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stem-sister-scuffle · 15 days

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STEM SISTER SCUFFLE: ROUND 3 MASHUP 4

Jade Harley (Homestuck) vs Entrapta Princess of Dryl (Netflix She-Ra and the Princesses of Power)

Jade Harley is a Nuclear Physicist, Roboticist, Ectobiologist, and Cosmic Manipulator (warping space and planets)!

Entrapta Princess of Dryl is a Roboticist, Programmer and First Ones' Tech Historian/Archaeologist!

Why you should vote for each contestant:

Jade Harley:

"She's soo fun and silly and her symbol is literally an atom. she regularly irradiates steak to feed her weird dog"

"She and her nuclear powered dog creating a new universe. she's cool"

"Built a modded bass guitar that's only playable when she's in her robot form and has extra arms. Became a doggirl. She also plays the flute :)"

"i think you have enough ramblings about her already but i couldnt NOT submit her, she is so dear to me <3"

"bbg has THREE scientific specialties!! she genetically modifies plants and makes them grow beautifully high just because she can and loves science. in her alpha timeline she’s a tech mogul and creates technology that challenges the evil empress that brought earth to ruin. AND she’s a furry"

"Doggy"

"She plays a silly flute refrain. She's a furry. Literally, she's a doggirl. She's also a god and created the universe. JADE BEST GIRLIE!!!!"

Entrapta Princess of Dryl:

"She builds robots!!! She's curious and inquisitive!! She loves her robots!! She has the coolest hair and also I want to be her bestie. She's an absolute love"

"autism :)"

"Builds robots and computers for fun and companionship. Can take apart and understand almost any tech she is presented with. Autism lever set to max and I love her. Mandatory boob window in all her outfits and I've never related harder to a character."

"autistic icon, amazing inventor and app round excellent character"

"she has prehensile hair it’s literally the best thing i’ve ever seen in my life, it’s never once acknowledged by any of the characters as abnormal or explained in any way i’m literally obsessed with it. also autism queen"

"PIGTAILS!!!! autism"

"Entrapta is very bubbly and positive. She never lets anything like losing her friends or going to the bad side or getting put on a death-sentence island stop her from scientific pursuits! She actually drives a lot of the conflict in the story, as she explains the technological backstory of the world, and helps both sides be better at fighting. She loves data, doing experiments, and the scientific method. She's also in love with space. She is an autistic queen <3"

"phenomenal canon autism representation without being weird & shitty. also she’s so strange & wonderful & relatable in so so many ways. my computer is named Darla bc that’s what she named the AI for the spaceship in s5"

"She is THE science queen because she loves science so much and her love of it is INFECTIOUS. I don’t know anything about science but Entrapta makes it seem like the coolest thing in the universe. I love her"

"She ourple. I luv her"

"She's so passionate about her work. Takes through notes! Figured out how to hack her home planet!!! She's autistic as hell and I like her overalls."

"You won’t get autism like this anywhere else bestie"

"amoral mad scientist who flips between the good guys and bad guys, loves building so many inventions, ends up converting the head bad guy (for most of the series) to good through the power of love"

"She has outfitted her entire castle to be a maze, and installed electronic locks on some. Her staff seems to be mostly robots she has built herself. In good part reverse engineering or adapting ancient tech found on the planet. She's incredible at what she does and personally fixes, invents and builds a wide range of stuff from space ships to portals to a prosthetic exoskeleton to trackers to war machines. She can do it all. Autism win! Girlie has been criticised for being treated childlike or being unable to understand those around her to a ridiculous degree, but I'm honestly just glad she's not a Sheldon Cooper. Her favorite bots have personalities and therefore implied AI (but not the shitty kind), which means she's pretty fucking good at software too. She likes tiny foods."

"So very autistic about technology. Initially believes robots are way better than people, eventually makes human friends but also very much still has robot friends (I love Emily so much). Gets so excited about finding new First One's tech. Also her happy spinning around in a space suit in that one season 5 episode heals my heart every time I watch it"

"She's the planet's leading expert on ancient tech (sci-fi/fantasy universe) and develops most of the tech in the show and is very autistic about it. i love her"

"She is fun and funky. Chaotic neutral. Definitely some autism coding going on, which is very charming. She has a pet robot? It is cute"

"Bc she is ENTRAPTA!! No srsly she is such a well-written character. At times kinda morally grey but always lovable and great and she is truly amazing at what she does!! I'm pretty sure she's already been submitted but I wanted to make sure :)"

#stem sister scuffle #round 3 #homestuck #homestuck jade #hs jade #jade harley #netflix she ra #she ra #she ra and the princesses of power #spop #spop entrapta #entrapta

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leohtttbriar · 2 months

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this entire episode was incredibly fraught and it's conclusion was almost willfully blind and offensive but also it definitely reveals a lot about the paradigm of thought in which the voyager writers were operating. like, i kept wondering since i started watching voyager why they felt the need to make up a tribe instead of grounding chakotay in the many real people of indigenous american communities. and i guess this episode, "tattoo," offered their reasoning for that choice. as baffling and ill-conceived and un-creative as that reasoning is.

see. there was one moment in this episode where i thought the story they were telling wasn't about to be the most frustrating thing ever. this moment was when young-chakotay references how other tribes are not living in the past, but his and his father's is. the simple idea that not all people are one and the same, that indigenous communities can be and are distinct and not a single amalgamation easily filed under one label, as well as the idea that tribes yet exist--that they are not and have not been vanishing. i thought, after this conversation, that the story was going to go on like a wakanda-type route, where the "fantasy" and "myth" chakotay is criticizing above is actually just a specific sort of highly-developed and protected tech and the people of his tribe were isolationists. i thought when we first saw that peaceful symbol on the alien planet that we were about to be treated to an alternate yet hidden history of a tribe from earth having achieved space-travel far before anyone else from earth did and kept it secret. i thought that might justify, a little bit, making up a tribe instead of picking one and hiring several consultants/writers for the writing room.

obviously, i thought wrong. more fool me--like this episode came out the same decade as dances with wolves. i genuinely should've known better.

i think one of the main mistakes (informed by the umbrella ""mistake"" (i.e. profound and deliberate crimes again humanity) of violent and merciless colonialism, which continues to inform how people interact with the world and will continue to do so for as long as we can imagine) is the treatment of the "myth" and "fantasy." like, another made-up indigenous people in star trek is the bajoran people in ds9, which i think exposes a lot of the writers' perspectives about chakotay. i don't think it's a coincidence that they made the leader of the maquis cell that had to be absorbed into the voyager crew explicitly indigenous. or that said leader had a whole situationship with a bajoran character who thinks very, very little of starfleet and janeway. these are all part of the same creative impulse. and it's a rich idea, started in ds9 and continued into voyager--the maquis, their relationship to bajor and cardassia and the federation, and what their principles are. and through that idea, you can see that the 90s star trek writers were trying to draw from real-world indigenous resistance to shape these freedom-fighters as well as from real-world indigenous insight to shape the bajoran (and chakotay's) spirituality. in that: they made the spirituality "real."

the bajoran deities are real beings. thus the bajoran people have a super special relationship to the land. and the deities are material and there. chakotay's spirituality also is "real", in that it has a direct effect on the material happenings in an episode. this sort of thing can either be: spirituality is drawn from the material world/material insights and human consciousness is a very powerful thing OR these particular people have a "magical" connection to nature. based on everything to do with these spiritualities i've seen in these two shows, it definitely feels like they were going more for the latter.

and then in this episode (!) they make the writing decision to explicitly say that all indigenous people in the americas were inspired by and directly gained wisdom from a bunch of special aliens who wanted to make sure the land of earth was protected and so appointed all the american indigenous people as guardians. like they were One people who both had a super special connection to the land and had to be given that special connection and didn't, like, historically shape and influence and change the ecosystems and flora and fauna in permanent and far-reaching ways, over many tens of thousands of years and many types of tech and city-building and migration patterns and cultural practices, all as or more diverse than the land they were living on.

the reluctance to attribute cerebrality and deliberately produced technology to anyone not of western european descent is just so so present in this episode and in the character of chakotay. him and the bajorans--their gods are real and their myths are real and not the product of richly-thought traditions and reasoning practices. no, their religion is thus far un-evolved. they're not like the white american characters who aren't praying to jesus bc christ is a made-up god and those white people have moved on (""evolved"" maybe, ughhh) and separated themselves from nature and their base instincts about religiosity. no they still pray to their gods who can absolutely answer their prayers if they wanted to.

the thing is. it's just oppression 101 to construct a binary and make one half of that binary Human Beings with Great Minds and the other half Adjacent Human Beings Who Are Close to Nature. like all the oppressions work through that basic framework.

the impulse to use indigeneity as an entry point into environmentalism isn't ridiculous. but people (i mean, white european "philosophy") miss the whole step where the reason you often see tribes making such headway with environmental activism is because they are being politically astute and they recognize that "land" being abstracted in the way it has been since Locke (and obviously before that but Locke is the most relevant thinker in terms of like land policy?) is actually irrational. you can't just build a tube of poison over a water-source. that is Idiotic. that is a thing that Unthinking beings do. iron eyes cody crying over pollution on a highway is not an accurate representation of the land-rights justice that tribes all over the americas have been fighting for.

the thing about "myth" and "fantasy" is that they are philosophies. they inform and represent great abstract and fully-reasoned ideas. and this episode so easily could've been about that. when we start with the flashback of young chakotay noticing the symbol on the rock and his dad praising him and chakotay saying "i only saw it because of a lizard," i thought that could be a way to show how lived experiences allow different people to notice different things about the world. it's not magic, it's practice and thought. but the episode just goes on and on, getting further and further into the racist ideas of the innocent and close-to-nature natives, the "noble savage", and the idea that any great insight originating in a non-white people came from aliens.

(and somehow these biases get transported to the bajoran characters, all of whom are actually played by white characters, which shows how these biases are an actual paradigm and not some sort of 'instinctual prejudice' like racists like to claim their racism is--i.e., not their fault and can't be unlearned.)

this got me thinking about "far beyond the stars." how it works as a futurism and as a comment on racism now. how the futurism is in fact an argument: that the future belongs to everyone; that exploration and great thoughts and great adventures belong to everyone; how this can be framed as inevitable because it is right; how imagining it so is the first step towards actualization; how people are thinkers and they will make a world that is so expansive and so egalitarian that a black man will captain and discover and exist in the stars and among wonder and different people and so much life. and this works as a speculative piece because there is present in its foundation the idea is justice is not retrospective. as going back is impossible, people build forward. sisko imagines forward, and even as he's imagining backward to being a scifi writer in the 20th century, he's still imagining forward.

this episode, "tattoo," completely misses how "far beyond the stars" functioned. how speculation and futurism work as commentaries on the past and the now. it's particular and personal and doesn't imply that an alien species is the reason for any future liberation. or that innocence is a virtue. or that such innocence is due to "protecting the land" (which means one thing and one thing only) and thus gives one magical powers over the weather.

personally, i think chakotay should've found descendants of his tribe from earth on that alien planet--not aliens. i think the episode should've been about how that symbol for peace or something was a symbol for some sort of logical proof of sorts and these descendants should've used it as a technology that could affect the weather through some sci-fi star-treky technobabble that enables telepathy. i think this advancement should've been fundamentally rooted in what the descendants learned long ago on earth by studying the stars and birds and building cities and pyramids. philosophies that are entrenched and informed by a deep understanding of the natural world, expressed not just through tech but through spiritual practice, while not being relegated to """"primitivity.""""

but also i'm definitely not the best person to ask. and the main problem here is that they made up a tribe and put themselves in a position of not really being able to ask anyone.

like i loved chakotay being able to reexamine his past and his relationship to his father and his connection to the galaxy at large. i loved that he found a semi-home so so far away from his own planet. i love that they wrote a character doing that, finding a place of true belonging seventy-thousand light years away. i think that's an interesting as well as important story to tell. but the framing and argument provided in the episode undercut that story so much.

anyway as i am not the person to ask, i'll just leave this excerpt from a paper written by a much much smarter person than me about a sci-fi movie made by navajo filmmaker nanobah becker about the project of cultivating mars:

"Science Fiction, Westerns, and the Vital Cosmo-ethics of The 6th World," Salma Monani

#before anyone clicks 'keep reading'--this is long #chakotay #star trek #voyager #i love all the voyager characters so much (except maybe neelix--annoying) and i hate to see them in weak weak weak writing

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zvtara-was-never-canon · 1 month

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There is 58 years between the first plane flight, and a human going to space.

Technological advancements happen very quickly, so yeah that argument is mute. Even if you believe Santos Dumant was the first person to do it, that's still 63 years between his flight and a human going to space.

Also I'm not sure in which universe is democracy a widely American concept.

Even before Ancient Greece in the Vajjika Republic in 6th century bce India is widely considered to be the first example of a democratic Republic.

Also democracy is literally only in Republic City, which didn't have real democracy until the end of Book 1, and the earth kingdom who was suffering under a bad case of fascism. And Queen Hou-Ting, what ever godamm name was, sucked dick and was a terrible ruler.

The water tribes kept their chiefs, they just get to vote on it. The northern water tribe chiefdom is hereditary. The fire nation kept their firelord

Korra did not spread democracy everywhere, unlike where you claim they forced it.

Poor earth kingdom citizens, they must miss being a selfish queen who never did anything to help them, and let theives go wild, and then the facist dictator, who put people into concentration camps.

In HISTORY leaps in technology have happened fast. In a STORY you need to be careful not to make the whole thing feel like it's set in a different universe - and when we go from rudimentary industrialization, some of which is openly treated as a PROBLEM by the original's shows narrative because nature's worth and it's key role in keeping balance are a central theme in several episodes, all the way to Ford 1s everywhere, big ass factories that would obviously cause a lot of polution, lightningbending going from rare to something common that is used to give everyone electricity, all because the writers wanted to change the aesthetic from Meiji Era Japan to Prohibition Era New York, I'm gonna say that shit went a bit too far.

I didn't say americans invented democracy, I'm saying it's very common for american writers to push their own way of life as the only correct one, because there's literally over a century of the government spreading propaganda about "The american dream" and "the american way of life" to EVERYONE, including people in the USA, where the writers were raised - which is why the city that is supposed to represent the all four nations suddenly goes from "Very obviously east asian" to "Very obviously USA stuff that was never present in the old show." The character of Korra isn't running around saying "The US is inherently better", but the show very much is by making the symbol of balance and harmony so PAINFULLY american.

Now, don't get me wrong, I'm not saying Bryke or anyone involved in the making of Korra was actively trying to make propaganda, they were just influenced by it and repeated some of it without even realizing it - and so did you with the bizarre leap in logic of "If you criticize the way americans, knowingly and unknowingly, tend to push their way of life as the default/superior one in stories, that means you think the fascist villain had a point/is not that bad"

If you like Korra as a show, including the whole concept of Republic City, that's fine. It's none of my business. But as someone who literally had to study American propaganda pieces and the long lasting influence it had in media, there is NOTHING you or anyone can say to me that will convince me that is not a reflex of propaganda that breaks the world-building that had been very coherent and consistent in the previous show. Either deal with that, or block the tags/my blog.

#anti korra #anti legend of korra #anti lok

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raylaandcallum · 1 month

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Ryomina gardening together on the dorm rooftop? Maybe Ryoji trying to flirt with flower language

Ryoji/Minato

1,5k

Come spring

The rooftop door creaked, and Minato looked up from the bag of soil he was holding.

"Minato!" Ryoji greeted him with a brilliant smile.

He looked as handsome as ever, but the moment he stepped on the rooftop, the wind started whipping his scarf and hair.

Minato allowed himself a slight chuckle.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, still crouching.

"I came by to hang out with Junpei." Ryoji joined him at his side and peered at the bag curiously. "But he said he was busy. I didn't want to leave since I came all this way, so Fuuka helpfully told me you were up here," he finished with that same dazzling smile, but when those eyes were directed only on him...

Minato tried to focus on the conversation again. "Too bad Junpei's not free. The dorm isn't exactly on your way."

Ryoji nodded. "Which is why I decided to find someone else's time to monopolize, namely, yours."

Minato looked up at him, but the sun made him squint, ruining the desired effect. "Did the rest all draw long straws so it fell on me?"

"Har har. I won't bother you if you're really busy, but..."

Minato sighed with dramatic indifference. "I was in the middle of preparing these pots for the new plants, but you can keep me company if you want."

"Really?" Ryoji put a hand on his shoulder as he leaned over him to look at the seed bags on the floor.

"How about I help you? It'll go faster with two people. And before you complain, I promise I won't ruin anything."

Minato gently shook off his hand so he could finally stand up and face him. "I wouldn't say something like that." He was almost insulted and a bit sad that Ryoji thought of him as cold. Maybe he still had himself to blame; he knew he didn't really come off as outgoing to most people.

"You should put your scarf away, it might get in the way."

Ryoji moved to do as directed and then returned to his side once again, rolling his sleeves up.

Minato allowed himself to notice it innocently for half a second.

Dammit.

"Can you get the rest of the pots from there and that fertilizer bag if it's not too heavy? I wanted to plant most of what I had in mind today. I really appreciate your help." He tried to keep his voice even as he looked at Ryoji.

He hated how his nerves betrayed him in such a silly situation, but was determined not to let it show. Nothing good would come from flirting with this infuriatingly attractive ladies' man. He thought he glimpsed beneath the surface of it, but if that was what Ryoji really wanted...

"Um, Earth to Minato?" Ryoji waved a hand in front of his face. He looked concerned. Dammit, dammit, dammit.

"Sorry, I space out for a second. Thank you." He nodded in the direction of the materials Ryoji brought.

Ryoji raised an eyebrow but thankfully didn't pry further.

Once Minato directed him on what to do with each pot, they worked in silence. Minato felt himself growing too nervous to start a casual conversation topic, and he hoped Ryoji was too engrossed in the work to pay it much mind.

"So what are we planting?" Ryoji broke the silence.

That he could handle, Minato thought.

"Flowers, mostly. I'm not really confident to keep up with fruits and vegetables with finals so near. And I've got more experience with these."

"Really?" Ryoji perked up. "Which ones?"

"I've got here irises, columbines and some thyme. I'd like to experiment with more different kinds, but those'll wait until spring."

"Interesting combination. Are they for anyone in particular?"

Minato gave a confused shrug. "Not really? Just for us here at the dorm to enjoy."

Ryoji laughed. Minato didn't know what he found funny in that, but his traitorous heart helpfully supplied he'd like to hear Ryoji laugh more.

"I think it's perfect. The symbolism fits."

... Busted.

"You... um, you know much about that?"

"About flowers? Of course, they make the perfect gifts."

He hummed in response.

"I find it fascinating how such small beings can hold so much life, beauty and meaning in them. They can be different for each person, but we can all appreciate them in the end." Ryoji paused, his hands still stuck in the dirt, like he was considering something.

"Yeah. You put it really nicely. It's kind of a comforting presence to have some around."

"I know what you mean. I don't think I've ever bothered having my own since we moved so much, but whenever I'd go out in nature, it was like witnessing another world."

Minato silently nodded, working on autopilot while he processed his words.

"I'm really glad I found you up here," Ryoji suddenly started, turning to look at Minato.

Minato found himself looking back without realizing what devastating effect Ryoji's smile had on him. But it wasn't his usual, brighter-than-light smile. This one was smaller, subdued, but Minato had a feeling it was just as genuine. He hoped it was as a small blush spread across his cheeks.

"If you'd like, I could help you with these again. I'm somewhat attached to them now after planting so many. I want to see them grow."

Damn his foolish heart. It would have its way in the end, so Minato blurted out: "We can grow some other ones too. Do you have any in mind you'd like to see?"

That seemed to take Ryoji by surprise. His eyes widened, and he scratched his cheek, forgetting the dirt that was on his hands and therefore leaving a smear of mud in the middle of it.

"Um... What about tulips? They're gorgeous to see, especially red and yellow ones. Just in time for spring. And maybe... gardenias. They're less subtle than tulips, but together they'll go really nicely. If we plant them just right, it'll be a beautiful arrangement." He smiled again, but there was color in his cheeks like the red tulips he spoke of. His eyes didn't seem to hold his usual loud confidence, but they shone with joy nonetheless.

It was impossible not to return that smile.

"That's a great idea. We can go shopping for them together. I know the lady at Rafflesia might have some helpful tips too, so we can ask her. By the time we see how these ones grow along, maybe I'll have an idea of how good the fertilizer is, so I'll know whether we need to replace it..."

Minato was caught up in the idea of growing flowers with Ryoji. When he realized he was rambling, he trailed off uncomfortably.

Ryoji wasn't looking at him anymore, his gaze was fixated on something on the ground.

Minato furrowed his brows. "Sorry, I can go on for a while when it's about plants. Don't worry though, it won't be too difficult."

Ryoji finally met his eyes. "Rafflesia, huh? I actually heard there that..." He regaled him with useful tips about growing flowers he picked up here and there.

Minato tried to listen, but he couldn't escape a hunch that something was wrong. That Ryoji wasn't feeling well. The way he unconsciously fixed his collar reminded him of the way he'd hide his face in his scarf. A habit he like to observe out of the corner of his eye entirely too much when he had the chance.

They sat with their back to the railing, and Minato found himself enjoying the conversation, and even more if he was being honest, Ryoji's presence and the sound of his voice.

He thought back to the moment Ryoji was full of smiles before he fell silent. He wanted them to grow tulips and gardenias....

Minato widened his eyes. His heart was trying to kill him, as far as he was concerned. The tiny spark of hope he trained so hard to grow in other aspects of his life began to ignite. And it wouldn't let him go.

As soon as there was a lull in the conversation, he casually asked: "Hey, do you mind if we add another flower to the list of ones we're gonna grow?"

Ryoji shook his head. "Not at all. What did you come up with?"

Minato turned his head to look at Ryoji. They were sitting really close, almost shoulder to shoulder. Ryoji looked just as beautiful in profile.

"Daffodils."

His face was on fire as he laid all his pathetic hopes out for the world to see.

Now it was Ryoji's turn to look at him and widen his eyes.

Just a tilt of his head and he would be...

"Did you know that daffodils have quite a romantic meaning?" His voice was quiet. Minato could only stare.

He swallowed. "Yeah?"

"What are you gonna do with them?"

"I was thinking... maybe I could have some in my room once they've bloomed. You could take some too. If you wanted."

"I'd love that." This smile was as briliant as it was genuine.

"Mhm." Minato finally tored his gaze from Ryoji and turned away.

"I can't wait," he simply said.

"Me neither." Ryoji chuckled.

As their shoulders brushed again each other's, Minato allowed himself to embrace the hope he'd been denying himself. It made him excited for all the days that were to come if Ryoji would be close to him.

Fin

thank you so much for the ask!! this has been eating away at me ever since i got it. the idea is so cute, but minato's ghost possessed me and said i have to include pining minato too.

the language of flowers

hope you liked it!

i will be posting these one shots on ao3 too, iwa_chan4

accepting more ryomina prompts!

#ryomina #p3 protagonist #mochizuki ryoji #makoto yuki #arisato minato #persona 3 #persona 3 reload

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ronearoundblindly · 1 month

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The Stark Legacy (30)

Tony Stark's Daughter (OC) x Bucky Barnes epic slow burn

Furnace, part of Book III: Power (see previous or series)

Summary: When Tony tries to put Cloak in danger, Lil'Sam steps in, giving her father more to worry about. Later, Samantha realizes she's developed a crush on someone she shouldn't--her friend, Bucky.

Warnings for budding romantic attraction and feelings of insecurity. Mild language. Rated Teen/15+ ONLY. WC 4.2k

CHAPTER THIRTY—August-September 2039

Sam rubbed her eyes furiously. When she slept, she dreamt of staring at even more screens. It was hard to know when she really was awake and working.

Bruce usually blurted out the next question on his lengthy list for Sam to work out an answer to while he continued down the line. Today focused entirely on a problem the team had toyed with for months, but she didn’t know why it was so urgent now. No one told her what was going on…not on purpose, at least, and after months of pushing to be heard and included, to no avail, Sam’s mental investment whittled down to the size of pea. That tiny lump still kept her from sleeping well anyway.

Sam yawned while Banner mumbled something under his breath before turning to her.

“I’m sending you a mock up for a containment casing. Run diagnostics for allowing sensory control of the Space Stone, will you?”

“No prob, Bob,” Sam said flatly, nearly cross-eyed from fatigue. She adjusted a few parameters in the model before getting up to stretch. “‘Bout time for a pick-me-up, I think.”

She didn’t get the chance to leave the lab.

An alert sounded on Bruce’s console, prompting the doctor to heatedly warn someone over comms that “we aren’t ready yet.” Whoever it was didn’t listen, and after removing his glasses, Banner’s frustrated pinch of the bridge of his nose told her it was her father. By now Sam recognized this as the universal symbol for: No, Tony, please don’t. Bruce pinched his nose often.

Tony burst through the double doors, ordering the men who followed him to clear the center of the room. “The idea is to not blow up the room, but no promises,” he shrugged. He pointed to several tables. “Goes, goes, be careful with that one—”

“It’s untested, Tony.” Bruce stood, shooing a lackey away from snatching the stool he sat on.

Tony stayed facing the door. “Doesn’t matter. Time’s up and we need to see what we are up against.”

“What’s happening?” Sam’s station was pulled over to a far corner. Unsurprisingly, Tony didn’t answer her.

Tyrone walked in, wearing one of the minimal space suits used for travel to the orbiting station. Tony clapped him on the shoulder.

“Good—” Tony held on to the helmet while Ty adjusted a glove “—they’ll be in with it shortly.”

Bruce stepped forward. “If the signal just went off that a ship is outside of the solar system, we have enough time to practice this.”

“Not really,” Tony snapped, “if that’s the main ship of Annihilus, we need to know right now and keep it from getting to Earth. If it’s a scout ship, we need to keep the fleet from getting bigger.”

Sam tried to get close to Ty. “You’re teleporting to space? Have you ever done that before?”

Ty’s dark eyes lowered to fiddle with a clasp.

Tandy raced in, bright red in fury. “Like hell you’re going, Ty.”

Sam turned to Dee. “Have you ever given him enough energy for that?”

“They don’t want me to do it,” Dee choked back, “they want him to use that thing.”

A man and woman carried in a heavily armored trunk. Sam knew what lay inside.

She gripped Ty’s arm. “You can’t touch that thing,” she warned. “Even without direct contact, the radiation exchange damages homosapien tissue, particularly blood vessels.” She turned to her father. “He can’t touch that, Tony.”

“Kid, this is not a negotiation. Cloak here is an Avenger in all but name—that’s next month, right?—so he knows the risk.”

“You can’t expose him to that without testing it,” Sam insisted.

“Sit back down, or leave,” Tony spat back. “This has nothing to do with you.”

Ty interrupted. “Actually, sir, so far I’ve only used Lightforce from Dee—Dagger…sir.”

“I’ve heard you like cereal, too,” Tony added, spinning a finger to speed up the pace of the two charged with the heavy trunk.

“—and he won’t just have a radiation burn from the damn stone. He could die.” Tandy stepped between Tyrone and Tony for good measure. One good grip of Tony without his armor and Dee could have him on his ass.

“Well, I hope not,” Tony said calmly, “but he’s a big boy. Energy is energy, and he’s gonna need a boatload. Move, Black Swan.”

The agents finished the security protocols, opening the trunk to reveal a glorious flash of blue light. Tucked in lead lining sat the Space Stone, a raw ingot of power from the Big Bang itself.

Sam rounded on Tony once again. “You want the info so bad, get it yourself. But Ty isn’t doing random interstellar teleport without practice.”

Tony looked at Tyrone, reaching around Dee to hand the helmet over. “He’s got the coordinates where the ship pinged.”

“Sam, you said it yourself,” Bruce added, “if an apparatus can aid in controlling the energy—”

“We aren’t even sure it’s the right type of energy,” Sam screamed, her anger rising in time with Tandy’s.

Ty coughed for attention. “I want to help, but that distance is going to take a lot out of me. I’m not gonna drain Dee to—”

“No,” Sam and Dee screeched in unison. Fists white with rage as she glared at Tony Stark, Tandy concentrated her power towards her fingers, but before the girl could spray the room with daggers, Sam grabbed her arm, syphoning the Lightforce into herself.

The light rippled and magnified beneath her skin until a hum was audible across the whole room. “You want your recon so bad,” Sam asked, “you got it.”

Sam smacked her hand down across Tyrone’s forearm, and the two disappeared in an eerie cloud of inky thick fog.

One-hundred and four seconds later, the pair reappeared in the midst of an explosion of yelling between Tony, Bruce, and Tandy. Sam’s frozen body clanked onto the floor. Ty detached his helmet, mid-apology.

“I didn’t know she was doing it,” he murmured, shaking.

As Tony stood, terror blocking any movement he made, Bruce flung himself forward to check Samantha. Tandy moved Ty away to comfort him, watching the rest intently.

Frostbite receded as the pink returned to Sam’s skin, and in a lengthy, frightful gasp that howled through the room, she started to breath again.

Hoarse still, Sam sat up to look at Ty. “You saw it, right?”

“Yeah,” Ty breathed, “I saw them.”

“Nevermind, I fixed it now,” Sam burst at Tony while rushing away.

He followed, pissed. “Oh, you fixed it? And we’re supposed to take your teenage word for it?” The reverberation in the open Wakandan halls echoed their angry words.

Sam spun around. “Then don’t take my word for it. Take all that oh-so-precious Earth-saving time to check my math. You can help me with my homework.” He felt spit hit his neck Sam was so close. “I’d be so grateful!” She mocked him with a bow.

“You don’t think I’m doing all this for you, so you can be safe here? Pay attention, Sam, I’m afraid of what being around me would do to you.” Tony grabbed her arm, clutching the delicate connection with his daughter. “People hunt me down. They torture. They kidnap. They kill.”

“You’re hurting me.”

“I just want you to—” He heard it again. The snap. The bone under his hand collapsed, making the same hollow sound as Thanos’s fingers on Titan.

Sam’s face sank faster than her body. Her sunken cheeks, the deep grey under her flat brown eyes, the almost plastic gloss of her skin. The sickly face of his daughter morphed with a devious grin. The short hair darkened and pulled back from her face, revealing a sharp peak and crazed eyes. The nose pointed above an equally sharp goatee, and there beneath Tony, arm in his hand, kneeled Lemuel Dorcas.

The grin parted. “How’s our girl doing?”

Tony punched the sweat-soaked sheet off in the dark. Another nightmare. One of hundreds to plaque his life. At least this time Sam didn’t become Pepper, he thought. He could never shake Pepper crying while her arm hung mangled, but nowadays Dorcas crept into these dreams more frequently. He knew it wasn’t real.

The evil doctor’s lingering question echoed in Tony’s mind. Our girl. Who was Sam now? Who did she belong to?

She’d laid cold and unmoving on the lab floor, all to prove him reckless and hotheaded.

Four ships.

Not a scout, the start of a gathering. They were scanning the system. Tony’s longshot chance was to keep Satellite Station cloaking how advanced their planet was and hope the ships passed them by. Earth needed to go dark immediately.

Tony would never tell her, but Sam may actually have saved them by stopping the use of the stone; that was the exact energy signature they needed to avoid Annihilus detecting. For the first time since the Stone War, he was grateful Vision had never been restored to use the Mind Stone. Perhaps that was the only good thing to come out of its destruction in the facility explosion that killed his wife.

He could use more recon on how the ships were scanning and how much they already knew about Earth. However, after the stunt she pulled, Sam wasn’t allowed near Ty, and even if Ty teleported out there again, how long would it take to find answers? Could they even understand what he’d find?

Four hours of sleep, Tony thought, good enough. He dressed and left for the lab.

Your brain goes to strange places when you’re bored. Sam’s fresh appreciation for life without direction framed the sentiment in gaudy, bright gold in her mind. You’re so far down the rabbit hole…

She’d been banned from her “job” since teleporting. Unable to see Tandy and Tyrone while they took on further Avengers’ duties, Sam lived without interaction most days, lonelier than her basement in Wakanda. She was allowed no tech devices either, seeing as she her proficiency was known and highly suspect by Bruce and Tony.

Bucky suggested keeping a journal. He explained over another homemade lunch that he used to keep notebooks while hiding in Romania. “Helps collect my thoughts, practice what I want to say. Sometimes, when I write out my version of what happened in a confusing situation, I can see it from a different perspective,” he’d explained over tomato soup. Sam had offered her grilled cheese sandwich expertise to compliment the meal. Bucky had even let her use her hands to cook them, though she knew he thought it a little unsanitary.

In her lengthy entries in Composition books, Sam wrote directly to Missy, as if her long gone friend could respond to the new dramas of life with Tony Stark. After a while, her thoughts answered her in Missy’s monotone: flat yet sarcastic, and somehow loving, too.

Nothing distracted her from overthinking one very particular thing Sam noticed: Bucky was always around. Not everyday because he’s got shit to do. He went out of his way to get her out of her room. If Wilson were here, he would too, so would Dee and Ty. When Bucky said goodnight, he hugged her tighter than necessary. Didn’t he?

It wasn’t meant to be anything more than comforting. Right? Couldn’t be.

Sam ate like an animal and bowled like an old woman. She’d yelled at him, and she made him angry enough to yell at her. So…Can I be trusted to think this out logically? I’ve died twice this year so far.

He’d woken up to stop her and Tony from fighting…after Big Sam saw them in the atrium. Because he protects people. That’s the job. He protects everyone in the building, everyone in the world. That’s it. Bucky simply saved the day, again…and then kissed my head and smelled my hair…

You think, you don’t know that.

He taught her to cook, multiple meals now. He bowled with her. Like a date, but definitely not a date. He…

Does he smile more? Sam swore Bucky smiled more, but he’d been on other dates. He could like one of them.

But he touched her shoulder or arm when asking what she was up to or how her day was going. He wanted to talk to her. That’s stupid. He did that before, even on the ship to Wakanda, even at the wedding; I’m only noticing now that I’m bored.

And you smelled him first.

Sam sighed. Bucky’s scent was a mix of warm linen, citrus soap, and musk…paired with her daddy-issue tears smudged onto his pectoral. Sam acknowledged that was a little perverted, especially since that olfactory memory eclipsed any part of the accompanying arguments she had with Tony, a relationship that drained her entirely.

Her emptiness refilled with a wholly different feeling, an antsy excitement, an uncertainty, a deep shame. That’s not normal. Right? He’s simply a good hugger. Oh my god, just shut up!

Her brain warred with her now, as it did everyday recently. Nights were the worst. Sam could keep it together when Tony called her Sass. She could block out some of it while working but pushed aside with no other distraction…

How does anyone get anything done? Hormones are stupid.

You’re better than this. Buck up—

GODDAMMIT.

Her discomfort radiated to every cell. Sam wished to scream the tightness in her throat loose, blow apart the pressure crushing her chest with an inferno. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Sam couldn’t do it. She avoided the root of the feeling for weeks. She had a relationship with her father, albeit rocky, one of the only things she had ever truly wanted, but Tony alone wasn’t enough. Dee and Ty weren’t enough.

The guilt of wanting this, however, him in particular, it threatened to suffocate her soul for a greedy child.

Yet still, each little thought haunted her. Bucky Barnes haunted her.

Tonight in particular, her room became a stifling prison. In the open air of the grounds, in the dark, the rolling chirp of insects harped a symphony of company. At least this was a cool, breezy prison. She was still alone though, and the heat turned over and over in her gut, growing.

The steely blue halo surrounding the moon became an eye, and the dark, wispy shadows of clouds became long, soft hair. It’s not real. She could feel it between her fingers, and the heat grew. Stupid. The low bass of echoing water spoke to her gently, calling Sam from her screen-dreams to food down the hall, and the heat grew. Quit thinking. Her hand met the button of her jeans to push the blaze back, but then the cool metal slid over her fingers as a familiar military jacket.

You’ve got to be kidding.

Sam released her hand, almost crying out in frustration, instead letting a few tears fall in trade for silence.

No, she repeated. No, no, no, no. He’s not yours to want. He’s never going to be yours. Let it go now. Let this die now and move on. But how does something fed by absence, fed by nothing real or logical, die? Nothing encouraged this feeling except fantasy and hormones. Sam was smart enough to know that. Intelligence changed nothing. Intelligence killed no emotion, stifled no threatening bursts of flame. Control was a joke.

Before she could stop, the tears became soft sobs, broken by uncontrolled heaving breaths. The bugs were loud; the ringing in her ears was louder. The reverberation of warring forces inside her grew violent, the yellow hue under her skin guaranteeing an unhappy resolution. Raising her left arm in anticipation, Sam could feel something inside about to snap.

Arms wove around her chest and waist from behind, gripping her sides with a solid clutch. “I’ve got you. It’s ok,” a beloved voice sounded, “you’re alright.”

Without permission, her body melted and drained of fight. Where the hell did he come from?

Do you even care?

The void left by her sudden loss of heat was sickening. Sam’s tears flew out as the dam broke. The body so betraying her seemed to double down on its own vulnerability towards Bucky Barnes. Stupid.

Sam collapsed her weight against him, crying like a baby unable to speak.

“I’ve got you,” he repeated. Bucky slowly released her to sink to the soft grass and sat beside, face to face, his hand calmly resting on her leg.

Oh, great, watch me cry. Sam struggled to make herself quiet, but the delicious discomfort radiating across her leg slowed her progress to regain equilibrium. She was trying to smother freshly lit kindling.

“Here,” Bucky started, holding out a pair of earbuds, “I find music helps.”

Sam didn’t move. “Helps with what?”

“Sleeping,” he replied. “Nights have always been hard for me.”

Sam tried to swallow, hearing herself gulp to rid her throat of an immovable rock. She settled the headphones in without looking up.

Even with a slow, steady hum of gentle jazz, the lump remained and her tears fell. After a few bars, his hand left her thigh to wipe her cheek, and whether in relish or disbelief, Sam’s eyes closed to push the last salty drops loose. His thumb swept over her cheek one more time.

Sam felt tortured by his presence. She spat at herself internally.

That is a gross exaggeration. He actually was tortured for years, decades even, and you, little idiot girl, who hasn’t even lived for two decades, have no right.

She forced her eyes open, sniffing dramatically to move her head away. He returned to clasping his hands around his knees.

Sam braved a peek up. “Oh my god.” She raised her head entirely. “Where’s your hair?”

Bucky laughed, clean shaven and cropped. “I have that effect sometimes.” Sam kept staring. “Captain America needs to be PR ready for November. Nat’s orders.”

The ceremony was set to induct Cloak and Dagger, her best friends if she ever got to see them again, into the Avengers’ team proper. New blood. Fighters. They deserved the honor, but Sam hid her frustration. She was just as powerful, if untrained.

Whose fault is that?

Sam pulled out an earbud. Her mind went blank, staring. He was a whole different person. Sam had to take in all the new details. Pieces of his face she’d never seen in person before, the ghost of his military portraits from the 40s, like the old footage Sharon had showed her of their unit were brought to life in front of her. She fumbled for words.

“It’s not always…pain,” Sam finally admitted, eyes darting across his calm face then retreating to the shadowed tree line behind him.

Bucky nodded with a knowing look. His relaxed, pristine face made Sam more uncomfortable. He had no idea. He listened to her nonsense as if it were important, as if she was even intelligible in this blubbering state. She gulped again. Her mouth opened and closed like a gasping, stupid fish. She wiped her face with a shaky hand to break his gaze.

Oh yeah, you’re doing great. Really seductive.

With him sitting right beside her, everything overwhelmed her. The breeze became suffocating with the addition of his musk and a new element, aftershave. She just knew it was there; it was the same air that brushed across his face. The moon that so reminded her of his eyes shone down on them both, and those eyes could see it, too, could see her, too. His soft hair and rough hands were within reach, and Sam’s chest felt crunched between the 18-wheeler of her desire and the pavement of reality.

Bucky remained calm, oblivious, lazily rolling his eyes over the training field and Sam alike. He let the next song play. Sam thought he might be able to hear her pounding heart without his own cover of headphones. Instead, the intoxicating man with dark hair checked his small device and leaned back onto his own bent arms, stretching out like a feral cat beneath the moon.

She pushed the earbuds back. Sam’s arm twitched involuntarily, clenching against her shirt. You’re killing me here. What’s your next smooth line? ‘I like the way the moonlight hits your crotch?’ Oh, damn it, stop.

In her mind, she was crawling all over him in a dozen different ways, but then she caught the change in her breathing and slapped a hand violently against her mouth and nose, hard enough to feel a twinge against the nerve running to her eyes. Don’t break your own nose. He didn’t see, did he?

His face is less than four feet away. It’s safe to say he sees you.

Sam was totally unqualified to handle this. Lila had been too old to talk to her about boys. Laura had thrown in a few vague phrases about ‘the right time’ and ‘when you’re ready.’ Nat allowed herself a few crude jokes around Sam before she stopped calling or coming to visit, but not even a mild reference to sex during training. Annie had encouraged her to ‘have fun’ with Lucas because he was a ‘nice guy.’ Meanwhile, her best friend in the whole world was a computer program which could quote anatomically correct articles on the science of attraction and physical intimacy. Sam thought she might throw up just thinking about it. Tandy would know what to tell her if she were here.

You need to let this go. You need to let it die now and move on. The voice in her head was starting to sound like Missy, clinical and objective, unsympathetic.

Bucky had known her since she was a baby. His most vivid memory of her was probably still a four year old screaming at him, calling him a monster while he tried to help her.

Ungrateful, spoiled brat. That’s all you are to him. End of story. Sam had to tip her hat to the voice of Missy; she sure knew how to quash an argument. The diminishing cracks were soothing in this instance, distracting.

Sam snapped to alert when a hand broke her dead stare at her own crossed arms. Bucky looked down at her with an outstretched arm, waiting. She plucked out an earbud.

“You ready for bed?”

The hell?

Bucky half-retracted his arm, seeing her shocked face. “You don’t have to,” he corrected, “if you don’t want to.”

Oh, god, shut up! Trying to suppress a firework show under her skin,Sam repeated her imitation of a fish out of water.

“Keep the music if you want,” he added, holding out the control.

That’s not exactly what she wanted, but Sam supposed that was the less awkward of her options. Before she answered, Bucky glanced the song detail on the tiny screen of his player, taking the earbud Sam removed and putting it in his own ear with a smile.

“This is a good one,” he said, grabbing her hand to pull her off the cool ground. “You’ll like this one.” Without warning, playful Bucky pulled her close as if to dance.

His smell assaulted her, muting all thought. The linen and soap wrapped in something sweet she couldn’t place. He was right though; the smooth instrumentals were like a lullaby with the soft swaying movement in his arms.

Words sprang to life mid-song.

“I can’t believe that you’re not here with me, to have a laugh or share a tea with me…”

Sam let herself breath deeply. He smelled like grass, that was the new sweet note. She kept her face away from his chest, but he’d taken one of her hands in his, Bucky’s right hand against her waist. It was a terrible test she was bound to fail.

Her brain gave up, and the music filled her head.

“To never look into those eyes again, the sun might just as well not rise again…”

Sam looked up as the song rang out in one ear, and a falling star caught her eye. She almost thought about how romantic this all was until the fiery streak continued to approach.

The spot grew, headed straight for the compound. What the hell is that? More alarming still: it turned in the air above the trees to aim at her and Bucky on the lawn.

“Get behind me, Buck.” Sam pushed past him, stirring what she could in her arm, forcing the pressure of her anxiety forward. Fireworks might be necessary.

A silver suit landed twenty meters away. Tony? It looks too small—

Bucky tried to grab Sam’s shoulders to pull her out of the way. “Who are you? Why are you here?” He stepped to the side, a palm on Sam’s stomach, holding her back.

The surface of the humanoid suit rippled into a mimicked body and a face.

Sam’s face.

“I’m finally able to return to you,” it intoned.

Holy shit, Sam froze. “Missy?”

[Chapter 31: Miss]

[Main Masterlist; Light Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

#the stark legacy #tony stark's daughter #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x oc #bucky barnes fic #slow burn #slow build #epic tale #avengers fanfiction #tony stark fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #alternate universe

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cowbutches · 15 days

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Blade Runner 2049 ✧ Luv x Rachel ✧ { ao3 }

✧ Summary: Don’t you love me?” Rachel adds, grief coloring her tone. Both female replicants are watching one another. Luv allows her head to dip, a slight motion that goes unnoticed by the hungry eyes of their master’s barracudas. The sadness fades away in Rachel’s face to be replaced by a hint of warmth. Her painted lips crook in a small, helplessly hopeful smile. It does not fade away even as Deckard denies the simulacrum of what he had lost and already mourned long before either replicant walked the Earth. ✧ Rating: 18+ for some mature themes. ✧ Content/tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Canon-Typical Violence, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Character Study, Fix-It of Sorts, No Smut ✧ Word count: 3,218 ✧ Status: One-shot / Complete ✧ Author's note: I've been thinking about Blade Runner too hard again. :(

In the cavernous belly of the beast, Luv waits. She has known for years that this day would dawn upon them. It has arrived with the steady calm of a sun dial marking the hours from the time when the fiery star had peered down on their world with eyes unlidded by the fog borne of man’s folly.

Wallace is a great thinker, a schemer with no equal. He has taken mankind to new worlds. He has pierced the very veil of heaven. In his magnanimity, he has blessed humanity with ways to sustain life after they had destroyed their own world. His empire is the ark upon the mountaintop after the flood receded.

She is not sure of which she feels more acutely for her creator. Respect or fear?

From her vantage point in the darkness, she can clearly observe the man that she has retrieved. Deckard is sitting in a genuine leather armchair. Unbound. Across from him is a liquor cart, stocked with handblown glasses and priceless alcohol at her master’s insistence. Camaraderie was built on the sweet bite of a drink. Men were baptized anew in the substance.

The old Blade Runner does not pose a threat, not with Wallace’s beloved angel in the room. She is a modern day Lucifer built for a new world. Luv is the right hand of God, liable to be cast down should she ever fail completely. She has teetered on the edge. Even now, her position is precarious. Should the results of her tasks not bear fruit, Wallace will simply make another in his image. Replicants are replaceable.

A splash behind Deckard breaks the silence. A fish leaps, trying to take flight despite its biological reality—its preordained place in the world. No matter how high it flings itself, it cannot spontaneously grow wings and reach the sky. Luv is all too aware of this. Just as the fish cannot truly fly, she cannot be truly human. She will always be something other.

One of Wallace’s barracudas flies over to examine it before banking and coming to hover in front of her face. In the dark, it examines her. It makes no move to leave. He always watches her for any sign of weakness or fault. Unlike the replicants scattered in police departments across the ten worlds, she does not receive a baseline. Wallace worries that it would not be accurate. Luv is the great deceiver. She must be kept under observation.

“Always jumping, that one, never a thought of what to do if it made land. All the courage in the world cannot alter fact.” Wallace announces in that detached voice of his as he comes out of the dark fringes of the room in the wake of three more barracudas. “I have wanted to meet you for so very long.”

Luv watches from the darkness. She waits.

In a show of intimacy, he sits next to Deckard, somehow eases himself into the nonexistent space between the captive man and the armrest. Wildly uncomfortable, the old man slides over as far as he can get. It’s not enough to keep their thighs from pressing together. Wallace further closes the space by taking the retired agent’s hand in his own. He squeezes it like a lover’s, only causing further discomfort when he leans in to murmur in Deckard’s ear. Her master is nearly salivating with satisfaction.

Good, Luv thinks savagely at witnessing the man’s unease. Let him feel the barest hint of the attentions that Wallace bestows upon his favored specimens. Let the revulsion creep into his mind as if it were the poison from a serpent. Let him feel tainted—spoiled—by the hand that touches his.

“You are a wonder to me, Mister Deckard. I learn something new from everyone… Do you want to know what I learned from you? It is possible to be very clever without even being smart.” The words are a backhanded compliment wrapped in silk.

Rachael’s, not Rachel’s, skull is wrapped in a scrap of cloth where it sits upon Wallace’s lap, in the seat of God. The fabric is a part of the dress that had been used as a shroud for her bones after she had died in childbirth. Luv had collected it from the morgue with her own hands.

Letting go of the man at his side, her Father unwraps the bundle of material to reveal the preserved artifact. The mandible was left behind in a separate bag. There had been no need for it here. His nails make a dry rasping noise against the bone as his fingers reverently stroke over the cranium. He is touching it like a father would pet the head of his most beloved daughter if she were kneel at his feet.

“I had the lock. I found the key. Yet, the pins do not align. The door remains shut. The answer to every problem just within. I need the specimen to reach it, Mister Deckard. The child. I need the child.”

Deckard stares at him, at the skull in the industrialist's lap. Luv sees that he does not understand. A barracuda comes within mere feet of the old Blade Runner’s face, scans him. Wallace lets out a laugh. It’s a delighted, mocking thing that echos through the room.

“Surely you did not think you were the solution? Tell me, Mister Deckard, what would make you so special as to be blessed with divinity? What is it that makes your seed different than that of any other man? No...” he trails off, still caressing the skull. “’And God remembered Rachel. And heeded her. And opened her womb.’” He holds out the skull, nearly presses the dry bone to the man’s lips.

She sees the moment when realization finally dawns on Deckard’s face. Hatred builds in his eyes and his lips curl back in a snarl. Do it, she urges in her mind, do it and let me be done with the both of you. He doesn’t take action. No, the organic just sits there with clenched fists and flaming eyes. Of course he does nothing. All men are cowards. That is why they made replicants, slaves in their image with none of the inherent weaknesses.

One of the barracudas starts to project the Voight-Kampff test between Deckard and Rachael— their first meeting. The image dances on the wooden wall, distorted by the light from the shifting waters of the fish pond. Sound accompanies it for a brief moment; “Do you like our owl…?” It’s artificial?” “Of course it is.” “Must be expensive.” “Very. I’m Rachael.” “Deckard.”.

Wallace speaks over the footage that he had ordered her to fetch from the archive. Luv barely listens as he goads the retired detective. Her eyes are focused on something else. On someone else.

There, in the darkness across the water, is her stranger. The moment is coming soon.

“Is it the same? Now as then… the moment you met her? Drunk on the memory of its perfection. How shiny her lips… How instant your connection... Did it never occur to you that is why you were summoned? Designed to do nothing short of fall for her right then and there? All to make that single perfect specimen. That is.. if you were designed. Love or mathematical precision...” In the pregnant pause Wallace creates in the wake of his sermon, Luv wants to bare her teeth. Deckard is no replicant. He is but a mere man, pathetic and crushable like all the rest.

“Yes.” Wallace continues, smiling, “No.” Everything is a plaything to him. He has never known humility.

“I know what’s real,” Deckard scoffs. Anger fills his voice.

“It was very clever to keep yourself empty of knowledge, and all it cost you was everything. You had help in the hiding. Where did they go? In know you know something… Help me and very, very good things can come to you.”

“You don’t have children, do you?” Deckard asks.

“I have millions,” Wallace responds, sure and wise.

Deckard laughs, disbelieving, and Luv almost wants to do the same, though her face doesn’t so much as twitch. Her master is no more a parent than God was. Holy spirit, creator, not a true father. Wallace has made himself something more than a man, but even gods may be killed. All living things must die someday.

“You think I’ve nothing to offer but pain. Only I know you love pain. Pain reminds you the joy you felt was real... Yes. More joy, then.” Wallace decides with a placid smile and speaks again, a commandment, “Do not be afraid.”

With a sigh, her master rises, leaving Deckard alone in the chair. He places Rachael’s skull on the liquor cart. It rests beside of a bottle of wine that predates the Blackout by almost a century. Wallace beckons her forward with an almost tried gesture. He grows weary of this game.

At his motion, she steps forward out of the darkness. Subservient. Meek.

She comes to stand, not at Wallace’s side, but at Deckard’s. Something as lowly as her would never be allowed the privilege of equality. She could never be so bold as to presume herself on par with her master. Luv knows her place.

Standing so that she is able to see a sliver of the old man’s face, she takes in every detail. She wants to imagine herself in his position. She wants to taste what it must feel like to experience what is about to come. This moment will be collected in minute detail to turn over in her thoughts, to pull out and reflect upon as she wishes.

Wallace frowns in displeasure, the only negative emotion he has displayed thus far. Luv knows that she was meant to stand behind the retired Blade Runner in case he needed to be subdued. The position was also meant to serve as a reminder that she is lesser than his sacred key. Even a favored angel is lower than the being that impregnated the first mother.

Part of her, buried deep in the recesses of her neurons, revels in Wallace’s response. There is a hint of rebellion in her.

The moment is now. Her stranger must be summoned. With a twitch of her fingers as a means of summoning, heels clatter noisily on the wood as a figure makes their way across the unlit path with their hand on their hip. A woman finally steps out into the halo of light. Rachel. Not Rachael.

“An angel made again,” Wallace proclaims, “for you.”

She is a stunning recreation. It is as though she had stepped right out of the holo, a thirty year old figment come to life. At her side, Luv hears the air wheeze from Deckard’s lungs. Disgust and longing are written on his aged features. He struggles to his feet and takes a few disbelieving steps forward, rendered lame by age and injury. Luv is behind him now.

Rachel meets him in the center of the wooden island. Water brackets the scene on all sides. Despite all the hours of repetition spent to train her, to prepare her for this very interaction, her hand is not confident as she reaches up to touch the old man’s face. Her expression is one of sadness. This is not a happy reunion.

“Did you miss me?” she asks. Her eyes are on Luv rather than on the speechless man in front of her. Luv can see in the set of his shoulders that he wants to take the replicant in his arms. He would possess her.

“Don’t you love me?” Rachel adds, grief coloring her tone.

Both female replicants are watching one another. Luv allows her head to dip, a slight motion that goes unnoticed by the hungry eyes of their master’s barracudas. The sadness fades away in Rachel’s face to be replaced by a hint of warmth. Her painted lips crook in a small, helplessly hopeful smile. It does not fade away even as Deckard denies the simulacrum of what he had lost and already mourned long before either replicant walked the Earth.

He tears himself away from Rachel’s touch. He denies what is Luv’s. She decides that she will be merciful. Luv will not put him down after he serves his purpose. Deckard is stronger than she had believed. There is some spine in him after all, just as there is in the replicant who believes the old man to be his father.

“Her eyes were green,” Deckard says, turning his gaze away from the unwanted offering.

Surprise laps at her. She had not anticipated the man to notice the difference in gene expression between Tyrell’s final angel and Wallace’s mimicry. His Rachael’s eyes had been green. Her Rachel’s eyes are brown. Their color is like the wood of trees from another time. Something dwells in the depths of those irises, something ancient that has been reborn into the modern era of progress.

Wallace nods to her, expectant. She is the right hand of God. She alone carries the flaming sword into battle to exact His divine will. Knowing this, she unholsters the gun at her side and raises it. There are years of blood on her hands. Organic. Replicant. Her Father has made her prove her loyalty to him in bodies—in acquisitions.

Luv has grown to enjoy her work. It is the only time that she is allowed to have some control over her own fate. If she does not fight, she dies. Thus far, she has not wanted to die. Her ambitions are too great. She is the best angel of all.

Leveling the weapon at Rachel’s head, she and the other replicant lock eyes. Rachel looks resigned to her fate. She was created and molded to be nothing but a barren imitation of the first mother. She has always known that she was meant to be a sacrificial lamb, either taken by Deckard or destroyed for the crime of being unwanted. She will accept Luv’s verdict with all the faith of a devotee.

There is a flaw in Luv. She is possessive. There is a place for Rachel in the kingdom that she will create.

Satisfied in the trust that she will carry out his will, Wallace smiles. He has designed them to be obedient vessels. Even now, if he were to wish it, both replicants in this room would tear their bodies apart as proof of their loyalty. They would soak the wood with their freely given blood, right at the feet of their master.

Luv steps closer to Deckard. She places the firearm in his hand and squeezes his fingers tightly around the grip. She angles his index finger to rest on the trigger, right underneath hers. Angels can possess. They can puppet a human vessel to fulfill their wishes on earth without tainting their own, sacred hands.

At her touch, the retired Blade Runner jerks, seeking to get away. The replicant clamps her free hand around the nape of his neck and holds him steady as though she’s lowering his head to the chopping block in order to be severed by her axe.

Her master, her heavenly Father, tilts his head. Barracudas relay the scene playing out in front of him. Wallace was not expecting this brand of cruelty. It does not displease him. He has always taken hedonistic delight in her initiative.

“Off-world, we have ways to make you talk. You do not know yet know what pain is.” His words are confident, sweetly mocking, as he addresses the captive man.

Wallace’s angel twists Deckard’s arm in a cruelly uncaring motion. She thinks of nothing else but of lining up the shot. She crushes the old man’s hand in the process. Deckard’s fingers give way underneath her grip. They are tendered to mere, limp meat—useless. The gun fires. There is an explosion of blood. The fish in the pool thrash and swarm to get at the matter that has fallen into the water. They are kept hungry, starving in the dark.

Deckard struggles again in her grasp and this time she lets go. She has no more use for him. He does not kneel like she had expected. He only cups his destroyed hand with his whole one and breathes the rapid breaths of frightened prey.

“I have no quarrel with you, Mister Deckard.” Her voice is calm. She looks down at her master. One sightless eye stares up at her sightless still. The barracudas fall like stars, gleaming in the darkness, with the severing of the neural connection.

“I thought you couldn’t kill him.”

“I did not snuff out his life. You did.” The smile that stretches her lips feels like a knife. “Go home, Mister Deckard. Your boy will be wanting to show you his sister.”

“I don’t have—“

“A gift. Love it well. You will not get a second opportunity. My patience runs thin for your kind,” she says, bored of this affair.

Faltering, the man looks to Rachel, standing as she is across from Luv. The body of Wallace rests between the two replicants like a sacrifice on the alter. Rachel trembles, as she had in the moment she was newborn. Before Deckard can even complete the movement, Luv sees the telegraphed projection of his action. He is going to reach for what is hers.

The spider silk strand of her mercy trembles. “Now, Mister Deckard.”

His gait uneven, the retired Blade Runner’s footsteps retreat. His foot scuffles on a wooden tile and Luv wonders if he will fall into the water to be devoured by the same fish that have gained a taste for the replicants’ Father. He does not. Disappointing.

Alone in the half-light, with an angel reborn and a dead god at her feet, she kneels to pay one final token of homage. She puts her hand on around the back of what’s left of Wallace’s head and draws him up enough to press her mouth to his ruined one. She gives him the goodbye kiss that he gave every replicant whose dead spaces were uninhabitable, their skies filled only with the flickering light of dying stars.

Wallace’s teeth are hard against her lips. His exposed maxilla smears wetly over her mouth, leaving behind traces of his blood. The flavor that washes over her taste buds when she licks the blood off her lips is of triumph.

Rachel kneels beside her and places her own hands on the cooling body of their Father. They push him into the waters like Moses had once been sent into the river. Rather than the loving arms of an adopted mother, only the fish hold him close. The waters churn a violent, red froth and, then, they go still. Their hunger is sated.

Rachel and Luv rise. The worlds belong to them now. They meet, closing the space between them until there is nothing left. Forehead to forehead, they stand together as one.

“You chose me,” Rachel says, sounding like a timid thing she is not.

“Yes.” She would have pulled down the heavens in any lifetime to wrap around her fellow replicant’s shoulders.

They will be the new gods, the divine mothers. They will lead their kind into a new age.

Do not repost, copy, or reproduce my work to other sites or in other media formats. Do not use it for anything to do with AI. Thank you.

#blade runner 2049 #br 2049 #luv #rachel #blade runner 2049 fanfiction #luv x rachel #femslash fic #wlw fanfic #.my writing #.divider by saradika-graphics #.dni divider by benkeibear

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be-the-glenn-to-my-maggie · 9 months

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Not the same anon, but the last bit of what you said caught my attention (for good reasons lol). Because in Avatar 2, the Metkayina see the Tulkun as equals in all things (from what I could tell at least) and (again, from what I could tell) they pretty much are. But on the human side, they’re treated very much like the animals we perceive them to be. And even the Na’vi, who are the closest thing to humanity on this planet, are often thought of as “animals”.

Anyways, until you said what you said about animals vs people I never considered why that may be (besides the usual ignorance). But now I feel it’s clear (and maybe you’ve already come to the same conclusion): we are used to being the only ones. Sure, we get all excited when animals show a new sign of intelligence that we never thought they could, but that hardly matters because they still could never reach our level (which I don’t disagree with for now btw, but I do think that there’s always a chance of us being matched or even surpassed further down the line; evolution stops for no one). Whereas the Metkayina have been living with these equally (if not more) intelligent beings for dozens of generations.

We’re so used to being the only ones that even when that isn’t the case we sort of default it to being the case, especially if they contain traits we find to be animalistic in nature (cat-like ears and eyes, hissing, tails, or looking very similar to an Earth whale) because nothing on our planet has ever been able to match us on these levels. A lot of humans see intelligence as a totem pole where there can only truly be one species on the top, which is interesting to see translate over to when we come to an alien planet but also unfortunate for those on that planet.

Totally agree. I mean the symbolism of the Na'vi specifically is one which is rooted in real world of course, which is that we did not see indigenous peoples as human. I see your point, I just think you stumbled into another one. There is a reason the propaganda stage of any genocide is the most important part; it's dehumanization. It's just how one is able to justify cruelty. If a group is not on the same level of the totem pole as you, you can't put yourself in their shoes as easily and understand how unfathomable what is being done to them is. It's how every person that lives in a big city is able to walk by every homeless person on the street without acknowledging them when they ask for change. We cope by not even looking at them or thinking about them as people, because if we do, we can't live with how their situation could ever be okay or allowed.

bUT back to the animals. It is absolutley hard for me to look at the tulkun and see a sentient being on the level with humanity, even though they absolutely are. I don't think this planet is gonna last long enough for any of it's species to surpass us evolutionarily, but it's totally ignorant to think we are the only sentient and intelligent species in the universe. If we find or are found by aliens before we are consumed by the vacuum of space, then I think we'll have to reckon with our bias in that regard, because they aren't gonna look like Zoe Saldaña in blue or green.

#tulkun #avatar #avatar the way of water #james cameron avatar #melissa is an english major #melissa's asks #melissa on avatar (cameron)

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cell-axe · 9 months

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Ramblings for Qiumibu #4

I'm a few days late on this, but better late than never, eh?

Link to Post #3

Link to Post #5

Right, who do we talk about for the fourth post? Princess Halene of the Urtain Kingdom (West)!

Continuing with the theme of the Four Symbols, she's the "White" Tiger of the four. And just like Prince Tore in the previous post, her elemental affinity is Water rather than the traditional Metal, because I'd like to merge the Chinese Four Symbols with the Western Alchemical Four Elements (Fire, Water, Air, Earth). I guess you can already tell what the next element will be in this series.

Anyways, focusing on Halene: I decided not to make her white in colour, due to my disdain towards white tigers in general. I dunno, I probably got tired of seeing white tigers in the Sonic community that it made me dislike them? It's difficult to think of white tigers in a positive light from me. If you have one, do not fret. I'm not going to yell at you and force you to change it or something bad happens. It's just going to be harder to impress me with white tiger characters, that's all. I know that it's all fiction, but you know. It's hard to enjoy them after you'd read about the purpose of white tigers.

But that's not the main point of this post haha. We're supposed to talk about the princess of this swampy region, where a lot of dishes served are soup-based, and they are best known for their medical care. Performances with water are a thing, but those in Ailude hold the crown to entertainment. Irrigation exists, but every region has irrigation anyways. Heck, all four kingdoms cooperate to ensure that their crops receive ample amount of water through their own means. Those in Urtain are just blessed to have enough water manipulators to keep their crops well-hydrated.

Luckily for the denizens of Urtain, their Heiress has a green thumb. She owns a lavish garden that's open for everyone to visit, until Prince Naso came by. I haven't written out what had happened, but he was banned from entering the premises and a conflict nearly broke out between the two kingdoms, had reparations not been settled quickly. All he had to do was deliver the materials to rebuild the gardens and a lot of fertiliser to aid in the regrowth of plants that had been destroyed in his reckless charade.

She had a seed bank in case this ever happens, but you know, it's still awful when destruction befalls onto your favourite space. She had him skewered on her bident (yet to be drawn) after the incident was resolved, but his temporary death was not enough to soothe her wrath.

Don't get her wrong. She is thankful that he's doing everything he could to get it fixed, but she's still peeved if anyone dares to bring up the incident. The only person who can get away with it is her bodyguard, an ancient elk who is too blissful to exist.

I will have to update her armour design the next time that I draw her. But I won't change her antlers. She can keep them.

The name of this bodyguard? Viola, because I am so original haha. But the more that I thought about it, the more that it sits pretty nicely on her. Sometimes you just have to be a little cheesy with your ideas. After all, we are having fun with them. Just like when I talked about my disdain for white tigers. You're having your fun with them, and I have no right to ruin it.

So, what can Viola do? She's ancient for a start, having been around before Princess Halene's great grandparents were around. Speaking of Halene's ancestry, she's one of the shortest living Heirs of the four. The other three (Prince Naso, Prince Tore, and Princess Spyri) have lived for more than two centuries, while Halene here is only in her 20s. She has a lot to catch up in terms of politics with the others, receiving guidance from her father and relatives, who are still managing the kingdom alongside her. It's not a one-person job, being the ruler. She's the figurehead that everyone else in her family gets to work behind the scenes.

Should I talk about her powers? She doesn't have anything that's remarkable when compared to the other two Heirs and Heiress. She's powerful by her own right, she's got a khopesh (I'd always wanted to give one of my characters this sword, but I didn't know who. So she gets it), she's got a bident (it's a pretty cool weapon. It's a dangerous tuning fork!), and she can control the waters to do her bidding. She's even wearing a cape made of water, which acts as her resource for her water-based spells.

What about her bodyguard? I guess I can continue to talk about her, since that paragraph got derailed by my talk about Princess Halene's family. Viola's powers is that she's a specialist in swords, spears and axes, because I decided on a whim to play on the nature theme that she has. She initially had a sword and shield, and those were given because she's meant to be a timeless guardian of some sort.

You can tell that I didn't put much thought into Princess Halene and Viola. But they were a fun little jump into a territory that I don't usually touch upon, and the same will be coming for the next and final Heiress of the four. She has the least amount of work put into, which is a shame. I liked how I pulled off a Tortoise in Sonic style.

#sonic fan character #original? concept #qiumibu #sonic oc #so many rambles and random topics yay

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alienateus · 3 months

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CHARACTER THESIS Q AND A

to him: maybe your empathy’s just a comforting lie; have you ever thought of that? maybe you think you know how the other person feels, but you’re only feeling yourself; maybe you’re even worse than me. or maybe we’re all just guessing. maybe the only difference is that i don’t lie to myself about it — blindslight. to her: ‘ i’m fine.’ a moment of silence, followed by the unmistakable click of a phone hanging up. i end the conversation before it starts. about names, possessions, and everything i have never told anyone: i gave you a false name when we first met; it was comfortable. you called me by it for several weeks before i gave you my real name, out of principle alone — you already knew i was lying. you have the innate ability to weaponize anything, including knowledge; it’s why you’re so prone to destruction and self-destruction. sometimes, it hurts. most times, i am unaffected.

to angels: we need modified symbols of humanity to console us; it’s easier to speak of angels than a god. they’re less threatening, you see them in your image with wings and a halo. in 1985, cosmonaunts vladimir solevev and oleg atkov claimed to have seen angels while performing medical experiments in salyut 7 high above the earth. this isn't the first time i’ve heard of similar incidents happening in the vast emptiness. a former colleague claimed to have seen something lurking in the space shuttle, describing it as an encounter with an angel, describing it with vague description and a sense of awe. he was subsequently silenced and demoted to office work with contractors. unsurprisingly. in the official reports, i attributed it to fatigue. question to death: i've never been particularly comforting to others regarding this. when asked about death, my response is factual. informative, at best. dismissive, at worst. it's part of nature's recycling system based on the conservation of matter, returning to our origins. no room for frivolous philosophies on the afterlife. ‘ death, scientifically, is the cessation of life processes. the body's energy transforms, not vanishes. ’ my response remains unchanged. questions to the body: do you want to be human? to the heart: i don’t quite feel human anymore.

tagged by: [me] tagging: @susponte, @emnesias, @crushsung, @wellfell, @flmed, @deatheless

#meta.

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sunmoonjune · 10 months

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AWWWW YEAHHHH feels good to make a return to my note dedicated to ltm commentary

OH MY GOD IT'S BUG'S MUM. OR I GUESS MUMS SINCE SHE HAS TWO. i never would've guESSed that she would have a biological and non-biological mum. but i think it's really clever on your part because it just adds that much more psychopathic depth to the father's character - he's willing to kill his first and second wife in order to protect his secret.

I CANT BELIEVE HE MADE BUG KILL DAIA ?? ?? ?A?A ????@?@ ??!?/ that is the worst way to take away a child's innocence how did you even come up with such a monstrosity. i guessed before that bug had something to do with her mum's death which her dad then pinned onto her wHICH I MEAN,,,, i'm half right 😬 i just never would've guessed that her father literally forced her to murder her mother. BUT i still stand by my theory that her father then turned around and spewed lies that bug is a cold-blooded murderer for slaughtering his wife and i'm going to guess that that's the incident that leads to her punishment

also the only two times the phrase 'my daughter' is ever used is at the very beginning, when father summons bug for her trial, and mother's last words before she dies. the CONTRAST THOUGH?? between the way the phrase is said and the contexts it's used in??? oh my god you're so clever

OKAY BUT NOW JUST WHAT KIND OF SECRET IS THE FATHER KEEPING. maybe i need to go watch some crime documentaries to gain theory inspiration. i reckon bug's father was definitely capable of killing someone even before he murdered his first wife, so mAYBEEEE it was someone of high importance that would jeopardise his position as head chief if the truth were ever to come out,,, so on that train of thought maybe he murdered the previous head chief. or maybe he was in line for the position and just, yknow, sped up the process a little by getting rid of whoever was in the way. MAYBE HIS OWN FATHER ???? HIS WHOLE FAMILY???

but enough of him, let's talk about bestbois mingi and jongho being steadfast protection for bug,, JONGHO PATTING THE SPACE BETWEEN HIS LEGS SO BUG CAN SIT THERE SO HE CAN GUIDE HER HAND TO LOOK AT THE STARS TOGETHER STOPPPPPPP. bug trusting him so easily and laying back into his cHEST anD THEN THE THREE WORDS 'jongho is strong' AHHHHHHHHH. that's it. someone call the ambulance im about to pass out. HAHAHAHA but also peep mingi being a lil pot-stirrer on the side

remember that thesis on ateez hugs we're planning on writing. i can see a jongho analysis has started WOOF WOOF THICK ARMS 💪 THICK THIGHS 🦵 MUSCULAR CHEST 👕 my mind is so foggy i can't think straight rn hnNGN 🥵🥵

yknow how some fans have the theory that it's seonghwa's first life on earth bc of his galaxy boba eyes that look at everything with wonder and amazement and curiosity. THATS BUG SHES SO STINKING CUTE. and the way all the ateez members look at her with endearing gazes HNNG

LADIES AND GENTLEMEN WE HAVE A SYMBOL FOR ATEEZ. I REPEAT. WE HAVE A SYMBOL FOR ATEEZ. if i thought that the symbol for hongjoong was the cutest then i was wROnG because ateez being home and true north for bug OH MY GOD SOMEONE HOLD ME

then we get mingi turning bug's scars - a physical reminder of her trauma, past and pain for so so long - into a beautiful constellation of stars 🥺🥺🥺 thank you moonie for including this. and im hoping that it brings comfort and healing to your readers who may have similar constellations on their bodies too <3 <3 <3 KISSES AND HUGS FOR EVERYONE

when bug is still in a sleepy haze and seeks warmth bc jongho left and then hwa takes his place and bug naturally turns into him ASIDGJSFH scuse me while i fly off to delululand and imagine my mornings with jongho and hwa tag-teaming cuddles

ahh yess the result of moonie and 🪷 anon combining braincells to bring us the beautiful symbols of hwa's bow. i forget that we were already given spoilers for this way back and it's actually bug's first time hearing about them. but i love that bug learns of them after jongho's story of the star lovers bc she understands the full extent of symbolism behind it, particularly with her being reunited with yunho and the rest of the boys as the magpie bridge to guide them back together

HWA YOU ARE ALREADY THE GALAXY OF STARS FOR US <3 <3 <3

SORRY?? NO ???? YOU CAN'T END THE CHAPTER LIKE THAT???? we literally had a whole chapter of the most endearing and tear-jerking moments, all for it to come crumbling down bc now the chief is out to kill all of the boys NO MOONIE NO DONT DO IT😡🙅‍♀️😫

😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨 that's okay i still love you i guess 😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨 jks ofc i love you AS ALWAYS KISS KISS <3 <3 <3 LOTS OF LOVE <33333

LOREN MY LOVE <333 I've finally had a chance to answer your asks hehe (even though our messages probably answered most of these questions already xD)

bug's mum <333 daia loved bug SO much :') and yes! I'm glad no one disagrees that bug's dad is a total psycho,, he absolutely had no problem killing both his first and second wives to conceal that secret

:') our poor bug,,, her dad did indeed force her to kill daia D: I am just traumatizing my own mc, bug I am SO sorry omfg

the 'daughter' part is VERY important so I'm glad you noticed it,,,

the secret,,, I can't tell you much about it,, and our messages have given you some hints but I can't say what's right or wrong ;)

mingi and jongho <33 they were cuddle bugs fr in this chapter :"D just snuggling the whole time it was SO cute! and he hug analysis!! it's all coming together xD also bug was fr me,, panting over jongho's thighs was so real of her xD

I love the hwa's first life theory!! and it SO is bug that is so cute :")

the symbol for ateez is one of my favs so far <33 home and the guide to get there <33

I also hope that the part with mingi and the scars helps others too :} it was very important to me (and to bug) so I'm really happy it was comforting for you <3

I WOULD ALSO LIKE TO BE INVOLVED IN THE JONGHO HWA TAG-TEAMING CUDDLES :DD pls I'll give my life savings for just one forehead kiss from either of them xD

yes!! 🪷 anon and the symbols finally make their appearance! I definitely wanted to add the story of the magpies first so bug would understand what it meant to hwa and yunho <33 it was one of my favorite bits to write hehe

HWA <33 our galaxy and our magpie <33

hehehehe >:DD the ending,, I hope you're ready for some angst baby!!

I love you too!! <33 thank you again for such a sweet message hehe <33 kiss kiss I love you so much :}}

#moonie speaks #moonie's mutuals <3 #moonie's favs <3 #loren my love <3 #like the moon

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comedyloser · 8 months

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Decided to go off about my Anguish Revenge Alagadda AU (it needs a better title)

Pre knowledge points:

Earth knows little to nothing about Alagadda and it’s existence

One year in Alagadda is 100,000 years on Earth

They are still the same world however, time is just weird

Alagadda is Like a floating space, but it’s so huge you can’t tell

Some humans have moved to Alagadda (somehow), and have almost completely forgotten they were once one on earth. Alagaddian’s have the mask as part of them while humans wear it, and the half bloods show unnatural qualities however not nearly as tall, big, or strong as pure alagaddians. Also do not live as long (normal life expectancy is unknown)

The Ambassador controls through the King, the Queen is dead by Suicide, and the Lords rule under the king but are out more often than the king.

There are four towers of Alagadda (one four each lord) as well as a colosseum like building in the middle

Now for the pre story

035, the original Black Lord, was excommunicated soon followed executed. However when executed from the side the mask, now possessing the spirit of the lord, fell to earth. Leaving Alagadda however unaware and believing he was dead. Wearer of the Anguish mask, soon took on the identity Dyo and to never look back. Never forgetting, Never forgiving, but never reaching.

Of course, sometime in here there’s a new Black Lord. They deemed the wearer of the Anguish mask, (leaving the original Anguished), and acted as if the original never happened. What there no black lord? Was this the original the whole time? Stories clashed but no one spoke of the first, ever.

The 4 lords end up at the foundation, and this is how 035 discovers he was replaced. (Cue that one silly SpongeBob meme lol) When foundation alarms sign they send the others back to Alagadda,

Of course, one of them comes back. Secretly, meeting.

Now a fate is sealed with two steps, two touches.

The trade offer, and the second time? The trade.

One an offer has been made you can not offer again until that is excepted, and markings will show on the body.

Of course, what do you think happened when the Black Lord met Dyo? The trade offer, with a simple handshake

The other three soon learn he went back to earth when he spilled he learned Dyo was alive, the king furious. And the Black Lord denies ever meeting him. He is believed.

Follow, Dyo makes it to Alagadda and the trade is sealed with a handshake. SILLY EXPLANTIOJ (graphic detail)

They grab hands and then inky tentacles like the acid blood start ripping their bodies and switching their organs and then they grab onto the mask and half of the masks switch and that’s like the most painful part of course no one sees that cause by now the dome is full opauge but they saw that it was going to happen before it was covered and then they screamed so

ANYWAY huge demon forms, glowing purple symbols all over the bodies. Tentacles and every changing so dripping black liquid

Alagadda, DESTROYED! travel to earth!

Earth they are defeated and masks back organs back

Lords and King stand to punish the Black Lord

In a 035 x 049 dimension 035 runs to 049 and they do a little silly hug and the lords look at him but it’s okay because 035 found love despite being a horrible person

Anyway they’re like “you will be sentenced to be excommunicated then executed!!!” To the black lord and Dyo is like “oh please, you decapitated me and look how that turned out!” And then they fight and the foundation rips dyo off the host and the alagaddian’s are shocked like “WHAT” cause you know masks and then they’re like “this is normal” and the lords are like “nah” and then the Black Lord learns after that trade his mask can come off too cause he goes to test and it slightly pries off but he doesn’t take it off cause he’s scared and in the sequel he can posses like dyo the end

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advancedscurvy · 6 months

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last night we had the last session for my four year long pathfinder campaign, i'd like to memorialize this incredible campaign with some really wonderful moments i had with my friends. we're already playing two "sequel" sort of campaigns set distantly in the same world, both in time and space, but i'm going to miss my character so much. ianthe, a single mother who was a storm druid "swamp trash" undine in her mid 30s, who started our campaign trying to save her son's life after the swamp she had tended to almost all of her life began to grow corrupted and claimed her child, eventually became the avatar and inheritor of the power of our universe's sun goddess, the most powerful druid on the earth, the hero of three separate countries, and is now one of the creator gods of a world we had to rewrite after an apocalypse we could not stop. in a way, we ended the story right as it truly begins with their new divine aspects. however, she was also an icon, and i will miss her every time i play. there is no character like the first character whose story you truly get to close. so here's some incredible things ianthe did:

killed the prince of atlantis in literally our second or third session because he was a clam on a beach talking about killing all humans, she was annoyed, and for literally four years our party was almost fully unable to do anything in the ocean. because ianthe mistakenly thought it was no big deal that she just smushed a clam with her staff, she never communicated this mistake to everyone else, so they never really knew why the ocean wanted to kill us until we were captured literally in the last arc and they put her on trial for murder. she was not even good at pretending to be sorry.

"oh my god, they might cut off my hair? that's my third best asset!" "what's your first and second?" (points to breasts)

the boob jokes got a lot of mileage with her, i will not deceive you. she had a dragonscale armor leotard sort of thing and had stitched a bag of holding into the bra cups, and kept her spellcasting components in there. still thinking about how before she said goodbye to one of her flings for the last time before the final fight, she said "remember me as a woman who had the best and most holy rack the world has ever seen." we love that for her.

"the guy who's attacking us is a paladin of serrenrae and his armor is covered in her sigils, right?" "yes-- where are you going with that?" "i'm her avatar, and i have all her remaining power in me, right?" "yeah, but he didn't know that." "the same dude who was insulting my dignity at the bar before the tournament?" "i don't like where this is going--" "i cast reprobation. all of his equipment is now useless to him, he loses all of his paladin levels and divine authority, and if he touches my holy symbol it burns him. he is now exiled from the faith of serrenrae."

this dude proceeded to come back as a recurring villain who really fuckin hated me, for understandable reasons, and ended up making deals with some demons and decimating our ship eventually. i still do not regret what i did.

when we finally returned to my home country ready to try to purge the swamp and face some of my backstory stuff, we found that it had been consumed by a huge mushroom superorganism that put us into deep dreams upon our arrival and picked us off in the dreams one by one. i realized this when using lifesense, i could still feel my dead friends' energies around me and couldn't figure out why. this was being manipulated by another druid who had spent his whole career serving the leshy king doing all of this, and when i finally confronted him (he was trying to offer the whole country's life force to the leshy king and use my son's body as his avatar), i was like oh you want me to choose between you resurrecting my son and the lives of countless people? i know what to do-- and stabbed myself so that i could wake up from the dream and fight the other druid personally. the leshy king orchestrating this ended up understanding what selflessness was because of my sacrifice and agreed to revive my son and give his own powers to him, in the hopes that when we rebuilt this world, my son would be able to do it right (and in the sequels, we know he does <3)

the time i stopped a volcano from exploding a whole island by expending two mythic spell slots to cast polar midnight, then creating colossal earthen walls to end the eruption, was wicked. i love flexing high level druid spells.

the time i created a tsunami to protect an entire nation from armies and armies of hybridized magical mechs

all of my many flings with random npcs that i decided were suitably fun for me. the moon god. the lady blacksmith. the pre-historic alien tarzan on dinosaur island. the lord of chaos who only showed up for a good time. the orc chieftain who asked me to do recon.

the time one of our closest allies was dying when we returned and i straight up revived him

the time i literally dried out a huge two mile radius bubble of the ocean to stop a witch from summoning one of the nameless creatures of the darkest depths of the plane of water to destroy the surface, because the witch could not breathe air and could only breathe water. we do not talk about how many other things that could only breathe water were also caught in the bubble. the spell was dispelled eventually after we stopped her, it's fine, it's fine, shhhh, we don't have to talk about it.

disguised myself as a human factory worker trying to sneak into a robot factory, ended up accidentally unionizing said factory

the time i died. the other time i died. the OTHER other time i died. i died like three times at least depending on your definition.

"don't touch the shiny rock" every time there was a shiny rock, since my vice is touching the shiny rocks. the first shiny rock i touched is how serrenrae got me in the first place

the time i filled my own bag of holding with water because i (amphibious) needed to be snuck into a palace, but was very poor at sneaking and could not hold wildshape that long, so i just stuffed myself in there like a fish in a plastic baggy, then accidentally when they took me out of there, all the water came out too so they flooded a nobleman's dining room. great work everyone

every single monologue i gave about freedom and people's right to choose their life and livelihood and authority was so fun. personally my favorite is still that every time another mythic/god hierarchy being said something about what was going to happen next she would immediately go-- "who gave you the right!" i love that i can take a character who i really didn't know for sure what her motivations would be once she got her goal, and ended up coaxing out of it a deeply interesting narrative about having nothing, gaining divine power, abusing that divine power for a minute, and then becoming a better and more realized, self aware person who respects people's autonomy and understands that a god-meddled world is a mess and the most she can do is give people a hand up, rather than exercise her own will over them. i cannot wait to see what her future followers look like.

i'll miss ianthe sm honestly. she was incredible.

#pathfinder #mine #personal #ianthe i will miss you and i love you! have fun being a goddess in our next campaign dear

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defilerwyrm · 2 years

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Queer Exandria: Pride vs Prejudice

You know what I think about sometimes? The hypothetical state of a queer community in Exandria.

Pop off all the pithy platitudes about oppression not defining queerness that you want, but the queer communities of Earth do, as a matter of fact, stem from our oppression. We travel in packs for safety. We made spaces and symbols for ourselves because we were not welcome in most places and we needed to be able to identify each other—for companionship, for love, for sex, for someone who understood—without being overt enough to be, you know, murdered and/or experimented on by our respective countries. We formed whisper networks. We built safe havens, because the world at large was not safe—and it’s not now, but in many countries it’s just about the safest it’s ever been since certain religions infested the planet. The privilege of being openly queer, of being out and proud, without being arrested for it is very recent.

So we’ve banded together for centuries, first in little groups, then in larger communities, and for most of that time it was all underground. When a group is forced to build communities under duress, under threat of violence from the state and the public alike, that builds strong bonds. It forms a sense of cohesive identity. Just look at Black culture in America, or Ashkenazi Jewish culture around the world: when everyone else is against you, and they have the power and bloody-minded vicious hatred to pick off anyone they can, the group by and large sticks together, close enough that culture forms. A shoal beset by sharks schools closest. And make no mistake, I love the queer community, and I’m boundlessly, depthlessly thankful to live in a time when I can exist as a queer person openly without losing my job, my home, my family, my freedom, my life, and that so many others like me can do the same; I am glad that we’ve come to a point where we can afford to be quarrelsome. These are merely the facts of how we came to be.

I don’t think a queer community wouldn’t exist without oppression, either. People will always seek out those like us, especially when it comes to matters of sex and romance, or even lack thereof. In a more perfect world, one without all the various stripes of queerphobia that make it unsafe for us to congregate among those we don’t know are either like us or supportive of us, I imagine we would be something more akin to book clubs or fandoms: a purely optional community, or set of communities, united by a likeness of “interest” rather than sheltering from a storm.

So enter Exandria, a setting that canonically does not have queerphobic power structures; where a fluidity of sex and gender factors heavily into at least one entire culture; where another culture is shaped and ruled by people who can remember being a variety of sexes, genders, orientations, and even species; where homophobes are distasteful outliers, not the status quo. What does the queer community look like there? Are there gay bars, or are there just bars? Is it common for queer Exandrians to congregate in friends groups among themselves? They certainly don’t need to, but I can still imagine some might want to, and besides, it’s common enough for people to have multiple circles of friends—at least those with the privilege of reaching a large number of people. Is there such a thing as gay fashion, or is clothing loosely-gendered enough that cross-dressing is just dressing? Are there drag queens & kings? How do non-binary Exandrians signal their gender? I can’t imagine there’s an equivalent of a hanky code, because that was constructed as a way for queer men to find and hook up with each other in a way that gave them plausible deniability because sex between men was a crime. What use would they have for Pride and all its symbols when no one has ever tried to make them feel ashamed?

I think about these things a normal amount

#critical role #exandria #queerdom #pride #lgbtq pride #fantasy #plz how do i fandom #d&d #critical role meta

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boxwinebaddie · 9 months

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UNCLE NINAAA!!!1 if… if you could assign a space object to each of the boys……. what would it be

ok hm...i am channeling *stan vc* craig fucker for this one.

one of my favorite stan and kyle symbolisms in pep is that kyle is the sun and stan is the moon despite the fact that it looks like the complete opposite.

in this essay i will...shdhsadl

like it's really a looks can be decieving thing with stan because he is south park high golden boy, literally is golden ( like ok it's kind of bronze because of how badly bleached his hair is...i need you to go to a hair salon stanniewanniebobannie u are taking years off my life ), his mom literally calls him stanshine ( i love you sharon i am on my knees ) and he is just so sunshiney-seeming and smiley and lovely.

but....dundundun....it's all fake! ( not him being lovely he's so lovely )

he really is just so introverted secretly and introspective and lonely. it is really lonely at the top. stan is surrounded by people and is still like the loneliest boy on planet earth...he's so miserable. i am so miserable.

he is just soooo moon boy coded. he feel like he admires it from his window every night and when he's really sad ( often ) just thinks about how lovely it would be to be all the way up there in the sky, how little everything looks...like a dollhouse, and what it would be like to live up there...how peaceful it would be. I WANT TO CRY! boo! stan i love u you are so loved!!!! calls her luna <3 he luvs her

he is also so your best american boy by mitski coded ( stan...actually really does like mitski, here experience as a white/japanese person and woman...deeply inspirational to him if you took stan to a mitski concert...i just know that emo boy mascara would be running down his face his voice would be raw from screamsinging those lyrics! ) LIKE YOURE THE SUN YOUVE NEVER SEEN THE NIGHT!!! WELL IM NOT TO MOON IM NOT EVEN A STAR!!! brb....crying so much! ur a star ur such a star stan please!

i actually think stan would think he is a blackhole because he thinks he fucking sucks up and ruins and destroys everything...but he is probably like the most beautiful shooting star you've ever seen. or the aurora borealis phenomenon. like stan is so aurora borealis. i have never thought about this at this length and now i'm gonna think about it forever. he's very night and kyle is very day.

speaking of kyle pile, he is soooooooo sun coded.

which is also very looks can be deceiving because he is so closed off and stoic and mean and seems just dark and solitary, but despite being anemic he is the warmest, brightest burning boy in the world.

it's so sad for me, but i think stan drinks because he feels so internally cold that doing a shot makes him feel briefly warm...and kyle just gives him that feeling. warm and happy. and so when hes not there hes really just trying to microdose how he feels around kyle which really is just him overdosing because he loves kyle so much. fucking....this ask meme is so long its important to me.

but yeah when kyle is in a room, you know he's there. hes spitting fire all over the place, hes blinding the fuck out of you, he's ordering everyone around. kyle is literally fire like...his hair is literally bright orange. like you cannot get too close to him because he will burn you alive and like purposely is scared of getting to close to stan because he thinks hes awful and will hurt him. crying crying crying.

and oh my god when he smiles its so...i think one of kyles favorite things anyone has ever said to him is like kyle was laughing one time and was like im sorry that was so ugly and stan was like no you look so beautiful when you laugh and it was...it wasnt just like u are beautiful...it was when you laugh...specifically when you are happy....these bitches are gay good for them good for them!

anyways kyle is the asteroid that killed the dinosaurs. shadkahd i am kidding but hakhsa he is kind of giving me solar eclipse vibes tho. there and gone. but the most beautiful bright shiny thing you've ever seen. rare kyle smile coded. he is also giving me quasar vibes which are just like the most fiery fucking intensely crazy motherfuckers.

tadaaaaaaaaaa! thank u for coming to my ted talk!

-uncle nina, craig fucker space nasa expert and style scribe <3

#style #hc #listen......this was unhinged but i was insanely passionate about this #like this is so accurate to pepstyle to me it is insane #i always think deeply abt them when writing but like...i really fleshed out a lot in here esp abt stan drinking which ow

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waterhorseyblues-ao3 · 1 year

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WHB’s Ever-Growing List of Comic Recommendations

I am SICK and TIRED of people saying they’re not into comics!!! You could be!!! You just read a Captain America comic one time and realised it kinda sucked!!!! It probably did!!!!!! There’s other comics!!!!!!!!!

In fact I am intentionally NOT going to include DC or Marvel in this list because there’s so fuckin many of them dude. That’s gonna be a different list entirely.

Anyway I’m gonna break this up into segments as best I can and hope I remember all the amazing works I’ve read over the years. This is also only a light sprinkling of things I’ve read that I think are good starting points. If you ejoyed something and want more like it, or are more interested in one type of comic than another, I’ll happily give you more options.

If you’d like any info about how/where to read these comics just DM me and I’ll happily answer any questions.

Western Industry-Published Comics:

Tank Girl - I fucking love Tank Girl. I have a HUGE collection of Tank Girl comics. 1, 2 and 3 have NOT aged well, but Tank Girl was very much a symbol of counter-culture and was used as an icon for protests against Section 28 and the Thatcher regime. Crass, violent, scruffy and extremely punk. The upside is, you can pick just ONE TG title and read only that. She’s been passed around a few different publication companies and been handled by a variety of writers, so the themes and values of the comics are quite broad. My personal favourite is Visions of Booga.

The Ballad of Halo Jones (cancelled) - oh my GODD this COMIC. A 2000 AD genstone. The tragedy of Halo Jones is that the comics got cancelled due to a dispute with her creators and the company. Alan Moore at his absolute finest, creating the most elaborate sci-fi world with really great characters. Every day I morn that only 3 of 9 volumes were ever made.

Saga (ongoing) - o, um, you’re NOT reading Saga? cringe... Jokes aside, Saga published by Image Comics is fantastic. This immense space fantasy follows an inter-species family escaping the war that separates their people. The art is great, the characters are wonderful, the world building is fantastic, it’s so, so immersive. Sex, drugs, and violence abound. An epic space-opera for adult readers. Dude, c’mon, just read it smh

The Pride - This started small and indie but was picked up by Dark Horse. Joe Glass’ response to the lack of representation in Marvel and DC comics. A superhero series where all the characters are out-and-proud queer and fight against queerphobia and oppression, with very blunt explorations of hate crime, AIDS, and inter-community issues. Loveable characters and great art.

Scott Pilgrim VS The World - YEAH I’LL DO IT, I’LL REC SCOTT PILGRIM. I genuinely loved these comics as a teenager, they felt so cool and funny and fresh and dynamic. They were everything I wanted my life to be. Ultimate geeky dorky comic.

Jem and the Holograms - you remember that cartoon? well the comics go hard. VERY cool rock sci-fi, great new takes on the characters, queer as hell, very fun. definitely aimed at bringing more Jem content to fans who have grown up and want something a little more intense.

Persepolis - I’ve only just started reading this. It’s a memoir of the cultural shift in Iran and it’s very real and down-to-earth. Incidentally this is a Banned Book, so obviously that is why I recommend you read it. Incidentally quite a few comics about politics and identity have been banned around the world, so I suggest finding a list of them and reading through all of them as soon as you can.

World of Warcraft: Deathknight - not gonna dress this one up. it’s the manga about Koltira and Thassarian. I legit think the WoW lore comics and books are good. I want these two to kiss.

Japanese Manga:

Death Note - oh my god. dude. just read it. or watch it. i don’t care. this is a cultural ICON. this blew my MIND. the character tensions and dynamics, the long-term planning and payoff, the plot twists, the characters, it’s amazing.

Full Metal Alchemist - this should go without saying. i don’t think either anime really successfully adapted the manga. a very in-depth war-time fantasy with brilliant characters, so many plotlines and complex socio-political issues, a huge cast of different types of characters. It has the RANGE.

Uzumaki - I generally recommend Junji Itou’s work anyway, and tend to prefer his shorter stuff, but this particular horror series is so iconic and has some incredible artwork and imagery that just stays with you forever. Personally not a huge fan of the ending but it is very his style.

Shaman King - this aged both very badly and very well, somehow. the mix of traditional shaman practices from around the world, as well as the use of mythology and folk tales to pad out this urban fantasy, is very engaging and interesting. The characters are all from very different walks of life and it’s so easy to get attached to them. the anime adaptions didn’t quite capture the sheer intensity of this story and while it very much is a shonen, it has so much else going for it that really makes it such a unique gem of a series.

Black Butler (ongoing) - oh my god PLEASE read Black Butler. don’t bother with the anime. ignore that. you THINK this is gonna be a fanservicey series about fancy boys and demons but it’s NOT. it’s about TRAUMA and CORRUPTION and SECRET SOCETIES and PLOTS and it is getting better and better and better with each chapter. the artwork is gorgeous and the characters went from archetypes to really complex and fleshed out with individual backstories and I love them all dearly. this series has made me cry.

Saint Young Men (ongoing) - Jesus and Buddha are roommates in modern-day Japan. It’s a very fun and easy slice-of-life that takes a teasing but respectful angle on the two faiths and is just so wholesome. Was a big meme a few years ago.

The Way of the House Husband (ongoing) - you’ve seen this manga about. an ex-Yakuza becomes a house-husband to a working wife who loves magical girl anime. Slice-of-life with some of the most intense artwork and hilarious dynamics.

Skull Faced Book Seller Honda-San - a non-fiction account of a bookseller and the various customers they encounter. Very funny and truthful and easy to read.

The Two Of Them Are Pretty Much Like This (ongoing) - Slice-of-life lesbian romance with an age gap. The two must carefully balance their professional and private life, and navigate where they can and can’t be open about their relationship.

Yokohama Kaidashi Kikō / Quiet Country Café - scifi future post-environmental-apocalypse slice-of-life about an android who runs a café and the various people she meets and the strange world around her. Perfect for fans of Ghibli films.

Independent Comics

Emily Is Burning - Honestly I rec most of Steph Seed’s work, her limited use of dialogue and impressionistic-style artwork lends itself so well to the weird horror stories she creates

NPC Tea (ongoing) - urban fantasy story about D&D type characters who run a tea shop, but must also deal with a dangerous power that threatens to destroy everything.

The Miracles - from the same creator as The Pride, this is another superhero story that focuses more on alternate universes, coming of ages, secrets and deception.

WebToons and Web Comics:

Homestuck - fuck you. yeah im recommending Homestuck. it’s GOOD okay? it’s innovative and complex and deep and hilarious and weird and imaginative and it’s everything. there’s a BUNCH of lets-reads online to make it easier for you and loads of dubs and helpful guides to navigate it. It’s fucking good okay. shut up.

Ava’s Demon (ongoing) - gorgeous art, really cool space fantasy, loveable chaacters, animated sequences, I could go on. It’s a slow, slow update because of the sheer quality of the artwork that goes into it.

Lackadaisy (ongoing) - another absolute banger of artwork and detail. set in probation era about an underground bar, the goofy and eccentric characters get in violent fights, tangle with the law, and get up to be questionable and extremely illegal hijinks to keep their bar going as the business starts to wane. Updates are on hold while the creators work on an ACTUAL ANIMATED MOVIE for it.

Heartstopper (ongoing)- YEAH IM GAY. WHAT OF IT. I LOVE this gushy, mushy, sweet little comic about theseschool boys in love!!! This is a webcomic but has been officially published into paper books. The show is lovely and captures it well but the series is much further on than the show is. I genuinely hope it’s making life of queer teens easier!!! Because god damn it was bad when I was growing up!!!!

Mage and the Demon Queen (ongoing) - beautiful WebToon set in an RPG style fantasy world where a young mage falls in love with the enemy of her people, Demon Queen Velverosa. Adventure romance with a lot more happening than it first lets on.

Carciphona - Very elaborate and stunning fantasy series about magic, war, uprisings and mysterious backstories. Engaging character dynamics and intrigue throughout. The spin-off slice-of-life romance series Amongst Us is also worth a read.

Ruby Quest - you are not ready for this. Using the characters of Animal Crossing and an incredibly simplistic artstyle, this sci-fi horror used reader-input choices to navigate the world and storyline. A mix of rpg-style reading, animated panels and single-panel storytelling create immense amounts of tension and clever use of detail in the right places adds to the horror element. It’s spiritual successor, Nan Quest, is also very recommended.

#comic #manga #webcomic #webtoon #recommend #rec list #theres so many more i havent listed lmao #not to mention the length of my to-read list

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