#became so smart and strategic
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Anyone hating on Sansa Stark, yall just don’t get her like I do, idc
#she was 14 of course she was a brat when she was 14 I was an evil little bitch#she’s been through so much and she kept going#became so smart and strategic#if you’re talking about the thing she did in the last season#I thought we all mutually agreed the last season wasn’t real#anything the characters did in the last season wasn’t their fault#that’s my girl#I love an overheated female character#I will fight and die for her#I don’t accept criticism only cash and card#Sansa stand behind me bbygirl#Sansa Stark#GoT#game of thrones#jon snow#daenerys targaryen#Sophie turner#wishingformoredogs#arya stark#house of the dragon
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like i remember the vitriol that came out when the mere PREMISE for ballad of songbirds and snakes came out bc it was “about the villain” and wasn’t instead a novella of one of the many cute likeable faves of the masses. i remember how fast people were to tear down the book before it even came out (and still do now). and it’s like look, i get it, suzanne created so many interesting characters that it would be incredible to learn more about and get more content for. but her choosing to write about snow for a prequel isn’t like Romanticizing The Villain or whatever bullshit y’all are claiming as hot takes on twitter -- ballad fits right into the common themes and tone of the series in that its not a romanticization but a reflection on how snow became what we know him as in the original series. both in how he already had some less than charming or healthy traits (just like katniss does -- suzanne is always clear that people are not inherently good nor evil and parallels were drawn between how snow and katniss view the world and think strategically, etc, from the second book), but also in how society and the choices of the greater community in panem created snow. like ballad is a really interesting piece of lore and history and worldbuilding for an already rich and elaborate setting that suzanne created, allowing us to see how that world even came to be and the kind of toxic impact it had on the people surviving in it while still pointing out that those people are human and that everyone has humanity and yet can still cause unfathomable harm to one another based on circumstance and need to survive and pressures of all kinds and like i have lost the plot here now but suzanne is one of the best authors of our time who actually gives a shit about creating layered, nuanced characters and worlds rather than black and white good and evil and unfortunately the hyperpolarization of our hot takes social media culture nowadays just can’t handle her anymore. suzanne im so sorry we don’t deserve your storytelling. anyway i’ll be seated for this movie y’all can skip and keep giving lukewarm takes on twitter to make urself seem so smart for hating a book you probably didnt even actually read
#suzanne collins is one of the only mainstream authors these days who clearly writes for purpose rather than profit#and puts thought into her writing always 100% of the time. but we as a regressing online society are not ready for her anymore#people are so scared of nuance in their media its incredible (derogatory)#the hunger games#ballad of songbirds and snakes#maggie.txt#fandom crit#to the people who are actually looking forward to this film + enjoyed the book i respect YOU
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I was standing before the desk of my doctoral dissertation adviser who was angrily telling me that I was not going about my dissertation in a way that suited him. He shouted at me, from his intimidating height, that my master's thesis adviser had told him I had pressured him unmercifully too and hadn't asked his advice either all along as I should have. I asked my fuming educator, as calmly as I could, why my master's adviser had never indicated this to me. I suggested that if he hadn't approved of the way I was proceeding, he should have said something to me at the time. And that since he always signed everything I took to him to sign, and since he had not stood in the way of my receiving my master's degree, I had simply assumed he approved.
Even as I asked the question, however, I knew the answer. I hadn't behaved femininely. I hadn't asked their advice. I hadn't acted as if I weren't capable of doing all this without their help. Hadn't, in short, acted incompetent, helpless, childish, and infinitely grateful for every little scrap of attention or advice they, as superior beings, had given me. I was twenty-eight years old when I began my master's research. I knew exactly what I wanted to do and how to go about doing it. I proposed it to my adviser. He agreed. I did it. That was that—I thought.
Oh, but not so. I didn't lean on him. To me he was just part of the red tape. I cut through him as quickly as possible. And I had no time to linger. Already we had one child and were ready to conceive another. I had to move faster almost than humanly possible, and I did.
Now my doctoral adviser had heard from my previous master that I had not been sufficiently humble and impressed (did not respect the priesthood enough, meaning the men). But this one wasn't going to make the same mistake. He'd show me who was boss. I understood this as women understand it, not intellectually, just in the flesh of my face as he scowled at it, just in the resignation of my weary-with-watching-male-ego-signs flesh. And I knew exactly what to do about it, without thinking, without strategizing—cry. So he would know I wasn't trying to show I was as smart as he was and didn't need him to tell me what to do next. Cry—so he would realize I was just another weak little woman and he had no cause for alarm. Cry—so he would feel bigger and more rational, and still, above all else, still blessedly in control.
So I cried on purpose that day, and because I did I became Dr. Johnson a year later, moving with great speed through a system designed to slow doctoral candidates down. Because I cried.
If men hate to be thus manipulated, then they must allow us to be real, they must not force us to manipulate their egos in order to live a full human life. I hate such machinations. I despise them with all my heart. But women are forced to resort to them because men won't otherwise allow us to exist. And we have a right to life.
-Sonia Johnson, From Housewife to Heretic
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I’ve never seen a separated au with Leo being raised by big mama, what do you think that would be like? (Since he’s kinda rebellious)
For the record, there are AUs where Leo's been raised by Big Mama, the ones I know of are Gemini AU by tangledinink and True Colors AU by v-albion. I'm not super familiar with either of them, but they're there if you wanna check them out.
That being said-
LEO being raised by BIG MAMA omg I have THOUGHTS
Listen, I don't see enough people compare Leo to Big Mama, but he's quite similar to her. Splinter and BM never got a kid together, BUT IF THEY DID that kid would literally be Leo he's basically just a fusion of the two of them!!
As I've mentioned several times before because I love bringing it up, Leo is strategic, quick-witted, observant and good at talking. In the show (as well as in my own AU) Leo's strengths aren't really recognized, let alone aknowledged for a big portion of the story. Because of that, for a long time he doesn't really get the chance to develop these skills, as much potential Leo has to become a master planner his impulsiveness and inexperience has a tendency to get him into trouble.
BUT! All of these skills also happen to be skills that Big Mama has and would value in Leo. So if he were to actually have to opportunity to not only be raised by BM but also trained by her for his entire life. If he got to properly learn strategy, planning, manipulation...?
... Holy shit Leo would be terrifying.
Think about it, canon!Leo managed to out-smart BM in Many Unhappy Returns without any real experience, just imagine what he could do with a whole life-time of training.... yikes!
Not sure what exactly Big Mama and Leo's relationship would look like. In my opinion she would view him as her son and love him dearly, especially if she knew that he's Splinter's biological son.... it's just that BM has interesting ways of showing affection. ("The love of my life just proposed to me?? Great! I'm gonna lock him up in my gladiator fighting ring for the rest of eternity!") She'd at the very least be quite controlling, I imagine.
As you pointed out, Leo can be quite rebellious, so that mixed with Big Mama's obsessive need to be in complete control of everyone around her would certainly cause some tension. Actually... considering how clever Leo would be in this AU... uh oh.
All of these qualities that BM initially appreciated and encouraged in Leo, what if, as Leo became more and more capable, Big Mama started to eventually view them in a more negative light? If she feels like she's loosing control over Leo, if she interprets Leo's rebellion as not just a normal teenage need for independence but rather him malicously working against her. What if she starts viewing him not as an asset or as a tool, but rather a threat?
If BM has reason to believe that Leo might try to overthrow her and take control over her criminal empire, she might take preemptive action and get rid of him before he has the chance to get rid of her.... Not like murder-get-rid-of, I don't think she'd just kill him, lol! But like lock him up, maybe throw him into the Battle Nexus, I dunno. Anything that would allow her to remain in control of both him and her business.
As for Leo, maybe he would actually try to overthrow BM. Considering he was raised by a literal mafia boss, his moral compass is gonna be a bit wack. Maybe Leo's desire for control over himself would cause him to try to seize control over his mother's business. Oooooorrrrr maybe Leo just wants some independance but doesn't actually want to compete with BM, so when she interprets his actions and behavior as malicious he's not prepared for that at all and, as a result, is more than a little hurt that his own mother would take such extreme actions against him. Who knows?
Hhhhhhh there's a lot of fun posibilities here but MAN I'm not really in the mood to work on an entirely new AU. Maybe I'll create some art for it I dunno, this concept is really fun, but I'm not gonna turn this into a proper Thing, so if anyone else wanna steal this concept and explore it for themselves, feel more than free to do that!
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GG
Request: can i get wonwoo and #20 please? (fluffy haired online gamer boy)
Prompt:
20) You and your bias have become online friends who have never seen each other...until the day you decide to meet.
Pairing: Seventeen Wonwoo x Reader
Genre: Fluff
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"WannaWoo," you sang into your mic. "What inspired your gamer tag?"
"It's because my name is Wonwoo," his deep voice said matter-of-factly. "You know that."
"No shit," you laughed. "But why not something else?"
"Why is yours KillerQuiche?" he mused.
"Because it was an autogenerated recommendation and I was thirteen," you grinned. "And at the time, I may or may not have misunderstood what a quiche was."
"And you've just stuck with it? All of this time?"
"Brand continuity. And it gives me ample opportunity to say, "Unleash the KillerQuiche,"" you laughed. "You have to admit, it gets our opponents pretty nervous."
"Or excited because they think they're about to win against a pair of thirteen-year-olds," he hummed.
"And then we devastate them," you chimed. "Because we make a great team!"
"More like give them a false sense of security," he chuckled. "But I suppose we make a pretty alright team."
"Be careful," you grinned. "That sounded dangerously close to a compliment."
"I compliment you all the time!" he gasped.
"Saying "good game" when we win hardly counts as a compliment," you argued.
""Good" is a positive descriptor," he muttered. "It totally counts."
"Fine," you sighed. "I'll allow it."
This wasn't the first time you had gone fishing for actual praise. Something like "Gosh, Y/N! You're so smart" or "Y/N, I know I'm Facetiming you at 2AM, but you look ravishing." Hell, you'd even settle for some variation of "Congratulations, you don't look like a rat today." To say you were thirsty for your friend's attention was an understatement. There had been a drought since the moment you had "met".
You had been long distance friends with Wonwoo for years and he hadn't realized that you were completely in love with him, despite your best efforts. Any attempts at flirting were just that, attempts. The one time you thought he was coming on to you, he was actually sweet talking a locked chest he was trying to open in a game.
At one point, you had considered that maybe he realized how you felt and was keeping you at arm's length to avoid an awkward let down. After you got to really know him though, you quickly understood that he was just reserved and in his head about things that did not concern you. Understanding emotions was not his strong suit, so picking up on them was nearly impossible. That's why he thrived in his digital persona. The worlds the two of you created and navigated were logical and safe. Things were risky when he became friends with you outside of the internet.
"Hey, Y/N?" Wonwoo's voice rumbled over the line. You had just entered the lobby of a game you often enjoyed playing together, so you assumed he was ready to strategize.
"Hmm?"
"Do you want to meet up?"
Furrowing your brow, you adjusted your headset to make sure you were hearing him clearly. "Like...have a designated time we do a video call or something?"
"No," he continued earnestly. "Like meet up."
"I'm sorry, I must be lagging," you said quietly. "We do not live in the same area, Wonwoo."
"Astute observation," he hummed, the tone giving away that he was clearly amused. "I've heard of this incredible invention. You see, it's this giant metal contraption that people actually get inside! And the technology it uses-"
"While I have no earthly idea how an airplane actually works, I don't need you to explain it to me," you rushed out. "Are you saying you want to meet in person?"
"No, I'm saying we should designate a time we do a video call or something."
"Wonwoo!" you whined. You felt like you were having an out of body experience. This was a request you never saw coming.
The man across the line erupted in laughter. You stared blankly at the screen, completely disregarding the cue to jump from the virtual plane and onto the map.
"Is this a joke? If this is a joke, I'm going to be really upset with you."
"It's not a joke!" he sighed. "I've wanted to meet you in person for a while. I hope you feel the same way about me."
"Of course I do!" you gasped. You hoped the "I've probably wanted this longer and more fervently than you" was implied by your tone.
"I was thinking I could come to you," he proposed. "I don't feel comfortable with making you travel so far by yourself."
"I'm more than capable-"
"I did not say you weren't," he cut in. "It's other people I'm worried about."
You felt your heart do a little spin. You weren't used to hearing him be protective. "Okay," you conceded. "But I won't have you pay for a hotel. You can stay in my guest room."
There was a short pause before Wonwoo cleared his throat. "I appreciate that."
Well, that was odd.
"Unless I"m totally overstepping," you added. "If you don't feel comfortable-"
"It sounds great, Y/N," he said much more confidently this time. "Now let's talk logistics."
After refusing to coordinate a plan while he continued to play video games (even when he argued how excellent he was at multitasking), the two of you finally worked out a schedule. In a month's time, he would get on a plane and end up in the same city as you. You'd pick him up, he'd sleep at your apartment, and hijinks would ensue.
As you told him goodnight and logged off for the evening, it felt like you were floating on air. In your wildest dreams, you would have never imagined that Wonwoo would be the one to propose meeting in person. You had thought about it dozens of times, but never wanted him to feel pressured. Plopping onto your bed, you stared up at the ceiling and tried to imagine what it would be like. Attempting to picture his tall, broad frame navigating life beside you, sent your heart tumbling to your toes. The simple intricacies of life seemed to be so much more important when you factored him into the equation. This would either be the best week of your life or the most awkward.
Knowing Wonwoo, it would probably be a happy mixture of both.
..
You shifted nervously from foot to foot, your stomach tying and untying itself into knots. You weren't sure if you were going to pass out, or spontaneously combust. When Wonwoo had insisted that he fly hours to see you, you had welcomed the idea. Now you were lightheaded and questioning every decision you had ever made to get to this point.
"It'll be fine," you muttered to yourself as you readjusted the balloons you held from one hand to the other. "It's just Wonwoo."
It being "just" Wonwoo was exactly your problem. Wonwoo wasn't "just" anything. He was multitudes. In all of the years that you had known him, he had made you feel the gamut of emotions. He was the truest friend you could ever hope for and the most clueless crush to stumble into your heart.
Keeping a watchful eye on the door marked "Arrivals," you nearly stopped breathing as you saw a face you recognized. Easily a head taller than the people walking around him, he was wearing a bright yellow beanie (so you'd know it was him - as if you wouldn't be able to identify him in any universe). It took mere seconds of him looking around for his eyes to lock on yours, a close-lipped grin on his lips.
From there, it felt like your mind had entered an intensely realistic daydream. Hurrying his steps, Wonwoo strode over until he was standing only inches away. The open expression on his face definitely signaled that he was waiting for you to make the first move. Lifting his arms slightly he breathed. "I'm here."
"You're here!" you all but screeched as you launched toward him. Wrapping yourself around his torso, you were amazed with how he could smell so good after being in the air for multiple hours. You nuzzled your face into his oversized t-shirt and let out a contented sigh.
Smacking at the balloons you still held, he navigated around them to snake his long arms around you. Shimmying in closer, he rested his chin on the top of your head. "A moment that's been years in the making."
You were surprised as you felt a soft kiss on your scalp. Leaning away from him, you looked up with wide eyes. "Wonwoo?"
"I didn't realize I could actually miss someone I had never met," he chuckled, shaking his head. Pushing up his glasses, he stared down fondly at you. "Is it...is it okay if I kiss you?"
You couldn't stop your mouth from popping open in surprise. Would it look bad if you pinched yourself to make sure this wasn't in fact a stress-induced mental break?
Wonwoo furrowed his brow as he searched your face. "I just...I just thought...Did I read the moment wrong? Oh god, I did, didn't I?"
The reality of the situation crashed into you with surprising force. Stepping forward to wrap him in your arms again, you cautiously glanced up. The last thing you wanted him to think was that he had crossed a boundary and made you uncomfortable. "Sorry, no, you didn't read the moment wrong. I was just...surprised?"
"Surprised?" he asked, still clearly confused.
"Well, uh," you said quietly. "You've never really given me any indication that you were romantically interested?"
"What?" he asked, shaking his head in disbelief. "What do you mean? Y/N, we've known each other since we were teenagers at this point. You're impossible not to fall in love with."
"...in, in love?" you croaked. This was all terribly new information.
"I had just assumed..." he said, growing smaller the more he talked. "I assumed we were...kind of...a couple?"
You continued to stare at him.
"You flirt with me all the time!" he offered. "And I flirt back!"
"In what world do you flirt back?" you laughed. Maybe you really were going through a mental break. Had he really known you had been flirting with him this entire time?
"I tease you," he muttered. "And I try to say sweet things, but every time I think I've come up with something good, it comes out wrong."
"I had no idea," you whispered. "But Wonwoo, I feel exactly the same."
"Oh," he huffed, now trying to process the whirlwind of information that had been exchanged. "Well, excellent!"
"Just...can you try to be a little more obvious with your attempts to romance me?" you laughed. Apparently, you had been the clueless one all along.
"I'm more than happy to try," he said, a cautious smile finding its way back to his lips. "I have your favorite compliment geared up and ready."
"Oh? And what's that?"
He prodded your cheek with his nose, closing his eyes as his forehead came to rest on your temple. "Good game, KillerQuiche."
#seventeen#svt#wonwoo#jeon wonwoo#seventeen wonwoo#svt wonwoo#seventeen fluff#seventeen fanfic#seventeen x reader#seventeen fic#seventeen scenarios#wonwoo fanfic#wonwoo x reader#wonwoo fluff#wonu
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So, for the very sexy anon that sent me this
I hope you see this ❤️ Because I agree, whole heartedly Thembo under the cut
CW: Small drabble, NSFW, light hearted dub-con with thembo!Reader
Poor little barbarian, completely unaware that they were having sex until Xyleth was about to cum.
Being carried to his tent was the most exciting moment of the young warrior's life. They struggled against the children of the monstrous clan, so to have a chance to take on Xyleth, the most physically intimidating of the village, was an opportunity that filled (Reader) with both pride and adrenaline.
Within the tent, (Reader) was set on their feet, and they began stretching, smiling giddily.
"Ah, I shall not go easy on you, despite our difference in species.." The giant smirked down at his human, admiring the defined muscles of their exposed arms. "You should remove your clothing beforehand, so we do not ruin your outfit.."
"Oh!" The beautiful dummy gasped. "That's smart!"
In their naivety, (Reader) undressed in front of their mate the leader of the tribe without a second thought, unaware of the meaning behind the subtle thumping of his tail.
Xyleth was pleased to watch as they stripped down completely to the nude, having anticipated that they would have stopped at their undergarments.
'My little mate knows how to tease me in such a lovely way!'
As Xyleth became uncontrollably aroused, the naked human before him marveled at the cultural differences between the two species. However, wrestling nude made complete sense, and (Reader) wondered why none of the others suggested it earlier.
The two squared off, feet spread and hunched. An oddly flat tongue ran across Xyleth's teeth as he was given a perfect view of his exposed love.
(Reader) made the first move, smiling maniacally as they launched themselves forward towards the hulking beast towering above them. As their hands collided, the human slid back from the force of their struggle against Xyleth, who didn't flinch in the slightest.
Every move (Reader) made was wrong.
Every action they took against the leader made it harder for him to keep the "foreplay" (as he thought it to be) going. Their actions displayed their strength in the most attractive of ways, they pushed themselves against his claws to the point of sweating, filling the tent with their scent, and worse of all, they kept complimenting him.
Genuine comments such as "Man, I'm lucky to get this chance!", and "Damn, I knew you were strong, but this is impressive!", caused the chuckling man to nearly cry with the amount of love he felt for his mate, physically feeling his adoration for (Reader) in his chest.
Unable to contain his lust, he grappled (Reader) and spun them to the ground, wrapping the struggling warrior in his arms and legs, pinning them onto the previously strategically placed mats.
Sex education was a thing taught in (Reader's) community, but when they felt something painfully large enter their body, they didn't instantly connect the dots; being so focused on the fight that they laughed through the pain, still battling with all their might to release themselves from Xyleth's grip, wondering what kind of fighting style this was.
"Ah, fuck! That hurts.. You're really good at this!" The panting, dark red barbarian praised the victor, which for some reason made the pain harder and faster as whatever it was that Xyleth inserted began ramming into them.
Xyleth was grunting on top of (Reader), fucking the clueless human like an animal. In his mind, he was marking them as his mate, ready to bond the two of them as life partners. However, the wet mess getting railed under the monster was slowly becoming more and more embarrassed. (Reader) felt an orgasm building inside their tight body, and was scared to ask Xyleth to stop. How shameful it would be, to get turned on by a friendly sparring match!
"Xyleth, you- you win!" They stuttered out, barely able to speak while holding in their moans as pleasure assaulted their nerves. "Tapping out, buddy!"
"Why?" He chuckled while licking the shell of (Reader's) ear. "You're so close to cumming.."
"Huh-?"
The sensation of thick cum painting their insides brought about (Reader's) own climax, forcing it out of them as Xyleth continued thrusting into them, filling them to the point where it was spilling out, smacking loudly and wetly between their connecting hips as it leaked out of (Reader's) twitching hole and dripped down their thighs.
"What a good little mate you are.." was purred as the monster planted soft kisses across their jaw and earlobe, keeping himself deep inside of his new mate as he collapsed.
"Huh??"
#yandere#yandere x reader#yandere monster#yandere monster x reader#gn reader#monster fuckers#tw dubcon#thembo#thembo reader#smut#mating#marking#monster fucker#monster boyfriend#sorry for being stupid
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any more headcanons about valentino’s death/past life??
Of course ~
I like to think that his life on Earth mirrored his afterlife, but with a greater emphasis on drug trafficking and gang activities rather than pimping and porn production (According to my hc he was also more a true mobster in Hell before ascending to the status of an overlord. Once he achieved a certain level of power that assured him relative safety, he became kinda lazy and spoiled, allowing Vox to undertake most of the strategic planning so he could revel in endless parties).
Valentino kick-started his criminal career in Colombia* simply being a beast of man, so strong he could take almost anyone in the hand to hand combat. This prowess caught the attention of a local cartel, which hired him as an bruiser. From there, he began to climb. He wasn't the brightest, but that didn't really matter—he was smart about who he hung out with, and he was both ruthless and intimidating. His bold moves early on helped him get a leg up on the competition. Kidnapping a government official's daughter for ransom money to buy coca leaves from Peru, turning them into cocaine, and then smuggling it into the U.S. while paying off the narcs? Or getting into gun-running for paramilitaries without any experience? Only a madman would try that, and lucky for him, he was just that. This helped Valentino make a name for himself as a local kingpin. Not on Escobar's level, but definitely someone.
I think he operated a bit like the Joker (at least some versions of Joker) - not particularly intelligent, not charismatic (in Colombia in the 70s, his queerness was probably not well-received) but brutal and so unhinged that no one dared to question him because they were so grappled by his chaotic nature. People followed him because they believed there was a method to this madness — after all, he did manage to succeed in what he did. However, this formula started to wear off after a while. As he grew more powerful, his mistakes became more costly. His associates started to get tired of too many risky operations and the uncertainty when they had a stable position in the market, and the only thing putting it at risk was Val's insatiable hunger for adrenaline. Especially since the climate changed rapidly with the introduction of the War on Drugs by the US. So, one day, Valentino's lieutenants decided they’d had enough of playing his risky games and just Caesared him. They spiked his drink, bagged him, took him to the jungle, and unloaded like 30 bullets into him. That's also why, after death, he became obsessed with loyalty — he expects his colleagues to be ride or die for him and doesn't tolerate anything less.
*did you know that there's this moth living in South America called Trosia nigropunctigera? I bet my ass Val's design is at least partially based on it
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Holo Heart | Miguel O'Hara x Fem!Reader
Synopsys: Haunted by the loss of his wife, Miguel decides to take matters into his own hands, and grant himself the second chance he's been wishing for.
Words: 7.7k
Warnings: Angst, sad Miguel, mentions of blood, character death, suggestive themes (just a smidge, really), do mention if I've missed anything!
A/N: Hey guys! So, I've been mostly a reader in here, but the other day I was doing dishes and this idea sort of popped in my head, and I thought about sharing it with all of you! English is not my first language so I'd like to apologize in advance for any mistakes. I also have not spoken Spanish in a few years, so, once again, I apologize for any spelling or grammar mistakes.
I haven't written in a while, and this is my first tumblr fic, so please be gentle! But I'd love to read your thoughts and criticism in the comments :) I also tried to make this super inclusive, so aside from the reader being a woman, there's no specifications of hair, skin tone, ethnicity, etc. I hope you like it!
Miguel has always prided himself in being a smart man, one who always made sure to achieve his goals, and do it efficiently.
He created the Spider Society, made sure the canon was intact, and carried the weight of the world in his shoulders. It was hard, but he made it work. In fact, he had to. He’d already lost so much; he couldn’t afford to lose more.
Which was why he couldn’t take risks. Every task was carefully calculated, every mission was deliberately planned, every meeting brief and straight to the point. The more time he could spend inside his office, planning, scheming, strategizing, making sure everything went exactly according to plan, the better.
But unfortunately, it wasn’t that simple, and human nature had other plans for him.
All those late nights working all by himself with no one other than Lyla and at least half a dozen coffee cups beside him were taking a toll on his mental health. As much as Miguel enjoyed spending time by himself (it was impossible to spend time in the company of other Spider-People for more than a few minutes before the need to excuse himself and sigh became too strong. Do not let him get started on Peter B. Parker. Please.), he was starting to miss human interaction more and more.
But not just any human interaction.
Looking over at his watch, Miguel registered the glowing light that alerted him of his loneliness once again. 03:47 am. Working late until exhaustion had become a frequent occurrence after the accident. It was his own way of dealing with the pain, with all the grief. It made him forget, and the everlasting numbness in his chest heart go away, if only for a few hours.
Miguel sighed, running a hand through his face. His muscles felt tight, the knots in his back and shoulders ever so present. He slumped back in his chair and leaned his hair back, taking all of the exhaustion in.
“You okay boss?” Lyla asked, flickering right beside his head. The AI could get on his nerves more often than not, but Miguel was glad it seemed to care about him. Well, sure, he’d programmed it that way, but occasionally even he needed a small check-up. It kept him sane.
“Yeah, sure,” His voice was just above a whisper, and yet it was still as commanding and assertive as always. “I think I’m done for the day.”
“Oh wow, you think? They don’t call you a genius for nothing!” Miguel winced at the perkiness of her voice. Sometimes he forgot tiring Lyla out wasn’t a possibility. She was an AI and therefore had energy to spare. He waved her off quickly, and with a small salute, she flickered away, leaving Miguel alone with his thoughts once again.
After a few quiet moments, he turned to the black screens in front of him.
“I shouldn’t…” Was the thought that crossed his mind. He knew it was wrong. He knew what happened whenever he turned those screens on, when he turned them on with the purpose of reliving old memories.
But before he could even acknowledge what he’d done, the whole lab was engulfed in bright lights, accompanied by soft surrounding background noise.
Defeated, he looked up at them, eyes filled with something between longing and adoration, a mix reserved for only one person.
“Ladies and gentlemen of Nueva York, look who it is!” Although the phone’s camera was turned to him, it was your voice making itself heard. The voice he adored so much, the only voice he could stand to hear for hours on end, the voice he would give anything to listen to once again.
The Miguel in the video was dressed in a fine black suit, an emerald handkerchief adorning his breast pocket. His hair was neatly styled back, allowing for his “godly sculpted cheekbones” (your words, not his) to be shown in all its glory. He was standing inside your old bedroom, fixing his attire in front of a wall length mirror.
“Cariño, won’t you turn that off?” He grumbled softly, turning to face the camera. Although his voice had a tinge of annoyance to it, his lips were quick to betray him, curling up in a soft smile.
Your angelic chuckle boomed through the room, and Miguel’s breath hitched.
There you were.
Draped in a light-coloured green silk dressed that perfectly flattered your figure, hugging you in all the right places, your hair carefully brushed to the side. You smiled, positioning the phone on top of your vanity, making sure it wouldn’t fall. Once you were sure of its security, you made your way to him, tilting your head to the side.
“It’s not my fault my husband is so devilishly handsome!” Your hand reached out to hold his arm, nudging him towards the phone’s periphery. He rolled his eyes, pretending to be tired of your antics, but his arm snaked around your waist instinctively, giving it a gentle tug. A reminder that he was there with you. No matter what, he would always be there.
No matter what.
“Don’t you look dashing, Mr. O’Hara?” Your smile. Miguel would give anything to see it in person again. He’d do anything to have you smile at him like you always did one more time. Like he was the only person that existed, that mattered. Your smile had always been capable of lighting up a whole room. In fact, you were capable of that, all by yourself. Your kindness, your optimism, your drive and ambition. People were naturally drawn to you – the fact you were nothing short of stunning was only a bonus. In fact, you had made Miguel experience what jealousy felt like for the first time. The ugly feeling had gnawed and gnawed at him, eating him up from the inside every time a cheeky coworker got too close for comfort, complimenting your “beautiful eyes”, or bold friends pulled you close by the waist, trying all sorts of plans to get their hands on you.
But you’d never really needed him to call him out. You could take care of yourself just fine, and that’s one of the things Miguel most loved about you. Sure, he relished in the feeling of protecting you. Of putting his arms around your figure and engulfing you in his presence, his hold being the only place no harm could ever even get a glimpse of you. But he couldn’t help the smirk that crawled up his face whenever you rejected any other men’s advances, swatting their hands off you and giving them dead stares.
The him on the screen chuckled, pressing you close against him, his frame towering over you. He bent down slightly, nuzzling his face against your hair. Another gesture he did without thinking – it was something that brought him peace. Your scent felt like home, the sweet aroma of your favourite shampoo bringing him instant relief.
“Si alguien aqui es diabolicamente hermosa, eres tú, Mrs. O’Hara.” Screen-Miguel brought his lips to your ear, and the way your whole body shuddered made him chuckle. That, and the way your cheeks took on a soft glow. “Now, what is all this?” He glanced at the camera once again, quirking up an eyebrow.
“You know my Spanish isn’t that good yet…” The pout on your lips was just too adorable – it took Miguel (screen one or not) all his strength not to whisk you in his arms and capture your lips with his. “Anyways, just wanted to capture this moment.” You shrug, hands wandering around to pinch his side. Your husband’s squeal would have been unnoticeable by anyone else – but not you. Not you, whom he showed his softer side to, not you, whom he showered with love and tenderness, whose ground he worshipped. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you, you know.” One would almost miss the way your voice cracked, but a slight waver was enough for Miguel and his screen counterpart to frown.
“I know… I’m sorry corazón. I really am…” Screen-Miguel turned you towards him, brushing the hair out of your face, his fingers lingering on your cheek. Staring into your eyes, Miguel could swear you had this magical ability to make him lose all track of time. In fact, he could swear that was true in about everything you did. When you got dressed in the morning, when you cooked his favourite empanadas, when you told him off whenever he was too hard on himself or others around him, when you cried out his name so nicely, his lips on your neck-
“But today’s all about you, alright? I’ll make up for it. I promise.” His lips brushed your temple, not only a promise to you, but himself. His work in the Spider Society had been piling up. Anomalies on top of anomalies, mistakes after mistakes, and only himself to take care of everything. He’d left you waiting for him more than once, and more than once he’d found you asleep by the time he got back. It hurt him deeply every time it happened. In fact, the last time it happened, your pillow had tear stains on him.
To say such sight had broken his heart was an understatement.
“Technically today’s about the bride…” A soft chuckle from you.
“You were my bride once.” A wink from him.
“I haven’t been a bride in a long time.”
“You’ll always be my beautiful bride.” And with this, Miguel brought you even closer, one hand on your waist, the other on your cheek. His breath fanned your cheek and suddenly, his lips were on yours. You smiled into the kiss, standing on the tips of your toes to lovingly cup his cheeks with both your hands. While your fingers traced his jaw exactly how you knew he liked, his hands got a bit busier, leaving your body to tug on the straps that held your silk dress together.
Once you figured what he was up to, you pushed him away, quirking an eyebrow as you tried to hide a smirk.
“Nuh-uh mister, we have a church to be at in 20 minutes, and it’s a 10-minute drive!” You asserted, shaking your head at him. It didn’t matter that the room’s temperature seemingly shot up, and your husband was looking truly tempting – you were not going to let your horniness get the better of you. At least, well, not today.
“No se darán cuenta de que llegamos tarde, te prometo que seré rápido” Miguel mumbled, lips pressing hot kisses against the crook of your neck, hands still dexterously tugging at your dress.
“No Spanish skills necessary to know you’re telling me a big fat lie. You’re never quick with me.” You laughed loudly, and the sound was enough for both Miguels to fall in love with you all over again. A pair of hands were on his chest, and he was softly pulled away. You fixed the straps of your dress and flattened your attire before standing straight. “Time to go, Mr. O’Hara.”
“You’ve never complained about me not being quick.” Was his muttered response, accompanied by a smug smile. But for all the adoration and desire he felt for you, he was even more whipped for your resolve. If you said it was time to go, it was probably time to go. So, he quickly adjusted his suit, turning to face the phone’s camera once again. “Vale, vale. Ya es hora de irnos, muñeca.”
Your figure got closer and closer, and at once, the video had ended.
Miguel stared at your smiling figure in his screen for a few minutes, and then shut everything off, the reflection of his own tired face staring back at him. It wasn’t until he felt something wet on his hands that he realised he was crying.
He missed you.
Constantly, continuously, perpetually.
You were on his mind at all times. When he roamed the halls of the Spider Society without you by his side to keep him company, when he went out for those cafeteria empanadas that could never compare to yours, when he worked himself to exhaustion without your deft fingers to work on the knots on his back, without your soft kisses to calm him down after he got mad at the world.
And everything around him reminded him of you.
It was impossible to walk around the streets of Nueva York without being distracted by the colours, the sounds, the sights, the people. It all brought his mind back to the love of his life, the person he found it impossibly hard to live without. The florist near your old apartment, the one he’d buy flowers from every other week, the pizza place that was “so bad, Italians surely had to be crying” according to you, even the goddamned dogs on the street reminded him of the way you’d kneel down and act like an excited child every time you saw one.
It was absolute torture to live without you.
But the worst of all, was waking up in the morning.
Some days, he swore he could feel your touch. The way your fingers traced his jaw and slowly made its way to his hair, playing with his brown locks. Your touch was soft, comforting, a small gesture to remind him he was safe. You often expressed how much you adored watching Miguel when he slept. “You look so relaxed. No furrow in your brow, no scowl in your lips. You look so peaceful.” Was what you told him every time, and there was no way he could ever not grant your every wish.
And then it was if he could hear your voice. Your sweet, melodic voice, telling him “Good morning, my love” in that sleep-laced voice he adored so much. And Miguel would close his eyes and try his best to remain in that place not yet tainted by reality but not entirely claimed by dream. “Wake up, guapo” was the next thing you’d say, your imperfect Spanish-skills manifesting. You’d been adamant on learning Spanish for your husband, and fuck if it didn’t make Miguel’s heart swell. The way his wife (then girlfriend) was so willing to learn the language he grew up with in order to become closer to him made him feel all kinds of positive emotions, and Miguel could swear his love for you grew more and more each passing day.
And then, you’d say it.
“Te quiero, mi amor.” It was the one phrase you used repeatedly, and the one he loved hearing you say the most. It fell from your lips naturally, as if you had been saying it your entire life, with a sweetness reserved for him and only him.
Your touch felt so real. Your voice sounded so real.
So, he would stay still, hoping that remaining motionless would grant him just one more second with you. Hoping that his immobility would be enough for you to return to him, even if just for a few brief moments.
But it never was.
Seconds would go by, and your touch would waver. Your voice would become distant, your feeble existence flittering away, leaving him with nothing but the painful reminder that his sheets would forever be cold, his place in his bed would always be empty, his life would no longer have the warmth and serenity your love brought to him.
Miguel would glance at your delicate figure once again, his mind trying to memorise you right then and there – and just as quickly as you manifested, you would disappear.
Deserting him of all he ever loved.
He was tired of being alone. Tired of waking up besides cold white sheets, of not having your sweet praises to assure him he was doing the right thing at HQ, simply tired of leading an existence without you.
There was no way he could bring you back – hell, he knew first hand that toying with the multiverse was a bad idea. But it did hurt him, going on without you. In fact, he wasn’t even sure he could go on if you weren’t there, next to him.
All he needed was your presence, your company. All he needed was to apologize and hear your sweet voice again, and damn it if he wouldn’t be thankful.
And that’s when the idea came to him.
This was a prototype Miguel had been developing for a while.
It was like Lyla, the only difference being the AI’s purpose. Lyla was there to assist him, to help him out with missions, anomalies, and the management of the Spider Society. The project he was working on served another goal. It was more of a companion than an assistant, it was to always remain by his side, to cure him of his loneliness, of his anguish and despair.
The screen in front of Miguel lit up after he configured the final few settings. A tweak here, a little adjustment there, some fine tuning over there. Should this work, Miguel would no longer have to have his thoughts plagued by the heartbreak your loss so constantly granted him.
“Good morning,” Like magic (or better yet, technology), a figure materialised before him. It was hard to explain just what it was, or what it looked like. It was as if a transparent person had solidified into existence in his presence. While it had the form of a human, a head, a torso, two arms and legs, the figure was devoid of any features. No eyes, no nose, no lips or ears, no hair. It was almost like a hologram of a mannequin, a blank slate of a person he would later shape according to his vision.
Miguel stared back at the figure, not completely convinced, at least not yet, of what he was doing. Sure, he’d worked day and night for the past few weeks, he’d foregone sleep and adopted coffee as his only meal in order bring his project into fruition, but now that it was there, right before his eyes, the possibility of achieving his goal was terrifying.
“To whom do I owe the pleasure of talking to?” The figure inquired, its voice devoid of any emotions.
After a moment of silence, Miguel spoke up.
“My name is Miguel O’Hara.” He began, “I am your creator.”
“Greeting, Miguel O’Hara.” The program answered back. “I am the Cognitive Operations and Machine Personalized Interface for Nurturing. Or rather COMPANION, for short. I was created to act as a colleague, a confidant and friend. As my name implies, my goal is to provide a nurturing presence to whoever is controlling me.” Having said this, it looked up at Miguel and something flashed in its visual panel – the closest thing this body had to a pair of eyes – and the words AUTHORISE SCAN? flashed on the main screen before the entity spoke up once again.
“Would you like me to scan you, Miguel O’Hara? By scanning you, I can take a look at your vital signs, your physicality, and even run a scan of your psyche to provide you with a companion that would, according to my calculations, be the best possible match for you.”
But Miguel did not want a tailored companion. He did not need to be looked at by any AI to be told who or what would act as the best possible match for him. He did not need any technology to figure out what could possibly be the best person to keep him company.
“That will not be necessary,” he asserted, “No scan is to be run. I am to personally customise you until you conform to my exact specifications. Is that clear?”
The being nodded, its posture straight as an arrow.
“I understand. Would you like to begin the customisation process?” It asked.
Miguel hesitated. Should he be doing this? It’s not like he was doing anything wrong. He was a genius, after all, and this was just a new project. He’d created Lyla once, and look how far that got him, the good his AI did not only for himself, but the Spider Society and by consequence, the multiverse.
In fact, everything he did had helped the Spider Society in the long run. Everything he did was for the good of the Spider Society, the thing he worked on for years and years, the thing he built from scratch and ultimately led to his demise.
Wasn’t it time for him to be selfish?
“Yes. I’d like to begin the customisation process.” Miguel sat down on his chair once again, exhaling loudly through his nose. There was nothing wrong with what he was doing. He was allowed to be a genius scientist, he was allowed to build new things, and he was most of all, allowed to be selfish after all that he’d done for the multiverse.
“From now on,” he started, “You are to respond to [N/N].” It had been months since he’d last uttered that nickname. The sweet little nickname he always referred to you as. It wasn’t anything fancy, just a variation of your name, but it nearly brought tears to his eyes, because for the first time, you weren’t there to turn around and face him with that stunning grin of yours.
(“So, no cariño, or mi amor, or chiquita?” You’d once inquired, legs crossed as you sat on your husband’s desk, right in front of him.
“I must remain professional, [Y/N]. I have a reputation to uphold.” Was his response as he crossed his arms. If anyone else were to be on his lab, let alone sit on top of his desk, he would go feral. But he couldn’t find it in himself to berate you or tell you to move – you could do anything your heart desired, and Miguel would adore you for it.
“And you’re willing to hurt your poor wife’s feelings over a reputation?” You faked a pout, batting your eyelashes at him, something you knew he couldn’t resist.
“I can think of a few ways to make it up to my wife, actually.” And without missing a beat, you were suddenly on his lap, smiling as his lips moved with your and his hands delicately ran through your body.
Miguel did not do good on his promise. On the second day after this conversation, he’d asked you “Mi amor, won’t you please get me the prototype I left on our dining table back home?” In front of everyone else and gave up. It was physically impossible for him not to treat you with the gentleness he was so used to from you.)
“[N/N]. I understand. Is it short for anything else?”
Miguel remained silent for a few seconds, before nodding.
“It’s short for [Y/N].” The name left his lips the same way it always did. With adoration, with love, with heartbreak. He hadn’t uttered it in a long time and mentally chastised himself for doing so, as if not voicing it out loud was somehow disgracing your memory. He shook the thought away.
The entity nodded once again.
“I understand. Am I to respond to [Y/N] as well?”
“Yes.”
Lyla had been quietly hearing whatever was going on inside Miguel’s lab from afar. She’d seen him work nonstop, day and night, for the past few weeks, always being told “It’s a new project” and nothing more. Miguel had pushed her away (just as he had done with everyone else), and it was only when the little AI figure heard the new program’s purpose and your name that it all clicked together. Although she was uncapable of feelings, it upset her to see Miguel so broken. But much to her dismay, there was nothing she or anyone else could do.
The truth was, no one had seen him during those few weeks. He had locked himself and dived headfirst into this project, refusing to let anyone in, literally or figuratively, threatening to do unspeakable things to whoever disturbed him while he worked.
She shook her head and looked at him once again, wondering what he would do next.
The entity, now named [Y/N], was the next one to speak.
“I understand this is most commonly used as a female name. Would you like for me to take the form of a woman?”
Miguel nodded, and the entity’s form shaped before his eyes. It became softer, gentle. Its contours shifted until they exuded an air of grace, each line and curve seemed harmonious and supple, different from his own sharp and broad figure. And yet, it didn’t resemble any women he knew. Yet.
“Now that I have a name and your preferred anatomy, would you like to create a personality for me?” [Y/N] probed. Her thoroughness made Miguel falter. This was happening way too fast. First a name, now a personality. He hadn’t yet come to terms with your loss, at least not properly, and this whole thing was giving him major whiplash. After losing you, he hadn’t been able to process his feelings. Now he was asking himself to push all of that aside in order to create what would be his most ambitious task. Nevertheless, he pushed through.
“How so?”
[Y/N] nodded and spoke once again. Now that she had taken the form of a woman, her voice was somewhat softer. It was hard to pinpoint whether it was real or not, if it was from a real person or not, but it did not bring Miguel any comfort.
“By giving me your preferred traits, you can arrange for me a personality that will align with your exact specifications, as you put it. Perhaps you’d like me to be quieter and more reserved, in order not to disturb you too much. Or maybe you would prefer if I was loud and cheerful. It is up to you which traits I am given. I am here to provide company and a nurturing presence, so feel free to take your time until I meet your exact wishes.”
Miguel pondered briefly. What traits would he like this… this thing to have? At first, he tried to pretend, get his mind off it, try to convince himself he was merely making an AI program to keep him company. But he could not lie to himself any longer.
He wasn’t simply creating an AI companion.
He was creating you.
And after mulling it over one last time, he decided to stop being so fucking uptight and go through with the task at hand. This is why he had been working so hard. His goal was so close, it was right in front of him to just take it, and here he was, acting like a coward.
“I want you to be kind,” Miguel remembered how kind to a fault you were. Always willing to help others, always willing to cheer them up and put their needs before your own. So selfless, so ready to lend a helping hand. “And optimistic, positive. I want you to always see the bright side of things,” You had this ability of turning even the most despairing moments into hopeful ones, advising him to not let the dark thoughts get the best of him. You’d hold your head up high and remind him of who he was; Spiderman 2099, and that he had nothing to fear, for it’d work out in the end.
“I want you to be polite and cheerful. Simply… Simply happy to exist.” You’d turn even the blandest of moments into memories he’d want to keep forever. In one moment, Miguel would be laying around, holding you close in his arms, the next you’d be taking him to the rooftop of your building to “catch a glimpse of Zeus’s angry fit” whenever thunder roared through the sky. Cleaning your shared apartment could be considered a boring chore to many, but they did not have you, who made up games out of every single task, like catching socks or vacuuming. “You will see the beauty in things. And I want you to be ambitious.”
Sure, Miguel had spent countless nights hunched over his desk, trying to come up with the perfect suit, or trying to keep hold of the canon, but you were no stranger to nighttime restlessness. You’d sit by his side work on your own tasks, intent of going to sleep only, and only when you wrapped everything up. If he weren’t in so much pain, he would’ve laughed. He was once the one to wrap his arms around you, face on the crook of your neck as he whispered, “You’ve worked hard enough, chiquita. Time for bed.” Unfortunately for him, in a cruel twist of fate, the roles had reversed for the worse.
“Be stubborn,” Miguel continued, his voice, for once, not wavering. He was so resolutely determined to carry on with this venture, that for once, he didn’t feel his eyes tearing up as the memories of you crawled back inside his mind. “Especially when it comes to me. I… I tend to be quite headstrong when it comes to work. I often need a push.”
[Y/N] nodded once more.
“Remember, you can always adjust my personality to your liking. If you find you do not enjoy my stubbornness, you can change it and I will adjust my personality accordingly.”
It seemed so… Devoid of life. Sure, Miguel had given it some character traits already, but the whole thing wouldn’t be complete until he said so.
“Would you like to customise my voice now?” [Y/N] asked, “You can suggest a pitch and a tone, as well as a voice type. But I am also programmed to analyse any voice sources you provide and copy them. Which would you like to do?”
Miguel sighed. This whole process was getting harder and harder to get through it. It was one thing to give his new companion your name, your personality. But to give it your voice as well? That would be the same thing as making this being invincible, since your voice was the only one he ever seemed to obey. Even the Spider-People around him knew, with Peter teasing him endlessly about how he was “nothing more than a lovestruck puppy whenever you asked him for anything”. Miguel had always been on your beck and call, always willing to do anything you asked of him. By giving this being, this creature, this thing, your voice? He was setting himself up for disaster.
“I… I want you to scan a voice.”
The entity nodded.
“Please do provide me with enough samples of the voice you would like to copy. Preferably, samples that are not too monotonous in tone or in speech. By analysing all aspects of a voice, I can provide a more accurate result.”
Miguel had the following choices:
He could either turn on his screens, open a few folders named “[Y/N]”, and play one of the few hundreds of videos he had on you, or open his phone, connect it to said screens, and play the few voicemails you’d left him throughout your relationship.
There were a few differences in each choice, of course. The videos he kept on you were golden memories he gazed upon on lonely nights. Birthday parties, walks along the sunset, lazy mornings filled with raspy “Get this phone out of my face, mi amor”s, and bubbly “Mr. O’Hara’s a bit grumpy today, isn’t he?”s. Memories of you filming him while he set up your furniture, laughing along as you called him “Bob the Builder”, taped reminders of you cooking dinner for him, the cute little apron he so adored wrapped snugly around your hips, even a few images of when he fell asleep on your lap and you softly ran your fingers through his curls, singing him to sleep, murmuring that lullaby he so adored.
Compared to the voicemails on his phone, these videos were precious. They were worth more than what anyone could offer, in fact, they were priceless. These memories were the ones Miguel held so dear, the ones he cried over, the ones he spent months reminiscing upon after your loss.
On his phone, were 3 measly audio messages you’d left on three different instances of his life.
Usually, you never got to leave voicemails – Miguel would pick up on the first or second ring, always the attentive partner. But on the last few months of your life, that changed completely. And Miguel couldn’t help but chastise himself over it, cursing at himself whenever he remembers the hurt in your voice, the tears that he knew threatened to slip from your eyes and down your cheeks.
He didn’t deserve to use those videos as voice samples. He didn’t deserve to see you in your full glory, laughing at him, smiling and promising him eternal love and kindness. He didn’t deserve to hear your bubbling laughter once more, or fawn over your dazzling smile, he didn’t deserve to miss you. Not when he was the reason you were gone.
So, he decided to pull out his phone, intent on suffering. Intent on reminding himself of why you were gone, why he suffered so much. Miguel didn’t think he deserved to gaze at you in all your splendour. He didn’t think he, a mere, foolish, sinning mortal, was worthy of the living goddess that had once blessed his life, and now haunted his ever moment, gone forever.
“Hey Miggy!” Your voice, your voice was heard through his speakers. “I finally found the curry powder! Had to beat a lady with a stick to get it! It was almost out of stock! Anyway, why don’t you get started on the rice? I’ll be home in 10 and we can finish the recipe! Alright, that was it! Love you honey, see you home! End call. End call! End voicemail! How do you turn this thing off? End call. END CA-“ You were abruptly cut off as the call ended. Miguel chuckled dryly. He was the one to install the Bluetooth system on your phone (“Don’t want you texting and driving”, he had said.), and you had always complained about how your phone never picked up on you wanting to end calls. It became sort of an inside joke, especially since he managed to active and deactivate the system at first try, and it took you four or five to get it done.
(“It’s unfair,” You’d chided, wearing the most adorable pout and crossing your arms, “Technology loves you better.”)
Miguel looked at [Y/N] once again, hoping something, anything, to happen. But his program seemed to be patiently waiting for him to continue. One message was clearly not enough.
He pressed the second voicemail.
“Hey there, honey,” There was no mistaking the worry in your voice. It was still the one he loved so dearly, but laced in something sad, something that plagued him with terrible thoughts and churned inside him. “I know, I know, I shouldn’t worry, but you told me you’d be home by 7, and, well, it’s almost 9…” A soft pause followed, and Miguel could almost visualise it: you, sitting on your couch, your bottom lip trapped between your teeth as you nibbled your worries away. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I know it’s probably nothing serious, but, well, you know me-“ A dry chuckle “-Always worrying about my Miggy… Anyway, do tell me when you’re on your way, alright? I have a surprise for you, so get your pretty ass back home, Mr!”
End of call.
That was the first, well, not so good voice you’d ever left him.
If he could turn back time, Miguel would do it without hesitation. He’d go back to that very same day, convince his past self to stop working, and to go home to his wife. He’d tell past-him that his obsession with work was getting out of hand, and that he should stop it while he has the time, because once he’d fully immersed himself in his work, there was no coming back.
But he couldn’t.
“I’m sorry.” The body in front of him spoke once again. “But these samples are not enough for me to create a voice profile. The procedure it at 74% completion. Would you like for me to continue analysing, or should I start over with another profile?”
Shit. He didn’t want it to come to this, he did not want to listen to that last voice message. He was willing to walk through fire, to go straight through hell as many times as asked of him, but that message was torture. No, it was worse than torture. Torture ended. Either in death, or in relief. But this? Whatever this was, it did not end. This message was perpetual suffering, playing in loop inside his head. Over, and over, and over again.
With whatever strength he still possessed, Miguel pressed the third and last voicemail.
“Miguel…” You had been crying. And if you hadn’t, you were just about to. Miguel recognised the knot in your throat, the lump that kept you from speaking and threatened to turn into tears. He hated that voice. The voice that meant you were hurting. The voice that meant he had hurt you. “I don’t know where you are, but… I shouldn’t have to wonder, because you were supposed to be here… Where are you?” This was when you started to cry. “Do you know how humiliated I was just now…? Do you know how stupid I felt, waiting, sitting on that exam room by myself?” You were sniffling. God, how Miguel wished he could just go back and hug you, how he wished he could dry your tears and promise you it would be alright, he would fix everything, he’d be better.
“This has to stop,” Despite the tears, you were still talking. That was just who you were, able to speak through the pain, always willing to keep pushing forward. “This stupid obsession with work, Miguel, it has to stop. I’m tired, I’m so tired. And I’m so lonely, Miguel… I’m so lonely, I go to sleep by myself, and the sheets are still cold when I wake up… I don’t see you, you don’t come home, and you push me away when I visit you in HQ…”
“When are you going to go back to being my husband? I don’t want Spiderman. I want my husband, I want my Miguel back, I want the man I love back…” You sobbed, unbothered by how you sounded. You weren’t even sure if he could make out any words, but you kept on going – if you didn’t tell him what was going on your mind now, there was no way you ever could.
“I miss you… Just… Come home Miguel… I can’t do this by myself…” He could hear you wiping your tears, and softly clearing your throat. “Anyway… The doctor said the baby was fine. But I guess if you really cared, you’d come to the appointment.” This last part was muttered, and Miguel could swear he heard both yours and his heart break.The baby. “Come home. Please.”
And just like that, the call ended.
Miguel was crying. This last message… This was the one he couldn’t help but listen to almost every day before passing out from exhaustion. “It’s your fault [Y/N]’s gone. You neglected your wife, you prioritised work over her, you couldn’t protect her.” Was what the voices in his head uttered, day after day, night after night. Every second he was reminded of how he left you behind.
He'd been working late every day, neglecting his meals, neglecting his sleep, neglecting his wife, who cried herself to sleep every night, holding tightly onto her husband’s pillow – which brought her small comfort. He would lash out at you when you tried to get him to take breaks, treating you like you were nothing but one of his Spider-People, refusing to look you in the eye and not even returning your “I love yous”.
One day, you had tried calling him, but to no avail. It was only when Jessica and Peter burst into his office, saying you’d also called them, that Miguel decided to check on you back at your shared apartment. He was hoping to find you whining, curled up on your couch as you pouted at him and told him you missed him. He thought he’d find you throwing a tantrum, too hormonal to understand how important and busy his work was.
But nothing could’ve prepared him to what he saw.
The metallic smell that permeated the room should’ve been a dead giveaway, but Miguel was too focused on returning to HQ that he ignored it, and made his way to your bedroom, where you most likely were.
And that’s when he saw you. Drenched in blood, face red and puffy from the tears that ran down your cheeks. You were laying on your shared bed, body marred with deep gashes from what he assumed was a knife. On one hand was your phone, on the other, Miguel’s first Spiderman mask. “For protection”, he once said. You always held on to it whenever you were scared.
It’s nearly impossible to describe the pain and heartache Miguel felt looking at your lifeless body. A conversation with his neighbours informed him that the entire building had been victim of a burglar, and you were the only mortal victim, unable to fight him off.
It was his fault. He’d been too immersed in his work, pushing you away, leaving you to the loneliness of your apartment, and now here you were, dead. There was no other way to say it, you were dead, and so was your child.
Oh God.
Your child.
Tears clouded his vision; irrationality clouded his judgement. Miguel was most certainly not thinking straight when he tried carrying your body back to HQ. Perhaps something could be done about the baby. Perhaps your child would live, would get to grow up, his eyes and your hair, your smile and his nose, anything that proved you still lived in something, in someone other than just his memory.
But that wasn’t possible.
That night, Miguel cried for the first time. He wept, hands hiding his face as the images of your ripped apart belly and glassy eyes tormented his thoughts.
It was his fault.
You were gone, and it was his fault.
If only he hadn’t worked so hard. If only he’d been home with you, doting on his beautiful pregnant wife like any decent husband would, none of this would’ve happened. The burglar would’ve tried to enter his house, and within seconds he’d be slammed against the wall. Miguel would have held you close that night, whispering soft “It’s okays” and “You’re fine, mi amors” repeatedly until your heartbeat steadied, and you fell into a peaceful sleep.
But that was not possible.
Not anymore.
And it was, irrevocably, his fault.
And then the unthinkable happened.
“Voice profile completed.”
It was you. It was your voice that spoke back to him. It had that sweet musicality to it that he so adored, that he once was blessed to hear every day when he woke up, that chastised him for being too stubborn, that pleaded for one more kiss whenever he had to go to work, that giggled excitedly whenever he whispered soft Spanish praises, limbs tangled with yours.
Miguel looked up. It was your voice, but the creature did not look like you at all. All it shared was a name and your sweet, sweet voice.
Mierda. Fuck this. Al diablo con la sutileza.
Miguel missed you and he was going to have you, one way or the other.
“I want you to look like her.” He all but growled, fingers angrily tapping at the screen so he could find your pictures. “There. Scan her. I want you to look like her. And stop with the formalities. You’re to call me Miguel. ¿Me entiendes?” His voice was feral with the prospect of seeing you again – or at least a construction of you. The thought was overwhelming, and he had to sit back down, his face finding purchase in his hands.
He was past “What am I doing?”
“Miguel?” You asked.
No. Not you.
[Y/N].
Miguel looked up, the same way a sinner does at the altar, praying for redemption. It was gorgeous. You were gorgeous. And looked oh, so real.
Your– [Y/N]’s eyes were looking down at his figure, lips slightly agape, the way you always did when you quite couldn’t figure out what was wrong. [Y/N] pursed her lips and exhaled softly.
“Miguel, are you okay?” [Y/N] said. You said. It was getting hard to tell you two apart, to distinguish what was creature and what was human, what was holographic entity and what was the love of his wife. Especially when you looked the same, when you sounded the same, when you looked at him with the same tenderness, the same love. You were identical. Same eyes, same smile, same hair, same figure. It was as if, before him, stood a perfect copy of you.
“[Y/N]?” Miguel questioned, too delirious to try and figure out who he was talking to.
“Yes? Is everything alright? You seem distressed…” Slowly, your figure – [Y/N]’s figure, right? – approached him. You looked down ([Y/N]...? [Y/N] looked down...?), soft apprehension clear in your voice.
“Oh, my love… Cariño…” Miguel sobbed as he looked at you – so gorgeous, so radiant as the day he met you, with eyes that could give the stars in the sky a run for their money, with lips so plush one couldn’t help but want to kiss them at all times, the love of his life, right before his eyes. “I missed you so much…”
He took you in, all softness and loveliness and so you, it almost scared you. You, the goddess, the saint, ready to rid him of his sins and absolve him, to make him a new man untainted by grief and heartbreak.
He had half a mind to touch you before a tiny voice in the back of his head advised him against it – the delusion hadn’t sunk in entirely yet, and he knew your image would flicker, a simple hologram compared to his solidness, to his existence.
But it didn’t matter.
He had given himself the second chance he so desperately wanted, and he was not going to waste it this time.
A/N: I hope you guys liked it! All headers are mine hehe I made them in PixelLab in like 5 minutes lol :) Please do not repost my work without my permission, thank you!
#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel o'hara x y/n#miguel o'hara scenarios#miguel o'hara fanfiction#spiderverse x reader#atsv x reader#atsv x you#spiderverse x you#miguel o'hara#spiderman 2099#miguel spiderverse#miguel spiderman
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I never realised before the loneliness and isolation of a commander at a time when such a momentous decision has to be taken, with the full knowledge that failure or success rests on his judgment alone.
- Lt.Gen. Walter Bedell Smith
General Dwight D. Eisenhower rose to that occasion with character and greatness when he made the fateful decision to launch D Day on 6 June 1944. But he couldn’t have done anything he planned without the support of his feared chief of staff, Brig. Gen. Walter Bedell Smith.
When Lt. Gen. Dwight D. Eisenhower became commander of ETOUSA (European Theater of Operations United States Army) in June 1942 and began assembling his staff in London, the man he requested as his chief of staff was Brig. Gen. Walter Bedell Smith, at the time the secretary of the War Department General Staff. But Eisenhower’s boss, Gen. George Marshall, balked. Smith had impressed Marshall with his ability to cut through red tape and perform necessary hatchet jobs – to get things done fast and well – and he didn’t want to let Smith go. But finally, on Aug. 5, Marshall relented. Smith arrived in London on Sept. 10. In his biography, Eisenhower: A Soldier’s Life, historian Carlo D’Este wrote, “Eisenhower once remarked that every commander needs a son of a bitch to protect him and that the stone-faced Bedell Smith was his.”
Gustave Flaubert wrote, “You can calculate the worth of a man by the number of his enemies.” By that measure alone, Smith was not just a good chief of staff – he was a great one. Most people who came in contact with Smith hated and feared him – and with good reason. Smart, loyal to his bosses, articulate, incisive, and an excellent administrator, “Beetle” Smith was also intolerant, brusque, profane, rude, and ruthless.
Smith was also famous for his quick temper. Whether the result of his personality, or pain from a duodenal ulcer that occasionally forced him to be hospitalized, its volatility caused some exasperated senior officers to violate military protocol, bypass the chief of staff, and meet directly with Eisenhower to request transfers. Tellingly, Eisenhower tolerated that breach.
The position of chief of staff is often thankless. But it’s necessary. As one of the members of Eisenhower’s staff, Air Marshal Sir James Robb, later wrote, “Ike always had to have . . . someone who’d do the dirty work for him. He always had to have someone else do the firing, or the reprimanding, or give any order which he knew people would find unpleasant.” That someone was Smith and, whether or not he actually enjoyed that duty, everyone acknowledged that he was damned good at it.
Eisenhower often entrusted Smith to represent him in high-level strategic meetings, which led some people to remark that the reason Eisenhower did so was that Smith had a better strategic mind than his boss. Eisenhower’s esteem of Smith ultimately became so great that he told Marshall that if anything happened to cause him to be unable to carry out his duties as head of SHAEF, Marshall should, “after [General Omar] Bradley, select Bedell to take my place.”
Expanding on Eisenhower’s orders to have an “allied” command, Smith freely, and with great effect, utilized the technique of layering the different sections. Thus if one section had a British commanding officer, his deputy was an American, and vice versa. Smith also was a master of promoting informal communication channels, and his relatively informal staff conferences freed Eisenhower to concentrate on the most important or critical command decisions. Though problems did occur, that Eisenhower’s staff worked as smoothly as it did was a testament to Smith’s success as chief of staff.
#bedell smith#general walter bedell smith#quote#general eisenhower#eisenhower#second world war#normandy#war#D Day#DDay#leadership#planning#US Army
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Drow Lore 🕷️ Sorn and Nadal, Drider Brothers (part 2)
(Part 1 can be found here)
Drider's life in the Underdark is not easy. It is not exactly known what happened to Sorn and Nadal after they were transformed, but given what typically happens to driders - they were most likely driven away from the city and joined other driders that lived beyond the borders of Rilauven.
One thing is certain, though: the brothers stayed together. Their bond, whatever it might look like before the trasformation, was most likely reinforced by shared fate, suffering and need to survive.
🕷️ Life In Dorn’s Deep – in 13th century DR, there was already a number of driders transformed and driven away from Rilauven. They most likely inhabited areas around the city, probably even creating some kind of a community.
Sometime after 1281 DR, the packs of Rilauven driders move further away from the city, claiming the lower areas of Dorn’s Deep as their territory (the same area the player characters can visit and clean in the first Icewind Dale game). Soon there were dozens of driders there, spread throughout the entire region. Sorn and Nadal were among them.
🕷️ Driders' Community And Drow – around 1292 DR, driders from Dorn’s Deep were (re)discovered by the drow from Rilauven who, having stabilized the situation in the city after the revolt, were seeking to expand their influence in the Underdark.
Rilauvenian drow followed Lolth no longer, so they did not necessarily hate the driders - they blamed the curse of Lolth and the previous Lolthite rulers of the city for the driders' horrible state. Despite of that, they saw driders as monsters and at least some of the former priestesses of Lolth still thought that driders deserved their fate.
There was no true friendship between driders from Dorn's Deep and drow from Rilauven - it was more like a strained non-aggression pact, at best, that lasted for about two decades. Soon it became clear that driders were not content to live off of scraps offered them by Rilauvenian drow. They sought to be recognized and treated as equals. The drow were reluctant to do so, though.
According to Sorn, driders were generally seen as ...freaks to be laughed at or killed out of fear.
🕷️ Alliance With The Legion Of The Chimera – around 1312 DR, driders from Dorn’s Deep led by Ginafae, former priestess of Lolth transformed into a drider, formed an alliance with the Legion of the Chimera. They saw it as their chance to finally be perceived and treated as equals, not as monsters.
On the request of the Legion's leaders, driders openly turned against the Rilauvenian drow. They left Dorn’s Deep to secure the strategic locations in the Underdark and prevent the drow from Rilauven from interfering with the Legion’s plans.
Driders moved to the caves near the old drow stronghold, Z’hinda citadel in the Underdark, somewhere below the Spine of the World. There Sorn and Nadal were appointed with guarding the entrance to the Drider Lair - the place the player characters can meet them and talk to them in game.
Soon it became clear, though, that the Legion did not really care about driders and their cause - they were only using them to achieve their own goals 😔
🕷️ About Sorn - Sorn is an example of a drider who managed to retain most of his sanity after transformation. He sometimes hisses, but only when agitated or angered and most of the time, he expresses himself fluently and coherently.
He also retained a lot – or maybe even the entirety – of his drow personality and memories, as well as at least some of his spellcasting abilities. He keeps his drider instincts in check remarkably well and when necessary, he is even able to restrain his brother who possesses far less control over his hunger.
Sorn is intelligent, cautious and suspicious of the outsiders. He does not hesitate to attack the enemy, but at the same time, he is smart enough not to risk his and his brother’s lives without being given a good reason to do it. He is also loyal to his leader Ginafae and to the driders’ cause. For once in our dismal existence, we driders can deal with others as equals, he states. He also does not care that the driders’ allies, the Legion of the Chimera, pose a threat to the inhabitants of the Ten Towns on the surface. He says: I would not give a drop of blood to save one of those pathetic humans in need.
Sorn shows a great amount of honesty towards the outsiders and unlike many other driders in the nearby caves, he is not hell-bent on killing them on sight. He even warns them that he may be “the most amiable drider” they are likely to meet. Still, he has no mercy for arrogant drow who try to boss him around, or for drow allies who seek to harm his leader or to destroy the Legion. He also loses his patience when somebody calls the driders abominations in his presence, or tries to appeal to the authority of the gods while dealing with him. He seems to be disgusted by gods in general, as well as by their servants – which is probably not surprising, considering the divine source of his curse.
🕷️ About Nadal – Nadal is an example of a drider who had lost most of his drow personality and sanity. He communicates mostly in hisses and clicks, having trouble with articulated speech. He apparently retained some memories of his past – for example, he seems to remember that he had only two legs once – but it is not really known how much of his old self resisted the trauma of transformation.
Nadal does not control his drider instincts very well and typically …drains the blood out of humanoids on sight. When he is hungry, he is ill-tempered and the thirst for blood consumes his mind. Nonetheless, he obeys his brother, even to the point of refraining himself from attacking an outsider.
Similarly to his brother, Nadal does not sympathize with humans from the Ten Towns and, in fact, he would not mind to see them all killed. He is loyal to the Legion of the Chimera, convinced that its survival is connected to the survival of driders.
• So... yeah. These two guys are just clusters of pixels in a relatively old game, but since BG3 (and Kar'niss) apparently made many people interested in drider lore, I thought that it might be nice to share their stories here 🙂
For more of my drow lore ramblings, feel free to check my pinned post 🕷️
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Exam Period Tarot Reading
How's your exam period going to go? Lets take a look.
Pick a picture(1-4)
Pile 1
This exam period won't be as successful as you expect it to be. Regardless, by the time its over you'll be rejoicing and ready to crashland on your bed. At the beginning of this exam period/semester you may have had a lot of hope and ambition to give your 100% and receive your rewards in full, but it proved too much for you. You might not have reached the goal you had in mind, but you still did really well for yourself and should be very proud!!
Pile 2
Pile 2 are you intimidated by your course/ subject of study? You're giving off very timid energy. You might be looking for some help and are scared to reach out; just do it. It seems that everyone is busy right now and you fear no one has time available for you, or you are the one who is helping everyone else without having taken time to prepare yourself. Either way; the message for you is to keep trying and take a strategic approach; work smarter not harder. Something may happen this exam period that you perceive to be out of your control. Something that may make you say "Just my luck," or "Why does this keep happening to me." Be aware of being naive concerning other peoples motives; just because you wouldn't doesnt mean that someone else won't as well. Be careful of exam malparactice, it will backfire for you.
Pile 3
Pile 3 you're tiiiiiiirrrreeeeddddd. This exam period/semester has absolutely drained you. You may be wondering what it's all for; if it's really worth it. It seems that you're quite burnt out and even depressed. School has taken a huge toll on your mental health and this exam period just adds on to that. It may be the straw that breaks the camels back. Try to reach out and get help if you can; talk to your friends/therapist. It seems like the general advice of taking short breaks/taking careof yourself is not enough to solve this. Strong message is to seek help while you still can to make it easier/better for your future self.
Pile 4
Are you planning to cheat during your exams, pile 4? 👀 You're super smart, but this might make you lazy about the exam preparations. Honestly your mind is elsewhere, you may be trying to gain a leadership position in school . You are abusing your power in some way though and the funny thing is that it's completely unecessary. Are you trying to prove a point to someone? You could be acheiving whatever it is that you want to achive without going so far, but it gives you self satisfaction to have this control. Ease up and separate yourself from the situation. You may acting without really knowing why you do the things you are doing. I'm sensing that you are quite closed off as well. The origin of all this is not related to school; it only got tangled up in this along the way but became an important part. The message is to start working through your trauma/ emotions/ needs. There's something in the shadows you're trying to suppress. Working through this will bring you so much satisfaction and peace.
Thanks for participating in my pick a card reading! If you would like to book a private reading with me; you can do so here.
*The pictures are not mine, I found them on pinterest.
#overandundertarot#pick a card#tarot#pick a pile#divination#intuitive reading#tarot pick a card#pac#pick a picture#free tarot readings#tarotblr#tarotcommunity#tarot cards#pick a card reading
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DAY 5517
Jalsa, Mumbai Mar 25/26, 2023 Sat/Sun 8:38 AM
★ ☆ ★ ☆ ✿ ★ * ☆
♡ ★ ✿ * ★ * ☆ ★ * ☆✿
* * ♡ ★ ★ * * ♡ ★
🪔 .. March 26th is the birthday of Ef Maryam Roustaeiyanpour from Iran 🇮🇷 .. and we wish her a happy one .. long time no see .. but ever remembered , specially her wonderful works of art she used to display on the Blog .. love and we hope you're well and safe ..
the night of the writing of the Blog missed .. wanted the Chat GPT to give an example of how it can devise the secretarial concept for the B , but did not attempt it .. so was intertwined with dragons and their fire power ..
the injuries heal slowly and today hope the effort is enough to climb the board and wave to the well wishers at the GATE .. being away from them that have such sincerity with them is not approved in any manner .. the life and the breath of the well wisher is supreme .. they live so I live ..
gratitude in abundance to the ‘comments’ on the Discus at the bottom of the B .. and the desire to attempt to reply all .. but having started that thought long ago in the early stages of the B, it gradually became difficult and time consuming .. so .. kept away ..
a few that get response i give .. nothing partial or remotely sectioned off .. but in an earnest desire to be with all in all .. your comments prove the life of the B .. many say the numbers have fallen gradually .. but the will remains .. even if there is just 1 , it shall be accepted and loved .. 1 is enough ..
there is merit in the early meal .. early bed .. and early rise ..
the energy stumbles out of its lethargic manifestation and wallops the back to get up and go .. get up and go the tag line of the City of Mumbai .. no matter what it pushes one to its extreme , each hour .. the City is blessed .. it provides .. it does not disappoint .. it takes its time for reward .. but it does ..
there was in the 50′s and the 60′s an Air India Ad, by Bobby K of their advertising management and which I encountered each day on my way to Univ ., at a strategic wall in Connaught Place, Delhi .. now with changed name with Rajiv .. the Rajiv Chowk .. which said , and it was so subtle and good ..
“ there is an air about India “
brilliant ..
there should be one for the City of Mumbai .. wonder if we can devise something equally subtle and smart and relatable ..
something beyond ‘amchi mumbai ‘
adieu .. time to breathe .. with the ‘pran....’
Amitabh Bachchan
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New TWOF prequel incoming!
Okay, so you know how I've been infodumping a lot about Luzbel lately? Well, it's not for no reason because I'm making a new prequel that's all about him! It's called "Hymn of the Gods", and it's focused on Luzbel's growth as he struggles to fit in amongst the gods of the Skylands, all while facing the growing threat of the Underworld.
I just finished the Olympian's designs, and soon I'll be working on the Egyptians.
Let's kick things off with Zeus, the God of Thunder and the king himself! While he is a womanizer and has fathered many children with many mortal women, he still loves his wife Hera. He would split a planet in half for his children, and is very protective of his subjects, both divine and mortal.
Speaking of Hera, here she is! She's the goddess of marriage, and while she did always get mad at Zeus for cheating on her with mortal women, she just accepted that that's just how he is and she's calmed down about it. She's even friends with a lot of his spouses like Leto (Artemis and Apollo), Alcmene (Hercules), Semele (Dionysus), and many others.
Overall, she's very motherly and kind towards her children, but can also be very strict if they misbehave or are cruel to each other or other creatures.
Poseidon, the God of the Seas! Not much to say about him except that the sea reflects his mood, typical of an ocean god. On days when he's calm, the sea is calm and sailors can go by effortlessly. On days when he's pissed, the sea is tossing and turning with storms and tidal waves; he could drown a whole city if he wanted to, but he's not that ruthless. He's an excellent brother to Zeus and Hades, they make a great trio.
I've mentioned Hades a few times on this blog, and here he is in the flesh! He's the God of the Underworld, and despite him having a bad rep when it comes to underworld gods (I blame Disney for taking so many liberties with the Hercules movie; don't get me wrong, I like it, I just don't like how inaccurate it is to the real story), he's a nice guy and is always willing to listen if any of his subjects have something to say.
He loves his wife Persephone deeply, and would do anything for her. He's also became good friends with Orpheus after he died (he had to sit through at least an hour of tearful apologies of how stupid Orpheus was to look back at Eurydice), but now that Orphie and his beloved are reunited in the afterlife, all is well.
Demeter is the Goddess of the Harvest, and is easily the most strict and motherly of them all. She's very protective of her daughter Persephone, and while she had her complaints when Hades took her to the Underworld (they had been meeting in secret a few weeks prior because Persephone didn't want to be constantly controlled by Demeter all the time, and because Hades was the only one who treated her like an adult), she's alright about it now and even invites Hades over sometimes.
Hestia is the Goddess of the Hearth, and the oldest of her siblings (well, technically also the youngest since Kronos threw her up last since she was the first child he swallowed).
She's one of the more solitary gods, preferring to watch over and mingle among mortals since she enjoys their theatrics and culture.
Athena is the goddess of wisdom, and the oldest of the demigod Olympians. As we all know, she was expelled from Zeus' forehead after he swallowed his first wife Metis (who, in my AU, was expelled from him later in the same fashion), and as we know she came out full-grown and ready to kick some ass.
She's very smart and is well-read on all sorts of subjects, but she's also very smart and strategic when it comes to battle, which is where her association with war comes from.
Ares is the God of War, and exactly what you'd expect of him: brash, reckless, cruel, all that jazz. He's actually the real reason why Hephaestus is crippled the way he is.
In most stories, it's either Hera or Zeus that throws Hephaestus off of Mount Olympus after he's born, but in my AU it's Ares who pushed him when they were kids because he was jealous of how well-treated Hephaestus was compared to him (not that Ares wasn't treated well, he was just too much for his parents to handle). He was punished after this, and his ego only grew as he got older.
Hephaestus is the God of Blacksmithing, and is very calm and rational and smart. He brought the gift of machinery to man, and he made the first robots, which were made of bronze and given life so that they could move and do things all on their own.
He's very gentle as well, and despite the stories, he and his wife Aphrodite are a fabulous couple. He treats her very well and showers her with jewelry that he crafts himself, and her most prized treasure is the girdle he made for her as a wedding gift.
Aphrodite is the Goddess of Love, and that title is not lost on her. She's very sweet and gentle with everyone, and is more than willing to help out others with their relationships, whether it's romantic or not. She's deeply in love with Hephaestus, and hates Ares with a passion (the bad kind). The reason she married Hephaestus was because Zeus was afraid that the male gods would get into a fight over who would be her husband, and that someone would get hurt, so he asked her who she would like to marry and she chose Hephaestus.
As for the time when Ares got tricked and was caught up in chains, Aphrodite was sick and tired of Ares' constant advances and mistreatment toward her, so she and Hephaestus came up with a plan to trick him and expose his misdeeds to the gods. So Hephaestus created a net of chains that were so thin they were nearly invisible but were very strong, and strung them all around his and Aphrodite's bedroom, and instructed Aphrodite to wait for Ares to try and sneak in while he pretended to go on a trip. When Ares arrived, once he was within three feet of the bed he was suddenly caught and trapped in the net, and Hephaestus came back with all the other gods in tow. After that, Ares steered clear of Aphrodite and Hephaestus and just didn't even bother with them anymore.
Apollo is the god of the sun, healing, and music. He's very gentle but also kind of a wisecracker, and is one of the more laid-back gods. He runs an infirmary on Olympus, where he takes care of the injured after a battle or if there's an accident, and makes no exceptions to whoever he's healing.
Artemis is the goddess of the moon and the hunt, and is Apollo's twin sister. She's a bit of a tomboy, not even bothering with men (except her friendship with Orion), and spends a lot of time with her nymphs and dogs in the forest.
Hermes is the god of travelers, thieves, and messages. If anyone has a message to go to the other Skylands, they go to Hermes. That's partially why he's the smallest of the Olympians; his small size makes him faster, and he's mostly found hovering in the air or relaxing.
Last but not least, we have Dionysus, the god of wine and merrymaking. He's either too drunk or too sober, either way that's how you've got him. He's always one to host and go to parties and get-togethers in the Skylands (especially if there's booze, he bee-lines off to Asgard for those). He has a pet leopard, and looks after a grapevine that's grown so much it's all over the inside of his temple on Olympus now. Overall, he's a chill guy and good to hang out with.
And that's all I've got for the Olympians! I'll move on to the Egyptians, and then the Asgardians.
#my art#greek mythology#zeus#hera#poseidon#hades#demeter#hestia#athena#ares#hephaestus#aphrodite#apollo#artemis#hermes#dionysus#zeus x hera#aphrodite x hephaestus#hades x persephone#ares can go to hell#hephaestus would bludgeon him in the skull if he ever did anything to aphrodite
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Jesus I wonder why Enid looks like she’s about to rip someone’s head off. Like girl has the straight face, lips pressed, body half turned and all.
OH this actually gives me an idea that Enid is actually really competitive. Winning games, being number one, things like all of that. She tried to hide it but when it comes down to it she is playing hard and the bitchiness comes out and the most beautiful colorful spectacular way.
ie playing dirty, the smirking, THE CURSING, tricking people, and just being smart and strategizing because she needs and will win. (Maybe it’s because she can’t transform and so she has to show herself in some way that she is still *good* or she just has so much pent up agressision from not transforming that that’s where it comes out)
But either way Enid loves games. She lives and breaths games and will try to act calm but can and will probably became a slight lunatic to win because she must win.
How the hell did this all stem from ONE picture of Enid? I don’t know, but Wednesday would definitely love seeing Enid like that. She would never admit that though, even dead her lips are sealed.
#wednesday netflix#Enid Sinclair#wenclair#Wednesday Addams#wednesday addams x enid sinclair#Wednesday Addams and Enid Sinclai#Enid Sinclair theory#i might be crazy for this#as someone who is competitive but also has a bunch of stuffed animals I will k word you to win a game#like you better watch out I am winning mario kart you absolute loser
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Astrology Observations (Mutable Rising Sign Edition)
Below are my observations based on personal encounters with people who are a/an xyz rising.
1. For those who have Gemini as their rising sign. I could definitely say that none of them are not fast learners. Somehow they always know what’s up about an information (not necessarily everything) but they just know some things and it just fascinates me that even the things they aren’t aware about, they still have something to say. One thing I adore about them is that they’re very aware of where they should stand and that’s why most of the time, I find them constantly passionate about one thing and before you know it that one little thing we thought of in the beginning could be something so big in the end, we just didn’t know it yet but gemini risings did. they’re just ahead of us in terms of information we don’t really see coming or something like that. I think that’s why people think of them more as calculative than strategic but either way, they’re really smart. On top of that, most of the gemini risings I know are surprisingly private. Despite them being out and about, they mostly protect themselves from the public because they know how things escalate from 0 to 100 so that’s why they have a certain circle around them to feel vulnerable or secure.
2. I only know one Virgo rising in my life and they have been my personal favorite. From the get go, I knew we’d be able to click. We are not close or less than what best friends are but somehow where we are in between is perfect. We are just so chill and it’s mostly because of how that friend tries to make the environment around her grounded and principled. Though it can be quite intimidating or uncomfortable for some but it’s honestly cool. The stereotype about them being clean freaks or having ocds is debatable because I think most of them are just misunderstood. There certainly are things we have to organize—whether that could mean inside our outside. For this friend, when things inside her head are messy, she tries to get a hold of it by noticing her environment and taking control of it through cleaning. That way, it helps her not collapse the world inside her head. I think this behavior is pretty relatable to some even if they’re not virgo risings but that’s just basically how I relate her to the stereotype but with a bit of context. On top of that, she’s really great at giving advice. She’s someone you’d want to approach when you want a logical or practical answer but do prepare yourself for some critical response as she can get really personal given that she’s observant. But that’s why I love her lol.
3. There’s only one Sagittarius rising I know in my life who’s now I have not talked to in quite a long time. But anyway, when I first saw them my impression was quite comparable to when I got to know them. They’re honest, bubbly, and adventurous. They’re also an ambivert. Before we became friends, they were an open book but be wary that they can be playful about some things. They say the most unbelievable stories yet get people to still listen to them lol. I think it’s because their fun and bubbly side just takes over how they interact to others. If you want them to be serious, they can be but it would be 10x better. And what I mean by that is they’ll be brutal with you, whether or not, you are close to them. Their transparency needs some work though because not all of the time their true intentions successfully gets across so they can sometimes have people bad-mouthing them. Despite that, they just continue their day like they just didn’t offend someone haha. Either they’re really just real people or tone deaf, but they can be both. I’m not generalizing this for anyone who has this as their rising. This is purely based on my personal experience.
4. Lastly, Pisces risings. There are in total of 3 pisces ascendants I know in my life but aren’t that much close with so most of the things that I will say can be offensive and may prompt people to think I’m assuming that every pisces are like this but let me just remind everyone again that these are my personal observations; they’re written based on my perspectives. Anyway, this person 1 stood out most to me in life because we had this silent bad blood against one another and for some reason, they did not like me. When I first saw them, they looked very approachable and gentle but days has passed, their attitude and behavior came through far differently from what I had expected. But when we interact, they somehow show a two faced personality and it was odd because I seriously did not even do anything to provoke them. About their appearance, this person had a curly hair and sparkling eyes. They were conventionally attractive. And for Person 2, they were the same but without the bad blood thing. They were surprisingly another person when I got to know them more. They were quirky but can be really deep at the same time. They always seem to look tired too even if they got an enough amount of sleep. In terms of their beauty, their eyes were mostly mesmerizing and their hair looked as if it’s just meant to slay whatever they do. For Person 3, I got close to this person but we aren’t talking anymore because we lost contact. Anyway about them, they were very chill and friendly. They’ll always have your back but do be careful of breaking their promises because they’ll stab you back harder. It’s like when you go low, they go lower—simply because they can. They had a lot of people either wanting them or disliking them. Either way, they’re just surrounded by a bunch of people they don’t even like lol but they few best friends who they consider genuine and when they really like you as a friend, they’ll start caring for you whether it would be through her own love language or yours, just so you’d feel loved in general.
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What's you're opinion on Caspar and Linhardt relationship, like why do you think they work so well despite their differences
Oh, I have SO MUCH to say about their relationship. This works platonically as well as romantically in my opinion.
I've thought so much about why Caspar and Linhardt stayed friends for as long as they have. Linhardt seems to have little patience for most people, but Caspar's somehow been his exception for over a decade. And I like to think it's because Caspar has a specific quality to him that Linhardt saw that no other kids did, and vice versa.
Something that they both have in common is that they don't act like noble kids are expected to act, and they found solidarity in that fact.
Caspar's rowdy and got into tussles a lot. This is headcanon territory, but he probably got into a lot of trouble as a kid, and preferred to play rather than be obedient and sit still. He was also raised to train and fight, and was never raised to be lord material due to being a second son, so he never had to care for acting noble-like anyway.
Linhardt also showed no interest in being a "proper noble" and likely spent as much time as he could sleeping and looking into subjects he found actual interest in, because his father's duties were so boring and dull to him. He's someone who never cared about what people thought about him, and this was likely something that exhausted his parents to no end.
So here we have two noble kids who don't act like nobles and who never paid any mind to what others thought of them. They found solidarity in that, and so they became friends. Linhardt was likely someone who only dealt with being admonished for his lack of initiative, but Caspar was one of the only kids who ever complimented Linhardt on how smart he was and for knowing all these cool things about magic. In canon, Caspar goes to Linhardt for strategic advice because he trusts in Linhardt's plans and sees him as the brains to his brawn.
They also keep each other grounded in different ways. In my mind, Caspar teaches Linhardt to be more carefree and keeps him alert where it matters. You see this in Hopes the most. And Linhardt teaches Caspar to look at things from a more analytical lens and to not jump into things recklessly. And then there's the obvious angle of Caspar protects, and Linhardt heals. After all, canon has shown that Caspar's the reason Linhardt became good at healing in the first place.
They work well because they're a good team who balance each other perfectly and have grown up together knowing their strengths and weaknesses, and they have more in common than their surfaces would tell you.
And probably my favorite aspect of them as a pair: Caspar shows Linhardt what freedom looks like. Linhardt values his freedom more than anything, and the fact that he chooses to follow Caspar on his travels is very telling of what that means for him, someone who values free time, the freedom to research whatever he wants, and rest.
Because really, there's only so much you can learn from the confines of a library. You eventually run out of things to read. Caspar, meanwhile, is able to show him new discoveries through their adventures that books alone wouldn't be enough to show. And besides, someone has to keep him out of trouble, right? 😉
#and in case it wasn't obvious#this is also why I think they work so well as a romantic ship#fe3h#kass answers#kass rambles#caspar#linhardt#casphardt#yet another one of my essays on why i love these two so much
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