#DO NOT try to pet the lethal beasts | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

iaure · 7 months

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𝔰𝔞𝔡𝔫𝔢𝔰𝔰 𝔰𝔴𝔢𝔢𝔱 𝔢𝔫𝔬𝔲𝔤𝔥 𝔱𝔬 𝔰𝔴𝔞𝔩𝔩𝔬𝔴

𝖞𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖊𝖗𝖊 𝖒𝖎𝖌𝖚𝖊𝖑 𝖔❜𝖍𝖆𝖗𝖆 𝖝 𝖋𝖊𝖒!𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗

𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 1: 𝔩𝔬𝔯𝔡 ℑ 𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔯𝔶; 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔩𝔬𝔳𝔢 𝔦𝔰 𝔳𝔦𝔬𝔩𝔢𝔫𝔠𝔢 𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 2: 𝔴𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢 𝔦𝔫 𝔪𝔶 𝔞𝔯𝔪𝔰, 𝔶𝔬𝔲'𝔯𝔢 𝔪𝔦𝔫𝔢 𝔱𝔬 𝔨𝔢𝔢𝔭 𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 3: 𝔦 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱 𝔪𝔶 𝔟𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔱𝔥𝔰 𝔬𝔫 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔫𝔢𝔠𝔨, 𝔴𝔥𝔦𝔩𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔰𝔩𝔢𝔢𝔭 𝔭𝔩𝔞𝔶𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱

CW: delusion, chase sequence, desire to kill, fear of death, vivid description of bodily injury, kissing due to non-sexual desperation, non-lethal self-sacrifice

This part switches between Miguel's POV and the Reader's. ♱ stands for the translation being at the bottom of the post. please let me know immediately if there are any errors! Severe spoilers for Spider-Man: Across The Spider-Verse.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ it’s been very long! i am afraid i do not have much to say, aside that this was beta-read by the lovely @kinkandkreep !

wc: 7k

𝐘/𝐍 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐝𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡.

The landing of the Spider-Society that Y/N found herself on was dusty, unkept. It was clear that no one had been there for ages. Y/N had to hold back a sneeze. Glass riddled her abdomen and arms, and sneezing felt like something that’d turn her into even more of a mutated pin cushion. There was a cautious silence, or at least, as silent as Nueva York could get when there was a shattered glass window next to her. Her options were laid out before her. Y/N could go home, take care of her fish, and hide out. But Miguel inevitably would come to the same conclusion. That could mean devastation for her own city. Nuevo York wouldn’t be ready for someone like Miguel. Meanwhile, simply texting the neighbour to take care of Y/N’s pet would only take a second. Betty Boop the clownfish would prevail. There was tailing Gwen and the others-trying to intercept Miles in Earth-1610-B, to snag him before the others did. But there was no guarantee Y/N would find him. For an anomaly, he was slippery.

For an anomaly?

Y/N paused. Miles was an anomaly. So, hypothetically, since he used the Go Home Machine, it wouldn’t have read his DNA specifically. It would’ve read the DNA of his associated spider. Which meant...he wouldn’t have gone home. Y/N’s stomach churned, glass aside. Miles was all alone somewhere, lost and confused in a place that didn’t have room for him. He needed help, help that was someone he knew for sure was on his side. Gwen always meant well, and so did Peter B, but the damage on their end had been done. But she saw Miles’ face when he took the extra seconds she lent him. She knew that he knew.

Y/N input the coordinates for Earth-42.

The portal took a second to fizz to life. Y/N would need to get rid of the watch, considering its tracking capabilities. But Layla could track anyway. Layla was good, was sweet, but she was Miguel’s, and at the end of the day, it was about sending a message. Y/N wouldn’t need Miguel’s gadgets. She’d make her own. Or she’d find some other way to get home. And as she waited for the portal to be big enough to go through, a shiver went up her spine. There was the sound of metal being torn, 100 yards away. 80 yards. 60 yards. Shredded under something undoubtedly massive, torn from the side like a beast. It was grating, echoing through the empty bowels of the Spider-Society. And, unfortunately, Y/N knew exactly what that meant. Miguel was tearing up the sides of the tower to get to her, and Y/N was very much not planning to let him get anywhere near her. The portal stretched open as Miguel finally burst through the window. The excess glass seemed to bounce off of him, and there was a moment where Y/N was just jealous. How come her suit couldn’t do that, huh? Would’ve been nice. But Miguel spilled across the floor, trying to claw at anything to just find purchase to stop moving. It would’ve been funny if the situation wasn’t so dire.

Miguel finally stopped moving about a yard away, on all fours and struggling to find his stance. He scrambled to his feet, booking it to Y/N with a shout. “Don’t move!” “You didn’t say ‘Simon’s Says’, Miguel.” Y/N quipped, shocking calm coming over her considering how scary this all was. She felt like she was in control. After all, Miguel hadn’t figured out Miles was on Earth-42 yet. She’d have some time before he figured it out, even if it was just a minute. She, finally, had the power. Miguel might be rushing at her with all the desperation of a starved man, but Y/N just needed to take a step back. This nightmare was almost over, or at least, this bout of it. The portal was already shrinking, and Miguel wouldn’t have the time to go through it. “No! No! Wait! Y/N!” Miguel’s tone was that of begging, a realisation that it was up to her own choice whether or not he’d win. His eyes were wide, with a puppy look that would’ve made Y/N crumble at any other time. He had it down on lock, if that included running on all fours and reaching out within an inch of space.

Y/N crushed the watch in her hands and fell through.

She never liked the feeling of teleporting. The colours made her head spin and hurt, but right now, it was like seeing secondary colour angels. There was no Miguel, no Spider-Society. It was her and the complete multiverse at her behest.

The portal spat her out in an alleyway, sending her crashing into some cardboard boxes. It took a second, but once she realised Miguel wasn’t going to immediately tear through space and time, Y/N could only turn into boneless goo. Her entire body went limp. She was bleeding from the arms and stomach, her torso practically obliterated from the three total times she went through glass. The adrenaline ebbed away to world-ending pain. It was truly only describable as an ache that made her want to die, consuming her whole as she slumped against the bricks of the alleyway. She placed her hand against her abdomen, pressing down and feeling the glass dig in. Part of Y/N wondered if this was it. She knew Earth-42 was dangerous, due to its lack of a Spider-Man. She was defenceless, wounded, feeble, dying. The end of the illustrious Spider-Woman of Earth-7290, in a world far from her own. It was disappointing that Y/N was going to die in a place so beautiful.

New York was something sacred. Somewhere direct from the original birthplace of Spider-Man. Not Nueva York, not Nuevo York, whatever faux iteration that was a spin-off. A thousand twinkling lights that replaced the stars, so bright that the day would pale in comparison. New York was home. Even from the grubby, ugly alleyway, Y/N could see the lights of Times Square. The voices of the masses, the promise of help if only she could raise her voice. But no. The danger outweighed the reward. Part of her wondered what would happen to her body after she died. Would it lay in the alleyway to rot? Would it disappear back to her home world, somehow, someway? And what of Nueva York? Would Miguel be so delusional as to get revenge on Y/N’s beloved city? Or would it be abandoned in the wake of his death? She would’ve been something of legend, if fate was kind. A hero, disappearing into the mist without explanation. But even then, that was disappointing.

An ache settled into her heart. A sadness that choked her, like a bitter pill. Y/N had her regrets. Her uncle Ben, her brother, not helping Miles and the rest of the kids more, not having the courage to step up to canon before. To not be a better Spider. Not a better Society member, but a better Spider. A Spider-Woman that the original Peter Parker would be proud of. Y/N was a guilty heart, safe for one more minute. She didn’t even have the strength to do much more than crane her head, staring up past the skyscrapers to the night sky. And as those sparkling lights dimmed and the darkness grew, Y/N saw a flash of purple before she knew no more.

Miguel couldn’t believe it.

It’d been ten minutes since Y/N had run. And it was something that could only be categorised as ‘against all odds’. Miles had gotten away. Y/N had gotten away. The Spider-Society was in shambles. Spiders were defecting left and right. Gwen, Jessica, Peter, and countless others were going off the map. Layla was working double-time to try and track them all, to figure out what they were trying to do. Miguel wanted to kill someone. Maybe it was Miles. Maybe it was Gwen, Hobie, Peter-any of the others that failed the multiverse. He didn’t want to kill Y/N, though. He wanted to pluck her up, feel her in his teeth, grip her arms so she could never leave. He wanted to rattle her like a toy before putting her in a box like a collectible. Something only he could touch, look at, play with. And he’d treat her well. He’d give her everything she could possibly want (within reason). She’d want for nothing. He’d even cover her world so she could retire from being Spider-Woman. So she could be safe.

Miguel couldn't understand it.

He thought about Y/N all day. All night. Every minute that air passed through his lungs was done with the intent of thinking about her. And he was so fucking mad because how did she not understand that? She ran, mindless, like some savanna animal as soon as he let the barrier down. He loved her, but god was she frustrating. He was being polite, and she completely disregarded it, tossed aside. She tossed him aside.

Y/N L/N did not love Miguel O'Hara.

And he hated that. He'd be the first to admit that letting the barrier down was a stupid idea. For what physical strength he had over Y/N, she had speed. And at the end of the day, strength means nothing if you can't hit your target. That last hit Y/N had landed on him made Miguel crash into a banking tower, scrawling down the side like a cat. Damn not being able to stick to walls. He'd just about yanked out his claws trying to hang on. And the watch! He should've made Spider-Byte deactivate it before anything else!

There were a lot of things Miguel should've done in hindsight.

He found himself scrubbing every possible world he could, from 1 to 10,000. With the watch destroyed and Layla overwhelmed with trying to track everyone everywhere all at once, there was no way to directly trace Y/N. If she was truly smart, she would’ve input some random number and go somewhere absolutely random. But Miguel knew Y/N. He’d studied her. He knew how she thought. That meant she would go somewhere at least a bit familiar, where she was likely to have some form of an ally. There were a few places. Earth-7290 (obviously), Earth-1610-B, Earth-50101-B, Earth-616, Earth-65...she had her pick, cream of the crop. It became a matter of elimination. Earth-616, Earth-65, and Earth-50101-B, Hobie, Gwen, and Pav’s worlds respectively, were bottom contenders. She wouldn’t inherently drag her issues into the worlds of her ‘kids’. And for the record, Miguel began to hate all three. Gwen was weak and a liability, Pav was naïve, and Hobie caused trouble for the sheer delight of it. Y/N’s little spawn wouldn’t be spared.

Y/N staying on Earth-928, in Nueva York, didn’t make sense either. The chances of him finding her in his own home territory was high, and she knew that too. That left Earth-7290 and Earth-1610-B, each for their own reasons. Miles had gone to 1610-B, as far as anyone knew, though Miguel had a hunch otherwise. Spiders don’t just disappear off the face of the earth. And 7290 was Y/N’s personal playground. That was her home turf. So either she went chasing after Miles, or she went to lick her wounds in her own world. It was a matter of which was more likely. But Lyla quickly put an end to his overthinking. She appeared before him, the glittering honeycomb hologram with a head tilt. Curious, but not too curious. Teasing but not disobedient. Just the way Miguel made her to be.

“She’s in Earth-42, Miguel.”

Miguel felt sick with delight. Finding Y/N’s location was only a matter of time once Lyla tracked down where Miles was. If he found the anomaly, then he found his guardian angel. And maybe Y/N was too stubborn for her own good. But her faults were Miguel’s successes. Where she stumbled, Miguel would appear, ready to set her on her feet with a firm grip on her arms. His stomach was turning over in joy, like he was a kid about to go on a rollercoaster for the first time.

“Good job.”

Miguel didn’t waste any time, spinning around and setting his watch for Earth-42. But as he tapped, Lyla spoke up, flickering next to his head. “Want me to call for backup?” “What?” Miguel paused, glancing up as his mask set itself over his face. Something so natural, yet so false. “Why?” “For Miles? I mean,” Lyla snorted. “You couldn’t take him by yourself.”

And Miguel paused.

In his mind, he’d completely obliterated the idea of going after Miles. The anomaly. The whole reason this was happening in the first place. And somehow, his priorities had gotten so…skewed. He froze in place, blinking at his watch owlishly. Why? When? How? It felt strangely unfathomable. Miguel had spent so long going, going, going, running on fumes for worlds that didn’t even know he existed. He saw red when Miles tried to run, but it didn’t seem to panic him as much as Y/N running did. And maybe he wasn’t the same Miguel. Maybe he’d changed. That’s what all the old people would say; that love changes people. And Miguel wasn’t sure if he was alright with that. Deep within the recesses of his mind, some lucidity lingered. The fear of letting the multiverse down, of what could happen if he didn’t go after Miles. But…

Why shouldn’t he indulge?

He was Miguel O’Hara. Spider-Man 2099. When was the last time he received something that was even the slightest bit good in his life? A reward, for all that he’d done. All that he would do, all that will be. He’d been fighting for everything he loved since the day he was born, and now he was just fighting some more. The rest of the Spider Society could figure out Miles. Peter B. Parker could finally step up and fix the problem he made. Everyone else could pay penance by letting Miguel have this. This one thing, this one person, that made everything feel better. He’d done his fair share of sins. This would just be another that he would inevitably pay for. And for once, he didn’t mind that.

“No. I’ll go it alone.”

Lyla raised an eyebrow, but Miguel pretended not to notice. Pretended like what he was doing wasn’t going to endanger the entire multiverse. Like he hadn’t completely rewrapped his life’s duty in the span of a day. He knew he’d pay for it someday, when he died and he had to suffer for the worlds of hurt he made. But right now, he couldn’t quite bring himself to care as much as he should. He had happiness, right in front of him.

He would not fail a second time.

“Are you sure she can be trusted?” “Uh...yeah. Pretty sure.” “Pretty sure?” “...yeah. Yeah.”

Y/N’s head felt like it was going to shatter into a thousand pieces. Everything ached, though it wasn’t as bad as before. Her sight was hazy, soft purple and black hues warbling in her vision. Two heads loomed over her. One was poor Miles, bruised and battered with his suit torn on the shoulder. He looked equal parts fearful and concerned, making Y/N’s heart wilt. Did she really scare the boy so much? But she looked over, and her heart dropped to her stomach. Y/N had seen the Prowler before. She’d fought the Prowler before, even. The visor was a bit weirder, and his head was tilted in the same way Miles’ was. But the Prowler was crouched before Y/N, arms on his knees in a pose that seemed far more demeaning than Miles’ crouch. Y/N’s heart bungee jumped from her stomach to her throat, and immediately, she tried scrambling backwards. But the blooming pain in her stomach made her gasp, and she went limp again. A quiet groan left her mouth. She hated how laboured her breathing was, soft huffs leaving her lips. “Told you she’d panic.” The Prowler muttered. Miles just shot him a look. “Why’re you here?” Miles spoke quietly as the Prowler rose, adjusting his gauntlet. The unspoken threat was there. “I…” Y/N huffed out, letting out a choked sigh. She set her hand on her stomach, trying to think past the pain. Against every good reason, she sat herself up against the nearest metal wall. Only then did Y/N realise that the glass was gone, and she’d been bandaged. She’d been hurt so much that her arms and stomach made her look like a mummy, and some blood seeped through. But it was the thought that mattered. The Prowler and Miles stared at her, one seeming far more threatening than the other. “I came to find you. Which…sounds bad. But I want you to hear me out.”

Miles stayed silent. Y/N set her head against the wall.

“I defected. Miguel’s gone off the deep end, bad. It’s stupid enough that his paranoia was entertained for so long. He’s snapped. Nothing he says or does makes sense anymore. And I’m sorry that no one tried to help you, back then, back when you were alone. I’m sorry so many people helped him.” Y/N let out another small groan, shutting her eyes. The lights of the kitchen were too bright. “This…all this ‘pick a side’ B.S., that’s not how Spider-Man does it. I know that this is asking a lot. You’ve had your trust completely destroyed. But I want to make it up. I want to help you save your-oof!” At once, Miles suddenly wrapped himself around Y/N in a hug. Though she couldn’t see his face, she could feel his tears beginning to soak the front of her suit. The sting of her wounds were sharp across her nerves, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. Miles was willing to trust her. That meant more than anything. “Thank you,” Y/N whispered, putting her arms around the teenager’s shoulders. He held on a bit tighter, but Y/N couldn’t hold back her hiss of pain. Instantly, Miles pulled away, hands up in an apologetic manner. “Sorry, sorry! Wasn’t thinking.” “No, you’re okay,” Y/N gave a shaky smile, before glancing at the Prowler. She pointed between the two with a shaky hand. “Wanna…talk about this?” “No.” The Prowler huffed. “Yeah!” Miles leapt up, gently punching the Prowler’s arm. “This is Miles, too! I mean, me, but like…not me?” “Your alternate you,” Y/N nodded, picking up what Miles was putting down. “Your variant.” “What the hell happened to secret identities?” The Prowler groaned, letting his visor undo itself to reveal, indeed, another Miles with braids. He seemed miffed, rolling his eyes. “What? She’s cool! She gets it!” “Whatever.” P. Miles (as differentiated in Y/N’s head) stalked to the other side of the room, and Y/N realised the space was half kitchen, half gym. “How’d you find me?” Y/N glanced at Miles, raising a curious eyebrow. “Saw the portal.” Miles sat up on the counter as P. Miles began tinkering with his gauntlet across the room. “Thought it was Gwen, or Miguel, or any of the others…but when we saw you, I figured after what you did, I owed you.” “Miles…” Y/N sighed. “You don’t owe me anything.” “You bought me time. That’s pretty debt-worthy.” “It’s called doing the right thing.” “And doing the right thing means not letting you bleed out.” Y/N rolled her eyes, trying to shove down the smile. Despite how little time passed since everything started, she missed the banter. She missed the spider-teens, missed how everything was before Miguel snapped. She missed when Gwen, Pav, and Hobie would crash in her apartment and they’d watch whatever shitty soap operas were on TV and Y/N felt like a cool big sister. Now, everyone was scattered to the four winds. She wasn’t even sure if she’d ever get something like that again.

“So you two need to get back.”

P. Miles made Y/N snap out of her thoughts, and both she and Miles looked to him. “Yeah. 1610-B. If we can get to an Alchemax collider, then we can find another world with a Spider, use their watch, and get Miles home before supper.” “Supper. Supper’s a weird word.” Miles hummed. “Yeah. It kinda is. Whatever. There’s an Alchemax two miles from here. I can lead the way. You just have to not be dead weight.” P. Miles nodded, poking his cheek with his tongue. “Dead weight.” Y/N looked down to her torso, sighing. The pain was already creeping back, the adrenaline leaving her system as quickly as it came. “Yeah, well…no promises.” P. Miles scanned her up and down with an almost distasteful eye, before looking back to Miles. An unspeakable connection was there for a fleeting moment, but P. Miles broke his eye and walked over to the window. “Whatever. We’ll figure it out.” Miles winced at his variant’s tone, letting out a sigh before gently helping Y/N up. Everything shook, her knees nobbling like an old man in a cartoon. But with one hand on Miles’ shoulder and the other gripping the kitchen island, she found her balance. Damn the pain. Damn the multiverse. And damn Miguel. She’d get Miles home and beat Miguel’s ass while at it, with or without all her vital organs. And as she teetered upright, she took a deep breath.

“Let’s go.”

Miguel couldn’t bring himself to truly appreciate New York.

Nueva York was better, in his opinion. New York was barbaric, premature. Meanwhile, Nueva York was bright and with a lot more green. Maybe it was biassed, but as Miguel tore through the fabric of time and space, the stink of the city made him clear his throat. “Miguel, they’re on their way to this Earth’s Alchemax.” Lyla appeared before him, acting as a HUD as he walked. “Seems like they’re trying to find their way out.” “Yeah, well…” Miguel peered over the city, popping his neck. Ordinarily, he might’ve said something a little witty, a little mean, but now his mind was dead-set on finding Y/N. So close. So far.

Finding Alchemax wasn’t hard. The bright white building was obvious, sticking out like a sore thumb amongst all the greyscale and dark skyscrapers. Even moreso, the fleeing workers evidenced that maybe there were several people inside who were dressed in suits and doing something a little less than normal. The doors were yanked off the hinges, there was some smoke coming out of the upper levels, and it’s a bit astounding that they even did that much damage so fast. He walked past the doors. Alchemax was always a sore spot for Miguel. Obvious reasons aside, it was always somewhere that Spider-Man suffered. And now, Miguel was suffering. He was always chasing after Y/N, and to have an ending battle at Alchemax felt like a cruel twist of fate. And he knew it’d be hard. He knew he blew away any chances of a proper relationship when he’d shoved Y/N through the window, went after the kids, tore aside the sides of buildings to get to her. But that didn’t matter when he knew they were meant to be together. Sometimes, doing what was right for all parties was the hard thing. And Miguel was used to that, and was ready for it. He’d been doing the hard thing all his life. This was one of the most important hard things, yes, all cards were off the table. He couldn’t bring himself to care. Not anymore. He’d do whatever it took to get what he was denied, for so long.

When he turned a corner, there was a sudden spike of…something. It was like a ‘ting’ in his entire body, a vibration against his throat that spread. Maybe this was the closest thing he’d ever feel to a spider sense, with the way it made his neck twitchy and his shoulders tense. He took such a deep breath that his back popped, a flicker in his eyes. She was close. How close, he wasn’t sure. But close enough. Maybe it was her scent that set him off, or the sound of the collider booting up, but either way it was enough to make him shudder. This had never happened before, not even when he had her in the anomaly containment cell. It was more of a predator-prey impulse, thick and heady and hanging in the air. Miguel wanted Y/N’s hair in his hands, her neck between his teeth, her back against his chest. It was a base instinct that set Miguel’s nerves on fire. He pressed forward, finally coming to the collider door. The transparent glass made it clear that Y/N was already on guard, speaking to both Mileses. Her voice grew suddenly sharp, almost irritated, and both boys jumped. Miguel would refuse to admit to anyone just how her commanding tone made him stand stiff. And how sweetly the scent of her blood hung in the air! Better than any wine or sweet or divine treat. How could he have been so oblivious before? It wasn’t like he needed blood for food, or anything, but… Indulgence was his new favourite word. Miguel’s hand hovered over the doorknob. He knew if he didn’t manage to snag Y/N this time, she’d run off to Lord knows where and dance right out of Miguel’s reach until it was too late. Somewhere, in the back of Miguel’s mind, he knew this would’ve been made easier if he’d just brought backup. Then, Jessica or Ben could catch Miles while Miguel got Y/N. But then again, he’d have to explain why he was ready to full-body tackle and make out with someone who, two days prior, he was hardly able to share a room with. So maybe he’d just have to wing it.

He took a deep breath, and opened the door.

The lab was quiet.

P. Miles apparently carried quite the potent fear factor. Civilians scattered when they saw him, leaving the collider open for use. Miles helped carry Y/N, slinging an arm over his shoulder as he slung across Alchemax. There was a terse feeling in the air. Y/N, half dead and feeling like the grave, knew somewhere along the line, something was going to happen. Life was never so easy as to just hand the three a perfectly functional collider. But P. Miles got to work booting the collider up, and as he stood off by himself, Y/N had a moment of reprieve. Y/N stood yet still, but she slumped against one of the monitors, pressing a hand to her bandages. They were soaked through, the throbbing pain inching back now that the second dose of adrenaline was dying down. Miles stood next to her, eyes switching from his variant to Y/N, back and forth, back and forth. It was almost dizzying to even watch. The collider was slow to start, and it was almost nerve wracking. The slow, bubbling light was bright, but it would take a few spare minutes that the three didn’t have.

P. Miles was off in a world of his own, but as Miles’s head bobbed back and forth between the two, Y/N gave an almost pained laugh.

“You’re gonna pull something if you keep that up,” She teased, taking a painfully deep breath before resting her hands behind her on the console. “Huh? Oh, uh, yeah. Sure.” Y/N watched him for a second. If it weren’t for the mask, then her frown would’ve been obvious. “It’s jarring, isn’t it?” She glanced back over to P. Miles. “Seeing a version of yourself.” “I mean, it would be for anyone, right?” Miles gave an awkward laugh. “Well…still. You’re taking it well.” Y/N hummed. “Especially for being thrown into all of this so suddenly.” “Well, I-” And suddenly, the two froze. There was a distinct feeling creeping up Y/N’s spine. Her spider sense didn’t usually have a slow build, not like this, but every muscle was tense. It was like a violin sting, the bow crawling across every nerve at a snail’s pace. Miles went stiff next to her, uncrossing his arms and glancing over his shoulder. P. Miles gave the two a confused glance from the sudden shift. “He’s here,” Y/N tilted her head back, knocking against the monitor with a laboured breath. Miles helped her get up as P. Miles went on his metaphorical haunches, gauntlet up and mask on. The room felt like it was spinning, a constant swirling camera angle around the three. Y/N set her hands on Miles’ shoulder. “You. Collider. Now. “ “Wh-?” Before Miles could finish, P. Miles started yanking him by the scruff towards the collider. The spider struggled against the Prowler’s grip. “Wait! No, we aren’t leaving you!” Miles looked almost irritated, as though the idea was genuinely disgusting to him. “Miles,” Y/N ignored her Miles, turning to the Prowler. “Get him through the collider at any cost.” P. Miles nodded firmly. He was a good soldier, but Miles broke out of his grip. “No! We can fight Miguel together. I mean, we’ve got me, and me but cooler! And you’ve been Spider-Woman for years-” “I’m injured, Miles.” Y/N’s tone took on an almost uncharacteristic stern note. “Dead weight. Miguel will be focused on me. My capture is inevitable. Yours doesn’t have to be.” Miles looked panicked, eyes wide like a deer in headlights. “But what’ll happen to you? I’m not going to leave you behind. Spider-Man-” “Being Spider-Man is about sacrifice, Miles. And right now, this is a sacrifice I’m willing to make.” The tension across Y/N’s nerved climbed to a fever pitch, and Y/N could see Miles’ face contort in fear. She knew what that look meant-Miguel was within Miles’ line of sight. Probably just past the door, tall and ominous. But Y/N shuffled in front of Miles to block Miguel off, to stop him from psyching out Miles, and to maintain eye contact. Her brows furrowed. “Miles-” “No.” Miles tired growing steely, trying to take the same commanding tone Y/N had. But Y/N felt everything spike. “Miles!” She snapped, louder than she meant to. “I am not going to bicker with you!”

Y/N’s voice was harsh, loud enough to echo a little bit. Angry, most certainly. Even P. Miles stoof stiff at rapt attention. “You have a choice,” Y/N pressed, despite the lingering guilt from the moment of fear on Miles’ face. “Me, or your father. And we all know what the answer is to that one.” The room was silent, save for the sound of the whirring collider. The lab door opened, and instantly, everything that was set off from Y/N’s spider sense went deathly silent. It was like her body was shutting down from fear and pain. Strong, almost silent steps drew closer, and Y/N let out a sigh. “Go, Miles. Be a better Spider-Man than the rest of us ever were.” Miles looked like he was forced to swallow hot coals. But with another tug from P. Miles, he began stumbling backwards. Y/N felt like there was still glass shards in her stomach, rolling around and cutting up her guts like a rock tumbler. Everything screamed for her to freeze, run, anything but what she was going to do.

But being Spider-Woman was all about sacrifices.

Y/N steeled her nerves and turned, a hateful glare scrawled across her face. Miguel was right behind her, breathing hard like he was huffing in the air she exhaled. If she took even the barest step forward, then she’d be buried into Miguel’s chest. Closer than she wanted to be. But even then, Y/N could smell mahogany and whiskey and sweat, something rich that seemed to be right up Miguel’s alley. He had his eyes glued to Y/N as though both Mileses weren’t right behind her, trying to clamber into the collider. Like she was the only thing in the world. It would be flattering, if the situation wasn’t so damn scary.

“Mi alma ♱ ,” Miguel whispered, reverent like Y/N was a god. “You were hard to track down.” “I fucking hope so.” She hissed, clicking her tongue. “I hope I gave Lyla a run for her money.” “Mm. That you did.” Miguel’s eyes flickered down a bit, taking in the sight of Y/N’s injuries. Slowly, he tried raising a finger up to touch at the bandages, but Y/N was quicker and grabbed his wrist to stop him. He didn’t so much as jolt, instead putting his eyes right back on Y/N’s face. “Don’t touch me.” “If anything, you’re the one touching me.” Miguel snarked, a grin beginning to sneak onto his face. The banter was clearly something he enjoyed, seeing Y/N as nothing but a defiant pet. “And don’t get smart with me, asshole.” “All these rules…but as you wish, chiquita ♱ .” Y/N took a pissed-off breath, sucking on her teeth. But as she was about to say something back, there was the sudden feeling of webs around her waist. They hurt, but the immediate confusion triumphed over the pain. Who was webbing her? What was going on?

“Sorry, man! But I take care of my own!”

Miles’ sudden defiant yell made both older Spiders jump. Before Y/N could say anything, she was abruptly yanked back towards the collider. P. Miles laughed from the sudden vision of Y/N getting pulled back like a dog on a leash. But the small victory was minute, because Miguel’s face immediately contorted into rage. He bolted across the floor, reaching an arm out to web Miles’ arm. Miles’ web broke off, and for a moment, Y/N was in free-fall. But she could see Miguel’s brain working, the cogs working in a way they hadn’t in days. His eyes were on the kids, realising that while they were around, he’d never have Y/N freely. He’d always have to fight, and that meant the kids were in danger. That phrase played in Y/N’s head on loop. The kids were in danger. The kids were in danger. She had to swallow, recalibrate in mid-air.

Being Spider-Man was a sacrifice. Being Spider-Man was a sacrifice. Being Spider-Man was sacrifice.

And in the midst of the free-fall, Y/N did the one thing she could think of to distract Miguel.

She reached out, and she kissed him.

The kiss was something she wished she’d never have to do. And she hated to admit just how nice it was. She could taste a balm on his lips, the faint taste of coffee. Soft. And she hated how it made her gut dissolve into butterflies, layered with atomic vomit. Bile pooled into her throat, but she could hear the collider shutting down, and she knew. It was over. One way or another, it was over.

To say he was shocked would be an understatement.

The kiss was by no means perfect. It was forceful, rushed, harsh, with Y/N’s nails digging into his shoulder to try and hang on. Her lips tasted of blood and were scabbed over from how often she bit them. Miguel could see Miles (both of them) in the corner of his eye. 1610 Miles struggled against his variant’s grip, being dragged into the collider against his will. But Miguel couldn’t bring himself to care. He’d fantasised about this moment for what felt like forever. How close she was. The smell of her sweat, the feel of her suit, her hands clutching his biceps. If this was Hell, then Miguel would willingly clip his wings to stay in Y/N’s arms.

Even in the freefall, Miguel found himself reaching out to cling at Y/N. She gasped from the clutch of his hands, and Miguel had to actively resist the urge to shove his tongue into her mouth like some unruly, horny teenager. For the first time in what was probably years, he had butterflies in his stomach. Love. Actual, true love. His eyes were wide, and for a brief moment, he wondered if this was what blushing schoolgirls felt like. Giggling at the idea of their crushes looking their way, doodling hearts in their journals. That’s what Miguel felt like. A grown man, reduced to mush at a single kiss. It was ridiculous, humiliating…but it felt so good.

Miguel slammed into the floor of the collider room, all air sucked out of his body. For a brief moment, he simultaneously came to and was dazed. He realised both Miles were nowhere to be found, and Y/N had slammed into him. She let out a pained cry, pending over against the floor to clutch at her stomach. But as soon as her feet hit the ground and she wasn’t in immediate pain, Y/N pried herself away from Miguel like he’d burned her. And his heart ached. She was leaving him, and he’d be left with nothing but a wounded soul and back pain to return with. And the memory of that kiss. That kiss. It was devastating. Holy. No, Miguel wouldn’t let that go. He couldn’t. He knew he was gone, his mind lost somewhere between affection and obsession. Once his vision cleared and he saw Y/N stumbling to the collider, trying to climb up the walls without opening her wounds again, Miguel felt a certainty steel him. Y/N was going nowhere. Nowhere that he wouldn’t follow, that he wouldn’t tear apart trying to find her in. Miguel shot up, hands reaching out. A neon web came, and partially Miguel wondered if it had a soul of it’s own, an extension of his own desperation. It wrapped around Y/N’s waist, and she fell from the wall with a yelp. She slammed back down onto the floor and there was a sob. And Miguel didn’t want to hurt her. No, he never did. But he couldn’t let her run anymore.

He yanked Y/N towards him, groaning from the ache in his back before walking over to her. She was struggling in the web, arms bound as she flopped like a fish out of water. Her breathing was hard and angry, frustrated grunts ringing out in the collider room as the machine slowly started to wind down. She looked up at those chromatic spots, fear and exhaustion reading on her face in real time as her only escape shut in on itself. Miguel looked down at her, hands on his hips. And Miguel wanted to say something witty. Something like ‘I didn’t want to do this’ or ‘you did this to yourself’. But Y/N just seemed…defeated. Sad. Her eyes were to the floor, refusing to meet Miguel in any way. Just like before, her last way of keeping her pride was to deny Miguel. But she would deny him no more. And all Miguel could do was crouch down, gently rolling Y/N onto her back. There was a wheeze and Y/N shut her eyes. But Miguel could see tears welling, pooling down her cheeks with shame. And Miguel didn’t necessarily like making her cry. Something in the back of his mind told him he should be disgusted, ashamed of himself, beating himself up for making her cry. But she was so pretty. Stunning, even when she was crying and laying there, blood seeping into her suit. A gorgeous red that suited her like nothing else. How would she be in a red dress, ruby jewellery, red makeup. Even against the orange of his webs, she was beautiful. Oh, who was Miguel kidding? She’d look beautiful in anything. A goddess, bathed in the light of day and the stars of night.

Miguel put a hand against Y/N’s cheek, stroking it with his knuckles. She just sniffed, eyes still closed. Miguel’s eyes flickered down to her lips, and…what would be so wrong with it? She was the one that kissed him earlier. Whatever reasoning didn’t matter. If anything, it was his turn. A kiss for a kiss. And so, Miguel leaned down and pressed his lips to hers once more. And this time, despite her whimper, despite her recoil, Miguel felt this was a true kiss. Something earnest, of his own volition. It meant so much, completely overwhelming Miguel’s senses. He could even faintly taste the spearmint of Y/N’s toothpaste, this time. But he felt her flinch, and he pulled away just barely enough that his lips hovered over her. His breath washed over hers as he glanced up to her eyes. And this time, she was staring. Pure hatred was painted over her face, seething just under her skin, and Miguel sighed. “Do you really hate me that much?” He whispered. “More than anything,” Y/N hissed.

And Miguel sighed. Y/N was proud. He’d always loved that about her, but now it was just an issue. But it was nothing that time couldn’t fix. He gently, slowly, reverently picked up Y/N in his arms, like the bride she’d be one day. She squirmed, but her injuries left her immobile. A day of ignoring grievous injuries save for some faulty bandages meant she was left defenceless. And for once, Miguel was glad. Did he delight in her pain? No. Did he feel she deserved it? Maybe. But right now, she was in his arms and unable to run for the last time.

And that. That was Miguel’s reward.

♱ : my soul, honey

╰･ ⨯・ ⨯・ @ishqani ⸜❤︎⸝‍ @pix-stuff ⸜❤︎⸝‍ @localdepressedvampire ⸜❤︎⸝‍ @cantchoosejust1 ⸜❤︎⸝‍ @tired-writer04 ⸜❤︎⸝‍ @neteyamsbulletwound ⸜❤︎⸝‍ @not-neverland06 ⸜❤︎⸝‍ @nervousd ⸜❤︎⸝‍ @whatsmylife

#yandere miguel o'hara #yandere miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #୨♡୧ gothic updates #spider man 2099 #spider-man 2099

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pelgraine · 1 month

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Halo dragon AU fic idea:

In the days after Kai removes her pellet and they've started working together on Sangheili translations, Miranda realizes something curious about the Spartans. Despite being battle hardened killing machines with encyclopaedic knowledge of weaponry and warfare, they are also naive and impressionable in other ways. It concerns her that someone might take advantage of Kai, or the others, while their still in the phase of learning about the wider world.

Miranda takes an opportunity one afternoon to explain to Kai that she shouldn't follow any advertisements or signs for free puppies or free kittens home until she's properly investigated the situation.

The following day, Kai is seen with what appears to be a very juvenile winged reptile perched on one shoulder. When questioned her excuse is, well, Miranda didn't say anything about 'Free Baby Dragons!'

The other Spartans are so intrigued and delighted by the tiny scaly beast that Kai promises to find one for each of them because she now knows a guy.

ONI are horrified at the influx of likely lethal and dangerous pets. Halsey gets roped in to talk to the Spartans. There's lectures terribly similar to the ones they've all heard in their youth; that Spartans should care for each other and nothing else.

Various attempts are made to seperate the baby dragons from their respective Spartans. Teeth, claws, several small fires and a jailbreak or three later, they eventually discover the dragons are irreparably bonded to their chosen Spartan and cannot be seperated, despite all the attempts to the contrary. One very frustrated ONI lieutenant finally shoots a dragon with his pistol and is wounded when the bullet rebounds. The Spartans are delighted to discover dragonhide is bullet proof.

ONI invariably gets even more involved and there's a number of experiments to try and procure more dragons and bond them with various marines and ODSTs. All the attempts fail, many rather spectacularly.

Ackerson is tearing his hair out because he's convinced this is some nefarious plot Halsey has conducted, even though she's had nothing to do with it and is just as clueless as he is (but is hiding it better.)

Eventually she's the one who cottons on to the fact that the Forerunner-like DNA that is specific to Spartans might be the cause for the bonding being successful.

That theory is disproven when, after Kai gifts a dragon egg to Miranda, the hatchling bonds to her immediately.

Halsey discovers the novel experience of being genuinely jealous of one of her daughter's achievements. Miranda is so delighted by it all that she smiles brightly all the time nowadays which makes nearly everyone who comes into contact with her smile too.

Halsey does not get a dragon baby to bond with her. The one she tries with - secretly, in her lab - escapes and has since been found following John around and attempting to snuggle with Cortana whenever she materialises. Cortana immediately cottons on to what's happening and tries to be more present and available, though indeed she's not really sure how the little hatchling imprinted on an AI nor how to fix it.

#halo tv show #halo series #halo fanfiction #silver timeline #here there be dragons au #kai 125 #miranda keyes #catherine halsey

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adhdo5 · 1 year

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Okay ykw I’m making a post. Very sorry about this because a) the adhdo5 blog is where I sit on the porch and shoot the shit and you shouldn’t come to me for news and b) I am very tired right now and can’t think very well so you’ll have to bear with me. I am NOT editing this shit so if it has typos or I sound incoherent very sorry again maybe you can like decipher it with your comrades or w/e

Long post; tl;dr at bottom

So I’ve seen posts going around about the Ohio train derailment. This is good and fine in itself. This is a serious issue that should be discussed and absolutely an environmental disaster, BUT there r some serious framing issues going on and while there’s other posts that discuss this better than I can or am interested in doing, I’d like to address one specific thing as kind of a microcosm/example

So there’s a version of the post going around where a commenter links some articles and pulls relevant quotes from them. Most seriously they pull this quote

While vinyl chloride itself is a carcinogen, the burning of the chemical, which releases hydrogen chloride and phosgene, can be immediately lethal. Phosgene, a highly toxic, colorless gas with a strong odor, was notoriously used as a weapon during World War I.

Now, that’s a scary fucking quote. That shit is frightening and it is a true assessment of the risk of vinyl chloride leaks. Put it in context of the earlier post, which is going on about a supposed media blackout and claims of mass death of pets etc., and claims that police blew up the tanks, and it evokes a truly terrifying image of these tanks being detonated carelessly and possibly leading to deaths.

But try on for size the literal first sentence of this article: (emphasis added)

The toxins that burned in the wreckage of the train derailment in Ohio had the potential to be deadly if officials did not order evacuations in the region, experts told ABC News.

And from an article from CNN: (emphasis added)

The wreckage burned for days, threatening a widespread, deadly explosion before crews Monday managed controlled detonations [...]

Workers used small charges to blow a tiny hole in five rail cars carrying vinyl chloride. The hazardous substance spilled into a trench, where it was burned away. [...]

Analysts have been conducting air monitoring and sampling over the last 24 hours in the East Palestine area, James Justice, a representative of the United States Environmental Protection Agency said Wednesday. "All of the readings we've been recording in the community have been at normal concentrations, normal backgrounds, which you find in almost any community," he said, and that's "what led to the fire chief lifting the evacuations today."

And a few paragraphs down in the very article the first quote is from:

A release from a vinyl chloride tank car creates a dangerous situation. The chemical, which is a gas at ambient temperature, is shipped in pressurized tank cars. “If you have a release, it vaporizes and it’s extremely flammable,” Kreuz says.

This is a completely different picture. Don’t get me wrong -- shit is still awful. It’s a dangerous situation that DID kill some beasts this IS a bad thing this IS a policy failure that it happened

But the tanks were detonated by professionals so that the fumes would be concentrated in one area that they could give evac orders for, and those evac orders have since been lifted because said controlled burn went off as planned. If they’d let it escape or explode by itself, the phosphene etc would likely still have been released, but in a way that would be way harder to Give Evac Orders For

Officials etc can still suck and be bad. It’s not like this is over or a solved issue. But this was not the cops. This was the EPA. This was people whose job is to deal with environmental catastrophes (which AGAIN this WAS). There are people who are trying to get third party tests done! Fair enough! But this is NOT something that people are left completely alone with

So what IS an issue here specifically? Where do we point scrutiny?

This is my biggest issue with that first quote pull; the text block immediately after it is possibly the most widely relevant thing in the article. Here’s a slightly longer quote: (emphasis added)

The accident raises questions about safe rail transportation of vinyl chloride, a chemical that is predominantly converted to polyvinyl chloride on the site where it is produced. It also shines a light on general rail safety—the accident was the third freight train derailment in Ohio since last October.

I mean, in hindsight it’s clear -- this was a rail accident. But losing oneself in panic about the chemical spill itself being not dealt with or dealt with worse can cause one to lose focus. I know I certainly did until I looked .2mm further into the situation and found that paragraph, and then the focus Did become clear: remember the rail strikes? Hey, how are those going?

It’s extremely easy to get lost in panic and conspiracy-adjacent thought, especially because officials are extremely frequently bad at their jobs, because cops DO do stupid shit like this, because these are extant problems. But it’s also easy to get paralyzed by a nebulous fear of bad actors in the government and lose sight of the immediate issue that these chemical spills happen in general, that they happen because of something wrong with our rail system, etc.

This probably isn’t the One Secret Key to this, either, and there’s probably uglier nuances to the response, but it’s important to keep an eye out for this propensity in ourselves for panic, for catastrophizing, and to think about what and whom that benefits, to get a clearer view to see how one can genuinely help and if this is a thing to which you can afford to lend your concern, what you can do about it yourself. Be careful. Be conscientious about what you allow to take space in your brain and how much good it does you and the world really. Watch out for these kinds of nasty rhetorical traps, these kinds of framing subtleties that can vastly color how you see a situation

Now I am NOT trying to say that OP or commenter did that on purpose or out of malice. I think it’s very likely that they themselves panicked to some degree, quoted and reported on what caught their eye, etc.. I’m ALSO absolutely not saying that they or people who saw these quotes are stupid or gullible. I am Thirdly not trying to say at all I’m an authority on this part of the situation. My intent with this and what I hope anyone who read this far takes away from this is that this was, intentionally or more likely not, there’s been a rhetorical issue in how people are discussing this situation, and it’s one that can vastly increase distress and decrease efficacy of diagnosing the problem for people who ARE involved

Anyway

TL;DR (because god do I talk so much it’s the ADHD)

train carrying some very toxic shit derailed in Ohio

posts going around rn where OP talks about the tanks being exploded in a way that misleads people about the operation

some additions feature a commenter pulling a very frightening quote about those fumes

the truth is that it was a controlled burn done by professionals so the toxic shit wouldn’t catch fire and release horrible fumes in random residential areas

it was under evac order

it was successful and the evac order was since lifted

this is really bad but catastrophizing helps no one

REHAUL THE US RAIL SYSTEM NOW

support rail workers and if you have some dollars to spare maybe go see if anyone affected by the evacuations has a Ko-fi

#anyone wanting 2 talk 2 me about this uhhhhhhh probably don't I have no interest in getting involved in #[checks notes] Ohio explosion discourse #everything I had of value to say I just said (and then some) if you want more information read the links and then do proper research yourse #lf #I have a god damn headache #good fucking night. Thank you

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grislyintentions · 1 year

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The Primo Geovishap is a formidable opponent, especially when aggrevated or disturbed when slumbering. It's roar shakes the ground you walk on, while the swipes of large talons could easily crumble a mountainside and break bones if getting a clean hit. With the vishap looming over Xiao, ready to swipe at the adeptus again, there's a pause suddenly when from somewhere far far high up, a loud and drawn out "Xiaooooooooo!!" can be heard.

The force with which Hún slams down on the Geovishap is immense, causing the ground to crack. The beast is unmoving, a polearm sticking through the thick skull of the animal, with a beaming Hún on top. He jumps down, leans into Xiao's personal space. "There you are~! I was lookin' aaall over for you~! It's almost as you're trying to get away from me, but I know that's not true~," he purrs, stepping closer still. "See, I have a gift for you, or two actually," he quickly reaches back to smack the snoot of the dead vishap, but then digs out a slightly crumpled flower from his pocket. "This for u, babe~." Bitches love flowers.

Unlike the brute force and strength of the Primo Geovishap, Xiao relied on being quick and nimble in his attacks. The winds that carry him were also the pull needed to generate a focused and lethal impact. If the creature did not know to tunnel below ground to avoid injury, perhaps the Yaksha may have already finished it off.

Adding to the adeptus' frustration was the sudden and distant cry of his name. Distraction is deadly and he has little time to care for it. He knows, even without looking, who was fast approaching. When Hun crashes down onto the Geovishap at earthshattering speed, Xiao could barely restrain himself from releasing an exasperated sigh.

"You-", He could already feel the beginnings of a headache forming. "Nevermind. What do you want?"

Disgruntled, the younger adeptus crosses his own arms. Him and his weird pet names. Knowing that the other was attempting to bait his temper, he adamantly refuses to budge. So when Hun brings out the crumpled flower, he would be greeted to the comical sight of Xiao going momentarily cross eyed before he huffs and repositioned himself at a comfortable angle.

A snappy response would be what he would greet the elder with. But Rex Lapis - no..Zhongli- had asked of him to try to get along with Hun, and he technically did honour his contract of not harming humans so...Xiao is willing to try.

Heaving another sigh, the Yaksha accepts the flower so that the other adeptus does not kick up a dramatic fuss.

"Thank you." The words were almost foreign on his tongue when directed at him. Is he...expecting something else? He didn't bring anything with him into this battle though...he reaches into his own pocket and produces a small chunk of noctilucous jade he'd picked up earlier. "Here. Have this."

Thinking back, it's kind of like Hun isn't it? Impossibly bright even under the most intense of pressure...how annoying. But it's not a bad thing.

@mangher

#mangher #charac: xiao

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danco110 · 2 years

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“Din, turn around! Now!”

“Huh?”

The hapless kor heard a clicking sound from behind her, and wheeled around just in time to see a massive black-scaled beast leap into view with a deafening crash. Concern flashed across her face as the monster loosed a low growl.

“What, you mean Luna-”

“Arrows!”

The trap discharged, sending a volley of lethal quills towards Din and her pet. The beast instinctively moved closer to Din. Most of the shots embedded in the beast’s shell, causing it to roar in pain, but one quarrel flew true past Luna’s arm to pierce Din’s stomach before she could dive to the ground. The kor crumpled to the ground, the trap fell silent once more, and the rest of the expedition stared at their fallen friend.

“Din…no…”

Before the explorers could help their friend, the ruins began to quake. Chunks of stone fell from the collapsing ceiling, and Luna moved to cover Din’s body with its armored head, just in time to deflect a particularly large stone. The other explorers tried to approach the beast and its master, but were rebuffed by furious growling as the temple fell to pieces around them.

“Luna, it’s us! We’re trying to help Din!”

“It can’t understand you! We’ve got to run!”

The other explorers watched helplessly as Luna continued to defend Din from falling stonework. Finally, the expedition was forced to retreat, escaping the temple just in time to watch the ceiling implode, burying both kor and beast beneath countless tons of stone. The expedition leader began frantically digging into the wreckage with a small shovel, but made little headway into the rubble.

“Din! Luna…! Anybody…?”

One minute passed, then another. The sun began to sink below the horizon. Finally, the leader lowered his shovel and dusted himself off.

“We should…make for our base camp before nightfall. We’ll bring back the heavier digging tools in the morning.”

A young vampire bared his fangs incredulously at the mountain of rubble. “Do you really think-”

“Let’s go.”

“I…sure.”

#mtg #magic the gathering #zendikar #story bites

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the-sole-macgyver · 3 years

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Can i request a companions react where Sole has a pet goose that doesn't like them (the companion) and will chase them around but Sole just finds it hilarious? Bonus points if a companion gets treed by the goose

Nice prompt, the games really fun- real geese not so much

Prompt:It’s a lovely morning in the Commonwealth, and Sole has a horrible goose

Excluded companions:None

Note: if there are any characters, ie: faction leaders or let’s say synth!Codsworth that anyone would like to be included please feel free to ask!

Warnings:shenanigans of the fowl kind, swearing, threats of violence, goose-typical violence under cut

Cait:She’s always thought that the Swans..clothing of choice was a bit dainty looking for such a fucking big and nasty behemoth of a super mutant, but after meeting “Morrigan” she’s pretty sure the Swans getup was spot on, because Sole’s bird was also a big nasty bastard that would kill anyone who came near it if it could. She threatens to cook it whenever it trys to chase her and Sole generally has too keep them separated because they're fairly sure Cait will go through with it if given the opportunity. Both Cait and the goose are instantly hostile when they see each other.

Codsworth: He’s known of “Beatrix” since before the bombs fell, and he’s not ashamed to admit he’d wished the bird had went up in flames like the rest of the world around him. Alas; someway, somehow, Beatrix stood before him alongside his beloved sir/ma'am once more: all pristine white feathers and seething rage aimed at the goose his chrome paint still faintly reflected back at it, his thrusters still vaguely emulating hissing, and as the beast known as Beatrix reared back, mouth open and screeching Codsworth once again resigned himself to being pecked and screamed at, while his beloved sir/ma’am laughed, cruelly. Whenever he sees the wretched thing make its way back to Sanctuary he tries to make sure he’s on the other side of the settlement.

Curie:She’d never met a real goose before Sole found her and at this point she kind of wished that she never had met the bird, or at least if she had never taken that blood sample- because apparently geese held grudges for life, and they can live for over 20 years. She had only wanted to help the animal, testing its blood to make sure the radiation wasn't effecting it too badly, but apparently it wanted its blood back and if it couldn’t get it back it would take hers- Sole insisted she was fine, but seeing that thing charge at her was quite intimidating, and so she had no plans on going near it ever again, thank you very much. If she does accidentally cross its path she dashes to the nearest building and locks the door until it leaves.

Deacon: When Sole had told him that he couldn't buy the love of the funny, waddly pre-war bird they called a goose with Sugar Bombs he didn’t believe them, after all, it seemed pretty tame. That was his first mistake, and also what landed him half way up a tree in Sanctuary of all places, dangling just out of reach from the Hell Bird with the call of a bomb siren and a mouth full of teeth, screaming for Sole to rescue him but all the traitor was doing was laughing. He’s stuck up a tree above the jaws of death and they're laughing at him. Later he tries approaching it with different methods and in different disguises- unfortunately they never work, Sole says it recognizes his shades, he says it’s an Institute spy out for him and only him. It’s a silly, running joke they have, which, incidentally, he feels like whenever the animal decides to give chase.

Dogmeat:He does not like Soles other animal. It doesn't chase him but it does hiss and go to peck him when he scampers past it. Sole will chuckle and give him reassuring head pats, which are very good- but that thing is no friend and he wont be tricked into believing it is.

John Hancock: He’s reclining on his couch in his State House when Soles resident attack bird decides to go in for the kill. It charges, he panics and grabs it by the neck before it can reach his face and do anymore damage, now hes got an arm full of evil and a Vault dweller laughing their ass off in the doorway, he’d probably laugh too- except the birds stronger than it looks and he’s kinda struggling not to be mauled or resort to stabbing his good friends beloved, if malevolent, pet. When sole finally wrangles the devil off of him he starts to notice the neighborhood watch give the creature a wide berth whenever it waddles its way into town. In fact the only person it seams to tolerate other than Sole is Fahrenheit, surprisingly.

Nick Valentine: He vaugly remembers what a Goose is- old Nick used to prefer them over Turkey for Christmas- and he can understand why his appearance might freak the pampered pre-war creature out, but did it really have to attack him every damn time it saw him? He’d think the lousy thing had a vendetta against him, except it did that to everyone who dared cross its path, he’ll never admit out loud that he got a kick out of seeing it terrorize Myrna- loudly smacking the chained cans around with its beak, unfurling its wings and hissing whenever she tired shooing it away. Later he’ll question Sole about why- out of all the possible pre-war animals they could have picked from- why did they have to chose a goose?

Danse: Seeing a fully grown man in full power armor try to run away from a 3kg bird on the war path was the highlight of Sole’s week, seeing him fall over a melon patch- the same one the bird was apparently guarding- in his mad dash for freedom almost had Sole pass out from laughing so hard, when they finally gather themselves enough to assist the paladin he’s red from embarrassment and doesn’t talk to them until the bird is removed from his immediate vicinity, and even then it takes an hour to get a word out of him, he requests that Sole keep their “feral animal” away from the Prydwen, least it knocks someone off the railing or worse- attack Elder Maxson.

Piper: She’d been threatened, she’d been poisoned, she’d experienced attempts on her life and reputation since becoming a reporter. But nothing rattled her quiet like Sole’s relic of an animal companion, its weird elongated neck, those beady soulless eyes, the fact that it could apparently smell fear because it honed in on her like a missile whenever it was in range- it was always a mad dash to put anything or anyone between her and it, soles laughing never helped one bit. She writes a small article on the dangers of owning poultry out of spite and outright refuses to let Nat near it.

Preston:He’d forever be grateful to Sole for all they had done for the Minutemen and the Commonwealth, and if that meant he had to face “Guinevere” from time to time than so be it- this is what he tells himself, what really happens is he usually sees the bird before it sees him and starts running in the opposite direction, unfortunately his sudden movements usually catch said birds attention and it gives chase, hissing as it gains on him like some sort of demon, when it inevitably catches up to him it usually takes him to the ground where he loses his hat, if it doesn't manage to take him down he’s learned that it can’t climb (but it can swim, the water is not a safe place), and there are many trees around Sanctuary, one of which he usually ends up in, waiting for the thing to loose interest and leave (preferably permanently), this is a common occurrence, so common that he has to frequently change his patrol route, because if he doesn't the bird ends up figuring it out and waits in ambush for him, he’d honestly rather deal with raiders.

MacCready: When he first meets the bird he bends down to greet it, as is custom with other small domestic animals. Unfortunately Soles evil, horrible pet takes it as a threat and then goes for his eyes. He screams, flailing back. It fucking hisses. All trust in new animals is lost that day, and now he has more than just the Gunners to look out for, because the “goose” always seems to have its sights set on him. He walks on eggshells around the bird and, even though Sole says it only attacks him because it sees his tension as a threat, he can’t bring himself to let his guard down around it. Ever. He swears that it looks at him funny, like it’s plotting something, probably his untimely death.

Strong: He threatens to stomp on it when it hisses at him, his threatening stance only serves to enrage the creature more. It earns his respect, he has never seen anything channel the amount of rage this tiny monster does, he doesn't understand why Sole finds it so amusing that he and the screaming ball of hate get along so “well”.

X6-88:When he first sees “Dolorous” he has to wonder if the Institute had created the thing, when Sole tells him that it was frozen alongside them and their family he can’t help but wonder why a bird of all things was allowed a place in a vault over a potential human, and when he finally meets Soles pet he thinks he understands why they decided to put it on ice- to keep it locked away from the outside world where it couldn’t hurt anyone anymore. He uses the Institute’s standard non-lethal defensive tactics, but still ends up with a face full of feathers and ears full of Sole’s obnoxious laughter- he did manage to throw the bird off a roof once, only to find out that despite its size it could fly really really well, Sole didn’t talk to him for a week after that and he’s sure in that week the bird kept shooting him smug looks. Sole’s not allowed to bring it into the Institute.

Ada: She just kind of idles there unsure of what to do whenever the goose decides to attack her, at least it doesn't do any damage and it wears itself out eventually, she doesn't know why Sole finds it so funny. Shes tried offering it scrap as a truce but so far nothing has prevailed, the goose still attacks.

Old Longfellow:He’s seen some messed up things in the fog in his time, it does things to creature and people- takes the fear right out of them and replaces it with something hungry and manic, but, somehow Sole’s pet bird manages to put that lost fear right back in them, it’s call carrying better in the dense air than most others, giving it a booming eerie quality that has the likes of wolves and trappers scampering away, those that are brave enough to investigate are blindsided by a pure white bird that blends so well into the fog that you can barely see it in front of you- all of these qualities he’d be grateful for, makes his job a lot easier, he just wished the thing would stop attacking his legs every time he talked, Sole says its because the fog has it tense and all the new things has it wound up, but he thinks it’s just an asshole.

Porter Gage: He threatens to shoot the thing and Sole threatens to punch his teeth in if he did. So now he’s stuck with another animal themed lunatic, except this one really is an animal and it’s only a lunatic around him, as it seems to love the shit out of Sole. He hates that fucking bird. When the Overboss isn’t looking he glares at the bird and he swears it glares right back but that might just be his own bias on how much he does not like the animal, no matter how loud Mason sings its praises- out of fear he bets.

Addendum:I do not have a beta reader and I am dyslexic, I do proof read everything but am bound to make mistakes- and I would like to apologise in advance for any I have missed.

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bearotonin-international · 8 months

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i want you to know that when i was a kid i was really into polar animals so my mom got me a polar bear stuffed animal that came with a documentary and when i watched it and learned that polar bears eat seals instead of being friends with them i cried and my mom decided i wasn’t allowed to watch that movie again

we're sorry for that sad experience learning that this silly goober

is also a lethal beast

#responsible bear programming #<< that is our tag for bears doing what they naturally do #and a reminder to everyone that as sweet and silly and pettable and adorable bears look. they are dangerous predators #and you should under no circumstances approach or try to pet them #lethal beast #ask

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huskeddevotee · 3 years

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Borderlands 3 and the Powerful Man + Crush on woman = Powerful Woman phenomenon

A common complaint in BL3 is how we get spoon fed a narrative of powerful women and girl bosses, without ever seeing strong female characters. No one is actually interesting or with much substance. With the problem of a false feminist narrative, I've had a nagging question in my mind since I first played:

What's up with the crushes?

Zer0 has a crush on Lorelai.

Fl4k has a crush on Ellie.

Troy has...a thing, for Aurelia.

Lorelai is an enby who presents and mostly uses feminine pronouns, and is a leader of a small Atlas soldier group fighting Maliwan. Zer0 is an enby/of indeterminate gender who presents and uses masculine pronouns, and is an Atlas spy and assassin.

Ellie is the owner of the Catcharide and the Sanctuary III's mechanic. Fl4k is an enby bot who is obsessed with death and the hunt.

Aurelia is an older woman who is rich and full of bravado, though not to the point of unclassiness. Troy is a leader of a cult and is both aggressive and intelligent.

So, this doesn't look bad so far. But look closer and it looks...weird.

We never see Lorelai and Zer0 interact bar an Echo log and a dialogue that may or may not play from Zer0. Troy and Aurelia are fundamental opposites; Troy is a grungy, crass, lowerclassmen, Aurelia is an elegant, classy, hyper-class-motivated woman who detests reprobates. Aside from a one-night stand which is ooc for both, they have no relationship.

And Fl4k and Ellie…

Fl4k flirts with Ellie once.

And its not even flirting.

When the player meets Ellie, if they play Fl4k, their line is "You've got admirable heft, girl."

I am a fat girl. If someone tried flirting with me by telling me I was fat enough for them, that person would be maced. That isn't flirting. It has no grounds for a relationship, but because GB says so, Fl4k says this as a way of showing they like Ellie.

Now, let's take a look at the boy and enbys.

Troy is a ruthless maniac with a taste for violence and attention. He controls the CoV, even killing a powerful Siren, Maya. He is dangerous. He is depraved. His thing is that he has the masses to throw against whoever oppose him, and years of being out of the spotlight has even turned him against his sister. He's off the rails and taking control.

Zer0 is a hyper-skilled assassin that is 10 steps ahead of everyone they encounter, predicting enemy plans before they are even made. They are lethal with the blade and incredibly agile, striking fear into their victims with their mystery and oddness.

Fl4k is a bloodthirsty stalker of men, obsessed with appeasing death after gaining sentience and revels in the fear of their enemies. They've tamed vicious beasts and what they can't sicc the pets on, they take down with a bullet to the head.

Ellie is a mechanic.

Aurelia is a rich woman who's good at hunting.

Lorelai is a murderous batista.

Now, the girls are not bad characters. I like them all.

But why do these men like them?

There is no reason or precedent. We have no reason to think these characters have chemistry bar being told there's something there. And all of them are straight - this is notable because the samesex relationship was done wonderfully. They showed chemistry and genuine romance between Wainwright and Hammerlock, why couldn't they with the trio of heteros?

Because there was nothing to push with Wainwright and Hammerlock.

Every single female character that didn't die, we are told is powerful, a strong woman, a boss lady.

They weren't. They were stupid, brash, arrogant, and did nothing to advance or control the plot. They told you where to go, and someone else told you what to do. Lilith has nothing to do until the end of the game. Tannis is a factor for 3 things. Ava does nothing ever. Ellie doesn't do anything. Lorelai doesn't do anything.

Not even Tyreen or Aurelia do anything. Troy does everything for Tyreen until he dies, and Aurelia just taunts you over the Echo and shoots at Hammerlock. On Promethea, Rhys tells you what to do. On Eden-6, Wainwright tells you what to do. On Nekro, Typhon tells you what to do.

For a game all about strong women, the women have no autonomy and its the men doing everything and moving the plot forward. The only female character that does something significant is Maya, for dying and directly encouraging Troy's abandoned character arc.

So, we have female characters who aren't convincing as strong, powerful women.

We know Ellie and Aurelia are powerful and strong - they're fan favorites. Everyone loves Ellie, and for the ten people who like TPS, Aurelia is great fun. Lorelai needed convincing the most.

What's the easiest way to hammer in "See? They're strong and powerful!"?

Make a strong and powerful male/male presenting character have a crush on them.

Zer0 is scared of Lorelai and likes it, even messing up the haiku when meeting her. Fl4k admires Ellie’s body - which I’ll get into in just a moment. Troy bottoms for Aurelia. These guys are intimidating and dangerous, so them falling for x woman means x woman is a strong, feminine force that allures them with her strength.

Wainwright and Hammerlock are good because they were allowed to be a couple. They were just in love and you can see it. The trio never romantically interact beyond telling you "I, scary man, want this woman to step on me" in different flavors.

And what bothers me the most out of all of them is Fl4k and Ellie. Ellie was never a sexual character. She didn't care how people saw her, and didn't care about whether or not she had a man. As a fat girl, I adored her because it was nice to just see another fat girl not be just a Rebel Wilson fat girl. She talked about her body and was happy with it, but it wasn’t just “I am fat and like to f*ck.��

In BL3, we are constantly reminded that Ellie is desirable and sexy. She tells us she wants to 'show city boys things they only see in nature documentaries'. Everyone's (Sans Zane, bless him) first comment upon meeting her is on her weight and how hot or good it is, rather than saying an actual greeting. You don't do that. You don't greet someone by saying "Wow! You're fat!"

They were trying to be positive about Ellie's body, but instead made the VHs look like feeders. Ellie was positive because her weight did not matter. Making it the only thing about her just...made it weird.

And Ellie and Fl4k's only flirty interaction is Fl4k telling her they like how fat she is.

At least Lorelai and Zer0 clearly say they like something normal about the other. Lorelai comments that Zer0 is tall, Zer0 says Lorelai is scary in good way. Troy and Aurelia is just an allies-with-benefits, they don't have a romantic connection.

Fl4k, if that line was meant to be flirting, outs themselves as a fetishist.

This bad character writing and interaction writing happens because we had to be reminded that these characters are powerful, and the only way was to make other characters say "Wow she's hot." The only reason this didn't happen to the main female cast is because they had a main part in the story - Lorelai, Ellie, and Aurelia are all blink-and-you'll miss it.

The three women not being part of the overarching story means that they don't have a lot of opportunity to show off how capable they are - we have to be told directly, or be shown that they are because someone powerful thinks they're hot. And the thing is, these characters are strong characters, but we aren't allowed to see them be. Ellie was one of the best new characters in BL2, Aurelia one of the favorites of TPS. Lorelai could have been a great character, too. But they just didn’t do anything with them.

And even stranger, they did this thing with Maya and Krieg.

When Krieg first saw Maya, his thoughts were 1, she's a Siren and could kill me, and 2, I am completely enamored with her. In that exact order. But this doesn’t come off as an attempt of spoon-feeding faux girl power because Maya is blatantly a strong female character. Every second with her, she is in control of the situation and active in the plot, both in BL3 and BL2. You don’t need to be convinced that Maya is a powerful woman, so Krieg being in love with her not only works via genuine chemistry, but because how could he not be?

But the difference is, with Maya and Krieg, we actually had decent writers who knew how to write relationships between characters and how to, y’know, develop good female characters.

Which we don’t anymore, evidently.

#bl3 #borderlands #troy calypso #zer0 the assassin #fl4k the beastmaster #probably the only one who actually has a problem with this #whats disappointing is that i do like the idea of zer0 and lorelai #but there isnt enough to convince me that theres genuine chemistry #aside from aesthetic they dont look like a functional couple #i wrote this at 2 am

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cassiecasyl · 3 years

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bittersweet surrender (everything is better now)

My first contribution for @whumpay2021!!

fandom: mcu relationship: Sam Wilson/Bucky Barnes warnings: self-harm, nightmares/flashbacks add. tags: Bucky Barnes has PTSD, Alternate Universe - Angels, Angel Sam Wilson, Angel Bucky Barnes, Recovering Bucky Barnes, Alpine and Redwing as their pets

prompts: Day 9 - gentle/brutal + Day 10 - screaming/silence

note: this fic is based on a headcanon i have about angel wings which i’ve previously written about in this series. I have pasted some paragraphs at the start for better understanding, but I still highly encourage you to check out the original series!

Read on Ao3.

“What are those lights?” Dean eventually asked, wonder and admiration on his face, an expression he hadn’t worn since his childhood was stolen.

“The plumage of an angel possesses a glow specific to the angel,” Castiel explained. “Sometimes, when the angel is around someone they especially trust and care for, this glow manifests in those particles. Nobody really knows what they actually are.”

“They look like fireflies,” Dean stated, but his eyes spoke of a question he was too afraid to ask. Castiel chuckled and agreed before he whispered a little word in Enochian, increasing the expression on Dean’s face. “What was that?”

The angel repeated the word, louder this time. “That’s what they’re called,” he clarified. “It means sparks of emotion, which is contradictory since angels aren’t supposed to feel. With the absence of a soul comes the inability to feel, but somehow, emotions found a way into our beings. These fireflies, as you call them, especially respond to strong emotions, but somehow they don’t resonate with hate, which is one of the strongest emotions. Usually, they show when an angel is around someone they,” Castiel made a quick pause, almost unnoticeable to those who didn't know him, “... love. Those little traitors.”

- After the Flight (The Meaning of Home) by @cassiecasyl

~~~

The poison entered him from the veins in his left arm. It’s still bleeding from the impact, and Bucky thought he saw flashes of bone the few times he’s able to blink his eyes open. He groaned in pain, instictly flinching away from their hands, but his body lay still, obedient. It burned through his system, alighting his insides, flames infecting his body and soul.

Humans always thought of hell as a pit of fire you’re thrown into, or the stake they’d burned witches on. Bucky knew better. Hellfire devoured him from inside. The souls of future victims screamed a haunting melody as they burned.

He remembers being a comet. His wings caught fire in the wind, the Earth rapidly approached to greet him in a lethal hug. Feathers danced back towards the heavens, hopelessly holding out for a home lost.

The inferno inside reached them now, igniting them anew, as if they weren’t injured enough already. It blazed through his grace, touching the very essence of his being, triggering what should never be forced. Tiny blue orbs sprang from his plumage, fighting their artificial light, reflecting in the tears streaming down his face. No. They couldn’t.

A nasty smile echoes in his mind, darting around forever. His heart sinks as his love sings, but he doesn’t feel it. They jab into his arm, cutting something off. He is a machine, easily reconfigured. No. They fill him with foreign hate, and it burns what’s left of him. Blue turns inside out, ablazes in orange before glaring at him in red. Bucky screams.

He screams, but there’s no sound, so he tries again, and again, and again, to no avail. His body is no longer his own. They control the very air he breathes, control the function of his lungs. He could die, here and now, and his body would be none the wiser.

Blood fills his mind, darker than his corrupted sparks. It is splattered all over the place, all over his face and on his hands. He is shaking inside his stoic cage. A tainted feather falls onto the ground, further painting itself with blood. It is surpringly light, considering the state of his wings. They are darkened with ash and charcoal these days, and covered in the grey mud only snow produces.

Winter. That’s what they call him.

He comes when it’s most inconvenient, and leaves only coldness in his wake. Wherever he goes, suffering follows, and even the trees shake with fear. None of them hear him scream.

He tries and tries, screaming until he swears he can feel blood in his throat, and then some more. Louder. Nobody even flinched. Louder. Why didn’t his mouth move, why were his tears only an extension of hellfire? His eyes burn, but winter freezes him before a tear ever leaves his eyes. They are as trapped as he is. Bucky screams, because that’s all he could do anymore. He screams over the roaring flames and the souls haunting him. He screams, but it never passes the barrier of his skin.

Bucky screams.

He screams until another voice joins him. “Bucky!” It was familiar panic, or worry. Hands collide with his freezing skin, and it’s burning again, oh god, they’re burning him again. He doesn’t even remember what he did to deserve this. Bucky kicks and flails, blind because they control his eyes, but his body is his.

A scream thralls through his ears and he stops and opens his eyes, every nerve on high alert. The dark room seems familiar, but Bucky can’t quite place it. There are shadows playing with him, and the moon, ever the creep, smiles into the window. A night light burns on the nightstand on the other side of the bed.

Brown, worried eyes catch his. Bucky stills, breathing heavily. Sam. His wings are angled slightly in alarm, showing their light brown freckled underside. He relaxes as Bucky stares, the hellfire and ice slowly replaced with softer warmth.

Hazel fireflies surround Sam’s wings, standing out more now that he had closed them. On the upside, his wings are colorful; his primary feathers are black and white, covered by grey secondaries. In the middle, they meet his back in a golden brown, blending into his sepia skin. He is beautiful, hoping eyes a promise of home, sparks untainted by hate.

Bucky reaches out, daring to search for contact, for comfort, slowly enough to ask for consent. Silver light reflects on his metal arm, and he is back there, with them in his veins, no, cables, controlling, controlling, controlling. Bucky recoils, scared of what his hands will do when they meet Sam. He can’t hurt him.

He can’t, he can’t, he can’t—he already did. Red splotches obstruct his vision, much like the blood he shed when they first met. When the hate still fueled him, rage dancing in his bones, hellfire in his veins, so hot it’s freezing him. When his sparks were still tainted red, a supernatural beast scaring its next victim just for fun. Nowadays, they usually don't show at all. He’d lost them to the winter.

Though, he means to see their glowing eyes in the corner of his own. He shudders, unsure whether his body follows the motion. No. Bucky shakes his head as he fights against the ice in his lungs. He can’t hurt Sam. Not again. Blood fills his vision, or maybe the moon hides behind clouds, too scared of the monster he is. Too scared to witness a murder between lovers, because one can’t trust his mind. His mind that screams for blood.

Blood, blood, bloodbloodbloodblood—

Pain stabs through him and he stills. Bucky blinks, looking into worried eyes that break his heart. He’s so sorry. The air he sucks in is a weird mix of warm and cold, of dry heater and cold night. He stares again, and thinks that maybe a tear escapes his eyes. He’s still an angel, not a machine. Machines don’t cry.

His hand must’ve found his wings, because that’s where the pain pulses from, sharp and attentive. There’s blood on his hands, but it’s his own, so it’s okay. His fingers graze another feather, thumbling on it and pulling slightly. It was the only thing he could do. Tears run down his face, weirdly warm - everything he is, is frozen, so why aren’t they? - and dropping to his chest and he knows he can’t stop them.

His shaking fingers lose grip on his soft plumes tainted with blood, and he desperately tries to get it back, to get it under control again, to just feel what he deserves— A hand stops him, burning him with the contact. It’s not letting go, even as Bucky struggles against it, but carefully leads his hands forward, away from his wings. Bucky looks up at Sam, blinking through the tears and an apology on his tongue.

Sam wraps his arms around him and Bucky falls into him as he melts. “It’s alright, you’re gonna be alright,” he assures him, and Bucky latches onto it as he rides through another wave of tears. Sam’s warmth is so drastically different from the one he dreamed about— comforting, soothing, calm, safe. He nudges his head into the crook of Sam’s neck, breathing in his home and the sweet nothings Sam hadn’t stopped saying.

“Hey, remember when we were racing in the sky?” Sam asks as Bucky’s breathing steadies. He continues after a moment as it becomes clear that Bucky won’t answer—but the fallen angel doesn’t feel judgement coming from his lover. “And the sun kept hiding behind clouds, so you decided to be Icarus?”

Bucky chuckles. “And you almost flew into a bird,” he recalls.

“Almost,” Sam repeats, chidingly, but not without a smile in his voice. Bucky glances up at that. Before, he had been staring into nothing, too afraid to look the other angel in the eye, but now, all he could see was the homely beauty. The moon’s cold light clashed with Sam’s warm skin tone, darkening it like a sunset.

“Anyway, you flew past the clouds and you would’ve flown into the sun, if I hadn’t caught up to you in time.” Bucky grins up at him. He remembers that day. It was one of the the first time flying since he’d escaped, and the first time he’d made it that far up. By the time he was past the clouds he was positively basking in the sun’s glory and in happiness. And then Sam came, almost golden in the sun, and his luck had been complete.

“If you’re trying to use this story as a moral, it’s kinda working,” Bucky teases, reveling in Sam’s snort. Right when he wants to cuddle closer, they’re interrupted by an ear-shattering screech that’s trying to impale Bucky’s sensitive ears. Sam just sighs as the noise is followed by a cat hissing.

He rubs over Bucky’s right arm before he quietly stands up, and Bucky whines at the loss of contact, at the warmth leaving him. It’s cold without Sam, but he keeps the thoughts of winter at bay by ignoring the moon in favor of watching Sam open the door. He quickly ducks as Redwing shoots through the opening, and almost stumbles on Alpine in pursuit. The cat has his eyes keenly set on the bird, who is now circling the ceiling in panic, calling out again. Bucky chuckles.

He welcomes the cat as he jumps onto the bed and lies down next to his angel. Bucky’s hand automatically finds its way to the soft and fluffy body, petting him until purrs erupt. He laughs at Sam’s exasperated face as he tries to get his bird to land or just calm down in general.

“You really gotta teach your cat some manners, old man,” Sam tells him and he laughs.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Bucky grins innocently. Sam rolls his eyes in response, but the smile playing on his lips isn’t missed to Bucky. Redwing finally lands on Sam’s shoulder and the angel gently offers his hand to him. The bird nuzzles it, chasing the darkness it brings.

Bucky watches them. He’s staring again, he knows that he does it a lot - Sam keeps pointing it out - but he can’t help he lopsided grin his mouth morphs into at the sight of his family. Alpine had fallen asleep, his fur tickling Bucky’s belly. Right here, at this moment, he is happy. It is weird how fast his weird little family cheered him up.

Sam looks back at him, his dumbass bird on his shoulder, his eyes undecided between annoyance and love. He thinks his heart might burst with all the love it’s not used to holding. There’s a new light there, suddenly, blue and frazzling. Bucky blinks, trying to chase it from the edge of his vision. It’s just his mind playing tricks on him.

But then Sam’s whole face lights up. He moves forward slowly, as to not scare Redwing again, and sits down on the bed. Bucky quickly glances back to the side, and then does a double-take. There, caressing his damaged wings, are a few little blue orbs. He cries out in surprise, covering his mouth, tears returning to his eyes. This isn’t real, he tells himself. It couldn’t be. They’d turned them red, replacing all he had with their hate, but now his body is brimming with love instead of hell.

Bucky looks back at Sam, and sees understanding love reflected back at him. He reaches out, closing the distance between them until their lips meet in a kiss. The warmth is overwhelming, but Bucky doesn’t want it to end. He got his sparks back, he was no longer corrupted, broken. He was happy, sappy enough to cry joyous tears as he kisses the man who made all of this possible, who was the reason for all that was good in his life.

“Thank you,” he whispers in-between kisses, his heart jumping with every beat, dancing in love. Blinking blue mixes with soft hazel, creating a stylised night sky, completed by the colors of their wings. Bucky puts all the overflowing love into the kiss, his hands flailing to get Sam closer, and Sam returns the favor.

But then, Bucky moves the leg against which Alpine is resting. The cat wakes up instantly and voices his complaint in a confused meow. He breaks the kiss, softly chuckling into shared air before leaning back to take care of his fluffy child, leaving Sam to do the same with his feathery kind.

~~~

taglist: (lemme know if you wanna be added or removed!) @starrynightdeancas @spookyscarykittycat @sherlock-who-mentalist @lost-lunar-wolf @aniridescentdreamer @aixabi

#sambucky #self-harm tw #nightmares #angst with happy ending #hurt/comfort #fluff #angel au #Whumpay2021 #my fic #tfatws

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bangtan-sinnamons · 4 years

Text

Exotic l2l

Part 1

⤞ Paring: Snake!Jungkook x Human!reader

⤞ Summary: When you are stranded on an island full of hybrids, a little someone is excited to meet you.

⤞ Genre: Fluff, Romance, Sprinkle of angst, Action

⤞Warning: Blood, fighting scenes (self defense) , claw marks, possessive behavior (not from kook)

⤞ Word count: 1650

My heart says write fluff, but my brain functions in angst. T-T

As the sun was rising Jungkook tries to stretch his body across the caves’s floor, but is met with you drawing him close to seek out the warmth of his body. In seconds, your body is moulded into his, sharing body heat as easily as Jungkook is willing to share his heart with you. He is so overwhelmed with happiness that he begins to nudge his nose into the crown of your hair.

When he takes a deep breath in, the smell of sweetness tickled his nose. It was no longer the disgusting smell of the bear hybrid or the initial smell of salt water when he first met you. Right now, it smelled addicting. Jungkook didn’t realize how effected, he’d be with you literally clinging on him simply to avoid hypothermia.

He tried so hard not to engulf you with his scent. He deemed mixing scents was too romantic and needed consent for. To you, scenting was probably the equivalent of dating. But in the back of his mind he knew the real reason he was stopping himself from scenting you, he was scared. Terrified that he would get too attached. Once he had scented you and when you left, he would long for you and no matter how much he wishes you to come back his words would reach nowhere, but the seemingly endless ocean that separates the both of you.

You began to stir and he withdraws his arms around you, nervous that he would seem overly possessive with you. To his delight, you roll closer and your hand slowly pats his chest in the process of finding his soft hair. He was left breathless with the constant surprises and affection you gave him. Once you felt his locks, you started to caress it delicately.

“Kook…aren’t you supposed to be sleeping? You said you were mostly nocturnal,” you murmured, stroking his hair. “Last time I did this, you fell asleep really fast,”

The disappointment becomes apparent on his face. Of course you didn’t do this because you loved him as much as he did. He was embarrassed that he thought your touch could possibly mean much more than friends. He suddenly felt shy, even going as far as hiding his redden face with his slender fingers.

“Hey. What’s wrong?” you asked, taking a peak at his face. Your hands stopped for a moment. Maybe he didn’t like you touching his hair you thought.

“I missed this. Do it again,” he pleaded. You begin to play with his hair again, but this time with more confidence that he actually liked the feeling.

“Miss what exactly?”

“This feeling,” he snuggled into your hand. The way you caressed his hair was filled with nostalgia. “It reminds me of my caretaker. She use to do this before they dragged me on this island,”

You couldn’t even describe the heartache you were feeling due to his soft and fragile voice. How long has he been left alone? Maybe you should somehow help him find some other hybrid friends before you left? But then how could a human help him?

You were interrupted from your thoughts, when Jungkook suddenly perks up and sits on the floor. His eyes moved with the alertness that comes from anxiety. He heard something, but more specifically someone and he is ready to protect you this time around.

“𝚂𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚋𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎,” a voice calls. His eyes widen at how fast they were approaching.

“Hey Y/n… stay here I’m going to check something,” Jungkook says, hesitant to leave you alone in the cave. His hands were clenched in tight fists by subconscious demands. You tilt your head in confusion, but you nod your head in agreement.

He rushes out of the cave giving one last glance at you curling up to go back to sleep. He wanted to settle this problem quickly so he could snuggle back into your arms.

“𝚂𝚗𝚊𝚔𝚎, 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚗𝚘 𝚜𝚎𝚎,” the voice penetrates Jungkook’s ear and he growls in response. “𝚆𝚑𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚎? 𝙰𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚒𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚢 𝚖𝚎?” he snickered. The lynx was ridiculing him. He could see the lynx’s mouth beginning to form into a vile smirk, a smile that said lets fight.

Jungkook scans the forest and its surroundings, he was worried that this was a part of scheme and it wasn’t just this lone lynx asking for a fight. “What do you want?”

“𝚂𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚎. 𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚑𝚎𝚛. 𝚂𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚝𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚖𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚑𝚒𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊 𝚑𝚞𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏.” Despite Jungkook trying to block his way, the lynx continues approaching closer to the cave, “𝚂𝚘 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚖𝚘𝚟𝚎. 𝚝𝙷𝚊𝚝 𝚠𝙾𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚋𝚎 𝙶𝚛𝙴𝚊𝚝,” The lynx tried to push him aside, but Jungkook doesn’t budge.

Staring became the only form of communication between the two hybrid. Both of them were not backing down.

“Jungkook? I thought I heard something, so I….” Your voice was a distraction. A fluttery feeling formed in his stomach and his head buzzed with anxiety, he looked back at you. The urge to make sure you were okay overrode the current stare-down.

The second Jungkook’s eyes left the lynx, the sly hybrid slams his fists into his chin. It was harder than he expected, even stumbling back from the force. “Kook?!” You ran over to him while he wipes the blood that drips from his lip.

The lynx couldn’t help, but burst into a fit of laughter. “𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔. 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚗'𝚝 𝚊𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚜 𝚜𝚊𝚢.” The lynx steals a look at you, while Jungkook contemplates on what he should do next. Although it was very subtile, an arrogant smirk formed as the lynx checks you out and Jungkook hisses. He never felt so hungry for destruction, so ready for his animal instincts to kick in and allow himself to throw punches until this lynx was soaked in a pile of his own blood. “𝚂𝚑𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚊 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚢 𝚑𝚞𝚖𝚊𝚗. 𝙿𝚎𝚛𝚏𝚎𝚌𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚖𝚢 𝚙𝚎𝚝.”

How dare he.

If you weren’t standing by Jungkook’s side, it was a guaranteed fact that the snake hybrid would have lunged for an attack. “I don’t know what’s going on, but is it really worth getting bloody over that? Cause obviously I’m no pet,”

“If you’re asking, if you are worth it… then yes,”

You were at a loss for words. You stared into his brown slit eyes burning with anger, and fell silent.

Jungkook still wanted to settle this peacefully, despite the strong urge to wield a few hits…

“Leave.” Jungkook demands. “This person is not worth your time and energy. This person is not worth your time and energy,” Jungkook reminds himself.

The lynx steps closer to the both of you, sniffing the air and his smirk only grew “𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚗'𝚝 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚜𝚌𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚎𝚛. 𝙸𝚝'𝚜 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚜𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚛.” He provokes.

Jungkook lost it. Absolutely lost any rationality left. He landed a stern blow on his mouth. This mouth that talked shit about you. A crack could be heard, but he doesn’t care because the lynx deserved it. Once satisfied he starts pounding the lynx’s eyes. These eyes that dared looked at you with such evil intent.

The snake hybrid couldn’t suppress his animal features any longer and his lethal stare brought regret to the lynx.

“𝚂𝙷𝙸𝚃, 𝚂𝚃𝙾𝙿” the hybrid yelps, trying to dodge the attacks, but Jungkook holds him down by the collar. The lynx became desperate to get the beast off of him. The once egotistical hybrid was now clawing Jungkook’s ribs in distraught.

Jungkook hisses, baring his fangs when the lynx tries to jab a knee to his stomach. Whether it was in contact with Jungkook’s old scars or how he despised the lynx, he only knew to respond through his fists.

His punches were relentless. You belonged to nobody. Especially not this bastard.

“Jungkook!” There was something in that shout, was it pain or disappointment, he did not know. His mind was still hazy and intoxicated with darkness.

Despite how overpowering Jungkook seemed to be, he could still feel the stinging pain as the hybrid digs his claws into him, but right now his main focus was protecting you. Yes, protecting you, but why wasn’t he by your side comforting you? Why was he still hitting the hybrid? He already won this fight. As the realization hits him, his punches were no longer hard and fatal.

He had come back to his senses. No longer worried about the lynx and allowing the beaten hybrid to scurry away into the forest without a second thought.

When Jungkook finally comes into full view, you don’t recognize him. He looked so feral. His lip split, the fact that a large tail had even grown from behind and his fists were covered in blood should have contributed to you shaking in fear, but you don’t. Opposed to how intimidating he appeared to be, you notice how his bottom lip trembled.

You weren’t even aware that you were holding your breath until you ran towards him and melted into his form. Feeling his firm torso and the heart that was racing within. His hands wrapped around you, drawing you in closer. “You were so so cool,” you smiled.

“You’re not scared?”

“Never, but we need to get you clean up,”

He pouted “But…I was going to show you something before a certain somebody came,” He wanted to give you good memories before you leave. Not memories of him being violent, but he can’t say no when you were already dragging him by the hand to the creek. Just being with you made his smile complete.

“Hurry up and get undress, look at all this blood” you pointed, a frown forming on your face, when he walks even slower.

He could feel the heat rise into his face and he paused in his tracks. He had to undress and rinse off in front of you?!

(Tell me if you guys want a Drabble for Kook’s “bath” scene b/c it’s not going to be in part 3. I’ll write it if at least 5 people are willing to read it)

Drabble here!!

Part 1

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falling-heights · 4 years

Note

Hi can I request yan!hcs for 707, zen and yoosung:)) if it’s too much than just any of them💞 your so talented n ily

707

[Forgive me if this doesn’t seem 100% accurate as I haven’t his path yet. I’m just going by what the other paths say about him.]

Now 707 is definitely the eccentric type.

He can and most certainly will brag about how he managed to get you as his s.o. before anyone else.

His obsession would most likely start behind a monitor. His eyes observing you through the camera’s at Rika’s apartment.

After seeing you though, he’ll dig up any information he can on who you are, your past, and any current relationships you may be in.

Plus any dirt he can dig up in case he needs to make a quick threat.

Watching you through his computers will become a new hobby, even more so than torturing Jumin’s poor cat.

He’ll fantasize about doing grandiose romantic gestures all for you.

Much like getting married on a space station.

He may even share such fantasies with you, relishing in your giddy reactions, though he misses the fact that you think he’s joking.

Now obviously Luciel is all too vocal about his desires, only to you of course, and it’ll only be all the more shocking when you realize how serious he is about everything he says.

When you’re life is on the line, however because of the bomb, he immediately steps up to be your knight in shining armor.

He’d take you back to his secret hideout, and he plans to keep you there.

He insists it must be this way, as a way to protect you.

Though he doesn’t realize that it’s him who you need protection from.

You’re life will be filled with nothing but comfort and all you can eat Honey Buddha Chips.

If you’re looking from help, Jumin would be the first to notice any discrepancies.

He would find it odd that Luciel would suddenly lose so much interest in Elizabeth, but more importantly, he would take notice in how little you seemed to show up in the chats anymore, and when you did, it always seemed… off, or at least out of character.

Though that’s as far as he’d be able to get. Luciel is far to protective of you by now to let you just slip through his fingers by someone like Jumin Han.

He’d likely set up a call to Jumin, forcing you to lie about your state of sanity and safety.

Compliance would only be all the more easy to enforce with a sprinkle of blackmail.

This is a dangerous man, and through his joyous and carefree mask lurks a criminal, who has the ability not only harm the ones you love, but also you.

Though of course he’d never do anything to harm you physically.

If worst comes to worst, and you forced his hand on the matter, it would likely be a branding of sorts. A contract to seal your fate to his.

Once he has you, there is no escape except through death, but even that is out of reach because of his constant surveillance.

Your his new plaything, a living doll of the perfect partner.

He likes to think that you were sculpted by some higher being just for him.

________

Yoosung

Such a sweet little boy Yoosung can seem to be~

At least, that’s how he presents himself to you and others.

He can come across as carefree or lazy

Deep down, though, its busy busy busy

He’s the type to constantly be worrying about your safety and happiness.

He’d consider it an honor to be able to see your smile every day

However, if you have yet to even know each other personally, you’ll be nothing but every thought he has until the RFA party. your help, he can break away from the delusion- though it’s quite doubtful if he gives in to his yandere side.

Yes, in the game, he obsesses over Rika, but I’m sure with

In terms of types, Yoosung is a stalker

He can be highly protective though eh possesses little to no physical ability to actually protect you.

He’ll probably pick up a hobby of photography from one of his short-lived clubs. Meaning he’s got quite the collection.

Anything from you out in public to more burlesque subjects like you undressing.

He can also be the type to get jealous easily, but it’s more in the sense of a pet not getting enough attention.

Yoosung’s sanity revolves around you and how you react to his ever-intensifying behavior.

Meaning, if you try to deny the feelings he insists you have for, I wouldn’t count my blessings too soon.

Oh yes, if you push him hard enough, he’s more than ready to end both his and your life.

Poison is his most likely alternative, and he’d likely inject it in you while your asleep.

He’s no brute. Of course he’ll still have a small bit of sensibility in the method of your death.

Whether or not you accepted his feelings, though, the result would be the same.

See, Yoosung constantly doubts himself, and it would be no surprise if he became suspicious of why you said yes.

He’d find ways to make conflict, ways to accuse you of wrongdoings against him although through most arguments you’d be innocent.

If you, in any way, catch this sweet boy’s attention, I doubt you’ll live past the new-found relationship.

Because he’d rather die with your corpse in his ams than let you go.

_______

Zen

Oh dear, it would seem you’ve awoken a beast in this man.

Zen is a control freak, not nearly as bad as Jumin, but it shows in your relationship.

He always wants to know where you are, who you’re with, and when he can see you next.

Don’t be surprise if you’re phone dies and after charging it, you find dozens of missed calls and texts from him. Though of course he could never hold it against you.

[And it’ll nearly kill him if you happen to be the new RFA member.]

Everyone, and I mean everyone will know about your relationship, and just how deep it goes.

He’s predatory, and likes to mark his territory.

He’ll leave love marks in the most obvious and the not-so-obvious places so that people know exactly who you belong to.

His fan group may cause some rough edges, but nothing would be able to keep him away from you.

Controversy or not, you are by far more important than the state of his career.

Now, how would you be able to awaken this irrational behavior in such a man, one might ask?

Most likely, it would be over some cheezy comment that beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and that it’s what’s on the inside that counts. Either that, or you straight up tell him that he’s not your type despite having “flirted with him on RFA chats.

Now something as awfully corny as that would be never taken seriously by anyone else, but we all know the Zen isn’t just someone else.

He’d browse through all his selfies, then start begging for 707 to show him what you looked like. Now of course, being the reasonable type, Luciel would refuse for as long as he could, but a bribe for a one-way trip to see Elizabeth the 3rd would immediately sell him out.

Now onto types: An interesting question for someone like Zen.

He’s into the bold type, someone that can keep him on the edge of his seat. In other words, he likes the occasional surprise.

However, don’t mistake this as an opportunity to take any first steps before him. He always prefers to make the first move, and take the lead of the relationship.

He likes the quiet type, someone who can listen willingly, as he’s a very talkative person. (Especially about himself)

Cuddling is an especially hard-to-break habit with this man. He’ll want to be holding you 24/7

Though, occasionally, even if he tries to hide it from you, you’ll see a glimpse into his darker side.

Thought he’d never consciously hurt you, he can easily lose control.

During heated arguments, it wouldn’t be a surprise if he struck you. And though he may apologize time and time again, and you forgive him time and time again, it’ll haunt him for months on end.

Quite Ironically though, even anyone other than him even tries to touch you, he’ll only see red.

not even you could stop him from beating the shit out of whoever the culprit was. And the worst part, he’s in no way apologetic about it, as he sees it as only protecting you.

He’s not the most idiotic yandere though.

The only reason he’d have to kill if if someone attacked you physically or tried to ruin your image in any way.

Murder is his last resort, but it is in no way beyond his ability.

I wouldn’t trying to turn him down either.

Although he’d never kill you (as you become his point in life), he can most certainly make your life seem like a living hell.

His fans are a lethal weapon, and if he makes mention that you broke his heart, they would all end up targeting you until you agreed to go back to him.

In the end, you’re best just going by everything he says and desires. Because the consequences are far worse than what he can offer you.

#Mystic messenger #mysticmessenger #707 #707 x reader #yoosung x reader #yandere yoosung #yandere #headcanon #yandere headcanons #yandere x reader #zen #request

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assortedasurathings · 3 years

Text

The Lore-Purists Guide To Writing Splices in Tyria (Yes, It’s Lore-Adherent!)

Hello! Now that the Title has got your attention? YUP I’m actually going to prove how ,from a “ Lore Purist “ perspective, you can not only WRITE splices, but do so in a way that is 100% true to ALL given Tyrian lore.

Introductary Terms :

Splice : A character consisting of a hybridization or fusion of two species. GW2 has a class that plays with this already : Soulbeast, but for the purposes of this excersize, those will only be touched on .

Lore-Purist : Oftentimes read as gatekeepers , Lore Purists ONLY accept what is written DIRECTLY in the wiki, or things that came directly from the mouths of devs. Of course, this is usually based on bad experiences with Lore-Lenient folk, oftentimes newer roleplayers in general, thus lending to the perception as Gatekeepers

Genetics : The understanding of, and decoding of, the genome of species, sapient or otherwise.

Part 1 : Hexes, Soulbeasts, and Magick Amok .

Tyrian magic is a fantasic, all-encompassing system of INCREDIBLY diverse spell types . Imagine if you would , throwing light into a prism. That’s how magic works. The spectrum of magic is broad, and it’s uses moreso. Hexes are lore compliant, demonstrated by the Siren’s Reef Fractal, The Foefire Ghosts, The Undead ‘ Charm’ in Some paths of the personal Story, and Even More! , so , as demonstrated by the Foefire , Undead Charm, AND the Spectral Magic At Siren’s Reef, curses are capable of not only altering body shape, but the soul and magic of It’s target. Thus, an easy way to have a splice is just to have your character be cursed. Just, be sure to throw in some /ACTUAL/ Curse-like bits in there. Like being unable to say some words or having an allergy to some oddly-specific but common thing. Soulbeast magic! This is by far the easiest way to do this. Soulbeasts,” can become one in spirit(with their animal). By channeling their pet, they become a single entity, attacking with fanglike dagger strikes and using the abilities of their companion and its archetype.. “ Notice something in the wording there? “ Becoming a Single Entity “ There’s a few ways to interpret this. Either by just “ Buffing” yourself using the power of your animal, or, the more generally accepted, fusing yourself magically into a new beast. Fangs, Claws, tails , Scales, and Burning Breath all possible... And encouraged.

What’s more ? Magic in Tyria is decidedly unstable. Ley Magic Surges , Instabilities in Artifacts, and More can cause a soulbeast to be ‘ Stuck’ in a merge, thus resulting in a splice.. and likely a fair amount of distress over a “ Lost “ companion, depending on how you handle the merging of minds. Part 2 : Asura don’t know Genetics* (*AKA ‘ Anet isn’t consistent ‘ ) It’s explicitly stated that the asura don’t actually understand genetics. This is, of course, Only true at the time the statement is issued. From there we’ve had two pretty impressive peices of genetics-based lore given. Taimi suffers from a genetic condition, a terminal illness which is well understood and treated. The clue-in that this is genetically related is that the treatment isn’t shotgun-style “ throw things at it until it works “ ... That can not only prove detrimental, but outright lethal. Thus, the remaining conclusion, and the one that’s , yes, Genetics related: that asura doctors, if nothing else, understand genetics enough to know that ‘ upping dosages’ when something doesn’t work , or rapidly changing medicine types, probably won’t get them anywhere with terminal illnesses. Unless of course, one wants to say that they magically stumbled along the perfect route to learning about medicine without ever once touching on How illnesses develop. Given the asura tendency towards obsessive learning patterns, it’s doubtful that they’d pick up medicine without picking up anatomy, genetics, and more. Rata Primus Is the 1 absolute in this case. When dealing with plagues, especially ones that are species-specific, tampering with them to get them to jump across species requires some baseline understanding of genetics. You can’t just throw magic at it directionless and expect it to do anything but kill the researchers first. Yet we see those beautiful inquest bastards slowly, if not certainly, tweaking the plague generation-by-generation to adapt to new targets and hosts. while notably being wholly unaffected by it themselves in those first few iterations. Thus,even from a purist standpoint, the Lore has shifted enough from the “ Asura can’t do Genetics “ Time to today. We’re nearly in 2021,it’s time we update our Canon , just like the writers have done with the story itself. Part 3 : The Inquest Can Clone This is where things get fun! So , even without genetics , the inquest are capable of manipulating dragon magics and cloning entire creatures using them. Examples of this are Subject Alpha , An amalgamation of many different dragon magics, the Six Simulacrum (Artificially made) Of dragon minions , And various projects that violently warped the state of their subjects (Subject 6, Thaumonova Fractal ). Kudu himself was even capable of absorbing absurd amounts of dragon magic and staying sane Part 4 : Dragons? Easy. Souls? Easier. Splicing? Why even ask. The extreme ease by which the Inquest manipulates dragon energies is superceeded by one other thing they’re experts at warping.. Souls. In the asura personal story, long before dragons become a hassle for the commander, the inquest are seen fusing souls to Golem bodies as a power source.. so easily, in fact, it can be done without even touching the subject or golem, as well as being done in multiples (Funhouse instance Cutscene). Doxa is one such victim of technology like this going awry.

By this metric, it’s extremely easy to infer that the Inquest are capable of precise tampering with Bodies , souls, or magic as a whole in subjects.. meaning if they felt like it, an abuse of any of these magics would suffice to make a splice : Druid , Soulbeast, Dragon Corruption, Ley Energy, . Or, if you prefer Less magically dubious : Just fusing the two bodies into one.

The Conclusion : The Lore is Hazy. It’s fairly well established that lore in GW2 isn’t IRONCLAD, nor is it very definitively written. We, as players, have seen things go 180 in the drop of a hat. Norn Roleplayers have seen “ All the spirits are dead “ turned into “ All the Spirits are imprisoned “ In the course of 1 single story update. Asura have seen the Inquest go from a fringe group of mad scientists to a Mega-civilization that encompases the bulk of asura population itself. Anet isn’t known for consistent writing, and it’s not our place as players to say they’re concrete, and infallible, in their wording. The long and short of it is, Just have fun Roleplaying. Policing other players based on what they write is outright petty at best, and Full-on gatekeeping at worst. If you don’t want a specific Kind of Player or Character in your guild, Say it outright, Be direct yet Kind in doing so. It’s a stressful world, and the last thing anyone should do is attack a person for the wrong reason when they’re just trying to have fun. Edit : Updated Terminology , removed tooth from Post

#Guild Wars 2 #Guild wars 2 Lore #Asura #Guild wars 2 Asura #Asura Lore #Genetics #Splicing #Roleplay #Roleplay Ettiquite #Inquest #INquest Lore #Anet Writing #Lore Purists #Canon #Rp Canon #Norn Lore #Gw2 Norns #Spirits of the Wild.

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snarwor · 3 years

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moon and old stars - chapter 5

Hey it’s been awhile! I had a nasty muscle spasm in my shoulder I’m still recovering from, but like. At least I have wine now. Which apparently is bailey’a for “time to write daddy kink”. cw for spanking/punishments in this chapter, daddy kink overall. AO3 link at the bottom as usual!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

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Time moved differently aboard Boba’s ship, doubly so in his quarters. Everything held a strange quality to it, and Din couldn’t go five minutes without starting to compare everything to what he lost on the Razor Crest.

Fuck, the Crest.

“You’re thinking again,” Boba said from above, making Din jolt. He’d thought the man was still asleep. “We’re still in hyperspace. Rest.”

“Can’t exactly shut off the worry,” Din said with a huff, trying not to shuffle uncomfortably on the bed. It was large and well-maintained, nothing like the frayed, flat mattress on the—

“You are thinking too much. Need some help with that?”

For the first time, Din met the calm tone with a surge of frustration.

“You’d rather have me as a thoughtless vegetable?” he said, shoulders seizing up even as he spoke.

There was a pause, too long and meaningful to mean anything other than, excuse me?

The tips of Din’s ears went red, and he swallowed a little roughly. He was thankful for the dim light overhead, just enough not to trip in the dark cabin, but enough to make out Boba’s form as he sat up.

“We can go down this route too, you know,” Boba said evenly, with promise behind every word. The curl of his lips around the rounder syllables always did something to Din’s heart, making it skip a beat or two. Now, his heart was beating quickly, with the impending promise of whatever Boba had in mind. “I’m no stranger to those that wish to test me.”

Test him?

“You mean you’ll punish me,” Din said, all his breath leaving him at once with the realization. Boba held his gaze through the dark, and Din took a shuddering breath.

“If I have to. This is built on respect and trust and rules, jat’ika. I won’t have you breaking them without recourse.”

His curiosity got the better of him. “What kind of recourse?” He didn’t remember a time where his voice felt smaller than it did now.

“Nothing permanent, but you will remember it.” Din shivered, excited about the prospect despite his hesitation. “We will not have to find that out if you cooperate and behave.”

Behave. The word grated on Din just a little bit, making him huff a little. “I’m meant to be a good boy for you all the time, then?”

Boba’s gaze held a glint of amusement, which only aggravated him further. “It’s not about what you’re meant to do, little one. It’s about what you want to do.”

“Then why even do this? Why even try to deal with me if I’m not going to be a kriffing—”

“You will want to think very carefully about your next words, my boy.” Boba’s voice was a vow, a foretelling, and Din was hurtling into the prophecy as easily as gravity. Din swallowed.

“No I don’t.”

The electric quality of the air could have sparked. In one swift movement, Boba had the lights on and was standing, still completely nude, and looming over Din’s side of the bed.

“What’s your word?” Boba asked. His stillness was somehow more threatening in the moment than his swift, lethal movements just before. Din’s breath caught in his throat as he looked up, embarrassment flooding his veins.

“B-beskar,” Din whispered.

“Will you use it if it goes too far?”

“Yes,” Din answered, somehow even softer.

“Yes what?”

“Yes daddy.”

“Good.”

Despite the approval in his words, Boba still pulled him over his lap, exposing his sleep-warm back to the chill in the air. Din made a small noise and squirmed, instinct telling him to squirm away, get himself out of danger. The headiness of skin contact dulled the urge, however. His body greedily accepted the wide thighs pressing into his chest and gut, and to his mortification, his cock gave a valiant twitch of effort.

Nothing got past Boba. “Easy, boy. Keep moving and this will go much worse for you than it already will.”

It was the cool steel in his tone that stilled Din in an instant.

“Keep your hands on my legs. If you scratch me, you will regret it.”

Din just nodded, rendered mute by the whole situation. To his confusion, Boba did nothing, just sat there with one hand on the back of his neck, the other gently moving him into position. Logically, Din knew there was just one direction for this to go, from the exposed state of his backside and his prostrate body. His cheeks burned with anticipation.

“You were behaving very badly for me, boy,” he began. “I do not tolerate that kind of behavior with those I invite to my bed.”

Din’s eyes prickled with unshed tears and a lump formed in his throat. He hung his head, knowing he’d disappointed Boba.

“You will get ten.”

Ten what?

“If you try to block them or move, you will get five more. I expect you to count for me. Is that understood?”

“Elek.”

“Jate.”

Din was trembling. Not in fear, but in anticipation, curiosity still lighting up every nerve in his body. Was he actually about to do this? Kriff, but the disappointment in Boba’s tone made him want to hurl himself out the airlock. At least this would help fix things.

And he certainly wasn’t thinking about anything other than that.

Boba’s hands trailed almost lazily over Din’s back and sides, like he was gentling a frightened beast. A self-loathing part of Din’s mind screamed that he didn’t deserve it, but Din could not hear it through the blood rushing through his ears. His skin sang at every touch, and little by little, he relaxed into the position, almost melted.

And then the first slap to his ass came.

He nearly choked on his tongue, eyes flying open to stare at the floor in shock. It was such a different sensation than the touches Boba had given him before, and it felt like a flash-fire, all-consuming and commanding.

Boba waited until Din got over the initial surprise.

Oh.

“Solus, daddy,” he choked out, fingers flexing around Boba’s ankle.

A hum from above, the only indication of him having heard Din. Boba didn’t think he’d take to this so well, but Din was a man of many surprises, so he should have hoped for the best. Din deserved someone thinking the best of him, anyway.

Boba kept his hand over the rapidly-heating skin of Din’s backside, not rubbing, just feeling the sting there. He gave another slap, making Din jolt again, like he hadn’t been expecting it at all.

“Two…”

“Hm?”

“T’ad, t’ad, ni ceta, ni—”

“Hush, sweet boy.” Boba rubbed a hand up his spine, giving him the touch he so craved, a praise written on every brush of his fingertips. Din shivered, the tremble in his body returning for another reason. Two spanks in, and Boba could already feel the minute movements of Din’s hips, just a little roll of them, desperately seeking friction. Any other time, Boba would have chided him for it, called him on his needy behavior, but it was important that this punishment served its purpose well.

Boba landed the next slap over where he’d put the first, keeping his hand there to feel and knead at the reddening flesh underneath. Din let out a keen. He was a bounty hunter, he had scars littered over his body, but nothing had wrecked him so swiftly, so easily as this.

Din kept counting in Mando’a, and almost broke at number seven. The prickling behind his eyes had turned to complete tears, and like the first time they’d come here, the first time Din had been granted access to Boba’s lap, they fell hard and without end in sight. He hiccupped out a pathetic, “E’tad,” and Boba’s chest ached, watching his little jat’ika fall apart like this.

“I hope you know it hurts me as much as you to do this,” Boba said softly, and the sniffling turned into a sob, a wordless apology into his leg, where Din was clutching desperately. “I know you can be so good for me, little one. I know you can.”

Another slap rang through the room, and Din could hardly spit out the word for it, trembling like he was. He couldn’t even see the pattern in the durasteel floor anymore, his eyes were so full of tears. He pressed his face into Boba’s leg, the scar-smooth skin warm over the hard muscle there.

“Sh’eyn, daddy. Sh’eyn,” he cried.

He was almost hysterical, which brought Boba’s hand back up the tense muscles around Din’s spine in long, slow pets that calmed him back down. They scratched at the nape of his neck, just in the nerve-heavy area there that made Din’s voice go high around his weeping. It anchored him back down, and a squeeze to his leg told Boba that Din didn’t need to use his word.

“There’s just two more, sweetheart. Ner kar’ta, can you take two more?”

“‘Lek, elek…” Din whispered harshly. “I can be good.”

Boba steeled himself against the surge of pride that rushed through his chest at the words. “I know, jat’ika.” He followed with another hard spank, right at the sit-spots where Din would feel it most. He couldn’t waver now, knowing he was what Din needed most right now.

Din would be surprised, later, at how vocal he’d been. He was so soft-spoken and quiet normally, and he knew his throat would be sore from the noises he was muffling into Boba’s leg. His hands shook as he held on, and his voice shook when he spoke. “She’cu, daddy.” His voice had returned to a whisper. Boba knew he was at the end of what he could take, and was relieved he didn’t have to add on any more punishment like he’d threatened to.

“Good boy. So good for me.” Boba took his time, letting Din get back to a steady pulse before laying the last slap down. His poor, sweet boy. He’d be feeling it for a long while.

“T-ta…”

Come on, darling, Boba thought.

“Ta’raysh.”

There’s my boy.

Din melted, no more strength in his body. Boba scooped him up, pulling him back into his arms again. He looked a right mess, tears all over his face and up into his hair, from where he’d been hanging his head while spread over Boba’s lap. His body still shook with the force of his tears. Boba laid little kisses over his face, pressing away the tears and sadness that lingered.

“You did so good for me, jat’ika.” Boba slipped a hand in his hair, pulling his head toward Boba’s neck. In the warm crook of his neck, Din felt safe and sheltered. All he could sense was Boba. There were no other things to think about right then, just him. Slowly, the trembles fizzled out of his body, and left him almost cold.

“Cold, daddy…” Din said softly. He got a kiss to his temple.

“Thank you for telling me. Let’s get you cleaned up and set in bed. You need some rest. Daddy loves you so much, cyare.” Din just nodded at the love laid on him, too out of it to protest. He was carried to the small ‘fresher, and propped up against the wall while Boba cleaned him up.

When Boba wiped away the snot and tears from his face, he made a soft sound of protest, but was shushed by a kiss to his nose, followed by a gentle press of Boba’s forehead against his. It stilled all thoughts and quaking insecurities in his mind, leaving him boneless and floating. He knew, distantly, that he should feel some kind of shame and even pain from the spanking Boba gave him. Oh, how the mighty have fallen, Karga would have said. Even Cara would have looked at him differently, had she known.

But Boba promised, no one else would know about their relationship within Boba’s chambers. Boba had not broken a promise to him yet.

“There’s my beautiful boy,” Boba said when Din was all cleaned up. The punishment had killed his sex drive somewhere along the way, which Din was glad for. He felt more bone-tired than he’d felt in a long time. Boba stole another kiss from him.

“I’m—”

“Hush,” Boba interrupted him. “We’ll talk about it after you’ve gotten some rest, alright?”

Din met his eyes, the first time since challenging him. He saw no disappointment, couldn’t even imagine any lived behind those eyes. Boba was comfortable and relaxed, and for all appearances looked pleased with him. Praise and admonishment hadn’t been able to penetrate past his beskar before, and Boba had managed to worm his way into a very desperate, starving part of his soul, and nursed it back into some level of stability. He didn’t have any kind of protection against this, but…

Boba had never given him a reason to guard against his advances.

Even through the beating his backside had taken, the rules and the humiliation, Boba had been very careful to protect Din. He’d barked out for the others to turn away back on the Lothal moon, he’d carried him away to safety through the skies, checked and treated him for injuries, and taken him apart to be put back together with unerring ease.

He nodded. “Thank you.”

It was as he fell asleep, drifting in Boba’s arms on the bed, that he realized he felt wholly complete for...the first time. There were no fantasies he could conjure, no scenarios or fleets of fancy, that he could think up without Boba being at the center of them all.

As much as he would have liked to protest and say his first thought was “well, shit,” it wasn’t true. His first thought was “good.”

Read on AO3. | Part 6

#my writing #moon and old stars #star wars fanfiction #mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin/boba fett

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