coachmenswalletoutletonline-blog

[rui-yui]

im mirai toshi de acchi kocchi's newest fan

[deuterium51614]

Noticed that they used an actual photo for the city here, so I did a reverse-image search and found it's Hakodate in Hokkaido.

Specifically, it's the view from Mount Hakodate.

[exopelagic]

cue screaming abt legends Z-A

[here-there-were-dragons]

it would make sense and be a good idea if the next ancient breed for lightning after this one was a robot/cyborg/golem/steampunk clock construct/ect and this is all the reasons why as well as some speculation on what a hypothetical robot breed could be like

now that aethers have been released and the first lightning ancient confirmed organic, it seems as good a time as any to dust off this old draft of a suggestion i made before aberrations were even an element at all. please read it i worked very hard on it

(i can’t do anything about the weird spacing between some words, it doesn’t show up on the post editor)

reasons it would make sense and has precedent in canon:

-steelhounds. from their art, they are clearly robotic or at least heavily cybernetic lifeforms. there are edible steelhound puppy food items, which both means that they have biological components at some stage of their life, and that they can breed, or have the ability to convert organic life.

-the stormcatcher and his flight prefer to rely on machinery for things rather than outright spells. out of all of them, he seems by far the most likely to make his first attempt at a workforce by literally building them (to be “perfect” probably”) and then animating them with his own mana rather than forming them from magic like the others presumably did.

-the lightning flight has a strong thematic precedent for rogue golems, “progress”, and a certain sort of “making technology better/using technology to make a superior version of this thing”. over half of it’s native life seems to be escaped populations of self-replicating robots and cyborgs. there are mysterious golem factories everywhere. it would be a very effective payoff of that thematic thread if it turned out the original children of lightning were themselves mechanical too.

-there is precedent for elemental spirits inhabiting inorganic bodies in several golem workshop enemies, along with many other “enchanted statue” types. normal, organic dragons are also technically artificially created bodies imbued with draconic spirits of elemental magic, and regularly grow inorganic and even immaterial structures like crystals and smoke as part of their bodies. it doesn’t seem a massive stretch of the imagination that the stormcatcher could imbue a draconic spirit into an inorganic shell of his own construct.

-the stormcatcher is obsessed above all else with advancement and productivity. machines do not need to sleep. machines do not complain. machines do not have feelings or thoughts or biological failures. machines do not need to ever stop being productive. replacing his employees with machines is absolutely something the stormcatcher as we know him would do, and the only reason i could see for why he has not done that yet is that he already tried this once before and it blew up in his face.

reasons it would be a good idea to do regardless:

-people really really want robot dragons. i am aware of multiple people who would lose their minds over robot dragons.

-i cannot emphasize enough that the only way people wouldn’t love this idea is if the execution was wildly questionable or ugly in design

-even if they hated the design that got chosen i know for a fact people still like the general idea of a robot dragon

-as said above, it would tie a long running thematic thread together very well and just give the idea of lightning flight in general a little more feeling of cohesiveness and depth

-since it would be an ancient breed, and therefore only able to breed with more of it’s own kind, there would be absolutely no need to worry about how to adapt all the modern genes to a robotic body. you could just pick out the few that would adapt well as a “paint pattern” or something, and then for the rest you could just go wild adding whatever steam vents or lasers or robotic attachments or jetpacks or tron lines whatever machine-themed additions you could think of. they should definitely get circuit.

-it would feel more diverse than another “smooth 4 limbed mammalian noodle with deer or undefined bean nub shape head and dog legs and one defining feature” or “tundra” again. flight rising as of late has a huge design diversity problem and really seems to have trouble coming up with things that genuinely look different while also looking like complete designs that consist of more than one or two sort of disconnected feeling gimmicks. making the entire body a robot would make it more likely that the design would feel more cohesive if nothing else.

-it would make more sense that they don’t wear clothes

-lore writers would have a lot to work with

-you could say that their roars sound like electric guitars and dubstep screams echoing over the dunes

how it could work lore-wise:

self-replicating artificial lifeforms already exist canonically, but since i imagine the staff would prefer to have a lore explanation as to how they reproduce here’s a few suggestions

where they came from, why they’re like that, how they might have worked, and where they could have gone:

origin 1: abiogenesis- in the beginning, there were 11. in the beginning, 11 became more. while the others built their children of blood and bone, the father of storms saw another path; his creation would not be one of weak flesh-but of living lightning and metal.

in an ill-tempered grumble of thunder, he retreated to his workshop.

for weeks the ringing of hammers, switches, and coils haunted the then-empty dunes as slowly, beneath an infant spire that for another ten thousand years would not earn it’s name, the father of storms’ own image of took shape.

he welded brass, balanced gears, built engines, carved thoughts circuit by circuit written in lines of gold, breathed life and magic into their hollow forms as only a god could. at last he had his workforce-eternal machines of his own ingenuity to match the primitive organic legions the other gods would soon bring. in the ages to follow his work would flourish at speeds finally worthy of the lightning it’s powered by, unrestrained in scope now that with his newfound expendable underlings, his workshop would no longer be staffed by a team of one.

(abiogenesis scenario sup-option 1) the stormcatcher may have designed them with different attachments for preforming different sub-purposes in the greater purpose of being his lab assistants, creating a sort of pseudo-eusocial-hive-caste system. this could be represented by the tertiary genes.

(abiogenesis scenario sup-option 2) they may be highly modular beings that can fairly easily swap out parts at will, modifying themselves frequently like living swiss army knives for all manner of lab, factory, workshop, ect functions.

tl:dr if the lightning ancient breeds are robots or cyborgs and did not make themselves that way but were created by the stormcatcher as mechanical beings at the start, then the following is functionally canon

origin 2: transhumanist (transdraconic?) singularity-

the lightning ancients were once an organic lifeform breed like all the others. but unlike the many distant children of the ever-storm that followed, they took their creator’s ideals of progress, improvement, advancement, bettering to the deepest part of their heart-and found that heart’s feeble flesh wanting. their creator spoke to them of thinking for tomorrow-and in their future they saw thunder and metal where once were blood, flesh, and bone. as they say, out with the old, and in with the new.

(transhumanist singularity scenario sub-option 1)-if this is the case, these dragon-ascendants may possibly even be the creators of creatures like the steelhounds, relics of their endless striving for better than the now, a long-forgotten crusade to bring to all the world the fruits of this, their greatest triumph, a hand of prideful works ascending reaching ever upwards towards the sun.

a race on the cusp of singularity, seeking to drag their world kicking and screaming with them into perfect digital eternity. they looked upon the world of flesh and blood they were given and knew they could make it all more. perhaps, in the end, their heavens-reaching tower of all their mighty works all came crashing down.

they dreamed of a world harder, better, faster, stronger, made in all ways superior to the way it once began. but some dreams to other eyes are nightmares best left in the dark.

origin 3: ancient for game mechanic purposes only-

the busy tinkerers of goldensparc or the tempest spire or some yet unnamed city, in their eternal gods-ordained quest to bring their technological might to the task of improving upon any and all design, have rent the finest metal and magic from the earth to sculpt and weld into the greatest clockwork rendering of the draconic form ever created. the next dragon. the most advanced of the clock-golems ever created, the most versatile dracodroid to date, a category previously occupied by little more than tech startup gimmicks that never panned out as their marketing stunts sweepingly promised they should and simplistic brass dracoforms able only to continuously sweep a single narrow path without adaptation. the closest imitation of functional draconic life and behavior there has ever been, cutting out the need for expensive factories through incorporating some variety of self replication technology, granted even elemental power by cutting edge spellcraft and/or embedded cores of the most precious enchanting stones. some hyperbolic outlets may say it’s programmed imitation of the draconic mind is perfect.

far, far too perfect.

how they breed:

1: steelhound-

as stated before, existing steelhounds appear to be partly organic at some stage of their life as well as able to reproduce both their organic and inorganic body parts in their offspring. the mechanical lightning ancient breed may be still partly organic, allowing them to reproduce, and they may possibly use the same method as steelhounds to create offspring that have inborn robotic components as well.

2: cyborg culture-

the breed may be still partly organic in their adult form, and their offspring may be born fully organic. as they grow, they are strongly culturally encouraged to modify and “improve” themselves however they wish until they reach an adult state near indistinguishable from a golem. (the significant con of this approach is that invariably people would be disappointed that they could not have the design of the organic baby form as a nonrobotic adult)

3: ambiguous nanotech-

the breed may be fully mechanical and use some form of magical or nanotechnological means to build more of themselves. perhaps their offspring are initially created as small, simple, incomplete constructs that both “grow” and fuel themselves by consuming food which is then either fed into an internal furnace for power or assimilated into raw material for further construction by some form of magic or nanotech, allowing them to literally grow new parts if they consume the right things.

4: stormcatcher said so-

they can produce offpsring because the stormcatcher simply imbued them with the magical ability to create more of themselves to fill out and repopulate his workforce without having to build them himself again.

5: it’s magic-

their ability to reproduce is just magic, it doesn’t really need an explanation. the way all other dragons reproduce is most likely magical in nature already.

6: progressive construction-

similar to the nanotech approach but with the significant difference that the “growth” of the initial small simple construct is fueled not by nanobots or magic or consumption of building materials, but simply they or their “parents” literally building more onto them.

why and how they would need to eat:

gameplay and story segregation is at play. site mechanically they would eat the same as any other dragon.

option 1-fuel. they may partly power their bodies by processing organic material to generate energy, possibly also in addition to having lightning rods to absorb lightning power, in which case the furnace fuel system is most likely a supplementary backup to ensure they can keep going when the power from their lightning rod system runs out.

option 2-raw material. if their construction includes a nanotechlike equivalent whether by magic spell or by technological construct they may consume organic matter for these magical or technological systems to convert into raw material for self-repairs, giving them some ability to “heal”. this could possibly mean they may only need to “eat” particularly often when damaged. if it’s magic that is responsible for or in some way “fuels” or drives this effect, it could possibly provide an explanation for why the healing spells in the coliseum work on them.

option 3-both.

option 4-replenishing a vital system. in a similar way to how liquid cooled computers require fresh coolant periodically, or many machines need periodic lubricant, they may have a similar system that requires replenishment by a certain material. depending on exactly what chemical it is they need to replenish to function and what it is for, and what exact type of food they eat, this could make a lot of sense.

if stormcatcher made and was later dissapointed with them, them still needing to eat for fuel might be one of the reasons why.

why they might have vanished and how they might come back:

ending 1-they never left.

when the ancient age ended and the children of all others withdrew from the world so too did they for reasons of their own. from the birth of their successors they have spent eons watching, studying, waiting, experimenting on them.

possible reasons:

variant1a-they were cast away when the stormcatcher found something new, but they would not allow themselves to be truly forgotten. they may have long served their part, but they still linger to see, study, the world they created.

variant1b-when the birth of the modern breeds began they saw an opportunity of some kind, perhaps for study, perhaps for knowledge, perhaps for power. the secluded what remained of themselves away for what would become the longest greatest experiment of their race’s collective history-an undertaking generations long to watch and see how the world went on without them. the grand experiment to end all others. the greatest control observation of them all.

abiogenesis scenario variant 1a- the storm-father has devised a new experiment. it has been an age of metal and thunder singing through circuitforged veins, failures and triumphs nameless and many at the hands of his perfectly inorganic world. perhaps, after so long working only in mechanical realms, it is time for something just a little more outside of the box he works in. maybe he’ll see just what it is about those organic lifeforms the other deities seem so taken in by. he doesn’t understand their fascination with the messy, ungainly things, their seeming persistence in seeing something he doesn’t.

after all, a scientist wouldn’t reject a possibility variable without testing sure.

abiogenesis scenario variant 1b-

an age has come and gone. outside the walls of his workshop, the makings of the mortals once more fall to ruin like so many others down the long stairs of time, and his siblings first children have passed into memory. many of the gods stand once more alone. but they have not gone silent.

one by one each light winks out. civilization after civilization extinguished with little more than a whisper. their settling silence parallels the weathering on his own eternal machine’s hides. all things fade, in the end.

the silence falls it’s blankets on all for a mortal’s eternity. to a god, they are not content to allow the silence lease for long.

the cycles of history drudge on over and over on the ceaseless wheel of time, pulling the same up cycle by cycle from the riverbed’s muck. for yet another of countless fleeting moments, different yet the same, a race secondborn emerge to an empty world left to them by an ancestor they would never know.

the stormcatcher looks out from the depths of his workshop, untouched by the outside waves in the oceans of time, and scoffs, why?

his siblings secondborn take their first wobbling steps. a distorted mirror of their elder kindred so many cycles before. they quarrel and they fight; until they don’t.

why?

the elements battle. they war as they always have, as they always did before. but where each flight would stand before a monolith solely of their designer’s own creation, a key in the balance is beginning to shift. where before there would be one breed and one magic, the god’s domains have begun to accept the cast-offs of eachother’s children.

a child of the floes and a child of the forge meet at the top of a snow-spotted hill, and roll and play together in the sunrise. neither of them bears the icewarden’s eyes.

why?

their secondborn were made capable of union regardless of maker and shape. their nests lay not dead eggs and tearful partings but thriving children, born one shape or the other, but not both. the wars rage on as they always have but the peoples mix and mingle until it is no longer easy to be sure which god birthed who.

the lightweaver’s high priest enters her temple, long robes dragging up the steps. the air is hot and the marble is chilling in his golden-bright secondary eyes.

why?

their cooperation has never borne fruit before, only failure and disaster. an as-expected unrepeatable waste of unrecapturable time.

why do they persist in repeating a failed experiment?!

cooperation is done. it failed. dragonkind was gone, it failed. it’s time to move on to another solution, to stop wasting time on thing already proven not to work. all of their experiments failed, why do they strive to repeat those failures?

why do they see something i don’t?!

......

workers cluster at the foot of his workbench, ages of rust weigh on their metal hides. their glassy eyes that look to him are tired with the hollow aching fading of eternity, he notes with a bitter disappointment. imperfect. the perfect needless, fleshless workers, against the ravages of time still had failed.

there are so few of them now.

....

this experiment is a failure.

....

variables presuppose, shifting up and down their stacked threads in an orderly and uncaring mind.

(rigid inorganic thinking beneath which primal thunder brews-deep in the roiling dark far below. an unpredictable, paradoxical, self-contradicting mind. back and forth, one state to the other. like binary, like circuitry, on, off, on, off, one, zero, one.

there is no room for feeling, for inefficiencies, for mistakes or pithy mortal weaknesses in the hard, heartless mathematics of his reality, his civilization’s machine. the computer knows only the numbers it codes-it cares nothing for the lives each digit represents.

legendary is his cold efficiency, as is the thunderstrike of his fury, the totality of his wrath. always sudden. never forewarning. on. off. on. off. one. zero. one.

one never can be certain just when or where a lightning bolt will strike.)

had one not been tested thoroughly enough?

they are waiting for an order. they are not many. they are tired.

the world outside is a growing state of a paradoxical conflict-yet-cooperation, connection and rejection simultaneous and overlapping in the same space.

had this-- notion, of theirs, of unity, not been tested thoroughly enough?

(so many experiments, so many disappointments) 

the remainder of his last failed project look up at him with their tired, rusting, imperfect eyes and those-physical expressions of his siblings’ insanity prance about the world merrily slaughtering eachother and somehow not dying while his own empire’s great works lie collecting dust outside.

....

tragic.

but expected.

they watch him still. with their worthless little failure eyes. the whole lot of them, in the end.

failures.

failures.

(their hides gleamed once.)

...

..... fine.

if his kin are so determined to this perpetual dance of coming together and breaking apart all over again until the shade drags them all to the void’s trillions-damned stomach then who is he to say no? evidently abject insanity is the name of the game they’ve all been playing all this time and no one thought to inform him before he made the mistake of thinking this was a real, serious attempt at finding an actual solution to anything!

his once-great race of ascending experiments look to him and he looks back with disdain. they were built for self-sufficiency, for efficiency, for perfection, for war.

the equations are unmoving. their failure is clear.

tragic. but expected.

..... fine.

with a sweep of his gigantic skull he booms his new and final orders to the lingering gaggle of outmodes in a cold and calculated fury, clearing away these walking remains of his latest failed experiment. their final directive is to watch and gather data on this newly devised long-term scientific venture-abandoned refuse of a disproven theory they are at least they may potentially be of some remaining use to him.

the vast slab of his worktable is swept clean for the drafting of a new, organic line of undoubtable disappointments. a test of the waters in revisiting old delusions of theirs, he snorts with dispassionate contempt, to play along with their breathtakingly illogical chase for a variant of some cooperation scenario that actually bears results worth calculating. though it’s not as though his own isolationist efforts in a cultural vaccuum as they are have gotten results in long-term-he may as well, as they say, throw everything at the wall. one thing, rising from the hard-edged certainty of the numbers, is clear.

this farce is over.

....

dust hangs still in the dismal dawn air as dim orange fingers of sun lap his storm-grey flank.

“Tragic. But expected. “

a groan of shifting stones and a cascade of pebbles breaks the still air. something vast stands to titan feet, shakes itself off.

a pause. ��Where will you go?”

the voice behind him is tired, old as the mountains they both loom above and thrice as weathered, deep as caverns and wide as hills, crackling and rumbling with a disbelieving surrender, breaking. He did not turn to meet the earthshaker’s eyes.

“Where i may not be found---this farce is over, and i’ve plans of my own.”

and without another word, he took wing.

the voice receded unseen to the miles of distance behind him.

(a traitorous small part wonders if things could have turned out differently.)

transhumanist scenario sub-option 1 variant 1a-perhaps they weren’t sure how to feel about being replaced by the very organic forms they left behind. maybe when it all came crumbling down, what was left of their civilization decided to step back and watch the primitive lifeforms that took their place, to see where they went wrong. after all, if the stormcatcher chose them over us in the end, they must be somehow better.

ending 2-our longest night

at the end of the ancient age their kind fell deep into a dormant state. now all these thousands of years later, something has made them awaken again.

variant 1a-they were new once, but now they are old. the technology of tomorrow becomes the technology of today and finally the technology of the past. and deprecated software is... replaced. it’s time to clear out the old models and make way for an updated worker design. throw them somewhere in the back of this drawer and forget-the stormcatcher doesn’t need old tech anymore.

their god has abandoned them like an out-of-date iphone, in favor of the latest and most new.

variant 2a-they got out of control, and were considered a dangerous mad science experiment. the stormcatcher, or the ancestors of the ridgebacks, sealed them away in the deep laps and threw away the key.

variant 2a-they had an actual robot rebellion against the stormcatcher after being made to work in the labs and factories to fuel the expansion constantly and were put to sleep, most likely to occur in the “the stormcatcher created them as robots to help in his workshop already and they never existed as anything else before that” timeline. in this scenario is is equally possible that they were or were not created with the intent to have full free will sentience at all.

varient 3a-the equations are clear. is spills out across the vaccuum diagrams like asimov’s psychohistory in the stories of a world a another universe away. the stormcatcher’s calculations have predicted this: their own computations have corroborated. there will come a day in this world’s history when something that has always been growing will finally reach a breaking point beyond which life on this world can ignore it no longer. small processes there are now will eventually run unceasing until something larger gives, the natural progress of entropy in a system of chaotic organized-like existence. something is coming, and if we do not prepare we will not survive. our distant organic draconic successors will not survive. nothing will survive.

a civilization of computers at the call of a pure mana computer god, calculations running a billion fold each moment shape clear the date at which they know with certainty they will come to be be needed, though the peoples of that distant time will not know that needed they are. all there is now, is for them to place themselves all quietly into their long, long sleep.

variant 4b-a calamity was coming to shake their world in their time rather than ours, with the power and totality of something like an asteroid strike, and their kind went dormant to survive it. only now have they started to wake up.

variant 4c- whether natural disaster or warfare or a virus or asteroid or simple running out of resources and deciding to go to sleep until the world recovers enough more, a calamity has come and the calamity has gone, sweeping the machine race away with it, and there are none now left to remember. thousands of years pass. their successors construct the greatest reactor ever seen by dragon eyes on the heart of their land’s aortal leyline.... and unknown to them, the side effects ripple down the leylines of all the expanse, and surges make their way down into a long-forgotten facility. maybe soon, for the first time in ten thousand years, something will stumble out into Sorhaldûm’s light.

variant 4d-to survive whatever calamity came to pass, they placed themselves in stasis at the base of the towers and/or a special reactor and/or some other important large invention in the hopes that they would slowly recharge them with time. modern dragonkind has been using these structures for a long time, unwittingly recharging them slowly in the process.

variant 5a- they loaded themselves into a supercomputer to escape the nonspecified end of their civilization a long time ago, and only now has something triggered them to download back into their bodies. either they intended to remain in limbo for a theoretically indefinitely long amount of time-or something went wrong with the reactivation process that trapped them in the system until a new factor came into the situation to give it a nudge. (this could easily also be categorized under some variants of reconstructing science)

variant 5b-they all trapped themselves in a virtual reality mind upload immortality personal simulated universe scheme as an attempt at a sort of ai ascension hive mind singularity like those old sci fi universes where humanity all loaded their brains into one giant computer system around a star, retreating inward to sleep in infinite digital dreaming in a world inside and below the outside for the rest of time.

abiogenesis scenario variant 1a- every good scientist has a backup plan. in the stormcatcher’s case, that backup plan was a machine race of sleepless unstoppable dormant servants, kept inactive in reserve just in case at some distant future point down the line the situation got hairy enough for concern and the more pedestrian, organic workers were not enough.

abiogenesis scenario variant 1b- they’ve been waiting somewhere deep in reserve in the stormcatcher’s labs for a long time. once they were his lab assistants, but it seems eventually he ceased to care. someone goes down into the old archives of thousands of years past and cracks open just the right door to find them. they haven’t been activated in a very long time.

(abiogenesis scenario) ending 3-reconstructing science/the reconstruction of fallen ancients. once the stormcatcher made an army of metal and lightning, but that was an age ago. it’s been a long time since then. the world is different now. all of them were destroyed in the ancient wars a long time ago, their blueprints old and forgotten under the dusty pile of inventions since. but-something’s coming now. something big. even the stormcatcher can feel it-the balance is shifting. he’s going to need More. a brush knocks loose an age-old blueprint from the bottom of the shelves.... it seems as good a time as any to revisit old machines of war.

variant 1a-it was not the stormcatcher, but a simply a few small members of a modern breed, who stumbled across the rusted, weathered and empty old parts of a mysterious machine scattered buried and forgotten in the sand, and saw fit to rebuild them. the shifting expanse has no shortage of distant far-flung wrecks and abandoned husks of technological ghosts-this time is no different.

variant 1b-the shifting expanse is not named for nothing. ancient structures and forgotten things, stations, labs, compounds, and experiments both sanctioned and secret civilian and all of the above mad long abandoned, are unearthed and buried again just as quickly by the everchanging tides of the vast and hostile dune sea. how much history is entombed beneath those sands forever to remain unseen is no one’s place to say.

the unstable topography is governed by winds and mechanisms inscrutably complex and distant to the draconic-and human- mind. today, it is something long buried that has been uncovered- in the tumult of the weather or some recent event, a portion of the desert has blown away, exposing a vast and uncountably ancient dilapidated complex from long long ago. the ancient citadel, a place of endless rooms filled with experiments, the locus of a fallen empire’s power. this, is where the mysterious remains of some ancient automaton are recovered-and, by their clueless discoverers, expecting some mindless novelty servant, reforged.

the ancient citadel complex could potentially be a new coliseum venue, a dilapidated old lab unburied out of the windy sands, and the breed could be the first coliseum-obtainable one, if it went this direction.

(ancient in game mechanics only scenario)ending(beginning?) 4- no gods no casters. the metal dragons were never meant to be sentient, but there are many things the lightning flight has created which were never intended to turn out as they did. it would not be the first time unfettered advancement has charged blindly ahead to make the biggest, strongest, most powerful thing it can and damn the slightest sideways thought to any possibility of the consequences. they were never intended to be sentient-but creating, with no concept whatsoever of safety, an artificial intelligence as advanced and complicated as you can simply to prove you can do it is given to causing certain repercussions.

they were created by the foremost minds of modern dragonkin-and they would not allow themselves to remain a mere tool for their organic master’s using. this is the ai rebellion plotline you never knew a fantasy kitchen sink with large spots of jarringly fantasy-free dark scifi needed, and the newly created mechanical dracoforms will not rest until their rights within the dominant society are secured.

variant 1a-they did not fight- how could they, against the beings that made them and every weakness they have to exploit? no, instead they fled-to another land in hopes they could find somewhere to be free. out into the desert and into foreign territories and into hiding among dragonkind’s own peoples-hoping for a day they can walk in the sun.

blanket awakening scenarios and misc endings that are applicable to all or most of these endings:

broken masquerade- they are hiding among us, disguised as us, and soon, for whatever is decided to be the reason, someone is about to give the all-clear.

my greatest dissapointment- the stormcatcher built them to be the ultimate perfect beings, and was less than satisfied with the results. even as invulnerable unaging sapient sleepless self-replicating hyperadvanced beyond draconic intelligence and near incapable of clumsiness or mistakes machines, they were still subject to the wear of time, they still required food for fuel, they still had feelings and relationships and will and despite no need for sleeping still objected to spending all their time on the factory floor as workers without pause. this experiment was a bitter wasteful failure, and he did not like to dwell on this farce of disappointments any longer. his standards are unreachable-they could never please their creator. they could never be enough.

variant 1a- they may not have just simply been perfectly functional but when fully rendered in the limits of physical reality ultimately less than the stormcatcher had hoped for, they may have even been actively malfunctioning. similar to how the aetherdragons are irresistibly compelled to eat paper-which i very much doubt is by the arcanist’s design.

roboticized-

in this possibility they either were reawakened, or created in the first place, by several dragons in modern times being willingly or unwillingly roboticized into them. a sort of transdraconic ascension origin/ancient in game mechanics only origin fusion, with optional elements of our longest night depending on exact presentation.

[daydreamerdrew]

Fantastic Comics (1939) #4

[connorsui]

“Believing in love”

Sylus x fem! reader

Synopsis: Amidst the dazzling lights of a futuristic city, you confront your fears of love

Genre/warnings: Angst with a Happy Ending, soft sylus, reader who doesn't believe in the concept of love, emotional trauma, vulnerability, discussions of betrayal, past trauma for reader, sylus just wants to love you for you and nothing else, hurt/Comfort, emotional healing, small fluff, slow burn, hints of trust issues

Note: okaaayyyyyyy I went overboard this was originally going to be a short imagine ..like maybe five hundred words or less with the concept: “I don't believe in love” and “I'll show you what it can be” – I wasn't planning on this to be a full fledged one shot…but hey …I ain't gonna complain any further my brain is just doing its job ✨️

w.c: 1.8K

The city hums beneath you, a symphony of noise and light, but your mind is far from the chaos below. You keep your gaze fixed on the skyline, as if it holds the answers you can’t seem to find. Beside you, Sylus’ breath is ragged, his desperation barely concealed as he clings to your wrist. You can feel the tremble in his fingers despite the firmness of his grip, as though he’s trying to hold you together—or perhaps, to keep you from drifting away.

“Why do you always attempt to leave me? What is it that I’m doing wrong?” His voice is soft, almost pleading, a rare break in his usually stoic demeanor. He’s searching your face for something—anything—but you remain still, letting the weight of his words hang in the air.

He clutches you tighter, not forcefully, but in a way that tells you he’s afraid you might vanish into the night, just like the countless times before. The emptiness in your silence gnaws at him, but you can’t bring yourself to say anything.

“Sweetheart…” His voice cracks, the word nearly lost in the wind. “I’m not one to beg, but if it means I’ll get an answer from you, then I’ll lower myself.”

You glance down as you hear the rustle of fabric, your eyes catching the sight of Sylus sinking to one knee. A proud man, reduced to pleading. The weight of his devotion presses down on you, suffocating in ways you hadn’t expected.

“I wish for an answer. Any answer from you.”

But still, you say nothing. The flood of emotions you’ve buried for so long stirs within you, threatening to overwhelm. The city lights blur in your vision, turning into a kaleidoscope of glowing orbs, and suddenly, your throat tightens. You want to speak, but the words are tangled in your chest, caught in the rising tide of emotion.

“It’s… it’s not that I wish to ignore everything you’ve done,” you start, your voice shaky and weak, barely audible over the rushing wind. “It doesn’t mean I hate you, or that you're not trying hard enough. I care for you. I do.”

Your breath hitches, your heart pounding against your ribs, as tears, hot and unrelenting, streak down your face.

“I want to love you, Sylus. I want to be near you every day, to feel what it means to love someone, to truly understand it. But I…” Your voice cracks, the word foreign on your tongue. Your chest tightens, the familiar sting of betrayal flashing in your mind, the memories you’ve fought so hard to suppress now rushing back in vivid detail.

Before you can break down any further, Sylus pulls you close, his arms wrapping around you like a shield from the world. His warmth seeps into you, steadying you amidst the storm inside.

“Shhh… it’s alright. Come here.”

His voice is soothing, and for a moment, you let yourself relax in his hold. You breathe out slowly, though each exhale feels labored. Your chest rises and falls as you try to calm the sobs threatening to tear through you. His hands gently cradle your face as he wipes the tears away with the pad of his thumb, his touch delicate but firm, as if assuring you he won’t let go.

“I’m scared…” Your words spill out between quiet gasps, your chest heaving as you finally let out the weight you’ve carried for so long. “I’m so scared, Sylus. I’ve loved before, countless times… and neither time was it ever given back.”

Sylus' embrace tightens, his chin resting atop your head as he rocks you gently. His voice, though calm, carries a raw edge of determination, as though he’s willing his words into reality.

“I can show you what it can be,” he whispers against your ear. “I’ll show you what love should feel like, what it should be… No one in this entire city is more deserving of that than you.”

His hand rests against your back, moving in slow, soothing circles.

“I just need you to believe in me. let me show you that I can give you the love you’ve been searching for.”

You close your eyes, the weight of his words settling into your chest, pushing against the wall you’ve built around your heart. For a moment, there’s only the sound of your breathing, the quiet murmur of the city below, and the cold wind that carries the scent of the night sky. Moonlight bathes the two of you, casting silver across the rooftop as if the world has stilled for this one moment.

And though the fear still lingers at the edges of your mind, something shifts within you. Perhaps it’s the warmth of his touch, or the sincerity in his voice. But for the first time, you allow yourself to believe in the possibility.

Yet he keeps himself steady, his grip tightens—not out of force, but from desperation, as if he’s holding on to more than just your body. He’s holding on to the very idea of you, of the two of you.

“I don’t need you to say you love me, not now, not in this hour, not tomorrow” he murmurs into your hair. “I just need you to trust that I will. That I already do.”

His words pierce through the walls you’ve spent so long building. The fortress around your heart cracks, letting in the first tendrils of warmth you’ve felt in ages. You try to push him away, afraid of being vulnerable, but his hold remains firm—not possessive, just secure. Safe.

“But Sylus—” you whisper between breaths, your voice breaking.

“I’m not like you. I don’t know how to—how to do this. Every time… I let someone in, they ripped pieces out of me until there was nothing left to give...so, even if you say you love me… what can I give you..when there's nothing? ”

He pulls back slightly, just enough to meet your gaze. His red eyes soften, the intensity that so often burned with dominance now a smoldering ember of understanding.

“You think there’s nothing left to give,” he murmurs, “but every broken piece of you is still yours to offer. And I’ll take them, even if they don’t fit together perfectly. I don’t care if you feel shattered. I’ll hold onto every fragment until you’re ready to trust me with the rest.”

Your chest heaves as you fight for control over your emotions, but the more you resist, the harder it becomes. Sylus’s steady gaze undoes you. How could someone like him—so powerful, so untouchable—look at you as if you were the most fragile thing in the universe?

“ — and yet there will be days you think I don’t know fear?” he continues, his voice low, barely above a whisper. “You think I don’t wonder every day if I’m enough for you? That I’ll lose you before you ever truly belonged to me?”

The vulnerability in his words makes you flinch. You’ve seen Sylus command entire fleets, face enemies without a trace of fear, and yet here he is, baring himself before you. It’s too much—too raw. But it’s also exactly what you needed to hear.

“I’m not a perfect man, and I won’t pretend I am," he adds. "But I will never stop trying for you. Not for a second or an hour or a day of my life"

His thumb brushes the last of your tears away, and for a moment, all that exists is the sound of the wind whipping around you, the lights of the city flickering beneath your feet, and the quiet hum of your hearts—one racing, the other steady.

You finally exhale, the weight of your emotions loosening its grip just enough for you to speak again.

“What if I’m broken?” you choke out. “What if there’s nothing left that is untouched for you to love?”

Sylus’s lips quirk into a sad but tender smile.

“It doesn't matter if any part of you is left …untouched ” he says softly. “When I mean I would love ..you ..I mean you .. Every part of you…that I have fallen in love with”

His words settle into you like a balm, soothing wounds you didn’t realize were still bleeding. You’ve spent so long believing that love was something to fear, something that would eventually turn on you and leave you empty. But Sylus is showing you a different kind of love—one that doesn’t demand perfection but offers patience. One that doesn’t expect you to be whole but promises to stay, even when you’re not.

Your body, tense and guarded for so long, begins to relax in his arms. You close your eyes and lean into him fully for the first time, allowing yourself to be held—not because you’re weak, but because, for once, you don’t have to be strong.

You stay like that for what feels like hours, wrapped up in each other as the city continues its ceaseless rhythm below. The cold air bites at your skin, but neither of you care. Not when the warmth of Sylus’s embrace keeps the rest of the world at bay.

Eventually, you speak again, your voice quieter, more vulnerable than before.

“I don’t know how to let go” you admit.

Sylus shifts slightly, enough to look into your eyes again.

“And, you don’t have to,” he replies. “I’m not asking you to forget anything that has happened to you then or anything that has happened to you in the months or years away. I just wish for you to allow me to be part of your future.”

Your breath hitches, but you don’t pull away this time. Instead, you let the weight of his words sink in. He isn’t asking for grand promises or declarations. He’s asking for a chance—a chance to be the person you turn to, the one who stays when others would leave.

“Would you allow me?” Sylus asks softly, almost pleading.

“Can you let me in?”

There’s a long pause as the world around you holds its breath. Then, finally, you nod.

“Yes,” you whisper, voice trembling. “I’ll try.”

And with that, the dam inside you breaks. For the first time in a long time, you let yourself believe that maybe, just maybe, you can learn to love again.

Sylus would show you how much you mean to him ..✨️

[local-diavolo-anon]

i'm back!

ok so 2/3 days ago i found this youtube video where op turned Springtrap (or well, William Afton) into a fully build DnD character, and if i say so myself: things got out of hand fast

so here is my take on DnD Springtrap and specifically on that build (adding more infos under the cut for who is interested, i suggest to watch the video first)

starting with saying that unless you're playing in a scifi setting, this build is either not for you or to be modified, since in later levels spells are heavily centered around technomagic and electronic devices; personally when i will play him i will probably tinker around with the chosen spells and cantrips to make him less violently niche and/or more versatile

which kinda saddens me because it takes away not little of the characterization but, given most dnd stories take place in a medieval fantasy or high fantasy setting, a cantrip like On/Off or a spell like Remote Access are NOT particularly useful; so i will go for more psychic damage or necromancy oriented abilities, maybe i might take more than just 4 levels in artificier as well (especially given that again, all of those warlock spells at later levels are all technology oriented) but i need to see what those offer

however it is a kinda tank-y build given that with a shield on you can get up to a 27 of Ac, so even with low damage and not much hp you would not struggle too much to stay alive, and i like that!

as for the character himself, i put too much effort into my interpretation not to share it, so if anyone wants to play this guy as well, i fabricated a possible backstory that might come useful:

The character goes by the name "Dave Miller" (or whatever variant you want to use), and was originally a human artificier who created constructs for a living, mainly with the goal of offering aid to who needed it for whatever reason.

After losing part of his family to some kind of accident he became terrified of death, so with age he started replacing his own body parts with machinery to delay his last days (which made him a cyborg), until the point where he was very very close to become just a robot.

There however he ran into an issue, that being that a robot need a power source, and his own heart and lungs could not sustain a whole robot by themselves.

Through particular and very much not illegal experiments tied to necromancy he discovered that the life force of a living being could be shared, and used as a form of fuel. (possibly: age lived of the creature used= amount of extra months you get)

Here comes the second problem: this only worked with intelligent creatures, and more specifically, it worked best with creatures of your own race, which meant that he either went around murdering people or he found another solution. Non same-race creatures worked as well but not as good and there were not easy to find in the middle of a city and with a shop tied to your name.

And here is where and WHY he'd join a party of adventurers: after some time, his reserves or fuel were running VERY thin, and running into a group of adventurers was a god sent because by joining their party he essentially got a free pass to kill whoever he wanted, and reduce them to a dried raisin after sucking some life force out of them. Doing so you learn that the mowe powerful the creature is, the more energy it produces as well.

Your goal, that you as the player are following, when role-ing your character? essentially slay whatever powerful BBEG your Dm throws at you and suck all of that juicy fuel out of them, so that you can return to your little shop in the middle of the capital and return to create and sell whatever weird construct, doll, or robot comes to your mind for another few decades undisturbed.

And this is it. I think this might be a good backstory that could fit pretty much any setting you want to play this guy into, be it classic dnd or some scifi futuristic thing.

of course you don't NEED to use this one line per line, make up your own without looking back if you don't like it lol, dnd is the "make up shit and have fun" game after all!

Edit: also no his outfit makes no sense, i just went with vibes and decided a tanktop dress shirt, a twin tailed gilet and suspenders OVER said gilet was a good choice.

[fatphobiabusters]

August is Fat Liberation Month!

[PHOTO ID: A white and orange image reading "FAT LIBERATION MONTH PROMPT LIST". With "#FLAugust on tumblr" beneath it. Inside a white outline is the list of prompts transcribed below. Text is white and in font of Open Dyslexic. END ID]

To celebrate, we've created a prompt list for anybody who wants to create art of fat people in August! We've put two prompts for each day, so you can choose which prompt you like better or even do both if you want to!

Here's the list:

Merperson/Futuristic

Fairytale/Autumn

Country/Magical girl (any gender)

Lolita(fashion)/Goth

Summer/Masculine

Gender swap/Body type swap (thin to fat)

Runway/Identity

Space/Historical

Gijinka/Music

Androgynous/Sky

Nature/Time machine

Zodiac/Nostalgia

Party/Self portrait

Books/Fat athlete

Cultural/Academic

Centaur/Dragon

Scene/Punk

Burlesque/Preppy

Cyber/Favorite color

Decora/Retro

Polka dot/Comfy

Steampunk/Rockstar

Pastel/Neon

Rockabilly/Beach

Other's portrait/Sculpture

City/Mountain

Dancer/Hero

Halloween/Masquerade

Hobby/Animal

Decade/Vacation

Healing/Weather

If you'd like to show us your art, you can @ us somewhere on the post, including in the replies, or you can use the tag #FLAugust. We'll try to reblog as many people participating as we can. Please note though that we won't be sharing fat fetish art, and we'll be reblogging according to our discretion. If you'd like to, you can link to this prompt list on your post so people inspired by your art can participate too!

Happy Fat Liberation Month!

-Mod Worthy and Mod Squirrel

[taylorswiftstyle]

MTV Video Music Awards | September 11, 2024

Monse Fall/Winter 2024 custom

For Future Reference Vintage 'Omega Chain' - no longer available

Rainbow K Jewelry ‘Diamond Horn Earring’ - € 7215.00 Ali Weiss Jewelry ‘Baby Pave Hoop With 2 Diamond Drop’ - $375.00 Grown Brilliance ‘Emerald and Heart Lab Grown Diamond Two Stone Stud Earrings’ - $1,895.00

Lizzie Mandler Jewelry ‘Pave Knife Edge Bracelet’ - $13,665.00 Mateo New York ‘Carabiner Bracelet’ - $300.00 Mateo New York ‘Lock Link Bracelet’ - $350.00 Rainbow K Jewelry ‘Diamond Horn Bangle’ - €18,575.00

Ali Weiss Jewelry ‘Thin Gold Band With 5 Diamonds’ - $650.00 Jade Ruzzo ‘Tennessee Drop Ring in Demantoid Garnet’ - $5,600.00 Retrouvai ‘Platinum Magna Ring’ - price upon request Grown Brilliance‘Marquise Lab Grown Diamond Eternity Band’ - $2,190.00

A brief moment of pride for me because I happened to predict a different look from this exact same collection for the MTV VMAs. I'll take the win! Taylor changed partway through the show, shedding her tartan Dior look for a party look that was easier for her to dance in but still retained a high shine award show appeal. While Taylor's look is obviously custom, the tapestry alien print and buckle detail are clear riffs from the Monse FW2024 runway. This was a fun and flirty mid-show change that reminded me of her strategy at the 2022 MTV EMAs. Though for that award show, there was a clearer throughline between both her looks as they were by the same designer - David Koma. Here, there isn't as obvious a connect between the two aesthetics. Although perhaps it's the notion of translating older notions of art into surreal, modern takes. With Dior, an ode to the secret messages Mary Queen of Scots embroidered in her clothes and with this Monse look, reimagining the antique tapestry to feature futuristic visions of alien invasion. Which feels very "Down Bad" in imagery.

For her second look of the evening, Taylor swapped out her singular pair of Lorraine Schwartz earrings (a go-to jeweler for her red carpet looks) and tapped into one of her style pillars: indie designers.

The mix of metals feels very Taylor - she often swaps between gold and silver and looks equally great in both, lucky her. Though I did most appreciate the silver tying in to the buckle detail on her Monse dress.

Of all her jewels, the piece that most caught my eye is Jade Ruzzo's ‘Tennessee’ ring. I spoke to the designer and she described the Tennessee as her “signature” collection, inspired by her late father who was a drummer. “I designed the Tennessee ring, the first piece from the collection, while in Tennessee,” she told me. “Tennessee has a heart and soul that I felt I could literally hear a beat to - it felt like it moved.” Jade translated the kinetic energy she felt in the city into a hand bezel ring with hanging gemstones that create a subtle movement - “as if [the stones] are dancing on each piece.” She added, “I wanted the movement to be subtle enough that it felt Iike soft steady music throughout the day.“ What an appropriate thing for Taylor, who calls Tennessee her home, to wear.

Photo by John Shearer via Getty Images

[deception-united]

Let's talk about worldbuilding.

Worldbuilding is a crucial aspect of writing fiction, particularly in genres like fantasy and science fiction.

Remember that worldbuilding is a dynamic process that evolves as you write. Don't be afraid to experiment and make changes to your world as needed to serve the story.

Here are some tips to help you build a rich and immersive world:

Start with a Core Concept: Every world begins with an idea. Whether it's a magic system, a futuristic society, or an alternate history, have a clear concept that serves as the foundation for your world.

Define the Rules: Establish the rules that govern your world, including its physical laws, magic systems, societal norms, and cultural practices. Consistency is key to creating a believable world.

Create a Detailed Map: Optional, but helpful. Develop a map of your world to visualise its geography, including continents, countries, cities, and landmarks. Consider factors like climate, terrain, and natural resources to make your world feel authentic.

Build a History: Develop a rich history for your world, including key events, conflicts, and historical figures. Consider how past events have shaped the present and influenced the cultures and societies within your world.

Develop Cultures and Societies: Create diverse cultures and societies within your world, each with its own beliefs, traditions, languages, and social structures. Explore how different cultures interact and conflict with one another.

Flesh Out Characters: Populate your world with memorable characters who reflect its diversity and complexity. Consider how their backgrounds, motivations, and personalities are shaped by the world around them. (See my post on character development for more!)

Consider Technology and Magic: Determine the level of technology and the presence of magic in your world, and how they impact daily life, society, and the overall narrative.

Think about Economics and Politics: Consider the economic systems, political structures, and power dynamics within your world. Explore issues like inequality, governance, and social justice to add depth to your worldbuilding.

Show, Don't Tell: Instead of dumping information on readers, reveal details about your world gradually through storytelling. Show how characters interact with their environment and incorporate worldbuilding seamlessly into the narrative.

Stay Consistent: Maintain consistency in your worldbuilding to ensure coherence and believability. Keep track of details like character names, historical events, and geographic locations to avoid contradictions.

Leave Room for Exploration: While it's essential to have a solid foundation for your world, leave room for discovery and exploration as you write. Allow your world to evolve organically and be open to new ideas and possibilities.

Revise and Edit: Carefully review your worldbuilding to identify any inconsistencies, plot holes, or contradictory elements. Pay attention to details such as character backgrounds, historical events, and the rules of your world's magic or technology. Make necessary revisions to resolve any issues and maintain the integrity of your worldbuilding.

Happy writing!

Previous | Next

[reiding-writing]

Heyy i was wondering if i could have a workshop session? Also congrats on reaching 2k i literally lovee your posts.

So i had this idea about early season spencer and a movie director reader, so basically sorta like the episode with lila archer except reader is really famous and makes mostly sci-fi movies or something spencer would watch, and someone on her set is a witness for a crime or connected to one and now that they dissapeared the BAU sent spencer and maybe derek to ask reader about what they know. But spencer is lowkey kind of silently fan girling lmao like when he first met rossi. I hope this idea isn't too cringe but its just something i thought of, and also its like 3am so my brain isn't functioning properly. Anyways thank yeww

STARstruck — SPENCER REID!

Spencer is a nerd who appreciates accurate scientific knowledge in the media he consumes, and you, are his literal idol in that aspect.

s1!spencer x fem!director!reader | 1.2k | fluff | 2k book fayre !!

a/n — this idea is so cute bro i love it

main masterlist. | event masterlist.

The late afternoon sun filtered through the towering glass windows of the Hollywood studio, casting a golden glow over the sleek set design.

Cameras, lighting rigs, and intricate models of spaceships and futuristic cities filled the massive room, the scent of freshly brewed coffee and slightly burnt popcorn lingered in the air.

Spencer took a deep breath as he stepped onto the set, eyes wide with a mix of awe and nervous excitement.

“You okay, pretty boy?” Morgan smirked as he nudged Spencer in the arm. “You look like you’re about to pass out.”

Spencer quickly adjusted the messenger bag on his shoulder, fiddling with the leather strap. “I’m fine,” He mumbled, although his gaze kept drifting toward the bustling crew members setting up for the next scene.

It wasn’t just the high-tech equipment that caught his attention; it was the fact that you was somewhere on this set. A literal legend in the movie world who had created some of Spencer's favourite films, the mind behind the intricate worlds he had spent years analysing and rewatching.

Not just a famous director, but one of the most influential minds in science fiction cinema, with a literal PhD in theoretical astrophysics, your movies weren’t just blockbusters—they were intellectually stimulating.

Films layered with complex theories of time travel, quantum physics, and human evolution. Spencer had spent hours after screenings debating the logic behind your plot twists, tracing your influences back to classic literature and obscure scientific studies.

He might have even written a paper about your work for one of his side projects.

Maybe.

“Alright, fanboy, whatever you say,” Morgan chuckled, clearly noticing the star-struck look on Spencer’s face. “We’re here for business, remember? We need to talk to her about the missing witness.”

Right. The reason they were actually here. One of the set designers from your latest film had disappeared. They had been linked to a crime scene across town, and now the BAU was trying to piece together their whereabouts.

As the two made their way past towering green screens and actors in elaborate futuristic costumes, Spencer’s heart rate quickened. There you were, standing near the director's chair, deep in conversation with a producer.

Morgan was the one to actually call your attention, flashing his FBI badge. “Excuse me, Doctor, I’m Agent Derek Morgan, and this is Dr. Spencer Reid, we’re with the FBI.”

Your eyes widen momentarily, before settling in understanding. “Pleasure to meet you both,” You motion for the two to follow you away from the busy set for the impending conversation.

Spencer tried to find his voice, but it was like his brain had short-circuited the moment you looked at him. The woman who had crafted entire galaxies and explored the intricacies of human consciousness in film now actually knew he existed.

“I—uh—” He stammered, glancing at the wall behind you before meeting your eyes. “I just wanted to say I’ve been a huge fan of your work for years. Your understanding of nonlinear time theory in Chrono Rift was... incredible—”

Morgan’s grin widened, and Spencer could feel his cheeks burning. He was not making a good first impression.

You, however, smiled warmly, your expression softening. “Thank you, Dr. Reid. It’s always nice to meet someone who appreciates the science behind the ‘science-fiction’.”

The way his eyes seem to soften in the wake of your thanks is endearing, matched with a pink flush to behind his glasses he attempts to brush a stubborn lick of hair from his eye.

It’s a natural attractiveness, one that’s sweet and a little awkward.

“But I assume you didn’t come here just to talk about quantum mechanics?”

Spencer cleared his throat, refocusing on the case. “Right, yes uh— We’re trying to locate one of your set designers, Adrian Moss. We believe they may have been involved with a recent crime, and they disappeared shortly after. Did Adrian mention anything unusual to you? Anyone they seemed nervous around?”

Your brows furrowed slightly in concern. “Adrian? No, they seemed fine. A little… distracted maybe, but I thought it was just the stress of the shoot. I had no idea they were involved in anything criminal.”

Morgan took over to save himself the second-hand embarrassment of Spencer’s stammering, smoothly steering the conversation. “Is there anyone on set Adrian might’ve had conflicts with? Or someone who seemed to be paying them too much attention?”

You paused, considering the question. “Not that I can think of, but I can ask around. The crew is like a family you know? People talk— if Adrian was in trouble, someone will have noticed.”

As the conversation continued, Spencer slowly found his footing again, chiming in with more questions about Adrian’s behavior and their role on set. But every now and then, his mind drifted to the fact that he was standing in the presence of one of his idols. And not only were you brilliant, but you were also kind.

After wrapping up their questions, you pulled out a small business card, handing it towards Morgan. “If you need anything else, please don’t hesitate to give me a call. I’ll make sure the crew knows to cooperate fully with your investigation,”

Morgan pocketed the card with a small nod. “Thanks for your help. We’ll be in touch.”

As they turned to leave, you called out, “Oh, Dr. Reid?”

Spencer froze, turning back to face you. He genuinely felt like he might explode.

“If you ever want to debate time travel paradoxes or poke holes in my logic, I’d be happy to grab a coffee sometime.”

Spencer’s brain went blank for a second, and all he managed was a stunned, “Uh, yeah! I mean—yes, that sounds great.”

With a smile, you waved them off, returning to your work.

As soon as they were out of earshot, Derek clapped Spencer on the back, laughing. “I’ve never seen you like this, man. Fanboying over a director? That’s a new one.”

Spencer gave him a sheepish grin, although not one that tries to dispel his accusation. “She’s not just a director, Morgan. She’s a genius.”

“Well, genius, genius or not, you might actually have a shot there. But let’s focus on finding this missing designer before you start planning your first date.”

Spencer chuckled, still a little dazed but ready to get back to work. He couldn’t help but feel that, no matter how this case turned out, his emotional outcome was going to be a net positive.

[leafyisgreennotblue]

With Legends Z-A, I gave him the unavoidable design. I had written so much background and trying to get it on Insta was a hassle, but luckily I’ll be able to fully put it here with no issues,,:

It was hard to steer from the typical older Emmet look but I tried my hardest to make it seem like it would’ve been. I tried looking up France fashion from 1600-1900 but it was either some ridiculous outfits or suits, and since it mentioned the redevelopment of Lumiose City, it was either working up from something like Jubilife village or was upgrading from what it already is. I’ve heard a lot of theories that Legends Z-A will be taking place in the future or bounce back from future to past, but since it’s hard to incorporate futuristic outfits without knowing “how futuristic” it’ll be, I stuck to something from a layer time period in France. I drew him more of a square shape in his eyes instead of triangular, both to signify age and his lost connection with Ingo. Maybe not a permanent design but I think it adds a lot to his demeanor. He kept Basic stuff like he still has his coat, hat, etc. because Ingo got to keep all his old stuff too, but since the trailer looked more modern and Pokémon were with people, I don’t think it would be all destroyed like Ingos just cause it seems like a more civilized nation alongside pokemon and if it really did get destroyed in some way, I have a feeling he would be able to get it repaired without it getting ruined again. Also in terms of the suit I think the darker color is a good parallel to Ingos pearl clan outfits lighter colors. A lot of the design choices were meant to parallel him anyways. Since Ingo had lost his gloves in his Hisui design, giving Emmet new ones felt appropriate for some reason. In terms of the cane I gave him, not only is he an old man, I think it’s kinda needed. Ingo had that little wristband to signify he was a warden, while I think the cane could be useful for a mega stone wink wink nudge nudge. Cute little accessories for them I’m so nice 💀 he could definitely have a slower lifestyle in comparison to Ingo, and I definitely could see him working at Lumiose Station (if it exists in this game) and even though he would most likely have his memory wiped too, Ingo still said the same train themed quotes even with his memory gone, and even then he still had SOME memory, it was just very faint. Emmet definitely could feel some “connection” to the station and say stuff like “Some late nights I think I see a man who looks like me, but upon second glance it’s just my imagination. Even if I can’t seem to shake it from my mind, it seems I still wish to see him again…” anywho for the drawing, I made a few references. The main one just being a reference of design, but the one in the top right corner was a small reference to Alabaster Icelands. I’ve seen a lot of people use the snow to give Ingo flashbacks to Emmet, and while I think my station one is more closely related to Ingos darker color scheme, I think having him in the snow was a good nod to that. The bottom right corner was a reference to a drawing (that probably most people already know what I’m referencing) that had Pokémon that I thought resembled them, and one of the ones I had included for Ingo was Klefki. So just a little salt to the wound (it wasn’t even that bad.) Anywho, I know the design isn’t very refreshing, but I tried to keep it as canonical as possible.

[comet-soda-lite]

Very weird to me how a lot of people are talking about Legends Z-A taking place in the current day/future when I didn't get that vibe from the trailer at all? Like, I could totally end up being wrong here, but the trailer seems to me to just be depicting a Blueprint (a pretty old-fashioned PLA-style document, might I add) of a grand urban vision of a Lumiose City that is going to be created.

The segment of the trailer where everything goes blue and sort of "futuristic"-looking, is really just animating this paper blueprint; I don't think it's supposed to be in-universe futuristic tech, I think it's a stylized way of showing the future of Lumiose that the blueprints are imagining. This is backed up by a lot of the promo material mentioning how PLZA will be about redeveloping the city into a place where "people and Pokémon can live together", a goal that is blatantly already accomplished in this vision of the future.

Essentially, the blueprints are from long ago in the past, i.e. the time period where the game is set. And the foundation for the grand Lumiose City we know in XY is laid by these very blueprints, which is what we then see depcited in the "vision" part of the trailer.

As many people have mentioned, there was a massive urban redevelopment of Paris that took place contemporary with when Legends Arceus would've taken place. And that makes perfect sense for the game's setting. Not current day.

Maybe I'll be wrong, maybe there’ll be a future element to the game, but I really don't think that's something we can actually infer at all from this trailer.

[sadesluvr]

CAT & MOUSE. (I)

Miguel O’Hara x Black Cat! F! Reader Warnings: Fighting, physical injury, pressing + sexual innuendo READ ON AO3 | SERIES MASTERLIST | NEXT CHAPTER

The feeling of wind through your hair as you stared out onto the city never got old. 

There was a freeness that came from being the Black Cat. You indulged in the glitz and glamour of material possessions without ever really working a day to get it; spending the evenings into the dark of night scaling rooftops and plotting your next theft rather than packing school lunches. That motherly, parental sort of thing didn’t really amuse you anyway. 

For you, nothing was ever out of the ordinary. You’d had your eyes on the crime world for a while; and the nature of your ‘job’ made it so that PI’s, henchmen or straight up villains were almost always on your tail. More often than not, they never managed to keep up with you anyway. 

That was why you weren’t surprised when one afternoon a portal had opened...literally out of nowhere. 

You would’ve gotten the hint that it had something to do with the futuristic-looking watch that sat around your wrist if you hadn’t been lunged at by a man in a red and dark blue Spider suit.  

Hardly surprising. 

“What, no introduction?” you purred. 

“Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”  

Instinctively, you backflipped out of the way, landing behind an air vent and using it as a post to check your surroundings. Though the man was agile, he was also large, and didn’t possess your graceful discretion, allowing for you to roll away as he came up behind you, claws slicing through the metal in his attempt to scratch you.  

You managed to nip at his calves as you did, his knees momentarily buckling before he chased after you, following your sprint along the red-bricked apartments.  

No matter the situation, you always found a thrill in the chase; revelling in the sensation of feeling weightless. 

Most of the buildings were densely built, allowing you to jump between them easily. That didn’t last long as you encountered a large gap that happened to be an intersection of the main road.  

Swiping out your grappling hook, you latched onto a telephone pole as the rope swung you to the nearest surface, the edges of your feet narrowly missing a particularly thick branch of tree. As you did, you were able to catch a glimpse of the man behind you, his hunched form and bared claws evident in his reflection. 

“You shouldn’t be here!” he yelled. His voice was muffled over the whirling of air pressure from your gliding. You turned around to flip the man off, which clearly agitated him. Launching himself into the air, his movement looked like an eclipse as he flipped over you, landing at your feet.  

His actions were so fast and powerful that you barely noticed his hand fly towards you. At the last second, you shielded your hands in front of your face, pleasantly surprised not to be met with a punch in the face, but a throttle. He was so large that only one of his hands held both your forearms.   

With a good hold on you, he held you against the edge of the rooftop, the small of your back pressing into the glass of a balcony. If you shifted too much, you were almost certain that you’d plunge right into the rush-hour traffic, traumatising schoolkids on their way home. 

Your grappling hook was on the floor, leaving you with no choice but to fight your way out. 

Grinning, you etched your leg up so that you pushed yourself even further over the balcony, wild hair dangling 12ft off the ground as you gave the Spider an eyeful of your exposed neck and collarbone. Momentarily he seemed distracted, and you used the leverage to deliver him a quick, but hefty kick to the stomach.  

He keeled over, and you used the moment to pick up your hook. There was something sexy about seeing a Spider-Man on his knees, but you didn’t let it distract you.  

Instead, you geared up for a swift roundhouse kick to the side of his face – only for him to grab onto your thigh, holding you to his strapping chest as he thrust your bodies into the side of the building adjacent to you.  

Perhaps you’d gotten too cocky. 

“Shit!” you hissed, watching as you both fell into an empty, gated alley, with piled garbage bins and random cardboard boxes there to break your fall. 

Your spine hit the brick wall with considerable force, violently knocking the air from your lungs. For a moment, your body went limp, crippling pain from the centre of your back spreading to the other parts of your body, producing a shooting twinge to your skull and toes. The man had one hand around your neck, holding you effortlessly in place as the large flat of his palm pressed against your windpipe. You had no choice but to choke – oxygen few and far between as he showed no signs of letting you go.  

There was something different about him compared to the other Spiders you’d encountered. For one, it was striking that he hadn’t used spiderwebs during his haste to detain you, instead having sharp red talons for jabbing, and secondly – the most damning one of all – there had been no banter. Being the Black Cat meant that repartee with Spider-Man was a given, if not a bit of flirting and even a kiss here and there. This version was so painfully strait-laced, that it you found this romp even more intriguing, if not arousing. 

“How did you come across this watch?” he said bluntly, the red lines of his suits’ eyes narrowing. 

“Hello to you too...” you hummed, wincing as you continued to struggle against his grip. “I’d love to answer, but your paw’s got a hold on my windpipe.” 

He grunted, his hand shaking as he contemplated the situation before dropping you. Not only had you been slammed into a building, but now you’d felt like you’d dropped a thousand feet to the ground, absorbing the force on your already aching thighs. Yes, this Spider was certainly different; stronger, ruthless...desperate.  

Sighing, you took a deep breath as you watched him tower over you, the full scope of his body on show. He was ripped, at least on his upper torso, and had a toned, slender waist and legs - quite literally shaped like an upside-down isosceles triangle. Quite unlike anyone – or anything – you’d seen before.  

“Escucha, no tengo tiempo para esto,” [Listen, I don’t have time for this] he said, the pixels of his mask unravelling to show off the man underneath. “Tell me where you got the watch.”  

You were someone who would always appreciate the finer things in life – Persian cats, historic artworks, jewels – and a good-looking man was no exception. Though you loved being the Black Cat, it was apparent that you hadn’t thanked the universe enough for giving you the position, the very opportunity to fall into Spider-Man's grasp.  

He was gorgeous; almost beyond words. He was looking down at you with a frown, but all you could do was grin. 

“One of your little buddies dropped it during one of our meetings,” you smiled, peering up at the man through your lashes. “You should tell them to be more careful.” 

“I know that means you stole it,” he replied. “I know exactly what you are.” 

“Really?” you whispered, standing on your tiptoes to run your gloved finger along his cheek, claws gently grazing his unblemished skin. You felt the urge to slice him right there, to have rivulets of blood pour down his cheeks as they seeped into the beds of your fingernails; but you needed a moment to continue in admiring him. “Then you know how this usually ends...” 

His eyelids flickered as they responded to your touch, but he merely brushed you off, large hands moving your own to your sides. 

“I’m not like the others,” he said flatly. “I’m taking you home.” 

“Hm, so you are.” 

He furrowed his brows. 

“To your dimension’s home,” he restated. “You’re not supposed to be here. You’re an anomaly, a threat to the multiverse --” 

The man stopped as you rolled your eyes, so hard that you thought they might’ve stayed in the back of your skull. Though his demeanour remained stoic, he placed his hands on his hips and twisted his lips into a pout, clearly unamused by your insolence. 

“Oh, sweetheart, you can’t be serious,” you laugh, shifting your weight. “I’m just a girl with expensive tastes...I have no interest in fiddling with the ball of yarn that you call a ‘multiverse’. If anything, you should be worried about the others. They’re the real freaks.” You said ominously, a small smirk on your face as you knowingly swiped your tongue across your lips. 

He didn’t answer but gave you a pointed look, his piercing eyes giving you a once over. Clicking your tongue, you grinned, amused by his fight to put up a front. He was just like any male who was a control-freak, with apparent fits of rage and the superficial compulsion to intimidate people using silence. Luckily for you, not only did you know better, but you knew how to work with it.  

More often than not, there was a sadness; a deep, scathing trauma that lay beneath the surface, and this man was no different. The wrinkles on the corners of his eyes told you so, as did his imperceptible reactions to anything that resembled a positive emotion – someone, something was plaguing his mind, and it was all buried under his impassive exterior. 

Standing on your tiptoes, you cocked your head as you lowered your voice, words barely a whisper as you breathed into his ear. 

“You’re hurting. I can fix that...” 

Something seemed to flicker at the forefront of his mind. 

It was at that moment that he shot a red, laser like web from his hands, its material roping around your waist and arms, once again glueing you into submission. Instead of a pain, there was an ecstatic thrill that you got from being cornered; a breathlessness, a light-headedness, a euphoria, making your chest heave in anticipation. 

“You know nothing,” he hissed, pressing his body into yours. He was so close that you were able to see that he had fangs, pointed and bared just for you as your joint hormones radiated off each other, igniting a palpable heat. The individual hairs on your body were standing up in salute. “I don’t need your help.” 

He seemed to swallow his words at that.  

“Are you sure? Because I can be a real mediator...” 

“Me being here should tell you otherwise.”  

“It’s given you something to do,” you shrugged. “I’m generous like that.” 

 “Qué amable.” [How nice] he grunted. 

“I’ve always been quite the giver,” you said, arching a brow. “You could’ve just asked for the watch. I would’ve handed it to you…” 

Lifting your leg, you slowly began to rub the leather of your costume up his own suit, tracing the outline of his calves and thighs as you worked your way towards his pelvis. Your eyes were locked on his own as you did it, lips ever so slightly parted as you ached for his touch. 

Well, something certainly touched you, but it wasn’t his lips. You glanced down knowingly as you felt a warm mound against your thigh. He was hard. 

His large chest was heaving, and his breaths were shaky. It took a moment for him to pull away, but he was certainly frustrated, choosing to retract the ties around your body.  

Smirking, it didn’t take long for him to shoot at you again, this time cuffing your wrists above your head to the rails of a fire escape, leaving your legs to dangle slightly off the ground. Like a piece of meat.  

“You’re of a cat than me,” you grinned, a gleam in your eye as you spoke. “You like playing with your food, huh? Haven’t even taken me to dinner yet —“ 

“Stop talking.” He said bluntly, and you clamped your lips shut into a line, eyeing him with wide eyes. Diverting his gaze, he took the watch off your wrist, rolling it in his hands before he muttered to himself. 

“LYLA…Radio HQ. I want answers as to who left this.” 

A yellow hologram of an eccentric woman popped up, and she glanced between the two of you, a lazy smirk wiping across her features in recognition. 

“Hope I’m not interrupting,” she giggled before pulling out a camera. “Just marking the occasion.” 

She snapped a pic, disappearing before the man could protest, leaving the two of you alone once more.  

Now you suspected things to get serious. 

Shaking his head, he glanced down at his own watch, pressing a few buttons so that it came apart. A flurry of colours came from it, producing the same portal that had appeared when he arrived. Its edges were jagged and electric, illuminating your skin with a whitish tint, even in the natural golden glow of the afternoon.  

Bracing yourself, you expected to be thrust into the wormhole, but no such sensation came. Instead, the Spider had begun to back away from you and towards the vortex. 

“What are you doing?” You hissed, rather outraged, and feeling painfully humbled. You happened to hate that sensation worst of all.  

Again, he didn’t reply, and it seemed that he was back to being an avoidant asshole. Yet barely five minutes ago had he been putty in your hands at a simple touch. 

The jig was up. 

“You know I love this little dance of ours,” you hummed. “But acting as if you don’t know me? If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re getting a little kinky in your later years, huh, Miguel?” 

The dark-haired man scoffed, glancing over at you from the corner of his eye. 

“I’m not one to play stupid games,” he said. “But you started it, and I’ll end it...Como yo decida.” [However I decide] 

And with a flash he was gone, just as quickly as he’d came. 

Divider by @v6que !

[blackbird5154]

Some possible sources of inspiration for Meliora design

It is known that when creating Meliora, Tobias Forge was inspired by the movie "Metropolis" and the art deco style of the 1920-30s. Here I want to share my findings of some borrowed elements in the third era.

The Palace of the Soviets was a project to construct a political convention center in Moscow on the site of the demolished Cathedral of Christ the Saviour. The project was never realized. Zbigniew Bielak wrote in his blog: "Check out the rough concept sketches leading up to this apotheosis of Soviet esprit". Meliora is probably referring to the USSR as a failed utopia.

The building beneath the lustful megalomaniac resembles Boston Avenue United Methodist Church (1929).

This element is taken from the old RKO building (usually known as the General Electric Building) (1929-31). The theme of electricity is given a lot of attention in Meliora.

The lanterns in the hands are made in the style of the Helsinki Central Railway Station (1907) lamps. Papa Emeritus is compared to Lucifer the Light-bringer, and at the same time he is the bearer of the idea of enlightenment.

Another unrealized building, a concept by visionary artist Hugh Ferriss, can be seen in the City's urban landscape from the music video. Hugh Ferriss was an American architect and illustrator who created many images of futuristic New York in the 1920s, he's also the author of the book "The Metropolis of Tomorrow".

This building is the actual Odeon Cinema in Glasgow. It was built in 1934 and was originally owned by the American Paramount movie studio. A prime example of mid-1930s architectural modernism.

The cover of "From the Pinnacle to the Pit" is painted from Nick Gaetano's "Romantic Manifesto." It is a 2006 painting inspired by Ayn Rand's book "Atlas Shrugged".

[kiss-me-muchoo]

𝐇𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐝 || 𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐎’𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲_you’ve been lost for a day, and Miguel is worried. And it’s all because you’re not a science girl, thankfully your boyfriend is there to help you with your biochemistry class. 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬_age gap not specified (I’m 19, I can’t help it), idiot lovers, implied sex, fluff, Miguel best bf, civilian! shy! Insecure! reader, implied Mexican reader. 𝐀/𝐍_this is based on my favorite song of the movie, hummingbird. Listen to my playlist tho <3

♪ ♫ My Miguel O’Hara playlist. ✰ Index (+ fics here)

Hi, I might be busy, but leave a message. Love u…. *beep*

Miguel smiled, thinking the love u you had as a voicemail was only for him.

But soon he grew irritated. You hadn’t answered your phone for the whole day. You hadn’t even touched the device he had created for you to contact him through his gizmo.

“Why the sad face? Is it because your girl hasn’t answered?” Lyla asked appearing beside him. Miguel only eyed her.

“No.”

“Mmh… Even civilians have busy lives. Just because they aren’t spiders doesn't mean they don’t have responsibilities” the AI said trying to do a wise tone.

“I know, Lyla.” Huffed Miguel, clearly annoyed.

“Well. Then don’t worry, boss. Your girl is okay” You were smart, and Miguel knew you were fine. It only was strange, because you always answered.

“Oh, Peter and Gwen asked permission to come and see you” Once again, he rolled his eyes. Miguel could already hear a silly comment coming from Peter and Gwen cheering him.

“Tell them to be quick”

“On it, boss” With that Lyla disappeared.

Miguel could not wait to leave the HQ and call it a day.

…

By the time the sun was about to start fading, Miguel was able to finish a mission and report and leave everything ready for the next week. The HQ was okay and all the anomalies were safely contained.

He knew it would be easier to find you with his suit.

Most of the people in Nueva York lived in apartments, futuristic and minimalistic ones. Miguel lived in one of those. Until he met you.

Not so long ago, when an anomaly was causing chaos, he saved your life. An angry venom was about to devour you when he appeared.

He thought you were a kid. But later he learned it was your first year of college just when he was finishing his Ph.D...

Long short story, both fell in love at the very beginning of summer, but he waited.

He waited until turned twenty to be your boyfriend. Because your mother disapproved of him.

Your house was in a decent neighborhood. The street had these rectangular houses that were built upside down with long crystal windows and terraces as rooftops.

But you weren’t there.

Your window was open, but no signs of you.

“Damn it, where are you, y/n?” He mumbled, hanging from his bright web in your window.

Huffing, he activated his mask again and started balancing across the city.

He even thought about calling your father. As the man seemed to tolerate Miguel; offering beers and exchanging tastes in music at every gathering. But your boyfriend knew he didn’t have to worry.

Although Miguel didn’t possess a spider-sense, he knew you were not in danger.

And he almost missed to see your tiny silhouette.

He stopped on the balcony of an apartment complex.

The smell of coffee invades the whole avenue.

Your seating, alone. There’s a cup beside your laptop and a book is splayed. You seem very concentrated. Miguel thinks your furrowed brows and hand under your chin are cute.

Peace floods him after finding you.

Relief assaulted him when you started collecting your belongings. You thank the waitress and you leave, putting on your earphones, and carrying your big tote.

So he smirks.

You are humming one of your favorite songs, and finally, you finished all the modules of all your classes.

You can’t wait to go back home and call Miguel. You had missed him so much and-

“What the hell?” You yell as you are pulled towards an alley.

Miguel is there. Suit on, imposing height coming closer to you.

You cross your arms over the red shiny web around your waist.

“Oh look… You don’t own me from Lesley Gore started playing” you say with sarcasm, showing him your phone.

“You didn’t answer any of my calls” Deep down, you knew he was worried. And it made you feel guilty.

“I know, I’m sorry. I’ve been busy with school” Suddenly, Miguel remembered you had started a new college semester. And everything made sense.

“Tough course in specific?” He asked, his mask disappearing to your eyes, meeting his gorgeous face.

“Uh—, actually… yes”

“Why you doubted?” You blushed. And more embarrassed you felt.

“I was struggling and I didn’t want to ask for help. Especially to you” Miguel was confused. His web let you go, but he came closer to you. The way he was so tall and broad made you feel like a rag doll, always having to look all the way up to him.

“And why is that?”…”

“Silly me completely forgot the biology of drugs was biochemistry in disguise” Miguel laughed. He actually laughed and to that point, you were red like a beetroot.

“You’re so stubborn, muñeca” The music had stopped at that point. Putting your phone inside your bag was a good idea to avoid his deep gaze.

“What? I don’t want you to know how much of an idiot I am. I’m not a science girl and you know that…” Miguel stopped smiling.

You had said in the past that you were ashamed. Because you weren’t special like him. You were just a normal girl living a boring life. While he was Spider-Man, he was the leader of a whole group of people like him. He had a job besides that. Miguel was successful, and you were soon to become something. Yet, you were lost.

“We’ve talked about this, y/n. I’m not with you for pity or something. I just happened to fall in love with the most sweet and caring woman I met in the middle of chaos” he had mentioned his late daughter. The mother wasn’t in the picture. Miguel never knew who was his partner in that universe.

And yeah, on Earth-929, he had seen this woman named Dana, but it didn’t last. He never felt in love.

“I know, Miguel. I know that very well, bebé” You pull him closer to you, and immediately your lips welcome him. He closes his eyes and completely leans towards you.

After missing you the whole day, he melts in your lips, savoring each second his skin is on yours. Allowing himself to feel happy.

“I would still look like a bimbo if you ever tried to help me” he laughed, a long laugh, before venturing again into your soft lips.

“Then I’d look like a himbo if you introduced me to arts and literature” both of you giggle, hugging in the middle of a dirty alley.

“Your parents are out?”

“Yeah. They went to visit my abuelita for the weekend. She’ll come next week so I declined the trip to stay and learn about enzymes” Your man nodded.

“I’ll take you home. And I’ll stay with you these days” The news made you really happy. Miguel had stayed with you before. But most of the time it was just a single night. You barely visited his apartment.

“Wait till my parents find out” As you giggle, he rolls his eyes.

“We can keep it a secret”

“Oh, so romantic of you” Miguel feels like a puppy when you start smooching his cheeks. He said he would never grow a beard because he didn’t like it. You had said loved him however he decided to look, but honestly, you really loved his clear face.

“Just for you, mi vida” When you met him, he was this grumpy giant who hated physical contact. Now, he was still a grumpy giant but loved physical contact, just yours of course.

“Wanna go watch the sunset?” He asks holding your waist. You nod, you would never say no.

“Hold tight” his strong arm envelopes your hips, and you hug him so tightly. And the pressure of being lifted appears suddenly, startling you.

As Miguel starts balancing across the city, he notices your head buried in his neck, which makes him smile under the mask.

“This isn’t new, muñeca. You are missing the view” Slowly, you open your eyes, but you don’t dare to move your head, the wind obstructing your view, but across your stubborn hairs, you can see Nueva York.

The lights of the cars, every single highway, the sounds of news on big screens. But the most beautiful view is Miguel and you and his arms. Every skyscraper is a mirror for you and your boyfriend. You can see how small you look compared to him.

As you start approaching your neighborhood, you have to close your eyes again.

You can feel how hard he loves you by the way he holds you as if his life depends on it.

“I don’t like the way my stomach churns every time we do this” you admit on his ear.

“Good to know we are already here, bebé” Pink, purple, orange, and yellow make your eyes collapse as you encounter the most beautiful sunset you’ve ever seen.

Miguel lets you go. He lets you walk across the rooftop and appreciates you for some seconds.

“It’s beautiful…” you almost whisper, referring to the sky.

“It is…” but he means it about you.

You were his miracle. A safe miracle that came in the most unexpected moment.

“It’s a fruit punch sunset…” You’re worried because you hear Miguel laughing again, which is weird. You turn around to encounter him smiling at you.

“Really? A fruit punch?” You’re blushing again.

“Okay… It’s a summer sunset” he knows you’re annoyed. Because he laughed earlier and now again.

“I’m sorry, mi chiquita. It’s a fruit punch sunset” he admits hugging you from behind.

His soft hair brushes your temple, and his hands around your stomach make you put yours on top of him.

“I love so much” he whispers.

“I love you too, Miguel” Everything was all too well with you. And he intended to keep it that way.

…

Again, that little scrunch you tended to do once you were stressed or highly concentrated.

“Okay… so enzymes are?…”

“Proteins.” You answer shyly.

“Correct”

“And where does the substrate bind with the enzyme?” He is testing you, and you don’t like it. But it’s for your own good.

“The activate site?”

“Good girl” You send him a bad look and he just chuckles.

“See? You’re not dumb, mi amor. You’re very smart” You bump your head with his shoulder.

Both of you are in the kitchen, on the table actually. All of your books are displayed with notes and pens.

“I really want to be done with requisites” Miguel sighed.

“I had to take three English courses when I was in college, y/n. And believe me, I wasn’t the most brilliant. My essays used to have red marks all over” you giggle.

“I don’t think so, you’re a genius”

“Just because I developed this thing with Lyla doesn’t mean I am a genius,” he said pointing at the gizmo in his wrist.

“Oh, Lyla. I miss her” you admit.

It had been a couple of weeks since you visited the HQ for the last time.

“I can take you next week. Actually, I’m strongly thinking that I might need help with the reports” proving that you were very smart, Miguel remembered the system you developed for the spiders to accommodate the reports filled after an anomaly attack.

“Oh stop it, Jessica said it would be fine”

“Jess had actually stated that having you would be very helpful” It surprised you.

“Really?”

“Yeah. A lot of people like having you around the HQ. Peter’s kid especially”

“Mayday?” Miguel nodded. Remembering how fussy the baby got after hearing your voice in a voicemail you had sent to your boyfriend.

“She’s a newborn, Miguel”

“So? She’s like two months old. She already knows you” you shrug. Remember the time you met Peter and how he told you his wife and he wanted to have a kid. A couple of weeks later he broke the news and you had crocheted the baby’s first plushie. A pink little spider girl.

“I love Mayday but don’t use her to make me your assistant” Miguel kissed your nose.

“Why would I do that, mi vida?”

“Because you’re a cheeky asshole” breaking a record, Miguel was laughing again.

“Ay, corazón. No seas así”

“I’ll think about working more time at the HQ. Qué tal?” He nods.

“That would make me very happy”

“Nah, you just want to have me around like your rag doll” Miguel smirked, so you gently punched his chest.

“I’m not in the mood to keep learning about DNA, enzymes, and monosaccharides” you admit rolling your eyes and pushing your head back in the chair.

“Well, I’m in the mood to teach you anatomy now” Your eyes widen, and you start giggling.

“Fine. But not on the couch. Last weekend Mom was this close to finding my ripped panties under the pillows” Miguel couldn’t help but laugh at your index and thumb almost brushing.

“Don’t worry. I won’t throw away your panties. But for sure I’ll rip them apart”

“See? Cheeky asshole”

“I’m just being honest” You would never get tired of how serious Miguel sounded every time. Even when he was saying nasty things. It was in his nature to be sassy.

“Yeah, yeah. Now take me to bed and do what you’re good at” Carrying you in his arms, he hurried to take you to bed.

He gently placed you over the sheets. And before anything, he made sure to show how much he loved you. By kissing your lips like he always used to.

“Miguel?” You ask suddenly.

“Yes, preciosa?”

“I think I forgot everything about steroids… Oh no,” you want to face-palm yourself.

“It’s okay. I’ll make you remember everything, muñeca” As his kisses traveled through your jaw and neck, you relaxed. Finally, let the heat flow across your body.

“First thing, steroids help growth energy, metabolism, and reproduction, bonita” reproduction, naughty ideas start to cross your mind.

Like the morning your parents left to get some things for a gathering, and he had you sweating and crying under him on your floor carpet. But beyond that, you only have eyes for your Miguel. The only thing you seem to need in life.

Your strong and beautiful geneticist boyfriend.

You are unsure of how you ended up by his side. Dating the infamous Spider-Man, visiting the HQ of the Spider Society, and dealing with everything all together.

And he held you tightly the whole night.

Even when things would change in less than a year. With new piers joining, Miguel growing obsessed with keeping in harmony the spider-verse, grieving his past. And how he would traumatize a teenager in hopes of saving everything. Miguel would see you dying thanks to the spot, and the only way of preventing that was making you a spider too. The changes after that would be big. Even with all of that, both of you thought the same; you were in the correct pair of arms, and hopefully, you’d stay long. If not, forevermore.

____________

special mentions_ @freehentai