#misfire verse

[transingthoseformers]

In the fail husbands 'verse Missfire would be really good for OP. Not just as a publicity unification of cybertron things but holding him accountable to standards of decency. And pissing off the press. And he's comitted to helping mechs recover mentally from the war.

Missfire also would innocently pointing out on camera that by the time he was forged basicaly everyone on both sided had comitted at least one serious warcrime even if it was by accident. That they'd have to kill off both high comands not just Megatron. Dish dirt on everybody. Call out edits of his videos for making him look the incorrect variety of stupid/crazy.

All the while emphasizing that if things go back to business as usual everybody's fraged. Either we get invaded and fraged over by outsiders or we get another civil war and we slag ourselves.

Also I have the idea that The WAP was in the bay of Optimus's transport being repaired and major slag went down and OP ended up deep in the aft end of nowhere with Grimlock and the rest of the Scavengers. OP is draged on an extended Scavenger adventure. It builds character, or at least acts as an emotional laxative.

Oo yep yep

Especially on the pissing off the press part, I feel like Misfire is going to be the center of attention so often (which works out well for Oppy tbh, it takes it off of himself)

Missy is right on that, they're all war criminals at this point and the current system of punishment is rather arbitrary, and like c'mon I am aware that mtmte Megatron did a lot of bad shit but you can't blame him solely for every bad thing in the war ever.

Also sdfssfg yes him doing TikTok duets to people with the wrong idea of him, but the misfire fail compilations are 100% valid

Misfire is goddamn right, there's gonna need to be changes if they don't want to go right back to fighting.

Shit went down and it sounds like it was fascinating as fuck, as are all Scavengers typical adventures🥰🥰🥰

[lovinglokilaufeyson]

The Devil You Know - A.A.

Pairings: Spawn!Astarion x Fem!Reader (Mephistopheles Tiefling! Raphael’s Daughter)

Warnings: Abandonment by parent, implied loss of parent, BG3 Spoilers (set sometime in Act 2), Angst, Conflict/Yelling/Disagreement between Tav & Astarion, Past Trauma, Not Proofread

Wordcount: 1,364

Summary: You are Raphael’s daughter, who he disowned for her good nature. You are abducted from Baldur’s Gate and receive a tadpole in your head. You have bonded with Astarion, but you are not about to let him ask your father for help.

A/N: Requested by anon! I loved loved loved this prompt so so so much God! Thank you for requesting this, I loved writing it! Also, I did some research as to what race Tav would end up being. From what I understand, if Raphael (Cambion) had a child with a human, it would be either a Tiefling or a Cambion?? (Still really muddy for me) Therefore, Tav/Reader is a Tiefling for the sake of this story, and to make the fact that she is “good” more realistic. There will definitely be a part two of this (with substantial fluff, maybe even smut).

It had been years since you had spoken to your father. He was on the verge of abandoning you when your mother gave birth to you, a Tiefling. Raphael would have preferred you to be a Cambion, as he was. You still had similar appearance like he flourished, but you showed an innocence that juxtaposed his own behaviors. He tolerated your presence for a while, but the time came when he was unable to process you frolicking through fields of flowers, basking in the sunshine, the pure happiness that radiated from you. He tried to destroy everything you loved: the flowers, the light. And yet, you were still happy.

He hated it.

He dropped you off at the orphanage at once, you were maturing, but not fast enough for him. That, and he practically despised you. Perhaps, for what Raphael himself lacked. However, who ever claimed that devils were self-aware was definitely a devil themselves.

You spent much of your childhood wondering what you did to deserve to be dropped off at the orphanage that day. The truth was you didn’t. You didn’t deserve to be abandoned by your father. You were just too dissimilar, and that was something Raphael couldn’t handle. You spent a bit of your upbringing attempting to enhance your magical skills, your father had rescinded the vast majority of your abilities upon plopping you at the door of the orphanage with no explanation. However, you were able to regain a lot through your studies in Candlekeep. You were a bookworm, and you loved learning, not only that but you had an innate proficiency with arcana. You became well-versed in magic, but you didn’t know that your adventures had yet to begin.

You had a tadpole placed in your head, and suddenly you felt a kind of freedom you hadn’t felt previously. Then, you were able to escape, with the help of your Githyanki “friend” (you had grown closer over time, she could tolerate you now) Lae’zel. You recruited Shadowheart, Astarion, and Gale along the way. Later on, you met Wyll and Karlach. Karlach was most similar to yourself, being a Zariel Tiefling. Her skin was darker than yours, warmer, but if a stranger met you two they would have thought you sisters.

One person that you didn’t think you would bond with was Astarion. Astarion had his walls up very high from the very beginning, but something within you tore them down. Maybe it was your giddiness, or your general inexperience, but he felt the need to protect you, in a sense. Sure, you had fucked up in battle more times than they all could count, but you tried your hardest, anytime you misfired a spell you would study it over and over again with Gale until you could do it right 100% of the time.

You were perplexed on how you bonded more with Astarion than Gale, but the further you dug with Astarion the more you wanted to know. You had slept together a few times; little did you know that Astarion mostly pursued you for his own gain. He figured that if he got on the good side of the fearless, well-liked leader, she and the rest of the party wouldn’t turn on him. What Astarion didn’t realize was that he didn’t have to sleep with you to get on your good side. He just simply had to be him. You enjoyed his sass, his quips, the bantering that he tried to pursue with you. It never lasted long, which invigorated him, you were simply too easy going. A lover, rather than a fighter.

You were like a ray of sunshine. If he could, Astarion would douse himself in your rays every moment. Similarly to his newfound love for basking in the sun, you were intoxicating to him. Astarion hadn’t met many people who glowed as you did. Ironically, your contrasted, dark correspondent, your father, Raphael, had been following you and your crew around for the past few weeks. Of course, given the whole tadpole situation, the group reeked of desperation. And devils loved desperation. Desperation would lead to deals.

You were adamant that that would not be occurring.

It became evident, one night, that Astarion would be pushing you on that boundary. Astarion’s former master, Cazador,  had written a piece of infernal text on his back. You didn’t think much of it until Astarion became fixated on it one night. You could tell him what it said, but that would mean releasing the information that you were indeed Raphael’s daughter to the rest of the party, which you would have preferred not to do.

This, in itself, was a big step for Astarion. Talking about his past, his troubles, all of it. He felt comfortable around you, perhaps partially because you had shared so little with him regarding your past. You analyzed the scars on his back, running your fingertips over them as you did. “So, darling?” He inquired, pondering if you had an answer for him.

“I can tell you its written in infernal” you spoke simply, only giving him a glimpse into the answer he truly wanted. You bent down on the ground, drawing it on the sand for him, “here.” “I’ve never seen it before” Astarion spoke, and you nodded. “Infernal, you say?” He questioned again, as if an idea was coming to mind. You gestured in approval yet again.

“Darling, thank you. I believe we need to seek out Raphael, that devil who has been creeping on us the past few weeks. I bet he could tell us the meaning of the scars Cazador left on me.”

“Astarion, you can’t possibly be serious. Raphael is a devil. Devils always require a deal, and there is always a catch. You can’t pay that price.” You argued. You had wanted to do something nice for Astarion, given the horrific situation, but you knew one thing for sure. You would not be approaching your father for anything, not even over your own dead body.

“Darling, please. I’m not stupid. I need to know what these marks on me say, and Raphael can do that for me. We can adjust the pricing, I’m sure. You’re just inexperienced.” He quipped, and you gasped at his remark.

“We are not talking to Raphael, and that is final, Astarion.” You were worked up now, Astarion could see it. Gods, even the owlbear across camp half asleep could see it.

“It’s not your decision to make, Tav. It’s mine. If I want to make a deal with the devil, so be it. You can stay out of it.” From across camp, you could hear both Wyll and Karlach trying to intervene and talk some sense into Astarion. He wouldn’t take it anymore. He was his own person, and he could make his own decisions outside of what Cazador – or anyone else – decided for him. You looked at Astarion with glistening eyes, on the verge of tears. He knew he had hurt you, as well as hurt his position with you. But part of him didn’t care anymore about that.

“You’re just too naïve” he spat, and with that, a Barbarian-like rage emanated from you, your typical glow radiated into a powerful force that was nearly too much for Astarion. Your eyes were glowing most prominently, your hands formed into tight fists, and your teeth gnawed against one another. “You want to know what the damned scars say, Astarion?! Do you!?” Astarion, for the first time in weeks, was mildly scared for his life.

He nodded ever so gently, careful not to push you further. “It’s a contract. One between Cazador and Mephistopheles. The rite of profane ascension to a fate similar to godhood, but for vampires. He needs seven thousand souls, and you’re one of them.” Astarion had to bite back a chuckle. You had to be kidding him, right? This was a joke. Right?

“I’m dead fucking serious Astarion.” Your eyebrows were shifted downward, reciprocating your tone of voice.

“How would you know?” He quipped, anxious to break the pattern of seriousness and – perhaps lies that you were spreading. He didn’t want it to be true.

“I’m Raphael’s daughter."

Part Two is now out! Read it here.

[cossmoluck]

FINALLY finished this

turns out soon means one week+ in my little lizard brain, that's cool

anyways!!! meg

megalo don content,,, food

also, as a treat for making myself take so much to finish this, some of my AU lore rambling thing under the cut (warning, pretty long)

in my design, most of his exterior Nitro armor is removable, being an extension of the augument inside his body, which pumps Nitro both through his lungs and bloodstream, crossing from front to back through his torso. His tubes would be attached to certain openings around his body, which could also have 'lids' put on for safe closing. Every area where the Nitro pumps directly into his body would have 'Nitro burn'- a less proeminent glow than the one in his fueled up form. I, as many others also do, like to think that his mask actually comes off (I haven't drawn him unmaksed yet, but I'll get to that too eventually). One headcanon I have is that when you take his medallion in game, what you take is actually his mask and use it.

For his body I went for a slightly leaner strongman build, as he doesn't seem way too bulky in his non-fueled form, but he's still considerably bigger than most others. I tried to give him a 'scarred shark' look, and gave him burn scars on one arm from a misfiring Nitro Fist hit accident

also his hair look so so fluffy in game and for WHAT

(note, this is all to be taken as an AU. i am by no means well versed enough in Fortnite lore to make something close to canon or actual on point headcanons lol,,, tl;dr at the bottom!!)

i feel like the whole theory with Meg and big chuggus being somehow related is true, but not necessarily in the way others present it usually i don't think they're snapshots of each other in any way, i just think that they've been basically created 'for the same purpose', maybe in the different 'realities?' I'm not 100% sure how the zero point reset worked considering Midas was technically the same and all

so let's say Chaos had created the Slurp legends and Slurp creatures back during the GHOST/SHADOW conflict i like to think that Meg might have been created sometime during then too- a more refined variant of the technology used on big chuggus, enough for him not to end up as brain dead as big chuggus himself (sorry big chuggus)

Megalo Don could have been a fleet leader for the naval forces, as he has an overall very reoccurring military theme with his insignia and stuff. Maybe he was hired by Chaos to aid him and willingly allowing Chaos to modify him into the 'perfect leader', boosted by slurp into near perfection I believe his Oasis style would be what his 'original' look was, with Slurp coursing through his pumps instead of Nitro

so how did he turn into the Meg we know? during the GHOST/SHADOW conflict, his crew got destroyed, probably, and they somehow ended up punished to the Pandora's Box, but not dead like Midas, just punished there I like to think that there is not only one Pandora's Box, technically, and that they're basically some sort of even higher security 'prison' for things deemed disasters under certain circumstances, putting mortal beings into their own personal hell. The ones imprisoned in the Pandora's Box arent necessarily 'dead', like shade Midas in the Underworld, but they're not alive in the full sense either. This particular Nitro filled Pandora's Box sprouted there, leaving behind veins of pure Nitro in the depths of the earth through which the Box had erupted.

in the Pandora's Box, stuck in an infinite purgatory loop of fighting and dying, the slurp that fueled his crew quite literally rotted into Nitro, and Megalo Don himself basically 'rusted' from the rot. The Nitro, essence of death, in a way, compared to Slurp, slowly and surely altered Meg's brain, turning him from a calculated leader into a terrifying tyrant, with nihilistic views regarding his crew and conquest, as he saw them all die over and over again… Another case of 'rotten' slurp beings being Sludge, maybe, as he could perhaps be read as a Slurp creature gone 'bad' (slurp to nitro)

Meg's mind got clouded with the only thing he could comprehend anymore- Nitro coursing through his veins, through his ship, through anything in the living hell he experienced in the Pandora's Box. (Ultrakill flesh prison sounding aah) Obtained by conquest or murder, with destruction being the only method he could even comprehend using to get it, his very life seeming to depend on Nitro at that point, and being released into the world again brought him bo purpose than to seize back all of his Nitro and keep fighting more and more

after he and his crew escaped from the Pandora's Box, Meg had intercepted a boat droning the Island from SHADOW, which had went to scout out Helios after Midas' escape from The Underworld, unaware of the Pandora's Box opening right then, and getting caught in the sandstorm. Meg had just the luck to capture Chaos (or a snapshot), the very man who had taken away his humanity and turned him into a (now) Nitro-fueled beast. From them he also took the island plans, which helped his crew settle in as fast as they did, the Redline Rig digging for Nitro the very moment they got there and the Nitrodrome building itself over the abandoned Fencing Fields, repurposing the fizz machinery there into the dome's car destruction traps

i also like to think that Meg has a father/daughters bond with Scarr and the Machinist, with the Machinist maybe being one of the original scientists on Chaos' team, whom had helped him stabilize his new equipment at the time, and Scarr being a dedicated member of his fleet since before getting banished into the Pandora's Box. Initially, both Scarr and the Machinist would have admired him for his courageous leadership and respected him as a leader, but through their decline in the Pandora's Box, their found family bond only strengthened, with the two of them being probably his only subordinates he actually cares about

i also like to imagine that he had made most of the transmissions particularly silly in hopes of having them tune in on either patrol or at the Nitrodrome and make them laugh with the over the top commentary

tl;dr: i headcanon megalo don as an ex-slurp legend made by Chaos who had rotted to nitro in the Pandora's Box. His Oasis style is what he looked like pre-Box. Also the Mechanist and Ringmaster Scarr are his found family daughters

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

How about something for a verse we havent had in a while (if you want to of course, otherwise something for Erik?) Uhhhh maybe something for secret!reader jason verse?? Or whatever you have inspiration for :)

This is what I can see in my head so... here we go.

You knew the dance. The steps were simple. They move forward and you move back. If you toe the line and keep your head down, no one looks at you. If you can keep from being perceived, you're safe.

But you see everything.

As soon as you touch an object, you can know what has happened to it or will happen to it. Gloves help. Sleeves help.

But... it's a crime family. They use you to touch things. To know if the glass will break. If a gun will misfire. If a guy will rat them out to the cops.

Keeping your arms around yourself is safest. Rubbing the patches on your denim jacket. The ones you stole laughing with your friends, the sun shining on your face as you ran up the sidewalk. It's not real, the pictures- and as long as you don't look forward; to know what else happens it's okay.

Because what happens later- that... well. If you look too far forward you're dead.

___________________

Pages turned to ash in the flames curling like rose petals. And you fed more pages into the grate one by one, ignoring the brooding man behind you and the smell of cigar smoke.

"You good, kid?"

"Just cleaning house," you answer, not turning. Ignoring the feel of the flames as you picked up the notebooks to tear them apart. Behind you, you could hear him take a seat and rolled your eyes.

"Gettin' late-"

"Figured if I did this earlier Jubilee and Kitty would be down here tryin' to make s'mores on it," you snort. "Didn't really want to have to explain THAT."

"Fair enough," Logan said.

You could feel him sizing you up. And you knew he had... questions. How a professor that was in the same class as Scott and Jean know how to pick locks and hotwire cars? Why's Charles seem to defer to you when it came to things that were 'criminal' in nature? And how the living hell did you become a teacher with a rap sheet? But you don't know if you have the patience to answer right now.

Writing was supposed to be theraputic. To give you a place to get it all out. Storm told you to just write it all out but... it felt too much like having a written confession. Like it was just all laid out for the cops and waiting.

So you fed the last of the pages to the flames and watched them catch. And that was... Somehow more satisfying.

"Love notes?" Logan scoffed, teasing.

"Sure," you shrug, carefully scooping up scraps of paper from the spirals and the metal that wouldn't burn into the wastebasket.

"It's either that or bad poetry-"

"Not really a poem kind of girl, Logan," you tell him, getting to your feet. "Tequilla is good or it isn't- why do I need to 60 words to say it?"

Logan took a drag on his cigar and regarded you, smirking, "Sometimes it's really fucking good tequila."

[finn-writes-stuff]

If you're still in a Legend of Vox Machina mood, could I request how Percy would react to a girl Tiefling s/o ,who loves to sing and dance, singing with Scanlan? Jealous Percy is adorable. Love everything you write. Will give you a kofi after I get my paycheck(this is not a bribe)

To Cut In

Dancing with your best friend is all fun and good until your favourite gunslinger starts feeling left out of the fun.

Percy de Rolo x Fem!Reader

Fandom: The Legend of Vox Machina/ Critical Role

Format: Oneshot

Female Reader

Masterlist

Asfghjkl thank you so much. I had fun writing this! And bribes are never required but always appreciated <;3

The party had set up camp for the night and spirits were high after a battle that had been much easier than expected. Keyleth had a warm fire going and the twins were whittling arrows in the orange light. It was amazing how some days a camo like this really could feel like a home away from home. You were happy, in an easy way that often felt so far away when adventuring. Scanlan had struck up a tune and was swinging you around with him, laughing whenever either of you stumbled. There was a tilted crown hanging from your horns, the gentle buzz of magic reminding you that it was one of his illusions.

There was so much joy in this, in belting out a cheesy love song and trying to make the other party members smile when they watched you. Pike and Grog were both cheering you on, and dissolved into giggles as Scanlan attempted to dip you, despite the height difference. It really just led to you precariously wobbling before you managed to get back to your feet.

"So, are you desperately in love with me yet?" Scanlan asked as the verse ended, winking at you.

"Not quite, you'll have to try another song."

"I've got some that'll be sure to have you head-over-heels, just you wait." You knew he was joking with you. With the way he kept glancing past you at Pike's laughing face and with how you had both bared your hearts to each other, explaining your separate pining over white-haired party members. But it would never stop him from joking about stealing your heart, and spinning around in the firelight with him was fun. He was your best friend here, you wouldn't trade that for anything.

So it caught you off guard as someone caught your wrist, pulling you out of Scanlan's arms. The cool leather on your skin told you who it was even before you turned to meet Percy's eyes, the familiar sharp green. Behind you, Scanlan ended up tripping back, set off balance by your sudden disappearance.

"Scanlan has had plenty of chances to dance with you. Would it be too much to ask for one for myself?" His tone was calm and collected but you could see the set of his jaw. It was the same as when his gun misfired too often or when he ended up dragged into a plan he didn't agree with. A frustration that he often kept under tight wraps. He was always loath to let you see it from him, but you'd learned how to read his cues.

"No, no it wouldn't be. Although most men wait for the other dance to end first." It was a gentle tease, questioning his swift cut-in.

"I'm afraid the bard speaks quicker than I do. If I waited, you would be in his arms all night."

"'The bard' is right here, you know! And if you want any music, you'll ask nicely after that stunt. My ass hurts!"

The slow raise of an eyebrow was so incredibly Percy that you couldn't help but grin at him. He was just as ridiculous as everyone else here, whether he would admit it or not. You cherished his dry sarcasm, especially as you noted his amusement in turn.

"If you could 'please' give us a song, Scanlan? I would appreciate it."

You had a sneaking suspicion that the only reason Scanlan listened was due to how he had nearly ended up in Pike's lap after his stumble, but either way, the music started again, mellow and sweet.

"Let me lead?" Percy asked gently, a hand resting softly on your waist and the other catching your own. "I won't just about drop you as he did."

"Scanlan still caught me, no harm no foul, right?"

"I'd say that it's better to be in good hands in the first place." He squeezed your hand and you were lost for a moment in his intensity. Percy was a person who did nothing by halves and who seemed to throw himself headfirst into his passions. He looked at you with that same sort of devotion.

"Better hands? Like yours?"

He smiled, just this side of smug, and you were done for. Gods, his stupid smirk, you were in love with him.

"You said it, darling, not me."

Percy was a graceful dancer, and it was so different than the chaos of dancing with Scanlan. He swept you across the ground as if it were a polished ballroom floor. And when he dipped you, his hand was steady and strong at your back. Your face was warm and your tail was swishing behind you contentedly.

You felt as though you belonged here, spinning in his embrace with his eyes drinking you in shamelessly. He was so often subtle and restrained in how he charmed you, but this was an impulse, a show. He wanted to be clear about his fondness for you, so that the whole party understood, not just you.

So it was clear that you were his and that he was yours in turn.

You wanted to kiss him so badly, but you knew it would be inevitably followed by wolf whistles and heckling from your friends, even if they weren't giving you their full attention.

Instead, you indulged yourself by memorizing his features, setting them in stone in your head. You already knew them perfectly, of course, with how often he was in your dreams. But there was hardly any harm in enjoying the view.

You were lost in your reverie until Scanlan's voice cut through your thoughts.

"Are you going to kiss her or not, Percy, we're dying over here!"

You flushed and went to tell him off, but you didn't get the chance before Percy's hand was on your chin, tilting your head to look at him.

"May I, darling?"

"I- yes, yes you may."

You found that the wolf whistles were worth it if kissing him would be like this every time.

[rancorasael]

who?: open to all where?: mercury's bazaar when?: in the neptunalia verse

It was a passing comment on a stranger's lips, something vague about wanting to learn more about the Vanguard. It pissed Asael off to hear such nonsense and the thick threads of frozen water he began to tug at would've visualized his displeasure. Unfortunately, the glint of Olympian rings distracted him for a moment and his weave misfired, launching his frigid magic haphazardly into the crowd.

Asael didn't have time to stick around and get the scope of his accidental destruction. He slipped away in the resultant chaos, knowing a nearby entrance into the Bazaar. Clutching his hurting, ice-covered hand to his chest, he hoveled through his pain into the darkest alley he could reach, worried that the Olympians were still following him. Asael was visibly in rough shape, however stepping in pain was just second nature to him. When he walked back into another, his immediate reaction was to leap away and raise his uninjured hand, demonstrating that no matter how he may have looked, he was ready for a fight still.

"Well? Think I'm easy all you want, but I'm not," he says, hiding the strain in his voice well enough. He wasn't coughing up blood yet so he could pull off a few more spells before passing out from pain. "You won't get anything if you rob me, I don't got anything. Except for an ass-kicking. That I can give you for free."

[tyrantisterror]

You Don't Remember Muncher

Sony, as a film-making company, has reeked of desperation for at least a decade at this point. They have IPs that they know SHOULD be making them more money but they just. Can't. Get them to. And sometimes this results in them taking some big creative swings, to be completely fair - I love the Spider-Verse movies, and you don't get movies that expensive and conceptually heavy with a studio executive who's playing it safe. And I think the fact that they keep taking these big swings even when some of them end up duds like Sausage Party is commendable.

But I do think one of their big problems is this inability to understand that 1. films are a form of art and 2. what art is. They're good enough to understand that artists know what art is, which is more than a lot of studio leadership can say, and those big creative swings they take come from trusting artists to do their art thing. And even their misfires tend to have laudable stuff - Sausage Party may be an SNL gag that someone decided to stuff full of the most dated racism and bigoted jokes imaginable to get up to movie feature runtime, but the animation in it is oddly beautiful, even when depicting things that are repulsive. Like a protestant on the way to Dracula's castle, the heads at Sony seem to treat their artists with respect despite not understanding why they gave them a rosary and other primitive superstitious charms to protect them from vampires.

But when they have to make choices themselves, hoo boy, those poor bastards. They don't know what they're doing.

So Ghostbusters is one of those valuable IPs Sony is desperate to monetize, right? They just know they can have a huge hit on their hands with Ghostbusters. It was popular in the 80's, and things that were popular in the 80's are HUGE now! Look at that Stranger Things, baby!

Now, the heads at Sony may not be able to understand art, but they try. They are at the very least good at picking apart a piece of art and sussing out what ingredients made it, like Claire Saffitz trying to recreate an oreo. For their 2016 reboot, they correctly deduced that the original Ghostbusters was 1. a comedy 2. starring at least two actors from SNL and using their star power for promotion and 3. was liked by nerds because the heroes are out-of-shape nerds rather than chiseled Rambo/Arnie types. Also it has ghosts in it, probably.

Now, the problem is, the SNL actor-led comedy was taken out into a dark alley and slowly beaten to death by Adam Sandler and his cadre of goblin men starting somewhere around the time Little Nicky was made. It gave way to the era of cringe comedies like The Hangover and Judd Apatow bromances, which were led less by SNL stars and more by actors and actresses who'd gotten their start on NBC thursday night sitcoms - a minor difference, perhaps, but notable I think. And, like, even then, by 2016, that era was also pretty much over. The cringe comedy was a dying genre. Comedy itself, at least pure comedies, was kind of losing its place in film, being supplanted by action movies with more quips than they used to have. We were three years deep into THE WHEDONING.

But being three years behind the curve has never been a problem Sony worried about. I mean, historically it should be, but they never do. So Sony tried to assemble the best Ghostbusters they could make from the ingredients they could suss out, using the closest equivalents they could make. Grab some of the actresses from Bridesmaids, and an SNL star or two if you can. Kristen Wiig and Melissa McCarthy have a pretty good banter going on ala Bill Murray and Dan Akroyd, really put them front and center. Oh, and we sussed out another ingredient! The original Ghostbusters had Sigourney Weaver as a love interest, and she was the star of Alien, which our Sony genre determining bot claims is an action movie, so let's get a hot action star as a love interest. Chris Hemsworth! Oh, we can make him be a silly goober like we did with John Hamm in Bridesmaids! People love handsome guys being silly goobers! (in this, Sony is correct)

The result was... fine, I think, if missing a few crucial ingredients. You know the ghosts in Ghostbusters? First syllable of the title? Most of the ones in the 2016 movie are just, you know, transparent humans, maybe a bit bluer than normal, making maniacal faces. Whereas in the original:

Well, they got some fucked up freaks in the original.

A lot of fans didn't like the 2016 movie, some for stupid sexism reasons, some for "I don't see why you need to remake Ghostbusters at all really" reasons, and some for, like, just personal taste reasons. It did not provide the big box office hit Sony wanted. Their first attempt to recreate the oreo was a failure.

So they go back to the drawing board, listening to the loudest, angriest criticism and looking to what's working outside of their influence for answers. Fans thought the 2016 movie was too different, not reverent towards the original as the perfect golden calf of Bill Murray comedies that it is. So this new reboot would be oozing with reverence. Fans didn't like the cast of ladies, so, yes, got it, scrap the lady-led ghostbusters.

Star Wars Fans loved that J.J. Abrams Star Wars reboot, The Force Awakens, for being a sequel rather than a full reboot, but also for just telling the same story they already love but slightly different. And nerds in general still fucking love that Stranger Things show - they even had an episode where the Stranger Things kids wore ghostbusters costumes! Hey, there's a million dollar idea, Stranger Things kids... as ghostbusters...

Now, the one thing they can't take from The Force Awakens is copying the tone of their original movie, because they tried copying the irreverent tone of the original Ghostbusters and fans did not like it. They need to be reverent to the original, because that's what The Force Awakens, even if showing reverence at all is antithetical to the tone of the original movie itself (which it is, because Ghostbusters is an irreverent Bill Murray comedy, like that's its whole schtick). But if they can drape this new-found reverence in 80's nostalgia, maybe, just maybe, nostalgic fans will be too dumb to notice.

And hey, they love that Stranger Things, which is a big homage to The Goonies and E.T. and Steven Spielberg-esque stories about pubescent kids going on perilous adventures where they face bad guys and learn life lessons in the process, reverent but dated in the same time period as Ghostbusters. And what an idea... Stranger Things kids... as ghostbusters...

This was admittedly a lot of preamble to get to the actual topic: Muncher. See, in that Force Awakens style, they needed to not only bring old characters from Ghostbusters back, but also make new characters who are really just the old characters but slightly different. For example, The Force Awakens brings us BB-8, who's basically just R2-D2, but visually different enough to feel new, and maybe a little cuter. Instead of moving on treads, he moves on this big ball, which is more complicated from a puppetry aspect and thus looks a lot more impressive and just a bit more "modern" while still basically being R2-D2 again.

Such was the genesis of Muncher.

Slimer (originally called Onionhead by the production staff and John Belushi's Ghost by Bill Murray) wasn't intended to be the franchise mascot, in part because Ghostbusters was never meant to be a franchise. He was a one off ghost who's iconic design and role as the first ghost to be busted made him a fan favorite, and eventually became, like, the ghostbusters' dog in the cartoon series. We love that for him, but the fact remains that Slimer's success was accidental.

Muncher, by contrast, was an attempt to recreate Slimer. But different! He's a gross gluttonous monster, because that's what Slimer is, but there's a lot less focus on wet goo when he eats and more solid chunks. See, it's different? And you know what's popular now thanks to, like, a cracked article or something? Tardigrades! They're these cool little microscopic things that everyone's making into monster designs now, they're even on a Star Trek! Why, if we made Slimer 2 - err, that is, Muncher have some tardigrade elements, he'd look weird and, like, modern - but not too modern! Like Slimer, but different!

Before Ghostbusters: Afterlife came out, there was a LOT of Muncher merchandise. A lot. Which makes sense, Slimer had so much goddamn merch in the heyday of the original Ghostbusters. There was fucking Slimer toothpaste. Toothpaste! From Slimer's teats!

It looked identical to Slimer bubblegum.

But, for whatever reason, Muncher did not connect like Slimer did, and so Sony did a last minute trend-chasing pivot and tried to focus on the new hotness: cute baby versions of characters who were old and not cute in the original movie.

I don't know if this scene was planned to be in the movie before The Mandalorian was a big success, or if it was a hasty addition to it, but it doesn't matter, because what does matter is the late marketing shift to focus on these little fuckers, and giving them lots of toys. They're already in the marketing for the sequel, where Muncher is nowhere to be found.

Because you don't remember Muncher, do you?

Muncher didn't connect. They took a swing with Muncher and they fucking whiffed. They made a shitload of Muncher toys and all those little blue fuckers ended up clearanced to Hell. Muncher is a failure, a loser.

You don't remember Muncher.

And you never will.

[cowgurrrl]

Love the writing! Could I please request baby!Miller first steps and Joel just melting?

Thank you for the request and your sweet words!! Here’s Charlie girl taking her first steps 🥹

Never Grow Up

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

Summary: “Why did I decide to walk in the kitchen?” “Maybe you just saw something you wanted.” aka this ask

Author’s note: oh my little Look for the Light verse how I missed you

Warnings: parental anxiety, Joel being a softie, Ellie being the worlds best big sister

Sarah took her first steps the day after her first birthday, deciding that she officially had to be one before she could hit her milestone. Jane took her first steps about a month before she turned one. She was tired of waiting for someone to pick her up so she could get somewhere, ever a woman on a mission, even as a toddler. But Charlie, Charlie turned one a month ago and still hasn't shown any interest in trying to walk. And it's not for lack of trying. You, Ellie, and Joel all take turns holding her chubby little hands and guiding her feet across the floor, which she's perfectly content with until you let go. Then, she plops back down on the floor and scootches to wherever she wants to be.

"I just don't get it," you say to Joel one night as you get ready for bed. He sighs as he hangs up his jacket in the closet. "I mean, do you think something's wrong? Should we take her to the doctor?"

"Every kid is gonna hit their milestones at a different time. She's just takin' a little longer, that's all."

"How do you know?" You ask. He takes a deep breath before walking over to you and cupping your face in his hands. His thumbs swipe soothing lines across your cheekbones, and you let yourself relax into him.

"Because you're her mama and one of the most capable people I know. She's got your good genes," he says as he kisses your forehead, and you laugh a little bit. You breathe him in, the smell of pine and the lavender detergent you use to wash the clothes surrounding you. The house is silent as you stand in your shared room, your anxieties misfiring against the old wood. "She's gonna be fine."

"And if she's not?"

"Then, we'll handle it."

You agree to give it one more month. If she doesn't walk in another month, you'll take her to the doctor. In the meantime, you try to let it go. You let her scoot around the house and try not to get too excited when she pulls herself to her feet. You have a feeling that she can sense whenever you're expecting her to do something, the baited anticipation too much for her little brain to comprehend. It may be silly, but you know your kid. You know how she operates.

Ellie likes to lie on the floor with Charlie, and she gives her a step-by-step guide on how to get on her feet and take a few steps. "It's not that hard! Just watch," Ellie coaches as Charlie watches her with curious eyes. You wish you had a camera to record Ellie crawling on her hands and knees before gaining her balance, standing, and walking while explaining its mechanics. You laugh when Charlie just burps and crawls to you, lifting her arms to be picked up. "I hate to say it, but I think she may have gotten Joel's thick skull."

"She'll figure it out," you say as you kiss Charlie's cheek and bring her into the kitchen. As the weeks fly by and Charlie still refuses to walk, you try to bury your worry in your patrols. You do your best to keep Jackson safe so that Charlie can feel protected enough to take her first steps. Or that's what your logic is, at least.

On the last day of the month, you stomp snow out of your work boots outside the front door before entering your warm house. There's a fire going in the fireplace, and the promise of a warm meal greets you when you walk in the door. Joel and Ellie shout from the kitchen, followed by a very excited, "Mama!" You smile and shrug out of your jacket, ready to attack your favorite people with kisses, when Charlie scoots out to the hallway.

"What's up, Charlie girl?" You ask as you hang up your coat next to the front door. Then, without warning or preparation, Charlie plants her feet under her and stands. You freeze, and Charlie looks at you, and for a second, you swear you can read her mind. "It's okay, baby. Mama's right here for you. I won't let you get hurt, okay?" You say, crouching down and opening your arms. Joel and Ellie hear you and look confused as they step into the hallway and see Charlie standing. You think the whole world stops as she takes one step. Then another. And another until she's across the room and in your arms. You pick her up and spin her around, deliriously happy giggles leaving you as you kiss her face. "You did it, baby girl! You walked!"

"Yay, Charlie!" Ellie says as she rushes over to join in your celebration. Charlie laughs as Ellie tickles her belly and kisses her cheeks. You glance at Joel and see tears glistening in his eyes. You hold your hand out to him and take a shaky breath as he walks over, wrapping an arm around your waist and kissing your forehead.

"This is good, baby. Why are you crying?" You ask, and he shakes his head.

"She's gettin' so big." He says, his voice cracking, and you have to fight the urge to laugh because this is what you've both wanted for so long, and now that it's happened, he wants her to be a newborn again. You let Ellie slip Charlie out of your arms and hug Joel tightly. Because, of course, after years of being tough and broody, the thing to send him over the edge is watching his youngest daughter walk toward the love of his life for the first time.

[ivystoryweaver]

Decadent chapter 14: FINALE

prev || Fic Masterlist || My Masterlist

Summary: An accident in the lab - and Miguel has missed what was right in front of his face (that's you)

Pairings: Miguel O'Hara x f!reader

Word Count: 5.3k

Content: nsfw, 18+ , some angst, unprotected p in v, grinding, scratching, biting, blood consumption, bondage, rough sex, not beta'd

PREVIOUSLY on Decadent...

“That’s why I want you to live here with me.” Seeing your eyes go wide, he squeezed your hands. "You can keep your apartment if you want. I'll even pay for it. But..." His eyes dipped almost shyly as he exhaled in a rush. "I love you. So...move in with me?"

"Of course I will. I love you," you confessed. "But..." Caressing his fingers, you swallowed hard, but held his gaze bravely. "First, I need you to tell me where you go all weekend."

FINALE

Spiderman 2099's unstable molecule fabric suit stretched itself across his defined muscles. His heavy cape unfurled behind him. With a sudden leap, he glided across New York - or at least this universe's version of New York, prepared to make sure this universe's timeline didn't somehow collapse.

"Uhhh, boss?" Lyla chimed, appearing in the air, near his head as he floated through the sky.

"Kinda busy, can't it wait?"

"No. You programmed me to let you know if your girlfriend were to ever be in danger, soooo she’s in danger," she fired back.

Miguel aimed for a low rooftop and came to a tumbling stop.

"Where is she? What's wrong?" Miguel had a timeline to attend to, but if you were in danger...

"There was an explosion in the lab - "

Lyla said nothing more before Miguel was quite literally tearing through the fabric of time to get back to you.

His virtual assistant may have overstated the danger you were in. When he arrived at the lab, he realized there had been a very small explosion. More of a misfire of sorts -

...which wasn't the major issue. The reason Lyla interrupted Miguel's mission soon became clear to him.

This was the part of the lab with the spiders. The explosion had destroyed some of the spiders and freed the rest. They must have scurried away. But you were lying on the floor amidst debris, unconscious, with a huge, angry spider bite on your hand.

You were bit by a radioactive spider.

"It can't be," he whispered, rushing to your side and checking you over frantically. Thankfully, you were breathing, but unconscious.

"Baby, what happened?" He gasped, pulling you into his arms and rocking you gently. Pressing a fierce kiss to your forehead, he murmured against your skin.

"This isn't supposed to happen. I'm Spider-Man here. I'm Spider-Man...how..."

Horrible dread filled Miguel's heart.

If this world already had a Spider-Man, that meant this spider bite wasn't going to turn you into a spider woman. It would most likely either kill you or turn you into a villain.

How could he possibly have missed this? How did he not see this coming?

First things first: he wanted to make sure you were okay. Which one of these spiders bit you? They were all radioactive, so in that regard, you were fucked. But it was nothing venomous...right?

Miguel placed you on a lab table and got to work, analyzing your condition and reaction to the bite, drawing your blood, watching you closely for signs of venom - rashes, difficultly breathing -anything to explain why you were unconscious.

He simultaneously had Lyla pull up everything on you - anything that could explain why you would have been bitten by a radioactive spider and he didn't see it coming, as some sort of canon event. Maybe it was just a freak accident. After all, you worked in a dangerous, experimental lab daily.

But Miguel knew the universe. The multi-verse, even. There were no accidents. Ever.

Your Aunt Jessina practically raised you, at least since your parents died at age 12. Miguel had even met Jess.

"Wait, what the hell?" Miguel gasped. Your Aunt Jess actually adopted you and changed your name. And her name.

As Lyla untangled well-hidden files, she discovered that Jess' name was Jessina May Parker. The sister of a scientist named Richard Parker.

Your last name used to be Parker?

Aunt Jess married a man named Ben, who also died. She took his name and completely abandoned the name Parker. You took Ben's last name as well. It was as if Jess wanted to erase any memory of her brother Richard, as well as the name Parker.

But Jess knew what she was doing. The paper trail was virtually nonexistent. One would have to know what to look for and exactly how to look, to find it. And Miguel simply wasn't looking for any spider-related canon events in this timeline because he was Spider-Man.

As Lyla dug deeper, the connections became obvious.

You were raised by your Aunt (Jessina) May. Your Uncle Ben died. Your parents - the Parkers, died behind a veil of secrecy.

Your friend's name was Gwen.

The guy with a crush on you? Jackson Watson. Mitchell Jackson Watson. He went by 'MJ' Watson as a child.

Your life read like a pretty common spider story. So...you were meant to be a spider. That meant he was the wrong spider in the wrong place. Typical. No wonder his entire existence felt...well, wrong. Until he met you...

Now he just had to wait for you to wake up.

You eyes fluttered weakly, struggling to open. You inhaled sharply - shakily, feeling like your skin was on fire.

"Corazón?" Miguel gasped, gently tracing your jaw with his fingertips. "Hey..."

"W-what happened?" you croaked, your throat parched and your lips dry.

"You were bit by a spider. Scared me to death- how are you feeling?” He gently questioned.

"Everything hurts,” you coughed out, struggling to sit up. "Was it poisonous?"

"Take it easy. Just lie still. Let me take care of you,” he softly admonished. "I’m running some tests but you don't seem to be having an allergic reaction. I don’t think that’s what’s happening here."

You moaned in agony, pressing the heels of your hands to your eyes. "My head is pounding- my skin hurts, Miguel please...”

“It’s okay, baby - "

“Please take me home,” you whimpered. “I-I don’t feel good.”

Miguel explained to you that he wasn’t quite done with the tests he was running in the lab, not to mention the headache of dealing with the accidental explosion and confidential cleanup. So you endured nearly an hour of waiting on an uncomfortable lab table until Miguel felt satisfied with your test results.

Then he carried you to the car, held you close in the back seat, and took you to his home.

Well...hopefully soon to be your home. Miguel had asked you to move in, but you wanted complete honesty from him first. This was way more than working together, sleeping together, or even being exclusive. Miguel loved you and wanted to start a life with you.

He had asked you for one more weekend and then promised to show you all his secrets first hand. This gave you pause, but he explained it would be easier to show you than to explain it to you.

The Spider Society was meant to be a secret, so Miguel honestly wanted to let a few people there know what was going on - how serious he was about you, and how much he trusted you.

Now, it seemed you would not only learn of the Spider Society as Miguel's girlfriend, but as a spider yourself.

Your transformation into a spider wasn't an easy one, but not atypical of other transitions Miguel had heard about and witnessed. Of course, his personal transition was a different type of lab accident, and he was quite the unique spider.

Still, your whimpers of agony tormented him all night as you clung to him, clenching his t-shirt in your firsts, begging him to hold you, to stay with you.

He groaned as you shifted against his body, pulling yourself on top of him.

"Why does it feel like this?" You cried, you lips brushing his throat. "Please make it stop, Miguel, please."

He must have whispered a hundred soothing Spanish whispers and pet names into your ear, promising you he was there - that you were safe, and this would pass.

As you drifted off into a fitful slumber, he wondered how you would ever forgive him for letting this happen to you - for not seeing it coming.

The next morning, you woke up in his arms, feeling much better. And bizarre. A trip to the bathroom later, and your new life started to make itself known.

You tried to brush your teeth, but accidentally snapped the thing in half. Next, you broke the toilet handle when you went to flush, which, made you flinch in surprise, sending your hand slamming into the counter's edge - taking the corner right off as it smashed to pieces.

"Oh my god!' you shrieked, "Miguel?" you called out, rushing back toward the bedroom, only to collide with his solid chest…

…which somehow sent him stumbling backward. All six foot, nine inches or your massive wall of a boyfriend almost lost his balance after you ran into him.

“Miguel? I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay.” He grasped your arms to calm you down Damn, you were strong. “Let me explain, okay?”

So Miguel info-dumped absolutely everything about the Spider Society, the multi-verse and your spider powers. He even explained that you getting bit was apparently a “canon event” - a life and story similar to so many other spiders.

To say your mind was blown was an understatement. The fact that you had super powers now? Like super strength, amazing reflexes and possibly something called a spider sense, where you could sense danger coming?

Not to mention a lot other people had these same powers too but they were from other worlds.

You started to understand why it took Miguel so long to tell you where he went on weekends. It would have been difficult to grasp if it hadn’t happened to you personally.

You couldn't believe your eyes when Miguel actually took your hand and led you through a portal to another dimension. A psychedelic, seizure-inducing, multicolored portal, which might have been terrifying if it weren't so amazing.

When you got to this so called Spider HQ, you clung to his hand as you passed by several other people in skin tight suits that looked like Miguel's blue one, but more of them were primarily red.

Each person knew Miguel and seemed to defer to him or acknowledge him as the two of you passed by.

Lyla was there as well, chirping away, updating him on all things multiverse.

The biggest surprise came when you got to what appeared to be the heart of the operation, or perhaps Miguel's...office, containing a rather dramatic elevated platform surrounded by several computer screens.

"So this is where you go every weekend?" You asked him, nodding around you.

"Nights too, sometimes. When we're not together." He winked down at you.

You made a face. "Baby, when do you sleep?"

"He never sleeps," a familiar voice resounded behind you. "That's why he's so damn grumpy."

The multiverse got a lot weirder when you turned around and saw your neighbor's lookalike standing there in a black and white spider suit.

"Gwen?"

Seeing your neighbor/friend's doppelgänger was shocking enough, but Miguel knew it was time to head back to your own universe when you discovered, quite by accident, that you were the proud, new owner of organic webbing.

You accidentally shot a long roped web out of your wrist and shrieked in surprise, inadvertently firing off a few more before Miguel could explain to you what was happening. He knew it could be a possibility - some spiders made their webbing in the lab and wore the tech on their wrists - while others, like you, had organic webbing as a part of your altered DNA.

There was really no way to know for sure until it happened. The thought of spiderwebs flying out of your skin freaked you right the hell out, so Miguel took you home.

After explaining things to you and making you some Mexican food, he noticed you hadn't spoken or even looked at him since he poured your first margarita.

"Mi amor?" He gently prompted, reaching for your hand. "Talk to me."

As if simply waiting on an invitation, you dove right in.

"Why didn't you tell me about all this - about the other spiders?" You whispered. "I mean...this is huge."

"I know." His gaze dropped. "I wanted to, but the Spider Society - we don't really...advertise."

"I get that," you nodded understandingly, "But I'm not just your girlfriend. I'm your research partner. Don't you think it's pertinent to our research - all those other spiders? Didn't you think maybe this information could help you?"

"There are no other spiders like me. No one had the accident I had and no one...drinks blood."

"But we don't know - there could have been something," you argued. "A-and the fact that I was working around radioactive spiders every day?"

"Well...you did know about the spiders, to be fair," he reasoned.

"Maybe, but not that I would turn into a spider-person - and that there were other universes with...us out there. And Gwen - there's another Gwen?" You pulled your hand away during your confused and impassioned speech, running your fingers over your wrists where your spiderwebs had shot out.

"And now like - I'm part spider and I am completely freaked out, Miguel, d-do you understand that?"

His scarlet eyes found yours and he nodded. "I think I do. I definitely do."

Your eyed him sympathetically, understanding his meaning. This was the whole point of your research together - the reason you met. Miguel didn't want to be part vampire spider anymore, and he never wanted to need to drink blood again. He'd spent most of his life vexed by his very existence.

"I didn't mean for this to happen to you, mi amor - you have to believe that."

"I know," you sniffled. "But what about me? Are you...friends with another me - somewhere out there? You and me - are we just carbon copies of - "

"No." Miguel's scarlet eyes swirled with uncertainty as his dark eyebrows arched pleadingly. "There is no one else like you. There never could be."

Seeing your hesitation and sensing your distress, he pushed off his barstool where you were seated at the kitchen island. Brushing his knuckles across your cheek, he struggled to find the right words as slivers of fear began to wind around his heart - a dread that somehow, he could lose you. "Corazon..."

"You're sure you haven't met a bunch of other me's?" You softly questioned, blinking up at him.

"Mi vida," he breathed, touching his forehead to yours as he stood between your legs - his hands spreading across your thighs.

With little effort, he lifted you off your barstool and set you on the counter top, easing closer until his body pressed against yours. Pulling your thighs around his waist, he shifted his hips before pressing his waiting mouth to yours.

You hummed against his lips, slipping your fingers around his neck to wind through his dark locks. He tasted you slowly, pushing his hands back up your spread thighs to grip your hips. Thrusting against you temptingly, he licked hotly into your mouth, but it didn't last long.

Touching his forehead to yours, the warmth of his breath enticed you closer, but he shook his head, murmuring your name. Miguel so often spoke through his body. Some of your wildest nights together stemmed from his anger and desperation.

One memory in particular came to mind - one Saturday in your apartment, when he admitted to you that his daughter had passed away. He tried to tell you more about it that day, but instead, he had pulled you against his body and kissed you so tenderly. You had taken him to your bed and that was the first time he was so sweet and deliberate with you.

Whispering his name, you brushed an errant lock of hair from his ruby gaze.

Shaking his head slightly, he inhaled, as if ready to speak, but somehow couldn't...stammering, instead, leaning into your touch. "I can't..."

"What," you murmured, twirling your fingers through the hair behind his ears.

"Lose you," he choked out, his gaze dropping to your lap.

Dragging your fingertips down his jawline, you lifted his face back up to yours. But you didn't answer - instead, sealing your mouth to his once more, pulling him closer still, and squeezing his torso with your thighs.

He responded hungrily, lifting you up to carry you to the nearest flat surface, which was the living room couch - his tongue tangling with yours urgently.

The two of you tumbled down, bodies pressed eagerly together as you rolled all the way down to the floor, grinding together for the friction you so desperately craved. So often, you searched for the connection needed through communication with your bodies.

It happened quickly - with both of you craving the intensity of your shared bond when your bodies joined. With only a few deliberate yanks of clothing off or aside, he pushed his way snugly inside you, the two of you a hopeless tangle of limbs and clothing.

But you wanted him closer stil. "Tear these," you pouted, pulling at your shoved-aside panties...

...but they ripped with the strength of your finger.

Before you could react, he obeyed your command, shredding the other annoying articles of clothing, easing down onto his back as your joined bodies continued a tantric rhythm.

He groaned as you worked your naked body over his cock, your tits bouncing, granting him his favorite view in all the universes he'd ever laid eyes on, or even imagined.

"Even if I met...another version of you somehow...it still wouldn't be you," he panted, running his hands all over your beautiful body.

Miguel had needed reassurance that he wouldn't lose you, but it was you doubting your uniqueness, and for the first time, you understood, even if only in part, why Miguel might feel like a freak or a monster.

A radioactive spider bite had altered your DNA and your body was a mystery to you now. You didn't know your own strength and the whole spiderweb thing really sent you...

But the biggest fear driving the vigorous use of his body beneath you was that he might discover another you somewhere.

"Tell me again," you whined, twisting your body down into his with brutal ferocity. "Tell me I'm the only one."

"F-fuck," he stuttered out - your newfound strength making his huge frame buck like a rag doll.

Wishing he could sit up and hold you while you came - to reassure you that you belonged to him, and that no one else ever could, Miguel instead found himself coming hard and instantly because he could not move - your strength rendering him incapable of lifting off the floor.

"Miguel, please," you gasped, digging your nails so hard into his chest that you drew blood, so close to your release but feeling that he'd already come inside you.

You kept on riding him even as he went soft, expecting his superhuman stamina to have him hard and ready for you soon, but you forgot one small factor:

He had to keep up with you now.

Your frustration and desperation came to a head and you finally stilled your movements, opening your eyes to find bloody streaks scraped into your boyfriend's massive chest.

Before you could even react or worry, Miguel trapped your wrists in his hands. "Está bien, cariño."

You gasped out his name, horrified, still unaware that you were literally pinning him down.

"I'm okay, it's okay," he assured you, pulling at your wrists. "Let me up."

"Oh god," you croaked, finally releasing him and staring at the angry red marks and trickles of blood. "I-I didn't mean to. I didn't even realize."

"Hey..." he caressed your cheek, readjusting as your bodies pulled apart. "Felt so good. I'm okay."

"But you're bleeding," you argued. "Look what I did..." You trailed off as he nodded, understanding, better than anyone, exactly how you were feeling right now. You hurt him - drew blood, surprising and horrifying yourself, only to have him come faster than ever, telling you how good it was.

Okay, so the tables had turned.

Miguel suggested the two of you go upstairs to clean up and get more comfortable, promising to clean up the Mexican feast tomorrow.

You were quiet - perplexed, mostly, but the tiny slivers of fear slipped back into Miguel's mind over what his lack of candor might ultimately mean for your relationship.

"Mi amor," he started again, just the way he had right after dinner. The two of you had showered and changed into pajamas even though it was hardly bedtime.

Gripping you by the arms, he ducked down closer to your height. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry for this."

"It's not your fault," you reasoned, resting your palms against his chest. "How could it be?"

He simply shrugged, pulling you close to his chest for a hug. "I promise there's no one else like you," he whispered against your temple. "There are other Parkers, and other spiders, but no one else is like you."

Easing back, he took your face in his hands. "Every single person I've met - other Peters and other Gwens - none of them are exactly alike - they're all unique."

Pressing a soft kiss to your mouth, he rested his forehead against yours. "You can't honestly believe I could love anyone else."

He kissed you again, slotting his mouth against yours as his strong arms wound around your back. Then he took you to his bed and made you believe it.

Six weeks later...

Miguel turned out to be quite the capable coach - helping you understand your powers and practicing using them. He even encouraged the use of your spiderwebs outside the lab, reasoning that you needed to get used to them domestically.

A few pillows lost their stuffing and you shattered a teapot and a margarita glass, but, with practice, you adjusted.

This was an absolute must before working in the lab. Flying spiderwebs did not mix with delicate test tubes and beakers.

Your favorite part of training was when Miguel insisted you use his body for practice - testing your strength, agility and your webs while he taught you how to fight. It took you weeks to unleash your full strength on him. Your kick knocked him across a rooftop.

But when it came right down to it, he actually was bigger and stronger. Not by much. Your advantage came from your more powerful webs and your precognitive spider-sense.

Work had completely changed for the two of you, since you started focusing your time less on a cure for Miguel, and more on the needs of the Spider Society.

Miguel started to feel like maybe being a spider wasn't so bad. He used to feel alone, despite all the other spiders in the society - constantly wracked with guilt over the blood he took from others simply to sustain his life.

Then you came along - brilliant, beautiful and so full of life - challenging him at every turn - in the lab, in the bedroom. You knew what you wanted out of a career and you definitely knew what you wanted from a lover.

What started out as a wild bit of coworkers-with-benefits gave way to a twisted relationship of sorts - he used your body for pleasure and for feeding and -miracle of miracles - you loved it.

Craving the dark things he did to your body - the scratches of his talons, the puncture marks from his fangs, the weakness from blood loss and paralyzation - all while he used your body for his pleasure - it was a mirror to him of how much of a monster he really was.

But you showed him that person deserved love as much as anyone else. Miguel finally accepted your acceptance. He allowed you to love him and heal his heart. He still wasn't comfortable with hurting you, however, and remained determined to find a cure for his condition.

At least until a couple weeks ago.

The two of you were sparring and Miguel was pushing you pretty hard. He was still superior at hand-to-hand combat, simply from years of experience.

Sparring with an absolute tank of a delicious boyfriend like Miguel taught you a lot, but it also made you feral. He usually insisted the two of you calm down and cool off - keeping your training separate from your personal life.

But this particular night, you were having none of it.

Miguel had you pinned on the ground between his thick, gorgeous thighs.

"Ready for a break?" He nonchalantly and almost smugly questioned.

"No way," you huffed, firing webs to bind his ankles together.

You could feel a slightly condescending chuckle rumble through his body, so you fired another web right at his mouth, silencing him.

Your face was right next to his crotch and, as you ordered him to stop fighting you, his cock started getting hard.

Certainly not the first time that happened.

He reached for your hands to try to stop all your spiderweb nonsense, but you stuck his hand to the floor with another web.

He only squeezed his thighs together harder, keeping you trapped.

"Have it your way," you purred, mouthing him through the thin cotton of his joggers.

He mumbled out a protest, through the web covering his mouth, reaching for you with his other hand. While teasing his cock with your lips, you managed to stick his other hand to the floor and start to wiggle free.

Miguel really was stronger than you, but lost his concentration just enough to forget to keep clamping down with his thighs.

You rolled away, laughing victoriously, but knowing he wouldn't stay trapped for long. So you straddled his waist, enjoying your few moments with him bound and silenced, rolling your hips over his length, grinding down temptingly.

"I wonder if I could make you come before you get free," you taunted, firing more webs to trap his entire arms - from shoulders to wrists - to the floor. You used more webbing to secure his legs as well, loosening his ankles just long enough to secure his legs all the way down, spread apart, just like his arms.

He didn't fight you.

Instead, his ruby irises flashed with lust as you pulled your sports bra over your head. He was already shirtless, so it felt incredible when you removed the web silencing him. You laid down, your breasts mashed against his muscular chest, grinding your core against his length as you kissed him hard.

You felt him shift and strain against the webs - he no doubt wanted to run his hands over your skin, but you nipped at his lips, tutting condescendingly.

"Be good for me," you teased, ripping his pants open with no effort. He groaned as you roughly pushed your own pants down and kicked them off, leaving you naked as you draped yourself back over him, rubbing your bare wet cunt up and down his stiff cock.

"Baby, please..." he panted as you undulated - your tits bouncing as you found the friction you sought for your clit, but left him desperate to push his way inside you.

You eased down again, lying on top of him, rolling your hips teasingly as your slid your tongue inside his mouth, purposely dragging it across his sharp fang.

Miguel moaned as the taste of your blood filled his mouth, sucking your tongue, drinking your sweet nectar as you kissed him and teased him endlessly.

You sat back up after a moment, licking your lips clean of blood as your tongue healed itself almost instantly. Bracing yourself with your palms on your boyfriend's huge chest, you locked eyes with him, smirking slightly as you continued rocking your hips just enough to rub your clit pleasurably but to leave him wanting.

"Fuck me," he panted, running his blood-covered tongue over his lips - his muscles straining against your webs.

Biting your lip coyly, you paused the movement of your hips. "Make me." And you continued the drag of your clit over his tip, panting as pleasure sparked up and down your spine.

You wanted his cock inside you as badly as he did, but it was just too fun to see him squirm. Back and forth you went, faster and faster, working yourself close to your release.

"I'm so close," you moaned, concentrating on your own pleasure and loving the flex of Miguel's muscles as he struggled. Soon enough, his warm laser webs, convenient talons and sheer strength freed his arms just enough to knock you off balance.

A bit of sparring ensued - the two of you hard and wet and naked - fighting for control and desperate to fuck.

You attempted to ensnare your boyfriend in your webs again, but he dodged you, rolling away and firing his own, which bound your ankles and made you trip. Before you could hit the ground, however, you ripped your ankles free and rolled to a stop...

...but Miguel was ready, firing his laser webbing to bind your hands. He grabbed you from behind, pushing you down to the floor and pinning you there with all his weight, pushing your bound hands up over your head.

You squirmed but he was pressing down on you with all his might.

"You're going to be still, little spider, while I fuck you."

"Doubt that - " You started, but weren't surprised at all as Miguel's webs covered your mouth. You wriggled against him, but were secretly thrilled that he was using his strength on you. He had shown some hesitancy bringing his powers and his full strength into the bedroom, aside from the way he would regularly drink blood from your tongue when you purposely sliced it on his fang.

Two strong hands gripped your hips, shifting you up just enough for him to thrust his thick cock into your dripping channel. Memories of him bending you over his desk flooded your mind - times when you would cry from how good he would fuck you.

And now, as he pounded into you, with all the power and speed in his beautiful body, you felt pressure but no pain. And he felt release with no guilt.

The webbing across your mouth muffled your screams of ecstasy as he shifted his hips to hit that spot so perfect.

"My beautiful girl," he breathed on the back of your neck. "You were made for me."

His fangs tore into your flesh and he fed - the feeling of his fangs inside your skin made you come instantly - your body convulsing with the wildest, hardest orgasm of your life.

Miguel's paralytic venom could no longer incapacitate you - it merely slowed you down for a minute or two, giving him just enough time to drink his fill, feel your body submit and give out, as he pumped his seed into you.

The two of you collapsed together on the floor, panting and spent. Miguel freed you from his webs, rolled you over to face him and pulled you against the warmth of his chest.

You melted against him, satisfied, accepting his lust-filled kiss.

He pulled back a moment later, amazed as the angry wounds in your throat closed and vanished as your body healed itself.

After two weeks of feeding on your new blood, and dozens of tests to make sure your blood wouldn't somehow hurt him, Miguel put to rest the idea of looking for a cure for his condition.

"I told you - you're perfect just like you are," you whispered one night, lying on top of his chest.

"Maybe I was just waiting on my cure," he murmured back, running his hands down the curve of your bare back. "You fixed me. You healed me."

"You fixed me too. I had no idea what I was missing before super powered sex," you teased him.

He playfully swatted your ass. "We're going to break everything in this house if we keep going like this, corazón."

You smiled to yourself. "I don't know. I think we're going to have to take it easy for a while."

"Why...did I hurt you?"

"No." You pressed a quick kiss right over his heart. "I'm pregnant."

END

Thank you for taking this wild ride with me! It was fun to explore unhinged, blood-drinking Miguel. xoxo - Ivy

Miguel O'Hara Masterlist

Main Masterlist

[christinesficrecs]

Bit of an odd request maybe but do you know of any fics that features Sterek when they're older? In thier 30s or 40s and getting together for the first time or as an established relationship? Thank you!!

Oh yes! I am definitely a fan of future fics. 🥰

Believer and a Homecoming by lsdme | 11K | Mature

“I’m serious Derek,” Stiles whispers. “Come home.”

Good Intentions by yodasyoyo | 6.4K

In which Stiles thought he fake wolf-married Derek twenty-six years previously. Turns out it wasn't as fake as he thought.

ladybugs by thepsychicclam | 20.7K | Explicit

In which Derek and Stiles have been married for ten years, have two kids, and are planning their five year old's birthday party.

Every stumble and each misfire by everchanginginks | 14K | Mature

Stiles hasn't seen or heard from Derek in ten years. It's a bit of a surprise to find out about Derek's return to Beacon Hills through Tinder.

One Door Closes by KouriArashi | 27.7K | Explicit

Derek knows that Stiles is too young for him, but Stiles doesn't agree. Eight years after Derek rejects him due to the age gap, they meet again where Derek has settled in Wyoming as a ranch hand, and Stiles is the new deputy, and still pissed as hell about the way Derek turned him down. Things don't go as either of them planned.

into the ripe air by unpossible | 13.3K

Stiles,” Ted says as he rounds the front of the car. His eyes flick to Derek, and then to James, and there’s an indefinable change in his face that has Stiles’ shoulders tightening and he takes a long, slow breath, the better to take careful hold of his temper, because there are consequences for everything he says and does now, and he’s not a sixteen year old smartass anymore.

(Never) Let Me Go by Jerakeen | 5.8K | Explicit

Now Stiles is older, not exactly wiser, but definitely well-versed in hot guys, and he feels qualified to say that yeah, his memories are spot on with the hotness factor, and Derek hasn't changed a bit.

Watch as the waves, fall back into place. by DropsOfAddiction | 32.5K | Explicit

Derek rakes his eyes over Stiles’ exposed arms and his gaze lingers on the lithe muscle there. The evidence of years of staying in shape, working as an FBI field agent is blatant and was he always that hairy?

Derek’s mesmerised by the dark hair running up his arms and it’s only when Stiles clears his throat and flails his hands at him that Derek manages to bring his eyes to his face.

Stiles’ brown hair is longer and he looks taller somehow, fitting his body in a way Derek’s never quite seen on him. He looks totally comfortable in himself, propped there against the jeep like he does this every day, like he’s not making Derek readjust his entire world view, just by being there.

Derek scents the air blatantly and he steps closer to him, pleased with the way Stiles’ heartbeat spikes a little, despite his cool demeanour.

“Hey Hale. Looking good,” Stiles grins, still not moving an inch, even when Derek’s only about a metre away.

everything you do [sends me higher than the moon] by crossroadswrite | 4.5K

When Derek opens his door to see Stiles standing there with four full suitcases, his massagers’ bag thrown over his shoulder, two big cardboard boxes that barely close and his demon cat cradled on the crook of his elbow all he can say is, “Why?”

Not “what” not “what happened stiles” not “get out” not “please let me kiss you this pinning thing is really getting old for me” not “why are you bringing satan into my home”.

Just a simple “why”.

The Rest of Your Life by paradis | 4.1K

“Seemed like a buttercream guy,” Stiles says innocently, and grabs two forks and pours two huge glasses of milk. They eat in silence and when Stiles finishes his mouth is filled with the too-sweet taste of peanut butter icing and chocolate cake, and he’s full, but he feels good, too. He stares at Derek, who’s licking his lips after his last bite of cake. “I think I’m probably not straight,” he says suddenly. And Derek says, “I ripped down the whole top floor of the house this morning thinking about Laura.”

Much Ado About You Two by clotpolesonly | 2.2K

In which Professor Stilinski and Stiles are such different people that nobody makes the connection.

Until I Stayed Away Too Long by melofttroll | 14.8K | Explicit

NY Times bestseller Derek Hale hates a lot of things about being a modern author. Like being recognized, like needing a social media presence, like not being able to buy his own boxed spaghetti noodles without being asked for a selfie. Facing writer's block, he escapes to his old hometown of Beacon Hills, at his sister's insistence, for some reprieve and hopefully motivation. It's there his attention is captured by a gangly, socially awkward teacher, and the tiny little toddler at his side who know him only as that one basketball player who fled town at fifteen after his girlfriend burnt his house down.

[somecallmejohn]

I highly doubt that Starboy's inclusion to the story and romance with Asha "would have saved" the movie because the people who claim that just genuinely do not care about Wish at all until they saw the concept art and immediately went to war for Disney for the crime of robbing them of their glowstick, even though said robbing never happened considering the amount of fanwork of said glowstick

They care more about the idea rather than the likelihood of how bad or good it's executed

A human star is actually a neat idea, however i do understand why Disney themselves scrapped it because if they did included the star shapeshifter idea, people will just use it as an excuse to accuse Wish of copying Nimona, Stardust and themselves with Genie and Sisu, as if the "homeages" are nonexistent

I don't think anyone would accuse Disney of copying Nimona just cuz the Starboy would be a shapeshifter too. Generally, a shapeshifter isn't that groundbreaking of an idea nowadays, if I'm being honest. Honestly, I think they scrapped human Star just cuz they scrapped the romance in the first place and because he wasn't as marketable as the design of Star they ended up going with.

But yeah, I agree. In my opinion, people are hyping the whole starboy x Asha thing a little too much as if its removal is ultimately what led to the movie to be the mess that it is. They keep thinking of what could have been while simultaneously ignoring that the movie could still have all the issues it has now just with romance sprinkled in it.

But if I'm being honest, what doomed Wish in the first place wasn't the lack of romance, but it was Disney's inability to take risks. Like I love Wish, it's genuinely my second favorite Disney movie(third, if you don't count Frozen 1 and 2 as one thing like I do), but one of the movie's biggest sins along with Valentino is that it played things too safe it didn't take any risks with the story or the characters or the animation or idk what.

Even with the animation style as much as I personally love it, I can tell that the producers were like "Spiderverse and Puss in Boots are really popular for their animation style so let's try a different style for this movie but not too different as it should still be recognizable" and then just slapped a watercolor texture on the typical 3D Disney style we've been used to the last decade and a half.

Huge part of why non-Disney movies like Spider-Verse, Nimona and Puss in Boots: the last wish are so beloved is because there were risks taken when making those movies, whereas Disney has been playing it safe for the last decade and you can feel that certain choices were made to make the films more marketable.

And I don't want to sound like "*scoff* Old Disney is SOOOO much better" because I genuinely can't stand those people and most of the time they bring up the worst reasons as to why old Disney is better, but like "The Hunchback of Notre Dame" , a huge mixed bag of a movie that has misfires such as using the G slur multiple times, a not so good representation of Romani people, the gargoyles etc., is still such a beloved movie to this day because of how risky it feels compared to newer Disney movies. Not only does it have a score and a soundtrack like no other movie ever, but it's also one of if not the darkest animated movie Disney has ever created and there's plenty of stuff that wouldn't have been in the movie had it been made today.

[tonydaddingham]

LWA: Brief follow-up to your Shax observations:

Gaiman said in response to a recent ask that the /Ars Goetia/ ranks aren't canon in the GO-verse. Furfur was just exaggerating his importance to whomever he was speaking. That's in line with his treatment of occult and religious source material elsewhere.

The precedent for Shax's very targeted brand of telepathy would be S1 Crowley turning the paintball guns into real ones ("I gave them what they wanted"). The show suggests that demons can't read minds in any broad way, but they can pick up desires (Crowley) or weaknesses (Shax) in a narrow band. Shax is more significant as a narrative device, though, since what she picks up are not so much /real/ weaknesses as what her target consciously or subconsciously /believes/ about their own weaknesses, and there's probably a post in there somewhere about how strongly her targets hold those beliefs. Her first attempt to needle Aziraphale about Crowley misfires, but the "emotional support angel" lands. Aziraphale's equivalent is the Jedi mind-trick he pulls in Edinburgh during S2 and in the deleted "Aziraphale Meets the Neighbours" from S1, where he elicits alternative positive emotions and desires that are already there--the gangster career options in the deleted scene, for example.

There's been no consistency at all in the series about whether or not the angels and demons can sense others in the area. In S1, neither Aziraphale nor Crowley pick up on the high-ranking demons and angels /right behind them/ in St. James Park, and Crowley has to make a conscious effort to check for observers before they reverse the bodyswap. But in S2, Aziraphale feels the arrival of the Archangels. So would Crowley be able to detect Shax unless he already knew she was there?

We saw Hastur, Dagon, and the little demon pull the same shape-shifting stunt as Shax when they came to "arrest" Aziraphale in S1. I think the show is deliberately vague about whether they are changing their material forms or just casting a glamour, although in either case it's impenetrable to occult/ethereal beings as well as to humans.

LWA!!!!!!!✨

ahhh thanks for having a gander at it, ive not seen a lot of posts that have focused on shax so it was good to get some thoughts to paper, even the implausible ones - and getting those thoughts bounced back at me is always really helpful!

1.

i had literally saved this ask specifically to talk about in that post, and bloody forgot about it 🥲 so thanks for reminding me!!! it would definitely make sense for ars goetia - in GO!verse - to be biased/inaccurate because it's furfur's retelling (plus, he's not wearing a sash when in hell in front of dagon, but has an ornate one up on earth, which im presuming is to add to the facade...?).

i guess the only point where, feasibly, the two thoughts could align is that if the lesser key of solomon was compiled in 1600s, that would track with furfur being a low ranking demon up until 1941 at the very least... but is there anything to say that he didn't get promoted after 1941? he appears to have moved laterally (?) to recquisitions, and that could mean he has some higher level of responsibility... im unsure. but in any case, id love to see if he possibly returns in s3 - specifically to get his own back after 1941.

in any case, once i spotted the ring on shax (which again im guessing is the same exact one as seen in ep4; it would make sense to call back to it), that seems like a much more logical reason for furfur to be at the bookshop-meet with dagon and beelzebub, than him suddenly having a rank that puts him on any kind of level playing field with dagon and beelzebub...

so, in summary, shax somewhere in ep5/6 makes the call, furfur informs dagon, and they plan to come up to earth. dagon also notes that heaven and hell are at war, so perhaps that alarm came in around the same time, and accounts for why beelzebub arrives separately to the other two. idk - i guess possibly the exact detail isn't hugely important? (famous last words) but if shax does end up ruling hell, or at least getting a hefty promotion (duke?), and furfur helps get her there... maybe we do see a rank shift for him too, but later on in the story? exciting!!!

2.

thanks for summarising this so succinctly, that really helps! i definitely agree that she seems to have a knack for what her target might perceive to be their weaknesses, failings, or insecurities - this seems especially true for aziraphale, which i looked at in another post relatively briefly:

and they are definitely traits in aziraphale that have been mocked elsewhere - predominantly by heaven/the archangels - and i think it's fair to say that aziraphale holds these 'weaknesses' quite close to the chest. that being said, on the last one, sure - aziraphale does appear to have some confidence that crowley likes him, that he's definitely crowley's type (ie. due deference to the legendary cunty eyebrow)... but - from aziraphale's perspective - what is the motive for that? to me, the 'emotional support angel' reads like aziraphale knows that crowley might love him, but does he secretly worry that it is out of pity, or for lack of a better option? or, is it that when mixed in with all of the other things shax mentions, aziraphale thinks, "hang on... why would he want me?" i am unwell

as for maggie... sure, it might be that shax is just needling at maggie because she's irritated her. but i find it interesting that maggie's insecurities, as shax is sensing them to be, are also things that at some point or another in s2, could be attributed to crowley. bit of stretch, i grant you, but also makes sense.

anyway, back on the main topic; idk if im just Missing The Point, but the fact that shax seems to know the detail, the specifics, of why aziraphale or maggie might have these 'weaknesses' still doesn't make sense to me. taking aziraphale out of the equation for a moment, and focusing solely on maggie; sure, maggie might be lonely, or feel alternatively like she's a failure (and this is what shax is picking up telepathically/empathically), but why would shax necessarily know it's because of noone visiting her shop, and her being unable to afford the rent? if shax doesn't have your bog-standard mind-reading telepathy, how would she know this?

even if maggie decides within herself to not see these as weaknesses, it's still information that we as the audience know is correct, same as maggie and nina, and shax weaponises it. i don't think there hasn't been, so far, any narrative explanation for why shax would even care to know this level of detail about maggie (other than, i guess, that her shop used to be part of the bookshop?).

(But now that i think about it, im suddenly very aware of these two points about maggie's story being mentioned externally from the private aziraphale-maggie conversation in the record store in ep1, and specifically near or including nina:

not going to turn this ask response into a speculation on nina, but in the context of informants and recruiting them, this is... interesting. to me, anyway.)

also think there's a separate post to be had about when crowley's ability to read desire similarly does and doesn't land - and how this might possibly inform on the success of his temptations (you might not have mentioned the antichrist fiasco in this ask, LWA, but by god am i going to do it for you - it's tradition now).

and also when aziraphale appears to try manipulating mood, but this too doesn't find its target... hmm. wonder if it's a more demonic trait than an angelic one, it at least a trait aziraphale has unlocked it but 'uses it for good' (lmao debatable).

3.

true. it does seem at least it has to be a conscious effort to detect them - the only times that seem to be based on a sense of foreboding/gut instinct/an undefined Sense are:

crowley's Something Wicked This Way Comes moment in ep5, and that in particular feels like it's due to the sheer scale of it - "coming in waves" (but this might actually just simply echo his sense of the hellhound finding the antichrist/sensing satan's anger in s1; that it's not the entity he's sensing, but a higher malevolent energy?)

michael and shax both are somewhat able to recognise or sense (or maybe actually smell, it seems, in shax's case?) gabriel in the bookshop, even if they don't/can't link it to jim or the fly

also going to tentatively include "you've gone" / "can't find you!" from the bookshop fire; i realise this could be very literal, that crowley can't see or hear aziraphale in the bookshop, and he's jumped to his conclusion out of panic/rage/despair, but it could also read that he somehow can't sense him? ✨update, @aq-uatic come through with the goods✨

it's difficult to determine 100% what sound cues might be diegetic to the show - specifically the miracle chimes, and the herald tune - because if they are, that goes a long way to explaining how a) aziraphale knows the archangels are coming, and b) at the very beginning of s1 he seems to react to the miracle chime in the sushi bar... but given that for the first example aziraphale asks maggie, "cant you feel them?", it does make me question it. in fact, are they audible cues only for the audience, and therefore in-show is aziraphale reacting only to a sense, a Disturbance In The Force if you like, rather than audio?

i think they are indeed non-diegetic, because watching back the 1967 scene, there is a miracle chime just before crowley gets into the bentley, and then when he gets in, he actually appears startled to see aziraphale physically sat there. now, this could be the whole demons-cant-sense-angels thing, or because they are actually so similar and non-threatening to each other that crowley doesn't register it, but regardless - he doesn't appear to react to an audio cue, suggesting that they are non-diegetic.

iirc, all the other instances where we do see aziraphale or crowley sense other entities appear to be because they can literally hear or see the other entity themselves

s1, when aziraphale realises crowley has arrived at the tavern/globe/bastille/church - hears him before he sees him

s1, when gabriel and beelzebub arrive to the airbase; thunder and lightning strike from gabriel, and then beelzebub follows up from hell

s1, when crowley-as-aziraphale is literally jumped on by angels in their coveralls, and when aziraphale-as-crowley gets whacked by the demons in disguise

s2, ep1, when crowley lowers his newspaper because shax arrives (and im presuming crowley sees her appear), and when crowley knows shax is behind him - can hear her voice from the phone as well as out loud

s2, ep2, when crowley enters the barn; the archangels definitely don't recognise him as a demon, and only notice him altogether when he enters the room shouting - certainly don't sense him from outside

s2, ep3, when muriel arrives, and later on when shax knocks at the window of the bookshop

s2, ep4, when aziraphale doesn't sense that the hitchhiker is shax (albeit she's in complete disguise*), and then later when furfur arrives at the theatre and then comes into the dressing room

s2, ep5, when aziraphale only really seems to notice the demons when crowley points out that they are literally crawling at the windows, and crowley spots muriel chilling across the street with a book

s2, ep6, when the demons arrive in the bookshop, and when metatron enters the bookshop separately.

so yeah, suffice to say that this has near enough answered the first couple of questions for me in the original shax post - that there's no clear reason why aziraphale or crowley would have detected shax lurking around if she hadn't wanted to be seen. still gives food for thought on the others, though.

*4.

this makes sense!!! does make me wonder about the comment shax makes in ep5, about "masks will be provided for those unable to... blend in." and sure, there was the teeny-weeniest little explanation for this from a filming perspective, but within the story? is it possibly only an ability shared amongst the more powerful demons (given that the ones that stormed the bookshop were, by crowley's assessment, "practically the Damned"? hmmm again✨

[bearlydruid]

Are you happy with how your favorite canon muse was portrayed in canon?

Ohh!! What a good question!

For the most part, yes. In the Marvel fandom, my favorites are Tony Stark and Bruce Banner, both men who have been portrayed in several different ways depending on who wrote them and what arc they were in. I appreciate a character with a complicated background that didn't have that picturesque upbringing or the perfect life - especially in say, Tony's case whereby all rights it looks like he should have had. Does that mean that I love every *adaptation* we've had? nah. I will say I thought RDJ was the only possible Tony Stark and if they make Doom just an alternate Tony I'll be upset. I think casting Mark Ruffalo as Bruce Banner has been a good choice, but I don't like how they addressed Prof. Hulk (integrated system) or introduced Skaar. We should have had a standalone movie (and there is still time!) of World War Hulk when Hulk was on the planet Sakaar. We obviously didn't get to see so much more.

For personal reasons, I resonate with both Astarion and Halsin's stories in BG3.

I am still learning, and still uncovering new facets to these two but the fact that they're shown actively on different parts of their recovery brings me so much hope and joy. It's a weird place to be in, because I am just now actively trying to address residual trauma from 30 years ago, and I see Astarion's fear, and his hurt, and the way that he is actively choosing to open up and to let his friends in even though he is terrified and has only been shown hurt before it's just....*ah* so good.

And yeah, I think it was a huge misfire that you don't know about Halsin's trauma until **after** you have him sleep with the Drow twins with you, and then he's so damn casual about it? like my guy. Sir, you are **burying** those feels. Like I am so well versed in just putting a lid on my feelings and it's like Yzma's plan.

He's gonna put those feelings into a box, and put that box inside of another box, and then he'll mail it to himself and when it arrives he'll SMASH IT WITH A HAMMER.

I just thought it was a slip up for Halsin to tell you **after** when he is the King of Consent and having everyone be informed so it's just......not the best way to have brought that trauma up with your partner.

[lightdancer1]

That also said:

While there is zero canonical support for it, in-universe I do like the idea that Haruka is not, in fact, a gold star lesbian where Michiru Kaioh very much is for the same reasons that Willow not being one where Tara Maclay is also works well in that universe. It illustrates a broader range of queer experience and in finest Sailor Moon fashion where appearances are outwardly deceiving the butch lesbian is the one who had a boyfriend as a younger woman and the femme is the one who's the gold star 'I am for one woman'. This is one of the many layers of how storytelling works in that verse and it also amplifies some key differences between Haruka and Michiru.

That said I do use some parallels in the Harumichi and Tara/Willow relationships. In each case there's a witch associated with an element (Earth/Water in the form of the Ocean) and there's a short-haired impulsive powerhouse who is a highly aggressive semi-rabid golden retriever who will bulldoze through things 100% of the time even or especially when finesse is the better option. Equally the elemental witch has some dodgy aspects (Michiru is canonically a stalker of Haruka in the anime, which by virtue of providing a past will do where the manga didn't) and Tara almost killing the Scoobies and sabotaging demon-detection spells that might have considerably shortened the Initiative plotline and then almost killing off her family of choice, well...there are some overlaps there.

While the short-haired powerhouses equally have massive doses of angst, take on themselves burdens that are not always the wisest to bear, and have the emotional intelligence of a rock. The main distinctions are that the Outer Senshi are both equally powerful in separate ways, and that the functions of magic and its wellsprings in the Sailor Moon universe between the Galaxy Cauldron and reincarnation factor function vastly differently than the more erotically charged sorcery of the Buffyverse.

The other distinction is that Tara Maclay, at least as I write her, is only a cinnamon bun relative to the rest of the Scoobies and when the comparisons are Spike, Xander, Anya, Willow, Buffy, and the like it's not hard to be the least morally ambiguous person in that bunch. Michiru, OTOH, is a stone cold manipulator-seer who uses her powers in the right ways, but is for all that by far the most ruthless of the Outer Senshi, as Haruka is far too impulsive to actually plan something where Michiru rivals Bruce Wayne for how OP she gets with prep time.

Of the two Michiru has by far the darker elements and the two would be highly at odds, as ultimately befits that Water and Earth have some particular geological antagonisms in science and equally so as elemental sorcery, and they operate on very different moral principles. Where, too, Michiru has intended seer-sight and anything I use with that with Tara tends to be the influence of the First, which is at least a part of any take on Season 6, with her being more easily manipulated via dreams of her dead mother playing into her insecurities in a bid to ensure a plan coming together works before the first components are truly assembled that misfires because the anthropomorphic personification of evil cannot understand human complexity and flaws and because Tara loves too much to truly fall into the fuller scale of the trap on the one hand and because Willow is not, in fact, truly evil or foredoomed to fall into darkness.

In truth as I write her and Setsuna both Michiru has the exact opposite problem that with reliable seer-sight her life often feels like a scripted thing of one damn crisis after another, which is why she goes for Haruka, because the impulsive golden retriever won't let things remain so stably serene as all that.

[justanothersterekficgirl]

Misfire 'verse by mothlights, unpossible

2 works | 39k total 

Misfire | Misfire Continuation

[voidfell]

FROM THE INBOX: "So you're from the future but you're not with Rennet, just from a different dimension that's trying to find a specific set of turtles in the "turtle verse" because you lost your robot? Am I caught up to speed?" - Donnie 2k12 @ Cody / @diisccvery

"Serling isn't just a robot-- but essentially, yeah, that's the gist of it."

Cody held up his wrist, using his gauntlet to project his research on a small holographic screen. Maybe he should be thrilled that he had in fact invented successful time travel, but considering he was getting his results mixed up with dimensional travel now too, maybe he'd made more mistakes then he realized when going from Window to Portable.

"I think I know where I went wrong, but my tech was damaged in the misfire. I can probably make do with a patch job as long as it holds until I can get back to at least my dimension."