#update: still stuck in art block!

[florencemtrash]

Hummingbird: Chapter Two

Miguel O'Hara x Reader

What if the Earth-1610 (Miles’s universe) version of Miguel’s wife was actually Miles’s AP Art teacher?

Masterlist

Miguel grumbled, furiously trying to rub away the oncoming headache as the newly updated Spider-Gang continued to berate him. Jessica only leaned forward on her motorcycle, smirking at the sight of his towering figure surrounded by teenagers.

Gwen prodded him with a pointed finger, “What the hell, Miguel! I can’t believe you-”

“We trusted you and-”

“So what now you’re just on our side like some-” 

Miles’s palms sparked threateningly, “You were going to let my Dad die!”

“Hold the baby, Migs.” Peter tried in vain to shove a babbling Mayday into his hands, “She’s going to make you feel so much better.”

“You and I are gonna have some serious fisticuffs you turtle-”

“You let the power get to your head like some capitalistic-”

Peni’s robot chittered angrily.

“Ok, ok, OK!” Miguel yelled, “Everyone just QUIET!” Turning on his heels so that his broad shoulders blocked out the skyline, he began to mutter, “Dios mío. ¿Qué estoy haciendo? Estos niños me van a matar. Mierda.” He took a deep breath, steeling himself for the words that were about to leave his mouth.

“I messed up.” he murmured under his breath.

Hobie propped himself up against his guitar, “Sorry bruv, don’t think I heard you ri-”

“I MESSED UP!” Miguel shouted, throwing his hands up in his air. Everyone except Hobie and Miles took a step back. This was the closest thing to an apology any of them could hope to get, and far more than they were expecting to hear from him. “Now in case you’ve forgotten, we still have an imminent multiversal collapse on our hands!” 

“Very imminent,” Lyla said, floating on her back and propping her holographic feet up on Miguel’s shoulder.

Miles stepped forward in the silence, all eyes on him. 

He still had to tilt his head up to meet Miguel’s eyes, but he didn’t feel small. No. He wasn’t small. He wasn’t weak. He was Spider-Man, and together they were going to fix this.

“I still don’t like you but,” he stuck out his hand, “Welcome to the Spider-Gang, Miguel.” 

>>>

“Lyla, take a scan of the-” Gwen spun out of a wormhole, crashing into his side.

“Sorry!” A web shot out of her wrist, pulling her towards the skylight as Miles flipped across the room in a red and black blur.

“Spot, please!” Miles’s voice bounced around the room, sound waves rippling out from a hundred spots at once, “You don’t have to do this.”

Lyla flickered to life on Miguel’s shoulder, a holographic lollipop sticking out the corner of her mouth, “I’m on it!” 

Miguel caught himself on the wall, blades screeching on metal as a dozen more spots popped into existence around him. Rain pelted him from all sides, distracting him long enough for the hub of a cop car to fly out and flatten him against the wall. 

The Spot dipped in and out of the ground, basking in the remnants of the Super-Collider and swallowing up bits and pieces of metal and granite in the process. Wormholes had already started to crop up all around New York, threatening the destruction of buildings as cars and trains suddenly found themselves hundreds of feet above the ground.

“It’s a proper mess out here mates,” Hobie’s voice called out from Miguel’s watch, followed by the shattering of glass, “How much longer is this going to take?”

“I just need fifteen more minutes,” Margo said. A crash sounded in the background along with Jessica’s colorful words, “... maybe twenty.” 

“We don’t have twenty minutes,” Miguel grunted, flinging his body across the room. He strung his webs around a battered console, whipping it around and aiming it directly at the Spot. He only chuckled, lifting his hand and opening a portal. The console smashed into Miguel’s back, sending him crashing to the ground.

Lyla pulled the lollipop out of her mouth with an audible pop! “Scan of the room’s complete. You’re in luck! You’ve got about 17 minutes before the structural integrity of the building goes kaput, starting with the northwest corner.” Her finger glitched as she pointed. 

Joder.

“Guys no. I can do this.” Miles said, his voice tight with effort as he continued to jump around the room, whipping metal at the Spot to distract him long enough to swing to safety. He could make the Spot see reason. He had to.

Margo and Jessica scrambled about the control room three stories up, Margo’s virtual reality body glitching from anxiety as she threaded wires together and fumbled around on the computers in the control room. This dimension’s technology was ancient compared to hers and she was finding it hard to make the adjustment. 

“You really think that would work?” She asked Miles. They all stood side by side atop Alchemax, staring down into the remnants of the Super-Collider where the Spot floated around aimlessly in a pool of black ether. Every so often Margo was certain she could see visions of other dimensions poking through the fabric of spacetime - A baseball game, an explosion, a thousand ships cruising past a desert planet.

“He got his powers using the Super Collider,” Miles reasoned, “Absorbed dark matter energy from countless universes. Reverse the process and we might be able to send it all back to their original dimensions.”

“Leaving him powerless.” Hobie finished, shoving his hands into his jacket and nodding, “I like it.” 

“It’ll be a large scale Go-Home-Machine.” Margo murmured, nodding in understanding as the plan fell into place.

“But you gotta let me talk to him first.” Miles narrowed a pointed glare at Miguel. “Let me make him see reason. End this before it even begins.”

“Are you joking? That’s too risky.” Miguel growled out.

“This could kill him!”

“Oh come on, Miguel, give Miles a chance!” Pavitr had to balance on the tip of his toes to sling an arm around Miguel’s shoulders. “He’s Spider-Man! This will be easy for him! Use that charm and compassion and-”

“Fine.” Miguel said, shrugging Pavitr off, “We’ll try it your way.”

The Spot walked forward menacingly, noting with pride how Miles backed away, hands lifted up in front of him, “So now you want to talk?” 

“Listen, Jonathan - it’s Jonathan, right? - We don’t have to do this. I’m sorry I made fun of you before. I’m sorry that I disregarded you after everything you’ve been through. But you have to understand what you’re doing. This is going to destroy everything. Everything. The universe, the multiverse, all of it. You’ve got the power to-”

“There’s no Jonathan anymore, only the Spot. You still think I’m joking don’t you? You still think we’re going to make up after a grand old speech - that you’re going to save me. Well it’s too late for that, kid.” 

He lifted his hand and snapped his fingers, a portal opening to his left. Someone tumbled out wearing a paint stained Brooklyn Visions Academy sweatshirt. 

Miguel’s heart stopped beating. 

He would recognize you anywhere - in any universe.

“Y/n?” he breathed out. 

“Let’s see how good you really are, Spider-Man.” He snapped his fingers again and a portal opened up beneath your feet. The last thing you heard was the Spot's laughter as you began to fall from the sky.

“NO!” Miguel sprang into action, red laser webs flinging out to the walls as he threw himself into the air. 

“Nuh uh.” The Spot shook his finger, throwing a spot at Miguel and portaling him away, “No help! That’s cheating.” 

Miles sprinted up the walls, tracking the small dot of your figure as you flailed about wildly more than two hundred feet up, desperately trying to straighten your arms and slow your fall. The wind carried your screams away.

He dove towards a spot, arms and legs tucked in straight as an arrow after seeing your sprawling form fall past the wormhole, and re-emerged just above you. With a quick flick of the wrist he caught you, throwing out webs wildly towards the neighboring buildings in a desperate bid to slow your fall. The strands held on for as long as they could, slowing your descent before finally snapping from the tension. 

“Hold on!” He yelled over the wind as the last web broke. The voice sounded familiar. 

You both hurtled through the skeleton of a window before landing and rolling onto the floor of the one of Alchemax lab rooms, the faint smell of chlorine and formaldehyde still clinging to the air.

You pushed yourself onto your knees, prepared to kiss the solid ground beneath you.

“Miss Y/l/n?!” Miles’s jaw dropped, eyes as round as dinner plates. 

You perked your head up, momentarily forgetting your near death experience.

“Miles?!” 

“Oh crap,” he cleared his throat, dropping his voice an octave, “Um, who’s Miles?” 

“What the hell are you doing here? Do your parents know about this? Is this why you’ve been skipping classes? Who let you do this without adult supervision?!” You grabbed him by the shoulder, shaking him. He was just a teenager for fuck’s sake!

“Listen, Miss Y/l/n-” Maybe it was because he was so used to unloading his thoughts in front of you that he launched into a half-baked explanation of everything that had happened, “I got bitten by a radioactive spider-” “I met all these Spiderpeople-” “-and he tried to stop me from saving my dad and-” 

Your head was spinning.

“Oh Spidermaaannnnn!” The Spot called out in a sing-song voice. “Where are you hiding, you little insect?” “I gotta go, just-” he held his hands out, “just stay here for now. Don’t move!” And just like that he was gone, leaving you more confused than ever before.

I don’t get paid enough for this. You thought, standing alone amidst the rubble.

Miguel tore through the rooms, sprinting like a madman. The reverse Super Collider was finally up and running and it was only a matter of time before the Spot would realize their plan and go berserk. The ground beneath him shook and groaned in protest as the building’s foundations began to crumble into nothing, eaten away by the dark matter that spilled out of the Spot.

“Y/N!” he roared, kicking down a door so hard it blew off its hinges.

You hopped off the bench. It seemed silly, but as a civilian caught in the middle of a multiverse-ending battle there hadn’t been anything for you to do but sit and wait for Miles to come back.

A Spider-Man variant barreled towards you, all hard cut lines of red and blue with blades protruding to his forearms that glinted in the dim light. You hadn’t made a decision about whether or not to run - whether or not it was even worth it to try - before he had you wrapped up in his arms, burying his face in your shoulder. The mask fell away like tv static to reveal a head of brown waves that smelled faintly of oranges.

“Dios mío, pensé que te perdí.” He murmured, holding you like his life depended on it. 

You stiffened under his touch before awkwardly raising a hand to pat his back. “Umm, hola. ¿Te conozco?”

Miguel froze, feeling the tension in your body. You didn’t… you didn’t know who he was. He’d just… he’d been so terrified that he’d forgotten himself - the situation they were all in. 

He took a step back, spine ram-rod straight as he suppressed the urge to hold you again. This version of you looked… different. Different, but the same. You were missing the faint scar on your temple you’d gotten from a car crash at seventeen. 

“We need to go.” he said, voice tight as he gestured to his back, “Get on and hold on tight. This building’s about to blow.”

You blinked at the sudden change in his tone, taking a moment to process what he’d just asked you. 

“You know Spider-Man?”

“Unfortunately, yes.” He said, clenching his jaw. If you didn’t jump on his back in the next ten seconds he was going to chuck you over his shoulder and start running.

The floor beneath you shifted, the building’s dying breaths echoing through the halls.

Hesitantly you climbed onto his back, wrapping your legs tightly around his waist as he started sprinting towards the broken window.

“Si me dejas caer, nunca te perdonaré,” you said, lips accidentally brushing against the curve of his ear. 

He shivered. “Jamás.” 

You were airborne again, feeling Miguel’s body twist and flex beneath you as he pulled you both towards the ceiling like it was as natural as breathing. When you dared to look towards the ground you gasped. The tangled frame of the Super Collider was whirring to life, crackling with energy and exploding with color as Miles spun his webs, keeping the machine together even as it threatened to rip itself apart. 

From within the cocoon of webs, dark matter, and multiversal energy, you could make out the Spot’s form warping and pulling apart, bits and pieces disappearing into the frenetic portal that the collider had split open.

Miles caught up to you both, matching Miguel’s rhythm as they flicked and swung from their webs.

“Hey again, Miss Y/l/n.” Flick. “I see you’ve met Miguel.” Flick. “I hope he hasn’t been too mean towards you.” He called out.

You felt Miguel grumble with displeasure. 

“He’s the guy that body slammed me into a moving train!” Flick. “But I beat him!” 

“Miguel did WHAT?!” 

“Right, Miss Y/l/n?”

“Listen kid, I already apologized for that.” 

“Yeah right.” Miles had to laugh. The day he heard Miguel say the words “I’m sorry” would be the day the multiverse tore apart, and that day was not today.

You slapped Miguel on the shoulder - it was like hitting stone, “¿Qué coño te pasa? He’s just a teenager!” 

“Cariño, can we please discuss this at a later time?” He gritted his teeth. Something was wrong with the collider. It was getting harder and harder to swing you both upwards, like the force of gravity had tripled. 

You froze. “What did you just call me?” 

Crap.

Miles’s eyes swung back and forth between you two like a pinball machine and the dots finally connected - the alternate universe where Miguel had a family, the way he kept looking at you, the way he’d demanded Miles tell him where you were.

“...Aren’t you his wife?” He asked dumbly.

Miguel’s face went white beneath his mask. Did the temperature go up, or was that just him? His hands felt clammy under his spider-suit.

“I’M HIS WIFE?!” 

The collider screeched beneath them and Miguel barely had time to flick his web out towards the remnant of a walkway before - 

One. 

Two.

Three. 

BOOM! 

The Spot burst out from the cocoon in a tornado of dark matter, sending debris flying backward towards the sucking mouth of the collider. The building walls buckled, drywall ripping out and sailing downward at the whim of the collider’s gravitational force.

“Spider-Man!” He bellowed, his voice grating and animalistic, “I’M GOING TO DESTROY YOU!” 

He might get torn apart and sent to a thousand different dimensions, but if he was going down, he was going to take Spider-Man with him.

“Get her out of here!” Miles yelled over the deafening roar. He pressed his body flat to the wall to keep from falling down into the collider.

“I can’t!” Miguel groaned. His hands had begun to slip down the bright red webbing. You were beginning to lose your grip as well, nails clawing into Miguel’s back.

Your legs gave way first, then your arms. 

“Y/N!” Miguel flicked a laser web out, catching you by your waist. 

“MISS Y/L/N!” 

You gasped, arms and legs splayed out to your sides as you dangled precariously over nothing. Miguel stared down at you, shoulder screaming in pain as he did everything he could to keep you both from getting sucked down. His mask disappeared, letting you see the way his red-brown eyes were blown open. Somewhere from below Miguel heard the Spot scream as he was finally torn to shreds, dark matter traveling back to their respective dimensions, but all he could focus on was you.

“Miguel,” you whispered, too scared to say anything else.

“Miguel?” You called out from the bottom of the stairs. 

Gabriella dribbled the football close, just like her father had taught her, before passing it cleanly between your legs.

“¡Túnel!” 

“¡Y la multitud se vuelve loca!” Miguel whooped, thundering down the stairs and twirling a screaming Gabriella through the air.

You fixed the collar of his sweater, kissing him hesitantly on the lips and smiling at the brightness in his eyes as he held your daughter. 

“I’ll see you at the game later,” You said, smoothing back a strand of your husband’s hair, “I love you.” You murmured, hoping to hear him say it back. It had been so long since he’d said those words to you.

“I’ll see you later.” Miguel promised, kissing you again with a smile so wide you felt his teeth against your lips. 

You knew something wasn’t quite right… he knew you knew… but neither of you could find the words to say anything about it. 

What’s happened? Why have you changed so much so quickly? Why don’t you remember things about me - about Gabriella - anymore? 

You wanted to ask those questions so badly.

But you didn’t ask, and he didn’t answer.

So he left without saying those words… and that was the day he lost you.

He wouldn’t lose you again. He wouldn’t lose you like he’d lost Gabriella.

With a roar he pulled you back to him, wrapping one arm tightly around you. You molded yourself into his side, shutting your eyes just in time for the collider to groan to a halt and then explode.

The noise alone knocked you both back, sound waves rattling your bones and pressing you further against Miguel. Golden light emitted from the collapsing collider, sinking into your skin until it felt like you were burning.

The laser web burned away and Miguel could do nothing more than wrap his body around you as you were both thrown up and through what remained of the roof. You landed on hard pressed glass, pain shooting up your side as you and Miguel tumbled in a flurry of tangled limbs. You rolled to a stop, Miguel bracing his arms so that you wouldn’t get crushed under his bulky frame. His suit glitched, unstable molecules traveling over his skin as it worked to repair any and all damage.

The collider stilled, light dimming as it sighed and breathed its last.

“Are you ok? Are you hurt?” He brushed your hair back, frantically scanning your body for injuries as you caught your breath. 

“I’m ok.” You gasped out, “I’m ok,” You promised, resting your hands against his chest. He felt solid and real beneath your fingertips - the most real thing you’d experienced this entire night. 

Miguel sighed in relief, pressing his forehead against yours and closing his eyes. You closed yours too, letting yourself enjoy this delicate moment of peace and quiet. 

“Woooow, you can really feel the romantic tension between the two of them, can’t you?”

“Shut up, Pavitr.” Gwen hissed.

Miguel’s eyes snapped open, suddenly aware of the audience of Spiderpeople that had congregated on the roof. It was at times like this that he envied the others for their spider-sense. 

He rolled lightly onto his feet, pulling you up with him and keeping one arm loosely wrapped around your waist. You found that you didn’t mind the contact at all. 

Sirens blared from every street corner, the flashing red, white, and blue lights of firefighters, policemen, and EMS overwhelming to the eye. 

Someone was missing. 

“Where’s Miles?!” You said, your heart leaping into your throat.

As if on cue he swung up through the hole in the roof, landing with a wince of pain as his right knee buckled under his weight. Patches of his singed suit were still smoking.

“Are you guys ok? I oof-'' Gwen tackled him in a hug, ripping off her mask in the process. You recognized her immediately from Miles’s drawings, but her hair was longer - wilder - than in the pictures.

“Miles,” her breath stuttered, “Oh my god, I-I thought-” 

He shushed her, rubbing her back as she helped hold him up on his injured leg.

“Hey it’s ok. It’s all good. I’m alright.”

“Aight’ bruv!” Hobie and Pavitr whooped, clapping Miles’s back. 

You wrapped your arms tightly around yourself as the others circled around Miles. Only Miguel stayed close, watching you out of the corner of his eye. 

Had you actually just experienced all of that? Had you lost your mind?

“Miss Y/l/n!” Miles noticed you shivering in the cold in your socks and pajamas. He tugged off his ruined mask, exposing the bruise that was beginning to blossom like a purple flower around his nose, “Are you alright?”

You blinked. Were you alright? You weren’t dead or seriously injured as far as you could tell. 

It is taking all my willpower not to pass out or vomit right now - was what you were thinking.

“I’ve been better,” you answered, uncrossing your arms. You took a deep, stabilizing breath and squared your shoulders. It was bad enough that you’d spent the majority of the evening flung around like a rag doll in front of your favorite student, but to do it in your pajamas? That was just embarrassing. 

“Miles, please tell me you haven’t been running around New York alone with no adult supervision fighting crime this past year.” 

He chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his heck. It was like being reprimanded by his own mother, “I mean… I wasn’t always doing it alone.” 

“Yeah! And he had adult supervision - at least for the beginning part of it,” you turned towards the sandy-haired Spider-Man in the pink bathrobe and matching slippers, “I was his mentor and I think I did a pretty good job, wouldn’t you say?” He punched Miles proudly on the arm.

You gawked at him. “Is that… is that a baby strapped to your chest?” 

The baby in question babbled with happiness, chubby fingers reaching out for you. 

Peter grinned, plucking the little girl out from her carrier and mussing up her wild, red curls. “This is Mayday. She’s a wonder isn’t she?” 

He thrust May into your baffled arms where she proceeded to wriggle around like a worm on a hook. 

“You-you brought a baby to a superhero fight?” 

“Sure did! And she did fantastically. Photo time!” He snapped a picture with you and May, adding as a caption “Mayday’s first time saving the multiverse.” “This is going in the scrapbook for sure.” 

“I think… I think I need to go home now.” You said once Mayday was safely crawling around her father’s chest again.

“We should all get out of here.” Miguel said, noting the cop cars beginning to crowd around the perimeter. “Lyla?” 

An orange holographic woman popped to life, hovering in the air between you and Miguel. “You called?” 

You jolted back. Lyla fluttered her fingers in a wave.

“Is it over?” he asked wearily. 

“Hmmmmm,” she flitted around the air, checking holographic screens and typing away on a computer, “Multiverse is holding steady and there’s no sign of the Spot anywhere.” 

“And the super collider?”

Lyla made a poof sound, opening her hands and wiggling her fingers, “Destroyed. No anomalies detected.” 

“Great.” Miguel, tilting his head back and breathing deeply. Lyla blinked out of existence. 

A very pregnant Spiderwoman fiddled around with her watch, opening a portal behind her and her motorbike with only a few quick taps.

Damn, is everyone having kids these days except me? The thought came forth from your muddled brain.

“Let’s get back to HQ everyone. I want full debriefs recorded and uploaded in the next hour.” 

A chorus of protests and half-veiled insults rose up.

A tall, spindly Spider-Man, dressed like a 1920s silent film detective, tipped his hat towards you before calmly adjusting the lapels of his grey coat and stepping into the portal. He was followed by a petite Asian girl driving a robot, and… a pig? You had to blink at that one.

“I hear you teach art.” Hobie said, swinging his guitar onto his back, “That’s ace. Try this out and let me know what you think, yeah?” He tossed you a haphazardly folded zine. The cover screamed out in newsprint letters: THE DECAY OF SOCIETY IN THE FACE OF COMMERCIALIZED ART-MAKING.

“See you around,” he gave a two-fingered salute and stepped back through the portal. 

You immediately felt Miguel’s absence when he brushed past you towards Miles and Gwen. He sized up the two teenagers, grabbed Miles’s wrist, and dropped a watch into his open palm.

“Gwen will teach you how to use it. Don’t make any dumb decisions.” 

“Me?” Miles snorted, “Pfffft. Never.” 

Miguel hesitated before saying, “I’ll see you around… Spider-Man.” 

He was just about to step through the portal himself when you called out his name, voice cracking. He closed his eyes, back tense. 

He didn’t want to turn around. He wanted you to ignore him and let him leave without saying goodbye because… because if he saw you again that just might ruin him. Here was another version of you - another family - that would never be his.

But when you called his name again - this time with more force - he couldn’t deny you. He turned around and stared into your eyes - the eyes of his wife… the eyes of a stranger.

He never had the chance to live a full life with that other version of you. He hadn’t been the one to take you out on the first date, he hadn’t been the one to kiss you at the altar, he hadn’t been there when Gabriella was born. No. All those memories and experiences belonged to someone else, some other version of him that he could never be. But when he looked at you he imagined for one brief moment what it would be like to try it all over again, to be a real husband to you… to be there for you from the start.

“Thank you,” you said, “For saving my life.” 

His lips tightened into a thin, almost angry line, but whether he was angry at you or himself you couldn’t tell. He gave a curt nod, stepped into his dimension, and let the portal close in front of you.

When Gwen and Miles dropped you off at your apartment, the first words out of his mouth were, “Please don’t tell my mom and dad.” 

His phone weighed like a stone in his pocket, filled to the brim with frantic text messages and missed phone calls from Rio and Jefferson.

“Miles… this isn’t-this isn’t safe for you to do. I mean you’re just a teenager.”

“I’m not just a teenager.”  

“Do you even have a driver’s license yet?” Miles shut his mouth, thinking over his next words carefully. 

“Miss Y/l/n, this world needs Spider-Man. You know it needs Spider-Man, And I’m this universe’s Spider-Man. Me. I can’t just let that go.” 

You muttered under your breath. Were you really going to encourage a fifteen year old’s vigilantism? You pinched the bridge of your nose and sighed, hating that he was right. The answer was yes - you really were going to encourage your student to be a superhero.

“I won’t say anything to Rio or Jefferson or anyone else. Your secret is safe with me, Miles. I swear it.” 

His shoulders drooped in relief. Without warning Miles wrapped his wiry arms around you in a tight hug, “Thank you so much. You’re the best.” 

“Don’t thank me. I haven’t even done anything yet. In fact I should be thanking you for protecting the multiverse tonight.” You said, a faint smile growing on your lips despite your best efforts. You hugged him back. “If you ever need anything, just let me know. I’m going to guess even superheroes need a little help every now and then.”

“That would be the understatement of the century.” Gwen said, balancing on the balcony railing with all the grace and poise of a ballerina. 

“We should really get going, Miles. It was nice meeting you, Miss Y/l/n.” You nearly had a heart attack when Gwen fell backwards without hesitation, catching herself in a swing from an old lamppost. 

“See you around, Miss Y/l/n,” Miles said and dove after her, adding a flourish in the form of a front flip.

“See you around, Spider-Man.” You said softly, finally escaping into your apartment and sliding the balcony door shut.

<- Previous chapter Next chapter ->

>>>

Sneak peek at Chapter Three (because I want you all to know what I have planned, but I've made this chapter too long):

You awoke with a start, suffocating under the heavy blankets that you’d buried yourself in last night. You’d been dreaming again about the collider. You’d been dreaming about Miguel - this time in a feverish haze that left your mind in a puddle on the floor. 

How was it possible that a stranger could occupy so much space in your mind? It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that he’d held you like you were everything and then left without saying goodbye.

Are you thinking about me too? You wondered, opening your eyes in hopes of chasing the memory of him away.

…Maybe you were still dreaming, because the last time you checked you hadn’t fallen asleep under a tree in Central Park. And even if you had, you highly doubted you could have lugged your bed frame with you all the way from Brooklyn.

Oh por el amor de Dios.

Author's note: I hope you guys are enjoying where the story is heading! To those of you who reached out and offered to help with the Spanish - thank you so much! I've been a little overwhelmed by the responses on Tumblr and haven't been good about keeping track of things, but I have a friend who will be helping me out moving forward. I'll be updating the masterlist once the next chapter is scheduled. In the meantime, have a great weekend everyone :)

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x wife reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara x you #miguel x reader #miguel x y/n #miguel spiderverse #miguel spiderman #miles morales #gwen stacy #peter parker #peter b parker #hobie brown #pavitr prabhakar #atsv miguel #atsv x reader #atsv x you

[jovial-thunder]

Lancer Tactics devlog

I'm gonna try out posting my ~monthly devlog roundup here as well. These suckers are glorified changelogs with anecdotes and gifs galore. Let me know if this is something you like seeing show up on your dash?

Map Editor

Got units able to be placed/deleted/moved in the mission editor

Can paint/remove command zones in the editor

Can paint minecraft-like terrain blocks in the editor

Can paint/rotate multi-tile props in the editor

Can edit unit character sheets and portrait via the editor

3D maps

Did a bunch of art tests with 3D mech models, provided by GeneralChaos, which we ended up deciding not to go with to keep things simple.

To avoid the can of worms that is animation, we'd have to lean into a static "tabletop minatures" aesthetic which we decided is not a style we want to be stuck with. By sticking with 2D sprites, we avoid falling into a sort of uncanny valley; it's easier to get away with not animating a 2D sprite than it is for a 3D model.

 We also experimented with 3D terrain. We decided to make a rule that the visual style for a piece of terrain should match its mechanical effect: obstructing terrain that you can't move through, such as rocks or buildings, will be in 3D, while non-obstructing terrain like trees will stick with 2D sprites.

Hooking up the 3D camera to follow events like movement and attacks did a LOT for making it starting to feel like it's cohering into an Actual Game™

Implemented cover! And an attack preview! Cover works by aiming a ray from the target to the originator (technically to and from each voxel of each, respectively, to handle size 2s shooting above size 1 cover) and tracking all the terrain blocks it hits (how we'll handle non-terrain hard cover TBD). I think I have it working according to Perijove's cover rules manual, but I'm sure there'll be edge cases to work out. This is a case where things are significantly simplified by working in squares instead of hexes; hexes have a lot more possible weird angles you have to deal with.

Re-added what I'm stubbornly calling Combat Popcorn; little bits of text that pop out when you use abilities and attacks.

UI & game screens

Added ability for the engine to show UI that's anchored to the game world via a little word bubble line but also stay on screen as the camera moves around.

Got word bubbles working; you can now write dialogue in the mission editor, hit playtest, and see it work in a mission! (it does actually translate correctly now; this gif is just from a bug I thought was funny)

Got ability effects mostly behaving appropriately again, including muzzle flashes. The easiest way to handle them ended up being NOT billboarding them so they always face the camera (like all other 2D sprites in the game); instead, I put them on a plane parallel with the ground and just spin them around the unit to point at wherever their target is.

Did some work ironing out our tooltip system. The standard in CRPGs these days is this kind of nested labyrinth of tooltops that you see in Baldur's Gate 3:

I Did Not Want to try and figure out how to wrangle that much UI, so we're instead opting to cap the nested tooltips at the second layer. You can lock a general tooltip for e.g. an action and then mouseover various items within that tooltip to get glossary definitions...

...and then instead of having those glossary tips be lockable/mouse-overable themselves, I collect all related terms to that glossary definition and let you tab through them.

Added skin overlay functionality to the portrait maker, enabling textures like scars, tattoos, stubble, and vitiligo to be applied to just the skin and not extend off into space.

Midway through writing this update, Carpenter sent me this gif of the randomization button working! There's a still a bunch of skintones/assets missing and a few are a bit janky, but it was exciting to start seeing the range of these lil freaks (affectionate) that this editor can create.

Mourning cloak license!

This is the one I'm probably most excited about: I did a bit of a content dive and implemented a basic character sheet + all Mourning Cloak traits and equipment. They don't have fancy graphics yet, but the weapons and systems can be added via the character sheet and used in-game.

It took a little under a day, including adding soon-to-be common mechanisms like bonus damage. This is great news in that it means the engine we've been building for so long in the abstract seems to do a great job in handling comprehensive actual game content, and that it looks like we've set ourselves up for success when it comes time to buckle down on churning that out.

I'm sure other licenses will come with unique difficulties (I fear the day it comes time to do the Mule Harness // Goblin CP) but I'm feeling good about it!

Vertical slice?

Taking a step back, the pressing question on my mind has been "when will we have a playable early access build?"

I was originally hoping for Feb/March, but what we've internally been referring to as the "3D cataclysm" has pushed everything back by at least three months, so the target for the first alpha build is now in May. So, ah, thanks for your patience! Seeing things come together, I've become more and more convinced that moving to 3D was the right call.

#lancer tactics #made with godot #godot 4 #indie game dev #game dev #lancer rpg #tactics rpg #indie dev #godot engine

[miaqc1]

Is it really offensive to depict both Ukraine 🇺🇦 and Palestine 🇵🇸 together for peace? One person in Ukraine on Steam strongly think so. They even asked me not to post and order commissioned art anymore! Like what??? I never meant to offend anyone with those drawings and pixel art. Still I want your opinion.

UPDATE #1: Seeing all these "no" answers reassure me and make me so happy. 😀 As for the offended person, I deleted all the comments on Steam in the end. The whole conversation with them were pointless. They are stuck in their unmovable opinion that I did something very offensive by putting Ukraine and Palestine together in the images shown below. Like interpreting them as friends countries or something? IDK.

UPDATE #2: The person in question is now blocked. I should had done that from the start instead of trying to explain to them those images are for wish for peace for both countries. They don’t have a “agenda” or a so called political negative message. Also over 20 answers! You guys are amazing 🤩.

#my polls #my poll #tumblr polls #illustration #pixel art #steam #steam community #offended #ukraine #palestine #dove #cats #question #opinion #commission #commissioned art #bird art #screenshots #cat art #🇺🇦 #🇵🇸 #white dove #peace #peace for ukraine #peace for palestine #peace for gaza #pixelart #digital art

[illyrian-lover-flower]

Hello everyone

I just want to apologize real quick. I was going over some of the old comments from 'The chosen forest keeper' and I was so incredibly happy to read them and tell you all about the story.

But sadly I lost track of time a bit and I realized that it have been over 2 years now since I last posted a chapter. I know instead of apologizing again I should just update a chapter 😅😉, but unfortunately I have been stuck in a writing block for the last years and couldn't find any motivation to write.

My crippling ADHD and possible Autism didn't make that any easier for me. I was so incredibly motivated to write 'The chosen forest keeper' at the beginning, but I soon started to realize how big of a project this will be until I am at the most exciting parts of the story and so I let loose of the story.

I don't have my laptop with me right now and still a lot to do with school but I want to write again. For you guys and for me.

So I have the goal to post the next chapter eather before or on Christmas or a bit before new year's eve.

It is time to wake this story up again ❤️ and I want you all to be there.

But before I now start organizing how to get my laptop back, I want to say Thank you especially to @elriellover @duneska @tanaquilpriscilla and @the-laughing-bubble

I love you guys so much and reading your comments and your excitement about this story really motivates me again.

Thank you to all who have been waiting and thank you for your understanding.

I love you all ❤️

Taglist :

@tanaquilpriscilla

@generousfanfan

@hail-doodles

@courtofjurdan

@classywastelandpirate ​​

@heirofthrnightcourt004

@autophobiaxx

@galenamineralsbismuth

@swankii-art-teacher

#elriel #illyrian lover flower #authors note #i love you #authors #back again #update #everyone is really nice #i'm back #The chosen forest keeper #my story

[ur-friendly-nbhd-cardassian]

Hello there!

a little "about me" post

I'm a very long-winded person and when I like doing something, I like doing A LOT of it. I recently moved to Tumblr full-time after being stuck with 200-symbol posts on Twitter (ugh), so I'm using the full power of this blogging platform. I'm concerned about the AI, so it's all switched off on all my blogs. I hope Tumblr will wise up and survive, because I love it here so far 💛

I have a lot of fandoms, I like pretty art, I write and muse about stuff - it's all a huge mess if I put it one place. So that's why I decided to split my obsessions into several neat piles, so people could have an easier time decining whether to follow, ignore or block my stuff according to their preferences.

Here are my blogs which you're free to explore and follow as you like:

» ur-friendly-nbhd-cardassian

The main blog where I shout into nothingness. But where I also post lots of Star Trek, mainly about Cardassians (bc I love them). I do not do Garashir, tho, look for that particular bit elsewhere (not bc I don't ship them, but bc I'm severely overfed to the point of having an allergic rection). My focus Cardassian is Damar, followed by Dukat. I'm super open to reblogging your OCs, though. My other favorite fandoms you might come across on this blog (which I don't post enough about to make a separate blog): Mass Effect, Discworld, Tolkien, Detroit: Become Human, Apex Legends, Marvel/DC, Hunger Games. I also ramble, post about writing in general, reblog some fitting memes and pets/animals, share my own photography, reblog art etc.

» pixie-in-a-moonlantern

The initiated already know: Baldur's Gate 3 brainrot blog. I post my OC screenshots, maybe some stories, perhaps one day I will even finish a fic (started one, didn't finish). My all-time favorites are: Halsin, Gale, Rolan, Emperor. I do not have any VP tools, so my screens are only lightly edited to be prettier, and that's it. I do not draw or paint (tho I so want to). It's mainly reblogs and discussions so far, with my screenshots sprinkled in between.

» shaved-wampa

Diehard fans surely got the joke: Star Wars brainrot, and that goes for every conceivable piece of the fandom, even the bits you might not agree with - I don't discriminate. My all-time favorites are: Obi-Wan Kenobi, Bode Akuna. Yes, just the two, because I also have a huge pile of characters I love, but don't really focus on: Padmé, Ahsoka, Ventress, Plo Koon, Kit Fisto, Din Djarin, lil Grogu, Cody, infinite number of other Clones, ... soooo many. My top two are just the guys I actually write about. Bode is getting his fic right now, Obi-Wan's is on hold.

» cyber-vianne-77

As the name suggests, this is my Cyberpunk 2077 blog. I used to do a lot of virtual photography in that one - and yes, this time I mean real VP, though still no paid tools, just vanilla and free mods. I love Goro Takemura and ship my fem V with him heavily - wrote a dope fanfiction about them, too. I reblog other cp77 vp (especially of Goro) and fanart. I don't currently play the game or shoot photos, but I have a large collection I plan to drizzle over the next few months, until I maybe decide to go back to cp77 for a while again and finally play Phantom Liberty that's been waiting for me for a long time now xD.

» goodness-all-around

My "assorted dopeness" reblogs. I love pretty pictures and I love supporting artists in my own small way, so it'll be reblogs of general beautiful things I can't stuff into my other blogs, and reblogs of commission offers. Perhaps even some theory and discussion if I happen to like any.

I will update the list if I happen to change things or add/remove blogs. Thanks for your attention and see you in the activity notifs! 💛

Bits of trivia: I'm Czech, cis woman (bi & poly and, frankly, hyper), 32, in a relationship, mom to a 5yo boy, a writer struggling to finish and publish her first original novel, drowning her sorrows in fanfic instead :). I got to most of my fandoms quite late in life, because where I live this info only started to properly flow in with the coming of the internet. I'm usually a casual fan, though when I hit a gold vein I can get a bit obsessed. I love writing fanfiction, which is mostly why I'm here on this site. I self-insert a lot (therapy writing) and usually ship us, with the rare occasion of finding a couple where I can identify with one of them (or mold them to my image because I like or even fancy them). I've spent my life believing I was hetero and discovered I'm not only once I (finally) was in a hetero relationship and had a kid, so... my ships are also hetero. It's a habit, not hating, I don't discredit any gay ships (maybe quietly to myself when they don't make any sense to me character-wise, lol). My AO3 account: XindiChick I usually try to write even the most niche of my ships in a way that doesn't require much knowledge of the original, so you're welcome to browse and read to your heart's content if you happen to like my style. I welcome any interactions, especially comments, because I don't get many.

I think it's something everyone should always be aware of, but I've also seen many people ignoring this unsaid rule:

HATERS NEED NOT INTERACT

- lest they get blocked. I'm not here to argue with you about why I like certain characters and why you think I shouldn't. Go simp for your own top picks on your own blogs and leave me alone. Same goes for any of my personal trivia I shared.

Also:

DISCLAIMER: My blogs are a safe space for everyone who doesn't go around hating on everyone else. I will block assholes of every shape, color, faith, gender, orientation etc. indiscriminantly, just as I will happily interact with good people of any kind. Idc what your deal is, I just wanna enjoy being on this platform, so if you plan to rain on it, don't expect me to indulge you.

Icons by: @rpschtuff

By the way, a fun fact known only to people aware of my main fanfic novel, The Casualty, the Cardassian in my username was actually born Bajoran, but raised Cardassian, which is why she's a Cardassian in heart and spirit. She's your friendly reminder that not all Cardies are the same and as a nation have the capacity to be much better than how they were presented in the DS9, which is what she's trying to achieve.

#ur-friendly-nbhd-cardassian blog masterlist

[simcardiac-arrested]

AKNDMN,S okay so

juts a fair warning this is a very long ramble so like. people reading this be careful you might be stuck here forever because you cant put read more in asks for some reason

I don't have any updated references for Six Silver Stars (the one who's very mad at one guy) so she won't. have any images.

She was created with the idea of mapping stars and planets and stuff so her puppet chamber was built outside of the can and made out of glass with her puppet arm attached to the roof of it. im sure this creates no issues at all whatsoever. anyways the main ancients that monitored her and talked to her did not like them. which im sure doesnt create any issues whatsoever. ive fallen in love with the idea of schools organising trips to visit the puppets of iterators so she made friends with this one kiddo who wasnt super social with the group. kid was often granted permission to visit her chamber and they'd often talk and just bond. kid was part of a fancy-ish family who was very devoted to the void. bring in Unnamed Iterator because i cannot think of a name

art and design not by me by a friend btw.

anyway they were made to bless people and prepare them for the void. like the people felt that they were ready and they pretty much just said 'yeah good luck' and gave them offerings and fancy robes and masks to hopefully make the void favour them slightly. Kids family went 'yeah lets all dip in the void and take our like. 15 year old kid with us this is so cool of us' which then left Stars pretty alone as her ancients often just. blocked communications for her because they were soo amazing(sarcasm) Stars immediately turned all blame onto the guy because its all she really had to blame. she didnt know the parents of the kid and she obviously wouldnt blame the kid so yeah. this guy was the blame.

this guy also worked very closely with Swirling Blossoms, Fading Fast

(again art and design not by me i saw this adopt and my brain went yesss) as they both had similar but different jobs. They made to be a god directly to the ancients, a place of worship, offerings and confessions. she was built with taboos SUPER SUPER SUPER enforced into her code like to an ungodly amount. also was given a lot of 'ancients need help you must help them they dont mean to do anything wrong ever they need help.' again i am sure that this didnt give them any issues surrounding themselves and their ancients at all. both them and unnamed guy communicated a lot and slowly started to date in secret which was Really Weighing on Blossoms because ''dont grow attached to anything thats a sin thats a no no ''

this continued to weigh in on her and like. a little while after the mass accession somehow messages between them got leaked. like not anything gross just typical couple stuff. not sure how this happened yet . but yeah, she was Very Stressed OUt About This despite like no once giving a shit. panic lead to her making dumb desicions and she ended the relationship and isolated herself. a lot 👍

so during this unnamed guy is like acticly trying to fix two relationships, one with someone they barely knew but felt very very bad for and one with their ex.

starts continued to do not very good and was exceedingly pissed at unnamed guy because before the mass ascension her communications were blocked and no one is able to break them or undo them. so like. they were sending scugs back and forth to Stars who was just like "Dude FUCK OFF you fucking killed my kid " and his ex was just sending them back with no response. theyre so fucking fucked over and a sopping beast and theyre not okay.

anyways theres more but this is also like. a brick post thats not very well organized so if youre still interested i might talk more about them in another ask

DIVORCE NUMER UNOOOOOOOOOO

#this is cool!!! luv all the interpersonal drama going on here #i'd love to hear more about blossoms tbh. she seems very mentally stable #long post #cramswering

[umbreonix]

Hello! I was wondering if there will be any new chapters of Beating About the Bush at some point in the future? I hope it’s not weird that I’m asking, but I’ve had the fic stuck in my head for a while now. I know you haven’t updated it in a little while, so I wasn’t sure if you were planning on finishing it or not.

If not, I totally get it, sometimes you fall out of love with a ship or a fic, and sometimes life gets in the way. But it would be nice to know if we can expect future updates, I’d definitely still be interested in reading!

Anyways, I hope you’re having a great day, and good luck for all your future writing endeavours :)

OH HI SODA!!!!! (I say as if I just saw this and haven't been thinking about what to say for like three days) I'm 90% sure i'll continue some day.... probably. I still think about the fic a lot but the writing bug is just...... dead. I've been really into the radiohusk fandom lately and had gotten side tracked writing a lot for that but now I'm pretty blocked there too T_T I'm going through a lot of life changes rn, finishing up grad school, applying for jobs, doing interviews, researching cities so my headspace probably just isn't there.

So we'll have to see where I end up and where my head is then! In the meantime I'm living with my parents 'cause there wasn't much point in staying in my university town once my experiment was done and that's probably also the problem. We watch TV at night during what used to be my main writing time XD I've been doing a lot of art on twitter instead now 'cause that's something I can do while, like, watching the office 😂 But yeah I THINK I'm going to pick it back up! I plan to anyway!

#I still love revalink #and I imagine once I finally have the time to play switch again the obsession is just going to hit me like a brick again #beating about the bush #plus I will probably hate art once I'm finally done this random radiohusk animation i started on a whim

[whaleok]

Ch. 10 The Merlin Gates

Summary: It's been four months since the defeat of Voldemort. Heartbroken and traumatized, Hermione heads toward her final year at Hogwarts, alone. But Hogwarts isn't the same, and the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher is causing waves within the Wizarding community. Lycanthropes and Death Eaters alike remain unaccounted for, and people are still missing. Even worse, Hermione finds herself drawn to the completely changed Malfoy, an obsession she can't quite let go of.   Art by: celestikatt If you'd like to give her a follow, you can check out her portfolio here: https://celestikatt.carrd.co/ My AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/38805939/chapters/109681344 Hello everyone~ It’s almost Christmas and the last time I updated was before Halloween... Yeah, about that---  For some reason it took me entirely too long to write this update. I wish I could say that I can smash updates out quicker, but I just can’t seem to manage to. Once a month seems to be my utmost limit, unless I stumble into writer's block. And this chapter I did, hahahaha Yeah, it took four different attempts until I was finally happy. Ironically, most of my writing gets stuck somewhere in limbo in a file I called blurbs that never ever will likely see the light of day. Anywhoo-- happy update day!!!

#fanfic update #WIP update #vampire fanfic #vampire draco malfoy #Dramione fanfic #dramione #dramione comissioned art #celestikatt #Dark Fic #draco x hermione #draco malfoy art #VAMPIRES AND WEREWOLVES #ao3 writer #fanfic writers #writers block #update day #blood & garlic

[allknowingfaith]

My brain every time I've been going to open my drafts attempting to work on something:

((BUT FR, Update for my absence:

((I am still alive! I just have some weird writer's block going on right now where all my energy has been going into another big art project I've got in the makes for a Lamb OC who's grabbed my attention as of late. It's mostly just reference sheets I wanted to make for a future verse of mine, but I do have some teasers for a couple of them if ya wanna check them out! So given I got writer's block, my artist block has lifted itself just to put all my spoons into this thing since I've been given a lot of spare time on my heads atm, and I didn't want y'all to think I abandoned my boy since I've been stuck with working on my writing.

My creative is weird, even for me, and it tends to be like that since I usually to put my all into something and that energy just likes to be a horse. You can take a horse to a river but you can't make it drink since its normally used to drinking out of a bucket or bathtub for most of its life. If I am not careful I can get burnout easily and I'd rather not get stomped by my horse if I can help it. So for my silence, I do have a discord if you wanna shoot at me on there. DM me if you want my discord handle.))

#oh look! your wife! {ooc}

[charlidrawz]

I usually post on ig & da, and this acc has unintentionally become a ramble and spam acc so I'll try clearing up unneeded stuff and posting more art or reviews etc.

I have an art only acc which I might update at some point; I apologize for not actually posting much art here.

---------

Disclaimer: I do not by any means support or encourage s3lf h*rm, & I highly recommend against using bandages/wrapping for binding.

Stay safe, stay healthy, & know you are loved.

---------

I guess I'll finally talk about some of this stuff here since I wasn't able to elsewhere, but hey, some context for the drawings.

The idea of these is meant to be a bunch of comfort drawings based on ideas I had; at least comforting for me if not for anybody else. I had fun making this and getting the ideas out.

I'll start with Chūya. Chūya, transmasc, 15 or-so with a binder and Chūya now an adult having gotten chest surgery and just kinda. Spraying a water gun at his face. Idk, I thought it'd be funny.

It's supposed to be like, older figures helping the kids know that it might be tough, frustrating, annoying, etc now, but that things are gonna get better. Might not be a lot easier or perfect, but at least progress will be made and they can know that life isn't just full of pain and despair or grievances and all that. That's what I wish I could've shared with my younger self.

So for Chūya's, it's like younger Chu is getting sprayed in the face while older Chu is saying "Oi, quit the complainin', you'll be fine; just have some fun and stop worrying about everything and everybody else."

With the others there's whole stories behind them with headcanons and all that jazz.

For Edgar "The Painter" Valden from idv, (TW for S/H) it's him younger with scars, and when he's older. (Please don't bind with tape/bandages. It's not healthy.)

Edgar went through a lot of trauma, in fact, in the original backstory for him there were actually moments the creator implied he'd use his own blood for paintings, and eventually got art block and went to The Manor to get more "Inspiration", while in the canon story now, people theorize he was abused or even harassed by his mentor. So I uh, I have my own headcanons, ideas, theories, even if they stayed fanon and as my own thoughts and memories compared to the canon in the game. Idk, I might've worded it weird.

It's like younger Edgar, like Chūya, was more bitter and easy to bother. Sure, he's still sensitive sometimes and gets easily offended and can be really stuck-up and cocky, but at the least he doesn't feel held back by anyone or anything anymore and feels more comfortable and confident about being himself and doing what he wants. I wouldn't encourage being like him, it's not great, but he can be a little easier to understand and respect when you consider what he's lived through, ig?

Lastly, on a more cheery note, I had this idea of Scootaloo realizing they're transmasc (Might still use she/her pronouns, idk about He/him but they're definitely transmasc and use they/them) and Scoot's really nervous about it, feeling like it's both them facing a big change in their life while also feeling like nothing's changed at all, they've just finally figured out who they are and want to be happy about it, and share it with their friends and their aunts, but they're nervous.

Basically, Rainbow Dash finds out/is told, and she can tell it's getting to Scoot, and when Scoot comes out to her themselves, they feel worried RD has changed her opinion of them, but shares with them that she's actually transfem herself, and went through the same experience.

I like to imagine Scootaloo saying smth like "NO WAY, WHAT? YOU TOO?" and getting super excited and they just hug and sjkhfgkjsdfg idk, big sister trans siblings fighting for each other is a comfy thought.

I wanna be like that for others. I don't want to be bothering anybody or making them feel like they need to feel the same way I feel all the time or having the same opinions or beliefs or mental health issues as me, (Christian transmasc who's autistic and psychotic etc) I just would like to be here to help others feel happy and safe and comfortable as they are and remind them that their feelings are valid without needing others to tell them that they are, and that more than anything they are loved.

---------

Sorry for the super long ramblings! I didn't get to post about them on ig or da, so I thought I'd share about them here.

Art-@charlidrawz (Me) Edgar Valden & Identity V-昀了个晓 & NetEase Chūya Nakahara & Bungou Stray Dogs-Kafka Asagiri & bones Scootaloo, Rainbow Dash, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic- Hasbro & Lauren Faust

#art #charlidrawz #tumblr #anime #bungo stray dogs #bsd #mlp #mlpfim #rainbow dash #scootaloo #chuuya nakahara #edgar valden #identity v #idv #identityv #my little pony #friendship is magic #fanart #pride month #trans #transmasc #transfem #transfemrd #transfem rainbowdash #transmasc edgar valden #transmasc chuuya nakahara #trans scootaloo #trans edgar valden #trans chuuya nakahara #digital art

[bvannn]

Weekly Update April 5, 2024

This week has had ups and downs. I did get two snow days, which I mainly used for homework but did get a fair amount of art stuff done as well. The beginning and end of the week, including today, I’ve had awful flareups and I really don’t want to move my legs. I also had a very important doctor appointment regarding that cancel right after I wrote my last weekly update, so last weekend wasn’t the best but I did find another clinic to do it first thing on Monday so luckily it wasn’t dragging me down all week. That appointment has been split into two, the first meeting in May and the second in August. Those are a ways out but the May one is sooner than the other clinic was going to. Anyway point is I’m doing pretty bad right now but I’ve done what I can about it so no one needs to be concerned. I did some art stuff as well.

Last night I tried to get licensing done for that cover song I finished, but looks like I need to wait a bit longer for that, since the release date needs to be clearer. I’ll try to put more time into the video for that, just so I don’t have completed work that isn’t publishable for as long. Once I have more time, which I believe I should this weekend, I’ll try to really push for getting music video boarded. Once it’s boarded I’ll decide if I want to do it in flash or csp, although I’m anticipating that it will most likely be a mix of both. Whatever makes production faster, on a shot by shot basis. Most likely won’t need to make another full blown rig. Outline work will be a bigger priority.

Comic was the other big priority this week, and it’s is going well. I got the first page laid out, and all but 2 panels done. I don’t anticipate lettering being too big a challenge so that’ll probably go quick. Tonight or this weekend I’ll try to finish up that page and get going on the next, which is only 3 panels so it should be faster (although one of those panels is pretty complicated but it’s fine it’ll go quick enough). Real happy with how everything is going there. Have done bits of writing for future ‘episodes’ as well in spare time, so hopefully I can dive right into a second issue after the first.

Music has also been chugging along. I’m mainly focusing on the Zelda medley and the other vocal cover for now, since I’m really happy with how they sound so far. Vocal cover needs backing vocals, harmony vocals, a couple other touch ups, and a solo and it’s done, and the Zelda medley is still down to me picking instruments, which seems to be the hardest part of music making atm. Once those two are done I’ll take another crack at the ones I’ve had on the back burner, and hopefully time myself so I can eventually offer music as a commission option. I’m not going to put it up as an option until I can price it properly and figure out how quickly I can get a song done when I’m not distracted. Don’t want to keep customers waiting!

Other writing projects are a bit stuck due to artblock, although if I have time later today I’ll try to take a bite out of either. Epithet TTRPG is in a tough spot because I know what I want the session to look like: a scooby doo style whodunnit mystery at a science fair, but the problem is figuring out the villain’s plan, since it’s going to have to be at least partially disconnected from the overarching story. Songwriting is also stuck because I’m just plain bad at rhymes, simple as. Of the two songs awaiting lyrics one is 2/3 done the other is like 15% done if that. If I can find time I’d love to just have a dedicated time block where I just sit and write, but the other projects are higher priority.

Next week will probably get messy with homework again after the weekend, so I’ll probably only be able to partially board the music video and maybe finish up the comic page I’ve been working on and start the next. I don’t anticipate a lot of activity. I’m still a. It messed up medically but I’m trying to figure out how to stabilize myself during flareups enough to still at least get writing done. It’s hard, things are hard. I’m still trying though.

#weekly update

[hell-drabbles]

BOOP, BOOP! happy april fools. Hope ur having a gud timezone(depsite pretty busy’s massive middle finger)

Not gonna lie even with Ppyong’s new look I get why he’s called one of the prettiest devils in the red lump family also thinking abt the spiked choker artifact cause in its description its said to be Ppyong’s from his teen years. Imagine tugging on it while he’s wearing it

Anyway enough brainrotting lol. I do come with an update, first i really enjoyed ur compainion pov to the comic tasty read, and second I am working on part 2, just stuck in art block as i try to finish coloring part 1. But bc I can’t keep it in i’ll say this, Karma is human

I have the tiniest of hopes that Ppyong is still his masochistic self, and that he suddenly doesn't get all "Daddy Dom" on me because, ugh, nooooo. Don't! I like the fact that I can bully hiiiiiim! Besides, that would have some unfortunate implications. I'm tired of those dating sims where, if you make a character more powerful or confident, they shed off their submissive tendencies and become a dom. Like being a sub is somehow for the weak. Bleh. Anyways...

Hehehehe, Ppyong is over here being his easily distracted self, imagining eating all the chocolate and snacks in the world while you're talking to him. So, you tug on his choker. Really bring him into your face because apparently you're not speaking directly enough. If he won't look at you, may as well make him.

The wretched thing, the creative blocks are.

Hhohohooho a human huh? I wonder what's the story being that and how they ended up where they are. If you want to spill all the details to me, I certainly won't stop you. I do that all the time with my characters because I just want people to know!

#admin

[emotionallyattachednerd]

✧*̥˚ Update *̥˚✧

Hi. Yes, like, where have I been? Well, life, that's what. Also I've been stuck in this writers block for a time now, which sucks, because I want to write something but I've got nothing to offer. All my focus has been on different things in my life, and I've been getting back into art lately which has been nice. All my wips are still untouched and lonely but when my spark returns I shall work on them again, I'm just unsure when that will be. I'm still lingering around though so you might see me here and there. Again like always, thanks for your support. Stay safe! ❤️

#transformers #writers block #life update #sugarrushtalks

[onebizarrekai]

some ibvs-related stuff

you probably noticed that it's been quite some time since ibvs updated (like. eight months) and while ibvs tends to have pretty large time gaps between updates, this one has been particularly long. it's been more of an unannounced and uncoordinated break, to be honest. I was hoping that I could at least update it before the end of the year. I still kind of want to do that—maybe it'll be easier after my next concert is over in the next few days—but yeah, it has been a long time.

I've been having a really hard time creating stuff lately. sure, I've cranked out a few dsmp pieces, I made a lot of danganronpa art and writing this year before I did that, but I mean like, in the last while. maybe the last 6 months or so. I don't even know how I posted anything in august. like, yes, my ao3 says I cranked some danganronpa stuff out in august, but I don't… really remember writing anything in august. I barely remember what I was doing in august. I guess they were like, partially completed wips already so all I had to do was get them done. I dunno.

I finished one fairly long-ish fic in the last month. I uh, had to post it anonymously for reasons, and I'm proud of what I wrote, but that's pretty much all I've been able to get done done. I guess this is part of the problem? not really ever feeling done with stuff. or maybe forgetting how much I've achieved and only being able to focus on the stuff I haven't been able to. and I have all these ideas for this same fandom and I'm struggling to get those done too. and like, my v3 fic series is just kinda collecting dust because I haven't been thinking about danganronpa in the last few months. that's just how it is, I suppose.

I've also just had like, the worst writer's block ever for ibvs and I'm just shoveling around in fandoms (and often misery) trying to stave off stress. I keep looking back at it and going "am I happy with this" and like, I am. I should be. I'm pretty happy with it, but the longer I go unable to write it the more I feel like I'm just adding things to the story that aren't gonna matter to anyone even though… it is that. it is the story. I'm writing it for fun. it doesn't have to be perfect. it has to start somewhere, but every time I try to write it it feels like I'm off in the deep end. I have to remember everything. I have to backtrack and make sure I know what I'm talking about. I have to make sure that I don't write anything that, well… is boring as hell.

I've been getting caught in a lot of negative thinking and I'm both trying to focus on mental health while also feeling like the things I'm doing on behalf of 'focusing on mental health' are actually either sustaining the problem or making it worse. like it's making me feel more lethargic and more trapped and less able to create things. I'm trying to get a therapist, but no insurance-covered psychologist who lives in near me is willing to do in-person sessions. one of my issues is feeling like I'm stuck at my computer and stuck online and stuck inside where everything is nonpermanent and I can't move; doing online counseling would make things worse. I don't really get it. I'm hoping I get a proper one soon.

anyway… we'll see if I feel better after the concert is over. maybe after I actually manage to get a therapist. thanks for the patience, everyone.

#random stuff #just like. mental health or the lack thereof stuff #I've been doing show stuff basically nonstop since like. june #got a break in november #but is it really a break if I still have a gig in december

[subarus-gentle-butterfly]

ADMIN INFO (update 060323)

ALIASES: Benny, Peeg, Caggy

PRONOUNS: He/Him/His

GENDER: Transmasc Nonbinary(? it's kind of fluid lately)

AGE: 19

BIRTHDAY: November 30, 2003

SIGNS: Sag Sun, Pisces Moon, Gemini Rising

How I got into the DL fandom: Around late 2015, early 2016, I was on Youtube watching whatever and in my recommendations was the first episode of the anime adaptation. I was obsessed with finding the rest and I ended up watching it at least 7 more times within the year and a half afterwards. I was stuck in diahell ever since with a few escape attempts. Unfortunately, I have fallen once again into the DL rabbit hole. Even though the anime wasn't the best quality compared to the games, it's a comfort watch now because of how long I've loved the series. Although, watching it now, there are some major cringe spots, hehe...

OLD URLS: diabolik-sumiu and diabolik-momo before I made the most recent one that exists.

PERSONAL CARRD: I don't have an updated one as of yet, but I'll link it here when I get the chance!

Personal/Art account: @sillypeeg (it's still under construction!!) or @rule0fwolves or my main for my writing sideblogs (dm for the url hehe;;)

LINKS

deviantart: https://www.deviantart.com/sillypeeg

note: this is my newest account. I used to have one that i made back in like 2015, but that had bad memories/artworks attatched to it that I didn't like anymore, so I deactivated it. I'm in the process of re-uploading the works i am still satisfied with onto this one.

art instagram: https://www.instagram.com/sillypeeg/

NOTES: I am on the autism spectrum, I have had a mood disorder since I was young, I get art and writer's block interchangeably, I want to be a webtoon/book author, I need tone tags sometimes, passionate about interests, kpop stan, EST timezone.

#🐷: admin speaks #🐷: important #admin info

[not-a-space-alien]

Watch Your Step: Chapter 11: Off the Leash

Since the last chapter update I have had more art commissioned, as well as wrote up a post with some thoughts on my lore for this world! Everything is available for your viewing pleasure on the Story masterpost.

AO3 link

As always, thanks to @appelsiinilight and @static-stars! <3

Jackie was still pissed at her.  She was passive-aggressive to Marcy all day, throwing snide comments about her work out during the lab meeting.  Her advisor also gave Marcy slightly disapproving looks whenever Jackie mentioned the specimens she’d lost.

And yet Marcy barely noticed.  Such admonishment used to throw her into a spiral of anxiety, so it felt very strange.  Jackie noticed that she didn’t seem to care, which only seemed to make it worse.  But Marcy was lost in thought.  Everything that had seemed so important before suddenly mattered less.  Her head was clouded by thoughts of a guy, which had never happened before.  She was borderline obsessed.

By the time the end of the day rolled around, she’d barely absorbed a word.  She left work thinking only of the shopping list she’d compiled in her head.

She could imagine a number of things at the craft store Thistle should like.  Fabrics, for one thing, and thread to sew with.  He could make himself some more clothes, instead of being stuck with the same ones he’d sewn from rough, less than ideal fabric from the scrap pile in the sewing kit.  He’d probably like gemstones and fake flowers and all manner of small, colorful objects available.  They could maybe even find some nontoxic paint for him to use.  She couldn’t help but imagine all the things a creative little guy like him could do with proper supplies.

And the electronics store….it felt really strange to be buying a mobile device for someone barely bigger than the average cell phone, but she was convinced it was a good idea.  He wouldn’t be able to put it in his pocket, of course, but he could use it like a big computer.  She’d just need to be careful how she introduced him to it.

When she got home, three eager faces turned towards her from the living room.  Marcy’s eyes fell on Thistle, who was sitting cross-legged on the coffee table doing a respectable approximation of knitting.

“Hey Marce!” said Colin, standing up and blocking the doorway.  “Finally, you’re back!”

“Are you ready to go?” said Teddy.  “Colin won’t shut up about how excited he is to go shopping.”

“Let me get in the door first, geez.”  She gently pushed Colin to the side, then knelt beside Thistle.  “Hey, buddy, how’d it go today?”

Thistle set his knitting to the side and stood, fanning his hands out and wiggling his fingers.  “Teddy give me nails polish!”

“Woah!” said Marcy.  “Wow!  Good job, Teddy, I’m surprised you were able to paint something so small.”

Teddy smugly averted her eyes, shrugging.  “Oh, it was nothing.”

“So are we ready to go?” said Colin.

“All right, all right.”  Marcy set her backpack down.  “Sure.  Where’s Mochi?”

“She’s in the basement,” said Teddy.  “They were both being good, but I got nervous.”

“All right, that’s fair.  I don’t blame you.  Better safe than sorry.  And now we don’t have to corral her down there for while we’re gone.”

Colin stopped his excited bouncing.  “Huh?”

Teddy furrowed her brow.  “Oh you…planned to leave him here?”

“Er… Yeah,” said Marcy.

“What!” Colin cried.  “Marcy, we’re going shopping for him!  We can’t go out without him!”

“But it’s dangerous for him to go outside!” said Marcy.

“We could leave him in the car,” Teddy suggested.

“No!” Colin exclaimed.

“It’s double dangerous for him to go into a store.”  Marcy shook her head.  “I don’t know, guys.”

Colin scooped Thistle up, so quickly he gave a little meep of surprise.  He held him aloft.  “Come on, Marcy, look at him!  He wants to go outside!  He craves adventure!  He needs stimulation!  He needs to pick out his own stuff!”

Baffled, Thistle steadied himself on his hands and knees.

“Well…” said Marcy.  “I guess it would make sense to bring him so we can test whether the touchscreen will work with his fingers.”

“Yes!” said Colin.  “I’ll go start the car.”

Still looking uncomfortable, Marcy took Thistle from him before he zoomed out.

“Eseer?” said Marcy.  “Cuvol Eseeri?”

Thistle stood up, eyes sparkling.  “We go outside?”

“You want to?”

He nodded.

“Okay.”  She turned to go up the stairs.  “I’ll be right back.”

Thistle settled into her palm, swaying with the rhythmic motion of her climbing the stairs.  She took him back into her room.

She set him on the desk.  He stood patiently watching her, hands clasped politely in front of him.

His heart sank as she took out the wretched blue box, sliding it open and turning it on its side.  She spoke to him again, both in Giantese and her best broken Pixish, but he wasn’t really listening, tunnel vision zoomed in on the corner of that box.

He knew she wanted him to get inside of it.  He hadn’t been since he started sleeping in Marcy’s bed with her.  The only times he’d been inside of it had been to restrict his movement…to keep him prisoner while he slept…to transport him into the house in the first place…and that very first time…

He shuddered, the sight of the box’s interior bringing back a flood of painful memories, of being trapped in the dark, immobilized, bleeding out, dehydrated and starving, more scared than he’d ever been and not knowing what fate was in store for him….He still didn’t know, to a certain extent, and this was an unpleasant reminder that he was still very much at the mercy of Marcy’s whims.

Marcy noted the immediate shift in body language, the shoulders falling, the wings drooping sadly.  “Hey, come on,” said Marcy.  “It’s to keep you safe.  It’ll only be for a couple of minutes.”

After a few moments’ hesitation, Thistle stepped up and into it.

Colin had another fit, of course. He pointed out that Marcy had just said she didn’t want to keep him locked away, and insisted they couldn’t treat him like that anymore.  Marcy argued very vehemently that it was unsafe for him to be in the car unprotected, because he would be absolutely obliterated if there were an accident.  Colin retorted that he wasn’t planning to get into an accident.  Teddy pointed out that nobody planned on getting into an accident.

Then Marcy pointed out the dog.

Their nearest neighbor had a pitbull mix named Buster who would occasionally roam around unsupervised.  Colin’s house was really the only one that was close enough for him to reach–they lived a bit away from the city, and there was a small patch of wood separating them from the main roads.  And oh boy had Colin talked with his neighbor, repeatedly, in a variety of angry tones about keeping her dog on a leash.  She would always promise that she would keep a closer eye on the dog, and only let him outside on a leash so he wouldn’t get away, but Teddy had seen her just sliding the patio door open to let Buster wander around in her supposedly fenced-in yard.

The main issue was that the neighbor didn’t think it was a problem.  Buster was generally not a very aggressive dog–at least, not towards people, only towards small animals, as the occasional eviscerated squirrel or bird in the yard testified.  He also never went very far from her property and always came back; Colin’s house was the furthest he went.  They’d tried to convince her otherwise–show her the native wildlife he’d been killing, remind her that small kids could be walking by, inform her of how he’d bark late at night when they were trying to sleep, digging up their yard, leaving his droppings on their lawn–but she seemed to take no notice of it.  Colin had even threatened to call animal control…of course he’d never have the heart to actually go through with it, though.

Reminding Colin of this animal that he absolutely hated was enough to instantly convince him the danger was real and that Thistle needed protection to be outside, even just moving from the house to the car.  They very quickly all agreed that this was probably the biggest threat to him in the immediate outside of their house.  A meeting between Thistle and Buster would surely be disastrous, and he could be around pretty much any time.

They would have to address that eventually, if they ever wanted to let Thistle have any significant time outside.  For now, the cooler would be effective protection.

Colin instantly relented as soon as she mentioned the dog, exiting the house with a hawk-like gaze on the yard, eyes burning with anti-dog vision.  He opened the rear door for Marcy to slide into and set the cooler on her lap.

Marcy tried to keep the cooler steady as they pulled out of the driveway and onto the road.  She was already second-guessing their decision.  “Erm…How are we going to take him into the store without anyone seeing him?”

For a brief second, she had the horrible vision of Colin trying to argue that they shouldn’t hide him.  Instead, he just said, “Oh, uh…hmm…good point.”

“Colin has that jacket back there,” said Teddy.  “It’s probably too big for you, so if you put it on, there should be enough room for him in the sleeves and pockets and whatnot.”

Marcy looked over and saw the horrid old orange hoodie that Colin kept in his backseat.  Well…Better than nothing.

She very gently lowered the cooler to the floor between her feet, and pulled the hoodie on over her head.  “Cool, I love wearing hoodies when it’s eighty degrees out anyway.”

She put the cooler back on her lap and cracked the lid open.  Thistle was balled up in the corner, nose to the wall.

“Hey,” she cooed, reaching in and stroking him gently.  He roused, rolling over and kneeling, clutching her hand.  “Everything okay?”

“Where…” he said, and now she felt his lithe frame trembling slightly.  “Erm…nira?  C’mon vamonos?”

“We’re going to the store.  We talked about it this morning, remember?”

He looked up at her with big, wet eyes.  She wasn’t sure how much he understood.

Marcy looked up at the road.  They weren’t going too fast, and there weren’t many other cars around.  It should be safe for just a minute, right?

She gently scooped him up, lifting him out and holding him near the door.  He stood on tiptoe, peeking up over the door and out the window.  Full, leafy trees that were just beginning to turn brown for the fall whizzed by.

“Pretty,” he murmured.

“It’s nice, right?”

He looked back at her over his shoulder, and nodded mutely.

It was about three minutes before Marcy’s anxiety became too great to ignore, mind running a loop of what could happen if the car even came to too sudden of a stop.  She very gently corralled him back into the cooler.  She did leave it open a crack though.  He seemed in slightly better spirits.

It was only a few minutes to the strip mall where the craft store was.  Thistle roused when the car stopped, engine dying into silence. 

“Are you ready?” said Marcy.

He nodded vigorously.  Marcy privately thought there was no way in Hell he knew what he was claiming to be ready for.

“Okay,” said Marcy.  She lowered her sleeve into the cooler, pulling it open so Thistle could see all the spare room between the fabric and her hand.

Thistle blinked, cocking his head and leaning forward a little.

“Go on.”

He looked up at her for reassurance, then crawled up, hoisting himself up and in.  His feet, still poking slightly out, flailed a little as she lifted him out.

She held him up near her face.  He clambered to turn around in the narrow space, wings folded down against his back.  He perched with his nose out of the sleeve, his body under her palm.  She curled one finger down to rub his head.

“Let’s go, then.”

She carefully put her hands in the front hoodie pocket.  She felt Thistle wiggling slightly, pressing against her hand.

All three got out of the car.  Thistle’s body spasmed with surprise at the loudness of the doors shutting.  He felt strange against her skin, a little ball of warmth and trembling motion…She could very faintly feel his heartbeat, beating at a crazy pace.  Was it always that fast?

Marcy’s anxiety mounted once again as they walked across the parking lot.  “He’s not coming out of the pocket unless we can make super for sure that nobody is watching, okay?  Like, one of you on each end of an empty aisle.”

“Of course,” said Colin.  “And if anything goes wrong, we’re out of there right away.  Okay?”

“Right.”

Marcy’s heart started pounding as they came into the store.  What if this was a huge mistake?  If anything happened, she would feel really, really stupid.

The sounds of faint human conversation washed over them as they passed the checkout line.  Thistle’s body noticeably tensed in her hand, the presence of multiple unknown humans nearby clearly an unwelcome surprise.

“Here, let’s go down the sticker aisle!” said Colin, giddy.  “He’s sure to love these!”

This aisle was up against a wall, so Colin and Teddy blocked it off by pretending to browse upwind of them while Marcy went into the respectable corner.  She still triple checked to see if anyone was watching, then extended her arms and started tilting sticker sheets up, so she could look at them and so they were within reach of Thistle’s grasp.

She examined a sheet of puffy stickers shaped like hearts.  “What do you think?  Do you like these?”

There was no response.  She could feel his frame still trembling.

She lifted the sleeve up and turned it slightly, trying not to be too obvious about it.  Thistle’s little face peered out, eyes huge and watery.  Maybe she had overestimated how much he’d understood about the trip they were going to go on.

“Hey,” she whispered.  “It’s okay.”

“It’s okay,” he repeated, but his voice cracked.

“There’s no reason to be scared.  I’m right here.  I won’t let anything happen to you.”

He struggled to put together a sentence.  “What is…ahm..Kokaza? Kio eiu lo? Kione fa?  Why?  Here?”

“There’s stuff we thought you’d like here.  It’s supposed to be fun.  Do you want to leave?  Go outside?  Eseer?”

He broke eye contact, shaking his head.  He crawled backwards, disappearing into the sleeve.

Marcy frowned.  Colin came over with a sheet of stickers shaped like plants and flowers.  “He’d probably love these, right?  Hey, is everything okay?”

“It’s the first time he’s been out in public,” said Marcy.  “I think he needs to get used to it.  He seems a bit scared to come out.  I’m also not sure if he really understands what he’s looking at.”

“I know just the thing,” said Teddy.  “We have to go to the miniatures aisle.  If that won’t get him to come out, nothing will.”

Marcy put her hand back in her pocket as they walked to the aforementioned aisle.  It was full of toys, mini figures, and miscellaneous tiny embellishments she could only imagine would be used in dioramas.  Teddy was right, though: everything was delightfully small.

Colin pretended to shop on the endcap while Teddy went to the opposite side and looked at the floral section, leaving them alone in the aisle.  Marcy reached out, using her hand to keep the sleeve wide open so he could see.

“How about this?”  She gently handled a small guitar bagged in plastic.

She saw one tiny hand reach out, under hers, feeling the object curiously.  Small, uncomprehending murmuring followed.

“You want that?” she said, but the hand zipped back in.  She moved on over to a selection of small rubber animals.  “What about any of these?”

There was a delighted exclamation and both hands came out and grabbed a miniature clownfish.  It was just small enough that he could get both hands around it.

“We have a winner,” Marcy called to Colin.  Colin flashed a smile and jogged away, coming back a minute later with a shopping cart.

Marcy took the little bag of rubber fish off the hook and set it in the cart.  Thistle gave a little cry of dismay as it left his hands.

“You’ll get it back,” she said, showing him the inside of the cart.  “See?  It’s just there.”

It took some coaxing, because he seemed freshly upset each time he picked something out only to have it taken away from him, but he eventually picked out an assortment of objects…  Marcy wasn’t really sure what she’d been expecting him to gravitate towards, but he chose a set of table and chairs approximately the right size for him, a small gnome, a bookshelf, a set of fake books, a small bench, a set of pots and pans, a ceramic toadstool, and a very small plastic bowl with a goober of a goldfish encased in resin that just looked enough like water.  He seemed to be warming up a bit, coming further out of the sleeve.

Marcy shuffled over to the toy animals.  There were a number of different kinds of horses.  He let out a small gasp when he saw them, then looked out of the sleeve to make sure no one was watching.

“Go ahead,” said Marcy.

Thistle scuttled out and clambered on top of the horse.  He raised his hand from his head as though he were tipping a hat and gave a very quiet Yee-haw.

Marcy clapped her hand to her mouth to keep from screaming with laughter.  “Very, very small cowboy,” she choked out.  “That’s right.”

“Let’s go get some fabric,” said Colin.  “So he can sew.”

“And yarn,” said Teddy.  “I can help him pick out the good stuff.”

Thistle seemed like he was starting to enjoy himself by the time they were perusing the yarn; he parked himself in Marcy’s jacket pocket and stuck his hands out to feel every swatch that came within reach, giving an impressed exclamation on each one.  They couldn’t very well buy all of them, though, so they settled just for the silky, sheer fabric he’d given the loudest noises of excitement for.  Teddy couldn’t make sense of his opinions on the different kinds of yarn and thread, so she just picked what she thought was best and had him choose his favorite color.  They also picked up the smallest set of sewing needles available, the finest thread, and the littlest pin cushion.

“Oh my god,” said Colin, sounding like he was about to burst.  “Over here, look look look.”

The shelves of the next aisle were covered with small, unpainted wooden objects presumably for crafts.  Small treasure chests, crates, boxes, photo frames, and the real kicker: wooden houses of a variety of different shapes, which were presumably supposed to be bird houses, ranging from basic to quirky and over-extravagant.

Colin immediately zoomed in on one that was shaped like a castle.  “Oh my god.”

“Let him in it,” said Teddy.  “Do it, do it.”

Marcy put her hands on the shelf.  Thistle gasped and crawled out of the sleeve, standing at full attention before the tiny castle, eyes sparkling.  He looked over his shoulder at Teddy.  “Downton!”

“Oh shoot,” said Marcy, noticing something out of the corner of her eye, then pointedly turning and looking away.  “We got company.”

In their excitement they had forgotten to space apart and keep watch, and now an employee was strolling down the aisle towards them.

“Thistle, get back in,” she whispered, but he had already darted forward into the castle.  “Thistle!  Thistle!”

“Is there anything I can help you folks with today?” said the approaching employee.

Acting on reflex, Marcy slammed the drawbridge of the little castle shut and picked it up off the shelf.  “Ha!” she said, trying and failing to keep the nervousness out of her voice.  “Nope!  No thanks!  I was just going to buy this castle!  I love birds!”

There was awkward silence for a moment.  “Okay then!” said the employee.  “Let me know if you need anything.”

Marcy held her breath until he walked away, then released it.  “Ardo!” she growled, cracking the drawbridge back open.  He looked at her sheepishly.  “Get out of there.”

He scrambled out and into her pocket.

They moved to the next aisle, but someone was standing there browsing the aisle far too slowly.  He followed them when they moved into the paints, then into the florals.

“Great,” Marcy grumbled.  “Now an undercover employee is following us, because they’re convinced we’re trying to shoplift.”

“We’ve got enough for now,” said Teddy.  “Let’s get out of here.”

They moved to the checkout.  The cashier asking them if they found everything OK prompted Thistle to freeze up again, motionless in her sleeve.  Marcy winced when the total rang up.  She’d forgotten that she would actually need to pay for the things Thistle picked out.  She swallowed her pride and swiped her card, hoping that Teddy and Colin wouldn’t mind sharing their food budget this month.  Her graduate stipend only went so far.

The bags crinkled as they took them back out to the car.  Prompted by the sound of human voices being replaced by birdsong, Thistle peeked out of her sleeve.

“How was that?” said Marcy.  “Not so bad, right?”

He blinked at her, uncomprehending.

They reached the car.  Marcy settled in the back with the bags.  When the doors were shut, Marcy dumped Thistle out of her sleeve.  He slid out, legs flailing, and plopping into the mess of plastic bags, looking slightly alarmed.

“Ko?”

“It’s your stuff.”

“My?”

“Yeah!”

Marcy rooted in the bags and pulled out the ceramic toadstool he’d picked out.  His eyes widened with delight, and he started scuttling around, crinkling the plastic and digging around in them.

“Looking for this?”  She pulled out the rubber clownfish.

Thistle snatched it with a delighted cry.  He held it over his head and gave an excited whoop, as though they’d just completed a museum heist.

“You…seem to have strong feelings on clownfish,” said Marcy, baffled.

Thistle hugged the rubber fish close to his body, grinning.

Colin scooted the car across the parking lot to the electronics store.  Marcy held out her sleeve again, coaxing him into it.  Keeping the rubber fish under one arm like a football, he scurried in, nestling under her palm.

“Okay,” said Marcy as they walked across the parking lot.  “I cannot spend more than $100 at this store.”

“I can pitch in a little,” said Colin.

“Aw, really?” said Marcy.

“Sure!”

Marcy felt herself tearing up.  “Th-thanks.”

“Hey, it’s not every day you get to shop for a fairy, ya know?”

“Right.”

Marcy shuffled in the door behind Colin and Teddy.  Thistle seemed less startled by the greeter this time.  The store was pretty small, but luckily there was only one employee in it, behind the counter.

He asked what they were looking for, and Colin strode forward to occupy his attention.  Teddy came over and started browsing the display models with Marcy.

“This one looks like it has the smallest screen,” said Teddy.

Marcy reached out and started tapping it with her hands.  She paused with her hand at the top, hoping that Thistle would get the idea.

A little hand reached out, microscopic fingers tapping the screen.  It took a few tries, but he started clicking on-screen icons successfully.

“Nice,” said Marcy.  “Cool.”

“That’s a nice model for the price,” said the employee.

“Does it allow parental controls?” said Marcy.  “This is for my kid, and he’s pretty young, so I need pretty strong parental controls.  Basically I just want, like, YouTube kids or whatever.”

“I don’t think we have any with that built-in, but there’s a bunch of apps you can download for that.  Should work with any of them.”

“Awesome,” said Marcy.  No sense overcomplicating things.  She grabbed the model she had just confirmed that Thistle could use.

“Good choice,” said the employee.  “And I suppose you’ll be wanting a case and a screen protector for that?”

“Ah, nah I don’t think so,” said Marcy.

“Are you sure?  Little kids can bang those things up pretty good.”

Marcy froze, already having forgotten the lie she’d told.  “Oh, uh, right…”  Damn, it really would be the most convincing to go along and get the case, but eyeing the shelf, that would add at least $40 to the bill.

“Um…he has very gentle hands,” said Marcy.

The guy eyed her strangely, but didn’t question her any more.  “All right.”

He walked her through the process of adding a line to her account–no data plan, thank you, no he doesn’t leave the house much, yes I know it’s a mobile device–and she swiped her card to pay for the whole thing, cringing again even as Colin was on his phone to send her part of the bill via PayPal.

“All right, just sign here and you’ll be all ready to go,” said the employee, sliding the receipt towards her.

“Great, thanks!”  Marcy took the pen and started to sign.

A tiny rubber fish dropped out of her sleeve and rolled across the counter, coming to a stop in front of the employee.  Baffled, he picked it up.  “Huh…I think you dropped this.”

“Oh, haha, thanks.  I totally forgot where I put that.  Good thing I didn’t lose it.”  Her heart pounding, she extended her left hand and took it back.

At the same time, Thistle’s hands came out of her right sleeve, groping forward on the receipt.

“What the fuck?”

Marcy snatched both her hands back to her chest, eyes wide.  “What?”

“What was that just came out of your sleeve?”

“A…rubber fish?”  She held it up.  “See?”

“Your other sleeve!  Jesus Christ, what was that?”

She felt Thistle squirm under her palm.  She squished her right hand to her chest with her left.  Maybe he got the message, because he fell still.  “What do you mean?”

“I–I don’t know.”  He blinked, rubbing his head.  “I swear I saw something, maybe I didn’t…Hey, wait a minute.”

Colin and Teddy looked at Marcy, alarmed.

“If you don’t know what I’m talking about, why’d you yank your arm back?  Why do you look so freaked out?”

Marcy’s heart pounded in her throat for a few moments, locking eyes with this stranger.  Any semblance of plans, excuses, lies slipped through her brain like sand through a sieve.  The best she came up with was:

“No one will believe you,” Marcy snapped, snatching her newly purchased electronics off the counter, whirling around and stomping out.

She power-walked back to the car as Teddy and Colin jogged to catch up.  “Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit,” said Colin.

“Did he see him?” said Teddy.

“Yeah,” said Marcy.  “For sure.  I think so.”

“Bro, we can’t let them take him!  Not like in E.T.!” said Colin.

He unlocked the car, and they all strapped themselves in.  Marcy kept Thistle squished against her chest with both hands.  He started to wiggle and give muffled exclamations.

“Um, okay,” said Marcy.  “So, that could have gone better.”

The three sat in silence for a moment.  The door to the store they had just left creaked open, and the employee stumbled out, looking unsure and confused.

All three of them yelped, and Colin slammed the gas and drove away.

***

The car ride home was tense.  Marcy swung between emotions wildly, but mostly they all just sat in silence.  Marcy did not open the cooler, despite hearing the telltale ruffling around inside that indicated Thistle wanted to come out.

They got home and shut the door, back into the safety of a private home.  Teddy and Colin set down the crinkly shopping bags while Marcy put the cooler on the table, sliding it open.  Thistle was in the corner again, crying.  His tear-stained face jerked up to follow her movements, and he stood.

She scooped him out, hands just a little rougher than they usually were.

“Marcy,” said Teddy.  “Don’t do this while you’re mad.”

“It’s fine,” Marcy snapped.  She set Thistle on the table, and he stumbled and fell, turning red, looking caught off guard and embarrassed.  “What the hell was that?”

“I…”  He folded his knees under him.  “Sorry.”

“It was bad enough that you almost got seen in the craft store, then…then that!  Ardo, it’s only safe for you to come out if you do what I tell you to!  I thought you understood that!  How is it you’re so scared and timid about everything, but then when there’s actual danger you–You just don’t think about it I guess?”

“Marcy,” said Colin darkly.

“It’s–What if something worse happened?  You have to be more careful!  You know bad things can happen to you too fast to see coming!”

Fresh tears welling up in Thistle’s eyes, he turned away from Marcy, refusing eye contact.  He jumped off the table, skittering up to the stairs, leaping onto the railing and scuttling up it on all fours, up and out of sight upstairs.

“Ardo,” said Marcy.  “Come on.”

“Marcy,” said Colin.  “You come on.”

Marcy’s face went red, suddenly feeling like an asshole.  “Well, it’s true!”

“Marcy, he’s like a cat,” said Colin.  “He mostly understands the tone of voice.  And you’re shouting at him with such a big voice.”

“I was just…I was just angry because I was scared something would happen to him.  I just want him to be safe.”

“He doesn’t know that.”

“Fuck,” said Marcy, sniffling and hiding her face in her hand.  “Goddamn it.”  She sat on the couch.  “What is this?  Is this what being a parent feels like?  I’m so scared something is going to happen to him, and it’ll be my fault.  This is why I didn’t want to bring him!”

Colin sat next to her, putting one strong arm around her shoulders.  “Take a breather, Marce.”

“You’re the one who insisted he come along!”

Colin sighed.  “Well…  It’s not like–It’s–Well, everything is OK now, right?  Everything turned out all right.”

“I guess,” Marcy muttered.  “But I don’t know if he should ever leave the house again.”

“It’s OK to be scared.  But I mean, think of how he must feel.”

“He… must feel like shit,” said Marcy.  “I yelled at him again.  Even as I was doing it, I knew it wasn’t right.”

“Just take a few minutes to calm down and try again,” said Teddy.  “I’m sure he needs a few minutes to calm down, too.  That all must have been really scary for him too.”

“Right…”  Marcy sniffled.  “He seemed to like the stuff he picked out, though.  He was starting to seem sort of happy there at the end.”

“Yeah,” said Colin.  “This castle is awesome.  It’s like a little house for him.  It’s big enough for it.”

“Yeah…”  Marcy half-heartedly ruffled around in the bags.  “The chairs and stuff aren’t exactly the right size, but it’s better than nothing…Maybe we could set it up for him?”

“I think he’d like that,” said Teddy.

“We can keep it right here on the table,” said Colin.

Marcy’s face darkened.  “No, in my room.”

“Marce…”

“No way.  It’s in my room.”

“He might like to be in the living room more.”

“He’s mine,” Marcy sobbed.  “I should get to make decisions, not you.”

“He’s yours?” said Colin, offended.

“My responsibility, I mean.”

“No, no, no.  That’s not what you said.  You didn’t say ‘He’s my responsibility.’  You said ‘He’s mine.’”

Marcy’s crying redoubled.

“He’s not yours.  He’s a person.  You’re not sharing him with us.”

Teddy slid onto the couch next to her, putting her hand on Marcy’s knee.  “Are you feeling a bit like you’ve lost control?”

“You got to spend all day with him today, Colin got to spend all day with him yesterday, and I–I couldn’t make sure everything was OK.  And then it-it was already such a big step to take him outside,” she blubbered.  “And it backfired.  Now I’ll never feel like I can–loosen the leash–or take risks–or–or whatever, you know?  What if something happens?  It’ll be my fault.  I have this–urge to–just keep him hidden from everyone and everything, so nothing can happen.”

“Okay, breathe, breathe,” Colin said.  “Everything in life has risks, Marce.”

“We get it,” said Teddy.  “Trust me, we get it.  But he’s a person and you have to treat him like a person.  People make mistakes sometimes.  Especially when they’re scared and out of their element and don’t really know what’s going on.  I mean…think about it, really, the stuff we just bought him is probably the first time in a few weeks he’s had, like, personal belongings that weren’t just fabric scraps sewn together.”

“Right…” Marcy heaved a huge sigh.  “I’m sorry.  Thanks, guys.  Sorry.”

“I bet he’d like it if we set up this little castle for him,” said Teddy.  “You can go apologize, and when you bring him down it’ll be all ready for him.”

Marcy nodded.  “Yeah…that sounds good.”

***

Thistle was upset.  Things were getting easier, but it was still so frustrating, to be adrift in a world he knew nothing about, forced to learn everything sink or swim when his own wellbeing was at stake.  He’d had a good day with Teddy, and then Marcy reminded him how at her mercy he was, when she forced him into the blue box.  Then she’d taken him out in a place full of other humans–That seemed so dangerous!  But she’d told him to come out! 

And the amazing thing was, he did come out, and it was fine!  Which wasn’t what he’d expected, but they’d let him pick out trinkets and gadgets he hadn’t even imagined, apparently as a gift.  He’d been giddy.  And then with that newfound safety, he’d felt just a little bit adventurous, put himself out there once, decided it was safe to let his guard down once, and it all went wrong.  The unknown human hadn’t even been looking at him!  He’d thought, Surely it should be okay for me to do just this one thing for myself.  Nope!  How stupid of you to think you could do anything!  Why do you even bother trying?

He’d been waffling between feeling safe and adventurous to threatened and vulnerable all day, and it was starting to burn out his nerves.  He’d just been starting to feel good, coming out of his box, only to be shoved back in, reminded him of how small and vulnerable and out of his element he was, of how much he was controlled by Marcy and the humans.

It truly felt like he was going to spend the rest of his life scared and in pain, confused, under someone else’s control, humiliated, with nothing and nobody to call his own, no agency over his own fate and no privacy to speak of, and no room in his life for simple pleasure and frivolity.  What kind of life was this?  He couldn’t even stick his hand out to get a favored object that he’d dropped without putting himself at risk and making Marcy mad at him.

It made him want to curl up and hide and never come out again.  That was how Marcy found him a while later.

He heard the sounds of creaking floorboards as she came up the stairs.

“Ardo?  Ardo…?  Thistle?”

She stood at the top of the stairs, then leaned into her room.  “Are you in there?  Are you around?  I’m…sorry.  Please come out.”

There was a slight rustle, and Thistle rose up from inside the sewing kit, his head from the nose-up peering out.

“There you are.”  She came over, taking the sewing box gently in her hands.  He was crouched next to the tomato pincushion, covered in a tangle of loose threads and fabric scraps.  She fished a few stray strings away from his hair.  “Hey there…are you okay?”

He looked down, hunkering without answering.

“I’m sorry,” she said.  “Dak.”

“I’m…sorry too.”

“No, I…”  She ran up against this again.  How to make him understand without sounding like she was rejecting his apology, or still mad at him?  She’d fallen into the trap recently of assuming he understood, because of how smart he was and how fast he seemed to pick up English.  But he was still a very foreign type of creature, with an entirely different, alien way of understanding, and still learning the very basics about her world.  She could only guess what was going on in his head.

She took a breath.  “I shouldn’t have gotten angry at you.  I’m more sorry.  I was just…worried.  Scared.”

“Scared,” said Thistle, nodding in agreement, and his lip wobbled.

She cupped her hands in front of the box, and he clambered out into them.  The tears broke over in his eyes as she lifted him up.

She gave him a kiss on top of the head, lips warm on his scalp.  He let out a little sob, and when she pulled back he was collapsed on his stomach, face buried in her palm, chest heaving with hitching breaths.

“I’m sorry,” said Marcy.  “I’m so sorry.  It’s okay.  I love you, Thistle.”  She sat on the bed, placing him gently in her lap, rubbing him softly with her thumbs.  He continued his frustrated sobbing, frame shaking under her comforting hands.

She let him cry himself out, just sitting there stroking him as best as she could, then offered him some water from her water bottle.  He took a few sips from his cupped hands, then splashed water on his face.

“There we go,” said Marcy, setting it aside.  “Feeling a little better?”

He nodded mutely.

“Let’s go downstairs, then.  I’ve got something to show you.”

Thistle let her carry him down in her hand.  She came out into the living room, where Colin and Teddy proudly stood next to the little castle birdhouse on the coffee table.  She lowered him down.

“This is yours,” said Marcy.  “It’s your private space.  None of us will look in, or reach inside to get you, unless you specifically ask us to.  This is a little space where you can go to feel secure.  And we’ll put it wherever you want.  You just have to ask, and we’ll do it.  Okay?”

Quivering, Thistle crept forward.  The little castle drawbridge was open, but it had been fitted with a rope and a small latch that meant if Thistle was inside, he could shut and lock the door.  Everything he’d picked out from the craft store was inside; the miniature furniture arranged neatly in the center, the nicknacks stacked on crude wooden tables and shelves that Colin had quickly whipped up and fastened to the inside walls.  There was a small bed, which Teddy had sewn from some fabric squares for something comfy to sleep on, on a wooden block secured to the floor.

Thistle looked back over his shoulder at her, scarcely able to believe it.  “My?”

“I hope this will make you feel a bit more secure, and more at home.  I’m not mad at you.  I just want you to be safe.”  She took the rubber clownfish out of her pocket and put it on the table at his feet.  “Go ahead, buddy.”

Bouncing with renewed excitement, Thistle snatched the fish up and scuttled into the castle.  It was hard to do so, but Marcy watched him shut the door behind him and then turned away, letting him have some private moments in his own space.

-----------------------------------

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