iobartach
not like the others
indie rp blog for miguel o'hara // spider-man 2099 -- written by nix
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*glances at the time* what if i proposed the thought that by the time of the events of atsv, miguel reallyyy hates how he's become the very thing he previously despised and pushed back against-- an authoritative, controlling figurehead....
#ooc#ramblings#like i know it's obvious but there could be layers to this --#and in a certain sense he could be unravelling what good will he's managed to build up over the years#either that or I'm just talking a load of nonsense here jfhfjg#but i keep thinking back to my earlier thought of a three-act play.#maybe there's a rise (book 1) followed by a fall (book 2) and then by... acceptance (either how things/people can change#or he dies / something else happens to him)#hmmmm 🤔#hc
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sir ,,, do you know what the best chicken and can of coke is in the area? (wait, do spiders even eat chicken--)
"Chicken 'n a can o--mate, y' want chicken you take the bus down to Spitalfields. Look for the markets 'n then look for the Mr. Bombay food truck. Great tandoori chicken this side of th' Thames, trust me."
#saved#crack#ik this is random and pure silly but i had to !#i'm just picturing the strongest scouser accent rn and loving it#thank u bun <3
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You could've become happy. You could've searched for the answer anytime… As long as people are alive, anyone can do it.
- Akane Tsunemori (Psycho Pass)
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starter call
like / reblog this for a short-ish thing? 👀 feel free to mention if you'd like a specific verse!
#ooc#i'll probs work on these tomorrow -- gonna be watching the backlash ppv today <3#and for the moment i've just kinda been pawing at my drafts. trying to think of replies
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"You mean to say..." A cold chill descended over him as he aligned the facts in his head, pieces that when combined together formed a terrifying picture for humanity moving forward. Covering his mouth with a hand, he looked on, eyes wide as the other presented his arm for inspection, circumventing the pallid veil of humanity to offer a glimpse of its replacement.
Metal that wouldn't break as easily as bone. Muscle that wouldn't tire. A seamless blending of machine with the organic.
Reacting as if he'd just received some devastating news - in a sense, he had - O'Hara flinched at Nero's mention of being a prototype, a proven, working concept of the same threat he'd just been informed about. "I've heard rumours about such programs." Run by rivals, experts whose sense of mortality happened to be more malleable than his own.
"And this pending doom that you spoke of earlier, has it any connection to the face that you wear?" A visage that didn't seem to work loose any hint of recognition for Miguel at first, but then he was always better with names. "Who was he?"
"Synthetic skin grafts."
Nero cut to the chase. He held up his wrist, pinching at it until his fingernail dug in a square, and then pulling back artificial muscle to reveal a metal endoskeleton underneath, unlike the predominant design principle applied to Omnics. And he hid it again just as quickly as he displayed it, the seams regenerating at will once the flap was closed. Making certain no bystanders noticed them.
"It is my belief that someone is utilizing this medical advancement to create a reverse-cyborg. Androids that can fool genetic identification methodology. Artificially grown organs and musculature that respond to CPU programming, to enhance their already posthuman capabilities."
And it seemed Nero was *one* of them.
"I am a prototype that wears the face of a dead man. I do not know him well. But my forged documents present me as his descendant."
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Although a waste of energy, there was something to be said about that defiant pulse shown, an unwillingness to back down that seemed to thrive within his mouthy foe. Announcing one claim after another, as if it would skew the outcome of this fight in their favour, Burns fails to leave a lasting impression, with Miguel proving as ever to be a tough sell.
Someone who remained completely calm and collected as his grip extracts a pained response.
Making sure to keep applying pressure, he takes the retaliatory blow full-on, flaming knuckles connecting with his cheek hard enough to skew his head. Not helping matters were the absence of any signs indicative of an attempt to evade, raising the possibility that Miguel had deliberately meant to take the other's punch, if to demonstrate the ineffectiveness of what came next; when tongues of fire swept over the surface of his mask, failing to scorch or leave a mark.
"Enough."
Adopting an authoritative air, the Spider yanks Burns' caught arm harshly, pulling him closer as he steps out of the way, intending to throw him off-balance.
"The only thing you're managing to accomplish is annoying me."
THE SPIDER TOWERS ABOVE BURNS, EVEN BEFORE BURNS SLUMPED AGAINST THE TRASH CAN. When he stands upright, stalking towards Miguel, he's still woefully under-equipped, in the manner of his stature. He pretends not to notice, not to care.
"Act? This ain't no fuckin' act, buddy. I'm BETTER than you! I'm STRONGER than you! I'm stronger than just about fuckin' EVERYBODY!"
It's true—their words matter very little. It's all comic book bullshit. That doesn't stop Burns from being pretty excited by all of the shit talk, all the raw masculine energy radiating off the two of them in seemingly palpable waves.
Well—so much for masculinity. Because when Miguel grabs Burns's wrist, almost tight enough to snap the bone, Burns just YELPS AND SHRIEKS in PAIN AND TERROR.
But he's no fuckin' wimp. He's not completely defenseless. With his free hand, he swings up at Miguel's masked face, fist barely grazing something solid. He hopes to see the whole thing light up in flames. He hopes to hear screams of horror and despair.
We all know he probably won't be so lucky.
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MIGUEL O'HARA/SPIDER-MAN 2099 in SPIDER-MAN: ACROSS THE SPIDERVERSE (2023) Dir. Kemp Powers, Joaquim Dos Santos & Justin K. Thompson
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ʜᴏᴡ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ʟᴇᴛ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ᴛᴜʀɴ ʏᴏᴜ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴀ ᴍᴏɴsᴛᴇʀ?
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@magnetic-regent-magneto // continued from: x
For as much as his own ego would permit him, Miguel had liked to think that he wasn't easily startled-- at least when it came to normal encounters. But, in the case of certain exceptions, such thoughts had tended to buckle, losing traction the moment that he lays his sights upon a man that the historical record claimed had perished nearly a century ago, during the collapse of the previous Heroic Age.
"Glad we've got that covered." Pretending to agree for now, he hadn't missed that strained inflection, a tell-tale sign that he'd been sent from the past to the here and now. Displaced, on guard, and very much in receipt of the same abilities that had caused the mutant's record to be flagged as concerning by the systems that Miguel had sought to consult.
"Could always try the hard way if you prefer." Parting with a retort of his own invention, the Spider daringly gambled that it would be the first notch in a collection that could help to distinguish his incarnation of the webslinging hero, but kept it at that. He wasn't overly keen on drawing the ire of a man known to shape metal into any form that he wishes, even if his pulse did thrum at the thought of colliding with one of the most potent and capable mutants to have ever lived.
"You're nowhere... quite literally, in this case." Playing the part of knowledgeable tour guide, a moment was given to let such news sink in as he pressed his thighs closer together, perched close to the edge of an elevated mound of rubble the entire time. Out of some faint modicum of respect, Miguel chose to not brother wasting time on painting an optimistic vision; enough hopes and dreams had been shattered in this place to last several lifetimes.
"In what you had known as New York. In the year 2099." And again, because he must, because this isn't how the Canon is meant to go, he further adds. "I'm gonna need to send you back home." Long before Doom or anyone else could capitalise on Magneto's unexpected visit to the future.
#magneticregentmagneto#magnetic regent magneto#verse; trasnaigh an rubaicón#heyo! hope it's okay that i moved this to a new post!
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@silverjetsystm [mr. knight] asked; ❝ violence is almost always, in one way or another, personal. ❞
altered carbon prompts
It was the mechanism that bridged desire with action, a handy tool for when words... simply weren't enough. It wasn't so long ago, in a time yet to arrive, that a few unfortunate souls had experienced his exhibitions of brutality first hand, sampled a taste of his unflinching wrath when acting in defence of the voiceless. He had demonstrated early into his own crimefighting career that he differed from his predecessor in that regard; that on his watch, there was no such thing as second chances, a stance upheld to deliberately leave a lasting impression in the hearts of Nueva York's criminal cults.
But, with a change of scenery -- and Earth, for that matter -- came a need to adapt, to abide by a new set of standards and rules that valued human life far more than the dystopia hell that he hailed from. With some degree of practice, Miguel had adjusted to these differences gradually, behaving in a manner that resembled his fellow wallcrawlers... until tonight. When, after expending a great deal of effort to comply, he had stepped out of line.
He'd gone too far.
"Spare me the lecture." A murmur of sound fills the dim alleyway, coarse in a way had suggested he had strained his voice from snarling too much. Far from the worst quality that seemed off about the Spider, however, more quirks could be found in the shape of his jarring pose. Both set of feet talons were burrowed into brickwork, as were a single set of hand talons, reaching far about his head. It gave the impression that he was about to scurry away, leave the evidence of his actions behind for someone else to discover, when the other male caught him in his tracks, earning both a hostile glare as well as something else; he reeked of the metallic stench of blood.
"Go away."
#silverjetsystm#verse; fear as am#answered prompt#sorry for the length tyhuj#i just sorta had a thought and ran with it
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#muse#verse; sláimín nua péinte#casually appreciating the armoured suit again don't mind me--#a friendo happened to link me to some gr8 fan art of it on ig#pls sony will u put this in the next movie--
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"You're right, I don't believe you." Although starting off on tentative footing, there was something about the other's tale that chaffed in an annoyingly familiar way, the more that the Spider permitted him to speak. A granted chance that in itself was a risky gamble, still green enough in his role as the megacity's arachnid avenger to not be able to determine when exactly to tell another to shut it.
"Aristocrats? Why that's..." Preposterous? Not hardly, upon closer examination, for the same divisions of class were as prevalent in this era as they were in any other; all that tended to change was the names and titles assigned. Armed with this news, gaze fixating on the supposed elite ensnared in his clutches, a contemplative hmm slips from his mouth as he tried to make up his mind.
Fortunately, he would take the Junker's side, choosing to believe that malevolent inflexion over a speculative suspicion that swarmed in the back of his mind, dropping the thug without hesitation. One perk of living in such a technologically advanced age was the capacity to believe in the occurrence of persons displaced from their original reality. A trait which Miguel now used to full effect, by exempting the stranger from his usual vitriolic retorts for staring too long at his suited form.
"Say I hand him over to you... What will you do then?" What form did justice take, in the time of yesteryear.
"You may not believe me. Found it difficult at first."
It wasn't just the Avenging Scavenger's outfit that was off-season, but his voice. Deep and dull with awkward pronunciation, yet it could give way to something theatrically sinister, like announcements from the host of an old horror anthology. The kind they had on the radio or late night television so very many decades ago.
"He is the descendant of a scoundrel prince. Found a way back. Took weapons from this era back to try and... turn the *tide* of a war effort in my day. Make his lineage into one of aristocrats again."
Psychometry usually helped Junker look into the past, or the very near future. But this crook's advanced weapons shipment took his ESP capabilities much, much farther, in terms of precognition.
"But I knew. Always do."
The emerald glow of his flight goggle lenses was momentarily halted by a sudden 'blink' of sorts. Shutters like on an old camera, as he studied this Spider. Welcoming warmth was not a priority right now.
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@knightlier [kyle] asked; "i don't need a sword or a gun when i have this."
The flashing of a finger ring comes as a mild surprise, as does the claim that accompanies it. Shown off in answer to a question regarding the mysterious insignia etched upon it, he takes a moment to digest this information, allowing time for Miguel's gaze to flick from the ring to Kyle's face. A silent inquiry lingered upon his concealed expression throughout, unsure of what to say, but making an attempt regardless.
"Rrrright. Well, looks to me like you'll get the chance to prove that soon. We've got company." A jut of chin helpfully offers direction, drawing attention to a cluster of enforcements barrelling across the sandy wastes towards their current position. Stood together on the roof of an abandoned outpost, on an Earth that Miguel didn't recognise.
"After you." Unopposed to a fight, a growing curiosity had translated into a flick of taloned hand, giving way so that the other male had the chance to be the first to engage their soon to arrive foes.
#knightlier#verse; trasnaigh an rubaicón#answered prompt#heyo! decided to use some random multiverse shenanigans for this!#i am so sorry for him
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Finding a subject to mutually agree on, a derisive scoff catches in his throat, causing the downed Spider to cough and shudder as he becomes surrounded. Regretful of the gesture, he carries on with his attempts to stand, unsteadily moving to the soundtrack of a language he couldn't parse. This alone warranted a narrowing of hues, drawing the red lines of his mask closer together, thoughts forming a quick conclusion; that he shouldn't delay his departure from this place.
With a notable effort, he manages to plant a knee beneath him, his sheer size immediately apparent as he rises to near-shoulder height with the shortest of the criminals that have encircled him, despite still being on the ground. "Don't need to... walk." Keen to make that particular point known, the same expressed defiance goes into hiding when the suggestion to move him elsewhere is proposed, arm already exploring for a matching pair and grabbing hold before the stranger finished speaking.
"Nothing new for me." It figures that his sense of timing fell on the rotten side, plunging him into the midst of a conflict he had no business being part of. "Let me... do something to help improve yours, though." As for what exactly, he was still working out the details, a gesture half-prompted by the man's truthfulness-- and apparent preference for nicknames. "What should I refer to you as?"
Charles can barely restrain the sound of disgust building in his throat. It forms, however small, in the click of his tongue.
"Neither am I," he says.
A voice behind Spider-Man speaks, something a bit more panicked in Mandarin. Charles responds in kind with the universal, firm tone of authority, and it doesn't take familiarity with the language to know he's said some variation of 'shut up'.
In almost eerie synchronisation, all the men with their weapons out keep their firepower away. Some of the bystanders murmur-- something along the lines of the masked man being lucky, or not a threat, or more pathetic up close-- but Charles pays none of them any mind, more concerned with the battered idiot in front of him.
A cock of his head has a handful of people moving forward to remove the debris on top of Spider-Man's prone form. In no time at all, his sad little suit is visible in full.
"You can't walk like that." Some superhero. "Come on." Charles crouches, holding his hand out towards Spider-Man's gloved one. "We have to get you out of here before you cause a bigger scene than you already did.
"You picked a shit day to be in Chinatown, little blue."
#prebeat#verse; comhrá an bhaile mhóir seo#thank you!#i can feel it this is perhaps the start of an unlikely alliance / friendship uhjik
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ohhh! which reminds me ! lemme float out there for a minute the thought that, for miguel, since setting up the Society, and dedicating himself fully to looking after the multiverse, it goes without saying that his vigilante days are sorta behind him?
now, there are gonna be some exceptions to this ofc, like his early years verse or earth-616 verse / any thread where he's stuck in the 'modern' day for Reasons tm. as well as , y'know, if an anomaly or some credible threat shows up , of course he's still gonna confront it / deal with it personally. or at least dispatch some other spider-folk(s) to handle it if he's off in another dimension at the time.
but as a whole? the way i see things for my miguel is that his hero'ing days are like a completed arc for him, he's moved on. not necessarily to better things, but there still has been a notable progression; he's older, he's arguably traumatised (AGAIN - poor fella), he's guilt-ridden, which in particular feeds into his mission statement-- to preserve Canon Events at any cost.
to put it another way, he's finished book 1, and is currently writing the tale of book 2. who knows if he'll make it to book 3 -- it honestly depends on how the beyond movie pans out and whether i like or hate it . plus, he's also dying. 🤷
so.. yeah. 👍
#hc#this is my first attempt at writing out these thoughts tgyhu#hope they make some semblance of sense#i just love leaning into the thought of an older miguel#nothing like a good ol' 3-act play to develop <3
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ʜᴏᴡ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ʟᴇᴛ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ᴛᴜʀɴ ʏᴏᴜ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴀ ᴍᴏɴsᴛᴇʀ?
#aesthetic#folds my hands. gently.#i was just gonna post these as is but then spotify reminded me of this song--#so anyway this is the vibe rn fgyhuj#good luck~
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@novaragno asked; ❝ ... sir ? do you have time ? ❞
As much as he wanted to immediately respond with a 'yes', the golden holoscreens encircling his head told a different story, that his attention was, like always, in short supply, demanded by a perpetually endangered multiverse, no matter the hour of the day or night. That said, however, there existed no written rule that would prevent him from simply pressing pause on the screen closest to his head for a few minutes, halting not only the feed displayed upon it, but that of every other screen at the same time.
"I can give you a few minutes." Being reasonable with his guess, Miguel kept a finger held over the resume option as he turned to glance back at Felicity, a brow arching quizzically. "What's the matter?"
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