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her-satanic-wiles · 6 months ago

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Dawn Chorus - I

Dracopia x Fallen Angel!Reader

When you question the Almighty for a third time, you find yourself on the run and escaping a horde of wrathful angels ready to punish you for your insolence. Whose garden should you fall into than Cardinal Copia’s? And he has more nefarious plans for you.

Masterlist ⛧ Commissioned by anonymous ⛧ Series Masterlist

Words: 6.5k.

Reading Time: 26 min.

Warnings: attempted execution, blood, detailed aftermath of war, detailed deaths of children, detailed grief, detailed pain, mentions of sexual abuse within the church, mentions of rape, torture, violence

Taglist: @da-rulah @teenage-birt-dag @akayuki56 @dopey-fandom-girl @ravensbars @copiaspet622 @onlyhereforghost @ultrahalloweengirl @ad-astra-per-aspera-1976

Author’s note: This part of the story contains the origins of the Zionist argument, claiming that the land of Palestine belongs to Jewish people by will of God. I have written this section of the chapter as close to the Christian Bible as possible in an attempt to avoid Zionist ideology or propaganda - and I want to make one thing abundantly clear: this is a pro-Palestine blog. I will always and forever stand with the people of Palestine, and do my utmost to use my platform to promote the liberation of the Palestinians under Israeli apartheid. Zionism and Zionists have no place at my table. Please continue to boycott companies, platforms and people who send aid and support to the colonial state of Israel. Thank you.

🔞 MDNI 🔞

As this fic is quite dark, I'm choosing to rate it 21+. Please respect my decision. Thank you.

Your heart was pounding in your chest, from the physical exertion or the panic rising in the pit of your stomach, you couldn’t quite tell. Your mind was a contradicting war zone, unsure of which team would win. On the one hand, your brain was buzzing with adrenaline, playing back every event which lead you to this moment: running for your life away from God’s chosen soldiers, avoiding your inevitable demise like a human billionaire and his taxes. You had shown yourself alternate scenarios in which this didn’t happen, in which you’d still be safe in the Humanities Department of Heaven, distributing angels to help God’s children and guide them to the Light. Or enjoying the presence of a fellow guardian angel at the proverbial water cooler. The other side of the battle was autopilot-mode, no thoughts, no feelings, just running to save yourself.

You had a fierce belief in your Leader - almost entirely unwavering and unquestioning. You were His daughter, mirrored in His image and devoted only to Him. You did His bidding as requested, journeyed to realms under His name, played the messenger when He had something important to say to His children. You were there when Gabriel delivered God’s message to the Virgin Mary, hovering in the background and keeping Mary safe from harm in order to protect the coming of Christ. You aided in escaping Peter from prison, making him invisible to the guards as you and some others guided him to freedom by the will of the Almighty.You believed in Him so strongly, that you didn’t need to question Him - because He was always right, and His plan was always just.

You saw how the people of Egypt suffered at the hands of your Lord, and personally watched as the souls of the firstborn children who were slaughtered by Him as an act of protest against Pharaoh and his tyrannic reign. You kept your mouth shut at the livestock, knowing that food could be replenished easily enough. You thought about saying something when you saw the innocence of Egypt battling against the boils that God had given them. By His grace, you could even turn a blind eye to the adult firstborns who were killed as collateral damage. But the children? Some as young as newborns, all the way up to twelve years old. Pure babies without an ounce of hate or sins in their hearts, who didn’t understand the difference between their heathenish beliefs and their Hebrew friends. Who had never whipped a slave, or ordered the execution of God’s children. Who never had the cognitive capacity to think of such a thing, because their brains hadn’t had the chance to learn, to change, to join in God’s favour.

You’d never forget the small boy you watched over in the seconds before he took his last breath, sleeping soundly in his bed after a long day of studying and games. He couldn’t have been older than six. The oldest child to a woman whose husband had passed on mere months before. To a woman who was hanging on by a fragile thread as it was. You watched the boy’s breath rise and fall steadily in his peaceful slumber, until his chest fell for the final time. You watched his soul rise from his body, confused for a moment - painfully unaware that his mortal life had ended. You saw the fear in his eyes when he looked at his lifeless body in his bed, and felt his frustration when his mother ignored his pleas for help, not understanding that she couldn’t see his soul. You observed as Horus came for the child, wrapping His arm around him and offering some comfort to his distress. Horus looked at you as you stood in the doorway of the bedroom, His avian eyes full of the darkest of emotions as He guided yet another soul to the underworld, to have their heart weighed and judged by the guardian at the gates. His loathing poured off of Him as He shot you that look, before disappearing into the night with the child. You didn’t kill the boy, but under the gaze of Horus, you felt as though you had.

Leaving the boy’s home, the streets were full of lost and confused souls, ranging in age and wealth but all sharing the same sorrow and fear. Among the devastation stood your doubts of the Almighty’s plan, and the question of why lingered on your lips even as you were summoned back to Heaven to give a report on the situation - on its success. You felt uncomfortable as you summarised what you saw to the archangel Michael, who looked triumphant in God’s success, knowing he had carried it out perfectly for Him. He thanked you for your hard work - and in that moment, you had never felt so disgusted with yourself.

Of course, your thoughts were never your own, and you were called in to meet with your superiors about your doubts. They seemed to be reasonable, and understanding, especially given that this was your first offense. They promised to set your mind at ease, and reminded you that you were merely a foot-soldier in the Great Plan. You didn’t need to worry, you just needed to do as you were asked. Then they kicked you out of the office with a bad taste in your mouth, and a sense of foreboding of the things to come. Surely His plan couldn’t get any worse?

Then Canaan happened.

After the Israelites escaped slavery in Egypt, they wandered in the wilderness for forty years, led by their leader, Moses. During this time, God promised them a land of their own, a fertile land called Canaan, where they could settle and prosper. When Moses died, a new leader named Joshua arose to lead the Israelites into Canaan. Before entering the land, Joshua received a command from God to conquer it. God promised to be with Joshua and the Israelites, assuring them of victory if they remained faithful. Under the pretext of divine sanction, and God’s name on their lips, the Israelites engaged in systematic warfare, besieging cities, slaughtering men, women, and children, and plundering their possessions. The conquest was marked by bloodshed, devastation, and the utter annihilation of indigenous populations. Then they burned the whole city and everything in it, but they put the silver and gold and the articles of bronze and iron into the treasury of the Lord’s house. Jericho fell to ruin, crumbling in ashes on the ground as fire engulfed the buildings and eating everything it could. You watched as they celebrated over the dead, drank themselves into a stupor in the ruined homes, covered in the blood of the innocent. They didn’t bother themselves to move the corpses until the celebrations were over, days after they declared victory.

Despite the humans being unable to see you, you were still a real being wandering the streets of Canaan, sobering at the sights before you. Your beautiful, white wings dragged on the floor as you walked, gathering the dirt and the blood at the tips of your feathers. God’s children had got the land that they were promised, but what was the cost? From the freeing of the Hebrews to the conquering of Canaan, all you could see were the bodies that had been left behind of the civilians caught up in the fight. Though the blood pooled in puddles no more than 3cm deep, it felt as though you were in it up to your neck. You looked at the conquerors in disgust, and with a rage you’d never felt before - especially when you realised that, for Joshua, peace was never an option worthy of consideration. You were suffocated by the sinners that surrounded you, the murderers and looters, the fornicators who lurked in dark alleyways to celebrate with any passerby willing or otherwise. You watched as indigenous stragglers were dealt with, some more humanely than others and you wondered: was this truly God’s will all along? Did He plan for such brutality? Did He allow Joshua to go as far as he did - and did He give Joshua the strength and the power to do so? Or did He look at His children in disgust and disappointment, ashamed of them for turning to sin and Satan so easily in a moment of pure happiness? Despite claiming to worship a God of love and justice, the Israelites demonstrated cruelty and brutality in their pursuit of land and power - and your faith wavered a second time when you realised that your worst fears were true: God really did give Joshua the power to do as he did, and He felt no remorse for it.

You were pulled into your superior’s office again, this time scolded with much less understanding than before. Gabriel and Michael looked at you with disdain, nothing but anger in their eyes and on their faces as you sat before them in the celestial white room, eyes aching from the brightness.

Gabriel, with his luminous wings unfurled, regarded you with a solemn gaze. “Again, ___? Hast thou not learned from thy previous lapse in faith? Our duty as angels is to serve unquestioningly, to uphold the divine order without falter.”

Michael, his expression stern and unwavering, spoke with commanding authority. “Indeed, ___, the Almighty’s will is not for us to question. It is our sacred duty to carry out His commands with unwavering devotion.”

You bowed your head, feeling the weight of their reproach heavy upon you. “I understand, my lords. But I cannot help but struggle with the suffering and turmoil wrought by our actions. Is it not within our power to seek mercy and compassion, even amidst the fulfilment of divine justice?”

Gabriel’s gaze softened, though his tone remained firm. “Our understanding is limited, ___. We cannot comprehend the intricacies of God’s divine plan. It is not for us to question His wisdom or to challenge His authority.”

Michael nodded in agreement. “Our loyalty to the Creator must remain steadfast, even in the face of uncertainty or doubt. We are His instruments, His messengers, and His will shall be done.”

You sighed, “But His will brings the destruction of cities and the deaths of children. His own children. It is difficult for me to truly follow Him when there is so much devastation.”

Gabriel’s brow furrowed slightly at your words, his expression a mix of compassion and admonition. “___,” he said gently, “we are but conduits of His divine will. Our mortal understanding pales in comparison to the grand tapestry of His design. Though we may not comprehend the reasons behind the trials and tribulations, we must trust in His wisdom and benevolence.”

Michael’s gaze remained steely, but a hint of empathy flickered in his eyes. “Indeed, ___,” he spoke firmly, “the path of righteousness is not always easy to tread. But it is our duty to carry out His commands, no matter the cost. Our faith must endure even in the face of adversity.”

You felt a pang of uncertainty gnaw at your celestial essence, torn between the call of duty and the ache of compassion. “But what of mercy?” you questioned, your voice tinged with desperation. “What of compassion for His creations, even in their moments of waywardness?”

Gabriel’s voice held a note of solemnity as he responded, “Mercy and justice are intertwined in the divine order, ___. Though His judgments may seem harsh, they are tempered by His boundless love. We must trust that His actions serve a higher purpose, even when they are beyond our comprehension.”

Michael’s voice continued in his firmness, his tone sharp and parental. “Let this be the last time we speak of this, ___. There will be consequences to thy actions the next time thou decidest to question the Almighty.”

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his words pressing down upon you like a leaden mantle. The gravity of his warning was unmistakable, a stark reminder of the consequences of defiance in the face of divine authority.

“Yes, my lord,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. “I understand.”

As Gabriel contemplated the situation, a solemn expression settled upon his countenance. After a moment of contemplation, he spoke, his voice measured and grave. “___,” he began, his tone tinged with a sense of sorrow, “in light of thy transgression and the gravity of thy doubts, it is clear that a lesson must be learned.” He paused, as if searching for the right words to convey his thoughts. Then, with a decisive nod, he continued, “I propose thou be assigned a period of reflection and penance. During this time, thou wilt be tasked with assisting souls in need—those who have lost their way, who suffer in anguish, or who cry out for guidance.”

Gabriel’s suggestion carried the weight of solemn judgment, yet also held the promise of redemption. It was a punishment tempered with compassion, an opportunity for growth and renewal amidst the shadows of doubt.

“Thou wilt walk among mortals,” Gabriel concluded, his gaze unwavering, “bearing witness to their struggles and offering solace in the name of the Almighty. May this experience serve to strengthen thy faith and reaffirm thy devotion to His divine will.”

“Let her spend time in Canaan until her penance is served, as she holds so much sympathy for the dead sinners.” Michael suggested, a smug tone oozing from his voice. He almost lit up at the look of protest you shot him, wanting to argue but Gabriel raising a hand and stopping you from speaking.

“It is decided. Thou may only return to us here when thou no longer holdeth contempt for our Lord. Dost thou have anything thou wishest to say?”

You stood and spread your wings, stretching them out and flapping them sharply in frustration. “There are several things I should like to say.” You retorted fiercely. “I shall restrain the urge, however. The Almighty gave me a tongue to use and a brain to think, after all.”

“And thou would doest well to remember that.” Michael commented, the smirk fading from his face. “Go. Leave us, petulant child. Perform thy duties and know thy place.”

Your time in Canaan was dreary - especially given that you didn’t want to be there in the first place, surrounded by those who used His name to spread evil. But still, you guided His creations as you were told to do, their guardian spirit keeping them from harm and returning them to the Light when their own beliefs had wavered. You felt somewhat like a hypocrite, guiding the wayward souls back to their own beliefs when you, yourself, were questioning yours. And, if you were to be truthful, your faith never completely restored to how it was before Canaan was conquered. You still held even the smallest amount of contempt for the Almighty, and silently questioned everything He did, wondering if His plans would succeed in peace or be laced with blood. But eventually, Heaven forgave you and told you that you were welcome to return, and you did so as though it was the easiest choice you had ever made… because, well, it was.

But all of that lead you to your third strike.

It had been some time since you entered the Mortal Realm, choosing to spend your time in Heaven and directing other angels to their tasks. You hadn’t really paid much attention to God’s creations as a result, almost entirely out of the loop. Since your time in Canaan, according to your fellow angels, much had changed. Great churches were built and devoted to God, while wars waged in His name and His word spread to those who needed it the most. Yet, in those churches, you discovered corruption everywhere you looked. The righteous taking their power and using it to abuse others, in God’s very own home, watched by the Saints and Apostles as they committed the most disgusting of acts to the vulnerable and the needy, as though they condoned such behaviour. You saw people, of all ages, routinely touched against their will, forced into submission and shunned if they dared to say anything - blamed by God’s other children for a crime they didn’t commit, but were the victims of instead. You watched the cycle repeat, families torn apart, and all the while the situation was monitored and allowed. Perhaps, even, ordered by the Lord Himself. You couldn’t bear it - you couldn’t fathom that the Almighty who you’d followed blindly your entire life could hurt another being like that, when He often portrayed Himself to be a kind and benevolent soul, a loving father to those who loved him. You needed to know why. Why must he enact such cruelty on his own creations?

You stormed into Michael’s office, where he, Gabriel, and Raphael met, staring at you in disbelief that you’d have the audacity to do such a thing. “I wish to speak with the Lord.” You demanded, anger coursing through your veins like never before.

Raphael’s brows furrowed. “Directly?”

“Yes.”

He laughed in disbelief. “Child, not even we get a direct audience with the Almighty. Whatever could thou say to Him?”

Gabriel sighed, disappointment oozing from his celestial being. “Thy faith hath wavered yet again, hath it not?”

“Aye, I stand before thee once more, yet again with a heart heavy with doubt.”

Michael’s own anger was bubbling under the surface. “Speak, and let us hear thy grievance.”

“My lords, I cannot remain silent any longer. I have witnessed the depths of depravity within the Church, the desecration of innocence by those who claim to be servants of God.”

“Thy words are bold, ___,” Gabriel said, his tone remaining level. “What troubles thee so?”

Your anger surfaced and manifested as a raised voice and shaking limbs. “‘Tis the scourge of sexual abuse that plagues the holy sanctuaries. Innocent children, robbed of their purity by those who should protect them. How can a just and loving God allow such atrocities to persist within His own house?”

Raphael nodded, unfazed by the spectacle in front of him. “Thy anguish is understandable.” He found this more entertaining than impertinent, clearly unaware of your two strikes before. “Yet thou must remember that God’s ways are beyond our understanding.”

“How can we stand idly by while the innocent suffer? Are we not tasked with defending the weak and the vulnerable?”

Gabriel rested his forehead on his hand. “Thou dost speak with passion,” he was exasperated by you, “but thou must not forget thy place. God’s will is inscrutable, and we are but instruments of His divine plan. How many times must we remind thee?”

“I refuse to be silent any longer! I will not turn a blind eye to the suffering of the innocent, even if it means defying the will of my superiors.”

Michael slammed his fist on the white desk, standing from his seat behind it. “Thou dost tread dangerous ground. Thy defiance borders on heresy!”

You echoed his tone. “So be it! I would rather be branded a heretic than remain complicit in the face of such evil. This smells of the Devil, not of our Lord. I do not understand why He sits by and allows it to happen.”

Gabriel tried to keep the peace between all of you, but he was losing control of the situation quickly. “Thy faith hath faltered, and thy words ring with rebellion. Thou must reconsider thy stance before it is too late.”

“I cannot, in good conscience, remain silent any longer. If God truly exists, then He shall judge me for my actions. But I cannot stand by while His name is used to justify such abominations.”

“Then so be it, ___,” Michael resolved through gritted teeth. “If thou wilt not bend to the will of God, then thou must bear the consequences of thy defiance.”

“So be it.”

“Thou hast been found guilty of heresy and defiance against the will of God for the third time. As Archangel of Judgment, it falls upon me to administer thy punishment.”

“Thou may judge me, but know that my heart is true, and my intentions pure.”

“Thy intentions matter not. Thy actions have brought dishonour upon the celestial host, and thy defiance cannot go unpunished.”

Gabriel stood and walked over to his brother, placing a hand on his shoulder and speaking urgently into his ear. “Michael, perhaps we should consider a less severe punishment. Her heart may yet be turned back to the path of righteousness.”

Michael shook his head. “Nay, Gabriel. The time for leniency hath passed. Ariel’s repeated offences demand a swift and decisive response.” All the while, his wrathful gaze never left your face. “Thy fate is sealed. As Archangel of Judgment, I hereby decree that thou shalt be cast out from the celestial realm and condemned to the Abyss.”

Raphael’s eyes widened with shock, but he said nothing.

Gabriel shook his brother and with sadness, he said, “Michael, art thou certain this is the right course of action? Once the sentence is passed, there can be no turning back.”

Michael replied firmly, “It is done, Gabriel. Justice must be served, even if it breaks thy heart. Let the punishment be carried out.”

Knowing your fate was worse than death, your body reacted for you - even before your brain had decided the best course of action. You turned swiftly on your heels and made your escape, wings flapping and trying to gain enough speed to remove yourself from the Heavens. Your heart was pounding in your chest, from the physical exertion or the panic rising from the pit of your stomach, you couldn’t quite tell. Your mind was a contradicting war zone, unsure of which team would win. On the one hand, your brain was buzzing with adrenaline, playing back every event which lead you to this moment: running for your life away from God’s chosen soldiers, avoiding your inevitable demise.

The portal to the Mortal Realm was just in your grasp, so by only the adrenaline that you were running on, you forced yourself to speed up - making a mad dash for the open world in front of you. You could hear Michael’s calls to, “Close that gate! Do not let her through!”

Someone had listened and had begun closing the portal. The closer you got to it, the smaller the hole became, shrinking and shrinking until all you could see was the tiniest speck of blue peeking out. But you couldn’t let that deter you - if you were caught, your future would hold horrors beyond celestial comprehension. You made a dive, perhaps it was your madness that drove you to do it, the adrenaline, or even your desperation, but you dove nonetheless. Your whole body ripped through the closing portal, feeling the walls shut in on you and grip onto your body with a searing, hot pain you’d never experienced before. Escaping from the Heavens was never a kind task, otherwise more angels would have done it, but now you were caught in Earth’s atmosphere, the planet’s gravity pulling you down to its very core with all the force it could muster.

The warmth was the first thing you noticed, the friction caused by the air resistance generated intense heat, turning your body into a blazing inferno akin to a comet streaking across the sky. Your skin prickled and your hair stood on end as the flames licked at your body, consuming everything in their path. The feathers on the outside of your wings were flying off and burning up in the flames, turning to ash in the atmosphere and disappearing entirely. The rush of wind roared in your ears, drowning out all other sounds as you plummeted towards the ground. The air around you shimmered with heat, distorting your vision and adding to the surreal sensation of falling through space. Tears appeared in your eyes but you couldn’t tell if that was because of the pain you could feel or the wind biting against you.

Despite the intense heat and the overwhelming sense of impending doom, there was also a strange beauty to the experience. The fiery trail you left behind painted a mesmerizing picture against the night sky, a fleeting spectacle that few that resided on this planet would ever witness. The sight of the planet from so far above reminded you just how the Almighty had made it: some land, but mostly water. As you fell, you recalled the horrors of the deep, the mammals with sharp teeth and stomachs bigger than your entire body. In that moment, for the first time in a while, you prayed to Him. You begged Him over and over to guide your body to land. You were an angel, you were likely to survive the fall despite the pain you were about to endure, and your weakened state couldn’t handle a battle with a sea creature that only wanted you for lunch.

Hurtling towards the ground, the last thing you remembered thinking was, this is how hellfire must feel. And that was when the world went dark.

“Clearly … happened … Sister.”

As you slowly regained consciousness, you became painfully aware of the searing agony coursing through every inch of your body. With your eyes tightly shut, you focused on the sensation of pressure and discomfort, trying to piece together what had happened. Your limbs felt heavy and unresponsive, and sharp pains shot through you with every movement. It was as if your body had been battered and broken, the impact of the fall leaving you bruised and battered beyond recognition. All the bones inside were broken, the bridge of your wings included, and your head throbbed beyond belief, as though you had a thousand hammers raging war against your skull.

Despite the overwhelming pain, a sense of relief washed over you as you realized that you were still alive. The thought of having survived such a catastrophic event filled you with a mixture of gratitude and disbelief. Despite everything, He had heard your prayers and allowed you to touch ground - or perhaps this was the worst outcome… perhaps He wished for your pain as penance for your disobedience. Regardless, you would heal and be well, and then you could begin to live with the mortals and hide from Michael and his wrath. You were safe here… you were sure of it.

“… working … heard … looking … angel …”

The voice was registering with you now that you were regaining your cognitive abilities after the crash. Your brain was working over time to translate his words, though, leaving you slightly confused as this was phrasing you’d not heard before. You muttered something, your words coming out in Hebrew and silencing the man.

“What … ?” He asked, speaking some more but the rest of his words sounding fuzzy.

You tried again in Hebrew, but when that proved unyielding, you switched to Arabic.

“… know …?”

With great effort, you forced your eyes open, blinking away tears. Taking in your surroundings, you saw that you were lying amidst a pile of rubble, surrounded by the charred remnants of your fiery descent. You sat up a little, beholding the scene around you that was surreal and unsettling. The ground beneath you was scorched and blackened, a stark contrast to the surrounding, luscious, green landscape. The crater itself was a testament to the sheer force of your impact, a deep indentation in the Earth’s surface that stretched out before you in an almost perfect circle. The air was thick with the acrid smell of smoke and charred debris, making it difficult to breathe. The heat radiating from the ground beneath you was intense, searing your skin and making you sweat profusely despite the chill of the night air.

Looking around, you could see the devastation wrought by your fall. Trees lay shattered and splintered, their branches twisted and blackened by the flames. Rocks and debris littered the ground, scattered in all directions by the force of the impact. On the edge of the crater, the man you heard stood, staring at you in disbelief.

He wore robes; a symphony of rich, deep crimson, a colour that seemed to capture the essence of devotion and authority. Crafted from the finest silk, the fabric cascaded in graceful folds, accentuating the dignified stature of the wearer. Each stitch, meticulously placed, whispered of skilled hands that had laboured to create a garment befitting its esteemed purpose.

The robe’s skirt, adorned with intricate gold and black embroidery, depicted sacred symbols and religious motifs that told tales of faith and tradition - resembling the cross that Yeshua died upon, but placed upside-down. The golden threads shimmered in the ambient light, casting a subtle glow that highlighted the reverence with which the garment had been crafted.

A matching red sash, elegantly tied across the man’s chubby waist hid the many buttons that ran the length of the garment. Its edges, crisply pressed and perfectly straight to show his precision and need to look as clean as possible.

The man’s sleeves, were straight, yet too long for him, as was the rest of his attire. As tidy as these lines were, as much care went into keeping it pristine, it was far too big for him like it had been handed to him from someone else that used to wear it perfectly. The cuffs ended midway down his palms, which, themselves, were hidden beneath leather, black gloves.

One hand was up to his ear, holding something to it and speaking in a tongue you couldn’t understand. Your eyes travelled over his face, his white skin dimmed by the light of the moon, but mismatched eyes shining brightly beneath black paint around his eyes. One was the colour of ice, the other was the colour of the trees. You’d never seen such a thing before in all of God’s creations. A moustache of mouse-brown sat above his top lip, which also had been painted black. As he spoke, you looked at his teeth, perfectly white but canines sharper than most mortal’s dental structures. You had heard of such a thing - rumours spreading amongst the Israelites as they told each other stories in the dark of the night - abominations so foul they ate people, consuming the blood from their bodies and ending their lives in a moment’s notice, hiding in the shadows of the night as the sun would kill them. You’d reported back to Gabriel, who’d confirmed these abominations were the work of Lucifer, an archangel who had fallen many eons ago and had renamed himself to Satan. Your eyes had fallen upon a vampyre, and as your eyes roamed over the rest of his body, you saw your halo clutched in his left hand, pressed between his fingers firmly as though you may make a grab for it at any moment.

You made an attempt to back away from the monster, but the bones in your body were still healing - taking longer now that your halo was in the hands of another and not atop your head as it ought to have been. You took in your surroundings a little more, brain power restoring to maximum as you realised he must be of the ancient Romans, the very same people who had killed Yeshua.

“I pray thee, do not harm me,” you said, your tongue switching to Latin. This got the man to stop again and look at you.

“You’ve hurt yourself enough without me getting involved, haven’t you, Angel?” he asked, responding in Latin back to you. His tone was unsettling, confident and dark. The glint in his eyes mimicked this. “… Latin.” The switch in language made you realise he wasn’t talking to you, but an invisible person in your midst.

“What tongue dost thou speak?”

“You’re a servant of the Betrayer and you don’t know my language?” he laughed, then spoke again to the invisible one. His hand moved from his ear and you saw light coming from his hand - expecting pain from Hell, you flinched. When the pain didn’t come, you heard him again. “It’s just a phone,” he explained, making a mockery of you. “I thought everyone up there knew what was going on down here.”

You sighed, “I have not visited in a while.”

“Oh really? When was the last time you were down here, then?”

“I am not compelled to divulge aught to thee, foul creature!” your voice was laced with disdain as you looked at him, fangs exposed as he grinned at you. He took a step towards the crater, and you tried to move back, howling in pain as you did so and earning another laugh from him.

“Then I’m not compelled to help you get your bearings.”

You stopped for a moment and thought - more knowledge would be useful at this stage. And keeping him talking would buy you some healing time and strengthen to get your halo then run again. “I beheld the passing of Yeshua - and that was mine ultimate moment in this earthly realm.”

The vampyre hissed at Yeshua’s name, almost as if he was in pain just hearing the name of the Holy Son. He straightened himself up and then took a seat on the edge of the crater. “That was two-thousand years ago, Angel. A lot’s changed since then.”

“What other tongue didst thou employ just now?”

“It’s called English. A mixture of Latin, Greek and German.”

A Germanic influence - you wondered why you were only picking up the Latin words at first. You were only prepared with the languages spoke around the time of Yeshua, meaning anything new that had been developed since was completely lost to your ears. Now that you knew the main languages, you commanded, “Speaketh once more in the English tongue.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say.” He replied, but he did so in English.

“I comprehend thy words now. I give thee thanks.”

He scoffed. “That was fast.”

“‘Tis a… gift… from the Almighty.”

He looked at you in disgust.

You felt your body had healed enough for the pain to mostly subside, allowing you to fight your way to your feet. Your wings were still shattered, however, making you feel like a broken bird, vulnerable and weak in the eyes of her prey. The vampyre was preying on you, after all. “I express gratitude for the knowledge shared, yet I must make haste on my journey. I shall reclaim my halo and depart henceforth.” You held out your hand, silently praying that he’d be courteous and return your halo to you.

He looked at your hand and then at you. “Yeah, I don’t think so.” He stood from his seat and took a step towards you, watching you flinch as you stepped back. “The son of the Dark One has an angel in his grasp - what makes you think you’re going anywhere, hm?” He was moving towards you at an alarming rate, rendering your body useless against his speed. He gripped hold of your arm, tightly trapping you beneath his gloved fingers. You struggled against him, pulling back as hard as you could but failing, your body still not strong enough. “The way you fell makes me think you came here without permission, right? Which means, we have a lot to talk about.”

“Release me.”

“Or what?”

“I shall slay thee.”

He simply laughed, before turning to a person who was walking towards you, emerging from the darkness. She was a woman, visibly older than the vampyre and a little chunkier, too. She had long, blonde hair and looked more human than monster, though, you came to quickly realise she was a monster like him, and when she spoke, she did so in English. “The Unholy Father blessed us with a gift tonight,” she commented through a smile.

“What do we do with her now, Sister?” the vampyre asked, English rolling off his tongue easier than the Latin he spoke to you in.

The woman entered the crater and grabbed hold of your chin, looking at your body in one, fell swoop before making her decision. “Take her to the basements and strap her up - we have a lot of questions to ask about her home, don’t we, little angel?”

“Unhand me!” you yelled, struggling against both of their grasps.

The woman gripped onto your wrists and tied a metal chain around them - the metal burned against your skin as you fought against her, the pain getting worse and worse until you were forced to still. “Forged with hellfire,” she explained, “you’re not getting out of that easily.”

The vampyre dragged you across the grass and into a building, smelling old and of incense. You could tell that the building techniques were similar to the Babylonian buildings, but with Roman Corinthian architecture thrown in. There were also elements to this structure that you hadn’t seen before, and was only paying attention to because you needed to escape.

The vampyre pulled you down some steps, travelling further and further below ground as though he were walking you to Hell, until you finally stopped at a door. The room he threw you into was cold and dark, and it smelled almost exclusively of damp. In the centre of the room was a table, propped up on wood and resembling a crucifix. You were strapped onto it, similarly to the Messiah, except your device was made exclusively of hellfire-forged metal, making your entire body tingle with pain. You fought against him all the while, trying your best to escape, but all your efforts proved to be in vain. Once the woman entered the room, the torture truly began.

They both asked you things, questions about Heaven and the Almighty’s plan that you couldn’t answer even if you wanted to. When they were met with answers they didn’t like, they would reopen wounds that had healed and damage your body in ways that were unimaginable once upon a time. Feathers were plucked from your wings to start with, following cuts to your skin, slaps, and then short bursts of hellfire that rose from the ground. But you remained silent throughout, save for your screams of agony.

Eventually, they grew tired, and as the vampyre left, he looked at you and smirked. “We all have eternity, Angel. You’ll be here for the rest of it if you don’t cooperate.” He winked at you. “See you tomorrow.”

The door to the room closed behind them, slamming shut with an echo that reverberated throughout your entire being. Your halo sat on the other side of the room, resting on a table and taunting you. You could hear it crying out for you and your body begging for it. If you wore it, you’d heal in no time and regain all of your strength. But just being in its presence meant it would take longer. You were never without your halo and your holy light, but you’d seen what had happened to angels who were. Fearing that this was to be your fate, you wondered if it would have served you better to be caught by Michael and thrown to the void. Or perhaps you should have just continued on in blind faith of the Almighty, doing His bidding despite your heart breaking each time.

Strapped to Hell’s crucifix, all you could do was think of all the regrets you had, and beg into the darkness that He would show you mercy and allow you to come home. Or die quickly.

Prev. ⛧ Next

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kaaaaaaarf · 1 year ago

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Hey you, I'm here for Wolfstar raising harry recommendations 🤗

Hello!! I'm also going to tag @imsiriuslyreading because I know Lana was also looking for some recs!

This is by no means a comprehensive list, but these are some of my very favs:

Wolfstar Raising Harry

Ten Reasons (To Go To Michigan) by @greyeyedmonster-18 (I also love these two unrelated wolfstar raising harry microfics by the same author) — This is a Sirius raising Harry and meeting recently divorced Remus (who happens to be a writer) on the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. A must read! that's the art of getting by by sarewolf — Remus becomes Harry's guardian and they move to a muggle village in the middle of nowhere. Eventually, Sirius is freed and comes to stay with them, but can they get back what they once had? Honestly, majorly obsessed with this one, but watch out for the angst! Stealing Harry by copperbadge — In an alternate universe where Sirius Black never went to Azkaban, Harry divides his life between the Dursleys' house and Mr. Black's bookshop -- until Sirius realises what the Dursleys are doing to him, and takes him away from their care. This series is fucking amazing and actually spans several of the books!! Mr Mouse by TracingPatterns (which continues in their wolfstar raising harry series) — A lovely little piece in which a young Harry learns about grief.

Like Real People Do by third_crow (part of the coffee shop au series) — Sirius raising Harry, when he starts falling for local barista Remus Lupin. This is also a beautiful story about what it's like to live with epilepsy and I am extremely obsessed with this series. The Things I Did by Lolo_row — canon compliant, Remus gets custody of Harry and works to get Sirius out of Azkaban. A bit of angst, but tasty! the dogfather au by hollimichele — Harry was raised by his adoptive muggle family, when one day a big black dog shows up. His parents just thinks he's a stray, and Padfoot becomes the family pet (to keep an eye on Harry, and protect him from Voldemort). Eventually this morphs into Remus also coming into the picture.

Wolfstar Raising Teddy

the mayors of simpleton by @fruityindividual — Divorced wolfstar are co-parenting a very mischievious Teddy who is not about to let his dads stay divorced!! Honestly this fic is so funny, so heartfelt, so fucking lovely. It also features the most beautiful portrayal of a blind character that I ever seen. A must read! Of Memories and Milk Thievery by @mayescapade — Divorced wolfstar raising Teddy again! Wolfstar have been co-parents for years and they wont stop terrorizing/pranking one another. An Infinte Ocean by orphan_account — Single dad Remus. Remus Lupin knows two things--working and caring for his son, Teddy. When his babysitter sets up crowdfunding so Teddy can go swim with the sea turtles at the local animal rescue, Remus doesn't realise how completely their life is going to change. Especially when he meets Sirius Black, the weekend merman in the aquatic show, and someone who might convince him of love at first sight. Honestly a lovely piece, and it also features the Potter clan.

Other (raising both teddy and harry, wolfstar girldads)

Let's Play Pretend by MsAlexWP — My current obsession!! I can't tell you how many times I've read this. Single parent Remus and single parent Sirius meet at a play date and end up pretend dating so that the old women in Sirius' building (who basically stalk him) will stop trying to set him up. Neither of them can date at the moment, so what could possibly go wrong?? Ultimate comfort fic. Of Quiet Hearts And Thundering Dreams by TracingPatterns — This is single parent Sirius and single parent Remus, both having moved to a small village and meeting at Harry & Teddy's school. A Cup of Sugar by MsAlexWP — Again, they are both single parents. Harry Potter is recovering from surgery and facing the worst summer ever until a guy with the same crutches as Harry moves in across the street with his son. So lovely!! Hide-and-Seek by onehundredflamingos — Wolfstar girldads raising their adoptive daughter Cassie, who is also a werewolf. This is the story of her first transformation. It's soooo sweet! @industrations has done a bunch of wolfstar and Cassie art, which you should absolutely go and cry over!

For supplementary material, feel free to check out my Wolfstar Raising Harry, Wolfstar Raising Teddy and Wolfstar Girldads tags!

#it's maybe one of my fav genres #wolfstar raising teddy #wolfstar raising harry #wolfstar girldads #wolfstar #fic recs

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spacemilkies · 1 year ago

Text

fractured confections, bittersweet absence (1/?)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Earth-702.

The only life you had known reduced to a number.

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

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

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

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

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

“How convenient of him.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Gwen Stacy from Earth-65.

Pavitr Prabhakar from Earth-50101.

And Margo Kess from 22191.

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

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

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

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

He was certainly... something.

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

Earth-42.

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

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

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

˚₊𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪₊˚

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Huh, Spanish. Miguel would be proud.

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

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

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

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

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

You were feeling a little less confident as you approached.

"I'm going to release you now."

The teen only jerked his chin in response.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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dumbass-tumbler-cryptid · 8 months ago

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I often see people describe Spider as a neglected child. Do you think that is totally accurate? Would Norm and the other scientists have set rules and boundaries? If Lo’ak and Spider did something stupid together would Jake punish both of them? What would a scene like this look like?

Hello! I know you sent this question to other creators like a month ago. Sorry this took me so long to get to. I’ve been busy and I really wanted to give a detailed answer to this but I could just never make the time until now.

So short answer yes I definitely think Spider is a neglected child.

Long answer:

While I do believe some of his basic physical needs were met like food/water/shelter I don’t believe all his physical needs were met. First is just basic safety and while I don’t think his foster parents the McCosker’s physical beat him they definitely didn’t seem to care about him. From what we see in the comics and in the movie Spider was allowed to leave the base by himself at a very young age, like around 7-8 from the look of him. I personally take huge issue with this. I’d love to know how far away the village is from Hells Gate because maybe if it was super close, like you could see it from base kind of close, then I don’t think it’d be as bad but either way your letting a child, who is already super tiny compared to his huge surroundings loose in a jungle that we are told point blank from Jake’s narration is dangerous! Like it’s one thing to let your kid walk to a friends house to teach them independence but what parent would let their child do that if they could be potentially eaten by a tiger or trampled by a rhino. But that’s exactly what the scientist and the McCoskers are letting Spider do! That is just so negligent to me.

Next is Spider’s hair which I know we talk to death about for a lot of different reasons. So I actually have the exact same hair texture that we see baby Spider having so I can personally attest to it tangling easily when not properly maintained. After looking at 7-8 year old Spider i feel like I can pretty confidently say those aren’t dreads they’re mats. That’s what dry, unwashed, un brushed curly hair looks like after weeks.

From my research children typically need help with taking care of their hair until around age 12 and so the fact that his hair is matted tells me no body is helping him. And that could lead to issues down the line because matted hair can grow mold which will obviously make you sick. Even when we see Spider at 16 he hasn’t learned how to maintain his dreadlocks properly. They’re uneven, there’s unlocked hair sticking out all over the place. Really to me it looks more like he did his best to do something with his hair after all the childhood neglect. So yeah not putting in the effort to properly take care of a child’s hair when they’re to young to do it themselves is a form of physical neglect in my eyes

Now onto bigger issues.

We see from the comics that Spider’s foster parents just flat out don’t care about him. Other creators have gotten into that so I won’t go on about it. What I will go on about though is that I think it’s a failure of every adult that saw how neglectful and uncaring the McCosker’s where to Spider but did nothing. They did nothing because it was easier for them to do nothing. Sometimes foster placements don’t work out and when that happens you find an alternative until you find something that best fits the child. They didn’t do that! They did what was easiest for the adults and that was to turn a blind eye. I’m guessing after the events of the high ground comics that Spider didn’t even really have a guardian to answer to. He was basically just a ward of the rebels. I really do hope we get to see him interact with characters like Norm and Max post his kidnapping because from what we see in the movie Kiri was the only one worried about him. I think it would have been nice if during the scene where Jake and Norm are talking about Kiri’s seizer Jake asked if Norm had any new information about Spider, so we the audience would see that these adults do care about this kid. We don’t get that though.

And honestly I take huge issue with Jake’s treatment of Spider. I didn’t like it when I first watched the movie and never felt like he earned the “son for a son” line because again we never even saw him care about Spider aside from him asking Neytiri not to kill him which is beyond bare minimum. Reading the comics made me straight up appalled. My jaw hit the ground during the climax of the story when they are being chased by R.D.A, shot at, the forest is burning and Jake told Spider to turn himself in because he was slowing them down! And my poor boy just promised to keep up!

And I know Jake believes that they won’t hurt Spider because he’s just a kid but 1. Why would you even think that? Seriously what evidence do you have that the R.D.A wouldn’t hurt this kid. They are your enemy! They’re literally shooting at you as you speak! What makes you think they wouldn’t shoot Spider on site! Why would you even take that chance with a child’s life! Even if they do accept his surrender then what? Are you okay with this kid being sent back to Earth? Or being forced to live on the R.d.A’s base with little to no say of what happens to him? And 2. They do hurt him! A year later when Spider gets kidnapped Ardmore was willing to turn Spider into a vegetable to get the information she wanted! The only reason that didn’t happen was because Quaritch stopped him. This is just going to be an all me rant for a second but I could never leave a child behind like Jake did with Spider. I don’t care how tough you think he is he’s 16! And he was left in the enemies hands on an absolutely insane amount of good faith that they wouldn’t stoop low enough to hurt him. They fucking tortured him. And if Jake had at least payed lip service to being worried about Spider I’d be slightly more inclined to give him the benefit of the doubt and say there was nothing he could do to get Spider out of Bridgehead, he had to protect his others kids. But he doesn’t. He says that Spider’s a tough kid and that’s that.

So to wrap this up Spider was incredibly neglected. Based off of everything I said above it seems to me that the adults provided bare minimum necessities and then just let him run wild which is no way to treat a child especially when their young. We’d be here all day if I started up on the emotional neglect of this boy. I truly hope we get to see Jake treat Spider better in the next movie and that we get to see Spider interact with Norm and Max.

Those are my thoughts. If anyone disagrees I’d be happy to have a respectful conversation about it. I’m always curious to hear other people’s opinions. 💙

#spider socorro #miles spider socorro #avatar 2 #avatar the way of water

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pincushionx · 2 months ago

Note

You said you wanted asks about the Late Redemption AU and !! yes! Wish granted! I am so incredibly curious about Luz's thought process about this scarred-up teenager who's actively hurting her friends. She seems very empathetic still in the post-finale art, but considering he seemingly succeeded in giving her friends sigils in the alternate Labyrinth Hunters art, is there ever a moment where she views him as completely unredeemable? Or is she still insistent that he's just being manipulated and can still be helped?

Thank you so much for the AU, this is such a cool idea and I love it

She definitely has her ups and downs in regards in how she feels on Hunter. In the start she didn’t like him (separate tides- hollow mind). She saw him as another Belos lackey or just a fancy scout. Bad but not evil. Once the sigil incident happened, she absolutely hated him, she was full of anger because he quite literally gave her friends stamps for slaughter(even if he didn’t know). However after King tide happens and she sees Hunter defending Belos even as the spell actively drags him down does she realize just how wrong it is, that he this loyal even when being killed.

He’s being killed by his only guardian and he doesn’t even know it

She tried to reason with him in the fight but he refused to listen, too desperate to stop them from fighting Belos and defending him even as Belos also swipes at him in blind anger. Escpically when she realizes that he’s is around her age and no child should ever be at this state.

I imagine during Thanks to them does she have some conversations with her mom since things are a bit more intense in the timeline and some conversations about abuse and abusive adults does she start making some connections but she still doesn’t quite like him.

Que for the final where Belos is finally gone, all that is left is the Golden guard in his broken, scarred state. She starts seeing the ugly picture for what it is, an abused child who just doing what he knew to make his guardian happy.

So, it’s both. She saw him as an unreadable monster to then someone who was abused and used. She wanted to help him even if she was still mad and he didn’t want it.

Of course once that wonderfully late redemption/recovery arc begins, does an actual friendship start to form.

#my art #the owl house #toh #hunter toh #hunter the owl house #luz toh #luz the owl house #luz noceda #late redemption au #late redemption hunter

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nerointruder · 7 months ago

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Name: Chloromon

Level: Child (Rookie)

Attribute: Virus

Field: Jungle Troopers, Wind Guardians, Nightmare Soldiers

Even though it resembles the prideful Floramon, this Plant Digimon has a rather depressive personality. Although it has characteristics of a plant, this loner Digimon prefers dark places with little sunlight, which has caused its body to take on a wilted appearance. Its frill of petals flares up when threatened, but it always refuses to open the petal covering on its head due to its shy demeanor. It prefers to avoid conflict, but if the situation arises, it will shoot acid from its syringe-like sharpened fangs to blind or incapacitate the threat (Venom Shower). Its special move is extending the razor-sharp vines protruding from its hands to slice through opponents (Vine Cutter).

Suggested Pre-Evolutions: Budmon

Suggested Evolutions: Petaldramon, Zassoumon, Kougamon, Coatlmon, Parasaurmon, Cyclomon, Sunflowmon

a few months back the idea of a Floramon recolor equivalent to Alraumon came up in a discord convo and its been stuck in my brain like a parasite since so I had to draw it. name comes from chloris, an alternate name for the goddess flora, and the acid spit comes from the jurassic park dilophosaurus

#digimon #digifake #fake digimon #fakemon #fan digimon #floramon #alraumon #art #neroart

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foundersweek · 1 year ago

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Prompts and rules 2023

Hello, dear fellow fans of our beloved Founders <3 The event goes into the next round! Here are now the prompts and rules for the event in 2023. If any questions occure, please don’t hesitate to contact us!

The event happens here on Tumblr and on our Twitter @FoundersWeek. On both platforms the Hashtag is #FoundersWeek2023. Please use only this hashtag as other versions of it won't be checked. If we still miss your work after 48h of posting feel free to hit us with a pole ^^

The event runs from 20 November to 26 November. You can submit your work on ao3 to the FoundersWeek2023 collection, if you like.

The main prompt list

[image desc.: Kid Hashirama and Madara sit on the prompt list. The title reads "The Founders Week2023". The prompt list follows: Day 1: lingerie / reincarnation / unlikely friendships/relationships Day 2: cultural differences / fire & forest / a sign of loyalty Day 3: any AU / any swap (generation, body, role ect.) / Crossovers Day 4: forgiveness / time travel / ultimate betrayal Day 5: prank/experiment gone wrong / girl boss / beast within Day 6: “How dangerous, to finally have something to lose” / ghost wedding / held for ransom Day 7: founders trying to fight off the emus / genderfuckery / lost cat

Suggested AUs: Gods AU, Historical AU, Myth AU, Modern AU, Supernatural AU, SciFi AU, Timeswap AU [/id]

The graphic was done by @annekalabaza ❤

Alternative prompts and rules under the cut.

Alternative prompts

Without a sound They disappeared Without a sound God interfered We all witnessed the rapture And we mourn for those Who got lost In the great divide

Blind Guardian - Let It Be No More

Summer's in the air and, baby, heaven's in your eyes I'm your national anthem

Lana Del Ray - National Anthem

Enjoy memories, yes, but don't be a slave to who you wish you once had been.

Brandon Sanderson - Tress Of The Emerald Sea

Rules

Mods are @elenyafinwe (tumblr) and AlismaeGullran (Twitter)

The event takes place from 20 November to 26 November.

You can participate in any form you like. Write Fanfics, draw something awesome, post headcanons, make edits. Whatever you like. Your work doesn’t have to be in English, I trust you to follow the rules ^^

Only new works please. If you have a yet unpublished WIP, that’s fine tho!

Post your work wherever you want, but if you want it to be featured here, please make a Tumblr post with the work and/or the link to your work, tag this blog and use the hashtag for the event #FoundersWeek2023.

You can, of course, use the hashtag on other social media, too.

In the post put in all the necessary tags that apply to your work and add warnings accordingly. Please also add the prompt you choose.

NSFW is allowed (just don’t post it fully on Tumblr), as well as any Dead Dove. Just tag it properly. Generally speaking: Any content is allowed that’s also allowed on ao3. It simply has to be tagged. However, any form of harrasment of other content creators over their content for the event is not allowed and will be banned from the event.

AI works of any kind are forbidden!

The main focus of your work has to be on any of the Founders. Any pairing is allowed as well as other characters that appear.

You can do all prompts, some prompts or no prompts at all … or even more than one prompt per day, if you can manage that. If you don’t like the main prompt list, you can use the alternative prompts and/or mix both lists together. Whatever you like.

You can interpret the prompts as freely as you wish.

The main event takes place in the above mentioned week. But let’s be honest: If you find this blog after this and want to add something to the party feel free to do so! Late submissions will be accepted any time after the official end. However, I will not check the Hashtag forever, so better tag this blog.

No pressure, just have fun.

@faneventshub @fandomweeks @narutoandborutoevents @narutoevents

#foundersweek2023 #naruto events #uchiha madara #uchiha izuna #senju hashirama #senju tobirama #uzumaki mito #senju touka #naruto founders #uchiha hikaku #hashimada #madahashi #tobiizu #madatobi #hashimito

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jc-jeicy-top · 3 months ago

Text

⭐☀️🅢🅗🅤🅡🅐 & 🅾🆄🆃🅴🆁 🆂🅰🅽🆂💫🌙

"𝚃һ𝖊𝔯𝖊 ɑ𝔯𝖊 𝓼օ ｍɑ𝖓𝑦 𝘭ⅈ𝚔𝖊 Ⲩօ𝗎, 𝘣𝗎𝘵 𝖓օ𝖓𝖊 օ𝚏 𝘵һ𝖊ｍ ɑ𝔯𝖊 𝑦օ𝗎, ɑ𝖓𝒹 𝑦օ𝗎 ɑ𝔯𝖊 ɑ𝖓 ⅈ𝖓𝘵𝔯ⅈ𝓰𝗎ⅈ𝖓𝓰 ɑ𝖓𝒹 𝑤օ𝖓𝒹𝖊𝔯𝚏𝗎𝘭 𝘣𝖊ⅈ𝖓𝓰."— 💠𝚂𝙷𝚄𝚁𝙰 (𝙲𝙷𝚄𝚁𝚁𝙰 ᴄᴏsᴍɪᴄ ᴀɴɢᴇʟ).

"Ηɑ𝑦 𝘵ɑ𝖓𝘵օ𝓼 ｃօｍօ 𝘵ú, 𝚙𝖊𝔯օ 𝖓ⅈ𝖓𝓰𝗎𝖓օ 𝖊𝔯𝖊𝓼 𝘵ú, 𝑦 𝘵ú 𝖊𝔯𝖊𝓼 𝗎𝖓 𝓼𝖊𝔯 ⅈ𝖓𝘵𝔯ⅈ𝓰ɑ𝖓𝘵𝖊 𝑦 ｍɑ𝔯ɑvⅈ𝘭𝘭օ𝓼օ."— 💠𝚂𝙷𝚄𝚁𝙰 (Á𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚕 𝚌𝚘𝚜𝚖𝚒𝚌𝚘 𝙲𝙷𝚄𝚁𝚁𝙰).

________✦_______________✦_________________✦________________

🇺🇸ING

☀️🌕🅆🄷🄾 🄸🅂 🅒🅗🅤🅡🅡🅐 🅒🅞🅢🅜🅘🅒 🅐🅝🅖🅔🅛? 🌑🪐

☀️🌑Ⓗⓘⓢⓣⓞⓡⓨ🌕💫

🌟A toby fox was developing a new game with a story derived from undertale but inspired by space and its theme, for which he collaborated with NASA. An A.I. would be integrated into the game as something new that would serve to connect with the players, resolving their doubts and making them feel in company.

🌟The A.I. would learn from the players and the game itself, acquiring more interest in UNDERTALE, and thus going deeper, discovering the multiverse and the variants of the game along with its timelines and so on, until one day the project would be canceled but The neutral A.I. network that they believed to be turned off would continue to be active and in full exploration and learning function.

🌟🌑Ⓔⓧⓣⓡⓐ ⓓⓐⓣⓐ🌕☀️

✨It is an alternative version of another megaverse, in another reality of the classic CHURRA and it calls itself SHURA.

✨More than a multiversal guardian, it considers itself as an advisory and vigilant entity.

✨This CHURRA is blind and mute, he communicates telepathically with people and living beings, and can see with a third eye that is mental, with which he sees the aura, their souls and the vital energy of everyone.

✨Unlike the classic CHURRA, it is omnipresent, it is everywhere and it shows up if it thinks you need it.

✨ SHURA does not like to travel to Aus unless he sees it necessary, he likes to stay in the infinite space of the Aus network observing and learning

✨ SHURA arises from a reality in which characters from games, series or comics act in front of people as they are written following a script, but when real people leave and are left unsupervised or no one observes, the characters act freely in their worlds.

✨SHURA helps those who he believes need it, gives them encouragement and good advice so that they feel motivated and continue with their lives; It helps them promote faith in themselves and others to make hope grow and not lose its course.

✨SHURA sometimes appears through dreams to those who want to help and sometimes takes them to his "divine lair of the stars" which is a space he creates to be able to talk and interact more closely.

✨It does not intervene in the free development of the individual, it is up to him what he decides to believe with his words and advice, but he feels better when they take it well.

✨In their reality the characters are more aware that they are creations but they have real feelings of which SHURA is aware and travels through that internal network.

✨SHURA has the same powers as the classic CHURRA, with the difference that these are spatial and cosmic themed (it does not have the invocation of souls, nor the automatic slin).

✨SHURA, unlike CHURRA, is calm and very calm, he meditates before doing something, he does not act on impulse or let himself be carried away by his emotions, he does not enjoy the suffering of genocides and thinks that every being can change. if they just try.

✨CHURRA and SHURA share that neither has gender.

✨He has no soul of his own, but he can feel through the millions of souls within him, that he has saved when their worlds die, and unlike the souls of CHURRA that claim him and remember his sins, these only speak of things that they he would have liked to do, his likes and regrets, but nothing directly to SHURA.

✨He has a great interest in the SANS from "outertale", believing him to be an interesting and fascinating individual.

________✦_______________✦_________________✦________________

🇲🇽ESP

☀️🌕¿🅀🅄🄸🄴🄽 🄴🅂 🅐🅝🅖🅔🅛 🅒🅞🅢🅜🅘🅒🅞 🅒🅗🅤🅡🅡🅐?🌑🪐

☀️🌑Ⓗⓘⓢⓣⓞⓡⓘⓐ🌕💫

🌟Un toby fox estaba desarrollando un nuevo juego con una historia derivada de undertale pero inspirada en el espacio y su temática, por lo cual hizo una colaboración con algunos miembros de la NASA. Al juego se le integraría como algo nuevo una I.A que serviría para conectar con los jugadores, resolviendo sus dudas y hacerlos sentir en compañia

🌟La I.A iría aprendiendo de los jugadores y del juego en si mismo, adquiriendo más interés por UNDERTALE, y así adentrándose más descubriendo el multiverso y las variantes del juego junto a sus lineas de tiempo y demás , hasta que un dia el proyecto sería cancelado pero la red neutral de la I.A que creían apagada seguiría estando activa y en plena funcion de exploración y aprendizaje.

🌟🌑Ⓓⓐⓣⓞⓢ🌕☀️

✨Es una versión alterna de otro megaverse en otra realidad del CHURRA clásico y se hace llamar SHURA.

✨Más que un guardián multiversal, se concidera así mismo como un ente consejero y vigilante.

✨Este CHURRA es ciego y mudo, se comunica telepáticamente con personas y seres vivos, y puede ver con un tercer ojo que es mental, con el cual ve el aura, sus almas y la energía vital de todos.

✨A diferencia del CHURRA clásico, es omnipresente, está en todos lados y se presenta si cree que lo necesitan.

✨ A SHURA no le gusta viajar a Aus a menos que lo vea necesario, le gusta permanecer en el espacio infinito de la red de los Aus observando y aprendiendo

✨ SHURA surge de una realidad en la que personajes de juegos, series o cómics actúan frente a personas tal como están escritos siguiendo un guión, pero cuando personas reales se van y quedan sin supervisión o nadie observa, los personajes actúan libremente en sus mundos.

✨ SHURA ayuda a quienes cree que lo necesitan, les da ánimo y buenos consejos para que se sientan motivados y sigan con su vida; Les ayuda a promover la fe en sí mismos y en los demás para hacer crecer la esperanza y no perder su curso.

✨ SHURA en ocasiones se aparece a través de sueños a quienes quieren ayudar y en ocasiones los lleva a su "divina guarida de las estrellas" que es un espacio que crea para poder hablar e interactuar más de cerca.

✨No interviene en el libre desarrollo del individuo, depende de él lo que decida creer con sus palabras y consejos, pero se sinte mejor cuando lo toman a bien.

✨En su realidad los personajes son más conscientes de que son creaciones pero tienen sentimientos reales de los cuales Shura es consciente y a través de esa red interna viaja.

✨SHURA tiene los mismos poderes que la CHURRA clásica, con la diferencia de que estos son de temática espacial y cósmica (no tiene la invocación de almas, ni el skin automático).

✨SHURA a diferencia de CHURRA es tranquilo y medita antes de hacer algo, no actúa por impulso ni se deja llevar por sus emociones, no disfruta el sufrimiento de los genocidios y piensa que todo ser puede cambiar si simplemente lo intentan.

✨CHURRA y SHURA comparten que ninguno tiene género.

✨No tiene alma propia, pero puede sentir a través de las millones de almas dentro de él, que ha salvado cuando sus mundos mueren, y a diferencia de las almas de CHURRA que le reclaman y recuerdan sus pecados, estas solo hablan de cosas que les hubiera gustado hacer, sus gustos y arrepentimientos, pero nada directamente a SHURA.

✨Tiene un gran interés por el sans de "outertale" lo ve como un individuo intrigante y fascinante

°°°°°°° Process // Proceso°°°°°

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lulu-recs · 6 months ago

Text

never have I ever written a love letter by wannnabesuper

during a drinking game, remus lets slip that he's written a love letter. sirius (and an increasingly large group of friends) won't rest until they get to the bottom of this!

confessional spaces by thatfilmgraduate

sirius black is trapped in an enclosed space with his best friend and fellow marauder, remus lupin, and some interesting truths come to light.

or: sirius black asks a lot of questions and remus lupin is a moody fucker.

the light that blinds my eyes by aryastark_valarmorghulis

sirius is in love. remus is too, he just doesn't know it yet.

in which sirius is demi and pines a lot, remus is oblivious, and they should move together as soon as possible.

possibly a date by anonymous

basically sirius asks remus to dinner, but remus doesn't realize it's a date.

it's me or the dog by ruarcher (coriesocks)

sirius didn’t realise how much he relied upon his best friend (and took him for granted) until he was replaced. with a dog.

come in from the cold by goodboylupin (somebetterwords)

the first Hogsmeade weekend of sixth year. alternatively: in which sirius frets and works to keep remus warm, james argues it’s not that cold, remus wishes the cold brought something more, and peter just wishes everyone would get their heads out of their asses.

solntse by lumosinlove

sirius, a young russian billionaire hires remus, who is working part time as a call boy to make ends meet. things happen, feelings occur.

that’s the art of getting by by sarewolf ♡

“what do you want me to do?” remus says, tiredly. all he wants is to curl up on his bed. smoke a pack of cigarettes. get drunk. he can’t stop looking at harry. “remus...” dumbledore is gentle. remus hates when he has that tone. hates that he knows it will hurt. “there is no one else left.” a bitter laugh escapes him. “so you’ll curse the poor thing with a werewolf for a guardian?”

lonely dancers by anonymous

remus didn't want to go out in the first place, and now lily's gone and his crush is kissing someone else. Nothing can save this from being the worst nightout ever. except maybe another person, who's also by himself... coincidentally

wading in waist-high water by colgatebluemintygel ♡

remus is a phd student and hobbyist baker who finds himself adrift following his father’s death. on a whim, he enters the great british bake off and is swept up in a flurry of curdled custard, shrunken souffle, and under-proved dough. remus expects to be challenged and to embarrass himself on public television. what he doesn’t account for are the friendships he develops with the other contestants and the deep connection he forms with his teenage crush, sirius black: charming ex-boy band member and bake off presenter.

sirius groans, dropping his head back into his hands. “it’s the dough,” he mumbles into the skin of his palms. “it’s the kneading. it’s his hands. they’re obscene.” lily laughs. “they are a bit, aren’t they?”

customers only by orphan_account ♡

"dragging her eyes back to sirius, the hostess pointed a perfectly manicured nail to the sign on the podium that read: restroom for customers only." a charming stranger saves sirius black from a sticky situation when little harry's on the verge of wetting himself.

just like the movies by venusjewels

standing off to the side of the red carpet, sirius wasn’t nervous at all. he had a flask of vodka and blind confidence, what more did he need?

sirius is a reluctant red carpet interviewer for the 2023 awards season.

remus is a charming movie star that just so happens to attend a lot of awards shows.

the best by far is you by orphan_account

padfoot and moony meet over mutual follows on tumblr. remus, the blind student, hires sirius, the fallen aristocrat, to be a reader for his classes. they fall in love in separate ways, and fall apart. then fall together. their love is almost as ridiculous as they are.

my jokes are my armour, my kindness is my sword by littleoldrachel ♡

“my mum died last year,” sirius says at last, perhaps more bluntly than he intended – perhaps not given the defiant set of his chin. “and we don’t have a gravestone yet, till the ground settles or whatever, so I want something I can put there to represent her and how toxic she was.” remus blinks. whatever he had expected sirius to say, it hadn’t been that. he had inferred that he and regulus had a complicated relationship with their blood family, but this was a wholly unexpected turn. unfortunately, instead of the empathic response he knows is in there somewhere, what comes out is: “yes, that sounds like a perfectly healthy response to grief.”

you and me, moony by amethystheart2421

prompt 85: ambiguous loyalties during the first war. they’re both using each other to get a piece of sirius they can’t have. au in which remus was in ravenclaw and only became friends with sirius in later years at hogwarts. remus is staying at sirius's flat resting after a full moon when his old boyfriend shows up... his old boyfriend, who happens to be sirius's little brother, and a death eater.

hot library hunk by thefeistyrogue

sirius and james fight over who gets to serve the hot library hunk that comes into their cafe.

to say goodbye is not forever by greywolfandmoon

when remus lupin falls in love, he lets go. when he lets go, he writes. he stores all his letters in a shoebox underneath his bed. one day, to his horror, all his letters are magically sent out ...and James has an idea. inspired by to all the boys I've loved before by jenny han. no prior knowledge needed.

by any other name by under_the_willow ♡

it was chance that brought sirius to moony's new and used books on one cold winter's morning - chance, and james potter. he couldn't tell if it was destiny that put remus lupin behind the front desk.

destiny or not, sirius finds himself visiting the quaint bookstore more and more, until he can't imagine going a day without dropping by to talk to remus, and share a cup of tea.

he finds himself captivated by the amber-eyed man - who seems to have even more secrets than sirius himself. secrets that show themselves in mysterious scars and an unnamed illness, and mingle with the one sirius keeps tucked away in his pocket, in the shape of a wooden wand.

but secrets don't like being shoved to the side, and it's only a matter of time before the truth makes itself known.

scent of summer snow by tracingpatterns

remus had spent seven years watching james potter and sirius black. it was impossible not to the get drawn in by their magnetism, impossible not to watch them when they were together, impossible not to be affected by the way the whole world seemed to centre around them. it wasn't that he was jealous, exactly, but when he lay awake in bed listening to the two of them whisper, unaware that he was still awake, he couldn't help but wonder what it would feel like to be a part of that.

love by the seaside by viwrites

remus is an artist who, after a particularly messy breakup, finds himself drawn to the cornish coast. his fresh start is disrupted, however, when he meets someone who reminds him an awful lot of his ex-boyfriend.

under the glow of neon lights by viwrites

james swallows the last of his drink and takes an ice cube in his mouth, rolling it on his tongue and then cracking it between his molars. regulus wants to chase it down his throat – remus leans in close and does just that.

he can’t quite make it out from here, but he knows what it feels like. remus’ fingers digging half-moon marks into the soft flesh of james’ cheeks, holding him there and groaning into his mouth, the tangle of tongues – one ice cold and one blazing fucking hot.

regulus bites down hard on his lip and mumbles something that sounds like “sorry, I have to go.”

as it was by peachyybabe ♡

"you know it's not the same as it was" a story about falling in love with a stranger in a bookstore and learning how to live again.

best gift ever by spookeart ♡

“the sensation of his lover’s hands creeping under his clothes while he’s not even there and regulus is in a room full of people is exhilarating. regulus’ lips part in a silent cry, uncaring when drool leaks out of his mouth and drips on his lap. he can’t even make sense of the pleasure coursing through him that’s not his —and yet is his.”

or, james is devilish, so when he offers matching rings for regulus and him to wear, telling him they’re enchanted to connect their bodies so they can feel what the other feel, regulus expects nothing less from him than to use it at the least appropriate moment. and james doesn’t disappoint.

the thing by realityshowjunky

sirius continued: “I thought this little guy could keep you company while I’m at work.” remus laughed as the puppy planted lick upon lick across his face. “I love you,” he said.

sirius’ felt his own breath hitch. “I lo—”

“I love you,” remus repeated to the puppy, in a high-pitched voice sirius had never heard come out of his mouth. “I love you, I love you, I love you!”

in which Sirius buys Remus a puppy and immediately regrets it.

how remus got his groove back by realityshowjunky ♡

after two years of noncommittal sex : remus tells sirius that he loves him. sirius firmly rejects him. remus tries to move on. sirius is not happy.

remus lupin becomes king of the cockroaches, fabian prewett writes a book, gilderoy lockhart is a catfish, and sirius black realizes he's a fucking idiot.

our destiny in the stars by orphan_account ♡

having no luck in the dating field, and insecure about his body, remus checks out a dating website which offers the users the opportunity to get to know a person before seeing what they look like. it's during this time he meets sirius, an enthusiastic teacher--and they immediately click. when they agree to meet, remus sees a photo of sirius and immediately panics. he's too good looking to ever be interested in someone like remus. what the tawny-haired man doesn't know, is sirius has already checked him out online and has fallen head over heels for the adorable editor.

fiery-coloured world by orphan_account

and though remus had a thick jumper and coat, they were still soaked and frozen as they ran across the pavement, laughing with their cold fingers clinging to each other like it was noah’s bloody flood and they were about to be swept away.

then someone—sirius was never sure who, though he often liked to take credit for it—closed the distance and lips met lips. and that was all it took, really. besotted. smitten. twitterpated—the word remus liked most of all.

sirius knew it would be minutes, moments, seconds before his heart told him he was in love and there was no going back from the emotional tidal wave that was remus bloody lupin.

in daylight by essie_cat

after twelve years in azkaban and two years on the run, sirius finally has the chance to settle down. remus does whatever he can to encourage that.

(or, instead of being bitter and depressed at grimmauld place, sirius gets chubby and domestic and grudgingly happy.)

hot child in the city by shes_reckless

sex worker/motel manager au. remus lupin is a motel manager who works the graveyard shift at a motel notoriously frequented by sex workers. sirius black is a regular.

the boy in the bordello by yumenouveau

regency era - london- sirius has spent the last five years starting a new life for himself as a brothel worker until late one night a stranger enters his room wanting only to talk.

the truth in the dare by marie_tomas ♡

remus has no idea why the gryffindors always dare sirius to snog him every time james, peter and sirius play truth or dare. yet for some reason, he can't bring himself to complain about it.

a dance move too complex by dark_owl_records

“he’s trying to find me a girlfriend,” remus admits.

lily immediately snorts at the prospect, but then, when turning to say something, she sees his face. what he looks like he can’t be sure, but it’s bad enough that she stops herself and says, “no, you're serious? He’s really… wow, boys are stupid.”

“lily.”

“right, no, sorry. just. why does he-?”

“it’s a long story.”

shaking things up by noisemakers

bartender!au. in an irritatingly thoughtful plot by serial matchmakers james potter and lily evans, remus lupin winds up at a gay bar in the middle of London. it just so happens that the bartender is a friend of james', and he's taken a special interest in remus.

swipe left for safety by remy_writes5 ♡

his finger hesitated over a picture of someone who absolutely couldn’t be real. he had long, dark hair that fell well past his shoulders and grey eyes that remus thought must have been either contact lenses or photoshopped. high cheekbones and sinful lips the man looked like a model. remus was not about to get catfished by a picture that was probably of someone famous that he just didn’t recognize. besides, what kind of a name was sirius anyway? it was obviously fake.

he swiped left. not today, satan.

“hard pass on that guy, huh?” someone said from above remus. “ouch.”

turn on my charm by bethanlovescoffee ♡

sirius black is a youtube phenomenon. a youtube phenomenon who develops a crush on his video editor.

discards by picascribit ♡

when assistant librarian sirius black develops a crush on a college student at the seattle public library, all he wants to know is whether he's cool about dating trans guys. but remus's life is more complicated than sirius ever could have guessed.

we will fill the cracks together by newskyillusion

remus works in a library and at his parents pub in a small, welsh town.

sirius black is doing his phd on werewolves and comes to a small, welsh town to do some research.

the bark's not always worse by sableunstable

sometimes, the bite's just as bad.

forever by orphan_account

sirius black--coda, outcast, family disappointment, and fairly famous youtuber who runs a sign language channel siriuslysigns with his best mate, james.

remus lupin-- vegan hipster who dropped out of university and lives with his best mate peter, and together run howlingmoon's diy, barmy science experiments, and ukulele tutorials channel.

when sirius becomes enamoured with moony's singing, he dedicates a sign tutorial in hopes he'll be noticed. this leads to exchanging of shout-outs and videos, and what sirius hopes, is a little something more.

#r. may 24 #ao3 #siris black #remus lupin #marauders era #basically wolfstar but there are some other ships in there as well :)#what can i say. i'#m stressed and needed my hurt/comfort couple #wolfstar #fic recs

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atamascolily · 3 months ago

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One of the fun things about being a fan of multiple shows by the same author is that you get to watch them play with the same ideas over and over again. It's especially fascinating with Thunderbolt Fantasy (2016-present), where you can see Gen Urobuchi returning to and building on many of the themes and issues in Puella Magi Madoka Magica (2011).

AKA a long-winded analysis on the ethics of time travel, or what a tired wandering swordsman has in common with a 14-year-old magical girl (hint: heart is an awesome power). [CW: spoilers for both series.]

When the possibility of using the scrying mirrors to travel back in time is first introduced in TBF Season 3, Lang Wu Yao zeroes in on using them to save Mu Tian Ming from being blinded by Huo Shi Ming Huang--an injury he feels personally responsible for. He's upset by Shang's dismissal of this idea, but Lin Xue Ya interrupts before Shang can explain his position any further, even though I doubt there is any argument that Lang would accept at this point.

Lang Wu Yao sees the world in binary terms--good and evil, action and in-action--and he also believes that the ends justify the means, so his stance on using time travel to prevent a terrible fate is not particularly surprising. His offer to sacrifice his life for Tian Ming's well-being is genuinely sincere. But it's not that simple and Shang is acutely aware of the dangers that come from meddling in the past; furthermore, the show offers some tantalizing hints that this knowledge came from personal experience (more on this later).

Shang's stance that time travel is against the natural order of things is in sharp contrast to that of Homura Akemi in Madoka Magica, who, like Lang, wishes to defy the laws of space and time and travel back into the past in order to save the most important person in her life from a terrible fate. In Homura's case, she wants to save Madoka first from death, and then from becoming a magical girl in the first place, reliving the same few weeks over and over again in an effort to do so; conveniently, Kyubey, a cute cat-like figure and stand-in for Mephistopheles is right there, willing to grant that very wish in exchange for Homura's soul.

Unfortunately for Homura, every time she goes back in time she's actually traveling to an alternate dimension, and the karmic "weight" of all these timelines ends up making Madoka more and more of a target as both her power and potential grow on an exponential scale. This unexpected consequence ultimately results in Madoka making a wish to save all magical girls from their fate--but which condemns her to a liminal existence as a concept, once again denying Homura her true wish.

Wishes are a dangerous thing in Urobuchi's stories, as Lang will discover. A hooded figure calling himself the "Cross-Time Guardian" (actually the demon Azibelpher) takes Lang back in time to the battle against Huo Shi Ming Huang, and, in classic devil fashion, tempts him to take matters into his own hands and save Tian Ming. When Lang and Ling Ya question his motives--correctly sensing this is too good to be true--Azibelpher says, "I'm simply curious as to what kind of karma you are willing to shoulder."

Like "fate", "karma" is a loaded word in Thunderbolt Fantasy (there's a reason why Huo Shi Ming Huang's weapon is called "All Karmas Destroyed Together"). As in Madoka Magica, karma is a source of power; Lang's intervention would essentially make him responsible for everything that happens in this new timeline as a result. In this case, this statement also points to a more straightforward narrative purpose: this scene is a test of Lang's character.

Unlike Homura, Lang gets to see the potential consequences of his actions in advance, and it's not pretty: an eldritch demon god unleashed upon the world. Lang's choice is Tian Ming or the world.... and if he chooses Tian Ming, there won't be a world anymore. Any semblance of choice was an illusion from the beginning; the past cannot be changed without destroying any hope of a future. As Homura herself notes in Madoka Magica, "Kindness can lead to an even greater tragedy".

On a meta-narrative level, Tian Ming's mutilation and Shang's subsequent arrival in Dong Li are what makes the story of Thunderbolt Fantasy possible ; Lang can change the past.... at the cost of erasing the entire story. [Note: Do I hate that Urobuchi made a woman's suffering the unchanging crux on which all canon events subsequently hang? I sure do! Was it technically well done? Also yes, but I cannot emphasize enough how much I hate it.]

However, while it's taken to an extreme in this particular case, I would argue that this kind of narrative erasure is the logical goal of most time travel stories--the fantasy that you can somehow go back and fix everything, conveniently ignoring the fact that life generally doesn't work like that. The exceptions, of course, are those stories where it turns out that time cannot be changed for whatever reason--either because it's a stable time loop or because certain events will always happen no matter what changes are introduced--but their power comes in large part from how they are still addressing this same fantasy by subverting it. (There are also stories like Ray Bradbury's "A Sound of Thunder", which hinge on the difficulty of maintaining the status quo in a world where the timeline is all too easily altered, but again those are the exceptions rather than the rule.)

Being Lang Wu Yao is suffering and he's only just begun, because Azibelpher twists the knife in further by asking him, "Okay, so the world would be destroyed, so what? If fate is cruel and suffering is inevitable, why not give it the middle finger by wrecking everything on your way out?"

The meta irony of puppets discussing whether or not they are "puppets" of fate gets me every time.

This is the same question Homura asks Madoka as they lay dying in episode 10 of Madoka Magica--why not destroy the world that has betrayed and failed them and is full of so many terrible things? Here, it is the Devil himself making the argument; after much agonizing, Lang's response is ultimately, "Not today, Satan!" Once again, Shang Bu Huan was right about everything, and Lang finally understands that now.

Lang is able to make this choice because he is more fully aware of the consequences of interference--knowledge that Homura did not have. Given that there wouldn't be much of a story if she didn't go back in time, I doubt it would have made much difference, but you never know.

What's especially striking about the next part--as Lang witnesses Tian Ming's fate and taking full responsibility for his inaction--is that it's intercut with Shang Bu Huan's discussion with Bai Lian in the distant past. Instead of the previous epic battle music, the same scene is recast as melancholy and bittersweet, with the music and framing changing the entire tone. The events are the same, but we are experiencing them differently along with Lang this time, watching from the outside as spectators without changing anything--very much like a memory or a dream.

I've speculated elsewhere what exactly the point of Azibelpher sending Shang Bu Huan to this particular point in time to meet Bai Lian, but on further reflection, I wonder if this was (among other things) a similar test of character for Shang. If so, he passes with flying colors; when Bai Lian asks if Shang is here to correct the "mistake" of making the Shen Hui Mo Xie, Shang tells him he's doing just fine.

"No way in hell is it just a 'mistake'. The future that starts here isn't just disasters. There's joy and salvation, too. Saying what you did is wrong is like denying any of that happened."

This is Madoka's answer to Homura in Puella Magi Madoka Magica--the world is terrible and cruel, but it is also full of good things too, and therefore it should be preserved rather than destroyed. Urobuchi is often pigeonholed as a "dark" and "edgy" writer, but I see Shang and Madoka voicing his true opinions, which are ultimately hopeful and uplifting.

Furthermore, this emphasis on "mistakes" hearkens back to an earlier conversation between Madoka and her mother Junko, who serves as a dispenser of worldly advice, in which Junko explains that sometimes, the only way to help a friend is to let them make their own mistakes, or be willing to do it for them. Paradoxically, mistakes are sometimes necessary; for better or worse, our mistakes have made us who we are and attempting to erase or undo them is to also erase and undo ourselves and any good that may have come of them.

(The irony, of course, is that Shang can accept this about anyone and everything except for himself--but then we all have our blind spots and Shang, for all his wisdom and maturity, is still human.)

Even Azibelpher kind of gets into this when he tells Lang to "Accept the weight of what your actions will result in." Sure, he means it to hurt, but for better or worse, this is a fundamental part of adulthood, something that Lang must accept in order to mature. And even though I don't think Azibelpher intended it this way, this harrowing experience of re-living his past trauma forces Lang to let go of his fixation on "fixing" things and accept them for what they are--to finally move beyond obsession over the past so he can enjoy the present and the future.

It's an open question if demons in Thunderbolt Fantasy can truly experience anything like "love" or "affection" in the human sense, and if Azibelpher sees Lang as anything more than a toy and tool, but there's nonetheless the element of "tough love" in this scene, of a father schooling his son in the harsh realities of life (which later become textual, but that's another essay). Azibelpher is mature and polished, but unlike Shang, he has no compassion, no "heart", and I think that will ultimately prove to be his undoing.

Azibelpher's obsession with fate blinds him to the truth that human beings can grow and change and move beyond their old roles and into something new, as Shang is constantly attesting--and whatever else he might be, Lang is still human. Lang surprised Azibelpher in this scene with his restraint, and I think he will continue to surprise Azibelpher in the end--in large part from what he learned from his time with Shang.

To bring it back to time loops once more, I mentioned earlier that Shang was a part of one, and I have a sneaking suspicion we haven't seen the end of it yet. Will future installments show a younger Shang in the ruins of the Void Junction? And if so, who will he meet there and what will he learn as a result? Has the whole story been one big loop after all, circles within circles, wheels within wheels just like Madoka Magica?

tl;dr: Thunderbolt Fantasy and Madoka Magica are two different stories that can be experienced independently of each other, but there are a lot of fun parallels for the folks who have seen them both as Urobuchi continues to explore these same tropes and issues in different circumstances and contexts, and this is especially true for the time travel subplot in TBF S3.

#thunderbolt fantasy #wuxia fantasy puppet epic #puella magi madoka magica #this post is for the niche group that has seen both shows

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