iobartach

[iobartach]

Psssssttt, someone bother lizard boi pls?

[iobartach]

slay queen 💅

[iobartach]

I called a colleague mike instead of michael just now... i can feel the death glaring coming from miguel already kfkcj

[iobartach]

.....and i got the very first question wrong. i'm a fraud 😭

[iobartach]

....this a.gile training module i'm doing sounds like it's voiced by AI😭

[iobartach]

so I've been on vacation but now I'm back on my bullshit ;)

(doodle totally not inspired by a cute family in pikachu hats that I've seen but then during doodling I've decided Stitch actually fits Miguel better)

[iobartach]

i--

[iobartach]

I'm feeling the hangryness today mr. Krabs 😔

[iobartach]

Spider family! 🕷️❤️

[iobartach]

https://pin.it/6gP5wHpkp

[iobartach]

It's commendable how fast she moves, denying the luxury of breathing in a reply. But her lack of hesitation as she simply goes for it intrigues as much as the settling of her arms around his body, finding the perfect position from which to--

Drag her tongue, surprisingly enough, using the exposed line of throat as she claimed every centimetre that stood between collarbone and the bottom tip of his earlobe. Such an action wasn't in the script, a surprising alteration that leaves Miguel struck, jolting awake some aspect that sees his fingers reflexively tighten on her waist as a low, shaky exhale leaks into the air. To her credit, the sound barely makes it past his teeth; instead, it stays caught in his chest, building to a heat that flushed throughout his being.

The experience was almost intoxicating, made all the more enrapturing when he felt her reach the vicinity. This alone causes those same, ruby-red hues to become half-lidded, head finding a new angling in a bid to grant her better access. "Thera..." In a surprise twist, it barely sounds like mig's voice, syllables that were gathered together in a low and rough tone, stitched through with something that reeked of pure need.

"If you keep doing that--" A required pause, brimming with another exhale that was stacked to the brim with longing. "Then I'm not going to be needed."

There's a speeding in her veins, warmth heading for her skin and a soft thrum beneath her ear. Not only from what he's suggesting, though that draws a curve on the lips just taken from his neck, but that he is suggesting it. Out loud, and practically in dot-point form. Between them they eased Miguel past shy some time before, but reticence, caution of making any sort of mis-step, are buried far deeper under his skin.

The tilt of his head, the way he shows her his throat like an offer or a dare spurs her already; the added spice that he trusts her enough, that he wants this enough that his worries don't win ... her breath doesn't exactly catch, but tugs a little before she moves.

Which she does. Quickly, with no pretense that she's anything but eager, arms sliding around his torso from a gentle, playful hold to one with clear intent. "Well then." A purr, heated as the breath by his ear as she pauses, eyes following the exposed curve; like a predator in slow-motion picking her spot to strike. Only, instead, to lower her head and draw her tongue the full length, from the dip of his collarbone to the lobe of the ear she just left ...

[iobartach]

@healingbrews // continued from: don't go alone 🕷️🤝

He has enough awareness to realise how such a proposal sounded, especially coming from the maw of a man that gave about the same impression of friendliness as a lion did to its prey. Still, an attempt had been made to reach out, and aside from an (expected) element of uncertainty, the appeal appeared to be working!

"Never about this, no." That in itself left the door open a crack on a potential subject, that he could find humour in matters when not under duress. Nonetheless, Hinoka was the present focus, and as such, he made strides to not deviate too much from his offer of board, sustenance and safety, be it by herself, or around others not so different to themselves.

Taking matters one step at a time, he takes to a bout of listening as she lights up, trying to find some ounce of composure at a time when... nothing felt as if it rested in its proper place. This in itself was a tale he knew all too well, but doesn't feel fit to share. Not when a genuine question takes centre stage.

"It's Miguel." Serving up a surprise, name is provided without hesitation, not at all concerned about maintaining identities when around other Spiders, "If you still prefer to give me a nickname, I won't stop you." Had his reputation been in need of rehabilitation, it would look a little like this, with how open he was gradually becoming. In truth, this was the real Miguel, bleeding through.

Trying his best to look out for his fellow Spider variant, especially those who suffered the trouble of becoming something other.

"After all, chances are I've been called far worse."

[iobartach]

azsxdfcvg OKAY WTF? 😭 my work phone... that's been in a bag all day, untouched... that's on SILENT and DO NOT DISTURB... just now started playing a random youtube short?

all by itself???? 😭😭😭

[iobartach]

The transition was far from smooth, plunged into talking to the person on the other end of the line at a time when part of him would've preferred to stay as he was. Thankfully, few questions are asked in return, more 'yes, sir' than 'sorry, that is unavailable at present', which merits appreciation in its own way.

But not nearly as much as the act of setting the phone back in its cradle to charge, ending one task whilst resuming a far more important endeavour in the process. "You bet I am!" Knees are inching closer before he can get the words out, receiving her kiss whilst laying to rest his own concerns.

Satisfied now that the night's events have attained a final state, head twists to return affections shown by planting a seconds-lingering kiss along her cheek, a chuckle following in the time that elapses afterwards as he shifts his weight. Leaning in the opposite direction, a long stretch of arm plucks the bottle off the table, indecisiveness brewing in the gap that forms between acquisition... and swigging! As, forgoing his own glass, he ingests a mouthful of wine, swallowing quickly before its sweetness gets a chance to linger on his palate.

"Ahh! Haven't done that in quite a while!" Swiping at his own mouth after the fact, the motion leaves a smirk in place, and a pleasant buzzing that begins to stir, just behind his ears. Feeling the tug of their closeness, he returns to her side, bottle tip hovering between being pointed at her glass, and his own face.

"Mind if I--?" Sample more of its contents, long before their refill is set to arrive!

Oh, she's looking forward to this! A modest measure fills her glass, enough to enjoy without the risk of spilling as she sits back with the mattress moving beneath her. A brief sniff of the aroma - the bouquet, her imagined Maitre D might say - before taking a sip. It's a little bit sweeter than she likes best, but definitely not too much. Tongue touches lips that are about to say so when she glances up, finds Miguel watching her with a thoughtful look in ruby eyes.

Her eyebrow lifts, question held within - though the smile that curves at the edge of the glass already suspects the answer. The gaze is held for a second, perhaps two, until he startles himself away and back to the phone, leaving Thera with a subdued chuckle ... and maybe a warmth in her belly that has nothing to do with the wine.

Alas, the order of dinner places a hold on anything other than looks and smiles; a promise they can't act upon when expecting room service to arrive. As much as she's certain the staff in such a hotel will have seen a thing or two, that's not a reason to add to the list.

"That sounds perfect, honey." Perhaps she should have added dessert, but that can wait for another time. There's no point cramming everything into the very first night.

Once Miguel puts the phone aside she leans toward him, kiss pecked on still-clothed shoulder as thanks before she lifts her wine. "Are you going to join me?"

[iobartach]

He's had better recoveries, that much was true. In receipt of a form that could endure more than its fair share of hits and damage, limits were reached in this aversion of harm, but thankfully not for long. Seconds elapsing help, but it is the passing of minutes that make all the difference, as seen best when he plants a leg beneath himself, enabling Miguel to half-rise as the teen shouted back. Responded. And therefore, alive.

Exhaling in relief at this, he almost regretted the motion when fresh flashings of discomfort emanated from various parts of his body. Battered and beaten as he was, in the spirit of standing strong, he'd climb back to a vertical base, shake off or obscure signs that held potential to trouble an already terrified bystander in the young male. Standing still proved to be manageable, but as for walking, well....

Not right now.

A fact that, as his masked self looks on, dawns on the other as well, if his hurried approach was any indication, an arrival that sees Miguel's mouth peel open, but he's beaten to the punch. "Hey, you don't need to--" Spoken from the heart, he realises quickly that the kid needs this, that he means well with all of his being, and that it shouldn't be dismissed. Recognising this, a decision is made to stow mentions of the futility of bandages, wasted on someone with his capacity to heal faster than the average man, presenting instead his right arm for inspection.

"Sure kid, go for it." To assist further, what's left of his functioning suit recedes from his outstretched limb, revealing in turn skin that's covered in bruises, scratches and several lacerations, all of different sizes and diameters. "Do what you think is best." Rather than what's right, as, for better or worse, the majority of his energy is being invested in his ability to stand, rather than debate proper first aid treatment.

@iobartach, cont.

it materializes within seconds. something fast and something strong. barreling toward him. the boy hardly had time to respond. his chestnut eyes, dilated, reddish cracks like broken porcelain. fear, fright ricochets.

costumed arms flank him. shield him. that thing strikes. collides against the hero. (BAM! blast waves reverberate throughout. asphalt and grass tremble. a chunk of universe sent into disarray.) the boy runs, sneakers hitting concrete ground, head crowned in hands. just run. just hide. he skids toward rust bucket vehicle. dives onto the concrete. fetal position, knees hugged to chin. concealing himself inside his hoodie the way a kid would hide within their bed covers.

his eyes flutter closed. he must have blacked out. because the next moment, the environment goes quiet. and he can hear the costumed hero calling. auggie struggles onto trembling legs. “ i’m safe! ” he shouts back, voice a shaken drawl. “ behind the pickup truck! ” chestnut eyes shoot toward the costume. spider-man. gasping softly, the child treads toward him.

chestnut gaze lands upon shredded outfit, bloodied limbs. “ your wounds – ! – ” immediately, helper tendency was activated. his fingers crook bookbag strap, zigzag zipper clinched between grasp. fishes a bandage roll into palm. “ you helped me. i can help you? please. ”

[iobartach]

oh i'm SO locking tf in with a.mon when bl4 drops next month gthyuj

[iobartach]

Like any carcass, Talon remained determined to pick clean what remnants of history were still ripe for the taking. No regard was spared for the deceased, be it organic or metal, a point of view that... nagged at a creature like him, more than Miguel would admit to. The tracker showed the way, whilst memorised schematics had taught him how to extract an Omnic's power source. Only one was required, a candidate for reverse engineering... but why limit himself?

Of course, this very matter faced fresh risk when he had identified the stirring creature, who would not only neglect to answer his questions but laugh them off, as though he found them to be humorous. Such a mocking sound saw his own expression curdle, a frown creasing the line of his mouth with such severity that the tips of his fangs made an appearance.

"Rude? As if I could give a damn." Met with a question in return, he was almost tempted to spit at the other's feet in disguise, a gesture that's halted by a shifting of immense mass that, as Miguel watched, saw him instinctively step backwards, to the point that glass panes pressed against his back. He was no small fry himself, standing head and shoulders above most of Talon's other agents. And yet... somehow... this stranger dwarfed him by comparison. What on Earth was happening here?!

As tempting as it was to find out, doing so would require time and expended effort, factors that, no matter how strenuous circumstances were that he faced, he couldn't afford to waste on fighting. Hence, he decided, after a moment's consideration... to change targets, red hues wavering from the scaled stranger to what remained of the Omnic resting on the sideline.

"I don't have time for this!" Making a decision, from a complete standstill, Miguel crossed the tavern's entire width in a single lunge, claws extending from the tips of both sets of fingers and toes as he latched onto the battle unit's remains, piercing its chassis. From an initial glance, the Omnic had been downed in its Recon configuration, a mobile option that meant... its power source was located in its chest!

A target that he commenced swiping at with his talons immediately, shredding metal as easy as paper, caring more for the mission than any potential judgement -- or action -- cast by the stranger before him.

Against the usual smog and cloying air of the city, this place was rife with the scent of forested decay and abandonment. Empty streets cobbled over by years of neglect, nature taking back what was always hers from the start. A tragic tale, no doubt. The story of Balderich reached the thousands of ears that heard, how the Crises tore apart everything anyone ever knew and left gaping wounds still prevalent in the stones themselves as he wandered about.

Wasn't really any reason to be here, if he were honest. Aside from a macabre curiosity that took him for a gander and maybe something that just itched at him for one reason or another. Thoughts of rebuilding it all came and went, tearing down the system that left so many behind with blood money just to shut them up from a government that hardly even gave a single rat's ass. Paltry little trinkets, useless efforts that did nothing for those affected. In a way, the people who were left behind might as well be ruins onto themselves just the same as Eichenwald.

It wasn't right.

He had been able to claw himself out from the attempt to put him in a grave, made something more of himself but others weren't so lucky as him. Mingling into a tavern, he took a seat just behind the counter where a bartender would've been at home in. Empty barrels and silence permeated, the light from above dappled with the overhand of clouds dousing the world in hues of stony grey and faded blues. Against the tapestry, he was the only splash of life against the drab scenery; hidden along the shadows but as he took time to simply think about it all... something came upon the tavern.

In strode a certain figure, one he hadn't seen before but for what reason why was yet to be seen. Hazard made no movement, disturbed not a single thing as he watched like a predatory creature hidden in the tall grass. However, it seemed he wasn't going to be unseen for long as the bright green irises gave him away.

A derisive snort exhaled at the barking command aimed his way, the seemingly meager defense of a single arm against his bulk was laughable at best. Standing up from his seat, his height alone was imposing enough before he simply slid over the counter and stood in the dreary light filtering from above.

" Oi, shouldn't ye be introducin' yerself 'fore askin' for another's? Awful rude of ye. "

Scanning over, it didn't take much to notice the bright red emblem emblazoned on the other's uniform. Just what he needed, some bampot snooping around where he shouldn't but following that trail of thought; what was the other snooping For?