#also i'm kind of sad at how heavily everything about him is so tied to diavolo bc that means we get so see less of his “normal” personality | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wovenintosilk · 11 months

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Hii, hope you're doing well!❤ I'm here to ask for a request (if they are open, if not, just ignore this) for Miles (both the spiderman and the prowler). Okay so, the reader (can be female or gn) is best friend with both Mileses(idk how to write names in English in plural, sorry) and in the Earth 42! Miles' (the prowler) she/they died (how optimistic) before he became prowler but, in Spiderman! Miles' universe she's/they're alive. 42!Miles is in love with her/them and very sad 'cause she's/they're dead. The Spiderman! Miles is not in love with them since he met Gwen and fell in love with her. Also, the reader is super - duper smart and she/they help(s) the Spider Society sometimes with technology and etc for money, but it's not a spider person themselves. So, when Miles Spiderman goes to the wrong universe , the reader also goes there and when Miles (spider) wakes up, she wakes up also tied to a beating thing(idk what's it's name) and she's like "Nah, idk, I can't do pretty much without my tech and you took it" and just chill and calm, not caring pretty much about the situation since she/they can't change it (and if u can, please insert a word fight between Miles the prowler and the other Miles, where the prowler is like "She's a very good person, they did so much for both us, and is alive in your universe and still you choose to fall in love with a person who you may not even see again tomorrow and weren't there for you in your worst time?" And the spidey just tries to convince the prowler to let him go to his universe to save his dad) Thanks and sorry for a request this long 😭(and sorry if u didn't understand something, English isn't my first language) ❤❤

CW: References to Death

F!Reader (Use of She/Her Pronouns)

Word Count: 1300

━━━━━━♡♥♡━━━━━━

A haze hung heavily over your eyes, clouded your vision as you tried to wake up and ignore the harsh throbbing at the back of your skull. Had you hit your head on something? You couldn’t even remember what had happened…

You followed Miles home. What he wanted to do had been dangerous and risky and could destroy everything both of you knew.

But it was Miles. All the times he’d had your back, both in and out of this dimension… you couldn’t leave him to fight this kind of battle by himself. After stepping through the portal, you’d only had a short period when you could look around before something hit you.

You flexed your fingers, surprised to find your arms restrained.

Alright. Damage control then. You could feel the leather pressing against your back so that must mean you weren’t tied to a wall or anything like that. A little shuffling revealed that it was movable to maybe a punching bag?

Which meant you should be able to rotate a little if you just adjusted your weight and… there.

The punching bag swung around as you slowly came to see two expressions staring at you – one panicked and uncertain while the other appeared an uncertain mix of neutral and confident.

But both versions were the same person. Miles.

And they both seemed very surprised you’d woken up.

“I didn’t think I would see you here,” you said, forcing your voice to work so you could croak out something and break the silence. “Uh… either of you, I suppose.”

Quick thinking made you aware of a few small problems with your current predicament. Perhaps largest of which you could see in the purple lighting surrounding you. The lair of the prowler and given the clothing choices of the new Miles, one you might know better than you wanted to.

“She’s alive.”

It was said so simply. Without question or thought. Yet it hit like a punch into your stomach as the implications of the words dug much deeper than you expected.

“Am I not meant to be?”

The Miles you didn’t know, shrouded in darkness and purplish-green hues stepped forward to get a clearer look at you. Something unnatural hung in his expression – it worried you how blankly he watched you. “No,” he eventually said. “No, you’re not meant to be alive in this dimension.”

The twisting feeling in your gut got a thousand times worse as you stared at him. What was that supposed to mean. Had you died here?

“Well,” you said. “I don’t think I’m meant to be dead in my dimension so have no plans to change that.”

“Why did you follow me?”

This time, the question came from the Miles you knew. The one who you’d spent countless hours speaking to. Yet he looked at you as though you’d betrayed him by following him through the portal. Maybe he thought you had.

“Nobody else knows where I came,” you explained. “They… they’re too occupied with everything else to waste time on me.”

“You should have stayed where you were safe,” the new Miles said and you felt like a tennis ball with how much you were being spoken to by both. “This dimension isn’t where you’re meant to be.”

“I didn’t really know that,” you complained. “I don’t routinely look at every dimension and see if I’m alive or not in it. All I did was follow Miles.”

“Then he shouldn’t have let you follow.”

Miles looked rather offended at his counterpart’s comment. “I didn’t even know she was going to do that. How was I meant to stop her if I only found out she followed me a few seconds ago?”

“You should pay better attention.”

You couldn’t help but wince at that, feeling almost validated in your own insecurities regarding the lack of consideration provided by Miles most days. Ever since he learned about the other Spidermen, things had felt somewhat strained between the two of you. After all, you couldn’t swing through the city with him or relate to all the secrecy and experiences of the superheroes.

“I have to get home somehow,” your Miles finally said. “Both of us do, alright? If you let us go, we can help save our dad.”

“Your dad. How is she alive?”

“What?”

The new Miles gestured to you and slowly turned to face Miles. “Did you save her?”

“From what?”

“Then she must not have been with you when it happened. Why? What were you doing instead of spending time with her?”

You were starting to get very confused but something else caught your attention. The build-up of Miles’ electricity, flowing steadily from his touch against the chains. He had a plan to escape from this – if only the other him didn’t notice.

“When did it happen?” you asked. “Maybe I can tell you.”

The date he said meant little to nothing to you. It was fairly recent and if you remembered well enough, you didn’t even see Miles that day. You’d meant to but by the time you arrived, he’d already been long gone with –

“You were with Gwen,” you said and then hurried to add. “She’s another… friend of ours.”

“Another friend from a separate dimension.”

Okay, so there was no getting around that. You nodded slowly, trying not to show how sensitive the topic was. You liked Gwen well enough even though she rarely truly socialised with you.

The new Miles scoffed. “So, he abandoned you for somebody new but I don’t see her here. She didn’t follow him.”

The awkward silence he caused nearly made you wince. Gwen’s betrayal still ran deep in Miles and you knew this topic wasn’t a great choice for right now. Still, you needed to keep speaking to maintain the Prowler’s attention so he wouldn’t notice the escape plan.

“Gwen had other things to deal with,” you told him. “And I wasn’t abandoned.”

“Do you believe that?”

You didn’t. But you weren’t exactly going to turn the attention back onto your Miles right now so you gritted your teeth.

“I’m sorry I died here,” you said.

“Obviously. You weren’t meant to. I tried… I don’t understand how it’s fair that you get to be alive in the dimension where another version of me forgets that you exist. And then you’re sent here and he gets angry at you. Strange.”

A break in the façade of the Prowler. For a second, the emotionlessness changed and you saw an actual response to how you felt.

“I’m not angry,” Miles defended himself. “I just need to get home quickly, alright? This is more important –“

“No, it’s not.”

As though a cruel joke in your favour, you saw a flash of something in the new Miles that you’d always wanted from the one you knew. The look of a person who could have once returned your feelings.

And so, you hesitated in speaking and he turned back to your Miles just as an explosion of electricity sent chain links in every dimension.

For a second, you met his eyes and watched him mouth that he’d be back right before he bolted for one of the windows. Glass shattered everywhere as his counterpart shook his head and bolted after him.

You groaned and rested your head against the punching bag, left alone in a warehouse.

The chains loosened around you and you had only a second to react before you landed on the ground. You winced and rolled your shoulders, turned around to find the last person you ever expected to.

“Come on,” Aaron says. “Boy wouldn’t want you to stay here and wait for him.”

You didn’t know which one he was referring to but without many options, you followed him into a harshly different world to the one you grew up in.

#across the spider verse x reader #atsv x reader #miles morales x reader #miles x reader

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ottiliere · 2 years

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Ok so, 2 things

1. Oh? System Dirks are coming in here to show their appreciation? Because ours also DEVOURS this AU. It is genuinely so relatable and cathartic. When people don't think sharing vent art is good, I point at this AU and how it shows the ugly side of recovery so perfectly.

2. I was idly scrolling through the JTHM tag as I do frequently and got such intense whiplash seeing your recent post about asks in it. Like. Complete opposite side of our dash radar. What is this I hear about a JTHM ask?? I am fascinated already I font care if it's related to Dirk or not I just genuinely would love to hear your thoughts on it.

1) pulling all the dirks who follow me in for a hug through the walls of my plastic isolation bubble. it really makes me so happy to hear this. I can't give an extended answer to this point because I spent so much time talking about the next one but I hope you feel the mind waves of love I am bombarding you with.

2) The ask I got was in fact about Dirk, but as I'm drafting it it is...drifting...very much...into being about JTHM. "hear my thoughts on it" … this would be nothing shorter than a dissertation. I think about JTHM very often. I don't think it's possible for me to be concise about this in any sense of the word.

JTHM, to me, is one of the formative experiences that made me who I am. It is one of my favorite pieces of fiction ever made, that I have ever engaged with, and I know for a fact I will struggle to find something that is told in such a captivating way from an author with such an open soul. I discovered fanart of it by chance on DeviantArt, and, being naturally drawn towards edgier themes, searched everywhere on the internet until I found it uploaded onto some woman's livejournal account. I was obsessed with JTHM for a very, very long time. I reread it periodically, once or twice a year, and I have been doing this since I was 12. It has heavily influecned the way I go about making art and telling stories and engaging with everything I watch or read or what have you.

Everything about this comic blew my mind as a child, artistically absolutely, thematically especially. The narrative style that is glib with occasional moments of morose clarity that never lasts too long... we will never see anything like the suicide scene in anything else ever written again, of that I'm sure. It is unique in its existence. once you read that it unlocks something in your brain and you just can't go back. Multiplied by a million if you read it at a formative age you weren't really supposed to be reading it. Like homestuck.

Nny... he is the base of the character trope I always return to in fiction, usually unconsciously. I didn't realize that what I was doing to dirk mirrored nny until some friends pointed it out... it is a fascinating phenomenon. He is the first of his kind I have ever encountered in anything, ever. Blatantly unwell, the focus of a story that isn't necessarily slotting him into an antagonistic role. Like, he's the protagonist who I guess is also the antagonist but he's also a human. He's this guy with severe mental illness who is lead around like a puppet on strings first by the society that torments him for existing and then by the creature living in his walls that steals his memory and cognitive ability and manipulates him into doing his bidding. I had never seen that before? Usually I am not one for "made mentally ill by inorganic sources" trope, but the fact that it's stated in the comic that he was already seriously unwell before he became a flusher... it's just sad. He is not a good person, but his life is inherently tragic and the outcome of a society that does not care for him, or people like him, at all. forgive me for the comparison, but he is like the joker 2019. I mean this in a way that I love joker 2019. if you didn't like joker, well. sorry. but it's true.

This ties in, obviously, with the way that Jhonen goes about fiction: he does whatever he wants, to an extent. I have recently very closely befriended some individuals and while pondering how we were meshing so well on the creative side of htings, it eventually came to light that the singlemost defining moment in our lives was how we all read JTHM at a very young age. And it is insane, stepping back and looking at all of our narrative and art styles and seeing that the similarities we've all evolved independently stemmed from JTHM, in addition to our view of what it's like to be an artist. we are but jhonen's warriors in a world that is currently characterized by a very homogenized mixture of “art”. I mean, just look at the current box office trend. look at the “genre” that is marvel movies. not that I don’t enjoy marvel movies, I DO like them, my loki phase was strong and hard, but objectively... these things are what they are: mass-produced consumables. there is a reason people got excited when it was announced that Cronenberg was making a new film (which was awesome btw); art is dying. milquetoast narratives, stories afraid to push boundaries and be "weird", authors not trusting the audience to pick up on their intended message so instead of leaving it just a little ambiguous, they must instead spoonfeed it to every reader... There is some equation of what it means to make art and how it equates with your moral standing; my stance has always aligned with dear Jhonen's.

in a way my view of the world is the direct inverse of nny's; I truly believe in the best of people, I love humanity, I love the world and I am fundamentally incapable of being outwardly cruel towards others. my natural setting is to logically empathize, to put myself in the shoes of other people and look at their life the way they're living it. there is nothing more important to me than showing unconditional positive regard towards others. I have not always been this way. I used to foster great amounts of animosity in my heart for the things that have been done to me. I used to be an abjectly miserable person, I used to be violently suicidal every day for years and years and years etc. now though... I don't know how to describe it. something alights upon you after vast quantities of self-reflection, detached from the scrying eyes of swathes of people, of strangers, fandom most relevantly but I do also mean society as a whole. at this point in my life there is nothing more important to me than being a nice person, and helping others in what ways I can. if that's through posting raw depictions of mental illness, I will happily do so. I didn't realize that people didn't KNOW they can do this, and it is heartwarming that I can touch people in such a way even parasocially. I have worked on myself, I love people and I love when people are weird and their true creative selves because that is what the world needs in this day and age. art is dying. If you let bitterness into your heart it will consume you. it will cloud your judgment and prevent you from making a true connection to the medium, it will block you from making what you REALLY want to make. It will poison how you interact with other humans on a fundamental level, if you are constantly walking into interactions suspecting the worst intentions.

it almost seems like critical thinking is a dying skill...or, at least, it is when it comes to interacting with art and not relying on other people to tell you what to think. but even still I still do not hold ire towards those who seek me harm for what I make. I do not answer many of the asks I get on purpose, the death threats, etc... because these people are hurting in a multitude of ways, and they have not yet learned how to cope with their own pain. You could call being an optimist a character flaw, maybe it is. I don't know. That is, for better or worse, the epitome of what I am: an unrelenting pollyanna who believes in the best of people and the potential they have to heal. The one anon hate I got about the AU months ago that I actually deigned with an answer; they eventually came off anon and admitted they were just frustrated they didn't know how to properly use tumblr's UI to filter me off their dashboard and displaced their emotions onto me. They apologized. Such is life. We are all humans inhabiting this great big earth and I love to love people. contrary to what I depict in my art, I am a very happy person. I love my friends and I'm currently in a very good life situation with occasional downfalls and eventual upturns. Jhonen, I know, as stated in the second interview image, was often like this as well. nny was a speakerphone for little observations about life and pessimism; he was a character, a means to tell a story.

so ya I guess those are some of my thoughts about JTHM. not all of them though. here’s some nny

#ask #lucy art #these asks really got me plugged into nny again... expect art soon probably #like besides whats here these are PRACTISE #the power of anonymous users on tumblr #jthm

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irie-kun306 · 3 years

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Deux Mondes

Chapter I

"how did I get here, how did it all end up like this?"

"ah! yes! I remember, that woman who thinks she knows everything! She got me into this and now I don't even know where the hell I am!!!!"

"Although... now that I remember it well.... it's my fault too... I was so damn distracted by... agh, fuck it! Forget it, better forget it. I didn't even stop to ask him what that device he had invented was all about... I just remember he said something about traveling to different places in different time... or something like that?"

"well that doesn't matter anymore...what's done is done...but.... where am I..."

TIME BEFORE THE FAILURE OF THE EXPERIMENT...

The sun peeks through a window the thin rays of its white light, the person in the room stirs in his sheets, the sun has hit his face directly, it is 5:30 AM, he gets up heavily, goes to the bathroom and takes a cold shower, he let the jets of cold water hit his body, the water slid down his soft and somewhat tanned skin, changing the temperature of it.

She comes out of the bathroom, she looks at herself in the mirror, her hair was still dripping, she only used a towel around her waist, she takes another towel from the closet and gently dries her hair, she decides to wear her usual clothes, but with a difference, today she will not wear the armor, in front of the mirror she puts on the remaining clothes, she has finished, still in front of the mirror she looks at her face, He swallows thickly and exhales heavily, it is the day, he has decided, he has thought about it for a long time, now everything is clear, he will tell her, he will tell her what he has felt for so long since he saw her, he will finally tell her what he had denied for so long, "his feelings".

He slides the glass door and takes flight, he will go to that place, that place where so many times he used to meet him to train, that place where he saw them get carried away by the emotion of the sound of their fists colliding on the opponent's skin, that place where they seemed to be themselves, without ties, without regrets, without anyone else but the two of them, a universe in which they were the only inhabitants.

But this time it was different, this time it was he who summoned him to that place. And there he was, waiting for him, something very rare indeed, he is not usually very punctual, but there he was, he turned when he felt his presence and gave him a smile, this accelerated a little more his already agitated heart.

He slowly steps forward until his boots touch the grass, he slowly approaches and the other does the same.

-Hello vegeta!!!" he says naturally as every time he sees him.

-Kakaroto- he says, trying to disguise his nervousness a little, he can hear how his heart beats, <<how noisy>> he thinks, but he doesn't take off his typical mask of "I don't care about anything", that mask that has helped him since time immemorial since he can remember.

-It's strange that you asked me to come to train, it's more common that I'm the one who asks you to come," he says a little surprised. But he plays it down, "Well, let's get started then," he says, getting into a fighting pose.

-I didn't call you for that," he says coldly.

Goku leaves his battle pose and with a big question mark looks at him puzzled.

-So?" he asks.

-There's something I have to tell you..." Now you could notice a bit of his nervousness, he took a long breath and looked away.

-y... What do you have to tell me?" curiosity had invaded him.

-Kakaroto... I... I've realized that you are a formidable warrior, it's hard for me to admit it, but that's how it is..." he was still looking to the side.

-Goku didn't say anything, he was stupefied, Vegeta saying that he was a formidable warrior? That was something strange, it was even scaring him a little, maybe this morning he had woken up in an alternate world or maybe he was still asleep.

-You are very childish and innocent sometimes, that was something that bothered me, I couldn't believe that there was a benevolent sayajin who fights just for fun. For a while I hated you with all my strength, I focused that all I felt for you was hatred because you always surpassed me in powers, my pride is something I have put before all things, and I stayed on earth with the excuse of wanting to surpass you, but I have realized that was a lie... I was lying to myself, now I know it. I realized it in that battle with Majin Boo- he was still looking at the horizon, but now he turns and looks at him with great decision in the eyes.

-Now I know what I feel for you," he says looking at Goku, who was still without saying a word but was looking at Vegeta with great attention, even though he couldn't believe what his ears were hearing.

-And you better listen well because I won't repeat it, insect," he closes his eyes, takes a long breath and slowly lets it out and opens his eyes, "and- ... I love you Kakaroto... I love you," he blurts out with great decision and without hesitation.

Goku's face was like "What?" the poor guy didn't believe it, then he thought, << Vegeta sure is joking... if that must be... it's the most logical thing>> is then that he laughs as only he knows how to do it, now Vegeta was the one who had a face of complete surprise.

Goku straightened up and looked at his eternal rival, he looked him in the eyes, those deep black eyes that made him feel so strange, now that he thought about it, he never hated the prince, in fact, he always liked him, even when he was his enemy, his intention was never to kill him or anything like that, he was always the only one who he could always face almost as equals, the only one who seemed to understand him, the only one who never judged him or forced him to do something he didn't want <<like working for example>> but. ... Could it be that what she feels for him... that nervousness, that inexplicable happiness she felt when she saw him coming... but then came to his mind the memory of Gohan, Goten and Milk, his family, he couldn't just leave her, now that he had some time with Milk he could understand the meaning of some things, and the fact that Vegeta loved him meant that if he loved him back he would have to leave his current family. No! he couldn't leave his family for something he didn't even know if he really felt, and thinking about that he decided.

-Vegeta... I don't love you... I don't see you that way... you are... my friend and I can't see you as something else... but, I want us to keep training as usual... so... how about if we pretend this never happened? Yes?...- he said even a little hesitantly.

The answer for Vegeta was like a bucket of the coldest water that could exist, he felt how ice daggers pierced his chest, Goku's words gave no respite to his broken heart, it was broken, the sound it made when it broke sure could be heard even on the other side of the continent, and then the very synical one comes out with

"but I want to keep training with you so... how about we pretend this never happened?"

Vegeta stood there in silence looking like he was gathering anger, hidden even in a surprised face.

-Well Vegeta... if we don't train today then let's train tomorrow..... well then bye- he said seeing that Vegeta didn't react, he put his fingers on his forehead and saying bye he gave him a last smile and teleported home.

He was left alone there... with his heart shattered, he had opened up to him, he showed him his feelings and put them in his hands, and what did he do? He squeezed those feelings as if they were nothing and threw them on the ground and then trampled on them as if they were nothing but garbage, the stabbing pain in his chest, a lump in his throat and endless tears that he did not let go because his pride came out at that moment, his pride that is what always kept him out of this danger that not even all the powers of the world could defeat. Now he would cling to it.

-Then you want me to forget it.... don't you?"-his voice threatened to crack, but he clenched his fists tightly, and looked straight ahead,-then so be it..... - he blurted out angrily.

Vegeta flew back to capsule corp. He got into his room, took off all his clothes and got into the bathtub, he wanted the hot water to take away all those memories, he wanted the relaxing smell of salts and oils to penetrate his thoughts and cloud everything until nothing was left, he looked at the white floor of the bathroom, as if he was looking for the meaning of life, his look was sad.

She sank into the large bathtub, a few minutes passed, holding her breath was something of the simplest.

When he got out he went to the closet and put on some black spandex, a white tank top, this one was a little loose and the fall of it marked the hips of its user in an extremely sensual way, he also put on some Nike air Jordan type flight sneakers, but he didn't

He was not entirely comfortable, "stupid shoes" he said "why does Bulma have to buy me this kind of shoes? I like my usual boots better."

So he exchanged them for his white boots and then put on some leather fingerless biker gloves.

He went downstairs to train in the gravity chamber, surely training with all his strength would make him forget, he always did.

Bulma was in the laboratory, she was making a new invention, this time she would try to win that international fair of scientists, she would surpass all those illusions that did not believe that she deserved that blessed prize.

Her invention now consisted of a machine that would make people travel through time, but it was not like the other machine she invented, this one would not only make them travel to another time but also transport them to other universes at the same time.

But she felt that her calculations might be wrong, something did not fit, maybe some algorithm was wrongly written, but she had to test it, she had to test the machine to clear these doubts and find the problem that did not let her move forward, but with whom? With whom?

It is then that the answer to her prayers passes by her door, Vegeta who was passing by to go to the gravity chamber to start training, was interrupted by the voice of her friend.

"In this case Bulma knew that Vegeta was not with her for love, but for the fact of taking responsibility for his actions << Trunks>> but the earth woman had endeared herself to the sayajin prince, not in the way she wanted but she had managed to make a space in his heart, she had managed to become his friend, so she had been content to at least be that in the prince's life."

-Vegeta!" the woman calls him.

-What do you want, woman? Can't you see I'm busy," he said a little tired, he was not in the mood to talk to someone.

-Come on, Vegeta, don't be like that... I just need you for a moment... I won't keep you long.

It is then that Vegeta looks at her and looks around, he sees that there is a new machine, it is then that he understood, "so you want to try that, don't you?" it was then that without listening to the woman he crossed his arms and went straight to the machine and at once he entered it.

-Hurry up woman, I don't have all day," said Vegeta in the machine.

It is then that Bulma runs to the computer, inserts coordinates, prepares the machine and looks at Vegeta.

-Well Vegeta, the purpose of the machine is to take you...".

-Yeah! -Woman... Just get on with it and get it over with," says Vegeta, interrupting her, already a little tired.

-What a genius..." says Bulma, but why get into an argument, when he gets like that there's no one who can beat him.

Bulma closed the door of the machine, went to the front of the PC and started to look at the logarithms, graphs and everything and then put on some protective glasses.

Everything seemed to be going well, the portal would be next to the machine as Bulma had planned... but.... something went wrong, the PC began to fail and the data and coordinates to distort, the machine began to crumble and everything began to spark, Bulma wanted to stop everything but could not, Vegeta inside the machine only saw how everything began to get chips, Vegeta tried to get out but when he wanted to touch the door the machine exploded, during the explosion Vegeta closed his eyes due to the light, Bulma during the big flash only managed to see how Vegeta fell into the portal next to him and it closed with him.

-Vegeta!!!" shouted the woman, she ran to the PC and almost fell off the desk, she put it back in its position and tried to turn it on, but it wouldn't turn on, she was totally desperate, where did he send Vegeta, did he kill him, did he send him to an unknown dimension, did he leave him lost in space time, could he come back?

Bulma couldn't stop thinking about where Vegeta could be... the only thing she remembered, or rather the only thing she could see was Vegeta falling into the portal and disappearing with it.

Trunks arrived a few minutes later, he had heard the explosion from far away and a little closer to home he heard his mother's scream.

-Mom," said Trunks.

-Trunks...- Bulma approaches the little boy and hugs him, the youngest still doesn't know the cause of his mother's sudden behavior.

Then he looks at the whole mess, he doesn't know what happened, he starts to analyze, he remembers he heard his mother shouting his father's name, he thinks they fought.... but no... that would be something strange... his father would not destroy the laboratory, but where was he then?... he wanted to locate his ki but he could not find it, it is then that he separates from his mother and asks.

-Mom... Where is daddy? I can't feel his ki....

PRESENT TENSE

As he sits in a meadow surrounded by white wildflowers, he notices that he is on the earth, but something is different... it feels and looks like the earth but it is different... something is wrong.

"how did i get here?"

Hey... hi everyone, this is just a test, something just to see if you were interested in this story, this crossover fanfic.

Comment if you liked it and if you expect one more chapter.

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twothumbsandnostakeincanon · 6 years

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This isn't really a prompt so I'm sorry but just like any stargent please? Obliviousness? Pining? Maybe a dream or two about Stiles?

This??? Turned into a soulmate au???????

???????????????????

I’ll be real most of this was co-written by a neat bourbon.

Christopher Robert Argent didn’t have a soulmate.

It wasn’t unusual. Roughly a quarter of the population didn’t. Another quarter had more than one. The other half had the standard, One for One Soulmate Match.

But not Chris.

He knew because his dreams were his alone. They never took on that particular sharp quality that everyone described when they were viewing the day to day life of their soulmate. Around the age of 18, when most of his friends were excitedly describing trips to the grocery store, or a laundromat they’d never seen in the hope that someone else would recognize it and be able to point them in the right direction, Chris was dreaming about the stages of wolfsbane poisoning and how to recognize a banshee.

By 20, he’d accepted the sting of not having a soulmate, and agreed to the arranged marriage his father wanted. A daughter came shortly after, and Chris thought that not having a soulmate was worth this. His eventual divorce was worth this. Raising her as a single parent with no support from extended family was worth this. His baby girl was worth everything.

So how was he supposed to explain to her that he’d started having dreams about one of her best friends?

__________

“Hey Daddy,” Allison said, dropping a kiss on his cheek as she sat at the dinner table. Picking up her fork, she continued, “Stiles is coming over to work on our American History project in about half an hour.”

Chris inhaled sharply and choked on a piece of lettuce. Coughing, he grabbed his water and tried to clear his throat.

“You okay?” Allison asked, concerned.

“Yes, yes, I’m fine. Uh, you and Stiles have a project together?” Chris prompted.

“Oh, yeah. We’re doing a report on William Henry Harrison.”

Chris furrowed his brow.

“The president who died a month after taking office from pneumonia?”

“Yep.”

“... That was Stiles’ idea, wasn’t it?”

“Yep.”

His idea. Because he was a high school student, invested in the shortest, easiest project possible.

High. School. Student.

Young. Probably not even capable of having soulmate dreams yet.

Chris sighed, and then concentrated on eating his dinner fast enough that he could shut himself away in his office before Stiles arrived.

He was just cleaning up the last of the dishes when the doorbell rang. Chris cursed quietly to himself, hurrying to dry off his hands and disappear-

“Hey Mr. Argent.”

Chris spun around, trying to arrange his face into a casual, no-I-wasn’t-running-away expression.

“Hello, Stiles. How are you doing?’

Stiles dumped his backpack on the table and leaned a hip against it, crossing his arms. It made the definition on his forearms stand out-

Chris deliberately snapped his gaze back up to Stiles’ face.

“I’m fine. We have a lacrosse game tomorrow night, you should come.”

Chris took a brief moment to consider Stiles, sweaty and worn from lacrosse, approaching him after-

“Ah, I have some prep work I need to do for a gun show tomorrow night, Stiles. Sorry about that.” And God, was he ever sorry.

Stiles was clearly disappointed, but just shrugged and said, “Maybe next time? We have games every Friday.”

“Maybe,” Chris agreed before hightailing it out of the kitchen.

__________

“Hey Chris,” came a voice from down the aisle. Chris looked up to see Sheriff Stilinski, Stiles pushing a cart behind him.

Chris sternly reminded himself that cereal boxes are not camouflage and tried to relax his stance.

“Sheriff, what can I do for you?” Chris asked.

“Oh don’t be like that,” the sheriff said, clapping a hand on his shoulder as he reached him. “Just wanted to see how you’re doing. Make sure Stiles isn’t making a nuisance of himself while he and Allison work on their project of theirs,” he chuckled out.

Chris smiled stiffly and looked back at the cereal boxes, looking at the labels as if they were hardline journalism. He definitely didn’t say I wish your son would make much more of a nuisance. I wish he would break every single goddamn thing in my house, so that maybe I wouldn’t be so pitifully sad every time he leaves.

Instead, he said, “Nah, he’s a good kid.” Eager to do something with his hands, he grabbed a box of Trix and dropped it in Stiles cart. Then, clearing his throat, he said, “Well, I better get back home and make some dinner for Allison. Be seeing you.”

It wasn’t until he’d made it all the way home, cooked dinner, and gotten halfway through the dishes that he realized he’d picked out Stiles’ favorite cereal, the one he saw him buying in dreams at least once a week, and given it to him.

God fucking damn it.

__________

Stiles didn’t have a bad life.

It wasn’t “My Super Sweet Sixteen” all the time, but it wasn’t bad. He had friends, his dad clearly loved him, and they didn’t struggle to pay basic bills.

But that didn’t mean he didn’t have bad days.

Chris woke up one Thursday morning after a dream. A sharp, clear, Stiles dream, where Finstock had reamed him in front of the whole team for fumbling a couple of catches.

Chris knew without a doubt that it had happened the day before, and he also knew that he would finally be going to a damn lacrosse game, if only to try to wipe the downtrodden expression that Chris had seen.

The next night, Chris made a point to cheer loudly whenever Stiles was on the field, celebrating his successful passes with a touch too much enthusiasm, if Allison’s looks were anything to go by.

After the game he tried to sneak out with the rush of the crowd, but Stiles still caught him.

He was sweaty and breathing hard. They’d just barely won, and he was clearly riding the high.

“Mr. Argent! You came!! I heard you cheering! Holy shit, you’re a yeller aren’t you?”

Stiles lunged forward to give him a hug, battering Chris slightly with his chest pads.

“Oh shit, sorry-” and before Chris could even think of a protest, Stiles was ripping off his shirt, and then the hard pads, leaving him in a paper thin, completely transparent undershirt. Then the hug was happening again.

Oh Lord, the hug.

Chris silently, but fervently hoped he would get a replay of this moment in a dream.

Eventually Stiles pulled back, smile beaming.

“I-”

He was cut off by a horde of lacrosse bros, barreling down on them to cheer and push him toward the locker rooms.

Stiles tried to say something else, but it was drowned out by the general crowd and excitement of teenagers.

Teenagers.

Chris sighed.

Turning to look, he saw Allison at his elbow, smiling her dimpled smile.

“Are you going to stay?” she asked.

Chris shook his head.

“I don’t want to get old man cooties all over your youthful fun,” he teased. Allison laughed and leaned forward for a hug.

“You don’t have old man cooties, dad. Not since you stopped using Brooks Brothers aftershave. You could stay, you know. It’s not just us whippersnappers who get together after games. Melissa will be there, and the sheriff if he doesn’t have to work. Derek and Peter will be there too, and Laura comes sometimes. Burgers and milkshakes are an all ages kinda deal.” She paused for a moment. “... You’re allowed to have relationships outside of me and business, you know.”

Chris stared at her as she paused again, clearly steeling herself.

“... if you happened to discover that you have a soulmate, you could pursue that.” Her words couldn’t have been more to the point.

“Allison,” Chris said slowly. “What do you know?”

“I-”

“ALLISON!” Chris heard Lydia yell from across the stands. As soon as Allison was distracted, Chris slipped away.

Whatever Allison knew, he didn’t think he was ready to hear.

__________

Chris was two fingers deep in whiskey when there was a knock on the door.

It was late, but Allison had texted as soon as she realized her dad was gone.

10:23 p.m. AllyI’ll be home by 1. We’re talking in the morning.

It was only about 11:30 now, so it wasn’t likely to be her. She rarely forgot her key anyway.

Chris reluctantly lurched out of his chair to check the peephole, just in case there was some kind of emergency.

There wasn’t an emergency, but there was a Stiles.

Chris opened the door just as he raised a fist to knock again.

“Oh!” Stiles said, jerking his hand back and almost unbalancing himself. Chris quickly stepped forward to catch him, but the whiskey had nibbled away at his own equilibrium, and he ended up overcorrecting and dragging them over the entryway, into the house together.

They fell back against the wall directly behind the front door, Stiles pressed against Chris, and Chris feeling too stupid to remember why that was a bad idea.

Then they were kissing.

A deep, searing, tongue tied, slick lipped kiss that started at the mouth but quickly moved to the whole body. Stiles was clearly inexperienced but very eager, and Chris had never felt so engaged in a kiss.

His hands gripped Stiles’ waist while Stiles’ framed Chris’ face, stroking along his cheekbones and petting down to the back of his neck. When Chris licked along the point of one of his canines, Stiles moaned, and Chris finally had to pull away to breathe heavily.

Stiles didn’t give him a moment, though, immediately latching his mouth on to Chris’ neck, sucking and licking his to his collarbone. Chris tilted his head, exposing more area for him to work with. He had a fleeting thought that he’d never tried to sell guns with a hickey before-

And the sudden realization splashed over him like a bucket of cold water.

“Stiles- Stiles, stop. Stop.” Chris couldn’t bring himself to physically push him away, and it clearly took a moment for the words to pierce the fog of lust that Stiles was currently lost in.

“What?” he asked, pulling back, brow furrowed and eyes slightly dazed.

“You- I- this is illegal.” Chris finally pulled a hand away from Stiles to rub it down his face. “Oh God. You’re the sheriff’s son.”

Stiles looked confused for a moment before his expression suddenly cleared.

“I was held back in fifth grade,” he said. “The year my mom died-” he cut himself off, looking uncomfortable. “It doesn’t matter. What matters is that I had to repeat fifth grade, which made me a year older than all the other kids. Which means I’m still a year older than all the other kids.”

Chris’ mouth was hanging open.

“Which means I’m definitely legal,” Stiles continued encouragingly. “And… also old enough to be having soulmate dreams?” he finished tentatively, turning the statement into a question asking something other than what the words said.

For the rest of their lives, Chris would blame his slow uptake on the whiskey.

Stiles would blame it on his mind-bending kissing skills.

In any case, it took a solid thirty seconds before the light finally clicked on, and Chris dragged Stiles all the way inside, barely pausing long enough to text Allison that she should stay at Lydia’s that night.

#nobodyinparticular98 #stargent #stargent fic #hey this could totally count as part of chris argent appreciation week #this blog needs a tag for my bullshit #tumblr fic and kinda fic

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samson-draws · 2 years

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To death I go, to certain death I go!

Meaning I'll make myself vulnerable by sharing stuff about my DnD OCs. Oh boy. I'll try and make it as comprehensive as possible, for every character. Meaning I'll try to make Boston's entry at most twice as long as the rest XDDD

Let's start with the very first character I ever made. The one where it all began. None other than a halforc barbarian by the classic name of Bobo. Bobo will forever occupy a special place in my heart. His dumpstat was INT, so he was a little slow and naive, but in his powerful chest there was a kind heart. Bobo was saved by the party in a dungeon, where he was slumbering in a glass tube and to be turned into a tasty beverage. After joining them, he immediately made friends with the group's warlock, a little yuan-ti boy, by bashing him on the head by accident and in rage (it was a boss battle). He felt guilty for a long time, but would soon adopt him and so Glaukos became Bobo's first son.

In the beginning all he knew was he had lost his memory in a mine accident, waking up to bad injuries and wandering around aimlessly later. However, with time and adventures, it all came back to him - how he had been expelled from his mother's house at 14 by her widower, who begrudgingly housed him until then as per her final wish. The years he spent afterwards in the company of a man named earl and his companions Harlin, Aurelie and Helga, another halforc, whom he would soon fall in love with.

The harmony of the group was disrupted when they found out Earl was a wanted murderer under a false name. They were arguing amongst each other. The sickly elf aurelie kept calm, while the dwarf Harlin and Bobo's girlfriend Helga were hurt and angry. They were ready to kill Earl on the spot, but Bobo could not bring himself to do it, as Earl was his best friend. While he could convince them to just deliver the man to the next authorities the next day, Helga was furious. She did not understand how Bobo could have mercy on someone who had lied to them, used a false guise of justice to trick them and now didn't show a sign of rue.

They went to sleep arguing. The next day, everything had changed. Earl managed to free himself, took Aurelie hostage and pulled her into a mine. The group set out to follow them, but Bobo was shot at the entrance and bleeding so heavily he had to be left behind. The other two followed their target into the tunnel, but in their fighting they caused an explosion. The tunnels collapsed and Bobo was hit on the head by a rock, causing his amnesia.

Now that his memories are back, he wants to find out what happened to his love and friends. Earl's betrayal stings and he is not sure how he will react if they eventually meet again.

Bobo is a very giving man, who is too diplomatic for his own good. He once scared a demon into a fear of men. Also, he spun a giant seahorse like a helicopter blade before throwing it into a body of water. I answer no questions to this at this time. Bobo is deeply connected with nature, always feeling a little lost in the bustle of cities. His intentions are good-natured, yet his judgement is often poor, resulting in awkward situations for him. Unfortunately, the campaign ended prematurely and will never end, so I have to make up my own headcanons. Oh, how terrible, I'm so bad at that, teehee.

In my head, Bobo and Helga find each other again, Earl is sent to pay the price for his deeds (Bobo will be sad but accepting of this) and Harlin will, together with his friends, overcome the loss of Aurelie, who died in the mine. Together with his lover and adopted son, Bobo will move to a farm, though Glaukos will leave the house quickly, since he turned 14 during the course of our campaign. He will not be an only child, however: Three halforc children by the names of Astrid, Aurel and Francis will grow up with a father as strong as a bull and an intelligent, perceptive mother, both giving the children something they never had: a safe, stable home and an ample amount of boredom.

No amount of text could disclose how much love, but also heartache I will forever feel about my sweet boy. He may be the singlularly "goodest" character I've ever played. Bobo is missed terribly.

Next time, I'll introduce you to my lizard wizard. Stay frosty.

#art #comicstyle #dnd ocs #half orc #original characters

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