#Four Dimensional Flesh

[proofhead]

Chaos Magazine 11. ve 12. Sayılar

Aylar önce Chaos Magazine’in geri dönüş sayısının haberini yaptıktan sonra, yıl bitmeden bir yeni sayı ve devamında da yepyeni bir 12. sayı daha yayımladı Lainmeun – Murat Chaos Gökbulut. Derginin 10. sayısıyla birlikte başlayan renkli ve ciltli bookazin formatı öylesine sevildi ki geriye dönüp yıllar önce siyah beyaz çıkan 9. sayıyı bile “yalandan renkli” bastı. Dolayısıyla bu yepyeni renkli ve…

[angelsdean]

rattling the bars of my enclosure wHERE IS DEANNA CAMPBELL !!!!!!!!!!!! WHERE IS SHE !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[laokim]

Experience an event before it happens.

The habit of seeing only what our senses allow makes us completely blind to what we could otherwise perceive. To develop the ability to see the invisible, we should deliberately detach our minds from sensory evidence and focus on an invisible state, mentally feeling and perceiving it until it acquires the same clarity as tangible reality.

Serious and focused thought in a particular direction excludes other sensations, making them disappear. We only need to concentrate on the desired state to see it.

The habit of shifting attention from sensory experiences to the invisible develops our spiritual perspective and allows us to go beyond the sensory world and perceive what is unseen. As it is written, “For the invisible things of him from the creation of the world are clearly seen” (Rom. 1:20). This vision is entirely independent of our natural faculties. Open it and enhance its power!

With a little practice, we will realize that by controlling our imagination, we can reconfigure our future in alignment with our desires. Desire is the engine of action. We couldn’t move a single finger without the desire to do so. Whatever we do, we follow the desire that dominates our mind at that moment. When we break a habit, our desire to change is stronger than our desire to continue the habit.

Desires that drive us to act are those that capture our attention. A desire is merely the awareness of something we lack and need to make our lives more pleasant. Desires always aim at some personal gain; the greater the expected benefit, the stronger the desire. No desire is completely selfless. Where there is nothing to gain, there is no desire, and therefore, no action.

By assuming the feeling of our desire fulfilled and then living and acting according to this conviction, we alter the future to align with our assumption. Assumptions awaken what they affirm. As soon as a person assumes the feeling of their desire fulfilled, their four-dimensional self finds ways to achieve it and discovers methods for its realization.

There is no clearer definition of how we achieve our desires than LIVING IN THE IMAGINATION WHAT WE WOULD EXPERIENCE IN THE FLESH IF WE ACHIEVED OUR GOAL. This imaginative experience of the end with acceptance determines the means. The four-dimensional self then constructs the necessary means to achieve the accepted end.

[remedyturtles]

not a single person here who's worthy

@tmnt-write-fight gift fic for @duckythetoddscout for their first prompt:

Batman crossover- Dick Grayson (any age), or any other batkids really, meeting the turtles. Any iteration.

wordcount: 2844

this is the absolute peak of self indulgence, as i've been into batfam for over ten years, so this prompt sung to me. i really hope you like where i took this haha :) title from idle worship by paramore. warnings for kinda panic attack but otherwise nothing big.

[]

If asked, Leo would claim that he'd borrowed one of Donnie's tablets so he could watch deep-dive video essays.

And he did. Sometimes. But mostly, he'd poked Donnie into info-dumping about the different tracking apps he'd developed so Leo could set it up and watch for anything... weird.

It was a totally normal reaction. Even though he'd had to listen to Donnie explain that blah blah blah mathematical model of a four dimensional continuum measuring relativistic effects -- whatever. What mattered was, Donnie had a map of New York corresponding to a graph of time-space-junk, and if it spiked, shit was happening. And it was so totally normal of Leo to sleep with that graph playing on the tablet next to his head. Just to make sure that nothing weird was going on. Right?

Yeah. Right. So totally normal. Which was why he told absolutely no one about his quiet little obsession, and why he more often than not laid awake staring at the screen instead of sleeping.

He'd grown used to the little anomalies, after sneaking out multiple times to check on blips. He'd yet to find any connection, whether it was latent mystic energies or some weird science thing due to gravity, he had no idea. Leo stopped having an irrational lurch of panic in his stomach at the small fluctuations on the screen. However it did not prepare him for the huge spike he saw at two thirty in the morning when he should've been sleeping after a long night of patrol. He'd almost convinced himself to fall asleep, too, when the screen suddenly lit in a red flare twenty times the size of any anomaly he'd seen so far, right in middle of Soho.

Leo's blood went cold. His brain ran through multiple possibilities, as his body moved, grabbing his swords and lighting up in an instant -- portalling directly to the coordinates.

The air was sparking when Leo emerged. Crackling pops of electricity fluttering to the ground. And despite what Leo's brain was anticipating, there was no pink fleshed aliens, there was no mechanical suits lit with red, there was only a groan from the rooftop, distinctly human and annoyed.

For a too-long moment, Leo's brain sprinted to catch up with his body, as he'd left his sense in the sewers. He was still wearing the hoodie he'd slept in and his swords were cooling down from his frantic portal. He was barely awake, despite the stop-start surge of panic, and it was damn lucky that there wasn't some alien waiting here for him, as he was woefully unprepared. And alone. What had he thought he was going to do?

"Well, shit." The person laying on the roof said. He was crackling with his own electricity, sparks fading slow, and appraising Leo with a watchful eye.

Which. Now that Leo was pivoting to the human beside him, was dressed quite… unique. A black body suit, with blue stripes arching finger to finger over his shoulders. And a mask on his face, hiding his eyes completely, with a head of dark hair. When Leo looked at him, he grinned. 

"Hi. Are you the welcoming committee?" The stranger asked. 

"I'm…" Leo shook his head, gathering his bearings, and extended his sword out to face the intruder. "Something like that. Who are you? Where did you come from?"

Bemusedly, the stranger raised his hands up, showing himself unarmed. "I'm not recognizable? Have I landed somewhere that doesn't have heroes?"

Heroes. Leo's hand shook for a moment, as his body struggled to keep the sword up. That was a concept Leo really didn't want to think about, especially not at two in the morning when he'd been scared half to death thinking for a split second that the Kraang had returned and he was a failure to everyone who ever had the misfortune of believing in him. 

"That's… we don't have anyone like you." Leo decided to answer, instead of claiming himself to be one. 

"Is everyone in this universe green?" The hero asked, cheerful about it. Even though Leo could tell he was still sizing him up, shifting into a better position. 

"Not many." Leo said, flat. "Mostly human. Like you are, I'm assuming."

"Human. Unless you ask my brother after I've subjected him to the fifth Disney movie in a row, at which point I'm apparently considered a monster. Any chance we could lower the sword now? I'm promise I'm one of the good guys. Here, let me introduce myself. I'm Nightwing." Heedless of the sword, Nightwing stuck out his hand to shake. 

Leo juggled conflicting desires, wanting to stay on guard versus wanting to play along and gain information, and compromised by lowering the sword but not taking the hand.

Nightwing didn't actually seem to expect him to, pulling away just to lean back on his palms and look at the skyline. "Woah, is this New York? It's been ages since I've been here, but you don't forget that view."

"Where are you from, then?" Leo prodded, keeping his sword at his side, ready. Tense. Feeling small and kind of stupid in the hoodie that was too big for him with the effortless sheen of the costume before him. 

"Gotham City."

"Never heard of it."

"Strike two for alternate dimension. That's fine. I won't be here long anyway." 

"No?" Leo wondered.

Nightwing seemed to be enjoying the view, unbothered by his armed welcoming party and no longer sparking with energy. "We were fighting a gentleman who installed a dimension hopper into his weaponry, so there's contingency plans in place. As soon as my family is done kicking his ass they'll swing by and pick me up. I give them… twenty minutes. Maybe half an hour, if Babybird and Little D get arguing without me to break it up."

Leo couldn't help but glance around at the scenery, trying to see what had enraptured the hero so much. All he could focus on was the construction cranes and the holes in the skyline where they'd lost infrastructure during the invasion. If Nightwing truly hadn't been to New York in a long time, maybe he didn't know the difference. Or maybe it was different in his universe altogether. 

"Your whole family are heroes?" Leo asked instead.

"Everyone of them." Nightwing's mouth twitched at the corner. "Even the ones who maybe should've waited a little longer before getting into the family business, but who am I to judge?"

Leo got the impression he'd been doing the gig a long time himself, just from the lazy grace that he carried in the suit. Reluctantly, he let the swords relax at his sides completely.

"Those are beautiful katannas." Nightwing complimented. 

"Thanks." Leo said reflexively. He held up the blades, marvelling for a moment how the ninpo markings disappeared and left no trace.

"You popped over here pretty quick. I wasn't expecting my appearance to make any waves. The last time this happened I ended up taking a nap on a beach for a couple hours. Welcoming committee, protector of the universe, whatever you wanna call it." 

Leo was already shaking his head. "That's not me. I just… I stole some of my brother's tech and I was just watching for any time-space bullshit and caught the wave you made. So I portalled over to make sure it wasn't something coming to take over the world, or whatever. It's stupid."

"Doesn't sound stupid." Nightwing smiled at him, and it kinda hurt for some reason. "Well, hey, you better stick around and make sure I don't take over the world in the probable-twenty-five minutes I spend in this universe. Have a seat, kid, pull up some roof." 

"I'm not a kid." Leo protested, but slowly lowered himself to sit, folding his swords over his knees and tugging at the edge of his big hoodie. 

"You're what, seventeen?" Nightwing guessed, right on the money without even trying. "Same age as my second youngest brother, though he's probably a bad example on what does and does not constitute a kid since he was briefly the world's youngest CEO of a multi-billion dollar company. The point is, I'm twenty-four, and I've been doing this hero biz for more than half my life, and I can give you some hot tips if you want."

"I'm not a hero." Leo immediately denied, tongue feeling big in his mouth and heart going too-fast. 

"You don't need a fancy suit to be a hero. You just need to show up when things need protecting." Nightwing gestured at him. "And look at that! Here you are."

"Not me." Leo's face burned and he didn't want this guy to get the wrong idea. "Maybe my brothers are heroes, but I'm the screw up. I'm just trying to… make up for my mistakes." 

"Ah." Nightwing's smile tinted a new colour. Shaded sad. "Listen, kid. What's your name?"

"I don't have a superhero name like yours." Leo said. 

"Hell, there's no secret identity to protect here. My real name is Dick. Well, Richard. But my friends call me Dick." 

Oh come on. Leo had to do it. He quirked a little smile and asked, "How do you get Dick from Richard?"

"You ask nicely!" Dick crowed, delighted. "Oh, thank you! No one ever sets me up for that one anymore."

Leo chuckled, shoulder loosening, and said, "It's Leonardo. Just Leo is fine though."

"Da Vinki?" Dick memed in a pretend gasp. 

He couldn't help but laugh again. "Yeah, that's me. All my brothers and I are named after renaissance artists. Or, alternatively, by our colour coding. So I'll answer just as fast to 'blue'."

"Hell yeah blue." Dick wiggled his blue finger stripes at him. "Got a red brother? Mine is a pain in the ass. I love him but if he 'borrows' my motorbike without asking one more time I'm gonna make origami out of his classic lit collection."

"Red brother, yeah. That's Raph. I'm probably more of a pain to him than he is to me. And he's not into books, that's Donnie. Books and tech." 

"Ah, tech is all Tim. The walking contradiction – genius level IQ who dropped out of high school. Picture a kid skateboarding in a suit to his board meetings. Though I'm not sure what colour we'd assign to him now, probably yellow since Jason's got a pretty firm hold on red." Dick tapped off his fingers, looking fond. 

Leo hummed and said, "Yeah, Don's purple, and my youngest isn't yellow but orange. Mikey's like that too – bright like the sun. Loves with everything he has. Joy and warmth and all that."

Dick burst out laughing so hard he had to hold his stomach, and dramatically wiped a tear away. "Oh, boy, yeah. No. The similarities very much end there. Our youngest is a baby assassin who we have to remind daily that he cannot maim people for minor inconveniences. But he's doing great, really. He's come so far from where he started. And despite the severe exterior, he really loves animals and art."

"Hey, there's something. Mike loves art. Actually, do you wanna see? I've got pictures on my phone." Leo tapped his foot at top speed, a little excited, because he never got to interact with normal people who didn't already know Mikey and get the opportunity to show off his talent like this. 

"Hell yeah I do." Dick shuffled closer, leaning in to see his phone and exclaiming over the bright pieces Leo had treasured in his camera roll. Then Dick showed off some remarkably lifelike pencil art pieces done by his youngest brother on his own phone, as well as the zoo of animals apparently he kept. Including a cow? 

"Are you the oldest?" Leo asked, when Dick made a comment about 'all his baby siblings'.

"I am. There's more of us, a couple sisters and another brother, but I'm the oldest of all of them." Dick didn't seem too concerned. "Let me guess, you're the second oldest?"

"Depends on what order my twin and I are deciding on for the day, but yeah. Raph's the oldest." Leo said with a shrug. 

"That makes sense." Dick said. 

Leo scowled and tried to elbow him. "What makes you say that?"

Dick dodged effortlessly and huffed. "You remind me of my second oldest brother. He feels like he has a lot to prove. And no idea that we don't need him to prove it, we'd just rather he was there."

Leo wrinkled his nose. "Dude. Come on. You don't have to put me on blast like that."

"Sorry." Dick laughed. "I'm a detective. And I'm really bad at turning it off, especially when I jump into a alternate dimension faced with a kid in a hoodie and a sword who's shaking way too hard to be doing okay."

Shit. That was a bad first impression. Leo groaned and covered his face with his hands. 

"Can I ask you one thing, though?" Dick wondered. 

"Might as well. Dig the knife in." Leo mumbled. 

"Why did you come alone? If your brothers are more like heroes than you, why is it just you in the middle of the night?"

"I wasn't thinking." Leo said, too quick, and it wasn't really the truth. He sighed. "I told you, I'm just trying to make up for my mistakes. They… they didn't need to be dragged into this if I could just fix it myself." 

"Hm. Well, get ready for the hot tip, because once I'm in big brother mode there's no stopping me. I told you that being a hero is showing up when people need protecting, but being a hero for a long time is not showing up alone. You shouldn't be wandering around New York by yourself to face an unknown threat, especially if you're not ready for it." Dick leaned in closer, rather serious. 

Leo shook his head, annoyed, turning away and tugging at the end of his sleeve. "Now you're really reminding me of Raph. Now all you need is a hot temper."

"Oh, believe me, I've got that too." Dick winked, but there was a severity that rang true. "But that's not necessary in this moment. If I'm your Raph and you said that you're more of a pain to him than he is to you, then yeah, you're my Jason. But listen. I don't care that Jason's made mistakes. Because that kid suffered more than anyone could believe, but he came back to us, and he is trying. And there's no amount of pain that he could cause me that would ever eclipse how much more I love him."

That was… seriously uncomfortably close to his own experiences. Just thinking about the idea of suffering sounded a lot like the snap of a portal closing him into hell. And coming back from it, and trying to be the hero he never could. 

"You don't have to prove anything to them." Dick said, quietly. "They'd just rather you were there. And if your tech brother is half as good as mine, he probably knew the moment the energy spiked and I bet they're wondering where you are."

It was that moment that Leo realized he'd left his phone in his bedroom, plugged in and charging, and if they had been trying to contact him he'd have no idea. He groaned and covered his face again. "Shit."

"Go home." Dick said. "My ride'll be here any minute." 

"Yeah. Yeah." Leo shook his head, like he was trying to shake out the cobwebs. There was no way Donnie hadn't realized what he was doing with the tablet now, he was going to have some explaining to do, especially at the part where he ran off to deal with a threat entirely alone without telling anyone where he was going. He gave Dick a sideways glance and said, "Your Jason loves you too, you know. He's stealing your motorbike so you'll have to talk to him. We always listen more when you're yelling because that's when we think you're telling the truth."

"Maybe I'll yell at him more how much I love him, then." Dick shrugged, amused. "Get it through his thick skull."

"Thanks for being patient." Leo said, and realized in that moment he probably really needed to verbalize that one to Raph. 

"Thanks for coming home." Dick replied, sadder. 

Behind them, the rooftop shimmered with a different portal.

"Ah, great timing. They're early, someone must've gotten antsy." Dick grinned, hopping up to his feet with an acrobatic stretch. "Hey, Leonardo?"

"Yeah?" Leo said, getting up too.

"It was great to meet another hero." Dick saluted, approaching his portal.

Leo's mouth was dry. He nodded back, and said with a small croak, "Yeah. You too."

He watched until Dick disappeared. Then before he could summon his own portal, he heard three voices gasp, "Leo!" before he was tackled to the ground. 

His hands were shaking again as he held onto them. He didn't really have to go home, when home came to him.

[simpcityy]

I'm Not Her Pt.5 (Father Miguel O’Hara x Teen! Daughter Reader)

Summary: Miguel O’Hara is your biological father but it’s not great being his daughter when he’s hooked in the past still.

Disclaimer: I do not own Marvel or any of its characters. This short One-Shot has made it into a series! Read part one, two, three and four please to understand the prompt better. (Linked Below) This chapter is full on Miguel's POV.

Word Count: 300 words

Warnings: Use of female pronouns, Use of (Y/N), angst, Father Miguel, overall, it’s just sad for now. Other dimensional Miguel…mention of blood, stabbing, knife, cursing, maybe consider yandere behavior from other dimensional Miguel and Miguel's POV/version of the story??...Uhhh I think that is all for now.

I know it's short, very short but It's better than not being able to read another chapter for a long time.

Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3 Pt.4 Pt.5 Pt.6

Miguel's Version?? POV-ish? (I know there is term, but my head is fried from college classes) Also Scenes with Jess and Peter. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pain, that was all he felt when his eyes open. He looked around his surroundings noticing he was on a pile of trash bags. Letting out a grunt, Miguel looks down at his abdomen seeing the bleeding, "Lyla?" He calls out before looking at his arm, his watch missing " Puta Madre" He whispers and looks around before getting out of the dumpster. He leans up against the wall and recollects his thoughts out loud. "Okay, Other me too my life...stabbed me with the intentions of killing me...shut Lyla off...(Y/N) ...(Y/N)!" He finally took note of his daughter's life, you were in danger seeing the crazy look on that other dimensional self. "No no no..." He repeats before swinging up to the roof top to avoid being spotted. Reaching the rooftop, he punches the wall, " What to do Miguel!" He yells at himself feeling lost. He slowly slides down the wall and puts his hand over his wound, his healing function slowly working on the wound, but it still hurts. Many emotions were running through his mind, hurt, anger and mostly, disappointment. He was disappointed in himself for every leaving someone who was his flesh and blood. What went wrong? He thinks back to the time where he left his dimension to be with Gabriella, the day of your birthday. He knew it was wrong but, something pulled him to that dimension before destroying it. He looks at his hands where Gabriella was taken from him. Slowly, the image of her was replaced with you. "No!" He gets up determined, he wasn't going to lose you next.

Miguel walked down the streets of this earth he was stuck in, after knocking a drunken man who was harassing a young lady. Which he was gifted a 50 dollar from the young woman for helping her. He used it to buy clothing to fit in and draw less attention. He was on edge in case this earth had another Miguel which he would happily keep his distance after experiencing the variant who dumped him here. He stops at the Alchemax building and walks past a couple of workers who were busy chatting, taking the opportunity to sneak his hand in their lab coat pocket, taking their ID card. He walks through the thick doors, sliding the card accessing him to the lab. Taking the nearest empty Lab, he got to work on making a prototype watch to take him home. He doesn't care if it was going to take weeks, he will get his life back but most importantly, get you back before he loses you for good.

Back at the Spider Society, Peter walked down the hall into Miguel's office with Jess. " Empty...this is the second day he hasn't shown and not responding our text?" Peter looks around the office, for any clues where his boss might be. Jess walks over " You know what's stranger...no Lyla or (Y/N) either..." The woman stands next to him looking at the monitors trying to find Miguel's location without his approval before smiling " Ah, it shows he's back home with (Y/N), maybe he took your advice Peter." He looks at the location, your dot and "Miguels" together. " Miguel? Taking my advice? I doubt it but hey miracles happen sometimes" Peter shrugs before looking at the dots " Maybe he finally took note and appreciate what he has now and not what he lost in the past?" The tired man smiles softly, " I can't wait to tease him for taking my so-called terrible advice, I'm a great mentor after all!" He grins before seeing warning signs on the computer. " Hey Jess...what's with that?" He backs away from the computer quickly " I swear I did not touch a button!" Jess quickly types away, " Seems trying to hack us? No... trying to reprogram..." She goes to stop whatever is going on before Lyla's voice can be heard. " N-no Stop!" Her voice glitches out. The woman pulls her hands away from the computer. Lyla was finally rebooted and appears in front of them. " We have a big emergency!" Both adults look at each other before nodding looking back at Lyla, " Tell us what to do."

Miguel growls breaking the 5th watch as it failed. " Maldita Sea! " He pulls on his hair in frustration, he grips the table quickly as he glitches, time was wasting for him. For your life and his. He walks over to the bench to grab more materials before looking back seeing a portal open. " For once, I am happy to see you." Miguel mutters seeing Peter stand there smiling " Need help buddy? As a dad myself, let's go save your kid."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Authors Note: I'M BACK...for now... but THANK YOU SO MUCH!!! So much love this series are getting. Thank you so much for the support. Make sure to like and reblog so others can be aware of my works! Anyway, thank you so much for the support! Sorry for any grammar errors. Remember to stay hydrated and to keep on simping! (Simp City Population: 364 *WOW!!! THANK YOU SO MUCH*)

Spanish Translation: 1. Puta Madre - Soo...it has a lot of meaning like holy shit, no fucking way or motherfucker...just know it's not a very nice word and I grew up with Mexican uncles who say it a lot. 2. maldita Sea - fucking dammit.

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I know some names don't get tagged, I don't know why. If spelled it incorrectly, let me know, I have terrible eyesight. Please comment below to be added to or removed from the taglist! Thank you!

[comicaurora]

What other mythological creatures would be fun in space? If the answer is "most of them?", Then limit the scope of the question to what becomes *more* fun in space?

Still "most of them," unfortunately.

Deep in the bowels of a derelict, drifting hulk, so battered with cosmic rays and space debris all sign of its original function have eroded away, something that could have been human roams the labyrinthine halls. Who knows what terrible crime or tragedy spawned it? It is huge, and hungry, and terribly, terribly alone. All anyone knows is that the drifting hulk that screams to the void in a hundred looping distress calls is to be avoided at all costs, for the maze is deadly and its lone prisoner even deadlier.

An enchanting woman knocks on the porthole with a broad smile, hair flowing in beautiful curls and mouth moving soundlessly in the boiling vacuum. She seems unaware of the inch-thick tempered plasteel, or perhaps unaware of its necessity for the mortal and the fragile within. As she stares unblinking, whispers begin to crackle over the ship radio, half-parseable snatches in many voices - surnames, stardates, coordinates. The knowledge is so, so tempting.

The astronaut is standing just outside the airlock. The sun is starting to sink behind the lunar horizon, cutting razor-sharp shadows across the silvery dust. He's been standing, patiently, for over four hours. The crew in the lander are huddled as far away from the door as possible, unconacipusly avoiding the astronaut's cold and vacant bunk. They had buried him, after all, three rotations ago, the special kind of dead you only get after decompression-induced exsanguination. And yet here he stands, looking better than ever, a healthy blush in his cheeks clearly visible without that bulky reflective helmet in the way. His eyes catch the setting sun strangely, almost red.

Space is an ocean, they say; the analogy is imperfect, and yet persistent in its poetry. The seafarers of old coasted along the surface of a vast and unknowable deep and called it sailing, and the spacefarers of the new frontier do the same. They speed between the stars or cut through wormhole gates for the occasional shortcut, skimming the three-dimensional surface of the vast four-dimensional space that wormholes can only tentatively pierce, and they are satisfied. But there are strange shadows in the stars, twisting and slow - distortions that ripple out from the hyperdepth and mostly pass without incident, barring the sensitive instruments left screaming in their wake. Nobody has ever seen the four-dimensional leviathans that cast these three-dimensional shadows. At least, nobody who's come back.

They call it a dragon because it flies and it's the scariest thing they've ever seen. It doesn't do it justice. If anything, trying to give it a familiar name only highlights its horrible uncategorizability. It flies, yes - or at least it undulates through atmosphere, seemingly irrelevant to its own mass. It has a golden hoard and breathes poison and fire, or rather the nuclear furnace that boils in its sinuous belly vomits out great gouts of poison fire that leaves stone and flesh as glassy slag and metals fused into radioactive gold. The land all around its lair is blackened and sick, a vile caldera of strange-colored swampland and twisted, fungal trees. In the absolute terror and devastation of its wake, the colonists fall back on old, bad superstitions and offer it a girl…

The sorcerer took out his heart long ago, they say. This is true, but inadequate. His true body is shattered in closely guarded pieces to protect himself from a total death; the form he presents is only a projection of his will onto and through the nanite colony his machinations spawned, a body crafted by the immortal mind and will of one who sacrificed everything to be deathless. His heart is concealed in a small life support capsule in a long-forgotten laboratory in a satellite orbiting the moon of a quarantined colony world; his nervous system wires itself through the vast, organic computer that has taken the place of the planet's core. Backups of backups of backups, redundancies laced through every stolen system. He knows there was a purpose to this, once; a goal to all this sacrifice beyond a simple extension of life. He will never remember who he wanted this for. To be truly deathless, one cannot have a heart.

It's retroviral, they think. No other form of infection could've rewired her cells this fundamentally. It's irreversible without gene therapy, but at least she isn't deteriorating, they say. At least she's holding together while they look for a treatment. She can feel it, though, no matter what the medic says; sub-cellular or not, she can feel it boiling under her skin, sharpening her teeth, burning out from the site of the bite on her arm. And she can feel, with absolute certainty, the planet's two satellites slowly shifting into opposition with the sun, right through the windowless walls of the quarantine pod. She doesn't know what she'll become when the moons are full, but she doesn't speak her suspicions. A part of her - perhaps even a part that's always been there - is very, very eager to find out.

A colony was here once, a long, long time ago. Terraformed and everything, but those were the early days, before they realized you needed a magnetosphere to keep all that air and water from being wicked away by the solar wind. The loss was so gradual it didn't make sense until over a century later, and there wasn't anything they could do for them long-term - wrong kind of core for a polarization op. They did evac, of course, but the priority was low - and it was centuries deep into social development. Everybody on that world had been born there, and some of them didn't want to leave. Way I hear it, some of them insisted on staying - strongly and violently - and the folks in charge eventually got tired of losing troops in a dessicating backwater that was gonna solve itself in less than a century, so they just fudged the paperwork and washed their hands of the whole thing. It's near airless now - stopped being a viable colony world nigh on thirty years back when the last of the ice vanished. But that's not why we steer clear. We don't land there because the locals didn't have the decency to die right, and it can be damn unsettling to catch their shadows sneaking across the sand. They're drawn to ships, you know? Poor bastards still think they can leave.

[cillivnz]

nadie como mi pantera [miguel o’hara]

PAIRING — SPIDER-MAN 2099 x ANOMALY!READER

TROPE — enemies to fuckers (?)

WORD COUNT — 2.4k+

WARNINGS — SMUT. eighteen+. AFAB!READER. cursing, injuries, legal age-gap, mentions of male and female masturbation, mentions of trauma, dark!miguel, heavy degradation, marking, biting, venom-play (?), a little bit of objectification, degrading names and descriptions, pet-names, dub-con, breast/nipple play, fingering, clit-play, bondage, public sex, size difference, penetrative sex (p! in v!), jealousy, dumbification, overstimulation, unprotected sex, creampie, miguel being down bad for reader, basically.

A/N — you really thought i wouldn’t write for papí? i don’t like this but i had to write for miguel and i had to write for him as soon as possible. i was listening to this C.R.O song that inspired me to write this, so, i hope you enjoy my take at my favorite kind of miguel fiction! i’d love to hear your thoughts in my asks <3

lowercase intended.

LISTENING TO — ‘Por La Carretera’ by C.R.O and ‘This Love’ by Pantera.

NOTES [excuse inaccurate translations]

“no puedes correr para siempre, perra.” — you can’t run forever, bitch.

‘viejo’ — old man

“estúpido, caliente puto bastardo.” — stupid, horny fucking bastard.

“joder, perra. atragantarse con mi polla así como así.” — fuck, bitch. choke on my cock just like that.

gilipollas — asshole

“si insistes, cariño.” — if you insist, honey.

querida — dear

“dios mío, ¿cómo puede una chica ser tan bonita y a la vez tan tonta?” — my god, how can a girl be so pretty yet so dumb?

puta — bitch

“yo también pensé en mi pantera…” — i thought of my pantera, too…

“𝐴𝑌， 𝑁𝐴𝐷𝐼𝐸 𝐿𝑂 𝐻𝐴𝐶𝐸 𝐶𝑂𝑀𝑂 𝑇𝑈́,”

running was all you knew.

at the sight of danger, in the fear of things, you ran; or perhaps, your pride didn’t allow it to be called, “fleeing”.

either way, despite being the most notorious villain of your world, you were running away from a monster chasing you, and so you ran like him, on all fours.

“no puedes correr para siempre, perra.”

you hear him grunt, leaping from building-to-building.

he ached, not that you knew, but he ached to catch a hold of you, and for reasons he wasn’t willing to reflect upon right now.

he just needed more than the ghost of your touch against his talons for hands, to feel the softness of your flesh against his claws, not for a moment, but an eternity.

“mírame, viejo.”

“can’t catch me.” you spoke the same few words you always did to him, before leaping through yet another portal, except you were slow; fatally, too slow. so when just about your upper half slid through the dimensional portal, you were yanked back into hell by the devil himself attached to your calf.

miguel o’hara’s claws sinked deep into your flesh.

“caught you.”

you were the root cause of all his problems these days. the pinnacle of his annoyance, agitation, and arousal.

“estúpido, caliente puto bastardo,” he’d often curse at night, following the lines, “joder, perra. atragantarse con mi polla así como así,” pumping his throbbing cock at the thought, the sight of you, hidden behind mounds of paperwork, peering at the multiple cameras he’d installed in your apartment.

a part of him cherished the cat-and-mouse chase, yearned for it. the other, rational, heroic bit knew he was wrong. he should’ve captured you at your most vulnerable; spread wide apart, rubbing leisurely at your swollen clit, but he didn’t. he simply couldn’t do anything but breathe haphazardly, or unzip his suit and start stroking himself at the pace with which you fingered yourself.

he thought he was in the clear, letting this continue for months, but jessica seemed to have caught on, offering to catch you for him, which was when he snapped; at her, and at any spider who dare mention your name.

there was talk at the tables, you were labelled the sexiest, most beautiful anomaly. multiple peters lined up to offer to be appointed to you, but it only added fuel to the fire that was miguel o’hara’s temper.

his efficiency, skill, and authority were at stake. and so, he finds himself chasing after you, yet again.

only this time, he didn’t let you escape.

his own eyes widened when his talon ripped through your limb. the colour left his face, a panicked expression painted all over his hidden face. carefully, yet fervently he removed them from your leg. by the time he did so, he was on top, and you were right beneath him, pressed so tightly against his chest.

instinctively, you raised your ass, pressing into his constricted crotch. the gesture knocked the air out of miguel, who had deemed you to be in agony from the cut on your leg, but when miguel looked back at your black suit, he saw healed flesh through the torn fabric; soft and tender, like the rest of you.

he took off his mask, turning you over.

he took off yours, too. it were as if another moment without seeing your face would’ve sent him spiralling madly into the multiverse of armageddon.

solace, is what your face brought. agony, is what it put him through. everything about you, be it y/n y/l or his pantera was so, so perfect.

her eyes, mere slits staring at him with offence and hatred, yet the pupils dilate when his grip on your waist tightens, her plump lips muttering various curses at his name, but even the most vile profanities sounded like honeyed words of love coming from those perfect, bordeaux lips. her frown, her cute nose, her perfect hair, a mess underneath her mask, framing perfectly against her frame; so tiny compared to the mammoth monster towering over her.

she is perfect, and nobody does it like her.

nobody ruins canons like her, and she’s got every reason. the things she’s been through, miguel knows an angelita like her doesn’t deserve anything she’s had to endure. it all made her stronger, until she was blamed for things she had no control over; her powers, her ability to survive. her perfection, that the world tried to take advantage of. so, it comes as no surprise to miguel o’hara that the sweet y/n y/l resorted— no, was pushed to the dark side.

as much as he sympathises, and even cares for the girl he’s grown fond of, the girl that calls him ‘viejo’ with utmost conceit, he must teach her a lesson.

one she’d remember.

“i told you i’d catch you.” he leaned closer, a baritone in his velvet voice. “fuck off, miggy.” if it weren’t for ‘viejo’, it were ‘miggy’. see, o’hara wasn’t the only one spying, and y/l did enough digging to find out all about him, hence the constant reminder of their age-gap. the only difference between the two was that y/n stopped watching after what was useful, whereas miguel deemed eyeing her figure 24/7 as very necessary; even when she’d change in her room, and especially when it was into a skimpy dress to go out with some lowlife edgelord that couldn’t even pay for her drink.

miguel still has the fuckface hanging upside down in some alleyway in some multiverse.

nobody touches pantera.

“hermosa, don’t talk to me like that,” he warned in response to your curse. “oh, bite me, gilipollas.” you smirked, not anticipating his next move.

“si insistes, cariño.” he shrugged before releasing his fangs from their pillowy casing, his plump lips, to reach for your pulse point and bite. hard.

her shriek of pain turned into a wanton moan when he injected a small dose of venom into her, licking the open wound clean, savouring the ferric sweetness.

“damn you, son of a bitch,” you huffed in between breaths, “what have you done to me?” he groaned against your skin, setting every inch ablaze.

he breathed in your scent, face pressed in your slowly bleeding neck, before spreading your limbs wide and apart. he rose, shooting webs on each ending, one by one, tying you in place.

you were trapped in his embrace, on the helipad of a skyscraper. before realisation dawned in on you, miguel was dragging his mouth over your body, from the throat downwards, his protruding fangs ripping through whatever fabric came in the way, and soon enough, he had ripped through your suit, till he was right above your cunt.

a smirking miguel eyed you, conceit and shamelessness painted all over his flawless face. his large hands gripped the ripped suit from each slit and tore it off of you, leaving you only in your panties. “fucking hell, querida, no bra?” his face contorted in need at the sight of your bountiful chest, nipples hardening when the cold air of nueva york hit them.

his mouth felt obliged to latch onto both of your buds, paying the heed they so desperately craved. “days,” he began, “only i know how weeks, months went by in craving you.” “you make me hate myself, y/n.” “you don’t belong here,” he had moved on to your neck, placing sloppy wet kisses. raising himself just enough to eye you, he dipped two of his fingers into his fanged mouth, covering them in spit, before burying his face back into your neck and plunging a finger inside you.

you moaned, grinding against the palm of his large hand to provide some relief to your throbbing clit.

“you’re an anomaly,” he groaned, feeling you tighten around him, not even letting him bury himself knuckle deep. “and yet, you’re dying to fuck me.” you managed to mock miguel. “didn’t say you’re not insatiable.” his calculating eyes were fixated on the sight of your pussy swallowing his fingers.

spreading your lips apart using his index and ring finger, he plunged further into you. soon enough, while he still cursed your existence out in spanish, three of his fingers were fucking you open causing a delicious tremor of pain to run through you.

when your eyes closed in awaiting excruciating pleasure, he bit into the same, now healed, skin of your neck injecting a larder dosage of the apparent venom. “eyes on me, querida.”

he feigned a look of inncocece whereas nothing about your acts was innocent.

he looked angelic while committing the devil’s sins, fingering you at godspeed while his crimson eyes stared into your soul.

“gonna come, love? sí, good girl, let it all out f’me.” and you did.

spasming around his fingers, you let out pent-up frustration of months, because the truth is, you’ve always been a woman of reciprocity.

an eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth,

an orgasm for an orgasm.

“i wanna suck it.” you whined between pants, trying to break free from the webbed bondage. “hm, tempting,” the clocks of contemplation seemed to be ticking behind those crimson eyes, “but no.” he shook his head, creating regrettable distance between the two of you. “but i want it—” you whined,

“and i want you to go back to your universe. for the sake of the multivers—”

“oh, to hell with you and your multiverse, o’hara. just fuck me and get it over with.”

you rolled your eyes, but were soon put in regret when a hand wrapped around your throat.

“you think that’s all i’m gonna do? dios mío, ¿cómo puede una chica ser tan bonita y a la vez tan tonta?” he ‘tsked’, “i’m not just gonna ‘fuck you and get it over with’, i’m gonna ruin you for everyone else.” you had no idea when he had the time to discard his lower half of the suit, until you felt something sinister and sinful rubbing against your slit.

“so wet, querida. and all for me?” he groaned shamelessly, the sound resonating in your core. villainous tendencies getting the best of you, you couldn’t help but tease, “not really, i thought peter b. would swing by.” you shot him a shit-eating grin, trying your level best not to show how pleasurable his cock rubbing against you felt.

you knew you were fucked when he clenched his jaw, crimson eyes glowing to a dangerous fluorescent scarlet, before he laughed dryly, “you’re gonna fucking regret that.”

you yelped when he turned you around, shooting more webs onto your constricted frame. in your new position, you were forced to lie with your back arched, tits pressed against the cold concrete, unwavering with how greatly they were held in place. each limb was securely taped to the floor, every inch of your body covered in sticky webs, all except the very hole where he’d shoot in his special web.

“you like this, puta? i know i do.” he said, stroking your leaking slit with his cock.

“my very own glory hole.”

he didn’t give you a moment to retaliate, instantly shoving his entire length inside you.

you were a goner.

from the way his anomaly of a cock slammed against your g-spot repeatedly, in full combat with your cervix, to the way his heavy balls slapped your clit, his talons ripping two holes just around your areoles to pull and pinch your nipples.

“miguel…” you moaned repeatedly, like a chant praising the god on his knees behind you. “what happened to ‘viejo’, hm? you like this old man’s cock too much to care now? yeah? too cock-drunk on an older guy?” he growled, in between unfaltering thrusts. “it’s okay, bébé, this pussy is my reward, too. isn’t it? i’ve been so patient with you. ‘never complaining when you touch yourself.”

“i’m not selfish like that. i want my hermosa to touch herself when she thinks of me. i know you say my name, cariño. i know you say ‘miguel’.” you buried your face further in your shame, cheek pressed against the cold concrete. “it’s okay, yo también pensé en mi pantera when i fuck my fist.”

you moaned at the thought of him jerking off to you, ready to give all the pennies in the world for his thoughts, his fantasies you’re more than obliged to fulfil.

“i’m gonna cum—” you managed to warn just in time as you creamed on his cock. “sí, querida. so good f’me.” he brought two fingers to your clit, overstimulating your high.

you writhed around, but miguel wouldn’t budge.

he still fucked in and out of you, bottomed out completely, to just the tip in, all with relentless speed and vigour.

“fuck, your cunt is so tight, y/n. hell, i might just keep you.”

“mi pantera is my fuckdoll.”

the overstimulation killing you, “no more… n-no more!” you moaned wantonly, but miguel didn’t stop his fervent flicks on your clit, nor the torturous pummelling your pussy was enduring.

when you neared your second orgasm, miguel made sure you reached it, but didn’t give you the satisfaction of riding out your high. pulling out, he gently tapped on your pussy, watching it spasm around nothingness, and then he slammed his cock inside you, letting your gaping pussy milk him dry.

the sight was something to see.

miguel o’hara, the work-consumed maniac who never let anyone see any side of him other than solemnity, had more expression on his face than ever before. face contorted in pleasure as he shot ropes of his load into you, grip tightening around your hips, his plump lit ripping between his sharp teeth.

“fuck,”

“𝑵𝑨𝑫𝑰𝑬 𝑪𝑶𝑴𝑶 𝑴𝑰 𝑷𝑨𝑵𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑨.”

he groaned, staying buried deep inside of you for a few more lingering moments.

he slashed your constricts, hesitantly pulling out his cock from your hole, its new home.

“still hell-bent on wreaking havoc?” he asked, flipping your spent body over, placing a lustful kiss on your swollen lips. “no, sir.” you whispered softly, causing a wave of arousal to wash over miguel, and it took every ounce of his self-control not to act on it.

“good, because i was serious about keeping you.” he stared you dead in the eyes, wrapping those colossal arms around your body; like putty in his hands. putting on his suit again, he carried you away in the still of the night.

your villainous days, perhaps, are over, but something tells you, you and miguel are far from it.

[phantominzie]

Ranting about TSS

I would like to start by saying, yes, I am fully aware I don't post fandom rants very often (ESPECIALLY SASI). However, I've been feeling rather upset over the fandom and Thomas.

I would also like to mention that in no way is this attacking Thomas or any of his writers, hell, not even the fandom itself. I just need to let all of this out.

You're always totally free to skip over this, I know ts crit isn't everyone's cup of tea <3

To start, I am so just...tired? It's been so frustrating waiting for a finale for four fucking years and getting the bait and switch every time Thomas makes a post about 'upcoming Sanders Sides content!'

I understand taking time to work on something so important to cannon, but four years? I can also give him a little leeway for having some staff issues, but it's almost painful to only keep getting the series we love get downgraded so harshly over the years.

Almost all of the sides have been made so two dimensional. At first they felt so fleshed out, so real, and fandom focused their character on one sole trait (not unforgivable but a bit frustrating). Then, I guess Thomas just picked up on fandom and decided 'yeah! I'll just make them two dimensional too!' That's not what we want. And frankly that's never what we wanted. Occasionally, he'll give us breadcrumbs of character development, or show us a sliver of light to what they once were, but it's never the same.

And frankly, I feel bad for having my hopes so high for the finale. Sure it's been taking four years, but that doesn't mean it will be perfect, hell, it might suck. Of course, I will watch it, but I won't be happy about it. About the lies, about the bait and switch, about the constant merch plugs over actual content, about the four incorrect quotes over working on the finale, about the prioritizing of under five minutes long videos that no one will watch anyways.

I love that Thomas is working on things that make him happy, and I don't think I'll ever stop being happy about that, but he needs to take into heart that without content, merch won't sell anyways.

He made a tweet recently that said that we would be getting the finale in an uncertain number of weeks, but based on the past four years I don't even think it will come out at all. If it does, I swear that if we get a merch plug in the finale I'm going to lose my shit.

I want him to see that fandom can't carry itself, and that if he doesn't have that finale have the actually well done makeup we've been begging for, or have our three dimensional characters back, then he won't have a fandom at all.

I'm almost angry that this is my special interest at this point, I'm so let down by the direction the series is probably headed.

I hope that no one takes this the wrong way, and if people leave death threats in my inbox (which has happened to people posting ts crit; no i'm not joking) then trust that you won't be answered. No one is to tag Thomas on this post, and if Thomas even finds this post then heed the words I've said. This isn't a threat to you, and frankly it never was. What is it is the frustrations of a tired and exasperated fan.

I'm sorry if this has rubbed anyone the wrong way, I apologize if it has. I hope this doesn't make people think I'm becoming some TSS hater, I'm really not. But I'm frustrated, and that's normal

Thank you for reading this all the way through if your here, I love you <3

[curiositydooropened]

Ranged • 00: Prologue

After Hell brought Horror to the Heartland, America’s dirt roads and open woods began to fall to rot and ruin. To prevent further inter dimensional slips, the government dispatched several workers, such as yourselves, to travel the country saving small communities. 

Pairing: special agent!Steve Harrington x special agent!Reader

Wordcount: 922 - This fic is episodic.

Warnings: very slowburn, coworkers to lovers, angst, hurt/comfort, canon-typical violence, canon-typical gore, weapons, fighting, murder, viruses, decay, monsters *This chapter contains mentions of animal harm, blood, and vomit/nausea.

This blog is 18+ only. I do not give permission for any of my fics to be duplicated, reposted, or put into AI. Thank you!

Navigation • Masterlist

---

Moodboard • Episode 01: Firetower

Blood shone in thick, dark splatters across a freckled cheekbone. It stuck his hair to his ear and his collar to his throat. It stained a shoulder. You watched it glimmer under street lamps, watched the clench of his knuckles around the steering wheel, watched the bob of his Adam’s apple as he avoided your gaze.

There was no point saying it anymore, the words exhausted their meaning a year ago, but it was true nonetheless. You can’t save everyone. You both knew it. It didn’t hurt less.

You mopped at the blood splatter on your own cheeks with a spare t-shirt to flirt a discount out of the motel attendant. He slid you a key on a novelty ring while Steve parked on the far side of the lot.

You’d set the phone on its receiver by the time he exited the shower. You rinsed bloody clothes in the sink and brushed your teeth and slipped into an oversized t-shirt. You couldn’t remember who it belonged to. Maybe you’d picked it up at a thrift store along the way. 

“Owens?” He asked, voice gruff, eyes red. A claw mark dug into the flesh of his cheek, to the bone.

You reached into your duffle for the first aid kit to procure ointment and a butterfly bandage. “Sit.” 

He sighed, but did as instructed, towel falling to his shoulder. He winced as you patted ointment into his wound. “Did he say where to go next?” 

You nodded, pressing his flesh together until it wrinkled near his eye. “Small town in Western Montana. Locals think it’s the water supply. Park ranger called it in.” 

“How far?”

“Eight hours.” You zipped the kit closed and wedged it back into your bag.

“Okay,” he muttered, tossing his towel into a corner near the sink. He stretched sore muscles with a groan, and you watched the bruise on his ribs bloom in greens and browns. The swelling was down significantly from two days earlier. “We’ll leave first thing.” 

He meant first light. You glanced out a fogged window at the glow of street lamps. The vacancy sign buzzed bright red. The sky remained dark just beyond.

“Okay.” You sighed and toed under linens that had yellowed years ago. 

Steve triple checked the lock and toted his bat from the nook near the front door to his bedside. Then, he pulled his lighter from his pants pocket and shook it to his ear. By the look on his face, it needed a refill. He placed it to the bedside table between you, just beside the Bible.

“Are you okay?” He’d asked it four times already, a compulsion you’d learned to ignore.

“Yes.” You knew better than to reciprocate, knew he wouldn’t answer you anyway. You had minimal sleep hours left. It wasn’t worth the fight. You can’t save everyone.

“I’m going to turn the light out.” He warned, sliding himself into his own double bed. A large hand reached beneath an orange lampshade and the room went dark.

The darkness was spotted orange and blue, and you fought back the images of Steve’s fists meeting and elderly man’s face. You fought back the screams that rang in your ears, the copper taste on your tongue, and that pang that lay permanent in your nostrils.

Steve shifted in his bed, springs groaning beneath his weight, and you honed in on him instead. Every night, you fell asleep to the steady in and out of his breath, the comfort of him an arm’s length away.

—

The ranger’s uniform matched the coffee and cream in your styrofoam cup. The confusion knit between his brows matched those of dozens of local law enforcement across this country over the last year. You flashed you badges and asked him to take a seat, and hours later you were holding your hand over your nose to mask the smell of decay.

The corners of Steve’s mouth pulled upwards in a grim apology, sipping his own coffee.

A room full of National Guardsmen looked aghast. There was no guarantee a burn of that size could stay contained. Half of the state could be up in flames by the end of the week.

“Better than the alternative.” You promised.

The Spread started on a cattle ranch north of town, the herd dwindling as calves and heifers slipped into cracks and broke legs and necks. A large crevasse rotted through a patch in the back forty, splitting the land down the middle from government land near to the rancher’s estate.

On the back side, it seeped into the river. Trees were downed and turned to mush and rot. Where once sat a hunting perch, now folded into a vat in the ground.

The Ranger had taken you up by four-wheeler, an excursion neither of you had been prepared for in slacks and blazers. You supposed those were hazards of the job though, wading through the remnants of a hillside in nylon stockings.

Steve rolled the cuffs of his sleeves up past his elbows to dive into the meat of a fallen tree. It came back green and gooey, but nothing had nest inside. Not yet, at least.

“You called just in time,” he wiped his hand on his pant leg and you dry heaved a little.

“So this… virus,” the Ranger gestured to the pocket of melted flesh, root to branch, “it can infect humans too?”

“If it festers too long,” you nodded.

“And what might that look like?” He asked like he already knew the answer.

---

[A/N: Here she is. These two have been my new best friends lately, the one thing I've written that actually stuck because it felt good. Let's hope it stays that way so I can keep riding this train. I don't know how often I'll update this, but it'll be on-going. I'd love to write blurbs, and I have a few episode locations/monsters in mind.

I'd really appreciate it if you reblogged and/or left me a comment. Or if you're more inclined, head to my Ao3 and leave me a comment there. It'd really mean the whole world. xoxoxo]

[judeharoldvich]

sidenote be more chill is actually so underrated for having actual CHARACTERS. and a lot of them. every character in the main cast feels so... dimensional and real and they have their own struggles, and to top it off there's at least like four or five different principal roles with their own solos. do u know how genuinely rare it is that a musical manages to make even ONE character feel truly fleshed out. i'll admit jeremy is the least dimensional at least imo but that's sort of by design, meanwhile christine goes beyond just a love interest and rich and michael have very clearly defined character traits and implied backgrounds. like dear evan hansen managed to have a big cast of characters who do nothing but waffle about their feelings and their backstories yet none of them felt really.... real? like every one of them felt like a prop in the story. but bmc just feels like a cartoonier version of a real high school, where even the popular kids are just people with weird inner turmoils

[rebornofstars]

A LU Fic Rec List - NOVELS (50K-100K)

I love this fandom so much. Here are my favourite quality novel-length works for when you really feel like curling up with a long story and a hot cup of something. I recommend each and every one of them! In no particular order:

Child's Play by @aimeelouart

If you like the Wild deaging trope, this one is for you. If you like Flora and Wild having the most adorably protective and mildly codependent relationship, this one is for you. If you feel like reading something so cute you'll still be grinning hours later, this one is absolutely for you!

The Wondrous Sword of Legend by @imperialkatwala, @polynomialpandemic

If you like downfall duo, THIS ONE IS FOR YOU. The banter is excellent, the emotions feel real, and the catharsis is very heartwarming. If you've ever wanted to see sword spirit Legend, I am on my knees begging you to read this fic.

A Guide to Living (Again) by @cerame

I think I've read this fic at least five times now. If you like Shadow, this one is for you. If you like thinking about the Chain's Dark equivalents, this one is for you. Each character in this story is entirely three dimensional (despite being shadows 😂) - and it contains, probably hands down, my favourite characterisation of Dink I've ever read.

Language Barriers by Kastaborous

If you've ever wondered what a more realistic depiction of the language drift between the boy's eras would look like, look no further. If you're looking for linguaphile Wild, look no further! This fic is stunning in its detail and lore, and the reveal moment slaps.

Level One by LightBlueScrubs

If you like modern AUs, this one is for you! If you like gripping detail and a fully fleshed out world so harrowing and real that you are transported into the story, this one is for you! If you like angst, if you like following characters as they go through tough times together, if you like hospital settings, this one is destined for you.

this year it taught me (lost and ambitious) by @noorahqar

My friends like to joke that this fic is the Sky Bible (Skyble). It well deserves that title for its characterisation alone, yet it also contains top tier character dynamics and terrific hurt/comfort. This fic changed my perspective on Sky forever. Go read it.

Elastic Heart by @skyloftian-nutcase

If you like dungeon crawls and adventure, this fic is for you. If you like Sky angst coupled with the Chain's agonising worry for him, this fic is for you! If you like Demise's Curse reveals, you have found a masterpiece!

With a special mention to:

Colour Theory by @thescrapwitch

Not Linked Universe, but absolutely worth reading. If you've ever wondered how to reconcile the three doppels in Tri Force Heroes with the Colours from Four Swords Adventures, this is for you. If you've ever wanted a heartfelt murder mystery that is also a comprehensive overview of the game it lives in, this is for you!

I would like to make extra versions of this post for different story lengths - short stories, novellas, etc., so watch out for that. If you have any other fic recs for loz or lu in this word-count bracket, I would absolutely love to see them!

[dartheclipse0816]

Trolls Band Together

Hello once again, everyone.

At this point, I’m sure you all already know why I’m not as active as I used to be.

But if some of you need a refresher, in Layman's terms, being an adult, with the responsibilities that all comes with being an adult, has left me very busy, and it just caused me to lose interest in Tumblr and only come back for short periods of time, from time to time.

But now, now that the newest Trolls movie, Trolls Band Together, has released, I figured I’d write my thoughts about it.

But before I begin, I must give you all a heads up: There’s going to be major spoilers with what I’m about to talk about, so if you are reading this and haven’t seen the movie yet but still want to see it, if you don’t want the movie to be spoiled, then don’t read this any further. It’s going to have major spoilers.

But, for those who have seen the movie, well, here’s what I have to say:

I loved it.

I loved the music, the animation, the voice acting, as well as the all the new characters and the chemistry between the new and returning characters.

I appreciated that the movie started acknowledging the Bergens again and gave them a more prominent role in the movie after they mostly went ignored for a long time after the first movie, Trolls Holiday, and the first few seasons of TTBGO (even though it and Trollstopia aren’t canon to the movies). Seeing Gristle and Bridget finally getting married and contributing significantly to the plot was nice to see, and cute, I'd say.

I also thought it was cool seeing that Branch also once was part of a band with his four older brothers, and him going through the movie trying to reconnect with them, while difficult for him after they left him in his childhood, was still nice to see, especially with Floyd. It was nice seeing Floyd comfort Branch when he was a baby, and be the most supportive of him throughout the movie next to Poppy, after seeing Branch being the one who always got the short end of the stick for a long time throughout TTBGO and Trollstopia. It really made me smile.

I also liked Camila Cabello as Viva. Seeing the singer who sung Havana voicing Poppy's secret long lost sister, it was cute.

And, of course, seeing *NSYNC appear in the movie and collaborating with Justin Timberlake again after over 20 years, was awesome! Their new song, 'Better Place', gives me the same feeling of joy when I listened to 'Green Light Ride' from Crush 40 when they reunited with the Sonic series after a long break for Team Sonic Racing. It was awesome to hear them back together again in both instances.

I also especially loved seeing the combined band of Branch, his brothers, and Poppy and Viva all singing together for both a remix of 'Better Place' and 'Family', and it made me realize why the film was even titled Band Together, because they were literally banding together!

Now, with all that being said, I did have some issues with the film as well.

The movie's villains, Velvet and Veneer, they felt kinda one-dimensional and shallow. I thought they could’ve spent more time with them to develop their backstories a bit more and make them a bit more fleshed out.

And also, what’s the name of the species of Velvet and Veneer? They never appeared in any of the previous movies, holidays specials, or non-canon shows, and were never implied to or hinted at before, but that we do know about their existence, why don’t the Trolls or Bergens know about them? And also, they have advanced technology that can suck out a Troll's musical talent? And apparently Wi-Fi and social media exists in the Trolls world? What the heck?

Okay, okay, I know most of that doesn’t bother a lot of you guys, but to me, it highlights an ongoing issue I’ve always seen within the Trolls series: Inconsistencies with regards to its world building. I know a lot of you guys have seen it in the non-canon shows, but I also saw it in Trolls World Tour, since that movie introduced Trolls tribes that all have their own unique musical genre. As cool as I thought that was, it also made me think: Do those other musical Troll tribes know about the Bergens? Do the Bergens know about those other Troll tribes?

And speaking of those other Troll tribes, I was also disappointed that they aren’t even seen or mentioned in this movie. It left me very disappointed, since there’s a lot of potential you could do with those other Troll tribes, like make some kind of new evil threat that could threaten the entire Trolls' and Bergens' species, and have all the Troll tribes and Bergens band together (pun intended) to stop that evil threat. That could’ve been awesome!

Oh, and the Snack Pack got reduced to extras, which, like my disappointment with the absence of the other Troll tribes, left me feeling a bit disappointed, since they could’ve done something more with them in this movie.

Other than those things, I really loved the film!

And for all you Trolls fans out there, I think it’s time that I mention the elephant in the room with regards to Broppy.

Finally…

After waiting over seven long years since the first movie…

And seeing a far away version at the end of World Tour…

Branch.

And.

Poppy.

Finally.

At.

Long.

Last…

…

…

…

KISSED.

THEY FINALLY DID IT!!!

BRANCH AND POPPY FINALLY KISSED EACH OTHER ON THE LIPS!!!

IT HAS FINALLY HAPPENED!!!

Now, unfortunately, unlike with Trolls World Tour, Trolls Band Together is still in theaters, and I didn’t find any leaked screencaps in time for the writing of this review, but trust me, I’m not kidding, this actually happened in the movie!

And I couldn’t have been more overjoyed to finally see it happen officially, front and center, on screen, and made me cheer in the theater!

And I thought I’d let you all know after being silent for a long time!

Because after waiting for over seven years, after all that waiting, I couldn’t be happier to see that the kiss was well worth the wait.

As a big Trolls fan.

Thank you all for reading this.

And I’ll talk again next time.

Maybe when there’s a new Trolls show or movie?

I guess we’ll just have to wait and find out!

Thank you all once again, and have a wonderful day.

[greenapplespider]

Incel Love: 2 (part 1)

A satirical slice of life about two damaged people who learn to let go of their hatred and begin their healing journey. The two main characters are intend to be poorly written stereotypes- they are meant to be offensive caricatures. That’s the bit. The reasons they are one dimensional caricatures is to help highlight the main themes of my comic. Extremism, hatred, healing redemption, and forgiveness.

And remember not every story is for everyone. If you can’t get past the fun being poked at both feminists and incels then you don’t have to read the story. Simple as.

I forgot this was the piss on the poor webbed site and that even if you spoon feed people your meaning they will still search for something you didn’t say but must have secretly meant to be upset about. The first four or five parts are intended to be to most outrageous and offensive.

The two main characters will continue to be poorly written stereotypes until they begin to grow and heal as individuals. The names of the main characters won’t even be revealed until they stop objectifying one another. Signifying their development into more fleshed out characters.

And before the assumptions- both the female leads are bisexual.

[saintbrown]

Idea for a Miraculous LadybugxRottmnt crossover fic:

Miraculous Ninja Turtles: Rise of Ladybug and Chat Noir

Here’s how it goes:

A month after Hawkmoth first appeared, Master Fu is concerned with the frequency with which Marinette and Adrien’s classmates (as well as people related to them) have been akumatized. Having no other choice, he sends out a mystical message that is supposed to make contact with a clan that in the past were great allies to the order of the miraculous, the Hamatos. Half an hour later, a blue portal materializes in his living room and out come a giant rat man and four teenaged turtles.

Because of the akuma situation, the turtles are given disguise charms so they can enroll in College François DuPont as humans, while keeping their identities as the akuma fighting turtles a secret. Master Fu also keeps from them the identities of Ladybug and Chat Noir, as a precaution.

Here’s what I was thinking in terms of their dynamics with the class:

Leo: mostly hangs out with Kim and Alix, participating in their competitions and showboating (skateboarding, maybe?), he also joins the fencing club (something he is familiar with, but is still entirely different from what he knows) and forms a friendship with Adrien through it, and a rivalry with Kagami later.

Raph: lets his instincts lead him to the only person in class with a strong older sibling, Alya, and by extension Marinette and Nino. Whenever Alya nosedives into danger for her blog, Raph nosedives after her to drag her out. He also gets along great with Ivan (and Milene, though she is a bit intimidated by him) as they bond over being big as all get out guys.

Donnie: while the other three get along, to some extent, with most of the class, Donnie is the only one who will avoid interacting with the class, unless his brothers drag him along or it’s either Max (duh) or Nathaniel, whom he sits next to in the back of the class and will partner up with him for science projects, as he is the one less likely to bother help him with them.

Mikey: he hears the words “troubled teen with mommy issues and a preference for the color yellow” and he latches onto Chloe (and Sabrina) for dear life, telling her what she wants to hear, but in a way that keeps her out of trouble, and busting out Dr. Feelings whenever the need arises. If, for whatever reason, Chloe isn’t available, he will hang out with Rose (and Juleka).

Master Splinter: him and Master Fu get along like old friends. Fu will tell him stories about traveling the world with the miraculous and Splinter will show him his old Lou Jitsu movies and tell him factoids about the filming. They both enjoy each other’s company greatly.

Hero dynamics:

Leo and Chat Noir are fucking insufferable together. Despite becoming friends almost immediately, they can’t help but to bring out each other’s most annoying qualities, which isn’t great for

Raph and Ladybug, who are reaching their wit’s end with the other two, even to the point where they will speak in unison when reprimanding them. There’s a sort of mutual respect between them, both as the ones in charge and as wearers of red.

Mikey is everybody’s friend, he laughs at Chat Noir’s jokes and goes along with Ladybug’s plans, unless Raph has anything to say against it.

Donnie will, for the most part, follow either Raph or Leo’s lead in a fight, as he can’t help but see Ladybug as an inexperienced kid and Chat Noir as one Leo too many for his liking.

Ladybug doesn’t trust the turtles at first, but relaxes when Alya shows her pictures of the day inter-dimensional flesh attacked New York and the turtles that saved the city.

Chat Noir loves them almost immediately, even if Raph gets on his case sometimes, he’s like the responsible older brother that Adrien always wanted.

The shipping:

Raph is an Adrinette shipper, through and through, and will join Alya and the other girls in making it happen.

Leo, despite being her rival, thinks that Kagami and Adrien would make the cutest couple and is constantly arguing with Raph about it, along side

Mikey, who thinks that Luka and Marinette are perfect for each other.

Donnie couldn’t care less about the whole ordeal and is, in fact, working on an anti-love serum out of spite. His work has yet to bear fruit, but his annoyance will keep him on track.

[stranger-rants]

I saw this new one the other day. Apparently we're not supposed to view Billy as a complex character. The hilarity of antis saying that Billy is not a "fleshed out character" and that Billy is a one-dimensional antagonist that we're not supposed to care this much about. Babes... I know the critical thinking is near zero, but y'all really are telling the world you failed literature and language arts at this point.

Billy's got more on screen development than most characters in the show. Not only does he share many parallels with your beloved Will Byers, we know more details about his home life than Steve. We know his birthday, and that's more you can say for most characters. There's a freaking book with even more information about him and his family. He has a complete character arc on the show with internal and external conflicts. He serves multiple narrative roles beyond antagonist including the tragic hero of season 3.

...but yeah, let's actually talk about the parallels with Will. There's the obvious fact that they were both possessed. There's also the fact that their birthdays bookend season 4, and they were both born in March. There's the fact that they were both abused by their fathers, and they were both called f****ts by them, the contrast being that Joyce stayed and protected her son while Billy's mother abandoned him. Then there's the somehow less obvious fact that they're both named William. (How do people still not know that they share a name?) I know this could all be coincidence because The Duffers really do suck at their jobs but these are also too glaringly obvious to be mistakes.

It may have very well been accidental and/or due to the efforts of Dacre Montgomery to make Billy a less one-dimensional "human antagonist" but Billy is one of the most fleshed out, complex characters on the show. I know more about Billy and his life than most of the main cast which is saying a lot since most of them have been on the show longer than him. He's got very little to do with Max and Lucas' relationship beyond a couple scenes, and it's funny to say he was there to just show "Lucas' struggles with being a black boy in Hawkins" when the Duffers have done f*ck all to give Lucas a meaningful story line about his race (Racism being a systemic issue, btw. Not one caused by a single person from out of town that goes away when that one person goes away.)

Y'all really need to stop judging Billy based on a character The Duffers didn't end up actually writing and putting on screen, and realize that whether you love him or hate him Billy has some of the richest character development. It is not our faults we recognize that and write really good meta on it while you're stuck writing only headcanons about the most basic details of your faves lives because four seasons in The Duffers can't be bothered to focus on characterization over plot.

[wearevillaneve]

What we don't talk about in the KE fandom.

Easily one of the best deconstructions of the repulsive way Killing Eve destroyed the four seasons of goodwill it built up was written by Vulture essayist Angelica Jade-Bastien's "Killing Eve Chose Cruelty". In four words, Jade-Bastien captured why weeks after the last gruesome minutes of the show flickered away from the eyes of horrified viewers it continues to burn and sear into their minds.

The fourth installment to the series, but particularly its last two episodes, demonstrates how far the show has fallen from the dizzying heights of its premiere. Gone is the delicious fashion pivoting on moments of transformation in the manner of fairy tales. Gone is the supremely precise characterization, replaced with a confused internal logic that jockeys the characters according to the needs of its threadbare espionage plotting. Gone is the spry presentation, achieved through blocking, editing, and costume and production design. But most important, gone is the tense cat-and-mouse game between Villanelle (Comer) and Eve (Oh) that acted as the engine. Killing Eve is a study in how jumping from different showrunners each season can leave a series without a profound singular voice — and it is evidence that a shallow understanding of representation and the female gaze isn’t enough to create a memorably good, cohesive story that gives a damn about the women onscreen. It amounted to a finale that gave once perpetually ravenous viewers a paltry version of what they wanted before snatching even that away.

Read the entire essay and it makes you feel better about the nonsensical trash Laura Neal dreamed up one night over too much cheap beer. Jade-Bastien brings up the one problem that predates Neal and the KE fandom hasn't talked about nearly enough.

This is a topic that many in Killing Eve's non-White fandom are well aware of, yet many of their White peers are oblivious to. Racism? In my favorite show? How could that be? Real easy.

The obvious and overt racism of Donald Trump or Kanye West is in your face and it can't be easily ignored. The soft, but pernicious bigotry practiced by the KE writers' room was manifested by keeping Eve an enigma from beginning to end. She was never given a family or life outside of her job, marriage, and the obsession with Villanelle that cost her everything. It's an irritation to know less about Eve than we do about Gemma, Geraldine, or Pam, but that's where we are. Eve was an enigma because she was never written to be anything else. A decision was made by someone to ensure nothing more than the bare minimum would ever be known about Eve. She was given a name and the bare bones of a backstory, and that's all.

For many in the KE fandom the Villanelle solo episode is their absolute favorite. It's one of my least favorites because it made erasing Eve official as Villanelle forgets all about her and so much so in "End of Game" even her name isn't uttered.

KONSTANTIN: I don't think you really want this.

VILLANELLE: I want it!

KONSTANTIN: You know what it means? It means you have to leave everything, the clothes, apartment… and her.

VILLANELLE: I know.

"...and her." "Her" has a name and it is Eve, but to Heathcote that wasn't important. That was a disservice to Sandra Oh, the actress who brought Eve Polastri to life even though she was not allowed to be more than a one-dimensional cut-out of a character. Remember Oh was one of the two stars of the show. This was one of those rare occasions where the titular lead character gets less fleshed out than multiple supporting ones.

That's not accidental. It was deliberate and it robbed Eve of her agency and autonomy. She really was little more than "an Asian woman with amazing hair." Eve was the lone woman of color constantly reacting in a world of Whiteness. Phoebe Waller-Bridge boldly chose to be colorblind in casting Sandra Oh as the very British and very White Eve Polastri and deserves all the credit in the world for it. Unfortunately, when she left she didn't leave any instructions to her successors on what to do with Eve, so they all chose to do nothing. After the show ended some sought to scapegoat Sandra Oh for the lousy last season stating as an executive producer she must have approved the direction the show went when Suzanne Heathcote and Laura Neal became the lead writers. Nobody knows how much input Oh had into the writer's room, but if she did that means she went along with a noticeable drop in screen time and the complete absence of a backstory for Eve. It's hard to believe any actor would deliberately reduce their own role in just the third season of a show, but that's exactly what some KE fans believe Oh did. They're the same ones who say Villanelle needed a stand-alone episode to explore her history, but have no issue with Eve being devoid of a past. This isn't racism in the Killing Eve fandom. Most of the fans don't show up that way. What they do instead is fail to notice how little Eve there frequently is in Killing Eve. It's not necessarily racism, which is bad, but it is erasure, which isn't good.