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#ing it up so she tries to deal with it on her own

gyuslcve · 10 months

Note

can i request “svt members when their S/O falls asleep on another members lap/shoulder”?☺️

how svt reacts when their s/o falls asleep on another member’s lap/shoulder

genre: head canons, fluff if u squint

rq: requested by anon!

not proofread

notes: this idea is so cliche (in a good way) and never fails to make me go <333 thank u anon for this rq xx i really enjoyed writing this

SVT MEMBERS WHEN YOU FALL ASLEEP ON ANOTHER MEMBER’S LAP/SHOULDER

choi seungcheol

✧ i think he’d be conflicted because he doesn’t wanna wake you up but he wants you to lie on him and only him

✧ ends up trying to move you from someone else’s lap to his without waking you up

✧ is very gentle with you, afraid of disturbing your sleep :(

yoon jeonghan

✧ wakes you up and apologises

✧ “sorry darling.. i’m here now, go back to sleep”

✧ you don’t notice it but he looks at you tenderly and smooths your hair

hong joshua

✧ same as cheol, he’d try to shift your head from someone else’s shoulder to his own

✧ once you’re settled on his shoulder he glances down at you every once in a while, making sure you’re sleeping safe and sound

✧ chuckles to himself at your sleeping state (he finds it t o o adorable)

wen junhui

✧ slightly ???? when he sees the situation

✧ doesn’t really mind tbh

✧ shushes the members bc he knows you’re easily woken up by noises

kwon soonyoung

✧ pouts and hopes no one notices (he’s jealous)

✧ wakes you up gently and shifts next to you so you can lie on him instead

✧ instantly wraps an arm around you in a protective manner once you’re by his side

jeon wonwoo

✧ heart melts when he sees you asleep

✧ doesn’t have time to be jealous, he just walks up to you and wakes you up,

✧ “hey baby.. let’s go home yeah? i know you’re tired”

✧ if you insist on staying he’d bring you to his lap so you at least rest comfortably

lee jihoon

✧ doesn’t notice at first - when he does he gets jealous

✧ he tries not to show it but it’s written all over his face

✧ doesn’t wake you up or anything, makes a mental note to talk to you about it when you get home

✧ not from the intention of possessiveness but he wants you to know he’s uncomfortable with it and assures you he will always, always be by your side whenever you need it

xu minghao

✧ almost jumps out of his seat from impulsiveness and then sits his ass back down because he tells himself “it’s not a big deal”

✧ probably would sit there and debate whether he should wake you up or not for at least five minutes

✧ it puts his mind at ease once the thought that you fell asleep on the other member’s shoulder accidentally crosses his mind

kim mingyu

✧ torn between being jealous and heart swelling with affection

✧ lots of thoughts go through his head (while pouting)

✧ what if she gets mad at me for waking her up? w-what if she doesn’t love me anymore ;-;

✧ please give assurance to this big baby

lee seokmin

✧ another ???? member

✧ doesn’t really do anything, first thing that crosses his mind is when you fell asleep the night before

✧ he’s honestly just worried that he’s staying too late and you’re not getting enough rest :/

✧ wakes you up while brushing your hair and asks if you wanna go home

boo seungkwan

✧ man would jokingly make a threatening face at whoever you’re lying on

✧ then proceeds shush everyone in the room

✧ would take off his hat and place it over your head so that it blocks out the brightness

vernon chwe

✧ bro is too busy vernon-ing to notice

✧ not that he’s not paying attention to you.. he’s just vernon yk

✧ only finds out when the member you’re lying on texts him “yo, come get your girl”

✧ chuckles and slowly manoeuvres you into his arms, excuses himself and you from the room and brings you back home <3

lee chan

✧ furrows his eyebrows

✧ somehow shoos the member away and adjusts you onto his lap instead

✧ forgets about whatever conversation he’s having and spends entire night placing occasional kisses on your forehead and holding your hand

author’s notes: thank you again anon for the rq!! i really enjoyed writing this <3

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your-nanas-house · 4 months

Text

Fuck...ing mommy

◇ Pairing: Robert Fisher X Stepmom!Reader

◇ Warnings: SMUT, cowgirl, blowjob, handjob, p in v, boobies job, stepmom x stepson, kissing, age gap (Robert 25 and Y/n 39) mention of impotence and an unhappy forced marriage.

◇ Summary: After a mistake Y/n made things go pretty intense in the penthouse.

◇ Note: An AMAZING collaboration with @mrkdvidal1989 , a wild one. Hope you enjoy...👏.

It definitely wasn't a good day, at least not for Robert as he got out of the car, slamming the door out of anger. Maurice Fischer was in a horrible mood today, and he didn't have any issues with taking it out on his son. Whole day Robert had to deal with backhanded comments and getting called names on every minor mistake.

That’s why, as soon as his shift was over, he jumped into the car pulling off the parking lot as fast as he could. Fishing in his pocket for a card to enter the penthouse they were currently sharing because of the flood in his own apartment a couple levels lower.

The front door made a soft click noise as he entered, allowing him to enter and throw his suitcase on the couch with a deep sigh.

The silence echoing through the space was… unusual, but since it was one of the first times this year when he was home this early, he brushed it off. His stepmom was the usual one to keep the house, with her energy… she was probably busy, at that time, with the chores his dad had left her, so that was probably the reason because she wasn’t near the front door, ready to greet him at the entrance, offering something to eat and a small talk.

The young man sighed loudly, his frustration clear as he tried to free himself from the tie that was getting tighter and tighter in his mind. His coat hanging where it should, his rich shoes resting right beneath.

A scoff escaping his lips when he saw a crease in the tie his mom had gifted him on his 18th birthday.. he needed to fix it, quickly. With a steady and quick pace he walked to his father’s bedroom to grab the number of their trustworthy dry cleaner.

His mind was long gone in the worries concerning his participation in business, and repeating the stressful situations that happened that particular day, so he wasn't paying attention.

As he walked in the room, his light blue eyes on the floor while walking with a goal, a feminine and sensual voice brought him back to reality, making him freeze in place. “Home earlier, huh” the voice purred, attracting his gaze in a magnetic way.

His heart was beating like crazy at the view that he had in front of him… his stepmom was on all four, thin lacy lingerie “covering” the best parts of her mature and feminine body, Her ass sticking out, up in the air as the fabric of the thong, almost completely trapped between her round firm cheeks… her back arched in a delicious way, allowing her round big breasts to press against the soft mattress, the lacy red cloth rubbing slightly against the quilts as she wiggled her butt and that way all her body. Her nylon stockings hugging her long legs, stopping mid-thighs, held by her matching garters in a teasing but extremely seductive way.

“Been working all day, honey” she whispered, arching her back more. Robert’s body got more worked up as his eyes slowly widened and stared shamelessly at her, noticing the silky blindfold that covered her eyes… sinfully angelic, he thought.

“All day long for you” she interrupted his trance in a smooth, silky voice that caressed his mind in the most pleasurable way. It felt like… honey almost, buttery soft tone with a hint of desperation— a deadly combination which on top of the unusually delicious sight, made his mind go blank, and his cock hard at an alarming rate.

With good timing, almost like she knew what she was doing, Y/n smiled, biting her bottom lip while she slid smoothly down on the bed, her body flat against the mattress… her round, perky ass was so noticeable, even in that position.

“I think I deserve a little reward, don’t you agree?” she teased, making Robert’s gaze race back and forth from her barely covered body, to her beautiful face. Little reward? He chuckled internally. That poor lady, Robert thought as he remembered that she was sleeping with his old father.

I'd give you a huge one, his snug mind added, as his hard cock twitched in his pants.

The older woman rolled on her back slowly in a sensual way, her hands playing with her hair before she pushed her breasts together, tongue swirling over her plump lips.

”I need it. Now.” She breathed out, rolling over on her belly again. With the wine red blindfold still intact, she crawled upwards, towards the end of the bed.

Seeing that the situation was progressing with each second, Robert's mind tried to fight the desperate urge to just.. give her what she wanted, because he shouldn't.

Of course he shouldn't, after all it was his.. stepmother.

As soon as she reached blindly in the air, he couldn't help but not leave her hanging, he wanted to be a good stepson for her.

With one single step he closed the distance between the bed and his shins, as he stood right next to the bed.

With a hungry smile on her lips, she reached for his thighs, pressing her hands flat against the material of his expensive pants rubbing them up and down.

”Mmm I've been hungry all day.” She murmured softly, biting her bottom lip softly brushing her face against his clothed boner… her tongue daring to come out to lick the fabric of his suit pants, before rubbing her cheek against it… letting a purr escape her. Damn if he was lucky that she was so disgusted by his father to have to wear a blindfold behind the closed door of their bedroom.

Consequently a long desperate sigh left her lips, which were pressed against Robert’s lower stomach… After she pulled it out of the pants,(don’t like it) she reached for the button, opening it up with a swift move. Draping her little fingers over the band of his boxers, she slowly pulled them down with a smile.

A smile that quickly turned into confusion as a huge penis jumped out of the underwear, hitting her in the face. Knowing exactly how.. not well endowed Maurice was, her suspicions arose as she tried to wrap her hand around the massive girth, unsuccessfully.

Her blood run cold, she quickly got pale as worry and fear slapped her out from her horny state “Maurice-–” she murmured, her voice cracking due to all the emotions.

Robert shivered, his mouth softly open, as he thrusted unintentionally forward, his leaking tip touching her slightly open mouth, smearing his precum against her lips… making her hand tighten around his thick cock and her body jolting back.

Y/n quickly removed the blindfold to reveal her wide eyes

“ROBERT!” she exclaimed, jumping off the king size bed so that she could grab a robe and cover her half-naked self in pure panic and shock. “Oh my god, dear. I’m so sorry, I.. I thought it was your father” she quickly explained, blaming herself without hesitance.. her view of her stepson innocent, seeing him as too young for this kind of thing.

Robert opened his mouth, attempting to say something.. anything as he tucked his rock hard cock back into his pants in a rush, his eyes staring at her tongue which cleaned her lips from him.

As soon as he managed to do so, they heard a slam of the front door.

”I’m home!” Maurice yelled in that typical, grumpy and annoyed voice. This man was forever unsatisfied.

Hearing it, Robert looked Y/n the eyes again, shooting her last apologizing look before retreating from her bedroom, and rushing to his own bedroom.

Y/n was frozen, standing in her room and hugging herself lightly, trying to shake off the guilt of the fact that… she liked the view of her stepson with his cock in her hand.

Admitting easily to herself that it was the most exciting sexual encounter she had for the last few years, ever since she married her husband… and the way his dick felt in her hand, she thought before quickly shaking her head. I need to stop, she added internally before heading to the bathroom to take a shower, rubbing her temples while trying to think about the chores she had to do before the day would have ended.

~~~~

The morning after the older woman woke up like usual, she prepared breakfast for everyone, leaving it in the kitchen before starting to take care of the house like the good housewife Maurice wanted her to be.

She managed to clean up their bedroom and the bathroom before she started to gather around the dirty clothes around the house, a soft music following her as she walked around. Entering what was Robert’s childhood bedroom without any worries, confident it was empty since the time and her everyday life would suggest that he was at work as well, since Maurice was long gone… in all the years ever since she joined the Fischer family, it was the first time for her to live together with Robert.

So it came up as an extreme surprise when she found him still in bed, his hair a handsome mess, a sleepy expression on his face… one hand on his stomach and the other behind his head, a clear visible bulge covered by the blanket that was covering him.

“Oh gosh, sorry, darling. I thought you were already at work” she explained, focusing her eyes on the dirty laundry basket, not noticing her stepson’s lazy gaze traveling all over her body, taking in her outfit. Silky white shorts, a revealing almost see-through tank top that allowed him to see her bare chest under the white fabric… her hard nipples pressing against it.

Robert’s body getting more and more excited at the view, his already hard-rock cock twitching and leaking, almost wetting his pajama pants… luckily not the blanket as well.

“I’m here to take the dirty laundry, honey. Can you show—” she stopped mid-sentence, her eyes stopping on her stepson who was sitting on his bed, his morning-wood so deliciously noticeable now.

His veiny hands pulled up his shirt, revealing his muscular abdomen and hair path under the navel. As the shirt went up further, she couldn't tear her gaze away from his muscular pecs and smooth, broad shoulders.… short dark chest-hair peppering his upper chest in an almost aesthetic way. Y/n’s jaw fell slack, at the utter shock she felt.

In her eyes, he was always so… innocent. Delicate and broken.

The same man she saw as a boy… was now boldly looking her straight in the eyes with the confidence that made her feel intimidated. Something she hasn't felt… for a while.

Gulping the knot that formed in her throat, she kept staring even though Robert was witnessing her hungry gaze.

With one eyebrow raised in a cocky manner, Robert rose from his bed, standing a few feet across Y/n. Without a second of doubt, he pulled down his pajama bottoms, standing completely naked in front of a woman that should be… like a mother to him.

Y/n’s eyes were wide open, as the laundry basket fell to her feet. She wasn't able to hold it, not when that massive cock that she tasted not so long ago, stood proudly looking right into her eyes. The pink tip was leaking with a clear fluid as it throbbed slightly.

Robert picked his pajamas from the floor, coming closer as he handed it to Y/n looking down at her with a serious expression.

”There you go” he said in a low, raspy voice as his Adam's apple bobbed on his throat. He could see the hunger written all over her face, he just… needed to push a little further to make her take the first step.

Her eyes closed for a brief moment, she cursed under her breath while picking back up the basket, placing his clothes in it before trying to focus on something else… like the sock that “dropped” from the bushel.

The older woman shifted, bending automatically down to grab the piece of clothing and place it back in place… accidentally brushing Robert's erect cock with her round ass, earning a low grunt from him.

As the younger man shook softly because of the jolt of pleasure, Y/n's reacted immediately as the panic settled, making her turn around without thinking… so that she could check on her stepson, worried to have hurt him somehow.

“Oh gosh, sweetie, sor—” she tried to apologize, freezing as soon as the leaking organ slapped her across the face making her gasps softly…and Robert groan. He was so glad of her clumsiness.

Her eyes were blown out, her mouth slightly agape, while her body completely froze in place… the air making her notice the pre-cum which had painted her beautiful face.

“Shit, mama, are you trying to kill me or something?” Robert murmured under his breath, his big hand now holding the base of it as his heavy balls tightened visibly, getting her attention immediately.

Robert noticed it, a mischievous smirk appearing on his lips as he gripped it harder. ”Are you okay?” He asked with a hint of mockery in his voice.

It took her a moment to try to speak, words dying down her throat as she just hummed a confirmation… not really registering his question. Robert chuckled, seeing her state. He had the upper hand now.

His left hand slowly moved onto her head as she didn't move from the spot so close to him. His right hand stroked his length lazily as the other one caressed her hair gently, scratching her scalp softly.

”Do you need something, mum?.. huh?” he couldn't help but keep teasing, seeing her hungry eyes staring at his pulsing, veiny cock.

She glanced up, hearing the tone of his voice, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly before she finally spoke

“Seems like you're the one who needs something, eh… mommy doesn't like being mocked” she informed him, licking his angry red tip without warming— collecting the pre-cum that was threatening to drop. He didn't expect it, at all, and his head flew back immediately, followed by a hiss, due to the sudden sensation of her warm tongue on his sensitive tip.

”Fuck!” He spat out, grabbing a hold of her head.

His beautiful eyes fluttering shut as he felt the warmth of her mouth wrapped around him. His patience was basically non existent as he saw her, kneeling in front of him with his cock in her mouth. Robert’s hand pulled her head down, making her choke around his girthy member as he hit the back of her throat with each thrust.

His heart pounding inside of his chest as his hips speed up the pace, wet, slapping noises filling his bedroom in a sinful but delicious way. Robert couldn't tear his eyes away from the sight.

Y/n struggled to contain all of him in her throat, saliva dripping down her chin along with the tears that fell from her eyes. She was a mess, all because of him.

”That’s a good mummy” He hissed out, pulling her down and keeping all of his cock down her throat for a few longer moments.

Y/n silently prayed that he would let go of her head soon, as she couldn't breathe around his thick cock that filled up all of her throat to the brim. A musky, masculine scent hitting her nostrils since her nose got pulled against his pelvis… her chin making contact with his balls with each move, as he greedily kept pressing her against his body.

As time passed, her hands tried to claw his muscular thighs.. her nails digging in his pale freckled skin as a warning to let her go.

He finally got the message, pulling her away with a hiss as Y/n eagerly tried to catch a breath. His cock was a mess, completely covered with spit and throbbing. The red color showing how desperate he was for release.

”Get up” He commanded suddenly, grabbing a hold of her shoulders before pulling her up.

As soon as Y/n got on her feet and managed to clean her face, she came closer grabbing his jaw suddenly… making Robert’s eyes go wide in surprise.

”Look, sweetheart…” She started out before the other hand went to grab his needy cock.. a little too hard for his liking, causing him to wince.

”You won't tell me what to do, baby. I’m your mommy not your slut” she whispered into his ear, the grip on his member tightening even more. ”Got the message?” She asked with the sweetest mum voice she could pull off, making him nod obediently. ”Good boy” she praised softly.

As soon as the last words left her lips, she pushed him on his king sized bed, watching as he stared at her. Like she was the most beautiful thing on the earth.

Y/n smiled seeing it, as she undressed slowly, putting on a bit of a show. Before he knew it, she was straddling his thighs and stroking his pink cock with both hands.

Her touch was soft but determinate, she wanted something and was for sure going to get it…. To take it from him.

Robert's body was shaking in pleasure now, her teasing touch was driving him crazy… making his back arch and his breath go heavier.

“Y/n—” he hissed, making it sound almost like a curse or invite/suggestion to speed things up. Hearing it, she looked up angrily, one of her hands landing a harsh slap on his face.

”That wasn't right now, was it?” She asked, still stroking his dick. ”What do you call your mummy, Robert?” Her tone was so soft and gentle, that he almost believed her good intentions.

”M..mommy.” He repeated with a whine, making Y/n chuckle.

”Good boy” She praised, leaning down and kissing his tip. “Such.. a good boy” she hummed at the taste as soon as she licked her lips clean.

Her free hand wandered on her stomach… slowly up to her bare breasts to play with her nipples. Taking a small break from the handjob to focus on her own body, pinching and brushing her thumbs on her erect nipples… causing her back to arch and her hips to shift against Robert's.

Her eyes glancing down, meeting his amazed gaze before she leaned down her chest now hovering above his face in a teasing way.

His stare daring to move from her tits to her eyes, stretching his neck to reach her face as soon as he noticed her leaning in for a kiss… A long, passionate and sweet kiss that got more intense as she grinded her bare pussy against his cock.

It didn't last that long since the older woman was getting a bit impatient by the mere feeling of his responsive length.

“Getting mommy all wet, huh?” she whispered, biting her bottom lip, excited by the situation “Can you get your mama's titties wet too, honey?” she requested sweetly, lowering her chest so that he could reach it with his mouth.

The pressure her teeth were giving to her bottom lip increased as Robert attacked her swollen chest, hiding his face between what he was willing to call heaven so that he could wet them just as his mommy had requested him…. Licking, mouthing and spitting on them till she was satisfied enough.

Enough to move away and kneel down back on the floor, happy to rest her legs on a soft carpet instead of a cold floor. Her hands busy teasing her breasts close to his cock before finally squeezing it between them.

A hum left her body as she watched Robert react to her actions, bouncing with the thrusts he was giving as he fucked desperately her boobs.

“Mommy!” He whined, increasing his speed desperate for more, his balls now slapping against her tits every time he made them reach the base of his member.

“Yes, my good boy” she cooed, letting him hold her big breasts as he wanted, so that she could reach his balls with her small hands, playing around with them while her eyes watched his cock appear and disappear between her chest.

Her eyes closing quickly and her mouth opening as he shuttered, thrusting up his hips before freezing completely.. shooting his load on her face and boobs, earning a soft hum of approval from her.

Robert was panting, his eyes still blown out at what just happened. Y/n watched him with a grin as she scooped up some cum with her fingers, before shoving them in her mouth with a hum.

”Fucking naughty” Robert scoffed with a smile, watching her.

With her actions, it didn't take a long time for him to grow hard again, and Y/n wasn't shy about watching the whole process. Her gaze didn't falter for a moment as she stared at his cock growing harder, bigger with each passing second before he was ready again.

I missed it, she thought, thinking of how long it always took for Maurice to get ready, if she was lucky enough that he'll.. get ready at all, that is.

Robert’s hands remained above his head as he watched her get up, rubbing her clit lightly with a quiet purr. Coming closer, she threw her leg over his, straddling his lap while grabbing his cock in her small hand, stroking it again. He was still quite sensitive, so he hissed quietly at the sensation.

”Fuck.. give me a moment, mommy” He asked, but Y/n just shook her head, lining him up with her slick entrance.

”I waited long enough.” She responded almost arrogantly with a smile, as she slammed down taking all of his impressive length into her tight heat with a loud moan.

Her back arched at the sensation, she could feel him filling her up completely, a bulge present in her lower stomach. “So big, baby” she moaned out impressed, squeezing her walls teasingly around his cock, earning a low desperate moan from him.

“So-fucking-big” she murmured through gritted teeth, bouncing hard at each word “Want to…feel you deep balls inside of me, baby!” she quickly added, rolling sensually her hips with the goal to reach her own peak.

Her smaller hands resting on his abs before moving in a teasing pace up to his pecs… remaining there for support, so that she could finally bounce wildly on his length. Accepting the stretching feeling and the pain mixed to a pleasure she didn't feel in ages.

“Fucking hell” she cursed, her ass smacking against his thighs at every rough and fast bounce— her breasts following the movements of her body, moving in a hypnotic way, making her look like a tiny angel who was there to ride the sin out of him or so was Robert's view of that moment.

They both missed the sensation of passionate sex, and the thrill of the “taboo” to all of it was just an addition.

He so desperately wanted to wrap his bruised lips around her nipples, suckling on them like a needy infant… burying his cock deeper inside of her cunt, railing it till they would have both reached their peaks. He was quite sure that his father never gave her an orgasm before, and even if he did, it wouldn't come close to the one HE would have given her now.

”So… beautiful” He breathed out with half-closed eyes as he kept moving, trying to spend all of his cum inside her as soon as his climax started to hit his whole body, making his muscles relax under her touch.

His eyes rolled back as she continued to bounce, milking his cock as another orgasms built up not long after.

His hips shuttered upwards and his hands grabbed her hips, rolling her in a quick motion with the back against the mattress so that he could fuck his cum deep inside of her sensitive pussy making her squirm. His head was buried in her breasts all along, even as he kept pumping.

The pleasure so strong that Y/n didn't pay attention to her top half enough to notice.

Only after a couple minutes, Robert slowed down to a stop, laying on top of her with his mouth still attached to her hardened nipples as he kept sucking.

Y/n sighed deeply in satisfaction, looking down at him with a grin and cocked eyebrow.

”Well… are you hungry, baby?” She asked with a giggle, patting his head. Robert tilted his head to the side, laying on her breasts with a cute little smile.

”Mhmmm.” He hummed softly.

Taglist:

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tadc-ragatha · 6 months

Text

You Abstracting in Front of Them

TW: Abstraction/death (basically)/going insane, self-blame, bullying, mental health, angst no comfort, pleading/screaming, abstraction body mutation stuff

Type: Headcanons; ambiguous.

A/N: "Circus crew react to finding the reader in the process of abstracting." Spoilers. Use of Y/N. As of posting, only the pilot episode has come out.

Caine

If you're just a human he's not close with, he just chucks you in the cellar. Never before has someone come back from abstraction, so he's just putting you down there before things get any worse and you start attacking people. This means you're still semi-aware of what's going on, which makes it so much worse and makes the abstraction quicker. He'll send you down there with you kicking and screaming and pleading if he has to.

If he is close with you, he is pretty upset. He considered the two of you friends (or more, up to you), and seeing you half-abstracted is pretty bad. You probably hid your abstracted parts of your body as best you could, but it was no use. He had almost complete control over the world and wasn't about to let a risk get loose in the digital circus. So, off to the cellar you go.

"[Y/N]'s abstracting?! Where?!"

"Well, off to the cellar you go!"

Bubble

Bubble usually hangs out with Caine when it's not being popped and sent to wherever it goes then. So, either it'd alert Caine to the situation by being there close to him or it'd just go to find him. Bubble's an AI programmed to be able to deal with abstracted people. So, no matter how much you try and plead with it to not tell him and to get someone like Ragatha to help you calm down, it'll just go an get Caine anyway.

"Uh-oh!"

"Boss, [Y/N] abstracted!"

Pomni

Pomni freaking loses it. She had just sort of adjusted to living in the digital world being the newest member, and you were her rock. You kept her sane while also sharing her need to find the exit and searching for it with her. So, when you disappeared to search around for the exit somewhere else, she didn't think much of it. She assumed that since you never showed signs of slipping like Ragatha or Kinger, you certainly wouldn't be having trouble now, right?

Little did she know--and soon was she to find out--you had left to try and calm down somewhere. Your thoughts were getting to you due to all this exit-searching, and by the time you had found somewhere private to try and cool it, it was too late. Pomni found you almost completely abstracted hiding behind a curtain.

She immediately freaked out, and while she wanted to stay with you and help you, she was also scared of ending up like Ragatha did after Kaufmo abstracted. So, she decided to go off an search for help instead. Only, when she finally found someone, she found Caine dropping you into the cellar anyway.

Pomni instantly blames herself the moment she sees you. She knows it was the exit talk that was sending you over the edge. She starts scream-crying and pleads with Caine to try and fix you. Caine, of course, knows this is out of his control--as does everyone else--and has to explain to her that you're not coming back. This only makes her worse.

"Ragatha! [Y/N]'s abstracting!"

"Oh my God, this is all my fault. Oh my f-%$@!#-ing God, this is all my fault!"

Ragatha

You had been there about as long as Ragatha had. Your arrivals were only weeks apart, and through that time you kept each other sane. Growing used to the new world beside each other, you got to share the same experiences together. But you also had to watch the other members abstract and how that affected everyone else. So, it was no surprise it took a toll on you.

Ragatha knew her own mind was slipping, but she had faith in you. You never seemed too bothered with it all. Not to say you weren't having crises either, but you made do. You even managed to stick through Kaufmo's abstraction--though it was only for a short while.

Ragatha had noticed the signs of you going downhill and had tried to talk to you about it. But you always pushed her away, insisting you were fine. But deep down, she knew what was coming, even if she tried to ignore it. So, when you did what all the others had done and didn't show up for the morning performance, her heart dropped.

She booked it to your room as fast as she could. Ringing your doorbell nearly a thousand times, she could feel herself getting more and more anxious. So focused was she on you that she didn't notice Jax walk up behind her and shove your bedroom key into the lock. Opening the door, you were found lying in your bed facing away from everyone. Ragatha walked towards you hesitantly and slowly she turned you over to find the front of your body covered in darkness and eyes.

Ragatha blames herself heavily for your abstraction. She saw the signs, and although she did what she could, she still blames herself. Maybe if she just checked up on your more--or maybe if she was just a better listener--you'd still be here. No matter what, she'll always find a way to blame herself.

"[Y/N]! [Y/N], listen to me! Please, listen to me!"

"Is everything alright? You seem really different lately."

Jax

Jax is smart. How do you think he pulls off all those complicated pranks? But he's also bad with emotions, and has trouble recognising them properly sometimes. He knew something was wrong, but he also didn't know how to talk to you about it. So, he just put it off. Never did he think it'd get this bad.

He sauntered over to your room one day when you hadn't shown up for a while. Having stolen your key long ago, he shoved it into the lock and opened the door. Only, while he expected to find you moping in your bed or at your desk, he instead found you sitting in the middle of the room drawing scribbles on paper, nearly a hundred already stacked up on the side.

Jax was properly freaked out, to say the least. He knew you were reaching some point in your downfall that was critical, but he didn't want to consider what he was seeing what that. Yet, when he called out to you, you didn't answer. So, mustering up all his courage, he walked over to look you in the eye--only to find your face gone.

He freaked the hell out. Nobody was around for him to put up a front for, so he just panicked. He doesn't know what to do. He tried to slap you out of it, but when he does his hand gets glitched. Unlucky for him, though, Caine appears to check up on you, only to find you in your current state. He immediately sends you off to the cellar while Jax can only watch.

After you're gone, he's a lot more of a jerk. Poor Gangle gets it the worst, being the easiest target. She might just abstract herself. He's also just a lot quieter, not making the usual snappy comebacks, instead choosing to just give an "mhm" and roll his eyes. He doesn't blame himself per se (because I bet he struggles with accepting the blame for anything), but he's still depressed you're gone. No more making jokes with or teasing you, or having somebody to confide in. No more of anything.

"[Y/N]! Hey! Snap out of it! HEY!"

"Yeah, whatever you say."

Kinger

Hoo boy. How do I start.

Well, Kinger knows all too well what abstraction looks like. Hell, his closest person (and possible lover) abstracted. He knows the signs better than anyone else. If anyone should be able to stop someone from abstracting, it would be him.

But you were just too good, weren't you? You were too good at hiding it. You knew what was going on, but you were better than everyone at keeping your cool on the outside. Even better than Zooble, and you had been there way longer than them! He honestly thought you were doing alright. Better than him, at least.

But he was wrong. After the morning's intro performance, you walked off without talking to anybody. You were clutching your wrist with your hand. Following you, Kinger found you curled up backstage looking down at the wrist you had covered with your hand. Where your usual skin colour was was instead an ink-black splotch. And it was quickly spreading.

Kinger freaked out, but tried to keep his cool. The last thing he wanted to do was alert Caine to the situation. He'd always been too late before, but maybe if he just tried this time he'd be able to help you. He tried talking you through your emotions, letting you vent, and distracting you with silly nonsense, but nothing worked. The abstraction was showing up on more parts of your body and spreading.

Kinger does not bother running away once you're fully abstracted. He just stands there and tries to plead with you. He's having flashbacks to his experience with Queener and all the other abstracted people he knew, and it's horrible. Once you're caught by Caine, he pleads and pleads for you to not be kept in the cellar. Even if you're kept in an impenetrable fortress made of glass above ground just so he could see and talk to you, that would be enough. But he never got it.

Once you're gone, Kinger blames himself for your "death" of sorts. He becomes genuinely extremely paranoid (because I know there are theories where he's faking it), and also very depressed. He spends most of his time in his pillow fort moping. If anything was going to drive him over the edge himself, it'd be that.

"AH!"

"Caine, please, you need to listen to me, please!"

Gangle

Gangle's a very lonely person. All throughout her time in the real world, she assumed people didn't like her and pushed them away. She was never really popular in general, either, being into "cringe" interests like anime. So, having you as a friend meant a lot to her. Never did she expect to see you abstracted.

Gangle didn't know what an abstracted person looked like before Kaufmo, so it's still pretty new to her. When she sees you take your food away from the dining table after the day's activity, she's scared to follow you. She doesn't want to intrude on your privacy after all. But after some worried words from Ragatha and Pomni, she decides to investigate.

Turning the corner to the bedroom hallway, she expects to see it empty. However, instead she sees you crouched over yourself on the ground outside your door. The food has been dropped, and your holding your head in your hands and scream-crying. Gangle sees almost all of your body is abstract black lumps covered in eyes. She runs over to try and help you, but is barely holding it together herself--or not at all. You're her best friend is this digital hellhole, and she doesn't know what to do without you.

Gangle tries to calm you down herself, but it's no use. You just keep abstracting, which sends her into a panic attack. It's likely she doesn't run when you're fully abstracted, instead too deep in her anxiety to move. So, she gets bashed about the hallway and thrown aside in favour of finding over people or things to attack. Gangle wants to run after you and stop you, but she can't get herself to move.

Gangle's very quiet about the whole situation after. She's in a state of shock. Watching you disappear into the cellar is traumatising on its own. It's like watching you get an unceremonious burial. She, of course, blames herself for it. She thinks it's her fault for not "trusting her gut" and going to look for you. There's a chance she'll abandon fixing her comedy mask once Jax breaks it next. She's just given up.

"[Y/N]! No!"

"Why did they have to go?"

Zooble

Zooble's shocked, that's for sure. They expected you out of all people to have a grip on reality. You always seemed so hopeful; no matter how many times you were tortured with trauma or bullied, you always got back up on your feet. It was exhausting work, of course, and no dainty task, so it was bound to drag you down. He just didn't expect it to be so soon.

You and Zooble had been hanging out in her room. You'd been talking about random things when the topic turned to Pomni and the exit. Zooble said they thought she should just give up, but you suddenly startled rambling about what if there was an exit and how to get out. Quickly, it turned to you having shortened, quicker breaths and rambling fast and faster. Zooble tried to calm you down with reason and logic, but it was no use. You were just snowballing downhill.

If he wasn't already freaked out and worried by this, he was when you started mutating. Your body shifted to be larger and lumpier with sharp corners. Everything was turning pitch black, and eyes were opening all over your new skin. She kept trying to calm you down, but by the time you were almost fully abstracted they knew they had to run.

Watching you get put in the cellar was hard. You were Zooble's closest friend and confidant (possibly more). It was weird without you there anymore. Zooble knows they did everything she could, but it's still difficult not to blame himself. If only you were still here; you'd know what to say.

"[Y/N]! Hey! Look at me, alright? Look at me! I need you to focus!"

"This feels...Weird."

518 notes · View notes

cherryredstars · 7 months

Note

OMG I SAW YOUR REQUEST IS OPEN AND OMG I WANTED TO ASK IF YOU CAN MAKE AN demon!MIGUEL x but Innocent/cute/ werid/quirkFmAngel! Reader (like the demon CAN be also called the spider demon that all work under Miguel eyes😝💅😩)

Reader is a angel that believes that there goodness in any creature that mean Miguel.yea but she doesnt believed in some angel like her ex- boyfriend,reader finally caught her boyfriend cheating while hanging out with the group while eating there ice cream or looking in the heaven village or city idk ??😣😭 ( miles, gwen, and pav and his girlfriend )which when Gwen and hobie and miles was shocked and gasp loudly at something that pulled reader attention and when reader saw it, reader came running away in tear at the sight of it.

and ran away far away from it ,While pav girlfriend with hobie beating his as while gwen is telling hobie that " ENOUGH HOBBIE " while pav is trying to stop his girlfriend from cheering on hobie from SCREAMING at reader ex- boyfriend for making reader spend ALL her time with such a USELESS F ING ANGEL WHO doesnt work FOR SH%T

meanwhile Miguel, is some were in heaven and hell which is what I called is the void or the pocket of both lands and that where Miguel is doing his business(while wearing his spider logo LIKE imagine him wearing an tight suit with some sort of amor ) killing angel and entity\antomty (I forgot the name💀) in his way with Layla of course but only telling him how many are there but that where reader came running away and fall into and also hitting a large rock and managed to hurt one of her wings,badly, which cause her to stare around for any help or tried to see if she know what is this place she flew into, And Miguel was done doing assignments (ahem- killing) amd then see her in such a state that make his heart beat again,

Meanwhile reader is crying not of fear, but she not in fear of the man in front of him.. She finding it sexist (ok I want to make reader weird,or quirky💀😭) ok it not her problem OR FAULT OK it was his aura, big BOTTY OF A ASS that reader probably think she has seen in her life form a boy ✊😝 and his horns,

reader realized she still have tear in her eyes and started wipes her face and getting up from the floor but then the pain of her wings finally came. (And Layla being Layla teleport to Miguel to see if he done with work and see reader on the floor with a broken wing with blood and Layla making an deal or some thing idk to convince him to let her live while saying in a language Spanish but that a ancient towards reader)

NFSW PART THAT J COMPLETED SUCK AT

Let imagine Miguel heat or is just hella intoxicated with a sex drug from layla putting there (putting or idk someone LIKE PETER B ) and left it on his favorite desk( that he like to slam on A LOT JUST FROM THE RETARD THAT HE HAS TO DEAL with work💀 ✊ men got his on TABLET FOR THAT lol) and it crash on the floor and broke and some gas that Miguel was intoxication from of it and went to his own place while reader was petting an demonic cat in his house

Here is a some plot idea for the NFSw part

(Also THIS IDEA WAS INSPIRED BY MANY WEEBTOON STORY AND I WANTED TO mush ALL THESE IDEA INTO ONE SO pls 😭 if I suck AT EXPLAINING THE PART and I wanted to say this but I feel like Miguel be the grump bear person character or big puffy cat person like he wouldnt like anyone touch his horn but when reader ask he let her touch his horn with a pout sound as he lean down 🗣😭✊ also you can make this a fluff/smut any kink will do honestly! THANK YOU bye ❤

Hope you have a great day and time ! (Sorry if this made be a long request but I dont see many people making a demon Miguel like this one and reader as well so yea and I really wanted to people be inspired by this one !!!😇😌🗣

Pairing: Demon!Miguel O’Hara x Angel!fem reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Smut with Plot, Virgin!Reader, Fluff, Mentions of Cheated on Reader, Slight Corruption Kink, Slight Fingering, Oral Sex, Praise, Penetrative Sex, Mentions of Blood

Summary: Even the devil has a soft spot.

Word Count: 3.9K (Not Edited)

It had been a gloomy day.

You had never expected to find your sweet, attentive boyfriend sucking faces with someone else. It had ruffled your delicate feathers and for your wings to curve in with despair. Your friends had tried to pull you away from the scene, the dejection clear on your face as you stared longingly at the man you had given your golden heart to. Their reassuring words floated past you, mind preoccupied on why this could have happened to you. Was it something you did? Were you not enough? Were you missing something?

Later into that day, after numbly reassuring your friends you were alright, you had wandered aimlessly across the angelic city. You were so lost in thought that you had not realized you had taken too many turns out of the city, finding yourself in the Void. So unused to the dark, unfamiliar land, you had stumbled your way around, catching your wings on things you couldn’t see clearly until your body was sore and you had wilted to the ground in a hopeless mess. You were unsure of how long you had laid there, a withering mess of innocent pain before he had sniffed you out.

From his account of events, he had just been back from one of his sessions of…repentance as he calls it. Even though his suit and dulled armor was splattered with blood, he knew the lingering scent in the air was fresh, more innocent than the kind he had spilt. He had followed the sweet fragrance, finding your helpless form crowded to the ground. You had looked up at him with such shiny eyes, a puffed pout on your lips. Your appearance alone was angelic, his hand itching to reach out and taint your delicate skin. He swore a glowing aura shielded your body, setting you apart from the gloominess of the Void. If not the scent of your blood, the shininess of your glow would attract dark things like him to you.

You had shrunk back in response to the strong presence he held, not realizing tears had flowed down your face until he commanded you to wipe them away. When he had told you to follow him, you had weakly pushed yourself up, using the sound of shifting armor as your guide through the dark. He had taken you back to the modest cabin, cold and nearly as empty as the world outside. He had left you by yourself, your wings fluttering nervously as you tried to see more than blurred darkness. When he had lit a dim light, you had instantly flocked towards it while he kept his distance. You had crowded around the greenish-yellow flame like a moth, staring at it as if it was as angelic as you were.

His rough hand was firm around your shoulder blade, pushing you into a seat near the flame. He stood behind you, as if using you to shield him from the light as he bandaged the fracture in your wing quietly. You had sat still, watching the flame dance on the candle wick. The light illuminated your face in a ghastly light, creating intense shadows against the features of your face. When he had pulled away, you turned to look for him, only to be met with pure black. You reached your hand out tentatively, pulling it back when you had met the cold metal of his armor. HIs own hand reached out to you, centimeters away from your face so you could see it.

Your delicate fingers brushed over the calluses on his hand and in a gravelly voice he had asked you, how pretty, innocent you, found yourself an injured bird in such a dark place. With his adapted eyes, he had seen the darkening of your cheeks and the wounded look in your eyes. You had looked away, a half-hearted excuse of getting lost leaving your plush lips before asking him for his name.

He answers begrudgingly, a low grumble that you have to strain your ears to catch. You find it only fair to tell him yours in return, and Miguel lets the word circulate into his head until it's fully memorized. The name suits a gentle creature like you he thinks, a soft symphony of syllables that are yours to own. It sounds like church bells and birds chirping, something that's shunned in the Void. The natural greed that fuels his body wants to lock you up and keep you for himself.

Instead, he shoves the lantern into your hands, a silent demand to follow him as he walks towards the cabin’s entrance again. You two walk through the barren land, your small form following him as you stare at the more clearly defined shapes of the land. When you begin to slow or stray too far, he lets out a slow rumbling noise from his chest that draws you back to him. He doesn’t seem particularly annoyed when he does it, but he isn’t exactly happy about it either.

You follow him until he stops, your distracted mind almost causing you to crash into him. You peak out from behind him quizzically, holding your lantern up only to find it useless. Even though Migurl stopped a good distance away, the light of the holy city is visible. A delighted smile makes its way onto your face as you look up at him, a silence thanks for his kindness. He doesn't look visibly affected, but his unmoving heart stutters in a single kick.

You wordlessly walk out from behind him, taking a few steps forward before stopping and running back. His eyebrow raises as you stop right in front of him,a shy smile on your face as you take his hand and wrap it around the lantern’s handle with a soft thank you. You had given his hand a lingering squeeze before turning away from him and walked towards home. You had turned once after crossing out of the Void, eyes searching for a figure and a green glow, but both seemed to have disappeared into the darkness.

‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿‿︵

Two weeks later, you were surprised to see that green glow in the distance. Based on the height of it, you knew it had to be Miguel. You took a hesitant step into the Void, then another and another until you were getting closer and closer to the light. You had stopped five feet away, close enough for the light to be an arm away, but far enough that you couldn’t see the face you’ve yet to see. It was silent for a long moment before that familiar rumble vibrated in the air. The softest of smiles came over your face as you walked closer, taking the lantern from him when he offered it to you. You lifted your arm up, letting the light travel up his form until you were looking into deep red eyes.

A stifled gasp had left you, but it held more fascination than fear. Your eyes had drunk in his features, eyes mostly trained between his glowing orbs and the twisted points that spiraled from his soft hair. He had studied you too, eyes flashing at the delicate bow of your lips and the twinkling shine in your eyes. When you lowered the light, you kept your eyes trained to the place of his own eyes as you whispered a hello. He grunted back in response and turned to make way back to the cabin. You never hesitated to follow him back.

It was in that very cabin that you spent most of your time together. Where the two of you bonded. You sat and talked, Miguel listening as he cleaned his armor or prepared you desserts made from sweet berries and cream that he bought from travelers in anticipation for your frequent visits. The first few visits acted as check ups, Miguel making sure your wing mended and had full capability. Those visits were quick and silent, but they made you anxious for the next one.

Sometimes, after being too cramped in his cabin, you would ask Miguel to show you around the Void. He always grumbled about it, muttering how the Void was, well, void of anything besides plain terrain and the occasional hut or trading stand. But he had found that there was little he could deny you, something in his body against the idea of rejecting something so bright and lively. He had discovered this trait during an earlier visit where you had asked him in the sweetest tone he had ever heard if you could touch his horns. The disapproval was on the tip of his forked tongue, but seeing the way you had blinked so hopefully up at him only resulted in the bowing of his head as your gentle hands traced the grooves of the foreign keratin.

On special days, the days where MIguel had no repentance to take care of, he would let you decorate his horns and hair with beads and accessories you had brought over and never took home. He would hold the lantern up for you so you could focus on your work, and he told you in a gruff voice about the more tamer quests he had been on. But those stories were rare and far between, Miguel finding someone as pure as yourself in no need to know about blood and death as he’s known them. But, they were fun to hear even with their heavy censorship and you absorbed every word like gospel. Honestly, you spend more time focusing on the sound of his voice rather than his words. You loved the deep calmness to his speech, wishing you had a way to record it so you could play it over and over in the hours you spent away from him.

On the really bad days, the days where Miguel had come to fetch you at the border of the Void and the holy city in more blood than usual, he would take you back to the cabin in silence and wash up before pulling you to his sofa and cradling your innocent form to his chest. The both of you would be bathed in darkness, the lantern a far away glow on the dining table as he tried to absorb your good. He would hold your head gently, breathing in your sweet scent as he played with the ends of your hair or flattened the feathers of your wings. It helped calm him down, feeling the slight pleased purr vibrate against his chest as you beamed under his attentive care. He would rumble his chest slowly in response, showing his own content. Those days you knew you had to distract his mind, letting his mind fill with nothing but the events of your day or any days you were apart. When you ran out of events, you started telling him your own thoughts. Recalling a question you have about the universe, a flower you saw on your way to the Void’s edge, how you think maybe the next time you visit you’ll bring Miguel a nice piece of decoration to hang up so his cabin doesn’t look so sad.

But no matter the type of day, no matter how many times you had visited him, he always walked you back to the edge of the Void at the same exact time. It was like clock work. It didn’t matter if you didn’t finish your story, it didn’t matter if you weren’t done removing the decorations from his hair, it didn’t matter if he hadn’t fully calmed down yet. When a small chime ran through his house, he would drop whatever he was doing, standing to give you your lantern before walking you out of his cabin. You had asked him about it a singular time, but he had ignored it. You waited, debated if you should ask again in case he didn’t hear you, but then that time happened and you dropped it. You had stayed curious about it, but you had come to terms with the fact that you’d possibly never know.

‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿‿︵

You don’t know what compelled you to come so late. It was far past the time you would usually come, proven by the fact no lantern glow greeted you at the edge of the Void. But something in you urged you to go, your feet basically dragging you through the darkness. Luckily, the frequency of your visits made you familiar with the path to Miguel’s cabin, hand stretched out until it hit the flat wood of a door. It only took you a few pats to find the doorknob, turning it and sliding it open.

Instantly, a dark musk filled your senses. It makes your head dizzy and you grip tighter onto the knob to steady yourself. When you think you're stable enough to walk, you take a step forward only to almost trip on an overturned chair. A spike of alarm rings in your head and you can’t help the urgency powering your voice as you call Miguel’s name. In the darkness, there is a faint noise of shuffling before you yelp out in surprise. Large hands grab you and flip you on the couch, your hands shoved above your heads as the sound of deep breathing echoes in your ear. Your body instantly melts into the fabric at the sound of Miguel’s voice asking you what you’re doing here.

You try to shift your hands, but Miguel tightens his hold on them. You huff out a pout but stop struggling as you ask him if he’s okay. He doesn’t reply, burying his head into the crook of your neck and inhaling deep. His breath tickles around your neck and you can’t help the soft squirms your body makes.

“Smells s’good,” Miguel mumbles against your skin, his hips pinning yours down so you can’t try to escape. You try to stifle the gasp that builds in your throat at something hard pressing into you. When Miguel’s wet tongue glides up the length of your neck, a soft noise leaves you parted lips. Your hips buck up to push him off, but he only grounds and grounds his hips into you.

Another sound leaves you, slightly louder than before as you feel something rush into your panties. The feeling of the wetness is uncomfortable and you try to shift to relieve it. Miguel’s hands find your waist and grip hard, holding you still as you pull away from your neck. His eyes are glowing so brightly that you can see the red tint in the darkness. “It’s witching hour, y'know.

Can’t be here, ángel.”

Despite the gruffness of his appearance, the words are sweet and full of concern. If you could, you would have reached your hand up to cup his face. He looks and sounds pained. You don’t know why, but you want to help. “Are you okay, Miggy? You don’t sound so good, is there anything I can help you with?”

The honey dripping from your voice makes him grind his hips against you again. You just sound so sweet. His perfect little angel was so worried about him. Wanted to be helpful to him. So sweet and pure and innocent. So goddamn tempting. And, like he said before, he can never deny you. He can’t deny you. Who denies help from an angel anyways? Definitely not him. Definitely not when you can help.

His hand reaches down and cups under your pretty white tunic, a gasp leaving you when he cups your clothed sex and the heel of his palm presses the wetness against your skin. A deep moan leaves Miguel at the dampness, his hand rubbing it eagerly. “Yeah, you can.”

Before you can ask him what it is he needs help with, you feel too long fingers slip under your panties. Your body instantly tenses as Miguel teases them along your entrance, more slick rushing from you to coat his fingers. He tries to push them in, absolute surprise coursing through him when your walls don’t instantly give to take them at the same time. He tries to ease the tips of them, but still gets nothing. It frustrates him. You’re so wet, he can see you glistening before him. Fuck, you hips are even pressing back into his hand. So why can’t you take his fingers?

Then, it hits him. His sweet little angel is a virgin.

He grows impossibly harder at the thought. You really are pure. His tiny little angel, untouched and pure. All for his taking. His eyes trail up your body, looking into your confused face. Poor thing doesn’t even understand what’s happening. But, it’s okay. Miguel, he isn’t mean. He may be a demon but he isn’t mean. He’ll take care of you.

“Need you to spread your legs f’me, doll. Spread your legs and relax.”

You obey so beautifully. You don’t question or hesitate. You only do, only please. Your legs spread for him and he watches the way your tunic bunches around your waist. The sight of your drenched cunt is downright heavenly and he can’t help but lick his lips. His hands glide up your legs until he’s helping you keep your legs open. Gently, he bends down and places them over his shoulder until he’s face to face with your practically see-through panties. He licks a long strip up them, tongue swirling around your poked bud. Your lips instantly buck up in response and your hands find his horns for support.

He chuckles at you, studying you as he pushes your panties to the side again. He licks another strip up you, your slick collecting on his taste buds. You taste as sweet as you smell and it’s driving him wild. The grip on you tightens as he prods at your entrance. His tongue is wet and warm and causes you to feel things you didn’t even know were possible. Your hips lift in response, and you cry out when Miguel slips his tongue into you.

The buckling of your hips is instinctive as his tongue dives in and out of you, occasionally playing with your clit. Your eyes are threatening to roll back as your hands tighten around Miguel’s horns to aid your movements. “M-miguel…what are you..?”

Miguel’s own eyes roll back at your clueless question. You don’t even understand what’s going on, but here you are desperately trying to ride his face like a fucking succubus because you feel that good. A deep groan vibrates against you as he eats you out more desperately, drinking up everything you’re spilling out. In response, you keep letting out the prettiest of noises. If this is what it's like to go to church, Miguel just might consider being stricken down for the chance to hear your moans.

Your legs begin to shake, trying to fight Miguel’s strong hold. Your body quivers and twists, head thrown back as you try to stop whatever it is building inside of you. “Miguel…stop, wait!”

Your begs and pleads are absolute music to him, He can feel the clenching of your walls, and he tries to ease a finger into you to hold them apart. His fingers slip in easier than before, but it still has resistance. But the moment he’s knuckle deep and curls, you’re crying out as you finish. Miguel’s eyes snap up to you, watching drunkenly as you twitch. He slurps everything up, moaning into you as he sucks your lips. He pulls away with a pop, placing a gentle kiss onto your sensitive clit as you try to breathe. Your chest rises and falls, sweat making your tunics stick to your body and become transparent in some places. You’re nipples peek through the fabric, and Miguel sucks them until they’re clearly seen under the garment.

He finally reaches up to your face, kissing your cheek to call you back to him. Your eyes are hazy as you turn to look at him, a small film of satisfaction coating them. The sight makes Miguel smile, nuzzling his nose against your skin to breathe in the lingering scent of sex and sweat on you. You smell absolutely divine and he can’t help but palace a slow kiss to your lips. Your own lips are clumsy, not really knowing what you’re doing. You just follow Miguel’s example and whatever your brain is telling you is right. But Miguel seems to be enjoying it, pressing his lips harder against you and humming.

You’re the first to pull away, a gasp ripping from you as you feel his finger slide back into you. He wiggles it around, stretching your walls out in preparation for something bigger. You whine against his lips. Hips shifting when he pulls it out of you. But soon you feel the warmth of something larger poking at your opening. Your eyes meet Miguel’s glowing ones, a silent question in your eyes.

Miguel presses a soft kiss to the corner of your eye as he begins to push in. His hand tilts your head to the side, his face looking down at you as your own twists in discomfort. “This is gonna hurt for a second, sweet angel.”

Before you can ask what he means, his hips snap forward. A scream begins to leave your throat, but it dies once Miguel surges towards your neck and bites down. The pinch of something painful hits you before it all dies down into a euphoric numbness. A soft moan leaves you as Miguel slowly thrusts in and out. He pulls away from your neck, giving it a quick lick and kiss before taking your arms to wrap them around his neck loosely. He kisses your cheek again, moaning at the coppery smell of blood that begins to feel the air as he stretches your hymen.

“That’s it. So fucking good for me, good girl.”

Even in your dazed state, your body glows under his praise. A slow hum leaves you, and you arch your back into him. Miguel’s hand slips to your lower back, pressing your skin into his body and he begins to speed up his thrusts. Each snap of his hips brings shockwaves of pleasure through you, and it isn’t long before you feel the familiar build up in your body again. Miguel groans as your walls tighten around his cock, teeth grinding together as he pushes through your tight walls. With another sharp thrust, you're moaning out again as you release.

Miguel continues to work you through it, working at your clit to make it last longer. You whimper in appreciation, body pressing up into his fingers for more. He chuckles at the involuntary movement, working you even after your body jolts from oversensitivity. His fingers and his thrusts don’t stop until he feels his own pleasure beginning to form its peak. WIth a few sharp thrusts and you moaning his name, he spills his hot seed into you. The feel of it filling you makes you come again, hips lifting and pressing into his pelvis to keep it all into you.

Miguel rubs soft circles into the skin of your hips to help you calm down, pressing kisses to your shoulders and muttering praise. He pulls out slowly, his cock an ombre of pink to creamy white cum as the same mix drips from you. His fingers fuck it back into you absentmindedly, only stopping when you cry out softly. He gives you time to rest, leaving to get a soft cloth to wipe you down.

Midway through his cleaning, you hand lands to his arm. He looks up at you questionably, watching the dazed look beginning to leave your eyes. But he can’t help the wide smile that forms on his face as you ask: “Again?”

Teehee

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel ohara x you #spiderman 2099 x reader #cherry's requests🍒#spiderman 2099 x you #atsv miguel #across the spiderverse #miguel o hara #miguel o'hara smut #miguel ohara #atsv smut #spiderman 2099 #miguel ohara x reader

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 1 month

Note

Wibta if I told my friend, upfront, I do not want his toxic partners in my campaign party without specifying why?

Everyone in this is 22+

So I (22NB) have been working on a campaign for at least 3 years now. I used dnd as a base and built off it to make my own world, races, mechanics, massive maps, religions, languages etc. This will be a massive campaign with highlights on religion and dealing with gods as a mortal etc and I've put so many hours into it it isn't even funny. I mean shit, I picked music for different areas depending on if it's day or night.

I made a discord server to house most of the basic info my players would need from table rules to the races and beyond. I mainly had the idea that the party would consist of my dmnpc guide (he doesn't fight or break the game, his only action during fighting is the help action and guide the party. Im not an asshole dm who makes my guide the protagonist. If its important, death doesn't really exist in my campaign due to demi-god race stuff, the party just gets sent back to its last save point with my grumpy man guide saying I told you so.), my partner's character (24f)(she dosent get preferential treatment. We've been together for 8 yrs) and my best bud's character (22tm. Been friends for 8 yrs). I never said I specifically only wanted my partner and friend to be party members but it was implied due to the fact I never invited my friends partners to the discord. I just don't really have many friends and this is the first time I've ever dm-ed period, let alone dming my own homebrew. We're all pretty novice newbie players and I think it'll be fun for us to stumble through the game together in a much less complicated form of DND without seasoned players "um actually-"ing us the whole time.

My partner is excited to try and my friend is ecstatic and about 2 years into development (last November) he asked if I could let his partners join the campaign. There're a few issues with this beyond me not really knowing them and not wanting to run a large party (it's hard for seasoned dms to run a 4+ party, let alone I, a fresh infant of a dm). My friend has 3 partners of his (he has 4 total) he wants to introduce to my campaign, this includes (fake names): Mel(24nb), Sandy (mid 20s f) and Rue (23 tw). I have issues with each individual present and it all stems from me sitting in on a different campaign for a single session. See, my friend has his own campaign (much smaller, follows one story in one town on an island instead of my entire continent) and he tried to run it by those three partners (and 2 friends. Names and genders unnecessary, they were our age) while I quietly sat in the session (it was over a discord call, were all in differnet states except for me and my partner) and watched it run just to see how my friend dmed and how the groups chemistry was. They had a 3 hour session.

It was the most socially awkward, intense and passive aggressive 3 hours of my life. Mel barely paid attention and as a result, had to have things explained to them when they weren't listening. They would then would talk over the person explaining things, pick apart their language and get irritated to the point of telling them (mostly rue) to shut up. Mel was quite litterally looking for a fight constantly. Sandy was relatively quiet but also not paying attention and talking over other players actions. She also would come up with random "icks " and one minute was telling everyone to keep all sexual jokes and comments to themselves because it made her uncomfortable then the next said her character was literally blowing a guy in the back of tavern.(btw this is not a fetish campaign or anything, it was out of left field for everyone and my friend shut it down because of that) Rue was the "uhm actually" type who pointed out inaccuracies, broken rules and lack of realism (it's a pirate fantasy magic campaign. There isn't much to focus on realism). Rue was clearly the most seasoned player but the nicest all things considered. She was mostly just condescending and treated my friend like he was stupid for not having every single detail mapped out. The party also had 2 of his friends but they were just as quiet as me and also either not paying attention or listening to the shit show. The session litterally ended with Sandy and Mel having the tiniest argument, mel pulling a crying running away anime protagonist "I'm sorry for being just a fucking terrible person! Ill leave so you all can have fun!!" Then hanging up all dramatically. Safe to say, their party was literally every red flag I was warned about by dm guide content.

My friend then came to me and said they broke up with Sandy that night but were still friends and I was still in shock from the sheer toxicity. Did I mention I had only met Sandy and the two other friends that night? And had only spoken over the phone to Mel once in a group call and met rue in person 2 times? Safe to say, I do not want litterally any of his partners in my party for various reasons and I feel as if just one of them at my table would make my patience end on sight. I consider myself to be very flexible and want to do my very best to be a fair but strong dm who doesn't get their story absolutely trampled by players intentionally trying to ruin my story and watch me scramble (mel and sandy openly did that). These players would disrespect my table rules for fun. Even my friend said they never respect him and his story as a DM and he won't run a game with them again and he thinks they'll respect my rule? As a baby dm? Nah fam.

He wants to bring rue and Mel into my campaign and I haven't answered him yet. I've mostly dodged the question with "I'm not sure how big of a party I feel comfortable dming for, I'll know later down the line." And he's asked again, still curious. I don't wanna judge my friends relationships because he and Mel have been together for 5 years and rue has been with him for 2 (they were together previously before rue came out and rue tried to control and physically abuse him. Thats another reason I don't want her in my campaign. Fuck abusers) but the toxicity they would bring would probably poison me. If I bring these things up, idk how my friend would react and he can be a bit... Extreme when he gets defensive. Cutting people off permanently at a moments notice then coming back crying or confused. He has BPD which explains it but I don't obviously wanna say " your partners are low-key toxic and abit abusive and I don't want them at my table or in my life for the most part and although I love you bro(/platonic) I do not want living blowfish at my table that you might not even speak to tomorrow.".

Obviously I wouldn't word it like that but mainly I just plan on saying "Ive never dmed before and I'm nervous about the functionality of my campaign so I want to keep my party nice, small and intimate and only between you, me and my partner for now. Maybe we can incorporate them later." Without mentioning all the... Other stuff and side stepping if he's like "but what if just mel/rue?". Me, my partner and him have been friends awhile so it's not like he'll feel like he's third wheeling or anything and I get he wants his partners to take in his interest, I just do not want them at my table and I wanna know if I'm a dick if I dont specify why and avoid the question. I dont wanna rock the boat and hurt my friends feelings but I'm not gonna ruin the first full run of my pet project so a passive aggressive asshole and a know it all almost abuser can participate. He deserves to know why his partners can't join and I'm not technically lieing, even if they were cool, I don't know if I'd want them there. But they definitely aren't cool and that just seals the coffin for me.

(obviously I'm wording this in a comedic way but everything here actually happened and I mostly just wanna focus on supporting my friend despite his choices. I do not have to like his partners to tolerate them but it's my table and my years of work, if i dont want them there, they dont get to be there. I'm just wondering if I'm a dick for kinda lieing kinda not if I don't give the actual reasons for why I don't want them at my table and never plan on allowing them there. I would happily accommodate 1 or 2 more people at my table in this case if they were close to me like my sister or older brother but I dont know his partners well at all and even though they are passive to me, I dont feel safe around people like that. Wibta?)

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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princesscolumbia · 10 months

Text

So I had a thought about SexPal vs. Harrow

Both Palamedes and Harrowhark are both geniuses, and even Plamedes believes that Harrow is smarter than he is, but that begs the question, then, why did Sextus figure more things out quicker than Harrow did?

Coming from an entire family of Extremely High Intelligence people (nearly everyone on my dad's side of the family is some form of supergeek with careers in engineering, bio-sciences, computing technology, and that one uncle that nobody quite knows what he does but it's government-adjacent and he's not allowed to talk about it), I think I landed on the answer; knowledge of people.

By dint of his touch-psychic ability, plus the very obviously more social nature of The Sixth House, means that Palamedes has needed, by pure necessity, to bend some of his intellect to understanding the people about whom his magic gives him the information and with whom he must interact.

By contrast, Harrow had one (1) friend/rival/sibling/classmate/conspirator/bully growing up, and then at the moment she lost her parents and gained control of all of Drearburh she locked down The Ninth House, further limiting her already limited chances to interact with people at all. Her intellect had completely unfettered freedom to pursue knowledge and research for its own sake, ignoring the human component entirely if she so chose. Even the very finite contact with the people her magic was useful for was really only good after said people were already dead, as bone magic isn't really good for much besides maybe dentistry or chiropractic work.

Coming back to my family for a hot second; that one uncle who by nature of his work means he doesn't have much contact outside his job? He's terrible at people. He genuinely doesn't get how to people whatsoever. My aunt, who's the "black sheep" of the family and went into bio-sciences (not going into a pure technology-related field? How gauche!), deals with microorganisms and, as a hobby, dabbles in food science. Both of these vocations are about people and how they interact with the world in some fashion, so my aunt is leagues better than my uncle at people-ing. If there's a sociological element to any problem the family might have, we all know to go to my aunt and never my uncle.

The reason SexPal figures out the (imperfect) Lyctorhood before Harrow, the reason he's confused by her failure to have "solved it" like he did, is because being a lyctor involves another person so intimately they might as well be an extension of your own soul. Harrow grew up being terrified of people knowing her on that level so all her intelligence inherently tries to reject any application of people-ing to any problem she's trying to solve.

#gideon the 9th #gideon the ninth #the locked tomb #gtd #harrow the 9th #harrow the ninth #harrowhark #harrowhark nonagesimus #palamedes sextus #palamedes the sixth #lyctorhood

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five-rivers · 1 year

Text

The Soul Trade(ing Card Game) Chapter 2

As was dictated to me by the poll, I have delivered.

(AO3)

“So, uh, Batman,” said Constantine, hating everything about this, “I’ve gotta ask you something.”

“Hn,” said Batman, and Constantine understood he had the man’s whole attention, even though he didn’t look away from the screens arrayed before him. Monitor duty. Constantine was glad the Justice League Dark didn’t have to do that.

(At least, he thought they didn’t. If anyone had ever told him they did, he had promptly forgotten about it.)

“I need you to look into whoever left me this letter.” He dropped the letter on the desk next to Batman and flexed his hands. Yeah, the magic in it was sure something, but it was passive, as far as he could tell, traces picked up from being around something infinitely nastier. It was safe. Probably. It hadn’t blasted any of the people who had handled it between the desk in the Hall of Justice and the Watchtower, anyway.

Batman glanced up only briefly before taking the letter. He read it, quickly, without his posture changing at all.

“Hm,” he said, the tone of the grunt just slightly more contemplative. “Are the claims in this letter legitimate?”

“Well,” said Constantine, “let’s just say that reading it felt like…” His face twisted as he tried to find the words to describe what it had felt like. “Yeah. Even if this bloke doesn’t have everything he says he does, he has… a lot. There are traces on the letter, magically speaking.”

“What’s the effect of that?”

“God if I know,” said Constantine. “I didn’t even notice this. At least, he could go ahead and cast whatever spells on me he wants. Soul’s a lot more intimate.”

With a press of a button, the screens went dark. “You shouldn’t be up here if you’re compromised.”

“Hey, I didn’t even know about this until ten minutes ago!”

“Return to ground.” Batman stood and loomed over him. “I’ll look into who sent this letter and tell you my findings.”

That was probably the best Constantine was going to get. Honestly, he didn’t even want to be on this glorified deathtrap in the sky.

He didn’t like the feeling of getting kicked out, though.

“I’m going to need the letter back. I’ve got my own tests to run on it. Get an idea of what kind of nasty we’re dealing with. Magic stuff.”

Batman handed it back. “I’ll walk you to the Zeta Tubes.”

“What do you mean someone bought your soul?” asked Zatanna. “I thought you’d already sold it ages ago.”

“Yeah, but I guess souls can be resold. Should’ve realized that demons would try to replicate the whole banking hellscape we have here.”

“Pardon?”

“Nevermind,” said Constantine, letting himself sprawl backwards in the chair. It leaned dangerously, the weak leg bending. “I did sell it. I sold it a bunch. Got it set up so no one could really claim it without the others freaking out. Set some time limits on a few earlier ones, that worked pretty well, but, eventually, that didn’t work anymore, no one would bargain for that, and I figured my soul was pretty much a lost cause anyway…” He tucked his hands in his pockets and fingered the lid of his flask.

“Don’t you dare start drinking while I’m here.”

He hauled himself forward. “Far as I can tell, what’s written in the letter is true, as far as the owning part goes. The whole sorry bit and the let’s meet bit, I’m less clear on.”

He did have some thoughts on how to deal with it. But he wasn’t sure how well it’d work, and the guy - if it even was a guy - was a complete unknown.

He shrugged. “I was hoping for a second opinion.” And maybe a bit of… comfort. Something. It felt like the only time he saw Zatanna anymore was if the Justice Morons were poking at stuff no one sane would come close to with a ten foot pole.

(He missed her.)

(He missed when they used to be an item.)

(Which was stupid of him. But he’d never claimed not to be.)

(She wanted to keep things professional though, so. He’d try.)

Zatanna paced around the table. It was clear except for the letter, Constantine having expended much effort into cleaning it off (dumping it onto the nearest alternate flat-ish surface, the seat of a sagging armchair).

“I don’t know how much more I can tell you. There’s magic here, but it’s traces, and it’s… muddled. Do you mind?”

“Go ahead, love.” So much for being professional. Sue him. Some things just slipped out.

Zatanna nodded, evidently not even noticing. “Laever ruoy sterces,” she said, staring intensely at the letter. She shook her head. “Laever sesruc. No, no curses, at least. That’s a relief?”

“Yeah, I guess. But he doesn’t exactly need to curse me through a letter if he’s got everything he says he’s got.”

“Don’t give up just yet. Let me try a few other things. Ezylana eht snigiro fo eht lacigam secart no sight retter. Wow, huh.”

“What?”

“Well, like I said, there are all sorts of magical traces on this thing. Demon magic, which is expected, bits of yours, some of the ambient stuff the Watchtower picks up… but there’s also a lot of spirit magic.”

“You think we’re dealing with some kind of shaman? A summoner?” In addition to demons and whatever else, that was.

“Maybe,” said Zatanna. “There’s death, here, too, but I can’t tell if it’s outright death magic or necromancy.”

Constantine groaned. “The difference is academic. I’m screwed. S’pose I should be grateful or something he didn’t hit me with a compulsion to show up and grovel in front of him, felt the need to give me a heads up before he tortures me for sport or whatever necromancers do for fun.”

Zatanna made a face, but it was very telling that she didn’t deny it was a possibility.

“Just promise me you won’t go looking for this person on your own.”

“Yeah, I’ve got the Bat on it. You know him. Tall scary guy. World famous detective. About as boring as he is scary with all his rules.”

“That’s not what I meant,” said Zatanna. “You’re going to need magical backup for this. Call me. Or at least someone who knows what they’re doing.”

The opposite of what he wanted to do, really. People died often enough around him without actively dragging them into his problems, and this was a massive problem.

“Can’t make any promises.”

Because Constantine couldn’t really do anything else about the letter or its contents (besides scream inside his head and swear at himself), he decided to go about business as usual. Exorcisms, investigations, a touch of vampire stabbing, a few (disappointingly dry) ghost hunts. Normal stuff.

At least, it was normal until the demons started to run away from him. They didn’t usually do that, not even the weak ones. He did have a reputation, but not one like that. His reputation was that of a cheat and a con… and someone who got people close to him killed. None of that really put off bloodthirsty demons, who were a right pain to genuinely kill, and who often as not had some connection to old Lucy.

But they were running now, and not just the weaker ones. They weren’t even fighting him. Not getting hellfire tossed at him was nice, but demons were not nice. Ever.

So, what could he do but catch one?

He walked around the circle, double checking to make sure the scuffle with the little imp hadn’t scuffed any lines. He’d made mistakes like that before, and they were never pretty.

“So,” he said, lighting a cigarette, “what’s a demon like you running from little old me for?”

The demon, predictably, hissed at him. Constantine rolled his eyes. Typical.

“I’m going to ask you again, and if you don’t answer, things are going to get real unpleasant for you.” He pointed at those circle. “Read ‘em, if you don’t believe me.”

The demon arched itself like a cat, which was an interesting choice seeing as it wasn’t at all cat shaped.

“You were chasing us, John Constantine,” it said in a deep voice that belayed its size.

“Yeah, and that’s usually your lot’s cue to turn around and jump me. What’s different?”

The demon laughed, unpleasant and high-pitched like a teakettle coming to a boil. “What’s different? What’s different? John Constantine, you know what’s different.”

“Humor me here.”

It chuckled and started pacing around the inside of the circle. “Who owns you, John Constantine?” it asked in a silky voice. “Where is your soul, John Constantine? Not with you. Not with the First of the Fallen. Not with any of the princes of hell, or any god in its palace. Who owns you, John Constantine?”

“What, you’re saying that just because Lucy doesn’t have dibs on me when I die anymore, none of you are interested? Try the other one, it has bells on it.”

“Fool!” shouted the demon, now sounding disturbingly human. “Fool! Fool! A fool you are, but we are not, oh, no. No, no, no, we are not. What manner of thing could steal from them? What manner of thing could satisfy so many demons? What manner of thing could have such essence that it clings to you even now? Who owns you, John Constantine?”

Those were some good goddamn questions. “You’ve got a name for me, or is this you saying you don’t actually know, you’re just so freaked by the idea of it you’re shaking in your boots? Scales. Whatever.”

“Do not mock us, John Constantine,” it said, back to sounding properly demonic. “We are no fool! We know you will suffer.”

Yeah, well, that was just the natural state of the universe, wasn’t it? In any case, it didn’t look like this little punk had any idea what it was talking about. They didn’t tend to be very bright, just smart enough to parrot what they overheard from more powerful demons and dumb enough to give up information when threatened with basic binding spells.

He banished the imp back to Hell with a twist of his fingers.

So. Whoever or whatever had gotten their hands on Constantine’s soul, they were scary enough that demons didn’t want to draw its attention by getting involved with Constantine. Which was. Yeah. Not great. Story of his life.

He’d known that they’d have to be nasty, sure. They’d have to be, to get all of Constantine’s contracts. Constantine hadn’t sold his soul to just anybody. Those first three bastards especially had power. Hell, they’d cured his terminal lung cancer. Partially to avoid a war but mostly to be petty.

Admittedly, after that, he hadn’t been quite so discerning. Or careful about the wording. But he knew that so long as old Lucy had his eyes on him and a finger on his soul, no one would dare collect.

A lot of good that did, in the end.

Who would Lucifer trade with? Why would he give up the right to torture Constantine eternally post-mortem?

Constantine was getting sick of not knowing. He was tempted to just go to that meeting spot, but without more information, that would be unforgivably stupid. Constantine was not stupid. Usually.

His Justice League communicator (foisted on him by the Bat) pinged obnoxiously at the bottom of one of his pockets. He’d forgotten it was in this coat. He sorted through his pockets crossly as it pinged again. It had better be important. He found it under a crumpled bag of crisps and yanked it out with a spray of crumbs.

“What?” he said, shortly.

“Constantine,” came Batman’s deep, gravelly rumble. “I have news.”

Well, crap. “You gonna share that news this century?”

“It would be better to discuss this in-person. You do not have a secure computer.”

“Jesus,” said Constantine. He would have argued, but, technically, Batman was doing him a favor. “Fine, you paranoid maniac. Where?”

‘Where’ turned out to be a low-risk interrogation room in the Hall of Justice. Constantine was not a fan of this arrangement, but he understood it. He was compromised, or whatever, and the interrogation rooms were private and had video screens.

On the other hand, it was in America, and even Zeta Tubes couldn’t help with jetlag. And, worse, it was nonsmoking.

Batman personally escorted him to the room, and turned on the main screen with a remote control. Pictures of a pale-skinned teen with blue eyes and black hair sprung up. School pictures, mostly, but some looked like ID pictures, one was on the cover of a magazine, and another looked like an avatar in a video game.

“Do you recognize this boy?”

“One of your kids?” asked Constantine.

“Answer the question.”

“No, I don’t know him. Should I?”

“He’s the one who dropped the letter off.”

��You’re joking.”

In answer, Batman clicked the remote again, bringing up surveillance videos of the Hall of Justice’s main desk taken from various angles. The clips started off looking normal, the overly clear, expensive footage characteristic of an organization associated with Batman.

But then, static swam over them. Not enough to fully obscure the figure walking into the frame, but enough to be obvious. The boy from the pictures. He walked to the desk, had a short conversation with the receptionist during which he handed over the letter, and then left, taking the static with him.

“Well, hell,” said Constantine. It had been a while since he’d seen a demon take a form like that, but he supposed this one must have learned that he had a soft spot for kids. Or maybe this was a kid. A demon kid. He’d thought he’d taken care of all of his, but wouldn’t have been the first time he’d screwed up, and this whole situation was a collection of screw ups.

“Do you know what could cause the static?”

“Whole range of spells, but I’m gonna bet you already knew that from Zatanna.”

“Hm,” said Batman. “The name of the boy is Daniel Fenton. He is fifteen years old, and his major claim to fame is discovering that a purple-backed gorilla on loan to his local zoo was female. He also makes an occasional appearance on the leaderboards of the video game ‘Doomed,’ where he is a well known player.”

“A demon playing video games. Now I’ve seen it all.” It wasn’t so much that demons couldn’t have hobbies, he just didn’t care to learn them, if they weren’t relevant to beating the crap out of them or tricking them into taking a holy water shower. Then again, there was an outside possibility that ‘Daniel’ wasn’t a demon. “Any of this have a point?”

“Establishing facts,” said Batman. “It is possible that you had encountered him via the internet.”

“Do I look like the kind of guy who plays video games?”

Batman clicked the remote again, a map appearing on the screen, a blinking dot appearing in the middle of nowhere, US. “Daniel lives with his older sister, Jasmine, and their parents Drs. Jack and Madeline Fenton in Amity Park.”

“Amity Park?” repeated Constantine.

“Is it familiar to you?”

“I think I looked into it once. Supposed to be haunted. Veil there is maybe a little thin, but nothing on the Tower of London, or, hell, the British Museum. You wouldn’t believe what all those stolen grave goods can get up to together. Your permanently overcast city is more haunted. It’s a dead end.”

“Maybe not. The Drs. Fenton are friends with the billionaire Vladimir Masters, but primarily derive their income from their patented inventions, which include customized ‘branding’ toasters, high-efficiency toilet paper, ultra-lightweight camping gear, various treatments for radiation poisoning, and several items that have been marked classified by the Department of Homeland Security and the Department of Energy, for their use of dangerous energy sources.”

Constantine’s eyebrows went up. Mad scientists mucking about with radiation were generally not in his wheelhouse. Or even riding the same tracks, for that matter. “You think they went poking around in the occult for their ‘dangerous energy sources?’”

“Possibly,” said Batman. “In addition to their inventions, they are moderately well-known in ghost hunting communities, which explains their presence in the reportedly-haunted Amity Park. However, everything they’ve written on the subject indicates that they believe ghosts have a strictly scientific explanation. They also,” continued Batman, the corners of his mouth pulling into a slightly deeper frown, “believe that ghosts are nonsentient and nonsapient.”

“So, they have no idea what they’re talking about. Just some big brains that got sucked in by the kind of fraudsters who started the seance craze. Great. I’m sure Deadman’d love to have word with them. If they could even see him.” He rubbed his chin. “But the must’ve run into something real if their kid’s doing all this. Or if what looks like their kid’s doing all this.”

“You don’t believe Daniel Fenton is the one in the video?”

“Lemme put it this way. Odds of a random kid pulling one over on the demons I sold my soul to are about the same as you developing a sense of humor. Best case scenario, he’s just possessed, or he’s some kind of freak like Klarion.”

Batman grunted in acknowledgement. “Approximately six months ago, Jack Fenton purchased an ‘authentic demon soul contract’ from Ebay.”

Constantine opened and closed his mouth several times. “You’re joking.”

“As you are aware, I have no sense of humor.”

“Jesus Christ. Ebay?”

“The seller was a man named Eric Chambers. Zatanna investigated him earlier this week. He is, apparently, an amateur demonologist who wanted to ‘get out of the game’ and was in the process of selling off all his magical paraphernalia. He had sold several additional versions of your soul contract to another buyer in Amity Park. A known associate of Daniel Fenton named Samantha Manson. Are any of these names familiar to you?”

“Not exactly,” said Constantine. “But… Ebay?” He’d never thought his soul was anything special, but at least he’d thought it was worth enough to not be resold on Ebay. “And how did this Chambers bloke get them?”

“Apparently, the demons he’d summoned no longer wanted them, and he was under the impression that he could ‘put you under his thrall’ if he collected enough of them.”

So the guy who had his soul wasn’t even the first one to have the idea. Brilliant.

“And that’s it?”

“I could tell you Daniel Fenton’s grades and internet habits,” said Batman. “As well as those of his close friends and associates. Apart from his parents and his recent involvement with you, he is ordinary.”

“The thing with the gorilla is ordinary, then?”

“Most people have at least one outlier event in their lives. It would be of greater concern if he did not.” He paused, staring long and hard at Constantine. “What are your initial thoughts?”

“That I’m about to get screwed up the–”

“Regarding how Daniel Fenton got involved in this.”

“Like I said, it’s probably not Daniel Fenton. I’d guess… If I had to guess, I’d say that after Fenton’s dad got hold of that contract, he went and played around with it. Something like a genuine contract can be used to do a lot. It has the magical signatures of both the original demon and whatever sorry bastard signed it. If you’ve got that, you can ring up the demon.” He raised his hands, miming a scale. “Demon, inexperienced idiot teenager…” He tilted to one side. “You get the picture.”

And, yeah, wasn’t it great that he could cause people to die just by leaving his junk everywhere? He hadn’t learned anything from the dream sand.

“You believe Daniel Fenton summoned a demon that possessed him, which then proceeded to collect your soul contracts?”

“Yeah. Can you pull up a pic of the contract Jack Fenton bought?”

Batman briefly examined the remote, then flicked quickly through several slides, stopping, finally, on a very classic demonic soul contract. Constantine had signed several like that, so he had to squint at it and read through it line by line. It wasn’t like he memorized the handwriting of every demon he’d ever made a contract with. In fact, he’d memorized the handwriting of exactly zero demons. They didn’t precisely write a lot, and you either got illegible chicken scratch or equally illegible ornate gothic script.

He got to the name and swore. “That guy doesn’t have the power to go up against the First of the Fallen.” He rubbed his chin vigorously.

“It’s possible that Chambers sent a different contract to the Fentons,” said Batman, “or Daniel was… infected after receiving the other contracts.” More pictures popped up on the screens. “However, there is a problem with this theory.”

“Yeah?” asked Constantine, already scanning the contracts. The Bat didn’t like Constantine’s ideas. What else was new?

“Daniel’s behavior has had no significant changes in that six month time frame. But if we go back by just over a year, to when he was entering high school, his grades took a steep dive and several disciplinary actions were noted on his record. His close friends’ grades took similar, but smaller, hits at the same time.”

“You think he could have been possessed earlier.”

“I believe that something happened to him at that time. I am unconvinced it was possession.”

Constantine shook his head. “None of these guys are strong enough to begin with. Maybe if they were working together… Nah. None of them could work together. That’s why I picked them.” He rubbed his eyes. “Then again, I thought no one could get all my soul contracts, so who knows?”

“Are you sure possession is the only solution?”

“God, no. Hell, we could be dealing with a cabal of homo magi, or someone back from the grave who seriously hates me, that’d explain the death magic on the letter, at least, or maybe there’s a god hanging around getting their kicks poking at me. It’s just a giant blank. I’ve never heard of this kid. I’ve never heard of his family. I’ve barely heard of Vlad Masters. I’ve got nothing.”

“Hm,” said Batman. “What are you planning to do?”

“I’m guessing ignoring it forever isn’t something you’d let me do?”

“No.”

“I guess I’m gonna have to go investigate, then.”

“In that case,” said Batman, pulling a fat folder of papers out of his cape somehow, “you will need to know more about Daniel Fenton, his associates, and Amity Park.” He dropped the folder on the table with an audible thump.

“Great,” said Constantine. “Just what I wanted. Homework.”

Constantine and Zatanna zeta’d to the nearest tube near Amity Park. Batman had arranged an ‘untraceable’ rental car for them, paranoid bastard. Demons didn’t usually have the skillset required to trace license plates.

Then again, there might be more than demons involved. Even if necromancers generally had no skillset outside of necromancy.

There could be shamans, though! They were well known for their technological acumen!

Yeah, right. It was possible, but not bloody likely.

“I could teleport, you know,” he told Zatanna. “We could both teleport.”

“Into the home turf of an unknown magic user?”

Constantine rolled his eyes and knocked his head against the car window. “I’m surprised the ol’ Bat isn’t coming with us.”

“You know he is,” said Zatanna. “I’d give even odds that he’s already there, if I had any desire to gamble with you.”

“Hey! I could be good for it. I have steady work now!”

Zatanna shook her head. Constantine huffed.

“I’m going to take a nap. Might be my last one, after all.”

“John,” said Zatanna, “you’re not going to die. Don’t you think this is a little… excessive, considering all the stuff you’ve gotten out of before?”

“No one’s owned my whole soul before. Now, I really am going to go to sleep. Wake me up when we get there.”

Death.

That’s what pulled Constantine out of his dreams and into a nightmare, and from there into wakefulness. The feeling did not dissipate. Instead, it grew stronger.

He looked over at Zatanna, who was still driving. Her knuckles were white, her shoulders stiff.

“What the hell,” croaked Constantine.

“It’s been building as we get closer to Amity Park,” said Zatanna. “It doesn’t feel… actively malicious… More like a massive haunting. It’s been building slowly.”

Constantine swallowed and tried to rub sand out of his eyes. “That’s– Where are we?”

“About ten minutes out of Amity Park.”

“No. I’ve been to Amity Park. It doesn’t feel anything like this. It’s boring.”

“Well,” said Zatanna, strained, “something’s changed. At least we know where the letter picked up all that death magic.”

Constantine breathed in deeply through his nose. “Yeah, there’s enough of it here for me to feel it, God.” It was making his skin prickle. He shook himself all over. “Might as well stay awake now. Do you mind if I set my wards?”

“Knock yourself out.”

Constantine walked into the diner and looked around. It was very American. Retro. Quiet. Not entirely clean, but Constantine had been in way worse. The air smelled strongly of cinnamon, coffee, and hot chocolate. Not the kind of place he generally bartered for his soul, or away his soul, as the case might be.

An aggressive ‘No Smoking’ sign was positioned prominently next to the cheery ‘seat yourself’ sign. Constantine scowled at it. Sometimes it felt like there was nowhere to smoke anymore in the whole world.

Daniel Fenton, easily recognizable from a legion of school photos and a junior astronaut camp photo ID, was sitting alone at a booth, a cup of hot chocolate with whipped cream in front of him. He swung his legs back and forth and scribbled in a notebook. A few tables away, not nearly as sneaky as they clear-ly thought they were being, were his friends Manson and Foley.

Zatanna had entered the diner before him, of course, and Batman was most likely… somewhere. God only knew where. Constantine knew people who could turn invisible and shapeshift that weren’t as good at it as Batman.

Before coming in, Constantine had finished setting his wards. His pockets were full of all sorts of tests, charms, and apotropaics. As he stuck his hands into them, a spray bottle fit easily into his hand.

Walking to the table felt like walking to his execution. He made the comparison with confidence, because he had the relevant experience. When he stopped next to the table, Fenton looked up. His expression was confused at first, but in less than a second he lit up, clearly delighted.

Constantine also had relevant experience in spritzing demons with holy water.

Fenton flinched, but he didn’t start howling or melting. More’s the pity.

“Did you just spray me with holy water?” asked Fenton, blinking up at him with a realistic expression of befuddlement.

“Guy’s gotta know what he’s dealing with,” said Constantine.

“Well, I’m not a demon.” A slight furrow worked its way between his eyes. “Or a devil.”

“What are you, then?” asked Constantine.

Fenton shrugged. “I don’t know. An amateur demonologist? I don’t have any training in this kind of stuff, which is probably why all this happened.” He reached to the side and grabbed his hot chocolate. “Oh. You got my whipped cream with your water…”

“You don’t have any training?”

“Not in this,” stressed Fenton. “I go to school and stuff.”

And astronaut camp, assuming this really was Daniel Fenton and not something possessing or impersonating him.

“Anyway, are you going to sit down, or…?” Fenton looked him up and down.

Constantine scowled and slid into the booth. Then he threw some salt (purified) at Fenton.

“Hey,” complained Fenton, “you’re going to ruin my hot chocolate, jeez.” He picked up the mug, pulling it towards himself.

Constantine took the opportunity to grab his notebook off the table and flip through it.

“Maths?” blurted Constantine.

Fenton set the mug back on the table and leaned over to snatch the notebook back. “Like I said, I do have school. That’s why I can only hang out here on Saturdays. You did miss the last few meeting times.” He huffed. “I know this isn’t ideal, but can we work together here? I don’t actually want to own your soul.”

“Oh, yeah, amazing way of showing it, mate. I know who and what I sold my soul to, and I don’t believe you bartered with them without any training.” Or that he was human, but as long as he was invested in the facade, he probably wouldn’t eat Constantine’s face off.

“I didn’t say I didn’t have any training. Just no training in this. I don’t know exactly what you can do beyond make bad demon-related decisions, but you had weeks to do research. You’ve got to know about the ghosts.”

“Might. What about them?”

“My parents research them. Fight them, sometimes. It’s a whole thing. Demons weren’t any harder to deal with.”

“I sold my soul to archdemons.”

“Yeah, they kind of sucked, to be honest.” Fenton bit his lower lip. “Look, I know you don’t trust me. I wouldn’t trust me, but what I did to get your contracts wasn’t anything anyone couldn’t do. Most of them didn’t even want them anymore. The first batch I bought off of a random dude on Ebay. One of them paid me to take the contract, because they hated the doll you wrote it on so much. A lot of the others just wanted me to give you problems, which I think I’ve succeeded at, actually.”

Constantine had forgotten about the doll, actually. “And the archdemons? I know for a fact they’ve been looking forward to torturing me forever, so I doubt they’d just hand the contracts over in exchange for ‘giving me problems.’”

“Oh, yeah. For those guys, I just robbed them. There were also a few people I just beat up.”

“Demons aren’t people, they’re demons.”

“Sure they’re people. They’re just evil people. But they used to be angels or something, right?”

“... No,” said Constantine.

“Okay, well.” Fenton shrugged again. “They still are thinking beings, right? So, they’re people.”

Constantine honestly didn’t know where to go from that.

"Fine," he said instead. "You aren't going to tell me how you got the contracts or what you are. Is it too much to hope you'll deign to tell me why you did this?"

"I'm a teenager, why do we do anything?" Fenton sipped at his hot chocolate. "Mostly, I thought it'd be funny."

"Excuse me?"

"I thought it would be funny. I mean, Dad bought the first one, because he thought it'd help with his ghost research, but it didn't, so he let me have it. I asked Johnny about it, and he told me about your contracts, so I–"

"Who's Johnny?" interrupted Constantine. "Some demon friend of yours?"

He did have a strategy, here, sort of. Most ultra powerful magical beings had a limit to how much annoyance or disrespect they'd tolerate, even when disguising themselves. Constantine had a knack for finding those limits.

Also, just possibly, the hapless teenager act was throwing him off. It was remarkably believable.

"No, he's dead, to begin with, not–"

"Oh, so, you took advice on dealing with demons from someone who turned up dead right after telling you about me. That sounds brilliant."

"He's a ghost. He's been dead since at least the nineties, and I doubt you had anything to do with it. Johnny died in the eighties. I think.”

“A ghost told you about me?”

“Yeah. I don’t know what wizards or magicians like you can do or sense, but if you looked up anything about Amity Park at all, you should have seen there are a lot of ghosts here. It’s not just tourist trap stuff. That’s… actually one of the other things I wanted to talk to you about, if I managed to get enough of your contracts to get you to come.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, not all ghosts are nice. I meant it when I said your demons sucked. That’s compared to the ghosts. And sometimes to the people who come to hunt the ghosts.” Fenton drummed his fingers on the table, nervous. “It’s a toss up which group causes more damage. The Guys in White are especially awful. It would be nice if the Justice League took a look into them?” His voice took on a hopeful lilt.

“You bought my soul to tip off the League about… Guys in White.”

“They’re with the government. Presumably. No one knows what they’re really called. And they chase people around screaming about lots and lots of painful experiments. Direct quotes.”

“You know the League has a tip line.”

“Tried it.” Fenton took a huge gulp of hot chocolate.

“I don’t believe you,”

“If you hang out here for very long, you and your friends will be able to see the ghosts for yourself.”

Constantine could already feel the ghosts. Or at least the pervasive, overwhelming sense of death permeating this city. He didn’t doubt that something requiring Justice League Dark attention was going on here. Beyond just whatever was going on with Fenton himself.

But his attention was taken by two other points.

One, what he didn’t believe was that Fenton did all this for only some combination of kicks and giggles and wanting Justice League attention. Contacts with ghosts or not, burglarizing archdemons wasn’t something anyone sane blew off as nothing.

Two, Fenton had said friends. He’d understand if he’d made Zatanna, but the plural implied that he’d spotted Batman, too.

He didn’t let himself react. “No one rips off archdemons to call in a tip. Or just for fun.”

Fenton looked guilty, a blush creeping across his cheeks. “I didn’t want to bring it up, it didn’t seem appropriate anymore. And the other thing isn’t… relevant.”

“Why don’t you let me decide what’s relevant?” asked Constantine, despite how all his senses were screaming wrong wrong wrong at him. “This is my soul we’re talking about, after all.”

“I know, I know,” said Fenton. “But you didn’t exactly…” He trailed off. “The other thing was that some of my friends thought you need an intervention. We also wanted to see your face when we… intervened. Yeah, we thought it’d look kind of like that.” Fenton pointed at him.

Constantine slapped away the hand. He was almost convinced Fenton was… Well. Not normal, but maybe not homicidal, or particularly interested in enslaving Constantine or torturing him for all time. A step up from some of the other things he’d sold his soul to in the past. Possibly.

(The whole ‘teenager’ thing was definitely an entry in the negative column, though. As well as the whole humiliation and mockery angle.)

“What else?” he demanded.

Fenton’s face twisted with embarrassment and jealousy. “You get to go up to the Watchtower, don’t you?” he asked. “You get to go to space.”

“So?”

“So, I want to go to space. I was, um. I was going to… ask you to take me up there. Just to look.”

Infiltrating the Watchtower was a much more obvious motive, but… Constantine remembered the space camp ID.

“I mean, I’m never going to get up there with my grades. Fighting demons for it seemed… feasible.” He shrugged, then started to slump. “I was going to give them back, you know. Your contracts. I didn’t want to keep them. Or your soul.” He pushed himself up. “Anyway. None of that matters, now. We've got a problem to solve.”

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, as I explained in my letter, the contracts sort of… exploded."

"No, back up, what do you mean it doesn't matter?"

"Well, if this doesn't make you stop selling your soul, I don’t know what will, the Justice League knows about Amity now, I'm not going to make you take me to the Watchtower when I can't trade your soul back to you, and the funny boat sailed at about the same time my friend told me this might be permanent."

"Is this friend also dead?" drawled Constantine.

"No, he's more in the never alive category."

Which possibly explained some of the spirit magic Zatanna detected on the letter.

"He thinks it's because some of your contracts said after death instead of when you're dead, so, because there weren't any competing claims, they all came due at once. Since there were so many of them…"

"Repetition makes magic stronger, yeah, yeah," said Constantine. "I read the letter."

"I was hoping you'd have some solutions. No offense, but I don't want to own you. You're, like, an entire person."

Constantine wouldn't have been offended if Fenton hadn't prefixed his statement with no offense.

“You should have thought about that before buying up my soul.”

“I was going to give it back. No strings.”

“Except for a trip to the Watchtower.”

“If you really didn’t want to, I wouldn’t have made you,” said Fenton.

Somehow, Constantine believed him. Which was crazy. He’d have to check in with Zatanna to make sure he wasn’t being enchanted somehow. Charm person should not be a real thing magicians could do, and yet…

“Look, do you want me to swear it on the Styx or is there something else I can do to convince you I’m telling the truth?” asked Fenton. “The ghosts seem to like the Styx, anyway.” He sighed. “Tell me you have something that can fix this. I don’t know what kind of side effects there are for owning a person’s soul. It’s not like this happens all the time.”

Hell if Constantine knew. The only way he knew to get out of contracts like this was loopholes exploited before they were collected on. “I’m… going to have to do some research.”

“Well,” said Fenton, “let me give you my phone number.” He slid a piece of paper across the table. “You can call me if you figure anything out. In the meantime, if you’re staying in town long, you should look into the ghost thing. Talk to my parents, even. Maybe don’t mention all this, though.”

“Why not?”

“I love my parents, but they must have skipped out on the day they teach scientists that just because you can do something doesn’t mean you should. Anyway, I’ve got to go.” He started to shove things into a purple backpack he’d pulled into his lap from under the table.

“What? Why?” As far as Constantine was concerned, they’d only just started to scratch the surface of the problem.

“Me and my friends have tickets to a movie.” He hooked his thumb over his shoulder at Manson and Foley, who, apparently, were not trying to blend in or be subtle. “You did miss the first few meeting times.”

“Your impression?” asked Zatanna, later, sliding into the booth after Fenton and his friends were thoroughly gone.

“He’s… surprisingly believable. Claims he ‘doesn’t have any training’ in magic, though, which sounds like crap, unless his parents are much more legit than what they look like on paper.”

Zatanna crossed her arms and drummed her fingers on her elbow. “He wasn’t lying. Not that any of my spells could detect.”

Constantine huffed. “That doesn’t seem possible.”

“He doesn’t seem like he could take on archdemons, but with help from ghosts or spirits? We don’t know who’s backing him.”

“God,” said Constantine, “that’s not something I was thinking of.”

“Because you were fixated on the demon theory.”

“But if he’s being backed by someone powerful, why wouldn’t they buy up my contracts themself? That doesn’t make sense.”

“I’m not saying that his… patron, for lack of a better word, put him up to it. Just that he might be getting extra support.”

A waitress came up to them, smiling cheerily. “Hello, there, sorry for the delay. Have you decided what you’re getting?”

“The hot chocolate looked good,” said Zatanna.

“Knock yourself out,” said Constantine, standing. “I’m going to see what Fenton’s parents are like.”

“John Constantine?” repeated Jack Fenton, inquisitively. “Ha! That’s the same name that was on that fake demon contract thing I got on Ebay! What a wild coincidence, huh?”

“You could have mentioned the portal to the astral plane in your basement,” hissed Constantine into the phone. A tiny voice in the back of his head warned him that he shouldn’t take that tone with someone who owned him, but he ignored it handily.

“Would you have believed me if I told you?” asked Fenton, genuinely curious.

Constantine wouldn’t have, but it was the principle of the thing.

“Also, what did you call it? I’ve never heard anyone call it that.”

Batman’s deep voice rumbled through the communicator. “What did you learn?”

“I learned this place is a nightmare and a half. There’s a portal to the astral plane in that kid’s basement, did you know?”

“I ran into a ghost while Constantine was talking to the Fentons,” said Zatanna, leaning sideways while keeping her eyes on the road. “It was much more powerful than any other ghost I’ve ever seen.”

“That is not good news considering what I have learned about the so-called Guys in White.”

“Have you found anything?” asked Fenton. Wherever he was, his reception was crap. His voice crackled with enough static that he might as well be calling from the early nineteen-twenties.

“No,” said Constantine. It had gotten him excused from the Justice Club meetings, which meant that the failure was almost worth the headache the idea of his soul being owned by a teenager caused him.

“I didn’t find anything either.”

“Then why did you call?”

“Uh,” said Fenton. “I’m really grateful you guys got the GIW out of Amity, you know that, right? And that you guys put someone on watch here for bigger threats?”

“Yeah,” said Constantine, slowly. “Sure.” It had been mostly Batman managing that side of things, as Constantine was banned from decisions regarding Amity Park, but if Fenton was going to give Constantine credit, who was he to deny it?

“So, um. That was really great of you.”

Constantine was not liking where this was going. But, apparently, this was his life, now. Getting tips and awkwardly phrased requests from… God. The creepy necromancer brat was sort of his warlock patron.

… Curse his knowledge of Dungeons and Dragons. It was definitely a detriment to his profession as a real mage, and everything he learned about it was against his will and usually the Flash’s fault.

“What is it, Fenton?”

“Have you ever heard of the Showenhowers?”

#dc/dp #dcxdp #fic #my fic

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astoundingbeyondbelief · 7 months

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Kaiju Weeks in Review (September 10-30, 2023)

I adore Godzilla Final Wars, but it's a movie with an identity crisis, unsure whether it wants to be headlining a Toho Champion Festival or mesmerizing American teenagers at a mid-aughts multiplex. @spacehunter-m's Final Wars 2004: The Year We Make Corn-Tack gives it a strong tug in the first direction, whittling the runtime down to 77 minutes and replacing most of the music and sound effects. She was inspired by Space Warriors 2000, of all things; as she put it, both films are "largely comprised of nonstop, monotonous action." As in that bizarro Ultraman compilation film, the kaiju trash-talk each other. It makes you wonder why Ryuhei Kitamura didn't at least bring back the speech bubbles from Godzilla vs. Gigan. Kaiju fan edits are rare, and this is in a class all by itself. Download it here.

Shigeru Kayama's novelizations of Godzilla (1954) and Godzilla Raids Again are out—hopefully the first of many to come. My copy only arrived on Saturday, so I haven't had the chance to read the whole thing yet, but I've made it through Godzilla. It's interesting to see Kayama, who wrote the initial treatment, take another swing at the story after the film was finished. He puts back moments like Godzilla eating a cow and attacking a lighthouse, and is also more overt with the wartime allusions. There's an incredible moment where Dr. Yamane muses that studying Godzilla and learning his secrets could be Japan's way of redeeming itself after "caus[ing] a great deal of trouble to people throughout the world." Note that these are novella-length, so much less in-depth than the novelizations of American Godzilla films you might be used to (Godzilla Raids Again is less than 80 pages). The book ends with an afterword by translator Jeffrey Angles contextualizing the tales.

Godzilla: War for Humanity continues to be a standout IDW miniseries. There's a new and very weird monster in the second issue, plus a no-nonsense Mothra (she tries to recruit Godzilla to fight Zoospora by shooting him in the back of the head and dragging him into the ocean in front of Minilla).

I've also got to mention the solicitation for another Godzilla Rivals installment, due December 20. Nola Pfau is writing, Megan Huang is illustrating.

Jen Onça is not excited to start her new, fast-paced fast-food career at Minilla Burger, but she'd much prefer a mundane day to the sudden return of Megalon! The monster brings destruction, trapping Jen in a forgotten lab deep beneath the restaurant with only the half-built form of Jet Jaguar to help her get out! She must repair the robotic defender to save herself and the city, but first she needs to escape the rubble trapping her in this tense adventure!

Yuzo the Biggest Battle in Tokyo, Yoshikazu Ishii's follow-up to Attack of the Giant Teacher, has also been picked up by SRS Cinema. No release details yet. I can't really speak to the film either, since it screened at the same time as Yumiko Shaku's panel at G-Fest, but as you can see from the poster, it's set during the pandemic.

The GAMERA -Rebirth- Gyaos has joined Godzilla Battle Line as an unusual sort of swarm unit. Your first summon of the match calls forth two sub-adults, and by the fifth summon you're sending out two sub-adults and three adults, still for four energy. They're probably the best swarm in the game, though still highly vulnerable to AOE units like Godzilla '01. I'm having fun with them in the Challenge Battles.

Notzilla, one of the sharpest kaiju comedies out there, is unexpectedly getting the graphic novel treatment. Mitch Teemley is adapting his own screenplay, with art by Zumart Putra. The comic is already finished, although I'm not clear on how folks who didn't back the Kickstarter (which wrapped on September 11) will get it. Useless trivia: the terrific cover above (one of four) is by Ben Dunn, who wrote the How to Draw Manga book I poured over in middle school.

After Troll shattered Netflix streaming records (according to Netflix), it's not super surprising that the company wants a sequel. Priority one: coming up with a title that's not Troll 2. Screenwriter Espen Aukan and director Roar Uthaug will both return.

Toy highlights of the past few weeks:

After confusing everyone by teasing its silhouette the day before April Fools', Tamashii has fully unveiled an S.H.Monsterarts Godzilla '72, a rare Showa figure from the line. It comes with two heads, one of them bloodied (see above). Due at the end of February.

After finally running out of ways to repaint their mold of Hedorah's Perfect Stage, Bandai is making a Movie Monster Series figure of the kaiju's Landing Stage. A Godzilla Store exclusive, it'll be released October 25.

After over two years, Funko is releasing a trio of Godzilla Singular Point Pops. Hopefully they go all-out with this show—it's not like there's any other plausible way for a Satomi Kanahara figure to exist.

#godzilla #kaiju week in review #godzilla final wars #troll #notzilla #gyaos #yuzo the biggest battle in tokyo #kaiju

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writing-sideblog-behind-books · 2 months

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naruto isn't feeling like a boy today and her body reflects that. its a step further from the sexy jutsu that gives her tits and a vagina instead of just henge-ing her body to look like the have. jiraiya's booming laught filters through from the guy's side of the onsen as he holds a conversation with a local. it's a nice backdrop to her own empty pool and naruto closes her eyes and just lets herself drift. the past weeks have been way to taxing and just letting her body float along the hot water feels like heaven. a giggle tells her she's got company and naruto startels. she hadn't heard anybody enter but as she looks a naked readhead pulls at the towel of another girl, this one looking uncomfortable and clutching at it as though her life dependet on it. maybe naruto should have just sucked it up and changed back for the duration of the bath because she can't stop staring. jiraiya had teased her endlessly the first time she had gone to the womens part of the onsen but it wasn't to perv in women. or it hadn't been because now she can't stop staring. there is something tantalising something painfully familiar about the uncomfortable girl. she seems to be in naruto's age range, they both do, and her black hair, dark eyes and pale skin break her heart. her creepiness must have gone on for too long because suddenly she looks away from the readhead and meets naruto's eyes. naruto can't even feel shame at getting caught, spellbound in her gaze. then, the readhead uses her distraction to finally pull the towel away from the girl and throws in behind her to a dry spot.

"there you go, sa-" a hesitation "-yaka. now this isn't so bad right. come on." she pulls sayaka behind her and guides her into the water. sayaka apparently having surrendered to her fate. "you know i don't know why you're complaining so much, you look so beautiful like this." then, to naruto's horror she turns around and asks her "doesn't she look beautiful? you were staring you must think so, too." she is. but naruto had been staring because she saw someone else in her. looked through her undefined, soft civillain body and into the face of someone almost familiar. still, she nods awkwardly and as she tries to drown herself she hears sayaka tell the other girl that "obviously, she was staring because of you." "you think i'm pretty?" the redhead ask, teasing but also pleased and more embarresed than when she had tranced around naked without even water to cover herself. "sure, karin." the name is spoken defeated but sounds like a reward and naruto would give a lot to hear her own name from these lips, to understand why it's so unfamiliar yet rings every bell in her brain. it only gets worse from there. karin presses herself close to sayaka, their whole bodies touching and continues teasing her about every possble topic. it's careless and relaxed and naruto misses sakura and sasuke with a painful pang. until two years ago she's never had friends and even then they hadn't been as close, they all to scared of different things to do so. but it's not just that she misses her friends but also the realization that she's just as bad as jiraiya, no worse even. she isn't just peeking but put herself into their bath. and now she's staring again - her, currently, brown frindge now wet enough to drip fall into her eyes and obscure her wrong doing even just a little. black hair entangled with red. skin sliding over skin. soft bodies pressed together. there is a heat in her lower belly but more is the feeling of inadiquacy in her body at the sight of them. her body is too strong, to broken despite the kyuubi not allowing scars - and hadn't that been an answer to a thousand questions-, to false. it isn't even her own body but something she forced when her original shape got to uncomfortable. black eyes meet her own again and naruto can't deal with this right now. it's bringing up feelings and memories in her that are too much for her poor heart to handle and she gets up. she's uncomfortably aware of her entire body but she's a shinobi and shinobi don't shy away from nudity or inpracticality. as she leaves she bids them a friendly goodbye but sayaka's gaze burns holes until she gets around the corner. she feels uneasy and has too much energy, adrenaline filling her veins and every single insting screaming at her to move to fight. instead she drops the transformation, and makes her way over to jiraiya. he's annoying and pervy but his overwhelming presence never fails to make her feel protected. at his questioning gaze she just shrugs and sinks deeper into the water trying to ignore the way her body isn't what her mind wants. tries to ignore karin's voice drifting over or the occaisional comments sayaka makes. it's incomprehensible what they're talking about without channeling chakra but naruto surpresses the yearning to do so or to go back over and instead focused on the conversation between jiraiya and the civilain.

#5 times they met without realizing and 1 time they knew #naruto #naruto uzumaki #sasuke uchiha #karin uzumaki #sasunaru

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mymreaderlibrary · 11 months

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Male reader/ character x Natasha Romanoff

I’m a simple man, I imagine Natasha being her normal badass self while also dating the most generic “just some guy” kinda dude and I am happy.

(Note: I wrote this in the middle of the night with no spellcheck or beta-ing so I’m sure there’s lot’s of mistakes n nonsense).

I’m picturing her at a party for Stark Enterprise. It’s massive, packed full of rich people who favor their status among all else. She blends right on in and spends most of the night dealing with small talk and trying to watch out for suspicious activity (you can never be too safe).

Picture her frustration when Tony decides to hound on her with some chatter despite his awareness of her job/ purpose. He makes jokes in typical Tony fashion, pressing buttons and somehow finding a way to keep even the most boring of topics going. But then he pauses, just for a moment however long enough for Natasha to notice.

He picks up her left hand and twists it lightly to look at the silver band on her ring finger. It’s nothing extravagant, in fact it’s a little cheap, but unless she was playing the role of a random married woman she had no reason to be wearing it. Unless…

To Natasha’s dismay Tony does not let this topic go, trying to trick her with loaded questions in hopes of finding out who gave it to her. He already knew she’s not playing a role, this is supposed to be an Avengers filled Stark hosted event, why the hell would she be undercover? He also knows she’s not wearing it to deter unwanted attention from unbearably persistent men because she had never struggled to send them on their way before (either with the cocky impression that she’s just a tough nut to crack or the realization that she had murder in her eyes specifically directed at them).

So again… who gave her the ring? Is she married? Engaged? Just dating and this is an anniversary gift? Tony can’t help but feed his own ego after he gets her to accidentally admit it was from her fiancé. A man Tony, or well none of the Avengers, seemed to know.

Perhaps he was a fellow agent, secretive and well trained in hiding in the shadows and assassinating political opponents. Or maybe he was a merc for hire who was just too busy to stay in one place as he got called for jobs around the world. Or better yet the Avengers DID know him it was just that he and Natasha were able to keep their relationship completely under wraps even during chaotic missions. The way she kept dodging the answer made Tony’s imagination spiral.

However it turned out, a much less exciting answer was the truth. A basic man, a civilian who worked at a mom n pop shop and only met Natasha thanks to a pub crawl had saved up the cash he had to buy her that ring. A man with no special talents or double life. A man who’s only scrapes and cuts came from the claws of his over excitable cat. A man who she had apparently been dating for almost 2 years without anyone knowing. A man who Natasha did not offer up the name of to Tony no matter how hard he tried to coax it out.

Her fiancé, someone she clearly loved too much to involve in her dangerous life.

That thought reluctantly made Tony back off for the night, but he still insisted that he meet this guy or at the very least see a picture of him. Natasha regretted telling Tony but she couldn’t find herself regretting wearing the ring. She deserved at least that amount of autonomy in her life, the pride of a gift.

#agauurgaggagagghhgghfhfhh idk what this is #just wanted to spit out a prompt n got a lil too into it #this is doo doo dog ass and I made it at literally 4 am so spelling and ideas are… foggy #maybe ill regret posting this but oh whale #future me can deal with it #male reader #x male reader #m reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x male reader #natasha romanoff x m reader #my writing #drabble #no beta read #mw

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frick-it-sugar-spice · 1 month

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(Or read it right here below)

tws for: anxiety/panic attacks, drugs and drug use are mentioned, a character mentions nausea/v*ing and related things but does not actually get sick.

Angel Dust is not having a good time and made questionable choices, Vaggie walks in on him suffering the consequences, they hang out. Hurt/Comfort-ish Angsty-ish

------------------

“Look it made sense at the time, an’ I don't feel like I'm gonna die again or whatever tha hell that awful feelin was-”

Vaggie winced as Angel turned his head to let tears and drool drop from his face into the sink. She awkwardly patted his back, it's what Charlie would do, and it seemed like Angel needed something physical to distract from the situation he put himself in.

“Just,” Vaggie paused as the other demon coughed, “why the hot sauce. Why drink the hottest hot sauce we had in the fridge?”

“A shot of hot sauce sounded better than a shot of vodka or a line for a change, okay?”

Angel tried to snap, but the deep sniffling and constant streaming from his eyes, particularly the one set, sort of undercut the aggression.

“Aye, idiot you touched your eyes too? Get under the tap-”

“Feels like I'm gonna puke fire still Vaggie-”

“I won't let you choke if you do. You don't want to blind yourself either, get under the tap.”

With a strained, heavy blink, the lanky demon ducked down and Vaggie turned on the water. She ran it away from his face for a second while he gasped around the burning in his mouth and throat and the temperature equalised. Once the temperature was stable and Angel cracked open an eye to check on the hold up, he sucked in a breath and held it. She turned the tap on him and helped direct the flow of water more to the set of spider eyes that were the most red rimmed and streaming.

A few rounds of Angel dust pushing the tap away to shake off the water, gasp and gag, or simply catch his breath and then another dousing later, his eyes were burning much less. His throat, mouth, and lips still stung something awful.

“So. Hot sauce,” Vaggie crossed her arms and cocked a hip, “at asshole o'clock in the night. Why?”

“Just. Thanks for that, but don't ‘cha worry your pretty little head about it, okay?” Angel tried to snap.

He wanted to get back to his room before the horrible numbing waves of panic and nausea crashed back over him. Shit he still had an ice pack gripped so tight in one pair of hands gone so cold he didn't even realise he still had it until Vaggie had taken it and dropped it to the counter.

“Kind of the exact wrong words and tone for getting left alone in a place like this. Don't make me get Charlie.”

“Look- I,”

Angel huffed and looked back at the fridge. The burn was wearing off, his head was going fuzzy again.

“I am just tryin’ to deal with my shit as good as I can, okay,” if his voice broke and was a little hoarse neither were willing to point it out, “I am trying to not be a fuck up, and i just want somethin’ cold and somethin’ to focus on that ain't whateva's- just, going… ugh.”

Angel's hand dropped from where he was pointing and gesturing around his head. The one hand hung limp while three others all worried at seams on his clothes or were picking at his fuzz and skin.

“I feel like I'm gonna puke, and just. Gettin’ a reminder that I'm here- like me, I, am right here, touchin this nasty ass hotel carpet, breathing here, and got somethin else to focus on… it helps.”

“Right. Okay. I think, I think I can get that.”

“It sounds so stupid sayin it outloud. Maybe. I don't know, honestly if I didn't know it, I'd worry someone slipped me somethin again. I. Couldn't breathe or focus or nothing.”

“Does that… happen a lot?”

Angel bit at the inside of his cheek and looked away. Vaggie’s brows were creased so sharply it almost hurt to look at.

“Nah. Maybe.”

Vaggie sidestepped Angel and opened the fridge. He couldn't look. He was going to start spiralling again if he couldn't leave, if she kept pressing, if he couldn't go and just even smoke a joint. At least that was a gone, dazed feeling he knew and felt less like imminent re-death. It was what he should have done in the first place, the hot sauce was stupid. It worked, but it burned like a son of a gun and-

Angel yelped as something icy cold tapped the juncture between his neck and topmost shoulders.

“Here. Cold,” Vaggie pressed a fresh ice pack into his less frozen hands along with a glass, “and something like club soda and a ton of lemon juice might not suck as much as the hot sauce.”

“Why ya acting so,” Angel gestured vaguely at her, “like Charlie over all this?”

“Cause it helps. To have something else to focus on to remind me that I am here,” Vaggie paused, “and I guess she’s starting to rub that nosy, helpful streak off on me too.”

Angel sat rather gracelessly on one of the chairs at the table. He kicked out a second one and crossed his legs before taking a sip from the glass. Vaggie took the unspoken invitation and sat. She even managed a lopsided smile and chuckle at Angel’s over-the-top sourpuss expression as he slid the still fizzing glass to her.

“Yeesh, I think I’d rather the hot sauce again, that's got a punch!”

“That's the whole point,” she took a sip from the other side of the glass, “ooof, shocks your brain back into the present, or so our Princess says.”

“A’course you picked that up from her. Got any other wisdom to share?”

“Well…”

#hazbin hotel #angel dust #angel dust hazbin hotel #vaggie hazbin hotel #vaggie #vaggie and angel dust #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel fanfic #art ain't the only thing im good at ;)#txt

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chayannecraft · 4 months

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Breakfast Trio as Spiderverse kids au/hc’s LETS GO:

Sunny:

- Spider name is Sun-Spider

- on top of all the normal spiders, she has the ability to control and manifest light, and by extension darkness. They often use it to be dramatic, but it works great in a fight too. It can blind or distract enemies.

- is the daughter of Mr. rich guy Tubbo, and thus funds the groups superhero-ing adventures and anything they might need. They steal his credit card or just ask really nicies

- Has the most elaborate spider-suit out of everybody, because she refuses to fight crime without looking good. It’s got a puffy dress and heels, with maybe a boa scarf. She also somewhat managed to drag the other two into being fashionable too so they’re all cute together :)

- is the best at dealing with the public, because she already does it a lot in her normal life

(The other two kids/more details under the cut)

Empanada:

- Spider name is Sugar-Spider or Sugar-Weaver

- on top of all the normal spider powers, she has the power to create anything out of condensed (pink!) energy. Prime examples of this are Gwen from Ben 10 or Atomic Eve. She often uses this to make platforms, weapons, or create anything to keep the public safe.

- However, can’t make any weapons without knowing which individual parts interact with each other to cause the weapon to function, so she just. has a bunch of books and research on different weapons. She’s somehow convinced everybody this is a phase.

- Honestly also probably uses a parasol as a weapon as well because she is also fashionable (not to the extent of glamour that Sunny has, but enough to be cute) and thinks keeping with the brand is a fun little extra thing.

- is the heart and soul of the group. Keeps them motivated and keeps their morale up!! She’s a very essential part of the group and often reminds them both why they’re saving people.

Pepito

- Spider name is (drumroll) Spider-Kid (it’s a work in progress for me ok)

- A bit more jaded than normal Pepito: is still Roier’s child, but has since given up on Roier ever actually being Pepito’s father, and avoids him as much as possible. Often stays over at Empanadas or Sunnys home instead of Pepito’s own.

- Pepito’s house has Roier and Cellbit, as well as a revolving cycle of Jaiden, Richarlyson, and others present in it at all times. This does not stop Pepito from avoiding the house and leaving Pepito’s room as an untouched Time Capsule.

- tries to focus on helping people in an emergency but will not hesitate to get involved or beat the shit out of somebody if the others need help/a distraction

- has no extra special powers like the other two, but is bonded to the venom symbiote (it was a HELLISH two to three weeks but it worked out in the end ^_^ ) (The inclusion of venom symbiote was based on Roier’s purgatory skin)(also it based it’s suit appearance off of Cellbit just so you guys know maybe I’ll upload it)

- i know I just dropped an entire load of tragic backstory, but Pepito is still very much Pepito, who helps Pepito’s friends in any way Pepito can and believes in each of them.

Extra plot details:

- takes place in Quesdilla City (Like NYC but named Quesdilla)

- I don’t know how old the breakfast trio are canonically, but here they’re like 14 to 15.

- Every character and egg is also present here, and has a connection together relating to The Federation that is pretty negative. Breakfast Trio did not know about this in an effort to keep them safe. Kind of backfired.

- adding onto that, the ordo theoritas is a group they made in order to keep each other and the eggs safe from the federation.

- The Purgatory Eye fuck is here and is one of the main villains for the Spider-Kids, you know, the type that absolutely humbles them and then they sit there like WUH OH. UM. UH OH!!!

- They kick it’s ass eventually but my god is it a whole exhausting trip.

- I know for a fact the Spider-Kids identities get publicly leaked and it causes a LOT of panic and confusion. Can’t decide if this is as The Eye is fucking it up in antagonist-ville or a bit after it gets defeated. This plotpoint is mostly for DRAMA and PAIN. They run away from their homes and to a warehouse they reestablished as their base to PANIC.

- Breakfast trio love each other so much. They went into this together they work on it together, they fight together. They know each others strengths and weaknesses and cover according but they are most of all filled with love for each other. They would do anything for the other. Each of their motivations are a weave of string tied to their souls and tied to each other.

#i wrote all of this out yesterday but it got deleted suddenly so #let’s hope part 2 works wooooo woooooooo!!!#qsmp sunny #qsmp empanada #qsmp pepito #pepito the egg #sunnysideup the egg #sunny the egg #empanada the egg #spider-kids au #qsmp eggs #I love all of them they have been in my mind for weeks and weeks

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fandom-junk-drawer · 8 months

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The Witcher Headcanon (Modern AU) - Stomach Troubles

Jaskier sometimes wishes he was a Witcher. Who wouldn't want to basically have superpowers? He admires Geralt's enhanced strength and senses, and his resilience, sturdiness, and overall hardiness.

The man could probably stub his toe on the coffee table and have his toenail hanging on by a scrap of skin and just casually be like "Oh, well f**k. Would you look at that?" as if he were commenting on the weather.

If Jaskier stubbed his toe, it would be game over. That would be it. He'd be on the ground in the fetal position, writing his Will because he was dying.

What Jaskier really admires about Geralt is his constitution. Geralt regularly eats the mystery leftovers that he finds in the back of the fridge that have been hiding there for heaven knows how long.

It still smells good, and it's not all green and runny yet, so..

He could literally eat out of the garbage and be perfectly fine. H*ll, he could probably eat roadkill, maggots and all, and be like food-borne illnesses and parasites? What are those?

If something does manage to upset his stomach, it's usually mild. A rancid fart here and there, maybe a slightly sour stomach. Nothing he can't sleep off.

Jaskier wishes he had a stomach like Geralt's. His diet isn't the best, so he sometimes has to deal with various digestive issues. Most of them are mild issues, like the common upset stomach, acid reflux, and mild cases of needing to make a quick run for the nearest toilet.

He doesn't like to complain and bother his friends, so he tries his best to deal with the problem on his own. Sometimes, he'll ask Yennefer for one of her potions if he starts feeling too much discomfort.

He doesn't have to deal with digestive issues too often, though, because Yennefer is usually the one making their meals. She does it becuase she refuses to allow Jaskier and Geralt to "eat like stoners". Healthy meals are the norm, though she does let them order take away once in a while.

But Jaskier isn't always at home for every meal. He does gigs with his band and sometimes spends days on the road, going from city to city, or he spends a few days at Madeleine's house when they are working on their projects. Those are the times when Jaskier eats whatever the f**k he wants, and often eats too much of it in one go. Most of the time he suffers no ill effects, aside from a little indigestion.

Madeleine wonders how he never seems to have problems until he gets into the car. Then he's ripping a** , and there's no escape. She has the suspicion that he always does it in the car because he knows she can't get out. And it always smells like a dead animal.

Sometimes, he ends up destroying Madeleine's bathroom. And he always seems to run out of toilet paper when it happens. Then he has to yell through the door.

Madeleine pushes the end of a bog roll under the door and lets him unravel it as he needs, or , if she's feeling brave, she'll take a deep breath, yank the door open, toss the bog roll in grenade-style, then slam the door shut before the miasma can leak out.

Yennefer has warned her about not giving him Pepto-Bismol. She said it turns his tongue black, and he thinks it's funny to try to lick her. Yennefer has learned this from experience.

Yennefer has also been the victim of Jaskier's childish sense of humor. The little b**tard will innocently come and sit across her lap on the couch. He'll lean into her and rest his head on her shoulder, the very image of 'I need a cuddle'. He'll snuggle down, and get cozy, and then he'll shift, rip a** on her, and run away cackling while Yennefer chokes on the horrid crud vapors.

It's so rank, she swears she just got pink eye from it.

And it's funny as h*ll when he cracks one in Van Roach with Geralt and Yennefer. The Witcher is always the first one to smell it, and it hits his nose like a f***ing freight train. He's cussing and gagging, and his shoulder is making these tiny, desperate circles as he frantically tries to turn the old-school window crank fast enough to get the window down before he passes out from the smell.

Meanwhile, Yennefer is wondering what the f**k he's doing. And then she's b*tching at him because rolling the window down has done nothing but forcefully circulate the smell and now she can smell it.

Then she's jumping Jaskier's a** for eating whatever the f**k it was that made that cheek flapper smell like maggoty garbage on a hot day. He'll do it in public too.

He'll drop an air biscuit, then just walk away, leaving one of them standing in it.

Once, after eating some really spicy, greasy tacos with Eskel, he went home and asked Geralt to help him find something in the big upstairs closet. They started looking through the storage boxes, and after a few minutes, Jaskier dropped that hydrogen bomb he'd been holding in and slammed the door shut, trapping Geralt in the closet with it.

Yennefer had laughed when she'd been told about it, because well, it hadn't been her stuck in that closet.

She always threatens some creatively unpleasant consequences if Jaskier keeps eating all that sh*t food he likes so much. She constantly reminds him about his acid reflux, and tells him she's not going to just drop everything and come running everytime he eats something he shouldn't have and thinks he's having a heart attack.

Jaskier tries not to eat what results in stomach issues, but sometimes he just can't help it. Some foods are just too tasty to turn down! And when it's all you can eat... Of course he's going to get his money's worth! Consequenes? Meh, he'll worry about those later!

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waytooinvested · 2 months

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Vengeance, Victory, and Undying Love - pt 5

Chapter 5 of my Supercorp fic in which Lena still creates something called Non Nocere to deal with her broken heart after finding out Supergirl's identity, but this time she gives the name to a different project. A more personal one. And now she’s coming for Supergirl.

This and previous chapters also available to read on Ao3

................

Kara frowned at the editorial she was trying to write, willing the words to flow out of her but feeling like a toddler tasked with putting together a Shakespeare play using a set of alphabet bricks with half the vowels missing. Doomed to failure and aiming way outside the limits of her own capabilities.

Which was ridiculous. Reporting was what Kara was made for.

That and superhero-ing.

And L- no one.

Focus.

She had promised her friends that she was fine to come back to work today, and she was damned if she would let a simple piece on the merits of morning vs night showers prove her wrong (NOT her choice of topic, but Andrea was still punishing her for the last time they’d butted heads, not to mention the number of days she’d missed to super-ing and now the fact that she’d arrived late this morning after her waffle breakfast debrief with Alex).

Kara fidgeted.

She wrote a sentence, and deleted it.

She adjusted her glasses.

Two words.

Delete.

She rubbed absently at the spot on her arm that Lena had injected. It still felt vaguely sore. It was barely a pinch of pain, but even so, she had expected it to disappear entirely when her powers came back, and it hadn’t.

It was… unsettling.

She tried to tell herself not to dwell on it. The finest scientists the DEO had to offer were working on the problem of what was in the serum, and apart from that one small pain she really did feel fine. Totally back to normal. Better than normal even. She felt energised, like she’d spent the night sleeping under yellow sun lamps. Which of course, she had.

So no, physically nothing was wrong.

But the few clunky sentences she had managed to write and not delete glared balefully up at her from a nearly blank page, and Kara couldn’t help wondering if her friends had been right. Perhaps she should have taken the day off after all.

Someone was screaming.

‘bathroomgottagobackinaminutebye!’

Kara was hurrying down the corridor before she had quite worked out who that excuse had been aimed at, tugging at the fastenings on her shirt recklessly as she went to reveal her Supersuit beneath.

She wasn’t meant to be doing this. J’onn and Alex had both made her promise she wouldn’t before she had been cleared to leave the DEO that morning, and she had agreed.

Logically, they had a point. Kara had some unknown toxin working its way through her body doing who-knew-what, and they were no closer to synthesising any kind of reversal agent. Her powers may seem fine right now, but what if they cut out unexpectedly mid flight, or some other as yet unguessed at horrible consequence of the injection put her and the people she was trying to help in more danger than whatever she was saving them from? It was possible.

Technically possible.

But there had been so many times throughout their years together when there had seemed to be just reason to doubt Lena, and every time, no matter how bad it had looked when they were in the middle of it, she had proven herself to be worthy of so much more trust than the world saw fit to give her. Kara had been just as guilty of that as anyone else in her time, allowing her lack of faith to drive a wedge between Lena and Supergirl that had eventually led them to this point.

And so now, in spite of seemingly overwhelming evidence to the contrary, Kara couldn’t really make herself believe that Lena would hurt her this time either. At least not in that way.

Lena wanted Kara to hurt the way she was hurt, and that was so much worse than physical pain. She had broken Lena’s heart.

What Lena didn’t seem to realise though was that she had shattered her own in the process.

And now she was flying out a window and speeding across town to save whoever needed saving, and she wished that she could tell her sister she had at least hesitated over breaking her promise, but she hadn’t. Honestly, it was Alex’s own fault for believing her, she should know better than to think Kara could ignore screaming.

‘MOMMYYYYYY’

See Alex? It’s a kid! I can’t leave a kid in danger!

It took a mere matter of seconds to pluck the little girl gently from the tree she had climbed too high into and fly her back down from its perilously fragile upper branches to the ground where her mother was waiting to gather her into the safe circle of her arms.

There, all done, and now she would get back to work. No one would even have noticed she was gone.

...It was wrong to be a little disappointed that it had been such a quick fix, Kara knew that.

It’s not like she had wanted the girl to be in more danger than she had been. It was just… it felt nice to be able to do something tangible after feeling so powerless the night before, and a pointless article debating a subject that no one, and especially not Kara, cared about in the slightest was not going to cut it. Still, she was in mild disgrace at work, and she couldn’t always be the one getting all the hard hitting stories. She’d just have to take her medicine this time, buckle down and-

Was that a gunshot?

Maybe she should just check… What was one more quick stop on the way back to the office? It was fine, she could buckle down later. What else was superspeed for if not dashing off your articles at the last minute?

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

Over the days that followed, Kara found her normal routine slipping back to cover over the feelings of unease she’d been struggling with since the night she’d lost her powers.

At first it was always there at the back of her mind, her fingers repeatedly finding their way to touch the tiny bump where the needle had pierced her and seeing again Lena’s face as she had pushed the plunger.

Icy and determined, with an incongruous shine to her eyes that hinted at anguish behind the mask of indifference (or perhaps that was just what she wanted to believe, because it was easier than thinking Lena really didn’t care).

Somehow though, as the slight pain in her arm faded to nothing and the tiny scab gave way to new, unblemished skin, Kara found herself dwelling less and less on their last interaction, and more on what had come before it.

What she thought had come before it.

Unless it had been a dream.

Had Lena really sat at her bedside and held her hand so carefully, making sure not to brush against any of the numerous small scrapes that adorned it?

Had she whispered through a throat choked with sobs for Kara to please, please wake up?

And if she had, what did it mean? Could someone who would do that really hate her so irrevocably? None of it made any sense.

She was going to have to find a way to talk to Lena again.

#supercorp fanfic #supergirl fanfiction #supercorp #supergirl #Kara Danvers #Lena Luthor #my fic #multi chapter fic #angst with a happy ending

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broken-clover · 10 months

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Who in the GG/BB universe do you think play Minecraft?

I hate that I put so much thought into this but it's the weirdest questions that make my brain tism the hardest.

I think it helps to divide them up into subgroups. A lot of them play, but not all of them play the same! Minecraft is a very open game, after all.

Silly Players:

-The Jellyfish have their own group server, For the most part they just have fun building things, exploring and making fun little houses. Nobody get into any scuffles unless someone accidentally punches one of April's 27 tamed wolves

-Sin plays a hint more seriously, just enough to go nuts exploring and trying to find all the cool stuff he can. He likes giving all of his enchanted armor and weapons cool names. He still doesn't know how to deal with creepers outside of screaming and trying to stab it as fast as possible.

-Ramlethal, obviously, has tamed an obscene number of wolves and just wanders from place to place with them. She doesn't even have a sword because as soon as she bonks a mob with a stick the dogs swarm it and kill it for her.

-Dizzy doesn't really know what she's doing but she has a nice little garden and collects all the different kinds of flowers

-Taokaka has done the same, but with cats. She makes little dirt houses to spend the night in and then immediately forgets where she put her bed. She's trying to actually play but keeps getting distracted

-Makoto is on a quest to have a dyed sheep of every color. If you ask why she doesn't have an answer, but she's very passionate about it

-Noel is so scared of the game but she's being very brave about it. She built her house in a bamboo grove so she lives nearby the pandas. Tsubaki goes to the nether to get stems and glowstone for her because she's too scared to go herself.

-Arakune has made himself a house of wool, concrete and terracotta. Everything is dyed azure. He is living the dream.

-Nagoriyuki is currently level 233. He does nothing but fish and farm potatoes. Once he fished up a sword with five different enchantments on it, but he never uses it

Serious Players

-As far as Answer is concerned, Minecraft is not a game. It is a tool for beta-ing ECK settlements in excruciating detail. Chipp tried introducing it to him as a fun game to play during downtime but it did not work.

-Bedman constructs world landmarks in precise one-to-one scale. It's kind of amazing to just let him go at it, he'll work for hours straight and spend weeks to make a perfectly detailed facsimile of the Roman coliseum.

-Tager, when not accidentally breaking keyboards, is making giant detailed boats. He currently has them organized by size, country of origin, and year of original construction.

-Kokonoe got really into Minecraft for about two and a half weeks, after building a bunch of automated systems to produce and sort more resources than anyone would ever need she immediately got bored and quit.

-Carl builds incredibly elaborate contraptions that are impressive but tend to explode

-Axl heads off into a mineshaft and gets lost for a week. He's having a great time, except for the part where the Warden showed up and threw him into a wall. He likes the music players

-Faust digs perfectly chunk-sized holes in patterns then proceeds to make floating cubes out of the cobblestone and miscellaneous rocks. Apparently he finds it calming, though he tries to limit his screentime to avoid eyestrain.

-Kagura has convinced himself that slaying the Enderdragon is something girls will find cool. He doesn't actually know how to get to the End. He does have a very cool set of enchanted armor and a fancy house (mostly built by Hibiki)

#ask #guilty gear #blazblue

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