deep breath in. Of course, Astarion knows he has to make it simple. “Because we are playing a game” He grins “ We are all hiding our identity. You and I are a team and the rest are a team. Whoever is the first one to discover their real identity, is the sore loser.” He gives a smile sitting down next to you. You pouted, your cheeks puffed up “We will win, okay! I won’t tell.” You lean back before yawning “ If they ask what do I say?” You cute little doe eyes look at him tiredly. “Hmm…we are just normal elves got it?” He looks away in deep thought, “it’s for the best for now” He mutters before leaning back “ You know for a being the youngest Spawn he created…you still need rest like a human, you are such an odd little spawn” He gently plays with the ends of your hair “ Why did he even turn you?” He whispers as you slowly slip into sleep. “What use does he even have for you?” He kept asking himself all the questions ever since you were part of the “Family”

#dadstarion #dad astarion #baldurs gate astarion #baldur's gate 3 #astarion x child reader #Father figure Astarion #dadstarion x child reader #bg3 fanfiction #baldurs gate fanfiction #baldurs gate fic #astarion fic

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haleyincarnate · 6 months

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Being on my own has made me come to so many realizations, but there’s one specifically I want to dive into today: how grateful I am to have the honor to age.

The passage of time has many a time nearly rendered me inconsolable as a child, a teenager, and into early adulthood. I held on to every experience I went through in life like a balloon tied to a white string, knowing if I let go the moment would be lost forever. This terrified me. I had to take every chance I had when it presented itself to me: one more beer, one more kiss, one more smoke, one more one more one more-

And I’d grieve when it was all over. Every birthday passed was a funeral. Every goodbye permanent, the next hello just an unknown. I’d watch the world whiz by in a blur from the back seat of a red PT Cruiser, a voice inside my head reminding me with each passing tree, “this is a moment you will never get back.” And I spent YEARS stuck in that loop, feeling on top of the world one minute and the next flailing at the bottom of its deepest trench.

Moving into my late twenties, however, I felt a shift. I found myself yearning to create. I discovered comfort in sobriety and knowing I truly wasn’t missing out on anything by not participating in drinking. Felt my heart coming back to life after the longest relationship I’ve had ended. Received a promotion at work but had to turn it down for personal reasons. Moved back in with my mother to find my footing again.

And in everything, I found myself grateful to be here. To still be able to bring my father coffee at his shop. To go into my place of work smiling. To enjoy time spent with friends, no matter how rarely that happens. To find the simple joy in talking with my mother face to face more often now than on Facetime. I found the strength in me to immortalize that childhood and all its passing glory into a poetry collection I’m releasing in just under two weeks.

In these past two years I have lost three members of my family, something I knew was inevitable yet never foresaw it happening. As a past version of myself, I would have let this rock my life completely, fearing every second of every day when the next tragedy would strike.

In actuality, I allowed it to strengthen me. This is not to say I did not grieve, but that I am lucky to have done so. It made me that much more appreciative of the time I DO have.

I’m thankful to be here after spending so much time convinced I wouldn’t be.

And I’m proud of you for being here, too.

#hmh #hmhwriting

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w33nies · 8 months

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Qué Maravilla CH.4

previous chapter

next chapter

Miguel O'hara x SpiderFemReader rating: E for Everyone bby warnings: none? lots of angst tbh summary: everyone knows where Miles is. Now it's a matter of who will find him first .

art is not mine!!!! @shuploc !!!

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Ch.4 - Blood in the Water

Gwen Stacy found that everyone’s Spider Sense materialized differently depending on the person. Miles and Peter said theirs was like a voice in the back of head, a loud whisper that would urge them to “look out”, “duck”, or tell them when a civilian was in need of saving. You and Jess described it as more of an out of body experience. Kinda like a third eye aerial view or seeing yourself through a video game. But for her it was a rhythm. It was only natural since she saw her entire life through rhythm. It was the only way she could explain the world around her. She could find rhythm in anything. In the middle of a high-stakes battle with an enemy or in the hustle and bustle of Chelsea, New York. She could find it in the little things like the monotony of the subway, the crackling of a fireplace, the humming of a refrigerator, or the whirring of the fan overhead. She could even find rhythm lying in her bed at 2am after a long day's work of being spider woman and the open window was ushering in the whistling breeze while there was a T.V playing in the other room. With her stolen cop radio interjecting with its constant updates and the occasional car whizzing down the street, all while she can hear her dad loudly snoring in the living room. All these things on their own made a distinct rhythm and together they played an even stronger melody. All like their own individual instrument that would all work together to create a symphony. A symphony she could identify in anything and through that she could capture a feeling. That feeling was what she meant when she said ‘the rhythm’.

Her spider sense specifically felt like a really bad rhythm. Not bad in the sense of being off beat but bad in an unnerving way. Like the feeling of sitting in a doctor's office awaiting a diagnosis, seeing a shark fin while swimming in the water or staring down the barrel of a gun with your father on the other end. No matter how hard she tried, she could never put it into words. A bad rhythm was just that, it made you feel… bad.

It wasn’t all doom and gloom however, just like bad rhythms there were also good rhythms. As you could guess, good rhythms entail anything that gives off a positive feeling like a fun day at the beach, the applause after finishing a complicated gymnastics routine, or seeing a friend you thought you’d never see again. She rarely felt a good rhythm however, it’s why she opted to play the drums. She always wanted to emulate the rhythm she wanted to feel, the rhythm she wanted others to feel. And she was good at it. She found she could change the rhythm of a room with just a single drum solo, never failing to shift her fathers mood from despondent to cherry with a single beat. She could even change the rhythm of an entire anxious classroom or a rowdy cafeteria with a simple tapping of her pencil or the drumming of her fingers. She used to find joy in shifting the rhythm. That was until she lost her best friend Peter, things seemed to spiral after that. That was until the last time she played in her band. She got so emotional playing the drums that her, for lack of a better word, damaged rhythm bled through the music and she got kicked out. I guess when her life changed so did its rhythm. So did her’s.

She felt the bad rhythm standing upside down on the ceiling of Miles Morale’s childhood bedroom. It crept up on her like a poison slowly reaching all the vital points of her body. This was different, it was especially awful. Spider Sense usually urges you to take action, but this one locked her in place. For a split second she was paralyzed with dread and through that split second she gathered everything she needed to know. ‘He’s in the wrong universe.’

She dropped from the ceiling then carefully made her way to the door. Through the slim opening she can hear his parents' worried conversation. ‘I should talk to them, tell them how much he cares.’ She’s about to exit when she catches her reflection in the full body mirror. Her spider suit. I can’t let them see me like this. She scans the room until her eyes fall on Miles’s jacket. She shoots a web at the coat and quickly shrugs it on. ‘This will have to do for now, she thinks while examining herself in the mirror. She fiddles with the zipper for a second, ‘I’ll get this back to you myself Miles. I promise.’ She takes a deep breath and zips up the jacket before stepping outside to face his parents.

- - -

Jessica Drew sat outside Miles Morales apartment on her motorcycle. By order of Miguel, she was stationed here to keep an eye out for the boy. She’d figured it’d be an open and shut case. He’d obviously go see his parents if it was his father he was so worried about, it was only a matter of time before he’d show. She had the place surrounded with movement trackers, ready to alert her at a moment's notice of anyone who’d entered and exited the entire building. Yet here she stood for what felt like hours without as much as a pigeon appearing on her radar. She bit her cheek and took another lap around the block, intensely scanning her surroundings and constantly checking her tracking devices. Nothing. Something was off. Very off.

It wasn’t until the middle of her patrol when she finally received an alert. Her devices showed someone scaling the side of the building towards Morales's residence. ‘It’s not like anyone can climb walls,’ she thought to herself, ‘There’s only one person this could be.’ In one fell swoop she smoothly shifted her bike to 5th gear and sharply turned around, barelling full speed before skidding to a halt in front of the apartment. She planted her feet on the floor, looking up at the building with her mouth agape. There was a figure hovering next to the window, but it wasn’t Miles.

She watched as her protegee opened the window before entering the room. She had watched Layla disable the settings of her holowatch herself. Did she manage to override it? Did she somehow get her hands on another watch? She bit her lip in frustration. Perhaps she had mentored her a little too well.

Jessica quickly deployed one of her tracking devices through the open window and turned on the live camera feature. A small projection of the conversation taking place in the house emitted from her watch.

“I’m going to find him,” the girl said with her back to the two figures, “I don’t know where exactly, but I know where to start.” She moves towards the door before pausing, “One thing I learned from Miles, It’s all possible…He loves you more than you could ever imagine…I’ve seen it.”

She turns off the watch, instead turning her attention to the roof. In the next instant, the entire building was engulfed in a ripple of everchanging dimensional styles. At the center, a glowing orange doorway surrounded by a kaleidoscope of punk rock. A portal, no doubt and the work of Hobie Brown no less. Jessica sat upright on her motorcycle with her arms crossed, mindlessly tapping her finger on her forearm.

It didn’t take long for her to put two and two together. ‘He’s on Earth-42.’ They’d been looking in the wrong place the entire time. She should tell Miguel. She looked over at the holowatch residing on her wrist and found herself doing something she hadn’t in a long time, she hesitated.

When Miguel sent Gwen home she had called her a liability because of her attachment to Miles. That was still true, well partially. She had been neglecting the fact that Gwen wasn’t just a liability because of the boy, she was a liability because of her. In this moment she found she cared about her more than she realized, more than she cared to let herself admit.

“You never got too close to anyone?” she remembered the girl asking her in hopes for another chance to right her wrong with the Spot.

“I did.” she admitted to her, “But then I got over it.”

She rubbed her hand over her round stomach. “Damn kids,” she said softly to herself. She finally understood the affection Peter held for Miles. Maybe she would adopt her when this was all over. If it was even possible to adopt a child from another dimension, “You better not make me soft like this,” she spoke, pointing towards her pregnant belly.

She would tell Miguel, she decided, later. ‘You got one hour Gwen Stacy,’ she said to herself with a death grip on her forearms. ‘After that you cope with whatever comes next and I can’t help you.’ She set a timer on her holowatch before revving her bike and taking off into the night.

- - -

You land face first onto Miguel’s torso in a nondescript alleyway. The sudden impact with the pavement earned a groan from the both of you. You both lift your faces up at the same time, freezing the second you make eye contact with one another. His hands are still on your waist, and yours on his chest. You quickly scramble to your feet as you feel your cheeks burn with embarrassment, he follows suit.

You brush yourself off as you scan your surroundings. “We made it…”, you say meekly, trying to rouse any positive emotion or acknowledgement from Miguel, however, his face sits in its titular frown, unamused.

“Yay?,” you weakly add, his expression remains unfazed, instead he just sighs and begins climbing the wall to gain a better vantage point, “You’re impossible you know that?”

“Me? How?”

“Because you don’t listen.”

“I listen…” you state defensively before reassessing your track record “... well, like 90% of the time, which is still an A.”

He removes one hand from the wall, leaving the other digging firmly into the brick so he can turn to face you below him, “Almost doesn’t count. This is why I wanted you to stay home.”

“Where I’m from they say almost counts in horseshoes and hand grenades,” you informed him with a smug smile.

“Again, impossible.” Miguel resumes climbing until he reaches the top of the wall, then he pulls himself up the edge with ease. He begins to walk towards the view before stopping in his tracks, turning his head to the side until he sees you appear above the ledge. Only then does he face forwards and keep toward the skyline.

You stop just behind him watching his back as he takes in the city view. Before you can do the same, you feel your watch silently buzz against your wrist. You look down at the device to see a message from Gwen to the rest of the renegades: 'He's in the wrong universe. Earth-42. Go immediately. Make sure you aren’t followed.’

“Fuuuck.”

“Fuck is right,” Miguel responds. You quickly hide your hand behind your back, fortunately Miguel is still focused on the city, “All these people without a hero. Organized crime here is exponentially high”

“Yeah…It looks scary out there.” You speak distractedly, never taking your eyes off the message you're hastily crafting. ‘Already here. Looking for Miles. Miguel is here too.’

Perhaps you should’ve taken the time to elaborate more. Within the next instant you’re bombarded with an influx of panicked messages flooding your watch. Peter, Gwen, Pavitr and Porker specifically send one frantic message after another. The constant buzzing catches Miguel's attention.

“You alright?” Miguel questions you skeptically eyeing your holowatch.

You swiftly move to hide your hand behind your back once more, “Yep all good, ” you spit out, doing your best to put on a convincing smile. As he looks you up you can’t tell if that feeling in your stomach is because you’re worried or embarrassed. Probably both. Luckily for you, he returns his attention to the skyline, “This city is large, he could be anywhere. Our best bet is to start with his residence, but it’s also possible that he’s already realized he's in the wrong dimension and is on the lookout for the Alchemex collider…”

You do your best to multitask between listening to Miguel's rambling and calming your comrades. “So we should split up?” You suggest hopefully while attempting to type, ‘CALM DOWN. He’s with me. We found out at the same time.’

He turns around abruptly. You halt your typing hand midair over your watch. He eyes you suspiciously, “No. I can’t trust you to go out on your own.”

“Ouch,” You walk past him, this time with your back to him so you can send over your coordinates, 'Here's our location, we’ll find Miles together. Follow us. DON’T LET HIM SEE YOU.’

“Unless you promise to detain him until the canon occurs, if not that then at least until I reach the two of you.”

“Mmmhmm” you hum absentmindedly, all your focus now is towards the plan you’re concocting with your friends, ‘Be our extra set of eyes. If things get dicey, back me up.’

A surplus of what you hope are agreeing messages flood your watch, you don’t have time to read them before Miguel startles you with a hand on your shoulder.

“Sounds like a plan?”

“Plan? What plan?”

“So you weren’t listening, ” he lets out a frustrated groan before grabbing your wrist and pointing to the watch, “What are you doing, really?”

“Just…taking notes…” you stutter nervously. Just then your watch emits a message from Peter, ‘Whatever happens we’ll make it work.’

“Tomando notas mi culo,” he drops your hand and jabs a finger in your face “Why are you talking to Peter?”

“No reason, I just-” you rack your brain for a viable excuse, “I’m- I was just checking in on him.”

“Of course” he drops your hand with a scoff and begins to angrily pace back and forth “Of course you’re talking to Peter, now of all times. Why are you here if you aren’t going to take this seriously? What solace could you possibly find in PETER?”

“What’s wrong with Peter?”

Miguel knew better than to act the way he was right now, but he was finding he was having a harder time grappling with his emotions and succumbing to intrusive thoughts. You only saw Peter as a friend and Peter, of course, had Mary Jane. Any suggestion otherwise would probably end with you laughing in his face. But he saw the way you guys got along. Like two peas in a pod. How you guys had a similar sense of humor, the cultural references you shared between your universes, the way you would finish eachothers outlandish sentences. You guys were great friends to each other. He knew that. He also knew that you were comfortable around him, a way that you weren't with Miguel. Deep down he was always jealous of the rapport he had with you, but today, Miguel despised him for it.

“What's wrong with Peter? What’s wrong with you? I’m right here and you-” he abruptly stops talking, his look of envy replaced with pain. In the next instant he’s hunched over holding his stomach with a groan.

“Miguel. What the- are you okay?’ You immediately rush to his side.

“I’m fine,” he blurts out, resting his hand on the nearest wall for support. You move closer and grab a hold of his face in your hands. He’s hot to the touch and sweating bullets. “You don’t look fine.”

“It’s just- It’s the serum. I'll have to reinject. Soon.”

“Serum? What Serum?”

“Rapture…” A grim silence takes hold of the two of you. You knew Miguel’s origin story well. Partly because of how close you were, but also because of how unusual it was. Miguel was never bit by a spider. Before he became spiderman we worked at Alchemex, but soon quit after finding out their unethical business practices. Out of spite they injected him with Rapture, a highly addictive drug that can cause codependency for life after one use. With Alchemex being the only legal supplier they were essentially attempting to black mail him into reemployment. However, Miguel instead concocted a genetic procedure in attempts to restore his DNA. The experiment was sabotaged and Miguel was inadvertently gifted with a new genetic code. 50% man, 50% spider. The experiment also successfully rid him of his addiction to Rapture, or at least, that was what he told you…

“You’re still addicted?”

“Yes.” You stood in shock, Miguel however wore a look of shame.

“I didn’t want to tell anyone…” he spoke without returning your gaze, “When I’m off Rapture it makes me angry, irrational, violent. I see things that aren’t there. I- I don’t like who I am without it.”

“Miguel, none of us would’ve ever saw you differently. I’m glad you told me,” you plant a small reassuring kiss on his nose, causing his breath to hitch, “It means you trust me a little more than you let on,” you say with a smirk.

He rested his forehead against yours and whispered softly, “Thank you cariño.”

“Anytime O’hara.” You stood like that briefly before you finally let go. The both of you turn to face the city once more “So are you always off your serum or…?”

He chuckles and looks down at you with a smirk, “You’re not funny.”

“Really because Porker told me the other day that I-”

You’re cut off by the sound of distant crash and the blaring of several car alarms . You both turn towards the source of the sound and see a cloud of dust in the distance with a small group of civilians running away from its center. Debris from the explosion litters the area for what seems like miles.

“I didn’t just hallucinate that, did I?”

“No sir you did not.”

“At least we know where to start.”

“Way ahead of you.”

You make a break towards the explosion then pause when you don’t sense him behind you. You turn around and find him staring off into space with an uneasy look on his face, leaning against the same wall and once again holding his stomach.

“Hey, are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Are you sure you don’t need to go back?”

“Yeah. I’m fine.” he stands up “Just got a little light headed.

“I’ll go with you if that’s-”“-It’s fine. Don’t worry about me. I can do this,” he quickly recomposes himself, shaking out each of his limbs “Let's just go.” Before you can interrupt he jumps off the side of the building and makes his way to the scene of the crime. You quickly take off after him, not wanting to get left behind. ‘This man is as stubborn as they come’ you think to yourself, swinging from structure to structure, ‘I just hope he doesn’t push himself too far.’

had to use google translate for the spanish in this chapter so if it's hot dookey plz let me know thanks

#miguel o'hara #astv #miguel o'hara x you #miguel spiderverse #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel x reader

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