#osiris has poor self worth | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

unholyplumpprincess · 4 years

Text

Clever Little Fox

For @hurtled-into-chaos-you-fight featuring his beautiful Bloodhound design that you can see on his pinned post! I have also written them in here for those who do better with Written descriptions! LOVE U BITCH

Summary: Mirage decides today is the day he will decide to get one on over Hound. He's always been their prey in the arena, but it wouldn't hurt to switch it up, right? Lure them in only to humiliate them in front of aaalll the cameras? Shouldn't hurt anything, right? Not like he's expecting to get punished or anything. Haha...ha....

Reblogs > Likes. Must have your age (18+ only) in your bio before interaction or you will be blocked.

Fandom: Apex Legends

Relationship: Mirage/Bloodhound

Warnings: R18+/NSFT, Bloodhound has a penis, Mirage has a vulva, gender fluid Mirage who goes by she/her and Ellie/Elliott, both have body mods, Bloodhound is briefly called Daddy as a title but NOT a daddy kink, biting, denial + overstimulation, aaaand Elliott in a cute collar and being called prey!

Words: 8.7k

_________

King’s Canyon had felt almost eerie with its adjustments these last seasons.

Bloodhound missed the Leviathans’ calls, their large feet stomping down creating craters across the lands and sweeping the area free of any greedy or bold enemy teams. More adjustments being made reminded them of the sight of their own home planet, being mangled now by Hammond. It could bring painful memories if they thought too hard about it.

Thankfully, with the coming season, Bloodhound had been able to focus more on the games. Namely because just a few seasons ago, they’d gotten into a relationship. Elliott had finally, bravely come up to them instead of looking from afar, his tongue tripping himself up as he rubbed the back of his head and said, “Would you maybe like to go to the afterparty? With uh- with me, I mean. Like. You know. Like we go together? Like as a...as a couple- or er, duo? You know? Two pals in a pod- er, peas? Peas in a pod.” While doing that little pretend two punch towards them with his face burning and clearly losing the bravery he must have built on the way over to them.

Cute.

Bloodhound couldn’t help but smile, towering over him by a good head as they peer down at him through their dark goggles. “I would love to accompany you.” To which Elliott’s beautiful hazel eyes had lit up, a bright smile crossing his face and dimples creasing his cheeks. It had been worth it alone just to agree to go to see him so delighted, but then along the way, they’d grown close.

~Rest under the cut~

Accompanying him to afterparties soon became accompanying him elsewhere. To get coffee, to just sitting in the lounge area to bring Elliott company. Sometimes, Bloodhound found that they’d fall asleep quite often with him, their head nodding off in the blissful quiet only to awaken frightened and confused at first. Elliott, who’d quickly gotten used to that, would always gently tell them that they were alright. Reminding them where they were and how they got there until the hunter had settled.

Bloodhound’s narcolepsy was...odd. In order to be triggered, they had to be completely calm- rather than when it would normally happen for others when a huge overwhelming emotion passed. It seemed to happen when they were at their calmest, happening more and more frequent the longer they were around Elliott. To the point that eventually Elliott had slyly offered his room instead so they could lie down ‘just in case’.

Ellie had been the one to make the first move for a kiss, and for that Bloodhound is eternally grateful. They had been longing to, going so far as to cup her cheek and smooth their thumb over her lower lip and hearing her breath hitch- but never proceeding. But one day, on a date where they were in the woods on a picnic (Ellie’s idea, Bloodhound had to stop from grinning at how sweet it was), she’d leaned over. Gently cupping their cheek and asking permission quietly, Bloodhound hadn’t trusted their voice so they had nodded, and then her glossy maroon lips had pressed to theirs. So softly, so gently that they thought they would lose their breath.

Bloodhound had ended up with their lips and cheeks covered in her makeup, dizzy and hungry all the same. Watching her clean up around her mouth and reapply the lip gloss had been a sin in itself. A divine temptation.

She was, in herself, a divine temptation. And together, they both looked so different next to each other- a small thing that brought Bloodhound joy. And even then, they were clearly an attractive couple.

Bloodhound stood at 6’4”, built broad and fit with a body looking almost to be carved from the gods- something they were particularly proud of. Their skin is a deep, warm olive tone, discolored from dark coolant scarring that’s prominent on their forehead down to their thick, sharp brows. More stretching from their shoulders, down towards their collar bones.

Bloodhound’s face is just the same, seemingly carved from marble with a hooked nose. With age, now at 46, their age had slightly started to show with crow’s feet nearing their sharp eyes, as well as laugh lines on their cheeks, only really noticeable if they snarled or smiled. Their lips are full, split near the center across from five diagonal scars going across their face starting at the right side of their scalp, going through their ear and down to their left side jawline. Their sharp eyes are deep set, looking predatory near constantly. Ellie had called them out for having a ‘resting bitch face’ for it before. With their left eye a vibrant and unnatural deep crimson, and the right a blinded milky pink, both with diamond shaped pupils with their right being paler.

Their hair had to be another thing they were particularly proud of. Long, deep ginger hair in coiling, wild waves with a few gray streaks through their hair. The boldest streak of gray found at their bang and temple line. Falling well past their ass to about mid-thigh, normally pulled into a messy ponytail or varied braids throughout their hair. Their body hair is kept trimmed, save for their thick happy trail leading down below their pant line.

Bloodhound was also covered head to toe in body mods. Gauges in their ears appearing like large, swirled bones, their left ear having an industrial with varied hoops and two smaller gauges. Their right covered in the same hoops with a single stud at their helix with the same gauges. In their mouth, with their sharp upper and lower long canines, a tongue web piercing rested as well as a smiley piercing.

Nipple piercings, hip dermals , and a full jacob’s ladder with a prince albert through the head of their cock completed their piercings. Modifications done to their tongue to be split and forked at the tip, and their ears modified to be pointed. Tattoos covered up half of their flesh, a majority being black out tattoos. Swirling around their biceps and curling down their forearm partially, up to their neck where a helm of awe rested on their throat just above two ravens extending their talons out on their pecs.

Black out, swirled tattoos curl all the way down from their hips all the way to the center of their feet where the runes for Speed rested. Runes in a prayer for ‘the 13 th warrior prayer’ etched into their flesh through the areas the swirls did not cover on their legs. Over their hands they had runes on their left for justice, and on their right for death. Lines and black outs all along their hands as well.

And finally, along the base of their shaft encompassed black ink, a double band on either side are two runes for lovers/sacrificial sex. Both runes encompassing fertility.

They were huge, completely modded up behind that armor they wore. It had been a treat to see Elliott’s jaw drop open, entirely flattering them when he’d sputtered out and turned red, trying to find the words. It had been before they were in a relationship, Bloodhound having no shame in revealing their body to their fellow teammates. It had certainly been an ego booster to watch him trip over himself when they had removed their upper armor and helmet in the showers, making eye contact with the poor thing as he near tripped over his change of clothes he was dragging.

Such cute prey he made when he was flustered.

And yet, in turn, Elliott was similar yet different to their own self. Elliott had mentioned his adoration of Egyptian gods and the symbolism behind them whilst describing all his tattoos. Symbols in ink littered across his arms for Sobek, Osiris, and on both his shoulders being the eyes of Ra and Horus. On his torso being symbols for Isis as an underbust tattoo, an ankh over his left breast, a scarab over his throat and dual stars on the dips of his hips. And on his legs, symbols for Amun-Ra of a sun on his right thigh, the moon on his left, the bird-like head on his right calf, and Anubis on his left calf

His own mods were kept pretty hidden under his own uniform. More of piercings like gold barbells through his nipples, several ear piercings, a triple vertical tongue piercing, and a navel piercing.

His own body was fit, but he had a slight tummy that Bloodhound would admit they were obsessed with. His breasts were rounded, C cup they would assume and made him look rather broad in a compression bra in the arena, and his curves sharp and falling down to equally wide hips. He had a strong body, biceps well defined and his tummy equally defined, just with that small amount of softness to it that made Bloodhound want to squish it as much as his hips did. Without his boots, he stood at about 5’9”. Perfect chin resting height.

Oh, he was always such a taunting creature, wasn’t he? The tease of having Isis’ symbol upon his flesh, for fertility and motherhood. It wasn’t as if he had not had it before he had met Bloodhound, they knew that. But how their own runes on their shaft matched Her meaning- oh, he was so tempting to sink their teeth into at a constant. So inviting with his flirtatious remarks, his wits, and how beautifully he keened in their arms, murmuring their chosen name of ‘Rune’ with desperation in his voice.

That’s what had been running through Bloodhound’s head when they were in the arena today. Normally so focused and able to aid their teammates better, but something about Elliott was so distracting today.

Perhaps it was how he had smiled at them on the dropship, eyes bright and delighted at seeing them. Bloodhound had met his gaze from across the way through their goggles, watching as he held his index finger and thumbs together to form a heart and playfully blowing them a kiss. They had, in turn, delighted in seeing his pout when they drew their thumb across their throat in warning.

However, he had that look in his eye. As clever and as full of tricks as a fox, Bloodhound did not trust that look. His eyes had a gleam in them, his full lips quirking into a crooked grin before leaning back to the side to seemingly talk to Wraith, his partner in this duo match. Whilst Bloodhound found themself with a newbie, one who was talking a big game about how they were going to solo this, that they wanted to win a match on their own without a legend by their side. Bloodhound could respect that, in theory, but in practice of a blood sport that involved being in partnerships or trios? That was a mistake.

The newbie had been picked off early in the round, going so far as to split upon drop from them so Bloodhound couldn’t even respawn them and grab them by their collar like an idiotic kitten to scold. It had put them at a disadvantage- but the winds called them forward and they would answer those calls. They manage pretty well, at first, a duo is taken down by a stray spitfire they had picked up and their hatchet, another single person taken out with their longbow at a long-distance shot. A bit sloppy, but it got the job done.

They had been doing fairly well until they had caught sight of their beloved. At least, they thought they had, until they pulled the trigger on their longbow from afar and watched it crack clear through his head. Watching it dissipate with a robotic voice gleefully cackling, “Bamboozled!” But he must have been close by . He knew where they were looking. He was toying with them.

And so, the hunter becomes the hunted.

Bloodhound could grin at the idea. Their sweet little prey, always such an event with him. What would he be pulling out of his sleeve today? Would he roll over once caught and beg for their forgiveness? Bloodhound quite likes that idea, that he would bare his throat even in the arena if caught in their hands. Or would he perhaps have a new trick to pull, find a way to push their buttons until they thought of having him in the shower by his throat and sinking their teeth satisfyingly into the crook--

They’re shaken from their thoughts only when they catch that familiar yellow jumpsuit turning around a building. After quiet observation, it seems he’s alone. Perhaps a quick reminder what pretty prey he made was in order.

Their longbow shot hits next to his boot, watching through their scope as Elliott jumps and darts down into the valley left between The Cage and Market. Seeming to head towards the loot bunker below. Elliott is no fool, despite how he can come off, he should know that was a close quarters area. Bloodhound knew way better by now than to underestimate him, even if their instincts said to charge in. If not to secure a kill in their corner, but just to see what he had to say.

Wraith does not seem to be nearby; She doesn’t follow if that is the case. Bloodhound narrows their gaze, huffing to themself as they slide down from their position to edge the bunker’s mouth, slinging their mastiff from over their shoulder instead. Yet, when they drop down, they curiously note his footprints seem to be...not there?

Yet he is at the charge tower’s activation controls, his back turned to them. Their eyes narrow instantly as they approach, a hiss falling from their lips even before their fist makes contact with the hologram. “I am not playing your games today, Mirage.” They call out as the static voice fills the air with the same taunt. They know it would alert their location, draw him out of hiding of wherever he was. They expect him to follow the same path they did, drop down to their level with his hands up and that swagger in his step that his wide hips gave him.

What they don’t expect is to hear the sound of his ultimate being triggered and suddenly being surrounded by multiple of him aiming his wingman directly at them. Bloodhound is also acutely aware of the humming of two drone cameras circling the room to get in on the action of the two legends.

What a clever little trickster. They can’t help but be proud of his little parlor trick.

Bloodhound is quick to whip to the right, blasting their mastiff straight through what they hoped was the real Mirage. Only for it to dissipate into static with a taunt left behind gracing their ears of ‘bamboozled!’. Bloodhound hardly gets to take another guess when Elliott takes a well-aimed shot, shattering their armor with the loud crack of skullpiercer. Their second shot is incorrect, and their ultimate downfall when the real Mirage kicks the backs of their knees, sending them forward as another hologram kicks their chest to send them flat on their back and their mastiff skidding across the ground.

“Sooo, the hunter the gods have sent,” Elliott croons out in a sarcastic tone as he presses his boot to their chest to keep them down to the ground. Bloodhound grunts, snarling behind their respirator as he leans down on his thigh, applying more pressure. His wingman is tapping their helm, the only thing keeping them from lunging forward and tripping him up. “Tricked by lil ole me? Why, Houndie, I’m flattered ! Really, I am.”

His voice is a taunt and Bloodhound can’t help but look to his full lips quirking into that crooked grin they loved so much. Dimples crease his cheeks, his eyes sparkling with mischief in that way that always got Bloodhound to croon his fond nickname of ‘little fox’. But now, they bare their sharp teeth behind their respirator, fingers clenched into fists and their body starting to move to maybe lunge at him.

The click of his wingman cocking and those lips crooning, “Ah, ah, ah, ah! Not so fast, pup.” as if chiding a pet makes Bloodhound stay put, only propped up on their elbows and huffing at the humiliation. Elliott was playing a dangerous game, he knew that, always so clever and calculating. This taunt must have been for the last time Bloodhound had the upper hand and made that pretty little bird under them sing his pleads before they’d claimed Champion by a well-aimed hatchet.

A slight that Elliott did not seem to forget. Nor did videos scouring the various planets.

“Ah, well! Ya know, I won’t waste your time. Know you got better things to do than win like I do. Say hello to the ole’ chewing bone for me, will ya?” Elliott’s voice is that same crooning taunt, confidence rolling off him and each word another press into Bloodhound’s buttons. They go to lunge, and the last thing they hear is the loud crack. Placing Bloodhound third, with one last squad to go for Mirage and Wraith.

Elliott and Wraith claim champion not long after Bloodhound awakens in the medical bay with a frustrated growl. It doesn’t help that Elliott’s cockiness stirred something in them, something that hungered to see that look wiped off his face. Wanting to see that pretty face he made underneath them instead, except Bloodhound can’t find sympathy within them for what they have planned for him.

Humiliated. They were humiliated in front of the cameras. This would be talked about, Bloodhound could accept a loss, could accept even their beloved’s hand ending them in the arena. But, oh, they knew this would be talked about in interviews to come. That Ellie’s sweet smile would twist upon her features as she recalled the events, with that sparkle in her eye as she glanced at the camera’s lens and knew Bloodhound was watching not far.

No. Bloodhound does not find mercy within them for the thoughts that curl inside their mind. Predatory- hungry. Their little bird would sing until Bloodhound had their fill, until they felt that Elliott had accepted the punishment that he must have known was approaching. He should have, or else he wouldn’t have pressed and taunted like that. Normally if he caught the upper hand on them, he’d beam all proud of himself and Bloodhound’s heart would flutter at his pride.

This?

This was intentional. And Bloodhound would give him what he desired. Intensely.

Bloodhound considers this as they go to the showers, the sting of the humiliation lighter but not in the slightest eliminated. It still hangs fresh in their mind as they pull their respirator off to hang around their neck, about to start working on the rest of their heavier gear when humming reaches their ears. Cocking their head to the side, they turn towards the sound, watching Elliott joyfully humming to himself and swaying his body as he comes into the locker room area. Smelling strong of sweat and gun smoke.

Elliott must be high off his own win, not paying attention to his surroundings when he bumps right into Bloodhound. He jumps, taking a step back and his eyes landing on their chest where they must expect someone else, quickly flicking his gaze up to their face and offering a nervous smile.

“Elliott...” Bloodhound’s voice is a growl, that low rumble that makes Elliott bubble out a nervous laugh. He goes to take a step back, hands up and defensive and his back hitting a locker as they approach like a slinking predator. But at least he doesn’t look hurt, so they must have gotten the name correctly today. A male day, then.

Elliott gulps harshly when they come closer, another nervous laugh coming out. “H- Houndie ! Baby, I uh- I didn’t see you th --” He yelps when a hand fists into his curls, yanking his head back and their other gloved hand coming up to grip his jaw. Their thumb presses to his cheek, forcing his gaze to remain on them with a tight hold on his jaw. He can see the way their crimson eye glows behind their goggles, hungry and predatory.

“Quiet.” Bloodhound’s voice is a low snarl to stop his words and Elliott clicks his mouth shut. His breath hitches as they come closer, pressing their bodies together and Elliott can’t help but reach up. His hands land on both their forearms, squeezing them lightly but without intent to move them. He’s rewarded with a thick thigh shoving its way between his own, forcing them apart as a shaky breath inhales past his full lips. You really can’t blame the way his eyes flutter with anticipation, honeyed eyes flickering down to Bloodhound’s full lips and the sharpness of their teeth. So pretty.

Yeah. He was such a lucky person.

“You know what you have done, lítill refur.”

Maaaybe not that lucky.

“Who- me? Why, what did lil ole’ me d— ah !”

Not Elliott’s smartest move to back talk and play innocent when he’s being held by them. Their thigh comes up against him through the thin fabric of his holosuit, making sure to put enough pressure to make him stand on his tiptoes. They force him still, forcing his body to rock across their thigh until his hips start to do it automatically with a faint whimper building up from his throat.

“Do not play a fool, Elliott Witt. You knew exactly what you were doing to get what you wanted- and what is it that you want, hm?” Bloodhound’s voice is low, leaning close to his face until Elliott can see the reflection of his eyes in their goggles. How widely blown his pupils are and how he’s already got his lips parted and facial expression wanting. “Do you wish for me to take you here where anyone can find you? Where the cameras shall pick up on your pathetic whining?”

As if on cue, Elliott whines when Bloodhound’s hand moves from his jaw, keeping his hair still firmly in their grip as they trace down his body with their free hand. Their hand goes straight downwards, moving their thigh to cup his crotch and running their thumb over the seam of his cunt through his holosuit. Applying just the right amount of pressure to make his hips twitch into their grasp with a harsh gasp leaving his lips. They keep that pressure, rubbing across him until they feel wetness start to seep through the fabric. And only then does Bloodhound draw their hand way much to his dismay.

In fact, they let him go, getting completely off him as they swipe their split tongue over their thumb with a satisfied hum just to watch Elliott tremble. “Get cleaned up. Come to your room when you are finished.” Their eyes sweep over his frame, watching as he nods quickly as if all that fight and trickery has left his body. Bloodhound can’t help the smirk that graces their lips.

“Oh, and Elliott?” They call as Elliott starts to gather his civilian clothing, only able to get around the corner when they speak. They get the pleasure of watching him stop near instantly, shooting a look over his shoulder with those big puppy dog eyes of his as if begging them not to be too cruel. ”Be sure not to touch yourself. I will know. I do so hate when someone else touches my meal.”

Bloodhound does not miss the quiet ‘fuck’ Elliott whines out when he turns the corner, his feet hurrying across the floor.

Poor thing. However, Bloodhound has no sympathy for him. Not today.

Bloodhound had set up in Elliott’s room while he showered. They had recently gotten him a collar that they hoped he would enjoy- it was meant to be a gift, but now was as good of a time as any. A yellow and black lace, thick ribbon collar with a black and yellow bow on the front. A small silver O-ring was on the front with a little silver raven charm hanging off, the collar itself able to be tied in the back with a thin black ribbon. It wasn’t made to be tugged or yanked, but it was certainly a quiet marking of what they intended. Possessive. Theirs.

Lubrication was set to the side on his nightstand, his bed made politely to be comfortable for him. It was tempting to lie out rope, to be able to bind him and use him like a toy until he sobbed out. But, they knew that’s what he wanted, to be able to be fucked until he was made to not think.

However, Elliott was notoriously whiny when it came to edging. That was a true punishment for him.

Speaking of the devilish fox, they hear the beep of the lock before the door slides open. Elliott sneaks in quietly, refusing to lift his head and look at Bloodhound. How cute. His curls are freshly styled, fluffy and cleaned. A loose gray t-shirt is on his frame with matching sweatpants and his striped black and white socks, his shoes toed off at the door. Bloodhound had taken the time to strip in Elliott’s room. Their uniform gone sans for their tactical pants now hanging low on their hips without a belt, revealing their fit upper torso and all of their mods. Their long, long hair was pulled up into a ponytail, a few braids framing their face.

“Bloodh--”

“My name, little one. We are safe alone.”

“Rune -” Elliott breathes out as if he’d been holding it in all day. Finally raising his gaze from the floor to see them. He’s always shameless in the way he looks over their form, making Bloodhound’s chest swell with pride as they sit up taller for him to take in their form. They beckon him closer with their finger, watching that earlier fighting look in his eyes melt away as he approaches. “Is. ..Is it too late to say sorry?”

“Very.” Bloodhound replies, a smirk on their lips once he reaches them. Elliott whines low in his throat, but quickly stops when Bloodhound begins to stand. Towering over him, but they twirl their finger for him to turn around. He quickly obeys, making their heart swell, but they must keep their mind focused. He had humiliated them in the arena and had done so without abandon, that shall not be forgotten.

At first, they gently tug at the bottom of his shirt, waiting to hear him protest. But his arms go up, allowing them to pull off the shirt with ease. Running their hands down his curves and down to his hips with a sigh. “To hide such a beautiful form is a crying shame, my love. The gods have blessed you with their beauty, and yet tonight you try to hide that from me?” They can’t help but tut their tongue, their voice playful, yet honest.

They lean down to nuzzle into his hair to inhale his scent only briefly, moving to his sports bra, once again checking before they pull it up and over his head. They understood what dysphoria could do, thankfully Elliott had explained most days he didn’t experience it, whilst Bloodhound had the blessing of confidence in their own form.

The entire time, Elliott’s breathing is getting heavier as their heated hands slide down his form, taking the time to feel up his chest like he likes. Bloodhound leans their head down to trail their split tongue down his neck, pressing a heated kiss to the crook of his neck as their hand slides under his pants’ waistband. They growl when they find no underwear, feeling the trimmed hair between his thighs as they tuck their hand between his parted thighs. Tracing over his already wet cunt and sliding two fingers through his lower lips, tracing upwards towards his clit to part his lower lips just to make him whine out, “Rune, baby, please-”

Bloodhound helps him out of his pants then. Leaving Elliott in his socks only before they reach back to grab the collar. They pull it around Elliott’s neck, tying it in the back and checking to make sure they could fit two fingers underneath so he could wear it comfortably. It’s worth the reveal just to hear how Elliott whimpers, his hips twitching into nothing and his head tipping back on their shoulder to look up at them. “You got me a collar, pup?” Spoken in a shaky, almost amused tone that makes Bloodhound smirk.

“It is to mark what is mine. You complained the last time I tried to mark you and said a collar would be easier- I merely took your advice.”

“Because you left me BLOODY and covered in BITE MARKS!” Elliott stresses out as if he didn’t enjoy every second of it, moving with Bloodhound as they spin him around. They walk back until they can sit back on the edge of the bed, guiding Elliott onto one of their thighs. He straddles it with ease, momentarily focused more on proving his point as he tips his head to the side, showing the pink scar on the crook of his neck and jutting an accusing finger at it. It’s partially hidden by the collar, and Bloodhound can’t help but groan at the sight, whilst Elliott whines. “Look! You’ve bitten me so many times it’s scarred!”

Calloused hands slide up Elliott’s curves, squeezing his breasts and teasing his nipples with their thumbs just to make his mouth shut. Feeling his hips jerk as his hands grip their broad shoulders with a low sound leaving his throat. “Mmh. I believe your last words to that was ‘you can bite harder than that’.” Bloodhound cheekily replies, being sure to show off their sharp teeth as they tug one of his pierced nipples, making his hips twitch again. Able to flick their gaze down to see the wet spot he’s put on their pants.

Bloodhound abandons his sensitive nipples to grip his hips instead in a bruising embrace. Pressing their nails to his flesh just as he liked and tugging him forward to make his hips twitch backwards, forcing his large clit to peek out from his lower lips. Their mouth waters at the thought of getting their mouth on him, but they had to pace their actions. Elliott would easily get over excited and cum if they weren’t careful at monitoring his body.

With the goal easily in mind, they allow Elliott to cling to them as they grab his hips and start rocking him, forcing him to hump their thigh. His breathing is quick to pick up, pressing his face into their neck and clinging around them with a soft swear exhaling from his lips. Bloodhound releases his hips, getting joy in the fact that he’s already canting his own hips against their thigh and whimpering into their neck. “Fuck, baby, I could probably c-cum like this.”

“You won’t.” Bloodhound assures, curling one hand into the back of Elliott’s curls, the other gripping his hip to set the pace to something quicker when Elliott slows down with that sputtering little ‘wait wha -’ coming out of his mouth. It’s as if he realizes their plans, his nails pressing into their back and a whine erupting past his soft panting.

“God, Rune- sweetheart, that- that isn’t fair.” He tries to whine out, rolling his hips into their thigh and leaving a bigger wet mark. His fat clit that Bloodhound loved so much made it easy to grind against any object. Some days Bloodhound couldn’t help but wonder what else he could just get off on. If he liked humping them like a dog so much.

“Not fair?” Bloodhound parrots back in the same whine he does, mocking him. They steady their thigh, setting his pace harsher until his body is rocking quicker, trembling with more swears tumbling from his lips into their shoulder. “Oh, my love, this is justice. To humiliate me in the arena is one thing, but to humiliate me in front of the gods?” They tut their tongue, yanking his hips forward to force him harder against them to make him sob out.

Elliott can’t even come up with a response, his breathing already so heavy and his hips grinding downwards on their own accord. But the second his breathing hitches and he whimpers out a ‘fuck!’, Bloodhound drops their thigh, their hand leaving his curls and both hands grabbing his hips. Forcing him to hover just above their lap without him tumbling to the floor. Elliott still tries to grind into nothing, his mouth moving and singing out just like they thought he would. “Fuck- baby, sweetheart —Rune- Rune, come on, that isn’t- ah - funny! Can’t you just overs—overt—make me cum until I cry?!”

All the while they can smell him. That deep, musky scent that makes them want to growl, so they do, low in their throat and causing Elliott to sob into their neck from his own denial. It was one of his most hated things, so he claimed, and yet he always was a mess after. Dripping and drooling and begging for them. Bloodhound certainly enjoyed it. Especially with how he whines into their neck and his hips twitch in their hands as if he humping air could solve his problems.

“Perhaps if you were a good little pup, I would make use of your fertile little cunt right now,” They pause there to hold him up with one hand under his ass, the other tucking between his trembling, spread thighs to run their thumb from his hole to his clit. Delighting in the breathy noise he releases, watching Elliott lean back with heavy eyes to watch Bloodhound’s promising tongue lick over the slick with a low groan. “Instead, you had to be bratty and cocky.”

Elliott, however, has always been a good persuader to get what he wanted.

Bloodhound lets his hips drop back down to their thigh that they pull back up to give him pressure. Elliott looks so pretty already, completely bare, a flush edging over his chest and face, that pretty collar around his throat, and not to mention when their eyes drop they can see the way his clit sits on their thigh. They almost want to drag their thumb down to touch him again, but judging by his half-lidded eyes and his hitched breath, that might just set him off too early.

However, Elliott was ever quick with his silver tongue, licking over his lips with his own pierced tongue that made Bloodhound’s breath catch, knowing just the dangers of how it could work their cock. “Please,” He whines out, low in his throat as their hands flex on his hips, a growl building in their own throat in warning when Elliott’s hands slide down their chest. “Please, please, I’ll be so good, baby, I’ll be your good dog. Any way you want me, I’ll do it- you wanna breed me? I know you do, I’ll be so good for you, you’ll see, come on just bend me over, forget this whole thing and we can--”

He’s cut off when one of their hands comes up to grab his hair again, causing a cry to erupt from his lips mid-sentence as his head is yanked back. Bloodhound would be the first to admit that they were hard- the whole situation with him could drive them to this point of hunger. Only this clever little fox could make them want to lose control so badly, their plan almost swayed by the idea of bending him over and taking him raw and hard how he liked.

“You will take your punishment with honor, Elliott. Do not babble and beg, you deserve this and you know it. I dare say you wanted this to happen. Such a masochist.” Bloodhound near about snarls out, raising their lips to show their sharp teeth, their other hand on his hip starting to force him to move again. But this time, they keep the hold on his hair, tugging it until his throat is bare and they can see the way his eyes flutter and try to roll into the back of his head.

The second he’s close, they stop him again, much to his dismay judging by how he sobs out. They wait for him to settle down again, letting him frantically hump their thigh this time, until they pull him away a third time. Elliott reacts with a sob, tears welling in his eyes and his body trembling. His hands ball into fists at his sides, his hips squirming in a way that tells Bloodhound he’d probably be stomping for not being able to get his way by now, if his feet could touch the ground.

“You may cum this time, little one.” Bloodhound assures him, setting him gently back down on their lap once his breathing settles. They ease on his hair, grabbing his jaw and tilting his blurry gaze up to them, swiping their thumb on his lower lip sweetly. “What is your color?”

“Green! Green, so green, very green.” Elliott breathily replies quickly, earning a small smile from Bloodhound as they lean to kiss his forehead softly with a ‘good’.

It’s a break in the scene, they both know it, but it was to ensure both of their safety. Bloodhound feared of crossing a line despite Elliott constantly telling them that they could ‘fuck him up’ and he’d be happy, and Elliott liked the pause to know that they weren’t actually angry with him but it was more of a scene to play.

There’s that brief moment shared where they go from his forehead, to his nose in a peck, and then to his lips the same way before they’re moving back into their role. Keeping a grip on his jaw to make sure that their eyes meet as Elliott starts humping their thigh again. More frantic and earnest in his desires, like a dog humping a leg. Soaking through their pants as repetitive moans leave his lips of ‘ah, ah, ah’ the closer he gets.

“Say thank you.” Bloodhound reminds him, pressing their thigh up harder against him.

It takes not five seconds after before his body is seizing beautiful, muscles taut and tears spilling down his cheeks finally as Elliott cries out, “ Thankyouthankyouthankyou - hnnh —thank you, fuck , oh thank you, Daddy -” Like the good boy he was, each twitch of his hips making a shuddery breath leave him and a spasm rock his frame from his orgasm.

However, he doesn’t get a break. Not when he uses that title. It’s like a band snaps within Bloodhound and they need their tongue on him. Now.

Near instantly, while he’s still twitching and contracting, Bloodhound moves their position. Slamming Elliott down onto the bed to crawl between his thighs like they were starving for him this entire time. And they were. His legs go over their shoulders, their hands clasping his inked thighs tightly and forcing them apart so their tongue could lick up his drooling mess.

They moan at the same time Elliott sobs out, his hands slamming down into their beautiful mess of amber waves to clutch tightly at the root and pulling just like they liked. It only drives them to quicken their tongue, licking up his mess and wetly getting their mouth around his clit to suckle and trace over the shape of it in eager licks.

Bloodhound can’t help but rut into the bed when they finally get his taste and smell on their tongue and nose. Slick smears across their lips, down their chin and over their nose from how wet he is, but they never minded a messy meal. Elliott’s so delirious and still riding that high of his orgasm, over sensitive from his denial as his back arches off the bed and he’s making such pretty sounds.

Bloodhound lets their gaze look up to him, seeing his head thrown back and exposing the collar around his throat. How his chest rises and falls quick with each pant and his body twitches and trembles to each lick over his clit. When they introduce two fingers into his pliant pussy to work in tandem, it doesn’t take long before his mouth is going a mile a minute, “Yes, yes, yes- God your tongue is my favorite—f-favorite thing. Ah - wish you’d just fuck me— hhh ! Just fuck me already! Oh - you sounded so angry in the arena- fuck, you looked so good, wanted to- to just shove my wingman in your fucking mouth and make you my dog right there-”

Bloodhound can only growl against him, rutting their hips harder against the bed at the mental image he’s providing. Elliott was always better at the dirty talk, not even thinking as his mouth ran. Twisting his fingers into their amber locks to press their head down and they follow so eagerly, burying their face between his thighs with a deeper hunger at the idea of Elliott making them his dog.

Another time, they tell themself, because tonight they needed inside him.

When Elliott cums again with a loud cry, Bloodhound moans against him, messily licking up the mess he’s spilling onto their tongue. They pull back to pant heavily against him, their fingers still pounding into him and curling upwards, keeping him still on that high. They get the pleasure of seeing him arch off the bed, his hips trying to thrust upwards and dropping back down in little twitches like his body can’t decide to get away from their fingers or fuck himself on them.

“Is this not what you wanted?” Bloodhound can’t help but tease, fucking their fingers upwards and introducing a third. “To cum until you cry, little one? You were just begging for it earlier.”

Their point is driven home by their lips sealing back over his clit. Elliott screams out, twisting his fingers back into their hair and slamming them down against them. Bucking up against their face as they curl all three fingers into him and let him hump their face desperately. A string of ‘yes, yes, yes’ falling from his lips until a third orgasm rocks his body.

That should be plenty of prep.

It’s a bit of a move to get Elliott’s hands out of their hair, especially when Bloodhound could spend hours just licking him clean and feeling their hair pulled. Gently, they manage to move his twitching body, whimpers erupting from his lips and his headspace long gone.

So cute when he was just a little doll for them. Little prey all caught up in their arms.

Bloodhound sits back on the edge of the bed, dropping Elliott into their lap and undoing their pants. Hardly having the patience to remove them as they tug them down enough to pull out their pierced cock. They catch the way Elliott looks down at their own hand stroking themself to pull back the foreskin. Pausing to slide fingers between his lower lips to gather the slick and cheekily, lightly pinching his clit to make his hips jerk with a yelp. Smearing his slick over their own cock as lubricant and letting their own groan bubble from their lips, one that Elliott matches.

“Come here, litli kanína, spread your legs.” Bloodhound encourages him, watching just how Elliott splays across their lap, arms dropping around Bloodhound’s shoulders as he pulls himself up. They can’t help the growl that leaves them, dragging their cock through his lower lips, letting the head catch over his hole and up to his clit with each slide. “This is mine. You are mine. You are my prey to do with as I please, am I understood?”

“Y-yes, Boss.” Elliott chokes out, his clit giving an obvious jerk and his cunt contracting with his own arousal and drooling more slick onto them. Bloodhound swears under their breath when their eyes meet, Elliott’s honeyed gaze half lidded and tears pricking his eyes. He had to be so sensitive, and yet still was oh so willing to spread his legs and do as they wished. That was as good of an apology as any.

Bloodhound eases Elliott down onto their cock, a swear erupting from their own lips at how tight and wet he is. They can feel each barbell on their cock slip into him, like a milestone marker with each inch added. Their cock wasn’t exactly small either, thick enough you couldn’t wrap your fingers around to meet each other on it, uncut and seven inches. There was nothing to be ashamed of on their body, they were very confident in it, and even more so when Elliott seemed to appreciate every inch of them.

They can still feel how he squeezes down on them, probably still sensitive and every twitch making Elliott clench down. He looks every bit the role he plays of prey, so sweet with his eyes fluttering and his arms clinging around them. They brush their hands up his sides, squeezing the soft bit of abdomen he had and causing him to squirm with a whimpered, “H-hey-”

“I plan to fill your womb with my pups, little one,” Bloodhound starts, smoothing their hand over the front of Elliott’s abdomen, dropping their hand down so they could use their thumb to swirl over his clit. Elliott gasps out, hips twitching over them and making Bloodhound grunt softly. “Such a pretty mama you shall make. Swollen with our child, and these,” They pause there, bringing their hands up to squeeze his chest and thumbing his nipples. ”So full and swollen. How beautiful you will be.”

Elliott’s moans of agreement could be enough to make them spill inside of him. Sounding so sweet when he whimpers out, “Yes, yes, yes-” Like he can’t get enough of the idea. It was something they had talked about- both kink wise and a future. Ellie had mentioned wanting to be a stay at home parent, proudly saying she would play the role of papa and mama with glee in her eyes. That she wanted a little homestead, a dog, a few kiddos running around. The look on her face when Bloodhound had agreed and said that was something they wished as well stayed in their mind for ages. Her big dimpled smile, the tears in her eyes in excitement. So sweet.

And in turn, it became a discussion where Bloodhound had mentioned their little kink with a red face and playing with their hair to avoid eye contact. Ellie had been eager to agree- despite birth control being very well in place, it was still a little thing they indulged in. The terminology never bothered her either, whether it was an Ellie or Elliott day, though it did seem she gravitated towards Mama the most rather than Papa.

Elliott’s hips have started to move now on their own, eager to ride Bloodhound it seems, and they don’t mind. Not when they can focus on wrapping their arms around him in turn, holding him close and tucking their head down to his neck. They lick and suck at the flesh there, teasing over the pink scar they had left ages ago. Their own noises are limited, soft grunts and pants with each slide and squeeze of Elliott’s cunt around them.

Elliott’s mouth isn’t helping either, crooning into their ear absolute filth. “Want you to cum in me, baby, want to feel how your cock empties in me. C-cum in me as many times as you like until I’m full for you and- a-ah-” His mouth can only do so much when one of their hands reaches down, cupping his mound and working his clit with their thumb. It’s a distraction when their teeth sink into his neck, delighting in how his pussy contracts and a pained ’nghk!’ leaves him.

They don’t stop there, leaving bruises and bite marks over his neck and shoulders, their other hand pressing to his lower back to press every time his hips come down to force him to grind forward into their hand. Bloodhound can’t help their own hips from thrusting up into him, his moans and whines like music to their ears.

It’s only when his body tenses and another orgasm comes crashing down through his body do their teeth sink into that familiar scar, their arms tightening around him and holding him still on their cock.

Elliott’s body jerks, swears tumbling from his lips as his hands fist into their hair. A symphony of, “Fuck, fuck, fuck-” Whining from his throat as Bloodhound growls when they cum. Exhaling from their nose shakily and parting from his neck to pant against him with each jerk of their cock spilling their cum deep within him.

“Fuck, Rune.” Elliott breathes out, his voice hoarse and tears having spilled down his face at some point. Bloodhound takes a moment to blink their own haziness away, sitting up with a tremble in their movement as they cup his cheeks. Swiping their thumbs over his tear stained cheeks but Elliott only laughs softly, breathless. ”Yeah , yeah, don’t whine about it, pup, I’m okay. Would have told you if I was hurt, yeah?”

Bloodhound can’t even find their voice at first, just drawing him close to rest their foreheads together in a comforting gesture. It’s with utter care and gentleness they help Elliott off their lap to lie in the bed they had made earlier. Murmuring that they’d be right back as they slide out of bed, tucking their cock away and fixing their pants- much to Elliott’s disappointment.

They leave the room and return with a few wet wash cloths, salve, and water for him. Seeing the sight of him elevating his hips, legs pulled up to either side of his head and exposing himself entirely. Bloodhound can’t help the groan when Elliott only grins up at them cheekily. “Hey, baby. Just wanted to make sure it takes.”

“Elliott Witt you are a menace.” They can’t help but whine out, their mouth watering at the tempting sight of his cunt, still swollen from sex and some cum leaking down towards his ass. They almost lick it up, but refrain and bat his arms to let his legs go. Cleaning him up first with one wash cloth over his cunt, resting the coldness of it over him to help reduce the swelling in his clit. The other is taken gently to his neck, cleaning up the blood from their bite marks and cooling salve applied.

Bloodhound then goes to the floor to find his clean clothes. Helping him back into his shirt and sweatpants with a little help from Elliott. Bloodhound works out of the rest of their gear, grabbing a pair of their own lounge pants they’d left here before. Elliott’s already got his arms up, eagerly bringing them into an embrace until they both can arrange in bed, facing each other and legs tangled, Bloodhound’s hands cupping his cheeks softly. They admire him, eyes flickering down to his lips that are pulled into a small smile.

Light of their life. They would kill for him, die for him, they would do anything he asked if it meant he would still stay smiling like he is. How they loved to have him in their arms, safe and warmed, knowing he was comfortable and at peace. The gods have gifted him to them, and they would not quell that flame within them ever for him. How they compared his eyes to the sun and his smile to--

“Hey, does this mean you aren’t mad about earlier?”

Bloodhound huffs through their nose, squishing his face to make his lips push out and making his brows furrow in a pout. “You are a menace.” They repeat. Laughing at his face softly when he tries to grin and it ends up smooshed in their hands.

“So that’s a yes?”

They can only groan at him, pushing a pillow into his face instead to muffle his teasing of them being ‘whipped’ and ‘wrapped around his finger’. Perhaps they were.

But, wouldn’t you if you were sent such a beautiful gift as him?

#miragehound #mirage #bloodhound #apex lemons #apex legends #genderfluid mirage #nsft #lemon #commissions #princess writing

9 notes · View notes

thedistantstorm · 6 years

Text

Phoenix Protocol 12

When the Traveler’s Light was returned to the Guardians after the defeat of the Cabal, it did not manifest itself the same in everyone. Miyu, an Awoken Warlock, finds herself struggling with her abilities, her Light feeling different and not her own. With her Vanguard preoccupied with grief and all eyes turned to the Reef, she finds herself turning to an unlikely source in an attempt to rediscover her connection to the Light and define what it means for her as a Sunsinger.

Previously

Miyu slashes swift and hard into the meat of a Hunter’s chest piece, the force of the blow throwing them back into the crumbling concrete wall behind them. She flicks the sword and shoves it back into its sheath quickly, reaching for the scout rifle on her back.

A Titan surprises her, whipping around the corner in a blur of sparking blue arc energy. He throws her back a good ten meters, but it isn’t enough to put her down. She slams her fists to the ground, feeling the burn of her Light at her fingertips. She breathes hard, and suddenly the Titan is pinning her, a knee heavy in her abdomen, gauntlet-covered hands wrapped around her neck.

She burns.

The Striker yelps, but she holds his wrists with blazing fingers, and rolls them with knowledge that comes from beyond the edges of her memory. They both burn in the strange Solar fire that’s half grenade, half Lightburn.

Shaxx pulls her from the match. She rezzes mid-transmat, both Guardian and Ghost caught by surprise. Miyu lands hard on her rear, glaring up at the emotionless helmet of the one-horned Crucible Handler.

“For fuck’s sake, Mimi,” He says, looking at her charred gauntlets. “What the hell was that about?”

She dips her head, but her chin juts out. In others it would be proud, but on her it’s an indicator that she’s furious. “Not dying?”

“You just died. Try again.”

“He was killing me.”

“You could have rolled him, then reached your blade.”

“You’ve done nothing but damage yourself today. Usually you are far more careful.” He motions to a crate beside where Arcite oversees the matches Shaxx is too busy to tend to. “What is it?”

“Nothing.”

“You came from the Bazaar,” He tells her, not that it’s a secret. “What did Ikora say to you?”

Miyu rolls her eyes, and Shaxx - while irritated with her - is happy she’s not behaving like a wet kitten, at least. “Nothing. I have to get going, anyway. I have plans for lunch.”

At that, the Titan freezes, caught off guard. “What?”

She slinks away, more like a broody Nightstalker than a Warlock. He wants to think on it some more - that’s a shift in events - but Arcite points out a ten-kill streak on one of the monitors. The Crucible waits for no one.

He can see the intensity of her rage without her saying a word. She’s practically vibrating, contents under pressure. He dips his head to regard her, blinking pointedly in her direction. She looks at him and closes the door to his office behind her.

“What’s on your mind,” He asks by way of greeting.

She sighs. “I don’t want to ruin our lunch.” She sighs. “We’ll talk about it afterward.”

“You won’t ruin our lunch.” He slips an arm around her, guides her to the table upon which their lunch is waiting, cutlery, take out containers lined up with effort. Her stomach rumbles, as if to prove his point. “I invited you so that we could catch up.”

The Warlock nods reluctantly, and he pulls out her chair for her. It wins him a smile, puts a heavy crack in her anger, and helps set her to rights. “How have you been?”

“More or less the same,” He tells her. “The Consensus is still asking me who the Hunter Vanguard is, and the Hunters are still saying it’s Colonel.”

She chuckles, though he gives her an exasperated look. “She’d look great in a cloak, I’m sure.”

“Don’t help their cause,” He teases gently. They dig into their meal - she’s infinitely grateful for the lean meat and noodles, Crucible always does a number on her. The silence is comfortable until Zavala hedges, “So, what happened?”

She sets down her chopsticks, folding her hands under her chin and resting her elbows on the table. “I spoke with Ikora today.”

His eyes darken. “That bad?”

“She’s upset that I withheld my vision from her.”

“But you-��

“‘If you wish to be heard, speak louder,’” Miyu says in a scathing mock of her Vanguard mentor. “‘Perhaps if you were to assert yourself, I would be less inclined to push you away.’”

Zavala deadpans. “You went to her multiple times.”

“Twenty three, to be exact.”

Zavala frowns, chewing thoughtfully. “Did she have any input?”

Miyu nods, levelling him with a deadpan stare. “Kind of. She’s contacting Osiris.”

“What?”

“Yup,” Miyu huffs at the Commander’s reaction to his predecessor. “Apparently her visions were similar to mine, but she wants an expert opinion. Don’t be surprised when she tries to send me to Mercury.”

“Miyu, even though I dislike-”

“If you tell me I should go see him, I’m leaving,” Miyu tells him, eyes hard. “I know you want to help me, but we’re of similar opinion when it comes to him. Don’t pretend for my sake that you’re alright with me seeing him.”

The Commander exhales, leaning against the back of his chair. “I’m not, but you come before my reservations.”

She reaches across the table and squeezes his hand. It’s bold for her, but she’s become more comfortable with him lately. “I appreciate that. But I remember when he was our Vanguard Commander.” Blue eyes blink at her in surprise. She smirks at him, “Told you I’m not that young. Anyway, the only lessons I’ve learned from him are how not to be - both as a Warlock, and as a person.”

He sighs. “Miyu, it’s your call.” He looks away. “My personal opinion, or with those you come into contact with should have no bearing on yours.”

“I know, but I value your opinion, Zavala.” She squeezes the hand she’s still holding on the other side of the table before releasing it.

“If Ikora - even if I - do not repeat this -” She nods, eyes serious, “Am not on the best of terms with her, she is a skilled Warlock.” He levels her with a firm gaze. “She would not consider Osiris if she herself were not stumped. You are a Sunsinger and he is one of the best to ever exist.”

“He is a heretic and a piss-poor defender of humanity.”

“You aren’t wrong,” Zavala concedes. “He is egoistic and selfish, and personally, I do not condone his behavior. However, neither did Ikora. It is not an easy task to contact him. She would not go out of her way for his input unless she felt there was no other choice.”

Miyu sighs. “If he’ll speak to her, I’ll listen. But I have no interest in going to see him.”

“If that’s the only way?”

“It’s not.” White eyes burn. “We both know it’s not.”

“We both hope it’s not,” Zavala corrects. “Think carefully, Miyu. Dealing with someone you dislike is a small price to pay. Do not discount anything that might help you.”

The Warlock sighs harder than before and looks down into her lunch. “I’ll try.”

“So,” He muses, lighter, “You’re far older than I gave you credit for.”

“Old,” She scoffs, without any malice behind it. “I will throw this piece of broccoli at you, Commander,” She quips back, lightly. “You’re old too, you know.” She flushes at the playfulness of her comment, but his lip pulls to the right to signal he finds the humor in it, which allows her to relax.

“I would prefer if you did not,” He deadpans. “I have a feeling you would not prefer to be assaulted by this carrot.”

She laughs so hard she snorts, and Zavala follows suit. By the time she leaves his office, she doesn’t feel nearly as angry.

“Thank you,” Miyu calls in her airy voice, lingering in the doorway before she goes. “I feel better now.”

“It was my pleasure,” The Commander says, warmly. “We’ll talk soon.

Golden brown eyes watch as the docile Awoken hovers in the doorway for an extra second before flitting away, a spring in her step that was not present hours before. The pale-skinned Warlock might have feel better, but Ikora is absolutely furious.

“What is he angling at,” She wonders aloud. Ophiuchus, her ghost, the only being around, does not answer her. She follows the Sunsinger until she leaves the Courtyard - which is not what Ikora had told her to do, but she has bigger issues, so it’s actually a help - and heads to the only other person who might know what in the Traveler’s name is happening here.

He’s barking into the comms that feed directly into the arena - Legion’s Gulch, at the moment. She steps in front of him, imposing for a woman who barely reaches his shoulder.

“Shaxx,” She demands, eyes sparking, nostrils flaring. “I need a moment.”

#commander zavala #oc: miyu #zavala x female guardian #destiny fanfiction #miyu the sweet bean warlock #collection: phoenix protocol

9 notes · View notes

foxydivaxx · 5 years

Text

Osiris Chapter 1

That poll with Rami Malek inspired me to write this fic because lets be honest, DC has not done Osiris, the Black Adam Family or majority of their Middle Eastern characters justice. Osiris for instance was badly written and turned into Superboy Prime junior in the pre-New 52 timeline and in New 52, he was killed off in his only appearance. Like da fuck DC?! That character had so much potential. Not just him, a lot of the Titans then had a lot of potential but you screwed these kids up. The storyline that was established for him in Brightest Day was a very interesting one and would have been more awesome if the Black Adam family actually had their own comic series. Look at what Marvel has done with Kamala Khan. Imagine what would have happened if either Osiris or anyone of the other kids got that opportunity. Anyways enough ranting and onto the fic itself. Rami Malek is Osiris’ FC here. This chapter is just an intro (or reintroduction to those that are familiar with him) to the character.

“I wanted to save the world.”

That is the answer I always give to people whenever they ask me to explain my motives or why I chose to be a hero in the first place.

There are times when I question my worth or my sanity because I have been through quite a lot of hell. Like if one were to ask me to define a tragic hero, I would point at myself.

For starters, my early childhood in Egypt was not blissful. You are staring at a boy who got constantly bullied as a kid because I looked different. Compared to other kids then, my skintone was slightly darker than normal Egyptian standards. Secondly, my eyes are huge, very owl-like that kids then cruelly nicknamed me ‘Bug Eyes.’

I would often go cry in a corner afterwards because besides the name calling, I had to endure days of severe beatings at the hands of those bullies. Making matters worse was my birth father whose name I would rather not mention. Why you might ask? Well thing is......he was an abusive asshole.

He would beat my mum, my older sister Adrianna and myself up a lot. Things got so bad that I ran away from home, never to be seen nor heard from again. Life on the streets was hard as the little money I got from mum was not enough, forcing me to fend for myself via pickpocketing and other means.

Then one day, everything changed. A crime syndicate known as Intergang captured me and took me to one of their concentration camps.

As fate would have it, my beloved sister Adrianna was amongst the captured. My parents’ absence there was enough to tell me what had become of them. Unfortunately we had no time to grieve becuase the Intergang bastards dragged us away and began to drug and torture us.

Adrianna was whisked away to be given to Black Adam whilst I remained with those bastards. Somehow, I was able to resist their mind control. Might be strong will power or possibly their methods were not working. Unfortunately for me, I got the beating of my life as those bastards clubbed me almost to death. I remember the pain, the blood, the tears, the anger I felt as nerve by nerve I was struck down till my legs were rendered numb.

Thankfully, Adrianna now the superheroine Isis and her husband Black Adam showed up just before death snatched me away. Isis tried to heal me but to no avail because the damage dealt to me was that severe. Adam was kind enough to give me a dose of his power as he felt that that was the only way to save me. Unfortunately he was right because whenever I revert back to my normal form, I am completely paralyzed from the ground up.

Anyway, thanks to that, myself, Adam and Isis formed a superhero team and family and I officially became the hero known as Osiris. Why Adrianna named me this is beyond me though. I was expecting something like Horus xD.

Anyways, we became a team and went around doing as much good deeds as we could. Heck I even joined the Team at one point even though most of them do not remember my name and often call me Black Adam Junior. Talk about insulting.

Yeah I did kill someone to protect Adrianna but that was a honest mistake. I did not realize that using my powers that way would harm someone like that. Plus I was still new to the superhero game anyway.

I left the Titans for a brief period after Wonder Girl asked me to hand myself over to the authorities for killing Persuader. I beat the shit out of her and called her out on her own hypocrisy on the spot because this girl also mistakenly killed someone in self defense of her mother years ago and yet, she has the guts to call me out on that?

Still the girl later apologised for this and I forgave and rejoined the Team. Still, I kept on having nightmares and panic attacks regularly. As if that wasn’t enough, I was forced to return to Kahndaq because of a serious of horrific events happening there.

Sobek my so-called best friend manipulated me into thinking that Adam was the one responsible for everything and I even attacked poor Adam for his troubles. I later made up my mind to leave Kahndaq but first I wanted to get rid of Adam’s powers feeling that they were corrupting me. I had also heard a lot about Adam’s terrible past atrocities and got paranoid about the stigma that followed our family because of him.

I did not believe that someone like Adam could actually change and that he was probably manipulating and using Adrianna for his own selfish purposes. Or at least that was what I was led into thinking.

I gotta hand it to Sobek here. He really is that good of an actor and a master manipulator. He was able to isolate me from the other Titans, making it seem like they were the bad guys whereas they are all good natured people and some of them have dark pasts or are dealing with dark presents.

Anyways, Sobek advised me to de-transform into my civilian form and that way, get rid of the curse though he expressed fake concern for me as he knew that I was crippled but I assured him that all would be well. Big mistake on my part because Sobek took advantage of my weakened state and ate me up alive, leaving me as mere bones.

I do not know much about that other than the fact that I was mummified and buried in a tomb. Soon afterwards, I was awakened from the dead by that cursed Black Lantern ring. My people feared me because well I was supposed to be dead and there I was wandering about in mummified form, trying to make a sense of the world around me.

Sobek’s subsequent arrival made it all click especially with the explanation he gave. He is one of the Four Horsemen of Apocalypse, a group of four bioengineered monsters specifically created to destroy us the Black Marvel Family and he was Yurd, the Horseman of Faminine.

That alone infuriated me. How could I have been so naive to have taken pity upon a wretch like him? How could I have allowed myself to be played like that?!

I lost my shit and the two of us engaged in combat. Unfortunately I was outmatched because Sobek was a far more better fighter than I expected. Nervertheless, there was only one simple way to end a fight in our current state. Using the last of my energy, I called on the name of the very man that saved my life, channelling the thunderous rage of justice upon myself and Sobek, killing us both and severring the connections we both had to those blasted Black Lantern rings.

Still the White Lantern ring resurrected me much later on as well as the rest of the other slain heroes and a couple of villains. I know Sobek is still out there somewhere but right now, he is not my priority. Things have gotten better for me since that incident as I lived a normal life despite still being a paraplegic. My main priority now is to find out what caused both Adam and Isis to get petrified and try to undo the mess that has befallen my family and Kahndaq and maybe try and set things right without going astray.

So here we go. Hope you all like it. I tried my best with this guy because there are some things that were not mentioned so I just filled in the blanks for him and his family and also kind of retconned some things like his involvement with the Titans for instance. It is mostly Young Justice based but elements of the Teen Titans comics are there.

#osiris #amon tomaz #rami malek #fanfiction #dc #dcu #dc comics #shazam #black adam family #black marvel family #teen titans

2 notes · View notes

anannd-morrighan-lus-mor-blog · 7 years

Text

Why Christopaganism Needs to Define Itself

Christopaganism is often trying to be what it is not.

It's trying to be Christian. It's trying to be Wiccan. It's trying to be whatever flavor of pagan, in the same manner of "Jews for Jesus". It's trying to wedge Jesus into places Jesus doesn't go (and believe it or not, there are a LOT of places that have seen the bare-footprints of the Lord of Lords). It's Wicca molded on a Christian mythos, or a Christian mythos entwined with one, with three, with twenty different mythologies and none of them synchronizing well. We try to make Jesus into other gods to suit the direction we're too afraid to admit that we're growing into: He's Dionysus and I can get drunk in ecstacy and lose myself in these men, these women, both! He's Cernunnos (yes, I've seen it, and I fight it), He'll rut the Goddess with me or He'll challenge Himself as the Oak King! He's Mithras! He's Horus and Osiris and Ra! He's Sol Invictus! He contains all and so he is all gods!

Don't even get me started on what is often done to the Blessed Mother or Mary Magdalene.

Look, you feel called, genuinely, to serve Christ in a pagan way. It's really not that unusual and it's really not that terrible. Most pagan traditions (I'm talking about the ones we have to reconstruct, but I also include others already reconstructed) have room for reconstruction and synchronizing Christianity of some flavor (Catholicism being the easiest, for historical and structural reasons) with another flavor of paganism. It's all over the Celts (which is where I am) and can be seen as a large and legitimate part of the Faith. You can be a Christian and an Alexandrian pagan. There are places where the Norse faith and Christianity meet. All those pagan traditions that Christianity draws from? They meet too, and that's nearly everywhere. There is no where where Jesus has not gone...the guy has literally been to Hell and back, I doubt he'd turn His nose at Faery, or at so many other places. I'm very sure you can adapt it to forms of Wicca, SOME forms of Wicca, if you tweak it to that you don't completely kill the mythos of both.

The real issue here is not that you can do all these things. *I* love that I can do these things. It's more that I feel like Christopaganism has no real structure...even Wicca has ground rules to follow as new traditions are built, you can likely find a thread to follow in most recons. But where is it? Christopaganism just doesn't know what it wants, or what it is, or what mythos takes precedence, if not a balanced equality, and in the end it doesn't even know who it calls God or what it's own mythology is!

Otherwise, I fear it will go the way it's been going: some attempts and wracking it together resulting in short periods of the limelight, a haven for would-be pagans afraid of betraying family or societal culture (or just afraid of going to Hell), a mishmash of faiths that serve no one but one's self...when the potential for Christopaganism (and all the other subtypes) is so much more, an opportunity to merge the past with the dying present and revitalize what each attacked in the other...the good stuff, I mean.

Christopaganism needs to know what it is, who it is.

Christopaganism is poorly developed and poorly understood.

This may be because that there are SO many ways to develop within such, and that the Christian aspect is usually actively antagonistic towards the more pagan aspect. (It really can't be denied.) While there is a long history or Christianity drawing from and synchronizing with other religions, it also has a long history of demonizing those other religions, as well as the other gods and spirits it has drawn from to form the character of the mythological Christ.

It is incredibly difficult to build a tradition, or a set of traditions under one umbrella, when there is so much cognitive dissonance surrounding it, from the developers, the developees or the pagans and Christians watching on! To get a new religion or tradition off the ground, there has to be a genuineness of belief, as well as the right kinds of motivations, and when this is clouded by personal or sub-cultural bias, it takes something like this a long time to get off the ground...something which is completely unnecessary, seeing as there is plenty of room to redefine for one's self, to agree to disagree and to set forth basic group tenets. Just like in the beginnings of Wicca, and heck, in the beginnings of Christianity, Christopaganism will likely form group by group and unlike early Catholicism, will have to uphold each other's differences rather than seek to assimilate them into a whole.

But for now, we stand wondering why Christopaganism has such a large-scale nebulousness around it. Why pagans and Christians alike turn and snicker and relegate them to the category "not a serious magician" or "not a serious pagan" or just "not worth our notice, only our laughter." Other than the cognitive dissonance mentioned earlier, as well as the sheer scale of what organizing Christopaganism would look like, a part of it like likely the lack luster talent that has noticeably tackled the issue thus far...with the exception of Joyce and River Higgenbottom's book, which I found a little uninspired and sort of route (I have to be honest), but also the most organized and and the most intelligent of the material resources out there. What resources of quality are availabile for Christopagans? A cursory web-search doesn't bring much. So much of what is available lacks substance, lacks meat, and leaves the person delving into the overwhelming (but very interesting) world of lore and history (combing out what can or cannot be found, like any good reconstructionist) or simply settling to the easiest path until something shakes them loose.

The lack of any discernable structure for the Christopagan overall is what may be the most damning, as it often leads to UPG (unverified personal gnosis) of the kind previously mentioned. "St. Michael and Lucifer are lovers!" I remember a Christopagan telling me, years before I found myself in the same spot. To this day, I find the idea laughable and to be a clear deception by God only knows what spirits she's listening to, since this UPG flies in the face of all tradition, all respect and all that we know of the two entities, embittered in enmity until the end of time. Where was she getting some of her mythology? Was she Catholic, or a Catholic-Gnostic, or a Catholic-Gnostic-Angelolatry-Witch? Even so, the UPG was suspect. And so many of us have UPG of a similar vein, that we live breathe and fight for, but what is there to check us?

I believe, personally, that Jesus is a personage in Faery, the High King of Faery (much like the legendary King Arthur) who is sacrificed in the form of a white stag upon the World Tree.

I mean, yeah. Seriously. I totally believe that. I had a long time leading me to it and several studies and experiences that got me there. But just as I say, "What do you do with THAT?" and point fingers at the girl I used to know, what are you also going to do with me?

I actually draw more from the Faery Faith than anything, and use a lot of medieval mythos to inform my opinions...along with the ancient stuff, of course. But the World Tree, while existing in ancient Celtic and Medieval Christian mythos, tends to draw most strongly from the Neo-Celtic Shamanism of John Matthews (whose books I do adore). So what does that make me?

Christopaganism is a mishmash of gods, beliefs, theologies, mythologies and cosmologies, all mushed together until it's unrecognizable. If you can find the roots of your beliefs, you can build on it. But if you can't, and it's only true because you decide it is...

This lack of development and the poor resources lend to why Christopaganism is so poorly understood. The lack of quality in all areas can only lead one to assume the worst when seen.

Christopaganism, in many ways, is as traditional as other contemporary forms of paganism. Christian and Pagan synchrynetisms have been happening since the two religions met.

When Christianity began its mass spread across the world, it came into contact with many many world religions. And as each religion vied for supremacy in the hearts of others, borrowing cultural and religious customs became commonplace, so much so that Christianity still bears strong traces of ancient pagan practices, changed over time and redefined. Folk religious practices and official religion were equally absorbed...two of the most obvious places were in Alexandria, Egypt (that beautiful melting pot of so many cultures and religions) and in Ireland, where Christianity is present even in our lore since it was the monks who wrote it down, whose practices were absorbed in places by the Celtic church and even lady Brigid sincerely connected to the new religion and became St. Brigit. Not all of this “swapping” was theft, but the natural desire to bring beloved practices and beliefs (and gods/spirits) into the new religion.

I will never deny that Christians and pagans have a lot of blood between them, and that Christians have wiped out ancient paganism in the name of the “One True God” ideology (or mind virus, whatever). I AM saying that not all of this synchronizing has been with the intent to destroy, but more to preserve as best the can the old religions and the new.

I can recommend some of my favorite books on the subject, more or less:

-Egyptian Light, Hebrew Fire by Karl Luckert

-Christian Mythology: Revelations of Pagan Origins by Philippe Walter (questionable scholarship in places, but still a great read)

-Pagans and Christians by Robin Lane Fox

-Christians as the Roman Saw Them by Robert Louis Wilken (where we hear from the Oracle of Hekate that Jesus was a righteous man but his followers were kind of “off”)

-Cunning Folk and Familiar Spirits by Emma Wilby (more of a shamanic and spirit-work overview, though there is evidence of the Christian-pagan blending, even during a time when the Catholic Church held iron control.)

-The Cult of Kingship in Anglo-Saxon England by William A Chaney

-Religion of the Irish Celts by Sandra Bollenbacher

-Where Three Streams Meet by Sean O Duinn (OSB)

-The Rites of Brigid: Goddess and Saint by Sean O Duinn (OSB)

(My apologies at not doing a better job at this section, my CFS/ME has been bad this week.Besides, these books are more valuable than my poor opinion.)

As a result, there are MANY ways to be a Christopagan, but we lack core tenets to have us standing out from pagans who like Jesus.

I would like to propose, for starters, that not everyone who melds Christian and pagan practices, beliefs, etc. is necessarily a Christopagan.

A (Hopefully) Helpful Guide:

Folk Catholic- Someone who is essentially Catholic but incorporations present or past Catholic Folk Traditions into their present religion. Still essentially Trinitarian in a monotheistic bent. This often but not always includes folklore based traditions, such as the Celtic Faery Faith (which is based more on Wicca, Witchcraft or some other forms of Western Traditions...think Orion Foxwood or RJ Stewart...or some forms of Voodoo, Palo and Ocha...a great example is the tradition of Santisima Muerte).(I myself shuffle between this and Christo-shamanism.)

A folk Catholic is someone who typically can be seen valuing the sacraments, valuing Mass (though they may not go as often as your more orthodox Catholic) and finding wisdom in the Bible and the Catechism, though they aren’t afraid to question or reject tenets that seem contrary to their own heart (or Christ’s message, if we’re going to be honest) and usually integrates folk tradition or outright pagan beliefs into their Christianity, often outright transforming the way they see and practice as Christians. They are able to hold community with a variety of beliefs, especially those they espouse, without too much trouble. Sacredness is seen and felt in both places, and held in respect.

Folk Christian- Expand the upper definition.

I have noticed many Folk Christians practice Hoodoo or, in this country, American Regional Folk Traditions (such as Appalachian Folklore). Instead of being strictly “Folk Catholic”, a wide variety of Christian traditions are represented: Lutherans would pair well with Pennsylvania Dutch or Germanic Folk Traditions. Angelicans pretty much do whatever they want in this country, anyway. They have a strong sense of structure that would pair well with Ceremonial Magick, or some revised (or more Christianized) Theurgy. The more low-church types would pair well with mystical, shamanic or ecstatic traditions that would add to, and maybe improve, on their own charismatic technique. Pretty much anyone can work with the tradition of the saints. However, this is only my conjecture; I am sure that all types of Christianity can meld with a wide variety of traditions with the right amount of will, effort and love.

Christoshaman- Someone who still espouses the Trinity/Jesus as God, even if this has been redefined while embracing the specific mythic thread, and incorporates various shamanic traditions, spirits, practices and even pagan “gods”, though they may be seen as spirits. Some pagan divinities may be worshipped, thought Trinity/Jesus is still seen as ultimate godhead. Mainstream Christianity may or may not be present.

This can be tricky, since the melding of Christianity and shamanism, or shamanic-based traditions, is more intense. Pieces of Christian practices will be let go to make way for new practices. Pagan “gods” may be seen as Gods and worshipped along-side, or right below, The Holy Trinity; or the Trinity may still be seen as God and the pagan gods as spirits, honored and loved and fed, but not as often or in the same way as God, who may be served at Church, honored similar to the spirits, or both! Some gods/spirits will not accept this, some will, and some will accept it for some and not for others. You never know until you ask, and begin the work. The most helpful thing is to find where Christianity and the mythic culture your draw from historically meet, and go from there.

Christopagan- Someone who still espouses the Trinity/Jesus as God, even if this has been redefined while embracing the specific mythic thread, and incorporates various pagan traditions, mythologies, practices or “gods”, though they may be seen as spirits. Some pagan divinities may be worshipped, thought Trinity/Jesus is still seen as ultimate godhead. Mainstream Christianity may or may not be present.

I don’t want to repeat myself, but a lot has been said above. The difference is primarily the focus: rather than teasing out the authentic shamanic essence in a culture, religiously and mythically, you are reconstructing (at least to start) the place where the religions met, and integrated..and there are precious few cultures that have not been touched by Christianity, for good or for ill.

Wiccan Christian- Someone who worships many gods in a polytheistic manner, of which Jesus or the Trinity is one (or three), and seen as “one god in all gods”. If Jesus and Mary are your patron gods and goddess, or if you worship the angels, the saints. Witchcraft may or may not be melded into the main tradition, and not all of the Christian beliefs, tenets or practices may be included.

It is difficult to reconcile Wicca and Christianity, even moreso than Witchcraft and Christianity. One cannot fit Jesus as their god and the Virgin Mary (or Mary Magdalene) as their goddess into Wiccan theology without bastradizing one mythology or completely changing the other. In Wicca, however, successful interweaving is possible: whole traditions are founded on it (see “The Crafted Cup”, an older classic, combining Wicca, Christianity, Arthurian legends and the Grail mythos). The difficulty is in respecting the stories and essence of both, without simply changing things around to suit your passing ideas.

Gnostic Christian- Someone who incorporates Gnosticism with other systems, such as Wicca, Shamanism, Paganism, Ceremonial Magick, and many others.

In my limited experience of this faction, Gnostic ideas are combined with mainstream Christianity (and usually take precedence), and often are combined with one or more magickal systems: ceremonial magick with a focus on theurgy, hermetic or Christian Kabbalah, Witchcraft, etc. I have not seem it combined with pagan practice save once, and while I wasn’t sure of the legitimacy of this practice, I don’t doubt that there are others who can make this work.

Gnostic figures will be present with near certainty, and this includes the more well-known figures, such as Sophia (Jesus’ gnostic other half) and Yalbadoath (Sophia’s son made without mate -and so was imperfect- who others often say is the real spirit of the institutional church. Sometimes I think I agree.)

Angelology, Demonology (sadly) or the worship/work with the Saints may accompany any of these. Many Christopagans may not feature angels, saints or demons in their work, and some may feature heavily. It may seem like an unworkable contradiction to have someone revere Jesus, Satan or others, but I have seen it at least once or twice before. However, the term “Luciferan Christian” or anything having to do with real theistic Satanism is beyond the scope of the article.

PS: Even if you claim to worship Jesus or serve St. Michael, if you worship Lucifer or any form of the devil, you are a Luciferan or a Satanist. Hands down. The streams just do not mix, and there is no argument that can change that. They were made to oppose, which is not the aim of Christianity with any other religion. It is a literal case of "You cannot serve two masters." At the very least, you will love one and forget the other.

So, fellow esoteric Christians and Christopagans, I leave you with just a few hints of advice.

1. Don’t be afraid to make up your own mind.

People love to tell you what to believe, without any regard to your feelings, simply because they believe it and you must believe it to satisfy their strength in said belief, or simply their ego. Don’t fall into that trap. Ask yourself questions, don’t be afraid of the answers, and decide for yourself what you believe, based on what your heart, mind and the still voice of your spirit tell you- don’t believe based on family, or community, or culture. Don’t believe based on threats to your soul (you’re going to Hell!) or to your personal integrity (You are a really ignorant person if you believe this...) Spiritual immaturity accusations are another to let fly by you (You’re just not over your Christianity yet...you’ll grow up some day...).

2. Don’t be afraid to contradict yourself, and catch yourself in contradiction.

Reconciling Christianity with a pagan belief system of any kind is a challenge. There will be a day you believe something and then a day you don’t. There will be a day you waffle back and forth. This is normal! When you are in the beginning stages, or even intermediate stages...or, well, any stage of integrating two spiritualties, there will be changes, fluxuations and stages of belief: where you are, where you’re going, etc. It seems chaotic, but try to just let it flow around you and examine what settles into place. Catching yourself in contradiction will help you see where you have not reconciled your feelings on a particular belief. Having a friend to talk things over with (without judgement) would be ideal.

3. Don’t be afraid to change, as long as it’s to evolve, and sometimes rapidly.

As mentioned: let things flow where they may, and examine what settles. Let your “unconscious” work things through as you do consciously. Try to avoid the chaos of confusion or the similar chaos of excitement, and enjoy both as you take your time in discovery.

4. Don’t be afraid to let go of others who tell you what to believe, or what is right and wrong when it is based out of their own ego or religious programming.

You don’t have to exile them from your life, if they are important to you- but close this part of your life off from them and protect it. Do not engage in conversation about your religion, do not tolerate bad attitudes or insults but be peaceful in your disagreements. Save your vulnerable, developing self, but save your relationships, too.

Don’t tolerate toxic relationships, period. Kick them to the curb.

5. Know who you are. Know what you’re looking at. Know when you’re following something true, and when you’re deluding yourself: we all do it, have done it. There is no shame in owning your faults and moving forward.

Don’t try to be what you think you should be. Don’t try to be what you aren’t.

#christopaganism #christopagan #christoshaman #christian pagan #folk catholicism

126 notes · View notes

sentinelkelly · 7 years

Text

Destiny 2: Curse of the Butthurt Man-Children Review

Destiny 2 has been in trouble for awhile now and despite what the crying man-children on Reddit, Twitter, Facebook, the Bungie forums and the hack of journalists from Kotaku, Forbes (lol did I really include them?), IGN, and Polygon, I strongly believe Destiny 2 is getting better in some aspects and worse in others. I still believe this game have great potential in the future, but for Destiny 2 to be great, Bungie needs to be less reactive and beat the community to the punch, sort of speak. More on that a little later. Let’s get on to my blasphemous opinions.

The Story

The Curse of Osiris story reminds me of Call of Duty: Black Ops III’s story. Let me explain before you get triggered: The Call of Duty, in my opinion, always had a great story despite how you felt about the multiplayer and it’s community. When I played Black Ops III’s campaign, I couldn’t help but to be lost in the plot and be almost put to sleep. The plot was convoluted and had too much filler content that further added to my confusion. This is exactly how I felt playing Curse of Osiris’s story. Although people think the story was pretty fast, I beg to differ. It took me about 4 hours to complete, excluding getting distracted by Public Events and in real life stuff. Then again, I wasn’t speed-running. Maybe that’s why, but it was definitely longer than the Dark Below which a lot of people forget about. Bungie squandered a perfect opportunity to effectively use the Osiris lore.

At the same token, Bungie opened the door to expanding the Osiris lore (besides a webcomic) and revealing some Saint-14 lore. I would also love some Dredgen Yor lore at some point too. Time well tell how much more lore we’ll get and of whom.

Eververse

Dear Lord... I hate the fact that the loot pool is so large and RNG is still what you expect from a Destiny game. If I had to pick which is worse between Treasures of Ages and Illuminated Engrams, I wouldn’t answer because there is no lesser of the two evils. Although, at least I get the armor in Destiny 2 while I still haven’t get a single piece of AoT armor for any character on Destiny 1... on Xbox and PS4.

At the end of the day, her wares are still optional, cosmetic to a certain extent, and not game breaking. That’s all I truly ask for in microtransacions. You can make the argument that the Ghost Shells increase xp gains, points out nearby chests and all that jazz. Then, I’ll rebuttal by calling you a retard and ask a simple question: “How does differ from other Ghost Shells and how does it give you an unfair advantage in the Crucible?” Basically, the only people who still hates Eververse are unlucky like me, poor/cheap people and conspiracy theorists that think Bungie is intentionally making her stuff look better than the non-microtransaction gear. Stop being poor. Taste is subjective.

Mercury

It’s a very small area that I would’ve forgiven if you could freely explore the Infinite Forest, Past Mercury, and Dark Future Mercury. However, you can’t. You can only replay the story missions and adventures to go to those places. Not to mention there’s only one Lost Sector. There’s enough space for at least three. Mercury was over-hyped. The Infinite Forest was filler. More could’ve been done.

Despite that, the visuals are beautiful as always. Past Mercury gives you a sense of peace and serenity while Dark Future Mercury makes the atmosphere more grim and dire. Also, doing Flashpoints on Mercury doesn’t require to actually do a single Public Event. You just have to kill majors that are running around the map.

The Leviathan Raid Lair

I have not played it yet, but I heard great things about it. It’s a shame that Bungie advertised it as just a shorter version of the current raid with different bosses and mechanics because I had low expectations and now I think I might be in for a great time.

I’ll update more when I can finally play it.

#TwoTokensAndABlue: Public Events were Nerfed

So much with being rewarding. Less xp gains, lower probability getting exotics, and quite frankly more of a reason not drop everything to go do one.

The Current State of Crucible

Crucible is still like listening to music on Spotify without premium: You gotta play until you get the gametype you want or keep backing out until you get the match you want. There are also no signs of old Destiny 1 game modes returning and the current ones being separated.

At least, we get to tell future Kinderguardians that for a weekend, the Destiny Community was able to play a large game of laser tag and then there’s the return of Mayhem Clash. MC is the only thing making PvP worth play to me.

Armor Ornaments

I’mma just say it: Most of the ornaments makes the armor look ugly and/or are uninspired. Above all, I’m extremely disappointed with Future War Cult’s. All it does is change the color scheme to white and blue. That’s it.

I do like the fact that you can unlock ornaments account wide. For example, unlocking the Crucible Titan Mark ornament unlocks the Crucible Hunter Cloak and Warlock Bond even if you never played on the other characters.

“Heroic” Strikes

Oh boy... Where do I begin? I was very excited about this. A good percentage of my Destiny 1 playtime was shutting my brain off after a long day and running Heroic Strikes if I liked the modifiers. Destiny 2 said, “Why don’t I just take Vanguard Strikes, raise the power level and call it Heroic Strikes? That’s it!” Bungie did say that they will add modifiers, but two things: 1) Why didn’t you just wait? If it’s incomplete why release it now when you could do so later complete? 2) I hope the modifiers aren’t the Destiny 2 Nightfall modifiers. Please God no.

The Vault System is Still a Mess

Imagine every single file on your computer was on your desktop. No folders. Just right there in front of your face. On top of all that, you can only have 200 of those files on your computer before you have to start deleting stuff. That’s where we’re still at. Not to mention you can hold up to 50 different shaders on your person, yet Bungie decides to make more than 50 unique shaders. It gets better: Duplicate Dawning shaders will sort into separate stacks depending on where they were received from. Dawning shaders received through Eververse will fall into one stack, and shaders earned through activity rewards will be sorted into another. This is not a bug and was intentional. On top of all this: no increased vault space, shader kiosk, or mass deletion option.

Prestige Mode Locked by CoO-Paywall

It seems like the less you invest in Destiny 2 (monetary-wise and in playtime), the more your opinion matters somehow in comparison to actual dedicated fans of the game. The whole issue was that people who didn’t owe the DLC, can’t play the 330 version of the Nightfall & Leviathan Raid due to vanilla players not being able to reach the new level cap. Trials of the Nine was also blocked. Note: Normal Mode was bumped up for both the Nightfall and Raid so you can still reach 305 playing those. Trials ALWAYS required people to have the latest DLC and patches. Hell, Nightfalls got the same treatment in Destiny 1, and mind you, there was only one difficulty. The only people that were angry were the disgruntled Destiny 2 players who stopped playing a long time ago and/or already owns the DLC. Trust me, if you’re a hardcore fan of Destiny or remotely likes it, you would’ve made arrangements to get the DLC. Don’t come at me with that “I love the game, but have no money” bullshit. This was all a case of “What if my friend buys Destiny 2 and I can’t play with him/her?!” Um... tell them to buy the game used/on sale and the DLC? Maybe you could buy it for them so you can play with them? Gee, this is a difficult situation I’ve never been in.

Trust me, no one who hasn’t bought Destiny 2 at this point won’t buy it because of all of the ruckus this community is making. Due to Bungie getting cuck’d by a bunch of poor people who don’t even play their game anymore that complained about a theoretical situation, the first Faction Rally of Season 2 was postponed to I assume (I hope) at the beginning of 2018.

Quality of Life Updates Frequency

I remember a time Bungie was constantly adjusting things like the economy and user interface on top of tuning weapons and subclasses, squashing bugs and things of that nature. Destiny 2 received its first Quality of Life update in December on the day of this DLC’s release. Yeah, Bungie fixed stuff here and there between vanilla Destiny 2 and Curse of Osiris releases, but there was the over abundance of legendary shards some people had to deal with, shitty RNG not giving people what they want, etc. that was just improved. The difference between patches and QoL updates to me is one fix problems and the other improves on what was working fine but can be frustrating. There is less of the latter.

The State of the Destiny Community

Everything that I’ve stated thus far is forgivable. However, Destiny 2′s state of being the target of hit pieces of gaming media and butthurt “fan” backlash is 10% Bungie being reactive, 10% Bungie making dumbass decisions, 80% self-proclaimed fans having buyer’s remorse. Destiny 1 was considered an abomination of game around this time last year for whatever dumb reason people came up with. Destiny 1 was shitted on repeatedly. Now all of a sudden, people love and miss Destiny 1 so much. It was the community’s constant bitching that made Destiny 2 the way it is. Bungie had to find a way to not repeat Destiny 1, but guess what... people flipped flopped. Ask any Destiny fan how they felt about Destiny 1, I guarantee all will praise it, but half of them were singing a different tune last year. Destiny 2 and Curse of Osiris is the community’s fault. Bungie had some part in the blame, but: 1) Me and every other non-Bungie employee don’t know what’s going on behind closed doors at the studio in Redmond, WA. 2) If anything, blame the leadership at Bungie. Why are you getting mad some artist or sound engineer. They don’t program the game or have authority to do whatever they want to the final product if it’s outside of their department.

We are the point where people constantly complaining about bullshit like optional microtransactions and plays other games are considered “concerned fans.” Meanwhile, people like me who are objective, still actively plays the game despite it’s current state, and can compliment game when something is done right gets accused of being on Bungie’s payroll. The toxicity of this community reached heights I never thought possible and it makes me cringe to be an actual fan sometimes. Not to say I’m an angel, which I’m not, but at least I provide constructive criticism to Bungie and lash out at little Jimmy who claims to hate the game so much. I’m against people who insist upon passing on their misery onto other people who are actually enjoying the game. I’ve looked on GameStop’s app and Destiny 2 is worth between $12-18. I can recommend better games for that price. If you have Destiny 2 on disc and are that dissatisfied with it, I challenge you to sell it. If you have it digitally, I’m sure you can get a full refund somehow. I challenge you to get that refund. A reasonable adult, tries to get their money back and move on. If you don’t at least try, you’re full shit.

Bungie’s only unforgivable sin is giving birth to a community of entitled ingrates.

Final Verdict: 7.75/10

This could’ve been better and it could get better in 2018. However, out of the gate... it does not live up to the hype.

#destiny #destiny 2 #destiny the game #destiny 2: curse of osiris #curse of osiris #review #bungie #activision #fanboy alert #mercury #eververse #leviathan #raid

6 notes · View notes