#goggles make me feral man

[nanasketchdump]

There's just something about a bitch in goggles

[lordprettyflackotara]

dance w the devil || ticci toby & kate the chaser

smut MINORS DNI 18+. tw: you’ve been kidnapped sorry, weed usage, choking, virgin!toby, boss bitch slightly less feral than cannon!kate, mentions of physical abuse (yk, since you’ve been kidnapped)

You sat in the cold basement, shivering as the concrete scratched against your skin. The chains bonded to your wrist rattled as you shifted uncomfortably, the blinding light of the basement door opening making you cringe. You squinted your eyes, expecting to see the familiar shapes of Masky and Hoodie. The two hell hounds that belonged to the devil, you had decided. You had enough bruises on you to justify your judgment. You were surprised to see two new visitors, ones you hadn’t seen before. One was tall and lanky, orange goggles covering his eyes and a tarnished face mask covering the rest of his face. Beside him is what you assumed to be a woman, her face covered with a similar mask to Masky’s.

Her hands were shoved into her hoodie’s pocket, while the man carried an axe slung over his shoulder. They flicked on the light switch, the light bulb being held by a string above you sparking to life. You narrowed your eyes as you examined them, the two not as in sync as Masky and Hoodie. “H-Hello there!” The man greeted, crouching down to your level. He attempted to caresses your face, causing you to instinctively try to bite him. Your body was completely restrained except for your mouth. This was done purposefully, the hell hounds hoping you’d spew whatever they wanted to know. But you didn’t know what they were talking about at all, leading you to be trapped in the dreaded basement until you spewed up whatever they were looking for. Your teeth clashed together as the man pulled his hand away, chuckling as he looked back at his partner.

“Wow s-she’s almost as f-feisty as you Kate!”

The woman now known as Kate rolled her eyes under her mask. “Shut it goggles,” She hissed. The brunette lifted up his goggles, his chocolate eyes searching yours. You weren’t quite sure what for, your heart pounding as you tried to back away. “Jesus t-they made those p-pretty tight huh?” The man asked, referring to your restraints. You slowly nodded, unsure if the truth would bite you in the ass. He reached forward, assertively grabbing your bound wrist and unlocking it. You watched the metal fall and hit the floor with a clank, your hands instantly shooting to rub your sore wrist. “My names T-Toby, but you can call m-me whatever you want,” He purred. You blinked, attempting to move further away from the brunette. Kate grabbed his shoulder, shoving his backwards. “Shut up you’re scaring her,” She barked. It was apparent to you the two weren’t too fond of one another. It made you question why they decided to come together and not alone.

“Alright i’ll cut to the chase so goggles stops trying to butter you up like a shitty piece of cornbread,” Kate spat. She crouched down to your level, sliding up her mask. If you took away the dried blood splatters and dirt that painted different parts of her face, she was quite pretty for such a feral woman. “We’ve come here with an offer we think you’ll find quite enticing,” She continued. You managed to maintain eye contact with her, her rough voice somehow soothing to you throughout the terror. “You see kid, Toby’s a little virgin with no woman experience and you can bet your sweet ass i’m not going to be a test subject,” Kate went on. You felt your eyes widened as you knew where this was going, instantly trying to use your freed hands to back away. “Nuh uh, absolutely no fuckin way,” You snapped. Toby went to intervene, Kate’s hand stopping him. It was her silent way of telling him to give her a second. “Hold that thought, let me finish,” She said. Your eyebrows furrowed as you tucked your knees to your chest.

“Toby here can just guess how to fuck a girl. But foreplay? He doesn’t know shit. You let me teach him how to make a girl cum and we’ll let you spend some time in the sunshine,” She told you. You couldn’t hide the sight of your face lighting up. “You’ll let me go outside?” You asked. Toby tried to approach you again, both of them crouched down and to your eye level. Kate cut him off before he could talk, knowing her pitch landed. “It’ll be supervised of course, but you look like you could use some vitamin D,” She clarified. The thought of seeing raw and bright sunshine filled you with joy, your feet aching to touch the grass outside. It was hard to recall the last time you had been in the suns warmth. It was a miracle the hell hounds let you use the bathroom in peace. You began to agree, the realization of your filth occurring to you. “I’m uh, not the cleanest though, I don’t know,” You answered hesitantly. Kate delivered Toby a wicked grin, one that sent a chill down your spine.

“Why don’t we get you a bath kid?”

You were hesitant to undress in front of the duo, the bathroom much cleaner than the basement. “This is mine and Jane’s personal bathroom. You’re welcome kid. The majority of the residents here are gross,” Kate said, noticing your gawking. You took that as your cue to undress, shoving your shirt over your head. Glancing at yourself in the mirror you hardly recognized yourself, having lost weight dramatically and your cheeks hollowed. Toby turned on the water, checking the temperature to ensure it was nice and warm. He couldn’t help himself from staring at you as you awkwardly stood there naked, avoiding his assertive gaze. Kate pressed up against you, her breath hot against your ear. “Don’t worry kid he’s just admiring,” She cooed. Her fingertips traced over a bruise Masky had given you, the skin becoming a dark purple. “Damn, Masky got you good huh?” She muttered to herself. It was then Toby extended his hand, guiding you towards the bathtub. Kate went around him, pouring some bubble bath into the tub to create soap.

The inviting scent of vanilla flooded your nostrils, putting you slightly at ease. You swallowed as you took his hand, allowing him to guide you into the bath. You were shaky as you sat down, the waters warmth causing you to let out a relieved sigh. It was only when Kate sat on the edge of the tub the reality of the situation came crashing back down. Your eyes fluttered open at the sound of a lighter, fear washing over you. “Relax, this is more for you than it is for me,” Kate said casually. The familiar smell of weed clashed with the vanilla, your eyes watching her take a deep inhale. “I-Is this really n-necessary?” Toby asked. Kate rolled her eyes, handing the freshly lit joint to you as she exhaled. “Do you want her relaxed or not? You can’t make a girl cum if she’s scared of you. Unless she’s into that,” Kate replied. You tried to flick the water off of your finger tips as you took the joint with a shaky hand. “Are you into that?” Kate added, glancing at you. You nervously inhaled the joint, hoping whatever they laced it with would cause you to not remember this humiliating ritual. “N-Not on the first date no,” You sputtered, coughing as you exhaled.

Kate grinned at the sight, Toby kneeling beside the bathtub. You went to hand it back to her, causing her to shake her head. “I think you may need that. Let’s get on with it so goggles here can get his rocks off. Open your legs,” She commanded. You did as instructed, Toby eagerly shoving his hoodie sleeve up to his elbow. He used his right hand specifically, your fearful gaze not failing to notice his left was covered in bandages. You nervously inhaled the joint as Toby’s hand dipped into the water, awkwardly cupping your cunt. “Alright goggles you know where the clit is right?” Kate asked. You avoided eye contact as your face became red, the smoke leaving your lips. Toby rolled his eyes, cockily placing his thumb on your clit. “Y-Yes Kate i’ve seen p-p-porn,” He quipped. Kate glanced at you, finding your flushed face quite cute as you stiffened in the tub. “Alright genius go ahead and rub slow circles around it, get her to loosen up a bit,” She instructed. Without arguing he listened, causing you to unexpectedly whimper. Your body responded well to his touch to your surprise, your hesitation floating away with each full circle he did. “Good job, now go ahead and put a finger in there. You needa make sure she can hypothetically adjust to your size. Not that I think there’s much to worry about,” Kate guided. With his spare hand Toby playfully slapped her leg, before doing as instructed.

This time you groaned, feeling his single digit exploring your walls. “Hear that goggles? Thats what we wanna hear. Add another one,” Kate continued. You felt a slight stretch as he added in a second finger, your walls clinging to him. “Now do a scissoring motion,” Kate added, accepting the joint as you passed it to her. You could feel the drug swirling around your lungs, your body relaxing and becoming content in the tub. “A s-scissoring motion? T-that sounds fuckin s-stupid,” Toby bickered. You tried to grind your hips against the brunettes hand, your core now throbbing with desire and desperation. “Do you see how desperate she is goggles? Get with the program. Jesus, nevermind. Just curl your fingers,” Kate sighed, before inhaling the joint. You gasped as he did so, curling perfectly against your g spot. You involuntarily moaned his name, becoming even more embarrassed once you had realized what you had done. “See goggles? Thats what you’re supposed to hear. Go faster,” Kate ordered. Toby seemed to understand, his own cheeks turning pink as he curled them faster inside of you.

Your gummy walls came to life, clinging onto his slender fingers as he abused your g spot. You gripped the sides of the tub, the high only increasing the euphoria the awkward brunette was providing. He could feel his cock growing harder in his pants, tucking his bottom lip in between his teeth. Your moans bounced off the walls of the bathroom, the sound so sinful you refrained from thinking of anyone hearing it. “There we go, now she’s starting to loosen up. Keep rubbing the circles. That’ll push her over the edge,” Kate instructed, continuing to smoke the joint as she watched the pornographic scene unfold. Once Toby had the green light it made him go faster and harder, abusing your g spot with his fingers as he watched you come undone for him. Your eyes landed on his, the two of you entranced with the other as he finger fucked you. “F-feel good?” Toby asked. You licked your dry lips, forcing yourself to form a coherent sentence. “So good, please don’t stop,” You whined, his fingers relentless as he played with your cunt.

You could feel the knot in your stomach tighten, your knuckles turning white from gripping the sides of the tub so hard. “You see goggles sometimes she’ll need a little extra push to cum. Let me help,” Kate offered. You watched her flick what was left of the joint aside, before her pale hand wrapped itself around your neck. You audibly gasped, your gaze flickering to her. “Nuh uh kid. Don’t look at me. Look at him while you cum on his fingers like the good little slut you are,” Kate hissed. You whined as her fingers restricted your airway, your vision seeing spots and stars as your hips grinding against Toby’s hand. You tried to obey Kate’s command, maintaining eye contact with Toby as your orgasm crashed down over you. Your vision went white, your thighs trembling and splashing the water as you came. Your thighs attempted to shut, Toby’s hand refusing to leave your cunt. Kate chuckled as she released your throat, allowing you to breathe fully. As you inhaled the duo exchanged looks before returning their gaze to you.

“You didn’t think that was it did you? Goggles needs a full lesson and that was just the start up.”

[slutoru1207]

No Goggles Mark x Hero!Reader

as requested <333

warning: Villainous Obsession, Fighting, Angst, Tension-Filled

You’d fought Mark before—your Mark. The one who wore his mask like armor, his movements calculated, precise. The Mark of this dimension, the one Cecil had sent you after, wasn’t like that.

This Mark, the one without goggles, was unhinged.

You didn’t have time to dwell on what made him this way. All you knew was that he needed to be stopped. That was your job. Your fists clenched, your heart pounded, and the wind howled past your ears as you launched forward with everything you had—superspeed turning you into a blur as you struck.

And he just stood there.

Mark tilted his head, smirking as he let you slam into his chest with the force of a truck. The impact cracked the pavement beneath him, the shockwave rippling outward. Yet, he barely stumbled.

“Oh, fuck, I missed this.”

His voice was husky, almost affectionate, like a lover’s murmur in the dark. Your stomach twisted.

Without hesitation, you darted back, reappearing behind him in a flash. You swung—a sharp, precise hit to the ribs. He let it land. Then another, and another. His arms remained behind his back, his body relaxed as if this were some casual warm-up.

“You’re faster than you used to be,” Mark mused, lips curling into something feral. “Or maybe my baby always had it in them?”

Your blood ran cold.

His baby.

Your breathing hitched, but you forced yourself to push past the spike of nausea curling in your gut. “I’m not yours.”

Mark chuckled, finally moving. His hand shot out, catching your wrist mid-swing. He didn’t squeeze—he caressed it, fingers brushing over your pulse like he was savoring the feeling of your skin against his.

His eyes, sharp and too knowing, traced your face like a man reunited with something precious. “No,” he said softly. “Not yet.”

Your knee snapped up toward his stomach. He let it hit. It was like striking a mountain.

He barely even exhaled.

Your teeth gritted as you shot backward, hands sparking with energy as you prepared to strike again. You weren’t going to talk to him. You weren’t going to listen.

You were going to end this.

Mark’s smirk widened, and he spread his arms, still making no effort to fight back. “Come on,” he purred. “Show me how much you missed me.”

You hated that he sounded so genuine.

part 2

[my-name-is-heartache]

let me see you

riddick x afab!reader

NOT MY GIF! NOT MY CHARACTER!

Warnings: juicy smut, no use of yn, not mentioned so you can choose to ignore this but they are married

No part two

you fumbled with the lock as you rushed inside your apartment. The lock wasn't a hard one, the thing that made it difficult was the man at your neck leaving a hot trail along your shoulder.

You almost dropped the key in your haste, but quickly fitted it in the lock when teeth sunk into your neck.

Turning the key you both stumbled inside slamming the door behind you as he pressed you up against the wood.

his hands traveled up your sides under your shirt, the left cupping your breast the other unfastened your bra.

As soon as he unfastened it he pulled your top off dragging your bra after.

The cool air caught you off guard but his bare chest quickly replaced the air as he picked you up by your waist.

He continued sucking and biting as he pulled off your trousers and panties. His following after.

Soon you were both lying on your bed groping and kissing as you ground against his erection.

The darkness of the room was the only thing hiding you, although his goggles had long since been discarded and his silver eyes glimmered in the faint stream of light from the window.

He lined his shaft up with your entrance and slowly pushed inside, both of you moaning.

Soon he was balls deep in you, and he started moving the feral desire restricting him from coherent thought.

Wet sounds filled the room as he pumped into you.

His hands gripping your waist like a vise he took your left nipple into his mouth rolling it between his teeth, making you moan and gasp.

"look so beautiful like this," he murmured and you barely heard him. Glancing down at him in the dark the only thing you could see was his eyes luminescent against the black.

"wanna see you too!" You mumbled breathlessly.

Although you instantly regretted it when he froze pulling out of you making you whine in protest.

Then he was gone, you could hear his distant footsteps from the hall.

Then nothing, suddenly the lights flicked on and there he stood in the doorway with his goggles pulled back over his eyes, his cock still erect and dribbling precum.

"fuuuu-" you moaned warmth gathering in your belly as he slowly walked back over to you. Slotting himself between your legs.

"this better?" He asked biting your thigh as he pushed your legs up against your chest.

You nodded furiously as he slid his cock back into your cunt, your gummy walks squeezing around him. Both of you crying out in pleasure.

"what can't talk? I mean I knew I was good," riddick chuckles licking a stripe along your jaw, making you whimper.

You feel a familiar tightening in your abdomen as riddick continues to pound you into the mattress.

He presses your legs tighter against your chest and his cock grazes your g-spot making you moan and claw at his back.

"fuck," he moaned as you tightened around him. "So close doll."

You tried to tell him you were close but a particularly hard thrust sent you over the edge moaning and shaking as he fucked you.

Hot liquid met your finger tips as you dug at his back. Arching up off the mattress you clung to him as he came filling you with his hot seed.

"fuck doll," he grit his teeth and kissed up you neck but you stopped him.

"shit," you swore desperately pressing against the claw marks as they oozed blood. "Sorry."

"don't be it was hot," he smirked and stood making sure your legs were wrapped tightly around his waist before he turned the lights off removed his goggles and turned on the shower.

You simply scoffed and shook your head before your mouth attached to his and you let yourself get lost on the feeling of the warm water on your skin and his lips on yours.

[crepe-of-wrath]

smutty scarf-ish Shouta Saturday

notes/warnings: 18+; fem reader; general smutty behavior

On some of the many occasions that you found yourself being flattened against some sort of surface by your boyfriend Shouta, you had wondered if, rational and efficient man that he was, he intentionally approached sex in a way that allowed it to double as physical hero training.

Not that you were complaining if he did...

Surely there was no woman in the entire country who spent as much time hoisted up and pressed into walls and doors as you. Shouta was not one for variety, which, you supposed, he didn't really have to be, given that he left you a quivering, sobbing mess of pleasure every single time. Nor was he a subtle man: thanks to his goggles, he'd never really learned to school his eyes, and a sharpened, predatory gaze was his obvious tell.

Not that the advance warning mattered--you were never, ever quick enough to give him a good game of chase. It was not a challenge for him to wrap you in that scarf of his (oh darn!) and drag you toward him. He would only release you after you promised to be a good girl and obey whatever filthy command--"Take off your fucking panties" or "Strip faster" were some of his favorites--struck his fancy. Then, while your head was still swimming from the absolute hotness of his voice, he would grab you and lift you up, always with the order:

"Wrap your legs around me. Now."

How could you refuse?

He'd hold you up with just one arm and his upper body while he undid his own pants. You knew that he would have taken the time to prepare you if actually necessary, but you were always soaked for him at this point and, truth be told, you loved how Shouta just fucking took you with no nonsense and no fuss.

When he was like this, you were his cute little doll: your only job was to keep your legs wrapped around him and to grab onto his incredibly hot and muscular back while he did all the work. And it really was a hell of a workout. Aizawa would grunt and sweat as he thrust into you in the most animalistic way, achieving an absolutely feral pace as his cock hit you at just the right angle, finding all the most pleasurable places inside of you, making you feel deliciously, impossibly full.

He was always merciless, relentless, unyielding: you were guaranteed to be pleasured more times than your poor little mind could count, often to near-overstimulation.

When Shouta was done with his exertions, his switch always flipped: he would gently ease you down, cradling you in his arms, letting you entangle your fingers in his pretty dark hair, kissing your neck gently, muttering little devotions that made him blush to say, and reinforcing that you were the luckiest woman on earth.

[monstersandmaw]

Female knight x lady - part one?

Disclaimer which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

I've had this knocking around for ages, and I don't know if I'll continue it, but I fell in love with all the characters anyway and figured someone might enjoy it. It was based on a prompt that I can't find now, but ran along the lines of: "Female knight looking for a Lady to serve. Experienced in monster slaying."

Wordcount: 4149 Contents: Buff, tough, butch knight seeks employment from a local lady, featuring the ugliest horse in all the land, a dog named Muffin, and a brother who just wants his sister to be happy and safe... Fleetingly suggestive moments, but nothing super nsfw.

“Here goes nothing,” she sighed as she drove the nail into the village noticeboard with the pommel of her dagger and stepped back to look at her chicken-scratch writing. “Fuck,” she added as she glowered at it and saw the way her hand had smudged the bottom of it.

“Female knight looking for a Lady to serve. Experienced in monster slaying. Find me at the Bleeding Goat until the day after the Spring Equinox.” At least, if she squinted it still looked like ‘Spring Equinox’. If she didn’t, it looked like ‘Stink Jurybox’ or even ‘String Fairyfox’.

“Fuck,” she said again, and turned away. It would have to do. She didn’t have any more paper anyway.

And with that, she led her enormous war horse down the road towards the Bleeding Goat inn. Maggot was a vile mare by anyone’s estimation, but Vika loved her dearly. Built like a brick shithouse, with a shaggy, yellow-ish white coat, pink eyes, and a propensity for biting anyone who came within a three yard radius of her, the mare wouldn’t have won an equine beauty contest if she was the last horse in the land, but she was loyal to Vika, and could keep up a steady trot for days without breaking a sweat. She made a great windbreak too, if the need called for it, and her hooves were the size of a large buckler shield. Once iron-shod, they were lethal when she reared up or lashed out.

The ostler at The Bleeding Goat almost didn’t take her.

“Size of that beast,” he muttered as Vika led her into the fresh stall. “Looks like it might eat one of my donkeys whole if I turn my back!”

“She won’t trouble the others if they don’t trouble her,” Vika growled down at him.

“If you say so,” he said, giving her the once-over too as he looked back over his shoulder at her.

At six foot three, with broad shoulders, thick, wild, dark brown hair that resisted almost every attempt at combing, a jaw like an anvil and a glare to make a dragon nervous, Vika was only distantly aware of the little man, the way a lion might briefly take note of a mouse in the grass.

“Like horse, like rider,” he muttered as he shut the door on Maggot’s stall. He reeled backwards and tripped over his own heels when Maggot lunged for him, teeth bared, red eyes rolled to show the whites and her lopsided, wolf-bitten ears pulled right back against her matted mane. “Fucking hell,” the ostler yelped as he scrabbled to his feet. “Look after it yourself!”

“Suits me,” she said with a shrug. “You never gave me the chance to offer.”

“Bitch,” he spat as he slunk out of the stable yard, nursing a bruised backside and a wet patch where he’d fallen on the muddy ground.

“That’s ‘Dame’ to you!” Vika yelled after him. When he stopped and lurched back around to goggle openly at her, she offered him a cold, feral grin and tapped the pattern of embroidered lilies and swords on her padded brigandine with her thumb. “Dame Vika of Sharkshoal Point.”

“Right. Sorry, m’lady. Ma’am. Dame…”

She snorted and turned away just as Maggot whickered in a way that meant she was thoroughly amused with her own antics. Vika poked her in the chest and she stepped back from the stable door to let her owner in, and with practised movements that felt almost meditative, she had untacked the horse and rubbed her down with a handful of straw. The bran mash and oats she’d paid for were brought to her by a trembling stable lad who had stared up at her from over the stable door with wide eyes until Maggot had neighed with soft, enquiring interest and he’d practically flung it over the door and bolted for the kitchen door of the inn. Anyone might have thought Maggot was a roaring dragon by the way he’d reacted, but it was a common enough occurrence that neither mare nor knight paid it any mind.

Vika spent three days at the inn.

She took the time to sharpen all her numerous blades, not just the greatsword she usually kept sheathed on Maggot’s tack, and she even managed to acquire a needle and thread to darn up a few slashes in her padded brigandine. Her needlework wouldn’t have passed muster in the house of a lady, but delicate embroidery wasn’t the goal. She could make two pieces of fabric meet and stay together well enough, and that would have to do. She could also sew up a person if push came to shove, and she bore the scars of her own neat stitching in a number of places about her body as proof.

On the fourth day, while the lively little town was setting up for the Spring Equinox celebrations, a man entered the tavern’s common room and looked around, asking for the ‘female knight’ who’d placed the advert on the board.

She tensed but let the scene play out, watching as the cute serving girl flushed and pointed across the room at her.

The man turned and cocked an eyebrow when he looked Vika up and down, but he thanked Ella and wove his way carefully between the tables. He was wearing the practical garments of a labourer, with a long tunic that covered his hips and a belt around the waist, but the fabric was far finer than any Vika had ever clapped eyes on, and his fur-trimmed cloak looked soft enough to swaddle a baby. His boots were worn to the point of comfort, but not falling apart, and at his hip he carried a slender sword with a silver pommel.

“Forgive the intrusion,” he said with a polite incline of his head and an accent that betrayed him as nobility as surely as the gold stitching on his scabbard. “But are you the knight who placed the advertisement on the noticeboard? You’re looking to serve a lady?”

“I am,” she said, blunt and direct as ever. “Vika,” and she stuck out her hand to him.

He shook it without hesitation and revealed a strong, firm grip. “Lord Roland. Brother of the Lady Elayne Drummond,” he added with a friendly twist of his lips.

He was attractive, for a man, with big, brown, puppy-dog eyes and russet brown hair that fell in easy waves around his ears to brush the fur of his cloak. He had a short beard that was well-maintained, and his skin had the healthy glow of one who had never missed a meal a day in his life and spent much of his time out of doors.

“May I sit?” he asked, eyeing the chair opposite hers across the table.

She glanced down at the throwing knife she’d been in the process of sharpening, and at the black grime that coated her fingertips and around her nails from the oil and the whetstone, and felt a touch of shame beside his immaculate appearance, but she nodded all the same. “Sure. Make yourself comfortable. Can I get you something to drink?” she offered.

He smiled at that and nodded. “The ale here is the best in town,” he said, looking over his shoulder and beckoning over the serving girl with dark eyes and curly, black hair.

“M’lord?” Ella chirped and then shot Vika a smile. She’d flashed her the same smile on Vika’s first night, and again when Vika had made it clear in which room she was staying, should the young woman feel like joining her when she’d finished work. Ella had, and she’d fallen apart with the same glorious light in her eyes under Vika’s mouth and with her fingers buried deep inside her. They’d not met since, but they’d been easy in each other’s company ever since.

They ordered their drinks, and Roland turned back to Vika, resting his forearms on the table. “I suppose I should ask the reason you’re placing advertisements on public noticeboards instead of serving with the king, or even the knight who gave you your title to begin with.”

“A fair enough question,” she shrugged. “He died. Of old age, mind you. I served Gwilym of Sevenoaks from the time I was first raised to the order until two years ago. After his death, I decided to travel. Found myself here, and decided it was time to find myself a new place to roost.”

 “Your advertisement said you’ve slain monsters…?” he asked just as their tankards arrived.

“Thanks,” Vika murmured to Ella as she slid it across the table to her, and then looked up at Roland and shrugged. “Yeah. But nothing that didn’t deserve it first, you know? There was some sick fuck who was kidnapping maidens to feed to a dragon, so I went to the dragon and found out what was really going on, challenged the fuck to a duel, he ran, I put an axe through his skull before he’d cleared the trees. Then there was a vampire that had gone feral back near Reaver’s Canyon, and she refused to let me chain her up til the bloodlust faded. Went into full shift, came at me, and went for my neck —” she bared the side of her throat to Roland where the skin was puckered. “Near tore me open with her fucking claws, but I staked her and that was that. Cauterised it with my own dagger. Nearly fucked up the temper on it too,” she added as an afterthought.

Roland cleared his throat and shifted in his seat, and she wasn’t sure if he was impressed or uncomfortable. Again, that wasn’t an uncommon reaction for folks to have to her.

“Right. Well, you clearly know what you’re doing…” he said in his clipped, aristocratic tone. “I do have one more question.”

“Ask away,” she said and drained a third of her tankard in one go. “Ah, fuck me, you’re right. That is good.”

“Right,” he chirped again, shuffling slightly in his seat. “My sister is… Well… She’s… She’s a lady… you understand…”

“Sisters of Lords usually are,” Vika growled. “What’s your point?”

“Quite, but… while your… um… your deeds are certainly impressive — and if you say you served with Sir Gwilym, I can’t argue that he knew good character when he saw it — I must say that your language is… uh…”

“Unbecoming of the knightly order?” she said. “Don’t worry. I can hold my tongue when I have to. I’m just tired and a bit run down. I apologise. I can watch my mouth, if it offends the lady.”

Roland blushed. “You know, it probably wouldn’t offend ‘the lady’, if I’m honest,” he sighed. “It’s just… Well, you understand. Decorum and all that.”

“Yeah, I get it. So is there an opening at the castle or not?”

He nodded. “I think you’ll fit in just fine, but as a formality, I’d like to extend a trial period to you.”

“Oh, Roland,” she grinned over the rim of her tankard. “Never give a knight the challenge of a trial.”

His answering smile went all the way to his big brown eyes, and he raised his own tankard to her. “I look forward to meeting you in the lists, Dame Vika.”

She snorted and drained her ale. “Ready when you are. Just need to grab my horse and my gear.” Roland slid two coppers onto the table and she frowned. “Thought I said I’d pay?”

“I’m the one interviewing,” he shrugged as he stood and made his way past Ella to the door. “You can leave a tip if you like.”

“Oh, I already tipped her,” Vika purred, sliding a silver coin into Ella’s palm while the young woman blushed prettily and tried to hide a smirk behind a dip of her head. “Bring my saddlebags down to the stables, love? They’re all packed up in my room,” she asked before following him towards the stables.

A magnificent black palfrey, still wearing his gleaming tack, stood in the stable next to Maggot’s, staring wide-eyed and stock-still at the mare with a look of abject horror on his face so comical that Vika guffawed when she saw him.

“That’s…your horse?” Roland asked as he saw Vika hang her arms over her mare’s stable door and dangle her hands in a ‘come here’ gesture at the mare.

“Yeah,” she sighed. “I know. Before you say it, we’ve heard it all before. But she’s everything to me, alright? Wouldn’t trade her for a high-stepping prancer like that for the world.”

Roland’s horse snorted, offended.

“Fair enough,” he said, and swallowed thickly. “Come on, Lancer.”

Vika rolled her eyes and hefted her own saddle off the rack near the door and slung it over the stable door. She tacked her mare up in silence and led her out into the yard to mount up after Ella brought out her saddlebags and Vika winked at her just to watch her blush again. “Thank you, love,” she said. Damn, but the girl was pretty.

Ella rested her hand boldly on Vika’s thigh as she looked coyly up at her and said, “It’s been a pleasure, m’lady.”

The ride to the castle took twenty minutes, and passed through some of the loveliest countryside Vika had ever seen. Deer scattered from a nearby field into the oak and beech trees on their right, and as they urged their horses into a canter, Maggot threw in a little buck of happiness and Vika laughed, patting her neck as she sat it with familiar ease.

“I don’t mean to be rude,” Roland said as they continued to canter, his palfrey slightly in the lead and looking wary about the lumbering beast a pace or two behind him, “But how did you come by a horse like… that?”

Vika looked down at her mare’s boulder neck and shoulders and sallow, flaxen mane, listening to her dragon snorts as she heaved up the hill. It sounded like a hell of a lot of effort, but she could outlast any fancy racer once the quarter mile marker had been passed. She wasn’t fast, but hell, she had endurance.

“Saved her from a slaughterhouse,” Vika called above the wind in their ears. Her own long hair streamed behind her, probably tangling into an even worse bird’s nest, but she couldn't have cared less after days cooped up in the tavern. She’d expected to have her advertisement ignored, and simply to move on while the town celebrated equinox, but this was infinitely more attractive.

Roland’s horse put on a sudden spurt of speed, nudging from canter to a ground-chewing gallop, but Maggot just ploughed on at the same stubborn canter, pounding her great hooves into the soil until Roland sat back in the saddle and his fancy prancer slowed with a frustrated toss of his head. “A slaughterhouse?” he asked.

“Yeah. They thought she was far too ugly to make a destrier, and too mean to make a carthorse. I took one look at her and bought her. She was a year old at the time, and already built like a siege engine. She could teach mules about being stubborn too.”

“Something I sense you two have in common?” he said, and because he said it not unkindly, Vika laughed.

“You got me there,” she said with another laugh. “So what’s your sister like? And why is she looking for a female knight, specifically?”

He slowed Lancer to a brisk trot, and Vika nudged Maggot up beside him, instinctively tugging the reins to one side when Maggot went to bite the destrier’s glossy, black rump on the way past.

“Ah, none of that,” she barked at the horse, and for once, the mare listened, plodding along like an aged plough horse.

“Elayne is…” Roland began, and then faltered, scrubbing his hand over his face. “She’s beautiful, educated, beloved…” he said, and Vika frowned. When he looked askance at her, he sighed and the weight of it dragged his shoulders down with it. “She’s miserable. Our father… well, he loved her more than anything, but he kept her penned in… like a bird in a cage. She can insult you in about fifteen different languages, but she’s got no experience of any of the places where they speak them. Not even of our own country, really.”

“Sounds lonely,” Vika offered, and not without some sympathy. She’d travelled, and she’d met her fair share of courtly folk before. It wasn’t all it was made out to be.

Roland nodded. “Yes. I think… now that father’s dead, she’d like to see something of the world.”

Vika raised her eyebrows. “And you want someone to go with her?”

“Precisely. We have contacts all across the land,” he said. “She’d never want for a place to stay, but it’s the in-between that worries me. There’s no disguising we’re a wealthy family, and if someone figured out who she is, she could be taken for ransom, or harmed, or… It doesn’t bear thinking about. I can’t go with her because someone would have to run our estates in her absence.”

“She manages that now then?” Vika asked and he nodded.

“Yes. Father taught her everything, and, to my shame, I never had much of a head for it; not the way she does. She’s a natural. I can manage though,” he added, cheeks heating. “It’s not like it’d fall apart completely without her, but… yes. She’s the one who manages the day to day of the castle and the estate finances.”

“I’m surprised she’s not got suitors lining up from the castle gates to Southport,” she snorted.

“Oh, she has,” he laughed.

“None of them good enough?”

Again, Roland barked a laugh. “Seemingly not. Look —” he said, and pointed with his gloved right hand as they rounded a bend in the road and the trees drew back a little way. “That’s Crow’s Nest.”

Vika followed his gesture and spotted the dark castle on the hill easily enough. “Impressive,” she murmured.

“Think your ugly mare can beat my Lancer to the courtyard from here?” he asked.

Maggot was already lurching forwards into a determined canter before Vika had processed the question. “What did I tell you about knights and challenges?” she yelled over her shoulder at him as they took off with an ungainly jolt.

Lancer, of course, was off like a hound after a hare a second later, his silky tail held high as an officer’s plume, but after a mile, he began to slow while Maggot just thundered on like a boulder down a mountain. Vika just sat forward a little in the saddle and gave the mare her head to set her own pace. They overtook Lancer on a corner by an oak on the last stretch and Vika yelled, “I hope they let us in without you, Prancer!”

“You’d just batter down the gates anyway!” he roared back, laughing.

Maggot won by a country mile, though mostly through grim determination and grit than anything else. Her sides heaved by the time she got to the barbican gate, and Vika was forced to sit back and ease her into a trot before the archers on the gate started to shoot at her.

Lancer appeared a few minutes later, his deep, black chest rimed with foam and his nostrils flared wide while Vika was still walking Maggot in a lazy circle just out of bow shot, and Roland shook his head. “Damn,” he laughed. “I’d love to see Maggot race Crocus.”

“Crocus?”

“My sister’s gelding. Don’t ask about the name — something to do with saffron and the fact that he’s probably the most orange horse you’ll ever lay eyes on. Open the gate!” he added in the same breath, and the portcullis rumbled up.

“Bit extreme, isn't it? We’re not exactly at war…” Vika muttered as the ironwood frame ground upwards into the bastion above and Lancer ambled in like he was the lord of the castle, not Roland. Maggot eyed the murder-holes with deep suspicion, and then followed the palfrey inside.

Roland shrugged. “There’s already been one attempt on both my sister’s life and my own since our father’s death,” he said, and all the jollity of the race evaporated from his handsome, boyish features. “Can’t be too careful.”

“Shit,” she hissed. “I can see why you’re not celebrating the Equinox here,” she commented, looking around and finding the castle bailey empty of all the accoutrements of celebration like a mummers’ platform and festive stalls.

“Not this year. We’re funding the festivities in the town though,” he said, “To make up for it. But we’re not hosting anything here. Elayne is devastated,” he added as he sprang lightly down from Lancer’s saddle and loosened the girth while a stable hand strode over to greet them. “And very angry with me.”

“Careful,” Vika advised as a second stable hand approached her. “She’s… not the friendliest.”

“Right…” the young man chirped, faltering. “Uh… you want to lead her in then?”

Vika saw her mare settled and rubbed down, and when the stable hand promised to feed her in an hour’s time, after the strain of the race had faded from her body, Vika relaxed a little. He did know what he was doing after all. “Don’t shut yourself in there with her though,” she advised him while the mare rolled her red eyes at them, and the young man nodded.

She hooked her saddle bags over one arm and strode after Roland to meet him at the castle entrance.

The next few hours passed in a blur, but after she’d bathed and been given a new set of clothes, which not only fitted her but actually suited her, by a tailor who seemed to have magicked them out of thin fucking air, Vika meandered down towards the great hall.

A massive wolfhound lay sprawled across the doorway ahead of her, and just as the sole of her boot touched the marble entrance hall floor at the base of the stairs, a young woman emerged from a doorway on the other side, and the wolfhound looked up. His shaggy, bull whip tail began to wag and he whined and wriggled on the floor like a puppy as the woman approached, unaware of Vika’s presence behind her on the stairs.

“Oh, Muffin!” she giggled, kneeling beside him and playing with his ears and his bearded chin.

Her dress — a silvery, iridescent blue that shifted as Vika stared at it — pooled around her like a cloud on a summer day, and Vika watched as the dog floundered into a sitting position and tried to lick the woman’s face. She leaned back, laughing, and then caught sight of Vika as she turned her face away.

Vika, a woman who rarely found herself without retort or reposte, stood speechless as the young lady looked up at her and parted her lips in a soft ‘oh’ of surprise.

Vika was no stranger to beauty. From milk maids to marquesses, she’d seen it all, but this woman, with her smooth skin and warm, honey-coloured hair coiled up in pearl-studded waves, her flowing silk dress and bright, blue-grey eyes, gave new meaning to the concept of beauty. “Fuck,” she breathed, too quite for the lady to hear.

“Hello,” the lady smiled. The dog had gone still and was staring at Vika as though he was still deciding whether to launch himself at her or let her approach. “I don’t believe we’ve been introduced.” And with that, she rose like a dancer and crossed to her.

Standing in front of her, she was a foot shorter than Vika, but as she looked up into Vika’s face, the urge to kneel, to bow her head and give every shred of her soul to the woman surged so strongly in her chest she almost wept. Swallowing thickly, she managed, “Dame Vika. Of Sharkshoal Point.”

Something cleared in the woman’s face and she smiled so delightedly that Vika felt lightheaded. “You’re the knight my brother found!” she beamed.

Unable to do aught else, Vika bowed her head. “I am, Lady. If you’ll have me.”

“That remains to be seen,” she grinned, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “I hear you beat my brother in a race today,” she added and turned towards the great hall behind her. “Perhaps you’d care to spar with him tomorrow?”

“Will you be there to judge us?” Vika asked before she could stop herself.

“I suppose I should be, shouldn’t I?” Elayne said, pausing and looking back over her bare shoulder. “If you’re to be my knight,” she added, and as her dark eyes raked the length of Vika’s body from boot to crown of head, Vika shivered.

“I’ll be your knight, Lady,” she promised.

Elayne smiled brilliantly, and Vika bit her lip.

___

I hope you enjoyed it. If you did, please consider reblogging to show your support as well as leaving a like and/or a comment.

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[bitch-spectrum]

PART 3/3

Part 1 ,, Part 2

Mooch

Personality Headcanons: She is NOT "Teehee :3" she's the kind of girl to show up to your house and commit arson. She's feral, she's dangerous, she's killed 4 people. She was probably arrested for murder and was doing community service to get out early when she got recruited for TF4. You could say she's a little..... nuts :D Physical Headcanons: I don't really have any. ~5" Gender: Puts female on legal documents but always says something different when asked for her gender. Things like "Wouldn't you like to know, weather boy?" or "Ur mom." or "Whatever keeps you busy while I rob you." Pronouns: Any she doesn't care. Orientation: I don't have one. Post Game: She probably wasn't impacted much if at all. Opinions: She's a really funny side character. I adore cute characters who are batshit insane. 3.5/5.

Moray Personality Headcanons: They're a Mettaton stan. They act like a kowkey k-pop stan. They make aesthetic Mettaton gifs, reads/writes x reader fanfic, etc. Because they don't like conflict they don't get into internet beef though. At first they really only joined Starlo's posse for the aesthetic but it turns out they actually really enjoy sword fighting so they stuck around. Because they don't really like fighting or conflict so they usually do all the office work and they don't mind. Physical Headcanons: None really. ~ 5'07" Gender: Nonbinary (Is this canon?) Pronouns: They/Them Orientation: I don't have one. Post Game: They where pretty sad finding out about Clover's passing. It impacted them just not as hard as some of the others. They where able to get back up pretty quickly. Opinions: Gender. But sort of bland in personality. 2.5/5.

Starlo (Okay he's my fave in this specific iteration so just bear with me)

Personality Headcanons: He tends to have a bad habit of avoiding his problems. He tries to keep himself busy so he's not alone with his thoughts for too long. If he has absolutely nothing to do, he sits outside with an acoustic to keep his hands busy. Spanish was his first language and he often mispronounces English words. His mother handmade most of his gabàns. When he was really young and still lived on the surface he loved looking up at the stars. When he was in middle school he had a phase where he hated humans but grew out of it. He was comphet with Ceroba in high school but she clocked him and broke up with him. They stayed friends for a really long time anyway. He's ambidextrous. He's Ceroba's age so ~40-43. A lot of people interpret his sprite as having shade over his eyes but I like to think of it like a bandit mask.... that's prescription. His safety goggles are also prescription. He's really near sighted. He's also a pretty solid horse rider. You can't tell me this man DOESN'T smoke weed idc. He listens to southern rock, country, latino rock, and classic rock.

Physical Headcanons: The parts of his face that stick out emote with him. They turn up when he's happy/excited. They go down when he's sad. They kinda >:|< when he's mad. From growing up doing farm work and then deciding to become a sheriff too he's in really good physical condition and could probably lift most people over his head. His eyes are completely white. He's covered in a thin lair of fur that he grows out in certain places (chest, arms, beard, etc.). Ed is really jealous of his beard. The longer his fur is the darker it gets. Yellow to green-blue to dark blue (looks black). Fangs because I said so. Gender: Cis man Pronouns: He/Him Orientation: Gay and somewhere on the asexual spectrum.

Post Game: He was absolutely devastated the days following Clover's death. He barely got out of bed. Ed had to be the one to get him to even eat anything. He was really out of it, sort of dazed, for several weeks while he just tried to get back to work. He was a little torn between continuing trying to be the town's sheriff or going back to being a farmer. So, until then he just helped his parents out with whatever they needed. As he did, he reconnected with his childhood. He looked back at the boy he used to be, but unable to forget about Clover, he never forgot about the man he wanted to become. Clover had been so excited to meet a real-life cowboy that it almost felt disrespectful to throw out that pipedream now. So, he tried to find a middle ground between the two. Some days he'd be up at the first crack of dawn working in the field and other times he'd be the figurehead of his town, keeping the peace and keeping spirits high. Eventually he managed to pull himself out of a continuous low mood. Because of that, he managed to clear his mind enough to move on through the stages of grief. He and Ceroba got into a fight over what had happened. He felt like he owed it to Clover to at least try. Finally ending on the note that his freedom wasn't worth the life of someone he viewed as his own flesh and blood child - unlike what Ceroba did to her child which really WAS her blood. Their long-time friendship came to a bitter end, and he found himself turning to alcohol as a coping mechanism for a few months before a heartfelt talk with Ace pulled him back to his senses.

At one point when he was working in the field his mother called him inside and said she had finally finished the gabàn she had been making for Clover - he had requested it several months or so at this point but forgot to tell her what had happened. Re-opening old wounds he told her what had happened. He kept the gabàn and keeps it on his guitar case. Like Martlet, it was probably another decade or so before he really felt like his life was starting to move on. He had only known Clover for maybe a couple weeks at most but losing them felt like losing his own kid. He didn't know how long Clover was planning to stick around but had full intentions to legally adopt them. He successfully managed to move on, but he never forgot them.

Opinions: Like I said before he's my favorite character in this specific game. He's that right mix of serious and silly that really scratches an itch in my soul. His design is peak, it just speaks to me. I literally remember yelling at my TV when his design got revealed because I loved it instantly. HOWEVER, I do think that maybe his character could have been written a little better. It's pretty clear he's a complex character but the way he was written I feel like didn't fully convey that. 4/5.

THAT'S ALL! HAVE A GOOD DAY!!

[bumpkinspice0]

Parallels Chapter 8: Not a Monster

Miguel O'Hara x Spider!FemReader

No use of y/n

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 5824

Summary: Miguel is lost in the multiverse and you're the only one that can possibly find him... but how? And what does it mean for your relationship?

Warnings: canon-typical violence, Slight Dubcon (Miguel is full feral but his advances aren't unwanted), ANGST, man pain, some self loathing, it's time to grow up and talk about our feelings... just a little. A/N: Electro is a silly, silly name and I couldn't take it seriously. You have my full permission to laugh at the fight scene.

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Series Masterlist

AO3

_______________

Chapter 8

Not a Monster

The Tower was practically empty this time of night. Your quick footsteps echo through the massive, vacant building, it was haunting.

You pull at your nanotech suit as you run down the long corridor. You’re still not used to the futuristic material. You had to rush out of your apartment, Lyla claiming there was no time to waste. You left a hastily scribbled note for Gwen and headed to the roof.

 A new wave of panic rushes over you as you enter the dark hallway of Miguel’s lab. It felt wrong being here without him. Lyla hovered with you the entire time. 

Miguel was missing. What did that even mean?

How the hell can you go missing when your energy signature is constantly tracked throughout all of time and space.

Lyla informed you of the situation as you ran. Miguel had gone after an Electro anomaly yesterday afternoon. He’d tracked it for hours through whatever universe it’d fallen into. It could teleport, making him extremely illusive. The last time they had a clear signal on his location he was engaged in combat then… nothing. He’d disappeared off the map for at least 10 seconds, then— he was everywhere. His signal was scattered to thousands of dimensions, each one indecipherable from being the real one. Lyla couldn’t reach him anymore. If she scanned them all at once she would crash completely, taking hours to reboot. She could only go through a few dozen at a time and her efforts were proving to be fruitless. Valuable time was wasted while she scanned through the multiverse at a snail's pace, so she called you in to help. You still had no idea why she called you of all people.

If Lyla, the all-knowing omnipotent AI, couldn’t find him, how the hell could you?

You walk to the center of Miguel’s laboratory, expecting to see dozens of spiders working tirelessly in front of computers to find him. Instead, you’re met with more silence.

“Lyla, where is everyone?” you ask, completely dumbfounded.

“What do you mean?” She glitches in front of you.

“Miguel’s missing. Don’t we have a team, like… working on this?”

“Not protocol,” she shakes her head, “At least, not for something like this anyway. We don’t want to cause panic. If we can solve this quietly, we will. In such a massive malfunction case like this, the lead duty falls to the architect.”

You furrow your brow, “Who the fuck is the architect?”

“That would be me,” A voice from overhead echoes across the cavernous room. Miguel’s desk platform begins to lower down. On top of it stands a man you’d never seen before. He was tall, tan-skinned, with messy dark hair and a lean build. He wore a set of goggles atop his head and loose-fitting clothes with an obnoxious striped scarf to top it off. You’ll never get 2099 fashion. No, you’d never met him before, but you recognized someone else in his features. That strong jaw, kind eyes, and pouty lips. This was undoubtedly Miguel’s brother, “Gabriel O’Hara. Gabe.” 

You jump up to the platform and shake his hand, offering your name as well. “Why am I here, Gabe?”

He lazily raises his eyebrows at you as if annoyed by the question, “You can track Miguel through the multiverse.”

You have to catch yourself from falling on your ass. “Excuse me?” 

“I told you to ease her into it!” Lyla blips in front of Gabe, several pixels flaring around her in anger. 

“We don’t have time to ease into it. We barely have time for a crash course ,” Gabe waves her off and walks to a computer. With the click of a button, a massive projection takes over the room. Intricate weaving webs of red connecting together. Within the webs, hundreds of white dots are scattered. “One of these…” Gabe points to a white dot, “...is Miguel. The real Miguel. The rest are false readings. I don’t know what that thing did to his watch and we have no way of knowing which one is the real one. It’s like his signature was cloned and thrown around. Lyla said we wanna try do this quietly before we jump to rally the calvary, so that’s why you're here. Your connection with him can make you do that. You can track him.”

Your heart instantly sinks. He was talking a mile a minute to the point you barely understood him, but that last sentence rings in your head like a gong. He knew.

“I told him,” Lyla explains as she materializes in front of you. You wonder briefly if she can read minds, but your dread must have been painted all over your face. “It’s our last chance and I couldn’t just keep important information like this. He’s the only one that knows my system, he would have found out eventually. You could be our only hope if—.”

“I– I don’t understand—” You finally stammer out.

“Look, I don’t know how your bond thing works either but Lyla seems to think it’s the best chance we have. So, whatever you did to get him to...” Gabe’s rambling comes to a slow halt. He must have finally understood what you’re confused, blank stare was about. He sighs into his hand, “He didn’t tell you, did he?”

“Tell me what?!” You blurt.

“That’s why we should have eased her into it!’ Lyla palms her non-existent face.

“Fucking Migs. Tengo que hacer todo por aquí ,” Gabe mumbles as he turns back the control console. “Here. You might as well hear it from the horse's mouth.”  A screen illuminates in front of you, Miguel in the center frame. It’s a recording, a timestamp and a date marked across the bottom. You recognize the date— That day after the Goblin Queen attack.

“New developments with the spider-sense connection,” He starts, his voice clinical and monotone. “While the sense was previously thought to be only triggered by close contact of various ranges, this is no longer the case. A response seemed to also be triggered by distress from the opposite party. I felt her while she was in her home dimension. This connection appears to be able to… transcend the multiverse itself.” He takes a moment to breathe into his hands. You share the sentiment. Your spider-sense can travel time and space? There’s just no way. You feel your legs buckle, catching yourself on the nearest chair. Miguel looks back up at the camera, “I went to her dimension last night. I just felt a… pull there. When we fought it was—”

Gabe stops the recording and you feel like you take your first breath since you got here.

The way you’d been feeling since this afternoon… you chalked it up to being too emotional over catching the Fisk’s and having nostalgia because of your great partner. Idiot, you should be able to recognize a spider-sense by now. Then again, if Miguel wasn’t there, what reason would you have to think it was?

A spider-sense that could stretch the multiverse? It didn’t sound possible. 

“He’s not in the original dimension he started in, we know that much. We don’t know what was damaged,” Gabe continues, “I know we’re asking a lot but you might be our only option here.”

This was just too much. He says it all like it’s so goddamn easy. It must be an O’Hara trait, you think. 

This was something that was so far beyond just you. The leader of Spider Society, the man with the answers to the multiverse’s fate rests in your hands. You want to scream. You want to fall apart and crawl into the closest dark corner and never come out— But you don’t have that luxury right now.

You’re Spider-Woman. You’d done more reckless things on less information dozens of times. Not necessarily a bragging point, but it helped you feel better at the moment. Miguel was out there somewhere. Amongst these thousands of scrambled dots, one was the real him— struggling and alone. You could feel him fighting.

Save Miguel first, yell at him for putting you in this position later.

Lyla materializes in front of you, a gentle expression on her face, “You can do this.”

So… How do you fucking do this? Your spider-sense was never something you actively thought about. It just happened, usually at the most inconvenient times. Maybe that was just it. You were thinking too much— You had to just let it happen. It’s as good a starting point as any. 

You swivel to the center of the multiverse projection and take a deep breath, closing your eyes. 

Gabe speaks, “What’s she—”

“Shut up!” Lyla instantly silences him in a hushed tone.

Several deep breaths, in through the nose, out through the mouth. You feel the tension in your limbs melt away as the buzzing in your head becomes clearer— it was your guiding light. You’re not sure how to follow it, but if this thing was truly a part of you then it should come naturally… right? Your gut stirs, knowing somewhere out there your spider double needs you. Know that it may only be you that could save him. How poetic, you think.

You squeeze your eyes tighter, recalling those first feelings of the spider-sense. You’d never felt it before yet you knew exactly what it was. On top of that, you knew exactly what caused it. A completely alien sensation to your body yet you knew exactly what it wanted— You just knew. You weren’t naive about it anymore, you weren’t scared of it. You wanted to know its full potential. It was showing you tonight.

It starts like a faint pulse in your ears. A beacon. You open your eyes, taking in the thousands of twinkling white lights amongst the web of the multiverse. One of them is Miguel… the real Miguel. One calls to you.

You stand, walking amongst the projection. You step to the left, the pulsing fades— Colder. You continue to your right, following the rhythmic pull. You picture Miguel, everything about him. His face, his scent, the deep baritone voice— The pulse grows faster. 

You recall the way he squeezes your hips when he makes love to you. His touch was always rough but somehow still caring and loving. Ironic how that encapsulates him as a person. A sheep in wolf’s clothing. 

You come to a stop, one of the single blips seemingly shining brighter than the rest. Your sense jumps as you reach out for it. This had to be it. You tap the small projection, several screens expand with various information about the mystery universe. 

Earth 774-b. A decimated world ravaged by wars long past. Almost no human population. What remained there was rubble, slowly being grown over with moss. 

“This it?” Gabe steps to your side, looking over the schematics. 

“It’s… what I felt.” You answer. 

“Well, we wouldn’t wanna ignore a gut feeling,” He grumbles, jumping off the platform. He motions for you to follow— you do. Several small robots crawl to his aid, carrying various pieces of equipment. He comes to a work desk, rummaging several things out of the drawers, “Your watch, please.” He demands more than asks.

You extend your wrist and he immediately begins tinkering with the interdimensional device. He welds on a small bolt to the side, “This should protect it from any direct electromagnetic attacks. Wouldn’t want a repeat and have 2 missing spider’s on our hands.” He turns to one of the robots, grabbing a backpack it dutifully brought him. He reaches inside, grabbing a second watch, “This is for Miguel when you find him. I suspect his current watch is fried,” He drops it back in and pulls out another device. You recognize it as one of the force field traps, “This is for Electro when you find him. It’s specially made for someone of his abilities. You have 3 of them. Contain him first if you find him.” He hands you the backpack, “There are medical supplies and food and water rations. You have 3 hours before we send in backup. Stay in contact.”

And with that, he hands you the pack and walks back to the monitors. You feel like a kid thrown into the deep end of the pool. You don’t have time to think, you barely have time to breathe. After all your years of superheroing, you think you’d be more used to being treated like a soldier. In a lot of ways, you were still just a kid that got bit by a spider. 

You put in the coordinates to Universe 774-b. Lyla appears at your shoulder as the portal bursts to life in front of you. 

“If anyone can do this, it’s you.” She assures you. She probably recognized the fear in your eyes. “I’ll be with you the whole time.”

You nod, your mask materializing over your face. You were Spider-Woman. This was just another Tuesday night for you—no big deal. You can do this. 

______________

This universe had a distinctive scent you’d never smelled before. Like oil poured over fresh-cut grass. An entire planet that humans hadn’t touched for decades, but their crumbling cities and rusting machines still sat idle. Nature had already overtaken most of what remained in this dystopian New York— You hated it. It could very well be a bleak image of your home city. The thought makes you shutter and you push it to the back of your mind. 

It was mid-afternoon. You’d been in the apocalyptic world for nearly an hour now, Lyla leading you to the largest energy signature in the vicinity— Smack dab in the middle of what used to be Time Square. With no technology on the planet, it wasn’t hard to find. Your spider-sense has been a quiet hum the entire time here, surprisingly. You thought it would jump and sing as soon as you entered this dimension but so far it remained tame. 

It was starting to feel like a complete gamble on Miguel even being here.

What if your intuition was completely wrong? In the rush, you hadn’t even considered this could be all for nothing. A multiverse spider-sense tracker? Ridiculous. Miguel could have been wrong before. You could have just convinced yourself there was something special about this universe, surrounded by people begging you for an answer. 

This could all be for nothing and Miguel could still be lost… or worse. 

You push the intrusive thoughts down, not wanting to needlessly distract yourself from the task at hand. You had 2 more hours here and you were going to use them regardless. You were closing in on the energy signature. 

You hear it before you see it. Distant electric crackling followed by crumbling bricks. Hope overtakes your growing anxieties. You swing up to the surrounding rooftops and peer down into the crumbling historic square. There in the open center of the towering buildings stood Electro, alone and fuming.

“ Come out! Come out!” He screamed, blasting an electric charge into the withering billboard for Phantom of the Opera. By the looks of the surrounding freshly charred buildings, he’d been at it for a while. “ Come out and fight like a man! ”  

He was talking to Miguel. Taunting him… but where was he? Hiding or injured, most likely. You’ll find out soon enough. Even amidst the several revelations, relief washes over you. Miguel was here— somewhere.

You hadn’t seen an Electro like this before. Whereas most wore a green and yellow suit with an obnoxious lightning-decorated cowl, this man didn’t seem to even be completely human anymore. He still wore a skin-tight suit, but it was black. His skin glowed a translucent blue. You could see the energy flowing through him. It surged through his entire being, like blood through veins. He didn’t just have power over electricity— He was electricity. This was a being of pure energy. 

That would have been nice to know ahead of time. 

He abruptly halts his rampage, cocking his head to the side. Before you can react, a bolt shoots directly at you. It hits the bricks at your feet, sending you tumbling into the square. You catch yourself mid-fall and swing to the opposite end of the street. So much for the element of surprise. 

You find a perch on a crumbling billboard a few stories above the square. Electro faces you, searing in anger.

“ You’re not him! ” His electronic voice crackles, “ Where is he?! ”

“Look, dude, I was hoping you could tell me.” The attempted joke is immediately met with another rage-fueled blast of energy. You’re able to dodge this time, swinging down another level. You expect another attack but instead, you see the villain fall to his knees, wheezing and shaking. He was exhausted, who knows how long he’d been at this stupid charade. 

A realization hits you. He feeds off energy. It sustains him as well as his powers. There wasn’t anything for him to feed off of in this dead world. He was weaker— Significantly weaker. If there was a time to capture him, it was now. Gabe told you to contain him first before you hunted for Miguel.

You quickly grab one of the traps out of your bag. Not giving him a single second to regain himself, you pounce. You can end this now and find Miguel. Easy as pie. 

But of course, it’s never that easy, is it?

You’re almost on him when he vanishes, and you stumble to the now empty ground— Teleportation. Right. He reappears behind you in an instant. He doesn’t hesitate to blast you again at point-blank range.

An electric field engulfs you, surging searing hot pain through every fiber of your being. You drop the trap amidst the chaos. You twist and scream in the field, unable to control your body’s movements. It takes hold of you as you're lifted from the ground by nothing but pure energy. 

“ Your suit’s like his,” Electro laughs, “ Makes for a great conductor. Now let’s see that watch. ”

He knew about the multiverse watches too— Great. 

You could feel the nanotech waving in and out of existence amongst the static. You desperately reach for the trap, trying to shoot a web or just bring it to your hand by sheer willpower. No such luck.

Even amongst the blinding pain, you felt something. The very thing you’d been praying for since you got here— A buzzing in the back of your head.

It happens in a flash. A rusted car is thrown towards you both, missing you by inches but dispersing Electro’s being into thin air. You drop to your hands and knees, taking in the biggest breath of your life. The remaining energy twitches through you as you stand back on your shaky feet. Your nanotech suit tames down back to its original design. 

You look in the direction the car was thrown from— and there he is. Crouched on all fours with a mask drawn over his face. 

“Miguel!” You shout, immediately running towards him.

“S-stay back!” He growls, a deep raspiness to his voice. You screech to a halt instantly. He didn’t sound normal. 

“ Spider-Man! ” Electro materializes back above the square, arms outstretched. He couldn’t have much juice left. He was putting all he had left into this fight. “ And a Spider-Woman, my lucky day. I’ll kill you both and rip those dimensional travel devices off your cold dead bodies. ”

Miguel pounces immediately, swinging up to the floating menace. So much for making a plan. If Miguel had been stuck in this hellscape for nearly a day, you’re sure he was frustrated. He was lashing out without thinking— and it could be the perfect distraction. 

They dance around each other in midair. Miguel effortlessly dodging lightning bolts and Electro weaving between webs. Their efforts were fueled by rage and exhaustion. You take the opportunity to scale the buildings rather than join in the fight. 

Webs and brute force meant nothing if he could disappear at will. You had to be smarter than that.  He just had to get close and you’d have him. Proximity was all you needed.

You perch yourself 10 stories up, at least half a block from the fight. You pull out your second trap. With how fast they were moving, they’d swing by you any second. As if on queue, you see Miguel’s head snap in your direction. His gaze shoots through you like a spear. You hold up the electric trap and wave your arm in a beckoning motion, you think he gets the message. He swings the fight around, moving directly for you. 

Keeping Electro’s focus on him, they swing in front of you. You have a split second to react. Electro’s back to you, you jump. He’s only a dozen or so feet away from you and at a lower angle. You have the advantage. 

You arm the device mid-air as you lunge closer. Once directly above him, you release it. The trap locks on to its target and begins webbing glowing red beams around Electro. It entangles him, trapping him inside an impenetrable force field. Trapped, he plummets back to the ground. You swing down to follow, flanked closely by Miguel.

He tumbles to a jarring stop inside the makeshift prison cell.

“ What is— ” He stands, touching the glowing red walls. He’s immediately zapped away from the containment field. Enraged, he attempts to blast through it, only to have the electricity immediately returned and ricochet around the containment cell. He continues to rampage despite the repeated results.

“Lyla,” You say into your watch, setting the coordinates for Spider Tower, “Take him in.”

“Aye, aye,” The AI replies, a portal forming directly beneath the red cage. Electro drops out of reality in an instant.

 You turn to Miguel, only to find him several yards away with his back turned to you. His posture isn’t normal, he’s hunched over and twitchy. You can hear him dragging in ragged, growling breaths. He was tired. He’d just been through a traumatic event for all you know. 

“Lyla,” You say into your watch again. “Tell Gabe I’ve found Miguel, but just… give us a minute.”

“Don’t be too long,” She responds. Even though she’s artificial, you think you can hear a sense of relief in her voice. The crisis was averted. Miguel was safe— you think. 

“Mig?” You step towards him, cautiously reaching out.

“I said,” His head flinches to the side, sleek mask dissipating. “ Stay away! ” He slashes at you, baring his teeth and claws. His fangs, you’d never seen them before. His eyes were completely taken over by crimson red. His features were contorted and angry. He crouches down, resting his weight on his hands. He was trembling— Holding something back. 

His power dampeners— oh, you absolute idiot. 

Amongst the chaos, you’d all somehow completely forgotten the thing Miguel desperately needed to stay cognitive. The very thing that keeps a side of him at bay. He hadn’t dosed himself in nearly a full day, and the animal was taking hold. He was agitated. Volatile. Your spider-sense rings through you like a warning— or, something else?

This was not the same Miguel you knew. 

A glitch shakes through his being. His watch was damaged, unable to regulate his unstable atoms in the alien world. He comes out of the glitch raging, clawing at the surrounding rubble. Anything and everything was his target. He throws more cars, he slashes street lamps in half. So, this is what happens when he doesn’t take his dampeners?

“Miguel!” You scream over the chaos. He halts his rampage, staring you down. Those eyes were absolute daggers. You speak calmly “I have a watch for you. Let’s get you home and get you taken care of. It’s over. It’s gonna be okay.”

“Taken care of,” He repeats. His animalistic voice sends chills down your spine. He stalks toward you, you don’t move. Even hunched over, his height still dwarfs you. 

You take out the backup watch and drop your bag to the side. The spider-sense hummed in anticipation. You’re not sure if it’s telling you to run or stand your ground. Regardless, you reach for his arm. Just get the watch on him, and you can go. 

He grabs your wrist so quickly you don’t even register the movement. He pulls you against him. You feel yourself shrink in his grasp, and your spider-sense sings. He brings your wrist up to his face, trailing his nose down your arm with a deep inhale. He stops at your neck— you feel his fangs graze the soft flesh there. It sends a wave of heat straight to your core.

Why weren’t you scared right now?

“ Mi añarita. Me encontraste,” He growls against you, sending all your hair on end, “ ¿Has venido a cuidar de mí?”

He brings you down to your shaking knees, crawling on top of you. His massive limbs cage you in. You could easily scurry out of it— away from him, but you don’t want to. You could feel it building as you had dozens of times before. He could take you right here and you’d revel in it. 

It takes every fiber of your being to push down your building urges. Not here. Not now— He could be hurt and starving for all you know. You had a mission. Get Miguel home, despite what your selfish desires wanted. 

His guard is lowered, distracted by his primal impulse. You were completely on your back while he hovered over you. You take the opportunity to hit the home button on his backup watch, opening a portal directly behind your head. You raise your feet to Miguel’s stomach, kicking him over you into the portal before he can fight back. He needed his meds. You had to get him back now, like it or not.

“Lyla!” You scream into your watch, jumping through the portal as well, “Tell Gabe to get his dampeners ready! He’s on edge and we’re coming in hot.”

You fly through the dimensional wormhole, trailing only feet behind Miguel. He thrashed and spun as he was shot through the fabric of time and space itself. You take advantage of the rolling zero gravity environment and start to web him up, subduing his violent movements. The more he struggled, the worse it got. Simple webs couldn’t hold him for long but they’ll have to do for now. You had to get him back and everything could be taken care of. 

You both fly out of the portal, tumbling over each other on the lab floor. Miguel roars as he struggles against the webbing, several strands snapping in the process. He stands, whipping himself around violently, his arms are nearly free. 

A small neon green dot flashes across your vision. A dart filled with his dampener serum sinks into his neck. He collapses to the ground instantly. You turn to see Gabe holding a tranquilizer gun. 

“Three times the dose with a little bit of sedative,” He places the gun on a nearby table, “Sorry about that, his… condition completely slipped my mind.”

“Yeah, mine too,” You groan, picking yourself up off the floor. You look at Miguel laying there, subdued and face still contorted in anger. You have the urge to wail over the sight. You did this to him. You want to reach out to him, take care of him. He’s in pain and you—

You immediately head for the door, feeling your spider-sense threatening to make your emotions boil over. 

“He’ll be up in a few minutes!” Gabe shouts after you.

“Just need some fresh air,” You call back, picking up your pace. 

___________

You sit on the walkway outside of his room for nearly an hour. You dangle your feet over the cavernous edge, looking down at the vast multi-hundred-story tower. There wasn’t a single spider inside now. Gabe had left about 20 minutes ago, wishing you a good night and thanking you for your help. You tell him the same and that was that. Miguel’s brother, the architect of spider-kind… You wonder what his background role was the rest of the time. You wonder if you’ll ever see him again. 

You don’t know why you haven't gone home yet. You wanted to but… something was keeping you here. You wanted to make sure Miguel was okay, but you couldn’t bring yourself to go in to see him either. You wanted to… but you wanted to give him time. Hell, you needed to give yourself time too.

You felt another urge from the spider-sense tonight. The need to protect. To soothe and subdue. To save your— You were getting too close to him. Too close to all of this, and it scared you.

 You wonder if Miguel remembers. If he has any semblance of control when the spider side takes over. He seemed to, if only just barely. 

“Hey,” A familiar calming voice pulls you from your thoughts. Miguel stands behind you— The Miguel you knew. The man with kind eyes and rigid posture. The sight of him instantly puts you at ease. “You didn’t come inside.”

“I wanted to but… It felt… It was a lot.”

“Yeah…” He sighs, taking a seat next to you— the understanding is completely mutual, you know that by now. “You saved my life today. I won’t forget it.”

“Don’t mention it,” You look down at your feet like they’re the most interesting thing in the world. 

“I mean it. Thank you," he insists. You give him a faint nod and a smile. You want to ask him about it, about the animal inside him. About the spider-sense and why he didn’t tell you about its full capabilities sooner. About his brother, “I’m sorry.” He says instead.

“About what specifically?” you ask, coming off more irritated than you’d like to. 

“How about everything?” His words cut through you like a knife. You felt his guilt behind them, “Sorry you had to come here, sorry about Gabe, sorry you had to clean up my mess, sorry you… had to see me like that.”

You could hear the regret in his voice. Miguel O’Hara sincerely apologizing, you should get a camera. 

“What happened to start all this?” you ask. 

“It was a routine mission,” he starts, “He showed up in a populated area in a separate dimension. I thought it would be a quick grab. I underestimated him… drastically. You saw him, he could disperse his form at will. He could connect to any technology— Any machine. He got into my watch… to Lyla. I had to cut my connection.” 

Untold horrors could happen if a desperate villain got a hold of Lyla— a hold of the power of the multiverse. It was a scary thought. 

Miguel continues, “He fried my watch’s power by the time we landed. Thought I caught some luck when we landed somewhere he couldn’t recharge.”

“Your signal was copied over a thousand realities,” You inform him. 

“He scattered it looking for a way out, sending us both flying through the multiverse. When I cut off my connection, he was booted out of the system.” He clarified, “Didn’t want him to know where the home base was, anyway. Turned out to be a good thing, I think. Didn’t really consider myself at the time. I just had to keep him out. I would have figured something out eventually. I just had to outlast him.”

“Made a lot of work for me,” You grumble, jokingly. You bring your legs to your chest, resting your chin on your knees. “Why didn’t you tell me… That we could do this? Sense across the universe.”

He takes in a heavy breath, running his hand through his fluffy hair, “I thought it was a complete fluke. I thought I felt something and it turned out you were in a fight. Or maybe even a coincidence. Or if it was something, at least it only pertained to me. I’m… different from you. I had a shaky hypothesis. I should have tested it more. I’m sorry.”

Two apologies? You really should get that camera. 

“Did you feel me too, tonight? Across the universe?” you ask.

“Not until you were there. My mind wasn’t— I wasn’t—” He looks away, ashamed. You stomp down the urge to reach out and hold him. You don’t want to overstep a boundary. Did you even have those kinds of boundaries with him anymore? “If you ever have to see me like that again, you have my full permission to stop me… By any means necessary.”

“Miguel, it’s—”

“By any means necessary,” he repeats, tension dotting his words.

You could feel his self-loathing in his words. His hatred for this part of him. He was disgusted with himself. What he had done— what you both had almost done. You wanted him so badly in that moment back in the dystopian world, your spider-senses battling each other for it. You felt a little disgusted with yourself too. 

The only other person in the multiverse that could understand was sitting right next to you, and you feel like you couldn’t tell him anything.

You wanted to be his friend. You wanted this man to know he could talk to you completely judgment-free— and you knew you had to be the first one to take the step. You couldn’t keep each other at arm's length while still sharing these deeply intimate and personal things together. 

You don’t get to have your cake and eat it too. There had to be a compromise. You had to tell him you cared about his wellbeing— if only a little. You needed to. 

“I know you don’t feel like you can always rely on people, Miguel,” You begin, feeling his gaze drill into you, “I know you think you have to hold it all together yourself. That’s just part of being a spider… being a hero. But if that were true you wouldn’t have built this place. Even with all the help in the known universe you still think you’re the only one you can count on. Think about that.”

You stand, taking a few steps down the walkway. You take a deep breath before continuing “You’re not just a man but not a monster either, Mig. And you’re not alone. Remember that next time you treat yourself like you're expendable.” A portal to your dimension opens. You pause before stepping through, “I would do everything I did tonight again. I’m glad you’re okay, but don’t scare us like that again. Lyla was worried sick at the thought of never seeing you again.”

And so was I. 

His somber expression is the last thing you see before stepping into the multiverse. 

__________

Translations: Tengo que hacer todo por aquí.- I have to do everything around here. Mi añarita. Me encontraste. ¿Has venido a cuidar de mí? -My little spider. You found me. Have you come to take care of me?

And as always, let me know if I'm making a complete fool of myself, Spanish speakers! I appreciate anyone who comes in to help out with it!

__________

Taglist:

@ineedgarlicbread @pinkiemme @thesilenthill @bontensbabygirl @fallenangelsongwolf

[the-rat-of-all-time]

SHIT TON OF OC STUFF (for part 2)

Part 2 protags

Astor 

Arcana: death

Any (they/them pref)

enby

Pan, demi

Powers and abilities: weather manipulation, can control weather and elements of it (think weather report from jojo without the snails). Incredibly proficient at close and long range fighting using knives and kicks, also has incredible quickness, agility and stealth 

Appearance: a short young person with light brown skin and eyes with dark curly hair with bangs that almost always cover eyes. Tends to dress in baggy and androgynous grunge/streetwear like clothes. In their super suit they wear a large white hooded cloak, under they have pants with holsters for equipment and a tank top. They tend to be very blank faced, but some emotion does come though mainly in their eyes

Backstory: the second child of Avia and another character I have yet to write (yes I know she’s trans dont worry she can still do that bc reasons). When their parents got on the bad side of an incredibly powerful villainous dictator. The villain would end up getting revenge by imprisoning their father who was presumed dead, killing their sister and damaging their vocal cords beyond repair even by their mother. Filled with hopelessness and worrying that in grief that she’d hurt Astor, Avia ran away leaving Astor into the care of Jackson. Now in an incredibly emotionally volatile state which was not helped after a former friend and crush was killed in a fight, or at least they thought… Now they are a part of the rose program, a program made to monitor and help superhumans who could pose a threat to themselves or others. 

Personality: many heroes assume astor a blank faced robot who feels and shows nothing, and many villains (who have not encountered them) assume they are a nepo-baby who never worked for anything and whines when things don't go their way. In actuality  they are nothing more than an at-risk youth who has trouble expressing and processing  their emotions (especially after losing their voice) and has trouble socializing and not shutting people out. In fights they move fast and efficient, but there are times when it gets too much and they start to lose control and go feral 

Likes:

Art mainly wood carving, making clothing and cooking

Their friends (especially Fuapillon)

Jackson

Their memories of their father and sister

Rain

Music (mainly hip-hop and rap)

Cats

Dislikes:

their mom (kinda)

Alcohol

Crowds 

Assumptions 

causing harm and killing

The man who took everything 

Not having control

Scary movies

Fuapillon (please let me know if this is a slur or something i just smashed together the french word for fire and butterfly)

Arcana: the lovers

they/she

transgender

Pansexual

Also french (gross i know)

Powers and abilities: increased processing. Their brain is able to take in and process information superhumanly fast. They have a knack for machines and mechanics that shines with her “armure de papillon” which are mechanical suits that tend to have incendiary attacks and incredible speed

Appearance: a very small young woman with dirty blond wavy hair (usually messy) and blue eyes. Usually Wears bright feminine summer clothes, biker wear and/or mechanic gear. In her super wear she wears a custom leather jacket (a gift from astor), goggles and tight spandex all with mechanical modifications that allows her to put on her suits. Her mechanical suits differ in appearance, but they always feature butterfly like elements and wings, and a red fiery color scheme 

Backstory: born and raised in south france they were always a strange child with boundless energy and curiosity which led to them discovering and sneaking into a secret facility. After a mistake they ended up seeing something they shouldn't when they fell into a portal to the unknown. They were not expected to make it until they were mysteriously rescued. No one knows what they saw, but it was clear that it had a profound effect on their mental state. After a brief stint at a mental hospital they were taken to the rose program for monitoring and rehabilitation 

Personality: a bright and bubbly woman who tends to talk and act at a mile a minute. They’re an adrenaline junkie. After the incident at the lab they have gained a weird obsession with fire and butterflies and sometimes will get really gloomy and whisper very strange and ominous things about fire, death and rebirth, but they have been doing it less especially after getting more help and support.

Likes:

Butterflies

Fire

Their armors

Their motorcycle 

Friends 

Astor 

Rollercosters 

Going fast in general 

Halloween

Scary movies

Dislikes: 

Not much

Tianming

Arcana: the emperor 

he/him

cis/het but not beating allegations

Powers and abilities: mirror travel: can travel through any reflective surface of any size, if he wants to travel with or put a person or object in the mirror dimension the other person/object has to be able to fit. Mirror clones: can clone self with reflection as long as he is being reflected. The clones are fragile and will have noticeable differences. Has many gadgets to help fight as well as acrobatic and dance skills he uses to fight and confuse 

Appearance: a shorter man of chinese descent with short black hair and brown eyes. His super suit is a traditional Bian lian costume with some slight modifications. Uses the masks to confuse enemies and add further effectiveness to his cloning power. He tends to wear 

Backstory: grew up with his sister and abusive father. One day he had enough and he burnt down the apartment with his father inside. Soon after his sister was put into foster care, and he joined superhuman society where he became fast friends with astor. He would eventually find himself in an abusive relationship with a psychic where his mind was shattered, after recovery it was decided that he was left too mentally volatile and he was put into the rose program

Personality: a kind man and just a bro in general he wants the best for people, and likes to see the good in people which does lead to problems. After his mind was shattered he is prone to mood swings and outbursts.

likes: 

Love

Dancing

His sister

His (second) girlfriend

His friends

Basically everyone else

Helping

Seeing people improve themselves

Baseball

Dislikes: 

Evil

Feeling useless

Suffering

When his costume is too hot

Morgan

Arcana: the moon

she/her

Bi-curous 

Powers: Crystallokinesis (earthbending with crystals). Specializes in long and range attack and defense as well as battlefield control, a little lacking in close range. Also strangely good at thrifting 

Appearance: a taller girl who's on the chubbier side. fair skin, brown somewhat curly hair and purple eyes. Darker gothic fashion. Same gothic fashion carries over to super suit with a tighter armored spandex with a jacket and mask

Backstory: one of thee kids along with her twin sister and older brother. Her father was a villain (the same one who cut off Celestina’s arm) and her mother is a prison nurse that he seduced. Her and her siblings were adopted by Juliet and Celestina. Her brother was a model student and is a pillar of the new generation of heroes. She now feels a large expectation on her to be like him. One day for unknown reasons her sister snapped and attacked. In the fight she lost control and all her pent up emotions burst forward causing her to brutally “kill” her sister. She was put in the rose program filled with intense guilt for her sister, but her sister only feels rage back.

Personality: she is very gloomy and is very guilty and sad after her sister. Very sarcastic and kind of a jerk at times. Feels a large amount of pressure and stress from the society around her. Though at the end of the day she is a kind person with the heart of a hero, she just doesn't like to show it

Likes:

Fashion

Her brother

Her friends

Parties

Anime and manga (a secret she takes to the grave)

Singing

The beach

Pizza

shopping

Dislikes: 

Expectations

People who don’t dress well

Weirdos 

The L 

The smell of piss (explains the above)

Overpriced clothes 

Other part 2 things

Takes place on an island in lake Michigan with a small superhuman community and school.

All characters are in their senior year of school and are 18 (precautionary measure)

Takes place 20+ years after part one

Music theme is hip-hop, R&B and rap

I hope to release part3 MCs,more info on part 1, general worldbuilding and info on other important characters soon (look in ether comments or rbs also the tags under this one)

[bella-rose29]

episode 3 - Doubt Thou the Stars

major spoilers for the show and books, swearing, I go feral on multiple occasions, spent most of this simping for cam/lockwood and I'll apologise now for some of the things I've said (multiverse of George I'm blaming you for a couple)

I would just like to reiterate that this is not a proper analysis of the show, this is my immediate reactions to what happens in the show. barely anything constructive is actually said in here 👍

a ring is what we're looking at

Georgie I love you

hands (oh dear starting early)

hands again

"which you stole illegally" honey-

you have me in a chokehold lockwood

hehehe fairfax

"George, this... negativity, it's why I don't tell you things in advance" first of all I am weirdly obsessed with the way he says that, second of all I wanna give George a hug

hands

ok but who gave cam the right to look that good

"miss Kingston got her hair done special" George I love you

"straight into the office. that's a classy move"

omg I love lucy's jumper

his cheeky smile omg

hands

ring

"you lie like a politician" yeah bc he has to

you can do any job for me lockwood

hands and ring

absolutely we have a deal I'll do anything for you

hands (omg I need to stop)

they're children how did they get alcohol

bottle opener thingy scene

omg Georgie in his apron and gloves 😭

so sad we didn't get the "nice... towel" scene

barnes is so sinister sometimes

I love lockwood and george's friendship, just yelling at each other about cleaning

ooo green lighting when she's taking the keys

tut tut

"I visit my gran in Sidcup" "...sidcup is in London"

"you've got a real hard-on for him, haven't you" "well, if... you wanna put it like that"

"I'm practically a serf" aw lockwood honey

all I can think is the Traitors castle even though I know it's not the same

lockwood's so pretty

oh lord what the hell was that look lockwood don't lower your head with that intense gaze wtf

"apart from anything else, we've got much better flares" 😂

don't you just love it when someone who doesn't have any clue about your job tells you how to do your job

lots of smashing

he's fishing (where tf did he get a fishing rod from)

hands

his grin omg

oh crikey this boy needs sleep I can see his eye bags even though the lighting is dim and my room is bright

"What, and deny us all this... beautiful moment?" you're a beautiful moment- wait that doesn't make sense

his smile I am on the floor

aaa suspense I don't like it

omg we get to see George's Touch again I love that

ew cobwebs

hands

well that was silly

oh no

you can disrespect me anytime woah what is happening to me holy shit

EXTREME CLOSE UP

ewwww cobwebs

I could never be an agent I have arachnophobia

ok those special effects were awesome

"probably wanted to warn us not to go down there" *proceed to go down there*

Lockwood say what's on your mind

ok I get why Ali said that the monks were terrifying that chanting haunts me still

turn your torches off you'll see the ghosts better

ohh I don't like this

Lucy no

LUCY NO

LUCY NOOOOOO

aw the boys saved her

hands

"make a wish" I wish for you to marry me and we live happily ever after

slap

"my cheek hurts"

husband calls out pathetically for wife after waking up, she crawls over and he reaches desperately for her hand

"oi, where's his slap?" fair

hahaha the way they just drop to the floor

you look so silly in those goggles

lockwood's voice is doing Things to me

I love that you can see Ellie rethinking as Fairfax goes on

"we don't travel round with it, we're not insane" *while focused on Lucy*

"you're just a performer too, aren't you?" we love a masking king

MICRO-EXPRESSIONS!!! CAMERON CHAPMAN THE MAN YOU ARE

"She stole it again, Lockwood" yep

I love that you can sort of make out the flowers on her dress

oh christ that was scary

ew old man burning

hands

heavy breathing lockwood (I blame the multiverse of George chat for that)

"I'm working with maniacs" got room for another one?

why did Ellie think it would be a good idea to try and run straight through the middle

"Shut up!" their faces afterwards

kipps pls stop sounding so smug

dw I believe you lockwood

punch me like that wall pls

barnes looks so sad

omg he's being a protective dad

hands

ohhhhh lockwood in a proper suit 🪣 (bad timing for it I know)

"do you know my name?" George I love you

"that's a shame, she was a fool but... she really fitted in there actually" *lockwood nudges him* George I love you even more and I think we would be the bestest of friends

I love the lavender in the pockets of Penelope and Ellie

hands

omg Lucy's drawing! like she said her hobby was in the books!

hand + ring

*George casually pulls out stolen evidence*

I want lucy's jumper

the way lockwood's sat on the chair has me weak

"You belong here" *stares at her with heart eyes*

hehehe

hehehe

oh dear

why does he keep sprawling on the chair

I don't want to talk about the sound I just made at that one frame of lockwood

"She's good, and... she's finally starting to get me" aw Georgie I love you

"she's a lot tougher than you think" *thumps as Lucy passes out*

I DONT WANT TO TALK ABOUT THE SOUND I JUST MADE AT THE OTHER ONE FRAME OF LOCKWOOD (YOU ALL KNOW THE ONE) - "Luce?" shgisuhuigjd

seriously who gave him the right

[a-sociopath-do-your-research]

Ok since higgs field!George is so separate from c!George have some hcs about him

• he is missing 4 fingers, 2 of them being both ringfingers

• his goggles are colorblind glasses, though he also needs normal glasses and sometimes swaps them out

• he doesn't talk much, and when he does its always the same tone - when he jokes or when he's serious (just like me frfr)

• oldest of the feral boys, thought he could rest in the dsmp from parenting his friends as he usually did which is why usually he's not on the front line during conflicts (spoiler, he was wrong and is about to pull the "I'm not mad, just disappointed" card on the feral boys and make them rethink their life choices)

• he's addicted to caffeine someone help this man. The moment he doesn't have caffeine in his body he crashes completely.

[i-am-minty-fresh]

I saw....your strawhat dynamic things and i really thought they were SO cool

One i think would be interesting would be like.

Jinbei and Franky

(If youre still doing them of course teehee)

Apologies for the late response, I’ve had COVID so I’m all fucked up and lethargic. But your ask has interested me so let's talk about Jinbei and Franky!

Similar to the Usopp and Jinbei one, there isn’t a ton of examples for them specifically interacting so that means I get to look at them separately first to analyze their potential relationship (which means I get to finally talk about Franky which is great cause I love a SUPPPPPEERRR guy!)

(Not counting Brook because he’s dead) Franky and Jinbei are the oldest members of the strawhats and they have aged VERY differently so let's look at Franky first.

Franky grew up as a violent scrap child building guns and biting his older brother. He’s running barefoot through broken glass in only a swimsuit bottom, Hawaiian shirt, and some goggles (a style choice that he will not change into adulthood). He’s all crazed feral boy energy mixed with a kind of skill only a mother could love…or rather a fish dad. Tom has the kindest soul in the One Piece canon for putting up with this absolute sewer trash of a child (he’s probably got all kinds of diseases just festering under those bottoms). This is all to say that Tom raised him to be himself and be great at what he does. Embracing his talent and skill no matter where it leads him. Tom never wanted Franky to change, only to embrace himself and optimize what he could do for others. But like all the strawhats and their dead parents, the practical application of the helpful lesson that was being taught gets cut short when you (as their child) are in some form or another, reasonable for that same parent to be killed (Sanji, Nami, Franky, Robin, and Chopper). Hard to embrace who you are when you are the reason the most important person in your life is dead….that fucks a kid up in a way that leads them to throw a lifelong tantrum where they refuse to learn the entire lesson (Chopper not learning he’s a monster, Sanji not learning his wasn’t a failure, Nami not learning to rely on people, etc.) In Franky’s case, he learned to never stop being himself and made sure to keep Tom’s legacy of taking in street rats and turning them into stubborn, hard-to-kill, assholes (/said with love). Before I give him too many brownie points for maturity though, after Tom died he COMPLETELY GAVE UP SHIP/WEAPON BUILDING, WHICH WAS TOM’S WHOLE SCHTICK! Come on man, that was his main thing!

Then he meets Luffy.

Then it’s all over for him.

I saw a post a long time ago that said ‘Franky is your dad’s friend’ and it’s so accurate. He’s old enough to be your dad, but he assumes almost zero responsibility for your health and well-being while being the most interesting person in the room by a long shot. He’s in no way the voice of reason, if it was up to him you guys would be playing paintball in the kitchen and night swimming in gator-infested waters just for the fun of it. Sure, he’ll make sure you don’t die…but he’ll still tape you to the ceiling while you’re sleeping for kicks. This is his energy in the strawhats. His being a fucking cyborg doesn’t make him the weirdest person on the ship by a wide margin and lives to be very excited by this news. He embraces the strangeness the straw hats have to offer and shoots it right back. Usopp works with him to build cooler and cooler shit. Luffy’s creativity makes the inner scrap child in him squeal with joy. Zoro and Robin are bloodthirsty psychos who make his weapon-centered brain perk up in interest. Sanji will serve his every whim, Chopper’s a fucking delight, Brook’s excellent weird old man energy, and then there is Jinbei… let's talk about Jinbei (again).

Jinbei is one of the few members of the strawhats who met Luffy after they had matured, which for the sake of this essay means they were assured of themselves and fully understood what being a part of his crew meant. Zoro showed up committed and confident, but other than that…every other crewmate needed Luffy to push them toward their dreams. Jinbei understood the assignment (because of his experience~) and showed up to join knowing full well what kind of trust and loyalty was required of him. As I mentioned in my other analysis of Jinbei, his interaction with the strawhats are all hilarious because nothing in his life could have prepared him for this. Foundationally, they operate like all good crew do…unwavering faith in their captain and fellow crewmates but that's kind of where the similarities end. He’s shell-shocked with the amount of stupid the strawhats get up to, not to mention how all of them act like children. Sanji and Zoro bicker like brothers; Luffy, Usopp, and Chopper are all easily assumed and play children's games (like tag); Nami’s stubborn to a fault; and Franky is flamboyant and ridiculous (the worst part is Robin who fully knows better but chooses to get in on all that stupid). Jinbei has to start viewing his joining of the strawhats like a retirement while still being an old kickass because if not he’s gonna lose his mind.

BACK ON TOPIC!

Jinbei didn’t have a ‘Tom’ in his life when he needed one. He was left abandoned in the fish-man district with nothing but disenfranchised kids his age and a karate dojo. Think about what Franky would have turned into if it was just him and Iceburg on Water 7…a nightmare. Jinbei grew up in an unfair situation and was reminded of that fact all through his time in the guard and in the sun pirates. He was never given an outlet or a chance to move beyond that pain in the way that Franky did. Franky wasn’t sulking about how evil pirates are because they just fucking abandoned him, no he got to move on…Jinbei can’t do that. Not only did he not have a ‘Tom’ but he also had institutionalized racism which meant no matter how much he tried to do good and move on…him being a fish-man will always be his defining feature to those bigoted One Piece citizens/marines. Because of that difference, Jinbei had to find peace through a much longer process of hatred -> violence -> compromise -> understanding -> acceptance -> strawhat-themed enlightenment. Jinbei and Fisher Tiger grew up together which inspired him to do better with Fisher Tiger leading by example. Tom already had everything worked out by the time he met Franky and was willing and able to pass on that wisdom to the dirty little scrap boy.

The difference between them lies in the difference between being taught and learning along with what nurture can do to change perspective.

(I obviously simplified the topic of racism when it comes to Fish-man and the parallels it has to real-life racism and I understand that doing so can create an incomplete picture of events but it’s fucking 1 am and that essay, while important, will be for another day).

Hope you enjoyed sorry it took me so long to write all this, I had to rewatch some early Water 7 to recall what even Franky’s childhood was like and I hope I made some good points! Thanks for the ask and the potential read!

[healingskywalker]

9. Which Batcher are you getting to help you when you need to fake your death?

16. Gush about your favorite Batcher

50. How do you hope the series will end

I'm gonna answer these in order!

Ask 9: Crosshair. That fucker would keep his goddamn mouth SHUT and not tell a soul. I could rely on him to keep the secret, to continue to hide my fake identity, and I believe that he could totally fucking lie well enough to keep the story straight, and make sure it's believable. It's not like he's super open and talkative, and this instance, I would be using it to my advantage!

Ask 16: Oh god, jesus, I don't even know. I've had Tech brainrot so bad these past couple of weeks. He's such a NERD. Tech is just so handsome, and we are both autistic, so I feel that he and I would meld really well together. He's handsome, he's smart, he's kind when he needs to be, and he's not without compassion and empathy. His googles just do something for me. Especially MadScientistTech! makes me kinda go feral. He's so...knowing all of the time, and in a way, it adds a sense of passive dominance to the situation that makes me knees weak. Like, yes, sir, please tell me know you know everything and put me in my place intellectually. Also, you can't look at that man and tell me that he's not hung. He's hung like a horse. That's all I have to say.

Ask 50: Dude. I know that it's so NOT going to happen. But since Tech 'died', I want StupidDumbFuckNuggetHemlock to have NOT found his body, and is just using his goggles as collateral to try and get the rest of them to surrender. I'm ngl, I don't remember the last episode very well, as I was VERY much in shock. But I want a rescue mission for Omega and Crosshair - it's a big ordeal, lives lost (maybe this would be a good place for our boy Echo to get a heroic death moment, and I want redeeming a brother to be his greater purpose, because he couldn't save Fives). All hope is seemingly lost for the mission, and then BAM, Tech comes from the inside and turns the tide (maybe with the scientist on his side, too), and they end up being able to get out. Everyone goes to therapy, they go to Pabu and RELAX because they need a fucking BREAK.

[kommissarkartofelov]

ACHTUNG: AUTISTIC VIDYA GAEM WAIFU MAKING maybe i should continue more since i am in a textually ranty mood right now if a game gives the player the ability make their own character, my litmus test for if its a good one is if i'm able to make a sufficiently cool/cute tomboy no bias

guess i'll start with my favorite one i've made, a half orc in skay rim named her amba after watching dersu uzala since i figured that thematically the orcs in the elder scrolls games follow the tolkien derived tradtion of orcs being based on mongorians n other eastern godless savages so i guess the name of the Nanai tiger god is sufficiently oriental enough.

gave her a sorta "vulnerable badass" vibe depending on facial expression n camera angle honestly once one has had their fill of the gameplay skyrim is a good gravure game

man i love kijiko's toyger hair, bless those who ported it from sims 3 to the various bethesda games

her previous incarnation, named her kei because i am a filthy weeb liked to (and still do) use it as a more or less placeholder name

felt that i strayed too far from what can be considered "lore friendly" with her design, having human colored skin and eyes. changed character editor mods from ECE to Racemenu. ECE has much more control over the sliders, freedom is good but freedom also has its price. and so i made a spiritual successor in amba.

surprisingly, at least to me she doesn't look that bad or even better with the vanilla face/body textures. also did finally beat the main quest while playing as her so by the time i made amba there wasn't much of a point to actually playing the game

i guess still talking about skoirom why an orc/half-orc? the challenge. it's too easy with the plethora of over a decade of mods and coom glopping to make one of the human or even elven races purdy

like yeah she's cute n all but just had to fiddle with the right sliders n get the right textures speaking of elves and challenge

wanted to try retaining the ayylmaoness of TES's elves

also mashed together various mod n dragonborn dlc meshes to make a stalkery outfit, prominently the excellent wayfarer outfit n the mask from the westwind assault armor, can't remember where i got the goggles though, might be either a dwemer one or from the wet and cold series of mods

also made a feral snelf because why not was lurking /tesg/ and snelfs were prominent at that time so i wanted to put my own twist on one

i love that racemenu gives the ability to vertex edit the individual headparts, especially the teeth

fuck this is getting long, gonna make a pt 3 of this quasi series on characters i made in the 3d fallout games, abandon hope ye who enter

[darthnil]

Brought over from my AO3, I don’t think Tech died but I'm going to save his ass through the power of Fanfics and a paratrooper. (From my story "After the Order's Betrayal.)

My oc's are CT-9966 'Feral', CT-9933 'Kraken', CT-9999 'Schism' and CT-9999-1 'Dash One'

-

“They’re in serious trouble.” Kraken said from the pilot seat as they gunned towards the fight, “One of them is hanging on by a cable to the damaged rail car.”

“What’s he wearing?” Feral asked quickly from the co-pilot seat.

“Goggles.” Kraken replied.

“Kark… that’s Tech!” Schism wondered what these men were like to make Feral feel all these emotions, “Bring us back around and give them cover! Schism, Dash One, be prepared to hop-n-pop, R4, get us stabilised.”

“Affirmative.” He replied as R4 gave a whistled reply, closing his eyes he slipped his helmet on and waited for the automated voice to give him the run down.

“Connected… welcome back CT-9999… assessing… assessing… systems online, suit status optimal, parachute ready for deployment.” It said and he opened his eyes.

“Dash One, hop-n-pop!” Feral said.

He opened the gunner pit and stepped out into the roaring wind, he saw the man called Tech aim his blaster at the damaged car and shoot, “Catch him mother.” He whispered before jumping after the man, rocketing down as he picked up velocity.

He was falling faster because Tech was horizontal while he had taken bullet form, “Alert two thousand.” His helmet said in his ear as it clocked his altitude.

He grabbed Tech easily and pulled him against himself, “Bullet form.” He said over their now connected comms and Tech nodded.

“One thousand.” His helmet said, “Deploying parachute.”

The two of them jerked to a sudden slow fall as the chute opened with force, “Fascinating, did that not hurt?” Tech asked, probably wondering why Dash One's shoulders didn't dislocate with the force.

“Designed for it sir.” He replied, he had to remember that Tech wasn't, meaning he couldn't eject the chute as high up as usual, “Brace for impact.” He curled his legs up slightly and ejected the chute and they hit the ground, with the chute falling down behind them.

“Tech! Are you alright?” He heard one of the other men call into the comm.

“Affirmative, meet you at the Marauder.” Tech nodded, “Let’s go.”

“Mm.” He nodded and took off after the older clone, they heard the screeching of the car and Dash One looked up at it, Kami had tow cables attached and was using her backwards thrusters to try and slow the thing down, it wasn’t going so well… “I’m Dash One by the way.” He didn’t know if the man knew but it would be rude to not introduce himself.

“Dash One?” Tech asked and he could practically hear the man’s eyebrow venturing up his face.

“CT-9999-1, my brother is CT-9999, he’s called Schism.” He explained, “We arrived with Feral and our other brother Kraken, CT-9933.”

“You are defectives?” Tech asked as they scaled the cliff.

“Mm.” He nodded, he wondered how much of a surprise it was going to be when the group found out that he and Schism were alters, it used to be that Schism would be in the forefront when talking to people but since finding Kraken and Feral, he had become less shy about letting Schism take time away from the world, meaning he was generally the one most people met, “Kraken is oldest of us, me and Schism are youngest, was only a week in the field when the order went out.”

“Fascinating… and you are designed for what exactly?” Tech was full of questions apparently.

“Paratrooper, designed for high altitude, low opening jumps.” He pulled himself up over the lip of the cliff.

“Halo jumps?” Tech looked to him when he made it to the top.

“Mm, can also do low altitude jumps as displayed, the muscles in my legs are beefed up so I can make landings.” He nodded.

“And Schism?” Tech asked as he typed into his datapad.

“Same.” He replied.

“Right… we had better get a move on.” He nodded and followed after Tech, he could hear the sounds of Kami firing her weapons, more than likely to give the other members of Clone Force 99 cover so they could get to their ship.

“We heard Crosshair got taken… do you know where?” He probably shouldn’t ask these questions until they were away from the planet but the silence was making Schism nervous.

“No and our only hope of finding him was taken by Saw Gerrera.” The man sounded angry at the mention of Saw Gerrera, “But we will find him.”

“Feral might be able to help, he has contacts all over the Galaxy, that’s why we’re here, we followed your signature once we’d heard about Crosshair but we arrived to you in this situation…” He paused, “Were you willing to die to save them?”

“I was… plan 99.” Tech sighed and Dash One knew that tone of voice, so he stopped that line of questioning, “There is the Marauder.”

“Tech! Move it!” He saw someone at the base of the ship’s steps, “Name?” The man turned his attention to him.

“Dash One.” He replied with a salute, the man looked like he got the tar kicked out of him but that might have been down to him being in a rail car crash.

“Hunter… okay, further introductions can be made on exit, get in the ship.” Hunter said, this was their Sergeant? The head of their family?

“Kami calling Marauder, aim for Kashyyyk.” Feral’s voice came over the comms, “Wrrlykam has confirmed she’ll give you medical aid and a safe space to lay low.”

“Affirmative, meet you there vod.” Hunter replied, “Get us in the air.”

“Who’s this guy?” An absolute behemoth of a man asked, he was as tall as Kraken but was at least three times his body mass.

“This is CT-9999-1 or Dash One as he told me.” Tech said as the ship took off.

“Me and my brother Schism are the last of the CT-99 production line.” He explained as he removed his helmet.

“If you all arrived in Kami… how did you fit four people?” Wrecker asked.

“I… I like blue.”

“What?”

[riddlesnap]

"So remind me what the fuck I'm doin' here again??" Margaret crosses her arms, already irritable to have had to endure this man's god awful cawing over the intercom for her to make her way to his office 'posthaste.' Now she was standing here waiting for him to properly acknowledge her while he tinkered away with some contraption resembling a limb. And she was getting impatient.

"Hellooo??? Earth to bozo?? Am I smashin' somebody's head o' what??"

Really, she wanted to smash his head in right about now.

Sparks fly as the tool in his hand meticulously melds metal to metal, an action that becomes slightly more haphazard as their wielder's eye twitches in annoyance. What did she want now? Couldn't she see he was busy? Didn't she know he had so much to do? Of course she couldn't. She was an ignoramus, a thug whose only merit was to serve as a living hammer. The word 'bozo' snaps him out of his reverie and Edward switches off the welder, his sharp face pinched with mounting irritation. "If you bothered listening the first time round, I wouldn't have to explain again what your very simple task is!" Insolent whelp. Yanking off his goggles, his blue eyes narrow unpleasantly as he squints at... what was her name again, Marg? Whatever. Wiping a smudge of soot deeper into his cheek, Edward sneers as he hunches over scattered pieces of metal, his posture reminiscent of a feral animal guarding a precious resource. "Now listen and listen good because I won't explain myself a third time. I need you to take one of my wonderful little trophies - fantastic isn't it? And hide it at the coordinates attached. I've even included a photo of the area with the password necessary to get in." There was a small back alley a good half hour's walk away where the area was sealed off to the general public due to it hosting a considerable generator to power the area. Wouldn't want somebody's darling offspring roasting themselves, no doubt... He had the access codes, now lovingly bequeathed to this masked menace. A simple fetch task surely even she could surely accomplish. "Take the trophy, find the location provided and hide it inside. Do you think you can manage that?"