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tojisun · 1 year

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our shallow graves — 01

recom miles quaritch x recom fem reader

!! smut (between fuck buddies outside of main pair) - minors dni; heat (as a theme); mean quaritch; power imbalance; references to (made up past), including death and prev dead lovers; worldbuilding; fast slow-burn; the reader adopts a nickname (callsign) which gets used // 3k words

: this chapter lays the foundation of the fic and introduces the initial dynamic of quaritch and the reader; reader’s callsign is 10/10 from that one penguin in madagascar; this fic made me fascinated with deja blu fr; hope u guys would luv it <33

next // m.list

you don’t understand why you were one of the early ones they awakened. sure you signed up for the shitty program – because who wouldn’t want to be an eight-feet tall blue alien? apparently, other than the scientists, you were the only one in your squad who wanted the transfer – but you didn’t expect to be the first in the line up.

to be in colonel miles quaritch’s squad.

other than walker and mansk, you knew absolutely no one from the deja blu team. but you’ve heard of them, alright. who wouldn’t? they have lines of kills and assists in terra and, now, in pandora; they are warmongers at most, rascals at least.

you stare up at their imposing figures, trying to make sense of the fact that they’ve all been killed in action.

despite not remembering much, you’ve come to terms with your own death during the initial war – a lone pilot, only meant to be an escort, gunned down by trudy’s bird before being further propelled into the lush forest floors of pandora by the banshees. it is a boring life story, one that is only worth telling because of your “sacrifice” in alien territory.

(you still don’t understand why the shrink insisted on showing you the syphoned clips of your death.

“it’s to help you move on,” she said as if she could ever understand the horror of seeing yourself fall to your death. as if you had not been a human trapped inside a fucking burning bird, being torn to pieces by, what could literally only be, flying dinosaurs. as if you were just another collateral. just another number added to the charts.

“i’m sorry,” she added, a small smile on her face as she turned to you, her hair tied in a neat bun and her white blouse tucked in her pencil skirt. “ultimately, thank you for your service, ma’am.”

fucking piece of shit.

you wondered if she even has a licence or the RDA just handed your files to some science nerd and was told to play god for their little blue alien. to fix you right up so that they could send you to another suicide mission.)

but that wasn’t the case for the rest of the deja blu. you know they were directly fighting; leaders of smaller squadrons, following the beat of papa dragon. walker and mansk, themselves, have touched down with guns in their amp suits, directly under wainfleet’s command. you don’t know how they died – you couldn’t even fathom wainfleet dying. and yet there he stands with the others, bald as fuck but imposing nevertheless.

your eyes shift to the man beside him. not the tallest, zdinarsik got that title, but the one in command.

colonel miles quaritch. big, blue, and seething.

one more thing you noticed in this whole fuckery is that your recombinant body is short. you stood about two inches shorter than walker, and she’s a full head shorter than anyone else. as you line up beside her, with fike on your other side, you three could very well make a groupie of santa’s little helpers.

wainfleet smirks like he’s thinking the same. you would have rolled your eyes at him but the colonel began to move close, his combat boots echoing against metal floors, snuffing out any noise from the squad.

“and who are you, kid?” he asks, standing directly in front of you.

you tell him your name, internally wincing when your tail unconsciously coils around your leg. you still don’t know how to control it – an easy tell of your anxiousness. the colonel’s lips lift up in a smirk, his eyes flashing at your tail in slight mirth, before recognition crosses his eyes.

“rico?”

you startle at the use of your unofficial callsign, a feat only made possible after climbing up the ranks and being heralded as one of the best pilots.

(trudy had been the best pilot in hell’s gate; the one with the most medals, and rightfully so. she was the one who ripped through the skies with her samson, zigzagging like she had been riding a banshee instead of a plane.

the one with the kindest heart.

there is a part of you that is grateful that it had been trudy who took you down.)

“yes sir,” you reply, blinking up at him after he’s dismissed your salute, feeling a little shy at being recognized, somewhat, by the colonel.

quaritch hums, tilting his head to the side in thought, watching you with narrowed eyes. briefly, you wonder if he’s asking himself why it had not been socorro who was awakened. to be honest, you are asking yourself the same thing because it doesn’t matter if you were one of the best, not when socorro, sweet and gentle and pregnant socorro, had the colonel’s favouritism.

(socorro’s child was a beautiful boy with sun-kissed hair and chocolate eyes. he was such a darling even though you’ve only seen the infant in passing, held lovingly in his mother’s arms.)

they could’ve made a blue alien baby this time around. maybe, then, they’d be happier too.

the colonel certainly doesn’t deserve it but socorro does.

“were you a private, rico?” quaritch asks, pulling you from your thoughts. he leans close again, dramatically bending his head down which highlights the difference in your heights.

“no sir,” you reply. “i was a lance corporal, sir.”

he hums again, finally backing up and giving you more room to breathe. then, he sends you a smile. “well then, welcome to the team, kid.”

the tension seeps out of you as you nod, thanking him before he turns to the other recoms, chatting amiably. walker bumps you with her shoulder and you see her smile from your peripheral.

you give her a smaller one before willing your tail to finally uncoil from your damn leg and act normal.

of course it just swishes behind you.

-------

training is gruesome. you honestly thought that it would be easier with your stronger and newer body, but with the colonel around, that thought vanished.

suicide drills were the squad’s least favourite, you especially. not only were the stakes increased to push the limits of your new bodies, but you all were always watched by the scientists, with their little sticks poking at your bodies and their little wires strapped down to whatever skin they wanted to bother this time around.

wainfleet started screaming at them, calling them “fucking losers,” and barking at them to give the squad some space. quaritch quickly took over, grunting that whether they were losers or not, whatever they were doing was necessary. that said, he sent the scientists a heated glare, making it known that his words do not necessarily reflect his feelings – wainfleet had taken this as his victory.

the tests weren’t fun, but you appreciated their purposes; through them, you learned that your na’vi DNA was extracted from a tipani warrior. the sentiment isn’t lost in you – they robbed the graves of the na’vi. you think you are used to what humans could do all for conquering pandora but for many days, you were unable to stomach any packet meal they fed your squad. walker had to talk you out of it because your unintentional hunger strike made you lag behind – an error that had you being summoned to the colonel’s office.

“we’re all tryin’ our best here, rico,” quaritch’s voice echoes in his office.

you’ve never been inside the one he had back in hell’s gate and you had hoped that you would never see the day of being in his current one, but there you stood, tensed as the colonel studied you.

he refused to sit on his customized chair, choosing instead to pace just behind his desk, his bulging arms hidden from your view as he clasped his hands behind his back. quaritch’s lips are pursed, almost pouty, and you beat yourself up at the thought of finding him – your nose scrunches at this – attractive when he’s busy scolding you.

“our circumstances ain’t ideal, but we’re back as some lab-grown native and we oughta take advantage of what we’ve become,” he says, continuing his tirade amidst your silence, snapping you out of your humiliating thoughts. “your little stunt costs us a delay on proceeding with a recon of the area and the only reason i’m not benching you is because the general has faith in you – faith that, frankly, i’m still not understanding.”

your back straightens at his words, and you tamp down the need to wince at his scathing tone. he is right, after all. for some fucked up reason, the general – both ardmore who’s stationed in pandora and gonzales who’s still in terra – backed the need to have your soul transfer commence. you still don’t know what it had been for, given that past your flying skills, you are just another idiot who knows her way around a gun. not memorable to many, except, apparently, for those in command.

(‘maybe this was why the colonel doesn’t particularly like me,’ you would think later, safe in your room. ‘socorro may have the colonel’s attention but what is a colonel – one who already failed his priority mission – against two generals?’)

“i’m sorry, sir,” you utter, clear but not loud, and quaritch just watches you again with his unwavering stare.

finally, he grunts, turning his body away from you to fully face the glass window that oversees the lower-level operations. you take this as his dismissal and scurry out of his office.

-------

“and she’s finally back from tryna kill herself!” wainfleet’s voice echoes in the nearly empty mess hall and you roll your eyes at him, glowering when he just proceeds to chuckle.

you plop your tray in front of walker, sending her a small smile which she returns with a cute beam. her braids are out of her hair tie today, letting them frame her face in the way you saw the omatikaya prefer. shooting a quick glance at zdinarsik’s way and it’s clear that someone else prefers it this way too.

“what’d the pukes say?” fike asks, sloshing around his packet meal, sneering in disgust when it jiggles like a slab of jello. more than the fact that you found out that your gene came from a corpse, this ‘food’ is about to do the trick of making you want to pursue starvation again.

“said i needa take so many pills.” you shrug, tearing open your packet of faux meat with pinched lips and your shoulders tensed like you’re expecting to be shot at. “apparently, i stunted my growth.”

prager laughs. “aww, you gonna remain short?”

“aww, you gonna remain hairy?” you shot back, snorting when prager just pouts as he raises his hand to rub at his fuzzy chin. gross.

wainfleet barks out another laugh at the exchange before reaching across the table to place an apple onto your tray. “‘ere ya go, rico. real food.”

you don’t know where he got the fruit, you don’t even know if it’s ‘real’ like he just said, but you do not have room to complain. fake fruit is a whole lot better than the slush in the compound.

“thanks,” you say, smiling bashfully, not expecting wainfleet, of all people, to adopt the mother hen role. he winks at you in reply, wiggling his brows, before straightening back up and fooling around with prager.

you dump the packet back to your tray before picking up the apple. you wipe it on your shirt before bringing it up for a bite, humming in delight at the crunching sound it made.

“delicious?” mansk asks from beside you, his lips quirking up in a smile when you turn to him.

“yummy,” you reply, humming, taking another bite. he snickers, bumping your leg with his, before placing his own apple onto your tray too.

“you gotta eat more,” is all he says when you make a questioning sound before bending over to hover his lips on the shell of your ear. “news spread fast that you got your ass reprimanded by the colonel yesterday.”

“uh-huh,” you mutter, unable to focus on what he’s saying at the sudden surge of heat engulfing you.

your lips feel dry all of a sudden, your throat parched from unknown thirst, and you turn to mansk, wanting to ask him what the hell is happening to you – was this the fault of the fucking apple? – only to see his own face flushed, blue skin turning into dark purple.

his eyes meet yours and all of a sudden, you feel like you are doused with gasoline and set ablaze.

huh. well, if that isn’t interesting.

-------

“jesus- devin, not too ha- ah!”

your back arches at a particularly hard thrust, your jaw falling open for a drawn out garble. the explosion of pleasure races across your synapses, filling you up with nothing but a deafening white noise. blearily, you recognize mansk’s bigger hands wrapping around your waist, lifting you up from his lap only to drop you down again. a hiccupped moan escapes your lips, your eyes rolling to the back of your skull, feeling your walls spasming around him.

“rico, fuck, so good. so good.” mansk’s voice is faint, falling from his kiss-swollen lips in murmurs. you would have missed it without your new heightened senses, but the sound of his voice tickles your ears, making your tail flick behind you as you preen at his praises.

a giggly “thank you” barely makes it past your teeth when mansk manhandles you again, humping his hips up to grind himself along your pelvis, driving him deeper. you choke on your words, unable to stop the moan that is punched from your lungs, the sound so loud that mansk had to cover your mouth with one of his hands.

“not so loud,” he mumbles, bumping his forehead against yours. the sound of his rugged voice makes you clench around his length, making you feel utterly stuffed. you drag your blunt nails across his back, your eyes fluttering rapidly, feeling yourself tipping into the peak of your orgasm.

mansk laughs. “y’r unbelievable.”

you do not know what it is that you said, your wobbly voice still smothered by his hand, as you get lost in the way he bounces you on his lap. mansk goes quiet, only letting muffled grunts pierce the air between the two of you, and you feel the sudden surge of primal need unleashing deep in your belly.

the tight clench of your abdomen almost hurts, your orgasm ripping through the remnants of your sanity. your last thought was: ‘motherfucker, why did no one ever tell you that the na’vi have heats?’

it is later when the haze lifts up that the warmth licking up from the core of your muscles – almost like it is burrowed deep within your blood vessels – is finally snuffed out.

mansk is asleep on his bed, dead to the world. you shuffle out of his loose embrace, blinking blearily before realizing that he had cleaned you two up. a small smile graces your lips as you fully slink out of his bed, looping your tail around your leg as you pick up the pieces of your off-duty apparel.

pressing a kiss on his forehead, and rolling your eyes when he sleepily bats you away like you are a fly, you grab your respirator and quietly leave his room.

standing in the empty hallways, turning your head from side to side, you study the stillness of the metal walkway with bated breath, afraid that someone will eventually see you making your walk of shame to your room. when the silence continues, you finally begin to move, lithe steps only broken by the continuous hissing from your respirator as you occasionally take slight sips of air.

nearing your room, your heart finally settles, your tensed back loosening up at the feeling of safety. you cross past one of the intersecting hallways, quick in your steps, when a hand reaches from the dark and grabs your wrist.

a scream nearly bubbles from your lips when a palm is shoved to your face, shutting you up once again. panicked eyes turn, trying to see who’s got such a strong hold on you, only for your heart to careen even faster when you make eye contact with quaritch.

no-

his sneer is terrifying, his bright amber eyes glinting with so much malice, it pins you right on the spot. cold dread washes over you like a tide, chasing away the quiet elation that settled deep within your veins. the heat is returning, you know that, but it is muted and mingled with fear that you can’t even feel the need to scratch the itch.

your ears are pinned onto your skull, your tail drooping as it wraps itself around your leg again. this time the colonel doesn’t look at it in amusement, instead he continues to glare at you.

“colonel-”

“next time, fuck around quietly,” quaritch barks out, cutting you off. “and go take a goddamn shower. you reek.”

he snatches his arm from your wrist as though he’s been burned before marching away, his combat boots echoing in the hallway. tears prick the back of your eyes and you run to your room, heaving, trying to calm yourself.

anger, hurt, and shame bubble deep inside your stomach, expanding, until you are finally reduced to tears. you cry your frustration away, hoping that by doing so, you would stop thinking about how good the colonel smelled as he glowered at you with his sharp eyes.

(if only you had glanced at quaritch as he walked away, you would have seen the way he burrowed his face on his palm, chasing the sweet scent that roused him from his sleep and pushed his own heat into its beginnings.)

#suns.f #our shallow graves #miles quaritch x reader #recom quaritch x reader #quaritch x reader #quaritch x you #recom miles quaritch #miles quaritch #recom avatar #suns #avatar the way of water #atwow #cliffhanger my beloathed (as reader) n beloved (as writer)

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taxus-fraud · 1 year

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My new Arknights headcanon is that Doctor gets excited about battle recordings the same way regular people get excited about movies and TV shows. They get a report on recent squad deployments across Terra and go “Nice! We might be getting a sequel to ‘Recovered drone footage - LGD/Reunion Skirmish - Outskirts//Sector F9 - 01/25/92′! The first one had some of the coolest flanking maneuvers I’ve ever seen!”

Rhodes Island movie night is always a struggle to convince them that no one else wants to watch “RI Operation Record 05/12/86 + Post-Battle Analysis″

#arknights

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duckprintspress · 26 days

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August Releases from Duck Prints Press

August has seen us releasing several new works – a short story on our webpage, four more short stories on our Patreon, and an original artwork on Patreon. Have you been considering backing our Patreon as part of the August Patreon drive but weren’t sure what you’d get? Read on for some examples of the awesomeness available to backers – or, if backing on Patreon isn’t your cup of tea, pop over to our website and buy a copy of our latest short story release!

New Patreon backers during the month of August may claim freebie Duck Prints Press merchandise worth up to $5! Read all about this promotion in this blog post: https://duckprintspress.com/2024/08/01/duck-prints-press-needs-you-become-a-patron-get-a-freebie-reblog-enter-a-giveaway/

(read more!)

New Art

Artist: Zel Howland Title: Chrysopoeia

In this beautiful, haunting piece, the multi-talented Zel Howland created an artwork entitled Chrysopoeia to accompany their short story of the same name.

Viewing Access ($5/month and $7/month backers) | Print-Suitable Download Access ($10/month and $25/month backers)

New General Imprint Titles

Author: Willa Blythe Title: Tincture of Clarity

Modern with Magic, M/M Rivals to Lovers, Magical Tea Shop Setting. An Add Magic to Taste bonus story!

Teaser: Restaurant Week had never been a good week for Steep—not once in the six years since Emery had opened his beloved little tea shop. Every year they scraped by, struggling to get passersby to darken the doors for promises of royal tea and creamed scones and magical teapots. None of that appealed to the young and vibrant community Emery had found here, beyond the people who always came to see him, special Restaurant Week offerings or none.

Available to all Patreon backers!

Author: Lyonel Loy Title: Rabbit, Run

Fantasy, Family and Found Family, The Children of War Find Peace

Teaser: Soraya is nine years old, and Zhengyi her oldest living brother is fifteen, when the world rises against their father at last.

“Follow the road,” Zhengyi says. He has taken off his demon war-helm to kiss them goodbye; someone else’s blood stains his face and his armor. “It will take you to your mother’s keep; they will shelter you there. Don’t leave the road, and don’t stop for anyone or anything. I’ll make sure no one follows.”

Available to $25/month Patreon backers!

Author: Genevieve Maxwell Title: Bubbles and Butterflies

Fluffy Modern F/F Meet-Cute

Teaser: Jill was surprised when she heard the door open behind her right after she exited. The woman who had been in front of her in line was leaving as well. Jill had noticed earlier that she was pretty, but it struck her now that not only was this woman adorable, she was incredibly attractive. When she saw Jill looking, she grinned and raised her hand in a wave. Jill smiled tentatively back and turned toward her.

“Looks like we’re headed the same way,” said the woman.

Available to all Patreon backers!

New Explicit Imprint Titles

Author: YF Ollwell Title: LA Photographs Itself

Historical First-Person Point of View M/M One-Night Stand

Teaser: It was something about the way Pax dropped the robe that made me realize there was no Playgirl test-shoot after all. He looked over his shoulder in a move he must have picked up from some femme fatale as I considered the pale shape of his spine and the bad stunt scar that sat just above the cleft of his ass… and he grinned.

“Okay, Martin,” he said in a voice barely suppressing a giggle, “I’m ready for my pin-ups.”

Available on our website for $1.99!

Author: Terra P. Waters Title: Dancing for the King

Fantasy M/M Deity/Worshiper Size Difference. Stand-alone story set in the same ‘verse as The Wayward Timekeeper.

Teaser: Five years ago, when Andelion was 16, he had won the lottery at his school and was given the privilege of, as part of the ceremony, carrying the Book through the temple to where Tenemor sat on a dais. As Andelion had gotten his first close-up look at the god-king, he had been awestruck. Tenemor was of giant stature; his crown soared three yards up. The king’s skin was unnaturally pale, gray, and death-like, nothing like Anavita’s deep, soil-toned brown skin. Nothing like the medium-brown skin that Andelion and his family members all had. And his eyes! Andelion had fallen into those gray-brown eyes, irreparably changed.

In that moment, Andelion decided he would join Tenemor’s harem and become one of the few mortals the god-king loved.

Available to $7/month, $10/month, and $25/month Patreon backers!

#duck prints press #patreon #support us #queer books #queer stories #queer short stories #queer authors #queer writers #lgbtqia art #queer art #lgbtqia books #read diverse #read diverse books #terra p. waters #lyonel loy #genevieve maxwell #willa blythe #yf ollwell

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amazegallery · 4 months

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Holidays

» Capas para o desafio "A capa ideal" do @stellaruniversestaff

Filme de inspiração: O estranho mundo de Jack 💕 Felix Lee - SKZ

Terra do nunca

Filme de inspiração: Sininho (Tinker Bell) kkkkkk Wendy e Joy - RedVelvet Post: 01/06/24

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vacantgodling · 4 months

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THE SONG OF II & THE WAIL OF LAPSUNDI aka, how the world featured in The Chronicles of Lathsbury, Terrae, came into being.

i condensed a LOT of information for this but i tried to cover the main points of the beginning of the world and what led to year 1 of the first irandium (or year) of terranean history! :D

edit: i forgot the image of slide 7 somehow. it’s been added back

transposed under the cut ↓↓

SLIDE 1: The Song of Ii & The Wail of Lapsundi

or how the of the world that the story, the chronicles of lathsbury takes place in, Terrae, came to be

SLIDE 2: Out of the depths of chaos, IISIDIA(01) emerged—alone.

01. IISIDIA, goddess of the universe, creation, destruction, and magic

SLIDE 3: And this loneliness caused her great despair…

To cure this loneliness, IISIDIA decided that she would create herself a world, and dwell in it. The sonorous, somber hums deep from her breast would tumble forth through the darkness and with the power of this magic—this cantillo(02)—would come forth peaks and depths; murky waters and all manner of shadowed thing. This world, filled with no laughter, no music, and no joy—a world devoid of even the slightest traces of light. It was a world that IISIDIA would call: Lapsundi

02. chaos magic; only accessible by the gods. it takes the form of deep, otherworldly hums.

SLIDE 4: one day, as she lamented among her creation, IISIDIA saw a light…

and came upon a small babe, radiating brightness—a smile on its small cheeks. the only beauty hidden in this barren wasteland. immediately taken with the child, IISIDIA took the babe into her arms, and knew that the child was called Phyddione.

SLIDE 5: IISIDIA decided that Phyddione could not live in a place such as this.

And with that declaration, Lapsundi could be no more. Bearing down on the world that she had made—IISIDIA tore Lapsundi apart at its seams; disgusted that she could ever conjure such a horrible place. And when she finished her long rampage, the world was once again a blank slate(03)

03. or so she thought

SLIDE 6: The Next thing that IISIDIA decided is that, while Phyddione was precious to her, she could not live with the notion that she would remember the terrible world of Lapsundi.

FIRST: IISIDIA separated the memories and brightness of Phyddione from the physical body of The Babe

SECOND: IISIDIA cast the memories and the light up to the heavens; creating The Sun—otherwise known as Phyddione, The Prisoner of Light. Her tears of being separated create the sunbeams that shine bright throughout the Universe.

THIRD: IISIDIA used her divinity to bestow a new identity upon the babe. The Babe then became IIARAN, her first memories being of seeing her elder sister, IISIDIA in the brightening universe.

SLIDE 7: “We Shall Sing A Great Song and Build A World Unto Our Own.”

—said IIARAN to her Elder Sister IISIDIA

and thus, THE SONG OF II would soon Come to Pass.

SLIDE 8: THE SONG OF II: The Creation of Terrae

is separated into 6 movements that correspond with the creation of certain elements of their new world and with it, the creation, of cantatio

the casting of the lights movement -> what created the numerous stars that light the way of the night. it is said the movement was light and airy but full of hope. created the minor god: Palanthia

the rumbling brook movement -> what created the oceans, rivers, lakes and seas. the waters swirled in a great vortex, and the major god, KOST was born to shepherd the oceans

the shaping of clay movement -> what created the land that would float atop of the oceans and would house all of the other creations IIARAN wanted to make. from a loc of IISIDIA’s hair, the alter deity IDMIR was born and took IISIDIA’s drum, Nitarr as his husband.

the flowering movement -> what created the forests and vegetation of Terrae and from a thick bramble known as The Thicket, the god, MIZDARR emerged*

the creeping movement -> what created all the animals on both land and sea. some that approached The Thicket were tainted by the chaos within it, giving MIZDARR dominion over all animals as well.

the final crescendo -> IIARAN breathed a breath of divinity across the land, and from that breath, rose what would become The First Terraneans.

SLIDE 9:

When Terraneans first open their eyes to take in the splendor of their new home, they are immediately blinded by the sun’s powerful rays.

Seeing her creation’s plight, IIARAN runs to IISIDIA in despair. IISIDIA takes IIARAN to a nearby brook and has her look upon her reflection. As the young goddess is mesmerized by what she sees; IISIDIA takes that image of her and casts it up into the heavens opposite of Phyddione. This mirror absorbs some of the blinding light of the sun, and saves the Terranean people from falling prey to its deadly rays, while also providing light during the deepest, darkest nights. This mirror became known as Idyenhdop. — Also known as The Moon.

SLIDE 10: It wasn’t long before IIARAN realized that her divinity kept her from being able to walk among the Terraneans.

and in her sadness, she weeps, so IISIDIA comforts her.

the two lay together among their bed of stars, and from their union, the goddess of the people, MUINENS is born, taking equal parts of both of her mothers.

despite her divinity, she is able to reach out and choose certain Terraneans to hear her speech and read her thoughts, dubbed OOMs (Oracles of Muinens). The first OOM, Inen, guides the first Terranean migration, away from The Thicket and deep into the south west. When the goddess bids them stop, IDMIR and Nitarr bring forth a large hill, elevated to protect the Terraneans from the beasts and monsters that roam the land.

Year 1 is established—the birthplace of The Citadel of Argos has come.

#s: tcol #worldbuilding #powerpoints!!! more!!!!

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kaitoflames · 7 months

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OPÇÃO #01 !

local: biblioteca.

❛ odeio que só temos especulações. ━━━━━ havia usado os últimos dias para ajudar os campistas com seus chalés destruídos. não se incomodava em fazer o trabalho pesado, muito menos em ajudar no que mais ninguém queria. na verdade estava acostumado a lidar com bagunça. há anos lidava com materiais de construção, fumaça e lugares em ruínas, afinal. não só era seu trabalho no acampamento, como fora dele. entretanto, nos últimos dias estava incomodado. mesmo que fosse mais útil com força bruta e oferecendo materiais, queria tentar chegar a conclusões melhores. ❛ talvez haja algo nos livros, algo que ninguém prestou atenção e que pode nos ajudar com algum direcionamento. ━━━━━ o tom de voz ainda era calmo, mas os que o conheciam a mais tempo conseguiam sentir uma sugestão de desconforto e agitação. ❛ não sou exatamente a pessoa, bom, mais próxima do céu, mas quem sabe até no observatório haja algo esperando por uma interpretação? nas estrelas? algo fora do lugar, talvez? não sei. mas minha ideia é ir até lá mais tarde, se encontrar algo aqui.

OPÇÃO #2 !

local: bunker 9.

sua expressão era concentrada. parado na frente da entrada no bunker há bons metros, parecia estar calculando alguma coisa quando sentiu mais uma presença. decerto era MUSE, a quem havia prometido ferramentas para ajudar melhor a restaurar alguns móveis no interior de seu chalé. bom, tinham um problema. ❛ tem uma armadilha. ━━━━━ comentou, colocando ambas as mãos na cintura. ❛ algum dos pequenos deve ter armado para passar o tempo. ━━━━━ deu informação extra, e então indicou com a cabeça uma pequena elevação de terra. ❛ ficou bem bolada, preciso admitir que estou um pouco orgulhoso. ━━━━━ houve a sugestão de um sorriso surgindo no rosto. ❛ enfim, podemos voltar para o seu chalé e tentar do modo mais difícil, ou então tentar passar pra que eu pegue a minha caixa de ferramentas. você tem um pouco de tempo?

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officialrailscales · 5 months

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10.5” Noveske for FDE Friday

Karve | Terra Bronze

3-Slot G10 RailScales | TerraCore | MiniDot Texture

1.5-Slot G10 Solo’s | TerraCore | MiniDot Texture

QDX Sling Mount | Terra Bronze

CSMR Button | MilSpec Style | Terra Bronze

- RS

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createlink · 5 months

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﹒　　　NAMES　　𓈒

Binary， Circuit， Nova， Quantum， Surge， Cypher， Java， Zip， Jet， Kinect， Alistair， Alpha， Hydra， Nano， Neo， Orbit， Parallel， Unit， Aimi， Admin， Hal， Intern(e)， Terra， Alexia， Seraph， Astra， Hywel.

﹒　　　PRONOUNS　　𓈒

Gear， halo， holo， axis， droid， signal， satalite， shard， solar， 01，DNA， digital， vi， clone， wing， reach， desire.

#𐐾⠀⠀⠀creations.#mogai #name list #name suggestions #name help #names pronouns #np list #pronoun list #pronoun suggestions #pronoun help

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agentplutonium · 4 months

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WIP Wednesday

I got tagged by @romirola *checks notes* over a month ago, but never late then never, right! ,,, right?

ANYWAY I’ve been very slow on some of my writing recently (burn out from school is a BITCH) but here’s a small snippet of a Milo/Sweetheart fight fic and mayhaps a little snippet of original work I’ve been chipping away at:

(No pressure) tags to: @pinksparkl @zozo-01 @angelicaether @lovelylonerliterature and anyone else who wants to join! I’m really bad at tagging people ngl

I was really captivated by the idea of Sweetheart snapping at Milo for constantly bashing their job, no matter how correct he is, so I ran with it. Here’s the beginning of that:

It was always a strain on their relationship. Milo knew that. He just didn’t think it could ever come to this.

Sweetheart came home with a limp. A limp that was not there when they left, and one that was certainly unwelcome in their typically confident gait. Milo was onto it immediately.

“What’s wrong, Sweetheart?”

“Nothing,” they said hurriedly. “Fell at work today.”

“You didn’t get it checked out?” Milo asked.

“It’s nothing, Milo. I’ll be fine in the morning.”

Milo paused what he was doing, turning to look at Sweetheart fully. They weren’t facing him, set on emptying and putting their things away. They never took that tone with him, and it concerned Milo. Did he do something? Were they mad at him?

“Are you okay?” Milo asked, standing.

“I told you I’m fine!” Sweetheart snapped. “Stop looking into it.”

“Okay,” Milo said, tone hardening, “you don’t get to talk to me like that when I’m just trying to make sure you’re okay.”

Sweetheart let their bag slump to the ground, taking a deep breath. When they turned to face him, their eyes were closed. They opened them a moment later, saying, “I’m sorry. You’re right. I’ve just had a hard day at work. That’s all.”

Milo eyebrows furrowed, one corner of his mouth turning down. “Do you need anything? I can—“

“No,” Sweetheart said quickly. They realised how that came off and back tracked, “no, Love, I just want to go lay down for a bit. Is that alright?”

“Of course that’s all right,” Milo said. “I can come get you once dinner is ready.”

“Thank you,” Sweetheart sighed, kissing Milo’s cheek. They stalked off toward their bedroom, catching the attention of Aggro who followed them.

Milo didn’t like how that went. Sweetheart was hiding something from him. But, he trusted them to bring it up later, maybe after they decompressed after today. They wouldn't keep secrets from him.

And now for a small snippet of my boys (gn); Terra and Caelus. I just really wanted to write something for them so I can share them with more than just me and PK. ANYWAY:

The night was young, the drinks were flowing, the band playing joyously in the corner, and Terra was having a very good time.

She never got to have nights like these, where time slowed and she was able to conjugate with her humans. She loved watching how they interacted with each other. She loved watching the dances that they’ve come up with, and how the translated to group settings like this. They were very creative creatures, that was for sure. Terra liked to take credit for that part.

Terra could feel magic warp behind her, bending and expanding, leaving a tingling sensation on the back of her neck. She smiled, recognizing the figure that appeared behind her.

“How does anyone have any fun at these things?” Caelus’ voice vibrated within her.

“They find their ways,” Terra hummed. “You can’t fault them for that.”

“All it is just stuffy dances in stuffy clothes,” Caelus complained.

“Don’t you see what I’m seeing?” Terra asked, turning her head to look at him.

Caelus hummed, stepping closer, “What do you see?”

Terra took Caelus’ jaw in her hand, turning his head toward two young people chatting away on the edge of the room. “Love.”

“That’s love?”

“The beginning of it,” Terra hummed, “and it’s always so beautiful watching them fall in love. Not to mention,” she redirected Caelus’ gaze to the band, “that’s love, too.”

“How is that love?” Caelus questioned.

Terra chuckled, letting go. “Look at how they play, look at how they are so encapsulated by the sound that they are making. You can’t tell me that someone who plays an instrument is not in love.”

“That’s one way to put it,” Caelus said.

“And the musicians would agree with me,” Terra defended.

“You say that about everything,” Caelus muttered half-heartedly.

Terra sighed, expecting this answer from Caelus. He never understood, despite Terra feeling the innate curiosity burning within him. To see how their creations interact with one another. She knows that, fundamentally, that same desire to love and protect what he creates is in him. It was in all of them. A base functionality to their existence. However, for some reason, Caelus’ love, and hers, are two completely different things. He sees love as a neat and tidy thing. Not conditional, by any means, but there is always a cause and an effect. A means to an end. A list of tasks that must be done, and the meticulous upkeep of said results. He doesn’t like restarting a process unless it is inevitable. Terra, on the other hand, doesn’t have a process. Until something is finalized—with a consciousness—she does not feel like she is stuck with one design. However, even if a design has it flaws, Terra will often let it live anyway. She couldn’t bring herself to destroy something she created just because it didn’t go to plan. It was cruel. She could always build off of the prototypes, and evolve them into what she wanted them to be.

They were two sides of one coin. Perfection in different forms.

Terra got an idea, turning to Caelus. “Come see the celebrations in the town,” she insisted.

“What for?” Caelus asked her.

“I want to show you something.”

Thank you for reading !

#plutonium wipw #redacted audio #redactedverse #redacted milo #redacted sweetheart #redacted audio milo #redacted audio sweetheart #Meraki Chronicles #oc #oc fic

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coffee0-0 · 8 months

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After the Storm || Miles Morales - Terra 42

Sinopse: Tudo começo com uma ida no mercado 24h e uma tempestade Casal: Miles Morales x Leitor Total de Palavras: 1065

◆:*:◇:*:◆:*:◇:*:◆

É 01:30 da madrugada quando a fome de verdade bate, olho pela janela e o tempo parece estar fechando, suspirando fundo me levanto da cama e ando até a cozinha escura e abro a geladeira, vazia, apenas agua e resto de coisas que nem sei o que são, fecho a porta da geladeira vou buscar minha carteira e colocar um casaco, na porta de casa coloco meu tênis e saio de casa, trancando a porta.

•°•°•°•°•°•

Entrando no mercado 24h vejo um funcionário e dou boa noite, ele não responde e só me olha e volta a fazer o que estivesse fazendo, entro na sessão de massa e procuro por macarrão instantâneo, pego o que mais gosto e vou em direção as geladeiras, quando abro a porta de um, através dela vejo um garoto no meu lado, parecia que ele tinha entrado em uma puta briga, ele pega algo gelado e coloca em seu rosto machucado e inchado.

"Se fizer assim vai congelar sua cara" Falo olhando pro garoto, fecho a porta da geladeira depois de pegar uma coca.

"Como si no supiera eso" Ele fala com a voz cansada, indo pro caixa com varias coisas de saúde, bandagens, remédios, e etc. ,nem sabia que vendia esse tipo de coisa aqui.

Pego um doce no caminho do caixa, chegando no caixa o homem passa minhas compras e eu pago, saindo da loja, no meio do caminho uma gota cai no meu rosto, duas, três e um milhão de gotas, começou a tempestade, eu começo a me encharcar com a chuva, olho pra um lado pro outro em busca de abrigo e vejo um beco iluminado e com uma sacada em que posso esperar a chuva passar, entro no beco e vou pra baixo da sacada e olho ao redor, quando menos espero vejo o garoto do mercado, se enfaixando ali mesmo, sentado no chão, o sangue e a chuva encharcava as bandagens recém-colocadas e ele estava molhado, a chuva deve ter pego ele também, ele olha pra mim com seu olhar inexpressivo, mas ainda via o cansaço em seus olhos

"Oi..." Olho pro chão e me afasto do garoto, dando espaço pra ele, a chances dele me matar são 65%, se tiver sorte, minhas costas se encostam na parede e quando vejo estou sentada, encolhida, a chuva não dava trégua, caia forte ao ponto de doer, ele não fala nada e parece que volta a se enfaixar.

Olho de canto de olho pra ele e vejo ele apertando demais

"Se continuar assim, vai cortar a circulação do sangue, parece que você se molhou, é melhor você antes você trocar ela" Olho pra ele, o medo ainda permanecia mas a curiosidade era maior, o que poderia ter acontecido com ele?

Ele olha pra mim, parecia estar começando a ficar aborrecido.

"Você é a porra de uma enfermeira pra querer ficar palpitando no que eu faço?" Ele fala rispidamente

"Sou filha de uma, serve?"

Ele me olha de cima pra baixo, seus olhos castanhos dourados me encaram e me julgam e então ele joga a bandagem pra mim, eu solto minha sacola no chão e agarro ela no reflexo, ela quase cai de minhas mãos.

"Você...quer que eu te enfaixe?"

"Porque acha que eu te dei isso?"

Eu suspiro fundo e me aproximo dele, me agacho perto dele e vejo os itens que ele comprou, itens de primeiro socorro, bandagens, álcool, algodão, soro fisiológico e etc, olho pra ele tentando analisar suas feridas e vejo seu rosto com manchas já escurecendo, deve ter sido de socos, Pego um algodão do pacote e molho em soro fisiológico e pressiono em seu rosto, ele estremece rapidamente mas volta ao seu rosto inexpressível, com todo seu rosto cuidado eu coloco os algodoes usado em uma sacola aleatória dos itens pra jogar fora depois.

"Onde devo te enfaixar? Não vejo ferida alguma pra enfaixar"

Ele vira seu rosto, me encarando, Esse maluco ainda vai me matar, ele suspira e levanta a camisa mostrando as faixas no estomago, parecia ser um corte ate que profundo, estavam muito apertadas e definitivamente poderia ate machucar a pele dele de tão forte que estava, eu pego o pedaço que estava solto pois ele não terminou de enfaixar direito, e começo a desenrolar mas vejo que seria necessário ele se afasta da parede.

"Então...poderia se afastar da parede pra eu desenrolar as faixas?"

Ele definitivamente estava aborrecido mas se afastou da parede pra eu desenfaixar, eu desenrolo as faixas e desinfeto com o soro corte, logo enfaixando com cuidado. Olho suas mãos que estavam segurando a camisa e vejo que estavam feridas, os nos estavam todos machados e sangrando, depois que ele abaixa a camisa eu pego suas mãos devagar, ele parece se espantar e tenta arrancar as mãos das minhas mas relaxa, olhando pra longe, ele parecia estar envergonhado, pego mais bandagens e enfaixo suas mãos, com band-aids que encontrei na sacola, coloco em certo ponto de sua mão.

"Pronto! Não molha as bandagens por enquanto, toma cuidado pra não pegar uma infecção e...." viro pra sacolas dele e pego a compressa gelada, pego um pano em meu bolso grande o suficiente pra cobrir a compressa já que a mesma não era tão grande e entrego a ele. "Coisas geladas podem queimar a pele, e a bolsa esta MUITO gelada"

Ele olha pra bolsa envolvida no pano e pega, pressionando no rosto e se encosta na parede e olha ao redor do beco.

"....Gracias.."

Ele agradece e eu fico surpresa, não era a primeira vez que ajudei alguém aleatório com isso, normalmente sendo garotos de ruas que entram em brigas e eu fico com dó, mas era a primeira vez que me agredeciam sem a mãe ou alguem falar "Agradece a garota/Moça"

"De nada"

Fica um silencio depois disso, as gotas da chuva paravam devagar de cair no chão, a chuva parava, e então ela para, O garoto se levanta e pega as sacolas dele e se afasta do beco sem antes falar meu nome, me surpreendendo, olho pra ele na entrada do beco.

"Você seria uma ótima enfermeira como sua mãe" Ele da um sorriso quase imperceptível e vai embora.

Me levanto de onde estava sentada e saio do beco olhando pra um lado pro outro, e começo a caminhar rápido pra casa pensando.

"Como ele sabia meu nome?"

◆:*:◇:*:◆:*:◇:*:◆

Respostando aqui da outra conta, glitch0o0, lá tava uma bagunça então criei esse espacinho pras minha futuras escritas 👍🤓

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amcrantha · 1 month

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⠀⠀✧₊⁺⠀⠀TASK 01: Diário do semideus

@silencehq @hefestotv

Escrever em um diário era uma prática que Amy havia adquirido desde bem nova. Lhe trazia certa paz de espírito colocar as palavras no papel, entender os próprios sentimentos e sensações através da autoanálise e poder observas as situações de um panorama mais amplo. Mais racional. Por isso, não foi nenhum problema para ela sentar-se e iniciar o trabalho de responder aquelas perguntas, mesmo que não tenha tanto costume assim de falar sobre si mesma.

CAMADA 1: BÁSICO E PESSOAL

Nome: Amarantha "Amy"

Idade: 27 anos

Gênero: Mulher cis

Pronomes: Ela/dela

Altura: 1.74

Parente divino e número do chalé: Circe, chalé 15

CAMADA 2: CONHECENDO OS SEMIDEUSES

Idade que chegou ao Acampamento: 23 anos

Quem te trouxe até aqui? Eu não me lembro

Seu parente divino te reclamou de imediato ou você ficou um pouco no chalé de Hermes sem saber a quem pertencia? Eu sempre soube de quem era filha por ter crescido na ilha, então minha mãe não precisou me reclamar para que eu soubesse a onde pertencia.

Após descobrir sobre o Acampamento, ainda voltou para o mundo dos mortais ou ficou apenas entre os semideuses? Se você ficou no Acampamento, sente falta de sua vida anterior? E se a resposta for que saiu algumas vezes, como você agia entre os mortais? Nunca mais voltei para o mundo mortal, nem mesmo em missões. Nunca fui em uma.

Se você pudesse possuir um item mágico do mundo mitológico, qual escolheria e por quê? Nunca pensei muito nisso.

Existe alguma profecia ou visão do futuro que o assombra ou guia suas escolhas? Um dia quando estava praticando a minha divinação, eu vi tudo em chamas. Corpos caídos, dentre eles rostos conhecidos, daqui do Acampamento. Sei que isso não aconteceu no passado por conta disso, das pessoas que reconheci, então só pode significar que é uma visão do futuro. Não tenho certeza se minhas visões representam a verdade absoluta ou apenas uma variável do que pode acontecer, mas espero que seja a segunda opção.

CAMADA 3: PODERES, HABILIDADES E ARMAS

Fale um pouco sobre seus poderes: Eu ainda não o compreendi inteiramente. Sei que tenho visões quando toco nos elementos e sei que posso ver tanto o futuro como o passado, tive várias ocasiões em que vi coisas que aconteceram apenas alguns segundos antes, e outras que aconteceram muitos anos atrás, assim como já tive visões do futuro que se concretizaram. E também sei que existe uma variável do quão precisas e o quão claras as visões são. Quanto mais intenso o meu contato com um dos elementos for, mais claras são as visões. Elas ainda podem se tratar apenas de flashes sem muito sentido, mas ficam mais visíveis se eu estiver com as mãos inteiras em um rio, por exemplo, ou se uma ventania forte estiver passando pelos meus dedos. Mas quanto à precisão delas, depende do elemento em que eu toco. Ar é o mais fraco deles, as visões que ele me proporciona sempre sendo apenas um emaranhado de imagens. Terra é a segunda mais fraca, as visões deixam de ser tão emaranhadas, mas continuam sendo difíceis de distinguir. Então vem a água, que mesmo me mostrando flashes descoordenados na maior parte do tempo, eles são bem mais lentos e fáceis de distinguir. E por fim, o fogo. Só consegui realizar divinação usando fogo uma vez, e até hoje minhas mãos têm as queimaduras para me lembrar. Foi nessa ocasião em que eu tive a visão mais clara que já experienciei, do Acampamento em chamas e os corpos espalhados por todas as partes. Nunca mais tentei desde então.

Quais suas habilidades e como elas te ajudam no dia a dia: Tenho sentidos aguçados e previsão. Acredito que ambas as habilidades fazem com que eu tenha uma percepção avançada dos meus arredores e, mesmo que eu não seja tão boa em combate, isso me ajuda a conseguir me equiparar a guerreiros mais fortes e mais ágeis que eu, pois consigo prever seus movimentos e perceber suas mudanças, mesmo que mínimas, que podem me beneficiar.

Você lembra qual foi o primeiro momento em que usou seus poderes? Quando eu tinha treze anos na ilha foi a primeira vez que meus poderes se manifestaram. Eu estava fugindo da minha mãe e me esgueirei para um canto afastado, queria apenas ficar sozinha por um tempo, sua presença e suas novas exigências estavam me sobrecarregando. Mas quando me escondi, vi com clareza ela se materializando na minha frente para me dar uma bronca. Na época eu não entendi o que estava acontecendo, achei que estivesse enlouquecendo quando percebi que aquilo não havia acontecido de verdade. Achei que ela talvez estivesse pregando peças na minha mente. Mas então, alguns segundos mais tarde ela realmente se materializou na minha frente e me deu uma bronca idêntica à da minha visão.

Qual a parte negativa de seu poder: A falta de precisão. Eu nunca sei se estou vendo o passado ou o presente, e minhas visões estão sempre embaralhadas, várias imagens de vários momentos passando sem uma ordem específica, é muito difícil entender o que estou vendo.

E qual a parte positiva: Acredito que quando aprender a fazer isso direito, ele se tornará uma boa ferramenta.

Você tem uma arma preferida? Se sim, qual? Sempre me dei bem com armas curtas, como adagas. Mas não tenho uma no momento, por isso estou mais acostumada com meu chicote.

Acredito que tenha uma arma pessoal, como a conseguiu? Meu chicote foi um presente de minha mãe, para me proteger dos perigos que ocasionalmente podem aparecer na ilha. Ele não tem nome, como boa parte das armas de semideuses costumam ter, pois ela me disse que este era um costume estúpido dos homens.

Qual arma você não consegue dominar de jeito algum e qual sua maior dificuldade no manuseio desta? A espada. Já tentei praticar por muito tempo, mas não consigo deixar de parecer uma criança mortal segurando uma espada de madeira, completamente desengonçada e sem equilíbrio.

CAMADA 4: MISSÕES

CAMADA 5: BENÇÃO OU MALDIÇÃO

CAMADA 6: DEUSES

Qual divindade você acha mais legal, mais interessante? Sempre me interessei por Perséfone, acho sua história muito interessante e gosto da ideia de uma deusa que, mesmo sendo a deusa das flores, também é considerada a rainha do submundo.

Qual você desgosta mais? Não tenho muitos motivos para gostar de Zeus.

Se pudesse ser filhe de outro deus, qual seria? Provavelmente Perséfone ou Deméter, acho que combinaria comigo.

Já teve contato com algum deus? Se sim, qual? Como foi? Se não, quem você desejaria conhecer? Só com a minha mãe. Não sei se essa experiência me faz querer realmente conhecer algum outro, apesar de ser muito interessada no que Atena pode fazer.

Faz oferendas para algum deus? Tirando seu parente divino. Se sim, para qual? E por qual motivo? Para Atena, frequentemente. Gostaria de poder me envolver mais com a parte estratégica das batalhas, mas não tenho as habilidades necessárias para isso.

CAMADA 7: MONSTROS

Qual monstro você acha mais difícil matar e por qual motivo? Provavelmente a Hidra. Não consigo imaginar como é enfrentar um monstro que sempre regenera suas cabeças.

Qual o pior monstro que teve que enfrentar em sua vida? Eu não o enfrentei pessoalmente, pois estava tentando fechar a barreira da fenda com os outros Filhos da Magia, mas acho que o encontro com o Drakon foi um dos mais assustadores da minha vida.

Dos monstros que você ainda não enfrentou, qual você acha que seria o mais difícil e que teria mais receio de lidar? A Hidra, com certeza, pelos mesmos motivos que já falei.

CAMADA 8: ESCOLHAS

Caçar monstros em trio (X) OU Caçar monstros sozinho ( )

Capture a bandeira ( ) OU Corrida com Pégasos (X)

Ser respeitado pelos deuses ( ) OU Viver em paz, mas no anonimato (X)

Hidra ( ) OU Dracaenae (X)

CAMADA 9: LIDERANÇA E SACRIFÍCIOS

Estaria disposto a liderar uma missão suicida com duas outras pessoas, sabendo que nenhum dos três retornaria com vida mas que essa missão salvaria todos os outros semideuses do acampamento? Ir em uma missão assim? Com certeza. Liderar? Acho que não. Não tenho habilidades de liderança, por isso tenho fortes motivos para acreditar que não apenas morreríamos, como também falharíamos na missão. Seria melhor colocar alguém que nos faria alcançar o sucesso na liderança.

Que sacrifícios faria pelo bem maior? Sacrificaria minha vida e meus poderes sem pensar duas vezes se isso significar salvar o máximo de pessoas possível.

Como gostaria de ser lembrado? Não penso em ser lembrada. Quero apenas fazer o certo. Não me apetece toda essa história de glória heroica e tudo o mais. Estou bem com a possibilidade de morrer sem que se lembrem de quem fui, como vivi ou o que fiz.

CAMADA 10: ACAMPAMENTO

Local favorito do acampamento: Acho que fico entre a caverna dos deuses e o coreto de Afrodite.

Local menos favorito: A arena de treinamento, lugar onde consegui todos os meus hematomas.

Lugar perfeito para encontros dentro do acampamento: A cachoeira mágica e os pedalinhos.

Atividade favorita para se fazer: Corrida de pégasos.

#swf:task #swf:task01 #ღ › what doesn't kill you makes you aware — task

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