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gravedigginbbydoll · 8 months

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Phantom of the Night

Phantom! Eddie x Fem! Reader Smut Blurb

AN: Hello! I am a huge POTO fan, and obsessed with men in masks. I wanted to write this for fun and for spooky season. It's a length and smut filled blurb. I'm sorry about the college of pictures not being as inclusive as I'd like (it's hard asf to find POTO aesthetic in varying body types :/ ) but promise that the description is vague and meant for anyone AFAB or feminine leaning :) (psst: this ones for my ghouls @eddies-house @xxhellfiregirlxx @ghost-proofbaby who I adore and feed my delusions lol)

Warnings: MDNI! mature themes, dubcon, vouyerism, somnophilia, mentions of exhibitionism, corruption kink, bondage, biting, oral, penetration, virginity, loss of innocence, masks, dom! Eddie, posessive, body worship, stalking and obsession, kidnapping, etc.

As a child, you had been brought up in the exquisite opera house that your town boasted of, your father taking you often to see the shows and ballets performed there. He was a violinist, a talented one at that, and had many close friends who performed at the opera. Growing up, it was just the two of you. Your mother had grown deathly ill when you were five. She passed there soon after, leaving you and your father alone. In womanhood now, you sensed that he brought you to the opera so often rather than get you a nanny to distract you with elaborate performances in order to hide your fearful loneliness that a young girl got with losing her mother.

But now you were a woman, a member of the opera yourself in the corps de ballet, your years of training under Karen, your father’s old friend, finally coming into play. You took the job soon after your father's death when you turned 20, desperate to keep the estate he left you and not leave the home and comfort of the opera house. Besides, you loved ballet and the elegance it left you feeling, despite the pain. But it was nothing compared to your true love. Singing. Music.

Your father had you take singing lessons as a young girl, but those lessons were now lost in years of memories. You tried to practice alone but felt off-pitch. It was disheartening. You mostly had done so as a hobby rather than a real-life pursuit of the stage, not believing yourself to be skilled enough. You kept it hidden from the rest of the troupe, embarrassed over what they would say about a grown woman attempting to learn to sing and having daydreams of the stage.

Which is what led you to this point. You had found a few places to practice in the opera house, the building so old that there were many hidden passageways and nooks and crannies. You often tried to use these locations in order to practice. Your betrothed, Steven, constantly scolded you and claimed one day you would get lost and no one would be able to find you in the maze that was the opera house. (Steven meant well, but could sometimes be more like a mother hen.) Still, you found yourself overwhelmed by curiosity and in need to explore more and more of the building.

You looked around, curious to see if anyone was nearby. You had found this entrance behind a mirror in a makeup room, the dark and almost damp hallway confusing you. You walked on further, the long skirts of your white gown brushing the cold stone floor, probably dirtying the edges. You held the candle you used as a light in a shaky hand, goosebumps erupting on your skin at the chill. This place reminded you of dreams you so often had involving a dark dim cave, some mysterious yet enchanting man…no, creature…whisking you away with his lulling voice and seductive tones. You felt your heart race and your thighs squeeze together at the thought.

You were ashamed of these dark desires. You were always told that women weren’t meant to feel lust. Ballerinas were not meant to daydream about dark and haunting shadowy figures whisking them away into the night against their will. That was why you were so passive in your arranged engagement with Steven. What did it matter that you felt not a bit of swirling desire for the man if you were not meant to? He had good money and was kind and treated you well, despite your less-than-normal childhood. Maybe after the wedding, you could squash all these horrid and sinful feelings in your belly.

While lost in thoughts, you heard a gust of wind brush by you, the sudden draft blowing out your candle. You gasped, your heart racing as you caught the sudden flash of movement by you, fear squeezing up your throat. The figure moved in a flash, clearly tall and lean.

“Hello? Who goes there?” You called out, willing yourself to swallow down the frightful feelings in your belly.

Nothing could be heard but the faint drip of aging pipes and the rustle of the wind in the ancient hallways. You sighed, turning back to where you came from. Perhaps Nancy was correct and you could stand to stop reading things filling your head with the idea of monsters lurking in the night.

You laid on the gaudy chaise lounge, restless and unable to sleep. Karen, in an attempt to be motherly with you, was earlier discussing ‘wifely duties’ with you, well aware that your education on the matter was crude at best from the words you heard other girls in the corps giggle over. Or occasionally, the male singers would boast of their escapades. She filled you with this idea that women were to lay there to be for their husbands and bear children. But you couldn’t shake the feeling of wanting more. For the past few months, you had been…exploring your own desires. You found you couldn’t sleep without it. And yet…

Tonight you were staying at the opera in an attempt to curb the dark desires in your belly. You knew nothing of a man’s touch but did not want to sully Steven with your lustful and seductive thoughts. You hoped staying in a room not your own would discourage your brain from such thoughts.

You agreed with Karen to stay in the private dressing room, despite the fluttering gasps of your peers in the corps. There were rumors of a dark figure that haunted the opera house, always causing mischief, running around and stealing props, leaving notes on the music sheets, and even occasionally harassing the singers by wrecking their rooms. You weren’t one for superstition, but felt also that perhaps the girls had a point. You had felt a presence near you often, something lingering but still there.

Just as you did lying there. You were only in your nightgown, the fabric thin and not modest at all. You could feel a presence despite the room being empty. You stared at the ceiling, your heart racing and an even more sinful thought entering your head.

What if you touched yourself with that presence watching?

You felt the heat creep from your neck to the tips of your ears, clearly embarrassed despite the lack of company. The thought excited you, the heat growing between your legs and your nipples pebbling at the thought. You sighed, cursing yourself but knowing you could not rest without the feeling of release.

You shakily grabbed at your skirt, pulling it up while turning to look at your reflection in the mirror. The mirror faced the chaise lounge. You felt a gasp escape your mouth as you looked at yourself. You looked…delectable. Absolutely depraved. Your eyes were dark with lust and your nightgown revealed most of your bare legs, part of it tugged down to reveal cleavage as your hardened nipples poked through the delicate white fabric.

You began to rub at the wetness between your legs, mewling pathetically at the friction and staring at yourself losing control. You felt your mind go foggy, your wetness growing as your moans became more desperate. You felt your eyes flutter, feeling as if the presence was staring at you. And whether it was the small sip you had of wine earlier you had with Karen or the lust clouding your thoughts, you swore you could see a shadow within the mirror, a pair of warm and sultry brown eyes slightly visible. The sight of the shadow caused you to reveal more of yourself, feeling the need to put on a winning show. You threw your head back, pulling the nightgown down more to free your breasts to the chilly air as you rubbed at your clit more ferociously, your moans and whimpers growing in desperation. You felt the tension in the room grow as the feeling grew before the tension snapped, leaving you shattering to pieces.

You panted as you came down from your high, letting yourself catch a breath and trying to fix your appearance. You turned towards the mirror slowly, your body heavy and worn. You saw only yourself. No warm or sultry eyes. No shadowy figure. Just you. You let your eyelids flutter as you head off to sleep, sure to dream of the dark presence once again. And just before you do…you swear you see the shadow flash across the mirror. But maybe it was just your tiredness affecting your sight.

The second time you experienced the presence was another night sleeping at the opera house in order to assist Nancy with her duties in the morning, since her mother, Karen, had left her in charge of the duties this time around, scolding her about needing to be responsible. You were asleep, dreaming and tossing while imagining that dark presence looming over you, your lust creeping in. In the dream, the dark shadow was looming over you, kissing up and down you, as silent as possible. You watched as the shape kissed its way down, growling hungrily at your entrance. You couldn’t see much but felt, almost as if it were real, lapping at your sensitive clit. You woke dazed, lust pooling between your thighs as you tried to sit up, sure you were feeling something licking and sucking on the swollen bud between your thighs. A gloved hand clamped down on your eyes and prevented you from seeing who the culprit was, your heart racing. You smelled the familiar mix of cinnamon and orange peel, along with sharp notes of rum and ginger, a tonic you knew as familiar among the singers in the opera to keep their vocals sharp. You felt your thighs shake, and moans leaving your mouth despite your brain's conflicting thoughts.

This is wrong. I don’t know this person. But…the pleasure…they are so skilled with their mouth…I’m so close.

You writhed, whimpering and attempting to escape the mouth to discover who was there, only to feel the other hand hold you tightly in place, a deep and fearful voice growling lowly.

“Stop your infernal movement, little angel. I would like to worship this beautiful cunt to the best of my ability,” The masculine voice ground out in agitation, the words sending chills up your spine and desire to build to the breaking point. Worshiping you? Men in high society didn’t worship working women like you. You were lucky to even find a betrothal while most dancers were considered ‘low and loose’ women who needed to work in order to gain money. This man was odd and…so very skilled at making you unravel.

You were drunk on the eroticism of it all. A stranger licking at you like a man starved of a month’s worth of meals, the inability to see his appearance, his demanding tone and forceful hand. You saw stars and felt your pleasure overcome you, your body shaking at your release that he seemed to slurp up, the noises so vulgar they would make a lady of the night blush. You lay there, eyes closed, catching your breath slowly. When your eyes finally fluttered open, you sat up, hoping to get to know the man behind your most recent confession in church, only to be met with silence, not a soul in the room. You felt your heart sink as you tried to fall back asleep, your mind swimming with thoughts of the mysterious voice and the warm, strong hands. It seemed the ghost of the opera might have been real after all.

Nancy and the other girls in the corps began to notice your distracted gaze, your prolonged nights at the opera, and your skittishness, trying to catch a glimpse of the shadowy figure when people claimed he zipped past. You felt a strange obsession, a need to follow the dark shadow and discover who was consuming your dreams.

You heard him at night occasionally, humming or singing. Or at least you thought it was him. It was a low and chilling sound. Your body thrummed with excitement anytime you thought you saw a flash of him in the rafters or heard a stair creak. You began to notice little gifts waiting for you in the dressing room, in your favorite nooks and crannies in the opera. Red roses and small notes in the messy script, usually referring to you as Little Angel. Nancy was worried about you, trying to escort you home often and getting Steven to dote on you more. But you were done. Corrupted. Filthy. And you wanted nothing more than to be in the Phantom’s embrace once more. You wanted him to explore you. Ruin you. Your mind was riddled with him day and night.

You kept it hidden from everyone, but you often explored the ancient passageways now with the intention of finding him. Occasionally you left gifts. Your most used lipstick, a snippet of a poem, a book you had just read. You would come back to the spots to find the items gone, occasionally a rose left in their place. You felt giddy, like a schoolgirl. Your ghost…your Phantom… seemed to acknowledge you.

If only you could catch him…

It was a few months after weeks of giddy gift exchanges and running after shadows. The notes and roses stopped. The flashes of a dark figure ended. Perhaps it was a dream. Maybe you were just a fool who imagined or dreamed of the interactions.

On a dark night, you were aimlessly wandering the halls, singing to yourself a song you remembered your father singing. You had abandoned all hope of your dear ghost coming to capture you. Free you from a loveless marriage. You were set to marry Steven next week. Abandon the opera. Become a proper lady in society. At least Steven would not be disappointed when you laid there and bled for him, giving him a child 9 months later. You sighed to yourself, twisting your engagement ring, displeased with the thing. You wandered the underground tunnels, the candlelight dim in the dark halls. You felt your heart pick up as you heard a soft yet low voice, singing aloud. Your skin erupted in goosebumps, and your heart was racing.

“Phantom?,” You called out sheepishly.

The singing stopped. A deep voice coming from a direction you couldn’t discern.

“Little Angel. What is a lamb like you doing in a dangerous place like this?” called the voice, rough and cold. Was he upset with you? You were unsure.

You felt a tug at your heart, looking around and trying to find him. “Please, Phantom. I have only one week more at the opera. I cannot bear to not feel your touch another second,” you whimpered out.

“Ah, so you can crawl back to that insolent boy who does not deserve your glory? My heart cannot bear the rejection, Little Angel. Leave this monster be,” He growled out, still within the shadows.

Your heart leaped in your throat as tears entered your eyes, feeling your knees wobble as you crumbled to the ground. “Please, Phantom. I cannot bear to be without you. I do not want Steven. Forgive me, please…,” You sobbed softly, your emotions in a tangled mess.

You heard a sigh and felt yourself get grabbed from behind swiftly, a soft yelp about to leave your throat. That familiar gloved hand snuck over your eyes.

“Alright, Little Angel. On one condition…You mustn’t, under any circumstances, remove my mask,” He warned, his tone stern.

You nodded wordlessly, allowing him to pick you up, dropping your lit candle onto the damp floor. The light went out, but as he picked you up in his arms, you caught a brief glance of him. He was a tall and lean figure, his hair a long and curly mess, his face halfway covered by a mask. You could see his plush pink lips and long lashes, warm and enticing brown eyes.

He was beautiful.

You were tempted to remove the mask, curious as to why such an enticing man would haunt the opera. You refrained, however, out of respect. He tied a loose piece of fabric around your eyes, shielding your vision.

You were enthralled and scared.

You were laid down gently on a plush cushion and fabric, the cover softly removed from your eyes. You slowly opened your eyes in a dim and candlelit room, surrounded by aging theatrical props and the most plush velvet fabrics. You were on what appeared to be a bed, the dark figure standing before you. He wore a dark and long cloak, the hood down. His shirt underneath was a silky black shirt with a wide opening, displaying his chest. He wore dark pants and what seemed to be dress shoes. The items were all of high quality but it seemed they were at least a decade old. Upon looking up at his face, you saw he wore a white mask on half of it, his lips and half of his nose visible. His features were mostly soft, though he appeared worn from the years of seclusion and hiding.

You reached out to touch his cheek, only to have him grip your wrists. His hands were shaking. His dark eyes were swirling with desire and sorrow. Was he shaken because he needed you so fervently?

“You cannot touch me. I cannot bear it. If you were to touch me only to marry that…that damned fool later. My heart could not take it,” He growled out, his face twisted in sorrow and pain.

You felt a tug at your heart, your hands aching to touch him but deciding to respect his wishes.

“Alright.”

He got up, running over to a pile of old props from past shows, grabbing at one, and walking over to you, grabbing at your wrists before tying them quickly to the frame of the bed. Your heart began to race as your body heated up, your skin erupting in goosebumps as you bit softly at your lips. Phantom groaned softly, looming over you, his warm brown eyes stirring desire in your belly.

“Do not make such faces, Little Angel. You are so delicate, and I fear I will become without reason,” He groaned out, his eyes intense in their desire, his expression clear that it was hurtful to hold back.

You could feel your back arch, his stiffening member brushing against you, causing you to whimper. “Please Phantom…Abandon reason…ravage me,” You mewled, writhing under the dark figure.

His eyes became dark, his snarl deepening as he leaned in, his expression both terrifying and enthralling. “Be careful what you wish for, Little Angel. I am not too short of becoming a monster, devouring you.”

You whimpered, desire pooling as your eyelashes fluttered, and your body leaned towards him. Two could play at that game. “Please…I’m frightened. R-release me, monster,” You whined, writhing under the Phantom’s dark gaze. A smirk fell upon his lips, dimples evident as the smirk broke into a villainous grin.

“Oh, you should not have wandered into my lair, Little Angel. Now I must have you,” He growled lowly, taking his gloved hands and ripping open your corset before tearing at the chemise, the fabric pooling in shreds around you, your chest heaving in fear and excitement.

Your body was bared save for the underpants that exposed your ever-wet entrance, your legs shutting in embarrassment. The Phantom growled, kissing at your lips with hunger and desperation, moans lost on his lips. He kissed you until you gasped for air before biting, nipping, and kissing his way down, focusing on your breasts. You pinched and sucked upon your nipples, heightening your pleasure and making you writhe more under him, whimpers echoing in the cold and dim room. He bit and marked you, his movements like that of a wild beast.

“Ph-Phantom…Master… Devour me as you have before,” You whined out, meeting his wild brown eyes behind the mask as he looked up, snarling.

“Beg. Beg for it,” He snarled, hands continuing their tortuous teasing on your breasts.

“P-please… Master… Dev-devour me…I beg of y-you! I beg of you. I beg of you. I beg of you…,” You babbled, brain foggy with lust and his touch.

He grinned devilishly, his white smile making your heart race. “As you wish, Little Angel.”

He slowly made his way down, sure to kiss and mutter praises over you the entire time, letting you know how divine you were, leaving marks with sharp bites here and there. Finally, he reached your entrance, diving in as if it were his last supper. He flicked his tongue across your clit before sucking on it, alternating that and nibbling at your inner thighs, your body writhing like a woman possessed, your eyes rolling in pleasure.

He truly was wicked, worshiping you beyond your wildest dreams, his words meeting your ears and deepening the carnality within you. You were gone. Lost to this bodily sin.

“So divine. I do not deserve this beautiful cunt, these heavenly breasts, your godless moans… If this is the price I pay to become Lucifer’s lackey, I will happily pay the toll,” He babbled, fingers curling up into your entrance, his mouth still latching onto your clit.

You felt your back arch and felt a ripple through your body. You shattered around his finger, your orgasm taking over your mind. You whimpered as he continued to touch you past your high, your nerves so sensitive you felt tears come to your eyes. He stopped short, growling lowly.

“I’m going to condemn you, Little Angel. Fill you full of my cum. Mark you as mine and mine alone. You are my pet. My divine creature,” He snarled, his face twisted as you felt a shock of fear and lust overtake you. He could have you. You were his.

“P-please Phantom…Pl-please,” You whimpered, lip trembling in longing as your body shook with terror.

You suddenly felt a slow thrust into your entrance, the fullness causing a sharp pain, your head thrown back in a silent cry, eyes watering. The thrusting continued at a slow pace, the Phantom’s arms shaking as he appeared to hold back. You looked up at him, the desire growing sharper in you, your dull pain now adding to the pleasure, your legs slightly writhing. You fought against the ropes, whimpering. Phantom seemed to catch on as his brown eyes met yours, something in him snapping. He began snapping his hips at a ferocious pace, making you cry out as he continued to growl but also began to whimper and moan.

“Such a perfect cunt. A vision. They don’t deserve you. So flawless…Cannot wait to fill your belly with my seed…Corrupt and condemn such a goddess…Ravaged by a monster…What would Steven think…?”

You moaned at the suggestion, thinking of how scandalous the situation would be. Your high was coming along a lot faster as the Phantom growled in your ear, hand at your throat while squeezing the sides and cutting off air. You felt your mind panic suddenly as you writhed but moaned louder, the lightheadedness causing immense pleasure. You were so close.

“Oh, does my Little Angel enjoy that? Would you like to put on a show for the opera? Singing that beautiful song of pleasure?” He moaned out, his thrusts getting sloppier.

You felt yourself climb higher and higher towards release, reaching it finally when Phantom growled in your ear making you grow with a child, making everyone know you were his. You saw stars behind your eyes, your heart bursting from your chest as you panted. The Phantom chased his own high, filling you up shortly after, making you moan softly.

You attempted to catch your breath as the Phantom went to grab you a washcloth, wiping away at the spilling fluid. He released your wrists allowing you to rub at them. You flushed, your body limp and warm, worn out by the activity. You lay beside Phantom who held you to his chest, singing softly as you drifted off.

You woke up once in the middle of the night, Phantom asleep. You stared at his face, only noticing how much more peaceful he looked in his sleep. You bit your lip, wondering why a man would wear a mask, even during sexual activities. Curiosity always got the better of you. You reached out softly, peeling away the mask, being careful to make sure he didn’t stir. You gasped softly at the reveal. The man's half of his face seemed to have large scars as if someone had taken a chunk of flesh in a bite, perhaps an animal. His cheeks were riddled with them, and half of the tip of his nose also with a chunk missing.

You frowned, cocking your head. Sure he wasn’t gorgeous on that side but why was he here. He just seemed a little scarred. You softly touched the scars, the Phantom twitching at the touches in his sleep. You stop for a moment but again, only to have the mysterious man's eyes flutter open and horror and realization cross his face and he shoots up and snarls at you.

“You broke the one rule?” He growled, his eyes dark and anger-filled.

“I didn’t mean-”

You felt a quick hand tie you up again, the ropes had been on his side of the bed, You tugged against them, feeling panic come up your throat as he tilted your head up, eyes gleaming with villainy.

“From now on Angel, you belong to the Phantom of the Hawkins Opera. Edward Munson. But you may call me Master,” He growled out, his eyes swimming with possession, desire, and fury, your mouth opening to let out protests and failing to make a sound. There was no escape. No way to save yourself. You were his.

Be careful what you wish for.

THE END?

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sarahghetti · 29 days

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direction to perfection; j.l.

pairing: jake lockley x reader, marc and steven are briefly alluded to but do not make an appearance

summary: one day, your vigilante lifestyle leads to you to crossing paths with a moon-serving weirdo in white bandages. jake promises that he won't get in the way, but there's something about his smirk that has your spidey-sense tingling, and what do you know—

he sets a building on fire.

it's not supposed to be romantic.

warnings: depictions of fighting and violence, injuries, hurt and comfort, reader is a spider-person and thus has a spider-person sense of humour😭.

word count: 3.8k

notes: part of the @MOONKNIGHT-EVENTS bingo! prompt: “'bonfire”

MOON KNIGHT MASTERLIST | ALL MASTERLISTS

You have a love-hate relationship with your spidey-sense—it’s useful enough to give you a heads-up, but it’s not exactly a get-out-of-danger-free card.

It kicks in as you’re soaring through the air, an errant pulse in your veins that tells you one thing: MOVE. But there’s no time—before you even manage to lift your web-shooter, one of Doc Ock’s mechanical arms whips around and collides hard against your torso. For a moment, you feel your ribs crack underneath the metal, the sharp pains accompanied by a real stupid thought, even by your standards: guess I’m going to call in sick tomorrow—

—and then you finally hit the brick wall behind you. The air is ripped from your lungs and your thoughts short-circuit into nothingness. New York’s evening rush hour is drowned out by high-pitched ringing. If it weren’t for your wallcrawling ability, you’d be falling forty stories down onto the traffic below. Instead, rooted into the small crater you’ve made into an office building, all you can do is languish in what surely must be multiple broken bones and a slightly bruised ego for not being able to dodge a hit that you saw coming.

Speaking of—there’s another one heading towards you right now.

You leap upwards without a second thought, just narrowly avoiding becoming a shitty claw-machine prize as the arm lodges into the wall where your head used to be. Spots dance across your vision and you groan—your body does not want to move.

Suspended between two buildings, Doc Ock’s mechanical arms dig into concrete and brick as she follows you up. Her voice is deceptively empathetic. “Down so soon, little spider? I expected more from you!”

One of the arms rears back again but distantly, there’s the clench of a trigger—and it gets pinned behind her by a golden grappling hook.

The wire grows taut then there he is, using the reeling mechanism to lunge upwards. All the momentum is channeled into his crescent blade as Jake jams it between the plates of the trapped arm; it jerks like a wounded animal, suddenly uncoordinated and stiff. When it lashes out again, he easily dodges and jumps across the buildings onto the fire escape next to you.

“Mierda! You okay?”

Glowing white eyes, wide with concern—the sight is enough to shake you out of your concussive stupor. Jake extends a hand, and you take it readily, allowing him to help you up onto the rickety platform.

“Just peachy,” you wheeze as you lean almost your entire body weight against him.

This was supposed to be a simple mission. It wasn’t even supposed to be a mission in the first place, but one detained drug dealer led to another, which led to a smuggler and a mercenary and a goddamn gym teacheruntil you were faced with a whole corrupt laboratory that tied back to Doc Ock’s operations.

Jake got looped in somewhere between the mercenary and the gym teacher, apparently answering some kind of divine calling of his own. Egyptian god of the moon? Protecting travelers of the night? You just call the people you save New Yorkers, no fancy labelling here.

But you’re not so prideful as to turn away help when you need it, especially when it comes gift-wrapped in superhuman strength and a bullet-proof cape. Even though you catch him giving himself these looks in the windows you pass by or having whole conversations to himself under his breath—you’ve seen weirder.

Like now: There’s a clear conflict happening in—on?—Doc Ock. The damaged arm flails wildly through the air, and the other three can’t seem to decide between trying to calm it down, retreat, or kill you.

Those white eyes turn to you. “Sure you don’t want me to shoot her?”

“No!” Now you remember why you were initially wary of him—because when you first met, he was holding one of his blades to a lackey’s throat. Danger, danger! You didn’t even need your spidey-sense to tell you that; he wears the warning like a badge of honour. “We just need to subdue her till the cops come. Follow my lead.”

Jake gives you a mock salute. Fortunately, Doc Ock’s lab was deserted—except for her—when you crashed the place. Whatever supersecret bioweapon she’s cooking up will still be waiting for you to destroy it after you capture her.

With just one press of a button, you’re soaring back into action. The arms seem to have coordinated themselves again—having decided to kill you, how lucky—but so have you and Jake. One lunges towards you, and you pull upwards on your web, going feet over head as you as you flip backwards out of the way.

In that split-second moment when you’re fully upside-down, your arm extends downwards and thwip!—your web attaches to the titanium plating. The world realigns itself, and your momentum carries you in an arc below the arm, dragging it behind you as you continue in your original direction.

As soon as you land on the side of the opposing building, you yank hard. Immediately, your other hand comes up to shoot a dozen or so webs to attach the claw onto the wall. It won’t last—the brick is already crumbling under the force—but it gives Jake enough time to shake off Doc Ock’s attention and join you.

Closer than you were before, you can see just how much force it takes for him to drive his blade through the circuitry. Sparks burst like little fireworks around his hand. He makes it look easy, but a shudder crawls down your spine—you just know what he’s capable of.

You both leap out of the way as the arm thrashes erratically; Doc Ock cries out in frustration. That’s two arms down, and two that are busy suspending her in the air. You’ll have to catch her once you take out another one, but that’s no biggie.

“Jake!” You gesture towards the nearest arm, and he nods in understanding. Despite the pain radiating through your limbs, you grin. For all his snark and murderous tendencies (which you hope are just a joke), he’s a half-decent partner.

It’s too bad, then, that Doc Ock doesn’t seem to care about how good of a time you’re having. Her mouth twists into a snarl, and in a blink of an eye, she’s scrambling away. Retreating? Your poor, bruised head is hopeful for the night to end.

In a way, it’s right—she is trying to get away from you. Unfortunately, it also recognizes that she’s retracing your steps, right back to the lab where you first found her.

“Oh, damn it!”

Your injuries and Jake’s limited modes of superhuman transport make it impossible to gain any real ground as you chase after her. Doc Ock climbs through her shattered window half a minute before you do, and even if your conscious mind doesn’t realize it, some part of you does—it’s an ambush.

You dive to the ground just as a mini fridge is thrown in your direction. Pain shoots down your side, your vision blurring with tears. The sheer wave of nausea that washes over you makes your mouth water and fuck, you might actually puke like this.

There’s something else coming but you can’t do anything other than half-heartedly roll behind the nearest object. The workbench shields you from—what, a chair? You aren’t afforded anymore time to think about it because she rips off the counter next, several important-looking valves raining down around you. Through the noise, you just barely manage to pick up a quiet hissing in the air as you try to gather your bearings.

A line of workbenches down the centre of the room, an aisle on either side.

On the right: sinks and fume hoods.

On the left: whiteboards.

Directly in front of you: the absolute bane of—and possible end to—your existence, holding up that chunk of black countertop as if it were a hammer and you are a nail.

You brace yourself for the hit, but it never comes. There’s a surprised yelp from above you, and your peer through your arms at just the right time to see Jake land a brutal kick into Doc Ock’s chest, sending her flying. You don’t see her land, but you do hearit; equipment crashes to the ground, glass shattering on the linoleum.

With a hand from Jake, you’re back on your feet. Doc Ock is reeling at the far end of the room. The walls are littered with long, deep gashes—some from your initial confrontation with her, some likely from her mechanical arms flailing from Jake’s hit. Several of the fume hoods are missing their windows entirely, which definitely bodes ill considering that there are still chemicals in some of them.

Gritting your teeth, you somehow manage to get the words out, “Just stand down, Olivia!”

A hand is clutched at her side, and some petty part of you hopes that her ribs are broken too. “This isn’t over.”

You gesture to her mechanical arms, two of which are still malfunctioning like headless chickens, then to yourselves, who are (mostly) in one piece. “Well, it sure is about to be.”

She raises her eyebrows at Jake. “You raid a Spirit Halloween and suddenly think you can defeat me?”

“Yeah, sure, let me just take fashion advice from someone cosplaying as an octopus.”

Jake leans towards you. “Do you always talk this much?”

At that, Doc Ock’s eyes narrow, filled with determination. She’s not backing down this time, which means neither can you.

You both ready yourselves like you have countless times before, straightening your stance and setting your shoulders back. But Jake doesn’t show the same patience. No—he sees the remaining mechanical arms twitch in preparation, and a blade is already leaving his hand with deadly-precise aim.

Wait, wait, the hissing sound—the gas—

“Get down!” You ram your body into Jake’s, bringing you both to the ground as the blade makes contact with the titanium, sparks flying out and—

BOOM.

It’s like your heart stops.

For several moments, you don’t register anything at all. You aren’t even sure if you’re still breathing.

Slowly, your senses return. The scent of burning plastic invades your nostrils—even the air tastes like it too. Something’s landed on top of you, pinning you down with a surprising amount of strength. Warm and sturdy and pressing into all the wrong places, but you can’t even hear your own whimpering—there’s nothing but ringing in your ears.

Are your eyes closed? You can’t bring yourself to check. All you can do is try to remember how to live, and figure out what the hell is happening.

Your spidey-sense has gone quiet. That’s—that’s good. Hopefully. Or maybe it’s just been knocked out of you by the blast. You let that last thought get washed away into the muddled mess of your head; you could probably use a bit of positive thinking right now.

Everything hurts. That’s been true for the past hour, really, but there’s no gut-wrenchingly painful burn anywhere on your body like what you expected from a lab explosion. The closest thing is just that warmth against your back, in a thick arm across your chest, and encircled around your wrist, where it lingers along your pulse point.

Something brushes up against your cheek, roughly textured but trying to be so, so gentle. Words start to pierce through the hearing damage. “—estás bien, te tengo. No te preocupes, estás bien.”

“Jake?” Your voice comes out small and tinny, unsure of how loud to speak when everything sounds like it’s underwater. You receive an affirmative rumble, and the tension seeps out of your limbs, just a tad.

Tentatively, you open your eyes. And there’s—nothing. Just a white sheet of fabric covering your entire field of view. Jake huffs out a laugh at your confusion before finally standing up, his cape pulling back from where it was draped on top of you.

“Oh.”

It’s like a bomb went off. Nearly every surface has been scorched black, save for the perfectly untouched flooring around you where Jake shielded you both from the blast. Any equipment in the room has been reduced to pieces—if not completely combusted into ash and soot—and fires still linger despite the efforts of what’s left of the sprinkler system.

No sign of Doc Ock anywhere—she must’ve gotten away. Jake lets out a long string of curses under his breath, then finishes it off with an eloquent: “Fuck.”

The fire alarm is incessant, and the sprinklers have all but drenched your suit. If you had half a working brain left, you’d feel the shivers wracking your body and realize that you’re still bleeding out in several different places, but the only thing that crosses your mind is how tired you are.

You throw your mask off with a groan. The sirens in the distance only add to your growing headache. So close, you were so close this time.

“Come on.” Jake’s stands over you, mask retracted, and you can see the grimace on his face from how the mission turned out. Wordlessly, he offers to help you up, and is promptly ignored. He keeps his hand extended towards you, shaking it a little for emphasis, but you refuse to budge.

That is, until your mind so helpfully strays and wonders—how big was the blast?

Your eyes widen, and your body jerks upright as though electrocuted. Oh, God—you didn’t see anyone else in the lab other than Doc Ock when you arrived, but what about the other floors? What about the pedestrians on the sidewalk below, who might’ve had glass and debris rained down upon them when the windows were blown out?

It takes several tries to get to your feet, none of which are entirely successful because Jake has to intervene halfway through to hold you upright. Your second wind catches him off-guard and his brows furrow as you try to leap back into action. “Whoa—talk to me, bug. What’s happening?”

“Need to—” You try to shrug him off. His grip loosens for all of a moment before you’re stumbling again, and then he returns, as firm and steady as ever. “Was anyone hurt?”

“You.”

“Not what I meant,” you scowl. It’s thoroughly ineffective. The only response you get is a subtle tilting of his head, then a loss of his undivided attention as he listens to something—someone—in the room that you aren’t privy to.

His gaze flickers back to you, marginally softer. “No one else was hurt. You need to rest.”

You don’t dignify that with a response. What’s the point of superhealing if you can’t bounce back after a fight? This time when you struggle against him, Jake lets you go, crossing his arms as you limp around the room.

Fortunately, most of the smoke is being pulled out the windows; what’s left is enough to burn and scrape down your larynx, but you push through it. Doc Ock has to have left some kind of trace—if not during her escape, then in the work she left behind. But kicking around in the ashes yields nothing. There’s no conveniently placed folder full of evil plans, or vial labelled SUPER SECRET BIOWEAPON (ONLY COPY - NO NEED TO SEARCH ANY FURTHER).

Jake sighs. “What are you looking for?”

What are you looking for? The building is still on fire, for Christ’s sake—you should have been gone ten minutes ago. Still, your stubbornness is steadfast. “There has to be—something.”

He sweeps out an arm, gesturing to the resounding nothing around you. With wet curls stuck to his forehead, his tone veers on sardonic. “Oh? Your little spider-sense tell you that?”

“Spidey, and—and it’s not a radar, I can’t just turn it on,” you bristle. His ensuing snicker lands all wrong, and your mouth twists into a scowl. “Funny, is it? Blowing up a building?”

“Hey.” The lightness disappears from his expression. “How was I supposed to know about the gas leak?”

It’s a valid question. Still, the anger in you can’t help but flare up anyways, running on his words as if they were diesel. You bite back a retort at the last second, which isn’t enough because the resulting silence is accusatory in and of itself.

He takes a step towards you, chin raised as water continues to rain down on you both. Solid, sturdy—unyielding. The sight twists your stomach into knots, but you stand your ground, placing your hands on your hips even though it pulls painfully at a handful of your muscles. “Shit happens, bug. It’s no one’s fault—well, maybe a bit my fault, but—”

“I had her.” It’s a blatant lie, but full of conviction as it leaves your lips.

He’s nothing short of incredulous. “Did you?”

“Yes—”

Faster than your hazy mind can register it, his hand shoves at your shoulder. Not hard, but it didn’t need to be—you practically crumple, hands scrambling to find something to hold on to before you land flat on your ass, but Jake wraps an arm around your waist, steadying you.

You swat at his chest. You hate that his warmth is familiar. “Let me go.”

He counters: “What’s wrong?”

“You, asshole.”

“’m the bad guy now? You want a fight that bad?” His eyebrows cock upwards, regarding you like some unruly child.

He’s being inflammatory on purpose and it’s working. You’re an elastic band in his fingers, one that he keeps stretching and stretching and stretching until you snap. “I don’t want a fight, I want a—”

Win, you almost admit. You wanted a win, after all this time you’ve spent chasing after Doc Ock. Countless sleepless nights and lackeys thrown behind bars, only to fail in the final moments when it really mattered. The realization is debilitating, even in the confines of your own head, and so you lash out again, distracting yourself from the bitterness on your tongue by spewing it out instead.

“We’re not all out for blood, you know.” Then, because you can’t help yourself— “I’m not you, Jake.”

“Is that what this is about?” His hand tenses almost imperceptibly against your back, but you manage to catch it. Of course you do, with every sense on high alert, blood rushing in your ears. “You mad ‘cause I’m a killer?”

Something dangerous underlines his tone when he says the word and you flinch, trying to create some distance between the two of you on instinct. Jake doesn’t grant you that—his other arm comes to hold you as well, pulling you in even though you think you might suffocate in his presence.

“You knew this from the start. Don’t tell me you’re going to try to turn me in now.”

“Maybe I should,” you say in a rush, gaze steely as it meets his. For all your superhuman powers, none give you the ability to read what’s going on behind the storm in his eyes. You’re so close, you can almost feel the heat radiating off his skin, hear the words in his mouth before he even says them.

“You’re the one with the spidey-sense.” His voice is low. Somewhere in the back of your mind, through the shame and anger and desperation—you note that he’s called it by the right name this time. “You tell me. Am I a threat?”

Your heart is beating a mile a minute and your stomach is all fluttery and weird but—no. There’s no tingling at the back of your neck, no hair-raising along your arms. Petulance makes you want to lie and say yes anyways, but you can’t bring yourself to form the words. It just… isn’t true. And for some reason, you have feeling that this would be going too far, even as a rash potshot.

When you don’t respond, Jake’s expression softens, the lines of his face giving way to an understanding look that makes you feel smaller than his antagonism ever could. The fires have mostly died down now, but warm reds and oranges still flicker along the side of his jaw, in corners of his irises. His arms feel less like a cage and more like a lifeline, keeping you from drifting out to sea.

“Just—thought I finally caught her,” you mumble, and he pulls you the last few inches into a proper hug. Exhausted, you let yourself melt into his arms, the adrenaline beginning to seep away despite the cacophony of sirens in the background. “It’s been so long, Jake.”

“I know.” He doesn’t, not really—you haven’t divulged just how far this rivalry goes, but you don’t have to think very hard to realize that he’s speaking from experiences long before he ever met you. “We’ll get her next time.”

You snort softly into his suit. “What, you staying?”

It’s silly, the tinge of hopefulness that laces your voice just minutes after you’ve essentially accosted him. But Jake’s grinning when you pull back to look at him, all boyish confidence, and you nearly forget to breathe. “I could be convinced.”

Wait—what? He’s thrown you off-kilter. You—you didn’t think he’d actually— “Well—!”

At your stammering, he lets out a laugh, throwing back his head. It’s a wonderful sound, and when you flick his arm in response, there’s no real force to it.

“Well, you know what they say,” you sniff, trying to maintain your composure. “Friends close, enemies closer, and all that.”

“Right, right,” he nods gravely. The effect is severely diminished by the crinkles at the corners of his eyes. Keeping one arm around you, he starts to lead you towards an exit. “Don’t know how you’ll handle it—your spidey-sense going off all the time with me around.”

On the way out, he picks up your mask from where you discarded it, slapping it a few times against his leg to brush off the soot and ash. His own mask and hood come up to envelope his face as he hands it to you. Distantly, you wonder how his glowing white eyes would look in the dark. Probably a bit stupid, is your conclusion.

“I’m sure I can manage,” you sigh, and once you slip on your mask, he gives you a little pat on the head before you can bat him away. Jake leans away enough to avoid your attempts to tug at his hood, but at the next opportunity, he reaches over again, the little shit, hand drawing in close, and your spidey-sense, superhuman and extraordinary, it’s—

It’s never been quieter.

#moon knight x reader #jake lockley x reader #moon knight #jake lockley #moon knight fanfic #my writing #at time of posting i feel like dogshit ✌️#pls enjoy i am going to bed now goodnight #mk bingo 2024

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yanderestevenuniverse · 1 year

Note

I seen the Corrupted Steven mod for FNF how about some Corrupted Steven Headcanons? his mind is completely corrupted by he still wants Y/N.

oooooooooooooo i like the sound of that

SPOILERS IF YOU HAVNT WATED STEVEN UNIVERSE FUTURE

Stevens gone all thats left of him is an anxiety ridden traumatised animal... but your still there.

.You would scream and shout but he would not hear... stevens not their anymore.

.He would be a protective and an obssesive yandere. he now never lets you down your always in his giant clawed hand or shoved into his chest. He would be physicly and emotionaly incapable of leting you go even in his sleep he would hold you tight ageinst himself like a stress ball he would squeez you and hold you tight. If you ever maneged to somehow escape his grasp he would have a panic attack and probebly tear entire citys to pices trying to look for you.

.Kidnaps you right away on sight no questions asked do not go do not collect two hunderd dollars its over. You would probebly be someone you knew before he became corrupted and so as the angst ridden beast he has now become he deperatly clingson to anything fimilier that offers.

.He wouldnt mean to kill people if he does he would just kind of... walk over them its like a giant walking over ants he wouldnt even notice it. He would probebly do it while looking for you i you ever escaped him he would run around the country side tearing apart building trying to find you and when he does he would snatch you back up immeadiatly and run somewhere far away.

. Their would be no punishments any attempt for you to escape would just resault in him squeezing you loser to his chest and he would completly ignore all of your screams and crys

. I guess he would give you a ton of phisical comfort becuse he would literally never let you go

thats all for now stay tuned

#steven universe #su #yandere #yandere su #yandere steven universe #yandere steven #steven universe x reader #yandere corrupted gems #corrupted steven #steven universe future #suf #yandere suf #yandere headcanons #headcanons #ask #asks #yandere asks

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bracketsoffear · 9 months

Note

Here's my TMA playlist/songs I associate with each entity:

The Eye:

Busted from Phineas and Ferb

Welcome to the Internet by Bo Burnham

Aha! by Imogen Heap

The Lonely:

Mister Cellophane from Chicago

Drift Away from Steven Universe: The Movie

Eet by Regina Spektor

The Vast:

Major Tom (Coming Home) by Tom Schilling

Superheroes from The Rocky Horror Picture Show

Waiting for the Drop from Ride the Cyclone

The Buried:

Why We Build The Wall from Hadestown

Pressure by Billy Joel

Sixteen Tons by Tennessee Erie Ford

The Dark:

Come Wayward Souls from Over The Garden Wall

The Night by Aurelio Voltaire

Snuff Out the Light by Eartha Kitt

The Stranger:

Mr. Roboto by Styx

Brass Goggles by Steam Powered Giraffe

Doll Parts by Hole

The Spiral:

Crazytown from 35MM: A Musical Exhibition

Who's Crazy?/My Psychopharmacologist and I from Next to Normal

Discord by The Living Tombstone

The Slaughter:

Ballroom Blitz by Sweet

Three Five Zero Zero from Hair

Poisoning Pigeons in the Park by Tom Lehrer

The Hunt:

Catch You by Sophie Ellis-Bextor

One Way Or Another by Blondie (obviously)

A Confession by PhemieC

The Flesh:

We Started this Op'ra Shit from Repo: The Genetic Opera

A Little Priest from Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street

64 Little White Things by Cake Bake Betty

The End:

The Fall Fair Suite from Ride the Cyclone

Memento Mori: the most important thing in the world by Will Wood

Dust and Ashes from: Natasha, Pierre, and the Great Comet of 1812

The Extinction:

We Will All Go Together When We Go by Tom Lehrer

The End of the World by Skeeter Davis

How Bad Can I Be? from The Lorax

The Desolation:

That's Not How the Story Goes from ASOUE

Arsonist's Lullaby by Hozier

Burn It Down by Daughter

The Corruption:

Sweet by PhemieC

Sticks and Stones by The Pierces

Entomologists by Ghost and Pals

The Web:

Mastermind by Taylor Swift

Red Right Hand by Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds

Kiss Me, Son of God by They Might Be Giants

#asks

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drakiandh · 4 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.

#prohibitedwish #prismo #prismo the wishmaster #prohibited wish #human prismo #kinda #adventure time prismo #scarab design #scarab fionna and cake #human scarab #they're really not human #the scarab #prohibitedwish fanfic #prismo fionna and cake #prismo x scarab #scarab x prismo #prohibitedwish au #Shifting Jewels #Shifting Jewels AU

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atlasscrumpit · 1 year

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Could you do a Dad moon knight Yandere where child reader always talks to there stuffed animal, making stories (kind of like Wendy from Peter Pan) and wishes every night to be taken away.

I wonder if the child could be an accidental source of info for moon knight with there stories are based off what narrow said in the meeting.

And could the child mispronounce Ammit as Armpit and Khonshu is like, “We’re keeping it.”

Then one of the boys says ‘Khonshu’ at one point and the child says “Bless you.”

And Marc’s like, “Yes. Yes we are keeping them.”

A new addition

You lay in your bed with your stuffed animal clutched to your chest as you let tears slowly fall from your eyes.

“I don’t understand why he’s always so angry. Especially at me.” You whispered, stroking your hand over the soft fabric of the toy.

“I wish…I wish one of those superheroes from tv would help me. Maybe even one of the villains.” You whispered, closing your eyes and imagining what it would be like to have one of those superheroes wrap you up in their arms and tell you it was all going to be okay.

But they were just dreams, this was reality.

—

“I don’t know what to do. This guy has no connections, but all connections. Argh!” Marc shouted, grabbing his head in frustration.

“He has one connection that could help.” Khonshu said as Marc sighed and looked up at him.

“He has a daughter.” Khonshu said, Marc nodded but it did sound a bit sketchy.

“How old is she?” Marc asked, sitting down on the couch.

“I think she’s six.” Khonshu said as Marc’s eyes widened.

“Six! Are you serious?” Marc shouted, standing back up just as quick as he’d sat down.

“You’re suggesting we kidnap a six year old and interrogate her?” Marc growled as Khonshu just looked down at him.

“Yes.” He said simply as Marc groaned and covered his face.

“Fine.”

—

Marc stood outside an apartment complex, looking up in thought.

Was he really going to interrogate a six year old?

He sighed and scaled up the side of the building to where he knew your bedroom was.

He crept up to the window and peaked in to see you curled up in the corner on your room, with your teddy bear clutched to your chest.

He could see the blood and bruises from here. He knew your father was corrupt but he didn’t know he was that evil.

Marc and even Steven and Jake decided there and then that they would take you away for good.

This life wasn’t what you deserved.

He opened the window and saw your head peak up in the dark.

You gasped and smiled, running up to him.

It wasn’t the reaction he was expecting.

“It came true!” You shouted in excitement running up to him and hugging his legs.

“Um, hi.” He muttered awkwardly petting your head.

“Marc, she’s a child not a puppy.” Steven said as Marc looked down at you, if he was being honest he was more scared of you then you were of him.

“Are you here to rescue me?” You asked as Steven took control, his outfit changing making you gasp in excitement.

“Woah! You’re so cool!” You shouted making him chuckle, he knelt down to you and retracted his mask so you could see his smile.

“We are here to rescue you, love. Did your father do this to you?” He asked, gently reaching up to brush his finger over your cheek.

“Yeah…he was angry.” You muttered making Steven look at you sadly.

“Well, he’s not a nice man. But, it’s okay. We’re going to take you away, you’ll be safe. Do you want to pack up a little bag to take with you?” He asked as you nodded excitedly and began running around your room, mainly grabbing toys.

When you were done you secured the backpack and went back to Steven.

“Okay! I’m ready!” You shouted making him chuckle.

It was a little sad that you were so eager to go with anyone.

Steven picked you up in his arms and you wrapped your smaller arms around his neck.

“It’s not exactly what we planned, but Khonshu will be happy.” Steven muttered as you looked at him in confusion.

“Did you sneeze?” You asked making him laugh.

“Oh, yeah. We’re definitely keeping you, love.”

#moon knight #steven grant #marc spector #jake lockley #marvel #mcu #young reader #moon knight x reader #request

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everchanging-cryptid · 7 months

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live reacting to The Amazing Digital Circus Pilot because I just realized it came out

it’s all pixelly and then not, neat Ooh, ringmaster’s a fun character, love him

oh, Cain, like the Bible brother maybe?

Time loop?

Lol the flowerpot glitching through the floor

Hostile VR, nice

Haha, no swearing

I would very much like to live in this building

Can relate to Kinger, I too would love to chat with people about an insect collection

The ribbon guy reminds me of Will from the webcomic Nevermore

Blue screening when you need to come up with a list, same

I can’t tell if he’s gonna be a scary character or a funny character, that’s really cool

Why does the moon want to fuck him

Why are you like this

Ooh he’s hiding something yeah

Ok, he does not have control over minds, good to know, and he said “one of the few” so maybe he can’t control other things

Never tell a fae-like entity “I don’t care, just pick anything”

“Whaddya think of: *mouth keysmash*” lol

Pomni, that’s a fun name

“YOU PARASITE!!!” Had me laughing for like 2 minutes straight

Just pop the interrupting people

r u b b e r h o s e a n i m a t i o n b u n n y yeah favorite character material right there

I love how they all just talk over each other but you can still hear what they’re each saying

Assigned “Most Mentally Stable” at mental breakdown

Ooh, I see a bunch of X-ed out faces on the doors, did they get permakilled or something?

The framed artworks make me incredibly happy

Uhoh, Pomni went to the petrified place /reference

Where did you get a centipede???

Ooh that’s not good

he reminds me of a corrupted gem from Steven universe

Ooh that looks painful ouch

Love those broken object physics, beautiful

I love the sense of perspective, when the camera is further back and Pomni looks so isolated

I think Kinger might be the most relatable character tbh

Kaufmo just is not funny is he

God the comedic timing for Jax is PERFECT

RADICAL

Love a good bowling pin joke

Ok I take it back the comedic timing on Kinger is the best I was crying at the perfectly cut scream

Hmm I think poor kiddo Pomni here needs a break to cry

Ooh water cube room I like that

oh that’s terrifying they can just shoot faces at you

Well that’s certainly not Cain

Pfft they rock paper scissors and he won but did the thing anyway

“Oh.” *watches his hands float away*

HIS EYES DID THE CLOCK THING

Can the next person teleported in be a therapist because hot damn have we got some trauma up in here

:o barrel of monkeys! :D

NOOOO THE MONKEYS

Oh door?

Nope nope nope nope nope nope

Oh that’s some backrooms shit right there

Hot damn take a chill pill bro you already got him he’s dead

“This is dumb and weird.” Yeah im gonna quote that forever now thanks

“Ah thank GOD you’re okay, you didn’t experience a game show in there did you?” “Uhhhh… I— What are you talking about?”

Abstracted, like becoming abstract? Becoming just a vague feeling, a mere idea? Ooh that’s some good stuff right there

I too love the sound of a silent moving staircase

Oh this is gonna be fuckin terrifying I see how it is

Musty old computer causes mental breakdown? Interesting

C&A CAIN AND ABEL I FREAKIN CALLED IT YES oh that has some interesting implications now doesn’t it hmm souls trapped in a computer perhaps?

Oh shit it’s the void

I’ll take 5 wacky watches please

ha fourth wall break

oh Pomni is actually broken aren’t they

oh are those all the others who were crossed out

ooh healing spell

Pomni is not okay

analysis on digital eating okay sure

oh that’s an earth shattering ending oh my gosh I feel like I just experienced eldritch enlightenment

Can not wait for more possible episodes! It’s incredible, I highly recommend checking it out! ^^

#the amazing digital circus #digital circus #tadc

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simplegenius042 · 2 months

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Fallout Casting for Satoru "Kakashi-sensei" Gojojojo for Jujutsu Kaisen Abridged react fic

"Five bucks and I'll tongue punch your fart box." - Satoru Gojo, Episode 3 JJK Abridged (by The Schmuck Squad).

Reasons To Why I Believe These Characters Should Be Cast As The Variant of JJK Abridge's Satoru Gojo are listed below the cut:

Elrand Brandt (Fallout Vault Dweller OC, faceclaim Jason Statham) -> In his twenties and had told the Master to kill himself.

Finidy Mona (Fallout 2 Chosen One OC, faceclaim Jessica Alba) -> "Chosen One" will be as close to "Honored One" as Fallout will get.

Alph Dolen (Fallout 3 Lone Wanderer OC, faceclaim Sam Blackensee. Has transformed into a Ghoul) -> Fawkes talked about how it was his destiny to save Project Purity and his hopes and dreams died in his early twenties.

Raul Alfonso Tejada (a ghoul mechanic that helps out Ryder in Fallout New Vegas, follows her around after she saved him on Black Mountain and is inspired to pick up his guns again to protect those of lesser fortune) -> He's badass and voiced by Danny Trejo. Also got very father-figure vibes going on. And lost a young female companion (his sister) like Gojo had (Riko) whom they were both trying to protect.

Nate Gust Sarid (Fallout 4 Sole Survivor OC, faceclaim Steven He. He is a Synthetic Human) -> The SPECIAL cheat stats make a lot more sense with him given the context that he's a synth, which could be similar to Gojo's cheat skills in general. Not to mention they're both (basically) fathers (Shaun for Nate and Yuji & Megumi for Gojo).

Vega (Fallout 76 Resident OC, faceclaim Yvonne Strahovski. Has transformed into a Super Mutant) -> Both are selfish and have unbreakable egos.

Tycho (from Fallout, a Nevada ranger who's wandered the Wasteland of California, he helps Elrand beat Gizmo and takes on the Master's Super Mutant army) -> Hides his face and a total all around badass.

Roger Westin (from Fallout 2, an NCR congressman fighting against the corruption within the New California Republic with underhanded tactics to build a peaceful, civil expansion into the north) -> Badass breaking the rules to do the right thing.

Butch DeLoria (from Fallout 3, Alph's former childhood bully in Vault 101, now one of his closest allies after the Lone Wanderer saved the life of Butch's mother from Radroaches. After Alph and Amata we're run out of the Vault, Butch helped build up the rebellion against Overseer Almodovar, and had managed to slip out of the vault to get Alph and Amata's help. After resolving the issue, Butch joined up with Alph and Amata to wander the Capital Wasteland, becoming the founding members of the newest Tunnel Snakes) -> He's rocking a style and while he can come off as a jerk, he's got a heart of gold, though never a push-over.

Joshua Graham (from Fallout New Vegas' Honest Hearts DLC, Joshua is Caesar's former Legate, now known as "the Burned Man", he resides in Zion to help the Dead Horses (as well as Daniel and the Sorrows) against the threat of the White Legs. Ryder gets some very important insight from him on how to deal with Caesar's Legion) -> Okay, so his eyes aren't blindfolded, but he is bandaged up elsewhere. And not to mention his voice is captivating. And he'd probably despise his Gojo variant which makes for some humorous opportunities.

Deacon (from Fallout 4, the Railroad's top intelligence agent and overall the best spymaster you'll ever meet, he trains Nate in the art of espionage and being a better liar. Had given Nate trust issues for a while when partnered together. He also helps Nate discover he is a synth and come to terms with his newfound existence) -> He's got the charisma. He's got the sunglasses. He's got the lies and the confidence. He's got the vibe of a responsible irresponsible adult. He's got the vibes of a back-alley drug dealer guaranteed to give you the good stuff and be there with you to make sure it goes alright. He's probably stolen caps from Carrington. He's the man. The goat. The guy the Railroad keep around because he's really good at his job even if his tactics are questionable sometimes.

Remember, for the alternative option, REBLOG and put in the tags WHO else from the Fallout franchise should be Abridged!Gojo and WHY you think they'd better suit the role.

I've also created and will continue to update (until the polling is done) a Master List for the poll results of the casted winners. You can find it right here.

You can find my Fallout OC profiles Master List right here, which also includes a link to the original post where I pitched my react fic idea. Anyway, hope you enjoyed, chow!

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duckielover151 · 2 months

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Some OPLA Thoughts: Episode 5

Wow.

My post about the last episode started off with how Zoro's backstory (the portrayal of Kuina particularly) was the first thing in this adaptation to seriously disappoint me... Only to immediately follow that up with the best episode so far. I don't think I have anything negative to say about this one.

We've finally started to see that other side to Garp that I was worried had been edited out of the live action completely. That wilder, goofier side when confronted with his grandson as a pirate for the first time. That grayer portrayal of morality in this universe, when he and Koby talk about the Warlords.

I found it really interesting that Koby was so betrayed by the concept of the Warlords. I mean, I also think that's the right response, but it really hasn't been made clear yet in the live action that the World Government is super corrupt. Honestly-- I'm pretty sure I mentioned this in my post about the first or second episode-- they even toned down how much of a tyrant Morgan was. The anime made it really clear that the people of the town were just as scared of Morgan as they were of any potential pirates his unit was supposed to be protecting them from. In the live action, it could be read that Helmeppo was just an errant bad apple.

And speaking of! He's finally starting to come around. It's a prickly sort of friendship that he's building with Koby... but they are noticeably talking more-- and saying more. Those conversations aren't all insults and then stalking away in a huff like they have been up to this point. I didn't mention it in my last post, but Helmeppo had a line that really stuck out to me in episode four. It's still all argument about how they should be handling their duties in Syrup Village, but he's let his guard down enough to admit that he is jealous of the shine Garp's taken to Koby.

What stood out in this episode was his line about how Koby doesn't know shit about how the world works-- in reference to his disbelief about how the Government handles the Warlords. I was kind of ridiculing that... and kind of not. My immediate, knee-jerk reaction was along the lines of, "Really? Pampered, spoiled Helmeppo is going to lecture the boy who spent his childhood enslaved on a pirate ship about the harsh realities of the world?" But you know... That is a really interesting angle to take. That being the son of a high-ranking Navy captain, maybe Helmeppo has seen some of the injustices of how the World Government runs first-hand, and it would be great if that's what these two bond over in the live action.

Sanji's introduction has been great so far-- his fight scene looked fantastic-- and we haven't even gotten into the really hard-hitting stuff with his backstory with Zeff yet.

There were some interesting changes... but nothing that left me feeling uneasy about how it might impact the story as whole. I really hope they leave the whole issue with Don Krieg as the abridged version that it is right now. Honestly, that whole ordeal was really tedious to me in the original. I love that Nami was around for Zoro's duel in this version. (Though maybe a little disappointed that Sanji wasn't. I felt like witnessing that was a pretty major moment in him starting to understand what this insane crew is really all about.)

And Mihawk... Steven John Ward's portrayal of Mihawk is everything I was promised it would be. Really stole the show this episode.

The fight with Zoro was amazing. But also just his overall demeanor... and they gave him the best lines! Like, obviously the "I don't hunt rabbits with a cannon" one comes to mind-- in regards to only using that tiny knife against Zoro. But also, I loved his interaction with Luffy. The little, "Though I do like your hat" was such a great nod to his friendship(?) with Shanks... All of his moments were just so good.

I saw an interview with his actor where he talked about the secrecy behind the audition process-- how he didn't even know what role he was auditioning for until he got it. And how his response was to immediately call up his friends who are anime fans and ask them just how bad it would be if he fucked this up. XD

Which is exactly the response I would want. Any time I've had concerns about this show, it's always been about the writing. (And nothing too major has been messed up yet.) I've got no complaints about the acting. Everyone has killed their roles so far and brought exactly the energy to the table necessary to make this something special.

#one piece #opla #episode 5 #dracule mihawk #steven john ward

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lenjaminmacbuttons · 4 months

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im tired of pretending i dont want to do it. im going to draw bg3 babies as steven universe gems. astarion is easily a pearl and karlach is easily a jasper (navel and heart placement, respectively--again, easily). gale is a sapphire (posh, intelligent, soft in manner but plenty capable of kicking your ass from a distance) and shadowheart is an agate (probably either onyx or iris agate? idk quite. but she's good at hitting things and accustomed to using pain to get what she wants.) lae'zel is a nephrite, NOT a quartz--while she's very very Loyal Soldier, she's also dedicated to being a dragon rider, which for the githyanki it seems dragons kind of function like spaceships lol. so, pilot role fits. not to mention the slender build and green-ness. very important.

wyll i have no idea what kind of gem he would be but i do love the idea of mizora semi-corrupting him in lieu of turning him into a devil when he disobeys her. also i definitely feel like she's a lapis lazuli. not just cus she's blue though. but that is a factor. it's mostly cus she's a bitch.

halsin......eludes me. there are exactly zero gems that care about nature, besides our main heroes. the fact that gems don't care about organic life is a Big Thing. maybe he's a rose quartz??? we only met the three actual rose quartzes and they were mostly concerned with just having a good time and being sweet and nice...which i guess are also halsin qualities. But all the Steven powers that would fit well for Halsin aren't actually Rose Quartz stuff, they're Pink Diamond stuff. Kind of.

hmmmmmmmmmm

#talkyllama #bg3 #steven universe #also somebody remind me at some point to post my bg3 mormon au thoughts because. i have a lot of them.

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cursedbataurus · 11 months

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Decided to draw something else, so here’s my SU oc which name I didn’t make out but certainly will

They worked along pink diamond (rose quartz) to the very end until the diamonds such as yellow/blue and white corrupted the earth thousand of years ago. Until she was set free from the bubble and got saved by Steven and the diamonds.

(It didn’t go as planned)

She eventually met peridot (Facet-2F5L Cut-5XG)

They became instant besties even tho pink’s old peridot were a thousand year older than her.

She held on to so much anger and anxiety bc of what the diamonds did to earth and pink.

She was hesitant of Steven at first but was happy for the first time to be freed and saved even tho she was corrupted by the diamonds.

(I’ll draw her crystal gem outfit later)

Her personality:

Sarcastic jokes is a number one thing. She made pink laugh a few times tho. She is quickly to forgive people even what they did to her in the past. She is actually very nice to everyone except for yellow and her pearl. She likes blue diamond. White diamond wasn’t even to talk about. Absolute fear of her.

Tho she did have a crush on pink pearl until she was taken away and such. Both of them not remembering each other. But they are building up their friendship one by one. She has a crush on a lot of gems (typical hopeless romantic)

That’s for all

#art #steven universe #peridot #fanart su

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tixuctoad · 1 year

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General Creepypasta HCs

General TW/CW for gore/violence/ect

If I need to add any extra warnings let me know!!

Not proof read btw

I have an au that all of them are in the same universe!! All the characters that can age (basically any of them that aren't undead or whatever) are aged up !!

Im still not sure by how many years, but it's in the 8-9 year range!! So!! This will be applied!!

Also cringe ahead because I've combined fanon n canon stuff !!

Eyeless Jack 🍖

You know that one backstory someone wrote for EJ, where he was a student who got dragged into a cult sacrifice thingy? Yeah!! That's what I base my verison of EJ on!! Of course, I'm still gonna work in EJs OG creepypasta in, if I ever write out this whole au, be it comic or fic form

Funky possession stuff. Jack is still there, along with the silly flesh eating demon in his silly body

He doesn't really. Want to eat people. I mean, does anyone? But it's really the only thing he can actually. Digest and get energy from now

Still humanoid, but his looks will degrade and become more monstrous as time passes and he consumes more flesh

Hermit, he wants to separate and isolate himself. He thinks it'll help lower his body count

Lives in the woods, probably builds a little shelter somewhere

Short king, about 5'5

But stocky

Bites at his fingers n shit when his mind slips and desires flesh

Dude he's so over it

Jeff the Killer 🔪

Okayokay so. I *personally* HC Jeff to be FtM trans so!! Yeah!!

His sight is all sorts of fucked up, because, yk, he messed up his eyelids

Eyedrops are his best friend

Is it realistic? Probably not, but lets be real, was he ever realistic? No. He never was

Tall stringbean, 5'11 and has a nasty punch

In my au, Jeff actually does feel some remorse for (mostly) everything he did; especially things regarding what he did to his own, and Jane's family

While he doesn't necessarily go out of his way to make things right, he is mellowed out in the killer department

Kinda bounces around, doesn't stick in one place long. Cuz. Yk

Though if I were to impliment the slender mansion into this au, or at lesst some sort of stand in, I think Jeff would be there

Would probably patrol the grounds to make sure no intruders come

Oh but going back a few lines, don't get me wrong; Jeff is still the arrogant asshat the bulk of the fandom portrays him as

Jane the Killer 💅

I need to reread her story tbh, but for the most part it plays out the same; Jeff still destroys her family and messes her up

Unlike most the others, though, I feel like Jane still has a place in society; in terms she can go out into the streets and do whatever. She's not really. A killer like the others

She's still gunning for Jeff, though. Literally all she wants is revenge and then she can live her life in peace

Probably lives with a relative and works in town

When she's not trying to track Jeff, I feel like she does volunteer work

I don't really have much on her atm

Laughing Jack 🍬

Ooooough I love a guardian/imaginary friend character being corrupted by their maker yall dont get it

The whole "Issac becoming a murderer shaped Laughing Jack into one without intending to" thing has me in a death grip

Can puff into black smoke, and he uses that to fuck with people; be it other creepypastas, or with his victims

Often times has his tongue sticking out between his teeth

REALLY tall, I'm talking like 8 feet tall; but I like to think he can manipulate his height, so he can be as short or as tall as he'd like

Calls everyone silly pet names (E.g. "Sweets", "Gumdrop", "Toots", ect)

Have you ever seen Spinel from Steven Universe move? Yeah he moves like that

Noodle arms n legs

Perma smiler

Sometimes, if you land a stab on him, candy and confetti comes out of the wound; alongside thick, tar like blood

Laughing Jill 🥀

While L. Jack is more... fleshy? Laughing Jill takes on a more doll like appearance; at least for my take on her design!!

Real short because of it; like. 3-ish feet tall

Don't let that fool you!! This ankle biter is stronger than she looks!!

In my au she's more benevolent and caring, opting to take on a protector sort of role

I wanna make a storyline with her and Jane, where she's helping Jane track Jeff. Need to figure out how the two end up meeting, though

I dont have much on her yet either tbh

Ben Drowned ⛓

I'll admit, I wasn't aware there was a lot more lore with Ben, but since this is mostly based around the og version of ben the fandom took n ran with, I'll only really touch on the original ideas of the creepypasta

When he initially died, his soul got bound to his game; I feel like in his ghosty form he looks like how he looked when he was alive mixed with Link + other traits (his eyes being all messed up, his skin being blue with dark viens, ect ect)

He CAN bounce from device to device though it's. Hard, I'd assume

Can rarely exit the screen though

So literally if I ever make a fic or comic and he's there, someone's gonna have to be carrying him around on their phone

Imagine he's on his DS and you're arguing with him and as he's about to say something mean you just. Shut it

What's he gonna do? Open it? Spoiler, he can't open it

Because of this, he can't really. Do much physical harm to anyone; and instead has to rely on bullying someone to death (/hj)

When he does manage to exit a screen, it's v brief, and the occurrences are rare

His hair swishes around!! Like he's underwater

Bastard

Since he's like 13-14, and can't really. Age. He still acts like your standard annoying 14 year old boy. Probably really whiny n shit

Yk how some fans interpret Ben as a flirt (which is weird bc. Hes a kid)? Weeeell.. I guess that's kinda how my Ben is. But instead of being "good" at it its really fuckin cringe and annoying

Hes just some annoying young teen, yk?

That's all I got right now!! I would love to write more for these lads in the future but!!! Idk!!! Not sure if it'll be in comic form, or as writing

And if it is in writing, idk if it'll be one continuous story, or if it'll be in chapters

Idk!!!!!

#creepypasta laughing jack #creepypasta #creepypasta jeff the killer #creepypasta ben drowned #creepypasta jane the killer #creepypasta laughing jill #laughing jill #laughing jack #ben drowned #jeff the killer #jane the killer #eyeless jack #my writing #hc #headcannons #creepypasta headcanon

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ofallthingsnasty · 2 years

Text

friendly favors

Pairing: Jasper (Steven Universe) x F!Reader Tags: HARD noncon, vaginal fingering, piss (loss of bladder control), physical abuse (includes loss of teeth), reader is implied to be chubby, dead dove: do not eat Word count: 3.6k Summary: What are favors between friends, right? When Steven asks you for one, you’re happy to help him with trying to get a certain gem to Little Homeworld. Too bad she has been itching for a fight.

Note: Mind the tags, as always. MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI. Been meaning to write this for two years now and I finally got around to make this little thing happen :) Hope you enjoy and requests are open! I really hope the format is right, tumblr gave me hell when uploading this 😬 my ao3 is here, if you'd rather read there.

It’s hot. The morning air around you is heavy with the smell of heat and summer, yesterday’s weather still clinging to the underbrush. You can feel the sweat building underneath the layer of sticky sunscreen you applied before leaving the house, a fragile shield against the sun that is slowly starting to peek through the leaves. You’ll probably sweat it off before even reaching your destination but you can’t find it in you to care, your stomach too fluttery in anticipation. You’re too nervous for this beautiful Saturday morning, doubt creeping into you with every single step you take. A deep breath, then two and you feel a little better, that hollow pit in your belly swallowed up by your breakfast again. Think logically, you tell yourself. Nothing is going to happen. She’s going to say no and that’ll be it. You kick a stray rock to the side and sigh. How did you even agree to this? It’s your own fault, really. Ever since the Crystal Gems had started building Little Homeworld, ever since Beach City had been flooded with colorful aliens, you had been obsessed. You had gotten involved maybe a year or so back, happy to help with lessons and anything else Steven and the gems needed assistance with. You had grown closer to the boy over time and learned soon enough that both ancient rebel aliens and serious, established adults (like you) couldn’t say no to his puppy eyes. And this is how he got you to trudge through the forest, a couple of pamphlets in hand and some pre-crafted sentences in mind, on your way to persuade one of the rogue gems into joining the rest of them over at Little Homeschool. To be fair, you didn’t agree because of his puppy eyes alone. How could you deny yourself the opportunity to see the Jasper, the perfect quartz according to some of the Crystal Gems, the very gem who corrupted herself? You have heard some stories here and there, enough to be curious about her - but also enough to be aware of the fact that she isn’t to be taken lightly. Tales of violence and fury, of pride and a steep downfall kept you curious. Now that you’re mere minutes away from facing her, you don’t really know if satisfying that curiosity is worth the trouble. She could easily turn you into minced meat, if she so pleased.

Your stomach cramps at the thought. She wouldn’t hurt you, right? Her obsession with Steven was misguided and she wouldn’t try to outright murder a human, right? No, that’s just your anxiety running wild - she might perceive you as an annoyance, but you’re pretty sure she’ll just chew you out for bothering her. You kick another stone as you try to calm yourself, this time with more force than intended. It bounces off the cap of your boot, up into the air. Instead of spiraling further for really no reason at all, you try to focus your mind on the reasons you agreed to this, the reasons you’re so enamored with these alien life forms. They’re fascinating, really. Thousands of years old, capable of creating and maneuvering astonishing tech, some strong enough to rip you apart with their bare hands, others able to manipulate the nature around them. And yet, here on earth they’re nothing but bumbling idiots when faced with the basics of human day-to-day life. It’s strangely endearing to watch them fail at making phone calls and cooking and rewarding to show them just how it’s done right. You’ve made friends over in Little Homeworld and your weekends are usually filled with gems and their antics, not that you mind. It’s easy enough to forget that most of them have been involved in earth-shattering wars, that some have killed - not only each other but organic lives as well. It’s a little too much to think about sometimes, but when they’re in Little Homeworld, they can finally be themselves, finally free to pursue their own interests - and you can forget how easy it would be for a quartz to rip you limb from limb. You’re easy to get along with, at least that's what Steven has told you. Soft and eager to give out smiles and laughter - every time you drop by to spend some time in Little Homeworld, you have a gaggle of gems following you around, curious about your day and excited to tell you about theirs. Maybe that’s why Steven had asked you to talk to her. Maybe she will be more receptive to an organic - although he had sounded skeptic at the very thought of that and you weren’t all too sure either after asking the other Crystal Gems some more questions about their shared past. It is a sign of good character that he wants to try to get her to re-join gem society at least somewhat and although you don’t think you’ll be able to talk her into it, it is worth the shot. Maybe you were too confident in yourself, in your ability to sweet-talk gems of any kind when you agreed to this some days ago, but if it’s any help to Steven and Little Homeworld, you can’t say no.

One last deep breath and you feel a little better. You know you’re almost there - the forest around you gets more and more sparse, broken stumps peppered in between the massive trees around you. There is a clearing up ahead and you can spy the cave entrance from where you’ve paused for a bit. You’re straining your neck to see if you can make out her figure as well - you know she’s home, she has to be. Nothing much to do with your day when you're a free gem hiding away in the darkness, all alone. When you can’t spot her, you simply strut forward - you’re pretty sure she’s already aware of your presence, anyway. The clearing is weirdly silent when you step into the ring formed out of mowed down stumps and receding grass, only silence greeting you. Just where is she? Is she still scouting you out, trying to see what you’re up to? No matter. Your stomach is too queasy not to break the tension. You just want to be over with this and go back to your apartment.

“Hello? Jasper-”, you call out, only to be interrupted by thud behind you. Of course. You should have known that she was already one step ahead of you. You turn around slowly, hands already raised in defense. She’s huge. Peridot hadn’t been wrong when she called her the perfect quartz - she towers over you with ease, thick arms crossed defensively in front of her chest. She looks at you like one would at a disgusting bug they just found squirming around, one eyebrow quirked up while she glowers down at you. Your mouth feels unusually dry when she pins you down with a simple glare and you’re reminded of the power imbalance between the two of you. Unlike the other quartzes, she doesn’t exude that laissez-faire attitude, that friendly openness. Other soldier gems, although intimidating in stature, are usually friendly and eager to make friends. One look at her yellow eyes and you know she very much isn’t. “Earthling”, she spits out in disgust and- disappointment. “Yeah, that’s me”, you say and cringe at your own voice. You sound like a total idiot who is trying to impress the popular kids at school. “I came here to talk about something.” She clearly isn’t amused. You give her another sheepy grin and hastily fold open one of the pamphlets, already trying to form the perfect sentence to get her to consider your little missionary deed. “You see, this is about Little Homeworld”, you start, but she rolls her eyes and pulls a disgusted face. “Please, at least listen to me?”, you squeak out, having lost all of your confidence with one simple twitch of her mouth. You figure she hasn’t punched you yet - she might not do it at all if you’re careful. Jasper narrows her eyes for a moment, searching your face for something before she scoffs again in realization.

“He set you up to this”, she says, looking right through your charade. You shrink into yourself at her steely gaze, a bit ashamed to be found out that easily. “Ah, well-”, you stutter, trying to find the right words. “Not entirely, I did agree to this-” She rolls her eyes at that. “Leave or I’ll make you regret it”, she huffs out, already turning to go back to her cave. “Please, at least consider it! Everyone put so much work into Little Homeschool-”, you press out before you get interrupted by her whipping her head around.

"I said leave!", she bellows, her tone suddenly angry. “I don’t have the time to listen to the begging of some puny earthling.” Maybe it’s the heat that is melting your brain, maybe it’s the thought of disappointing Steven - it doesn’t matter what it is, your feet move forward on their own for a few steps, a tiny call of “Wait!” tearing itself from your lips before you can process your actions. The air immediately shifts into something else. It’s prickly and instantaneous, heavy like the shift in pressure moments before thunder. You have half a mind to stagger backwards, but it’s too late. She charges forward faster than you can react, eyes wide and angry. Your mind screams at you to run but you can’t - never have you seen so much anger in someone’s face and never directed at you. The fist to your jaw catches you off-guard and you stumble back, immediately rubbing your mandible where she caught you. “Fuck-”, you cry out, but she only gives you another second to recover before she uses your open torso to her advantage. One hit turns into two and two into three- she pushes you around with sheer force alone and you can barely react because of her speed. The world is a blur of pain, adrenaline ringing in your ears. You’ve never been beaten up before and she is relentless, no plea or excuse making her falter. Instead, your panicked cries for her to stop seem to spur her on, seem to heighten her rage at you. “You can’t even fight back, weakling”, she sneers with her fist in your face. “Come on! Didn’t you want to talk?” Before you can utter one more pathetic word of defiance, she raises her arm again and brings it down on your jaw, smack dab in the middle of your mouth, right under your nose. Your bone creaks in protest, the sound unlike anything you’ve ever heard before. You can feel something break. The pain ripples through you like an electric shock and you sputter in surprise, spit and blood and something sharp flying off your tongue. Your mouth pulsates as you press your hand to your lips, a futile attempt at soothing yourself. The sensitive skin prickles against something jagged and you push your tongue forward out of reflex, a weird, unknown panic suddenly taking root. Did she- did she break your teeth? You can’t help the tears that rush in as you mutter- no, lisp - a string of no, no, nos to yourself. Oddly enough it’s just like one of these weird nightmares come true, but that thought slips away with reality of the situation.

Everything else is replaceable, could be mended, could heal- but not your teeth, your precious front teeth that are now reduced to nothing but bloodied stumps, the healthy pulps bleeding into your mouth until your saliva is thick with blood. Your reaction seems to entertain her enough to stop her abuse for the moment, but the relief of that fades quickly as your head spins with the terrible realization - it’s like the world is suddenly muted as you cradle your mouth in your hand, your head heavy with panic. Everything slowly fades out of existence as the only thing you suddenly know is your breathing and the louder and louder growing hiss in your ears- white stars flit over your vision and- The world topples.

You feel before you see. You’re sprawled out on the hard, dusty ground, cold sweat pooling beneath your shirt, arms and face and chest hurting from her fists. Something is pressed into your stomach, something so dense it pushes itself uncomfortably into the fat of your belly. Birds shriek around you in excitement as they flap their wings skywards and you can’t help but groan at the unnaturally loud sound. “Earthling.” Your eyes snap open. Above you, a hulking mass of orange and cream blocks the sun, its light spilling around the rugged edges of- Jasper. And with that the momentary peace is broken. You immediately scramble to get up, to get away from her, but you can’t - she has you pinned underneath her foot, the pressure on your stomach increasing until it genuinely hurts. “And here I thought we were done”, she spits out, eyeing you with nothing but contempt as you wriggle underneath her like a pathetic little insect. “Please-”, you lisp, tongue scraping over the ruins of your incisors with the ‘s’ sound.”Let me go- You beat me, you won.” She leans closer to you, eyes sharp and mean. Although you aren’t a real challenge, a real fight, she doesn’t seem to have enough, not yet. “Weakling.” “You’re so soft”, she lowers her face closer to you, “so round, so pathetic.” You watch in horror as she lifts up her foot from your stomach and slowly drags it down to your crotch, planting herself right on top of your cunt with a thud. It hurts and your legs close around her leg out of reflex, muscles hardening themselves to take your mind off the pain.

“Oh-”, you choke out, shoving your hands down to protect yourself. “Please- not there- Anywhere else-” You receive a swift kick in response. "That's your weak spot?", she says and smiles- no, bares her teeth at you- while she watches you writhing on the ground in agony, blood running down your shirt and eyes red with tears. “Please-” Another kick, another cry from you. She considers your pain and your helplessness, towering above you like some dark herald as you gasp and sob underneath her, too tired to fight back now. There is something peculiar in her eyes - not unlike the curiosity of a cat toying with its meal. You stare at each other for a single heartbeat, then- Within a second, her foot is gone from your body and she is all over you, tearing at your hair and clothing. Grunts and tiny sounds of disapproval fall from her lips as neither your shirt nor bra underneath it yield, her impatient hands traveling downwards instead. She hooks her fingers into the waistband of your pants and you can only watch in horror as she rips them in half with sheer force. She doesn’t even give you the grace of taking them off, your ruined zipper and half-opened crotch are shoved just underneath your ass, barely enough space to give her access. Your panties follow with a snap of elastic and cotton, the fabric flimsy enough to be tossed aside. No amount of squirming and choked cries are enough to make her stop - she seems to be in some kind of stupor, those sharp eyes full of something vicious and nasty. Rough hands dig into the fat of your hips, strong enough to bruise and strong enough pinch your skin against bone as she turns you over. She rattles you around like you weigh nothing, and with arms like hers you can believe it. Face shoved into the dirt and ass up in the air, your teeth pulse as blood rushes into your head, the feeling dizzying and disorientating. It hurts and you can’t help the tiny groans of pain that slip through your busted lips. The feeling is strange and increases with each heartbeat, the blood in your head so heavy it feels like your cheeks twitch. A hand on your cunt pulls you out of the haze. You aren’t stupid. You know how this will end, knew it from the moment she had torn off your hiking shorts. But the way her hand curls around your crotch is still a shock to your system, enough for you to lurch forward- but your weak arms can only grasp air and not dirt as she easily swoops her left arm under your chest to hold you just above the ground. It’s humiliating; scooped up like an animal, exposed, the tattered scraps of your shorts still hanging somewhere around your knees. You can’t even make a run for it if you wanted to. She can do with you as she pleases- You whimper at the thought- and she laughs. It’s low and rough, an ugly sound that makes your skin prickle in fear. “Pathetic appearance modifiers.” She sets you down again, but pointedly keeps one burly hand on your back, pushing you down. Her fingers grope and pinch the fat of your ass, inspecting your organic matter. It stings but you bear it, even as she presses down to the bone. She probes and slaps and squeezes you again and again until your skin is numb and hot. Seconds feel like hours as you tremble in her grasp, nerves sharp with pain, waiting for her to go further down, waiting for her brash hands to abuse your cunt with the same fervor. It’s inevitable and the thought kills you inside. Ever so slowly she inches her way down to where your pussy is painfully exposed- at first her touch only tickles, deceptively careful. Then she reaches between your labia, grabs one pair tightly- before you can blink there’s a thumb shoved into you, and she pulls. It burns, especially with the sudden movement, and you cry out. Another laugh sounds behind you, deep and amused. “There it is.”

At this point you aren’t sure if she’s playing dumb on purpose or if she truly doesn’t know what she’s doing to your cunt. She has spent the last two years in isolation, but she’s hundreds of years older than you- there is the faint possibility of her being aware of organic reproduction. There is no use in dwelling on it, not when her thumb suddenly jerks within you. You squeal at the sensation, but she ignores you. Another back and forth motion until she finally withdraws, much too fast. Any word of protest falls on deaf ears as she delves back into you with her digits, no regard for how little fluid there is to aid her. Her fingers are too thick. You’re nowhere close to being prepared to take her, but she splits you open with two of them, forcing herself into you with so much power you have to brace yourself against the dusty, lifeless ground. It hurts unlike anything you’ve ever experienced before, a dry burn deep within you. It’s agony in its plainest form and you grunt and grind your teeth to alleviate it at least a little bit. It doesn’t help much. When she bottoms out you feel like you’re about to throw up, nausea climbing up your throat with every heartbeat, two of her ungodly thick fingers rooted in you. Your walls clench around her, making it only worse for yourself. Then she starts moving. In and out and in again, the movement feels as though she’s turning your cunt inside out. It hurts so bad- the feeling is indescribable, almost like her fingers are scraping your insides raw with every little motion. She applies more and more pressure every time she dives in, clearly trying to pick up speed. It’s fruitless. You’re too dry and it only makes this more unbearable for you. Long gone are the tiny groans, now you’re crying hot tears into the floor, open-mouthed and shameless. There is only enduring this, the steady movement never ending. She is silent behind you, probably intently watching your torture. You can’t even form clear thoughts at this point, everything is just pain and heat and more pain again, the force of her fingers steadily building until it feels like she’s about to tear through your abdomen. Something snaps within you. It’s wet and hot and too much to be your natural lubrication. It doesn’t take you long to figure out what just happened - not when your bladder is now clenching at the rapid movement of her fingers. You just pissed yourself. Pissed on the ground, on all fours like a dog. Because your bladder couldn’t withstand the pressure of her fingers drilling in and out of you, because she used enough force to make you wet yourself. It pools beneath your knees, a miserable, hot little puddle of amber liquid. The scent hangs heavy in the air around you two, the unmistakably sharp scent of urine heightened by the heat of the sun. She doesn’t even acknowledge it, no, she uses the little lubrication it provides to fuck you in earnest now, her fingers hammering in and out of you. Sniffling into the sweat-soaked ground, you give up. The skin of your legs rapidly cools with your filth on top of it, and you let yourself be rattled around by her, feeling nothing but a hollow sting in your heart. Not even the telltale twinge of your building orgasm can shake you, your eyes are simply transfixed on the treeline, your head full of soft static. It’s almost blissful when you finally cum, nothing but a soft groan leaving your lips. You’re so numb you can’t even protest as she keeps fingering you through it. When she finally withdraws, you don’t bat an eye. Still in that same ass up, face down position, you weakly glance at her towering silhouette, her face somewhat calm now. Whatever it is that broke the spell for her, you’re grateful for it.

#jasper x reader #su jasper x reader #steven universe x reader #jasper #tw.piss #tw.noncon #gem.posting #steven universe #please please read the tags this is dead dove content

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