#[ atlas in my hands. // bio. ]

[yaoiwchie-wowchie]

fuck it atla Kristen drabble

Kristen's room was a mess, just how she liked it. Failed homework and discarded magazines covered the dresser, her clothes littered across the floor, and the currently deactivated jacuzzi stilly reflected the light from her nightstand. She sat down on the worn and scruffy rug that Sandra Lynn bought for her for cheap at a thrift store, her legs crossed over each other and eyes closed.

Her chest rose and fell with constant, controlled breaths. All the stress of working on her presidential campaign and the threat of expulsion floated off her shoulders, now just the cloud of what was going on with her friend slash being of her worship, the spirit of doubt and twilight, Cassandra, hovered above her head. Her soul was fractured- through a series of events that were partially Kristen's fault- and shattered into pieces resting in Kristen's palms and it was Kristen's job to put them back together.

Tiny flames flickered to life in her grasp, dim orange light glinting through the violet glass. The beams scattered through the room, hitting Kristen right in the face a bit like a spotlight. Smoke poured from between her fingers, thin streams floating towards the ceiling. Since Cassandra's death, this right here was the most fire Kristen could muster, neither the sun nor the moon giving her strength any longer.

Breathing in the acrid and dry scent of fire, Kristen imagined her patron, envisioning her starlit, indigo skin, feeling echoes of their cold hand placed atop hers. She could almost hear their voice, faintly whispering Kristen's name. The shards gained a slightly brighter glow, flickering lights started to push some warmth into her skin. A small smile formed on Kristen's face, hope that she could find and speak to Cassandra sparking in her chest.

Before she could possibly succeed, a knock hit on the door. Suddenly, all energy vanished from Kristen, her fire gone and the shards lifeless as ever. Her eyes snapped open, a grimace creasing her cheeks. She whipped her head towards the door with a groan.

"I told you people, I'm busy," she exclaimed. Despite her clear annoyance, the door creaked, revealing Fig in the hallway light.

"I know, I wanted to check in on you," her voice oozed concern.

Kristen sighed. "I'm sorry, I'm just- I'm a bit stressed."

Fig nodded, stepping past the threshold. "Yeah, it seems stressful."

Rubbing a hand over her face, Kristen got on her feet. "I actually had something I wanted to ask you." Fig hummed an acknowledgement. "How do you do it?"

Fig cocked her head to the side, eyebrows furrowed.

Kristen held her hand over her heart, fingers digging into her tank top. "You've never gotten strength from the spirits like me, it's always come from you. Just- how?"

A long breath blew past Fig's lips, she placed herself on Kristen's bed, the springs singing. "I dunno. Faith was never really a thing for me; ironic, I know. When I found out that my bio dad was a firebender, all I had, or at least felt like all I had, was me, really. My power had to come from the only person I could trust."

She let out a chuckle. "Then I met you guys and..." Fig paused. "It's sort of like, fires don't just keep you warm, it keeps everyone you care about warm and safe so it became a bit like our friendship gave me power."

Kristen nodded. "Yeah, I get that, I'm kinda the same but..." She sat down next to Fig, staring off into the middle distance. "Why isn't that enough for me?" She loved her friends and wanted to help them more than ever and yet, here she is, barely able to make herself warm.

Fig shrugged. "I think worship is just too big of a part of yourself. It's like with Sol and Helio, when you left the church, your bending got all messy but you could still do it cause you had the other side of the scale. Now you've lost your doubt too and so maybe it's like you've lost a limb or something."

Despite herself, Kristen managed to crack a weary grin. "I think you've got a point..."

[mischievous-piltovan]

Of Atlas and Sisyphus (NSFW)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 (soon)

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x afab!Reader Themes: Romance, Fluff, NSFW, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn. Word Count: Roughly 8000 words Synopsis: You're a tech-savvy Spider that landed a position in Miguel's lab by tinkering with your gizmo. Despite your best efforts, you couldn't keep a fondness for the man for taking hold, so you've been trying your best to manage your crush with the tools at hand.

Unbeknownst to you, Miguel has been dealing with a very similar problem.

An accident during a mission led both of you to face these feelings.

Or

Two headstrong and emotionally constipated idiots can't communicate their feelings despite being over 30. 

Trigger Warnings/TWs: blood, wound, piercing damage, reader is afab and uses she/her pronouns, miscommunication, emotionally constipated idiots, a bit of power imbalance because boss x underling (but ever so slightly), masturbation.

A/N: this started a silly NSFW one-shot but then I needed some yearning to make the sex part feel powerful and now we're here. Oops. Also I was VERY dramatic in my writing, pardon my self-indulgence.

A/N²: Reader's special Spider powers are linked to fire. She uses highly flammable webbing that conducts flames to burn her enemies (without killing them). The source of fire are her palms - they naturally conduct heat. So it's like: she shoots her web from the underside of her wrists and grips the ropes to light them on fire once they latch on an enemy. Anyways, just to clarify. Huge thank you to my lovely beta-readers @uniquedeerwitch @tantei14 and @zaunitearchives for lurking_kitty every single entry on the Discord Server. Part 1 | Part 2 (soon)

「Sisyphus rolled the boulder up the hill everyday so he could become worthy of sharing the weight of the sky with Atlas. Atlas carried the firmament on his shoulders to protect Sisyphus from the monster his plight kept caged - himself.」

"I expected more from you," Miguel said, looking down at you from his lab's platform. His arms crossed over his chest in a commanding instance.

"Miguel, I caught the Anomaly." You protested, annoyance seeping through your words.

"But you almost didn't," he retorted "Had Lyla not warned you, the Anomaly would have escaped your feeble attempt at securing it. You were careless."

"I had everything under control" you rebuked through gritted teeth. 

"That wound you sustained begs to differ" Miguel responded, cocking an eyebrow at you. You looked away with an exhale, one hand coming up instinctively to cover the bloodied tear at the side of your suit, right below your rib cage. Had it not been for your accelerated healing factor, the gash the Anomaly left on you would still be very much open and bleeding. At your lack of response, Miguel turned back to his console. "I will accompany you on your next few missions to make sure it doesn't repeat itself."

"Oh the fuck you will," you snapped back at him "It was one mistake, O'Hara! I don't need chaperoning!"

"Until you prove to me you don't, you will have it" He simply responded, his focus on the many screens in front of him. You opened your mouth to protest but gave up before any words came out, there was no point in trying to argue with Miguel. With a loud exhale, you turned on your heels and stormed out of the dark chamber.

As soon as your steps could no longer be heard, Lyla popped up next to Miguel.

"Miguel, I think this has been going on long enough" She stated, looking at where you disappeared.

"Nothing's been going on" He retorted without missing a beat, his eyes still glued to the monitors in front of him.

"Your bio readings say otherwise," She jabbed, bringing up a second screen next to the one Miguel was working on. He looked at it from the corner of his eyes and didn't take much to notice what Lyla was referring to - his heart-rate, oxytocin and cortisol levels were all higher than his usual. He sighed, closing his eyes. At that reaction, she concluded, "It's been like that for a while, but it gets worse whenever you interact with her."

Miguel took a deep breath before responding "It's complicated."

"Lashing out on her won't solve anything" Lyla's words stung. They cemented the guilt he started feeling as soon as you turned around and left. He lost control yet again, a dreadful habit that has been putting down roots whenever you were involved.

"I know," was all he could muster. He could try to explain why he did it, how watching you get hurt stirred the beast inside of him, how he had to fight to keep it chained down yet again as it tried to claw its way out, how the amount of effort to do so has been increasing as its constant struggles had been wearing down its shackles, how on top of that he had to act as your leader, how this whole circus left him with little to no mental capacity to anything else, how his attitude was but an outcome rather than a thought out action. But in the end there was no justifying it, he was wrong.

"You care a lot about her, don't you," Lyla spoke in a softer tone. Miguel took a long breath before responding.

"You could say that."

Miguel had been torn about you for quite a while now. He considered himself intelligent, especially when it came to Genetics and Bio-engineering, but he would be lying if he said he could fully understand his own feelings sometimes. Let alone be aware of them, Lyla was the one who figured it out for him when she noticed a pattern in his biological readings whenever he came into contact with you.

At first he denied it even to himself, rationalizing the good feelings he had towards you as being a matter of fact. You were exceptionally capable, had a formidable intellect and could perform your missions with ease (seconded only by Jess and himself), he felt he could count on you and that in itself was a novelty to him. Sure, you were very easy on the eyes too but he had felt attracted to other Spiders in the Society before, it wouldn't be a first.

But then all thoughts start circling back to you, despite not necessarily having anything to do with you in the first place. Like how he'd wonder what kind of food you preferred whenever he sat down to eat or what season you liked more when he noticed the air getting crisper. He'd start noticing smaller things about you, charming details that encapsulated who you were at your best, like the melodic cadence in your voice whenever you were close to finishing a project at the lab or how small your hands were compared to his. 

The last straw came one day on a particular slow morning at HQ, when he went to the cafeteria to grab some coffee and an empanada. He heard the sound of your laughter all the way across the room and the sight that greeted him upon turning towards you was like a punch to the gut: you casually talking to a male Spider while he rested a hand on your shoulder. Suddenly there was anger, dread and a sense of possessiveness overcoming him all at once.

And then there was the 'oh'.

That was the push the metaphorical askew tower he had been piling his conceptions of you needed to finally click into place, every piece neatly connecting together at the same axis - his undeniable infatuation with you.

That's when everything started tumbling down - he didn't know how to navigate these murky waters. He foolishly let it grow unattended, unpruned and now it grew to the point it consumed him. Your presence used to soothe him, now it drove him insane - as if the slow burn of a growing fondness he didn't know he nursed through months blasted him all at once, engulfing him in an overwhelming inferno shaped like you. 

His desire was the very next thing that assaulted him, overwhelming his thoughts. He didn't know if it was because of his spliced genes or because he had a tendency to neglect his more primal needs in the face of work, or if it was a combination of both. The matter of fact was - his body screamed for you and he couldn't just ignore it. Your presence at the lab was enough to send him into a spiral in need of release, no matter how hard he tried to push it down. Even just trying to concentrate on his work was futile, your scent plagued him and for the first time in a while he loathed his modified genes that heightened his senses. He lost count of the amount of times he fucked his hand in pursuit of some relief, but that reprieve wouldn't last long. Soon he was snatching whatever personal belongings you left in the lab to bring it to his nose while he tugged at his cock.

All of that because the very idea of offering this onslaught of feelings to you felt wrong. Not simply because of the obvious power imbalance your respective positions in the Society bestowed upon you, but because of who you both were. Despite technically being a Spider-Man thanks to (some) of his powers, he was anything but; Everyday he was faced with countless joyful rays of sunshine, glowing around HQ in the form of different variants of Spider-People, a stark contrast to everything he was. There was no hero in Miguel O'Hara, the fire that burned within him was not the cozy glow of a hearth, but the destructive power of infernal flames; everything about him was demonic, from his talons to his venomous fangs and blood-red eyes. He'd literally take shots to keep his DNA in check as to not lose what little humanity he had left.

He was corruption, ruination… And you didn't deserve that. He didn't deserve that.

But the demon within him desired you, lusted for you, and Miguel gave everything he had to keep it sealed away inside of him. And of course this took its toll, to sustain this control Miguel had to completely change his approach towards you, distancing himself as much as he could while maintaining a somewhat professional facade. Yet, the demon would jump at every opportunity to seize control, and he'd often find himself gravitating towards you and the warm glow of the dynamic you cultivated in the lab, only to pull back as soon as he noticed his short-comings. 

Miguel yawned, rubbing his tired eyes as he felt the strain of overwork settling in. He grabbed his mug, taking the last sip of his already cold coffee as he checked the time - 3 in the morning. He groaned, there was still plenty to be done before he could even consider calling it a night. Dejected, he grabbed his empty thermal carafe and made his way to the cafeteria to fill it with more coffee. 

However, before he could reach the Lab door, his nostrils were assaulted with a very familiar fragrance - your scent. On pure impulse, Miguel turned on his heel and followed the aroma. Yes, your scent usually lingered a while after you called it a day, but this was different, it was stronger. Soon, he found out the reason why - you were still in the lab.

Resting your head on your crossed arms atop your work station, you slept peacefully as your body gently rose and fell to the rhythm of your breathing. Miguel noticed the project you were working on earlier that day unceremoniously shoved to the side with a myriad of tools in a messy array near it. You must have dozed-off in the middle of working on it.

He took the time to watch you, to commit the scene to memory. As creepy as he felt, there weren't a lot of opportunities he could indulge in just admiring you from afar without worrying about it setting-off your Spider-Senses. Right now in the calm hours preceding the break of dawn, he had you all to himself. 

You looked beautiful. 

His heart ached with yearning. Your scent in the air added to how serene you looked and his own exhaustion made him desire nothing more than to hold you, to nuzzle your neck and savor your musk as he carried you to the nearest bed only to have a decent night of sleep in each other's arms. To wake-up the next day greeted with your adorable disheveled self in pure domestic bliss. To kiss your puffy lips good morning as he caressed your face, and maybe letting wandering hands escalate it to something more… lecherous.

Miguel left the carafe on the nearest surface as he approached you. Would you like that? Would you give him the privilege of indulging in your most vulnerable state? Would you give yourself to him as he wished to give himself to you? Maybe the only thing keeping it from happening was a leap of faith…

He hovered his hand above your shoulder. Maybe he should do it, all it would take was waking you up and talking to you. Maybe just going straight to physical contact, grabbing your hands in his and pouring everything out in the open. Or taking the risk and kissing you while gently cradling your face. There was no one at HQ right now, even Lyla was busy taking care of surveillance for him, the moment was ripe with opportunity. 

But then you let out a little whimper in your sleep, disrupting the steady rhythm of your breathing and Miguel flinched. The shock was enough to snap him out of his daze and he quickly withdrew, harshly reprimanding himself. He had foolishly loosened the leash a bit and that was enough to stir the beast inside of him, as it growled ready to pounce. He had to get away from you.

Miguel rushed out of the lab as fast and stealthy as he could. Once he steadied himself, he sent Lyla to wake you up and send you home. He returned to the lab only after making sure you were gone.

He passed by your empty workstation briefly only to retrieve his carafe, and was greeted with a forgotten article of clothing - your scarf. He grabbed it on a whim and was overcome with an urge to keep it. He knew he shouldn't, but the scarf was intensely doused with your scent and the demon inside of him was agitated. He kept it against his best judgment, it was to keep the monster at bay, he justified. 

That night Miguel shamelessly defiled the scarf, keeping one side bunched up against his nose as he used the other extremity to furiously tug at his cock. 

He watched helplessly as his relationship with you crumbled, all his own doing for the sole purpose of protecting you from himself. The resentment came in the form of him being a dickhead and the target was more often than not you. Today's mission debriefing just accentuated this reality. He just hoped you would understand.

—-----------------

You didn't. 

1… 2… 3… 4…

You counted your reps as you hit the lowest point of your deep squats, inhaling through your nose as you descended, exhaling through your mouth as you ascended, the barbell heavy on your back. In your frustration, you decided to hit the gym area of the Strength and Conditioning Sector at the Society right after you left Miguel's lab to try channeling it into something productive.

You made sure to perform some first aid to your wound, wrapping your torso in bandages to protect it. You hoped that your self-administration of medical attention paired with your accelerated healing would suffice. Up until now, it was working just fine.

5… 6… 7… 8…

The Strength and Conditioning Sector was empty as it usually was at this time - early evening. It gave you the freedom to keep the lights as low as possible, so you could let the soothing image of Nueva York's skyline at night in through the tall glass panels. It helped you calm down.

Today it wasn't doing much to cool your jets though.

9… 10… 11… 12…

This was all so frustrating… He was so frustrating… After all you've done for the cause, after all you've done for him, this is your reward - being treated like you're faulty wiring, an unturning cog. Leave it to boy genius Miguel O'Hara to treat his team as mere assets instead of people.

The amount of effort you've been putting lately to not fuck up, to surgically cover all your bases has been gargantuan, of course you'd end up faltering. You should've known your energy would start running out at some point, but ignoring your body signals and underestimating the impact of prolonged periods of time neglecting your needs, all for the sake of efficiency and productivity had basically become second nature. Add that to the fact that Miguel has had his eyes trained on your every movement lately, it was a matter of time when you'd slip and he'd catch it.

All of that because you were far too stubborn to simply confront him as to why he started being an ass out of the blue.

13… 14… 15… 16… 

Not to mention how all this commitment was relayed towards a cause you didn't fully believe in - Miguel's Canon Event Theory. Of course you wanted to help people, - you were a Spider-Woman after all - and working towards assisting as many people as possible was definitely ideal, but the CET wasn't that. The amount of holes and questions unanswered bothered you, gaps that could very much disprove the Theory altogether.The fact that all Spider Society's collective effort was channeled towards it was troublesome at best.

You brought it up to Miguel after your first few months as a member of the Society, but he just shrugged it off. As time went by you began to understand - it wasn't a theory, but a hypothesis. A hypothesis born from the crippling guilt of a man who lost everything. An ill-rationalization of his misfortune that he used as a coping mechanism. 

And then you began to understand him. And that's where your problems started.

17… 18… 19… 20…

Miguel O'Hara - tall, handsome man, with an intellect to die for. Miguel O'Hara whose sharp cheekbones and dry sarcasm pierced you every time you interacted, even more than his fangs could. Miguel O'Hara who, under all that brooding persona had a sad, lonely individual who would surface briefly in the fleeting moments of stillness you two shared. Miguel O'Hara who had your heart between his talons and he didn't even know it.

It all started after your first day at HQ. As soon as you got back to your own dimension, you sat down at your desk with your shiny new watch and your handy tool box and began disassembling the portal device. You were mesmerized with Nueva York and the technology the year 2099 held and, as an Engineer, you were dying to get a better grasp at its intricacies. After you were happy with your tinkering, you reassembled it back together as if nothing ever happened, completely unaware that the device held a security system that had already sounded an alert back at HQ.

The next day you were promptly summoned to Miguel's Lab. After a good scolding that made you believe you'd certainly be kicked out, you were surprised to be offered a position as Miguel's assistant in his Lab. The prowess you showed in dealing with a technology so removed from your own reality proved him you were the person he was looking for - turns out having to deal with broken watches from the numerous of daily casualties every day was taking too much time and effort and he was in need of someone to handle this menial task for him. Golden chance to dive even deeper in this new technology, of course you accepted.

Big mistake.

The days passed and what started with an acknowledgement you definitely found him attractive, turned into a little crush. Your stupid lizard brain began craving his attention and you'd find yourself panicking a bit whenever you two interacted. 

That's when you decided you needed to nip this feeling to the bud.

You used your gathered knowledge of 2099's technology and the tools at your disposal to develop and build your own project - a device to automate the process of fixing watches. 

"It's simple: it assesses the type of damage in this scanner, sending the information to its own database, while also devising the best solution to each case" you said as you showcased the device to Miguel and Lyla "It then either remove and replace the damaged part OR discards the whole watch, amalgamating and recycling the materials to produce a new one entirely."

"Impressive!" Lyla responded. Miguel only hummed, his eyes slowly scanning the machine in front of him. You had hoped that by automating your job you'd no longer be needed in the Lab and thus would be able to distance yourself from Miguel and prevent any feelings from further blossoming. 

Turns out that the best employee is seldom rewarded with more work.

"I have some projects that are… stalled at the moment," Miguel said after a while "It would be very beneficial to have someone to bounce ideas off of some of them."

It would not be long before the silly infatuation grew into raw and unapologetic love, and you hated every second of it.

You hated how he made you feel like a teenager in love again, the very prospect of seeing him filling you with a mixture of elation and anxiety. How you could easily spot him in the crowd, proof that your subconscious was actively seeking him. Despised how your gaze would automatically land on his back whenever you got distracted from whatever you were working on at the lab  (and you would mentally slap yourself back to work once you realized it). Detested how the most innocent of touches, such as the accidental grazing of his hand on yours sent bolts of electricity through your whole body, making you yearn for more.

And you'd think there was some respite once you got to the safety of your home, away from the very source of your torment… Yet, it was in the stillness of familiarity that the risqué side of this infatuation took hold. Your mind wandered to him, wondering how it would feel to touch his bare skin, to trace every curve and crevice of his toned body massaging the stress of the day away. Would he enjoy it? Would he let out little sighs or loudly groan as you worked the knots away? Oh, how you'd like to help him relax, gently coaxing him to release all that pent-up tension in you.

Your hand would snake down the hem of your underwear almost on its own as the thoughts became more salacious. The whole ordeal only made facing him the next day even harder.

Miguel O'Hara had the power to turn you into the most pathetic version of yourself without moving a muscle. And for that he could never find out about any of this, the very thought utterly mortifying.

So you decided to pour all your feelings, all that love you harbored for him into the one thing you could do about it - assisting him. Becoming worthy of sharing the weight of the Multiverse he carried on his broad shoulders. You studied the multiverse in all its intricacies to the point of proposing viable solutions to eventual conundrums. You used your newfound knowledge of 2099's tech to hone your own equipment and even underwent an ongoing restricted training routine and diet in order to optimize your body for better performance during missions. All of that to help make his life easier, if only for a fraction.

But that alone couldn't shield you from the roller-coaster that was navigating the pull of your feelings against the pull of your rational mind. On a particularly difficult day, you reluctantly decided to ask Lyla to help you on a (non-ideal and very unhealthy) solution you had been marinating in the back of your head for a while.

"Lyla, do you have a minute?" You called out for the AI on your watch. Her little orange sprite appeared instantly.

"What 's up?" She asked cheerfully. You swallowed hard before speaking again.

"I need your help with something," you said in a whisper. Miguel wasn't around, but you decided to be extra careful all the same "But Miguel can't find out."

"I know he has granted you full access to all my features, but he can override the secrecy protocol if he so wishes," She responded "I cannot guarantee he will not know it."

"It's all right, It shouldn't pique his interest unless you bring it up to him," You said "Could you avoid that?"

"Sure thing." She agreed. 

"Very well… " You said, pausing to take a deep breath "I need you to find a Miguel O'Hara variant in my dimension."

"Oh" Lyla exclaimed before a knowing grin made its way into her features "Ooooh, I knew it! You have the hots for Miggy!"

"Shhh, keep it down!" You urged her "Yes, and he can't know that. I just need a way to channel this into something else… Into someone else."

"Wouldn't it be easier to just confess to him?" Lyla said matter-of-factually "We don't need to buy a new Miguel, honey. We have a Miguel at home."

"Don't be absurd," you answered, ignoring her joke "I'll be lucky if he just laughs at my face." 

"Your call," Lyla yielded.

In the end she couldn't find a Miguel variant alive in your dimension. And so your plight continued with no end in sight and a lot of damage to your psyche.

21… 22… 23… 24…

But recently, something changed.

What was a relatively amicable relationship you and Miguel shared before started turning sour seemingly out of nowhere. The usual sarcastic banters you two engaged with whenever you worked together in the lab disappeared, his tone shifted to something more distant, akin to professional and he rarely ever left his platform anymore. 

It's not like the two of you were particularly close before, he was your superior after all, but there was a level of mutual understanding that had blossomed from your shared work at the lab when the ordeal of monitoring the Society quieted down a little. It was a friendship between peers of the same interest, the exchanges ripe with dry sarcasm and teasing. Sometimes even flirty (or so you thought).

"You have my condolences …" Miguel spoke approaching from behind you, the tone in his voice a harbinger of mockery. But still, you took the bait.

"And why, pray tell, is that?" You asked, turning on your stool while pulling your protective goggles up to face him.

"The educational system in your dimension truly failed you, did it not?" He bent his torso over the desk you were working on, a hand on it supporting his weight, his other hand on his hip. With him closer, you could clearly see the smirk he casted at you. You rolled your eyes, bracing for the impact.

"Why would you think that?"

"Oh, it is very clear to me you can't read since you're blatantly ignoring the safety protocol from the manual I gave you for the usage of the very tool you're holding."

"Eat shit, O'Hara," you playfully smacked his abdomen with your elbow. "I read the protocol but this way of using it is way more efficient and safe all the same and you know it."

"Oh, you're the expert now then? I should be having you writing the documentation on tool usage instead of having you working the machinery huh?"

"You know you need me here, O'Hara." You smugly quipped, looking at him… but he didn't promptly respond. You watched his eyebrows rise up at your words, his burgundy eyes searching yours for something you couldn't quite catch while the tension his pause bestowed made you start worrying your words might have been misinterpreted. Even worse was that little delusional part of you that made you believe such an action held any semblance of reciprocation to your feelings.

After what felt like an eternity he spoke again. His voice dripped with something sweeter, but still with the familiar tinge of spice your banters usually carried "I'm certain you're the one that needs me."

The abrupt end to this dynamic would have saddened you. Heck, it'd have somewhat relieved you at the prospect of some reprieve from your roller-coaster of emotions… If it wasn't for his new constant surveillance.

Miguel started to watch you like a hawk, analyzing your every move under a microscope, never missing a chance to criticize or nitpick whatever you were doing. Suddenly your work at the lab wasn't as efficient, the missions you went on didn't produce as many good results and even the way you addressed the other Spiders wasn't ideal.

All that pent-up frustration of navigating your feelings for him became good fodder for the shift in your own tone. You couldn't help but become petty, picking fights at every chance you had. 

"I already told you are using that tool wrong," came a baritone voice from behind you. 

You sighed, pulling up your protective goggles. The ire inside of you was already boiling, readying you for the imminence of combat. "And I already told you this is a more efficient way to use it."

"You are going to hurt yourself if you keep at it" He responded. His own tone getting stricter.

"I need to get this done by the end of today and this way of using it significantly cuts time," you insisted. Voice picking volume while you smacked every word with venom. "And speaking of time, you are very much wasting mine, O'Hara. So it would be everyone's best interest if you could kindly fuck-off."

Before you knew it, you started resenting him. Whenever he complained about your endeavors, you spat back at him, seldom escalating the situation. At times your bickering would turn into a shouting contest, the noise reverberating outside the Lab. More often than not you felt the urge to lunge at him during these fights, to pin him to the ground and shut him up - you just couldn't figure out if it was with a kiss or a punch across the jaw.

And today only served to rub more salt on the wound.

25… 26… 27… 28… 

On a mission you thought you had wrapped up well enough, you paid a little less attention to the aftermath and the Anomaly broke free, piercing you with a sharp projectile. Lyla's sudden warning was the only thing that kept your enemy's attack from striking a more vital area. You were able to dislodge the bolt and recapture the Anomaly, this time being able to bring him with you to HQ. But Lyla's appearance meant only one thing: Miguel was watching you. And he had a front row seat to your failure, the scolding from before was practically a given… But still made you fume nonetheless.

You poured every single bit of you into this man and his Society, was it not enough? What could you possibly be doing wrong to prompt this keen surveillance out of him? Couldn't he just tell you instead of intensively watching you as he waited for an opportunity to belittle you once you inevitably fail? To put you to the test despite everything else you've done for the Multiverse so far? Was that even a failure? You caught the Anomaly and brought it here. Your mission was a success. It was an undeniable success. It was a GODDAMN SUCC… 

"ARGH!"

The sound of the barbell hitting the floor behind you echoed through the empty room. You fell to your knees, grasping the bandages over your wound as you felt a warm liquid seep through it - blood. 

You got careless. Again.

As your mind wandered and the anger of your pent-up frustration took over, the conscious effort to keep tension away from your midsection to avoid exerting unnecessary pressure on your wound faltered and the extra weight you held forced it open once more. So much for training to better the body.

It didn't matter, your accelerated healing factor would fix this… in time. With a resolute exhale, you got up and decided to wrap up your training for the day. As long as Miguel didn't find out about this mishap and it didn't affect your performance, it should be OK. 

It WOULD be OK. You were gonna make sure of it.

—-----------------

Your mission the next day was brought directly to you at your doorstep.

"Good morning, Sunshine!" 

You woke up in a jolt as Lyla's sprite sprung from your watch at your bedside table, bathing your otherwise dark bedroom in a yellowish glow.

"Lyla! What was that for?" You barked, voice still raspy from sleep. The tell-tale warm brightness  announcing the morning's arrival was nowhere to be seen, meaning it was very early. Too early to have HQ calling you.

"Get ready. We tracked an Anomaly in your Universe, a Green Goblin variant" the AI said, her usual playful tone gone "Miguel's on his way here."

You groaned as she disappeared, your first mission right after being put on probation and it started at an ungodly hour in your very own dimension. You maneuvered yourself out of bed and was bitterly reminded of your wound as soon as you tried to rotate your torso, the pain flushing the rest of sleep out of your system. Today you learned your superhuman healing factor couldn't miraculously stitch together a deep wound overnight, especially one you foolishly tore open a second time.

For a moment you debated if it was wise to throw yourself at a mission in your current state, but you swatted that thought out as fast as it came to you. They'd be able to summon another Spider to this mission no problem if so you wished, but you couldn't possibly give Miguel the satisfaction of learning you were careless enough to not only sustain an ugly wound, but  also made it worse by being stubborn. Not to mention the utter distaste at letting him and someone else save your dimension in your stead - not happening. You could manage a little pain, you just needed to be careful. 

You changed into your suit and equipped your gear as fast as you could and soon you were on your apartment's building rooftop. You were greeted by Miguel's back as he scouted your New York's (Santa Iorque) skyline. You loathed the blooming fondness, the heartache the sight still caused you.

"Go back to HQ, O'Hara. I'll handle this one myself," you spat. He turned his head slightly, the eyes in his mask narrowing down.

"You don't get a say in this" he retorted.

"Fine. Try not to get in my way, then" you jabbed, walking over to his side. You could feel Miguel shifting a little as you scanned the horizon for any sign of the Anomaly.

"Lyla, what's his location?" Miguel spoke to his watch. 

"Still working on it," the AI responded, her sprite typing on a little computer "I'm experiencing a lot of interference, the cause is still unknown."

"What do you mean interfe– "

Before Miguel could finish, the loud bang of an explosion ripped through the air, leaving behind an expanding cloud of greenish smoke. You and Miguel briefly nodded at each other before rushing towards it.

Spotting the perpetrator wasn't hard. Cruising above a crescent-shaped hovercraft stood a figure you could only describe as a techno-imp with jester undertones. You jumped over them as they threw a second explosive, intercepting its trajectory mid-air with your hand, and launching it skyward as you landed on a rooftop nearby. The greenish explosion almost looked like fireworks.

"Well, that's what I'd call a ban… ugh, nevermind," you turned to your very annoyed opponent, if the frown on his display-like mask was anything to go by "Look, I'm not in the mood for snarky banter, so let's get this over wi–"

Your Spider-senses kicked in just in time for you to dodge a barbed javelin-like metal bolt. The sudden movement made your wound hurt, causing you to hold back a gasp. Miguel's red webbing ensnared the Goblin before they could fire a second one and just like that it seemed like the mission was over.

But the Goblin's right feet move to a button on his hovercraft and the next thing you know a piercing high-pitched noise reverberated all around you. Miguel's webbing glitched a few times before disappearing and you watched him panicking as his stupid holo-suit started glitching as well. 

In a less tense moment maybe you'd feel embarrassed about his now half-exposed torso, but the Goblin's disappearing from your field of view proved more concerning. Suddenly, your senses kicked in again and you quickly glanced at the scene of a very distracted Miguel trying his hardest to revert - or at least stop - his forced undressing as the Goblin reappeared behind him, quickly closing in with their javelin gun ready to shoot. 

You panicked. Miguel had his attention elsewhere, the piercing noise completely muffled the sound of his incoming attacker and he didn't have Spider-senses to alert him. 

You had to save him.

On instinct, you lunged yourself in their direction, shooting your own web at the Goblin. But they spotted you, redirecting his aim, while you set the flying ropes of web ablaze. It all happened in a second, the web ensnared then just as they shot the javelin, your fire rapidly consuming the web until reaching the Goblin, the flames briefly engulfing them. You tried dodging the javelin again, but the whole ordeal was too much for your wound, the pain roused enough to snatch your attention for a millisecond, the exact amount of time you had to move away from it. 

You didn't move away from it. 

The javelin pierced the spot under your ribs right where your wound was. You fell on the rooftop with a loud thud, rolling a few times before stopping, leaving a trail of blood behind. You managed to open your eyes to see the Goblin hovering away in retreat and Miguel turning his head to you having seemingly managed to fix the glitch in his suit. You watched realization kicking in him as the eyes on his mask widened. 

"¡Puta madre!" Miguel shouted as he flinged himself to your bent over form."This is why you can't go on missions by yourself." 

"What?" You barked in pure incredulity, despite the searing pain below your rib cage "This is gah –…this is your fault!"

"How is this my fault?" He retaliated, crouching beside you as he tried to assess your wound. You swatted his hand away before he continued "You're the one who got careless. Again."

"I was protecting you, you mmnph–" you scrunched your face midsentece trying to get up, the motion sending another flash of pain through your system. Miguel tried helping you again, but you held his wrist in place before he could touch you. You had a point to make "You ungrateful fuck! Your lack of Spider-Sense was gonna be the end of you. This literally wouldn't have happened if you weren't here."

"You talk big for someone bleeding out" he retorted, freeing himself from your grip. His movement accidentally made you lose balance and you had no strength in you to regain it in time, but Miguel caught you before you hit the floor "Lyla, send someone to pick her up and take her to the Med Bay."

"Don't you dare… " you tried sounding assertive, but the pain reduced your voice to a whimper at best. Wound or no wound, you still had a mission to finish.

"¡Por dios! Can you quit being so stubborn for five minutes?" He spat back at you "¡OYE, LYLA! I need assistance!"

But once again the AI didn't respond. Miguel groaned in frustration and tried his best to dial the commands on his watch while holding you as you tried your best to trash your way out of his grip. But no matter what he did, the gizmo's only response was a continuous static noise paired with a greenish blank screen "¡Que carajo! Why's this thing not working?? LYLA! Can you hear me?"

Miguel groaned again, considering his options. You were losing a considerable amount of blood and the Anomaly was nowhere to be seen. He picked you up with one arm, trying his best to not jolt you.

"O'Hara… put me down," you complained, but there was no force to back it up. You started feeling light-headed on top of the pain.

"Shut-up," save your strength he meant to say, but that would convey more than he felt necessary. There was no time for frivolities and sentimentalism, he needed to act fast. With Lyla and his team off-line, his best option would be taking you back home. 

He tested the integrity of his neon-red webbing, but it was no use - the quick work he did to stop his suit from fully disintegrating was crude at best, he was grateful to at least have prevented its meltdown in time to not be left completely exposed. He retracted his suit from his fingertips up to his wrist, getting his organic web shooters free - its string wasn't as strong as the neon-red artificial ones, but for aerial traversion it would more than suffice. Miguel positioned your torso over his shoulder with care, hugging your legs together with an arm (a part of him painfully aware of how soft your thighs were) and jumped off the rooftop, slinging himself away to your apartment.

You hated how comforting the warmth of his body was against your own, how his scent, a mixture of oak, spices and his own musk, was undeniably helping soothe the woes of your current predicament. The gentle way in which he held you, taking extra care to keep your body from wobbling too much while he carried you made your heart ache almost more than your wound was. It was in times like these, when his stoic facade faltered, giving way to the caring and sensible self underneath, that you remember why he held your heart. 

Soon, you arrived at your apartment building. Miguel climbed through your bedroom window, gently placing you on your bed. He took the cover off of one of your pillows, handing it to you.

"Here, press this against your wound to stop the bleeding," he said, the mask of his suit retracting to reveal his angled face "Do you have a first-aid kit?"

"I–, y-yeah, it's in the cabinet under the bathroom sink," you answered. Taking the cover from his hand, you quickly folded it in half and did as he told you, wincing a bit at the contact. Miguel was back with the medical box not long after.

"You'll have to let me take a look at it," he said, placing the box on the bed next to you. His words were demanding, but the tone conveyed nothing of the sort - it was a question, he was asking for permission.

"Y- yeah, of course," you answered, uncovering your wound. Miguel kneeled next to bed getting closer while bringing his hands to your torso. You watched entranced the furrow in his brows as his red eyes darted quickly left and right, his digits gently probing the area around the wound. 

"Doesn't seem to have pierced anything serious," he muttered "But it's odd…"

It was your time to furrow your brows "What is?"

"The wound from yesterday should've be in a more advanced state of healing," he said "you do have the hastened healing factor in your power repertoire."

You tensed a bit, looking away. The last thing you needed right now was him finding out about your mishap at the Conditioning and Strength sector yesterday. But of course, Miguel being Miguel caught that little shift in your body language.

"What happened?" He asked right away, bringing his eyes up to you without lifting his head.

"There was… an accident yesterday," you began, trying to find the words. As much as you didn't want him finding out about the Gym incident, there was no point in lying. Better try to soften the blow "Exerted myself too much and the wound reopened."

"Dios mio, that's why the gash was so deep…," Miguel mumbled under his breath, pinching the bridge of his nose "Why the shock were you exerting yourself when you should have been resting?"

A surge of anger started blooming in your chest at his inquiry. It was risky to go into a training session with your wound, you knew that. You also knew there were a million other ways to blow off steam if that was all it was to it. But increasing endurance, enhancing conditioning, building up muscle - all of these were connected to improvement. This self-imposed never-ending quest for leveling up all in the name of helping Miguel, in an attempt to placate your feelings for him.

All for him.

Maybe you should have stopped to consider your well-being instead of going straight to the brawny way of amping-up yourself. There ought to be something else that could mindlessly soothe your nerves while also working as a method of improvement - the way exercising often did -, but yesterday you weren't exactly thinking. There was no bandwidth left to think, you were just so fucking tired.

Tired of putting so much effort in the pursuit of the right to share the weight of the responsibility he carried. Tired of seeing your comfortable platonic relationship you two once shared start to wane seemingly out of nowhere, despite all your efforts to prove yourself worthy of his good graces. Tired of how, despite all of this, your heart stubbornly kept yearning for him.

You were in dire need of respite.

"This is such bullshit," you croaked, clenching your palms into fists. 

"What did-," Miguel couldn't finish. With a loud exhale, you shoved Miguel's hands away from you while throwing your legs down the other side of the bed. You hurled yourself up, the adrenaline from your anger fueling your body was the only thing keeping the pain and dizziness at bay.

"I'm done. I quit Spider-Society," you barked through gritted teeth, making your way to your wardrobe while pressing the pillowcase to your wound. You knew you had some strong compression tape in there that should keep yourself from bleeding out until you were done with the mission "I'm catching the goddamn Anomaly. I'm not letting my universe get nuked today, but after that I'M FUCKING DONE."

"Stop! Get back here, you're in no condition to be moving around like that. Let alone finish this mission."

"I don't give a shit about what you think," you barked back, rummaging through your wardrobe. "I'm still this dimension's one and only Spider-Woman. I have a duty with these citizens and I'm gonna protect them."

Suddenly, you felt your wrist being held. You turned around only to meet Miguel's eyes. But instead of finding irritation you found… helplessness. 

"Please, stop… " the abrupt shift of tone in his voice chipped at your rage. There was caution, fear and a bit of… desperation? It made you pause, if only for pure bewilderment.

"Why should I?" the flames of your ire had been subdued, but the heat of the ember underneath still burned hot "Our priority is catching the Anomaly and safeguarding this dimension."

He exhaled, casting his eyes down to where his hand met your wrist. When he brought them back to meet your gaze, you were presented with his familiar stoic frown "You're going to jeopardize this mission in your current condition."

There it was, the spark to reignite your wrath.

"Shut the fuck up, O'Hara," you snapped, yanking your wrist away from his grasp. "I don't care about your mission, I just need to catch that Anomaly and save my city." You turned to him, angrily pointing at his chest, "YOU shouldn't be here. YOU are also an Anomaly! Get the FUCK out of here, O'Hara. I'm DONE being your silly little plaything!"

The knot in his brow softened a bit at your words. 

"You're not my plaything." He uttered, a bit unsure.

You stiffened, your eyes unfocused darting left and right contemplating the stuff you just said. You bitterly realized that in your fury, you had let out more than you needed to. You searched his face for disgust or discomfort but found a concerned confusion in his eyes.

Swallowing your pride, you decided to press on.

"I'm so tired, Miguel," you muttered in a long exhale "I've been trying so hard, working so much to help keep the multiverse safe… But it feels like the more I do, the worse you treat me." You felt your legs start getting wobbly as the adrenaline waned down, but you had a point to make. "No matter how hard I try, you tell me everything I'm doing is wrong…" you let your hands fall to your sides as the dizziness came back full throttle. With half-lidded eyes, you met Miguel's face once again before muttering "Why am I… even… here…"

"Because I need you"

You barely registered Miguel's response before you collapsed. The last thing you remembered was him rushing to your side as everything became black. ---------------------

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 (soon)

[ghostcreaturetypething]

Something about how old Dean is. Or…more like the opposite. Something about hearing his real, canon age, seeing it written down, I…Look, I know I’ve talked before about how Dean is very clearly younger than his years in lots of ways, but also…also, also…he’s in his twenties. He’s not just younger than his years, he is young, full stop. His age during season one, real world normal circumstances he would be, what? Only finished uni a couple years ago, maybe a few, depending. Barely a decade out of secondary school. And alright, my age is in my bio, I’m not fooling anyone but…older supernatural fans, help me out here. At the beginning of Supernatural, Dean is twenty six. Twenty six. That’s nothing, that is a baby, I mean…twenty six??? Really?? And then, what, he sells his soul at twenty seven, goes to hell at twenty eight, then suddenly he’s thirty and the weight of the entire world and everyone in it rests on his shoulders? Huh?? And god, just…you don’t even have to take my word for it, just look at him, he doesn’t look old! With his wide eyes and long lashes and scruff of stubble and his too-big leather jacket. Look at him. He is so. Young. A baby-faced Atlas, carrying the sky on his shoulders. And fuck, it hurts. I can feel it like an ache in my chest. Hell, I know I’m younger than him by miles, but…I’m a big sister, okay? Whatever else, first and foremost, I am that. And I watch him, buckling under a burden no one should ever have to carry even a piece of, let alone the entire thing by themselves — and yes he is by himself, not because Sam won’t help him shoulder it, but because Dean won’t let him. In Dean’s mind, this responsibility is his, and his alone. So I watch him struggle to cope with the sheer dizzying, depressing pressure of that, and I just…

All I want is to put my arms around him, and lead him out of his world, and into ours: Not so much better off, but at least without his kind of demons. I want to take him inside. Hang his jacket up by the door. Press a cup of tea into his battered hands. And say, it’s okay. It’s okay. You’re safe now. Here, your only responsibility is for yourself, and you won’t have to shoulder that alone. You won’t have to shoulder anything alone ever, ever again. And I want it to be true.

And then…hell, I want him to go off into the world…knowing that he isn’t going to die young. Knowing that there is nothing trying to kill him or his baby brother every five seconds, or ever. And it’s true, this world isn’t without its problems. But in it, Dean Winchester would be able to live a full, so much less burdened life. So maybe it isn’t so bad…

I’m not saying it would be perfect. That boy is a soldier through and through, and there are parts of civilian life that he would hate. But he would be alive to hate them, and the power to change anything he didn’t like, no destiny pulling him along a treacherous path he did not choose, no dark past threatening to claw him back if he even thought about escaping. And I think…given time, and care, and people who love him — I think that could be enough. Because he may be dead inside but no one is so dead inside that they can’t be revived, even just a little. You ain’t dead until you’re dead. And Dean Winchester is extraordinarily, blazingly, breathtakingly alive. He always has been, and he deserves to have an ‘always will be.’ There’s hope for him yet.

Or there would be. If I could only get him out of there. But I can’t. And he has no big sister to take care of him there. So I watch his destiny slowly crush him, watch the light that dimmed for the first time when he was four years old fade from his beautiful green-gage eyes, and I ache. It is a curse of fiction, like the past, that between us and them there is a barrier we cannot cross. We cannot save them. We never could. Their stories were written and ended long before we even knew they existed. The thread has unravelled. The path has wound its way to the end. Their story is a closed circle, endlessly playing out like the sequence in a zoetrope, for them to re-live as often as we re-watch it spin. And that’s what makes it all such a fucking tragedy.

[micebath]

Bio-Slave

⚠️ CONTENT WARNING ⚠️

BioSlave is a world built on a total landscape of apathy and fear. This is a grimdark biopunk world that is intensely visceral and violent. This is both in regards of physical violence and mental violence. Please know that the writings in this book are recognized as very forwardly bad. Despite this, BioSlave is over the top and a product of insane fascination of edgy fiction popularized by films of the mid-to-late 90s.

This project should not sacrifice your enjoyment for the sake of more bleak subjects. You are more important than whatever this could possibly be.

Triggering Content Inside are as Follows:

Self Harm, Suicide, Cannibalism, Intense Gore, Trafficking/Slavery, Murder, Violence, Implied Violence, Religious Topics, Parasites, Mental Trauma

I’m sure that while writing this I have missed a few, so as the author of this project - I recommend that if you find a subject that was not mentioned that could be triggering. Please remove it promptly. It does not and should not be at your table if it makes you or anyone else uncomfortable.

Thank you for your time and reading this document. It is much appreciated,

-MICEBATH

—————

Additional Preamble: General Setting Ideas

This is a writing project that is an amalgamation of several ideas that I personally find very interesting. When fit together I had realized they created a strangely unique setting.

The rough elevator pitch is what if we mixed Biopunk, grimdark fiction, and the art deco styles of the roaring twenties. Of course with an intense affection for “gun porn”, military history, and purposely really over the top violence. Thus came Bio-Slave. Where my heart asked,”What if Clive Barker made a cyberpunk setting?” But my brain realized I’m nowhere near as talented as I’d need to be to do so. So we settled with this.

Also this is supremely unorganized and a lot is taken directly from my notes document which is basically word vomit on the digital page. Please don’t hurt me.

——

After the forming of the Sprawl - a colossal megacity that spanned the entire eastern coast as far west as Missouri - and the oncoming of the Plague - a disease that wiped out millions of lives which was eventually mutated by Hemotech to be used for Biomods. The mean streets of Chicago have become the pinpoint of our story. Chicago has grown to encompass all of Illinois, yet within the greater Sprawl is only a footnote of intrigue.

The Windy City has grown just as tall as it has wide. Sequestering the downtrodden and sick to the Tangle. The depths below the vast networking web of roadways that are so dense they blot out the sun in some places. Those who were unfortunate enough to be marked as sick were sent into the necropolis. Named Babylon by the inhabitants. Babylon grew into a thriving underground city by the filth that lived there. As Hemotech and the Vatican usurped the American throne - biomodification grew more and more advanced and far more dangerous. As it grew more dangerous the world accepted, even embracing cruelty.

Besides the massive brutalist structures of the necropolis - Chicago some year before the plague underwent a massive city wide remodeling to fit more cleanly into the designs of the greater Sprawl. Returning to classical art deco designs. Now with newly instated mega buildings all adorned with the fantastic brass of the 1920s. Draw bridges lifted by massive brass hands, overpasses thirty stories high held by Atlas himself. The buildings follow suit, only deviating slightly to accommodate the aesthetics of the company that inhabit them. Large stretches of road going through a large statue that while passing through you’re able to see the steel beams holding the structure together are built to not only be a walkway, but to perfectly recreate the anatomy of a human body.

The Tangle: The underneath of the massive web of over and underpasses. The true bottom of the massive vertical city. With the bottom being a filthy mildew trodden poor and savage streets. The Tangle is where most of the poor and sick outside of the necropolis tend to live. It has barely any light from streetlights or electric or bio electric light. Thus the tangle is lit in a sickly green by the bio-light. Either that or fire from burning barrels, torches, lanterns, and so on. The tangle is also the last remaining deposit of pre plague and pre renovation historical sites within Old Chicago.

The Necropolis: Under a lot of the Sprawl and most major old cities became a dumping ground for the dead and disease. Large concrete complexes built as mass graves for the victims of an unknown plague. Over the years - several thousand people have grown to inhabit the underground networks. Keeps them away from the eye of Hemotech, and easy access to freshly dumped dead. Cities have been made from the rotting undergrowth. Such as Babylon, Akkad, and Ur. Each of which being located under the once cities of Chicago, New York, and Boston.

Zeppelins: Another simple solution to the problem of how people get around. The zeppelins are more often than not restricted to the upper epsilon and the wealthy. There are the occasional police blimp used for a display of force and power (to which they have little). There are a few exceptions to the “transit” blimps; with two being of note. The first is the Jewel of Chicago; A beautiful piece of art and engineering. A sparkling ruby red and brass machine used as a private party and dinner space for the top of the top. The conversations had in the Jewel are probably some of the most important in all of Chicago. The second is the DuPont family Icarus Super Zeppelin. A multi story display of power that actually works (sorry cops. Acab). A gargantuan colossus that looms over the cities tallest buildings. On celebratory occasions they even dress it up as a whale for parades.

Monorail: A fantastic example of modern advancement being both fashionable and utility. Very quick and endlessly efficient. Able to get from deep within the tangle to the high rise of the beautiful big money district (on the rare occasion it actually goes to the tangle). The monorail was installed by the late great Arnaud DuPont alongside the art deco stylings. The train supports almost one hundred cabins that can hold upwards of two thousand passengers. This is including the several dining carts and even a private meeting room. The monorail is purposefully unattached to any corporate musing. This is on purpose. Arnaud when creating the monorail intended to use it to bridge the gap between the tangle and the upper class in hopes of dismantling class divides. In turn it was used by the DuPont Monorail company after Arnaud’s death to further class divide. Beau simply doesn’t act upon the company.

Beau LePetite DuPont: A man refined by years of debauchery. His parties are extravagance manifest to the highest order of magnitude. After his father left him a ludicrously sizable inheritance - Beau found himself yearning for the spice of life. Thus within the massive DuPoint Estate he hosts parties that shake the foundations of the Chicago Sprawl. His parties are as much social gatherings as they are pure spectacle. Full orchestras, dancers, drink, opiates, and the more delicate things one may enjoy. Beau himself - despite his status - is quite mysterious. Rarely if ever making the public eye. Choosing to merely observe his events rather than participate. He enjoys the lavish extent of his galas. These parties are so grand that anyone who’s anyone with a social status to matter needs to be there. Strangely; Beau has a single rule that governs his parties. Nobody leaves without one of his golden roses. The few that have picked his mind on this matter have only received the answer,”So that my friends will remember me and that the friends I’ve yet to meet will be more intrigued.”

Beau’s father Arnaud himself was key in the reimagining and rebuilding of Chicago into its beautiful Art Deco stylings. Most fashion styles come from the DuPont family. The only modifications to their particular dress come from most criminal elements. When the DuPonts dress it’s always in a classical fashion (Author Note: That of the roaring 20s) this causes those in power to follow in suit. Of course with their own garnishments - that of leather and latex. Beau stocks his party with a mix of the most ultra-fine alcohols, drink, and food. With the staple being that of a DuPont family delicacy. A champagne made perfect in almost every single way. The taste of extreme and refined flavors mixed with enough punch to give a jolt of life to the drink.

DuPont Estate: The Estate is just as much a living character as Beau himself. The state had stood atop the previously largest tower in Old Chicago. This height doesn’t mean its importance has been diminished by any means. One hundred and seventy stories high atop the tower’s top most dozen floors lies the grand home of Chicago’s most prominent noble family. The home was built by philanthropist Obadiah DuPont - then taken up by Beau’s great grandfather Dominique DuPont. This was passed down to family members next in the bloodline. The wealth of the DuPont family rests on old money. Their specific work is unknown but nonetheless their wealth is abundant. Thus they made the building to be rented out by any company paying the price of rent. The building was made specifically to the taste of Obadiah. Art deco in the classical sense. Every bit of the building was designed with style in mind. For instance; the banisters of the building are carved with beautiful design. Geometric displays of joy and abundance. The walls and floors are sleek black marble chiseled with gold and sparkling lights.

Fashion: Style and taste within the Sprawl has been stuck firmly in the past yet continues its onward march for the future. Due to the architectural elements that have only expanded the decadence of the Roaring 20s, clothing and design would naturally follow suit. Pinstripe suits, heavy trench coats, flapper dresses, and more are all still very much in style. You would be hard pressed to find a single soul without some hint of modern fashion. Though the taste has remained more or less chained to “tradition.” A newfound sense for leather has placed itself within the hearts of many. Heavy combat boots and black leather coats on fine tailored suits. Latex gloves stretched tightly over the legs of a cocktail singer donned equally in beautiful sequins and intense bondage gear. The ever forward push of fashion has also extended to the body itself. It is not uncommon at all to see fully flayed folk wandering with see through surgical plastic adhered to their bleeding meat. Tattoos, scarification, and piercings have also come into the spotlight. Many people carve intricate pieces into the flesh to form cohesive images to stun and amaze. Artful body modification has become a large part of the landscape of the Sprawl alongside its roaring roots. Though due to the increasing number of corporate military forces. There is a rise of militarism in common fashion. Though not everyone strings a hardness to their chest - a notable amount do.

Examples of Fashion:

- Steel needles punctured through the flesh pinning latex masks to the head directly.

- Human leather coats with dyed crimson interiors with matching gloves (nails still attached of course).

- A plate carrier adorned in rosaries and painted with gang designs.

- Flapper dresses with a tattooed skin scarf and a high capacity magazine carrier.

Human Leather Clothing: It’s exactly what it says. Human leather taken from corporate hollow bodies who are picked explicitly for the quality of their flesh and hair. They are used to make any form of leather clothing such as jackets, pants, gloves, hats, and so on. They can be made in any color (both natural and dyed). Typically they’re bought off the rack in most stores unless commissioned. Basically everyone has some kind of leather clothing.

—————

Splicing/Mutation/Biomodding:

Biomodding is the mutation of human dna structures to be made into several different. These are done using micro or macro doses of the Plague to aid in mutation. Regardless of the process this is a constant. Splicing are biomods used on organs or limbs typically from a human artificially co-constructed with animal dna. Example - Utilizing the DNA structure stolen from large cats on a harvested arm to create a large clawed paw or binding human DNA with birds to give a person feather quills that sprout from the head. Mutation is using your own DNA and restructuring it or another person’s.

Designer Biomodding (Splicing/Mutations): Sometimes the newly reformed limbs you want aren’t brutish, pulsing, or pointy. Sometimes you want something sleek and more natural. Designer Biomods are reserved for those who’ve spent a lot to get them or who already had a lot in the first place. Higher in the corporate ladder you’ll find these more and more. These biomods are simply more appealing to the eye. You can still have the bone blades and palm mouths, but without the pinky red bloody horror of it. These can range from regular human in appearance to perfectly sculpted pieces of art. Tattoos are replaced with animated images, your skin can change its softness at a thought, or in more practical scenarios - hide the arm sized biospike embedded inside (at least make it look more like you don’t have one). Though not impossible to get as a regular person, the prices for the pieces are far and above average salaries of the blue color.

The Festering:

The Festering is a state one may enter upon grafting of biomods or heavy usage of mutations/tinctures. The Festering is a carnal urge that seeps into the mind to consume human flesh, to drink human blood, or to feed on cerebral fluid. This hunger can be sated by indulging in the process, yet fighting it can cause neurological issues such as heightened aggression, anxiety, depression, compulsive disorders. In some cases fully developed psychopathy, D.I.D, or schizophrenia. Prolonged refusal to consume human flesh may cause intense aggressive outbursts to the point of “becoming feral.” Where one may act out of character and attack on a whim.

—————

Prosthetics: For those who can’t afford or simply don’t want the advanced biomodding - development of prosthetics has evolved to previously unthinkable heights…hooks. For the downtrodden who can’t afford the luxuries of modern technology they have to deal with the bare minimum. Crutches, pegs, hook draw arms, armature hands with very limited mobility. The prosthetics can’t do much more than opening and closing or allowing one to stand mostly unbalanced. For the wealthy who seek to avoid the bodily change or simply yearn for more simple solutions. They use very limited bio electric motors to allow the limb to move more efficiently than the basic. The prosthetics still have limited movement and dexterity, but can give the user as close to a limb as possible. Despite this they still are very limited in their ability.

Homunculus: A sort of offshoot pseudo cloning process that is utilized in the tangle and necropolis. A homunculus is formed through a rudimentary birthing system. Most commonly a street dog is taken and has their womb reformed. Manipulated genetically to be allowed to bare a human fetus. There is no sexual contraception - rather a fully bio mechanical procedure that allows for a child to be grown and carried for months at a time. They are grown to a certain point before their blood turns toxic and kills them. Thus they are removed and place into an amniotic incubator where the rest of the growing process occurs. The child grows more rapidly when in the incubator - coming to the maturity of a toddler within three months after then a teenager at a further seven months. Homunculus are prone to intense deformity. The occasional parasitic twin found within one in ten of these individuals. Even so, most of the homunculus with twins die. On the rare instances they live; typically the twin is slowly consumed by the body. The other hand they’ve been seen to be somewhat sentient and aware though limited. Generally homunculus’s appearance is more or less normal. The main difference being a general webbing of irritated red veins and sinewy skin around the body. Just as often are hefty deformities that allow a homunculus to live but only barely.

Hollow Bodies: Some who’s forcefully mutated to regrow infected organs for the sake of splicing and mutation. Al-a Regrowth for the sake of removal, rework, and resale. Typically hollow bodies are unwilling captives. Some are even drained of blood for infected transfusions.

—————

Main Players in the Near Apocalypse:

Hemotech: The Mega Conglomerate Pharma Company built from twenty world wide market pharmaceutical companies. Each of which earning several trillion dollars a year prior to the merger. Hemotech produces 95% of the drugs found in everyday life - the other 5% being street drugs. Hemotech are the forefathers of post plague medicine and recovery. Acting as reigning government to the Sprawl. Despite being pharmaceutical in nature they house dozens of other companies within that all specialize in multi faceted things. Ranging from weapons tech to fashion. Hemotech came together during the plague outbreak and ran a quickly successful aiding NeuOrgans. Allowing the people to regain an amount of stability in trying times. On the front they pose themselves as a company of the people but like any corporation they of course drain the Sprawl of its life. The acting CEO is not a singular as to be expected. Rather it is run by a council of directors twenty strong; each member being the owner and chief executive of over one hundred pharmaceutical and medical firms merged prior to the plague. Hemotech earned its stripes and reputation by their advancement in cloning and bio-science. Hemotech as a singular has been acting since the middle of the century, where the first genetic printer was made - originally for farm animals and the like. Once Hemotech proved they were more than a macabre gimmick; they were offered a governmental contract for militaristic development of bio-modifications for the United States during the Coastal War. The mindset of the E.U.S (Eastern United States) was that if they could have genetically engineered soldiers to be perfect, their status as a superpower could never be contested.

The first series of cloned soldiers were an imperfect success. The occasional genetic blip caused a percentage of clones to become deformed at a rapid pace due to DNA unraveling at the seams. Despite this the clone’s organs being designed specifically for the task of maintaining the body allowed even the greatest deformities to be brushed aside in combat. Many people in the homefront and non-cloned soldiers deemed it,”the first war fought with monsters.” Eventually those imperfections were more or less ironed out and replaced with more advanced development of clone design. The first wave of civilian cloned products were that of remapped cloning of one’s body parts that allows more welcoming and easier access to medically necessary replacements. Though the “clone donor” was available - you and your doctor had to sign an official consent contract that any hiccups are not the fault of Hemotech. Thankfully those kinks were few and far between. So for the price of a luxury condo and a tenure in Barcelona - you could replace your leaky heart valve. HemoTech gained massive traction in the Americas. Finding themselves far ahead of the curve and on top of the hill looking down at everyone else.

Necrotech: The epitome of when technology is the end all be all. Though not technically a part of Hemotech; they are often partners with both Hemotech and Anansi Co. The specialization is technological advancement using the dead and focusing around death itself. Necrotech use the dead clones from their partners and the church to study and test macabre systems and weaponry. The success of the company came from the revivification of their CEO in his entirety using only technology sourced from the company itself. When it comes to the extent of cloning operations within the company itself - corporate servants who have yet to pay off their debt to the company (alongside their partnered companies) have their genetic makeup sequenced within a “DNA Locker” that upon death with automatically print out a clone to continue work - costs of the cloning process are included to total debt. Alongside developments in this process; they have also been pioneers is biotech resurrection. Such as the case with the Biospark Auto Defibrillation System (BADS). Where a series of biological checks are made within a micro instant, sending signals back to BADS, to which it electrocutes the body back to semi livable conditions. Necrotech also recently released the,”Sweet Release” and “Heaven or Hell” packages. For when someone is dying of old age they can choose to take the SR pack where they’re are ethically euthanized. The H&H pack allows the patient pass natural but puts them in a dream state of euphoria or abject horror (depending on their request). All of that said their main profit comes from a reliable and unpaid workforce. Not in the traditional corporate slave sense - rather they utilize the bodies of their dead and cloned workers to continue operations.

- Imort-a Co. : A subsidiary of Necrotech that is partnered with Hemotech more intimately; specializing into in depth life extension technology. They are also the resident pharmaceutical sector of the company. Creating the highly popular Synth-a-Mort. Despite being relatively new - they’ve proven themselves intensely capable in the home front of medical technologies. Their standout performance was allowing a ninety-eight year old veteran to live to the whopping age of one hundred and twelve. Admittedly the necessity of life supports were in play but the proof of concept was more than enough for most people.

—————

Authors Note: Dear fuck that’s a lot of writing. Here’s some art I made for it.

[howlingday]

The Phenomenal YANG

Adam: Something attacked us in there, and it wasn't a Grimm. If Xiao Long knows what it was, I'm going to find her and then I'm going to shove my sword down her throat, and then I'm going to ask her.

Ironwood: That was Xiao Long.

Adam: Could you explain that?

Ironwood: Xiao Long's task was a tangent of bio-tech. Your suit is our engineering solution, and Xiao Long was working on a biological one; improve the huntsman and not the weapon.

Adam: You're telling me she becomes that thing on her own?

Ironwood: I don't have to answer that, Taurus. Xiao Long is tough, definitely a fighter, but she's not a soldier. Not like us.

Adam: Then why not hand the data off to someone else?

Ironwood: Because she IS the data. And as far as I'm concerned, that woman's body is the property of the Kingdom of Atlas.

--------------------------------------------------

Cardin: What the hell was that? Whatever it is, we're ready to-

CRDL: (See Yang) OH SHI-

YANG: (Tackles CRDL off building)

Cardin: (Stands from the rubble) Ngh... Let's see which one of us is the strongest.

YANG: YANG STRONGEST THERE IS!

Cardin: Not if me and my boys have anything to say about it!

--------------------------------------------------

Blake: Yang...?

Blake: (Runs up, Hugs her)

Yang: It's alright...

Blake: When did you...? How did you...? Are you...?

Yang: I'm alright. Sorry I didn't- Look, I don't have time to explain it right now; do you still have your dad's old research?

Blake: I'm sorry, but... General Ironwood took it all already. Then he wiped every computer we had after getting it.

Yang: No...

Blake: But I was able to get in there before it got hauled off. I thought that it might help us later.

Yang: Blake, I... I don't know what to say.

Adam: Do I have permission to take the shot, sir?

Ironwood: Negative. You might hit Belladonna's daughter.

Yang: !

Adam: Damn! She spotted me!

Yang: Blake, go.

Blake: What...?

Yang: Get out of here. You need to get as far away from me as you can, right now! GO! (Runs)

Blake: YANG!

Ironwood: XIAO LONG, YOU ARE SURROUNDED!

Blake: (Charges Ironwood, Caught) Leave her alone!

Ironwood: Get her out of here now!

Blake: Ngh! H-Hey! Get your hands off me!

Blake: YANG! RUN!

Yang: Let... her... go...!

YANG: RAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!

--------------------------------------------------

Ghira: I think we've done it, but... there's still the risk that this procedure might kill you.

Yang: Trust me, Dr. B; if it doesn't work, I'm better off dead.

Soldier: I have visual on the target, General.

Adam: Let me in there, General; I can take her now.

Ironwood: Negative. You're a last resort, Taurus.

Adam: No, what I am is sick of waiting.

Soldier: Sir, wait! General Ironwood, sir, Lieutenant Taurus is on the move!

Ghira: Please, try to understand; even if this does work, and we do induce an episode, it doesn't mean that it will cure you. Best case scenario, it's an antidote to suppress a specific flare-up.

Yang: ...!

Blake: Yang, stay with me!

YANG: RAAAAAAAAAAAAGH! RGH! RGH!

Blake: DAD! NOW!

Ghira: (Types into computer)

YANG: AAARGH! RAAAAAGH! AAaaagh...

Ghira: (Walks over)

Blake: ...

Yang: Did... Did it work?

Ghira: Perhaps. It seems we permanently neutralized the cells, though it's also possible that we only suppressed the event. Honestly, I'd be willing to bet on the latter, but we don't know since no prior subjects survived.

Yang: ...What test subjects?

Ghira: Your condition, it's- It's a medical marvel, to put it lightly, and something this astounding couldn't simply just waste away! So, we concentrated the experiment to develop more.

Yang: We need to destroy all of it!

Ghira: But... this gift-

Yang: This GIFT is a lot more trouble than it's worth, Doctor B!

Ghira: Even with the antidote developed?

Yang: Atlas doesn't want an antidote, Doc; they want a weapon, and if they get it... NGH! (Collapses)

Blake: YANG!

Ironwood: (Walks in) Escort the asset and Ms. Belladonna to the bullhead and confiscate everything. Dr. Belladonna, we expect your full cooperation. Welcome to the Atlas Military. (Exits)

Ghira: ...

Adam: (Enters, Draws weapon)

Ghira: What have I done to deserve this hostility?

Adam: It's not what you did; it's what you're going to do.

Adam: Give me everything you got from Xiao Long.

Ghira: ...You look like you already got some of her in you already.

Adam: And I want more. You saw what she was like, didn't you? Make me that.

Ghira: But... given what's already in you, there's no telling what the side-effects could do! The mixture could make you... It could make you more BEAST than man.

Adam: (Presses blade)

Ghira: Er, I was just making sure... I need an informed consent, and you've clearly given it.

--------------------------------------------------

Blake: How could you do this to innocent people?

Ironwood: Be quiet. If you weren't an asset of your father's, you'd also be in hand-cuffs!

KABOOM!

Pilot: SIR, XIAO LONG IS IN THE STREET!

Yang: (Holds up hands) But... I'm right here!

Ironwood: Get me a visual! Turn this bullhead around!

ADAM: (Tanking tank fire, Tossing mechs)

Ironwood: Dammit! It's Taurus!

Yang: You can't stop it. You have to kill it!

Ironwood: SIT YOUR ASS DOWN!

Yang: (Opens hangar door) I'm the only thing that can stop it!

Blake: Yang, it's too dangerous! It's crazy!

Yang: I know, but I have to try! Sorry... (Falls out of bullhead)

--------------------------------------------------

ADAM: (Unconscious)

YANG: (Looks up)

Blake: (Flinches)

YANG: B L A K E . . .

YANG: (Bounds away)

Blake: ...Goodbye, General. I hope it was worth it. (Leaves)

Ironwood: ...

[honeybewrites]

Elemental Continued + Dragon War

@ath3alin I'm here!! I'm here!! *papers and notebooks spilling out of hands, hair a complete mess and face flushed* I have more rambles!!!

OKAY!!! Rage's elemental vision/very basic run down of the elemental system (I want to do a more comprehensive intro post for the whole magic system, so this is just a little teaser).

So, elemental is used by most species in some form. It's different for each species on how much they can control, but the basics stay the same.

Elemental relies on two main aspects: the element being harnessed (pulled from the surroundings) or extracted (pulled from within the users body), and energy.

The broad categories of elements are fire, water, air, rock, bio, energy, and a few... other elements that I'm not going to name right now because it's Plot Points. (can you tell AtLA influenced this???) They all have many more categories in them and several of them overlap, but this is the general guide the Realms use. Most of your average run of the mill people are just going to refer to elements as this. You really only get the nuanced categories and specialties when you get with an advanced trained user.

Energy has three categories. Life energy, elemental energy, and wild energy. They have technical names, but most of your average people are just going group them together and call them energy.

So, since Rage is Mirralian, his body produces no element of its own, but it does produce a specific type of elemental energy that allows him to harness the elements in his surroundings. Ninety-nine percent of the time, Rage harnesses air, just "seeing/sensing" where it is. It requires little energy and his body, after doing this for decades, has built up stamina and extra energy production to compensate. The air leave an outline of where things are, like pouring clay in a mold. It can give Rage an incredible amount of detail if he puts in more effort, but for the most part he just lets his "sight" only go so far. The closest I can think of to give you an example is an inverted black and white picture like these.

Not sure if I explained that very well, but it's what we're going with because my brain is mush right now.

NOW! On to Asurr's research!

First off, yes the questionable research is in healing/biology/genetics. It was pretty much why they chose to go into that field of work later in life. It defiantly wasn't for any desire to help people or good morals and a sense of duty.

Asurr's research specifically revolves around the writings, which are very few and seen as exaggerations and myths by the majority, about the creation of the Tanimoriem during the Dragon War. If the dragons could create a new species from another, why couldn't Asurr improve upon existing ones? Could they change one species to another? Could they create the ultimate species?

A lot of Asurr's research involves ancient writings in languages long lost, talking about impossible elemental feats that most believe to be complete myths. Asurr has had some success in his experiments, but they are crude, gruesome, unnatural and unholy feats of nature. Most of these abominable creatures are extremely violent and devoid of emotions and reason. While Asurr only sees them as steps forward and nowhere near their desired results, the Mors are very pleased with these creatures and use them for many things.

Most people see Asurr as crazy, which they are, but they are also insanely smart and driven. It's their life's work to reach the pinnacle of genetic alterations and species manipulation.

And finally, the Dragon War!

I've mentioned my other WIP, Legend of the Ancients (LotA), a couple times, which takes place in the same world as Echoes of War Chronicles (EoWC). LotA happens a good couple centuries before EoWC, but the Dragon War happens even before that. (LotA focuses a lot more on the creation of the Tanimoriem than EoWC does and is a major plot point for that series).

When the Realms were slowly discovering each other, all the species mixing together, tensions were high. A few of the Realms threatened war against each other. The dragons stepped in to keep the peace, working to unite the Realms and keep things from escalating. And it worked well, until Mirralia was discovered.

Mirralia was extremely hostile towards the dragons, hunting the species and using them to enhance their elemental. Mirralia convinced the other Realms the dragons needed to be controlled.

And so the Realms began a war against the dragons.

It was brutal. The single worst war in the Realms collective histories. It wrecked devastation for everyone, nearly destroying the Realms completely.

During this, the dragons came up with a plan. Through a massive amount of elemental and energy, the dragons "gifted" parts of themselves to various select beings who had been extremely loyal through the war, resulting in a new species. The Tanimoriem. It still remains to be one of the most impressive and powerful uses of elemental in history.

With the help of the Tanimoriem, a mix of namuhs and dragons, the dragons were able to end the war on their terms and keep the Realms from collapsing.

Sorry this is such a long post. When I start rambling, I really start rambling. Hopefully this answered a little more of your questions!! And thank you so much for showing an interest in my work!! It means so, so much to me!!! My DMs and asks are always open!!

[celestie0]

ellie please save me from molecular biology, this subject is becoming my NIGHTMARE im not even kidding at this point 😭

- that italian med student blah blah, i think im comfortable enough to say my name lool i’m kiara, nice to meet you ellie 🫶 hope ur okay and i send you lots of love <33

+ just wanted to ask you.. which are your favorite taylor’s songs? i’m really curious, hope it doesnt bother you <3

aw hi kiara!! that is such a pretty name :”) thanks bb for the love, i graciously accept! and aaaaaaa i’m sorry ab the molecular bio lolol this is me w histology….and yet for some reason i’m seriously considering path for specialty 💀

oh my god my FAVORITE TAYLOR SWIFT SONGS?…… you’ve opened a pandora box my love

there was once a time i was like in top 0.001% of her listeners in spotify 💀💀 although i dont really listen TOO much anymore (still listen to lots of blondie but i used to straight up ONLY listen to her haha)

ok imma have fun w this since u asked, i’ll name my top three from each album:

debut:

1. teardrops on my guitar

2. mary’s song

3. our song

4. honorable mention: i’d lie

fearless:

1. the way i loved you!!!!!!!!!!

2. tell me why

3. fearless

4. honestly this is so hard i ❤️ fearless

speak now:

1. mine!!!!!!!!

2. the story of us!!!!!!!!

3. last kiss pls help me this is so hard i wanna name all the songs 🤣

red:

1. honestly red is my all time fave ts album i just have to say all of it 😭😭😭 but some of my up there faves are ATW 10 MIN!!!!!, state of grace (both vers), RED!!!!, i almost do, the lucky one, sad beautiful tragic, the last time, COME BACK BE HERE!!!!!!, she cooked so hard w this album idk

1989:

1. style

2. how you get the girl

3. all you had to do was stay!!!!!!!!

reputation:

1. getaway car!!!!!!!

2. dancing w our hands tied

3. delicate

lover:

1. daylight….. 💔

2. cornelia street!!!! (reminds me of ihm sm)

3. miss americana

folklore:

1. ugh my 2nd fave n there’s just SMMM but some of my faves are CARDIGAN!!!!, the last great american dynasty, exile, this is me trying, BETTY!!!!!, invisible string, hoax (reminds me of zuko from atla so bad lol), SEVEN!!!….honestly the whole album idk 😭 oh also PEACE!!!!!!!

evermore:

1. also too hard to pick. my faves are probs gold rush, TIS THE DAMN SEASON!!!!! (was sooo sad she took it off the set list by the time she got to LA for eras :”)), coney island, IVY!!!!!!!, EVERMORE!!!!!!, RIGHT WHERE U LEFT ME!!!!

midnights:

1. high infidelity

2. wouldve couldve shouldve

3. you’re on your own kid

ttpd:

1. the black dog

2. chloe et all

3. loml

4. honorables: clara bow, robin, peter

hope this answers 😭😭 although i’m SURE it does 🤣🤣 what are your faves!!! lmk!!!

[madmanwonder]

(Prompt Crossover) James should be happy when Shallot and 21 are shown winning for Atlas, unfortunately with how they are acting he doesn't even know if it is worth it.

“Let give it to Professor 21 and her colleagues Shallot for bringing glory and victory to our esteemed kingdom!”

The General of Altas Military and Headmaster of Altas Academy handed the award to the bio-android and the human-like alien with a stoic expression on his hardened face.

Normally he would be more expressive and more relaxed when giving out rewards to the current champion who brought glory and victory to Altas…but he wasn’t feeling it today and the two was the blame for it.

“About damn time. I am hungry now after a long fight with my opponent.” Shallot grumbled as he jumped down the stage and made his way to the food pushing aside the reporters and the audience with uncaring indifference

“And I am going to devour Shallot when he done with his meal~” Android 21 giggled as she licked her lips with sensual pleasure and hunger as flew off the stage to follow Shallot with lesss-than-wholesome intent.

James gazed at the eccentric duo’s with a resigned expression as he took out a flask and took a mouthful down his gullet.

[twowolvesinsidem3]

˚⋆ ˚୨♡ 18+ only. 24. Gender fucking slut ♡୧ ⋆ ˚｡

𓋼 𓇗 𓈒・➳ Another switchy person with a weakness for nblw and wlw 𓋼 𓇗 𓈒・ 𓋼 𓇗 𓈒・ 𓋼 𓇗 𓈒・ 𓋼 𓇗 𓈒・

i’m 5’3, lesbian, i love queer movies and shows, music, cats, dogs, concerts, plushies, i have 5 tattoos and plan to get more, my favorite colors are purple and cerulean. i love the lis franchise, atla, lok, she-ra, steven universe, and pokémon =^^=

likes - praise and light degradation, biting & marking, breeding, mommy & daddy (titles only), older women, spit, watersports, possessiveness, voice kink, light choking & slapping, guided masturbation, hand pics i’ll probably add more to this later~

hard no’s - feet, pregnancy, incest, scat

dni:

under 18/no age in bio

men

terfs

swerfs

transmeds/truscums

anti-lgbtq+

racists

xenophobes

islamaphobes

antisemites

my ask box and dms are open at any time

[lituusapollinis]

Bio (Also available on my page. Contains important info about my portrayal of this character)

Let me be clear from the start: Octavian is an asshole, and I am not trying to erase that. However. He is a much more complex character than the narrative wants us to believe. I will not be shying away from all of the negative qualities that Octavian has, but I will also not tolerate a lack of nuance when it comes to him. 

So, thus proceeding: Please enjoy an account of events from the perspective of the Augur himself. 

👁

You are nine years old, and neither your father’s heavy footsteps, nor his military-straight spine are in your range of hearing or sight-with-a-lower-case-s. Instead, there is only to greet you the sound of paws and the wicked glint of razor-like rows of many, many teeth. But you know who this is: This is Lupa, the trainer of heroes. You will impress her. You have to. 

You are ten years old, and your hands are calloused, and your eyes are sharper and darker than they used to be, and you no longer recognize yourself in the dirty mirror. Your hair is longer and unbrushed, and your clothes are sweaty and ragged. But you see some semblance of muscle beneath your thin, breakable skin, and you see a determination in the set of your mouth that didn’t used to exist. You will impress her. You have to. 

You are eleven years old, and your father’s letter and Lupa’s approval get you into the first cohort, the best one. There was no other option, but it’s a relief to be there anyway. Your probatio tag shines silver: Casimir Octavian, ad probatio, Legio XII Fulminata. You will not be wearing this long. 

You are twelve years old and a golden lyre is hovering over your head. You knew your legacy ancestry already, so on the one hand, this is not surprising. On the other hand, you are not his direct son, so this is extremely unusual. You are drawn into an emergency senate meeting about it, in fact, and you are forced to stare up at ghosts and peers five or more years older than you as they judge and scrutinize what feels like your insides, your guts, your organs. You hand them over willingly, as you tell them of your visions, your dreams, your predictions. You tell them just what deja vu means to you; you tell them just what exactly a nightmare is in your head. The next day, you stand in Apollo’s temple and you beg him for answers. He is generous when he gives them. An adult might have called it reckless, but you meet his liberality with greed, so he keeps giving.

You are thirteen years old and you have a job at camp that no one else has. You are singular among your friends, the only one who understands what it’s like to speak in prophecies. It’s a language only you comprehend, which means that your work has gone from being shouldered by thirty-nine others, to being hefted by you alone. The Grecian story of Atlas comes to mind, which alarms you. You ought not invite such bad omens as thinking of things like the enemy. You are not the enemy. You are not a symptom of danger. You are not a harbinger of hardship. You may be able to predict terrible, horrific things, but they are not your fault. You have to believe they are not your fault. Interpretation is the name of the game. There are always many sides to a story; there are always many meanings to poetry. 

You are fifteen years old when the fifth cohort starts becoming the new golden child at camp. Or, rather, when Jason Grace does. You want to be glad to see a previously lazy and uninspired cohort finally pay the proper appreciation to Rome, to the people who gave them a home and protected them, to the family they haven’t been pulling their weight for, but all you can think is, it’s about fucking time. There’s a reason you put your all into this camp. It’s insulting when others don’t. Why should you be asked to rely on peers who couldn’t be bothered to support their own weight, when they rely on you to carry yours and theirs for them? Can you even trust them to save your life, if you have to save theirs when it’s not even wartime?

Whatever. You continue your work as the Augur, reading and reading and reading, rarely resting, rarely leaving your post.

You are seventeen years old when said readings begin screaming at you. The oracle is wailing, it is crying, it is howling: A war is coming.

You share this with your praetors, one of whom you remember arriving at camp as a dirty, young teen girl, speaking like a sailor with a story she refuses to tell. You can see when she rolls her eyes at you, and you can track every tone, every word, every point of disrespect that she levels your way (and you can’t help but wonder: what the hell did you do to her?) but you let it pass because she listens to you. She listens and she encourages her retirement-minded co-praetor to listen, too. The senate meets, and they hang onto your every word. It’s everything your father wanted for you. It’s everything Apollo promised. Your veins sing, and your chest soars. 

You tell them of what you’ve seen: a Titan in the west, a black throne of the Lord of Time himself, a siege on both of these things to defeat them. You tell them that success is possible. You tell them that the boy who’s made the fifth cohort so great ought to help this siege, as he’s the camp’s best chance at survival, according to the stuffing. You don’t really get it, and you’re sticking your neck out for him, but the Senate hears you out. They appoint Jason Grace to be one of the primary leaders of the attack on Crius’s home and Saturn’s throne, and you are proven right when he strangles the Titan to death and topples the fancy chair with nothing but the hands of a prince of Olympus. 

He gains praetorship for his heroism, and he doesn’t thank you for the gamble you took. Your head would have been had with his had he’d failed, but he doesn’t thank you for risking it all for him. 

You should be used to it, but it still stings. The camp never thanks you for your work, if they even bother to listen in the first place. 

You are eighteen years old when Jason Grace goes missing, and in his place is a shady stranger who decides your wariness of him is a personal attack. Nevermind your loyalty to your home. Nevermind your ambitions to lead your fellow Romans. Nevermind how he carries with him obvious marks of a spy, an infiltrator, a turncoat. He takes to the camp’s favorite tradition of embarrassing and belittling the Augur, and he gets rewarded with a quest delivered by a god himself. And then, he is rewarded with the Legion’s Eagle, and the ability to wield its powers. To top it all off, he steals praetorship from you the day that you would have been voted in instead. And you know that Praetor Reyna helped him, hoped that he’d usurp you. You’ve been undermined in the worst way you’ve ever known. You watch his tattoo get burned into his skin, and you hope it hurts. You tell him as much, which you know isn’t kind or smart, but you can’t help it. Your rage is heavier than you’ve ever known it to be. 

You are still eighteen years old when you are forced to trust an enemy as old as history, and you are still eighteen years old when you watch that enemy look you in the eyes, smirk, and then bomb your camp, which had extended nothing but cautious peace. 

You knew it. You knew they weren’t to be trusted, but no one listened to you. You are the Augur for the gods’ sakes, but they did not hear your predictions! Being proven right, however, does not take away the burn of years of humiliation, of being undermined at every turn, of being bullied, harassed, laughed at. The camp owes you. You decide that you will make them listen this time. 

You are still eighteen years old, and the sole existing praetor has betrayed Rome and turned her back on everyone, once again despite your counsel. 

Fine. It's fine. You will take care of this yourself. This is what you have been waiting for.

An unknown benefactor provides onagers to your cause. It is generous of them, though in secret, you try to read into who they are. 

The stuffing shows you nothing. Apollo shows you nothing. The oracle shows you nothing. You are, for the first time, in the dark as much as everyone else is. 

(Still, you can hear a woman’s voice in your head, you think, though it sort of sounds like your own, leading you toward everything you want. You ignore it).

Regardless, you’ve been betrayed for the last fucking time. You appoint yourself Pontifex Maximus because no one else can do this, apparently, but you. You bring back exiled demigods to pad your numbers, and you even ally with monsters who pass your judgement as friends. There are always many sides to a story. 

You are still eighteen years old when you learn what it’s like to fly. 

And for some reason, the bronze dragon that you hit takes you into his claws and drops you into the lake at Camp Halfblood before you can hurtle into the real enemy. That dragon saved your life. You don’t know if its rider made it do so or not, but it, and potentially, its rider, did so nonetheless, inexplicably. 

You are humiliated. You have nothing left at either camp. You are alive, but your Sight-with-a-capital-S is gone.

You let both camps believe that you are dead.

When you hear rumors of Apollo himself being missing, you decide that you ought to go and find him yourself, if, for nothing else, to give him a piece of your mind (all you want is your Sight back. Please, don’t abandon me, ancestor. You promised me I’d save the world. You blessed me yourself. Please, don’t abandon me. Don’t tell me your blessing was wrong. Please, give me my Sight back). 

The real world isn’t so bad for a legacy demigod, though it isn’t fantastic, either. Mostly, you roam the Labyrinth to get places, and you fight monsters with skills embedded in your muscles that you have never forgotten, even if you haven’t used them since you were twelve years old. 

Maybe one day, you’ll redeem yourself. 

Maybe. 

For now, you can’t See if that’s true.

👁

Name: Casimir Octavian

Age: 19

Appearance: Straight blonde hair, left eye blue, right eye milky white, a gaunt face. Left knee permanent injury, resulting in a slight limp. 6'3" and 140 lbs. 

Legacy: Apollo

Abilities: Prophetic Sight, general demigod abilities. Due to a left leg injury, he uses a cane with a topper in the shape of a lituus. 

Positive Traits: Loyalty, charisma, organization, faith

Negative Traits: Nationalistic, vengeful, anxious, insecure

Octavian is an unreliable narrator. This is rp, so whatever his narration says is not necessarily the 100% truth of the situation. Octavian will be written believing that everything he does is understandable, justified, and often, for a good cause. Sometimes, that might be true! But sometimes, that might not be. I ask that you do not condemn my muse without considering the complexity of a character like this one. Rick Riordan, while I love his stories to death, did not do a good job handling Octavian in the narrative (Luke gets to be manipulated by a god, but Apollo claims that Octavian manipulated him? I disagree). He is perhaps the most complicated character from the books he’s written, second, maybe, to Apollo himself. I will not tolerate a joke made of Octavian’s death, just like I will not justify the bad things that Octavian has done and encouraged. At the end of the day, all I ask is that we have fun writing together, and that you don’t throw my muse away as an irredeemable evil man. You can find that in Nero and Caligula. Octavian was a flawed teenager. Much love! 

[cedar-sunshine]

I hate math so instead I'm gonna be using this time to flesh out some of my characters families publicly

Atlas- has like 5 siblings, 3 are cis boys, one is a cis girl and the 5th is a trans girl, his parents are very loving and very overwhelmed so when he was a kid they'd send each of their children out to their grandparents' place on alternating weekends to get a break. Atlas always seemed very calm and easy but then you'd look in his room that he shares eith his sister and he'd have like. A deer in there. He loves his family but they're very overwhelming so he lives with his grandparents a lot of the time now, they kind of expect him to come to their place 30% of the week after school and he has his own room there (easier when he isn't living in a 4 room apartment with 6 other people). Two of his brothers are older (17 and 18) and one is the youngest in the family (10) and they're all equally bullshit chaotic. Whenever they go to their grandparents' for a weekend the older two always build something ridiculous like a trebuchet or working fake guillotine and the youngest always tries it out. His sister who's trans is 21 and doesn't live at home due to the chaos, but she does try to visit as often as she can. His other sister is 13 and as chaotic as his brothers, but much subtler about it (she blames it on the 10 year old whenever her weird experiments get found by their parents)

Alex- he's an only child of two working parents, so he spent a lot of time alone at home with his dogs and when he met atlas, he pretty much instantly adopted him as a brother figure (atlas is glad that at least one of his brothers isn't batshit insane). When Alex got diagnosed with GAD and a panic disorder, his parents started letting him spend more time with atlas when they were out from the house so he had someone to look out for him. Atlas's grandparents think that Alex is very sweet and polite and have basically become a secondary family for him whenever he needs one. It's not that his parents are bad, they just don't have the money to be able to have enough time for him.

Athena- she has a twin brother and single father (who is not related to the god) and he was very much not expecting two children, especially two children who have divine powers (Athena has her fire manipulation and her brother is pretty much completely heat resistant which gave their dad many heart attacks when he was a toddler and kept taking naps in the oven after turning it on, or cuddling with a radiator/sticking his hands in boiling water). Their dad is like 50 or 60 and tries very hard for his children and they appreciate him a lot, but he just can't keep up with them. During the school year, they're pretty much constantly causing trouble and the principal has threatened to suspend them like four times (they both have near-straight As though) and he just doesn't know what to do.

Lee- his bio parents were Very not ready for a kid and gave him to their family friend, who also didn't really know what to do with him but has been trying their best. They work for the island summer camp as a ranger (that's why Lee lives there) so he's always had a home and a very large family of all the rangers and staff, but he only gets a nuclear family after the story when he ends up living with angel, essie and vince. They were kind of looking to adopt and then angel brought Lee back so he could actually go to a real school instead of being homeschooled by whichever centaur ranger or mermaid grounds keeper thought they maybe knew math. He never technically had siblings, but he had a sibling relationship with many of the younger centaurs on the island. He never learned enough sign language to communicate with the merfolk who didn't know English, but he still has a pretty close relationship with them due to growing up together.

[crownshattered]

|| Not really a PSA, but instead a sort of wishlist for thread/interactions/etc. that I'd love to do~ I figured this might help get some interactions rolling!! I'm gonna make an effort to have at least one thing for each of my fandoms, so there should be something for everyone!! If you're interested in any of these things, just send me a message~!! (fandoms listed in alphabetical order)

Not all of my muses are mentioned!! That does NOT mean I don't want to write them!! If I haven't removed them from my blog, I have muse for the character and would love to write them~ i just have so many characters so i cant list them ALL...

ATLA:

It's been a minute since I've watched the original ATLA, so muse is kinda finicky... But mostly, I'd love some post-canon interactions with my Kyoshi Warrior girls, primarily Kira. Interactions with any character, really. Maybe exploring her reluctance towards the Fire Nation even after the war?

BG3:

I really wanna explore Vee dynamics with the companions~ Lots of found family fun!!

Honestly...Neth ships overall XDD She just deserves more hands to hold~

Vee in Act 2?? I just think it's neat, especially now that I'm almost done with Act 2 in my playthrough~

Honestly, I just have so much muse for BG3 that I'm happy with anything XDD Faenethra, Karlach, Vee, I'm happy to write whoever!!

BSD:

(not actually a wishlist thing but...) ngl, this fandom is pretty dead for me... You'll have to excuse how behind I am in the manga XDD

Rosalie either interacting with Poe or interacting with people who know him. I wanna do more with her "journey" to finding her brother and then what happens afterwards~

Writing more Kovit would be nice, but not many people know about him and I get that XDD

Always more Lia things, idk what but I love my girl~

please let me explore more of BSD emily... 👉👈

KNY:

ALWAYS give me the Nezuko threads~ I genuinely don't care what, I JUST LOVE MY GIRL!!

More things with Slayer! Koyuki please.?? I just think she's neat XDD

Would love some more Nezuko and Zenitsu interactions... They're very interesting~

I am BEGGING for more KNY Kira threads... I want to build my girl better, and the best way to do that is through threads and dynamics~

Genshin Impact:

Always Lyudmila interacting with her Harbingers or the other Archons~ She's so fun and silly that way XDD

Would love for Vaitiare (Focalors) to interact with more Fontaine people!! ESPECIALLY Neuvillette, omg I'd kill for that reunion XDD (i know i need to write her bio....maybe later today or tomorrow....)

PLEASE GIVE ME MORE UNDERWORLD TWIN THREADS..... Mostly Anne, but Adrian would be fun as well~ Especially threads that include both of them!! but mostly, please give me anne stuff~

Varka adopting everyone in Mondstadt, of COURSE~

Honestly.... I just want to write more Genshin Kira things XDD I will NEVER get tired of writing her, especially in that verse~ Gimme more threads of her in Fontaine!!

Hazbin Hotel:

This is kinda tricky since I only have one muse from this show BUT would love some Sera and Emily interactions.??

Sera and Lucifer interactions, DEFINITELY... Either before him falling or current timeline. There's a lot of headcanons that I have yet to unpack for that...

Maybe Sera and Alastor interacting? Idk how (I don't follow the theory that she's his "master", I think it's Lilith) but it would be interesting XDD

HSR:

Definitely HSR Lia threads. I am in desperate need for more Lia threads in this verse XDD Specifically, would love some things that somehow explore her connection to Kafka, even if it's just her briefly talking about it~

I need to actually catch up, but I'd love some threads of Kira or Stelle in Penacony~

IDV:

FIREFLY THREADS.... I love that Emily AU WAY too much to rarely use it like this... TT^TT Also Pirate Doctor!! Although I haven't developed that one nearly as much as Firefly XDD

Always more Emily threads overall~ Let me use the manor's resident doctor more!!

Would love to write more of IDV Kira, whether it be hunter or survivor... It's been a while since I've gotten to do much with her..!!

Kingdom Hearts:

Wayfinder Trio stuff, 100%~ Especially TerrAqua things!!

Really want to use KH Kira more~ Maybe just her in Radiant Garden, but I would LOVE to plot with a Lea/Axel or Isa/Saix for childhood friend stuff~

Legend of Zelda:

Anything Mipha, really XDD Would love for some interactions with her and Link, or with the other Champions (especially in the Age of Calamity universe) but honestly, I just want to write my girl more~

Stardew Valley:

Definitely SDV Kira XDD I want to explore more of her character in the town, mostly through interacting with other townspeople or farmer ocs. Would also love ships~ Mostly, I just want to explore more of her "romance path" if that makes any sense XDD

TWEWY:

SHOKA THINGS!! Really interested in anything Shoka, whether it be post-canon or during-canon. Mostly would love interactions with Rindo and/or Fret (including ships with either of them) but honestly?? I just want anything XDD

More TWEWY Kira threads would be fun!!

TWST:

I really want to do more with TWST Kira and Lia... Especially Kira~

More Octavinelle interactions for Floyd mayhaps..??

Would love some Diasomnia family things with Malleus~

i ALWAYS want more frozen trio (alanna, isfrid, kristian) interactions....

I think that's it for now.?? May add more later XDD Anyways, just HMU if you like any of those things!!

[goldsrc-hl1]

Weiss arrested Jacques for helping watts and hacking an election, his mistreatment of his workers was entirely legal, what happened to Adam was at the very practically legal, where even if it was a crime on paper the perpetrator faced no punishment, and what happened to Ilia’s parents was 100% legal, the SDC’s lack of safety precautions is common knowledge but the humans in power do nothing about it because they profit from it as well

And if proving racist ideals wrong worked, marrow would’ve been respected by atlas and his team, but his amity arena bio and his attitude in general shows us that the racist humans of atlas basically seeing him as “one of the good ones” even after he dedicated his life to the atlas military, racist humans STILL don’t respect him,

There is no way the Faunus can act that will make their oppressors not want to oppress them, there’s nothing they can do to,prove they’re not “inferior”to the humans who view them as such because they’ve done nothing to prove they are,

And for the most part weiss was meant to be in the wrong for her racist statement, and given what happened to ilia parents? Whatever the white fang did that made her dad upset was totally justified, because fuck him and every one of the dipshits who,supports him, Jacques, his cronies, and the atlas council have ilia’s parents blood on their hands, and the blood of many many more Faunus

You really need to forget he idea of respectability politics, it is not about getting you’re oppressors to like you, racism is systemic and is a lot more then just people “not liking the Faunus”

"Weiss arrested Jacques for helping watts and hacking an election, his mistreatment of his workers was entirely legal, what happened to Adam was at the very practically legal, where even if it was a crime on paper the perpetrator faced no punishment, and what happened to Ilia’s parents was 100% legal, the SDC’s lack of safety precautions is common knowledge but the humans in power do nothing about it because they profit from it as well"

All of that is legal. That's Atlesian society for you. My point still stands though, Weiss herself is showing that not all humans are like Jacques.

"And if proving racist ideals wrong worked, marrow would’ve been respected by atlas and his team, but his amity arena bio and his attitude in general shows us that the racist humans of atlas basically seeing him as “one of the good ones” even after he dedicated his life to the atlas military, racist humans STILL don’t respect him,"

Racism takes time to heal, don't expect to see it instantly. Additionally, Atlas is for the most part cut off from information from Mistral, so news of Ghira taking down Adam likely hasn't even reached them.

"There is no way the Faunus can act that will make their oppressors not want to oppress them, there’s nothing they can do to,prove they’re not “inferior”to the humans who view them as such because they’ve done nothing to prove they are,"

Adam is giving them the justification to say that Faunus are inferior. Take away that justification, and their arguments become weaker. This doesn't affect the people at the top, because they don't care about Faunus actually being inferior, they'll exploit everyone no matter what, but the regular people will come to realize that their justification is invalid.

"And for the most part weiss was meant to be in the wrong for her racist statement, and given what happened to ilia parents? Whatever the white fang did that made her dad upset was totally justified, because fuck him and every one of the dipshits who,supports him, Jacques, his cronies, and the atlas council have ilia’s parents blood on their hands, and the blood of many many more Faunus"

100% agree. SDC treats Faunus like slaves, Faunus retaliate. Weiss didn't deserve her father's abuse obviously.

"You really need to forget he idea of respectability politics, it is not about getting you’re oppressors to like you, racism is systemic and is a lot more then just people “not liking the Faunus”"

I am well aware, but the more people that come to respect the Faunus, the more resistance to systemic racism there is. That is a good thing.

[galaxythreads]

thanks for the tag!! :)

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

78

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

2,358,352 + with another account my total word fic word count is like ~3,400,000.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Mostly MCU, some SPN, ATLA, sherlock holmes stuff

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

The Blood of My Enemies Stains My Hands Now <- very surprised this is number one, i genuinely forgot I wrote this lmao

Empirical <- very surprised this is here

Not One For Chocolate Anymore, I See <- yep, not surprised.

If Lost, Please Return to Peter <- oh my gosh why

You Screamed for So Long We Forgot to Care Anymore <- not surprised this is here at all lol and I'm actually proud it's here.

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I do my best, but not everything. Recently I've been trying to do every other chapter of a fic, but I'm having a harder time responding to one-shots recently. I used to respond to everything, comments on ao3 were literally and I mean this genuinely, my only interaction outside of my family for years. I got really close with some of the commenters. Lately, I've been much, much, much worse mentally, so i do what I can.

6. What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

uhhh, i'm a cross between Five Out of Five is an Ideal You Can't Have - where Loki is still extremely upset with Thor and Thor Did Not Get the Point or End of File, where Thor goes at Mobius with a knife. Oh and I guess there's the whole XXO Mom series, part #2 ends suuuuper angsty.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

idk, i generally try to end on an upward note with everything. Happiest ending is like...probably Stygian? Oh, and Empirical is also pretty upbeat.

8. Do you get hate on your fic?

lmao. When do I not get it? Every couple of weeks at least. Once I got told on a fic that had nothing to do with religion that I was "forcing Christian values" onto everyone because I said in my bio i was Christian and I was ??? for a few days about that. People complain about the writing, they complain about me, they complain about fics not getting updated, they complain about oocness (somehow wrote me like, a 10 page paper on a fic once about how ooc thor was and honestly I commend them because that takes some effort), I get hate all the time and it's very exhausting. Champion hater is probably the anon that sent me a very nasty ask about what a terrible writer I was and how I deserved any trouble I got with publishing when I was trying to express how frustrating it was that the publishing industry is structured rigidly. (I still think that it should be middle grade, teen (12-18) and then YA should be 18-22, THEN adult, because 18-22 is a wild, awful experience that deserves to be it's own genre) Anyway, that anon made me cry for like 2 hours, so. I commend him. 10/10 bullying.

9. Do you write smut?

No. no plans to. writing sex is really meh to me. I admire people who can, I just...do not care about sex scenes lol. I understand they play a part in stories I'm just like "let's...leave it implied if I must and then. not write it."

10. Do you write crossovers?

nope! I'm not opposed to them, I just don't really have any ideas. I did have a multi-fic crossover planned between Supernatural and MCU but I lost interest after writing part 1, there was something else. Like I really wanted to write that fic. idk, i'd have to look at my plans.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Ugh. Yes. People post them on different websites without my permission all the time, someone once made a podcast about one of my fics where they completely obliterated it and that was absolutely humiliating. (They did think I was like 25 though, when at the time I was 16, so that at least was funny) Outside of fics, my sister stole major plot points/character things from my original series to add to her book and I'm still really, really frustrated about that.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yep, loads. My goal is to get good enough at Russian and Spanish to translate some fics myself.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic?

Twice that I know of, but idk. Maybe one more after that? It was a looooong time ago, though.

14. What‘s your all-time favourite ship?

Clintasha. And if not that, then one of my ships for my original series.

15. What’s the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Honestly, probably the Loki series rewrite I started. I have the entire thing mapped out I just do not care as much as I did when I started the concept of it.

16. What’s your writing strengths?

Mental illness, vivid imagery, trauma. I'm good at sucking you into the character's head and then punching you in the stomach for it. I also know how to plot and plan and that's very helpful.

17. What’s your writing weaknesses?

Endings and beginnings. I'm terrible at both of them. I dread them with my whole heart. I'm also, I've discovered recently, really bad at setting up characters the way I want. Also sometimes I back myself into terrible corners and have no idea how to fix it.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I have done this in several fics, I think it's kind of a nice nod to people who speak the language cause they get an extra layer for the fic. I don't hate it being in the fic, I can live without it. I do think that the fic has to survive without translations or you've failed because I would never look up a translation myself when I'm reading it the first time and I know it's the same way with a lot of poeple.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

How to Train Your Dragon. I was 12. That account is still up (I was harassed off of it by some very dedicated guests) I refuse to delete fics, even the most embarrassing ones. Literally the first thing I ever finished writing period is posted there.

20. Favourite fic you’ve ever written?

Oh that's a hard one because I do generally really enjoy my fics and can take some pride in them but right now, Scar Tissue or You Screamed for So Long We Forgot to Care Anymore. I love writing Scar Tissue, it's been such a blast and it's so good to explore other characters outside of MCU, i feel like I'm stretching new writing muscles and it's good. I also loved the community that I had when posting YSFSLWFTCA. It was just...genuinely one of my fics of all time. But anything with Peter and Tony is just so much fun for me, too.

I do not have the energy to tag, repost if you want to. <3

20 Questions For Writers

This was sitting on my notifs for a few days and i finally took the time to do it. Thank my darling @takadasaiko for the tag!! 💕💕

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

I have 88 works in total, 31 of which are for Star Wars.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

574,873 words.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Currently, I'm only writing for Star Wars. But I used to write for Arrow and Supergirl, and ASoIAF, Dark-Hunters and Chronicles of Nick are in standby. I'm waiting for right motivation to come back to any of the last 3.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

I'm only talking about Star Wars fics here...

Kadala (The Mandalorian) [and 4th place in most kudos of all my works]

Rough Awakening (The Bad Batch) [and 5th place in most kudos of all my works]

Welcome to Yavin IV (Rebels)

An Explosive Situation (Rebels)

Rescue on Ryloth (The Bad Batch)

And the the rest of my all-time fics with most kudos are

Take Your Breath Away (Arrow)

Undisclosed Desires (Arrow)

Made For You (ASoIaF/Game of Thrones)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I try my best, but sometimes I forget, and then it's been weeks and months since I got the comments that I'm embarrassed to reply them after so long. Even though, I think it's important that a writer let the reader/commenter that they appreciate it, even if it's with a simple "thank you" or an emoji. I know I'm being a hypocrite here since I fail to do what I preach, but it doesn't make it less true.

6. What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I think that would be Drifting, because it's kind of open ending, left to be interpreted, so it could end however the reader wants. Although, I left an author's note at the end saying what's my preferred ending, which always will be inclined to the happy side.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

High Above the Ground because is the happy ending i want for Commander Fox and Riyo Chuchi. They deserve only the best!

8. Do you get hate on your fic?

No, not really. I've gotten only 1 stupid message of someone criticizing a fic, but that was years ago when I still posted on FF dot net. The joke was on the reader because I moderated all the comments there so I just deleted it and nobody saw it but me. Honestly, I just laughed about it cuz their argument was just stupid.

9. Do you write smut?

I do, all kinds -from the most tame thing to the most perverted. But I used to wrote way more in my old fandoms, especially for Arrow. I think for Star Wars I've written just 1 or 2 smutty fics, and tamed at that.

10. Do you write crossovers?

I've tried a couple of occasions but never finished them. I'm not opposed to them obviously, but I do think the combination of fandoms has to be just right to work. Or at least, when it's me doing the writing.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Yes! Many, many years ago in the first fandom I ever wrote for. It was awful and hated it! You see, this was in the stone age of the internet when fandom specific sites abounded and not everyone had an account on FFnet yet (and Ao3 was not even a dream). The site I published on was split in 2 sections because the ships war in the fandom was bloody and ruthless, so to avoid the slaughter, I kept myself in my preferred side. But one day, a friend who read fic on both sides told me that someone stole my fics. Avoiding to get caught, the person who did it published them under a pen name that was almost exact to mine, she only added a period at the end, which could easily go unnoticed. Oh, and she interchanged characters names so it'd fit the other ship.

At first, my friend thought I had posted them but she knew I'd never write for that ship, like ever. In the end, it turned out that I wasn't the only one who had being plagiarized. Several people ON BOTH SIDES were. Thankfully, the person was caught and banned, but we almost burned the site down because of the whole shitshow.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

By me, yes, several. All into Spanish (my mother tongue). By others, not that I know of.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic?

Yes! A couple of times for different fandoms, and I loved it. I hope I'll do it again. The thing is that you need to find the right partner for it, or it can be a nightmare.

14. What‘s your all-time favourite ship?

I don't appreciate this question, let me tell you. It's hard to choose. But I think I have to go with Olicity. I love them still (even if the show ending ruined it for me). Close second would be Braime (and I'm glad that there's still hope for them on the books, because as usual the show fucked them so but sooooo bad)

And as Star Wars specific, I don't think anyone will be surprised if I say it's Kalluzeb, right 🤣 They're my babies and I adore them!

15. What’s the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Anything for Arrow or Supergirl. I sworn off those fandoms after their respectively awful endings.

No promises, but there's still hope for all if my unfinished works for Star Wars 😅

16. What’s your writing strengths?

Coming up with ideas. So, so many ideas. All the time and I want to write them all.

17. What’s your writing weaknesses?

Finishing writing the above-mentioned ideas. I tend to splay myself too much when I'm writing, and it takes me forever to get to the portion I really want to write (usually the idea that sparked the whole writing process) and I lose steam. That's why I have so many unfinished WIPs. I wish they'd write themselves.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

It's ok if used sparingly. A word here, a phrase over there is fine, but if a wall of dialogue that the reader needs to scroll down to the notes or click on a tooltip to find out the meaning it's the worst!!! A better solution for a writer that really needs/wants to have a whole conversation in another language for plot reasons or whatever, then all they need to do is to say once that the characters are talking in the other language and put the dialogue in the same language they've been writing the rest of the narrative and in italic.

The characters who don't speak the language won't understand what's being said, but the reader will and their reading will be more pleasant and fluid.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

An Argentinian show called Floricienta. A modern retelling of Cinderella.

20. Favourite fic you’ve ever written?

I don't like this question either! All my fics are my babies! How do you want me to choose?!! There are so many I'm proud of. I guess I'll point the most recent one: Feed Me Poison, Fill me till I Drown I really like how this story is coming along. It's not done yet (what else is new? 😅) but what's coming is so so good!

Tagging (no pressure): @renee561 @thecoffeelorian @genericficerblog @airlockfailure @mistr3ssquickly @insertmeaningfulusername @fanfictasia

[lunafaeris-archive]

          /mmmm i need to do more with my legend of zelda & atla/lok verses.

[honeybewrites]

Elemental System

So! I decided for my first world building/lore post, I'm going to introduce my WIP's magic system! Mostly because I'm dying to talk about it and I'm curious as to what you guys think. And the last time I posted anything about it my brain was mush and I don't think it made much sense...

This is a rather long post. I'd say I'm sorry, but I'm not. So let's jump into it!!

Let's go over a couple important notes before I dive into the really good stuff.

'Elemental' refers to the magic system as a whole, similar to how anthropology refers to the study of humans. An 'element' is a raw source that makes up part of the Realms. Such as air or water. A 'cast' is used to describe the act of using an element. 'Energy' is what fuels a cast. An 'agi' is a being that actively trains in elemental for some kind of purpose and generally uses it in their line of work. Species does not matter.

Since the elements make up the Realms very existence, they are broadly categorized. This category system is used by most beings when speaking about elemental. It's both easier to remember, and generally, there's no need to get more nuanced. Of course, there are many more categories in these and many of them overlap, but unless you are a highly trained agi, no one really cares.

Fire Water Rock Air Bio Energy

Can you tell AtLA influenced my magic system yet????

There are two ways to use an element. An element may be harnessed or extracted.

Harnessing involves pulling the element from the user's surroundings. Harnessing water in the ocean is going to be easy and virtually tax less, while trying to harness it in the desert is going to be next to impossible and very taxing.

Extracting involves pulling the element from an internal source in the user's own body. Something select species themselves produce. This allows the user to use the element wherever they are as they always have access to it.

However, species only have one option (with very few exceptions) based on their biology what they are able to do. For example, all Mirralians are only able to harness elements, while all Zj'ah are only able to extract an element.

Similarly, species are restricted to one, possibly two, elements (again, with very few exceptions) that are based on biology. As Mirralians harness, they are able to harness any element in their surroundings. Be it water, fire, or anything else. Zj'ah on the other hand, only have one element, fire, to extract from their bodies. Dual extraction isn't common, but it's not unheard of either. The downside to harnessing being weaker element control and power, but more element options. While extracting only has one, maybe two, element options, but more power and control over that element in any environment.

The other aspect of elemental is what fuels it. Think of it like a car. The elements are the physical vehicle, but it still needs gas to work. That's where energy comes in.

There are three energy sources that can fuel a cast.

Life energy Elemental energy Wild energy

They all have technical names, but no one really uses those. Different species produce different energies, with each having their own type of energy. Think of it like blood types. A Mirralian is going to have a different life energy type than a Zj'ah does. Most species only produce a type of life energy and elemental energy, with wild energy making up the environment/surroundings.

Life energy, as the name implies, is directly tied to a beings life. If you use up too much of your life energy, you die. Generally, this energy isn't used to fuel casts. The trade off, is that casts fueled by life energy are much more powerful. It is slow to replenish though and can lead to permeant damage of the caster's body.

Elemental energy is what is most often used to cast. It's a specific energy most beings produce and allows them to cast without having to use up their life energy. It can still cause the caster to become sick if they use too much too fast. Resulting in bloody noses, exhaustion, lightheadedness, and collapsing. It replenishes much more quickly than life energy and often isn't fatal if all of it is used up.

Wild energy is only produced by a handful of the Realms most powerful creatures. It is extremely volatile and dangerous. The few creatures that produce it don't often engage in elemental due to the fact their energy can easily overwhelm their bodies, killing them and wrecking horrible havoc in the process.

Even though most species are capable of elemental, it's not very commonly used, especially in every day life. Your average being may only know a handful of casts, if any. Nowadays, it is mainly used for two purposes: combat and healing.

Healing elemental is a huge part of the Realms. It has allowed species to recover from usually more fatal injuries and illnesses. It helps healers better know what's wrong with their patients and how they need to help them. It can mend broken bones in a matter of hours, and make life more easily livable for otherwise severely disabled beings. It is one of the biggest occupation fields in the Seven Realms.

Combat elemental is used just as much as guns and swords, especially in close combat and arial attacks. Again, think AtLA style. The difference being a lot faster paced and there's no bending forms. You have no idea what kind of cast your opponent is going to throw at you until it's coming. If you're not quick enough, guess who gets a face full of fire?

There of course are other things beings use elemental for, like Rage who uses it for his sight (which I talked about kind of incoherently here) and Fres who uses it to help them tack a target. It was once used for many, many things, but slowly the art of using elemental has diminished over the centuries. It's largely due to the fact it must be taught.

Elemental is not intuitive for most species. It requires effort and learning to know how to cast properly without hurting yourself or others accidentally. As time went on, it became a luxury to learn and not considered essential. Eventually, it turned into something only the wealthy and predominant people could learn, or those it was required for a specific job. It is still costly to learn regardless of the necessity for a job and it only continues to be seen as a privilege and not a right.

Casts themselves are similar to spells or bending from AtLA. Forms are often helpful for new learns and shows them how it feels to do the cast and how the energy and elemental in their body moves, but once perfected, forms are not needed. The more in tune with their bodies they are, the easier casting becomes for an agi. It's all about knowing how the energy that fuels your cast interacts with your element, and in turn how that manifests.

Let's use an example of creating a flame in your palm for the first time.

The form for this cast is about as basic as it gets. You start with a fisted hand, palm up. While inhaling, the agi would "pull" on their energy and element. Imaging it flowing from their core, up through their arm and to their hand. The being would be able to feel it moving through their body if done correctly. Then exhaling, they would open their fist. Imaging all that energy and element igniting above their palm, which would create the flame.

Now something like mending a stab wound or creating a tidal wave require much more effort, concentration, and knowledge. Those kinds of casts have many more steps and needed practice, but once learned, it becomes second nature. Sort of how a martial artist doesn't really have to think about what move they're going to do when they're fighting, but they first have to put in the effort to master the many different moves.

I feel like that covers it pretty well?? Of course if you want better clarification, because I too question the understandability of everything that comes out of my mouth, or a more nuanced explanation of a certain aspect I'm always open to DMs and asks :)