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nemo-writes · 18 days ago

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⋆˚࿔ ⋆˚࿔ 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐚𝐛𝐫𝐞 ; 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝜗𝜚˚⋆𝜗𝜚˚⋆

↣ pack!tf141 x witch!reader

↣ chapter summary; könig guides you to a hidden safehouse at the city’s edge, its modest facade masking your preparations for a dangerous encounter. shadows flicker as a familiar presence reaches you through a dream.

⚠️ warnings; none

★ previous ; next

☆ story masterlist

König guided the car through a maze of city streets, passing faded storefronts and quiet intersections lit by buzzing neon. The coven owned many properties, and this one was tucked discreetly into an old neighborhood at the city’s edge. It wasn’t grand or imposing, just a modest apartment on the third floor of a building that looked unremarkable from the outside—exactly what you wanted. This close to Makarov’s territory, subtlety mattered.

König parked in front of the building, and stepped out first, his imposing frame blending with the night as he moved around the car.

Coming to your side, he opened the door for you and extended a hand. You took it without hesitation, and he helped you down, his grip steady and firm. Sybil hopped out gracefully after you, her nose twitching as she took in the scents of the city. König lingered close, his presence a quiet reassurance as his sharp eyes flicked over the street, scanning for anything out of place.

“Stay close,” he murmured, his tone low but commanding.

You nodded, Sybil pressing at your side as König moved ahead, stepping up the worn wooden steps first. His boots creaked softly against the aged boards. With a slow, deliberate movement, he pushed the door open, the hinges groaning softly in protest. He then stepped inside, his broad shoulders filling the narrow entry as he swept the space with his gaze, checking each corner and shadow. Only after he was satisfied did he step aside, gesturing for you to follow.

The apartment was simple, almost impersonal: one main room with a tiny kitchenette, a single bed with a plain quilt, a threadbare sofa opposite a low table, and a small window overlooking the quiet street below. The muted hum of city life seeped through the glass, mingling with the faint scent of dust and varnish that lingered in the air.

Sybil padded inside, sniffing cautiously as she explored the room. You shrugged off your satchel and placed it on the table, glancing around. König closed the door behind him with a soft click and leaned against the wall, his eyes scanning the apartment one last time.

“Clear,” he said quietly, his deep voice cutting through the silence.

You exhaled softly, your shoulders relaxing. “Thanks,” you murmured, running a hand through Sybil’s fur as she settled at your feet.

“There’s only one bed,” König noted quietly, glancing from the mattress to the sofa. He approached the worn couch, pressing a hand down on its arm. “I’ll stay here. You should rest,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “I’ll review our preparations and keep watch.”

You considered protesting, but the drive, the planning, the tension—it all pressed down on you. “Alright,” you conceded, voice low. “Wake me if something happens.”

König nodded and began to unpack your equipment with a practiced, silent efficiency. He laid out your enchanted dagger first, positioning it so the blade caught the dim lamplight. Next came the vials of oils, small pouches of herbs, and folded notes scrawled with the plan’s details. It was all arranged methodically, as if every placement had significance.

Satisfied, König then reached into his own bag, retrieving weapons of a more terrestrial nature. He placed a serrated knife beside the dagger, its steel teeth gleaming wickedly. Next came a knuckle duster, all blunt force and brute promise. Finally, with a careful deliberation, he slid a compact handgun onto the table, its matte finish stark against the old wood.

You raised an eyebrow, knowing full well he possessed abilities that could outstrip most enemies. Still, he preferred to carry these conventional tools. In a world of spells and curses, sorcerers and shape-shifters, a bullet or a blade without enchantment could startle a magical adversary into making a fatal mistake. It was a strategy born of pragmatism—surprise them with something they’d never expect from one of their own.

König settled fully on the sofa, his posture alert yet calm. All was ready, and tomorrow’s darkness promised a decisive encounter. For now, silence and preparation would rule the night.

Sybil hopped onto the bed, settling at the foot. You slipped off your shoes, shrugging out of your outer layers until you were comfortable enough to rest. Stretching out on the bed, you pulled the thin sheet over yourself. Sybil sighed contentedly, and König remained by the sofa, quiet but vigilant. Outside, faint city noises ebbed and flowed: a distant siren, muffled laughter from a nearby bar, the gentle hum of traffic. You closed your eyes and let these sounds wash over you, soft reminders of the world you would soon step into, dagger in hand.

. . .

The dream was warm, a rare and fleeting comfort that wrapped around you like the mountain of blankets piled on top of you. You were nestled deep into the pack’s massive sofa, the one so big it seemed designed specifically for the broad-shouldered men who owned it.

Winter’s chill pressed faintly against the windows, but inside, the crackling fire and the snug cocoon of fabric Simon and Johnny had built around you kept it at bay. Every time they passed through the room, they’d toss another blanket over you, each heavier and softer than the last.

Your head rested on Gaz’s lap, his warmth a balm against the icy season. He wriggled you around a little, playfully shifting you in his lap as you giggled and burrowed deeper, the laughter bubbling up from a place you hadn’t visited in so long.

“You’re ridiculous,” he said, his voice soft but teasing.

You smiled, tilting your head up slightly, only to freeze when you caught his expression. He looked… sad. Unusually so. His dark eyes, usually filled with an easy light, seemed shadowed with something heavy. It unsettled you, that look—so out of place in this cozy scene.

“Gaz?” you asked, your voice tinged with concern. “What’s wrong?”

He hesitated, his thumb brushing your temple as though he were stalling for time. “Just... wanted to know how you’re doing,” he said, his tone forcedly casual. “How you’re really feeling.”

You blinked up at him, confused. “You’ve been sitting here with me for hours. You already know?"

His lips pressed into a thin line, and he glanced away for a moment before taking a deep breath. “Yeah,” he murmured, his voice quieter now, “but it’s not the same.”

A strange, creeping unease settled in your chest as you shifted slightly to face him better. “What do you mean?”

He held your gaze, his fingers stilling in your hair. “I’m sorry,” he said softly, the weight in his tone making your heart twist. “I don't want to upset you, but... where are you?”

The question made your blood run cold. A fissure cracked through the dream’s comforting warmth, and you sat up abruptly, the blankets tumbling off you. The cozy room around you flickered, the firelight dimming, and the edges of the world wavered like a mirage.

“Gaz,” you said, your voice trembling, “what’s going on?”

He stood, his form faintly transparent now, the realization hitting you like a blow. “You’re astral projecting,” you whispered, staring at him with wide eyes.

His expression softened with something like regret. “I had to,” he said, almost pleading. “We miss you—so much. I miss you. We just... we need to reach you. To end this.”

You staggered to your feet, the remnants of the blankets pooling around your ankles. “No,” you said, shaking your head, panic rising in your throat. “You’re not supposed to—”

Before you could finish, you were thrust back into reality, sitting up in your borrowed room, the faint light of morning seeping through the window.

Sybil was at your side instantly, her wet nose nudging your arm as if sensing your sudden distress. Across the room, König paused mid-motion, a rag in one hand and his serrated knife in the other. He’d been polishing his weapons under the dim light of the room’s single table lamp, but now his sharp eyes tracked your every movement.

“Is everything alright?” he asked, his voice low and measured, his accent softening the blunt edge of his words.

You shook your head as if trying to shake off the lingering haze of the dream, the phantom warmth of Gaz’s lap still heavy on your skin. “I’m fine,” you muttered, not meeting König’s gaze as you swung your legs over the edge of the bed.

He didn’t look convinced. His broad shoulders stiffened slightly, and his eyes darted toward Sybil, who was staring up at you with an expression that was almost accusatory. She nudged your arm again, her tail wagging faintly in concern.

“I said I’m fine,” you repeated, sharper this time, not bothering to mask the irritation that masked your confusion. You pushed off the bed, your bare feet hitting the cool floor with a muffled thud. “I’m going to take a shower.”

König’s head tilted slightly, his mask obscuring his expression, but you could feel the weight of his stare. He didn’t press, though, only grunted softly and returned to his work, his movements slower, more deliberate than before.

Sybil lingered, her gaze bouncing between you and König as though weighing her options. She let out a soft huff, then turned and padded to the sofa, her sharp eyes locking onto König like she was waiting for him to make sense of something she couldn’t.

König glanced at her as you disappeared into the bathroom, the sound of running water filling the silence. He leaned back slightly, setting the knife and rag down as he regarded the Borzoi. “You know something’s wrong too, don’t you?” he murmured, his voice almost too quiet to be audible.

Sybil didn’t respond, of course, but her stare didn’t waver, and her tail flicked once, slow and deliberate. It was as if she were telling him yeah but you figure it out without saying a word.

König sighed, leaning forward to pick up the gun again, his large hands working methodically as he polished the metal. “She’s stubborn,” he muttered, almost to himself. “Too stubborn for her own good.”

Sybil huffed softly, her ears flicking in agreement, before settling on her haunches to wait, the two of them locked in an unspoken truce as the sounds of water and the faint hum of morning traffic filtered through the room.

You swallowed hard, your chest still heaving slightly. “Yeah,” you muttered, running a shaky hand through your hair. “Just a dream.”

But as you leaned back against the headboard, your heart still racing, you couldn’t shake the image of Gaz’s sad, imploring eyes. His voice echoed in your mind, heavy with longing and regret.

We miss you. We need to reach you.

. . .

Gaz woke with a soft, shuddering breath, his head resting against the worn leather of the sofa. One hand lifted to his temple, rubbing at the faint ache that lingered behind his eyes. His breathing was steady, his lips slightly parted as though he was catching his bearings.

Ghost sat at the other end of the sofa, his imposing frame angled slightly toward Gaz, every shift in his posture calculated and deliberate. His arms rested loosely on his thighs, hands clasped together, but his sharp eyes tracked every subtle movement Gaz made as he came to. The tension in his shoulders betrayed his unease, though his mask kept his expression unreadable.

“Gaz?” Price’s voice cut softly through the silence from where he stood nearby, but Ghost didn’t take his eyes off the young wizard, watching as he rubbed at his temples and blinked against the dim light of the room.

When Gaz finally murmured, “Yeah, I’m alright,” Ghost didn’t relax. His attention remained fixed, his body coiled like a spring, ready to act should something go amiss.

“You found her?” Price asked, stepping closer, his tone even but laced with quiet urgency.

Ghost’s gaze flicked briefly to Price before returning to Gaz, monitoring every breath, every flicker of emotion on his face. It was as though he was searching for signs of strain, for anything that might indicate the younger man had pushed too far.

Gaz sat up, still pale but steadier now. “Yeah,” he said softly. “I found her.”

Price’s brows knitted slightly, and Ghost straightened, his full attention snapping to Gaz. “And?” Price pressed, his tone measured but insistent. “What did you see?”

Gaz sat up a little straighter, his fingers massaging his temple as he spoke. “It was her, definitely her. I felt...a city. Sybil was there too, no doubt about it.”

Ghost’s gaze sharpened, but he remained silent.

“There was someone else,” Gaz continued, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant. “A man. I didn’t see much, but his presence... it felt familiar. Not human, but—” He paused, searching for the words. “I couldn’t place him exactly, but I know I’ve felt it before.”

Price’s jaw tightened, his mind already churning through possibilities. He straightened, his arms crossing again as he glanced toward Ghost. “What’s our angle now?” he asked, his tone sharp but even.

Ghost pushed off the sofa, stepping closer to the table where Leah’s notes and Laswell’s reports were spread out. “Two cities,” he said, his voice calm and deliberate. “The one Leah’s from, and another just outside it. Both fit the details we’ve got.”

Price nodded, his gaze narrowing on the documents as he processed the options. “We’ll focus on narrowing that down. Cross-reference everything—we’re not moving without something solid.”

Gaz stayed silent for a moment, his head tilted slightly as though listening to something only he could hear. His fingers brushed against the fabric of his trousers, and when he finally spoke, his voice was distant, tinged with a soft wistfulness. “She was right there,” he murmured. “I could hear her, feel her... even just for a moment.”

Ghost glanced at him, his mask hiding his expression, but there was a subtle shift in his posture. “Was she…okay?” he asked, his voice carefully neutral.

Gaz shook his head slowly. “No. She was... guarded. But I think she’s alright. At least, physically.”

Price’s lips pressed into a thin line, and he tapped his fingers against the table thoughtfully. “That man you mentioned—do you think he’s a threat?”

Gaz hesitated, his brows furrowing. “I don’t know. Maybe. But he didn’t feel hostile—just... familiar.” He rubbed at his temple again, his shoulders slumping slightly. “She ended the connection before I could make sense of it.”

The room settled into a tense silence, the weight of your absence hanging heavy in the air. Price turned his attention back to the notes, his movements deliberate as he began sifting through them again.

Gaz leaned back against the couch, his eyes slipping closed for a moment. Despite the headache lingering from his projection, there was a faint sense of peace in his demeanor. He’d found you, even if only for a fleeting moment. It wasn’t enough, not by far—but it was something.

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bunjywunjy · 8 months ago

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Hey why are all those fishes teeth so white?? Ik they don't have dentists but like. Are the things that make animals (incl. humans) teeth yellow specific terrestrial things? Like. Humans and horses and chimps get yellow teeth in the absence of Whitening Toothpaste don't they? Is that a mammal thing?? Ik they're crooked but why are the fishes awful teeth so white!! (tone indicator genuine)

fish teeth use a different substance than mammal enamel! and the ocean is constantly washing them clean, so they aren't building up saliva and bacteria in their mouths like terrestrial animals do.

also they don't drink coffee, which probably also helps

#cursed biology

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seniorpollinationtechnician · 7 months ago

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Ethan spent the next three hours in his cluttered office, surrounded by stacks of old files and a mess of digital archives on his computer. Eventually, ISAAC's voice broke the silence. "Ethan, I have located several encrypted documents closely related to your search history. Shall I bring them up?"

After a vocal confirmation, ISAAC remotely accessed Ethan's computer and began displaying a series of decrypted files with some title variation of 'Chrysalis_2023'. Project Chrysalis had been one of his most secretive assignments while working with the government where he had been tasked with engineering a containment and analysis system for biological entities. The government's vague description alluded to 'non-terrestrial biological entities', which Ethan naively interpreted as some advanced biological research.

The digital files were heavily redacted but offered enough information to remind him that he had physical evidence as well. He eventually found a folder containing detailed schematics alongside his own annotations on the nature of the project. One document in particular, an incident report, caught his eye.

Entry Date: 04/12/2023 Subject: NTBE X-23 Humanoid organism measuring 1.8 meters (6 ft.) in height. Bipedal locomotion. Epidermis is a pale yellow tone. Facial structure similar to that of a human being but with eight black eyes arranged in a symmetrical pattern. Indecipherable markings around the eyes. Subject arrived unconscious and has not regained consciousness throughout the observation period. Subject X-23 was transferred from the recovery unit into the primary containment chamber at 1100 hours. Upon entering the containment unit, the subject's vital signs surged. Subject X-23 abruptly regained consciousness and exhibited erratic behavior. Witnesses claimed to have seen something move within the subject's skin. Vocalizations consistent with an unknown language were recorded (see audio log 0134-B1). Linguistic analysis is ongoing. The subject shortly underwent a rapid biological transformation. Epidermal surfaces split open, extruding long, vine-like protrusions tipped with bioluminescent nodules. The cranial structure split open longitudinally, revealing a maw lined with razor-sharp teeth. At 1400 hours, Subject X-23 initiated a violent attack on the containment unit. The material composition used proved insufficient. A containment breach occurred at 1405 hours. Specimen X-23 lunged at Dr. ■■■■, inflicting a fatal laceration to the abdomen. Security personnel were authorized to terminate the threat. Subject X-23 was neutralized at 1410 hours. Residual specimens are being collected for further analysis. The containment unit is undergoing repairs and biohazard decontamination. Further research is on hold pending reevaluation of containment protocols.

#ts4 #the sims 4 #the ■■■■■■ legacy #ts4 legacy #the sims #I couldn't resist posting an extra chapter #love me some breached containment

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loveririska · 11 days ago

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And again, there are many letters. My analysis of Vastaya Zaun and Piltover. Complemented the amphibious Vastaya.

This time I want to touch on the topic of Vastaya in Piltover and Zaun. Attitude to them, types. There will also be a discussion on the type of Steb. But first things first.

And so, let's start with the species diversity of Vastaya in these cities.

1. Amphibious Vastaya.(Jericho, Banter, etc.)

2. Vastaya - bats.(Skar and others.)

3. Vastaya - mountain sheep.

4. Other types are isolated.

If we compare the number of individuals in cities, there are more in Zaun.(Except for the sheep.) Why is that? One of my versions is related to the biological features of the species. Remember where most species of bats live? Where it's humid and dark. Amphibians also love twilight and humid places. And where is it darker?In Zaun! If we recall physics, where is the humidity higher? Near the ground and in the lowlands. Which city is lower? Zaun.

This choice of accommodation is related to the peculiarity of animals. The amphibian, in order to maintain skin hydration, leads a nocturnal lifestyle, since the absence of sunlight prevents evaporation. Mice are guided by sound waves.At the same time, many of these species sleep during the day.

There are more sheep in Piltover, and isolated individuals are found in Zaun. Take a look at the screenshots for yourself.

(If you remember, in the first season we were shown in Piltover Vastaya - the bat. And yes, I found another Amphibian there.)

But let's focus on Amphibians.

I have already said once why I think they are amphibious Vastaya, but now I want to clearly show my guesses.(Although, to be honest, I had a thought that they were Sharks.) Also, let's touch on the attitude of Banter towards them.

Anatomical features.

A. Skin. All Amphibian Vastaya have a greenish skin tone with darker stripes on the head and neck.And there are dark spots on the skin.(Usually the shoulders and forearms.) The skin itself is smooth, without scales or any outgrowths.

B. The presence or absence of hair. Do you know what is the most important difference between Banter and its "relatives"? THE PRESENCE OF EYEBROWS! As you can see from the screenshots, the amphibian Bastards have no eyebrows at all. About the hair on the head, it's debatable. If you look closely at the screen where Isha is, one of the Bastards has a pink mohawk. I don't think it's a fin. And so, yes, most of them have no hair. Let me remind you that only terrestrial animals have hair. It is needed for thermoregulation and protection. (This is how eyebrows protect your eyes from sweat, for example. The hair on the head is protected from sunstroke and burning.Body hair protects the pores.) I would again think that the Banter stands out strongly against their background...IF I HADN'T FOUND THIS. Screenshot from the first season. That Vastaya has hair on her head!

C.) Eyes. Amphibians have predominantly bright blue eyes with rounded pupils.

d.) Physique. In addition to Jericho, the Vastaya of this species have an asthenic physique.

An asthenic is a person with a body type characterized by tall stature, thinness, a long neck, a longitudinally elongated skull, and a narrow sharply defined face.

What a pumped-up asthenic looks like.

And now we remember Steb. I don't think any further explanation is necessary. We remember the amphibian girls. Also. Actually, that's why they have such a physique. It's just great underwater. A well-developed musculature (like that of the same Scar) is not needed underwater, due to the density of the water.You have a foothold for action. You need to stretch it out for swimming, so it's easier to perform maneuvers. Streamlined body and face. Underwater, the density is high, and in order to move, you need to reduce the resistance.Did I notice that the face in the profile of the Steb is more even? He doesn't have a strong protrusion of nose and chin. I'll attach a screenshot, I hope you understand what I mean.

E.) And finally, I ask fins . Amphibian fins have CARTILAGINOUS fins, like our auricles or noses.That is, they are quite flexible and sensitive.Ahem…I'm sorry, I don't think that's why. Do you know what else I noticed? ONLY Steb (of all the Easties that were shown to us from the back) has a dorsal fin. I have a theory based on amphibians that the dorsal fin is an indicator of the age of the species. Until adulthood, amphibians have a dorsal fin, but later it disappears, as the individual uses water only for reproduction.

And by the way, there are SCALES under Steb's eyes. Here, I honestly don't know how to comment on it, that's why I thought he was a SHARK. Diamond-shaped scales - observed in Sharks.Actually, why is it scales? Look at the YouTube moments with him without music, only with sounds. At the moments where the scales are moving, there is a sound like scales. The fins have a more muffled sound. With his scales, he catches and reads the air currents, assessing the situation when he does not see.(Many aquatic species do not see well in the distance, so they have developed other organs of touch.)

Actually, I believe that the Steb is of the same species as the Amphibian Wastaya, but perhaps a different subspecies.No one has canceled evolution)

I still think he's a half-breed, though. At least because of the ears. His auricle is similar in size to a human's and is pressed against his head. At the same time, it is more convex in other amphibians.

#steb #arcane steb

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merao-mariposa · 9 months ago

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In this ship I only know two things (and one is you)

Alternative title: A typical meeting with the space headquarters, me and my platonic-alien husband

This au is not mine, it is from: @rainbowchaox (In the original post said tag to give credit. So I hope you don't mind for tagging u!)

Fair warning; this is long, sorry for any mistakes this is not my first language

(...)

The computer made a soft noise when it turned on, there were about 20 minutes left before the meeting where multiple terrestrial researchers would update about the findings of the planets in one same sector.

These meetings were annual and generally occupied one field researcher per planet.

This year Missa was one of these, but not the only one.

That helped relax the pressure on his shoulders. Running a hand delicately through his hair Missa was aware of two things.

One; He hadn't cut his hair since the last time he slept in the habitable building.

And two; His left arm was still not fully healed since his last exploration accident.

It had been a simple thing, his boat had collided with a submerged mineral formation which caused him to hit the railing and fall into the water. Fortunately, certain leaves cut from the planet had quite appropriate properties to close some minimal capillaries through stimulating them.

Kissing it better also worked (Missa was joking, he swears he did)

The urgent coos sounded worried to which Missa said he only choked a little, almost nothing, but I didn't seem to calm Phil down much. Now under his lab coat was the makeshift bandage surrounding his left bicep.

Missa's eyes lingered on one of the computer's loading screens, two dots for eyes, one for nose, a taut line creating a happy face. It was the logo of the Galactic Federation, a regulatory entity that, in the midst of so many companies that sought to register the outer galaxies, sought to delimit what they could and could not do.

His company (Quesadilla Space Research Center) was not an exception, so he knew they would have at least one Federation agent.

Missa was not afraid of speaking in public, but the idea of facing a federal agent struck him because they had a terrible reputation due to accusations of being “a tyrannical force.”

He waited a few minutes, settling uncomfortably in his chair, which had been too long since they had sat in it, when the opposite camera turned on and the red light on his holographic screen appeared.

For the first time in 10 Earthling months, another voice that was not prerecorded or the mellifluous tone of Missa, did resonated particularly loudly in the compact building.

-“Hello Misaaa how are you??”

-“Quackity? Que?!"

-“Hello researcher Sinfonia”

ElQ says just after his brother's effusive entrance and Missa quickly passed his eyes between the two identical faces that greeted him on the screen.

The twins had basically grown up in the Quesadilla facility. Quackity was one of Missa's mission supervisors while ElQ worked as an administrator for the department where Missa worked.

In simpler words he was in front of two of his bosses right now and he was stunned to see them, which led Quackity to a fit of laughter.

-“What are you laughing at, pendejo?!” Missa shouted

-“Your face- your face looks like one of those fucking catfish from planet M213 like that”

The most talkative twin, proceeded to do an imitation with his mouth as open as possible and Missa saw his opportunity.

-“This is how your face looks like whe you see Luzu!”

The comment earned a chuckle from ElQ so Missa considered it a victory regardless of how Quackity made a comically offended gasp before launching into insults.

-“Researcher Sinfonia”

Like someone interrupting two children fighting, Missa quickly moved away from the monitor because when the screams started he had leaned over the writing panel for more impact.

-"Yes sir?"

-“I assume you know why contact was initiated from the crew on Earth before the update meeting, right?”

-“…wasn't it because you guys missed me rigth?”

-"What?"

-"El para que cosa de que?"

-“... Ok. I guess you don't know, as this will be your first meeting at this level, we thought it would be appropriate to give you some warnings regarding the meeting participants."

Missa never considered himself the smartest of the investigaion crew at all, but he wasn't stupid (he was a research scientist for God's sake) he knew what they meant.

-"The Quesadilla station" ElQ proceeded. "Is an Earth station, which is well know, but it also has agreements, living assets and work centers even outside the Milky Way that need to be regulated and monitored by an external entity that avoids conflicts of interest".

Quackity interrupted his brother's speech like someone who already knows it too well

-"In short, there will be outgoing beings of other species in the same position as you and there will be person, a federal, supervising the meeting."

He soured a little at the name and ElQ tensed as if he were punched by that name.

-“But the most important”

-“You must obey Cucurucho” / “Be careful with Cucurucho”

The twins looked at each other in surprise, again in perfect coordination. It was always intimidating to see the twins talking or moving at the same time, a feeling of inherent discomfort.

And speaking of discomfort and intimidation, when the meeting had finally started Missa realized that his chair was stinging his back, but it was too late to stop as the supervisor sent by the Federation seemed to pin him to his chair with just their blank stare lacking off all emotion.

The Quackitys stood one on each side and stared absently at the camera as if they weren't happy to give up their seat to… whatever the feds were.

If Missa were more paranoid he would think that the subject with features of both humanoid and bear looked like a dictator of the kind that space had not seen since wilder times. But that was exaggerated.

No?

As it were, the default screen was the one that connected with the crew at home and it changed whoever was presenting their findings in the habitable areas of the sector to be explored.

Planets and moons above all, but of course Etoiles, a kind of organic being similar to a pickle, had to explore near a possible black hole.

The photos were hilarious because he could be seen in the full suit making the human peace sign.

That made him laugh the most (internally, of course he did not dare to laugh out loud with the presence of the federal officer there). One by one the researchers went by to present their findings and Missa noticed that the majority were indeed human with some hybridized.

Until finally it was the turn of the planet Vita Vitaris, which was more or less 150,000,000 km away from the nearest sun, but it was known for sure that those distance was more between this and other planets. A a lonely planet.

When Missa began to speak, he immediately realized that he was doing well, he soon shared the screen and turned off his microphone, letting the computer read the results (which took a huge weight off his shoulders because he now knew without a doubt that the transmission to earth would only see his results and not him)

Missa, taking advantage of the data count made by the robotic voice, let out a deep yawn, he couldn't sleep in a seat as uncomfortable as that, but he was so tired, and he should check the bruise, and his brain which was still excited by the new information also had too much to process.

The cloud of sleep above him suddenly vanished as he heard a weird noise.

It sounded like a sharp thump, something falling, but nothing should fall because everything was controlled by machines, human error hardly existed. Missa's eyes were fixed in the darkness searching and regretting for not requesting to turn on the lights as it got dark, Missa shifted uncomfortably, suddenly he felt observed, he gave a sideways glance at the holographic camera but but was still off, his body keep itching and the robotic voice continued citing possible PH compatible with some form that now he could not care less about.

Like a prey about to be hunted by a predator, the muscles under his lab coat prepare to run, his conscious brain sought to give himself security despite just tripping over himself; There is no way that something could have gotten in, it was impossible for something to cross the defenses of the compact laboratory without activating an alarm so, logically, it was an i-internal failure No, no, there is not a damm way for the station to fail because if it did… he was dead, his entire livelihood was there and clearly the only way to get home was that, believing that the station had failed was as improbable as the idea that something had entered.

And both ideas were catastrophic.

Missa's less rational brain was already in the catastrophes that awaited him, an unknown evil making its way through the darkness to finish him off, angry at having a stranger in his ecosystem would launch itself and he would be finished, eventually (in a hundred of years) nature would reclaim the mobile station, swallowing every trace left behind of its existence..

The voice continued in the background but Missa had already partially stopped listening, with his gaze fixed on the darkness he realized that perhaps he did not want to be the end of his bloodline so he slowly directed his hand to his weapon. According to the regulations it did little more than stun small fauna in case they were too violent to take the samples normally.

He was dimly aware that he wouldn't be heard or seen until the results were finished being dictated, the plan was; sudden movement = electrocute, buy time and ask for help.

He swore he heard something low and shallow under the synthetic voice and his grip on the shock weapon tightened.

Slowly, very slowly in the darkness a small figure with… stripes?appeared.

Missa let out a sharp sigh

“P…Philza!” The sapient Vitaris's face lit up at the pure relief that could be heard in his human's voice and he made a trill in greeting.

Missa's shoulders basically slumped, his heart still pounding but it would only take a moment to calm down now that he knew Phil was there and, wait, why was he there?

-"Philza…? How did you get in querido?"

Missa looked back at the holpographic screen, already showing more than half of his arduous findings, all transmitted with a voice so dead and robotic that he was almost disappointing to see his effort transmitted like this.

Buzzing Philza pointed to where the glass tunnel that connected both buildings was, but that didn't make sense, the glass is unbreakable and if it had broken the alarms would have go on.

-"But… like inside the building?" Missa turned his head like a confused dog and Philza found that adorable.

Buzzing even louder Philza approached to his seat, which was like a kind of semicircle embedded on the floor in front of the holographic monitor and Missa finally saw Philza, the Vitaris hermit who had saved him countless times on that remote planet, the most fascinating being to study and greatest source of happiness in the jungle that were for planet was wrapped in Missa´s favorite blanket with his straw hair disheveled and his semi-drooping antennae had an appearance that made Missa melt.

How could someone in a blanket look so good? he still moved as only a predator with years of hunting behind him could do, the fine lines in the corners of his eyes revealed his good character despite everything and his eyes; they trapped him like a black hole to an unfortunate ship.

Crossing over the back of the seat he crouched next to Missa's seated body. His urgent eyes went to his left arm as if he wanted to ask something.

-"What's the matter? Are you worry Phil?"

Philza made a soft trill and in one quick movement covered Missa's body with the same blanket that he uses

Wrapped in an unexpected hug, Missa's hands moved instinctively to cup Phil's back, careful not to touch his wings. A while ago he would have been afraid to put his hands on other people, but after several months of investigation and bonding time the research scientist had concluded that the Wise Vitaris was a little touch-starved.

And after almost 10 months away from all types of non-virtual interaction he could also want some attention. Months of time together had brought them closer than Missa had ever allowed himself to be brought closer to others. Was it because there was no one else around? Or perhaps the strongest bond they had was one too strong that crossed planets?

With Phil practically purring through his wings Missa decided that for now the answer didn't matter, he knew that Phil was very bothered by contact with his antennae but part of his body was more insensitive so he lowered his hands to Phils hips and maneuvered Philza in a more comfortable position than squatting next to him.

The blonde-haired Vitaris made a series of clicks that sounded satisfied at Missa's initiative, quickly settling his head under the human's chin and his hands gripping his human shoulders in a lazy touch, his throat vibrating with happy gurgles. Missa felt… he didn't know how he felt, he literally put a being from another planet in his lap while he discussed a meeting with other researchers light years away from his planet Earth.

He would laugh under other circumstances but the lump in his throat felt dry and heavy, like one of those roots near Phil's tree hut that maybe he shouldn't have eaten.

Uncanny was a word to describe how he felt when Philza raised his head and his eyes slowly closed like cats would around Missa (only if, you know, if the cats blinked horizontally and not vertically)

Missa's breath escaped from his throat..

Bathed in blue light from the hologram the black haired man realized how much Philza didn't belong there, he belonged where everything was much bigger than him and bigger than Missa. He was surrounded by that huge garden that was his own world while Missa was surrounded by some artificial light, he also noticed how it was reflected in Philza's irregular eyes and suddenly he was slapped with two things at once.

One; Philza didn't belong with him, he was such a small thing compared to Philza and Philza didn't deserve to carry Misssas feelings when they couldn't belong together.

And Two; Philza looked beautiful, out of place, yes, but always welcome in Missa's arms, Missa's cheeks warmed by a wave of affection that made him want to kiss this alien-bug-man so bad that makes Missa looks stupid.

Philza made a high-pitched trill that caught his attention, directing his gaze to some photos of the planet's fauna. He had several photos of Philza himself but did not include them in the presentation, saving them on a separate USB memory.

It felt too… intimate for him to tell them about Philza, and regular reports with the crew on Earth confirmed that as a researcher he had established communication with the dominant species of the planet Vita, just not to what extent yet.

Missa recognizes those photos as the ones at the end of his presentation, the most recent data is read by the computer as background noise and Phil looks particularly less impressed than the other times he's been in there.

A deep sigh that he didn't know was holding came out softly from him, more pathetic than he thought as he realized how Philza did burst into the station.

(…)

He didn't, Missa let him in after his accident, they were closer to his station than Phils treehouse and even though he didn't like to leave his terrotory for too long, Phil's instincts were closed at the mere thought of his mate taking care for his own wound all alone.

It had hurt his pride that the human he was courting had gotten hurt with him present so he had managed to get the human to share not only his hiding place but to make a space for him and his eggs in his very own nest. Which in no way struck Philza's brain with the idea of how the human corresponded to his advances, nope, not at all.

Well…

maybe a little

That was a good sign! how close he was to being able to have the human as his partner, his efforts to prove to the black-haired man that he was the best option were giving results if he was easily accepted into his nest.

But you can imagine his surprise when he woke up in a half-made nest with his babies without his partner to court, the smell of the human was overwhelming and the space was limited. If it were up to him he would make a bigger nest that covered the entire room a nest worthy of his humand and children. A deep, disapproving vibration left his throat; He could do a better one and he will once they return to his territory.

He allowed himself to judge the materials of the human kind of nest, quickly coming to the conclusion that they were not good enough for his Missa, almost enough to sleep in but it did not allow him to snuggle or cuddle comfortably with his wings, much less with his flock, needed more space, fresher materials, safer structures, needed!-

His antennas moved suddenly, something boiling beneath his surface led him to stretch out on the small bed in the room, searching for his mate. He wasn't there, but the best next thing was his blanket, which smelled deeply like him. It was probably the softest of the few that Missa had laid out in case they wanted to rest (he put all the ones he had) its smell was overwhelming and almost calmed the serious discomfort caused by the idea of Missa sleeping in such an inappropriate nest. Overwhelmed by his delicious smell, he felt his brain become comfortably cloudy. He could keep that, just a little longer.

When he woke up again the blanket was no longer enough, call him greedy but he wanted more (that doesn't mean he was going to discard the blanket yet, had their smells mixed in) that's how he easily wandered around the room, the habitable building (which was not very big) seeing his husband's mark printed everywhere, he had good taste, he would not let him build the nest (because that was his duty when courting him) but perhaps he could help choose some materials.

"Violet. Tallulah likes purple. Decorate me violet, Use Liliacs? mate would like it. He likes purple, Lilac, Violet"

He rambled as he quickly passed the tunnel that connects the two buildings, habitable building to the laboratory. He had already been in the laboratory building, it was not his favorite place but missa was there so best building between the two.

Phil rushed to meet him, the audacity of this man! leave him alone in an empty nest where his children should be protected by them, Philza was ready to drag him if necessary, his wings vibrating behind him and accidentally hit something that he overlooked in the darkness, he stopped with the impact, noticing the fear in the human´s eyes so Phil did approached more slowly, as he would do with an injured animal that he wants to keep, a good decision because now he is comfortably on his lap, Philza would scold him later

His face illuminated by the blue light looked adorable but he had a frown ruining his expression

He vibrated, curious to find out what he disliked

(…)

Missa was caught by surprise when he felt Philza's warm breath on his neck, almost making him jump out of his seat. He could feel Phil´s throat vibrating in conjunction with his wings. He wondered if it had been a good idea to put the blue-eyed Vita on his lap afterwards.

It could be that he was going to open his mouth at any moment to eat him(and Missa found that he wasn't all that against that idea, after all there were worse ways to go, I mean-)

He realized that everything felt very quiet then, except for the wings vibrating and their the soft breathing all was silence for a second, before the Federal's voice broke the silence.

The holographic screen had gone from the results of his operations, to traversing what were months of work in what felt like seconds to give way again to the headquarters at home.

Cucurucho look weirder than usual, still expressionless as a corpse, but had their brooding air gotten worse?? like something wasn't in place, to make matters worse he actually seemed to be able to see Missa in the eyes, through his eyes, into his brain, and through his brain into him, he tensed and swore that Phil's buzz grew louder, suddenly the fed seemed to focus only in him and suddenly he move-

"...Hahaha"

No mames-

"Researcher 564, your holographic camera and microphone are still off" Reported the cold, robotic voice that sounded frighteningly similar to the canned voice of his computer.

Missa was startled by his voice, his hand automatically moving to carry out the order when suddenly a growl interrupted his movement.

Philza was bristling like a cat, his face turned to face the Cucurucho hologram eyes fixed on it, his hand on Missa's shoulders went from a soft and light touch to a vicious grip, his wings seemed to spread and twitch and the muscles in his back were tense.

Missa struggled when Phil's claws tried to dig into his shoulders.

"Philza, cariño, stop" The wise vitaris growled louder like a cat looking to intimidate.

-"Please s-stop- can you? wait a second, just, wait-“

Pressed by the surveillance of the hologram and the fear that Earth headquarters would activate the cameras themselves, Missa wrapped his arm around Phil's wings, making them recoil vaguely in his grip before melting in his hands.

His other arm flew towards the microphone ready to turn it on when he fixed his eyes on Phil's absorbing orbs, a deep blue that swallowed all the light as if only night existed there, they reflected the light of the room as if it had a moon inside and against them, Missa's constricted pupils floated in a miniature canvas of rich, enchanting purple that burned fervently like only the sun.

-“Please” the scientist whispered and finally the sun won that battle.

-“Y-Yes, I'm really sorry, the rains seem to have, eh, damaged something inside the camera, I already cut to get to the button but it seems that the humidity reached too deep, I can't turn it on.”

-“Unacceptable”

-“In fact, it is reversible damage” a voice from the call, a researcher at Destoier planet, intervened. Presumably a human with a white tuft.

- “It will take a while but it is repairable”

Missa gave a grateful look at the hologram that took the form of that researcher even though he knew they couldn't see him. Cucurucho, stopped, as if they were weighing what the researcher had said

Their heavy gaze returned to Missa but its time but this time they didn't say anything.

Missa's microphone automatically closed to make way for the next researcher and his data and finally the black-haired man felt like he could breathe again.

Slowly Phil's buzzing subsided until it gave way to its normal volume, just a little fast and urgent, if Missa had managed to relax his shoulders after the tense exchange they now tensed again when the Vitaris buried his face in the juncture between neck and shoulder of the man with the amethyst eyes.

-“Phi-Philza?! What are you-?"

Was- was he rubbing? A series of muffled clicks collided with his neck, "Threat Mate. Keep Away From Flock, Protect. No-Live. So Strange"

Missa hesitantly placed a hand on his blonde head, gently stroking his hair. Subtle nothings left his lips, seeking to reassure Phil. Unfortunately, he still did not understand the language in Vitaris, which was especially frustrating at that moment.

They stayed there in each other's arms, as the bright blue holograms mutated in shape according to the results of other operations, other false voices mechanically read the investigations in the background, as time progressed Missa thought about how the meeting fell on deaf ears for him because he couldn't find himself to be minimally interested.

A planet passed, then another, and another, he could almost believe that the holograms looked beautiful, another planet and Missa gasped deeply.

He woke up, blinking slowly with a vertigo that he only felt when he was 9 and he teleported from the couch to the bed while he slept (the haters would say it was his parents) suddenly aware of two other things.

One: he was in his bed .

And two: he had not slept in his bed.

Revealing himself from the blanket, he noticed that buried in a kind of circle of blankets and pillows there were two eggs, ahh. Chayanne and Tallulah Missa would never forget that, they could move and semi-communicate like their father but the little Vitaris (presumably) remained inside the shell until they had completely finished their development, they had a tendency to sleep a lot until that moment (mainly Chayanne) and they still depended on their caregiver (Philza) for food and protection.

Still some sleepy, Missa placed a hand delicately on tallulah¨s shell, warming easily under his hand as if the little girl inside could tell he was there and respond to the touch, an aww died in his throat when he noticed that his left arm wouldn't move.

I mean, he could but he would have to take down an adult Vitaris for that. Phil was curled up on his left side while the children (his children?) rested on the right of him, the heat quickly hitting his cheeks as he noticed how close they were and that they were sharing beds? Wasn't that very intimate for the Vitaris kind? with their eggs there??

In front of the children?

Phil had one arm around Missa's waist, his wings pressed uncomfortably against his back in an attempt to keep them from hanging, and his other arm. Oh, it was on the bruise, which was no longer a bruise because it had healed, the bandage was missing and in its place was Phil's calloused, warm hand.

Missa looked at the hand on him, then at the Vitaris's sleeping face, then at the arm around his waist, and finally at the two eggs resting on his bed. It was fine, feel nice. Feel so nice and and diffused inside him. Missa guessed one last thing; That he could let himself sleep, just a little. He probably hallucinated but he felt a kiss on his hair before falling into a comfortable, surrounded and safe sleep.

//I finished, I finally finished this one, it could have been better, much better but I really wanted to publish it for the death duo/pissa anniversary. Thanks so much for reading love u goys :,)

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averagewriter-inthedark · 2 years ago

Text

Love Across the Galaxy 🌌 | Helmut Zemo Imagine

Contains spoilers for GOTG Vol.3

Link to my Marvel masterlist

Characters & Pairings: Baron Helmut Zemo x Roman Goddess/Guardians!reader (romantic), The Thunderbolts—Baron Zemo, Bucky Barnes, Thaddeus Ross, Valentina Alegra De Fontaine, John Walker, Ghost, Justin Hammer, Taskmaster, Yelena, & Red Hulk (platonic), The Guardians of the Galaxy—Quill, Mantis, Nebula, Drax, Rocket, Groot, Kraglin, & Cosmo (platonic)

Content Warnings: profanity, light angst, fluff, mentions of death, fighting & violence, spoilers for GOTG Vol.3 (don’t read if you haven’t seen it!) | female!reader (she/her) | wc: 4.9k

Requested 📨 yes/no (rules for requests)

Premise: In which Baron Helmut Zemo, hater of the Avengers and desire to rid the planet of enhanced beings, becomes a member of the antihero team led by General Thaddeus Ross & CIA Director Valentina Fontaine where he meets the legendary group of misfits turned Guardians of the freakin Galaxy and loses his heart to a Goddess with a love for 80s music and talent for cutting of limbs.

Note: GOTG Vol 3 has permanently altered my brain chemistry and I cannot stop thinking about it. Truly the best film since Endgame & it’s inspired me cause I’m also back to loving Zemo again. I refuse to believe Marvel would give us a Thunderbolts film w/o Zemo so I will make sure he’s in this team.

After learning about all the Gods in Thor: Love & Thunder, picture you are Minerva, the Roman Goddess of Wisdom & War (Roman equivalent to the Greek’s Athena) and has cosmic powers similar to the Eternal’s Thena and has been with the Guardians since the events of the first GOTG film.

————————

Fall 2023

“I don’t see why we need these people to help us,” Zemo rolled his eyes, strolling beside General Ross with the rest of the team around them. Once outside the cool breeze hit him, ruffling the lapels of his coat as his eyes squinted from the bright light.

Ross lets out a tired sigh, “Because, Zemo, as much as it galls me to admit it this threat is far beyond what we can deal with. It’s not terrestrial and chances are these…” he had trouble coming up with the word, “let’s just say they’re more experienced for this situation.”

They all stop before the flight line. It’s clear all around them with no sign of an approaching vessel.

“Who are these guys again?” Justin Hammer popped some jelly beans in his mouth. John looks down at the file in his hands, making a face as he does.

“They call themselves…The Guardians of the Galaxy.”

“Oh God,” Bucky moans, immediately making mental notes to protect his mental arm knowing a certain talking animal was on the hunt for it. He was gonna have to sleep with one eye open.

Zemo raises his brow, “Friends of yours, James?” Bucky is not pleased by the assumption.

“I wouldn’t call them that.”

“Aren’t they part of the Avengers?” Ava’s tone is slightly disapproving. While Scott Lang and the Pym/Van Dyne’s helped her, she still got bad rep despite doing what she did to survive.

Zemo, not happy with the idea of working with Avengers, snatches the file from Walker.

“Not technically,” Ross replies while Zemo reads over the page. “They arrived with Thor in 2018 against the first battle with Thanos, remained an associate to the team while continuing whatever the hell it is they do in space, and returned in 2023 to defeat the purple bastard once and for all.”

“Did you fight with them, Bucky?” Yelena asks from beside the soldier.

“Yeah,” the memory appears in his mind. Specifically where he grabbed Rocket by the scruff and spun them in circles to cover more area as they fired off their guns. “Our interactions were brief…but memorable.”

The Baron had seen many things over the years, like the rest of humanity with the formation of the Avengers and reveal of intergalactic and enhanced beings, but to stay he wasn’t thinking, ‘what the fuck?’ by the picture in front of him would be a lie.

An earthling turned ravager, a blue mercenary, a woman with antennas, a genetically engineered raccoon, a living tree, a gray alien that could take down Thor, a man with a metal Mohawk, a telekinetic dog, and an exiled sword wielding Goddess. All misfits and outcasts, mostly space criminals turned superhero guardians of the cosmos.

Well….they were quite the bunch.

“They are not still with the Avengers, I take it?” Zemo wanders around, eyes lingering on the Goddess. White streaks adorned her natural hair color, eyes gold and lips painted with what appeared to be a permanent smirk. She wore a gold and white headpiece that had an owl extending its wings.

Name/Alias: Minerva, Goddess of War; Race: Deity; Planet of Origin: Caelum; Age: approx. 2500 yrs (39 Earth yrs); Occupation: Warrior/Mercenary/Defender of the Andromeda Galaxy; Allegiance: The High Council of Caelum (formerly), Guardians of the Galaxy, Thor, God of Thunder, The Avengers (formerly); Abilities: Cosmic manipulation, enhanced strength, agility, speed, & durability, thermal detection & mental teleportation; Specialization: artillery and battle strategy.

Ross let out a sigh, “only when the planet is about to go to shit due to an intergalactic threat. Which we’ve now got on our hands, but considering the Avengers are all on sabbatical I’m sending you in,” he checks his watch, “but I need all the extra hands and like I said, they’re experienced.”

Zemo stares at the blank sky, “How will we know they've arrived?”

“Believe me,” Ross mutters under his breath. “You’ll know.”

A loud rumbling noise caught everyone’s attention, gazes turning upward as a hexagon shaped breech in the sky revealed a very large spaceship in its wake, followed by the distinct lyrics of AC/DC’s ‘Back to Black.’

“Back in black. I hit the sack. I’ve been too long, I’m glad to be back. Yes, I’m let loose. From the noose. That’s kept me hanging about.”

“Oh my,” Yelena breathed out, hair flying back from the gust of wind. Zemo lifted a hand to cover his face from the leaves, as did the others, many wide eyed.

“I’ve been looking at the sky. ‘Cause it’s gettin’ me high. Forget the hearse ‘cause I never die. I got nine lives. Cat’s eyes. Abusin’ every one of them running wild.”

“Great song,” Justin voiced, grinning from ear to ear. The ship made its descent, music getting louder.

“‘Cause I’m back. Yes, I’m back. Well, I’m back,” it approached the tarmac, “Yes, I’m back. Well, I’m back, back.” wheels hit the tarmac, engine powering down but music still blasting, “Well, I’m back in black,” the ship doors opened, revealing steps extending to the ground, “Yes, I’m back in black.”

It was almost like a scene from a movie. Slow-motion if one will by how the Guardians exited their ship and stepped foot on the tarmac with AC/DC on full volume. All dressed in their new suits of red and blue leather with the Ravager flames on the chest.

Arriving in style.

Quill led with the rest flanking his sides. Drax munching on snacks while Nebula looked menacing and Groot towered over everyone. Cosmo had her tongue out in excitement, Rocket carrying his gun strapped to his back. Mantis’s chin held high, like she was on top of the world and Kraglin trying not to appear lost. Lastly Minerva was drinking a caprisun, Ray Bans covering her gold eyes.

Zemo tilts his head in amusement at the sight. He expected the Goddess, of war nonetheless, to have a more menacing approach like Nebula considering her reputation. But she was just as relaxed and laid back as Drax.

The Guardians walked several paces until they were directly in front of the Thunderbolts. It was then the music stopped, Ross being the first to address them. “You sure know how to make an entrance.”

Quill gave a smug grin, “We know.” Hands go to his hips, “You’re wearing a suit so you must be the boss man. Although I believe there’s also a boss lady we’re here to do business with.”

“Director Fontaine is currently occupied. She’ll be arriving in the morning.”

“I assume we won’t be knowing a damn thing until that happens, huh?”

Ross tightens his lips, “You assume correctly.”

“I told you we should’ve handled it on our own,” Minerva’s glances to Quill annoyed. Surprised by her voice, Zemo's eyebrows raised at her sudden input. Her accent was slightly Italian given her mythological origin is Roman.

Quill clicked his tongue, “We don’t have authority here, Minnie.”

“Midgard is part of the Andromeda Galaxy. Technically we should.”

Now the man was giving her a pointed look after Ross’s body language turned defensive, “I’d rather not get our asses thrown in Earth’s prison system. We go by the rules—the ones we established.”

Minerva grumbles under her breath, finishing the last remnants of her juice pouch, “Would’ve finished the job faster. They wouldn’t even know we were here.”

“Okay well, we’re doing things this way. We’re here as a team to work with a team. Right, Mr. Secretary?”

Ross’ disapproving eyes linger on Minerva, who in return rolls her own, before turning his attention back to Quill, “Yes. Now let’s move on shall we?”

He lets out a breath of relief, “Agreed.” Bidding a warning look to each of his teammates, they all wait for what the man in the suit has to say. Ross extends a hand to the people on either side of him.

“This is my team. All with different levels of skill and experience. Justin Hammer is our tech and weapons specialist,” Justin gives a wave, “Yelena Belova,” Ross points to the blonde in a white tactical suit, “former Black Widow and master assassin.” At the mention of Black Widow Rocket, Nebula, and Minerva all tense, faces becoming solemn at the memory of Natasha. They were the three remaining Guardians during the blip, becoming close with the Avenger.

“Ava Starr, she can phase through anything,” they all look impressed, finding the talent cool. “Antonia Dreykov, who we like to call Taskmaster.”

“Why’s that?” Kraglin asked intrigued.

“She has photographic reflexes and can mimic your fighting powers. Basically use your own moves against you.”

“Niceeee,” all the Guardians echo. Ross points to the two individuals in between Zemo and Yelena.

“Our super soldiers, Captain John Walker and I believe you all know Sergeant Barnes.” Bucky tightens his mouth with a curt nod.

“You still got that arm on ya?” Rocket muses, earning a nudge—well more like a kick—from Minerva. The rest of the Thunderbolts besides Bucky all become wide-eyed at the talking Raccoon…even though it said on the file he could.

But how the fuck else were they suppose to react to a talking raccoon?

All Bucky does is glare, “Don’t even think about it.” Rocket shrugs, “Worth a shot.”

“Why is that one carrying a giant frisbee?” Drax’s mouth is filled with Zargnuts. Walker, the man in question, becomes visibly offended.

“It’s a shield not a frisbee.” Zemo bites back a smirk at the soldier's tone. Not to mention the Guardians' reactions were priceless.

“A shield?” Mantis repeats confused.

“It’s a frisbee,” Drax mumbles.

“Like that circular object Minerva conjures to deflect attacks,” Nebula tiredly explains. Mantis’s mouth forms the shape of an ‘o’.

“And lastly,” Ross sounds just as exhausted as the cyborg, “Baron Helmut Zemo, former intelligence operative.”

“I am Groot,” Zemo’s attention goes to the tree alien, confused by his words. Minerva, seeing his expression, addresses it, “He says he likes your fancy cape.”

‘Cape?’ He thinks, but doesn’t comment on it and his perplexed reaction makes Minerva smirk. Instead Zemo says, “Well, I appreciate the compliment. Thank you.” Groot’s pleased, grinning wide like a child.

It’s then Quill’s turn to formally introduce the Guardians. The Thunderbolts bite back their own amusement at the nicknames and surprise of hearing the dog, Cosmo, speak through her suit with a distinct Russian accent. Afterwards Ross leads them all into the hangar, Minerva removing her sunglasses now that she was inside, allowing her gold eyes to be visible.

From there they all interact, awkwardly for the most part as they have no idea what the hell to do as they wait for further instruction. It soon becomes bickering and even challenging someone in hand-to-hand combat.

Well, what can you expect when a team of heroes meet a team of villains/anti heroes? Rivalry at its finest.

“Any day now, Quill,” Minerva groans, relaxing her stance. Across from her several feet away was Walker, confused by why she was taking so long to attack. They were standing in the middle of the squared off area with the teams surrounding them, but giving enough space to avoid being in the crossfire. Quill was scrolling through his Walkmen.

“What’s he doing?” Zemo whispers to Kraglin, eyes flicking back and forth from the human Guardian and the Goddess.

“Trying to find a good fight song. You know, get the vibes going.” Out on the square Minerva lets out a loud huff signaling her annoyance was increasing.

“Just give me another second—.”

“Quill.”

“I almost got it.”

“Pick a goddamn song!”

“Fine!” Quill shouts, randomly selecting the first one his finger hits. A second later Duran Duran’s ‘Hungry Like the Wolf,’ blasts through all the speakers attached to the Guardians arms. The antiheroes become perplexed, while also noting the song choice. Justin and Yelena started to bop their heads.

“Darken the city, night is a wire. Steam in the subway, earth is afire. (Do-do-do-do-do-do-do-do-do)”

Minerva smirked, retaking her stance. As she lifts her hands, cosmic energy around her consorts to physical matter, taking the shape of a spear and shield in either hand. Wide eyes take over the Thunderbolts.

“Woman, you want me, give me a sign. And catch my breathing even closer behind. (Do-do-do-do-do-do-do-do-do)”

“Wow,” Justin exhales. “In touch with the ground. I’m on the hunt, I’m after you.”

“That’s so cool,” Yelena muses, others muttering in agreement. “Smell like the sound, I'm lost in the crowd. And I’m hungry like the wolf.” Keeping his admirations to himself, Zemo watches the scene unfold in silence.

“First one to step or get thrown out of the square loses,” Bucky shouts over the music, “Ready….” Walker clutches the strap of his shield, Minerva twirling her spear once, “Fight!”

“Stalked in the forest, too close to hide,” Walker lets out a cry, charging at the Goddess. “I’ll be upon you by the moonlight side (Do-do-do-do-do-do-do-do-do,” Minerva blocks his attack, pushing back slightly only to crouch to swipe at his legs, “High blood drumming on your skin, it’s so tight,” Walker dodges her spear, but fails to avoid her kick to his chest, sending him backward. “You feel my heat, I’m just a moment behind.” He brings his shield up in time as her spear barrels down at him. “Do-do-do-do-do-do-do-do-do.”

They continue their one-on-one for several minutes, both coming close to getting the other out of the square and the song changing to ‘Cherry Bomb’ by The Runaways—a favorite amongst the Guardians. The entire time Zemo was mesmerized to say the least. Every move she made was effortless, showcasing strengths and ability to predict Walker's moves.

He hadn’t felt such attraction to a woman in so long. And here he was experiencing a feeling that was almost unfamiliar.

Ultimately Minerva wins the battle in what one would call a divine move. At the peak of the song, Minerva’s golden eyes glow bright resulting in the eyes of the owl headpiece to also glow and become animated. It takes form, coming to life and soars straight at Walker, throwing him off by covering his face.

“What the—uuugh!!” He’s flying through the air, back meeting the harsh ground with an audible groan. The owl leaves him, returning to Minerva and consorting back into a headpiece. When it does her eyes dim back to their normal hue. Her team broke out into whistles and hollars, meanwhile Walker’s were unimpressed.

“Guardians for the win!” Rocket cheered.

“I am Groot!”

“Never underestimate the power of Duran Duran!”

Minerva helps Walker up, “Not bad, soldier.” As she turns to head off the pad, her eyes lock with Zemo’s and a wink is sent his way. Heat rises in the Baron, glancing away to hide his smirk.

Oh boy, trouble was on the horizon.

Next Yelena went against Nebula. Their fight was even more intense and nearly ended in a draw. Eventually Yelena overpowered the cyborg and got her to step out of the square. It was a tie. Groot and Rocket teamed up against Ross in the form of the Red Hulk—which took a lot of convincing—the two claiming the win after fooling the General. Taskmaster beat out Quill, handing his ass to him which had the Guardians in a heap of laughter.

“I enjoyed that more than I should have,” Minerva teases, crossing her arms as she takes a spot beside Zemo. He glances at her, mirroring her expression.

“Not a common occurrence for your friend to lose a fight?”

She scoffs, “You’d be surprised by his record.”

Lastly Bucky went toe-to-toe with Drax, and of course Rocket had to yell, “Take his arm and give it to me!” And well….it ended with them tackling each other out of the square.They didn’t know who won at that point, so the teams were tied 2-2 initiating a debate on who should be crowned the best.

“Okay, let’s call it a day,” Ross announces, ending the squabbling between the groups. “Night’s upon us and frankly I could use a drink. We’ll return here first thing in the morning—7am sharp to discuss the threat and where to go,” he turns to Quill, “we’ve got sleeping quarters arranged for you all if you please. Otherwise my guess is you’ll remain in your ship?”

About an hour later, after both teams settled for the night, Zemo decided to take a walk around the flight line. It became a habit of his since joining the Thunderbolts. A way to clear his mind after a long day of briefings and training. He basked in the peace that came with being alone, but there were times he felt lonely and longing for company to share the peace with.

Ten years since losing his family and the pain never strayed. Yet, he managed to live with it. He accomplished his goal in 2016 when he tore apart the Avengers. Likely is to blame for the loss against Thanos resulting in half of the universe’s population turning into dust for five years.

Did he feel remorse for the consequences of his actions? Possibly. Did he regret it? No. At this rate he’s accepted the reputation he painted himself to be.

“Zemo, correct?” The sudden intrusion spooked the Baron, jumping slightly by the glowing eyes in the darkness. A moment later Minerva stepped into the lighting, eyes dimming to normal. She was still in her suit, though her hair was pulled back, white streaks seeping through the natural color.

“Yes, but you may call me Helmut,” he replied, nodding in greeting to the Goddess.

“Helmut,” she tests the name, “like the headwear people use when they ride bikes or spacesuits?”

“That’s one way to look at it, but yes I suppose so.”

“Interesting. What brings you out this late in the evening?”

He shrugs, “wanted to get away from the constant complaining of my comrades,” eyes go to the sky, “and I like to admire the stars.” Minerva moves to his right, glancing up as well.

“They’re much more incredible up close.” He peers down at her, not bothering to question her judgment. She lives in space after all.

“I bet so. I’m sure the view from here is nothing compared to what you’ve witnessed.”

She shrugs, “These stars you don’t even know if they’re still alive. It took years—possibly millions—for the light to reach Earth.” Zemo looks back up, focusing on the North Star.

“For all we know they burnt out ages ago.”

Their eyes connect, Zemo feeling a weight on his chest by the intensity of her gaze. It’s followed by unease when she says, “Natasha told me about you.”

Instantly he looks away, feeling an unfamiliar wave of dread. “Ah.” Here was a discussion he was not expecting, nor willing, to have.

But Minerva didn’t show criticism. In fact, her gaze and tone resembled understanding. “How do you do it?” The question took him aback.

“Do what, exactly?”

“Align yourself with people who go against what you stand for?” Minerva’s tone wasn’t condescending at all, only curious. “Most of your team are enhanced individuals—two are super soldiers to be exact. You went to many lengths to disband the Avengers and put an end to superheroes,” there’s a slight tilt of her head, eyeing the Baron with intrigue, “but you join a group consisting of people who fall between the spectrum of hero and villain where most are the exact thing you wished to eradicate. Not to mention led by two people you wouldn’t say you share similar moral values with. Why join them?”

For the first time in his life, Zemo was at a loss for words. Not a single word uttered as he tried to comprehend what Minerva had just confronted him with. How could he explain? Hell, he didn’t even know the real truth other than wanting to stay out of his cell. A big price to pay in exchange for freedom.

Minerva spoke again before he could respond, “I once committed an act similar to you,” the surprise is evident on Zemo, “Vengeance against those who were responsible for the death of my loved ones. It’s why I was exiled,” a frown appears, her attention returning to the stars. “So I understand you, probably better than anyone here. Understand why you committed those acts to destroy the Avengers. I don’t fault you for what you did—if I did it would make me a hypocrite. You’re not the villain Ross and the Avengers made you out to be.”

“How so?” His voice is strained, “what have you lost?” He didn’t mean to come off as defensive, but the conversation was bringing up emotions Zemo didn’t want to face.

“As Goddess of War all I knew was bloodshed. How to prevent it and how to fight it. Battle strategy was my domain, and the High Council knew better than to question my judgment,” she releases an exhale, “but Mars, the God of War and my brother, was my ultimate rival. He hated how much our father doted on me and agreed with plans I coordinated. It made him feel inferior. He’d do anything to prove himself.” Her tone remains neutral despite the painful memory surfacing.

Zemo remained quiet, picturing the scene as Minerva relayed it. Though stoic the Baron could see the pain and sadness lurking behind her eyes. Managing it as best she could for the sake of her friends. Who knows how many years it’d been since she lost whoever it was close to her. But the hole would always remain.

“To put it short,” she started again, bidding a glance, “Our home was under attack and his rash decision to slow down the enemy led to the death of my family—my husband and children.” Sympathy arose in the Baron, understanding her anguish, “An intentional move on Mars’ part because he believed I wouldn’t be fit to remain on the High Council after stuffing such a loss, therefore he would take my place as Head Commander of our armies and my father’s second Command.”

“He wasn’t exiled?” The question left Zemo before he could stop it. Confused by how the God avoided persecution for his crime, Minvera was shunned. “Your family was targeted.”

Minerva’s smile was bitter, “because their deaths were a result of war, the High Council viewed it as collateral. They failed to see Mars’ responsibility, believing he didn’t intend to kill them. So, I took it upon myself to bring justice. Not only to Mars but also the High Council.” Her smile fell once more, “I made sure they would pay. And they did, but it was far from over after finishing the job. Those who survived didn’t hesitate to throw me out to the wolves once I was contained.”

Zemo nods his head, “where did you go afterward if you don’t mind me asking?”

“I was imprisoned on Xandar for some time,” well they certainly had some things in common, “Once I escaped I became what your people would call a bounty hunter. Where it led me to meeting those clowns I now call my family,” she pauses before adding, “and escaping prison for a second time. Only it was to save the Galaxy.”

The laugh that escapes Zemo surprises him, “I guess it all worked out then.” Once more they lock eyes, twinkling against the stars shining down above.

“I suppose it did.”

Three Years Later

Zemo raced out the door the moment he awoke to rumbling that shook the foundation of his home. After three years he’d recognize the sound in an instant, only this time it was without warning.

An action that rarely occurred.

Throwing on his coat and house slippers, the clock read 2:30 am, flooding the Baron with worry. ‘What is she doing here at this hour?”

Usually when Minerva drops in she gives Zemo a heads up. A day or two’s notice, but recently he couldn’t get a hold of her and passed it off as the Guardians on a job. With the unexpected visit, so late at night, Zemo instantly knew something was wrong.

Hurrying out to the front lawn right as her ship landed, Zemo jogged to where the stairs extended. When they did, the doors revealed his Goddess, still wearing her suit, standing before him. Zemo noted the exhaustion painting her demeanor. Dark circles beneath her eyes, which appeared dimmer than usual, and scars indicating recently healed wounds.

His arms are around her the moment she’s within distance, her own around his neck, “This is a surprise.”

“Sorry I didn’t call,” the exhaustion was evident in her voice. Barely above a whisper causing Zemo to tighten his hold.

“It’s alright, darling. I’m just glad to see you are okay,” his hand runs along her hair, “wanna tell me what happened?” He hears her sniff, increasing his dread, “Close call?”

“Too many,” her voice cracks and there’s a pause. “We almost lost Rocket. We saved him thankfully, but then we nearly lost Peter. And I almost—,” she stops short, not wanting to relive her near death experience. “This was…it was too much for all of us, Helmut.” A kiss is pressed to her head, offering comfort.

“Let’s get you inside, mein schatz.” Zemo leads Minerva into the home, sitting her in the living room while he goes to put a kettle on the stove. Filling two cups of cherry blossom tea, Minerva’s favorite, he joins her in the living room.

After taking her first sip of the brew, Minerva removes the headpiece from her hair and makes herself comfortable before giving Zemo a play-by-play of the past three days. He stays quiet, listening intently but visibly reacts with each awful detail Minvera relays to him. From the unexpected attack from Adam Warlock, to the disgusting abuse Rocket endured at the hands of the High Evolutionary, to Quill nearly imploading in space had it not been for Adam’s change of heart.

Zemo’s knuckles turned white when Minerva spoke of what happened to her. Anger consumed him and he wished he had been there to protect her. Seeing his distress Minerva placed her hand on his, gently squeezing, “I’m okay, Helmut. I’m here now and we all made it out. There were many close calls, but we’re all alive and that’s what matters.”

Taking her hand, Zemo brought it up to brush his lips against her fingers, softly kissing her knuckles. “I don’t know what I would've done if I lost you, Minnie. I—-,” he stops himself to exhale, squeezing his eyes shut, “I would’ve found a way to fly across the galaxy to avenge you.”

“I know you would,” she murmurs, removing her hand but positioning herself in his lap. Arms snake around his neck, pulling him so they were inches apart. “I’d expect nothing less. Also I’d be a hypocrite considering I would do the same for you.” A playful smirk formed, “I was already plotting when Ross let you get captured by those bastards last year. Had it ended any other way, Ross would cease to exist.”

Zemo snickered, “I see we haven’t really changed completely despite our friends believing the opposite. Neither of us hesitating to return to old ways if it comes down to such circumstances.”

She smirks, “No, I don’t suppose we haven’t.”

“What a pair we are,” leaning in, his lips meet hers in a soft caress. Warmth seeping through his veins. That effortless high he believed he’d never have again after the loss of his family.

But he found it with a Goddess in the stars. Where love swept across the galaxy.

When they pull away after a moment, Zemo keeps his forehead against hers. Gold meeting brown. “I’m not sure I can let you go now, liebling. At least not for a while.”

“You never have to anymore,” her words have him startled, the man pulling away slightly to get a better look at her.

“What are you saying?”

Minerva’s gaze turns soft, though there’s slight nervousness, “After everything we all realized something. We found the family we were searching for, but some of us needed to find ourselves. Peter’s here on Earth to find his grandfather. Mantis is off on her own adventure. Drax and Nebula are on Knowhere to help raise the children we saved from the High Evolutionary. Rocket and Groot are leading a new era of the Guardians. And me,” she stops, emitting a gaze full of love that takes Zemo’s breath away. “I’d like to be here. With you, Helmut. If you’ll have me.”

If his heart could explode from the happiness Zemo was feeling it would. Tears were threatening to prick his eyes, the Baron willing himself to remain composed. “Oh, Schatz,” he croaked, cupping the side of her jaw. “I should be the one asking you that. Of course I’ll have you. I love you more than every star in the galaxy.” With that he kisses her, putting all his love and passion it causes her own eyes to water.

“I love you too,” she kisses him again. They remain on the couch, falling asleep eventually curled up in each other’s embrace. Their last thoughts filled with joy as they awaited the new adventure on the horizon.

An adventure just between them. A reinstated Goddess and a fully pardoned Baron opening the next chapter of their lives. Together.

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yuk-tepat · 3 months ago

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Tepatic New Year

Happy New Year! Let’s talk about New Year in Tepat.

New Year has been discussed summarily before here:

https://www.tumblr.com/yuk-tepat/169316572948/discoursedrome-argumate-i-like-new-years-day?source=share

https://yuk-tepat.tumblr.com/post/154867637619/lexember

The biggest holiday in Tepat is New Year or Mut Tik (‘base of the year’), which falls on October 25. The ancient year was timed to the harvest and its bounty. In feudal times, it became timed nationwide to the new moon nearest the equinox, and later fixed at the equinox. This was presumed to be the death-date of the ancient hero Simen. During the Qom era, it was moved a month later, to October 25, to celebrate Qom’s (re)unification of Tepat, and it has stayed there.

Prior to fixing the calendar, new year’s timing varied by region, like the harvest. In western regions, with a more Mediterranean climate, where many plants grow through the winter instead of the summer, the harvest and New Year were celebrated in spring instead. It is still celebrated as a minor holiday, Pyal i Khip Hyaq, ‘Western Harvest Day,’ although New Year is celebrated with the rest of Tepat. The old equinox is still celebrated as a Thanksgiving Festival Pyal i Mal (Khip), with people giving thanks for the successes, and celebrating the achievements of the old year, before turning their thoughts to plans for the future, as represented by the New Year.

While New Year’s day is October 25, the entire holiday lasts for 5 days, through October 29. This constitutes a Tepatic five-day week, Thop Mut ‘Base Week,’ which is considered to exist outside any of the months. Every fourth year Leap Day is added to the end of the week, creating a very special 6-day bonus New Year. Additionally, New Year’s Eve is also celebrated, and is actually when many New Year customs take place.

New Year has some similarities with Thanksgiving, because it is autumnal and harvesty. A klarge family gathering and feast was typical. Adornments typically included a wreath of twisted stalks of grain, which was placed on, under, or around the main dish at the table.

One New Year tradition, the Tsapay, has been discussed before.

People in Tepat spend most of the time leading up to New Year cleaning. Everything must be made perfect so the New Year can start perfectly, so the rest of the year will be good, because New Year sets the tone for the entire year. Unlike foolish Americans who party the night before and wake up late and hungover on New Year, in Tepat that would be unthinkable; everyone is in bed by sunset and wakes up before dawn to observe the sunrise and catch the early worm - wearing new clothes. A(t this rate, America will never succeed on the world stage.) Much care was taken in all things on the first day of the year. The first day was full of “firsts”: first greetings, first meals, first actions, first piece of writing, first song, first word, etc.

As in the terrestrial West, people make new year resolutions. Additionally, they paid off all debts, let go of their grievances, and forgave people or sought forgiveness. As part of the forgiveness theme, the period before New Year’s was a popular time for leaders to commute sentences.

Another feature is large bonfires, which may have started with burning the chaff. All fires are extinguished, and then relit, typically from a communal fire. This may be accompanied by a parade of people carrying torches home, known as a “flame-run” (xam i-tem). People also used the opportunity to burn other needless or unwanted things to ‘clean up’ for the new year. This evolved into a tradition of collecting pieces of old paper scraps, on which were written various bad things – names of enemies, personal weaknesses, actions which someone regretted, things one feared, or even social problems – into a pot, and then throwing them in the bonfire. Conversely, hopes and dreams were written on paper and tied to trees in public.

#tepat #culture #new year #happy new year #conworld #conculture #worldbuilding

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shmothman · 2 years ago

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In regards to the next fic I’m working on… Here are some notes on my interpretation of the plantussy. Featuring a lot of biology, flower talk, and… uh. slugs. 🤞🤞🤞

Very Nsfw below the cut.

(Note: I am not an artist)

For the base structure, I obviously took most of my inspiration from flowers. The Plants (in stampede, at least) have very floral elements, and my personal headcanon is that they have some analogous structures—products of convergent evolution to incredibly different circumstances. (Though don’t get me started on my headcanons vis a vis the genetic engineering that went into Vash and Knives being so human-looking, at least on the outside.) If the (capital P) Plants are (lowercase p) plant-like, they could certainly have analogous reproductive structures. Five petal-like labia that lie mostly flat against the skin ‘bloom’ when aroused due to increased blood flow—filling with fluid and expanding due to turgor pressure. (Main inspiration for the petals: cherry blossom flowers, though something… fleshier than I’m able to draw 🤣) The reproductive structures are contained within, shielded by the petals unless sufficiently aroused. Within the outer layer of petals is an inner layer, which also lies flat until aroused, at which point they twist together to form something analogous to a penis. The way the petals twist together leaves distinct grooves spiraling along its length, which conduct fluid that comes from the interior of the dick—though the internal structure below it that would be analogous to a vagina also produces fluid, which is slightly thicker and stickier than a human’s would be. (There is a LOT of fluid.) (Note: the petals that make up the dick can be separated even if aroused, but the interior is incredibly sensitive, and Vash is prone to overstimulation even if he isn’t touched there.) (Main inspiration: morning glory bud, also the Aelit dildo by Strange Bedfellas.)

There are two smaller interior petals that don’t make up the dick, and instead act as labia around the vagina-analogue. (Main inspiration: orchid.) Surrounding the dick, there are several independently-mobile tendril-like structures ending in small bulbs; these serve as hormonal transfer sites—detail below. The center of the ‘flower’ is a dark pink, which lightens to flesh tone at the edges of the petals, though the interior petals are fully dark pink. Maybe with a bit of blue bioluminescence. (They made the man glow in Stampede; what do they expect me to do? NOT make his dick glow too??)

Alright! Now we’re going to talk about invertebrate reproduction! (You come to the invertebrate biologist and don’t expect to get a little bit of a lecture?)

Firstly: Rotifers. Most Rotifers belong to Class Monogononta, and Monogonant Rotifers have a unique reproductive pattern.

Typically, they reproduce asexually, via parthenogenesis, making, by definition, only diploid females. However, when conditions are right (the chemical cues seem to come from crowding, when a population of monogonants gets too high, but it occurs relatively rarely) the usually amicitic (‘not mixing,’ referring to the production of eggs without the mixing in of other genetic material) females will lay eggs that become micitic females. These micitic females produce eggs via meiosis, not mitosis as in parthenogenesis. These eggs are, by definition, haploid. In the absence of fertilization, these eggs develop into males, which are able to fertilize other haploid eggs, creating a new diploid generation which continues to reproduce via parthenogenesis once again. This haplodiploid sex determination system also occurs in many insects, but no other organisms seem to exhibit this pattern of many amicitic generations followed by one micitic generation. This is my headcanon for the way Plants reproduce. It doesn’t have anything to do with how his junk looks but I wanted to talk about it.

Secondly: Terrestrial Gastropods. If you know anything about slug sex, you know it gets pretty fuckin wild. As a self-proclaimed monster dong connoisseur, I would be remiss to not take ideas from them; namely, in this case, love darts. Now, in actual gastropods, love darts are sharp, calcareous or chitinous spines produced by the snail that are coated in mucus that contains an allomone, a pheromone-like compound, that increases the likelihood of successful fertilization. They’re essentially shot into the body of the snail’s mate. Taking the basic idea, though, I’ve mixed that with flower reproductive anatomy to arrive at… uh, I mean. I really need to find a better term but. Love tendrils? Love… stamens? I’ll workshop it. REGARDLESS. They’re essentially independently-moving tendrils with a glandular bud at the end, the purpose of which are to secrete hormones that aid in copulation—essentially oxytocin and dopamine, which then can be absorbed through the skin, giving his partner a… boost.

And that’s my inspiration for Vash’s pussy!! 🤞🤞🤞

#for the love of god if you know me irl do not look at me #I’m unhinged I feel so unhinged about him #tumblr pls don’t nerf me for plantussy on main #i… do not want to put this in the tags but I do need it to be filterable I’m so sorry #vash the stampede #Trigun #I said I’d wax poetic about it and wax poetic I SHALL

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howdoyoudothedew · 9 months ago

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Rated: T

Pairing: Guy Hamdon/Ben Tennyson

Word Count: ~4k

A/N: Written for @hanahaki4hanami and while it doesn't have vomiting one scene is definitely inspired by it

Flowers. It’s a little hard to tell with the way they glow, colours flashing between a scarlet red and aqua, and the feel of the petals between his fingers, somewhere between silk and a soft wood. But the smell, once you get past the bile and blood, and the shape of the petals makes it clear they’re flowers.

“Kelly, why am I spitting these up?” Guy asks from his seat on the table, kicking his legs absently. Kelly looks up from the Shemanual with something akin to worry in her eyes, her face pale. It doesn’t make him feel great. There are a lot of good things with being Shezow, but he’s found a lot of rough consequences too. He still remembers his brief attempt at a “dark and gritty” phase.

“Are you…” Kelly looks back down at the book, biting her lip. “In love?”

“In love?” Guy scoffs, laughing in disbelief. He hasn’t been in love in– ever, he thinks.

“Are you… sure?” Kelly asks, looking up at him and the stack of petals next to him again with a frown.

“... what does the book say?” Guy asks, feeling suspicious now. Kelly licks her lips, tasting the grape of her chapstick.

“It says when a Zow becomes trapped in unspoken love they start coughing up flowers. Till they confess or till it… kills them,” Kelly looks down. “The shemanual calls it hanahaki.”

“Oh,” Guy says. He stares at the petals next to him, watching them rotate between their two colours, taking in the shape of the petals. They glitter like sequins, they’re soft like silk behind the flaking red. After a few moments he begins to laugh. “Then I’m fine, because I’m not in love.”

“Guy…” Kelly says sadly.

“I’m not,” Guy repeats, looking at her. She sighs.

“Fine. Can you at least ask one of your alien buddies about them?” Guy opens his mouth, but she’s quick to speak over him. “They’re clearly not terrestrial and I’d like to know more about them, at least. It’d make me feel better.”

Guy sighs. “Alright, next time I see one of them, okay?”

“Thank you,” Kelly says, tone sarcastic but eyes sincere.

“Hey, do you know anything about flowers?” Shezow asks Diamondhead as he’s holding a shield up for them, stopping this stupid laser some smuck left firing.

“Flowers?” Diamondhead asks incredulously, looking back at her. “No, why?”

Shezow shakes her head. “No reason, just found some alien ones and my partner’s curious. I think she wants to see if she can make a cutting and grow more, but she needs to know more about them first and we don’t really know where to start looking.”

“So you ask the first big alien you see?” Diamondhead asks and Shezow shrugs.

“I’ll ask my si- sidekick and see what she says. She knows shit like that better than me,” Diamondhead says. It’s not the first time one of these aliens has nearly slipped on the word ‘sister’, and sometimes Shezow wonders what it means. Have they just not been doing the superhero gig for very long? Was their sister not a secret before? Or do they just trust Shezow enough that a part of them wants to tell her the secret, but the importance of a secret identity won out every time? Shezow’s chest tightens and she coughs, just slightly.

“Thanks, big guy.” Shezow winks. “Now I think it’s time to fight a little laser with laser.”

It wasn’t very hard to realize the ten aliens he fought with as Shezow occasionally were all one person. Maybe it would’ve been if Guy didn’t have his own– albeit much smaller– transformation, but it wasn’t too hard to put two and two together when one guy would run off and then another, different guy would show up several minutes later with the first nowhere in sight. There aren’t many aliens in Megadale. Not ones that look so obvious or fight crime, at least.

He sighs, looking at the petals he coughed up after Diamondhead left and tapping his fingers against the table. The shemanual has never been wrong before, but… Guy scrubs his hands over his face before he can consider the possible smudging of his eyeliner. The worst part is, given the flower, there’s only one possible answer if the shemanual is right and he’s pretty sure Kelly knows it.

“The flowers are supposed to represent the person you love in some way,” she’d said before he left. Guy gathers up the flowers a little rougher than he needs to and throws them in the container with all the rest. Since they don’t know what they are exactly, they haven’t been able to throw them out or even burn them. Just because they’re fine in his body, doesn’t mean they’d be okay when introduced to other conditions. Or so Kelly said. Personally, Guy thinks if they grew inside him they should be perfectly safe even if they’re alien. Maybe they even only look like the alien flowers they represent, but are much closer biologically to something from earth.

But what’s he know? Science is his worst subject.

It’s stupid anyhow, whatever this is. Guy’s never been in love before and he’s not in love now. Especially with some boy he only kinda knows who turns into ten, admittedly really cool, different aliens. If he was, he’d know it.

“Hey! Shezow!” Diamondhead calls, running up to him. Shezow turns and nearly laughs at the dents Diamondhead is leaving in the sidewalk. “I have the info on those flowers you wanted!” He stops in front of him with a wide smile, holding out a pile of pages held together with a paperclip with print Shezow is sure is too neat to be his. Too neat to be Diamondhead’s, at least. One of the other alien forms could’ve written it, or his human form, or one of his partners. The idea the boy behind Diamondhead could’ve taken the time to handwrite multiple pages of information on an alien flower for him makes him flush. He swallows down the swirl of flowers.

“Thanks,” Shezow says, keeping his eyes on the packet as he takes it from him.

“Sure thing!” Diamondhead smiles at him. “Anything for my favourite super-powered sidekick.”

“Sidekick?” Shezow repeats, looking up at him. “Excuse you, you’re the sidekick here.”

Diamondhead snorts, but it’s fond and amused. It’s an old joke between friends, not distaste like he got from those assholes when he was just starting and considered joining a bigger team. He’s still glad he’d decided against it in the end. And glad he tried, if just to force the old heroes too stuck in their ways to see past themselves to actually look at other heroes for a change. Shezow folds the papers to store them in an empty pouch on his utility belt.

Later, he throws up the petals he’d swallowed down.

“This is a dangerous place right now, you know.” Guy jolts at the hissing voice and looks up into XLR8’s visor. He showed up out of nowhere, right as Guy was about to transform. Though it’s not very surprising. It’s more XLR8’s thing than any of the others to show up suddenly, completely silent. She curls her hand into a fist, hiding her ring, despite knowing no one else who’s noticed it has ever connected the dots so the idea of XLR8 being able to is a little silly. But she also knows he’s a good hero. She won’t risk it.

“Is it?” Guy asks, coughing as she nearly uses her Shezow voice on instinct. If XLR8 notices the slight way her voice warbles, she can’t tell.

“Well yeah,” he gestures out of the alley, to where the villain of the week is making a giant mess of the road. Without a doubt, her dad will be complaining about it during dinner. Though he’s started to complain less, between the years of living in Megadale and Shezow starting to do the best she can to keep the damage to a minimum during the fight as well as helping fix things after. “There’s a villain right there, you can’t seriously tell me you missed it.”

Guy shrugs. “There are a lot of villains here. If I hid or whatever everytime one popped up, I’d never get to do anything.” Even with the visor, she feels like she knows the exact expression XLR8 is making. Eyes narrowed, staring at her like he thinks she’s a little off-kilter but unable to say anything because she’s not exactly wrong. “Aren’t you supposed to protect me, anyway?”

XLR8 snorts. It’s a noise he’s made before and it makes Guy just as curious as it has every other time he’s made it. As far as Guy can tell, XLR8 has no nose. How can you snort without a nose? He picks her up, dashing off before one of the androids spots them in their little alleyway. It’s always a little dizzying to travel by someone else’s super speed.

“You’re not gonna fight them?” Guy asks once she’s put down. They’re far away from the action now, though she can still hear it.

“I’m waiting for my partner. She’s later than she usually is,” XLR8 says, looking around.

“Can’t you do it without her?” Guy asks, feeling her heart pound. He has to be talking about her. In all the time they’ve worked together, whenever he talks about the people he works with he calls them his sidekicks, so it has to be her.

“Yeah, but this is her city and it’d feel weird,” XLR8 says. The petals shift in her chest as she breathes.

“That’s nice of you,” Guy says and XLR8 laughs, the sound crackling like tv static before he runs off. Guy watches him go. Once he’s out of sight, she transforms.

“Where were you?” Kelly asks quietly once Shezow is by her side.

“XLR8 caught me before I could transform, so I had to make a detour,” Shezow says, refusing to look at her sister. It didn’t help that she’d had to cough up more petals before she could even transform. The flowers were starting to get annoying, scraping against her insides. Kelly tilts her head and Shezow moves to join XLR8 before Kelly can connect any dots. Before she can see Kelly connect the dots. It wouldn’t be the full picture, anyway. Because if Shezow really is in love with XLR8, then she’s also in love with multiple other boys. And as far as she knows Kelly still thinks all the aliens are different people.

“You’re in love with him,” Kelly says.

No I’m not, Guy wants to say, but “which one do you mean?:” slips out instead. He wants to bash his head into the counter. It’s cruel of her to confront him on this when he hasn’t even had his breakfast.

“I don’t know. All of them?” Kelly shrugs. “I have a theory about them, but I haven’t really been able to confirm it yet.”

“What’s your theory?” Guy asks, hoping to distract her away from whatever her original intent was.

“I think all the aliens might actually be one, shapeshifting alien,” Kelly says quietly, like a conspiracy. Despite the fact they’re in the She-Lair. “We never see them all together, even when multiple of them help you in the same day. And none of them ever stick around despite helping you.”

I wouldn’t say that… Guy thinks, remembering several times he’s hung out with one of them after they’ve saved the city. Playing in the park with Wildmutt or getting a fizzy burp with Four Arms… He doesn’t say anything, though. It’d only give Kelly more fuel.

“So you think they’re all the same person?” Guy asks

“Yeah. But like I said, it’s just a theory.”

“A game theory, thanks for watching,” Guy mumbles around his spoon and Kelly gives him a flat look.

“Can’t you be serious about this, at least?” Kelly asks. “You know, since it’ll kill you eventually.”

“See, the key word there is eventually.” Guy hops up onto the counter. “And if I’m even in love, instead of this being some other weird flower disease.”

“Another weird flower disease,” Kelly says flatly.

“Yeah! I work with aliens constantly, a magic ring’s messed with my dna, who knows what I could’ve caught that a normal human wouldn’t?” Guy says. Kelly sighs. “Maybe it’s not a Shezow thing.”

“But what if it is?” Kelly asks.

“Then I’m fine,” Guy says, hoping off the counter, and taking Kelly’s hands in his. “Because I’m not in love.”

Kelly, like any sister, is lovely, helpful, and a major pain in the ass. She doesn’t drop it, which leads to him being out more. He can’t take it to Maz, because Maz is on Kelly’s side. So he only has one friend to turn to. Or, ten friends.

The sun is bright enough to glitter off Diamondhead in rainbows. It’s something Guy would’ve said looks dumb, back when he was twelve and only just starting out as Shezow. And only just learning about himself. Now, he just thinks it looks cool and kind of pretty, the way the colours paint the sidewalk and grass. “So what’s up, Zow? You don’t usually call.”

He doesn’t. He should, probably, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t know where their base is, or when they’re in the area, so he’s never bothered before. “My sister’s being a nuisance,” she says and Diamondhead nods. “I know she doesn’t mean to be, she’s just worried, but I’ve told her she doesn’t have to be. And now she’s dragged my best friend into it, too.”

“I thought I was your best friend,” Diamondhead pouts, and Shezow laughs.

“One of them,” she says with a smile. Diamondhead looks at her like he knows she’s not just talking about the friends he has as Guy Hamdon, but he doesn’t say anything. She wonders if he would’ve as Greymatter.

“So you want me to distract you?” Diamondhead asks.

“It’d be nice,” Shezow sighs. Diamondhead mimes cracking his knuckles.

“That I can do,” Diamondhead says with a wide smile, and Shezow smiles back.

Maybe it’s the days he spends hanging out with the different forms his alien friend takes that does him in. But he feels good around the aliens, feels happy and distracted, and he needs the distraction. Wants the distraction with Kelly, Maz, and even Sheila breathing down his neck. So he ignores the tickling of his chest, the painful squeeze of his ribcage, holding in the petals and flowers until he has no choice but to speed away to cough them up. They always look worried when he comes back, despite Shezow making sure to wipe away any spit or blood. To make sure there is no evidence of this disease which isn’t a sign of love, slowly twisting his running thoughts into knots around his lungs and heart.

It’s what kills him, except it doesn’t, because he is Shezow and if it did Kelly would find a way to kill him herself instead.

Four Arms catches him as he stumbles, coughs wracking painfully up his throat, too sudden and powerful for him to hold down. When the heaving starts, the petals and flowers forcing their way up and out, Four Arms scrambles before holding his hair back. It makes him want to smile. Then the stems squeeze more painfully, making him gasp and choke.

“Shezow?” Four Arms asks, worry dripping from his voice. Shezow wants to reassure him, wants to tell him she’s fine, but the flowers are more insistent. They don’t want to stop. She coughs until her lungs are on fire, until her throat feels like she ate seven bags of super-spicy nachos. And then she coughs past it. Flowers and blood and spit lay on the ground in front of Shezow, blurred by tears. Then it’s done. Shezow sits there for several long minutes, breathing slow through a burning throat, until she registers Four Arms with one hand still holding back her hair and another rubbing her back as he makes soft sounds, like he’s done this before.

It is quite possibly the stupidest moment to have the sudden realization that Kelly might just be right.

She scrubs her arm across her eyes, the cloth of the gloves brushing away the tears.

“Are those the flowers you asked Diamondhead about two months ago?” Four Arms asks, looking over her shoulder. Shezow swallows once, twice, feeling the burn of acid in her throat.

“Yeah.” Her voice croaks. She doesn’t risk clearing her throat.

“Why’d you spit them up?” He asks.

“It’s a Shezow thing,” Shezow answers, doing her best to smile. Four Arms raises an eyebrow.

“Are you dying?” Four Arms asks quietly. Shezow wants to say no. Thinks she should say maybe, since it’s closer to the truth, and ends up saying “Naybe” instead. It makes Four Arms snort, at least. The petals in her chest flutter at the sound. She clears her throat on instinct. Regrets it immediately.

“I should head out.” She stands up, feeling rocky in a way she hasn’t since she traded in her high heels for hightops.

“Wait!” Four Arms quickly moves to standing as well, holding out all four of his hands. He gestures to himself with two of them. “Maybe I should take you back or something.”

“Thanks, but I’m a big girl. I can make it back to my lair on my own, I promise,” Shezow says.

She leaves behind the flowers, too busy running to think about them. Even if she wasn’t, she’s not sure she wouldn’t have left them there anyway despite what Kelly would say, leaving them behind like evidence of guilt.

“I’m in love with all of them,” Guy admits to Kelly once he’s back in the She-lair, catching her and Sheila off guard and interrupting their conversation. Kelly stares at him for several seconds before jumping to her feet.

“Guy! You look-” Kelly breaks off, mouth open, just staring more.

“Like she-it?” Guy says, laughing bitterly.

“I think I just coughed up about three entire bouquets. You know, maybe I should get into the flower arranging business.”

“Guy.” Kelly’s using her serious tone and Guy’s shoulders droop.

“Can we not do this right now? I’m feeling pretty tired actually,” Guy says. It doesn’t take much work for him to sound pathetic. He feels pathetic. He feels like he just got run over by a steam engine. Kelly frowns.

“What happened?” She asks, tone gentled, and Guy isn’t sure if it’s better or worse. Guy shrugs, because he doesn’t want to admit she’s right when already she knows she is. “How bad was it?”

“Remember that bad I ate? The one you told me not to?” Guy asks. Kelly hisses between her teeth.

“That’s bad.”

“Yeah.” Guy sighs. He doesn’t really know what else to do. Usually Kelly is the one with all the bigger-picture ideas. And the only solution he knows is one he really doesn’t want to do.

It’s also the one he knows Kelly will give.

“You going to tell them?” Kelly asks.

“I don’t want to,” Guy whines, pouting at her. He’d bat his eyelashes, too, but he was still transformed and didn’t want to accidentally activate his wind winkers. There is not much pity to be had when your ‘pity me’ act is interrupted by near-bodily harm. Kelly pats his shoulder.

“Too bad.”

“Kelllyyyyy,” Guy whines. “Don’t make me.”

“Oh, I can’t make you do anything,” Kelly says and pokes him in the chest. “But your body can. Promise me you’ll say something before your stupidity actually does manage to kill you, yeah?”

Guy huffs out a breath, gently knocking her hand away. “Fine. Though just remember, technically you’re giving up any chance to take over being Shezow.”

“An incredible sacrifice on my part,” Kelly says drily.

If Guy is anything, it’s awkward. He wishes he still had the super empathy because at least then he seemed to know what to say, but now he can only rely on his own twisting tongue and pounding heart. The flowers choking up his throat don’t help. She rocks back on the heels of her white sneakers, looking up at Heatblast. “Did Four Arms tell you about me coughing up flowers in front of him?” Heatblast blinks at her. She holds onto the end of her gloves, arms crossed behind her back.

“Yeah.” He says slowly, giving her a searching look. His eyes flicker across her torso and limbs like she may fall apart into petals, right there in front of him. Maybe she will. Neither Kelly or she knows just how a Shezow dies to this, if the petals will choke her until the stems come out her throat like a vase or if they’ll simply expand outwards until she’s nothing but flowers and roots. The thought doesn’t push her like she wishes it did. Who knew it was this hard to just tell someone you kinda-sorta like them? (Maz. Maz probably knew.) “Hey said you might be dying?”

Shezow swallows, adam’s apple bobbing painfully. “I am.”

“Oh.” Heatblast’s fire crackles in the silence between them, and Shezow knows she really should say something, but she doesn’t know how.

“I have a secret?” Shezow says, voice turning up into a question instead of staying steady for a statement and she winces. Heatblast’s head tilts. “I know you’re all one alien. Person?”

Heatblast’s fire splutters. “W-whaaat? No we’re not, have you seen those other guys?”

“Yeah.” Shezow licks her lips, tastes the oddly waxy taste of her lipstick. Quieter, “I have another secret.”

Heatblast’s denials cut off. This time, he looks nervous. “Yeah…?”

“I think I like all of you. Uh. Like-like. The gross mushy kind. Except maybe not the mushy kind? I’ve never really… done this before, so I’m not sure, but definitely the romantic kind,” she rambles, looking at the ground. The sidewalk is cracked; a dandelion is popping through, bright and yellow. When she glances up, Heatblast’s mouth is agape.

“What.” There’s no inflection to his voice, but his flame’s gotten lighter. He’s blushing. Shezow feels her own face heat at the realization.

“Uh- Y-yeah,” Shezow says.

“Wh- what does this have to do with you… dying?” Heatblast asks. Shezow laughs, the sound strangled and high.

“Apparently when a Shezow falls in love, flowers grow in her lungs until she admits it!” She laughs again. It feels hysterical, like helium going to her head.

“Well that’s stupid.” Heatblast frowns. Shezow gives a flat smile and nods.

“She-yeah it is. A surprising amount of rules are bullshit. They really like ‘Zows to be honest with their feelings, or whatever,” Shezow says. Heatblast makes a noise Shezow recognizes as a snort, but sounds more like a flame spluttering.

“You don’t like it?” Heatblast asks with a smile.

“Yeah, sure, I love the feeling of flowers curling into my ribs. Feels great,” Shezow says drily. She takes a breath and finally realizes just how much oxygen fills her lungs. She didn’t even realize she was breathing smaller breaths before now. She takes another breath, just to feel it completely fill her lungs, the taste of flowers still tainting it. Each breath makes the air feel clearer.

“If it helps any, I think I have gross mushy romantic feelings for you, too,” Heatblast says. Shezow smiles.

“It might,” she says and Heatblast laughs. The sound makes her chest flutter— butterflies, not flowers. The relief makes her laugh as well.

#shezow #ben 10 #original ben 10 #ben tennyson #guy hamdon #four arms #heatblast #diamondhead #xlr8 #ben x guy #crossover ships #hanahaki4hanami #hanahaki disease #hanahaki #link writes #hamyson #get zowwy with it #pink gender

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no-one-should-have · 1 month ago

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Exalted Secret Santa 2024 Journal

Cutting it fine with the journal submission but I've been excited about getting back into the exalted secret santa scene this year! Unfortunately only one of my entries has art, given that one of them is currently in somewhat early stages of not even having a character sheet yet. Anyway! details under the cut!

Esma Mnemon

Type: Loser Caste Mortal

Height: 5'11

Hair: White, kept shoulder length (cut imprecisely with her blade)

Eyes: Amber, if you look closely they almost appear to have geometric patterns. Heavy bags underneath.

Style: Very fancy contemporary realm garb with Mnemon house crest that is very obviously not taken care of.

Other physical attributes: Just abysmal posture, freckles over her nose, relatively soft face and defined/toned muscles.

Esma is a Scion of house Mnemon who never exalted as a terrestrial. All the signs were there, her twin brother is a prestigious dragonblooded member of the Wyld Hunt (who is currently getting married as part of a gambit to secure Mnemon the throne) and yet Esma is, for most intents and purposes, a total loser. Her one saving grace is that she's won a staggering number of duels for a mortal, although her house prefers to ignore the fact that she doesn't win them with discipline and precision but instead with a much more instinctive style of combat. She uses a short blade obviously intended to be paired with a shield, and yet completely neglects her other hand. Most in her house view her as an utter embarrassment, to the point where she's being sent to a martial arts tournament in the Hundred Kingdoms, in a brazen attempt to get her to not be in the Imperial City at the time of her brother's wedding for fear that she would somehow manage to mess it up. Esma is currently a mortal, who I will be playing in an upcoming campaign run by @hobo-wizard set to start at the aforementioned tournament. The intent is that she'll probably become something beyond mortal early during the course of the campaign (as it's the intent for all player characters) but who knows. Maybe she'll fuck that up too.

Unfortunately, and I do apologise for this, I do not yet have any art for Esma so feel free to just like, draw a loser.

Corruption

Type: Penumbra Caste Infernal

Height: 5'5

Hair: Sickly green, knee length

Eyes: Deep green flame

Style: A mockery of the Scarlet Empress' whole vibe

Other physical attributes: Corruption looks physically fairly frail, but carries herself with a confidence that should warn people not to take her apparent frailty too seriously. Her body language is fairly regal. She has four horns on the front of her head.

Corruption is an NPC from a mini campaign I'm running for some friends, she's a crime lord who has made the gutsy decision to conduct her business in the Imperial City, and is the one offering the group a way to get out given that all the ports of the city are currently closed down due to a Dawn Caste "attack" (exaltation) within it's walls. The art for her was done by the lovely @leodicapricornn (check out their blog! they do some really cool stuff)

#exalted secret santa #exalted #exalted secret santa journal

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sketchfanda · 1 year ago

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Chestnut Stud Across the Multiverse: Mother Russia’s Finest

Zarya would be lying if she said she didn’t have mixed feelings about this current moment and time she was experiencing right now. Standing in some luxury penthouse bedroom in an outfit that quite frankly wouldn’t look out place on a run of the mill hooker working on a street corner. Looking herself over in the mirror,she had to admit it wasn't something she was usually comfy with wearing but she couldn't help but bite her lip sensually as her own reflection. Damn if she felt and looked sexy as all hell and the thought of what she'd be doing in this room in a moments time was making her tingly in all the right places. A surge of anticipation running up along her spine as she felt her cameltoe twitch and pulse, liquid pleasure threatening to flow and run down along her powerful meaty thighs thinking of what was to commence within this room. It was all so surreal, she was the pride of her homeland,a top ranked spec ops agent for dealing with threats terrestrial and extraterrestrial. Yet here she was on behalf of a favour to a co-worker’s wife as her thoughts were broken from hearing footsteps and muffled voices drawing in closer and closer to the door. Doing her best to make herself look sexy as she did a pose like for a pinup photo shoot and flexing for a bodybuilder contest. The door opening to reveal a certain Blonde bombshell and her compact husband entering.

18:trust me babe,this anniversary gift you are just gonna love.*her tone playful,teasing and seductive eeben while sincere,as she guided Krillin to the bedroom of the penthouse suite Bulma so generously rented for them. Taking delight in his expression at what he saw before him,the sight of Zarya,one of his co-workers from the SCPD spec ops division,dressed and done up like a whore.* zarya:*clears her throat as she more or less got into character,that exotic accent of hers adding some sensual spice* Good evening to you,handsome sir. Your lovely wife has brought here to fulfill your every need and desire.*biting her lip sensually at finding herself falling so easily into character,looking him over from hesd to toe* krillin:*jaw dropped,seeing zarya all like this,unable to say anything,leaving him wide open to 18 suddenly undoing his fly as she whipped out his cock for Zarya’s viewing pleasure* zarya:*bites her lip sensually at seeing dick in the naked flesh*oh my,she told me Yiu were very well endowed but this is something else for sure…. 18:she’s all yours handsome,remember no condoms,feel free to ehr romantic and there’s plenty of lube in the drawer if you need it*giving her man a peck kn the cheek as went and parked herself on a couch a few feet away from the bed,crossing her legs as she prepared to enjoy the show set to transpire.*

shaking his head as he got over his shock, Krillin rolled his eyes as he realised that once again, his kinky wife had gone out of his way to get laid with another woman. Well he would be lying if he was asked he’d thought of zarya in such ways and said no. The woman was a phsyical work of art, okay sure there were a lot of guys who said they weren’t into muscular women. But for a guy like Krillin, the amazonian beauty in women like Zarya was Something to behold, the curves and tits and ass of a pornstar combined with the powerful physique of a classical sculpture, as he made his way over to her. Her hooker outfit soon commando as she sensually grinned,blushjng as she peeled off her panties, leaving his five foot frame face level with her smooth, pretty pussy. To which he pressed his fsceace to as he began to kiss her slit, eating her out as zarya threw back her head to moan,clutching that smooth dome of his as her 6 foot 5 muscular form began to quiver and perspire. 18 licking her lips as she knew she was in for a good time,nothing was more erotic than when her man rolled with the momentum and seize initiative. Shamelessly pleasuring herself as she stripped herself naked, looking on as Zarya laid on the bed in the nude with Krillin. The exotic foreign muscle vixen holding him upside down as she suffocated herself on his cock, deepthroating him with abandon as her lips kissed his balls and his abs, neck bulging from his length sand girth while he held her hips in his grasp as he ate and made out with her pussy. Drinking up her nectar as it dazzled his tastebuds on his tongue, and this was just the foreplay.

Zarya:oooooh fuuuuuck me yes yes yes!! Harder!, ahn fuck me zaika!! *calling Krillin her native tonfue’s word for rabbit or or bunny,as she laid on her back on the bed. Moaning wantonly as she held Krillin atop her,his hips bucking and plowing her in the classic missionary position. Her powerful legs wrapped around his compact Herculean body as he mad her become acquainted his sexual prowess first hand. Proving the wet dreams she’d been having of her co-worker had nothing on the real deal.* 18:*licked her lips and sensually bit her lip as she juggled her tits in one hand and plowed a warrior monk dildo into her pussy. This was the sort of encounter where nothing less than just watching her man fuck a woman all day and night until that alpha male clock and those heavy balls were fully drained and emptied with satisfaction. Knowing thst zarya would be left in a sweaty heap in the remains of a bed, her holes overflowing with excess jizz. Falling in love with her man all oer again at seeing the expression on his face. The look o man who tapped into that part of his brain, a caveman who was being countered by a bitch jn heat that desired to bare his seed.*

Zarya of course made sure 18 was getting her figurative money’s worth, so glad she hadn’t had any second thoughts about when the woman approached her,requesting her to be her husband’s “anniversary gift”. One of those quirky,kinky little traditions and surprises she did for him whenever the chance and opportunity presented themselves. The 6 foot 5 Amazon riding him in ro foreard and reverse cowgirl,showing off her thicc,curvy muscular form,posing for his pleasure as she flexed her muscles. Biceps swelling,triceps rippling, as he massaged her mesty abs,hips and thighs. Which made for a delight contrast with her plump,meaty tips and ass jiggling and bouncing, her skin glistening with a sheen of sweat. Drooling as she howled with deep throated moans and gasps, especially when she found herself on her hands and knees as her horny little zaika plowed her like the butch in heat she was reduced to. Eeping in delight when he would smack her ass,leaving the red sting of his palm marks on those meat buns. But of course Krillin was a thorough compact stud whi aimed to not only wreck and stuff the muscular hottie’s womb but also her ass and that dirty mouth of hers. From facefucking her as her head hung off the edge of the bed,tomkayinf soo her prone bone as he jackhammered her glorious ass with erotic intentions. The only orgasms she could meep track and count of being his,the delicious thrill when his dick erupted with his baby batter a sensation her brain didn’t become tire of, as the 6’5” Amazon the 5 foot short king went at it all day,long into the night.

come sunrise,the cries and echoes of their grunts and moans of passion were still going on,the bed was trashed,the scent of sweat and sex in the air. 18 hugging her man from behind,kissing him as she long since cast aside voyeurism to finally join in. Her blue eyes a king delight in seeing zarya pressed up against the wall. His hands grasping her ass as she had powerful arms and megs wrapped around her stud fox short king. Tongue out,drooling as her brain was fucked to the point of briefly stuck in butch jn heat mode,pink hesrts glowing in her eyes as the cyborg knew for certain,once again another fine hot piece of ass had fallen under the Krillin effect. How sweet it is….

#sketchfan85 #sketchfanda #sketchfan #krillin smut #krillin dragonball #dragonball krillin #krillin #zarya #aleksandra zaryanova #overwatch zarya #ow zarya #overwatch

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skyler10fic · 6 months ago

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Lightning Strikes Twice Ch. 2

Summary: Twenty-five years after being adopted by Phil and Melinda, young adult Skye is a Shield agent who wants to know so much more about confidential operations. Through an accident in FitzSimmons' lab, she discovers the answers no one else could: her true origins.

Read on Ao3

In an office high above sunny Los Angeles, at Shield’s West Coast headquarters, an error message popped up on the screen of a high-powered laptop: Access denied.

Skye had questions. The understatement of the century, her mother would have said. Being a Shield agent was her dream job in all ways but one: she needed so much more information than she was given at this clearance level. With both communications hub training as a cybersecurity agent and field experience, she was a versatile team player. But she also didn't rank high enough to know the “why” behind some of her assignments.

Now, spinning in her chair at her desk, she could only wait for her commanding officers to come back from their high-level meeting. A few years ago, she’d tried finding out information by simply hacking her way around the internal files, and she found the hard way that was not allowed, even though she’d helped design the security system herself. Years ago, she was always let off the hook easily as a rookie, having practically grown up at Shield with both of her parents as agents, but at 28, it wasn’t cute anymore and the consequences were real. So to resist poking around in files she wasn’t technically allowed in, she sought out her friends.

Drs. Jemma Simmons and Leo Fitz, known around the agency as FitzSimmons, were processing and cataloging the pieces of an alien ship unearthed by construction workers from a building project in the rapidly expanding suburbs, so Skye skipped their offices and went straight to the warehouse.

Sure enough, the couple squabbled in the adjacent lab, visible through a large glass window in their matching lab coats and safety goggles.

Fitz stole a contraption from Jemma’s side of the table. “You can’t know that, just because it has some markings on it!”

“They aren’t just markings. They’re just like the ones Skye…” Jemma stopped as she noticed who was approaching the doorway. “Skye! Anything we can help with?”

“No, actually, I came to see if you needed my help.” Skye narrowed her eyes and read both of their terrible poker faces. “Were you guys talking about me?”

“Nooo,” Jemma denied poorly.

“Oh, no, it’s uh, another Skye, someone else. You don’t know them…” Fitz scratched the back of his head, a sure tell.

“Uh huh,” Skye deadpanned, in a tone only a daughter of Melinda’s could have.

“Just out of curiosity,” Jemma said sweetly, “since you’re here to help… Do you know what these symbols mean?”

Jemma held out a shard of metal to Skye, and Fitz watched her with a fist to his lips, as if holding in his anticipation.

Skye shook her head. “Sorry, it’s not anything I’ve seen. Maybe an indigenous language or something? I could take a few photos and run it through my translation program if you want.”

“Like Google Translate?” Fitz asked, realizing the solution was, as usual, simpler than their overthinking.

Skye let out a surprised laugh. “Google wishes. No. Much, much better. And bigger. It includes all the terrestrial and extraterrestrial languages Shield has encountered.”

“Ah!” Jemma’s victory smile bloomed. “So you think it could be extraterrestrial.” She sent a pointed look at Fitz.

Fitz’s voice rose. “I never denied it was alien, just not…” He stopped and looked to Skye.

Skye hopped up on an empty metal table to signify that she was staying. “Okay, something is definitely going on with you two. Spill.”

Jemma took off her goggles and gloves, and she hopped up on the table next to Skye. She used her most gentle, careful voice as she asked, “Do you still remember your first night here?”

This hadn’t been what Skye was expecting. She put on a forced smile to cover up that the simple question had knocked the wind out of her.

Skye swallowed and tried to answer. “Yeah, a bit. Mainly through stories my dad told me growing up.”

Fitz saw her discomfort and stepped in. “Do you remember that time you threw dirt at me?”

Skye smiled for real this time. “We were like six.”

Jemma loved this story, so she said, as always, “I don’t think I remember this one. What happened?”

Fitz obliged her and began, “I had maths with the older kids, and at recess, one of the older boys told me how babies were made, which I was very unhappy about at the time. And I ran to tell Skye.”

“But,” Skye picked up the story as she swung her feet lightly, “My dad always said that I was given to them from the sky when I asked where I came from, so naturally, I always assumed all babies just sort of appeared out of thin air the way I did.”

Fitz teased, “You were so mad, you actually bent down, picked up two fistfuls of dirt, and tried to put them in my hair.”

“You ran fast back then.” Skye shrugged in surrender. “I had to resort to throwing it.”

“We weren’t allowed recess for the rest of the week,” Fitz concluded.

Jemma pressed in on this segue. “So, is that all you know, just that Agent Coulson and Agent May found you one day? Do you remember anything before that?”

Skye sighed and softened. “It’s crazy, but sometimes as a kid I had nightmares about these huge blue guards with, like, giant weapons. My parents used to have to hold me for hours to get me to go back to sleep. But after a few years, they stopped. Mostly. I think wherever I was before, I just wanted to forget so badly that I did.”

Jemma put an arm around Skye’s shoulders in comfort. “Sorry, I was just … never mind.”

Skye stiffened and shrugged her off to get through the part that made her sick whenever it came up. She’d been teased relentlessly by the other Shield kids at camp. It was supposed to be a safe place for agents’ families to unwind, but instead the rumors grew faster and wilder because anything was possible.

“I’m not an alien,” Skye gritted out. “Every test Shield could run, they put me through at three years old. And even since then, I have to get all my medical stuff done here, just in case something shows up. I’m 28!”

She hopped off the table and pressed her hands to her face in frustration. “These people, Shield … even me sometimes… We get so caught up in ‘Ooo what if it’s aliens’ that we forget sometimes people just suck. My birth parents either couldn’t care for me or didn’t, and I ran away, and clearly it wasn’t somewhere I wanted to go back to. All I know is they said I begged to stay, and that’s why I was adopted through Shield instead of put in foster care. So, yeah, I was a weird kid. A lot of three year olds are. It doesn’t mean I’m…”

Skye’s pacing and emphatic gesturing combined in a disaster Fitz and Jemma were powerless to stop as it happened before their eyes. In her adamancy, Skye’s hand knocked over a rusting metal storage box sitting on the artifact table next to where she’d been pacing. The box, decorated with more of the strange symbols Jemma had shown her earlier, popped open, with the clasp so damaged from being exposed to the elements. Something silver and strange rolled out and toward the edge of the table. Reflexively, Skye grabbed it before it hit the floor. Her reflexes were fast enough to catch it, but not fast enough to let go as her hand and arm hardened, like they were turning to stone.

“HELP!” Skye called out to her friends, who watched in horror.

“Don’t touch it, Fitz!” Jemma warned as she donned her goggles and gloves again. The last thing Skye heard before the low, loud rumbling started was Jemma’s promise they would fix this. Then everything went silent and black.

—-----------

Skye woke up to an earthquake. Not entirely unheard of here in the LA area, but rarely felt in a building as heavily fortified as Shield. Wait, she had been at work. Had she fallen asleep on the job? Why was she in an unfamiliar bed?

The earthquake stopped as she slowly realized. She took in the medical setting with its chill air conditioner draft and sterility and the crowd of people around her. Yes, she was still at Shield but not in any of the parts she expected.

“She’s awake!” Jemma’s voice called out from her hospital bedside.

“What happened?” Skye mumbled out despite her throat feeling like she swallowed a pile of rocks.

“Here, drink.” Melinda opened a bottle of water and handed it to her. “You were out for a few hours.”

Phil appeared in the room. “Oh thank god. How are you feeling, sunshine? You scared us pretty bad there.”

“I remember, we were in your lab by the warehouse…” Skye looked to Jemma and Fitz. “And I broke something you were working on. And then I passed out?”

“Sort of.” Jemma hesitated. “You touched a metal thing from the alien ship and then you were covered in a sort of casing? Like ash? We’re having our biohazards team look into it.”

Skye examined her arms, which were normal aside from having a greyish residue. It reminded her of when she’d dyed her hair black in college and the stains it’d left on her skin.

“How did you get it off?”

Fitz inhaled sharply. “We didn’t. You… you’re an…”

Skye’s gaze landed on him and she sat up. “I’m what?”

Melinda and Phil exchanged a look, and Melinda placed her hand on Skye’s. “Sweetheart, you’re special. You’ve always known that, and we haven’t hidden anything from you that we knew for sure.”

Skye’s pulse quickened, reflected in the lines on the monitor hooked up to nodes on her chest.

“All parents think their kids are special.”

“Not like this,” Melinda said, leaving no room for negotiation, but Skye persisted anyway.

Skye shook her head in denial. “I’m not… that. I’m just a human. I’m not what you think.”

“Skye,” Jemma said gently. “You broke out of the casing on your own. We ran the markings through your translation program. They were Kree. Even your lab work shows tiny changes—tweaks, really—to your genetics that could only work if…”

“Okay.” Skye tried not to panic and the shaking stated again. She took deep breaths as the bed trembled. The tubes and wires connected to her carried the shaking to their machines, like a very small power grid.

“Hey. Look at me. Breathe.” Melinda’s no-nonsense voice guided Skye’s gaze back to her and the shaking stopped. “You’re going to be okay. This isn’t a total shock to us. We suspected it from the first night you were here. And you sometimes drew symbols like this writing, those first few days, before we took you home with us.”

“You knew?”

“No.” Melinda shook her head once. “It was only ever a theory. Everything you know about yourself is 100% true.”

Jemma piped in again, “As far as we know, with the exception of these tweaks, you’re just as human as the rest of us, medically speaking. Your genetic profile just doesn’t match any potential families of origin here on Earth!”

Her cheery tone was meant to be helpful, but the others simply blinked at her.

Phil leaned over his daughter’s hospital bed and pecked a kiss to her forehead. “However you got here, it was a miracle. We love you. That’s what matters. What happens now, with the shaking, well, you’re in the best place in the world to have help figuring that out.”

The realization hit Skye and she gasped. “ME? I’m the earthquake?”

“Yeah,” Phil exhaled with a smile on his lips. “It’s pretty cool.”

“COOL?!” Skye gapped at her dad.

Fitz shrugged. “Think about it. If you get it under control, you could be part of the enhanced division.”

Superheroes. She was the new accident-turned-superhuman in a long line. Last year, a kid got bitten by a radioactive spider on a school trip. Before that, tech geniuses, scientists with dangerous experiments, and even a few aliens had come through the office while on special assignments, but it wasn’t as regular of an occurrence. Now, as more enhanced individuals pinged Shield's radar, Director Fury was seeing the need for not just a team of contractors but a whole division and training program.

At Skye’s silence, Jemma added, “But no pressure. You’ve only just gotten powers, who knows what all they do, and you need to heal first.”

“Heal? I feel fine, just tired.”

Jemma grimaced. “That’ll be the IV. Painkillers. You hit your head and side quite hard when you fainted after you broke free of the casing. We had to take shelter from the explosion and quake and flying ashy casing shrapnel and couldn’t catch you. The good news is, no concussion, though! Just a little worse for wear on the outside is all. You’ll be back to normal in no time, at least appearance-wise.”

Skye picked up on what Jemma wasn’t saying and reached for her phone on the bedside table. She opened up the camera app in selfie mode and was startled. The entire right side of her face was purple and blue.

“Shit.”

Melinda laid her hand on Skye’s again. “The painkillers help for now, but healing takes time. No need to rush into anything other than getting better.”

Fitz glanced around the circle and back down at Skye. “And whatever happens, you’ve got all of us.”

It meant a lot—the world, really— but it didn’t change the fact that when visiting hours were over and her friends and parents went home to sleep, she was just as alone as she always had been in the end. She knew she should be grateful to have so much love, but as she attempted to rest, part of her was still haunted by one last lingering nightmare, the one that she lied about having gone away.

She was hiding in some sort of shed, just a little peeling whitewashed wooden shelter next to a swirling expanse of sand and dirt. Rain pelted in the wall that was just a chainlink fence looking out to the field, but she tried to stay as quiet and still as possible. The monsters were coming for her. She shivered in the cold as the ground shook with their heavy footsteps. Any minute, she’d see a blue face, threatening to send her to one of the colonies where the work was hard and endless.

“Agent Skye!” a nurse called out to her and shook her slightly. “Agent Skye!”

Skye awoke to a kind but unfamiliar face relaxing. “Sorry, did I shake things again?”

“Yes, but it’s alright now.” The nurse waved her hand at staff peeking in the doorway. “Can you tell me what you were dreaming about, if anything?”

Skye sat up as she answered. “It’s one I had since I was a kid. Hiding from someone coming to take me away. Don’t have to be a shrink to figure that one out.”

The nurse had clearly read her chart because she responded without missing a beat. “No, not at all. Perhaps some antianxiety in the IV, just to help you sleep without fear?”

Skye could tell despite the nurse’s genuine concern that the medicine was not just for her own the nightmares but also for the ease of the nightshift staff. As a Shield foundling of unknown origin, she’d grown used to people being perplexed by her, astonished by her, and even afraid of her, but this was the first time she realized that fear was entirely valid. The nurse even secured Skye’s IV tape where it had shaken loose and rearranged some of the equipment before leaving, making it more stable in case she quaked it again.

The medicine did the trick and soon enough, she was back to sleep, despite her confusion and worries. This time, she slept dreamlessly.

The next day, she went home with instructions about bruise care and several medications, including an antianxiety daily pill and referral to a Shield therapist who dealt specifically with newly enhanced people. There was no way around it: her recovery process was going to hurt, but here at the end of her rope mentally and physically, she finally allowed herself to get the help she had needed for a lot longer than she had had superpowers.

After her body healed, she trained hard for months, going from emotionally shaken inside and sending little tremors into the world around her to steady inside and in control of her growing powers. Every day, they grew stronger as she did, until she could control the waves on the ocean from the shore and cause a landslide of the rocks on the hill from a high-rise a mile away. She poured all of her energy and anger and fear and unanswered questions into training until she was certified as an enhanced field agent.

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