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bonefall · 3 months

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I like both ideas, bc it provides an opportunity for the Dark Forest to evolve in some way; I really like the idea of Curl taking lead and trying to make the Dark Forest cats united (not for any real GOAL, but bc they're still clan cats dammit, and separated in little pockets they'll never be able to grow).

The camp one is kinda obvious- it was a place of horror, but they need a place to stay. She never came too close to the place until she realized that if she wanted to unite the cats into a group, they needed a camp. And Starclan (she hisses at the irony) knows she'll never do it on her own. She enters, and it terrifies her- before she knows it shes backing away and fleeing. Over time though, she makes it further in, stays a bit longer. She finds the dens are still pretty decent, and that her heart feels a lot lighter as she rips down and destroys the cage. She's elated to find hierloom tools in the camp eventually- some are broken, but can be fixed. She purrs as she thinks how happy Darkstripe would be to have some proper cooking tools. This was a place of fear and death, yes, but it doesn't always have to be that way, does it?

The dogs less so but hear me out. At first she is haunted by the dogs, downright terrified- the gnashing of teeth, the frenzied barks. It's not even anything she can think or dwell on; as soon as she hears the howling and barking, she's immediately running away, fleeing as far as her paws take her. She knows she'll never actually die here, but she's still so, so scared. Maybe she comes to the conclusion on her own, or maybe someone else points it out, but eventually she realizes what you mentioned. She saved her CHILD- she should be PROUD, not scared. This is her greatest moment- her death an irrelevant footnote compared to her baby's life. Idk *exactly* how it should go, but she confronts her fear, and manages to 'tame' it. She is no longer afraid, this illusion holds no power over her. Either they fade away and just stop existing without Curl's fear to feed it, maybe they turn docile and harmless, idk. No matter what though, i have a feeling that something like THAT will catch the eye of some DF cats, sorta like a Tiny to Scourge deal. "She got rid of her land mar" into "She destroyed the land mar" to "She KILLED her land mar"- even the first one has to gain her some respect frok the others, and gives her a solid footing to try and get cats together and united.

Ask was sent a while ago, and I've been looking at it since then. It's a really good pitch, and I had things to do, so I just passively chewed it for a while. Both ideas are really good; so I was trying to think of some way to get them together.

I think I've got a good thought now;

I'll make Curlfeather's Land Mar dog related.

But they're not the same dogs that actually attacked her (which, depending on how the arc goes, might ACTUALLY be apparitions from the Dark Forest which Ashfur dragged out for his schemes. Specifically they'd be Brightheart's nightmares.)

Curlfeather's Hounds are blind. They hunt completely through "smell," and they smell her fear

I can keep her Land Mar being quite unique by actually having it follow her. Instead of it being a place she's trapped in, she's haunted by random dog events which will inevitably interrupt any plans she makes.

So she's perpetually close to making the group that she wants, uniting these demons just because it's what she deserves, but she is forced to flee when her hounds find her.

The camp she ends up using doesn't have to be her OWN Land Mar; I have another cat who actually has a 1:1 camp as theirs.

Morningstar, the deposed leader of ThunderClan who refused to allow his cats to fight. His is simply his camp, on the day where Pearstar invented the Right to Challenge and killed him for his position.

Morningstar's also HATED in the Dark Forest, because of his pacifism. Thinking about it, it's actually a great parallel for what I'm planning with Curlfeather!

She has disdain for her father because she sees him as weak. Reedwhisker swearing loyalty to The Kin after being tortured was her catalyst for believing he needed to die; that RiverClan would have a sniveling, careless leader.

So if it's Morningstar she ends up developing a bond with, they can help each other.

Morningstar can make her realize that her terrifying death by the dogs is something she can be proud of. That it isn't something to fear and revile, but a sign that when she was forced to choose between love and ambition, she chose love.

And Curlfeather can see that maybe people like Morningstar, who she'd always seen as weak, have wisdom she'd never considered. Uniting these cats isn't about power or recognition; it's just about helping to make everyone's lives better.

I can even keep the "empty camp" idea. Stepping into Morningstar's gloomy Land Mar, setting a little fire just to help with the mist, and realizing it's not all that bad. There's old tools laying strewn about, the dens are all in working order. We can make a proper home here, if we let it be.

There's probably a cage there because of Ashfur, maybe it's the one that he made the demons toss Rootspring into. Maybe I'll have the demons eventually trick Curlfeather's Sighthounds into Deadfrost's Labyrinth, if Shredtail's still around. He double-died in canon but I wouldn't be too opposed to killing someone else in his stead.

She'll also have to prove herself to the other demons. Most of them are pretty wary of "leader-types" after what happened with Tigerstar. Ironically the closest thing they have to a "leader" is Darkstripe because his soups are so good. If he doesn't like your vibe, you're cut off from the "Social Circle."

I need to make some sort of pun out of Rings of Hell and Social Circle. Social Ring of Hell.

#As opposed to the ''Alpha Baboons'' which I can't stop calling them in my head #the Alpha Baboons were the Tigerstar-supporters who made life in the DF unpleasant with their schemes and desire to haunt and attack--#the living so they could dethrone or threaten starclan #I call them the Alpha Baboons because. Just like the case study of the alpha baboons who were bullies and ate poison trash and died.--#--life got better in Hell after their double-deaths in the BOTTE.#There's a few Alpha Baboons still around but their number is smaller than Darkstripe's Social Ring.#So the gentler demons will be wary of Curlfeather until her intentions and personality is better known #BB!Dark Forest #Better Bones AU #BB!ASC #BB!Curlfeather #BB!Morningstar

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peachesancreams · 16 days

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Angelic Wives

Vox, Alastor, and Husk

There is a spoiler for helluva boss is Voxs part, just a heads up

Summary: just a stream of thought on their wives, who they are and how they’d act in life and heaven

Vox

I see him running a TV program like a new up coming producer

he produced one of those musical/comedy jubilees, so people preformed or did comedy acts

meet his wife as she sang some cover of an older song, she had wanted to do her own original song but the studio vetoed it

he loved her voice and natural elegance, she thought his secretly pathetic nature was adorable

Old Hollywood IT couple vibes, but like any photos of them he’s blank or stoic looking

he just liked the contrast of his radiantly glowing wife to his darkness

she had no illusions about how terrible he was. She drank and smoked sure but she knew she had nothing on him morally

my headcanon is he got his head repeatedly smashed into a TV by someone he definitely stole the position from

I’ll say this once: She’s Only Heaven because of Him

Like she was a good person but if you’ve seen Helluva Boss you know you can like buy you’re way into heaven(donate it to good causes and the like)

Idk if they were a thing but i can see Vox taking out a life insurance policy on both him and his wife, either way when he passed she ended up loaded

didn’t want it, actually was SUPER depressed due to him passing so she kept enough to sustain herself but donated everything else

only went on TV on his death date, sang songs he loved or would’ve liked

did make only 1 album but it was very sad and it wasn’t popular when she was alive

was also murdered!! But in a mugging, her favorite pearl necklace got destroyed but she got to keep her ring(she wanted those damn pearls)

my first idea for her in heaven was to have a spotlight head akfbwjnxjdndkskd

honestly tho I think she’d be a Sand Cat, very rare but definitely not a house pet

people have mixed feelings about her being in heaven

it was cause she had a more ‘sexy starlet’ persona cause many people unconfirmed rumors

Now it’s mainly due to how she’s publicly admits to still loving her demon husband

knows they technically aren’t married “death do you part” and all, but she kept the ring dammit that’s her man

would be thrilled to know he had found a partner!!(partners of polyvees)

not the jealous type has a more “I can share as long as you have space for me in your heart” thought process

For Just Valentino

• “oh wow he found someone with the a similar moral compass! That is to say: none! Good for him.”

• think he’s very beautiful tbh

• “why are they both so damn tall…” jealous only of their height

For PolyVees

“I love the Evil Power Couple vibe….what? I can like it and know they are not good people! Logic people, come on.”

Craves velvettes designs, like heavens fashion has Christian Dior but she likes Velvettes fresh styles

would be curious about the relationship dynamics tbh like is her husband a hinge or what

Back to my HeadCannons!!

actually started her own jubilee program in heaven! Still takes a segment on Vs death day to sing him a song

It’s popular cause new souls who remember miss old MTV(I know I do) and older souls miss the performance aspect I bet

Heaven does have to check over what she’s putting on the program, it has to be clean and by heavens many rules after all

does a hosting segment on the weekends, she apparently got really popular after her death!!

People in heaven were gagged to see her being a TV host(Hell too if the Cherub commercial is anything to go by)

Alastor

met when they were young adults at Mimzys club, it was a slow romance like spring thawing out winter

A slow realization but quick to accept their love for the other, got married so quick people actually started to gossip

that was a theme in their life together, being gossiped about but no one confronting them

he was a famous radio host after all! And she was his lovely housewife, even if she was a yankee

(he doesn’t remember her but they meet when they were younger but only she remembered, didn’t say much cause she knows it wasn’t a happy time for him)

loved to forage and garden, paired with his hunting they always ate very fresh food. (He misses it not that he’d actually say to anyone)

I can see him living outside of New Orleans, not in the bayou but close to the swamps

she didn’t know about his murder hunts, and as he became a cannibal after death she never ate a victim

so while he was shot in the head, my personal headcanon was that people thought the hunter was the mass murderer and a mob got to him before police

I will write about this somewhere else because I have A Lot of thoughts on police work back then, plus the forensics that aid in this

she was of course devastated, she barely ate and when the police told her what happened the first time she fainted

they had to repeat themselves 3 times till it registered that her husband was dead

so many assumed she offed herself, but she just fell asleep in the bath after a breakdown

having drowned and gone to heaven, she finally got to meet the other most important person to Alastor!!

Abigail is also a deer, and was thrilled to meet she lil Al’s lady! Always lowkey knew what kinda person her boy was so is not surprised he isn’t in heaven

his wife is Upset and Confused, he should be here? Why isn’t he in paradise!

I t’s not a-typical but Sera had a meeting with her and basically was like “listen you didn’t know this so you were safe but…”

tells his wife everything, doesn’t hold anything back. Sera knows Abigail has an idea, but not the full picture

now she is Upset and Confused but for very different reasons.

She’s upset for many reasons; he lied to her, many times and in so many ways. She felt like a fool

Confused at herself because she still…misses him. And loves him. He was her Al, sweet with terrible jokes and his mamas recipes.

She shouldn’t. Right? He’s evil and where he belongs.

Opened a coffee shop because she needed something to do, and with no forests to forage she turned to Abigail who turned her to cooking/baking

her menu has his favorite snack foods, and a handful of sweet items that she rotates out

expanded to matcha and espresso in the modern years, but kept her coffee shop in a vintage design

think a tea room design but for a coffee shop

Husk

Ok so Husk always gave me ex-solider vibes, like the drinking and gambling? Coping mechanisms

Husk was probably a very hard man to love and did a lot of learning down in Hell

I can see him leaving his family, but only cause he saw it as the debt leaving with him

(It did and ended up being the reason he died, owing money to the wrong people)

His wife, the reason he can not love, was tough as nails at least on the outside

Would and did roll up her sleeves and did the “man’s work” around the house; fixed up the car, plumbing, made a table out of a tree that fell in the yard

If she could learn how to do it, she put her all into it

When he left took up neighborhood odd jobs, many actually used her for childcare and it inspired her to open her home to kids in need.

They didn’t get to have any kids before he left, they tried but…well she always ended up saying her kids came to her later in life

Caring for and loving those kids are why she’s in heaven, she thankfully passed while not fostering any young ones

Spontaneous heart attack, wasn’t surprised liked her meat and potatoes

Mainly white Calico, long haired to Husks medium(fluffycatsfluffycatsfluffycats)

Not surprised Husk isn’t in heaven, he was a soldier he killed people. Is a lil surprised she’s there

She was a kind woman, a hard life made her have a hard exterior

She did what she could for the children she could, but never saw it as enough

If Hell has children then Heaven probably does too

Opened a few orphanages, got permission from the Seraphim’s and everything

Isn’t a director but does do monthly check ins to make sure everything is to her standards. Wants the best for these kids.

Thinks about Husk in a bittersweet way, knows he’s probably enjoying all the gambling dens and ladies

He was faithful in life and that’s more then most women got, she doesn’t mind him seeking others

It doesn’t matter that she hasn’t tried looking for another, she always preferred her own company anyway

She had been annoyed and angry at him in life for leaving but in the afterlife…..in small quiet moments she thinks about him

all dividers are credited to @saradika-graphics

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin vox #hazbin husk #x reader #vox x reader #alastor x reader #husk x reader #they do have names and all that junk #but I’ll do it later #it’s in my drafts I PROMISE #I’m just #lazy soencjejfjfkz

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the-hole-in-terzos-shoe · 7 months

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Call Me, Little Sunshine

For my Best Ghestie @mustluvecho 's BIRTHDAY!!!!! Everyone wish her a happy birthday even though I'm posting this hella late in the day! ❤️🎉🎂🎈💝💋🥰

Demon!Papa x GN!Reader

It's a bit Copia coded for my bestie Echo, but could be read as any Papa. Let me know which one you prefer to read it as 😉

TW: abusive boyfriend (mostly verbal, cussing, but he does push Reader at one point, and slam a door), demon stuff, haunting, night terrors, scratches on Reader's body, scary imagery, some light SMUT, MDNI, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 1.9k

EDIT: I wanted to add my bestie's amazing artwork!!!! She really beautifully captured the vibe I was going for 🥰

Please like and reblog her artworks for this fic here and here!

At first it started small: rapping on the window, a creaky door, faucets emanating a strange sulfuric odor. Typical household problems, you shrugged it off... But now there were other things happening, unexplainable things. The smoky apparition that you'd see out of the corner of your eye, always just out of sight; the claw marks on your back and legs; and the ice cold breath you feel at the back of your neck have you convinced that something is out to get you.

Having just moved in with your boyfriend of only a year, you sit in the kitchen one night unpacking dishes so you wouldn't have to eat off paper plates like you had the last few weeks. Maybe settling into the house would make these crazy illusions go away.

𝘊𝘳𝘢𝘻𝘺. That's what your boyfriend calls all the things you see and feel and hear. But you don't feel crazy, and it feels real when you lie frozen in horror, watching the dark figure with tall golden horns and one glowing white eye stare at you from the foot of your bed. Sometimes it even dares to reach for you, perhaps if only you make your pounding heart jump up to your ears.

You're not sure what this thing is or why it's chosen 𝘺𝘰𝘶 to taunt... or to haunt, you don't really know. But your nights often end with you falling asleep from sheer exhaustion from the terror you feel as this entity makes itself more and more known.

"Fuck, baby, you've gotta get some help. These hallucinations are getting to be a bit too much for you to take, huh?" He says as you sob into your pillow in the early hours of the morning. Little did he know, at least to you, it was no hallucination. That 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 had grabbed your foot, pulling you harshly from your slumber as you flailed and screamed to stay on the bed.

You're snapped out of your thoughts by a plate crashing to the floor at least a meter away from the table where it had been sitting. You jump up and shriek, half from shock, half in frustration.

"Dammit, babe, you can't be such a ditz! We payed a lot of money for you to go around being careless with the dishes," your boyfriend scolds you.

"At least I was trying to unpack," you argue, voice small.

"What was that?" The look on his face turns dark, as he approaches you again.

"I'm- I'm just trying to help," you squeak. Really you felt like it was the least you could do; you'd had a lot of trouble finding a job since moving out here, so you just try to help around the house as much as possible.

"Don't bother!" he shouts, shoving you back against the kitchen counter, "Especially if you're just gonna break shit!"

As you squeeze your eyes shut, cowering away from your boyfriend's outburst, you feel it: the now familiar ice cold breath right next to your ear. A sensation comes over you that almost feels like a hug, protective. Then, loudly, and without warning, all the cabinets in the kitchen burst open as a loud growl rips through the room!

You drop to your knees out of instinct, and the fear-filled tears start to flow. "What the fuck?! You crazy bitch!" your boyfriend cusses at you before storming out of the room. Of course he would blame it on you... A completely unexplainable event, and it's somehow your fault.

Unable to muster the concern to clean the kitchen, you just drag yourself up the stairs, heading to bed early for the night. At least you'll have a long time alone since you know your boyfriend will be up late into the night playing video games and yelling with his friends.

𝘊𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘥𝘥𝘭𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵

𝘍𝘰𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘦𝘭𝘴𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘐 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶?

Lying there in the darkness save for some moonlight spilling in from outside, you can't help the feeling of guilt that overcomes your mind. 𝘞𝘩𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘰 𝘢𝘸𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘸𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦? 𝘞𝘩𝘺 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘐 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘢 𝘫𝘰𝘣? 𝘐 𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘱𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪�� 𝘰𝘧𝘧, 𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘐 𝘥𝘰 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵? 𝘏𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘢𝘤𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦... 𝘐𝘵 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴.

As you clutch your pillow to your chest, resting on your side in the fetal position, you fight back the tears once again. You can't wrap your head around all this--it seems like your whole world has been turned upside down and you hardly recognize the man you thought you were in love with.

Softly at first, you feel something touch you, like fingers sliding up your side. Automatically, you freeze, unable to fight off this entity that's been bothering you. Next, that hand slides down your thigh. 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘥𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘢 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥? It certainly feels like one, five fingertips caressing you almost... sensually?

Climbing back up your thigh, this apparition grips your hip as you hear a sigh just over your shoulder. Then, you feel lips at your ear as claws dig into the flesh of your backside, not hard enough to hurt, but just right. An involuntary whimper leaves you as you feel yourself giving into this demon. You have to be hallucinating, 𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴 𝘪𝘵 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘴𝘰 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥? It feels just like someone pressed up behind you as hands roam your body bringing you--dare you say it?--pleasure.

𝘍𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵

𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘴𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰

Your whole body feels so warm, you could be on fire, but a special kind of heat settles between your legs. Hearing a deep rumble of a moan, you turn your head as much as your muscles will allow, seemingly still frozen to the spot; out of the corner of your eye, you make out the tall golden horns as the figure presses soft kisses to your jaw.

Breathing deeply, he stops, moving to hover above you. In the dark room, you can't see much besides the glimmer of gold metal, the silhouette of his form, a skeletal face, and that glowing white eye. He stares into your eyes, as if asking for permission, and when you continue to stare back, his hand starts to snake down to give you attention where you need it most.

Grunting and grinding your hips up against his fingers, you call out for him, "Papa..." You're not even sure how you know what to call him.

Suddenly, he turns his head as the door creaks open, and in an instant, he's gone, fading away like a fog.

Waking with a gasp, you find you're still on your side cuddling your pillow.

"Hey, it's okay," your boyfriend cooes, "it's just me. Go back to sleep." He comes over and pets your hair as you get your bearings straight.

𝘐𝘵 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘵'𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘸𝘦𝘪𝘳𝘥 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘳𝘰𝘳...

Your boyfriend climbs in bed, throwing an arm over you and giving you a peck on the forehead, "Goodnight, babe."

𝘏𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴, you think, as he drifts off, and you try to ingore the throbbing at your core.

• • •

The next time this presence--Papa--makes itself known, is when you're entering your room. It's broad daylight outside and all you can make out is a faint gray mist as you're slammed back against the door, the wood rattling loudly in the frame. But before you can freeze up from fright, your eyes flutter closed and a soft sigh leaves your chest as you feel the distinct peppering of kisses across the pulse points of your neck. It's a harsh juxtaposition to the way your boyfriend pushes you around.

Without realizing it, your hands are pinned in place as a haze of lust washes over you, and were it not for the entity bringing you immense and sudden satisfaction, you'd probably be aware of how crazy you look pinned to the door by seemingly nothing.

For the first time, you reach out, allowing yourself a touch. Your fingers are met with a clothed torso. Your run your digits down the buttons on his shirt, stopping at the bottom when his breath hitches as you slip under to tease the skin.

𝘓𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘶𝘱 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘥𝘥𝘭𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘺

𝘍𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘦𝘭𝘴𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘮𝘦?

Slowly opening your eyes, you're finally met with the sight of him. At first, you almost don't recognize him as the figure that's been haunting you every night for months. The striking black and white skull visage is unfamiliar to you, yet the horns and white eye, glowing even in the day time, give it away as him.

"Papa?" You properly meet his eyes for the first time; the left a ghastly pale, and the right a warm golden green. Softly, you brush your fingertips across his cheek, hardly able to believe he's real.

"Yes, my child?" He asks warmly, arms still embracing you.

Without another word, you lean up, pressing your lips softly to his. He returns the sentiment with a kiss so sweet, so seemingly full of emotion, you feel tears prickle at the corners of your eyes. As you sigh into the kiss, he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue between your lips, cupping the back of your head to keep you in place. With him, you know if you wanted to pull away, he would let you--but you don't want to.

And you know you should feel guilty about your boyfriend in the next room, but you don't. He had proven time and time again that 𝘩𝘦 was the real horror in this house. So much so that he'd driven you into the arms of a demon.

You feel safer with some creature from hell than you do with your own boyfriend.

As if (ironically) summoned, here he comes, banging on the door to bitch about something else. "Babe! What are you doing in there? What all that moan-"

*SLAM!*

When he pushed the door open, a sharp burst of wind closes it again. Papa simply chuckles and looks down at you; it must've been him that closed the entryway.

Before you can ask, the door flies open again, doorknob slamming into the wall, "What the fuck was that?!" The man screams, locking eyes with you and then with the eccentric looking individual on your arm, "And 𝘸𝘩𝘰 the fuck is 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵?!?!"

𝘌𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘶𝘱 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘺

𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮 𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺

"Call me Mephistopheles. Or your worst nightmare, whichever you can actually pronounce," Papa speaks up. "Now, get away from her, 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥, or I 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 make you regret it."

"Oh yeah? What's some loser in a cheap Halloween costume gonna do, huh?" your boyfriend retorts.

Rather than waste another breath on this loser, the demon transforms into, well... a demon: hoofed feet, black claws, fiery eyes, and all. What sounds like a choir of screeching tortured souls rings out, causing you to grimace and clap your hands over your ears.

After what feels like forever but was surely only seconds, the sound ceases, and when you open your eyes, your boyfriend is nowhere to be found.

"Is-is he gone?" Your voice cracks, as your body folds against Papa's chest.

He catches you in another embrace, this time dark ashen black leathery wings cocooning around the two of you. "You won't ever have to worry about him again, amore."

𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘢𝘭𝘬 𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘦.

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maniacwatchestheworld · 4 months

Text

When there's something strange in the neighborhood, who you gonna call? Probably not John Constantine...?

I'm still pretty new to these DPxDC spaces, but as I've been exploring it from the perspective of someone currently deep in the throes of DC hyperfixation (and Danny Phantom being a past hyperfixation that I sometimes relapse into) one trend that I find kinda odd (but not necessarily unexpected) is just how prevalent Constantine is in these spaces that are largely dominated by BatFamily AUs and headcanons. Like, I do get it (kind of). Constantine does occasionally show up in Batman stories where Bruce encounters something supernatural and needs consulting on the case, and Constantine definitely appeals to the fandom audience in some pretty clear ways. Yeah, he's a handsome, charming bastard with a secret heart of gold. He's British, witty, cool, and an asshole. He may be one hell of a messy bisexual disaster, but he's OUR messy bisexual disaster, dammit! So we forgive him for being a cynical jerkass sometimes. I haven't consumed much media with him in it, but like... I get it and why out of all the mystical characters that DC has in their roster, why you might choose to include him over other characters. However I do find it kinda odd because like... Constantine is NOT the kind of person that I would see Batman nor anyone in his family particularly going for when they need help when something supernatural comes up... In fact the biggest reason that I haven't seen much from Constantine is that... He just does not appear in a lot of media that Batman is in! So I haven't seen much of him! (In terms of media that I've consumed for the sake of Batman being in it, he's only appeared in Justice League Action. No other animated series for Batman. And he hasn't really been in any recent comics that cross over with Batman that have caught my eye! He didn't even have a story in Knight Terrors!)

Of course there's no shame in using Constantine for your stories. He's popular for a reason, and if he happened to be in the area, then sure, the Bats might grab him to help them with their latest case. But for magic-users that the BatFamily might go to for assistance, he isn't always going to be the best choice. So for anyone who needs a magic-user in their BatPhanfiction, here are a few alternate suggestions.

(Suggestions under the cut for length)

Jason Blood

For people with magical expertise, I would expect the Bat Family to call Jason Blood before anyone else. Jason is old. How old? Old as balls. He's actually been around since the time of Arthurian legend. Apparently he was a scribe for Merlin before being bound to the immortal demon Etrigan which made him immortal too. Having worked for Merlin himself, having some level of innate magic from being bound and therefore sharing a body with a demon, and having been around for hundreds of years, this means that Jason has had plenty of ability and time to learn and practice magic and to perfect his craft. He knows his stuff and has a level of experience that is practically unparalleled on Earth. He's not a man to be trifled with and Batman has worked with him on many an occasion! The biggest reason that the BatFamily would call on him before anyone else? Location, location, location. Jason actually lives in Gotham City, so not only does he have the requisite experience and knowledge, but he's also easy for the BatFamily to get ahold of too! And as a bonus, with a simple rhyme, he can turn into the demon Etrigan who can kick ass on his behalf! Jason may seem to be a bit grumpy and stern on the outside, but he's a reliable ally to have and desires to protect others just as much as Bruce does.

Zatanna Zatara

Zatanna is a stage magician by trade, a master of tricks, illusion, and slight of hand... But she also happens to be among the most powerful actual magic-users in the known DC universe! Honestly, if you know of her and still choose to use Constantine over her in a story when either will do? You're doing yourself a bit of a disservice. Just look at her! She's gorgeous, radiant, optimistic, always has a fun trick up her sleeve, knows how to have a good time, and unlike Constantine, doesn't have the kinds nor number of enemies that he does! And best of all? She's actually buddies with Bruce Wayne! They're good friends! In fact, Bruce trained under her father for a time to learn escape artistry! Honestly it's a bit of a shame that people forget how good of friends they are... They might have dated in the past? But ever since Bruce mastered escape artistry, they've kept in touch! The two honestly would have an unspoken trust with each other and ability to rely on each other that few other characters could have with Bruce. Zatanna is usually on the road performing, but if she's available, she'd likely be more than happy to pop on over to Gotham to help Brucie out with a case! Superman may be Batman's best friend, and Harvey Dent may be Bruce Wayne's best friend... But honestly Zatanna Zatara is a close second place on both accounts! She's GREAT! I crave for her to be included in more stories! WHERE ARE MY AUNTIE ZATANNA AUs!???

Xanthe Zhou

[Image from this post.]

Honestly this is a personal suggestion that I want to see because it's just a damn shame that it doesn't already!

Are you hesitant to use a comic character with a huge backlog of stories that you couldn't possibly hope to get through for fear of messing them up? Do you want to use a canonically LGBT character? Do you want to use a character that's a person of color? What about a character that specializes in interacting with the spirits of the dead for your Danny Phantom crossover fics? Because boy howdy do I have you covered! Say hello to Xanthe Zhou! A nonbinary Chinese-American spirit envoy within the DC universe who first debuted in March of last year (2023)! So guess what! There is no long, confusing continuity to follow! If you want to catch up on all you need to know about them, go ahead and read their 6 issue miniseries Spirit World and you should be covered! And heeeey~ Guess who else is in Spirit World~~~?? One Cassandra Cain and one John Constantine! Plus the art is drop-dead gorgeous!

[Image from this post.]

So please! I beseech you! Check out Spirit World and get to know Xanthe! They are literally everything you are looking for in a character to add to your Danny Phantom and Batman crossover story and are brand-spanking new and it is just a DAMN shame that they aren't already in any DPxDC stories!!! And guess what! They live in Gotham City to boot! (Gotham's Chinatown to be specific.) So please! Do yourself a favor and check out Spirit World and add Xanthe to your stories! If nothing else, I'll certainly read them!

In any case, that's the list and all I can come up with for now! If you have any further suggestions, please don't be afraid to add them on in a reblog! My comics knowledge is very limited and am always happy to hear about other ideas and characters that I've missed! I've actually seen some usage of Klarion the Witch Boy in this phandom which was a pleasant surprise! But sadly, I don't know nearly enough about him to actually say anything about him. But please! Go ahead and tell me about other magic using characters that you think would be suited to the DPxDC universe! And if you make anything of this sort with Xanthe in it... Please send it to me! I want that shit pumped directly into my veins!!!

P.S. I just wanted to say... Batman miiiiight call Santa Claus before he calls Constantine for help on an investigation lol (apparently Bruce apprenticed under Santa for a time :p ).

#dpxdc #danny phantom #gotham city #dc characters #jason blood #etrigan #zatanna zatara #zatanna #xanthe zhou #spirit world #dc x dp #dp x dc crossover #john constantine #batman #dc universe #dc comics #dc heroes

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hermionegalathynius · 4 months

Text

Found Family (4/?)

So I was pleasantly surprised by the amount of positive reactions this story is getting. I just want to say thank you to everyone who takes the time to like or reblog or comment my work because it means the world to me.

Fandom: Now You See Me

Pairing: Danny Atlas x Reader

Warnings: Some swearing — read at your own discretion.

Part 3

“Hello New York!” Danny exclaimed, stepping forward and greeting the crowd. They screamed.

“Thank you so much! Hey, it’s great to be back! And have you met our newest Horsemen, the May sisters! Y/n and Lula!”

The audience cheered louder and you and Lula waved, bright smiles on both your faces. Danny grinned back at you with a wink.

“Feels good right?”

You nodded, “Yep.”

“Pretty good,” Lula said, walking across the stage, “Pretty good.”

Danny turned back to the audience and started to calm them, “Thank you, thank you.”

The cheering quietened.

“Um, okay. We want to talk to you about your privacy. What does your privacy mean to you?”

“Because apparently to Owen Case, it means absolutely nothing,” Merritt continued.

The audience looked around nervously. Your smile widened as you moved to stand next to Danny.

“No actually, Merritt, it means less than absolutely nothing,” you said before addressing the audience, “You see, Owen’s mocked your privacy. He’s scorned it.”

Danny nodded, running a discreet hand down your back and loosening the tension in your shoulders. You tried not to blush in front of an audience of people.

“Right,” he continued, “and we’re not just talking about the things that you already agreed to when you signed probably without reading the terms and conditions of Octas 1 through 7.”

“So,” Lula began, “Before we start the show, we had Owen agree to a few terms of our own.”

You grinned at her, proud of her for reaching this dream. She looked so comfortable up there, talking to the audience. You were glad to be able to do it with her, too.

“So everything that he had once considered private…” Lula trailed off.

Your heart dropped to your stomach as her mic cut out. One glance at Danny told you he understood and he quickly walked over to Lula.

“Yeah, everything that he once considered private is now…” his mic cut off too.

“Shit,” you whispered, not bothering to mind your language as you assumed yours had cut off too.

The screen behind you flashed and white noise filled the theatre. People screamed.

“Oh my,” a computer-generated voice echoed through the room, “As the Horsemen like to say, magic is about controlling perception.”

You gazed up at the shifting face that appeared on the screen. Someone grabbed your arm gently and you turned to see Danny.

“Y/n!” He exclaimed, “Are you alright?”

You swallowed, fear piercing through you, “I… yeah. Yeah I’m okay. What’s going on, Danny?”

He shook his head, “I don’t know.”

“You see them as the champions of the truth,” the voice continued, “but are they? Or is that just another one of their illusions?”

“Shit shit shit,” Merritt was saying as he and Lula joined you and Danny in the middle of the stage, “Where’s Dylan?”

“And Jack?” Lula added.

“So since they clearly love secrets, let’s reveal some of theirs.”

“Danny, everyone, get off the stage,” Dylan’s voice crackled through the coms, “Jack, go with them. I’ll see you at the meet up point.”

Danny’s hand moved down your arm and gripped yours. You squeezed his fingers in response.

“Let’s go,” he said, pulling you off the stage behind him.

The four of you began running, the voice echoing behind you clear as day.

“Do you recall the death of Jack Wilder? What if I told you he’s not just alive, but he’s actually right here.”

Jack’s alarmed face under his security cap was displayed on a screen you passed as you ran out of the backstage area.

“Dammit,” you heard Danny mutter. His hand was still firmly clasped around yours. Normally you would be bothered by the tightness, but adrenalin was coursing through your veins and you were just that desperate not to lose track of him in this chaos.

“And do you know who else is here? The FBI. Let’s let them in, shall we? And now for the big reveal…”

“Where’s the door to the roof?” Danny called to Jack as the younger man joined the group running to the meeting point.

“Take the next left then up the stairs,” Jack said.

“There’s a fifth Horseman, and he’s the biggest criminal of them all. FBI agent Dylan Rhodes.”

The five of you punched through the door to the roof.

“How the hell could this happen? I thought Dylan had everything under control!” Merritt yelled.

“Yeah. Apparently he didn’t,” Danny said, quietly frustrated in the way you knew he could get.

Merritt whirled on the illusionist, and something in his expression told you Danny wouldn’t like what he was about to say.

“Maybe you’re the leak, Dan. Where’ve you been sneaking off to?” Merritt demanded.

Danny let go of your hand and advanced on the mentalist, “Don’t you dare for a second insinuate that I had anything to do with this!”

“I’m not insinuating, that’s your-“ Merritt began to retort, but Jack cut in.

“Let’s get to the truck, come on!”

You all ran to the black tube. Danny nudged you in front of him, and you jumped in.

Gritting your teeth against the roller-coster sensation in your gut, you crossed your arms over your chest and noted with some curiosity the pulsing sound coming from the gaps in the tube.

You could also hear Jack sliding ahead of you and Danny behind you. After a moment you also heard Merritt screaming further back.

Then, with a thud you tumbled into a laundry basket.

“Wha…” you breathed, getting a split second to gaze around at your surroundings before Danny slammed into you.

“Oof,” he said, “Sorry. You okay?”

You winced, “Yeah. A little bruised, but I’ve had worse. You?”

He nodded as Lula and Merritt tumbled into the basket next to you, “Yeah. What the hell is going on?”

“Wasn’t there supposed to be a truck?” Merritt asked, clambering out of the basket. The rest of you followed his lead. Asian people in white aprons started yelling at you, shoving you through a crowded, steamy kitchen.

“Wait,” Danny said in between being shoved by Chinese chefs, “did you mis-run the tube?”

“No, I put it in the truck, I know I did!” Jack exclaimed, bumping into you while trying to dodge an oncoming tray.

“We’re really not in the truck right now,” you said, stumbling into Danny who reached back and grabbed your hand, the sensation becoming familiar to you.

“Somebody must have moved the tube,” Merritt said, as you all moved through a set of doors into what looked like a restaurant, “Were we above a Chinese restaurant?”

“I’m moving, relax!” Lula yelled at the man who was shoving her out of the kitchen.

“Okay, why are we here?” you demanded.

“Why am I frickin’ starving?” Lula asked, staring at the Chinese food everywhere.

“Yeah, I’m weirdly starving too,” Jack mused.

At their words your own stomach growled, responding to the smell of noodles and stir fry surrounding you.

Merritt moved towards the door, popping his head outside.

“Something’s very wrong,” you told Danny softly.

He nodded, brows furrowed, “Yeah, I agree.”

“At least,” Lula began as Merritt returned, “And I know this isn’t much consolation, but apparently we’re now surrounded by Chinese food. Right?”

“Guys…” Merritt said and you all turned to look at him, “I think where we are right now, they don’t refer to it as ‘Chinese food’. It’s just called… food.”

“Shit,” you muttered.

“Wait, what are you saying?” Danny asked, “How is this possible?”

A high pitched giggle directed all of your attention to the man with a perm sitting at the table nearest you, facing away with a menu held up in front of his face.

“I believe in your particular parlance, the word is ‘magic’.”

Taglist:

@pulling-out-my-eyes

#fanfiction #fanfic writing #danny atlas #nysm2 #nysm #daniel atlas x reader #daniel atlas imagine #j daniel atlas #daniel atlas #daniel atlas imagines #jack wilder #merritt mckinney #lula may #dylan rhodes #dylan shrike

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sapphic--kiwi · 1 year

Text

a little gustholomule comic collab I did with @emsprovisions (art- me, dialogue + drabble under the cut- her) ✨💙🤎

mattholomule- 15 1/2

augustus- 15

starlight, a drabble by @emsprovisions

word count: 463

"Look at that constellation! It's as ugly as your face!" Gus nudged his boyfriend in the ribs while pointing up at the stars.

Mattholomule sighed and rolled his eyes. “I think it’s as ugly as your face, dumbass.”

“Well that one’s pretty cute, don’t you think?” Gus was looking at him, giving Matt a cheeky, lopsided grin.

Matt turned to glare at Gus, “which one?”

“You.”

Matty’s cheeks burned, his face turning tomato red. Gus leaned in and pressed a kiss to his cheek and Mattholomule smiled. His boyfriend was such a mushy dork.

Secretly, he liked it though. He squeezed Gus’s hand, their fingers interlaced together.

“Hey that one’s kinda pretty, don’t you think?” Matt pointed up at the stars, tracing a blue circle in the air to cast an illusion of Gus’s face in the sky. He was still learning how to do illusions, and not as good as Gus, so Gus’s face came out a little wonky. He wanted Gus’s constellation face to be winking, but instead it looked like a cluster of stars had smashed into his eye. His normally cute grin looked more like a grimace.

“Dammit!” Mattholomule sighed in frustration, quickly lowering his hand, and glaring at his feet, face burning with embarrassment.

“Hey, you’re improving! That was really sweet, Matty.” Gus pulled his hand loose from Matt’s and wrapped his arms around his shoulders, pulling him in to kiss his cheek again.

“I took out your eyeball and ruined your dumb smile. It sucked.” Though he was complaining, Matt still leaned into Gus’s warm embrace, tucking his head sadly against Gus’s shoulder.

Gus could feel Matt’s pout against his collarbone and Titan did it only make him cuter. “But you’re trying, aren’t you? I’m so proud of you! You’re doing a really good job.”

“Can you show me how to improve it?” Matt drew back, still pouting, and looked Gus in the eyes.

“Yeah! Of course. Here, give me your hand.” Gus drew a circle in the air with Matty’s hand, his pointer finger over top like a guide. “You gotta clearly envision what you want, no foggy details. You have to be sure about your intentions.” This time Gus’s face leapt into the air in sharp focus, cute smile and perfect wink. It was the dumb flirty look Mattholomule loved so much. Matt’s own face appeared next to Gus’s in the sky, Gus’s twist to the illusion. Constellation Matty gave Constellation Gus a kiss.

Matt rolled his eyes, “You’re such a hopeless romantic, Porter.”

Gus shrugged, “Only for my boyfriend.”

Matt wrapped an arm around Gus’s waist and pulled him in close. “I think the stars are telling me something.” So he closed the distance and kissed Gus while their constellation forms kissed overhead too.

#gustholomule #gus porter #augustus porter #toh mattholomule #the owl house #toh fanart #feat. my near-future designs for gm #i love them so much they make me sick #steph draws #x

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t-0ne25 · 2 months

Text

[B] — THE PARK

There’s nothing in this world a quiet walk in the sun can solve, right? At least that’s what your brain always manages to make you believe when sunbeams collide with your skin on the first day of spring, warning you up from outside as if they’re some magical elixir. But it’s just mother nature providing you vitamins and serotonin for free, while helping you clear your head.

The birds are chirping, beautiful flowers are taking over the field, enlightening your view in all the colours the rainbow can offer. You take a deep breath, allowing your whole body to relax just how it deserves. Cool. Your anxious thoughts are basically gone. There’s no need to worry.

When you pass one of the cafés near, you head to the counter and purchase one of your favourite iced drinks. They finally changed the menu to the one specifically made for spring, which eases your heart and mind further.

Everything is perfect. Problems? You’ve never heard of them.

Until you sit down on one of the wooden and dark green coloured benches back in the park again—getting a great panorama view of the pond and the ducks playing and swimming inside.

At first, you don’t notice him. He’s just as shy and anxious as you tend to be, especially whenever he’s with you. Well, usually he plays it cool, pretending to be confident and you believe him. The teasing tells it all. But deep down he knows he’d basically faint if you ever made a move on him.

“Hey.”

Oh, no. Problem number two that you were trying to escape found you. Dammit.

“Hey, Ji. You’re here too?”

No, I’m one of the ducks and turned into an illusion of Han Jisung, he thinks but doesn’t speak out loud. Minho and his sarcasm aren’t a good influence on him as it seems.

“Yeah… I’ve been trying to clear my mind and all.” His gaze is fixated on the ground, as he looks down at his shoes. His hands and fingers are fidgeting, showing how nervous he is.

“Are you okay, Jisung?”

His eyes shoot up towards you, “Yeah! I’m fine. I’m fine.”

It’s hard seeing him like this. You wonder what’s going on and if it possibly has something to do with you. Until you push that idea aside. This isn’t about you. Jisung seems to be plagued by some thoughts and you’re his friend, always ready to help and listen.

“Do you wanna talk? Tell me what’s going on?”

He awkwardly chuckles, “I’m… not sure.”

You tilt your head, stepping a few steps towards him. Jisung’s heartbeat quickens and he prays you don’t notice.

“Come on, you can tell me everything,” you reassure him.

He blinks a few times. “Even if it involves my guilty conscience and you?”

Could he perhaps mean…?

No, there’s no way. Sure, with all the teasing he’s brought to daylight whenever you’ve been in a room with him one could think he does actually like you more than a friend. Hell, Han Jisung flirts with you as if he’s trying to win an Olympic gold medal. The fact you’re still not considering the chance that he has some type of crush on you is almost ridiculous.

“Yeah, even then,” you say. “What is it?”

Now you’re the one whose heart is bursting out of their chest, impatiently awaiting and answer.

“I will tell you… but perhaps, not here? Like in public and all?”

“We can go to my place. It’s not that far from here,” you suggest.

Twenty minutes later, you find yourself inside your apartment since it’s closer to the park where your paths accidentally crossed. You offer Jisung a glass of water and fill one for yourself too before the two of you plop down on your sofa. He’s never been here before and it shows—like a child, his eyes are roaming all over the walls and furniture inside your living room, truly amazed of how much of a copy of yourself this flat is. It reflects you like a mirror.

But your friend gets dragged out of his focused state, when you speak, “So, whenever you’re ready, yeah?”

He gulps, nervousness striking all over his pretty face.

“I know I shouldn’t feel this way and I am sure this won’t even surprise you… but I like you. More than a friend. And, God, you’re so fucking attractive but also freaking adorable, it messes with my head.”

“Ji–“

“Wait, I’m not done yet,” he interrupts you back. “I know I shouldn’t feel that way, after all Minho and you–“

“We aren’t… dating. If that’s what you think,” you tell him.

For a moment Jisung can see sparkles of hope running in front of his eyes, ready to be caught. Until they vanish away, bringing him back to reality.

“But you like him,” he speaks through gritted teeth.

“I do,” you admit.

His head is hanging low now and so are his shoulders which he shrugs. Jisung’s speaks in a soft voice when he begins again, “I knew it. Well, it was nice–“

“But I like you too, more than a friend, Han Jisung,” you tell him with a wide grin.

He nods, a bright laughter slipping past his lips, “The usage of the government name makes it feel so serious.”

“Because I am,” you emphasise. “I am serious. I’m sorry for all this mess.”

He takes a step towards you, reaching for your hands and suddenly all the anxiety disappears. “No. Don’t apologise. There's no mess if we don’t create one.”

You’ve never expected someone like Jisung who makes jokes throughout the whole day would be so mature about this. You’ve absolutely misjudged him on that matter.

“What do you mean?”

You still want to make sure you’re on the same page and he’s not just saying that as a joke again.

“We can discuss things later with Minho,” he explains. “But can I be selfish for once and kiss you?”

The smile on your face is hard to miss, “What are you waiting for, hm?”

He grins, right before he smashes his lips into yours. And it feels like you’ve just cheated your way into heaven. This is perfect. More than perfect. His mouth feels so smooth against your own, as his tongue carefully asks for entrance when he lets the tip graze over your lower lip. You grant him just that, inviting it in, as a mischievous grin makes it up to your face. He’s so shy, so different from all the teasing it’s adorable.

Soon, you wrap your arms around his neck, before your kisses go on a little journey, hovering over his cheek, his jawline, down to his neck. Jisung lets you do the work, melting under your touch and basically turning into a puddle. His head is thrown back, his hands are gripping your waist.

“If we don’t stop very soon,” he starts then, speaking in between small whimpers, “I don’t think I will be able to hold back, baby.”

You chuckle, “That’s my plan, Ji.”

He lets go of you for a second, his eyes finding your own. “What about Minho?”

“Let’s be selfish for a bit. We will talk to him later, yeah?”

Jisung nods, before his mouth crashes into yours again. You feel hypnosis taking over you, when you guide him towards your bedroom. He kicks the door open with his foot, before you drag him further towards the mattress. A little push is enough to make him land on the bed, so you can crawl on top of him. Usually, in any conversation, Jisung is the one to lead, so you’ve been dying to know if he’d be the same in the bedroom. So far it seems to be quite the opposite and you don’t mind at all.

A second later, your friend feels you on top of him, straddling his lap before your arms seize around his shoulders. Your lips are attached to his neck again, drawing the prettiest pattern he’s ever witnessed that will leave a fond memory of today for everyone to see. You guide them further, while you help him out of his shirt, before they travel more.

You’re scooting down, leaving his thighs and forcing a small whine to spill from Jisung’s lips but he doesn’t complain. Not when you’re already making your way further south, hastily fumbling with his belt before you slide down his jeans. His hardened cock is straining against the material of his boxers, begging to be let free. But to tease him a bit more—he deserves it after all—you start slowly palming him through the fabric, applying only a bit of pressure to drive him even crazier.

“Tell me what you like, Jisung,” you tell him in the softest voice his ears have ever witnessed.

“Anything… just touch me, please.”

You decide to free him from the torture, pulling down his boxers just to realise he’s completely naked now whereas you’re still fully dressed. You make quick work when your hand wraps around his throbbing length. He’s thick, promising to fill you nicely but this has to wait for now. You start pumping him, listening to the sweet little whimpers he lets out as if they’ve just become your favourite melody.

“I wanna make you feel good,” you confess, before you slide down. Jisung parts his legs and you settle right between them, getting into a comfortable position. You’re on your knees for him, your mouth dangerously close to his dick. Then he feels saliva drip onto his tip, before you smear the liquid over his shaft.

“I’ve thought about this moment so many times, fuck–“

His words get cut off, when he feels your warm and wet mouth around him. His brain basically shuts off at this point, as he watches your head move up and down, taking in as much as you can fit. Slurping sounds are echoing through your bedroom, while you start drooling all over his length. The fact you’re moaning while doing all the work doesn’t make things any easier for him—Jisung said goodbye to the last hopeless piece of his sanity a while ago.

You let his dick slip out of your mouth for a moment, just to whisper, “You’re such a good boy, Sungie. You’re so good for me.” He almost cums when he listens to those words but is able to cold back. Just for you to take him into your mouth again, nearly triggering your gag reflex. Your friend feels himself getting closer and closer, knowing he’s practically tasting that sweet relief, but then–

You pull away. And give him the most teasing grin he’s ever seen.

“Fuck, why’d you stop?”

“I’d prefer it, if you came inside of me,” you confess, cocking your head.

Jisung—despite the fact that he’s absolutely down for it—panics in an instant, “I– I don’t have a condom with me, Y/N. I didn’t exactly expect this to happen when I went out to the park for a nice walk and–“

“I’m on the pill. I’m fine without one if you are,” you reassure him.

“Jesus Christ, is it my birthday already? I thought it’s March,” he says, hyperventilating, while he looks at his wrist although he isn’t even wearing a watch that would tell him today's date.

You snicker, “Stop joking around, baby, and fuck me already.”

And for some reason, you can’t even explain it yourself, something shifts in his mood. Something quite dangerous, if you will.

“Ask nicely, angel,” he teases. Of course, he’s back with the teasing. He wouldn’t be Han Jisung after all.

You give him a faux pout, “Would you please fuck me, Jisung, and make me cum on your cock?”

“You’re truly an angel because you can’t be real,” he whispers, before his hands find your waist and he turns your around.

“You sure you don’t want me to… prepare you first?”

His fingers are wandering under your skirt, while you spread your legs for him. Jisung lets his hand wander further, until he’s grazing over your wet underwear.

“No… Please don’t make me wait any longer.”

He nods, before he slides the ruined fabric aside, playing with your clit a little while two of his fingers are circling around your entrance.

Jisung scoots closer and aligns his cock with your hole. He dips the tip inside and when you give him a small nod, he adds some more of his length, taking his time to allow you to get used to the feeling.

He is definitely more on the girthier side, stretching you deliciously open and you wonder what life would have been like if you had allowed him to do all this with your body yesterday.

Or, perhaps, even way before that. Because you can’t deny—as pathetic as it sounds—that some of his flirtatious comments have made you a little wet in the past, especially when you were back home, on a lonely night, your fingers passing your underwear while you touched yourself, thinking of the man who’s currently spreading you open with his length.

“This feels so good, you’re so good at this,” you praise him, arching your back.

“Hmm, who would have thought that you could be a good girl too, huh?”

“Only for you, Jisung,” you admit in between moans, letting your friend rail you into oblivion. The feeling drives you crazy, how he fills and pleases you, especially when two of his fingers reach around you and start rubbing your clit again.

“Well, I sure hope so. You’re such a good slut for me,” he groans through gritted teeth.

You nearly see stars when you listen to those degrading yet praising words, “Make me cum, Ji.”

“Oh, I absolutely will.” He chuckles, driving you closer to the edge of snapping. “Come on, let go, angel, I’ve got you.”

And you follow suit. You clench around him, as your legs begin to shake and your vision gets filled with sparkles. The sensation takes over you, your whole body and soul while Jisung guides you through it. With how much your walls are tightening around him, his own relief gets triggered too and hot seeds shoot into your cunt, filling you to the brim.

Jisung glides his now softening cock out of you, watching the mixture of cum trickle down your thighs.

“So, how about we take a quick shower and head back to my place? We can discuss everything with Minho there, if you like,” he suggests.

“Sounds good.”

Thank you lots for reading 🩷 ENJOYED THIS STORY? Go back to the main part and leave a comment, reblog or send an ask my way if you feel like it! I’d appreciate it so much. 🌷

#give me your tmi options — 🌷#option B: the park

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toh-tagteam-au · 1 year

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Tag Team AU Synopsis – Hooty's Moving Hassle

Synopsis Masterpost Link

Previous Part [Covention]

Next Part [Lost in Language + Once Upon a Swap]

My personal favorite of the season 1 concepts. Notice how we’re skipping The Intruder. This will be important later.

It pretty much opens the same as canon, with Eda, King, and Hunter at the market while Eda gets her elixir. Hunter has been informed about her system at this point. They run into Willow and Gus, who are talking about the moonlight conjuring. The fact that Hunter is powerless comes up.

Amity comes up at this point, inviting Willow to her Moonlight Conjuring party as an awkward symbol of friendship, to which Willow declines saying she has better things to do. When she leaves, she reveals she actually doesn’t have anything planned, but Gus suggests they have their own conjuring. Eda initially says no because she just finished talking with the potions guy who told her to head to the night market and that Hunter has to watch the house, but Hunter declines that as well, saying that he has his own plans tonight.

CUT TO THE EMPEROR’S CASTLE! Time skip: Luz and Hunter are in uniform (save for the masks) and discussing how likely it would be that Belos would say yes to joining their own midnight conjuring. Luz is optimistic, while Hunter is not, citing the last outburst as a point against them. Belos hears them whispering behind a pillar, and calls them out into the open.

Belos is in Nice Grandpa mode, no mask and just doing paperwork at a long table.

(I’m probably just gonna end up putting all of Belos’s lines on here because I worked HARD on these ones dammit. I wrote this shit pre-season 2b)

Cut to Willow and Gus, looking for plants, when they hear a scary noise. They realize they’re at the Owl House, which is completely trashed: Hooty is off his hinges, the window is shattered, etc. They decide to call for help, Willow using the GG’s business card since she knows Hunter is involved with them.

Cut back to Hunter and Luz, excited out of their minds that Belos will be joining them, when Luz gets a call on a crow phone. Confused, she answers it to Willow, who says something is wrong at the Owl House. The siblings immediately figure Eda is under the influence of her curse, and Hunter tentatively leaves to go help.

Hunter arrives at the Owl House and meets Willow and Gus, who go into the house to help. Together they find King, who explains that they got carried away playing Hexus Holdem when Eda turned into a monster, and they take down Eda using illusions, plants, and light glyphs (surprise, Hooty’s Moving Hassle was The Intruder this whole time!!!!).

Cut back to Luz in the castle. The moon has set, and Hunter is not back yet. Luz and Belos have a conversation.

Cut to Eda waking up.

Hunter explains to Eda what happened, and is visibly surprised when Eda apologizes.

Intermission time. Slight time skip as Eda goes through the portal into the human realm, and walks to Camila’s house with a large bag over her shoulder. She knocks on the door, and Vee answers! They welcome Eda in, where she drops off the hexus holdum cards for Vee to eat and Camila thanks her for looking for Luz. Also – implication that Vee is dating Masha at this point.

EDIT: I SHOULD MENTION. Eda hasn't seen Luz's face yet! She doesn't know the Golden Guard she made the deal with is Camila's daughter! Important stuff.

Previous Part [Covention]

Next Part [Lost in Language + Once Upon a Swap]

Synopsis Masterpost Link

#Tag Team Synopsis #toh #the owl house #toh tagteam au

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aroaceleovaldez · 1 year

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one demigod powers retcon that really annoys me is how demigods being trained with the Mist works. Because in TTC we learn that Thalia is extremely well trained with manipulating the Mist and learned how to do that while living as a rogue with Luke. But then in HoH when Hazel meets Hecate, and every time Hazel uses the Mist to create illusions afterwards, it’s treated as functioning entirely differently and that mastering the Mist is something that Very Few People Can Do (when in TTC Thalia explains that it’s extremely easy for any demigod to manipulate the Mist). And then again in MCGA we get another retcon where Alex insists that it’s better to do more mythological stuff rather than try to hide it because doing so generates more Mist and so hides stuff from mortals better, which is just an explicit retcon because that scene self-refers to how that’s contrary to everything we’ve been told about how the Mist functions since TLT.

I get the Mist is a catch-all, but we already have a distinction between the Mist and general magic/sorcery, particularly with characters like Circe, Medea, and Hecate kids like Lou Ellen and Alabaster (and then also a distinction between Greco-Roman magic like the Hecate kids use and Egyptian magic like the... Magicians use. But also Annabeth was able to use Egyptian magic, so). The sorceresses on Circe’s Island and also just generally Circe and Medea themselves confirm that in-universe anyone can learn magic (and Reyna and Hylla having lived on Circe’s Island and studied under Circe implies that both of them should know some magic, but we never see them use it).

So just generally it doesn’t make sense for Hazel to learn how to use the Mist specifically rather than learn general magic from Hecate if she’s going to learn special abilities at all - and it’s kind of a moot point anyways because her getting that guidance is implied to be a Special Exclusive To Hazel Ability but Mist or magic either way it’s impossible for that to be the case? It would have made way more sense to just have Hecate, as a chthonic goddess, go “Oh hey Pluto kid. How’s those powers of yours going? Wait, what do you mean you haven’t figured out how to do [x], [y], or [z] yet? Those are totally within your scope of powers based on your father. No no no, okay: Here’s a blessing from me and here’s some tips on how to do that. Now go kick a guy off a cliff or something.” and then Hazel scurries back to everyone and unlocks like 3 new OP abilities as a daughter of Pluto because dammit if Nico can BS his way into having whatever weird tangentially Hades-related powers he wants, so should Hazel! And we can even keep the same general powers scheme that she gets from utilizing the Mist by just saying she unlocked some kind of illusion abilities because it’s already implied since BoTL and Nico and Bianca had powers similar to that (Bianca sending Percy visions of Nico’s whereabouts, and Nico imparting an aura onto the Titan Army to part his way AND in HoO repeatedly casting out his memories/emotions) and that’s all we’ve ever really seen her use the Mist for anyways.

#pjo #riordanverse #hazel levesque #hoo #heroes of olympus #this always bugs me whenever i think about it #stop retconning the Mist and just let Hazel be OP already #its quite simple actually

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nevermeyers · 12 days

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He pulled his legs up against his chest and hugged them, watching him silently. The way Toji delicately treated the tantō and polished it with gentle movements.

Suddenly, he wanted to jump on him and shake him. Grab him by the navy blue kendogi and make him wake up from that fucking automaton dream. It was stupid.

Since they had met, Toji had smiled a couple of times. He'd even laughed, dammit. He could swore he took care of him sometimes, and Satoru felt safe next to him. However, the rest of the time...

“Do you even have feelings?”

"I wish I didn't have them." Toji put the dagger back in its sheath and handed it back to him harshly.

“Why?” Satoru put the tantō to one side, attentive.

“Because weapons don't feel.”

Toji had always done his job well. Every mission had been successfully executed, every reward had been worthily collected. He had lost count of the murders, the robberies and the chases, of all the roles he had to play to get what he wanted.

They had raised him by tearing every bit of him out of him, just like they did with all the shinobi of Iga. Nothing mattered if it wasn't his job.

“Feelings, emotions, make you lose your mind and make hasty decisions. They consume you and then leave you stranded, because they are nothing more than an illusion. What you feel is not what you see," he explained. “It's a filter.”

Emotions never interfered with his work. Toji was the epitome of war in every sense. Violent, sarcastic and bloody. But—

“Are you worried about emotions?” Satoru interrupted, before he could send him to bed once and for all.

What a son of a bitch. Toji wanted to laugh. He had found himself the worst partner. He wished he were mute, so he couldn't say what he thought.

“Yes” it may have been the most sincere response anyone had gotten from him in years. He sat up, ending the conversation. “Now, go to sleep. Critters like you should be tucked in by now, don't you think?”

Satoru pouted. Toji noticed the pink watercolor on his cheeks

Koi no Yokan, chapter 9

#jujutsu kaisen #@meyers #gojo satoru #toji fushiguro #tojigo #@meyerswrites

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nights-legacy · 2 months

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Lover Lost? - Spinner x Reader

Main Masterlist ~ MHA Masterlist ~ MHA #2

Requested by @iolite19 ~ I hope you like it! This is the first time I've written for him.

1692 words

Warnings: mentions of death, torture, depression, illusions to insanity.

Readers Quirk- angel healing. Can heal any injury no matter how severe, but it only works on themselves. They can't heal other people.

+ After being kidnapped by the LOV for your quirk, Spinner gets the job of making sure you don't die. Overtime, you and Spinner get close against the odds. Feelings start to develop. Then disaster strikes. Spinner starts to blame himself and falls into a depression. He believes he's going insane by seeing your ghost, but things aren't what they seem it would seem.

I struggled against the metal chains that kept me to the chair. The bag over my head kept me from seeing anything but I knew they were quirk canceling cuffs on the chains. I couldn't use my quirk to heal the wounds I could feel on my head.

"Dammit." I muttered and let my head fall back in defeat. The room was silent and cold. I think I dozed off because I was jerked awake when the bag was Jerked off. I blinked rapidly, trying to clear my vision. There were multiple people standing in front of me.

"Bout time you woke Up." One of them mumbled. I finally recognized the people in front of me as the League of Villains.

"Why did you kidnap me?" I asked.

"We want your quirk." Shigaraki rasped.

"Well you can't have it." I glared.

"We weren't asking." He snapped. I rolled my eyes.

"They're spicy. I like them." Toga smiled sinisterly. I grimaced a little.

"My quirk is not useful to you or your cause." I simply stated.

"As I said.I still stand by my point that they're Angelic healing quick is of no use." I looked to see a man with a with a gecko quirk standing against the side wall. I recognized him as spinner.

"And I said it was. We could use it to heal our people after fights with the damn heroes." Shigaraki turned.

"My quirk can't heal others. Only myself." I said. Spinner nodded.

"As I said. I do the research."

"Then we alter it." Shigaraki turned and grabbed my chin harshly. "Whether you like it or not."

"Screw off."

"Brat." He roughly removed his hand. "Since you know then, you get to take care of them, Spinner." Shigaraki spat as he and the others left. Spinner glared after them. He scoffed and walked over grumbling.

"Sorry." I said softly. He gave me a confused look. "For them not listening to you. And for having to take care of me."

"Don't worry about it. I'm used to them not listening. Sometimes I don't know why I stay with these guys." He said as he walked over to the corner of the room. He filled a cup with water.

"What? Being a Villain?" I asked. He chuckled.

"No. The League's perspective on villainry is not so noble. They want to get rid of all heroes, saying all are dishonorable. I agree with Stain's approach." He held up the cup. I nodded and he helped me a drink.

"Thank you." He walked towards the exit.

"I'll bring you some food later."

"Hey Spinner." I called. He looked over his shoulder. "I agree that the false heroes shouldn't be heroes but I still think any villainry is bad." I said. He stood there for a second before nodding. He left.

Time passed and I refused Shigaraki everytime. He started to get even more violent. Using his quirk on me, Dabi using his quirk an me, and so on. Spinner took care of me everytime. Cleaning me up and attending to my wounds since I couldn't use my quirk. As a result, we talked a lot and grew close.

I found out more about his ideals. I learned of his loyalty to the LOV and his valves to his comerades even if their ideals didn't coienside. Without him say it though, I could tell he was struggling with finding out who he really was.

"And then they called my mutant. Can't they come up with something new? I mean there are brats at UA that look even stronger than me!" He exclaimed as he finished cleaning the wound on my arm.

"Well that was rude." I said. "You look awesome." He paused and looked up at me.

"You're not put off by my Looks?"

"No. Gecko's are cool. Plus, it gives you awesome agilities right?" He nodded. "See. Cool."

"Huh. Thanks.”

*Time Skip*

I laughed as Spinner imitated how some of the lackeys acted on some of their first missions. I munched on the granola bars he did given me.

"You're kidding me! What scardy cats." I laughed. He nodded before coming and sitting next to me by the wall. He let me out of the chair now but the cuffs stayed on. He sot his head on my shoulder. I held out the granola bor to take a bite. He chomped a bite.

"They really sour the mood on missions." He grabbed a bottle of water a took a drink. I yawned and rubbed my eyes.

"I'm not looking foreward to sleeping in that Chair."

"Well..." He sat up and glanced at the door. "I don't have to leave yet. You can use my lap as a pillow. If you want I mean."

"Really?" I asked. He nodded. "Okay."

"Come on." I shifted and laid down, setting my head in his lap. "Comfortable?"

"Yes." I closed my eyes. I relaxed. After a few minutes of silence, I felt his hand barely brush my hair. when I didn't react, he did it again only a little more. In no time he was running his hand through my hair, playing with it. "Thank you, Spinner."

"Shuichi Iguchi. That'smy real name." He smiled. I returned and sat up.

"Thank you, Shuichi." I laid back down.

"Y-you're welcome, Y/N." He set his other hand on my stomach. "I promise I'll you safe. No matter what."

*Another Time Skip*

"Stop please!" I yelled as Shigaraki held tight to my arm, the indescribable pain coursing through my vains. He only held tighter and stared at me with daggers in his eyes. He then yelled throwing my arm away.

"This is useless!" He screamed. He walked towards the door. "Get rid of them! They're useless!" He looked at Dabi.

"Sure thing." He smiled wickedly and advanced on me. I struggled with nowhere to go.

3rd POV

Later that night, Spinner returned to the hideout and went to check on Y/N but paused when they weren't there. He looked around the room thoroughly. He went to Shiggy quickly.

"Oh we disposed of. They became useless."

"Disposed?" Spinner had to hold back the stutter in his voice.

"Dead." Spinner didn't remember leaving the room. He stumbled into his room, closing the door. Silent tears ran down his face. He could feel his heart crumble in his chest. Thoughts plagued his mind. What if he hadn't of left today? What if he had convinced them to give up their quirk? What if he had gotten them out of here when he had the chance? He was going down hill fast.

As days passed, he went further and further downhill. He had to keep it under wraps around everyone else since they didn't know about them. He felt numb and in pain all at of the same time. He even started to feel crazy when he thought he "saw" Y/N.

He was out with Dabi & Toga, casing out a potential hit for the League. He was leaning against the wall of the alley, staring at the ground and kicking a rock. He could hear Dabi and Toga chattering but a sound of the third person starting his way. He looked at the other end of the alley.

"Y/N?" He muttered when he saw their familiar form. It was weird though. Their form was barely there, almost wispy but he could see them. He stared until he had to blink. When he reopened his eyes, they were gone.

"Spinner? What are you doing?" Toga called.

"Nothing, Nothing." He shook his head. The hope that had quickly sprouted in his chest was blasted away painfully.

The next time was when he was sitting in the room Y/N was being held in. He was sitting against the wall on the far side of the room from the chair. He was absentmindedly staring at his boots. He hadn't been able to focus on anything today so he slipped into the room to avoid suspicion.

"Fuck, how could I let this happen?" He muttered. He pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes. He was trying stop the tears. "Dammit!"

He threw the cup he had in his hand across the room. He froze when he saw Y/N sitting in the chair. They were sitting there lifeless, like they had just been killed.

"No!" He covered his face. He was breathing heavily. After, a minute, he peaked between his fingers and there was no one there. The dust on the chair wasn't even disturbed. He went limp against the wall. He felt more tears coming on. "Fuck..."

It only gets worse. Spinner starts to thinks Y/N is haunting him. He couldn't blame them honestly. He already blamed himself for their death but he was sure that they were torturing him. Blaming him for not being there to save them. He officially thought he was going insane.

Spinner laid in the middle of the floor after about 2 months. He couldn't believe it had already been that long. He didn't care though. None of it mattered without them. He was stuck in his own head when a warm hand cupped his face and he instantly felt relief. His eyes cracked open and he saw Y/N standing over him. He wanted to groan at the sight, thinking his mind was playing tricks on him again but the touch threw him off. He's never been able to touch their ghost before, no matter how many times he tried. He cold feel their skin, the warmth, and he could even feel the tiniest bit of a pulse.

"Y/N?" He asked confused, pusing up onto his elbows. Y/N knelt next to him and smiled. “Is this real?”

"Hello, love."

Tag List: @iris-shihabi @cl0verbby @lilparcheesie @keigos-baby-bird @evilunicorns4minions

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thatonebirdwrites · 4 months

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Finally! It took me quite a bit of research to pull off this chapter. It's a pretty crucial one, where many of the threads I'm weaving all start to come together.

Excerpt:

Life refuses to give Lena breaks.

That’s her first thought when her magic encounters the ominous grey fog.

Her second thought is: Dammit, not again. Memories of her mother’s death deluge her.

Her third drops her into her CEO role, and she’s on her feet after gathering up remnants of the ritual. She relays orders to Kara and Nia. Doesn’t give them much chance to respond before she’s hurrying toward the car.

The murmur of nearby voices ride the wind around the tower, this hulking stone structure that clings to the highest part of the Cliffs of Moher. That and the crash of waves feel far too peaceful for the unsettling energy she’d felt. Each time she looks over her shoulder, the fog seems to creep closer but maybe that’s an optical illusion. Fog on the sea near sunset is unusual, though not impossible, at least the science of it.

People may get hurt if that grey fog is anything like her dreams, which is her fourth and a thousand other thoughts. Dreams shouldn’t be real, but they weren’t, were they? They were manifestations of places she’s been before, things she saw as a child, all thrown together in a disturbing dream that has frightening parallels with reality again.

She refuses to allow anyone to die like her mother did. To do that however, she needs the damn sword, and then she’ll rip apart that fog-person and end this whole aggravating situation.

Her thoughts trickle back to the disturbing vision of her first task:

The Morrigan steps forward and a wrinkled, sun-burnt hand extends from her sleeve. “The truth has been unveiled, young one. Three days before full moon. Then and only then, seek the forge within Sliabh an Iarainn if you and your friends wish to live.”

Yes, she very much wants them all to live. Her heart cannot take more death right now.

Kara catches up to her. “Lena?” She reaches out and grasps her hand. “What is it? What did you sense?”

The worry in Kara’s voice breaks through Lena’s increasingly stormy thoughts. She flicks her gaze behind them, but the grey fog is still far out at sea, so they have time to make it to the dolmen. “The grey fog. Something walks in it. I have to obtain my mother’s grimorie before it hits us.”

“If it helps,” Nia says behind her, her voice suddenly shy, “it’s not today that it attacks.”

“What?” Lena stops and turns to Nia with a frown. “What do you mean not today?”

“Did you have a true dream?” Kara asks.

Nia nods. “Earlier, in the car. Saw fog in the shape of an hourglass, us holding hands as we cross a bridge, and a falling tower. The hourglass signifies that we have time but it’s slipping away. The other elements all hint that confrontation is soon, and Lena, if you find the sword…”

“I know,” Lena says, impatiently. “Don’t unsheathe—”

Nia shakes her head. “You must fight with it, but choose your opponent carefully. Because I think, no, I’m sure it’s a fight to the death.”

To read the full story, click here.

#supercorp #lena luthor #kara x lena #pov lena luthor #magic!lena #kara danvers #nia nal #supergirl cw #cw supergirl #supergirl #supergirl fic #Irish Lena Luthor #Lena is on an Irish Quest to get a magic sword #fun times in Ireland #irish mythology #read it on ao3 #read on ao3

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eltube · 26 days

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(new fic!) Evil-Adult-Anon

I wrote this fic as a gift for @kndrules’ birthday this year (Happy Birthday Jay!) and after he mentioned it offhand someone was interested in reading it—so I am posting it here for all to see!

It takes place in our adult AU, where—for reference—sector V members are about 35 years old. This fic doesn’t feature sector V, though; it stars Cree!! Who is in her forties, a Japanese history professor, and still coming to terms with her life after Father. (Father is recently in prison—basically, if you have any questions about the details of this timeline, feel free to ask about it.) It also features special guests (The) Steve and The Toilenator, though you may not recognize him at first.

Enjoy!

With every step she took into the hotel lobby, Cree gripped the shoulder strap of her canvas bag a little tighter. She had tried to dress casual, but put-together: one of her nicer cardigan sweaters, the pants she actually ironed, and her new shoes with the fancy broguing on the sides. Her locs were tied back in a small, loose bun behind her, and she figured that–at least if nobody zeroed in on the death grip of that one hand on her bag–she probably looked pretty composed from the outside.

She needed the death grip though, because the farther away she got from her partner’s familiar car, the more she felt her bravado slipping away, already making a smaller woman under this big, domed ceiling. Steve had told her way too many times that she’s “got this,” working his clueless magic that once again made her enough of a fool to believe him. Now, the stronger illusion of her–the stranger who so confidently waved at Steve as he dropped her off, as if this was all her idea–was looking down at her real self with a mixture of smug superiority and pity.

She ran her palm along the bag’s material as she walked on the lobby carpet, grounding herself (as she had been taught to call it) by feeling the bumps along the surface. She recognized and remembered the shapes of the file folders, overflowing with booklets of paper, packed inside. Cree had brought her students’ essays along with her, like she always did during exam seasons in case she had a few moments to catch up on marking them.

In this case, bringing the student papers along had been a kind of silent, last-ditch prayer of desperation. Like, maybe this whole thing would actually be cancelled, right? Everyone would go home, not even knowing she had shown up, and she could sit peacefully alone on these pearly white couches until Steve’s band finished practicing, just reading first-year history students’ takes on bushido and cracking up without a care in the world.

It wasn’t going to happen–but honestly, she just needed the fantasy to get her out the door. As the knots in her stomach were reminding her very loudly now, she really did not want to come.

Trying the grounding again, Cree focused on the surroundings of the hotel as she moved towards the conference room, reminding herself to “name three things” for each of her senses. She had resisted this strategy at first, how babyish it sounded. To her displeasure though, she had to admit that when she actually tried it eventually, the damn thing worked.

I hear…the front desk people typing. Luggage carts. A fountain.

I see…ugly wallpaper. Plants. A snack counter…huh, looks like they have ice cream. That logo is familiar.

I smell…what do hotels smell like? The scent of blandness? Parfum du nothing? ‘Clean stank’? Sure, those count as three things.

I taste…DAMMIT! FUCK! SHIT!

A jolt of surprised rage yanked Cree out of the ritual. She strode directly into something blocking her path, priming her to explode at whoever put it there–and then, just as fast, a wave of hot embarrassment followed. She realized she had knocked her foot against a sign outside the conference room. It was, actually, the exact sign she was supposed to be looking out for.

“SUPPORT GROUP HERE,”--the text on the cardboard seemed to be shouting out loud to mock her as it toppled over. Cree couldn’t help but project onto it like it was a person she hated, some shrill little kid maybe, pointing and going LOOK WHAT THIS WEIRD LADY DID for the whole hotel to hear. Scrambling to catch herself and prop the thing back up–make it be quiet–Cree looked around, praying that no one had seen her “calm” herself into a clumsy mess. Luckily, it seemed like it was a secret between her and the security cameras at most.

“So much for mindfulness,” she muttered to herself, silently cursing her therapist. That lady was definitely going to hear about the mess she caused with her advice next week. On the bright side, though, all the potential awkwardness Cree felt around walking into this conference room seemed tamer in comparison, now. She let out a long-suffering breath, reasoning that she had come this far, and put on a brave face as she crossed the threshold.

—

The room was set up just the way Cree had imagined it–she couldn’t tell if she found this funny or downright irritating, the cliche of the scene. The circle of folding chairs, the table of cheap coffee, the name tags…it all felt like the setup of a joke at her expense, and when she found herself taking a sharpie and actually writing Cree on one–eugh—that was the punchline.

A nametag, as if these people didn’t know exactly who she was. Even if she had changed her hair or her mannerisms much in the last 15 or so years, she was, she noted bitterly, the only Black woman in the room, so she would always be unmistakable.

At least no one’s staring at me. At least not until my back is turned.

The cheap label stuck to the right side of her sweater, she kept her hand on her bag as she sat slowly down in one of the chairs. It was stiff, but she took some small pride in having good posture. Others in the room, many of whom she was surprised not to recognize–shouldn’t I know everybody here?--were all milling around and making small talk, like friends. They smiled at each other, touched shoulders, laughed; they probably came here dutifully every second week while she was hiding at home.

People started to take their seats around her, and Cree tried to block the lonely resentment building in her gut from showing on her face. As the meeting started and the scattered conversations died down, she closed her eyes and conjured up her confident self from the car again, a witch conjuring ghosts of the past. She would need magic not to screw this up.

Directly across from her, one middle-aged man stayed standing with his hands folded; he, she assumed, was the group leader she talked to on the phone.

“Welcome, everybody,” he said, and his familiar voice confirmed Cree’s guess. “Now that everyone’s sitting, we can start.”

The man, tall and Latino with greying hair and broad arms, had already introduced himself to Cree last week as Paolo. He was friendly enough, and thoughtful enough with his direct invitation to attend the meeting, that she tragically couldn’t refuse it anymore without looking like a complete jerk. And as always seemed to be the case with these people, he said he knew who she was, but she never remembered meeting him–and again, she wondered if this tendency to erase people’s names and faces from her memory made her arrogant.

She tried to console herself with the fact that, at least in this case, there were reasons Paolo might have been forgettable; ice cream men were always wearing those stupid hats anyway, and they all looked the same in uniform. It’s not like she was hanging out with them back in the day—they were never even invited to those Anti-Kid Bingo Nights.

Ugh, she had almost forgotten how much she hated those.

“First of all,” Paolo continued, with the attention of the room bringing Cree back. “Thanks to everyone again who brought food. Feel free to say something about your recipe when we do the circle…if it’s not a family secret!”

There were good-hearted chuckles scattered around Cree where the older members sat, the kind she hears from the tenured professors pushing 70 at work. When she’s not scared of getting a day older, part of Cree looks forward to getting to an age where unfunny jokes make her laugh like that.

“Now, we’ll start with me like always. We don’t have too many new folks here today,”--and Cree felt his lack of eye contact with her here was deliberate–”but it’s always good to introduce ourselves just in case. So, hi everyone. My name’s Paolo–feel free to share just your first name, or your last too, whatever’s comfortable–and, well, when I’m not running this group, I’m the Ohio regional representative of Tasty Taste. It’s been really rewarding for me to help build the new face of the company, and, hey…I’m sure it’s also rewarding for us that I’m able to offer free ice cream to everyone here.”

There was a murmur of chuckles from the group again, and Cree remembered the stand she had passed on the way in, the shape and colours of the logo all clicking into place. The new face of the company. So the stand used to belong to…hell, maybe the whole hotel used to be his. Suddenly she felt a pang of nausea, like the chair she was sitting on might be coated in poisonous slime.

Paolo went on. “I’ll pass the intros around the circle now, and feel free to share anything about yourself. It can be a fact about you related to the group or not! Then we’ll go into a theme for this week’s discussion. Lou, you’re on my right–why don’t you go ahead?”

Paolo sat down, and the man next to him looked up and smiled at the group shyly. He was white and semi-elderly, with a belly but stringy, gangly limbs, and he sported a decidedly balding head of thin blonde hair. Cree didn’t recognize this guy, either, and assumed he was another ice cream man. How common was it, she wondered, for men like Paolo to still be working at Tasty Taste now?

“Hi, I’m Lou,” the new man said, and something about his voice sounded instantly familiar. “I brought some quiche today, but it is a bit of a family secret with my husband and me…” He grinned. “Um, I work as a [gastrointestinal specialist] now, but for a long time I guess people probably just knew me as a guy who walked around wearing a goofy costume…a guy who no one liked.”

With that bit of context, in his timid voice, it dawned on her. Holy shit. Her mouth fell open, shocked by how bizarrely normal he seemed across from her now. That’s the Toilenator.

Nobody noticed her gaping expression while Lou continued, now so clearly resembling a time-lapsed version of the villain, like a parody act that walked offstage. “It’s been great for me to get to know people through this group,” he smiled, “And I’m glad more people are coming every time. Sigmund doesn’t come with me since it’s not his experience, but he says he can really tell it makes a difference and he’s grateful to all of you.”

Lou sat back in his chair and the group clapped, something that Cree gathered was customary during this “introductions” phase. She awkwardly raised her hands and clapped once, feeling distinctly stupid, like she was at show-and-tell or something. How long has the Toilenator been married?

More than that—though she realized how cruel it was, while he was being vulnerable—Cree was embarrassed to think she had any common issues with the Toilenator.

As the next few people introduced themselves, their words blurred into nonsense and this parallel between them horrified her more and more. She was suddenly haunted by a mirror image of herself, wearing an oversized toilet seat around her head, getting bullied by people—who were, by all accounts, total freaks themselves—is that the kind of company she was seeking solace in?

More people spoke, mostly ice cream men, or B-list villains, or some guy who watered the lawn at the mansion. Ignoring them, she wondered if the Toilenator had any of the same messed up problems as her—maybe he even went to the same therapists about it. Maybe right after Cree left those offices, all woe-is-me, this old guy walked in after her, clearly doing so much better about it since he can be at home making quiche all day. As if all of this couldn’t be more humiliating, now the Toilenator was beating her at therapy!

“…would like to share something?”

Cree looked up as she noticed the room was staring at her, expectant. It was silent now, no one else sharing, meaning it must have been her turn to speak. She stupidly opened and closed her mouth and sat up straighter, running her hand along her canvas bag nervously again.

”I, uh.”

Paolo was looking over and smiling patiently, and the patience of it sort of made it worse.

”Sorry. I’m…I didn’t bring anything. Didn’t know it was a potluck. I um…well, you all know who I am. I’m Cree. You know me whether you met me back then or not. Everyone keeps telling me to come to one of these things, but I never felt like I…I dunno, deserved it. But now I’m here, so I guess I have to catch everyone up.”

Once the first words were out of her mouth, it became a kind of compulsion to speak, which in a way was a mercy. She caught faces with eyes burning into her, but fought the urge to try and read their thoughts.

”So, I was Father’s apprentice. For…10 years? Something like that.”

Speaking his name made it real. She might as well jump right into it.

”I guess, you know…I realized in my mid-20s, that after everything I worked for, I wanted out. It wasn’t worth it, and he never intended to give me any of the power he promised. I guess a lot of you worked for him for money, but he never even paid me. Then I realized it was his future or mine—he didn’t want me going to school, didn’t want me doing anything that took me farther away, and I guess…something in me sensed it would only get worse. I took a chance, I left, I cut contact and left for college and didn’t look back. I was scared he’d come after me but lo and behold the case against him came together just in time. And it’s only with him in prison that I feel like I can say anything without putting everyone I know in danger, so I’m not used to…saying anything. But I’m trying to start.”

The room was listening intently, with a kind of respect that she only got in a really good lecture—the kind she never expected and worried she couldn’t rise to. She kept talking anyway, facts spilling out of her that she was always worried would explode if exposed to the air.

”I had some distance from everything, and I compartmentalized everything from back then until I graduated, but…you know, I still live with all the shit I did, while I worked for him, while I was trying to prove that I could be him someday. What I did to kids, to my own kid sister…and I went to him, right? And I did it year after year, and I convinced myself they deserved it. I didn’t think it was right to call myself a victim, because of that. Sometimes I felt I should have been sentenced with him. But becoming…”

She took a shaky breath, feeling the full weight of the listening silence. “…becoming a teacher, when I’m working with my students…they’re all adults, right, but even then, I keep thinking…the power I have over them scares me. When I think about doing to them what he did, I feel sick, and it just makes me realize…damn, it was wrong when it happened to me, too. I was like that back then, just…young, and powerless, and wanting to impress someone who could move me up. No matter what it took, right? And he knew that. Even the guilt I’m feeling now, it…he made me feel it on purpose. And it worked.”

Cree had her eyes trained on the floor now, on a space between her shoes, and she was afraid to look up after saying what she knew was far too much. These people connected to her by Father’s common thread of abuse—she didn’t know if their pity or their total apathy to her pain would be more devastating. Whatever reaction there would be, it was the one she was afraid of—it was the escaping of the story, the reveal to the world, that hurt her every time.

—

Cree felt her arm quickly shoot up to her face to wipe at a hot tear escaping. She and Steve had joked on the way over about how her crying was an inevitability, that it was just about how many fugitive tears she let get away. She thought she had prepared for it then, but she never could.

”Cree,” Paolo said in the silence, his voice sounding even-toned and not so sympathetic as to taunt her. “We are all so glad that you came to a meeting. And though it may not be at all close to what you’ve experienced in its intensity, I think you’ve put words to a dynamic that many of us in this group felt in our work lives for a long time.”

Cree bit down on her cheeks and braved glancing up again, seeing that several people were nodding respectfully, including Lou, who had an indisputably kind smile on his face. She wanted to mock it, but it was too genuine for that.

The woman sitting beside Cree wordlessly handed her a tissue and a glass of water, which she sheepishly accepted. When Paolo continued he addressed the entire group, taking attention away from her, helping her come back from where she had gone.

”Many people have said in group before,” Paolo said, gesturing to the circle, “that we have feelings of guilt, like you described. That we feel we can’t be considered Father’s victims, because we weren’t children when he hurt us, or because he didn’t hit us physically, or because we only suffered abuse in the workplace and not interpersonally.” There were more nods around him.

“It comes up quite often, too, that members of the group are ourselves perpetrators—we hurt children on his payroll, and so we had no right to speak. And it’s true that many of us are guilty of things that we very well may not be forgiven for.” Paolo shrugged. “I’ve spoken to some people, former Kids Next Door operatives, who I hurt while I was an ice cream man. I want nothing more than to reconcile with them, but some of them—rightfully, I think—don’t speak to any of us. There’s a reason this group is for people who worked for Father. We all feel this tension. But it is powerful to break the cycle.”

Cree smiled, finding Paolo’s speech corny, but in a way that released some tension in her. The Toilenator—Lou, Cree reminded herself—was standing up and passing a dish around, apparently sensing an opportunity to relax everyone further. A thin elderly man looked over as he took a piece of quiche, adding his input:

“I had hoped I would see you at a meeting soon, Ms. Lincoln,” he said, and she immediately recognized his voice as the butler, Wintergreen’s. He broke into a smile at the way her eyes must have widened. “Yes, it’s been many years—and I often wondered if you were well, after you disappeared.” His face grew serious again, and he added: “I saw a lot of things back then that, if I could go back, I would not have allowed, or so I tell myself. There are people I would have protected. If I had been a better man…well. The point is to be a better man, now. Though a very old one, certainly.”

That old refrain of laughter, of middle-aged amusement at a tired joke, bubbled up and helped eat away at the nerves of the moment. Cree’s smirk was one of genuine mirth, this time. Her mind swirled with possibilities of what Wintergreen had been doing, feeling, all this time. Here was someone who served Father tea, who made the delightful children sandwiches for lunch. She had never even thought he had a conscience. But in its way, that must weigh on him, too.

Maybe she wasn’t—in every way—alone.

”I became a teacher after I left the business, too,” one ice cream man added, holding a hand under his quiche to catch the crumbs. “And I think what you said about teaching—seeing yourself in your students, and everything—well, that was a really good point. My students are adult learners, and in a new country, so sometimes when I see them lacking confidence, I remember how I felt when I messed up at work and Father exploded at me…you know, it takes me right back there. I’m not an angry guy, and I try to make class fun, but I just think…what if? What if that’s me one day? Sometimes I even have to leave the class because it messes me up. But, I don’t know if this is true for you…it makes it feel more rewarding to do it the right way. To be patient and not like some tyrant. I keep reminding myself that’s not who I am, because I get to decide.”

”I feel the same way about my patients,” Lou beamed, sitting back down now that the quiche tray was empty. “I love reassuring them, especially about things that are embarrassing, like stomach issues can be.” He shrugged. “Humiliation was a common theme in the ways all the villains targeted me, but it doesn’t have the same power anymore.”

”Damn, everyone sure moved up!” Cree thought aloud, laughing in spite of herself. “I guess the job market can’t be that bad, huh?”

”Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” Paolo laughed back. “After all, this group is my big career move, and they pay me in quiche!”

The response to this quip was uproarious, so disproportionately so that Cree found herself earnestly cackling along. As the evening wound down, the relief of introducing herself gave way to a rush of endorphins, powering her forward.

She had conversations with people her teen self would have never spoken to—wouldn’t have been caught dead sitting in a circle with. That old outline of herself would have called this group a joke, a bunch of expired villains sitting in a circle like a kindergarten class, a cautionary tale about what happens when you let yourself go soft.

She would have laughed about that with her teen ninja friends and then gone home alone, tried to sleep with the pit in her gut, knowing that she’d have to meet him tomorrow, to give her report, to get her orders. In the back of her mind, Cree thought to herself how much she would have wanted to hold that lonely girl. How much she wished she could call her up and invite her here herself.

—

By the time Cree met the car in the parking lot, she had four phone numbers tucked in her pocket, scrawled on hotel stationary in shaky hands by people who swore they had gotten the hand of technology enough to stay in touch. She often told people she’d call them or text them, fully intending to throw their cards in the trash the second she left—she didn’t intend that, this time. Though she guessed that time would always tell.

Steve unlatched the door handle and grinned at her from the front seat, a fry from the fast food place nearby hanging out of his mouth. “What’sh up?” He said, lips full, and then swallowed quickly to free up his speech. “Band practice was awesome today, you’re gonna love the new album.”

Cree climbed in, slung her bag over her shoulder and onto the floor in front of her. She realized how heavy it was, what she had been carrying all day.

“I’ll judge that when I hear it,” Cree grinned back. “Did you get me a burger?”

“‘Course.” Steve shook the paper bag beside him. “Your go-to after a rough day. I’m guessing you need it, huh? Tell me about everything that sucked on the way home, I’m all ears.”

“Actually,” Cree looked out the window, watching the hotel start to roll past as the car moved. She smiled again despite herself. “I was gonna say you can have it. The eating’s pretty good at these things. And man, you won’t believe who made the food.”

#Knd #My writing #i don’t know if that’s the fic tag i decided on i will update this later #Cree lincoln #the toilenator

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