Tumgik
#corrupted steven DOUBLE
pokemonruby · 1 year
Text
i’m not sure if volo counts or not, but i really think pokemon ought to go for the “champion is evil” route eventually because i think it’d just be so interesting. considering the champion is the highest figure of their respective region, ushering in tons of praise and respect, it’d be amazing if they used their absurd popularity and fame to their advantage somehow, brainwashing the masses and sneaking around and scheming without detection since, let’s be real, celebrities can get away with anything. bonus points if the elite four is in on it too, since i’d actually like to see them be incorporated in the storylines more since they’re, well, the elite fucking four, the objective cream of the crop and yet you barely see them outside of the pokemon league.
and there would be something so dynamic about all of it since it wouldn’t be like facing your standard villainous team - these are the best trainers the region has to offer, so it would be an indubitably tough challenge, especially if they spin the narrative by exploiting their renown and claiming that you’re the bad guy. i mean, what’s one small-time trainer, especially a child likely, in comparison to the literal pokemon league, anyway? 
22 notes · View notes
murdrdocs · 7 months
Text
Tumblr media
MURDRTOBR !
thirty one nights of classic, horny, fun.
requests: closed + note from celeste
Tumblr media Tumblr media
𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪 FORMIDABLE COOL. ETHAN LANDRY OCT 01
an exclusive with the infamous ghostface killer from the recent 6th installment
manipulation, p in v, choking/breath play, mean!ethan, ghostface!ethan
other articles include ...
INTERVIEW 001 - ,, mean!hobie brown + degradation. OCT 03
INTERVIEW 002 - ,, sub!stiles stilinski + thigh riding. OCT 05
INTERVIEW 003 - ,, ethan landry + period sex. OCT 07
Tumblr media
𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪 SAW YOUR END. VOID STILES STILINSKI OCT 11
it's hard to pretend you didn't want it when it's something you'd dreamt of for years
fem!reader, void stiles, slight dubcon, manipulation, impact play, forced impregnation, snowballing, choking
other articles include ...
INTERVIEW 004 - ,, theo raeken + manipulation OCT 8
INTERVIEW 005 - ,, mean!rafe cameron + degradation OCT 10
INTERVIEW 006 - ,, officer! miguel o'hara + playing dangerous OCT 12
Tumblr media
𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪 YOUR HAZE. VOID STILES STILINSKI OCT 17
vampire!fem!reader, void stiles, heavy manipulation, oral sex (f receiving)
other articles include ...
INTERVIEW 007 - ,, ethan landry + suffocation + oral OCT 15
INTERVIEW 008 - ,, eddie munson + non con voyeurism OCT 16
INTERVIEW 009 - ,, rafe cameron/sarah cameron + stepcest OCT 18
INTERVIEW 010 - ,, ghostface! jj maybank/rafe cameron + dubcon OCT 21
Tumblr media
𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪 BUT YOU'RE NOT MINE. MIGUEL O'HARA OCT 25
fem!reader, dubcon + cnc, size kink, dacryphilia, oral sex (f receiving), p n v
INTERVIEW 011 - ,, robin buckley + voice kink OCT 24
INTERVIEW 012 - ,, theo raeken/stiles stilinski + voyeurism OCT 26
INTERVIEW 013 - ,, finnick odair + filming OCT 28
Tumblr media
INTERVIEW 014 - ,, mike schmidt + filming OCT 29
INTERVIEW 015 - ,, stepsis!hazel callahan + filming + blackmail OCT 30
INTERVIEW 016 - ,, hazel callahan + corruption OCT 31
Tumblr media
rules.
respect the authors wishes; do not request any kinks not on the list; if unsure about anything, contact me! most if not all works are dark content. minors pls dni !
characters.
Chad Meeks Martin, Charlie Walker, Corey Cunningham, Dave Lizewski, Eddie Munson, Ethan Landry, Finnick Odair, Hobie Brown, Hazel Callahan, Harry James Potter, Jackson Whittemore, Jake Seresin/Hangman, Jake Sully, JJ Maybank, Miguel O’Hara, Mike Schmidt, Namor, Peter B. Parker, Peter Parker (all), Peter Quill, Quinn Bailey, Rafe Cameron, Robin Buckley, Rodrick Heffley, Sam Carpenter, Scott McCall, Stiles Stilinski, Steve Harrington, Steven Grant, Tara Carpenter, Theo Raeken
kinks.
Age gap/age difference, Blood Play, Bukkake, Car sex, Cock ring, Cuckold, Double Penetration, Exhibitionism, Femdom, Filming, Groupsex/Gangbang, Hate Fucking, Heat, Knife play/danger kink, Mommy kink, Monster fucking (vampires, werewolves, incubus/succubus), Mutual Masturbation, Pegging, Piss/Bladder control, Public sex, Sex Pollen, Size difference, Somnophilia, Stepcest, Voyeurism
original blog navi
480 notes · View notes
lostalioth · 6 months
Text
Tumblr media
→ hiii my loves here i go again with an ambitious kinktober prompt list!!!! it might end badly as in i dont finish it as i have the past 2 kinktobers i’ve tried to participate in. which is why i only have 18 days of prompts planned out from the 1st to halloween ill be posting a prompt fic almost every other day so sunday, tuesday, thursday and saturday!! i definitely wouldn’t be able to do a full 31 days when i can barely finish the prompts i laid out the past two years soooo
→ i don’t do taglists as that is too much for me to keep up with however you can follow my library account — @aliothslibrary where i reblog my new fics right after ive posted and thats all i reblog on there so you could turn on notifications for that account if you’d like to be notified when each days fics go out!! here is my masterlist as well :)
→ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!! THIS IS A 18+ ACCOUNT / BLOG !! AND THESE ARE 18+ FICS THEY ALL INCLUDE SMUT.
Tumblr media
day one — size kink + body worship w/ stucky
day two — mutual masturbation + gagging w/ eddie munson
day three — knife play + thorat training w/ loki laufeyson
day four — bike sex + oral w/ biker!bucky barnes
day five — shower sex + edging w/ steve harrington
day six — blood kink + squirting w/ miguel o’hara
day seven — face sitting + love marks w/ marc sceptor
day eight — free use + sir kink w/ steve rogers
day nine — bondage + creampie w/ tasm!peter parker
day ten — lap dance + fingering w/ bucky barnes
day eleven — cock worship + praise kink w/ steve harrington
day twelve — high sex + corruption kink w/ eddie munson
day thirteen — against a wall + semi-public sex w/ steven grant
day fourteen — choking + nipple play w/ steve rogers
day fifteen — overstimulation + begging w/ miguel o’hara
day sixteen — orgasm denial + dacryphilia w/ loki laufeyson
day seventeen — phone sex + dirty talk w/ tasm!peter parker
day eighteen— doubled penetration + drunk sex w/ steddie
Tumblr media
→ hope you enjoy my babes! please send me feedback don’t be shy to comment on the fics and tell me what you think please i love seeing your reactions to my fics guys!!!! thank youuu for reading if you do and if you don’t welll your lose ;)
307 notes · View notes
uselesssomebody · 6 months
Text
𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲'𝐬 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑 (18+)
Tumblr media
the do's (rules & information):
readers must be over 18 reading these drabbles
all works will be under or roughly a thousand words
thirty-one days of smut drabbles
ten days are open to requests for the kinks
ten days will include dark content (will be properly tagged)
five will include a dominant reader
Tumblr media
the don'ts (what i am not interested in writing):
i only write fem!readers, with all involved characters being over 18
the kinks i'd appreciate you don't request are anything to do with anal penetration, bodily fluids (besides blood and cum), and certain dom/sub dynamics like age play or ddlg
otherwise, ask away, and i'll see if i'm comfortable writing your request!
Tumblr media
the kinks and the characters
october 1: shower sex w/ frankie morales
october 2: ball worship (dom!reader) w/ eddie munson
october 3: sex pollen (dark) w/ din djarin
october 4: consensual non-consent (dark) w/ miguel o'hara
october 5: threesome (ffm) w/ marc spector & layla el-faouly
october 6: requested kink & character
october 7: breeding kink (dark) w/ duke leto
october 8: somnophilia (dark) w/ eddie munson
october 9: mutual masturbation (dom!reader) w/ steven grant
october 10: threesome (mmf) + double penetration (in one hole) w/ frankie morales and santiago garcia
october 11: titfucking w/ javier peña
october 12: requested kink & character
october 13: exhibitionism w/ poe dameron
october 14: dacryphilia (dark) w/ joel miller
october 15: temperature play (dom!reader) w/ din djarin
october 16: phone sex w/ jack daniels
october 17: corruption kink (dark) w/ dio morrissey
october 18: requested kink & character
october 19: edging (dark!dom!reader) w/ basil stitt
october 20: recording/blackmail (dark) w/ jonathan levy
october 21: mask + glove kink w/ jake lockley
october 22: hate + mirror sex w/ javier peña
october 23: cockwarming (dom!reader) w/ steven grant
october 24: requested kink & character
october 25: overstimulation w/ jake lockley
october 26: size difference w/ miguel o'hara
october 27: knife kink (dark) w/ bucky barnes
october 28: free use (dark) w/ joel miller
october 29: sex toys w/ natasha romanoff
october 30: requested kink & character
october 31: period sex/blood kink w/ santiago garcia
Tumblr media
the characters (you guys can request)
from stranger things, i write for eddie munson, robin buckley, billy hargrove or steve harrington
from marvel, i write for bucky barnes, steve rogers, natasha romanoff, jake lockley, marc spector, steven grant, layla el-faouly and miguel o'hara
from star wars, i write for poe dameron, or din djarin (the mandalorian)
from triple frontier, i write for frankie morales and santiago garcia
miscellaneous oscar isaac characters i write for include basil stitt, jonathan levy, duke leto, kane and orestes (agora)
miscellaneous pedro pascal characters i write for include joel miller, javier peña, jack daniels (agent whiskey), dio morrissey
if you want to request another character, don't hesitate! i will see what i can do.
Tumblr media
notes
guys i know i haven't written in like 1200 months but i wanna get back into the mood with the short smutty stuff
besides, i've never done kinktober and every other one i've seen bangs so hard i simply couldn't resist
side note - dark fics will be only available on my adjacent dark blog: @darkuselesssomebody, but will be linked on this masterlist. if you wanna read the dark drabbles and future dark work, give it a follow!
i am also willing to take non-kinky & halloween themed requests, so if you have any, let me know!
Tumblr media
𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲!
354 notes · View notes
hopelessrromantix · 1 year
Text
my 2022 kinktober/kinkember masterlist
main masterlist
➳ day one first time | frottage Steve Harrington
➳ day two degradation | marking Jason Carver
➳ day three cockwarming | thigh riding Chamber
➳ day four bondage | praise Johnathan Byers
➳ day five somnophilia | cock worship Billy Hargrove
➳ day six edging | dumbification Billy Hargrove
➳ day seven + eight hate sex + facefucking | overstimulation + exhibitionism Yoru
➳ day nine dacryphilia | photos/video Camboy!Billy Hargrove
➳ day ten corruption | face sitting Eddie Munson + Steve Harrington
➳ day eleven size kink | choking Atsushi Nakajima
➳ day twelve solo masturbation | spanking Eddie Munson
➳ day thirteen phone sex | massage Eddie Munson + Steve Harrington
➳ day fourteen lingerie | body worship MK System
➳ day fifteen collars | orgasm denial Bakugou Katsuki
➳ day sixteen daddy kink | facial Eddie Munson
➳day seventeen shower sex | deep throating Steven Grant
➳day eighteen mirror sex | rimming MK System
➳day nineteen aftercare | knife play Billy Hargrove
➳day twenty double penetration | breeding Steve Harrington
➳day twenty-one role play | toys Billy Loomis + Stu Macher
➳day twenty-two cuckolding | food play Eddie Munson + Steve Harrington
➳day twenty-three fingering | monster fucking Newt Scamander
➳day twenty-four aphrodisiac | sounding Steve Harrington
➳day twenty-five bulge | blood kink Eddie Munson
➳day twenty-seven gloryhole | mutual masturbation Billy Hargrove
➳day twenty-six power imbalance | cum inflation Billy Hargrove
➳day twenty-eight creampie | wax play Draco Malfoy
➳day twenty-nine ice play | sadism/masochism Billy Hargrove
➳day thirty costumes/uniform | cum play Steve Harrington
➳day thirty-one free choice! | feminization/crossdressing Steve Harrington
762 notes · View notes
justarandomrat · 3 months
Text
Can people even call the wraith scratch theory a theory at this point? And I know theories are theories until proven but It's basically already confirmed canon. I know it hasn't been confirmed yet but there is so much evidence to back it up it baffles me how people still don't believe it's true.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Comparisons, the noses are literally the same shape, the hair has the same shape, they have the same double chin, they both have the same structural face format, hell have you not even noticed that scratch and Todd are played by the same guy, DANA SNYDER!!! Wraiths have already been introduced to be a thing along with Molly's soul-less body when she's not in it! It has a greyish tone (Todd has a grey tone to him, hell he literally wears grey clothes) along with the soul-less body sounding dead and toneless (again Todd has the same thing). And don't say "Well he can't be a wraith because he sometimes shows emotion" no shit he shows emotion, have you not realized how long he and scratch have been separated? Todd is basically his own person. We don't have a time frame as of writing this but it has too have been a pretty long time. We do know that scratch has been a "ghost" for many years and doesn't remember a thing.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Another thing, scratch and Todd both love food, the only time we've seen Todd smile is when there is FOOD INVOLVED in the episode "Festival of lights"!!! And if you know scratch you know he will literally do anything to eat anything, he will eat garbage, he will eat literal objects, he loves food. Honestly you don't even need to know him to know he loves food, because most times when he's around hes either eating or begging for something greasy.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Honestly I don't even know how someone can still deny this theory. This feels like the Steven universe corruption theory all over again. Sorry this was long I just had to let this all out because it is crazy how many people I've seen still disbelieve this. And many people on Tumblr have already made their thoughts on it, I just wanted to post this before the episodes came out to give my final thoughts on it.
Tumblr media
Final thoughts:
Scratch is Todd confirmed screw you if you think otherwise.
105 notes · View notes
Text
what if GemCYT had a side rebel group?
Tumblr media
I’ve been following the GemCYT au for a while now, and I love it. The designs are amazing, and the story is great. I saw a really cool idea by @snowydragon10 that basically said, “Yo, but what if DanTDM (who is Blue Diamond in the au by general consensus I guess??) ALSO rebelled, but instead of just faking his death and leaving like Lizzy (Pink Diamond) did, he was a double agent/mole of sorts. I’ve watched this goggle-wearing goof for about 4-6 years now, so I figured I’d expand a lot on this idea. I combined both possibilities they mentioned in a post. For starters, Blue/Dan didn’t become a good guy right away. It took quite a bit of convincing. There were two main things that led him to earth in the first place. Firstly, after the Corrupting Light/Diamond Blast attack, some foresight from one of his sapphires suggested Pink was still alive. Second, he’s the diamond that mainly focuses on technology and science. Several reports showed outbreaks of corruption in gems, and most of those planets were very close to earth. Believing earth was the main harbor of the corruption, grieving for his lost sister, and holding out on blind hope, he went down to earth alone in the form of a Larimar, a Lapis’s ice equivalent. He stumbled across the rebels who offered him protection, training, and hospitality in exchange to help these poor dystopian gems thrive and fight against the Diamond authority. He eventually became a rebel because he had a lot of things to disagree with when it came to white Diamond and how things were handled.
The team on Dan’s side so far consist of him as a Larimar, Justin/Thinknoodles as his pearl, a perfect lapis cut who dubbed himself IBallisticSquid due to the use of floating water tentacles, and ThxCya aka James, a mercenary against the corrupt gems who is a half-human, half- emerald himself. (Like Steven but way less OP and less MC energy.). The difference between Dan and Lizzys squads? Lizzys is much bigger, and both sides would live in different parts of the world entirely. Like snowy dragon said, two diamonds at once would cause a power imbalance. One team would be taking care of some arcs shown in SU, the other will deal with other arcs. (EX: Lizzys group/empires n stuff would have the sword training arc, Dan’s and other ogs would have the Human Zoo arc.)
Anyways enough rambling, here’s their basic designs that are subject to change because I’m indecisive. God I hope it actually comes up for everyone else actually visible.
Gemcyt by @chrisrin
Og idea by @snowydragon10
DanTDM design inspired off of DiamondTDM by @ingapotejtoo
51 notes · View notes
psychedelic-ink · 1 year
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
*the banner (& mastelist overall) is heavily influenced by my dearest @inklore 's kinktober masterlist and I urge everyone to go and check her deliciously smutty list out 💜
— 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 ‘𝟐𝟐
hi lovelies! my favorite time of the year has finally arrived-- under the cut you'll find all the things I've written for this years kinktober, the list will be updated as we go, enjoy 💜
(🖤) indicates dark content/check trigger warnings
i made a taglist for kinktober which you can join but if that's not your thing you can simply follow my library blog and turn on notifs!
before reading anything please thoroughly read the warnings since some of them include heavier kinky scenarios
i won't be listing the ones i plan on writing as to not limit myself to a list and so I can change characters/kinks as i please and without worry. the fics listed below have already been written and scheduled to post
main masterlist
Tumblr media Tumblr media
1 | me & mine: pero tovar x reader x ezra | double penetration
after coming to a new city, you find yourself in your hotel room with two unbelievably attractive men.
2 | marked man: pero tovar x reader | dry humping, squirting
despite the fact that you shouldn't, you can't help but continue to visit the prisoner that you still didn't know the name of. An unexpected visitor shows up.
3| daddy issues: matt murdock x reader | blood kink, boxer au
you're tired of seeing him getting purposefully beat up every night. matt tries to reason with you.
4| poison & wine: duke leto x reader x din djarin | spit roasting
the razor crest is low on fuel and din knows the perfect pit spot.
5| dear friend,: ezra x reader | phone sex, dirty talking
you've been friends with ezra for a while now. after talking on the phone and making plans to meet up tomorrow, ezra thinks he hung up. you can't help but listen in as he gives a woman you don't know the time of her life. 
6| save tonight: frankie morales x reader x santiago garcia | cuckolding, degradation
frankie comes with you with a proposal that you're eager to accept.
7| river: din djarin x reader | dacryphilia
din likes it when you cry for him.
Tumblr media
8| choke on flowers: dieter bravo x reader | cult, blackmail 🖤
dieter is a mess, but you enjoy being with him nonetheless. but things start to change when a friend of his comes for a visit.
9| careless: frankie morales x reader x jack daniels | lactation kink, titjob
you get hit with a drug that makes you lactate, frankie and jack are more than eager to help you out.
10| stupid for you: steven grant x reader | orgasm denial, brat taming, mirror sex
steven wants you to admit he's the best you ever had, as always you don't make it easy for him
11| one touch: javier peña x reader | somnophilia
you've been set on trying to convince javier to take what he wants, for him to let go and he finally does.
12| like that: modern!pero tovar x reader | knife play
there's a storm raging outside and you go down to the basement to look at a Pero's knife collection while he's gone.
13| loverboy: tom!peter parker x reader | choking, breathplay
you get trapped in your sweater, peter has a unique way of helping you out.
14| 3 AM: dbf!santiago garcia x reader | dry humping, quiet sex
santi comes to your room for a visit at 3 AM.
Tumblr media
15| hit the road: jack daniels x reader | consensual noncon
It's late when you leave the office, you feel a pair of familiar eyes watching you.
16| heat waves: dieter bravo x reader | temperature play, food play
dieter wants to try something new.
17| is forever for you?: jake lockley x reader | corruption kink, sex toys
jake is always eager to teach.
18| no brakes: din djarin x reader | hate fucking
you have a bounty on your head, din takes the job.
19| tag, you're it: frankie morales x reader | pray/predator kink, gun kink
once a month you and frankie play a game.
20| after hours: javier peña x steve murphy x reader x horacio carillo
after another day of being unsuccessful in catching escobar, you offer the boys another way of relief.
21| pumpkin seeds: poe dameron x reader | sex pollen, outdoors
you and poe fin yourself on a pumpkin infested planet, however the flowers that surround them seem to be poisonous.
Tumblr media
22| arise sun: william tell x reader | pussy slapping
William Tell is a dangerous man. You should’ve known better than to piss him off. 
23| one more hour: marcus pike x reader | monsterfucking
you and marcus are asked to investigate an old manor that might have stolen paintings. however, due to problems with your schedule, Marcus heads there before you, getting himself cursed while investigating. You find him, or at least something that you think is him, at the manor two days later.
24| home economics: javi g x reader | voyeurism
Javi sees you naked for the first time which should be a good thing, but you have idea that he can see you through the window.
569 notes · View notes
juneknight · 1 year
Text
Slow Degrees
Chapter One |
“Perfection is attained by slow degrees; it requires the hand of time.” — Voltaire
OR: the fic where Steven is a practically a blushing maiden and you corrupt him step by step.
About this: fem!un-named original character/Steven Grant. Explicit. 5k
You walk with a purpose that sets you apart. 
This Saturday, the British Museum is crowded. People meander from one spot to another, their steps slow and eyes on the exhibits. Bloody good on them for using the weekend to experience some culture, but it’s bloody terrible for you: side-stepping prams, dodging couples with clasped hands lest you burst through their linked arms, nearly tangling yourself in the leash of one toddler whose mother gives you the stink-eye. 
The gift shop is even worse somehow, and then you see that the stuffed animals are having a two-for-one sale and you feel liable to scream. Fate is like a teenager on the bus, sticking out its foot for you to trip over. But you haven’t come all this way for nothing. Without any sense of pride, you thrust yourself through the ring of children blockading the stuffed animals and begin to wade through the synthetic furs and empty marble eyes. 
“No, no, no,” you groan under your breath. You spot a black stuffie in the arms of a girl no more than six and have to struggle not to snatch it from her—not that it would do you any good. When she turns, you see that it isn’t the animal you’re looking for. No tall, sleek ears nor a long muzzle. You can’t help but look up towards the heavens and mutter, “Why are you punishing me?” 
“Can I help you?” 
You whirl.
“Maybe,” you admit while you fish your phone from your pocket, glancing at the nametag pinned to the employee’s lapel. “Donna. Don’t ask why, but I’m desperately looking for this stuffed animal.” 
She glances at the phone and steps around to the other side of the 360-degree-display. Face twisting, she points to an empty section wedged between stuffies resembling alligators and hippos. She gives you a look of contrived sympathy cultivated through years of customer service no doubt. “Sorry,” she says. “Looks like that’s been a popular one.” 
“You’re out?” you ask, fingers itching to grab her by her business-casual blouse and shake her. “You’re positive? Because I need this; I’ll pay double, triple whatever the marked price is. I’m desperate.” 
“I can see that,” says Donna dryly. “But—” 
“I’m sorry,” another voice breaks in. “Maybe I can help?” 
Your eyes track the sound of the soft accent. Standing just a few feet away, boxes of indeterminable tourist-trap merchandise in his arms, is a man. The first thing you notice about him are his eyes—tired. Dark brown, dark bruises beneath that hint at many sleepless nights. The next thing you notice are the curls: inky, charmingly chaotic. A small, wary smile tugs at the corners of his mouth as he glances between you and Donna, shifting on his feet to try and make the load in his arms more comfortable. 
The last thing you notice: he is so absolutely handsome. 
“You, help? Doubtful,” Donna says, just as you say, Absolutely. 
You tilt your phone towards him. His face lights up in recognition, and for a moment, the seed of hope in your heart blossoms, threatening to break through soil. He’s going to be able to help you. You can feel it. But then his eyes move past you towards the display and his smile falls. 
“Oh, no,” he murmurs. “Let me just pop these behind the counter and then I’ll help you look, yeah? There might be one hiding amongst the others. Kids don’t always set them back where they’re supposed to.” 
“Steven,” says Donna, voice tight with disapproval. “The display is empty.” 
“Please,” you grit through your teeth at her. “I said I would pay, didn’t I? I have eighty pounds on me, and if you direct me to a cashpoint, I can withdraw even more.” 
In the face of your insistence, Donna gives in, though you can tell by the thin press of her lips that she isn’t happy about it. Rolling her eyes, she waves a dismissive hand at the both of you and turns away, stalking off to some other part of the gift shop. 
“Pleasant, isn’t she?” You glance at Steven, your mood already lightening at the earnest kindness on his handsome face. “Are you her boss?” 
“Am I her—oh god, if only she’d heard you say that.” 
Together, you and Steven scour the display from top to bottom, but to no avail. 
“Can I ask, why the urgency?” he calls, elbow deep in stuffed scarab beetles. “Not a lot of people offerin’ to empty their bank accounts for Egyptian-themed stuffed animals.” 
“It’s for my nephew,” you admit. “He has autism, and he’s absolutely fixated on Egypt right now. Has been for years, really. Last time they were in London visiting me, my sister bought him that stuffie, and apparently he’s grown quite attached. Yesterday, she called me about an electrical fire at her building in the flat below hers. I guess they won’t let anyone back in until they know it’s safe, not even to get their effects. They’re staying with our mum in Leeds, but he’s taking it so hard, being in a different place and all that without anything familiar. She asked me if I would try to find another of these loveys for him and send it through the post overnight, but she couldn’t remember the museum she’d bought it at. You know how many museums there are in London?” 
“Too many, by your count I would imagine,” he says in sympathy.
“Spot on. Do you have any nieces or nephews?”
He smiles, eyes looking a little distant and wistful. “I’m an only child. Always wanted a sibling though. I guess my mum had her hands full enough with me.”
Usually, small talk is a form of torture, but you can’t help but want to press, to know more about him. Already you have begun squirreling away facts about him. His name is Steven, with a V. He works at a gift shop in the British Museum. He is an only child. “Were you rotten when you were young, then?”
“Aren’t all teenage boys?” He smirks, a quirking of his lips that makes him look years younger. Mischief makes a home in him, you can tell. But you can also tell that he isn’t rotten, not at all. Not many grown men would wade through stuffed animals for a stranger. Bruised, maybe, like an apple that has been dropped too many times by careless hands. But aren’t those apples just as sweet as any other?
“You don’t strike me as someone who has ever misbehaved a day in their life,” you tease. All at once you realize that both of you have stopped rifling through the toys. Perhaps it is just in your head, but electricity bounces between you two, charging the air until your hair feels liable to stand on end. Your voice has dropped on instinct into something smoother, warmer, the voice you usually reserve for flirting. Steven doesn’t blush per say, but his mouth can’t seem to close and he looks a little warmer than he was a moment ago. 
A little girl jabs her sharp elbow into your side, working her way in between the two of you to get access to some falcon shaped animal on a lower tier of the display. The look she casts up at you suggests that the ache in your ribs is entirely your own fault. 
“Well,” Steven says, clearing his throat. He can’t meet your eye. “Unfortunately, it looks like we’re fresh out of your nephew’s favorite.”
The moment and whatever charge had been growing between you two has popped like a soap bubble. Your eyes burn. How will you have the heart to call your sister and tell her that you’ve come up empty handed? 
“There’s one last place I could check,” he says. “But if Donna finds out I took you, she’ll have me sacked for good. Come on then, let’s be quick.”
It is cooler in the stockroom, wall-to-wall Egyptian goodies hibernating under the fluorescent lights. Out of respect, you linger just inside the doorway, unwilling to take advantage of his generosity by looking around in an area where customers clearly aren’t meant to be. 
Steven disappears for a long time behind some boxes—knocks over a stack of overpriced, bagged gummies that you nearly enter the room just to help him pick up—before reappearing looking even sadder than before. 
“I’m so sorry,” he says. 
You try and scrape together a smile for his sake; he looks about as devastated as you feel. After the three other museums you had visited across the city today, one would think you would be used to the disappointment. “It’s certainly not your fault. Not unless you’ve got a stash of Bastet stuffies you’re hoarding at home. There are a few more places I can—“
“Sorry, so sorry—Bastet? You showed me a picture of Anubis.”
You blink. “No. Here, look—says right here on the website that this is Bastet.”
“Bastet takes the form of a cat or sometimes a lioness depending on what dynasty you’re—well, anyway, that’s not a cat, is it? That’s Anubis, a jackal. Website must have it wrong. You never saw the stuffed animal?”
“Once, the day they bought it, but it’s been ages.”
“Could he be mistaken about the name then?”
“I’d trust him more than I’d trust myself when it comes to such matters.”
“Then,” and he pulls from between the counter an extremely similar stuffed animal to the one you showed him on your phone, except the ears are curved and feline, the muzzle not nearly so long and thin, “this is your goddess. Cheers.”
You clutch your heart, flooded with relief and triumph so keen that a happy shout bubbles up in your throat, just barely able to be swallowed. “Thank you so, so much, Steven. I really can’t explain how much I appreciate you going above and beyond for me. It’s going to make a big difference to my nephew, that’s for sure.”
The praise flusters him, that not-quite-warmth growing high in his cheeks as he looks away, unable to meet your eyes. The angle only emphasizes the sharp line of his jaw. On instinct, you glance at his hands which fiddle with a nearby mountain of ankh-shaped erasure. No ring. 
He takes you back to the gift shop and rings up the stuffed animal, only charging you the normal price despite your insistence that you would pay more. Passing you your receipt, he gives you a smile and the most endearing wave you’ve ever seen. Maybe it’s in your head, the sweet sadness you see in him. The reluctance he has to part ways. If it is, then oh well. You’ve never been one to shy away from a risk when the reward could be so sweet. 
You pluck a ballpoint pen from his side of the counter, turn over your receipt, and scribble down your name and number. “If you’re interested, I would love to take you out sometime. To repay you.”
He looks at the number with wide eyes. “Oh, that’s—really, you don’t have to. It’s my job, innit?”
Firmly, you slide the number back towards him. “If you’d rather not, just toss it. After I leave though. Then, if you don’t call, I can just pretend you lost it.”
Without another word, gift bag in hand, you turn and begin to sift your way through the busy shop. You spot Donna by a stand of puzzles and make sure to stop and point to Steven, insisting, “He deserves a raise!” Her face twists as if she’s swallowed something sour. Her own tongue, hopefully. 
Before you’ve even made it out of the building, you have your phone tucked between your ear and shoulder, calling your sister with the good news. 
*
Days pass, and then a week, and then two. Sometimes Steven crosses your mind: when banners go up advertising a new exhibit opening at the British Museum, when you spot a man of similar build ahead of you in line at the coffee shop. He never calls, which you understand. Perhaps he has a partner or you misread the situation. You try to just be grateful that he helped you find what you were looking for, and you put the handsome gift-shoppist from your mind. 
Until he does call. 
Another Saturday, though this one doesn’t find you with blisters on your heels from running all over London. Instead, your feet are curled up beneath you, a bowl of sugary cereal balanced on your lap while you alternate between spooning breakfast into your mouth and scrolling through the news on your phone. It’s a bloody morbid way to start the day, thanks to the state of the world, but it’s a habit that is hard to shake. 
All at once, a news story about the latest political drama disappears, a strange phone number lighting up the screen. 
“Really,” you mutter to yourself. “Telemarketers even on Saturday? Don’t you people bloody rest?” 
Swiping to answer, you tuck the phone to your ear and noisily slurp a bite of cereal. “City morgue,” you chirp. 
Silence on the other end, and then Steven says: “Sorry, I must—did you say city morgue?” 
You choke, inhaling milk and sugar and nearly upending the bowl on your lap as you scramble to set it on the table beside you. Wiping milk from your chin with the back of your hand, you clear your throat as quietly as you can. 
“Steven? Is that you?” 
“Oh, it is you! I thought I recognized your voice, but then I thought maybe you’d given me the wrong number on purpose which, well, that wouldn’t make any sense, would it? Would be strange for a person to go around offering fake numbers, they usually just give them out to creeps who won’t take no for an answer, don’t they?” 
“They do, and you are far from that.” 
“I’m sorry, I’m rambling aren’t I? It’s just that I can’t believe I actually called you. Not that I haven’t been thinking about it, got the number memorized by now. But when I picked up my phone, I swear I was just thinking about calling my mum like I usually do on the weekends, and somehow I must have dialed your number instead–” 
“Would you like to hang up so you can call her?” you tease. 
“I’d like to take you to dinner,” he says, pleasantly surprising you. 
“Yes,” you agree easily. “But I’ll be the one taking you to dinner. I offered, didn’t I?” 
The two of you agree on a time that evening, considering neither of you have plans (and you’ve waited long enough for dinner with the gift-shoppist, thanks very much). 
Before you say goodbye, you tell him: “Steven? I’m really glad you called.” 
“Me too,” he breathes. 
After hanging up, you can’t help but spread yourself out on the sofa, stretching like a satisfied cat who has caught the canary and drank all the cream and whatever else cat’s enjoy doing. Thank you, Steven Gift-Shoppist’s mum, you think to yourself. 
*
“Lookit you,” Steven says, standing from the table when the maitre ‘d leads you across the dimly lit restaurant. It has a cozy atmosphere, perfect for couples with secluded tables tucked into nooks to give the illusion of privacy. Steven’s eyes trail over you from head to toe, lingering on the soft curves of your waist, the dress that clings to your figure. You’re showing a little more leg than you’re used to, but it’s worth it for the way his throat bobs at the smooth expanse of skin. “You look amazing.”
“So do you!” And he does—dark slacks and a form-fitting dress shirt, the collar open to reveal a glimpse of his tan throat. You see the chain of a necklace, though it disappears inside the fabric. His curls may be tamer by a fraction. Gods, he really is handsome, you think. How are you going to get through this dinner while thinking about setting your teeth into the warm, soft skin of his neck? Or tangling your fingers in his hair so that you can guide his mouth between your legs? 
It’s been too long since you’ve had sex, and far too long since you’ve had sex with someone who you felt so attracted to. A part of you—the part not including the bits between your legs—cautions you against coming on too strong. 
Slow and steady, you think, while he kisses both of your cheeks. He smells softly of cologne, and you have to let a measured breath out of your nose. Easier said than done. 
“I almost thought I had the wrong place,” he admits while helping you into your seat like a gentleman from an old black and white film. “Never been somewhere so fancy.”
It ends up being one of the best first-dates of your life. Steven’s humor is witty and sometimes biting, his education not formal but nonetheless robust. If there was any doubt that he was interested in you romantically, it fades in the face of his sweetly clumsy flirting. How a man so attractive and enjoyable could be out of practice dating is beyond you, but you’ve never been one to question a good thing when the universe drops it into your lap. You talk about every topic under the sun (that’s appropriate on a first date), and with every new detail you learn about the man, you find yourself being more and more charmed by him. 
Between the appetizers and entrees, you pull out your phone to show him a picture of your nephew asleep among a sea of blankets with Bastet tucked under one arm. Steven lights up, even looks a little choked. “Not often do I get to make an actual difference to someone with what I do,” he says. “Just a cashier, aren’t I?” 
“I’d like very much to see you again,” you say while he walks you out of the restaurant on his arm. There are only a few minutes until your cab arrives, so the two of you linger beneath the restaurant’s awning watching the busy London nightlife pass you by. 
“Really?” Steven asks.
“Of course.”
“I—I would like that too. Very much.” 
You shiver a little from the cold, goosebumps blooming on your exposed legs. Steven tucks you closer to himself, suffusing you with his warmth. The wine simmers sweetly in your belly, so you can’t blame the way your head swims on him entirely. But you feel a little drunk on him as well. The smell of him, the feel of his body beneath the thin dress shirt, the burning heat he throws off. When you glance toward him, your breath brushes against his neck. It’s his turn to shiver. 
It rests on the tip of your tongue to invite him back to your place. You’re a modern woman, if the connection was right, you would have no qualms about sleeping together on the first date (and Gods is the connection right). 
By your sides, his fingers brush against your own. Keeping your eyes on the busy London street, you take note of how very still he has become, as if he is holding his breath. Another brush, his calloused thumb brushing over your knuckle. Turning your hand over, he lets his fingers lace with your own. He lets out a sigh of relief. 
Here you are thinking about getting his trousers off, and he’s trying to scrape up the nerve to hold your hand. 
Slow, then, you think. You meet his eyes, dark like ink in the dim light, and he grins. Butterflies spread their wings in your tummy. I can do slow. 
*
But it isn’t just slow, is it? 
It’s glacial. Your fourth date arrives, and short of holding hands and the breathless, closed-mouth kisses he bestows on you before he sees you safely into your cab, there has been no forward momentum. 
There are benefits to the pace, though; the intimacy is divine. Tonight finds you both swimming beneath a blanket in his apartment, fingers tangled together while you watch a French drama. Steven has the subtitles on for your benefit, though you wouldn’t mind him translating, murmuring the lines to you in his warm voice. 
As the movie progresses, your positions meld together until he is mostly reclining with you nestled into his side. His every breath moves your body, his hand resting on your own, thumb making sweet passes over the pounding pulse of your wrist. 
The movie begins to pass in a blur, subtitles blending together. All you can think of is Steven beside you. The obscene warmth of his body. The masculine, clean scent of him. You angle your face upward into the hollow of his throat, close enough to feel the warmth of his skin but not close enough to kiss him. 
You sigh shakily, breath fanning across his skin. His throat bobs. A kiss couldn’t hurt, right? Your lips positively buzz with the urge to feel his skin beneath them.
Nothing ventured, nothing gained, you think, leaning in so that your softly-parted mouth can brush against his throat. Steven keeps clean shaven, but you have the feeling he’d be able to grow an amazing beard if the stumble beneath your lips is any indication. You’re close enough to hear the sound of him swallowing, his jaw clenching. 
“Is this okay?” you murmur, lips brushing his skin. 
“You’re killing me,” he whispers back. But he tips his head back to rest it against the couch, baring more of his throat to you. 
This time you press a kiss to his pulse. When you feel his heartbeat hammering beneath the thin skin, you nearly groan. His smell here is potent, the clean scent of his cologne, faded throughout the day. It’s enough to make your head go light and fuzzy. All of the sudden Steven gives a punched-out noise above you, and you realize that you’ve lapped your tongue against the hollow of his throat. 
“God in heaven,” he says. The hand which had been resting against the armrest clenches into a tight fist. 
“Should I stop?” you ask. Part of you is only teasing him, but part of you needs to know the answer. You’ve been working so hard to take things at Steven’s pace, but you were beginning to think that he needed you to make the first move. Either way, you didn’t want to be strongarming him into this; you wanted him to be a whole-hearted participant.  
“I–do you want to stop?” 
“Honestly? No. Not unless you’d like to, in which case, yes.” 
“In what world would I want you to stop?” he laughs breathily. “I mean, your mouth—oh god, I shouldn’t have said that. Now all I’m thinking about is your mouth.” 
“Is this the first time you’ve ever thought about my mouth?” you murmur. 
Steven goes stiff. You draw back, sure that you’ve made him uncomfortable. The flush on his face, clear even in the dim lighting of the flat, tells you that it isn’t that. He’s embarrassed. When he speaks, he stammers over his words: “I—do you mean?—well of course it, I mean—” 
You let him circle around the subject for only a few moments before your smile fades away. Is this normal shyness? You’ve had many partners in the past (though it has been longer than you’d like since your last), and you had never classified yourself as a blushing virgin. You couldn’t classify any of your past partners in that category either. But part of you wonders if Steven’s hesitance isn’t more than typical first-time-with-a-new-partner jitters. 
“Oh, no, I’ve offended you, haven’t I?” Steven says when you draw back. “I just, I’m not sure what the right answer is, love—”
“No, no, you haven’t offended me, honest.”
That’s how the two of you end up cuddling and talking about your past sexual histories. Steven seems to find it easier to talk when you’re facing away from him, nestled in the hollow between his body and the couch, both of you watching the lights flare and dim just outside the flat window as cars come and go on the street. 
“What was your first time like?” you ask him.  
“I—well, to be honest, I don’t really remember.” 
You glance up at him, looking for any tells that he’s lying. But Steven isn’t even looking at you; his eyes are still on the window. Distant, brows a little low as if he’s racking his brain. Is it even possible to forget your first time? you wonder. Even if it was the most lackluster, boring occasion, don’t most people remember something? 
“Maybe it’s best that you’ve forgotten,” you jest weakly. “My first time wasn’t all that special.” 
“It wasn’t?” 
“Not really. I don’t even think I began enjoying sex until I was much older.” 
“Does it bother you that I’m not very experienced?” he asks. 
“Not at all. Does it bother you that I am?” 
He smiles. “Not at all. Someone has to know what they're doing, eh?”
“I know plenty that I’d like to do,” you tease. You test. 
Steven swallows, his eyes dipping down to your mouth for a moment. “Yeah?”
You hum. Shifting a little, you move to rest on top of him, your forearm braced against the armrest that his head lays on. Earlier, he said that you were killing him, but you don’t think he has any idea how much he’s killing you as well. Just having him beneath you, curls a mess, mouth parted as his breathing picks up, eyes unable to linger anywhere that isn’t your mouth. He already looks on the verge of being fucked out. 
“I am absolutely going to wreck you, you know that?” you murmur. 
Then you relax into him, letting your body rest against the hard, warm planes of his own. He’s already hard, shockingly erect and sizeable even beneath the restricting denim of his pants. His eyes slip shut at the pressure of your hips against him, at the crush of your breasts against his chest. Leaning down, you cover his mouth with your own. He meets you eagerly, all tongue and gently nipping teeth, tasting so sweetly of the dessert you had shared at the end of your dinner. When he groans, it vibrates through your body landing squarely between your legs. 
“God I want you,” you pull back to whisper against his lips. 
“I want you too,” he whispers. “I think I’d like to take things slow, though. Savor you. I don’t ever want to forget this.” 
“I like the sound of that. Should we stop, then?” 
“Bloody hell, no. Kiss me again.” 
So you do. And you do. And gods, you do. Your mouths are swollen, lips raw from the kisses you share. When you trail your burning tongue across the sharp angle of his jaw, Steven moans, a sound that has you groaning as well into the hollow of his throat. Besides the sound of your wet, slow kisses and the heaving breaths you share, the flat is silent. 
Opening your mouth, you drag the sharp line of your teeth across the stubble of his throat gently, and his hips jerk upwards, hard cock dragging along your lower stomach. 
“Ohmygod, do that again,” he gasps. 
You whine, shifting upwards so that the next time you drag your teeth against his skin, his cock presses against your aching center. It’s enough to have you gasping, toes curling in your socks. God, you’re wet. You can’t remember the last time someone made you this wet from foreplay, even, much less just some sensual kisses. But every reaction of Steven’s is so raw and honest and wrecked that you can’t help but tighten the muscles in your thighs, lean up and grind down against him hard. 
“Fuck, oh—oh fuck!” Steven’s hands grip at your thighs, knuckles turning pale. 
“You’re so hard for me, love,” you breathe just to watch the way his eyes squeeze tightly shut. You drag your clothed pussy along the hard line of him, relishing in the muted friction against your clit. You’ve never been the kind of person to hold back from something that feels good, so you let your body chase the feeling, grinding yourself against him again and again just to feel the zap of pleasure. “Gods, I’m so wet for you.” 
“You are?” Steven gasps. 
“Soaked, can’t you tell?” 
“I—” 
“Won’t be surprised if I soak your trousers. How the hell are you this bloody sexy? Your cock feels so good and you aren’t even inside me—” 
“Love, I—” the frantic lift of his voice combined with the sharp surge of pressure where he grabs at your waist has you freezing, lifting yourself up and away from him even if your cunt aches at his absence. 
“What is it? Are you alright?” 
His grip on your hips tightens as he urges you to rest your weight against him again, the cords in his neck standing in sharp relief. “Fuckfuckfuck don’t stop, oh fuck I’m cumming, I’m so sorry—“
“Fuck,” you breathe, resuming the ocean-like drag of your hips over his spasming cock. He’s cumming. From just a little dry humping. Like a teenager. 
God, you’d never been so turned on in your life.
282 notes · View notes
drakiandh · 3 months
Text
Shifting Jewels - Chapter One, Corrupted Clash
YOOOOOO!!! @cosmicrain-draws @otherxagnela, I did it! Here's the first chapter of my Steven Universe/Fusion AU. Hope it fits the cash lol. It's on AO3 under the same name btw.
The unrelenting rain pounded relentlessly, transforming the ground beneath him into a clinging mud that sought to impede his every step. Refusing to yield, he pressed forward, maintaining a determined pace in pursuit of the corrupted gem weaving through the rain-soaked forest. The falling water blurred his vision, but the swish of the gem’s tail remained discernible. As he ventured deeper, marked trees hinted at the proximity of the impending trap. A subtle grin played on his lips, excitement building with each step toward the climax of the hunt.
With a purposeful thrust, he extended his spear, just enough to graze the gem’s leg. It responded with a primal roar, a visceral testament to its degraded state. Despite his inherent superiority, he failed to suppress the brief and shameful hiss that escaped him.
Skidding to a stop in the muddy terrain, satisfaction etched across his face as the meticulously set trap snapped shut with a resounding crack. The gem convulsed within the bear trap, its protests merging with the drumming rain. Its final display of resistance ended with the corrupted gem bursting into mist, leaving the gem to clatter to the rain-soaked ground. Navigating the backup traps, he carefully approached the fallen gem.
In the feeble light, the gem lay before him—a once-proud warrior now marred by animalistic corruption, its once-vibrant azure hue now tainted with ugly shades of green. Hopefully, the Diamonds would be able to reverse the corruption once he found a way to get back to Homeworld. The uncertainty struck a chord in his chest as he picked up the gem and encapsulated it within a crimson bubble. He pushed on its top lightly, sending the bubble away to his temple.
A heavy sigh escaped him, his eyes slipping shut as he stood amidst the relentless downpour. The gentle sensation of the droplets that slid over him momentarily shielded him from the weight of his thoughts. After allowing a few stolen moments to catch a breath he didn’t truly need, he reopened his eyes and took a deliberate step forward. A sharp pang reverberated through him at the motion, causing him to double over as his form glitched and shivered. Fleeting yet intense, the pain subsided, leaving a lingering discomfort.
A soft curse slipped from his lips as his hand instinctively sought for the gem on his back. A wince accompanied the touch, yet he persisted, gently tracing the extensive cracks marbling the red rock. Time weighed on him; he had to hurry, for if the looming threat of the corruption didn’t get to him first, then the impending risk of his shattering will.
A soft chirp escaped him, a dissonant sound that marred the quiet symphony of the rain. A deep frown grew on his face, he despised those seemingly inconsequential noises. Such utterances belonged to creatures of the wild, to insects, not to him—not for a gem designed to command in the crucible of war. He staunchly affirmed his identity, declaring that he wasn’t bound by the constant specter of death, that his body should not bleed, and he shouldn’t be susceptible to pain. However, a quick glance at his arms and legs shattered the illusion.
In some grotesque sense, he admitted, he bore the semblances of an animal. The corruption’s insidious touch reached him, even in the depths where he sought refuge within the planet’s crust. The result? It had morphed him into a grotesque hybrid creature, bestowing upon him a natural armor, unbidden and unbroken by the need for constant concentration. His once-graceful hands morphed into sharp claws, while spikes adorned his arms and legs. He might have welcomed it, had it not been marred by sporadic bouts of animalistic hazes that incapacitated him for days and turned him into something less than the calculated warrior he was meant to be.
A surge of pain jolted through him, an unwelcome intrusion that fractured his thoughts, compelling a pained hiss to escape through clenched teeth. As the wave of discomfort receded, he redirected his gaze upward, fixing a glare upon the sky, more precisely, at the rain that aggravated his gem. The persistent irritation urged him to hasten his steps; he needed to escape before the pain resurfaced. His movements, though quick and precise, bore the subtle aftermath of the recent hunt—a measured trot, simple yet effective, propelling him toward his destination.
The warp pad beyond the forest materialized before him, a sight that prompted a weary sigh to escape him. Stepping onto the platform, he initiated the activation sequence, his form engulfed by the enveloping white beam as he embarked on the tranquil journey through the warp. The low hum of the warp enveloped him, a soothing melody that accompanied him on his brief interdimensional travels. Shaking off the lingering droplets that clung to him like persistent memories, he materialized at his temple within moments.
Stepping off the warp pad, he navigated through the cavernous expanse that served as his dwelling. It was a far cry from what one might envision as a temple—a vast network of interconnected caves, carved naturally by the Earth’s ancient forces. Discovered during his early solitary years, he had claimed it as his own, designating the largest and deepest chamber as a holding room for the corrupted gems he collected. Fortune favored him when he stumbled upon the remnants of an old gem warp pad within the cavern, an artifact from a time when others might have considered the space for storage or as a base. Now, it belonged to him.
The chamber embraced him with warmth, a comforting cloak that gently eased the persistent ache in his back as he stepped inside. A small, appreciative smile tugged at his lips, a fleeting expression of solace before his gaze fell upon the captivating sight that unfolded before him—a sea of well over a thousand bubbled gems.
Among them lay soldiers he had once commanded, their forms encapsulated in the protective bubbles. A few were gems he had personally trained, their potential honed under his meticulous guidance. Others belonged to the rebellion, the audaciously named Crystal Gems—misguided rebels whom he intended to return to service on Homeworld, whether through voluntary submission or the unforgiving embrace of a Rejuvenator.
Yet, amidst the multitude of captured gems, one conspicuous absence resonated. A special sapphire, elusive and untamed, continued to roam the earth unchecked. This particular gem held a unique significance, a presence he desired to see once more, even amidst the looming threat that the encounter might result in his own shattering. Curiosity gripped him as he pondered the potential manifestation of the sapphire’s corrupted form. Would it mirror the colossal and monstrous demeanor of the sapphire’s combat prowess, a formidable force both beside him and against him? Or, perhaps, would it bear a softer, diminutive semblance, a reflection of the gem’s original personality before the taint of corruption took hold?
He found himself immersed in contemplation, a forbidden luxury for a gem of his rank. The act of wondering was a privilege reserved for the Diamonds, the omnipotent rulers unbound by the constraints of laws. It was a privilege bestowed upon the architects who conceived the intricate designs of gems, envisioning the vast potential inherent in the amalgamation of dirt and minerals to give rise to life. It was a privilege granted to those who forged the indelible legacy of Homeworld, allowing them to dream of towering spires and establish bases on desolate moons.
He, on the other hand, was a humble soldier—a commander, yes, but a soldier nonetheless. In the hierarchy of gem society, he existed to execute orders, not to indulge in idle contemplation. Wondering was not his domain, a realm he shouldn’t even be able to access. Yet, as one of his claws gently traced the surface of a bubble, he found himself succumbing to the forbidden allure of curiosity, allowing his mind to venture into the forbidden territory of speculative thoughts.
Those thoughts, once crisp and defined, now morphed into indistinct muddles, a hazy fog settling over his consciousness. The widening of his eyes marked the realization of an impending descent into the tumult of corruption, a curse escaping his lips as the disorienting wave washed over him. Swiftly, he pivoted on his heels, abandoning the room in a frantic retreat.
His hurried footsteps reverberated through the labyrinthine halls, their rhythm growing increasingly erratic as the encroaching corruption tightened its grip. Panic, a disconcerting sensation that had once been foreign to him, now clung to him like an old companion, urging him to greater speeds. His mad dash led him to the warp room, a sanctuary where the promise of escape beckoned.
Time dwindled rapidly, and the urgency mounted. Barely managing to step onto the warp pad, he initiated the sequence, opting for a random destination in a desperate bid for salvation. However, the corruption’s relentless advance proved insurmountable. In the final throes of consciousness, he succumbed to the encroaching darkness, his vision fading into an abyss of black.
He stirred into consciousness after what he knew was a long time, the dull throb of a headache persisting within his thoughts. A low groan escaped his lips, his eyes clamped shut against the pulsating ache in his skull. Nestled in the shadows, he remained motionless, seeking to replenish some of the energy devoured by the encroaching corruption. As the minutes ticked by and the headache receded into a more manageable ache, he cautiously focused on his surroundings.
Without unveiling his eyes, he initiated a deliberate ascent, settling onto his knees. Flinching at the sparks of pain, a deep breath offered a modicum of relief to his frazzled nerves. The air, tinged with an unexpected saltiness, felt damp and cool, a welcome antidote to the lingering burn of exhaustion. Gradually, he tuned into the subtle sounds—the wind weaving through the trees, the distant lapping of waves, and the earthy texture beneath his hands as they pressed into the soil. Wait…
Opening his eyes, he glanced downward, confirming that his hands were indeed embedded in the ground. The notion that the ground possessed an audible quality struck him as intriguing. Lifting his eyes to the night sky, he surveyed the tranquil surroundings. It was a peaceful night, with the moon gracefully descending toward the horizon, heralding the imminent arrival of dawn.
The world unfolded around him with an unsettling clarity, a starkness that surpassed his comfort. His brow furrowed into a frown as he raised a hand to rub at his face. Something felt amiss. Was he facing the throes of mortality? Could he even succumb to such a fate? Sighing, he ran his hand roughly through his hair. A near-painful sensation bit at his head, forcing his hand back. A soft hiss escaped him as he inspected his hand, finding the limb unharmed. Whatever had bitten him seemed to reside on his head. Could it be a small animal? No, the sensation didn’t seem disconnected from him.
Slowly, he lifted his hand again, delicately sifting through his hair in search of…
There. He gently curled a finger around an odd stem protruding from his head, a subtle unease coiling in his chest. The reason for his discomfort eluded him as he touched the peculiar stick-like growth. A swift survey of his surroundings confirmed his suspicions. Sticks, remnants of his corrupted haze, had entangled themselves in his hair. Another sigh escaped him before he wrapped his hand around the intruding stick and tugged.
A guttural scream tore through the air as a surge of pain seared through his head. He recoiled, burying his forehead into the cool earth, his hands scrambling to dig through his hair and cradle his aching skull. Shivers wracked his frame, the lingering pain refused to dissipate as swiftly as the sharp, immediate agony accompanying his initial crack. This was different—reminiscent of the persistent torment he endured during the onset of his crack or the insidious grip of corruption’s first embrace.
Gradually, the pain began to ebb, a slow retreat from its initial ferocity. After agonizing minutes, he tentatively attempted to sit up once more. One hand remained entwined in his hair, anchoring him in the present, while the other planted firmly into the soil for stability. A twinge of discomfort coursed through the thing on his head as he moved, prompting a soft hiss. Extricating his hand from his hair, he inadvertently caught another appendage. A cursory search revealed only two entangled in his hair before he rested his hands in his lap, glowering at the empty space before him. Another gift corruption-induced addition, a bothersome intrusion into his being.
One of the appendages twitched in response to his annoyance, catching his attention. Its length was such that it intruded into his peripheral vision.
A low growl, a shameful animalistic sound, escaped him as he rose to his feet. Gingerly, he touched the newly acquired appendages, relieved when the one he had tugged didn’t trigger a surge of pain. Now, the challenge lay in figuring out if he could exert control over these strange extensions. Concealing them would be ideal—perhaps tucked away in his hair if they reached far enough back.
With careful precision, he brushed the appendages backward, experiencing relief as they obediently nestled into his hair. Experimenting with different movements, he searched for a specific new nerve that would grant him control. After several minutes of focused practice, he succeeded in maneuvering them to some extent, allowing him to keep them discreetly concealed within his hair. Though still present, they became barely noticeable, at least from the front. A quick touch confirmed their length, indicating they were long enough to protrude from his hair in the back—a less-than-ideal outcome. Nevertheless, they were now out of his line of sight, and should he encounter a human and find himself too fatigued to dispel the creature, he mused that he could pass it off as an intentional aesthetic choice. After all, humans in this era were consumed by their appearances.
He embarked on the journey to retrace his steps, guided by the rising sun illuminating his path. Proficient in the art of tracking, be it trailing corrupted gems or retracing his own corrupted footsteps, he navigated the terrain with practiced ease. Hours passed before he encountered something familiar, the sun nearing its zenith. His clawed hand gently traced ancient carvings, grappling with the embarrassment of taking an unusually long time to recall the language in which the words were etched.
“Star was here,” he mumbled to himself, his voice low and rough from disuse. Peeling back some moss, he revealed cartoonish depictions of what appeared to be Pink Diamond and several other gems. Similar carvings adorned the planet, ranging from simple declarations like ‘Star was here!’ to intricate sculptures of gems and the Diamonds. Over the years, he had found solace in discovering these marks, a reminder that he hadn’t always been alone.
This particular carving, one he had encountered many times, served as a natural marker signaling his proximity to his temple. A few miles north, he would be able to retreat to the comforting warmth of the lowest chamber, earning a well-deserved break. A hiss escaped him as his hand started glitching, swiftly reforming into a foot. Frowning, he shook the limb until it reverted to its original state.
Rumors circulated about the Crystal Gem’s leader possessing the ability to heal any gem—an ability that enraged Homeworld, as healing powers were reserved for the elite, namely the Diamonds. How the rebellion’s leader acquired such powers remained a mystery, but he had made it his mission to uncover the secret of the healing fountain the rebels so proudly boasted about. The sooner he found that fountain, the sooner he could mend his crack and devise a method to stave off the encroaching corruption.
His antennae (a term he adopted after observing their uncanny resemblance to a local beetle’s) involuntarily perked up, alerting him to the distant murmur of voices. Though too far away to discern the words, one of the voices struck an oddly familiar chord. His eyes narrowed in thought. Could it be one of the humans he had conversed with in the past? Unlikely, as too much time had passed for any human to remember him. When was the last time he had engaged in conversation with one? Their lifespans were short, and he reckoned it had been well over 50 years since his last encounter. The voices drew nearer, sparking a curious itch born from some corrupted instinct within him. Deciding to dismiss it, he turned and resumed his journey to the temple.
“Aw, come on!” The voice echoed with a familiarity that tugged at the edges of his memories. Against his better judgment, he pivoted on his heel and hastened toward the source. Surprisingly, his antennae proved more sensitive than he initially realized, taking nearly ten minutes to pinpoint the location. As he slowed and crouched down, he could hear the humans’ laughter.
“Yeah, I recognize this spot.” The voice, the one that triggered a peculiar urge within him, stirred an unspoken desire for conflict. Creeping closer, he observed the two figures in a small clearing. In its center, a seemingly ordinary rock assumed a significant role—a base pillar, its original purpose obscured by time, now a favored spot for humans to lean on.
The human leaning against the pillar appeared peculiar yet strangely familiar. Their skin bore a rich brown hue with subtle blue undertones, their hair so dark blue it verged on black in the absence of direct sunlight. Dressed in vibrant colors of pink and yellow, they crossed their arms over their chest, grinning at the other human.
“Why do you want to come here anyway?” The other, a plainly dressed villager in comparison, inquired. The colorful individual patted the pillar beside them.
“I’m hunting,” declared the colorful human. “I’ve been here before, and I heard rumors that there’s some massive beast nearby.” Unbeknownst to the human, the beast they sought was likely the corrupted gem he had recently subdued.
“Well, that beast hasn’t been seen for a while. Some folks back in town mentioned hearing it scream before a loud bang echoed out. Sorry, but I think someone else got to it first.” The plain human responded nonchalantly. The colorful one leaned forward, their once casual expression replaced by a more serious demeanor.
“What did the bang sound like? Did it have an odd echo?” They inquired, keenly attentive. The plain human, oblivious to the shift in mood, hummed and shrugged.
“It didn’t sound like a gunshot, that’s for sure. Can’t recall much; it happened on the other side of the city.”
“That’s alright,” the colorful human said, relaxing against the rock. Despite their seemingly nonchalant posture, an experienced observer might discern an undercurrent of tension, as if they anticipated a confrontation. “You’ve given me enough, don’t worry. I’ll make sure that bigger beast doesn’t come close.”
“Wait—there’s a bigger one?” The plain human’s expression shifted to one of fear. A breathy chuckle escaped his hidden form at the sight. They shrugged.
“Yeah, reckon it’s still close-” Their words were abruptly cut off as the human hastily fled, running down the path they had arrived on, leaving the colorful human alone. Sighing, they closed their eyes, appearing relaxed despite the lurking danger just beyond the bushes. The silence lingered, causing some of his corrupted instincts to subside. This human wasn’t the one he knew—
“I know you’re there,” the human’s unexpected declaration caught him off guard. One of their eyes slipped open. “You’re one smart corrupted, I must admit.” A threatening hiss escaped him at the title that belonged to him. The human stepped forward off the pillar and removed their jacket, revealing a beautiful blue gem on their chest. A gem! A gem that wasn’t corrupted! His joy at encountering another gem was tainted when he recognized the familiar face.
“Star,” he spat the name with a hiss, rage coursing through him. The gem, the Star Sapphire, flinched back.
“Oh shit, you’re not corrupted—? Wait—Painite?!” The Sapphire exclaimed in shock. Was that his name? His name was Painite. How could he have forgotten?
Emerging from the shadows, Painite, yes, that sounded right, revealed his full form, causing the Sapphire to inhale sharply in shock. “You are corrupted…” the Sapphire remarked, a sad expression overtaking his face.
“Do not pity me, Sapphire,” Painite hissed, flexing his claws, a burning desire to tear through something coursing through him. “I am corrupted, so what?”
“Wait, hang on, Pie-”
“Do NOT call me that!” Painite snapped, reaching a hand back to his gem. Summoning his weapon caused him pain, but he was determined to finish what he had started all those years ago. The Sapphire cringed at the sight, briefly eliciting a sense of joy within Painite. Yet, it was swiftly crushed by the resurgence of the familiar feelings of rage and betrayal.
“Wait, wait, wait! We’re not in the war anymore!” The Sapphire protested hastily, raising his arms as if to shield himself from Painite’s imminent attack. Painite, however, knew better than anyone that the Sapphire held tricks up his sleeves, and he must have only honed his skills over the years. “We don’t have to fight!”
But rage clouded Painite’s judgment, fueled by the corruption. “TRAITOR!” he screeched, lunging forward to swing his spear. The Sapphire yelped and agilely leaped backward, narrowly evading the attack. Painite swung again, prompting the other gem to raise his hands in defense. The spear’s tip effortlessly sliced through the body of light, eliciting a scream of pain from the Sapphire.
“Oh! Fine! If you want a fight, I’ll give it to you!” the Sapphire declared, tapping the blue gem in his chest. His hands transformed back into their original rich blue hue. Despite the haze of corruption, Painite managed a grin. Finally, they were on equal ground. When Painite swung again, Star caught the weapon with one hand and shattered its tip with the other.
This time, it was Star who initiated the attack. He thrust his hand in Painite’s direction, a seemingly futile gesture to anyone else. However, Painite had trained Star, honing his attacks and shaping him into the warrior he had become. Now, it was time to see if the skills he imparted on Star had endured the years on Earth. Painite leaped back, narrowly avoiding the spikes of hands that shot up from the ground. They wriggled in the air momentarily before retreating to the ground, reemerging beneath Painite’s feet.
Dancing around the hands, long-forgotten muscle memory asserted its place in Painite’s chest and legs. With ease and precision, he maneuvered around the hands, slashing at any that approached too closely with his newly reformed axe. Closing the distance to Star, Painite swung his axe with a flourish, aiming for the Sapphire’s defeat.
The weapon was caught by Star’s hands, catching Painite off guard just long enough for the Sapphire to freeze his hands around him. Painite thrashed as he was restrained, kicking at the hands holding him as he was lifted into the air.
“C-Calm down, Pain,” Star panted, and Painite could only hiss in response, baring his sharp teeth in a threat. The corruption’s haze clouded his mind, causing him to act on a mix of pure hatred and corrupted instinct. “Painite! Calm down! Damn it!” Star yelled, panic etching his features.
Painite hissed again, mixing a few clicks of his teeth snapping together. Star’s grip tightened, prompting a low whine to escape his throat. “Painite, if you don’t calm down, I’ll have to poof you,” Star said, a pained expression crossing his face. The tightening grip momentarily jolted Painite from his haze, and a strained laugh escaped him at the Sapphire’s words.
“It would be better to-” His words were cut off by a wince as the grip tightened to dangerous levels. He felt his form begin to ripple, his cracked gem taking too much strain. He chuckled and stared down Star. “To shatter me.”
And the world went white as he poofed.
29 notes · View notes
ladymonstrous · 1 year
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
About God, Corruption and Animals = You
1. Frankenstein by Mary Shelley | 2. Warsan Shire | 3. Speechs for Doctor Frankenstein by Margaret Atwood | 4. Tars and Saints by Emil Cioran | 5. Maggie Stiefvater | 6. the owl and the tanager by sufjan stevens | 7. the double image by anne sexton | 8. Portrait of the Illness as Nightmare by Leila Chatti | 9. Phaedra’s Love by Sarah Kane | 10. Margaret Atwood, Morning in the Burned House | 11. nobody is ever going to want me by giles corey | 12. Yves Olade | 13. Unknown | 14. Zbigniew Herbert, from “The Envoy of Mr. Cogito” | 15. Friedrich Nietzsche, from Twilight of the Idols: or How to Philosophize with a Hammer | 16. Aiskhylos, from Agamemnon; translated by Anne Carson in An Oresteia | 17. Edge of Chaos in Wikipedia
122 notes · View notes
Text
Breaking down the comics: Ignore that problem till it goes away (Issue 25)
Moon Knight, Issue 25: Black Spectre. 
A SPECIAL DOUBLE-SIZED ISSUE! 
Tumblr media
This was the preview cover from a previous issue: 
Tumblr media
With the tagline: A new vigilante rises as he spins out of a mental breakdown…and his primary target is Khonshu’s avatar!
This one is gonna be a saga! 
The story opens with a discussion on war. 
"Carson Knowles has come home; Hail the conquering Carson Knowles. What's a poor war hero to do?" 
He finds a note from his wife. "P.S. You'll be hearing from my lawyer. I'm retaining custody of Billy. Sorry, Fran." 
"First he stumbles through the strange streets." 
We see hippies yelling at the man in a military uniform. "How many women and babies did you burn, soldier boy?" 
This was a common thing that happened to soldiers returning from Nam especially. 
We see the soldier return to his place of work only to find that he had been replaced and was no longer wanted. 
He is rejected over and over again while the years hit him over and over again. 
We see him years later in a small run down apartment. The police have him on the line, his son Billy Knowles, was killed in a gang fight. 
A few years later and he finds his car stripped and trashed. Needing his car to do his job, he fears he's out. 
A man attempts to rob him at knife point and he snaps, beating the man with the moves he learned in the army. 
He declares war. He wants to take revenge on the whole city. 
Back at his apartment, he finds a newspaper that features Moon Knight. 
"Witness in Brooklyn overheard Moon Knight say to the murderer Bushman, 'I was once just like you, Bushman, a callous killer. But I'm different now. I've changed myself into something better."
Knowles ponders this. "If he could do it, so can I -- In reverse! Let him try to 'protect the nighted city' because I'm going to destroy it! And this time it's not all talk!" 
He decides to make his own secret identity and run for mayor. 
Knowles first sets about to hire goons. He decides to become the exact opposite of Moon Knight in every way. 
His first act as Black Spectre is to go to Boss Cranston's house (a big political figure) and find all his records of corruption and misdeeds. 
Tumblr media
Look at that outfit. Where the heck did he do his shopping and how did he afford that?
This story is divided into three parts. We’ve reached the first part. (It’s a big issue) 
Part I: First Clash. 
Now, full of evidence of Cranston's misdeeds, he runs for mayor. 
Back at Grant Mansion, we find Moon Knight in a mood. 
"Sometimes I wonder about this whole myth of Moon Knight and--" 
Marlene interrupts his thoughts. 
"Steven, wait! I've got something to tell you... Something I've got to get off my chest..." 
"Some other time, Marlene. It's getting dark. Time for me to take off. Crime waits for no man, you know." 
"Yes, Steven I know... But I don't know...how long I can wait for you." 
Marelene watches him leave in tears. 
Recall the last issue where Moon Knight was questioning if he was doing the right thing. Doubt and moral ambiguity have come across his mind and Marelene is still wondering at the loss of her own brother. 
At the political headquarters, we see Black Spectre crashing Cranston's party. 
"I'm announcing my support for the mayoral candidacy of Carson Knowles." 
Which...seems in poor taste if he is trying to win. 
"And you had better do the same if you care about things like your future." 
"I heard about you. Been makin' waves in the other parts of town. But you don't scare me with that Halloween outfit!" Cranston is pretty cheeky for a man going down in flames. 
Black Spectre threatens to put Cranston into jail and blackmails him over some of his more nefarious deeds. 
While they trash the joint, one of Cranston's men gets away to call the police. Frenchie picks up the call on his radio and informs Moon Knight. 
About time they were introduced. 
Tumblr media
Both these men are former military. Both have undergone the same training. 
Black Spectre has the advantage here through knowing he’s going to fight hard and fast from the start. Moon Knight is used to having to pull his punches. He’s also fresh off a few cases where he has started to question his own brutality and is trying to separate himself from Marc Spector. Moon Knight absolutely is at a disadvantage here. 
By this time the police have arrived and Black Spectre isn't willing to show that hand yet. 
Moon Knight knows he's beat. He admits he wasn't expecting anything like Spectre. 
In a last ditch effort, he rips the mask from Black Spectre's face. 
Spectre lashes back. 
"You're a fool and a weakling, Moon Knight! I'd expected the match of a lifetime from you--But you're no better than a common grunt!" 
And now we have our favorite Moon man doing what he does best: 
Tumblr media
Who ever said he didn’t have a sense of humor? 
Tumblr media
So they go inside and find Cranston beaten to a pulp in a trashed room pretending nothing happened. 
Back at Grand Mansion... Yeah he's not having a good time. 
If Marc ever had a tantrum this would be it. 
"Only four of them! And they beat me! It's insane! Ludicrous! I should have been able to crush them--twist them into pretzels--and waltz home to an early shower! Three of them were nothing but cheap hoods! The kind of brittle stuff I normally chop down with one hand! 
Oh sure, the fourth one--the one who called himself Black Spectre--He was a tough nut, all right--but even HE could have been cracked, if only I'd approached it differently--Hit him quicker, Harder!" 
Narration: "Frenchie bites his tongue at seven separate pauses in the tirade." 
Tumblr media
Frenchie knows better. He knows his friend. He knows Marc. And THIS is Marc. This is what Marc does. He's seen it before. 
Narration: "Marlene, However, has never been big on self inflicted torment. She does not like what she sees in the man she loves, and she tries to say so." 
"Steven..." 
"And even if I couldn't beat him--I should've at least been able to protect myself!" 
"Steven, I want to talk to you...About something important. In private." 
"Not now, Marlene. I'm still too twisted by what happened to me. Maybe tomorrow." 
"Of course, Steven... if tomorrow isn't too late." 
Marc is doing what Marc does best. Avoidance and running away. 
He continues his tirade to Frenchie. 
"I was awful--A disgrace! A rank amateur! I deserved the thrashing I got! But if only I had gone in feinting the left and then-- Wait a minute Frenchie. What did she say?" 
But it's too late. 
Morning comes and we find him still sulking but a little less dramatic about it. 
He checks the morning news and listens to news about the political race for mayor. 
Knowles gives his speech and comments that it was Moon Knight that inspired him to try to make a change. 
Marc can't believe his eyes as he recognizes the man behind the podium. 
It's the face he saw before he got his ass kicked! 
And like a flash, Jake is dressed and running out of the mansion. 
"Nedda-You know where Marlene is? I didn't see her all night." 
"No, master Steven-Or master Jake I guess you are now being. I think Marlene is having a need to be alone these days of late..." 
(Why is Nedda the only one that really tries to get their names right?) 
He muses as he drives his cab to Gena's diner: "Wonder if there's something really wrong with Marlene? Maybe she... But no time to worry about it now--Not with a good like Black Spectre running for mayor!" 
Even Jake knows something is wrong but there is a push systemwide not to confront things like this. They'd rather go face thugs than a possible issue at home. 
At the diner, Jake speaks to Crawley to find what he's heard. Crawley has of course heard things and talks about what he knows about Knowles. 
Sounds like Knowles is a shoe in to win the race for mayor. 
Jake takes off to his cab. Gena notes how Jake didn't even ask her how she or her kids were doing. 
Lockley heads to the political headquarters. 
Inside we find Cranston on the phone telling someone not to mess around with Black Spectre. 
Jake eaves drops through an open window. 
Cranston is talking to a guy named Chiodo. Warning him that Black Spectre is going to come rattle him next. 
Jake decides to go check out this Chiodo character. 
Black Spectre is already at Chiodo's waiting. Hesitating. 
A last moment of "the old, submerged Carson Knowles now struggles to break the surface... A last spark of sanity" 
He waits by a window. "Sure, life's a crock--but maybe I shouldn't make it worse... Maybe I'm not the only one done dirt by this city. Maybe we're all in the same boat together..." 
And he watches an ant struggle to haul food and he likens himself and the city to a bunch of ants just working to bring home dinner. 
And of course a spider runs up and eats the ant. 
"Of course--Survival of the fittest--Just like in The Nam-- The prime rule--The only one that counts -- Kill or be killed!" 
So he busts into Chiodo's place. He warns him to support Carson Knowles for mayor or else. 
Chiodo refuses and Black Spectre decides to make an example out of him. 
Meanwhile, Jake arrives in his cab. "No time to change to Moon Knight. Chiodo may already be in danger! Black Spectre--Darting out the back! But he's got too much of a jump on me and--" 
He spots Chiodo, hanging by his chains. 
Back at Grant Mansion. 
"I've GOT to talk to you, Steven--And not later, not tomorrow or the next day, not even yesterday. Right NOW, Steven." Marlene is trying again. 
"But I ain't Steven, Lady--I'm still Lockley, on the job. Can't it even wait till I at least change to--" 
"NO! This is exactly what I must talk to you about!" 
Now, this is going to get heavy. This is where Marlene’s support falls apart. 
Tumblr media
"Oh, I know you've largely overcome your split personality problem--You're just upset right now--But there are other things forcing me to do this Steven..." 
"To do what?" 
"I...I'm leaving you, Steven." 
First of all... He's told her that he's Jake. And Marc is the one avoiding her. And Jake has always avoided her. 
She's been through a lot with the death of her father and brother. Perhaps she sees that being near them does cause trouble. Perhaps she is tired of dealing with the four of them. 
This leads us to Part II: Sinking. 
We open on Marlene. 
"I realize I was instrumental in the very creation of Moon Knight--Helped you change into what you are, from Villain to hero--But I... Well, I just can't shake the feeling that I've created a monster... A benign monster to be sure. A good monster...A better man than Marc Spector ever was... but a monster nonetheless..." 
That is a hell of a jab. And considering that Marlene’s brother created Morpheus and then died for it, maybe she’s afraid of losing Steven too. 
Marlene has always made it very clear that she was never a fan of Marc Spector. She wishes he’d go away and she’d be left with Steven. Perhaps she was originally charmed by Moon Knight and the thrill of adventure, but with so much death, she wants to settle. 
It’s also difficult because we know that Marc sees himself as a monster. 
"...An entity that's grown larger than both of us, a being that's gone completely out of control!" She continues. 
Is Jake still fronting? 
"All right, Lady, maybe you're right--Maybe you DO need a vacation from me--and maybe I need a vacation from Moon Knight... But not now. I can't quit now--Not with Black Spectre ready to put a stranglehold on the whole city! And you can't leave me now--not when I need you!" 
"I've made up my mind, Steven. Don't you see--? There'll always be some excuse for me to stay--And if I don't make the break now, I'll never do it." 
I think Marc is slipping in. 
"No--You don't understand. I don't need you for moral support now..." 
"Of course not. You're a big tough man." 
"Spare the sarcasm, Marlene--Please. What I mean is that I need you to literally HELP me. I want you to infiltrate Carson Knowles' operation--I want you to spy on him for me." 
Yeah, that's Marc. 
She accuses him of being on an insane kick thinking that Carson is Black Spectre. 
He begs her to help him. 
"Please -- Just do this one last thing for me and I'll never ask anything again unless you want me to...and if I'm wrong, I won't even argue as you walk out the door." 
Marc... 
She agrees to help him. They hug but he doesn't feel it. 
He calls up Frenchie to get a car and go get Crawley and find out if he's found out any news. 
Frenchie meets up with Crawley at the Pool Hall. He offers him a drink, but Crawley notes he gave up the drink ages ago. 
Remember in an early issue when he lost his family because of his drinking and gambling. Notably, he lost his son, too. 
Now, Frenchie is there in his full outfit. It's a classy outfit with a cap and a crecent moon on the cap. 
He has always worn this while acting as piolet to Moon Knight and I often wonder why. Did he choose it? Did it make him feel useful and important again? 
Either way, Frenchie has the unfortunate time to be in the same pool hall as Black Spectre's goons. 
They sneak up and beat him. 
Jake arrives at the hospital the next morning. 
Frenchie warns him to watch himself when facing these men and that they are in league with Black Spectre. 
Jake leaves. 
"Maybe Marlene was right --Lord knows everyone connected with Moon Knight has suffered...And more than once..." 
This is not the first or last time that this thought will affect the Moon Knight team. 
Jake doesn't have long to dwell on it as the cab phone starts to ring. 
It's Marlene. She's made it as a personal assistant to Knowles. She talks about how Knowles is a good man that genuinely wants to help change the city for the better. 
Jake is stunned. He starts to doubt himself. 
"Am I wrong? No, by Khonshu I know what I saw!" 
On que a cab drives by and splashes him with drity gutter water. 
It's the last straw. The whole city is falling for Knowles. He decides that he needs to start fighting fire with fire. 
Moon Knight has called a press conference! 
This is going to go well...
So he starts his speech by just telling everyone that Black Spectre is Carson Knowles. 
It goes about as well as you can imagine. 
No one believes him and he's called a lunatic. 
Cut to Knowles and Marlene watching the conference on TV. He's gotten chummy with Marlene and he shrugs it off saying he isn't worried. He invites Marlene to dinner with him that night. After she leaves, he makes a few phone calls. He needs to take care of the Moon Knight problem. He calls in some cops that are on his payroll. 
Meanwhile, Flint finds Moon Knight wandering the streets. He picks him up. 
"Look, if you say Knowles is no good, I'm on your side. Me, I've never seen a guy running for office who was good. But Knowles has connections. Cops in his pocket. Not all cops, mind you. I'm a cop myself. A real cop. That's why I'm warning you. They're after you. The ones who only wear the badges. But even that isn't fair. Some of them will believe, even as they squeeze the trigger, that they're doing something good." 
Flint does care about Moon Knight. 
Moon Knight thanks him and heads for his own cab. He's about to get in when several cops show up and start shooting. 
He manages to get away and make it back to Grant Mansion in time to find Marlene packed and leaving. 
"I can't read the future, Steven. You made a perfect fool of yourself in front of those cameras. Why couldn't you believe me that you're wrong?" 
"Why can't YOU believe ME? The cops just tried to kill me. Frenchie's busted up in the hospital. The election is no contest, in favor of a guy who came from nowhere...[...] And now he's even got you, Marlene. He's got the people, the press, the city bosses, the cops and now you. Wake up, Marlene! I tell you he's out to shaft the whole city!" 
"YOU wake up! I was wrong about you! You're still crazy--But I'm not letting you take me along for the ride! You've slandered a good man, Steven. You'll regret it." 
And Marlene leaves. 
This is a rough issue to paint Marlene in any sort of good light. 
And here we have Moon Knight once more clinging to the statue of Khonshu as if he can fix everything if he just tries hard enough. 
Tumblr media
Part III: The Climb Back. 
Part three opens on a political rally. Knowles is soaking in the crowed chanting his name and he invites Marlene to enjoy it with him. 
She decides to stay behind and he heads out to enjoy the night. 
She has been looking for invoices for rally expenses but can't see to find them. She decides to check his office. 
While searching, she comes across his budget plans. 
Seems he plans to cut out public works, slash transit funds, remove housing funds, and put all the tax revenues into his own personal account. 
Well well well, Marlene. Who's the crazy nut now? 
Up on the roof, Knowles is enjoying the view of the crowd. 
Moon Knight arrives off to the side and doesn't see him. Knowles decides tonight is the perfect night to win the city and destroy Moon Knight. 
Moon Knight is still sore from all the recent wounds he has sustained. But he has a new weapon. He has his own knuckle spikes (which make a later appearance in much later comics from the early 2000s). 
And Black Spectre sneaks up on Moon Knight and attacks from behind. 
Black Spectre is in no mood to take his time. He has a rally to get to. He stabs Moon Knight with his sword. 
He leaves Moon Knight for dead and changes for the rally. 
Moon Knight pulls himself up. 
Tumblr media
"C-Can't let him...win... Fought long and hard to make myself something better...Can't throw it away....Got to prove it...By stopping him..." 
Moon Knight bursts into the changing room. He gets a little brutal. He stops the goons with his spiked fists and tackles Knowles out of a window. 
They crash into the crowd below. 
"You want Knowles? You want tis piece of slime? Well here he is. And you can have him!" 
ANd he throws Knowles' body, unmasked and still in the Spectre attire into the crowd. 
Yeah, this goes well for the cops and guards. 
Flint tells him that this doesn't prove anything. 
But Marlene steps in to show him the paperwork. 
She runs to Moon Knight. 
"I'm back...If you'll have me." 
"I'll have you--If you're back." 
Flint declares Moon Knight innocent as he looks through the papers and sets out to arrest Knowles. 
"But, Steven, there are still problems we have to-" 
"I know, Marlene--There are always problems...But I can't think of any I'd rather face." 
Narration: "Indeed. He has scars of his own...."
And that is the BLACK SPECTRE. 
You can see why he became an iconic Moon Knight villain. His ability to push him to the breaking point by gaslighting the hell out of him was really quite effective. 
This issue brings up a lot of questions and issues that start to plague Moon Knight in the original 80s OG run and much later by other writers. Some take it to the extreme and others take it in a completely different direction. 
I’m going to try to just focus on how it’s presented right here in the 80s version with no outside context from other issues. 
Still rattled after the death of Marlene’s brother. Still upset over the fight with Stained Glass Scarlet where he let her kill a man and then escape. Still reeling from the realization that Moon Knight is not just Marc or Steven or Jake, but might actually be his own person (though at times there is blending that happens). 
We are faced with the question on if the creation of Moon Knight is a blessing or a curse. Is Moon Knight only there to exist as Marc Spector’s attempt to become more than an evil stain on the world? Is Moon Knight an excuse to let Marc keep fighting and causing pain? Is Moon Knight an apology from Marc to the world? 
Is Moon Knight putting others at risk that know him? 
We see Frenchie standing by Marc. Always by Marc. Loyal and willing to sacrifice himself for him. Why the uniform? Why living on the roof? Why always at beck and call? What is Frenchie getting out of this? He has ended up hurt in the hospital more than a few times. Still he stands loyal. 
Still he stands silent. Letting Marc put himself down and rip himself apart. 
We see a huge part of Marc’s self destruction here. How easy it is to make him feel worthless. How quickly he falls to wanting to destroy someone for getting the upper hand. 
Not to mention him running from Marlene. He knows what she wants to talk about. He avoids it. Jake avoids it but worries. Steven doesn’t even show up. He knows she wants to leave him and if he just avoids the conversation perhaps it won’t happen. Or maybe it will push her to do it and he can say of course she left. 
And when she does leave, he doesn’t feel it. He is so focused on his goal of victory and revenge that he doesn’t notice or care. A coping mechanism. Someone so used to the pain of loss that he knows if he can just do this one thing then it doesn’t matter. 
Then we have Marlene’s excuse for leaving. Because he’s crazy. Because he has DID and can’t control it. Because he dares to be Marc Spector and not Steven Grant. 
I can’t with her. It’s…. It’s hard to blame her considering the age. Considering what she’s living with. It’s not all luxury and happiness. She has her stress and she is in denial over the man she thinks she loves. But she is so ableist and just so abusive in these moments. 
She blames him for his mental illness. She blames him for leaning into it. She thinks he does it just to be Moon Knight. Perhaps she thinks that if he tried hard enough he could be just the one person named Steven Grant that lives a happy and rich life. She thinks that they can choose her over their mental illness. And I have a lot of issue with that. 
So Marlene will stick around. And pull away and come back. She supports and she breaks them apart. It’s a cycle that grows over time until finally it’s broken. But getting there… This is not a healthy relationship. 
Then we have Marc and Khonshu. 
We’ve seen it before when he fought Mogart and the statue was broken. He broke down big time. 
Here we see him clinging to the statue. Begging it. Begging himself to find a way to keep going and to win. 
This would be a VERY long post if I got into the faith of Marc Spector (not the system as a whole or even as Moon Knight. Marc Spector himself). But a tiny tidbit of my theories on that are seen in him clinging to the statue and pleading with himself to win. 
Himself. Not Khonshu in particular. We start to see how his belief and faith in Khonshu is intertwined in his own faith in himself. 
Tumblr media
Despite it all, Marc can never forget his upbringing. He will always be the rebellious boy at the Rabbi’s table, rejecting passive peace and struggling against G-D. 
And we’ll get more into his relationship with Khonshu later as his role starts to grow in the comics. 
SO. This concludes the Black Spectre! (for now).
What did you all think of this issue? 
17 notes · View notes
lesuccube · 4 months
Text
➚ 𝐅𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐄𝐑 : ᴍᴀʀᴄ ꜱᴘᴇᴄᴛᴏʀ — ᴇɴᴏᴜɢʜ
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 — he was once a child too . he was just a child too .
𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 — heavy angst bug , heavy dark trojan [ read at your own risk ! ]
𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 — some heavy thoughts . like , very heavy thoughts i needed to put into words . not beta'd , constructive criticism is welcomed . reblogs and comments are appreciated .
𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 — 1.2k
Tumblr media
now it's been long enough to talk about it
i've started not to doubt it, just wrap my head around it
i remember when you told me it's an everyday decision
but with my double vision, how was i supposed to see the way?
how long has it been since he left home? how long has it been since he's seen his father? his mother's grave? or even visited randall's grave? how long has it been since then?
how long has it been since he's escaped his mother's abusive clutches? how long has it been since he's tasted the feeling of a belt on his skin? her palm on his cheeks? how long has it been since then?
how long has it been since he actually sat down and thought about his younger brother properly? to reminisce? to grieve? how long has it been since then?
how long is long enough? how long is good enough?
how long does it take for his wounds to heal?
haven't i given enough, given enough?
haven't i given enough, given enough?
haven't i given enough, given enough?
haven't i given enough, given enough?
a ruined childhood, a broken family, a dead sibling, a distant father, an abusive mother. what else did his younger self sacrifice to become the man he was today? what other sacrifices would he have to make until it's good enough?
will he have to give up layla's happiness too? his marriage? his heart? what else is there for him to give up until god or gods or whatever omniscient being is looking down at him is happy? when will he be good enough?
always the fool with the slowest heart
but i know you'll take me with you
we'll live in spaces between walls
taking bits of pieces in his alter's life for a journey he'd spend with bloodied knuckles and a bruised body? taking away his one sense of normalcy that's not even his own to do a bidding that's not his own will?
what else will he have to sacrifice? how much more selfish will he be? how greedy will he have to be until everything he's did and done is deemed enough? will it ever even be enough?
marc thinks it never will be. deep down he knows, but like everything else in his life, he denies what's already been set in stone. it's what he does best second after all.
every city's got a graveyard
the service bought and paid for
now i'm sleeping in the backyard
passing out as night turns into day
day and night passes him in silence either in his dreadful storage room he calls his refuge, his home, or in the headspace hidden from steven’s consciousness. he watches from afar the one part of his life that's not corrupted by him (not for long).
even if it meant steven blissfully calls his mother (she's dead). a person in his past he'd rather leave behind, a ghost he rather wishes would stop haunting him to this day. even if it meant being an onlooker to his own life, a life he's relinquished to his alter, his alter that doesn't even know he's an alter.
haven't i given enough, given enough?
haven't i given enough, given enough?
haven't i given enough, given enough?
haven't i given enough, given enough?
he's given so much and gotten too little in return. he's sacrificed so much for so little change. he's taken away so much to have his own taken from him as well. he's given up so much and for what?
for what is this all for? for what is his purpose for? for what is he even living for?
when will enough be enough? when will it all end?
always the fool with the slowest heart
but i know you'll take me with you
we'll live in spaces between walls
he hates her but he loves her. he hates her but her blood runs in his veins. he hates her but she's half of him. he hates her but she is his mother.
no amount of abuse and years of hating will change the fact that she is still his parent, as much as he has grown to despise it. what can he do when she's irrevocably, undeniably, irrefutably a part of him? what then?
go and stretch out my arms
long as they need to be
long as they need to be
turn off all alarms and lie to me
what can marc spector do to change the fact that she is and always will be a part of and with him, be it his dna or in his memories as much as he tries to bury them in the deepest, darkest crevices of his mind? what can marc spector do but accept and accept and accept that fact?
what can he do but weep and hate a part of himself for the man he's become, the outcome of years of torment and hatred both towards his mother and himself? what can he do if not swallow this truth, something he cannot deny no matter how much he tries? it's in his blood, in his veins. despite it all, she is and always will be his mother's son.
haven't i given enough, given enough?
haven't i given enough, given enough?
haven't i given enough, given enough?
haven't i given enough, given enough?
wasn't that enough? shouldn't it have been enough? when will enough be enough? when will it end? it definitely didn't when she died. not in the way his father tolerated her abuse towards him, his own son.
it didn't end when steven came to be all those years ago. not even when he'd surrender his own nody to his alter to live on a normal life completely oblivious of what he, the original, had gone through. and it most definitely didn't end when he became khonshu's avatar, when he took on the mantle as moon knight. oh, no. it did not.
always the fool with the slowest heart
but i know you'll take me with you
i know i'll take you with me
when he married layla, the nightmares and the fears would constantly bubble up to the surface, afraid of becoming one day a parent to his own child and treat them the way his mother did to him. even in death she would still linger in his life through the scars that litter his heart and soul, in the way she broke his mind and split him into parts. so he did what he does best… he leaves.
marc leaves and files for a divorce to avoid the impending doom of failing as both a husband and a father.
he loves her, truly he does but the fear of not being enough or of being too much clouds his judgement and hides away from the rest of the world, as if he doesn't do that enough already.
enough should have been enough but it wasn't. and it never will be.
always the fool with the slowest heart
but i know you'll take me with you
we'll live in spaces between walls
13 notes · View notes
themovieblogonline · 1 year
Text
Tetris at SXSW is Exciting, Complicated Tale
Tumblr media
Tetris, the film helmed by Scottish director Jon S. Baird and starring Australian actor Taron Egerton (“Kingsmen: The Secret Service”), screened on March 15th at SXSW, telling a complicated story of how the Russian game Tetris became a worldwide sensation. Henk Rogers, the Dutch-born American who secured the rights to the game over a period of a year and a half was at SXSW. While dealing with cut-throat competitors and the corrupt Russian governmental system, was onstage at SXSW after the film screened to a standing ovation and said, “It captured a year and a half in my life in two hours.” The scriptwriter, Noah Pink, described a once-in-a-lifetime scenario where his script happened to be on the right desk at the right time and the rest is history. Brian Grazer and Ron Howard produced, and everyone wondered how this complicated story of international intrigue and double-dealing had remained hidden for so long. The cast included Russian actor Nikita Efremov, who portrayed the original Russian creator of the game, Alexey Pajitnov. At the film’s end, the two men embraced onstage and described the film as, “Really, a story about the friendship of two guys.” Alexey is aided in fleeing Russia by his American partner. The ins and outs of the plot are so complicated that even attempting a brief synopsis is a Herculean task. Suffice it to say that the synopsis on IMDB says: “The story of how one of the world’s most popular video games found its way to players around the globe.  Businessman Henk Rogers and Tetris inventor Alexey Pajitnov join forces in the U.S.S.R., risking it all to bring Tetris to the masses.” Following the screening, Director Jon S. Baird said, from the Paramount stage, “It’s been a quite overwhelming reaction from the audience,” which gave the film, at its conclusion, a standing ovation.  Of the film’s success he said, “For me, it’s all in the performances.  We had amazing Russian actors.  Steven Spielberg said 80% of a film’s success was casting the film properly. The cast was amazing.” He went on to praise the performance of Taron Egerton in the lead role of Henk Rogers. On Egerton’s part, he felt that the theme was quite universal and was “Really a story about the friendship of two guys.” The film releases on March 31st nationwide. Read the full article
2 notes · View notes
hopelessrromantix · 2 years
Text
Tumblr media
my first kinktober!
pick one of two prompts and submit a character or multiple! i'll take the first submitted prompts until 31, so check back to see if the prompt was taken. you may submit more than one character per prompt for threesome/poly content <3
begins october first! submit your requests at any time though I'll only accept the first one for each request, so check the list before you send one <3
main masterlist
➳ day one first time | frottage Steve Harrington
➳ day two degradation | marking Jason Carver
➳ day three cockwarming | thigh riding Chamber
➳ day four bondage | praise Johnathan Byers
➳ day five somnophilia | cock worship Billy Hargrove
➳ day six edging | dumbification Billy Hargrove
➳ day seven hate sex | overstimulation Yoru
➳ day eight facefucking | exhibitionism Yoru
➳ day nine dacryphilia | photos/video Camboy!Billy Hargrove
➳ day ten corruption | face sitting Eddie Munson + Steve Harrington
➳ day eleven size kink | choking Atsushi Nakajima
➳ day twelve solo masturbation | spanking Eddie Munson
➳ day thirteen phone sex | massage Eddie Munson + Steve Harrington
➳ day fourteen lingerie | body worship MK System
➳ day fifteen collars | orgasm denial Bakugou Katsuki
➳ day sixteen daddy kink | facial Eddie Munson
➳ day seventeen shower sex | deep throating Steven Grant
➳ day eighteen mirror sex | rimming MK System
➳ day nineteen aftercare | knife play Billy Hargrove
➳ day twenty double penetration | breeding Steve Harrington
➳ day twenty-one role play | toys Billy Loomis + Stu Macher
➳ day twenty-two cuckolding | food play Eddie Munson + Steve Harrington
➳ day twenty-three fingering | monster fucking Newt Scamander
➳ day twenty-four aphrodisiac | sounding Steve Harrington
➳ day twenty-five bulge | blood kink Eddie Munson
➳ day twenty-seven gloryhole | mutual masturbation Billy Hargrove
➳ day twenty-six power imbalance | cum inflation Billy Hargrove
➳ day twenty-eight creampie | wax play Draco Malfoy
➳ day twenty-nine ice play | sadism/masochism Billy Hargrove
➳ day thirty costumes/uniform | cum play Steve Harrington
➳ day thirty-one free choice! | feminization/crossdressing Steve Harrington
this will be top/dom gn/male reader content! please specify and check the characters I write for. thank you for participating! send me a letter request!
566 notes · View notes
sufan156 · 2 months
Text
Start of a Steven Universe fanfic I wrote a while ago. I just re-read it and I’m surprised at well I wrote this? Should I continue it? I already have a little bit of the second chapter written.
“I’m a fraud…”
He let out a big sigh and repeated it again, “I’m a fraud.”
Garnet looked at him, worry etching her features. All of a sudden, Steven brought his hands to his head and started shaking. A vision of the future rushed over her and shook Garnet to her core. She rushed forward, “GREG! CONNIE!”
She barely made it to them before Steven finally shouted, “I’M A MONSTER!!”
The shockwave he released was his most powerful yet. The windows shattered and the house nearly collapsed on itself. Greg and Connie cowered behind Garnet as she poofed into a cloud of dust. The other gems did the same, barely having the time to register what was going on.
Steven dug his fingers into his hair hunched over on his knees. His head was pounding, he heard a slight ringing in his ears. But he still managed to hear a small voice not too far away. “Steven… what have you done?”
It sounded like his father’s voice, but the warmth that usually came with it had faded into something that sounded like extreme fear.
Steven opened his eyes. He gasped when he saw what he’d done. The floor was cracked beneath him. The gems had disappeared. Well, not exactly. He saw their gemstones on the floor. He poofed them. All that was left in the broken house was him and two humans cowering in fear. He locked eyes with Connie. All he could see in her eyes was horror and shock.
He felt himself shrink, reverting back to his normal self. He had to run, he had to get away before he hurt anyone else. His feet started moving before Connie could open her mouth. The door burst open and he leaped off the porch landing gently on the sand.
Thoughts started to whirl in his mind.
I hurt everyone
There’s no fixing this
There’s no fixing me
I’m a monster, I’m a monster, I’M A MONSTER
All of a sudden he felt a searing pain in his gem. His sight started to blur as he fell to his knees to clutch at his stomach. He felt things emerging from several places on his body. His spine, his forehead, and his elbows. It hurt. Everything hurt.
He let out an anguished scream clutching his head and digging his nails into it. Blood started dripping down his forehead and he quickly removed his hands to look at them. Sharp claws had replaced his nails. His hands were turning pink, but it wasn’t his familiar pink glow. It looked like… corruption.
He checked his gem and sure enough, different shades of pink had started appearing on and around it in splotches. He panicked and started hyperventilating. This couldn’t be happening. He felt another sharp pain in his gut and he doubled over laying on the sand in a fetal position. His eyes stung and tears started to well up.
He heard Connie scream his name but he couldn’t bring himself to open his eyes. Instead, he put up a protective barrier around himself. Not for him, but for them. He was dangerous right now. Unstable. Corrupted. He heard something pounding on the side of his barrier but decided to ignore it. The pain slowly subsided and he was left to his thoughts. He sat up and looked down at his hands again. He felt broken. Why was this happening to him? What had he done to deserve this? He knew the answer to that question. He crashed his dads van. Shattered Jasper. Tried to shatter White Diamond. Poofed his family. What hadn’t he done to deserve this?
Suddenly, he felt a wave of anger wash over him. Anger at who, he didn’t know. He just felt angry. He looked at his father through the pink barrier. The man who had denied him a more human childhood. He then looked at Connie. The girl who denied him happiness. The anger kept building. He knew who he was angry at. He was angry at everyone.
“Steven… please talk to us…” Connie whimpered from the other side of the barrier. He let his pink wall dissipate and stared at the ground, claws digging in the sand. Connie was the first to approach him.
She approached slowly, careful not to make him want to run away again. She gasped in surprise when she caught a glimpse of the shiny pink horns coming out of her friend’s head. “Steven…? Are- Are you ok?” She looked at the sand beneath him and saw blood. Eyes widening she started running towards him.
He looked up and she stopped immediately. His face was different. First off, he had 2 pink horns protruding from his forehead. His right eye was a dark shade of purple with a pink pupil. There was a couple streaks of blood flowing down his face. Besides his new physical features, the expression on his face was one that Connie had never seen before. It was one of fury and pain. She was speechless, and nothing was said until Steven started to stand up.
“What are you looking at?” He spat out.
“I- ar- are you corrupting?” Connie whispered. She raised a hand to his face but he smacked it away.
“Don’t touch me. And stop acting like you care” he turned away from her.
“Yoo-hoo! Steven!”
“Is this a bad time?”
Before Connie could say anything the Diamond ship landed on the beach. Spinel jumped out from the bottom.
“You forgot your foot thong thingy!” Spinel paused, sensing the palpable tension between Steven and Connie. She looked towards Greg who offered her a look that was for the most part unreadable.
Steven looked to his right where spinel was standing. She gasped when she saw his new features.
“What’s goin’ on here?” Spinel asked as the diamonds emerged from the ship.
Steven looked at the diamonds. He felt nothing but anger towards them. When he stopped at White Diamond, he saw nothing but red. He felt his gem grow hot and then the pain came back. He doubled over and couldn’t stifle a small yell. He felt himself growing. More parts of him started turning pink.
Spinel, Greg, and Connie started running towards Steven, but they were too late. Soon he grew to be bigger than the beach house. Bigger than the diamonds. He let out a deafening roar and turned to the diamonds.
Before anyone could do anything (not that they knew what to do), Steven started running towards the diamonds.
“Steven! What’s happening to you?! What are you doing?” Blue shouted.
Steven reached White and reared his right arm back.
“Now Steven, I know we can talk this out…” White put her hands up in a calming gesture. She looked somewhat afraid but stood her ground. That was a mistake.
The monster in front of her plunged his arm into her head. Grabbing and pulling her gem out of her body. She had no time to even feel surprised before her form dissipated.
He started squeezing her gem. But before he could shatter her the other diamonds tried to pull White’s gem out of his grip. Before they could make much progress, Steven let out another roar but this one sent a shockwave with it. The diamonds were pushed back and Steven continued squeezing White’s gem.
“Yellow! Do something!” Blue shouted. Yellow zapped him with her new powers, his head shrank a little but it grew again just as fast. Not knowing what else to do, she decided she had one option left. Yellow didn’t want to do this, but Steven left her no choice. She focused and raised her arm in Stevens direction as she zapped him with her electricity.
Steven dropped White’s gem immediately and started roaring in pain. He dropped on all fours and looked up at Yellow. She was wearing the same look on her face as the time when she did the same to Blue. Steven started crawling towards Yellow. His anger was stronger than the pain he was feeling. But even though he couldn’t poof, he was starting to feel exhausted and he soon couldn’t take it anymore.
Steven went limp and crashed to the ground, slowly reverting back to his normal self. He slipping in and out of consciousness. Everyone immediately crowded around him. Greg took off his shirt and put it on Steven. Was he naked? Voices echoed around him.
“Steven! Are you ok? Can you hear me?”
“Schtuball!”
“I’m so sorry Steven!”
“What should we do?”
He finally couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer.
1 note · View note