#Weaving spiders welcome | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

acesw · 4 months

Text

UTTU Part 1: The Magazine

Welcome back to A.D. doing mega lore posting because good god this will never get old. But anyways, this post will be about UTTU and not only about their magazine, but also about their Flash Gathering. (This also counts as my birthday gift for Sonetto since she likes being info-dumped, probably. Happy Birthday Sonetto!)

“Standing in the shadow, we tell all the stories which were once unknown, like a weaver in silence, or a moth light trap in the dark night.” - Pandora Wilson, UTTU Journalist

First, who even is UTTU?

UTTU Magazine is an arcanist magazine organization that releases stories about notable arcanists. According to Blonney, they are "the greatest fashion and arcanist information magazine." They operate globally as well as privately, going so far as to hide the physical identities of their reporters and their main headquarters.

There’s not a lot of things known about how UTTU works, but what we do have is information about their magazine and their Flash Gathering event, which we can start off from there. But first, what does the name mean?

The name ‘Uttu’ comes from the Mesopotamian goddess of the same name, one of Sumerian origin. She was associated with weaving (and spiders but the claim of Uttu being envisioned as a spider is limited).

They sell their magazines in the form of seasonal subscriptions, advising to only purchase the subscription and not much else. From there, they create the articles and send out monthly updates.

UTTU also hosts “Flash Gatherings” for the game’s events as a reading club, where the arcanists are invited to see the UTTU market situated in the area of where the in-game event takes place; they can read the Flash Journal and FLASH:FAME, obtain FAME cards from retails, and get rewards. I’ll get into this in Part 2.

First, we'll explore the magazine since there's so much questions surrounding them.

UTTU Magazine

Of course, the magazine is the main brand of the organization. The magazine has properties in which only arcanists are able to read it (speculation), and it has a scheduled self-update to release new articles/artworks.

The reason why we are able to see such a large amount of information is because from what can be told, Vertin is an avid collector of this media, even being titled “Top Collector” in the introduction of the Green Lake Flash Gathering.

Anyway, the magazine has a very interesting way of how it works, and they even have their own reading guide, including instructions of how to manage the magazine and activate the self-update.

Reader’s Guide and Self-Updating system

Welcome to UTTU. This is a magazine.

Don’t skip this page. Unlike those useless prefaces filled with boring platitudes, this one is important.

1. Don't doubt the truth of UTTU. We only tell true stories that happened to real arcanists.

2. You only need one copy of UTTU. After you make the seasonal subscription, the copy will update itself on 15th every month.

3. Whenever the copy updates itself, please place it below a cupboard or the firewood in a fireplace, but do not leave any fire or light. Then step back to 8.8 feet away and wait for 10-15 minutes. It is normal to hear the sounds of sewing and crawling during the update.

4. Don't be confused about the interviews of the artworks. Please note that anything can be an artwork: they can be alive, or dead. Whoever has a story to tell can be deemed an artwork.

5. You might smell a fine aroma from the pages while reading an interview. This is normal.

6. Do not be shocked by live photographs, and do not let any of them come in contact with dark coffee or matches.

8. Keep UTTU away from fire. This is an arcanum magazine and is definitely not fireproof.

9. Although it's not fireproof, UTTU is waterproof, but please do not soak it in water for too long. If you do so by mistake, please prepare enough insect repellent.

10. Don't ask where article 7 is. (lmao)

11. If you see any ads about nightmare recycle on the attached pages, do not call the number on it or make any attempt to catch those monsters. If your children report strange goings-on to you, comfort them with one extra milk candy before bedtime.

12. Try to enjoy reading UTTU.

The way one could get the magazine is buying a seasonal subscription, and upon receiving it you’d have to take care of it regularly since it is delicate. When updating, you put it in a place where you’d most commonly find spiders. That way, these arcane weavers can multiply and add to the tapestry. Additionally, this magazine seems to be a live and interactive type of media, which does explain the “live photographs” and the spiders.

Magazine Contents

Now, what are the contents of the UTTU Magazine?

First, we look at our Role Atlas. Yes, the Role Atlas is involved in this too.

There are categories of our roster that classify them by what they are: Beyond, awakened, arcanist, mixed, and infected. Now, what are each of these?

Beyond: an Arcanist with unexplainable origins not found within Arcanum (Ex: Voyager and aliEn T are aliens born of supernatural causes rather than arcanum. Jessica is a hybrid species of a deer woman (a spirit in Native American myth) and a changeling (a supernatural creature in European folklore) )

Awakened: an Arcanist who was once an object and has been given sentience one way or another (Ex: Sputnik was a regular space probe as the real Sputnik 1 who gained sentience when entering orbit).

Arcanist: A general term for those who are born with a different physiology that makes them able to sense and use arcanum, this is not limited only to human arcanists. (Ex: Door was born of arcanum on Earth and was always sentient thus is not a Beyond nor Awakened arcanist)

Mixed: People who both have the genetics or blood of a Human and an Arcanist. (Ex: Pavia and Satsuki were implied to be born of a human and an arcanist)

Infected: Currently unknown, no arcanists within this category.

They also have a “Bound Volume”, which serves as a gallery collection of arcanists that Vertin has and has not met. Those she (and we) haven't met will be obscured.

The “Artwork”

Artworks in this game are basically the arcanists that UTTU chooses to write about. As long as there is one to tell, they will conduct an interview and report on it. For each artwork they contain: Exhibition details, Item Collection, and Story/Interview.

First, the cover. Made by my friend and fellow lore chat dweller Rabies En., this is what can be made out of what each part of the exhibition details mean:

And of course, the “Completion” date is their birthday.

When it comes to describing their inspiration, it tends to be left on a vague note and left for speculation. While concluding that the first half is the title of the arcanist’s afflatus, the second half has left most people confused. My speculation is that this latter half is something that is related to their job, hobby, skill, or interest.

For example, Balloon Party’s inspiration is quite straightforward: “Remains of a Rock Formation [Mineral] Bones Balloon.” It directly showcases her afflatus and what she is inspired by, which also goes hand in hand as to what her arcane skill is. Meanwhile, Sonetto’s is more vague and unique: “Trained Loyal Dogs [Mineral] Foreign Affairs.” These reflect her upbringing and main interest respectively. With this theory, I concluded that the afflatus and inspiration boost one’s arcanist’s medium, which in turn helps fuel their arcane skill.

Second, the items. All arcanists have a section that lists personal items that closely pertain to their character, usually, these things would be visible on their person. The author analyzes them and relates them to their story and character. And depending on the item, they are priced by clear drops.

Additionally, if a character has a garment that isn't their I2 (e.g. event garments), they will have a special section for a new set of items. (Ex. Sonetto's Parade Anthem garment isn't exactly her I2 outfit, thus she has another set of items that relate to the uniform.)

Lastly, the Story and Interview; Each and every arcanist is interviewed by Pandora Wilson, another fellow arcanist and one whose face is obscured to the world other than a pair of lips.

The first story is a retelling of their background and upbringing, the second is a story about their daily life or lifestyle, and the third is a transcripted segment of their interview. The interview segments usually starts with Pandora greeting and/or asking a few questions towards the interviewee, but occasionally they also include the end of these interviews.

They highlight parts that make the interviewee unique; It exhibits their distinction, their personality, and most importantly, their overall character and the life they lead. These help us learn about the arcanists in a more deeper level the more we bond with them, as well as learning about the world they live in considering how all of them come from different times.

Now, our magazine analysis ends here. Feel free to ask questions and Part 2 is linked below!

Part 2: The Flash Gathering

#reverse 1999 #uttu #lore analysis #say thank you to rabies en for the exhibition guide #heavy sonetto mentioning cause we love her

148 notes · View notes

spacemilkies · 11 months

Text

fractured confections, bittersweet absence (1/?)

pairing: Earth—42!Miles Morales x Spider!Reader wc: 3k+ rating: teen a/n: don't look at me. i'm just writing as it comes to me. we'll see there all these different fic ideas take me. for this in particular, i have everything up to the movie start outlined. i took a few liberties with the timeline. i just have to push myself to write it :(

synopsis: Miguel relies on you to discover a potential anomaly and somehow you become it

Or the one where world 42 never had a Spider-Man but then they do

In a world where alternative universes were nothing more than clichés confined to the pages of fantasy novels, your concerns as a teenager barely in your teens extended far beyond such fantastical notions. The recent addition of supernatural abilities, acquired through a fateful encounter with a dubious arachne during a field trip at a lab conglomerate, had consumed your thoughts. However, all of these preoccupations suddenly lost their significance as the very fabric of your existence crumbled before your eyes.

Echoes of terror-laden screams still reverberated in your mind, mingling with the chaotic symphony of pedestrian and automotive traffic desperately attempting to outrun an impending fate. In the midst of the pandemonium, you struggled to harness your newfound abilities, desperately weaving through the fragmented bodies of disrupted individuals, ephemeral apparitions on the brink of annihilation.

Yet, amidst the turmoil, one memory remained etched in your consciousness with unwavering clarity. It was the image of your best friend's father, seizing you mid-swing, his shattered gaze suddenly focused with newfound purpose. Together, you both tumbled headlong into a blinding burst of radiant light, a tumultuous journey to an uncertain destination.

As you gazed down at the device that had never left your wrist since that pivotal day nearly a year ago, your contemplations shifted from the intricacies of alternate realities to a more fundamental question—what would become of your existence without a tangible world to call your own?

Miguel, whom you swiftly discerned to be a distinct entity from the Mr. O'Hara who once chauffeured you and his daughter to softball practice every Thursday evening, had failed to provide a concrete understanding of the complexity surrounding your being. The only undeniable truth was that as long as the watch remained securely fastened to your wrist, you would be spared the agonizing disintegration that awaited Earth-702, the last vestige of a fading existence.

Earth-702.

The only life you had known reduced to a number.

This enigmatic state of being mirrored the ambiguity that plagued your emotions—a blend of forgiveness and gratitude, still unquantified and unresolved. How could you appreciate and resent the man who had saved you, yet inadvertently led to the destruction of everything you once knew?

For now, you exist as an anomaly entrusted with the task of investigating other anomalies, akin to yourself. A spider-being devoid of a world to safeguard was destined to remain just that—a solitary guardian without a realm to protect.

As you attempted to open the door, your progress came to a halt as LYLA materialized before you. In this constant state of existence, where alternate spider beings surrounded you, the presence of an artificial intelligence like LYLA was a welcome divergence from the norm. If you could practically call it that.

"You just missed Miguel," LYLA chimed, breaking the silence.

A tinge of disappointment washed over you. Miguel was supposed to provide you with an assignment today, and you had eagerly anticipated the opportunity.

“How convenient of him.”

The vague shrug from LYLA hinted at the lack of intention behind the promise from the beginning. With a restrained sigh, you pressed forward, traversing the brief hallway that led to Miguel's office—a space that also doubled as your own.

In the spider-verse association, you held the esteemed position of being its first official member. In simpler terms, you possessed the most comprehensive understanding of the intricate web of activities that kept the organization afloat. You were present when the second spider-being entered the headquarters, and you witnessed firsthand as the building teemed with more individuals from myriad Earths than you could have ever imagined.

With the proliferation of these spider-beings, it became increasingly challenging to distribute the workload. Each spider-being had their own set of responsibilities, both in their home realms and in dealing with one another. Amidst this sea of spider-beings, you were supposed to shine—a silent guardian with untapped potential.

Instead, you found yourself assigned to a desk, monitoring the overall progress of the operation. Miguel preferred to dress it up as a trusted role, acknowledging that not everyone possessed the capacity to grapple with the harsh realities at hand. It was amusing how he believed a teenager trapped within their formative years could shoulder the weight of these adult concerns.

Nonetheless, as an anomaly yourself, you held the title of subject expert in identifying and executing operations to resolve other unfortunate anomalies. Recently, you had grown restless and began to pester Miguel for more opportunities to explore other Earths. It wasn't to say that you hadn't ventured into different realms before. In the beginning, Miguel had no choice but to rely on your abilities in every capacity. However, a persistent fear loomed over both of you—the potential consequences if your device were to be disrupted for even a fleeting moment.

Indeed, that fear coursed through your veins, but you refused to allow it to dictate your life. That was precisely why you had all but demanded to be sent on the next assignment—an insistence that Miguel had skillfully evaded, leaving you feeling slightly defeated.

As you slumped into your seat, a heavy sigh escaped your lips. "What Earth is he even on?" you muttered, the weight of annoyance settling upon you. Almost as if in response to your presence, the displays surrounding your desk hummed to life, illuminating the space with a soft glow.

LYLA materialized by your side, her voice offering a prompt update. "Villain captured on Earth-343. They should be wrapping up soon."

The task at hand hardly posed a challenge beyond your capabilities. There were younger spider-beings grappling with far more daunting situations. You ceased dwelling on what your life would have been like as the Spider-Man of your Earth. You had been too young to even envision your future, let alone prepare for the colossal role thrust upon you in the wake of your transformation.

Amidst your operations, you had heard murmurs of other heroes around your age.

Gwen Stacy from Earth-65.

Pavitr Prabhakar from Earth-50101.

And Margo Kess from 22191.

Their presence evoked a feeling in your chest that you wouldn't readily label as jealousy, but rather a simmering ember that burned hotter than mere contentment.

Occasionally, you engaged in conversations with them, often through the watch devices that connected your disparate realities, providing updates and exchanging information. But there were rare instances when you met face to face. Miguel had often categorized you and Gwen as the "troublesome" stage in your teenage years, a time when you grappled with the complexities of your individual realities. And while he wasn't entirely mistaken, the weight of those challenges felt more pressing in your lives.

Gwen, unlike some of her counterparts, preferred the sanctuary of the headquarters over returning to her home Earth. She seemed perpetually ready for missions, always on the edge of her seat. Upon meeting her, she shared the details of her eventful exposure to the multiverse, beginning with the collision event on Earth-1610B. She had crossed paths with that other Spider-Man... what was his name?

Rising from your slouched position, your fingers danced across the keys, retrieving the name from the recesses of your memory. You settled back into your seat, watching as the screen filled with the image of Miles Morales.

He was certainly... something.

Admittedly clumsy at times, yet he possessed a reasonable level of control over his abilities. Enough, at least, to keep him off Miguel's list of reprimands. Out of curiosity, you toggled his biometrics, allowing the spider DNA coursing through his veins to reveal his Earth designation. But it was within the uniqueness of his profile that you discovered a divergence—his DNA did not match the status of his home Earth.

Earth-42.

You have come across reports mentioning it. According to Miguel, without a Spider-Man to inhabit it, there were no canonical events to monitor. From an operational standpoint, he was correct. However, as you pondered the situation now, you couldn't help but wonder what a world without a Spider-Man truly looked like.

With a few keystrokes, you accessed the live feed, ready to uncover the truth of that reality for yourself.

What you saw, ripped away the lingering shred of sense you had in that moment.

˚₊𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪₊˚

"This is a very bad idea," the voice persisted, echoing through your wrist. However, your dimension device possessed its own isolated network, impervious to interference or removal without Miguel's biometrics. It was a safety measure designed to keep out unwanted disruptions, but it inadvertently granted you a sense of freedom.

Clinging to the shadows, you effortlessly scaled the side of a building, preparing yourself for the leap to the next rooftop. The act of calculating the jump served as a convenient distraction from the persistent voice reverberating from your wrist.

"Like a very bad idea. Miguel is not going to be happy," LYLA warned, its concern palpable.

You let out a snort that held no trace of humor, grunting upon landing and quickly scrambling up the higher section of the architecture. "When is he ever happy?" you muttered. Miguel seemed to perpetually wear a mask of displeasure, never quite content.

Your response sparked yet another stream of concern from LYLA, but at this point, you had effectively tuned her out. The image feed from Earth-42, displayed on your device, paled in comparison to the chaotic reality that enveloped the city. From open flames licking at structures to blaring sirens piercing the air, there was not a single sign of peace to be found.

From your vantage point, you had always recognized the significance of a spider-hero. Yet, in the absence of one, you had simply assumed that matters would resolve themselves. After all, society was an ever-adapting complexity that spanned countless universes. Surely, there were individuals capable of managing the daily operations without the presence of a superbeing.

As you swung through the air, your mind wandered, delving into the intricacies of divergent paths taken by each reality. You contemplated the weight of the missing Spider-Man in Earth-42 and what it meant for the inhabitants of this dimension.

Lost in contemplation, you find yourself perched upon a lofty rooftop, gazing out at the sprawling city below. The bustling metropolis pulsates with life, its energy reverberating through the very fabric of existence. Yet, amidst the towering structures and bustling streets, your attention is drawn to a nearby building adorned with a larger-than-life mural.

The mural, a masterpiece in its own right, pays homage to a fallen police officer—an embodiment of courage, sacrifice, and unwavering dedication. It is a work of art that transcends the limitations of paint and brush, capturing the essence of the hero's spirit. Vibrant hues dance across the surface, blending seamlessly to form intricate details that breathe life into the mural. Each brushstroke tells a story, whispering of the hero's indomitable spirit and the impact he had on those he protected.

As your eyes wander over the mural, a bittersweet mix of emotions washes over you. You are intimately familiar with the displaced canon event depicted within the artwork, having witnessed its replay countless times. However, the absence of the defining factor—the presence of a Spider-Man—leaves a void, an inexplicable emptiness that permeates the scene. It raises profound questions about the nature of fate and the purpose of heroes. Who, or what, would subject people to a twisted reality without the counterbalance of justice and redemption?

But even in the absence of a Spider-Man, you know that humanity possesses an innate resilience. It is a resilience that gives rise to captains of justice, individuals willing to step forward and fill the void, even at the cost of their own lives. The mural becomes a symbol of that resilience, a testament to the indomitable spirit of the human heart.

Lost in your thoughts, a faint sound interrupts the silence, drawing your attention downward. The scuffling of feet resonates against the pavement, and your senses come alive, attuned to the presence nearby. Your head swivels, and your gaze lands upon the source of the sound.

Beneath the grand mural, the atmosphere hangs heavy with a mix of sadness and reverence. The vibrant colors seem to cast a somber aura, amplifying the weight of the fallen hero's sacrifice. It is there, in the fading sunlight, that you spot a solitary figure—a teenager whose face bears a defiant expression, despite the trails of tears glistening in the soft, golden rays. There is an air of vulnerability about him, and his presence captivates your attention.

With nimble and cautious steps, you descend the side of the building, blending seamlessly into the shadows. Your spider-like agility allows you to approach unnoticed, maintaining a respectful distance. The teen remains oblivious to your presence, engrossed in his own world of emotions.

In the pool of fading sunlight, his tear-stained face reflects a myriad of conflicting emotions. It speaks of loss and grief, yet his expression hints at determination and resilience. You are drawn to his vulnerability, unable to resist the urge to understand his connection to the fallen hero immortalized on the mural. It is evident that the departed officer held a special place in the hearts of many, leaving behind an irreplaceable void in the lives of those he protected.

As you observe the teenager's reaction, a sudden crash and the shattering of glass reverberate through the air, snapping your focus away from the impending danger nearby. The symphony of chaos begins to unravel, growing louder with each passing second. Instinctively, your senses heighten, urging you to intervene and prevent the imminent turmoil. Yet, you understand the delicate balance of interfering in the affairs of other realities, knowing that it may have unforeseen consequences.

Choosing to prioritize the safety of the vulnerable individual, you turn your attention toward him, hoping to offer guidance and solace. It is a decision that carries its own weight, for the unknown intricacies of interdimensional travel have taught you that nothing is ever certain or predictable. With a calm yet concerned voice, you address him, your words laced with empathy and caution.

"Hey, it's dangerous for you to be out here," you gently express, aware of the unexpectedness of your presence. However, before you can fully comprehend the impact of your presence, the teen’s demeanor shifts into something decidedly defensive—an oddly quick but reasonable response, given his environment. In that moment, you realize the jarring sight you must present—a being that embodies the traits of both human and spider, suspended in an upside-down stance before him.

As the boy's awe and curiosity leak through his initial defiance, you notice the hard lines of determination softening under the weight of change. There is a sense of similarity there, lost teenage years consumed by destruction.

His bewildered voice breaks the silence. Despite the perplexment, its gruffness cannot mask his genuine curiosity. "What are you?"

A playful smirk dances across your face, defying the gravity of the situation. The opportunity slips from your lips before you can fully understand the weight of your words.

"I am your friendly neighborhood spider," you reply, the words dripping with both sincerity and light-heartedness. Those wide, capable eyes, tinted with distrust, rove over the intricate design of your costume, searching for answers in the fabric that binds you.

His response is swift, his youthful candor cutting through the tension. "That's a dumb superhero name," he remarks, not comprehending the magnitude of the reality he has stumbled upon. You merely shrug, understanding that you are not the Spider-Man he knows, nor are you bound by the conventions of his familiar world. Here, in this fractured reality on the brink of collapse, your mission transcends trivial matters such as superhero aliases.

"Well, stupid or not, I can't leave you hear," you declare with resolute determination. Before he can fully grasp the gravity of your words, you swiftly encase him in a web cocoon, launching him skyward along the building's side. He puts up a surprisingly capable fight, thin braids swinging to and fro within his captivity.

"Aye, loco! Lemme me go!" he protests, his voice carrying a hint of frustration.

Huh, Spanish. Miguel would be proud.

Together, you ascend to the pinnacle, where the world seems both smaller and more expansive all at once.

From this vantage point, a distant commotion clamors through the night, a discordant symphony of chaos that taints the air with unease. You can sense the imminent danger lurking down the dimly lit streets, threatening the fragile remnants of this crumbling reality.

The boy's now angered gaze fixated upon you, “I can take care of myself.”

You resist the strong urge to volley him, if only to jerk the too-adult pinch from his brow with the promise of fear and your strength. Instead, you guide him to to an adjacent block away from the disruption and drop him to his feet carefully, save for a brief stumble.

The pointed glare focused on you is not the impression you would have imagined from a rescued individual, but you were new to this so maybe not all went to script.

You were feeling a little less confident as you approached.

"I'm going to release you now."

The teen only jerked his chin in response.

Hooking a finger under the webbing, you use the trick Miguel taught you to loosen the bindings. The warning came a split second after he worked an arm free, giving you a brief opportunity to pull out of reach as he swung back.

He was definitely a product of his environment, whether for the good or better was not disclosed.

There was a notable fire in his gaze as he challenged you.

“Next time, keep your freaky abilities to yourself. I don’t need no hero.”

Suspending yourself from the light fixture above, you test your impact on the Earth a length more. You think about all the other Earth’s whose spider-beings who press forward despite the backlash, determined to save what they hold dear.

They might say those words, deflect the help offered to say they didn't need a hero because they were one.

But this teen didn’t give you that impression. His presence vaguely tipped the compass in a different direction.

“Maybe not, but you’re only one person.”

Scoffing, the teen ripped away the rest of the webbing. “No hero has a place here. Everyone agrees on that.”

Shoving his hands in his pockets, he turns his heel at that as he descends down the street away from you.

Earth 42 was indeed a reality without a spider-being.

But what proliferated in its absence, was something you felt, would test the universe in its own way.

#earth 42 miles morales #earth 42 miles x reader #earth 42 miles morales x reader #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman fanfiction #42 miles morales #miles morales x reader #prowler miles

447 notes · View notes

ensemblesongs · 5 months

Text

⟟ TRIP album directory.

Post will actively be updated...🖋 low quality of certain older uploads to be fixed in due time!

#☆ For navigation purposes and also because it helps me keep track of uploads!#I need to fix this blog's tagging system... urgh.#💭

206 notes · View notes

raven-at-the-writing-desk · 6 months

Text

"Oh dear, what an awkward situation."

Awkward indeed… 😅

With this, I’ve completed the “Rollo is tormented by visiting the dorms” series of headcanons 🫶 Hope you enjoyed, Roro-chan 💕 (I still have some Rollo at the Writing Desk interactions to post after this, so technically his torment isn’t over quite yet…)

A Big Diasomnia Welcome to Rollo!

“At last, I have completed my itinerary. There is nothing more for me to see here, nor do, at Night Raven College.” That’s what Rollo tells himself as his stay crawls to its final few days. He has done it—through sheer mental fortitude and hatred he has endured this cesspit and avoided being dragged into Draconia's domain!!

Rollo is returning to his temporary quarters for the night when he notices that the fireflies are out. Glowing orbs flit by him in a slow, showy dance. Strange, he thinks. It’s well into autumn now. They shouldn’t be out past summertime.

... But something is wrong. The fireflies are swarming, coalescing into a single humanoid form. There is a blinding flash, and the glowing orbs are flung outward again, ushering in a new presence. Tall, dark, handsome, and crowned by a distinctive set of devilish horns. Rollo takes a stumbling step backwards. "YOU!!"

Malleus Draconia, in the flesh. The fae prince gives a toothy smile, reaching out a hand to him. "Good evening, Flamme. What an honor it is to be reunited with you. It has been far too long.”

“Not nearly long enough if you ask me,” Rollo snaps. He turns away and briskly walks toward his housing, prepared to slam the door in Malleus’s face—but Malleus has poofed away and reappeared to block his path. “Going so soon? But we’ve yet to have the chance to properly catch up. I was going to extend an invitation to a most extravagant dinner party in Diasomnia."

"I have no interest in such a thing," Rollo declares, weaving around him. "Good-bye." This time, Malleus does not follow. He stands there, eyes intensely bearing into Rollo as he flings open the door to his abode and... "What in the world?!"

Beyond the frame is not the usual foyer, but instead a sinister new scene, morbid stone and diamond-stitched furniture faintly illuminated by eerie green candlelight. An ominous throne waits along the far end and up two mirrored slights of stairs. The Diasomnia lounge.

Rollo whips his head back, glaring at Malleus. "You're responsible for this wicked enchantment, aren't you? You're not giving me any say in this matter." To that, Malleus only darkly chuckles. "It is the duty of any good host to ensure that his guest is comfortable and feels... welcomed. Fufufu, I am playing my part well, wouldn't you agree?"

"Feh! To weaponize your magic for such a trivial, petty thing... I never thought the great and powerful Malleus Draconia would be so low as to stoop to kidnapping," Rollo glowers. "You continue to drop the bar of my expectations for you. I would be impressed if I didn't utterly loathe you and your entire existence. Know this, Draconia: I won’t fall for such an obvious scheme. I would sooner set myself ablaze than play into your hands."

Malleus doesn’t seem to be bothered by the declaration so full of passion and hatred. He grins mysteriously and waves a hand. “Silver, Sebek. You may do as you will with our dear guest.”

A collective “YESSIR!!” sounds from behind Rollo—he turns too late, for the two guards have emerged and reached out from the magical doorway to Diasomnia. Rollo (helplessly struggling like a fly caught in a spider’s web) is seized by the two burly men and hauled through the gate, Malleus casually strolling in and closing the door after himself.

Rollo is (aggressively) seated on (well, more like chucked onto) one of Diasomnia’s couches. His body aches from the impact, his vision swimming from the shock. Sebek and Silver loom over him, preventing his escape.

“Sorry about this,” Silver says apologetically. “Malleus-sama’s orders.” Sebek, on the other hand, is far less forgiving. “Hmph!! Consider yourself fortunate that the young master is as merciful as he is! AND THANK HIM FOR THE INVITATION IN SPITE OF YOUR PREVIOUS TRANSGRESSIONS!!”

“Now, now! Let’s not scare the poor lad, boys,” a deep voice advises them. FWUMP!! A short boy with dark hair and magenta streaks descends from the ceilings, spooking away what is left of Rollo’s soul. “Lilia Vanrouge, vice dorm leader of Diasomnia."

Lilia vigorously grabs and shakes Rollo’s hand. His grip is immense—a contrast to his youthful appearance—practically crushing Rollo’s fingers. Rollo yanks his head back in alarm. "Teehee, did I do that?" Lilia asks innocently. "Silly me, I don't know my own strength!" (... Rollo doesn't believe him.)

"So excited to finally meet you! I’ve heard so many stories—like how you’re the first person to have struck fear into the heart of our Malleus.” Beaming like the sun on a cloudless day, Lilia leans into their guest’s ear and whispers, “There had better not be any of the same stunts you tried to pull the night of the masquerade~ You try any of that funny business again and Lilia-chan will make sure you regret it <3”

Rollo is unnerved by the message—it’s friendly and teasing, but a vaguely threatening tone lies beneath it. When he looks again at the young-looking boy, he sees the darkness radiating off of him, the ancient wisdom in his eyes. A shiver rolls through his spine.

"Kufufu. Juuuust kidding! Let's all be the best of friends, okay?" Lilia says with a cheeky wink. Rollo's not sure if his cheer or his seriousness is more disturbing.

Malleus is so glad that everyone has gotten acquainted! It’s been so long since they’ve had the opportunity to host someone. He looks as jubilant as a kid in a candy store (whereas Rollo looks like a cat on the side of the road that someone splattered with a puddle’s worth of muddy water).

Before the meal, Malleus is eager to show Rollo the dormitory (“You enjoy history, Flamme. Diasomnia has plenty of it to offer. Allow me to show you—”). Rollo is sandwiched between Malleus (who leads the way) and Sebek, Silver, and Lilia in the back and at his sides. (He glares at the back of Malleus’s head and quietly wills for him to meet a fiery and painful end.)

... Likewise, Sebek is glaring and thinking the same of Rollo. He's only keeping his trap shut in the presence of Lilia-sama and Malleus-sama!! (Silver sighs to himself, wondering if this evening will really play out alright.)

Malleus rattles off details the past and the antiques which decorate Diasomnia. (There is of course a segment about gargoyles too.) In any other scenario, Rollo would have found the information fascinating--but darn that Draconia for tainting this experience for him!! (With each fact Malleus provides, Rollo's face increasingly twisted with disgust.)

Every so often, Sebek interjects with loud praise for Malleus's wealth of knowledge. His fanboying is so incessant that it echoes in Rollo's head long after the compliments have already been uttered out loud. Where's the brain bleach when Rollo needs it the most?

He thinks he’s hallucinating things when he sees a stampede of animals heading for him from the other end of the hallway—but as they get bigger and louder, Rollo realizes that no, it’s very much real. The animals surround Silver, who greets them with a soft smile and introduced his friends to Rollo.

“Do you want to pet them, Rollo-senpai?” Silver offers. Rollo calmly replies, “No thank you. I do not make it a habit of handling animals outside of the occasional horse—” Too bad for him though, squirrels and birds are already nesting in his hat and a deer is chewing on the ends of his robes…! Rollo’s eyes twitch in annoyance as he goes about untangling himself from the deer and shooing away the birds and squirrels.

When they arrive at the dorm rooms, Lilia pipes up with an idea: "I know! I'd like to show our guest some things from my room. It'll be just like a sleepover." (Rollo frowns. "... In what way is this like a sleepover? If possible, I would like to avoid it." Sebek agrees, vehemently advising against showing "the enemy" their private quarters.)

Lilia shakes his head and wags at finger at him. "You should be more accepting, Sebek! Yesterday's foes can be today's friends." (Silver and Malleus agree with Lilia, so it's 3 votes to 2.)

"Welcome to Lilia-chan's ultra-cute heart-thumping bedroom <3" ... It's the most cluttered place Rollo has ever laid his eyes on, even worse than Idia's. He strains to hide the disgust on his face. Lilia for his part, is ecstatic. He rushes about the room, collecting armfuls of trinkets and artifacts to show off. Each comes with its own story from a different part of Twisted Wonderland.

Lilia even shows off a massive cleaver he claims he used “back in the day to cut my enemies down~” It launches Sebek into another round of extolling his superior. Meanwhile, Rollo stares blankly at the weapon and wonders how much of what Lilia just said was fact and how much of it was fiction.

"You know, Rollo-kun, there's so much we can learn from other people and cultures," Lilia tells him, holding up a handkerchief of his own. Rollo recognizes it as one from the City of Flowers--the joke items children blow into to release smoke and confetti, startling others. (Hmm? Did Silver purchased an extra one for his vice dorm leader? Hadn’t he just gotten one for his father?) "I hope that you can keep an open mind tonight."

“… Yes, I will try.” (It’s a lie.)

Using his own handkerchief as a makeshift mask, Rollo does his best to not inhale too much of the air of this magic-infested place. Lilia asks him if he's feeling ill (Rollo is tempted to respond, "Yes, I am sick... sick of you lot of fools!"), to which Rollo replies that he's feeling peckish.

“Shall we head into the dining room?” Malelus suggests, but Lilia tells him, Sebek, and Silver to go ahead of him and Rollo. (“You boys run along and make the necessary preparations! We’ll catch up later.”)

When it’s just the two of them, Rollo finds Lilia staring wistfully into a tin. Some withered old acorn bracelet is inside. It’s nothing special, but Lilia looks at it as though it’s the greatest treasure in the entire world. He replaces the lid and regards Rollo and a serious expression.

“… I empathize with you, you know. Losing a loved one is never easy. I don’t wish for anyone—not even my worst enemy—to experience the pain that I did. It hurts, I know—but there is an opportunity to heal, to learn, to grow. That’s why I will do everything in my power to protect that dream, to bring about a world of peace and love, not war and hate. It is my hope that you, too, recognize this. The last thing I would want to do is to obliterate Malleus, Sebek, and Silver’s first friend from Noble Bell College.”

Rollo frowns, disconcerted by the promise of peace and love. No, it’s just not possible in a world where magic exists. “We will have to agree to disagree. I have my convictions as well. I do not intend to waver. And a correction: we are NOT friends.”

Lilia giggles. “What are friends, if not people who spend time together and get on each others’ nerves? You are plenty friends with them, if only you would allow yourself to be.” He prances over to Rollo and taps him in the heart. “Riiight here.“

“Wha…?! G-Get away from me!!” Rollo bats at the ancient fae, who only laughs and runs off with Rollo in hot pursuit. He chases Lilia all the way down the hall, where they’re both stopped by the sight of the dining room.

It’s lovely—an obsidian black tablecloth thrown on a long table, their best china and silverware out, crystal vases of fresh cut roses and candelabras alit with pulsating green flames welcoming them. Platters of succulent food and drink float in the air, suspended by magic.

“Dinner is served,” Malleus announces. With the way of his hand, the dishes slowly settle onto the table. The dorm leader beckons everyone to sit. Silver and Sebek nod and obey. Lilia claps his hands in delight. Rollo wants to vomit in his mouth.

The seating arrangement is deliberate. Malleus at the end of the table, Lilia on one side of him and Rollo on the other. Silver sits next to Lilia, and Sebek next to… Rollo… “Why does HE get the honor of the seat across from Lilia-sama and next to the young master?! THAT SHOULD BE ME!!!” Sebek thunders. (The entire meal, Rollo feels the first year angrily staring at him.)

Rollo forces himself to eat the food that has likely been prepared by magical means. He figures that if his mouth is preoccupied with eating, then he won’t have to engage in whatever stupid conversations Diasomnia brings up.

Sebek talks about a book he has been reading. He visibly puffs up as he recites the details of it, like he’s an eager puppy expecting praise for his memory. Silver mentions that some of his bird friends will migrate south soon, and that he will miss them until their inevitable return in the spring. Lilia tells a story about a raid he went on with his gaming buddy (Gloomy Samurai) and how he dove off the stage during one of his club meetings. (One of these things is not like the other, Rollo thinks.)

At one point in the meal, Silver almost falls asleep in his soup and a flock of birds have to work together to lift his head up and avoid disaster. Rollo cringes at the wild animals being so close to their food—who knows what manner of diseases they carry or where they’ve been?! Thankfully, he manages to keep his mouth shut, as he’s sitting far enough away for his own food to be safe.

Though Rollo keeps avoiding speaking to Malleus, Malleus certainly doesn’t do the same. In fact, he seems to delight in provoking Rollo. Malleus will talk excitedly about gargoyles and then make an aside to ask Rollo, “how do the gargoyles of Noble Bell College fare?” The same trend occurs for other topics as well. It makes Rollo nearly choke on his food or spit up a drink more than once.

He tries to keep his replies short and to the point, but Malleus often presses for elaboration or continues the conversation from Rollo’s response. (Sebek looks on enviously, chewing on his napkin to stave off the anger.)

Lilia declares that he has a surprise for everyone!! He runs off and returns with a dish covered by a silver dome. Silver pales, Malleus is taken aback, and Sebek is suddenly grinning deviously. “Ta-daaaah! I made dessert in advance!! I thought to myself, ‘I can’t let our dear guest walk out without trying some of my world-famous cooking!’”

Lilia whisks the lid off, revealing… a bubbling blob in shades of brown, violet, and murky green. Chicken bones, bits of chopped fruit, and shredded greens peek out from its mushy surface, which appears to have the consistency of a liquid and a solid at the same time. It smells like skunk juice and death. Rollo uses his handkerchief to hold his nose and to keep from being ill.

“Rollo-senpai, I don’t think you should…” (“Come now, human!” Sebek says smugly, interrupting his fellow knight. “Lilia-sama went to the trouble to prepare this treat for you! Do not waste his valiant efforts!!”)

“You think I would sample a dish so obviously dubious?!” Rollo cries, offended at the idea. “How foolish do you think I am?!” (“Oh my, no need to fight over my cooking, boys!” Lilia chirps. “There’s plenty to go around!” But no, Sebek loudly insists that their esteemed guest eat it all up—after all, when will Rollo have the chance to be graced with Lilia’s cooking again?)

As they’re arguing, no one noticed Malleus scooping a spoonful for himself until he has the bite hovering close to his lips. Sebek, horrified, begs his liege to think better of it. Silver, too, warns him. (Lilia cheers him on. “You have such a healthy appetite!”)

“Please, young master!! You know what the consequences are…!!” Sebek pleads with him. Malleus insists he must do this. “It is a show of good faith—and furthermore, a leader is expected to make sacrifices for the good of his people.” (Rollo feels like he’s watching a historical soap opera.)

Malleus brings the spoon to his mouth (Sebek leaps across the table, fully intent on eating that bite just to protect his prince from it) and… collapses onto the floor in a heap. His knights immediately rush over, calling out his name and trying to rouse him. Lilia claps both hands over his mouth.

Rollo rises from his seat too, but not for the reason anyone expects. His expression slowly shifts from neutral to a frenzied excitement. “Hm… hm hm hmm… ha ha hah… HAAAH HAH HAH HAH HAAAAAH!! At last… At long last, Malleus Draconia’s revolting presence has been wiped clean from this world! Slain by the hands of your own retainer…! Betrayed by your trusted ally, done in by your own hubris!! Oh, how ironically delicious!! There could be no better way to conclude what has been an otherwise odious evening!!”

Silver gaped at him in horror. Sebek is consumed by anger and upset. “WHY, YOU NO GOOD—!!” The first year charges, tackling Rollo to the ground. Silver follows, trying to pry the two apart. There’s shouting and laughing, fists flying and fumbling for a magical pen to exact righteous judgment—

Lilia calmly walks over to the body and crouches down. He pokes his fallen dorm leader’s cheek. “… Malleus, don’t you think you’ve scared them for long enough? I’m all for theatrics, but it’s a rather cruel prank to pull on our guest~” He pouts. “Besides, it’s not like my cooking is bad! You’re being overdramatic.”

“HUH?!” The three boy look on (Sebek and Silver in relief, Rollo in horror) as Malleus smoothly rises like a corpse from the grave. He chuckles darkly at their shocked expressions all the same, drinking in their surprise like a monster might relish in fear. Malleus dusts himself off and gives a luminous smile. “Forgive me, I could not help myself.”

A teary Sebek flings himself at Malleus to happily sob at his revival. Silver shakes his head, but he’s smiling too.

Rollo comes down from his high, and embarrassment sets in to replace it. He sits back in his seat to keep from collapsing himself, taking steady and deep breaths through his handkerchief.

They clear up Lilia’s dessert (no one’s in the mood to try any more of it since the prank) and move into the lounge to unwind after dinner. (Rollo tries to leave early, but Malleus isn’t having it.)

Sebek happily volunteers to prepare coffee for everyone! He parades in with a tray of it, passing them to Malleus, Lilia, and Silver—in that order. “… I’ll take mine with a little milk,” Rollo requests, as he’s usually used to a cafe au lait to go with his lunch every day.

Sebek needles him a bit for the request, going on and on about how he can’t believe an adult would still take their coffee with additives and how truly immature Rollo must be if he can’t stomach coffee black. He’s (unintentionally) undercut when Solver bluntly points out that Sebek usually takes his with tons of milk, creamer, and sugar to balance out the bitter edge. This causes Sebek to flush red and stammer out a weak defense, and Rollo smirks. It’s the little victories like this that curb his temper.

Malleus puts on a violin performance for them all. He plays a stringed rendition of the Kindly Bellringer’s song, a wish for a hope-filled future. (Rollo hates to admit it, but Malleus has impressive technical skill as a violinist.)

Sebek is nearly moved to tears just listening. Silver has to stop Lilia from rushing to join in with his electric guitar, offering to dance with his vice dorm leader instead. Their height difference makes for a silly sight as they swing together, but they have a lot of fun doing it.

… Rollo doesn’t understand it. How can this group of misfits be so happy like this? Looking at them, they almost come off like some happy-go-lucky family. Even though they don’t share blood. Even though they’re so different…

It is late. Again, Rollo tries to excuse himself. His mind is fried and worn out from all the excitement and the stress of forced friendship with Diasomnia. Unfortunately for him, Malleus has one more trick up his sleeve. The prince promises, however, that it is the last one. “… Why should I trust you?” Rollo asks, to which he gets no answer. Malleus and Lilia only exchange a knowing look.

The group is led out into the garden. Unlike that of Heartslabyul or even Pomefiore, Diasomnia’s is not lush. Thick plants grow over everything, bearing bramble sharp enough to draw blood and driving onlookers away.

One powerful wave of ice magic is all it takes to convert it into a winter wonderland. Light snowfall drifts down upon an icy road, the thorns turned into abstract works of art encased in glass. Rollo begins to berate Malleus for his lax use of magic for his own pleasure, but Malleus just laughs and tugs Rollo along insisting that they build a snowman together.

Sebek calls after them, asking Malleus to please wait for him too! It’s Lilia who tells Sebek to stay behind and to give those two some space to settle their differences. “B-But Lilia-sama! What if that dastardly man attempts to take the young master’s life again?!” Sebek protests. (“I’m sure our Malleus can handle it!”)

Lilia whips out his cleaver (where was he hiding that on his body this entire time?!) and carves down blocks of ice into shaved ice for everyone! This, he claims, is his dessert redemption arc now that everyone is in good spirits once again.

Sebek helps with fetching bowls, spoons, and an array of flavored syrups for everyone to customize their shaved ice. Silver and his animal friends contribute toppings for them: fresh fruits and nuts!

… Rollo begrudgingly joins Malleus in the snow but males his own snowman instead of collaborating just to spite him. Malleus’s Olaf snowman comes out short and lumpy with a tall head and a carrot nose. Rollo’s is tall and thin, lying on the ground with Xs for eyes and two sticks shoved into its head. “It’s you,” he tells Malleus, pointing to the stick “horns”. (“Oh? I’m flattered.”) “You’ve perished,” Rollo clarifies. To his dismay, his rival barely bats an eye.

Malleus starts to blast alternating water and ice, creating dynamic sculptures—platforms to hop on, odd shapes to climb and to slide down. He easily navigates them (with an angry Rollo struggling to keep up, shouting at him about how he needs to keep “a leash” on his frivolous use of spells).

Malleus lands on the ground again, practically skating on just his feet alone. With a glance at the big moon above, he laughs. It reminds him of the night of the masquerade—and so he turns to Rollo, extending his hand a second time and asking to share a dance.

“Have you lost your MIND, Draconia?!” Rollo huffs. Malleus assures him that he hasn’t, then pulls him onto the ice anyway. They’re set effortlessly gliding, their robes swaying in the wintery wind. Rollo’s not even bothered by the cold now—he’s operating on the hot fury that’s burning within him.

“Are you happy with this evening of tormenting me and having me dance in the palm of your hand? Well? Are you?!” Rollo hisses. Malleus grins, and he looks particularly wicked under a veil of moonlight. “Very. It’s good to know that you are still as amusing as you ever were, Flamme. How goes your repentance, hmm?”

“I don’t have to answer to the likes of you. You and your minions have already out me through quite a bit of distress tonight.” (Malleus doesn’t seem to be bothered by the response. “Fufufu. Looking away so stubbornly has its own charm as well.”)

“I won’t press you further. There will be plenty of time in the future for us to catch up.�� Rollo begins to object, but Malleus isn’t listening. He raises one hand to the sky, his volume booming. “Allow me to offer you a parting gift to end this evening… a token of our everlasting friendship between man and monster.”

Who is man and who was monster? a small, doubtful voice in the back of Rollo’s head wonders. He rushes to squash it before those embers turn into an all-consuming wildfire.

A brilliant aurora shoots out and overtakes the night. So many colors crackling and melding into one another, its ribbon-like motions seemingly never ending. From all around Diasomnia, mob students look out of their windows and stare at the sky in pure wonderment. It’s like a dream has come to life before their very eyes, and everyone is dancing under it. Even Rollo is stunned into silence by the beauty of the aurora.

No, he tells himself. This is wrong. It’s a product of magic. It’s not meant to be like this. Magic is ugly and harmful and selfish and…!!

A shooting star streaks the dark, diamond/studded sky. “Make a wish, Flamme,” Malleus encourages.

Rollo looks at him, then takes the deepest breath he possibly can. His shout resonates throughout Diasomnia, rattling antiques and rousing sleepy Silver awake.

“I SWEAR IF IT’S THE LAST THING I DO, I WILL BE THE ONE TO TEAR YOU DOWN ONCE AND FOR ALL, MALLEUS DRACONIAAAAAAAA!!”

#twst #Malleus Draconia #twisted wonderland #twst headcanons #twisted wonderland headcanons #Rollo Flamme #Silver #Sebek Zigvolt #Lilia Vanrouge #Diasomnia #disney twisted wonderland #Rollo at the Writing Desk #spoilers

194 notes · View notes

sorcerous-caress · 6 months

Text

A beautiful webbing | Minthara

[Smut, fluff, angst, oviposition, claustrophobia, aphrodisiac, egg insertion, Drider Minthara, spiders, blood and graphic descriptions, happy end, marriage, nb!Reader]

did you hear about the person who married a drider?

The cave was bigger than any you've ever seen. Stone walls isolating a huge area of the underdark, illuminated by various plants in all shapes and sizes, from the smallest mushroom pulsing with a neon like yellow, to the biggest of trees.

The tree definitely caught your interest, its branches curled around the entirety of the cave's dome, bright silver wood hugging the cold dark stones. Various blooms in all shades of blue were scattered alongside the branches.

A haziness filled the air, specks of blue dust floating and glittering as they left their mother tree.

A sussur tree.

You took a cautious step forward, knowing that you forsake using all magic the closer you got to the cave's entrance. Whether it was your own birthright, a one earned with hard work and studies, or even a one granted from a more powerful being. It was all seeped from your entire being.

Even your equipment wasn't spared, all the enchanted swords and flaming shields became nothing by pieces of metal upon arrival. Magical scrolls becoming akin to overpriced napkins, at least those had a use in here.

The cave entrance was deliberately put front and center, as if taunting you and challenging all those who passed by.

No amount of skulls and scattered bones throughout the gardens of the cave would've done the numbers justice, the waves after waves of so called heros that came as a bitter home welcoming gift were well above the hundred of thousands.

Yet the scattered skulls barely surpassed the hundreds. Maybe they were buried deep just when the sussur tree took roots.

The day Minthara Baerne got called into a test of Lolth was the day the underdark held its breath in suspension.

One of the most promising princesses in line for the leadership of the oldest known noble house in all of drow history. Even petty drow fights seized for a single day as all eyes were directed towards her impending fate.

Yet no one knew what the test was about, was her loyalty called into question? Or was it a promotion from Lolth. Just what did the spider queen promise her.

If anything, the Baerne house accepted it as a blessing. They've always prided themselves on their loyalty and faithfulness, even their high wizard has passed several loyalty tests.

Instead of entering the cave just yet, you decide to stroll through its surrounding gardens. Appreciating every flower that blossomed through the butterfly effect of the great fall of a princess.

The disgraced princess is what they called her now. Even at her worst, many still held great fear of her in their hearts, not daring to drop her honorific title that's her birthright.

The deeper you walked through the gardens, the more evidence of the calamity you could find. Piles upon piles of aged skeletons and bones being weaved through each vine of plants.

It was eerie how all the bones were still attached together, as if their bodies were left there for the plants to feast on until nothing but a skeleton remained.

Some of them had their arms wrapped against the thorn filled vines, as if struggling to free themselves from its clutches to no avail.

You kept walking, something called for you, at the opposite end of the entrance.

Minthara's test was considered one of the largest gatherings of the noble houses. At the temple of lolth inside a massive hall, the Baerne matron sat in the front row, Minthara's father, a consort, had the right to sit next to her.

Lower priestesses of Lolth were waiting in front of the curtains that veiled where the test was taking place. Their higher sisters were inside, determining the fate of Minthara.

Her own sisters, both from full blood and half blood, were whispering amongst themselves about her possible fates.

The youngest of them, still unaware of drow customs, suggested the idea of her failing and being turned into a drider. She was immediately hushed and berated by the other sisters as they feared her words might reach one of the priestesses, or worse the Matron herself.

This wasn't the first or last test the Baerne house goes through, countless of their males were brought into their knees in front of the spider queen herself.

Yet maybe, because it's a woman this time, its implications have put everyone on edge.

You were almost at the end of the garden, a sour smell of rot and decay suddenly invaded your senses.

Visible plant roots withered the further in you went, the dirt on the ground stained bright red, it was more akin to mud than dirt. Your steps squelching through the gore and viscera.

While the sussur vines extended far beyond this spot, not a single stray leaf could make its way to the heart of this place. A small bubble where magic could thrive freely.

Devoid of any plants or life, only the remains of countless battles stacked against each other, pulling themselves down by the combined weight of their flesh.

Something called for you, it was getting stronger. You had to endure the pungent odour of death and decay.

In a small puddle of blood that has a sheer layer of magic reflecting off of its surface, a dark green mix of leaves intertwined in symmetry of needle sharp thorns. The bush seemed to thrive in this garden of blood.

A single rose could be seen deep inside the bush, caged by thorn covered steams. It demands a sacrifice of flesh to pluck the flower.

A common bloodrose, despite the name it was anything but common, two thirds of the population could live through ten centuries and never encounter one.

Not to mention how it managed to blossom while caged by a sussur tree, the very polar opposite of its existence. The nature of a blood rose could only thrive on an endless source of blood, agony and most importantly magic.

Magic was the only thing that could protect its fragile petals that are overly sensitive to any temperature changes, magic encased it from the second it was a mere budding rosette.

A sussur bloom and a bloodrose co-existing in the same garden. A miracle in front of your own eyes.

The flower is thirsty, you realise, it's calling for you to feed her.

You reach your hand towards the caged rose, the tip of your finger gets pricked against one of the sharp needles, a single drop of blood escapes from your body before your blood cells start clotting the small cut.

It's so small, you have to gently shake your hand to get the droplet to fall.

It gets caught on the edge of a petal, the flower visibly blooms more as it drinks in your blood.

You look down and see spikey tendrils retract their hold around your ankles, you weren't even aware of it when they wrapped themselves around you.

The voice in your head vanishes, you're free to move again.

As you hurry and retreat back into the lush mushroom filled gardens, the only remaining evidence of what felt like a fever dream are the trail of blood your boots leave behind on the moss covered dirt.

You make your way back to the entrance, walking alongside the cave walls.

The news of the Baerne family scandal reached even the surface, high elves were openly discussing it amongst themselves in official councils, for a week each page printed out haf in some capacity information about the princess turned drider.

Many people wondered what the matron's face must have been like, when the one that emerged from behind the curtains was a monster instead of her beloved daughter.

Was her father killed? What of her sisters?

Part of the reason the scandal was so widespread, is the sinister intentions of the other drow nobles who celebrated this stain on Lolth's favourite house, her golden children.

Yet the scholars weren't interested in the family gossip as they described it. No, they were more interested in how Minthara, a drider, managed to survive when faced with a hall filled with various drow nobles.

In normal circumstances they exile them, but this was anything but normal circumstances.

To kill her right then and there would've been the honourable thing to do, in drow's culture at least. The Matron could've easily killed her and disowned her from the Baerne house.

Some suspected love, most human scholars argued that a mother's love extended further than the worship of a goddess could.

Others sneered at the idea, especially the surface elves, how could a drow love one another? They don't even know the meaning of that word.

But maybe, it was one scholar whose theory was the closest to the truth, a half-elf. Her suggestion was that Minthara actually passed the test, which is why she wasn't killed.

Her theory was torn to shreds and made fun of endlessly after she published it.

You're back where you started, at the entrance of the cave.

Everything looks the same, as if time is a mere illusion in these gardens. The same flowery scented air welcomes you back, silver and blue particles flowing through your legs and inhaling any traces of magic it could find.

Reaching into your backpack, you take out an unlit torch. The all consuming darkness inside the cave wasn't any normal darkness you've seen before.

Igniting the flame, you head into the abyss.

The simple torch light doesn't even reach the walls or ceiling of the cave, it's massive size scattering whatever light your flame produces.

Step after step, you watched the floor carefully. Mostly because it was the only surface reflecting your light, but also in case of any webs you might stumble onto.

Each drider's web was personalised for their own use, harming anyone else but their own maker. A thin almost invisible line of silk was stretched impossibly thin and tensed to connect all the webs together, the slightest touch could send a growing vibrating alarm through the entirety of the cave system.

So you diligently watched your steps, it only took one lucky stray string of silk for your doom.

Even if you somehow managed to break free, the invisible coating of venom on them would've spelled your unavoidable death.

Through the humid air, you could still see the silvery particles flowing. Although their quantity thinned more and more the deeper you went into the cave.

Back at the entrance you couldn't even make out what the walls or ceiling looked like, but now, after you've gone through several branching pathways, the cave closed in around you.

It still wasn't anything but big by any means, much larger than a mere bear cave. But it was more comprehensively big instead of the unrealistic massive size it held at the start.

At least that was the illusion that these pathways gave you.

There wasn't a sign of life, no animals, no insects, not even a single fly. Just the silence and soft echo of your steps.

Wasn't it for the various spider webs, woven every so skillfully at every corner and turn, then you would've doubted a drider resided here.

You haven't seen her yet, haven't heard a single sound or a hint of spider legs scuttering.

Maybe she was out hunting? Maybe you got lucky and found her when she was resting?

Your flame was dying out, even if you turned back now, it won't be enough to get you back out and you'll end up lost in the darkness as you tried to navigate your way out of this maze-like cave.

There was no option but to keep going.

It was only a matter of time before the Baerne family scandal was overshadowed by some other scandal, some human wizard's attempt to ascend to divinity or something. It seemed like there's always one of them per century and they always fail, yet the public eats it up each time.

The history book you've read didn't mention what happened to him, instead jumping ahead to the other documented major news of the past century.

You didn't care much honestly, you were too preoccupied in your search for the spider princess tale origins, and that archive book was enough evidence to empower you through this tedious journey in the underdark.

History long forgotten, the Baerne family recovered and is still ruling the underdark. Sometimes something is too big to fail.

You've researched her for months, getting your hand on each and every documented work about Minthara. Even buying the overpriced drow books and papers that came out around the scandal.

With all the endless questions and theories everyone wrote about her, not a single soul mentioned the first thing that went through your mind after hearing her tale.

How lonely it must have been for her.

Drider are known for their unstable mental health, yet madness wasn't something that Lolth handed to them alongside the eight legs.

No, the madness was acquired after years of isolation, exile blurring their sense around the passing of time. One day you're surrounded by your family and loved ones, the next you're deemed a monster unfit to share society with the rest of us.

Chased out by the threat of violence, your own reflection and body altered beyond recognition at times. How cruel of a fate Lolth gifted her children.

No more walking, no more music, no more fun. You and the fate of silence for the rest of your life.

It would drive anyway crazy, yet people had the nerve to describe driders as people with a death wish. As if it wasn't the fault of the people pointing their fingers and casting their judgement.

Fear keeps us safe, fear keeps us sane.

Driders lacked all known types of fear, much like their own sanity withered inside their brain.

Your torch went out.

Flame extinguished, darkness draped over you.

All consuming, ever cold and numbing darkness. Your brain attempts to make sense of your sudden lack of vision, swirling various shapes into the pitch black surroundings, only for them to evaporate like smoke.

Faces of loved ones, monsters and even promises of an exit. Drawn in illusions as your primal mind tried to lead your path.

You knew deep down that nothing lurked in the darkness, you've been in this cave for what felt like hours by now. You would've seen something.

It wasn't possible not to run into her by now, even a normal sized drider would've crossed your path once or twice. And she was 5 times the size of a normal drider from what you've read, why else would she claim a cave this huge as her own.

With your hand stretched to take hold of the wall, you decided to keep moving forward through the darkness. Eventually you're fated to reach some kind of end right?

Whether it be a dead end or a cave end, is up to the fates to decide.

You kept walking as time lost its meaning, even when the sound of your footsteps disappeared. A soft padding covering the floor that completely masked your steps, you couldn't see what it was in the dark.

Madness knocked on the windows of your brain, paranoia seeping through the cracked glass.

You wanted to speak, to scream, do anything just to make any sound to hear yourself. To hear any sound.

You couldn't hear your own heartbeat, alarms were going off inside your head.

Were you dead? Did that plant hold some kind of poison in its spikes and now you've stupidly signed your own death certificate.

Taking a deep breath, you feel the air rushing through your lungs, you feel the rise and fall of your chest but you still can't hear a single thing.

Stopping in your tracks, your spiral of insanity came to a halt as you spotted a vague dim light in the vast darkness.

Was your brain playing tricks on you again?

You let go of the wall, desperately running towards the light, breath heavy and sweating and legs sore. You pushed your body as you reached towards the light.

It grew stronger, larger. The faint glow multiplied as another and another joined it the closer you got.

You could see your own hands again, the colour of your skin. Your own healthy and very much alive flesh.

It wasn't an illusion, but a very real glow.

A cluster of bioluminescent plants attached to the upper parts of the walls and covering the ceiling, extending into a large opening leading to a big room filled with them.

There were scattered like stars hanging up in the sky, each one is of different colours and shapes. A glistening translucent web connected them together, a faint holographic sheer shining through the web in a quiet dance of rainbow lights.

Faerie lights, the silk was enchantment with faerie light.

This room was at the furthest end of the cave, at the heart where that bloodrose laid no doubt. How else could magic survive here unless it was part of the same bubble the bloodrose thrived under.

It was vastly different from the other parts of the maze-like cave you've seen so far. The air was warmer, drier with no humidity. The walls were devoid of any sharp edges, if anything they shined like marbles instead of stone.

The soft dancing faerie lights give a colourful glow to the room. It was trimmed and carved into perfection, this room was the true heart of the cave.

Stepping fully inside, the lights reflected off of your eyes, you were almost in awe at the beauty of this place. Exploring the left side of the room, you were met with a makeshift bed, made with various soft cloths and feather filled pillows. To your surprise, the bed was more on the normal size, quite big yes but nothing beyond what most nobles had at their homes.

A lyre sat on the table next to the bed, its strings matching the ones hanging above on the ceiling.

Exploring the right side, you found…hay? Not just hay but a large cluster of various soft materials like cotton and wool, connected together in a circle of silk.

Just like any other heart, this cave's heart was brimming with life.

Dread filled your heart as you realised the true purpose of this room, it's a nursery.

That cluster on the left, you could see various eggs through the translucent parts of the silk.

You were at the nest of the drider princess.

Uninvited.

Yes you wanted to meet her but not like this, not an armed stranger intruding on her cluster of eggs.

Taking a step back from the fragile nest, something stinky caught your boots and you fell back against the padded flooring.

Your thud barely made a noise at all, you haven't really acknowledged the strange floor until now.

Looking down, you were met with extremely thick webs, covering the entire floor. Padding the stones with layer after layer of silk that trailed even outside of the room.

The webs you've spent so much effort avoiding, you were walking on a carpet of them all this time since your torch went out.

Terror echoed through your bones, a sense of impending doom. Minthara had been aware of you all this time

You were sure no one was around you, you swore never saw her. Where could she have been hiding?

Something cold dripped onto your head.

Your limbs were shaking, your fight or flight instincts screaming at you.

Lifting your head, colour drained from your face as you looked up at the ceiling.

Red eyes met yours.

Long silver hair dangling from her head, crimson eyes marking you as her prey. Another set of eyes were further apart on her forehead, slightly smaller in size.

The upper body of the drow, a lean muscular build, clothed in armour that stopped just before her lower spider abdomen.

The sheer massive size of it was difficult for your brain to comprehend, it was abysmally larger than any other drider. A giant spider abdomen of pure blackness that acted as a huge dark mirror behind her figure. Eight legs sprawled from it, each one extremely long and thin. Sharp knife-like edges and jagged saw-like insides.

A single leg went from her abdomen, at the center of the vast ceiling, and trailed down the walls until its end buried under the thick layer of webs on the floor.

Like a bird cage trapping you in place, a gradient of abyssal black that faded into a rich imperial purple.

Various gems and gold circlets decorated each leg, rubies and amethysts being the main theme. Much like the armour she wore, it had the clear holy markings of a high paladin of Lolth. Its carvings giving the illusion of wrapping around her figure and hugging it so deliciously, when in reality it no doubt had multiple thick layers of padding and metal for a proper battle attire.

"You've finally used your common sense, p'luvt." Her voice wasn't quiet like the other drows you've met so far, in fact it was full of confidence.

Crawling her body from the ceiling, she came down from the right side of the room as she shielded her nest with her large spider frame.

She wasn't immediately lunging at you, which was a win in your book. You half expected your head to be bitten off the second you attempted to look up.

"I don't mean any harm, I promise." Dropping your backpack and weapons, you made a point to stay on the floor to not give her any false ideas.

"Harm? You think a pathetic thing like you could even harm me?" Her raspy voice held a hint of amusement, as if the idea of you being a danger to her was the joke of the century.

Minthara only needed to learn her body forward to completely tower over you, "If I had wanted you dead, I would have let the poison take you out." She leaned even closer, her face directly above yours.

You didn't move as she cupped your face with her hand, satisfied with the feeling of your skin against her sharp fingers.

Touching the back of your own head, you were surprised to be met with wetness, a sticky purple fluid. "Is that the poison?"

"No." Her thumb parted your lips, the same purplish liquid bubbled at the tip of her fang before dropping into your mouth. "That's the antidote, the walls had the venom."

Minthara seemed pleased with your obedience as you swallowed without the need for coaxing, her lips glistened with a sheer transparent layer as she pressed them against yours.

The kiss stung your lips, the feeling of an itchiness seeping into your flesh as she pushed her tongue in your mouth.

"That's a small dosage of the poison."

You let her carry you, never resisting as she wrapped her front tendrils around you.

She laid you on the bed, giving you one short kiss after another.

"Your scent is irresistible." She inhaled against your neck, "become part of something greater than your mortal life could ever achieve, become mine."

Wrapping your arms around her, the flame of desire ignited deep below your stomach as you considered her offer, becoming her mate.

You nodded, chasing after each kiss with greediness.

"Use your words." She pulled away, "swariy biu hithern d'ilr ulu uns'aa"

You considered your journey, the months of research, the length you've went to just to find her cave, the madness you've brush against back in the darkness.

Her fangs grazed your ears, "vow my ownership over you." Pulling away, her eyes held a hint of vulnerability in them as she looked at you.

Brushing a side of her soft silvery locks behind her pointy ears, you held her battle worn face so tenderly. "I vow to always belong to you."

Leaning forward, you pressed your lips onto hers. A soft gentle kiss to seal your oath with.

Minthara took your clothes off, with each newly revealed patch of skin she'd plant a kiss on. Her hands holding your body and positioning it however she pleased on the bed. Your own arousal growing the more her kisses trailed down and down.

"Ussta 'chev" she'd whispered as spread your legs, hooking your thighs above her shoulder, face to face with your most intimate parts.

Her gaze filled with hunger, the taste of your flesh still fresh on her tongue. Leaning forward, her tongue gave a testing swipe against your heat, beforehand her whole mouth started devouring you.

The pleasure was worth the pain, the rush of heat clouding your brain and making you melt. Grinding back and pushing against her mouth with desperation, all shame left you at the feeling of her hot wet tongue.

Your fists held on to the bedding below you, pulling on it the more intense the feeling got, you were quickly stumbling towards the edge embarrassingly fast. She kept her hold on your thighs, going even deeper and deeper.

Making a moaning mess out of you, obscene screams of pleasure echoing through the cave. Her fingers joined soon and collected your wetness on them, trailing down onto your hole as they push against the opening.

That pushes you over the edge, the pressing of her fingertip inside you makes your muscles tense in a rippling orgasm. She lets you ride it out against her mouth, swallowing down all of your juicies and cum.

You taste yourself on her lips as she leans forward to give you a kiss, letting you catch your breath.

Hearing a subtle sound at back her throat, akin to a spider purring. "You were made for this" covered in your own cum, her finger push inside you, opening you up as she adds another.

She watches you with keen eyes as she pushes and prodes your inside, watches your teeth biting into your wet lips, your naked body helpless on her bed.

"Take it." Minthara adds a third finger when she's sure you're ready, "take all of me, let me have all of you." It's so deep, brushing the walls of your insides and reigniting the arousal between your legs.

You see two of her spider legs moving in the back of the room, you can't focus much on them before being guided back to looking at her eyes as you twitch and squeeze around her fingers.

You're stretched slowly and deliberately, hole wet and hungry around her fingers. By the end of it, four of them can easily slide in and out of you.

Minthara helps your second orgasm by going back down on you, her mouth forcing your twitching body and milking it out of cum. Her fingers never stop prodding you as you shake and shiver from the intensity.

You've came twice already and she is still fully dressed in her suit of armour, holy symbols now soaked in your cum.

Pulling her fingers out, she leans away, looking at you with pride. "You handled this better than I thought you would, you're strong enough to bear my children."

Only then do you notice the three eggs she was craddling with one of her back legs, bringing them closer to you and setting them on the bed.

They were bigger than normal eggs, two almost the size of your fist. You could only fit a single one in your palm as you held it with a worried look.

"Does the size intimidate you?" Minthara encloses the hand carrying the egg with her own, her other hand rubbing the lower part of your stomach, "it will fit, i will make sure of it."

Giving your forehead a final kiss, she moved you with ease to lay on your stomach instead. Spreading your thighs and exposing your leaking hole to her, she insepcts her handwork with two fingers.

You grab into the pillow, burying your head into it as you feel a hard cold shell pressing against your entrance.

"This is your true purpose. Embrace it." She slowly pushes the egg in, her voice laced with lust as she watches it disappear inside you, "embrace having my children inside you, it's my right to breed you."

The egg stretches you out, completely different than her fingers. You feel impossibly filled as your hole keeps helplessly twitching against it, making the egg only go deeper and deeper.

You hear Minthara moan from behind you, the sight of your needy hole making her lose her senses.

Then the stinging feeling of a bite against your thigh, soft flesh marked with her fangs. Something flows into your body.

A feeling of lightness envelopes you, all the pain disappears and is replaced by a comfortable feeling of being filled to the brim, like it's what you're meant to be.

If anything…you still feel empty, heat quickly spreads through your body as you whine against the pillow. More. You need more of her inside you.

"Please…" your voice sounds desperate and strange to your own ears, "Minthara, it's not enough."

Her fingers go inside you to push the egg deeper, an electrifying pleasure shoots through your spine and makes you arch your back. It's almost as intense as your previous orgasm, the pleasure is melting your brain.

The more she moves the egg inside you the more you leak into her bed, grinding against the mattress cover in an attemp for relief. All the nerves in your body had their sensitivity turned up and everything feels impossibly good as her venom travels through your bloodstream.

Was it even venom that she bit into you? It feels completely different.

You're beginning for the second egg, whining and crying at the deep urge inside you to be a good mate for her, to please and appease your mistress.

Minthara looks at you with love, proud of you for knowing your place, for learning how to properly address her so soon.

She grants you another egg, pushing it slowly inside as you thank her breathlessly.

It slots snugly against its sister, filling you even more as your brain chirps with happiness at the feeling, the sense of purpose this gives you. You feel Minthara's lips against the back of your neck, whispering how good you're being, what an obedient spouse you are to your wife.

The third orgasm hits you out of nowhere, you didn't even realise it until you were squeezing your thighs together and pushing the eggs against each other. Staining her bed with your cum and making an even more pathetic display of yourself.

She seems ever so pleased.

The same clickly purring sounding again as she teases your overstimulated areas, enjoying your squirming and shaking. Your brain barely able to take in all the pleasure she's showering you with.

The final egg is left.

Minthara helps you sit back on the bed, her strong arms holding you up as you lean into her embrace, legs kneeling on the soft matteress with your tears stained face buried into her neck.

Running her hand softly down your back, she lets you cling to her for comfort as you adjust to the new position. Knowing how overwhelming this can be for you to take in, how fragile mortals tend to be.

The air of the room is still comfortably warm, the dancing lights ease your mind as the soft atmosphere helps you catch your breath. You feel safe.

The outside world completely forgotten and ignored "this is your true home" Minthara whispers, "this is your nest, this is where you should be."

And this egg, should be inside you.

After she made no move to press it against your entrance, simply holding it in her arm. You realise what she wants you to do.

You cling to her more, she kisses your ear.

Leaning forward, you stay kneeling as you spread yourself with one hand, carrying the egg in the other.

Minthara watches you with a smile.

Gravity made the other two eggs press against your hole, attempting to force themselves out. You have to push your fingers inside to get them deeper, push them up until they slot in place, until they're perfectly held by your tight insides.

Until they're pressing against where your intimate parts are, keeping you stuck in an endless cycle of pleasure.

That one spot inside you, abusing it and harshly rubbing it with every breath you take. Yet no pain or discomfort could be felt, only pleasure in it's purest forms, a mind numbing pleasure.

Your fingers go out with a pop sound, your own wetness traveling down your thighs. Minthara keeps her hold on you firm, keeping you sitting up in place.

Pushing the egg inside you, the familiar delicious stretch follows up soon. You don't think you can even close your legs fully anymore, forced to keep them open and spread so the eggs remain inside you.

When it's halfway through, is when your poor abused hole is stretched to its limits, opened fully spread so wide. Your fingers keep pushing it inside as your hole encloses around the egg, swallowing it too.

Minthara holds your hands, keeping you in the same position as you squirm while the eggs move to adjust to the new addition inside you. You can barely focus on her lips or kiss as a fourth orgasm comes crashing down on your, your vision blurring fully for a second while your brain melts.

You fall into her, she catches you. Hugging you into her body, rubbing your sore thighs where she left several grip marks.

Darkness surrounds you, exhaustion winning.

When you wake up, you're cradled against her chest, no armour to cover her soft flesh. The scent of lavender envelopes you as you realise all the grime and sweat has been wiped off of your body, you're completely clean and fresh.

Minthara is the same, the bed has new sheets and there is a soft melody in the air. The gentle strumming of the Lyre she held in her hands.

You're lulled back into another slumber, burying your face against her soft breasts.

Time passes, how much? You're not sure. You've kept track of the first few months but after the 7th, everything started becoming a blurr.

This room became your whole world, the only thing you cared for. Even when Minthara brought you back some newspapers from one of her haunts, you just used it as feed for the fire to warm you up.

The two of you fell into a complex dynamic of fragile balance. It was the most consuming and possessive kind of love you've ever felt from someone.

She truly wanted you for her own, you very own soul even. And in return she took care of all of your needs, keeping you safe and protected as you kept her eggs safe and warm inside you.

Speaking of which, she'd replace them daily. On some days you'd carry up to 6 different eggs, on others she merely tasked you with warming one. It depended on how much moving she planned for you that day.

You've explored the rest of the cave with her, hugging her upper body from behind as belt of silk kept you safely secured to her while she showed you the various turns of the cave. Occasionally taking you to the gardens outside.

There were many intruders on most days, yet she dealed with them swiftly as their bodies were quickly disposed on into the blood garden.

Her territory expanded after you became a part of her family, your safety was her main concern and she realised it's better to gather a good amount of soliders under her command to guard the outside territories.

They were drows, from what she's told you, used to be drows just like her, but turned into driders. Working with them irritated her because of how unstable they tend to be, yet something about her massive sheer size made them kneel in admiration and obey her, even when she would've prefered them cowering in fear.

Yet sometimes a gaggle of paladins would slip by, Lathander's or Corellon's or any of those so called good deities that thought it was their duty to purge all evil from the world.

Minthara wasn't impressed by any of them, if the cave didn't kill, then she'd take advantage of the protection the sussur tree offers her and strike them when they're defenseless without their precious magic.

You had plenty of books and gems to waste your time with, practising on the lyre whenever Minthara was too preoccupied to retreat back to her nest.

The bond you two shared, she's described as alurlssrin, the highest form of love a drow can give to another person.

You held her tightly each night, kissed her gently the more of her vulnerability she'd reveal to you after shedding her cold exterior. Becoming her strength when she needed someone to lean on.

One curious night, as the two of you held each other in her bed, you couldn't help but wonder out loud why she still wore the armour of Lolth after all she has done to her.

"My oath still stands" she replied, "Lolth's cruelty can take many forms, this is merely one of them."

She revealed to you what happened that night, at the test. Telling you about all the brutal trails she was put under, all the humiliation she had to endure.

"I prevailed, much to Lolth's displeasure, deep in my heart, i knew she wished for my failure." Minthara explained, "as a reward, i was bestowed with this so called gift" Minthara sneered, words like venom from her lips.

"It must have been lonely, to live like this for so long" your opinions didn't change, ever since the moment you stepped into the cave, you were still the same exact person.

"It was." She held your hand in hers, kissing your fingers. "But now, I have you. What a great distraction you are."

After a while, the eggs were ready to hatch. As much as Minthara tried to always keep a stoic face, the excitement in her voice was unmistakable.

She wanted the both of you to witness it, all the eggs were put in their original cluster of silk and wool. A warm hearth like fire under them, completely harmless to the touch, born from the purest of magic.

Despite the strange feeling of emptiness inside you, having gotten used to carrying at least one of the eggs each day for months, you still felt great pride and a sense of achievement at seeing them all healthy and ready to hatch.

"They will be normal spiders", Minthara explained, "Lolth prohibits all driders from reproducing."

"I know you find spiders adorable" you teased her, "how come each time one gets lost in your territory, they are let go with a slap on the wrist?"

"Well they're clearly more respectful than intruders who claim they got lost, spiders are simply superior."

She was smiling, a genuine smile, the wrinkles on her face giving her a soft glow as she admired you, the person she loves most in this world.

Her lips looked inviting, she leaned in closer to you.

But before your lips could meet each other, one of the eggs started shaking, stealing her attention away.

There was genuine awe in her eyes as she watched the egg, it was her first ever batch of eggs. The first of several to come, as she promised you.

The two of you held your breath when a crack formed through the inner layer of the egg and travelled to the outsider, two fuzzy thin legs emerging from the silk cocoon, moving around as if cutely waving.

"This one is strong, I can feel it." Minthara whispered, holding your hand tightly. You could imagine her cheering for the spider inside.

Another crack though the egg, from the opposite side, another pair of fuzzy legs breaking through.

After the head managed to break the top of the egg, the most adorable shiny dots for eyes looked in your direction, for a second it looked like the spider was wearing the egg like armour

A laugh escaped you at the uncanny resemblance they had to their mother, god they really are Minthara's children huh.

Blinking your tears of joy away, one second the spider was moving, the next a harsh crack could be heard as the spider laid limb.

An arrow, shot right at the egg from behind you and Minthara.

Your world stopped moving.

The clunking of heavy armour and swords being drawn could be heard, the stretching of a bow string as another arrow was being prepared.

It never got to leave the bow. Minthara was faster than all of them, bigger and stronger than all of them.

But this newborn spider wasn't.

You cradled it in your palm, the shell of the egg falling away to reveal the baby spider inside.

Yells sounded from behind you, flesh tearing and the agonised screams that suddenly got quiet as metal was ripped so shred. Whole bodies torn apart limb from limb like paper.

Minthara's rage didn't quell, not even after each of them laid dead and dismembered. Not even as she shoved their own arrows down their throats and into their lungs.

The spider wasn't bigger than your thumb, you didn't know what to do as you stared at it.

One of the swords slid down next to you, covered in their blood, its surface so shiny it was akin to a mirror as you stared at your own eyes on it.

A voice called out to you.

A life for a life, blood for blood.

Pressing the tip of your thumb against the sharp end of the sword, it didn't take much pressure for it to get pricked.

A single drop of blood trailed down your finger, it wasn't bigger than your thumb, you knew what to do.

You gently let it drop over the baby spider, the blood seeped into its body.

Minthara went to dispose of their bodies, scuttering quickly on the ceiling as she made her way to the end of the garden.

You couldn't take your eyes off of the spider, waiting for it to open its own eyes.

The most adorable shiny black dots for eyes met yours

Breathing a sigh of relief, you felt the little bug wash itself with your one drop of blood, slowly regaining its strength.

"Look" you said when Minthara came back, sitting next to you, "safe and healthy, it's really strong like you said."

She gently took the spider in her hand, seeing the small thing crawl around her fingers. There was a look of sadness on her face, a frown to her lips.

"I have failed you" she didn't meet your gaze, "I swore to protect you, and i have let these insects crawl freely into my house, our home."

Your hand enclosed on top of hers, "you were caught off gaurd, it's not your fault."

"No." Her brows furrowed, "I am never off gaurd. I have prepared for this day, i have tested all the webs myself."

The spider curiously went to explore the rest of the room, jumping from Minthara's hand onto the webbed grounds.

She pulled you closer to her, "I couldn't hear them in, I couldn't see them."

She was feeling weak, you knew how much she hated that feeling. For someone to best her.

"What about the sussur tree, Shouldn't it have stopped them?" You rubbed her back with your free arm, feeling one of her spider legs wrap around you.

"....I thought so too. But their magic, it was unnatural, not like anything I have seen before."

She swallowed as she continued, "the crests on their armours, the magic books they carried, it held symbols of a god I could not recognise."

"Doesn't Mystra control all magic?" You were growing more confused by the recent events

"Apparently, not anymore."

Your conversation was cut short as another egg began hatching. This time, Minthara blocked the room entrance with her spider abdomen to not take anymore chances.

The rest of the batch hatched safely to your joined relief, everything went well and you had a cluster of fuzzy small spiders running around and playing with the fearie lights enchanted silk robes.

Minthara stood up, offering her arm to you as unspoken request to let her carry you. You gladly accepted.

Taking you into her arm, she moved the both of you to the other side of the room. Placing you on the bed with a soft kiss to your forehead.

"I have something that I want to show you." One of her spider legs dug through a silk cocoon buried until the webbed flooring, bringing it up and placing it into your hand.

It was different, the silk was finer and more shiny than her normal silk. The cocoon was also wooven with great care. An embroidered symbol of a flower on the outside.

"A secret egg?" You weren't sure if you wanted to ruin the beautiful embroidery of silk.

Minthara shook her head, "open it. It's for you."

Gently prying open the cocoon, something shined below in the hollow insides. Two red petals were rolled up, each one holding a golden ring with a bright clear diamond on top.

Your heart fluttered, stilling your body as your processed the two rings in front of you.

Minthara was looking at you, gauging your reaction. Her red eyes not veiling the love and vulnerability they held in them.

"Ussta 'chev" her lips trembled as she said those words, despite whispering then a thousand times over like prayers against your heated skin in endless nights of passion. My beloved.

Drows Do Not Marry. You remember reading about it over and over in a million different books, drows do not marry but only take consorts.

Yet the rings in front of you told a completely different story.

She asks for your hand.

"You're mine just as I am yours."

You give your hand to her

"And if you leave me, rest assured it would kill me."

She traces her fingers on top of yours, kissing your hand

"Take me as your wife, forever."

Minthara places the ring on your finger, admiring the jewel shining against your skin.

Putting on the other ring herself.

You intertwine your fingers, holding her hand against yours.

The happiness that goes through your body is unmatched, it's most joy you have ever felt.

Minthara gently cups your cheek, wiping your tears away.

The taste of her venom has grown sweet and familiar by now, it tasted like home.

You lean over to give her a kiss.

#♡Minthara #♡drider minthara #♡smut #♡fluff #♡angst #♡dark content #minthara x reader #Minthara baerne #drider Minthara #bg3 x reader #bg3 smut #baldur's gate 3 x reader #tw claustrophobia #tw oviposition #tw spiders

248 notes · View notes

drefear · 6 months

Text

do you even know, how you make me weak

Inspired by @ofherdesire series of toxic Miguel, the characters are all theirs (aside from Miguel lol)

TW: toxic Miguel, bits of sex, violence, bullying if you squint, injury.

Lips left imprints on your skin as Pedro held your body like an antique vase, priceless and delicate. Every touch was such a change from Miguel’s rough hands always moving fast unless he knew he’d hurt you.

Pedro moved in a gentle manner unless you asked for more, and he kept you breathless as he watched your every reaction. It was always about you, about your pleasure, your climax.

“When you pull me close,

Feelings I’ve never known.”

The soft groans he let out as he whispered into your skin made you wonder how you ever lived without such touches and feelings.

This was almost a daily action, like you both needed it to live. He made a schedule to be able to see you once a day, even if it meant only a few minutes and a peck on the lips. He never failed to remind you of his everlasting love for you, his dedication to show you how appreciated you were. Pedro was such a beautiful and welcome change of pace.

Yet, you still longed for the hulking presence you caught brief sightings of, but this was always followed by a blinding ray of blonde pep, like a police flashlight in your face at midnight when you’d done nothing wrong. The sly girl kept him close any time you were around, including during missions.

Miguel couldn’t be around you for more than two seconds without blue eyes popping out from behind him, something that had begun to cause problems within him. She didn’t trust him, and he couldn’t blame her, when he was constantly drawn to you like a moth to a flame.

“Miguel, you ok?” Peter’s voice broke the larger of the two from a trance as he watched you jump from a ledge as you four fought an anomaly, your webs trapping the enemy in your clutches as Miguel stood like a statue, eyes watching you in awe. It was like watching an actual spider weave its web; agile and careful, yet still powerful and strong.

“Miguel!” Peter shouted, finally snapping Miguel out of his thoughts and dodging a falling piece of debris. He rolled onto the ground and grabbed a survivor, handing them off to-

“Miggy!” His girl. He looked at her, why wasn't he always looking at her? She caught the bystander and he turned his attention back to you, who was facing off the anomaly alone now as Peter worked with his girlfriend to find anyone else who might be trapped. He sprung into action once he saw the position you were in and jumped to your side.

“Take the other side, I can handle this one.”

“You’ll get hurt, deja de ser terca!”

“I’ll be fine, now go!” You yelled and yanked your strings tighter in your fists, and he obeyed.

As he worked on the side you directed him towards, you threw the trapbox and red lasers enclosed around the anomaly, making you and Miguel both relax for a brief second. Sighing in exhaustion, you gave a small smile to Peter and Miguel, until suddenly a shout was heard and your body was jerked forward.

As you blinked, you felt the warmth of Miguel’s chest in your face, Peter moving closer to check on you and in the far distance, the sharp angry eyes of his girl.

His red luminescent webs wrapped around your torso and you held your head a bit, the sudden motion making you a little nauseous.

“Are you alright?” Peter’s voice was almost distant as you tried to step away from MIguel, but his hand tightened around your waist and you pushed harder, disliking the lack of distance between you two.

“I’m fine, really. Just a little dizzy.”

“I told you not to be so stubborn.” Miguel’s voice was cold, visceral, and you frowned up at him. It’d been almost a year since you two had an actual conversation, since you last kissed his lips and heard him say how you weren’t enough for him and she was. The sour memory bit into you like an animal and the poison made your vision turn a bit red on the edges, but you wouldn’t let the pain overtake your senses or act out.

Instead of giving him a sassy remark like you wanted to do, you just tapped your watch and opened a portal back to HQ, “I’m getting my head checked, I’ll see you all at debriefing.” You mumbled and walked through the portal.

Miguel watched the portal close and closed his eyes, frustration bubbling inside of him like rapture, popping and hissing at the intense heat it was beginning to give off.

The clean up was minimal, Miguel instructed both Peter and his girlfriend to reconstruct the cannon, and he made his way to bring back the anomaly. Once everything was secured, he sat in his sector, platform high above the actual floor as it gave him better concentration away from all of the talking and bustle of HQ.

The soft patter of footsteps made him aware that someone was making their way up to him, the sound of a web slinging a lighter body up to his level.

“You alright, baby?” Her voice was soft, more on the high-pitch side, and clear like a flute. Her manicured hands pressed into Miguel’s tense muscles and he sank into his chair further, letting her go harder.

“M fine.” he grunted and she nodded, not pushing further. She never pushed, never pressed further than what he wanted. She was just so good, easy to be around, and never making him feel too intensely.

He felt nothing around her. It was simple. He thought he liked that, so why did he crave you so much? Why were you all he thought about? You forced him to feel weak and out of control, even before he met her.

“I think you should maybe give her less missions, it’s obvious that she’s getting sorta… distracted?” Her tone was quiet, and he just nodded in agreement, but he knew you weren’t the problem. He was the distracted one, and he knew that she saw this too. So he didn’t argue, just sank deeper into her butter touch and closed his eyes.

“I’m a lightweight, easy to fall, easy to break

With every move, my whole world shakes, keep me from falling apart.”

You laid in the infirmary, eyes closed from the pressure on the back of your neck. Truth be told, your head didn’t hurt, you just needed to get away from them all.

The door opened and you felt Miguel looming by the end of your bed.

“You’re ok.” It wasn’t a question as much as an announcement, like he was speaking to himself.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You answered and avoided his eyes, scared to get caught in the red glare that trapped you in his hold for months on end.

“I think from now on, you should take it easy.” His voice wasn’t one you wanted to argue with, and it meant the possibility of not seeing him as often, so you didn’t mind. The ache in your chest still lingered.

“Okay.” You nodded, and something sparked in Miguel that you hadn’t seen before.

“Okay? That’s fine to you? You don’t care?”

“I mean, isn’t that what you said to me?” You shot back to him and he looked as if you’d actually shot him with a gun, your bullets creating a red ring in his eyes and making them brighter.

“This isn’t about us.”

“There never was an us.” Your words came out without hesitation and he let out a breath like you’d hit him in the gut. “It was just sex, right?”

“Mi bella.”

“Not yours. Never yours.” You looked up to him finally with fat tears in your eyes and his heart finally broke.

A door closing made you both quiet and look behind Miguel, seeing…

“Pedro…” Your voice was barely above a whisper as he stood with flowers, eyebrows furrowed with conflict and confusion.

“Did you two-” He didn’t even finish the sentence, Miguel not moving an inch. You jumped up and brushed past him, rushing to Pedro as you held him.

“Before, it was before you, before us.” You rambled, hoping it would be enough, that he’d understand.

“And now…?”

“Nothing.” Miguel’s voice was harsh, like the words were wrapped with barbed wire and razor blades.

“Exactly.” Your eyes found his and the look was tense, angry, hateful. “It was nothing.”

Miguel’s eyes darkened and he stormed out of the infirmary. Pedro just looked from him to you and sighed.

“Do you want to tell me what that was about?” The hand that held your favorite flowers dropped and a few petals floated to the ground, similar to how your soul felt right now.

“Can we go home?” You asked meekly, wanting to at least be secluded as he nodded in agreement and opened a portal to take you to your apartment.

Peter worked silently next to Miguel’s girl, the room echoing as he typed up his report for the anomaly capture before finally speaking.

“You knew that debris was falling, why didn’t you catch it?” He asked and the blonde turned to look at Peter B, then back to her own screen.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I saw it, you watched the piece of the building hit her.” He kept his voice low, “is it because of how Miguel looks at them?”

She froze. Of course she noticed, she wouldn't have made a move on Pedro if she wasn’t aware of the threat you posed. Threatened. Her heart pounded as a sneer appeared on her face for a second before smiling with tight lips.

“Miguel is with me, and that’s all that matters.” Her voice, sickeningly sweet to Peter, answered as if just discussing the weather and not how her jealousy could have killed you, someone she was supposed to see as her ally.

“You’re right, Miguel is with you, so don’t let your insecurities make you do something that could make you lose him.” Peter stood with those words of advice and walked away as if he didn’t just give her a thinly veiled warning.

Her blonde ponytail bobbed as she went to find Miguel, here to surprise him on her day off with a lunch she made him. As she approached his office, she heard panting and groans, knowing those sounds well by now. She’d been seeing Miguel for a few months and things had begun getting serious, so she easily recognized the sound of him about to orgasm.

As she peaked in, she saw him watching videos-

Videos of you. His hand fucking his cock fast and hard as he stared at the screens showing your agility as you soared through the sky in your spidersuit. Her blood boiled and her mind zeroed in on her true target; you.

Pedro sat across from you on your couch, tears filling your eyes as you explained what happened between you and MIguel.

“Who else knows?” He asked and you shook your head.

“Just you. Miguel and I never told anyone, he-” Your voice caught in your throat and you gulped it down, “he didn’t want anyone to know he had been with me.”

Pedro’s hand squeezed yours and he closed his eyes, moving to kiss your cheek.

“Is that why you were so upset that she tried to flirt with me?”

“Yes…” You admitted and let your shoulders sink.

“Alright.” Pedro stayed quiet and then pulled you into a hug.

“What are you-” You began to ask, but he cut you off by cupping your face in his warm hands.

“I’m so proud to have everyone know you’re with me, that you’re mine and I’m yours.” He emphasized the word ‘yours’ and your body trembled in shock. You flung your arms over his shoulders and buried your face into his chest, crying tears you didn't know you were holding in. You felt his lips kiss your shoulders and the side of your face as you wept into his shirt, clutching him close as you spilled your upset.

Lately, Miguel had avoided going home, focusing on work more and more. His precious girl was becoming too clingy, too much for him to handle. He wanted his freedom back, wanted to be the lone wolf he felt comfortable being.

“Miguel?” Her voice rang out like a bell and he closed his eyes, frustrated with the whole day. “Will you be coming home tonight?” She asked cautiously and he just shook his head, knowing she could see him from her vocals echoing. “I miss you, Miggy.” She pressed and he huffed.

“I’m too busy.” He replied and she moved to slip her hand into his, but he jerked away. It wasn’t intentional, it was natural and instinctual. She flinched and her face became dark with anger. “Baby, I-”

“That’s fine.” She answered and spun around to walk away.

“Peter spoke to me today.” Miguel’s voice made her body run cold, feeling like a fly caught in a web. “Said that he thinks we missed something, so I looked back at the footage.” He finally turned around and stood tall over her, “You let her get hurt.”

“It wasn’t intentional-”

“Bullshit!” He shouted and she kept herself calm, fists balled by her side.

“Would you be this upset if it was me?” She asked and he rolled his eyes.

“No puedo mas, this again? What is it with the constant questioning?” He yelled and she folded her arms in defense.

“I see how you act around her, how you look at her!”

“I’m with you!” He screamed back and the two fell quiet, breathless. His chest rose and fell with fury.

“Do you love her?” She glared and he tensed, the blistering heat of the question scorching Miguel.

“Mi sol, I love you.” He tried to emphasize the word ‘you’ once again, trying to explain that she was his sunlight, his-

“You didn’t say no.” Her face grew stoic, cold, almost rude as she straightened up. “So you do.”

“But I don’t- it’s not like that. I don’t want a future with her.”

“You don’t want one, or you’re scared of one?” The implication made him shift where he stood and look away from her, trying to even process everything she was assuming about him. “I don’t want you near her anymore.”

“Fine, I’ll prove it to you that you’re the one for me.” He moved to hold her hands, but she tugged them from his reach. “Please.”

“Alright.”

You were put on less missions, denied access to certain sectors of HQ, and worst of all, completely ignored. Little miss perfect was peppy as ever as you walked towards Miguel’s sector, stopping in her tracks to stand in your way.

“Hey! Need something?”

“Yes, actually. I’m not able to get into some areas that I need to for the next mission.” Her face soured and her pink lips turned to a scowl.

“You were assigned that mission?”

“Peter B asked me to take it for him, he’s having trouble finding someone to watch Mayday and MJ is cracking down on the whole ‘no more bringing Mayday on missions’ rule.” You continued tapping your watch until you bumped into her body, falling backwards and looking up to see her smiling sweetly, bent down and a little too close to your face.

“I’ll get someone to cover the mission, you can rest up, ok?”

“Um, it’s fine, I can handle a minor anomaly.” You backed up and she sighed, rolling her eyes and glaring down at you now. “Is there a problem?”

“Stay away from Miguel, and there won’t be.” She narrowed her eyes and spun on her toes, getting back to her peppy little skip before you could even process the brief conversation you just had, if you could even call that a conversation.

She saw you as a threat, and this was a revelation.

You took her advice and avoided Miguel completely, giving up any mission and refusing to take on anything that he might be present for.

The only time he was unavoidable was when others were around.

“Welcome in, watch out for some of Mayday’s toys!” Peter chuckled and let you walk in, Pedro behind you holding a bottle of your favorite wine and keeping his hand in yours. You stopped short and stared at the table in front of you. There sat Jess and her husband, Pav, Hobie, Miles, Gwen, and… Miguel. He had an arm over the empty chair to his right, another on his left. You gripped Pedro’s hand tighter and walked towards the empty chair to his left.

His girlfriend came out and sat in the chair you moved to sit in, batting her eyes and smiling up at you.

“Oh, sorry, I was already sitting here, but I think there’s a few spots on the couch!” She pointed over to the living room, everyone else completely engrossed in their conversations. You balled your free hand into a fist and just returned the comment with a nod, pulling Pedro along as he glared at Miguel. The leader of Spider Society watching you walk out, then flashing a glare towards the woman by his side.

“There’s no need to be cruel to her.”

“So would you rather her and Pedro sit here?” She leaned backwards, folding her arms defensively as he huffed. For the two of them, the days filled with either rigorous sex or obnoxious arguments. Behind closed doors, Miguel and his girlfriend were now miserable and always giving one another digs. She always caused fights between them when he was busy or trying to sleep, and most of the time they ended in rough kisses. It was the only way Miguel knew how to get her quiet, and how she knew how to keep him under her control without him thinking of you.

“I just might.” He answered and stood up, walking into the living room. Grabbing his coat, he saw how Pedro held you closer, how he comforted your upset frame, how he was so gentle with your hands in his as your head laid on his shoulder. His eyes met Miguel’s and at that moment, Miguel realized that Pedro knew. “Can I- Can we talk?” He asked the other man, motioning towards the balcony. Pedro kissed your forehead, making an itch form in the palm of MIguel’s hand, and followed the bigger of the two out the sliding glass doors.

“Pedro-” Miguel started, but the other raised a hand and interrupted him, a serious look in his dark eyes.

“She told me what happened.”

“I know. I can tell.” Miguel looked out at the city and kept one hand in his pants pocket. “She’s… She’s the world, the moon, she is-” He stopped himself briefly, “she was my everything, but I didn’t know how to care for her. You do, so please don’t ever stop or make my mistake, entiendes?” Miguel’s eyes, rimmed with red, caught Pedro’s and he saw that there was pity in them.

“I-” Pedro’s words caught in his throat as he looked away, trying to understand what the other was saying, then hanging his head. Miguel was trying to let you go, trying to let you be happy with Pedro, and Pedro saw that as Miguel’s eyes avoided him now. He deserved the truth. “You should know that your girlfriend has been bothering-”

Miguel sneered and gripped the railing with both hands. He saw her for who she was now, a snake in a spider suit.

“I know exactly what she’s doing. It won’t happen again.”

Pedro nodded again and looked towards the sky. “You should try to let her be happy.” His voice cracked and he walked away before Miguel could react, slipping back inside and sitting back on the couch with you. Miguel followed after a beat, now understanding Pedro’s statement and grabbing his coat.

“Honey, where are you going?” Her sickly kind voice made Miguel angry as she placed a hand on his arm, before he yanked it away. “You didn’t tell me we were leaving.” She spoke back, a bite in her words that would go undetectable to the others, but MIguel’s eyes burned red with a fire she’d never seen directed at her before.

“That’s because we aren’t. I am.” He clarified and trudged out of Peter’s door.

That night, Miguel sent Lyla to tell her to get her stuff out of his apartment, and that he would like his things returned to HQ as soon as possible.

You and Pedro laid in bed that night and as you drifted to sleep, you felt his watch get a buzz. He glanced at it and immediately turned it off.

“Was that important?”

“Not as important as you.” He pecked your forehead and pulled you in tighter. You fell asleep to the sound of his heartbeat under your head and woke to an empty bed.

#miguel spiderverse #miguel x reader #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara #miguel spiderman #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel smut #atsv miguel #angst #miguel o’hara angst #Miguel o hara angst #miguel ohara angst

174 notes · View notes

hey-august · 2 months

Text

A Line from Me to You - Chapter 4

Description: Buggy finds a peculiar book on his ship. Enticed by the words contained on each page, the pirate opens up. Anonymity leads to vulnerability. What else will come from this? (Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, check out the story tag)

Word count: 1.9k

Warnings: This chapter is SFW, but that changes next chapter!! Buggy x afab!reader.

A/N: Defnitely messed up posting this the first time around. 🤡Posting from my phone, so let me know if it looks weird!

Tag list: @lostfirefly @rorywritesjunk @theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

“Maybe you should pick the next book.”

Buggy would have considered writing those words as admitting defeat if it wasn’t for how shaky your last note was. He could see each jump and jolt your hand made while asking for something less intense than the books Buggy picked.

After you both filled the end pages of “Rocks on the River” with enough saltwater to rival the ocean, Buggy offered another story from his backlog. The third novel you read together was a horrifying tale that pushed the readers into a toxic miasma of fear, paranoia, and unease, which oozed into their real lives.

The whole ship rang with a piercing shriek from the captain when an unfortunate freak tapped his shoulder from behind. A usually common occurrence was tainted by an early scene from the book. Buggy knew the touch wasn’t from grotesquely plump spiders descending from the ceiling, even though he screamed something that sounded like, “Get it the fuck off of me.”

After reading a chapter full of creepy-crawlies, every small sensation left his blue hair standing on end, which only created a nerve wracking loop. Every breeze and rustle of fabric teased his prickled skin, mimicking the feel of grubby little arachnid and insectoid legs scurrying across his body. The sensation only went away after a frantic midday wash with near-boiling water and the roughest washcloth Buggy could find. After sloughing off more than one layer of skin, the pirate felt confident that he was clean and not infested.

You, on the other hand, had boasted about not being scared of the terrors held within the book. Unlike the invasive imaginary critters Buggy was battling, you were as snug as a bug in a rug when you curled up in bed to read each night. The chilling entities weren’t real, and if they were, you felt safe on the ship.

“I’m just saying, if soul-sucking bats were attacking, I would trust C. Buggy to protect m us.”

As much as you tried to turn the start of “me” into “us,” the letters didn’t flow right. Rather than drawing attention to the slip-up by completely blacking out the convex letter, you simply crossed it out and hoped the other reader wouldn’t notice.

“I dunno, what if he hid from those horrid fucking things? I wouldn’t blame him, honestly…”

“Maybe…but I trust him.”

“He’s the captain, you’re supposed to trust him.”

“That’s not the only reason.”

You didn’t realize what you wrote until you punctuated the sentence by stabbing the page. Your hand moved quickly and defensively, upset by the assumption that your feelings were obligatory. Your fingers twitched as you restrained the flow of words. Your trust wasn’t unearned, it had grown over time. The seed was planted when you were welcomed to the ship with open arms and watered by his laughter and jokes, the care he held for his eclectic freaks, the little questions he’d ask about their lives at sea, and the flashy stories he pushed them weave. The roots reached deep, following the curve of his smile and tracing the crinkles in the corner of his eyes.

The trust might have been obligatory at the beginning, but it had since blossomed into more. You weren’t ready to acknowledge the blooms and definitely weren’t going to share the unnamed feelings with a stranger.

Thankfully, Buggy’s preference for avoiding uncomfortable discussions kept him from prying further. His nightly alcohol whispered in a heated voice. It said he should ask, that he deserves to know why you trusted him so much. The voice grew quieter the longer he let the amber liquid sit untouched. Sure, a part of him was interested, but you didn’t elaborate for a reason. Thinking back to “Rocks on the River,” you never pressured him to write more about his childhood friend. Curiosity peeked through some of your notes, but it never confronted him. And he couldn’t bring himself to do that to you, so he moved onto the next section of the story.

This time, you completed the book first. Usually, you refrained from reading while on duty, but finishing the horror novel under a full moon in the crow’s nest seemed like a fitting end. Settled under an inky expanse that spilled into the still sea, you read words illuminated by moonlight. It didn’t take long for the whispers of subtle waves to take on an ominous tone. The rattling of the gently swaying ship became inhuman guttural groans.

Creaks from other crew members on duty became less frequent and far less comforting. Their footsteps and shadows were no longer welcoming - they were unsettling and teased your fraying hold on reality. Seated so high above the others, you had no way of knowing if the life on deck were familiar or fiendish freaks. Laughter carried on the wind wasn’t jovial, but sinister. You tried to close the book, to stop the words from pulling you deeper into their dark world, but it didn’t work. You were already lost in fear and needed to claw your way out.

---

Buggy figured you would spend the night reading and woke up early to see if the book would be ready for him. He slipped the third annotated book into an interior coat pocket and headed to breakfast. Only a few pirates filled the hall - a mix of those eating their first meal of the day and those filling their stomachs before sleep. Despite the differences, everyone embraced the quiet morning and only the sounds in the room came from cutlery against plates, mugs on the wooden tables, and open-mouthed chewing. It would be a normal scene, except for you. Unlike the others, who were stuck in the cozy twilight at either end of sleep, you sat wide-eyed and jittery in front of a sparse meal. The captain approached the corner you cowered in like a scared animal.

“You alright? Something happen last night?” His voice was pulled low with concern.

Your eyes darted around the room, afraid of missing some unknown monster during this conversation. “I’m fine. Just tired. It was a long night.” You shivered slightly, fear and anxiety still running their courses through your body.

“Hey,” Buggy whispered softly as he crouched low, his leather boots creaking with the movement. “You sure that’s all?” His hand rested on the bench next to you. He wanted to reach out and keep you from shaking, but a different fear kept him from moving.

“I’m fine,” you repeated, looking everywhere but at the man in front of you.

A moment of silence let you know the answer wasn’t accepted. You glanced at him a few times before getting stuck in the deep pools within his eyes. It always happened to you so easily - his pupils were large and dark enough for you to fall in those ocean-colored eyes without a second thought. Buggy raised his eyebrows, the movement also tugging the tip of his round nose, and tilted his head to the side. He could see through the flimsy facade you were hiding behind, so you let it go and took a deep breath.

“It was a really long night, Captain. I think I’ll feel better after sleeping. I’m okay, really.” You emphasized the last word by nudging his gloved hand with yours. Just the smallest amount of touch to let him know you were being honest.

Buggy nodded and left without another word. Any details you were reluctant to share were housed in the book sitting in his pocket.

---

The rest of the story that was written in the novel and documented your night was devoured in his quarters, while the plate of breakfast sitting a hands-reach away on the desk grew cold. It was a different experience to read a horror book during the day, when the bright sunlight eliminated any errant shadows and kept the unknowns that resided in the dark at bay. Still, the author was skilled enough for goosebumps to cover the pirate’s body. He ran his hands along his arms and legs to iron away the physical response.

As Buggy soothed his own unsettled nerves, he thought about you. How scared you must have been, alone and in the dark. How the fear followed you through the morning and you couldn’t shake the feeling. Literally. For a brief moment, Buggy imagined holding your trembling body, just as he was holding his own. Would you trust your captain enough to let him protect you from a fear response?

Although the pirate couldn’t bring himself to comfort you physically, he had an idea that could work. Filling with bubbling excitement, he sprang out of the desk chair, nearly toppling it in the process, and sprinted out of the room. A moment later, a lone hand whizzed back to toss his reading glasses on the bed and close the door.

---

You woke up as the sun was turning in for the evening, surprised that you managed to fall asleep. Thinking back, you might have actually passed out from exhaustion and worry. The orange glow now painting the walls in your room was comforting. You stretched your limbs to bring them back to life and put your arms behind your head.

Staring at nothing in particular gave your mind permission to pursue its own entertainment, so it drifted back to the paranoia and apprehension you thought had left. Threads of their presence remained and tugging at them brought pieces of the story. Examining those moments was easier in the golden light, but as the warmth receded and night returned, so did the unease. Rather than staying inside and alone, you hoped to find companionship and protection with the late night crewmates.

Waiting just outside your room was the smell of fried food and smoked meat to keep you company. As you wandered the belly of the ship, you passed your mates filling their own bellies with greasy food and alcohol. The ebb and flow of movement seemed to be going to and coming from the deck. Following the alluring scents of popcorn, cotton candy, and sweet dough, you stepped into the open air.

String lights adorned the ship, traipsing from mast to mast, illuminating the sails, and snaking around the deck railing. Hundreds of lights bounced on the rippled sea, creating a bubble of light that was periodically outdone by the handmade fireworks launched into the sky. As sparks rained down in a beautiful rendition of a meteor shower, you caught the silhouette of the captain standing at the helm of the ship. If anyone knew what ignited tonight's floating festival, it would be the man in charge.

You weaved your way across the deck, grabbing two bottles of beer on the way. Having learned from earlier events and rumors among the crew, you stomped your feet a little louder than usual to let Buggy know you were approaching, so he wouldn’t be caught off guard and attempt to swat you away in surprise. When he turned to see who the visitor was, you offered him a drink.

“Are we celebrating something special?”

“There doesn’t have to be a reason to have a party,” Buggy said, as though you should know better. “Besides, my crew always deserves a night like this!” He spread his arms and gestured all around him.

Despite the bright lights, enough of the night hung around to hide the blush on your cheeks. Eager to hide the heat behind alcohol, you held out your bottle. “Then here’s to us!”

Buggy tapped his bottle against yours harder than he expected, causing a fountain of bubbles to overflow from both containers. You both leaned in to stop the spills before taking a proper drink.

Little did you know, this was his first drink of the evening. Buggy, who was known to spend nights with his sloshing spirit in hand, had planned when and how much alcohol would be available. He considered how to drag out the crowds and stagger the inevitable crash as people blacked out and passed out. The pirate captain wasn’t sure how successful he’d be against soul-sucking bats, but every detail that would chase away another dark and lonely night was taken into account.

#eventual smut #buggy x reader #buggy x you #x reader #buggy the clown #buggy the clown x reader #buggy op #opla buggy #one piece buggy #hey-august a line from me to you

69 notes · View notes

eveeyehorizons · 2 years

Text

FlowState # Vivvasected Beyond Fried Chicken Arbys soufflé OK that's it

youtube

#Youtube #Weaving spiders welcome #flowstate #Alchemy #Benjamin balderson #Sewneo #SB #SPIDERZ

0 notes

oleander-nin · 7 months

Text

Horrotober Day 18 - Flame(Yandere Rise Mikey x Reader)

A/N, not important: I am trying so hard to make my work have like, emotion in it. Idk how I'm doing. Any criticism is welcome, constructive or not. This is supposed to be a gender neutral reader, so if I screwed up somewhere, please tell me.

-Ollie

CW: Fire, parental death, death, loss, grief written badly, gasoline, arson, burns, kidnapping, dark themes, yandere themes.

Words: 1278

Summary: Mikey burns down your old home as a testament to you new life with him.

The stark smell of gasoline stirs you awake, your eyes fluttering open to your dim room. Your night light was shining warmly in the corner, still protecting you after all these years. You lift off your blankets, sniffing the air with confusion. Have your parents knocked something over? Did they need help cleaning it? You pass by the night light in your old room as you make your way to your door, turning the slick handle with a grimace. It was wet, slippery with a liquid that was quickly soaking into your hand. You hesitantly bring it to your nose, taking a small whiff.

You yank your hand away from your face, gagging slightly. There was gasoline on your door, and from the puddle you had stepped through that was now soaking into your socks, it was also covering your floors. You quickly open the door, heading through the hallway while your old night light flickers behind you, sealed in a room of memories about to be destroyed. You desperately rack your brain for reasons the house was soaked in the volatile liquid, your heart pounding into your chest. Every step you took soaked your socks and the bottoms of your pajama pants more, the shiny fluid greedily latching onto you as you ran.

For the first time in your adult life, you throw manners to the window and open your parents door without knocking. Seeing them both lie there in their bed brought a small amount of relief to you, and you quickly cross their room to wake them. Shaking them both in turn makes you start to panic more as neither awakes. You turn on the lamp that sits on the bedside table, casting the room into a dim glow. You lean over and try to move their faces, hoping it would stir them. Taking a small breath for courage, you gently lift one's eyelids like you did when you were younger. All that it did was reveal their rolled back eyes, the white of the sclera being the only thing showing.

Only now you realize how stiff they both are, how the blood in their faces seemed to be traveling to their backs. You finally look at their faces fully, seeing the shut eyed screams they were frozen in. Their necks were badly bruised, the imprints of what looked like chains burned into their skin. Your heart sinks and you step back with a sob, crashing to your knees in your parents room. You don’t mind the cold gasoline soaking into, no longer worrying about the fire that could erupt from a single spark and swallow you whole. Loud sobs and screams leave you, wracking your body as your hands pull at your hair in despair. You were aware of what you needed to do, how you needed to grab the phone on their bedside and call the cops.

Your mind urged you to stand, to take control of the situation and mourn once you were safe, but your body refused. Your hands shook, desperately wanting the comforting touch of your parents and wishing for their hold, but you were stuck in the void of grief. Your world was crashing down around you. With the tears burning your face and the dull ache of your knees, you force yourself to get up and move to the phone, fumbling the power button. It flashes weakly at you, the familiar curse of an empty power bank mocking your troubles. You have every urge to shatter the phone in your hand, to throw it to the floor and watch the glass break to the tune of a hungry spider weaving their web.

You slip it into the pocket of your pajamas instead, knowing the priceless memories this phone had stored in its memory. You may have lost your parents tonight, but you would rather set the house aflame yourself than lose what little memories of them you could salvage. You cross the room once more and go to the other side of the bed, trying to keep your eyes off the still bodies of your parents. You couldn’t help but feel their faces were mocking you, the silent screams morphing into laughter that burned your ears and caused more tears to roll down your cheeks.

You curse loudly when you pick up the other phone to find similar results, quickly covering your mouth with your hand. Even now, you felt bad for cursing in front of your parents, and even worse for cursing in front of the dead. With two phones in your pockets and a heavy heart, you trudge back to your room in hopes to pick up your phone and what little money you had under your bed. Now that there was no one to save, you wanted to get out of the house quickly and keep yourself alive. There would be no murder reported if you died with them, and you refuse to let your parents die in vain.

The door to your room looks more like a portal to hell as you near it, your stomach churning with unease. You push the brightly colored wood in more, flicking on the light as you step in. You jump back when you see Mikey, confusion and worry flashing across your face. He was sitting on your bed, with one foot crossed over the knee and your phone in his hands. The light of the screen lit up his face, and whether he didn’t notice you or he was ignoring you, you couldn’t tell.

“Mikey?” You breathe out, stepping further into your room. His face seemed akin to an angel in the moment, your heart bleeding and desperately calling for the comfort his arms would bring. You rush forward, quickly falling against him as you sob, telling him of your parents while he quietly comforts you.

“I’m sorry, sunshine.” He murmurs, his lips pressing themselves to your forehead. You look up at him, more confusion in your eyes before you start to connect the dots. Mikey was here, and his wrappings smelled so strongly of gasoline it could make you hurl. You try to pull back, but he holds you firm, quiet apologies and reassurances falling from his lips as you scream. He lifts you into his arms, dropping your phone on the ground and cracking it under his feet. You thrash against him as he carries you through the door of your home, lighting it ablaze with his mystic powers that once amazed you.

A crackling blue portal sits at the end of your driveway, and Mikey carries you through, the lair on the other side. You continue to scream and fight in his arms, but Mikey never budges nor falters. His small stature was a ruse, his arms and capabilities stronger than you could ever hope to be.

“It was necessary,” He mumbles, his tone apologetic while he leads you towards the bathroom to clean the gasoline from your skin. He takes no notice of your punches or bites, only hissing when you land a hit to his cheek. “I needed you to stay. If you had something to return to, you’d never settle down.”

You don’t bother to ask what he means, or why he did what he did, only caring to get as far away from him as you could. Mikey continues to hold you down, pressing kisses to your face and whispering soft words in your ears like it would fix the damage he had done. Mikey wasn’t too worried about your fighting, knowing you would come around soon. A burned bridge could always be rebuilt, and Mikey wasn’t afraid of splinters.

128 notes · View notes

undercoverpan · 11 months

Text

Fish for breakfast

Spider wondered which deity he upset.

No, really, which god or goddess got so mad at him; they put him in this position?

This position being trapped beneath his dad as he hisses and snarls at his other dad, Jake. The enraged Na'vi had his ears pinned down as he bore his teeth at the other, the aforementioned Na'vi doing the exact same. It's normal for these 2 to be at eachothers throats, but it doesn't mean that Spider likes being held. By either of them. Jake lost his holding privileges when he had taken him to ride a tsurak, and promptly allowed him to be swept away by the waves. Quaritch lost his when he accidentally cracked a rib from how tightly he was holding.

"He's my son and I am taking him for the holidays!" Roared Quaritch, murder flashing in his eyes. "We agreed that Spider stays with me during Na'vi holidays!" Jake argued, his voice as sharp as his blade. "He's had enough Na'vi holidays, asshole! You're not depriving my son of christmas!" Spider didn't even know what Christmas was, but Quaritch wanted to take him on the RDA trip to the northern mountains, so he could experience a real christmas. He's not sure what that means, but he admits that it did sound fun.

And Neytiri didn't like having him around, especially on special days. He thinks it'd be nice to be welcomed on a holiday. It's a win-win situation, he gets to enthusiastically participate with one side of his culture and Neytiri gets to enjoy the festivities with her family without spider around.

Fair trade, right?

Wrong.

His dads were on the verge of instigating another war between them and Spider, as always, was caught in the middle. And this time, he hasn't even had breakfast yet!

"Oh who cares about christmas! It's a shitty holiday anyways!"

"Sully, I swear to God, I'm going to knock your teeth out!"

He managed to wriggle free while the 2 fought. He crept away to the beach, where no one was because it was the ass-crack of dawn. Strangely, he spotted a small cookfire with 4 people.

As he got closer, he immediately recognized them as his friends.

"Monkey boy! Come, come!" Kiri cheered as he ran over, crashing down into her waiting arms. They seemed to be roasting some fish over an open fire.

"Finally got away from dad?" Lo'ak asked as he chewed his food. Neteyam flicked his forehead, muttering something about swallowing first.

"Yeah, finally! They're both so overdramatic, they both give me a massive migraine every time they start talking about visits and holidays and who's my favourite. Eywa, I wish they would stop."

They all nodded in agreement. They suffered from having to live with the world's prettiest man who got into catfights with Quaritch every other day.

So they all sat there, talking about everything and anything to distract each other. What weaving pattern should Lo'ak use for the necklace he's making for Tsireya, Kiri found an ilu with a heart shaped mark on its forehead, Neteyam is getting better with a spear, Tuk ate a salty rock recently. They talk and laugh as they eat cooked fish all morning.

The group slowly goes silent. He followed their gaze as they all looked behind him. He felt his heart drop as he saw Neytiri approaching. Her face was blank, expression unreadable. The sand crunched beneath her feet as she approached.

She sat down between him and Lo'ak. They all watched her with bated breath.

With a click of her tongue, she spoke; "What's for breakfast?"

And they all started the morning with roasted fish.

______

Everyone is fed up w Quaritch and jake, 100%

#spider socorro #avatar twow #jake sully #miles spider socorro #avatar spider #colonel quaritch #miles socorro

223 notes · View notes

fandomnerd9602 · 5 months

Text

Web Making

Prequel to Wolf Spider

Sam Carpenter x Spider-Man!Reader

Being the Wolf Spider, the single superhero in all of New York was rarely easy. Being a babysitter to your goddaughter May Parker was somehow even more tough.

You were trying to get your mail and jostle little May when you heard someone approach you. Normally your spider sense would’ve picked it up but at the same time, this presence put you at ease.

“Need a little help there?” A female asked you.

You turned around and came face to face with the most beautiful woman you had ever seen. Skin so beautiful, hair as black as your suit. Her eyes the richest chocolate and a smile that made your heart thump wildly.

"N-No I'm good" you try to speak to this beautiful woman.

"Cute little girl" she smiles at little May, "she yours?"

"It's my goddaughter, her parents named me honorary babysitter" you state with a little smile

"Sam" she gives a little wave

"Y/N" you answer back

"What is it you do Y/N?" Somehow just hearing your name leave her lips makes it sound like sweet poetry. You nearly blurted out that you were the Wolf Spider. But luckily your two brain cells worked.

"I'm in...security. With a little hand in web design" you shrug it off.

"My sister and I are moving in on floor three." Sam tries to explain as she gestures to a few boxes near her.

"Well neighbor," you offer, "I'm gonna go put May down for her nap and if you want I can help with the boxes."

You could tell she seemed a little hesitant at first; maybe there was some trust issues there. But then she bit her lip and smiled, "I'd like that"

And just like that, Samantha Carpenter had welcomed you into her life and into her heart. It took a while but the web you've been weaving with her is definitely one for the history books in the Spiderverse.

Tags: @deafeningsharkslimeempath @ma1egamer @kingofthelizardpeople @konstantin609 @tokufighter

#scream movie #scream Sam carpenter #sam carpenter #melissa barrera #sam carpenter x reader #scream vi #marvel #marvel imagine #marvel fluff #mcu #mcu imagine #mcu fandom #spider man #wolf spider #spider society #across the spiderverse #beyond the spiderverse

133 notes · View notes

mayfast · 1 month

Text

What's in a Name? (UnBetaed Ficlet)

“So, that’s my name?” His fingers hover over the wet sand, terrified to mess up the pretty lines and loops and dots in the shore. It was clean and spread out evenly. He let his eyes wonder over word again.

It was his name, but it’s seeable, not spoken. That’s his name. There on the ground for anyone to see if they wanted. However, it was just shared between them. On the East side of the village, where people hardly go. It’s between ocean blue skin and mellow brown eyes. Hidden in their soft words, and distinctive physiques. Tucked under their forms as a tan pinky points at the symbol. It’s amid their souls. Him and Spider.

“Yep, although we can get rid of this apostrophe if you want,” The elder’s smallest finger taps at the dot between the circle and the next symbol, it looks like the curve of a net falling into the water. Spider’s other hand floats in the air next to his larger, pinky less one. It makes him appreciate the difference and similarities between them. The careful articulation of the digits, and soft pads. But the striking color contrast when he slips the elder’s fingers between his own. Even when it’s a little awkward to feels a digit on each side of his fingers, or when his hand swallows Spider’s smaller one. Ao’nung welcomes the soft squish of the other’s skin and sensitivity of his slimmer palm, “I just think it makes it look cooler and emphasizes the direct change of morphemes.”

“I like it.” He does, mainly because of the way Spider’s dark eyes reflect the bright sun when he gets to explain the organization of the symbols, letters, and how he’s putting them together to form a visualization of Ao’nung’s name. He looks so excited. His blonde hair glows like syuratan. Ha, imagine that, syuratan that glows during the day.

They were on the shore, kneeling on the semi-wet sand. Sea water occasionally licking at their toes. Ao’nung couldn't help but be captivated by the sight of the human’s long, blonde curly hair. He’s never stood before someone with such salient hair, He marveled how every strand seemed to catch the light, creating a halo of golden warmth around his head.

A gentle breeze played with Spider’s curls, causing them to dance and shimmer. The way his hair framed his face, accentuating his features, it made his stomache twisted wonderfully. Spider’s hair was different, thinner. So thin, that sometimes, the strands allowed the golden curls to puff up just a bit when they were dry. Like now. He watched as Spider’s ran his fingers under his hair, pulling it back from his face, and he couldn't help but feel an urge to cup one hand along the other’s jaw while the other caress the loose, undreaded hair.

It truly was yellow-yellow. It was like an endless current of yellow. Some strand darker than others, and the pieces would weave themselves in and out of each other. The other glanced over his sand shaded shoulder, turning to him with a smile, blunt teeth showing off and, his deep, murky water eyes sparkling with joy. Eyes delighted at seeing him. He returned the smile, feeling the fangs tug at his bottom lip.

“What about your name?” He queries with a serene hum. He feels the need to bump his head against the gold mane, letting his tough skin feel the slick and smooth glide of the blonde ocean beside him. His does such, feeling the soft tufts along his cheek. It tickles his nose as the curls rub against it. He smells of an odd mixture of something bitter, ocean salt and hard metal. It’s a weird comfort, but he tends to enjoy weird things.

“Which one?” There’s a small pressure resting on his wrist. He cracks an eye, just widen enough look at Spider’s other hand resting on top of it. His tan look so bright on his blue. He feels held as they lean on each other. “Miles or Spider?”

“Your name.” He repeats gently. Sighing and feeling the flyaways brush against his skin as they move with his breathe, dancing with the air before falling back onto his cheeks.

“Okay.” A saccharine utter hummed back.

Spider leans away from him to put his finger into the sand. Carefully tracing his own symbols into the ground. There’s a similar number of symbols underneath Ao’nung’s name. But it’s dot is on top of a line instead of between symbols.

“I like it.” He answers, resting his chin on Spider’s fluffy hair.

#spider socorro #miles spider socorro #miles socorro #aocorro #spider miles socorro #spider avatar #avatar spider #avatar the way of water #ao'nung #aonung #ao3 #ao3 writer #avatar #SeaMonkey

40 notes · View notes

bokettochild · 2 months

Note

if you want to pair wind with someone in "you weren't supposed to get hurt" how about complete the war trio pairings and give him and time some bonding. you have one of wars and time and wind and wars bonding so why not complete the trio?

Consider it done! No, like, actually consider it done, because I finally did do it T-T

Since you asked for me to complete the War Trio, it is Mask and not Time, but minor details, yeah? It's the same person in the long run.

Rating: General

Wordcount: 4,905

Summary: Tired of the new intruder, Mask turns to desperate measures to reclaim his personal space from the other so called hero that Link's become so taken with. Things do not go as planned. Or...well, sort of?

He didn’t ask for this.

No, seriously, Mask had never asked for this situation to ever come about. He's sort of given up asking anyone for anything at this point. The goddesses didn’t answer when he wanted to go back, to live the life he had finally begun to grow into, to see the kingdom he had saved and all the friends he had made and the world that was familiar even if it was damaged. No one listened to his wishes when he wanted to go home, only to find that the forest will no longer welcome even his child form. He’s tried; he can’t find the grove, or his siblings, or anything of his old life. Navi didn’t listen when he asked her to come back, and whatever powers existed in Termina didn’t listen when he begged for just one day to rest, or a bit of help, or really any bit of aid that didn’t cost him something.

Help doesn’t come for the asking. People only do things for you if they can get something out of it. Life is transactional, and for that reason alone at least, he finds he can respect the strange bunny merchant who’s joined their camp. At least Ravio makes no secret of what he wants, and unlike people who dance around the subject or expect him to know, Ravio states his terms point blank.

Link does not.

The captain is hard to read, hard to understand. He’s the hero, so maybe he can give without getting and maybe he can serve without reward, but that only counts when it’s for the kingdom. No one asked him to reach out to the displaced figures transported through time, to try and befriend them and make them feel at home. There’s no advantage to him doing so, no payout, and it just doesn’t track. Still, Captain Link tries, and he’s succeeding too. Even despite all attempts to keep the man out, he’s somehow made it past Mask’s defenses with that warm smile and the twisting of his own mother tongue.

Maybe it’s the spark of familiarity in those blue eyes. They glitter and gleam like Navi did, and the fae-speak that this mortal hylian man can somehow understand and respond in, scolding and commanding, but also assuring and offering warmth, makes him feel almost at home. Maybe it’s the magic though. He doesn’t think Captain Link knows, but he can feel the tendrils of warmth and strength, a protective magic that weaves over camp as the captain walks and inspects; not unlike a spider spinning a web. It’s different from the Deku Tree’s magic, but similar too. The signature of the setter is the only real change, and the warmth and security of at last being able to bask in that web of safety maybe is the reason he lowers his guard.

That’s how the man got in, lulling him into safety and familiarity, a whisper of those lost in that perfect smile, and then Mask was trapped.

Love is a dangerous thing, but somehow this man has managed to get ahold of his heart anyways, and he’s holding onto it with such warmth and kindness, protecting it so carefully, that there’s really nothing the once-again-child hero can do, only surrender and accept his defeat.

He didn’t ask for Captain Link to adopt him, but he never opposed it either.

Maybe he would have, but the man had sat him down and explained that the reason wasn’t because they found him incapable, and that it was still very much his own choice, but that without an assigned guardian who would take charge of keeping an eye on them, all children displaced across time would be sent to the countryside to stay on farms, out of the way of the danger, at least until the war was over. If he wanted to stay, he had to agree to let an adult become his guardian, and Link had offered his own services for his consideration.

Saying ‘no’ wasn’t really an option. If he wanted to help, he needed to say ‘yes’. Besides, maybe having some tangible proof that someone wanted him around, was tied to him in some way, was nice. It wasn't a Claim like fairy’s laid, but in the way of Hylians, it was really somewhat similar. He became Link’s son, and while the captain never pressured him to see it that way, there’s a small part of him that finds pride in that.

Now if only Link hadn’t done the same thing for the blasted sailor.

Link has a soft spot for kids, and that much is clear. He’s accepted that Mask is older in mind than body, but it’s clear that the child-like appearance does get the better of the man and make him forget at times, and it shows. Also, busy as he is, Link always makes time for all their youngest members of camp, making sure they are handling the events around them well. He’s had help, of course, since Marin and Ravio both make an effort to check in on everyone for him at times, and the island girl in particular is very good at handling them all, including him. Mask blames that weakness on the fact that she looks a little like Malon did when they were adults.

Even with all his duties though, it’s clear the captain finds solace in the presence of children, and privately, Mask does think that, maybe once the war is over, Link should settle down and start a family. For now, he doesn’t mind that the man who adopted him likes to be around the actual kids in the camp, letting Agatha talk his ears off about insects and entertaining Skull-kid's games and tricks. No, in a way, he finds it cute how much Link cares about them.

The problem is the sailors. Tetra isn’t so bad; she’s fun and clever and good at what she does. Impa’s taken charge of keeping an eye on her, for reasons that she won’t explain, so there’s no worry about Link trying to take her in. Her hero companion is a different story though.

Because Link is the one everyone calls when there’s a newly dropped outsider discovered, he’d been there when they’d found the sailor folk. Because the captain has a bleeding heart, he’d immediately offered a place to stay in his own tent for the younger hero, which is all well and good to start with, because Link is nothing if not hospitable. No, the problem isn’t that Link had invited Tune, it’s that Tune doesn’t go away.

What, for a short time, had been his and Link’s space, suddenly has another person in it. Where Link is content to sit quietly and work at their respective tasks, Tune chatters. Where Link will, at the least, humor him about being an adult, Tune flat out doesn’t believe him. Everything he’s just begun to get used to is suddenly changing! He can’t lower his guard anymore, and if he wants to cuddle up to the man who’s legally his father, he can’t without someone seeing and taking it as proof that he’s a child, or that he’s soft or weak or some other offensive presumption. Worse than that though, is that Link treats Tune with the same warmth and kindness that he does Mask, and try as he might to deny it, it’s become increasingly clear that he can’t stand that.

So yeah, Mask is jealous.

He doesn’t like to admit it, but he is, and he doesn’t like that Tune tromps all over everything he was just making for himself and pushes himself into the space that had finally started to feel like home. His relationship with Link is a treasure, and Tune is trying to be part of it, and Link is just letting him! Link took him in, took guardianship over him and now he says that that makes the two of them brothers.

Mask has had brothers before. He doesn’t want new ones. He’s still getting over not ever getting to see the ones he used to have ever again, still getting used to the idea that maybe in their own way, they’d actually felt something for him, despite all the bullying and mockery. He doesn’t want another older brother, one who doesn’t believe him about anything he says and who, worse yet, Link looks at with respect.

There's no shortage of warmth and fondness in Link’s eyes when they turn on him, but when turned on Tune, there��s suddenly some sense of equality, of respect. Tune offers advice and Link takes it, Tune offers help and Link accepts, Tune tells Link to put his things down and rest for a bit and Link does. Mask doesn't have advice or suggestions or really any concept of how to help the man who’s taken him in besides killing monsters. He can’t do anything or give anything back to the person who’s giving him everything, and here Tune shows up and shows him up! Giving and giving and giving and making Mask look like some pathetic mooch! Well, no more! He doesn’t want to have the other around, so maybe it’s time to let that on!

The insults and fighting just stress Link out and saying point blank that he doesn’t want the other boy in their tent just makes the captain sigh and sit them down and explain things and beg them to just try and co-exist. The number of times he’s said that he ‘isn’t asking them to be friends, but just to please get along, or just ignore each other’, is getting ridiculous. Yet, every time, Tune nods and smiles and, like the goody two shoes he is, promises to do his best, apologizing for stressing Link out.

He’s such a suck up, honestly! Mask can’t stand it!

So, instead of involving Link, instead of letting the hylians handle things their way, Mask is going to take the fairy approach to getting this kid out of his space.

It’s not hard to figure out. Skullkid, like always, is down for a bit of mischief, and the fairies he presents with his situation agree to be of aid in any way they can. It won’t affect anybody else. He’d had to steal something out Tune’s bag so that the fairies could get a handle on his magical signature, but that’d been easy enough, and the fairies were well willing to help once he’d bribed them with sugar that he’d snitched from the mess tent.

Now though, he can walk back to the tent knowing that no matter what Tune does, he’ll get lost trying to find it. It’s the same magic from the woods, less strong, since it’s not done by the Deku Tree, but it’s only supposed to work on one person anyways, so it doesn’t need to be that strong, just strong enough to make sure Tune can’t get back in. Except, much to his disappointment, the only result is that the older boy just follows Link around instead! So, when it’s late, he only has to keep an eye on the captain, and thus is still there, every night, humming and talking as dinner is made and eaten, and even afterwards sometimes. Gone is the silence they used to share, filled instead with the voice of the ‘brother’ he never asked for.

So, he tries again. He asks the fairies, he asks Midna, he even tries talking to Ravio to ask him if maybe, somehow, there’s something in the merchant’s wares that could fend off unwanted persons from someone’s space.

“Bees,” the merchant responds, sighing. “Wards and runes too, but those are tricky to lay if you’re not practiced, and unfortunately, I’m not. Mister Hero keeps bees though, and nothing and no one can get at his home without first having to get through them.” There’s a shiver that follows those words, a full body one that makes the rabbit ears of the hood bounce and sway. “Awful, horrid little devils they are!”

Were they in the woods, he’d start gathering hives and fostering bees all around the area, or at least try and learn how. They’re not in the woods though, and Captain Link likely won’t appreciate having a hive anywhere near his tent. Midna suggested getting a dog, but when he’d explained why he wanted it, she’d told him she couldn’t help any further.

“I don’t want any part in a sibling tiff,” she’d declared, and he hadn’t had time to explain that they weren’t siblings before she’d flickered off to another part of camp, most likely to pester Marin.

So, he tries again, and again, and tries everything he can think of, but even with all that he’s still left with an unwanted presence in their tent and evenings that are too loud and food too spicy. He wants Tune gone; not dead, that wouldn’t be right, but out of his hair and his space and away from himself and Link would be nice. Why, oh why couldn’t someone else have taken in the other supposed hero? But no, Link and his bleeding heart just had to take him, and now Mask suffers the consequences of it!

Well, no longer! Because Skullkid has a solution!

“A trap!”

“A trap?” He’s fond of the kid, very much so, but he’s not sure how smart the guy is. “Buddy, I’ve tried that.”

“You tried a magic trap,” Skullkid corrects, giggling, “but magic only works on magic. You’re working like a fairy against a hylian! You need to use hylian skills to stop a hylian!”

“Explain...”

“Hylians are bad at magic, very dumb sometimes.” The hat of the skullkid bobs with a knowing nod as he speaks, smile conspiratory. “He doesn’t know you’re trying to get rid of him. You need to leave no question about it! Trap him, then, after some time, come get him out! You can tell him he owes you for rescuing him, or that you set it, but you can trap him and make him realize he’s not so great!”

Technically, there are so many ways in which it wouldn’t work, but he’s already tried so much, so it’s worth a shot. Skullkid is willing to help with the rigging of it too, with just enough magic to stop the thing going off on anyone else, and employing the spell already on the tent. The older boy will end up at the back rather than the front, and when he does, he’ll fall into a rather deep hole that is spelled so no one will hear him until Mask or Skullkid come to see how he’s doing. It’s no harm done, just a quick scare and a moment to really drive home that staying in their tent is really not worth all the trouble he has to go through to do so.

For the first time in a long time that night, he manages to get Link to himself for a bit. Just quiet, dinner, no chatter, no spicy food, no blabbering and humming hero boy who doesn’t respect his space.

And then Link starts to worry. “Where’s Tune?”

He shrugs. “With Marin? They hang out a lot.” It’s not a lie. “Maybe he’s staying with her instead.”

Link shakes his head, face creasing up in a frown. “No, no, he would have told me.” With that, the man moves to stand, already grabbing for his sword and shield, things he never lets out of reach even when sleeping. “I’m going to go look for him. Stay here, in case he comes back on his own.”

Because Link is too tired to have realized the presence of the spell that keeps his other charge from being able to find the tent. He just thinks Tune follows him around, and he’s not all wrong either. Honestly, that’s probably one of the worst ways that plan had backfired, since it meant those two spent more time around each other. But no more!

The moment Link is out of the tent and out of sight, all smiles for his men even if his brow is tense, Mask is darting out and around the back, headed towards their trap.

Sure enough, Tune is inside. Dirty, tears on his face and cradling an arm that even past his green tunic, Mask can see is horrbly swollen.

“Shit.”

“Language,” the older answers, as if on reflex, before starting and staring up at him. “Wait, Mask?”

He wanted to smirk here, to crow a little at the stupidity it would take to get here, but Tune looks so pathetic, and pained. He’s not supposed to look pained. “Yeah...”

“Oh thank the seven!” Blue-green eyes dart skywards. “Someone set a trap by the captain’s tent! I’ve been calling for hours now, but no one’s come!” There’s a hardness in those eyes, a set to the jaw and brows that echoes the captain’s but a moment ago. “I’m glad Link wasn't the one to find it, but we need to tell him about this! If someone’s setting traps in camp, everyone is at risk!”

Something in his stomach curls and twists uncomfortably as he looks down at that determined face, streaked with tears and mud, yet still, the other boy is focused more on the men, the captain, and everything other than himself. He’s not even realized this was for him. Worse still-

“You’re hurt.”

A wince follows the words, although it tries desperately to be a smile. “Yeah. I think I broke my arm when I fell. Where’s Link?”

“Looking for you.”

He broke his arm. He got hurt. That wasn't part of the plan! He was supposed to get upset, but not...not... Mask’s not sure what he wants here, but this isn’t it. He got Tune hurt. Not just scared, not just lost, not just feeling stupid, but really actually hurt!

The sailor groans. “We have to tell him about this.”

“Do we?”

“Yes?” Like it’s a no brainer, like it’s obvious. “Someone set a trap in camp, Mask. One by his tent! That’s kind of a big deal!”

He knows that, but he doesn’t say it. He didn’t want Link involved though, and now Tune will pull him in and there will be a ruckus, because no one would guess that it was the sailor who was the target. Tune isn’t anyone worth targeting, not when Link is right there!

“But what if it wasn’t for him?”

“Who the-” and he cuts himself off, because Tune sees him like a child, treats him like a child, and refuses to swear in front of him, even though he knows perfectly well that the sailor’s got a mouth filthier than his own. Not for any lack of trying on his part, but Navi never let him stick around when people were using foul language, and he’d never gotten the chance to learn many words. Not in Hylian anyway. “Who would it be for then?” Because he knows too, he knows they aren’t good targets. Mask can’t tell him the truth though.

“Someone else?” It sounds desperate, een despite all effort to not.

“Who else-” and he sees something flicker, like lightning almost, in those sea storm eyes. “Did you do this?”

The accusation stings, but it’s also a sharp blade of truth, and it breaks the dam he didn’t even know was building up. “You weren’t supposed to get hurt!! I just...I- You- I don’t want you around!”

A slow blink, a heavy, deep, dangerous breath, like a dragon about to breath fire, but no flames, no words, emerge. Tune just stares, eyes stormy and cheeks red and shoulders stiff, and Mask feels himself beginning to cower just slightly as guilt mixes with the anger stirring up inside him.

He feels the need to explain himself, yet also the wish to shout and scream and rage at the intruder who disturbed the life that was finally beginning to settle. He’s not sure what exactly he’s feeling most, but it’s making his heart pound and hands sweat as he stands over the hold in the ground and the hero inside. It twists inside as he watches Tune watch him with dangerous eyes, all while cradling his broken arm. The words don’t come. The words won’t come, and he can’t decide whether he wants them too or not, just finds himself staring as Tune breathes, heavy and harsh for a while before finally mustering himself, forcibly calm, and turning sea-green eyes up towards him again.

“You set a trap.”

He doesn’t answer.

Tune doesn't wait for one. “For me. You tried to trap me, and leave me here for, what? An hour, a couple?”

He clenches his hands into fists, heart racing and face twisting up in the same way his stomach does; painful and confusing.

“Why?” The sailor blinks up at him. “What on earth did I do?”

You took from me, he wants to say. You took away my safe space, you made it yours. You broke what I found and made it what you wanted. You shoved yourself in where you didn’t belong and made me feel out of place. “You stole Link.”

For a moment, the other flounders, like a fish out of water, and then his voice explodes with a sharp “What?”

“You took Link!” He says it firmer this time. “We were fine, happy almost. I was happy! And then you came in and changed things and you- you-” he kicks at a clump of dirt on the edge of the pit, watches it roll away and crumble like he wishes the complicated feelings inside of him would do. “You took him away.” It’s softer the second time, just a whisper, a weak little thing that he hates.

“You’re jealous?” The anger is gone now, just...confusion in that face. “Are- are you seriously just... jealous?”

“No!”

And Tune stares, blinking up at him, bewildered. “You’re jealous. You, who Link thinks the world of and adores like his own son, are jealous.”

“I am his son!” Where in the world did that come from?!?!?!

A sigh and the shake of the head. “Okay, get me out. We’re going to talk.” Before he can resist, that stormy sea stare turns up to him again, warning. “If you don’t want me telling Link what you did, then we talk it out without him.”

“Gonna be hard to hide it,” he mumbles, even as, reluctantly, he offers a hand to help get the other out. It’s not that deep, the magic is really the only thing keeping Tune there, and now that he’s here, it dissipates quite easily, not halting the older boy’s climbing out at all. “Your arm’s going to give it away.”

“Help me set it,” is the easy answer. “I can down a potion and Link will be none the wiser.”

Mask stares. “You’re not going to tell him?”

Those deep eyes roll, a heavy puff of air escaping chaffed lips. “I mean, I can if you really want. I’ll tell him you got jealous and trapped me in the ground and that I broke my arm while falling down and-”

“Okay, okay! I get it! I’ll help.”

He does too. They both go back to the tent, and with a fair bit of struggle, they manage to set the broken arm just like Link’s shown them how, tying it to a splint made of a wooden spoon to hold it until the potion takes effect. The moment they’re done though, he’s stuck under that Stare again. It's not nearly as bad as Link’s, but it isn’t fun either.

“Alright, so, what made you think trap was a good idea?”

And... and... he tells him. It all sort of bleeds out in a messy amount of word vomit; the frustration and anger and everything. How he’s not keen on having a brother, how he didn’t get a choice or a warning, how its not fair! And Tune just listens, digesting the words quietly as though they aren’t mean and spiteful, as though he doesn’t sound like Mido when he says them. If Saria could see him now she’d be shaking her head, sad and sorry, probably wondering how he turned out like such a rotten little thing even after how hard she tried to teach him to be good and kind. It’s only when he finishes that the sailor says anything, and even then, it’s not even angry.

“I get it.”

He wants to scream that no, no one does!

But the sailor smiles, a crooked, sad thing. “Change sucks.”

The words hit home. Like they’re everything he was trying to say but couldn’t, and he just finds himself nodding in answer.

“I’m sorry I stress you out, but look at it from my perspective,” stormy eyes are clearing, gentling, like a cool and flat lake, “I don't have anywhere else to go either.”

“Someone else could take you!”

A shrug. “Yeah, they could. But no one else wants to. You’re not the only one who doesn’t want me taking up their space. Not that I blame them; if I was you I’d probably be pretty pissed too, but yeah. Anywhere else, I’m going to be treated like a child, like a kid, not like a hero who knows what he’s doing, who killed Ganon, who did stuff that they’ll never really get. Link doesn’t even get it yet, he’s not there, but he’s the closest I’ve got to someone who knows what it’s like to live our life.”

Mask pauses. “Our life?”

And there’s that blasted smile again. “Yeah. You? Me? We’re heroes. We beat Ganon, we won, and we went home afterwards. It changes you a lot, and I don’t think most people get that, which is good, because that means they never had to deal with the shit we have, but it does make it hard to find people who understand you. Honestly, I was really excited to hear there were other heroes here, because I hoped maybe we could...” and there’s a faint flush back to the sailor’s cheeks again. He’d already downed the potion, he’s not crying anymore, and there’s no pain or anything, but he’s steadily getting redder.

“Spit it out already.” He doesn’t mean it to come out harsh, but it does, huffing out as he keeps his arms folded tight in front of him.

Tune sighs. “I hoped maybe I’d find a friend. Someone who really understands.”

“Must suck, huh?”

Another shrug, a tip of the head. “Yeah. But I get it if you don’t want to. I did intrude on your space, and I am sorry for that. I wish you’d told me it was bothering you though, instead of trapping me like a wild pig.” He has no clue what that means, but he lets it pass, for now. “We could just have sat down and talked about it. You say you’re an adult, right? Well, adults talk about shit that makes them upset, so we can do that instead of...whatever that was.”

And it’s not perfect, not friendly and not warm and not a sweet sappy thing like maybe Tune would have wanted, but they do talk. There’s a lot of prodding and pushing, and a lot of yelling, but eventually, they work out something. No one agrees to leave, but lines are drawn. Tune agrees to keep his spices away from Mask and only share if Link asks (which he probably won’t, considering it’s Link). Mask agrees to keep his traps and tricks to himself. If one of them is in the tent, the other needs to make sure it’s okay to come in, unless it’s time to sleep or they’ll be out again quickly. There’s more to work out, and they’ll have to do this a few more times, Tune tells him, but it’s a start.

When Link comes back, he doesn’t suspect a thing. Or, if he does, he doesn’t ask. A question of if Tune is okay, a hair ruffle, and then one for Mask too, and then he’s urging them both to bed for the night. Being tucked in is childish, but they accept it. They accept it and they sit quietly while the older hero collapses on his own bedroll and goes out like a light, still fully dressed.

“He’s a great guy,” the sailor whispers once they’re sure the man won’t wake.

Mask nods. “Yeah.”

“We can do this, for him. Even if you don’t like me, and I don’t like you, we can at least make his life a bit easier by not trying to kill each other.”

“Deal. Now shut up.”

He thinks the other giggles to himself, but no more words are spoken between them. Well, not that night anyway. They have to talk again later, once there’s not the threat of Link walking in on them. It’s not perfect and there are hiccups; there are still yelling matches and squabbles and sometimes it gets a bit more physical, but for Link, they make it work. The least they can do is support their fellow hero as he prepares to face the same hell they know. Although, it really doesn’t feel that way with how intent he is on watching out for them, like he really is their dad or something.

#asks and answers #linked universe #linkeduniverse #febuwhump2024 #febuwhump #ketto writes #lu time #lu mask #lu wind #lu tune #lu warriors #war trio #war of ages

40 notes · View notes