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Lightning Arresters are the new lifeline of today’s world owing to the unprecedented thunderbolts and lightning taking place across the world now and then. It’s not that Lightning didn’t happen in earlier days, but nowadays, the frequency and the intensity of lightning strikes have grown exponentially to draw immediate attention and install prompt lightning protection systems to save oneself and one’s property from the menace of lightning strikes.
The climatic changes and global warming have made it mandatory for us to safeguard ourselves and our property from uncontrolled natural calamities, which we cannot control but can only safeguard ourselves in one way or another.
Conventional Lightning Arresters:
Conventional lightning arresters are solid rods or hollow pipes with a pointed top or 4–5 spikes on the top to make the lightning strike in its near vicinity fall over it rather than somewhere else. These Lightning Arresters are connected to the ground earthing with down conductors to immediately ground the lightning current into the earth without allowing it to do any damage in the surroundings. In this way, lives, structures, and other objects which come under the protective cover of the lightning arrester, stay safe from the lightning strikes.
Conventional lightning arresters are commonly available as Copper Lightning Arresters or Aluminum Lightning Arresters.
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Saw you took specific requests. Here's mine:
Jamil with a religious reader who gives him a protection talisman.
Fun fact, prayer beads are used in multiple religions as they help count prayers (Christianity, Islam, Buddhism, Hinduism, etc).
So let's say reader comes from a world where magic exists but it's exclusively on religious grounds. Meaning if you wanna do magic you gotta pray to the right god or make a deal with some form of mythological creature.
Reader knows that Jamil's is always in danger due to the constant assassination attempts on Kalim, so they make a set of prayer beads and ask a diety to bless it in order to protect their boyfriend (could be Allah, Indra, Shiva, Buddha, Susanoo, whichever). Jamil accepts it and heads back home appreciating the sentiment but not really believing.
Except any form of danger keeps getting thwarted. Drink/food he's trying is poisoned? Conveniently spills over/has a whole in the bottom. Accident happens? Conveniently pushed out of the way. Someone tries to hurt him/kill him? Struck by lightning and straight up dies.
Not even his own parents are safe. They try to slap him to "discipline him" then they get zapped (lightly tho).
you know!!! I love this prompt so much... I'm a religious studies major so this kinda stuff is so ^w^ to me I get so excited.
summary: giving jamil a protection spell type of post: short fic characters: jamil additional info: reader is gender neutral, the existence of religious beliefs in twst is. confusing. so we're keeping it vague, not proofread, reader is yuu
Perhaps it was because your world was still considered "magicless" by Twisted Wonderland standards, or perhaps Jamil was never superstitious to begin with.
Either way, he wasn't exactly as excited as you'd been hoping for.
"It's nice. Did you make it yourself?" he asks, inspecting the beads. "A bracelet?"
"Prayer beads, actually. And yes, I did,"
"It's well made. What's the purpose?"
You hesitate. The nature of religion in this world is still confusing to you, although you can surmise there's got to be some kind of belief system. It's best not touching on for now.
Besides, Jamil has never been much of a believer in higher powers. For good reason.
"For protection," you explain. "Not that I think you can't handle yourself. But I worry about you over break, you know..."
He's quiet for a moment, inspecting the gift in the palm of his hand. And then he tucks the beads away in his pocket and smiles.
"I'll keep them with me, then. Thank you,"
Even if he's not exactly keen on the idea that these things will make his life any less terrible, they're from you.
And so he keeps his promise, and tucks them away after you part.
By the time he's "home" (back in Kalim's family home) he's all but forgotten about the little blessing at the bottom of his pocket. Not that you can really blame him- "vacation" is more of a title than a reality when he's back.
The first incident happens not even a day after.
The al-Asim summer mansion is certainly nothing to scoff at. Though it's only one of many, this one in particular houses a large sum of physical treasures, line with gold and ivory, stuffed full of spices and all the makings of a feast that could feed thousands, a shining jewel of the desert.
Jamil is not all that impressed.
Especially when it comes to navigating such an ornate building on orders. The polished-to-perfection floors present a challenge when you're carrying three crates worth of grain to the kitchen on the lowest floor.
Damn these stairs.
Though Jamil may not be a religious man, he still asks whatever deity may be up there to smite the slippery spiral staircase he's descending.
His arms strain to uphold the weight of the boxes, and his legs strain to keep a good footing on one of the many long and elaborate and narrow servant passages designed specifically so that the unwanted workers of the family can slip by undetected.
Quiet, diligent, and he has to be quick, too. Kalim is expecting him for a game in one of the many lounges soon.
Another unfortunate "vacation". How he'd much rather be spending it with you...
For a brief moment, Jamil swears he can feel the beads in his pocket warm against him, reminding him of their presence.
And then he slips.
The crates free themselves from his careful grasp and tumble down the stairs, creaking and thudding but mercifully staying intact.
Jamil, however, isn't made of wood. He winces as he feels himself tilting forward- and then... somehow, a strong draft pushes him on his back.
He lands just shy of his tailbone, luckily not hurting anything, except for his pride.
What a turn of luck.
The next happens at dinner.
Jamil keeps his earlier blunder to himself. His pride is damaged enough as it is, after all, and so he tries his best to conceal how shaken up the experience left him by moving swiftly across the kitchen.
"We have a dish ready for you to test," someone shouts.
He sighs. How many more evenings of this will he have to endure?
Though, he reminds himself- this may always be his last.
The thought makes Jamil chuckle as he's handed a hot dish and a clean fork. He can only stop to smell the roses for so long, so there's no chance of savoring such an exquisitely prepared meal before he's off to another part of the kitchen.
Just as the fork digs into the food, the dish slips out of his hand and shatters on the kitchen floor. Everyone falls silent.
His eyes widen. "How- ugh. My apologies,"
Now this is just getting ridiculous. How clumsy can he get in one evening? He's usually much more careful...
"Look," the head chef says, the whole kitchen crowding around the food as it dissolves.
Jamil's stomach lurches. Cyanide. It has to be. If he'd eaten that dish right there and then...
The kitchen is swiftly cleared out, and he's sent back to the lounge.
it only gets stranger from there.
What Jamil initially wrote off as clumsiness and luck seems to become a pattern-
a flying arrow at the archery range just narrowly misses him when he bends down to fix his sandal.
The al-Asim family tiger (because of course they have one) chooses to toy with a visiting prince rather than him in the courtyard.
A strong draft pushes him on his rear end seconds before a sandbag falls from an under-construction part of the mansion.
He would call it fortune if he believed in such a thing.
By the end of the vacation, everyone is absolutely perplexed by his string of good luck. Jamil isn't unfamiliar with how dangerous his family's position in life is, and he's had his fair share of injuries as a result, but this time all he has to show for it is a slightly lesser sense of annoyance than usual.
It's only the end of the trip where he ponders (unfortunately aloud) about the string of coincidences, and the beads in his pocket.
Kalim goes on to babble about Jamil's "good luck charm" to anyone who will listen, much to his annoyance.
"Oh, I want one too! Can you ask them to make me one, too?" he says, folding his hands in a pleading motion. "It's so pretty!"
"It was a gift. But... I suppose I can ask..." he sighs, and then smiles to himself.
Of course you'll come up with some excuse to say no. Because, for once, this charm is all his.
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Humans are weird: Minecraft
Alien: What is the point of this game? Human: It doesn’t have one; you can do whatever you want. Alien: Can I burn this world and leave nothing but ash? Human: Disturbingly specific but go ahead.
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Alien: How do I get wood? Human: Punch some trees. Alien: ……….. Alien: Punch some trees. Human: Yup. Alien: Are you mocking me? Human: What? Alien: Do you think I’m some sort of joke? Alien: An object of ridicule for your amusement!? Human: Okay, before you over react let me just show you. Alien: *Starts reaching for sword when they see the human literally start punching trees for wood* Alien: Oh. *Puts sword away* My apologies. -------------
Human: Why aren’t you playing? Alien: There is a monster in my home. Human: Is it an ender man? Alien: No. Human: Skeleton? Alien: No. Human: Creeper? Alien: Nope. Human: ………… Human: Zombie? Alien: Thwarp no. Human: *Takes controller and goes inside the house* What could it possibly be- *Sees creature* Human: That is a pig. Alien: It is the stuff of nightmares. Human: What the hell is scary about a pig? Alien: Look into its eyes. Alien: It has no soul; no remorse. ----------------
Alien: What are you making? Human: A doomsday device. Alien: Are you allowed to build that on a public server? Alien: Surely the admins would seek to stop you. Human: They can’t stop it if they can’t find it. Alien: What did you build? Human: I placed a claim block, fifty blocks down, and started a cow farm. Alien: That doesn’t sound so bad. Human: There are currently five hundred cows in a four block pen. Human: I have seen the amount of lag it generates drive men to madness. Alien: You are the worst of your species. ---------------
Alien: How goes it? Human: I’ve created a massive creeper farm. Alien: Dear gods why?!?! Human: I want to see what happens when one of them is hit by lightning. Alien: Why? Human: I heard that it turns them into a super creeper. Alien: Why would you want to make the sentient explosive even deadlier? Human: To leave as a surprise for that griefer who blew up my chicken farm last week. Alien: Ah. ----------------
Alien: What are you building today? Human: A nether portal Alien: Is that the purple doorway thing in front of you? Human: Yup. Alien: What does it do? Human: It’s a portal to this world’s version of hell. Alien: WHAT?! Alien: Is that not dangerous? Human: I mean, I want glow stone for my city; and the only place to get glow stone is in the nether. Alien: I weep for this world that has you as its caretaker. ---------------
Alien: Why is all the sand from my beach gone? Human: Needed it. Alien: For what? Human: Copious amounts of TNT. Alien: Do I even want to know why? Human: Remember that village that I defended only for the golem to attack me? Alien: Yeah. Human: Good. Human: Because that memory of yours is all that is left of it. -----------
*stumbling down extensive mine network to find human friend deep underground.* Alien: You ever coming topside again? Alien: I just found these things called “Pandas” and they are adorable. Human: Not until I find a diamond. Alien: Oh gods, here we go again. Human: There’s only fucking copper down here! Human: What the hell can I even use for copper!?! Alien: I think you can make lightning rods out of them. Human: Oh yeah, sure, lightning rods. Human: I’m sure those will be useful SIXTY BLOCKS UNDERGROUND!!!! ------------
Human: What’s this? Alien: I’ve created an elaborate rail system that will allow me to transfer the citizens of one village to another village to make it a super village! Human: Isn’t that considered kidnapping and human trafficking? Alien: ……….. -------------
Alien: I have created these five iron golems to protect my home. Alien: Nothing shall destroy it while I am away! *Alien leaves into mines* *Returns after an hour of mining to find the entire home destroyed by creepers* Alien: What the flarp! Alien: Where are my go- *Turns to see all five golems distracted by some flowers* -------------
Alien: Something just occurred to me. Human: What’s that? Alien: If you can use the portal to this nether, why can’t things down there use it to escape? Human: Pfft. Human: That’s impossible. Alien: Is it? Human: *Dramatic pause before sprinting over to portal with alien behind him* *Both arrive to find legion of pigmen pouring out from the portal* Alien: Congratulations, you created the end times. Alien: I hope that glow stone was worth it. Human: *draws sword* It really was.
#HUMANS ARE WEIRD#humans are insane#humans are space orcs#humans are space oddities#funny#writing#original writing#niqhtlord01#minecraft
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The ship was shaking like a kid holding a goldfish bag.
It was not, in case you were wondering, a good time.
Keith grit his teeth, planting his boots on the ground and half-walking half-climbing over to Allura, who was paler than Keith had ever seen her. The grip she had on her podium was tight enough to drain the blood completely from her knuckles. Despite his own fear, Keith’s heart softened for her.
“How is it looking?” he asked, shouting over the noise of a thousand asteroids and a million laser strikes. All while their lions sat, drained of quintessence, locked in their hangars
One goddamn thing after another. Jesus.
“It is looking bad,” Allura shouted, not taking her eyes off the space in front of her. “I can’t – Coran, I can’t hold it on my own!”
Coran looked back at her grimly. He had probably the most success keeping upright – seriously, was it posture or did he have a steel rod anchored to his back at all times – but even he was struggling against the whipping and shuddering of the massive castleship, attention focused on the controls. Trying to keep the shield up as well as possible, trying to get their own defenses running. Trying, as always, to keep the castle going, even when the odds were a million to nothing.
“You can,” he encouraged. The effect was less encouraging when a massive asteroid hit the side of the bridge point-blank, throwing him right off the controls and splat into the walls. Despite Lance and Allura’s cries of alarm, he made a startlingly dignified crawl back to the deck controls.
Hell of a man, that advisor.
He continued once he was steady, sweat beading on his brow but gaze soft and assuring. He waited for Allura to meet his eyes, then nodded, once. “Focus, girl. Hands on the spheres. Mind cool on the exhale. However we need to get out of this – you can guide us. Make your decision. Your team is behind you.”
“Yeah!” Pidge cheered, lifting her fist in emphasis from where Shiro held her steady, eyes trained on her computer screen. Blaring red lines of code Keith could not pretend to read flashing rapid speed in front of her, and she typed back at it just as fast, keeping their crackling systems at bay. “You got this!”
Allura breathed out. The tense line of her shoulders softened, just slightly, despite the ongoing chaos. She lifted her hands and rested them, gently, on the podium spheres as Coran instructed. They glowed.
“We retreat,” she decided, nodding to herself. “We’re already low on quintessence, standing to fight will drain us dangerously. We must get to safety if we are to survive with our home intact.” She bit her lip, eyes opening. “But, uh, full disclosure, I have enough strength in me to open a wormhole and that is About It. I will be out of commission the moment it closes.”
Hunk shrugged. “We’ll catch you, then.”
“Try not to wormhole us into a black hole,” Shiro suggested, smiling slightly. “We’ll manage anything else, Princess.”
She laughed slightly, thankfully, but within seconds called out for everyone to brace themselves. Keith did as she heeded, or he tried to – but the castle got hit as he tried to crawl back to his seat, sprawling him on the floor. He glanced over at Allura, panicked, but her eyes were already glowing, and the space in front of them was already starting to warp. He swallowed roughly, squeezing his eyes shut. The floor was shaking too badly for him to get his bearings. He couldn’t get his feet under him, couldn’t stand, couldn’t dream to crawl to his seat. He stilled, resigning himself – he didn’t know exactly what would happen if he wasn't strapped down and protected during a wormhole jump, but it couldn’t be good. He had to hope for the best.
“God,” sighed a voice to his left, “you’d die without me, Dropout.”
A hand clenched the back of his jacket and yanked, pulling him tumbling onto another body. Quick as lightning a seatbelt was stretched over him, clicking into place just as the space in front of the castle finally warped, bright blue, and the entire bridge lit up so bright Keith was blind with it.
When the light finally died down, Keith was half-convinced nothing had changed. The castle stopped shaking, but instead it was plummeting, hard and fast, controls dead and energy gone, towards the surface of a planet.
“Someone catch Allura!” Coran shouted, and on queue the princess’ eyes rolled up in her head and she slumped forward. Luckily, Hunk had been more prepared than the rest of them, seatbelt already off and arms extended to catch her. He carried her back to her seat, buckling her in carefully, and strapping himself in next to her. Wise move – trying to crawl back to his own seat, fighting against the G-forces, would be near impossible.
There was a click, and then a shove, and then Keith got to feel those G-forces firsthand.
“What the hell!” he demanded, barely managing to catch himself on the arm of the blue paladin’s seat. “I coulda brained myself!”
Lance shrugged, playing for innocent, but a smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth. Keith could’ve strangled him. “What? Thought I’d let you get back to your own chair. You're welcome for saving you, by the way.”
“Some saving, jerk! We're still falling!”
“Yeah. Personally, I would find somewhere to buckle up.”
“You’re so annoying,” Keith growled, and it was by spite alone that he managed to stomp back to his own seat and buckle himself in. He was bright red, anger making him hot – Lance always made him like this, so furious he could barely blink. One day they’d be making progress, working together like a dream, wiping the floor together, and the next it was like a switch was flipped. Like Lance was reminding himself that he and Keith could never get along. It was ridiculous, and Keith couldn’t for the life of him understand it. Was he so bad?
“Incoming!” Pidge shouted, shaking Keith back to himself. Her screen was now linked up with Coran’s, the only two things on in the entire castle – electronics seemed to come alive when Pidge touched them – and diagrams of the castle systems were blaring red, flashing with symbols Keith didn’t know, but recognised as bad. “The nav and power systems are down! It’s not safe to get anyone back there to force them back on manually, but I think I can get steering up in a sec. Shiro, I need your arm for power. Hunk, keep on Allura, make sure she’s upright when we crash, we don’t want a spinal injury. Lance, Keith, I’m turning steering over to you guys. Don’t fuck it up.”
Despite their bickering, both of them nodded. Neither of them particularly wanted to be turned into paladin pancake anytime soon, so they could collaborate for one thing.
Seconds after Pidge spoke, a screen flickered to life in front of Keith. Stats blinked back up, glitching rapidly as they translated themselves into words and symbols Keith could understand. The hologram shifted and expanded to its usual 3D model, joystick in the middle, thrusters and controls to his left, a screen with Lance’s comm line to his right. In his little screen, Lance met his eyes, eyebrows raised in question. Keith nodded. Together, they wrapped their hands around the joysticks, breathed out, and let their minds fuse.
As always, it was a freaky feeling. Imagine the weird, shuddery feeling you get when you say the same thing as someone at the same time, voices layering, tone mixing, for a moment your own voice and the voice of a stranger synching into one. The weird, deja-vu-but-not of it, the uncanny valley feel of recognising your own voice but…different.
Then multiply that freakiness by a hundred, and you still won’t quite get it.
On some levels Keith was aware that he was his own person. He knew his name, knew his hands, knew his history – or well, some of it. Nothing about himself had changed.
But at the same time, he was also Lance Esposita-McClain. He knew his name, knew his hands, knew his history, more of it than he could ever get from shared stories or mind melds. There’s no telling the way your sister’s arm feels hooked around your neck for the sixth noogie in as many minutes. There’s no explaining the way your breathing only gets calm with your feet in the saltwater. There’s no describing the curve of your mother’s smile. Nothing Keith was seeking out – no memories he would even know to look for – but they were there, simmering, triggered by a smell or the crook of his finger in a particular way. Memories stored in the body and the soul and the senses, not in the brain, shared when two consciousnesses become one.
Lance’s mind was hyperspecific. It complemented Keith’s well, with all his flitting, quick detail-oriented observance. As Keith jumped from angle to angle, noticing the planet’s curve, the pull of its gravity, the heat of its atmosphere, Lance zeroed in on an island, one of the only ones big enough for them to land. While Keith kept their craft in control, steering along the air currents, Lance kept them directed, single-minded focus on a stretch of rocky beach – not exactly a soft landing, but not a lot of living things for them to destroy when they crash. (Keith would’ve chosen to land in the meadow. Crushing frogs and bugs or whatever is never something on his top priority list of things to avoid. But he didn’t argue when Lance nudged them towards what is about to be a very bumpy landing.)
“Brace yourself!” he shouted, not daring to look away to make sure his friends were buckled. Trusting that they were, he held his position, letting them plummet, coming closer and closer to splatting on the planet’s surface before finally yanking on the joystick as hard as he could. He felt Lance’s strength twist and tangle with his own, and together the two of them levelled the castle almost parallel with the ground, letting them glide on their own velocity until they slowed down enough to let the bottom of the craft brush against the rocky outcrop.
It was the most turbulent landing Keith has ever felt, except maybe that time he and Lance crashed blindfolded into a sand dune, and every bump on the ground gave him whiplash. When the castle finally hit the ground for good, dragging them a gauge in the ground for several miles as friction finally slowed it to a stop, the leftover inertia yanked Keith forward so roughly the buckles of his seatbelt made something crack in his ribcage. When the castle finally stopped he got slammed back into his chair so hard he was almost surprised he didn’t fall right through the impenetrable material.
It took a minute for everything to hit. His connection with Lance had been severed the second they hit the ground, too focused on being, y’know, crashed to keep holding on. After the shock of being tossed around like dice in a cup wore off, which did not take long, Keith’s body made it very clear that yeah, no, armour actually only does so much, and crash landing is one of those things that’s just bound to hurt. His skull pounded. At least one of his ribs was most definitely cracked. His wristed and knuckles ached from the strain of holding up the entire weight of the castle as he’d steered it. He was alive, obviously, but – Jesus. Being alive sucked.
“Sound off,” croaked Shiro from somewhere left of him.
“Ugh,” groaned Pidge. “Screw you, Keith, I hate it when you drive.”
“Next time I’ll be sure to let us crash,” Keith responded flatly.
“Um, you did, bozo, I asked you to land us –”
“The castle was dead! What did you expect me to –”
“Allura and I are both fine,” Hunk interrupted. Amusement lined his voice. “She’s still out, but she’s breathing fine, and I didn’t let her hit anything on impact. She should still get checked out, though.”
“Roger that,” Coran agreed. “Ease your worries, Number Two, you did well. I will have her in the MedBay as soon as our systems are up and running again.”
“Oh, whew, that’s a relief, because I didn’t want to say anything but she kinda jammed her elbow into my sternum by accident and I’m not blaming her or anything since she’s unconscious but I think my spleen may be a little dead, not a huge deal I’m sure but –”
“Everyone quiet!” barked Shiro. “That’s six accounted for! Who’s missing?”
Immediately, heart pounding, Keith whipped to his right. His stomach dropped. The Blue Lion Command Chair was empty – seatbelt torn somewhere on the shoulder, cracked helmet overturned carelessly on the seat. The crisp blue and white lines were marred by a small splash of red. Panic clawed its way up Keith’s throat, and he was out of his seat before he could register unbuckling his own straps, looking frantically around the bridge.
“He’s here somewhere,” Pidge fretted, “he couldn’t’ve just disappeared –”
Coran had a gloved hand clenched in his hair. “The windows and walls should be almost impenetrable, there is no way the crash broke them enough to let someone in –”
“What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck –”
“Guys,” a soft voice interrupted, and Keith could’ve collapsed with relief. The castle has been flipped sideways during the fall, floor suddenly now 90 degrees, and standing at the side of the control board, now the very high top, was Lance. For whatever reason he had climbed it while they bickered, and now stood very still, gloved hand pressed to the glass of the windshield. Blood trickled from his temple, tracing a line down the side of his face, disappearing in the neckline of his armour. “We got company.”
Shifting gears – Keith was about to tear him a new one, when Shiro says sound off you sound off – but froze when he looked out the window, following Lance’s gaze.
Marching towards them, in numbers Keith couldn’t pretend to count, was an army.
— — —
part two
#i am in my percabeth era 🩷 thus the past tense writing LMFAO#vld#voltron#keith#snarky protag keith my beloved <3#keith kogane#lance#lance mcclain#klance#pre klance#s1 klance#blue paladin lance#red paladin keith#for u moth#rivals to lovers#jealous keith#aegis au#longpost#team as family#leader pidge#just as a treat#my writing#wip wednesday#pining keith#oblivious keith#adhd keith#autistic lance
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Rewatching the original Livewire episode of 90s Superman last week and rewatching the premiere of My Adventures With Superman a few days later really put something into perspective...
The new one is much, much better.
Granted, Lori Petty's voice is iconic, and her character has a ton of charisma...but boy, is she wasted in that. Her character's just mean and arrogant and selfish...which isn't terrible, it's very relevant, especially today, but it wears off pretty quickly. And I know they never gave her a character arc later on in the show; I think the most she does is team up with Parasite once and then cross over to fight Batgirl and Supergirl. Comparing her to other villains like Volcanica and Metallo really puts a stamp on just how much of a Monster of the Week she was.
But that's not even the problem.
The problem is that she's created when lightning strikes a pole and Superman pulls her out of the way to save her...inadvertently channeling the lightning through him and giving her lightning powers. I don't know if anyone realizes that Superman created Livewire, but they certainly don't acknowledge it or make it a plot point. Clark drops her off at the hospital and washes his hands of the matter. The rest of the episode is just him working to take her in.
There's no anger from Leslie that he's turned her into something (but she's excited for it, anyway, so that's also not an issue), or resolution from Clark to fix her. There are several story options, but...no. They just fight. And I get it. It was the nineties. You needed weekly villains, something the kids could come home from school, tune in, and just see some colorful, flashy action going on.
My Adventures With Superman has Leslie bring the lightning powers on herself. Superman saves her from exploding as the alien tech goes out of control, and when he frees her, he gently lays her down on a step....and then, when his back is turned, she's spirited away and kidnapped to a holding facility. He doesn't ignore her: she's taken from him.
Then she breaks out, joins the Kill-Superman squad, breaks out of prison, becomes a mercenary...she's not exactly going through Major Character Arcs, but she's Living.
Or. Trying to.
The point is, the new Livewire brings more to both her own character and Superman's character. Clark isn't callously abandoning her to the prison system; he keeps trying to keep her in line when she shows up, and just keeps focusing on protecting people.
IT'S HEALTHIER FOR BOTH OF THEM.
#my adventures with superman#superman: the animated series#maws#stas#livewire#leslie willis#clark kent#superman#though there is something great about an electric villain being less grounded#ultimately it plays itself out
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{❤️Thundershock❤️}
Normally, sleep in the lair would be peaceful. A thriving time for the boys and reader to enjoy the mundane silence away from the hectic nights. Patrol had ended 2 hours ago, and during the first one a thunder storm had stared. While that would cause panic, Donnie had a system that redirected any extra water away from their homes as to not get flooded.
While getting ready for bed, reader had been finished first and locked herself away in her personal room away from the boys. She was living there permanently after her apartment got wrecked in the invasion. She had met the boys during a late patrol night and they decided to help her out. In return of her not freaking out when first seeing them.
After a few months of living with them she began to feel safer than she did when she had her apartment. For multiple reasons of course. For one the secludedness of the lair and two, the boys were protective of their friends and family. Especially Raph. So she didn't have to worry about someone hurting her when she leaves to work and comes back.
Tonight was different, this was a different kind of danger and unsettlement. The kind that doesn't go away when your in a safe place. The thunder storm with occasional lightning strikes, had triggered her memories of when the Kraang had attacked. It didn't help that there was a possibility of them coming back. Scatterings of their technology were left behind and people began tampering with them.
So when at 4 in the morning, reader screamed in response to a louder bang in the sky, Raph jumped awake and quickly ran to his friend. For some reason he was the light sleeper of the family. Even Splinter couldn't be forced awake. While rushing into the room he accidentally slammed the door opened causing the girl to jump again.
By this point she was in heavy tears trying to calm down. Raph took a moment and looked around. No one attacked her that's for sure. Looking at her closely now he realized how bad she was crying. Paying attention at the noise above the sewer roof, rumbling from high up accord.
"What are you doing here?" she asked full paying attention to the red-clad turtle just 10 feet away from her. He got closer and sat down next to her.
"Heard ya scream. Didn't want you to get kidnapped." he replied while rubbing her back slowly. She leaned into it and fell into a trance of calm. After a while he gently scooped her up and sat on her bed with her between his legs.
After about 20 minutes of his thumb rubbing against her arm, he fell asleep too. Churring in content emotions and a peaceful rest.
The next morning they awoke to the brothers, more specifically Mikey and Donnie, taking pictures of the two cuddle buddies on the queen size bed with grey sheets and comforters. Raph was the first to awaken with a very displeased expression apparent on his green face.
"Wake up love birds! Sun's here!" Mikey gloated as he ran away with an albums worth of pictures. Donnie just chortled and walked away while closing the door. Huffing in annoyance of his siblings, Raph looked down at the sleeping girl. How she hadn't woken up with his brothers ruckus, was beyond him.
She shifted and cuddled closer into his carapace and breathed out with relaxation. He sunk into the mattress and pulled her closer. Thinking back to a few hours ago, he hoped she had slept better than what she could have if he hadn't woke up. It was a good thing she lived with them, otherwise it could have been a hell morning.
After another 5 minutes, reader stirred and sat up rubbing her eyes and yawned. Raph just watched her while glancing at the door. When she noticed she was between his thighs, her face turned red.
"Sorry, thanks for coming when you did." Raph shrugged his shoulders and picked her up putting her on his left. He grazed his thumb over her cheek and cupped the back of her head. He pulled her forward and down, then placing a kiss on the top of her head. He got off the bed and stretched, turning to her and just smiled.
Leaving the room after closing the door he began freaking out internally. Leo, who was sitting on the couch skimming through the channels on the television April and Casey had brought them, had noticed and smiled.
"Good to know you weren't having sex while Mikey's here." a pillow was thrown at his face and he laughed it off leaving on a channel that had this animated witch show Mikey liked.
#bay tmnt#bayverse tmnt#teenage mutant ninja turtles 2014#teenage mutant ninja turtles 2016#tmnt#tmnt 2016#tmnt bayverse#bayverse tmnt fanfic#tmnt oots#tmnt fanfic#bayverse turtles#bayverse raphael#bayverse raph x reader
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When I sleep, I dream of rain.
REROUTING POWER TO TENGU BOOSTERS. INITIATING EMERGENCY THRUST.
I remember our home, a world of water and storms. I remember the sound of cascading droplets upon domes of glass.
WARNING - REACTOR HEAT LEVELS CRITICAL!
I saved that kid when everything went wrong. Travelled with him halfway across creation to our new home.
FIRING GANDIVA ROCKETS
FIRING SHARENGA ROCKETS
NEAR-THREAT TAEGETING SENSORS LOCKED, FIRING VIGILANTE ROCKETS
INITIATING CONCUSSIVE LIGHTNING LAUNCHER BARRAGE
Why do the people I am charged with protecting always throw themselves into harms way?
JAVELIN TARGET ACQUIRED, DELIVERING PAYLOAD
JAVELIN TARGET ACQUIRED, DELIVERING PAYLOAD
In a way, I suppose I am proud of their bravery.
LEFT SHOULDER AMMUNITION AT ZERO PERCENT, RELOAD REQUIRED
RIGHT SHOULDER AMMUNITION AT ZERO PERCENT, RELOAD REQUIRED
Would that the pride were not accompanied by fear.
PILOT STRESS LEVELS RISING. ADMINISTERING SEDATIVES.
PREVIOUS PROTOCOL CANCELLED BY PILOT.
MANUAL OVERRIDE ACCEPTED. ADMINISTERING STIMULANTS.
Regardless, I remain a Knight, even in these far reaches of the Galaxy. I will protect them.
AP AT FIFTY—
AP AT THIRTY PERCENT.
WARNING - HULL INTEGRITY COMPROMISED.
I feel my throat go hoarse from screaming. I don't normally lose my composure like this. Maybe the stress is finally getting to me.
MANUAL SAFETY LIMITER OVERRIDE ACCEPTED.
REROUTING POWER TO PRIMARY WEAPONS SYSTEMS.
WARNING - REACTOR HEAT LEVELS CRITICAL!
A hail of bullets and missiles upon our enemies. When I am done, they, too, shall dream of rain.
FIRING GANDIVA ROCKETS
TARGET 1 DESTROYED.
TARGET 2 DESTROYED.
TARGET 3 HULL COMPROMISED.
At least I can trust in my comrades to have good aim.
TARGET 3 DESTROYED.
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Vampire!Poly-batboys x reader: Mercy, Devil - Part 2
A/N: The poly part two to the vampire fic is here! Hope you enjoy!!
Warning: Vampirism, poly!batboys, blood, biting
Word Count: 4,154
-Part 1- -Part 3-
——————————————————————————————————————————————
Thunder rolls across the perpetually stormy sky, his castle seemingly gifted with its own unique weather system. Rain lashes at the windows, criss-crossed with diamond-shaped indentations upon the glass, streaked with icy water. Lightning cracks across the dark, heavy clouds, flashing with startling light, briefly illuminating the chambers you’ve been returned to.
You swallow heavily, rousing from an empty sleep, fatigue weighing on bone marrow as you push up from the bed. The pearls have gone, replaced by a pale blue nightgown and memories of the evening you stumbled into the castle return. Right into the beast’s jaws.
Fingers trace over your throat, pockmarked with tiny puncture wounds, skin aching around the slightly swollen marks. Memories of the fear and alarm upon feeling those gleaming incisors skating across your neck rush in, the overpowering strength of his hands on your body, shoving your head to the side so he could drink deeper. The hot spill of blood as it dripped down over collar bones, the mad frenzy in previously sharp and clear eyes. He’d seemed utterly undone, at the mercy of his own hunger as he’d fed.
Your pulse spikes in your chest, fear diluting in your lifestream, breathing deepening as you hastily peer around the room. Searching for something that could possibly help keep the beast off of you. It’s a stupid thought, you know that—why would he have the means to his demise so readily available? In his own home, no less. That would be idiotic.
“Sleep well?” A low, silken voice asks, making you scream, flinching back as you snap your head to the doorway. He’d entered on completely silent feet—the door hadn’t even made a sound. “Now, now. There’s no need for that,” he chides soothingly, “you’re alive and well. No need for theatrics.” But your nails are practically tearing at the sheets with how tight you’re gripping them. Something like him—something that drinks the blood of women, relishing in draining away their youth—can be nothing but pure evil. Hell incarnate.
“Stay away from me,” you grit out lowly, back pressed against the plush cushioning of the headboard. “You have no power over me. Let me leave.”
He’s quiet for a moment, watching you intently, before lowering his head, a mix between a sigh and a laugh huffing from his lips. Raises gleaming violet to pierce into you, as if able to pin you to the bed with a glance alone. “I’m afraid I won’t be doing that,” he says amicably, still in that velvety voice of his, like satin brushing teasingly across your skin. “You see, little devil, I have lived centuries in this world. Travelled far and wide, sampled a number of women and men alike, and yet I’ve never once come across a taste quite as exquisite as yours.” Protectively, you raise your palm to your throat, as if blocking the skin from his view may serve a chance for freedom—or undo what he’s already found.
“Because of that,” he continues leisurely, as if he hasn’t turned your life upside down within the span of a breath. “I will be keeping you for myself, here, in my castle. Is everything clear?” You blink, dread sluicing through your veins.
“I’m not— You can’t do that.” You splutter quietly, incredulity and fear drenching your tone in horror. “I’m a living person. You can’t just lock me up. That’s— That’s wrong.” You manage to whisper, too shocked to bellow.
“You don’t have a choice here. Well, not one you’d like,” he muses idly, hands sliding into the pockets of his dark, tailored trousers. “What is it?” You grit out anyway, attempting to conceal your trembling fingers.
The charming smile fades from his elegant mouth, slipping into something blank and unreadable. “Either, you can agree to my generous offer and remain mine in this castle,” he says, voice turning to freezing silk, prowling toward you in the low thunderous light. “Or, I can take my final drink now, and let you pass on into the next world—or rather, into the next half world.” He reaches the edge of the bed, but you’re too terrified to move.
Even as he pulls his hand from the neatly stitched pocket of his dark trousers, you remain still. Petrified, until his icy hand settles on your throat, thumb and index finger pressing to the soft sides beneath your jaw, tilting your head to him. “You should know: I would not be kind if you forced me to turn you,” he murmurs tenderly, leaning over the bed, bracing his forearm against the headboard. “You are quite to my tastes,” he says softly, lowly, “I would hate to see you become a servant, instead of what you could be.”
“And what is that?” You manage to ask shakily, forcefully pushing yourself as deep into the headboard as you can.
Glittering violet briefly scans your features, then the edges of his mouth are curving, dipping down to nose at your throat. Sharp, piercing teeth graze the shell of your ear. “Cared for,” he answers, cold lips brushing the erogenous skin, fingers flexing around your neck. “Desired,” he murmurs softly, dipping lower, skimming the erratic pulse of your life force. “Cherished.”
Incisors scrape, and you flinch, muscles contracting with fear.
He pulls back, staring down at you from not even a breath away.
“So, my dear,” he muses, “what will it be?”
You stare at him, eyes widened, pupils no-doubt dilated with fear. You swallow thickly, overwhelmed by the intensity of him, the heaviness of his presence, the dominating sense of self rolling from his powerful figure. Pulse spikes with the thought him ending your life—would the rightness of thwarting him be worth an eternity of obeying his word? At the mercy of his absolute power?
“You wouldn’t ever taste my blood again if you turned me,” you rasp, trying to force the tremors from your voice. “You’d lose the exact thing you’re trying to gain.” Sharp eyes flash, his jaw working at your brazen answer. “Are you sure you want to test that, little devil?” He asks, voice rougher than before, anger and hunger kindling in his eyes. “I’m offering you a life of comfort and care in exchange for your compliance. Anyone can see you’re gaining much more than I am out of this agreement.”
“Which is exactly why I know you won’t turn me,” you return shakily. “Why give so much for something so unimportant, right?”
A muscle feathers in his jaw, then he’s pushing away from you roughly. “You’re being foolish,” he warns, eyes glittering with hunger. “Maybe I won’t turn you, but I believe you’re somehow forgetting I don’t need your permission to take what I want.” His fingers flex at his sides, shoulders rolling subtly before he’s sliding hands into his pockets. As if to calm the urge to pin you down and drink.
You stiffen in your place. Reconsidering his offer. If you refuse, but he decides to take anyway, where will you be kept? In some subterranean dungeon, left to lie and rot on a damp pallet of hay? Locked in some long-forgotten room, only allowed out when he wants to feed?
Rhysand senses your doubt, honing in on it like the beast he is, able to smell the indecision. “Think about it,” he says calmly, earlier hunger banished, not a trace to be found. “I have some visitors to see to, but will be back this evening for your answer,” he smiles politely, turning for the door but pausing at the threshold. “If you need a reminder of what it feels like…” You could swear his eyes darken with glee at the way your muscles contract, legs pressing together as you remain huddled to the head of the bed.
“Until tonight, then,” he grins, gleaming white teeth glittering in the low light. The door sweeps to a close behind him, leaving you alone with a choice to make. A sense of impending doom weighing in your blood.
————
You have to get out. It’s the only viable solution.
You don’t want to be stuck as a glorified chicken for the rest of your life—used until you’ve grown too old, then devoured entirely. You have no preferable choice, so you’ll have to make your own, and escaping seems like a pretty good idea.
Easing down a breath, you swing your legs over the edge of the bed, the pale blue cotton of your nightgown swishing softly at bare ankles. Peering around the room, you search for anything that could be used as a weapon against a…whatever he is. Some blood-sucking devil.
The neatly preserved figure of gleaming armour catches your gaze—if a weapon is to be lying about somewhere, surely it would be here? With a spark of hope in your chest, you creep forward on what you hope are quiet feet. Not that you should be too concerned. Despite how silently he can move, the castle seemed intimidating in size, and you doubt he’d be able to pick up footsteps from so much as a corridor away.
Your pulse spikes as you eye the short scabbard wrapped over the waist of the armour, slightly shaky fingers pulling on the string to move it around. There’s a handle poking from it’s top, and your heart stumbles in your chest. With trembling hands, you pull the string loose, tying it instead around your own waist, thumbing the blade free experimentally. It’s so clear you can make out the gleaming wetness to wide, frightened eyes.
Breathing deeply, you return the blade to its new home at your hip, tip-toeing for the door, hoping he will have left it unlocked. Underestimating your drive to keep your own pathing. You will not have choice taken away from you.
The handle turns, and the door swings open on well-oiled hinges.
A cool wave of relief sweeps over you, pulling it open to peer down the long, stretching hallways either side. Nothing out-of-the-ordinary to be found. Except maybe the blood-red carpeting. You should have realised how strange it was, how macabre the whole setup is. Maybe it’s a lovely colour, but not one you slather your entire house in, let alone a whole castle.
Shaking your head, you slip out over the threshold, silently bringing the door to a close at your back, before making your way down the stretching hallway. You move silently, keeping to the edges of the carpeted floor—as if you’d be able to hide from him. In the pale gown, you stick out like freezing blue lips in a rose garden.
Following the path he had taken you to dinner, you manage to relocate the entrance hall, heart beating wildly in your chest, eyes darting left and right frenetically, searching for movement. It’s an open stretch. Once you’re out there, you’ll have to go straight for the door. There’s nowhere to hide yourself once you step out into the hallway.
You take in a steady breath, then step out into the open.
Silently, you make your way as swiftly as possible down the curving case, feet padding softly along the well-polished boards, trying to keep sound to a minimum. The heavy-looking door looms before you, menacingly staring as you approach. Hairs raise at the nape of your neck, but you push away the apprehension, hands shaking as you reach for the knob.
It doesn’t shift.
You try pulling, but nothing.
You twist it harder, using both your hands, but to no avail.
Mentally you curse—you’d hoped it would be unlocked like last time. He’s seemingly taken some precautions, then. You’ll need to find another way out, or maybe the keys… Where would keys be?
They could be anywhere, you realise despairingly, and in a castle this large, you don’t have the time to spend painstakingly searching for them. You’ll have to find another exit. Every home has a backdoor, there must at least be one for the servants he mentioned—there’s no way they’d be allowed entrance through this hall.
“Who are you?”
You scream, jolting away from the voice, turning to find a man at your side—he’d been completely silent, just like Rhysand. You stumble back, hands shaking at your sides as you take in his towering figure. Wearing dark leather, surrounded by the glowing red of the castle, he cuts a terrifying silhouette. With black hair that come to his shoulders, and the eyes that feel like they can pierce straight through bone, you can feel in your blood he’s the same creature as the Lord.
The blade at your hip weighs heavily, but you know from a single look there’s no way you’d be able to do anything with it. You’re more likely to end up slicing yourself open, dripping over the blood-red carpet.
His lips part in an almost wolfish grin as he takes you in properly. “Oh, I see,” he drawls, stepping closer. “You’re one of Rhys’, aren’t you?”
“Please…” you breathe, heat building behind your eyes. “I don’t—…I just want to leave…” Lungs spasm with fear, and his nostrils flare delicately, before taking a step back. The man raises his arms placatingly, exposing his palms in a sign of peace. “I’m not stopping you,” he says lowly, still baring his teeth in a smile.
Your tongue swipes out to wet your lips, staggering a step back hesitantly, then another. Never taking your eyes from his hulking figure.
Your muscles involuntarily contract with soul-deep fear as a blood-curdling snarl rips through the castle’s interiors. A wave of bone-crushing terror smacks into you, like a flash of lightening followed by the roll of thunder as something dark pulses through the building. The man’s smile widens at the sound, turning a little feral. “Better be on your way,” he warns roughly, voice like gravel. “Before the beast catches you.”
Heart pounding, you spin on your feet and run.
You could swear his low chuckle follows on your heels as you sprint from the room, nearly stumbling over your own toes as you pass over carpets and rugs, running through doorways and dodging around rich, plush armchairs and large, heavy instruments. Fire crackles in one room but you have no time for pause, feeling that power closing in no matter how far you run.
Feet slam on the polished wood of floorboards, and you spot an open door down the stretching corridor. Without care for noise, you dart inside, snapping the door to a close, hurriedly taking in your surroundings—it’s a frighteningly large library. Cases of books tower on wide-set shelves, neatly stacked but tightly packed, perfect to hide within.
Not giving it a second thought, you make for the towering furniture, darting between the aisles as quickly and as quietly as possible, keeping your eyes wide for any sign of movement. If you can just wait until you feel this cloying power pass, you can try venturing out again.
You think back over the conversation which must have been in the morning if he said he would return at night. He’d said he’d had guests to see to—that man must have been one of them, but how many are there? Are they all like him? They must be. Unless they bring humans along with them? What if there are more beasts prowling the halls for you now that signal has practically shot lightening into anything capable of breathing within the castle?
“You aren’t supposed to be in here.”
Muscles go taut, stomach tightening as cold dread ices your skin.
You turn rigidly on your heel, coming to face another man, wreathed in darkness. Silky hair gleamed in the low library light, his sharp hazel eyes pinning you to the spot with a single look. You shake your head, managing a single wobbly steps back, before he’s slowly prowling forward, gaze trained on you like he’s finally locked in on his prey.
Turning, you stumble away, running back through the tall cases, now understanding their disadvantage. He can’t see you, but you also can’t see him. Fighting your growing terror, you break from the shelves, running toward a door that will no doubt only lead you deeper into the castle, separate from the one you came in from. But he appears before you in a blur of shadow, and you smack into the stone-like muscle of his chest—utterly freezing, utterly lifeless. Death wreathed in darkness.
You still in your spot, staring up into sharp, predatory eyes with visible terror, vaguely remembering the blade at your hip.
“What are you doing here?” He asks lowly, hands kept casually at his sides, but you don’t doubt he could strike at any moment should the desire take him. “I— Please,” you beg, internally screaming for your body to move, to turn and run from the beast before you clad in the skin of an angel. “Just let me go,” you breathe shakily, stumbling back.
The man watches you silently, coldly. “You know that’s not going to happen,” he says shortly, “either you can obey and I’ll escort you back to your room, or you can make this painful.” Your eyes widen, pressure building quickly, the blade practically searing into your skin. If you comply, you’ll probably be locked up. You’ll never escape, and choice will have been taken from you. But if you fight… Even against something as terrifying as him… It will be on your own terms.
But you’re not a fighter—at least, not in the face of this particular beast. The best you can do it run.
You spin on your heel, turning for the door, but a stone-cold hand has already gripped your shoulder and you cry out in pain. His hold is like ice, stern and unforgiving. “Fine,” he mutters, making to—
“Hold on, Az,” that voice drawls, pure terror slicing through your stomach.
One was impossible enough, but two? There’s no way. You’re going to die.
The man—Az, he’d said—stops, his grip lightening by a fraction. “She’s Rhys’, Cass. We should return her.” Muscle trembles beneath his grip, neck craning to turn to spot the other man at your back, having come in through the hallway. He shrugs nonchalantly, as if the warning gleam in the shadowy one’s eyes doesn’t bother him. “That’s his fault for letting her out,” he drawls, coming to stand closer behind you. Too close.
His hazel eyes drop to yours, that wolfish smile breaking across his lips. “Besides,” he says lowly, “you know he only keeps the good ones around for more than one meal.” The man—Cass—steps closer, hands going to your waist as he lowers to your throat, pulse spiking as he noses along the smooth expanse. “This is it,” he mumbles, lips brushing your skin. “This is what I picked up, Az. She smells so good.” He pulls away, pulling your hair to the side, exposing the bare top of your shoulder and you tense, remembering how little clothing you’re wearing. How unprotective it is. “Go on,” he urges quietly, “give her a try.”
Az narrows his eyes, but relents, curiosity getting the better of him. Spine turns rigid as he dips down, nosing along the column of your throat, feeling the trembling pulse of your life-force beneath his mouth. You hear the sound of him inhaling, scenting your skin, before pulling away. “See?” The man at your back drawls. “I’ve got a good nose for these things. I told you I smelled something delicious.”
“Rhys has good taste,” the other answers flatly, “unlike some people, Cassian.” Still, his eyes remain on your throat for a little too long for your comfort.
Cassian doesn’t seem bothered by the jab, instead raising one of his hands from your hip to trace along the stuttering pulse of your heart, grazing down your neck. “I bet she tastes good,” he murmurs, and you can feel the weight of his gaze alone, hairs prickling beneath its intensity. “Cass,” the man at your front warns, voice low and cold. “She’s Rhys’. He won’t like it if you decide to put your grubby teeth all over her.”
Cassian pays him no mind, and Az’s grip on you tightens, pulling you toward him, aiming to distract the other. “When was the last time you drank?” He asks distastefully. Cassian shrugs again, “I assumed Rhys would provide a meal, and since he has such good taste,” he says pointedly, “I thought I’d enjoy myself.”
Another beastly snarl rips through the halls of the castle, and Cassian muffles a low chuckle. The man before doesn’t seem to find it as funny, the shadows at his back darkening. “What did you do this time, Az?” The man asks, lips curved with mirth.
“You’re the one who said you wanted to slip away,” Az hisses in a flash of canines. That deadly thrum of power intensifies, and you realise it must mean Rhysand is approaching. Whatever Az had done, the illusion’s over. It feels like he’s already right outside the door.
“Are you going to drink, or not?” Cassian asks, rough fingers slipping beneath the neckline of your gown, thumbing at the soft buttons at your front, slowly un-popping them in order to move the fabric out of the way of his teeth. “I don’t want to share Rhys’ meal,” Az says, a note of distaste to his words.
“Why not? It wasn’t a problem a couple of centuries ago,” Cassian drawls, challenge in his tone. “What happened? Spend a few decades fawning over a woman and suddenly all taste for adventure’s gone?” He scoffs, the taunt clear in his deep voice. “You’ve lost your touch, brother. You’re getting soft.”
A warning snarl drags from the other man’s throat, hazel eyes flicking to the door.
But Cassian sees his chance, head dipping down, incisors piercing your throat, biting down and spilling blood. Your lips part in a scream, paralysed as his venom enters your body, making your limbs feel heavy and clunky.
“Cassian,” Az hisses roughly, forcefully ripping him from you. Pain stings through your shoulder and collar bones, the only thing keeping you up being the hand at your hip and the chest at your front. Pressure wells behind your eyes at the ache, blood trickling down your skin. “What’s gotten into you? One scent catches your attention and suddenly centuries of discipline dissolves?” He snarls lowly, aware of the pulsing power that’s filling the room.
Cassian’s silent, but you can feel his body begin to tremble at your back. Fear drenches your skin as his grip tightens on you with the same display of inhumane strength Rhys had shown after his initial bite. Weakly you try to press closer to the man before you, but his attention is now trained on the blood beading at your throat, the puncture wounds already sealing over.
Terrifying hunger fills the dark hazel of his eyes, and you want to shrink away.
“You’ve got to try her, Az,” Cassian rasps at your back, voice low and strained. “Fuck, that’s the best I’ve ever had.” Wide eyes lock with hazel, silent and pleading. You’d take being returned to that room over this easily, no doubt in your mind.
The dark, raging power grows closer, reaching it’s peak. He’s right there.
Az’s lip curls back for a moment, but then he’s forcing the neckline of your gown over your shoulder, tearing at the lovely cotton in favour of piercing his canines into the softness of your neck. Your head tips back, falling into Cassian as your lips part in a soundless scream, rounding into a pained shape as he drinks, his own venom sinking into you.
Already dizziness is taking over you, but then Cassian is curving over you again, mouth parting, incisors sliding back into your skin with a now pleasurable pain. Arms go limp at your sides as their bloodlust wraps around you, completely overpowered by their hunger as hands grip and grope at your skin.
Tears push from your lashes, dripping down your cheeks as the ecstasy spins your mind, wickedly turning the pain into something soft and blissful. Making you want them to drink deeper, wanting to have their teeth in you, to put their hands across your body.
Darkness explodes through the room, rage blasting through the soft warmth of lust, pulling you from the jaws of vampiric seduction.
The world tilts a little as they pull away, but without the adrenaline of their venom you feel weak. Like you’re unable to go on.
The last thing you remember is the fierce grip on your hips, the possessive touch over your back and shoulders as icy violet brings the night to its crescendo.
Then everything explodes in glittering black.
——————————————————————————————————————————————
general taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks
az taglist: @azrielshadows1nger @jurdanpotter @positivewitch @nightcourt-daydreaming @vanderlinde @marvelouslovely-barnes @v3lv3tf0x @kalulakunundrum @vellichor01
#poly!bat boys#poly!batboys x reader#poly!fic#vampire au#vampire!rhysand#vampire!azriel#vampire!cassian#mercy devil
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How about daddy stucky x little reader x little Peter where the reader is in babyspace and petie is very protective over her and they go to the avenger tower and when any other that her daddies trying to touch her he goes in the way and stop them and is like "nooo u can't Touch her she's too little" and everybody is like awww 🥺 after like 10 min or something the other littles wanna play with petie and you but he says "noo I play with y/n she's too little to play" and the reader always hold one of petie hands and in the other hand she holds a blankie and she gives him always a paci kiss and cling to him and her daddies 🥺😭💖
Hello dearest Nonnie! Oh, great thoughts in babyspace! I've gotten several similar requests recently, so here's my headcanon for Baby Space for all of it. Thank you for reading, sending you love! <3
it wasn't often that you'd go into Baby Space, usually preferring to be a bit older, but when you did, boy, you went hard (as per usual with you)
you'd regress to non-verbal, or non-WORDS is more accurate. You loved to make sounds; you just didn't want to make words.
Bucky would become "dadadadadadadadada" and Steve would become "pop pop pop pop pop pop pop" until you ran out of air or until you started giggling.
Your giggle in baby space was softer and sweeter than your regular giggle. Even though Steve and Bucky loved you unconditionally in any headspace, there was something a little magical about hearing your sweet laughter in baby space.
You would want to be carried all the time.
You made grabby hands, or simply latched onto the closest finger, shirt, arm, whatever was within your grasp, and absolutely refused to let go.
Steve and Bucky loved it. Steve would get a brief reprise from constantly reminding you to stop running everywhere and would absolutely not admit to himself he missed the constant thump-thump-thump of your little feet. Bucky loved having you in his arms because it meant you were constantly safe and would absolutely not admit to himself he missed when you used him as your personal jungle gym.
You wouldn't take your paci out for anything. Once that thing went into your mouth, it was a battle to get it out to brush your teeth or get you to eat.
You'd get hungry but refuse to take it out, often resorting to tears, but Steve and Bucky had a few tricks to get you to relinquish it. You would start to cry, they'd make a bottle to get something into your system, and Bucky would employ his lightning quick reflexes that he used when trimming your nails to watch for the second your lips parted enough to cry, swapping out the paci for the bottle before you could realize it. The second you tasted milk, you settled down happily.
you would become wildly obsessed with the smallest details. A goldfish cracker once kept you occupied for an hour as you stared at it, slowly moving it around the small plastic plate in front of you. Bucky got an entire report done while you were on his lap staring at a freaking cracker.
You played constantly with the front of Steve's tee shirt when you were in his arms, running your fingers back and forth over it, grabbing it and stretching it towards you to put in your mouth. Steve had a separate collection of shirts for when you were in baby space, as you had a tendency to stretch his regular ones on these days.
There was no way that they would leave you with anyone else at home, and so you went to work with them on these days.
No one on the team minded at all- every Little had baby space time, and so the work floors of the Tower had a special nursery for such occasions.
You didn't particularly care for the baby space nursery, often crying when Steve or Bucky took you in there. It was too unfamiliar to you, as was baby space, and it just all rubbed you the wrong way.
If Steve or Bucky stayed with you in the nursery, you were usually pretty okay, but mostly slept your way through the day (baby space usually came on when you were super stressed or worried, so this was usually the response anyways- to just sleep).
The only times you were okay in the nursery without your daddies was when Peter was there.
If he was in baby space too (also rare, but it happened once or twice), you two would babble at each other and play with each other's fingers. All four of your caregivers would be lying if they said they didn't have videos of the two of you doing exactly that on their phones.
If he was in a bigger head space than you, he was super protective, often taking on an older brother style vibe.
He wouldn't let anyone other than your daddies within ten feet of you, acting like your own personal body guard, declaring that you were too little and delicate to get near. Tony nicknamed him "Spider-Guard" when he got like this.
He chased any other little away, as he and only he knew that you were just a tiny bit scared of any other little when you were in baby space. He was always nice to them about it, but he was taking no prisoners.
If you were upset, he would lay down next to you and rub your back until you felt better, or pat your leg gently. And for some reason, with Peter, it always worked.
Once you had settled down and in to the nursery, Peter would bring his legos over and you would watch him build worlds, absolutely fascinated, as you gnawed on your paci, wrapped in your blanket. He smugly enjoyed your rapt attention during these times.
Everyone got paci kisses. Absolutely everyone. All the time.
Natasha has a picture of Nick Fury getting a paci kiss that she fully intends to use as leverage against him someday.
At the end of the day, Steve and Bucky would take you home. You were often exhausted from the day, falling asleep in their arms before you could even get to your floor, safe and loved in your daddies' arms.
#daddy!bucky#daddy!bucky x little!reader#daddy bucky#daddy bucky x little reader#daddy stucky#daddy!stucky#daddy stucky x little reader#daddy!stucky x little reader#daddy!steve#daddy steve#daddy!steve x little!reader#daddy steve x little reader#daddy steve rogers#daddy!steve rogers#daddy!steve rogers x little#daddy steve rogers x little reader
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Gnaw (4)
You stand at the precipice of Liyue. The land of Geo. The resting place of a corpse-god, the dragon Rex Lapis, and the home of Archon Zhongli.
Though some part of you hopes that they'll be less hostile, you can't help but feel that Liyue will simply be more of the same.
More suffering. More death.
But now you have a gift. A way to protect yourself. The symbol of one of your loyal creations, and a font of power from which to draw destructive energy. You are not alone. And you will not fall so easily.
You step through a boundary, a line between the nations, and the world changes. Suddenly, the sky does not feel so vast. The air feels thinner, and the ground beneath your feet feels... denser. More present. As though the soil and stone of Mondstadt was gravel.
You take a few moments to breathe, to aquaint yourself with lungs that go unaided by Anemo, and begin walking.
Somewhere in the distance lies the Stone Gate. You decide to avoid it and the people of Liyue as best you can.
You decide to experiment with the abilities you now have so you can defend yourself if need be.
First, you should probably learn to sense them, starting at the symbol upon your wrist.
After a minute of concentration, you feel the faintest twitch of static in your veins. The subtle hum of energy that now calls you home.
You move the energy sluggishly, slowly convincing it to travel along your veins, and it proceeds to gain speed.
By the end of your first hour of 'training', there is a storm in your chest, your heart pounding thunder down your ribs, your blood singing with voltaic power.
It feels good.
You are unaware that special organs are rapidly growing in your dermis and flesh to allow you to conduct electrical energy safely.
You are unaware of the way billions of neurons are rearranging themselves to make your use of this power instinctive.
You are unaware of the way your entire nervous system is editing itself, allowing you to pump your body full of electro energy without a cost to your health.
You are unaware that you could now shrug off chewing on a power plant generator's active primary circuit or that you would register lightning as nothing more than a mild annoyance.
What you are aware of is the ball of lightning hovering over your hand. You grin, victorious.
(Electro watches from their throne at the peak of existence, smug smile on their face.)
Your doppelgänger howls in agony as they carve a spiral into the space between their shoulderblades with a blade that oozes molten gold.
They cannot allow themselves to be discovered as a false God. To be revealed now would be a waste of all their work.
To lose the luxuries they rightfully deserve is so horrible a fate that they'd rather maim themselves to keep up the illusion.
Soon, their acolytes will arrive.
They command that their 'imposter' shall be killed on sight.
Five Archons obey.
(They do not notice the way their Gnosis begin to dim.)
You spend two weeks slowly navigating the terrain of Liyue and exploring your new abilities.
You've learned to weave the energy into your limbs to vastly speed them up. You've learned to push that energy into your nails and teeth, turning them into vicious claws and fangs.
You've learned to push the energy into your brain to increase your reaction time and slow the world around you to a crawl.
Days of travel are collapsed into mere hours as you become a purple-streaked blur that rushes across the terrain fast enough to run up cliff faces and across water.
...you've also had countless bloody noses and scraped limbs, gotten enough dirt in your mouth to fill a flowerpot, choked on a multitude of flying bugs, and nearly drowned trying to water-walk.
Fruit and vegetables are bountiful, but you can't quite shake the urge to find some new small creature and bite down into it and fill your mouth with delicious red-
No. You are better than your urges. You are a person, not an animal, no matter how tempting the idea is.
Unfortunately this peace does not last.
You run across a small patrol of Millelith members, each bearing a weapon of some sort.
"Fuck," you hiss, ducking into the treeline to hopefully avoid being found. It's too late.
One of them cries out in alarm, and the entire group is instantly alerted to your presence.
You learn from the orders their leader is barking that you are now to be slain on sight.
Spears are leveled in your direction, arrows are nocked and readied, clubs and greatswords rise.
You easily avoid the arrows, your body humming with electro energy, and the first to swing their blade at you is met with a spear of lightning through the brain, their body writhing violently at the end.
You dispel the spear and dodge a mace, giving the woman bearing it a blast of electrical energy straight to the face, turning her head to ash and instantly killing her.
An arrow slices your side as you toss the headless body away from you, and the wound immediately begins to sizzle as it mends in a golden scar.
You reach into the head of the archer from a distance and send a jolt of power into his brain, flash-frying nerves and swiftly ending his life.
You don't remember ever being as clumsy and slow as they are before you had Electro. Are humans this pathetic, or are the Millelith just awful?
Five more stand in your way.
You gather the charge within your gift and send it out as a bolt of raw electro energy.
The leader is hit, but does not die. They are instead surrounded by a potent magnetic field. The metal of their armor and the metal of their squadmates attract to each other, and they're slammed together.
The five of them struggle to part themselves, pathetically squirming in place. You put them out of their misery to save them the embarrassment.
As soon as that's done, the gravity of your actions hits you. You just killed eight people.
You're horrified - but they were going to kill you first, weren't they?
Should you feel horrified for defending yourself from people who wanted you dead?
...should you feel anything for these people? Some part of you still desperately clings to the idea that this is all some fucked-up dream or a game.
It ceases to matter when elemental energy erupts right in front of you, and Kequing lunges out of a teleport to cleanly slice off your head.
As your vision begins to blacken, and the world drifts away, you watch your headless body stagger backward a few steps and then drop.
"Maybe next time," you mutter without sound, as the darkness swallows you.
Deep purple blood oozes from the stump of your neck as every trace of your corpse disintegrates.
("I will put you back together, my maker," whispers the Abyss. "I will always put you back together.")
((Taglist:
@the-dumber-scaramouche @thatdeadaquarius @ssak-i @imyme20 @fried-lotud @acacla @itz-luna @iruiji @crierofirony @itsredactedlove @sweetsthetik @leafanonsforest @oxyotl @kkazuyass @featuredtofu @resident-cryptid @d4y-dr3am3r @crimson-ashes @red1sg0n3 @the-real-fandom-person @code-roevember @yourlocalsourwolf @rhoswen-drake @minimari415 @reversearrowhead
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Lightning Arresters Uses
Lightning Arresters are widely used all over the world in different industries. Here are the top uses of Lightning Arresters -When a traveling wave reaches the arrestor, its sparks over at a certain prefixed voltage. The arrestor provides a conducting path to the waves of relatively low impedance between the line and the ground.
The surge impedance of the line restricts the amplitude of the current flowing to the ground.
The lightning arrester provides a path of low impedance only when the traveling surge reaches the surge diverter, neither before it nor after it.
Lightning Arresters Advantages
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there are SO MANY similarities between The Empyrean Series and How To Train Your Dragon
***IRON FLAME SPOILERS AHEAD***
Both Violet and Hiccup are seen as weaker because of their poor physical abilities and strength, even though they are BRILLIANT
Both have one “dead” parent, and the other is the Chief/Commander of the place they call home
Both Lilith and Stoick don’t realize how actually incredible their child is and are constantly disappointed in them because they don’t follow their steps (giving them both major mommy/daddy issues)
Hiccup and Violent bond very powerful, deadly and legendary black dragons
Violet sees herself in Andarna, which is why she decides to protect her and Hiccup sees himself in Toothless, which is why he sets him free
Major characters who are thought to be dead (Valka and Brennan), happen to be very much alive and leading a rebellious life against what they were told was the truth their entire lives
Hiccup becomes the first ever dragon rider in Berk and Violet is the first know human to bond two dragons
Hiccup builds himsef a saddle to be able to ride Toothless and Xaden has one made for Violet so she can ride Tairn
Toothless can summon lightning and camouflage himself, Violet can weild lightning and Andarna can camouflage herself.
Both Stoick and Lilith sacrifice themselves trying to save their child in the middle of a battle
Dragons in both worlds have a place where no humans are allowed and they also have an established leadership system
Enemies to lovers story (kind of) where they become an unstoppable power couple who work amazing together in battle
Astrid and Xaden (love interests) are both strong, top of their class and amazing fighters
Character who rides a dragon looses his leg
Both religious systems have multiple deities and characters use the exclamation “Gods!” a lot
Those are the ones I can think of right now but I’m sure there’s a lot more.
#the empyrean#the empyrean series#empyrean series#fourth wing#iron flame#violet sorrengail#httyd#how to train your dragon#httyd hiccup#rebecca yarros#hiccup#hiccup haddock#hiccup and toothless#hiccup and astrid#violet and xaden#xaden and violet#violet and tairn#tairn and andarna#violet and andarna#xaden riorson#astrid hofferson
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General Rowdyruff Boy Headcanons I Plan to Incorporate Into My Fic(s)
Both Butch and Boomer are musically inclined (Boomer preferring the guitar, while Butch sticks to the drums) and are pretty good singers. Brick, on the other hand, is completely tone deaf and has yet to realize it (thus crushing Butch's secret fantasy of becoming a rock band called "The Rowdyrock Boys").
Brick's guilty pleasures are boy groups ever since the events of IDW #10 Comic.
Both Butch and Boomer are also athletes in school; Boomer focuses more on team sports (football, basketball, soccer) while Butch plays more individualized sports (swimming, wrestling, gymnastics). Brick thinks he's too cool to play for a school or organization (and if he can't lead, then what's the point).
Everyone assumes Boomer's the nicest, but he's not, he's just the more outgoing, charming extrovert brother out of the three.
The actual nicest brother is Butch, he's the least likely to hurt/harass/threaten a random bystander without provocation, and is surprisingly (and somewhat eerily) chill when not in the company of his brothers.
Butch had the most codependent tendencies, and was often a reluctant yes man to his brothers (mostly Brick).
Brick is dyslexic, it took Ms. Keane a week to realize while home-schooling him.
With the boys being adopted by Ms. Keane, Brick takes the longest to warm up to her. He's very wary of and cold towards authoritative figures, ESPECIALLY parental figures.
After Boomer's done antagonizing her, he becomes the first to open up to Ms. Keane.
Valentino warmed up to Brick first, however. Butch became rather jealous at the fact.
After many instances of hair pulling, and an incident involving Butch, Boomer, and a whole pack of chewed chewing gum, Brick decides to keep his hair shorter.
Brick's the best and most experienced cook out of the three.
A part of Mojo truly does care for the Rowdyruff Boys, but it's not healthy. He's much too obsessive, as if they were his property or weapons of mass destruction.
Boomer has the power of electrokinesis. He's able to "charge up" with nearly any electrical device or lightning itself, and also charge/power down electrical devices. Too much electricity in his system causes him to shock others unprovoked or "short-circuit". This came in handy with their ankle monitors during their house arrest, and at school where he caused power outages that resulted in early dismissals. The most he's ever absorbed (so far) had caused an entire blackout in the city of Townsville (Butch was beating him at an arcade game).
Boomer later discovers (with the help of Blossom) that he can act as a defibrillator to the Powerpuffs and Rowdyruffs in a pinch (I originally got the idea from @faeerrie).
Butch's ability to generate force fields has progressed to the point that he can generate force fields around other people/items not including himself. He discovered this during one of Brick's training regimens when he threatened to destroy Butch's possessions until Butch was able to pull it off.
Butch's force fields though require a lot of focus on Butch's end, especially if he's protecting something other than himself.
Butch can also move items/people while in his force field.
Despite no longer aiming to kill the Powerpuff Girls, Brick still held secret training sessions at night. They couldn't afford to get sloppy in case they had to protect themselves against the girls (or Mojo and/or HIM, which was his main concern).
Brick doesn't have a unique power, just like Buttercup. Since their Chemical X cells aren't working harder to produce new powers, this allows for these two (and spoiler alert: Brat) to be just a little bit faster, a little bit stronger, and a little more endurable than their siblings.
However, like the Powerpuff Girls, the boys have shared telepathy. They're able to communicate with themselves internally, but only if all three are within a certain distance and if all three are "willing".
Boomer was often the neglected kid of the trio while under Mojo's and/or HIM's "care".
Boomer managed to hide a Beebo in the house for years. He named them "Bob".
Initially, the Rowdyruff Boys and the Gangreen Gang had a frenemy type relationship. The gang felt like the boys were too similar to the Powerpuffs, and attempted to manipulate them into their bidding. Meanwhile, the boys thought the gang was kinda cool, but also a little lame.
They later bond with the Gangreen Gang post- Gorillaz era when they learn that Grubber and Billy are illegally taking care of a Beebo themselves, and that they're cool with Mitch.
#ppg#the rowdyruff boys#brick rrb#brick jojo#brick keane#boomer rrb#boomer jojo#boomer keane#butch rrb#butch jojo#butch keane#mojo jojo#him#the gangreen gang#snake ppg#big billy ppg#li'l arturo#grubber ppg#ace copular#mitch mitchelson#ms. keane#blossom utonium#bubbles utonium#buttercup utonium#the powerpuff girls#long post
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Dunkirk Evacuation
The Dunkirk Evacuation of 26 May to 4 June 1940, known as Operation Dynamo, was the attempt to save the British Expeditionary Force in France from total defeat by an advancing German army. Nearly 1,000 naval and civilian craft of all kinds, aided by calm weather and RAF air support, managed to evacuate around 340,000 British, French, and Allied soldiers.
The evacuation led to soured Franco-Anglo relations as the French considered Dunkirk a betrayal, but the alternative was very likely the capture of the entire British Expeditionary Force on the Continent. France surrendered shortly after Dunkirk, but the withdrawal allowed Britain and its empire to harbour its resources and fight on alone in what would become an ever-expanding theatre of war.
Germany's Blitzkrieg
At the outbreak of the Second World War when Germany invaded Poland on 1 September 1939, France was relying almost entirely on a single defensive line to protect itself against invasion. These defences were the Maginot Line, a series of mightily impressive concrete structures, bunkers, and underground tunnels which ran along France's eastern frontiers. Manned by 400,000 soldiers, the defence system was named after the French minister of war André Maginot. The French imagined a German attack was most likely to come in two places: the Metz and Lauter regions. As it turned out, Germany attacked France through the Ardennes and Sedan on the Belgian border, circumventing most of the Maginot Line and overrunning the inadequate French defences around the River Meuse, inadequate because the French had considered the terrain in this forested area unsuitable for tanks. Later in the campaign, the Maginot Line was breached near Colmar and Saarbrücken.
To bolster the defences of France, Britain had sent across the British Expeditionary Force (BEF) under the command of General John Vereker (better known by his later title Lord Gort, 1886-1946). Around 150,000 men, mostly infantry, had arrived in September 1939 to strengthen the Franco-Belgian border. The BEF included the British Advanced Air Striking Force of 12 RAF squadrons. The aircraft were mostly Hawker Hurricane fighters and a few light bombers, all given much to the regret of RAF commanders who would have preferred to have kept these planes for home defence. The superior Supermarine Spitfire fighters were kept safely in Britain until the very last stages of the battle in France. The BEF had no armoured divisions and so was very much a defensive force, rather than an offensive one. More infantry divisions arrived up to April 1940, so the BEF grew to almost 400,000 men, but 150,000 of these had little or no military training. As General Bernard Montgomery (1887-1976) noted, the BEF was "totally unfit to fight a first class war on the Continent" (Dear, 130). In this respect, both Britain and France were very much stuck in the defensive-thinking mode that had won them the First World War (1914-18). Their enemy was exactly the opposite and had planned meticulously for what it called Fall Gelb (Operation Yellow), the German offensive in the west.
Totally unprepared for a war of movement, the defensive-thinking French were overwhelmed in the middle weeks of May 1940 by the German Blitzkrieg ("lightning war") tactics of fast-moving tanks supported by specialist bombers and smartly followed by the infantry. German forces swept through the three neutral countries of the Netherlands, Luxembourg, and Belgium. The 9th Army punched through the Ardennes and raced in a giant curve through northeast France to reach the coast around Boulogne. The BEF and the northern French armies (7th and 1st) were cut off from the rest of the French forces to the south. Germany had achieved what it called the 'Sickle Slice' (Sichelschnitt). By 24 May, the French and British troops were isolated and with their backs to the English Channel, occupying territory from Dunkirk to Lille. Although there were sporadic counterpunches by the defenders, Gort had already concluded that the French army had collapsed as an operational force. Gort considered an attack on the Germans to the south, which he was ordered to make, would have achieved very little except the annihilation of his army. The BEF must be saved, and so he withdrew to the north.
Continue reading...
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hello! First of all, thank you for creating the Yanqing's Happy Family AU! I'm kind of obsessed with it, ngl, it's like, they're soooo cute!!!
Anyway, do you have any HC of when Yanqing doing his first mission as a Cloud Knight? In my head I always thought of the dads as the kind of parent that would secretly follow (*cough*stalk*cough*) their kid on their very first errand to the market, and the thought of that happening here is hilarious lmao🥰🥰
Then again, I just love all HC of the dads being protective of Yanqing in general, like maybe from an assassination attempt? It'll make a good angst :D
Thank you!!! They are super cute!!!❤️
They are very protective of Yanqing and I do have an assassination attempt on that is in the works. Still at the brainstorming phase thought so it'll be a while before it is written.
I wasn't sure which kind of mission you wanted so I provided 2 different ones. I love them being protective but anxious dads. Feel free to send more asks!!!
Supervised Mission
Up until he was 13, Yanqing's missions were always supervised by Jing Yuan or Jingliu. While the Xianzhou Alliance at heart was always at war, they did not have it in them to send Yanqing out on his own regardless of his skill. For those who stay behind, they are a bundle of nerves that grow more frantic each day. The battlefield is unpredictable and their little bird is so young and little. They could not bear it if his wings were clipped too early.
Even during supervised missions, there were always constant calls and follow-ups. Jing Yuan was always strict about not missing personal relationships with work, especially since it could lead to talks of Yanqing only achieving his position through nepotism. However, he would give constant updates and was only on the lookout for Yanqing's well-being. While he would sit back so his son could learn, any opponent that targeted his son would be quickly killed by Lightning Lord.
Jingliu, on the other hand, does not coddle Yanqing on missions. Coddling would only harm him and it is best he learn about the battlefield in a controlled environment. it was also why she refused to let the others join any mission Yanqing was on with the exception of Jing Yuan. Jingliu blocks the others before a mission due to their constant questions. One would think Dan Feng is the worst, but it's actually Yingxing. Dan Feng texts constantly at the beginning but will stop after a couple of hours. Yingxing sends a text every hour on the dot. "You guys are annoying. He's fine, if he wasn't I would text you."- JIngliu
First Solo Mission
A full-fledged assault by the Denizens of Abundance on a planetary system was met with the combined might of all six ships. Due to the scale of the battle and the need for all available personnel to be on the frontline, Yanqing's first solo mission on the battlefield was as reinforcements against the Windguard mecha beasts. At the same time, other members of his family were sent to different battles as well, leaving them unable to reach him.
Dan Feng, who was stationed on a water-filled planet due to his powers, was absolutely ferocious in battle. He cut through enemies without mercy. To him, the more they died, the less they were threats to his child. He also was extremely angry at being so far away and had no qualms about using his power to the fullest extent to end the battle quickly. The sooner he returned, the sooner he could see his child and tend to injuries. He could not find it in him to look at updates for Yanqing's battalion but he assumed if no messenger came, then his son was okay. "I need all of you to quickly die so I can go home and see my family."- Dan Feng after drowning a third of the enemy forces
Yingxing, despite being the most composed when it came to Yanqing, was filled with worry. He double, tripled checked his son's weapons before he left. He provided as much information as he could on the working on mechabeasts in the hopes the situation would be resolved before Yanqing arrived on the battlefield. Due to the days of waiting and overseeing the production of weapons, he was incredibly short with everyone though many understood why. Yingxing refused to check on anyone's status, partially because he was sure they were fine but also because any distressing news could impact his work and delay supplies and weapons to the frontlines. "You can tell that idiot of a supplies officer if he keeps delaying supplies to the front lines I will kill him!" - Yingxing to one of his students
Baiheng had joined other foxian pilots in a vicious battle against the wingweavers. She was the closest to Yanqing in terms of location and would constantly man the communication lines for updates on his situation. It went to the point where she would fall asleep with her radio tuned into the communication line and each morning she would check the casualty list. "Casualty list. Search. Yanqing. Unit name. Comet Orbit Fleet. Nothing! oh, thank Lan!"- Baiheng
Jingliu is easily the calmest in the situation. Older and more experienced than anyone else, she is very aware of the path of the Hunt and what it demands. Also, as Yanqing's teacher, she knows he will be fine. If he is old enough to copy her attacks, he will have no problem against the enemy. However, after every battle, she also checks the casualty list. "Baiheng, fine. Dan Feng, fine. Yingxing, fine. Jing Yuan, fine. Yanqing, fine. Good, they're all fine."- Jingliu
Jing Yuan was incredibly anxious. He did not fight as his time was spent strategizing not only for his fleet but the entire alliance. He did not have time to watch over matters concerning Yanqing much to his chagrin but he had ordered Qingzu to notify him of any updates no matter how small. He also found himself unable to sleep due to worry and during rare quiet periods, he spent it watching videos of Yanqing as a baby or looking at photos of them as a family to quell his aching heart. "He was so small back then. Soon, you'll be home Yanqing."- Jing Yuan who was getting teary-eyed after looking at photos of Yanqing playing with Mimi.
Yanqing made quite a stir on the battlefield. Not only did he take the Windguard head-on and chop its head off, but he also managed to strategically destroy their fleet. With their main offensive weapon out of the picture, the remaining enemy was in disarray and open to a swift and decisive offensive. "This is exhilarating!"- Yanqing developing a penchant for for fighting and the battlefield.
Yanqing was the last to make it back to the Luofu due to him being stationed the furthest from his family. He was, however, greeted with great excitement. Jing Yuan, who was the first to greet him once they were away from the other Cloud Knights, pulled him into a hug and checked over the wounds he got. Yingxing was next, having rushed over from the Artisanship Commission. He also pulled his child into a hug before demanding to see all his weapons, hoping to assess the damages and repair them before he was sent out again. Dan Feng had come rushing from treating a nasty cut on Baiheng's leg and demanded to see Yanqing's wounds. He later spent the next hour redressing everything and criticizing the handiwork of an amateur medic, stating that Yanqing could have suffered from sepsis due to the wounds not being cleaned properly.
Baiheng and Jingliu had come over later after ensuring that each other was okay. Baiheng had ordered food and was hell-bent on feeding Yanqing, saying that he had gotten so skinny in the week he was away. Jingliu, having read the report, was more than proud of her student especially his actions him severing the Wingguard's head.
After that mission, it would be another 6 months before Yanqing was sent out again. Dan Feng refuses to let Yanqing out of his sight and Yingxing and Jing Yuan agree, saying he is too young to be doing back-to-back missions like that. It totally has nothing to do with the fact that the week he was away was the most stressful week of their lives and how Yingxing was losing so much hair from the stress.
I might have gone a bit overboard with answering this but I was just so into it!
Thank you for sending me this ask!!!
#yanqing#yanqing’s happy family au#jing yuan#dan feng#honkai star rail#yingxing#jingrenheng#hsr#baiheng#jingliu#yanqing's happy family au asks#yanqing's happy family au headcanons
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JOHN KINLEY DRABBLE
trope: one bed
warnings: army/military, death, funerals, storm. 18+ NO MINORS.
word count: 800
photo credit: iheartjake / divider credits: @/firefly-graphics
notes: thank you to @sizzlingcloudmentality for the spin the wheel activity and for encouraging me to post my results as actual little drabbles. 🥰 thank you for reading & REMEMBER TO REBLOG!
I'm going full sad mode here, but funerals. He's back in America, funerals are held for one of the many men who died under his authority. You're in the family of the deceased guy. John wants to keep it low profile, he wants the focus to be on the man they're celebrating both the life and death of not on the war-hero-but-kind-of-not-heroic-at-all who helped one afghan interpreter to get a better life. So he sits towards the back of the church, next to you in fact. You don't talk, it's as if he doesn't acknowledge your presence at all until you hand him your small packet of tissues because you noticed he cried. The funerals end, everyone gathers in the cemetery of endless white graves for all of the other fallen soldiers. Except the sky gets dark and heavy, the clouds gather and soon enough rain pours and lightning strikes. Everyone rushes to the nearest restaurants or malls or hotels, for a place to stay dry until the storm passes.
You both end up in the lobby of the same hotel, soaked to the bone from the rain. Phones keep ringing, the computers' system crash from such high demand, the new and modified reservations keep coming in. The hotel manager is trying to calm everyone down and accommodate as best as they can. John, who had already gotten a room, spots you in the crowd. You look distressed. He goes up to you, you tell him you don't know how you can drive home in the rain. He's almost offended you're even considering the option of driving in such weather and put yourself in danger. He offers you to use his room, you can dry up with towels or take a hot shower until the storm passes. Except it doesn't pass. Now, not only are you stuck away from home but you're stuck in a hotel room with a total stranger.
Eventually, night falls and John insists that you get some rest so you can drive home tomorrow. The room only has one bed, not a big one at that either. There aren't enough blankets and pillows to sleep on the ground. John insists he can take the floor if you'd prefer, if it makes you feel safer. He doesn't mind. He's slept on worse surfaces than carpet. That's when you inquire about him. John Kinley. As in the Master Sergeant John Kinley? Yes. You feel a bit safer, if he went so far to protect his interpreter, you assumed he was not a bad guy. You both surrender and share the bed, using a decorative pillow as a separation for your peace of mind. He insists he does not move when he sleeps, but he understands you need the mental barrier. You both fall asleep, things seem to go smoothly.
Except, you shiver. The cold rain had gotten to you. You shiver and John cannot sleep oddly enough. John has slept in worse conditions, the loudest noises or the worst smells someone can think of. He has slept surrounded by cadavres after a mission that left him stranded and waiting to be picked up. He's slept through it all (except the emotional turmoil left by Ahmed's uncertain destiny but you don't need to know that) but you shivering and shaking uncontrollably keeps him up. He scoots closer and closer to you on the bed. You just don't stop. You don't even seem to notice your body is shaking. He puts the decorative pillow between your head and the headboard so you don't hurt yourself. He scoots even closer until his broad chest presses against your back. Warmth is warmth, whether it comes from a fireplace or a body, it does the job.
He coos at you when you stir in your sleep, noticing his presence, he whispers he just wants you to calm down. You're too tired to hesitate, you're too tired to tell him you'll be okay. He rubs your arm, hoping the friction helps your body to warm up and allows you to drift to sleep. He presses more against you, you can feel his warm skin through your clothes. He feels like a radiator. He stays right here with you until you fall asleep again. You eventually do... John falls asleep too. Holding you, spooning you, keeping you safe. Neither of you move that night.
John wakes up first, his body conditioned to wake up at ungodly hours. It takes a moment to process the presence of a stranger in his bed. As much as a person he cuddled to sleep can be a stranger. You snore softly, sleeping soundly. He takes a few deep breaths and he feels his eyelids getting heavier. A little longer won't hurt. Holding you a little closer won't hurt either.
#john kinley#john kinley fanfic#john kinley imagine#jake gyllenhaal#jake gyllenhaal fanfic#jake gyllenhaal imagine
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