#like he make it clear that yes he introduced himself as a power move

[monstersqueen]

anyway i love kojirou he just went ahead and introduced himself. does he give a fuck about anything ?

#myposts #and then saber was 'well. on my honour i have to introduce myself too now' #and he went 'oh sorry. i didn't intend to /actually/ corner you. our swords will do the talking; that's enough introduction for us' #mq's fsn 2023 lb #like he make it clear that yes he introduced himself as a power move #'i don't give a fuck if you know my true name' and #'lol i'm going to make you uncomfortable bc you can't do the same' #but at the same time he's also 'eh no. if you do introduce yourself then it was underhanded of me. sorry. don't.' #and make it gracious by 'we do not need an exchange of name to know each other. a fight will make things clearer' #there's not a single brain cell in the entire cast #i love them all they're moved by so much more than just 'what would be the most convenient/rational action to take right now'

[camille-lachenille]

I was thinking about how, in fanfictions and in the fandom in general, Elrond is often depicted as a pure Noldorin lord, if not a die hard Fëanorian. And while I do enjoy Fëanorian!Elrond, the more I think about it the more I am convinced Elrond is not the fëanorian one of the twins. Elros is. Elros who adopted seven eight pointed stars as the heraldic device of his whole dynasty, a symbol still used 6000 years after his death. Elros who had Quenya be the official language of Númenor. Elros who decided to leave Arda for an unknown fate after his death; not Everlasting Darkness but not the rebirth in the bliss of Valinor either. He choose to go to a place Elves aren’t supposed to go, just like Fëanor and his sons went back to Beleriand. Elros, the mortal man, who decided to forge his own path in the world.

And I am not saying Elrond didn’t, because Eru knows how much strength, patience and stubbornness Elrond must have to become who he is in LotR. But when I first re-read LotR after reading the Silm, he did not strike me as Fëanorian at all (except for the no oath swearing rule that seems to apply in Rvendell). In fact, Elrond, and all three of his children, are defined by being half-Elven. Elrond is so much at the same time they had to creat a whole new category for him. He is described as kind as summer in The Hobbit, but also old and wise, and his friendly banter with Bilbo in FotR show he is also merry and full of humour. Elrond is both Elf and Man despite his immortality, and this is made quite clear in the text.

But. If I had to link him to an Elven clan, I’d say Elrond is more Sinda than Noldor, and even that is up to debate. Rivendell, this enchanting valley hidden from evil thanks to his power, is like a kinder version of Doriath. Yet, the name of Last Homely House and Elrond’s boundless hospitality make me think of Sirion: Rivendell is a place where lost souls can find s home, where multiple cultures live along each other in friendship and peace.

In FotR, Elrond introduces himself as the son of Eärendil and Elwing, claiming both his lineages instead of giving only his father’s name as is tradition amongst the Elves. It may be a political move, or it may be a genuine wish to claim his duality, his otherness, or even both at the same time. But from what is shown of Elrond in LotR, he seems to lean heavily in the symbols and heritage from the Sindar side of his family, rather than the Noldor one. I already gave the comparison with Doriath, but it seems history repeats itself as Arwen, said to be Lúthien reborn, chooses a mortal life. Yet Elrond doesn’t make the same mistake as Thingol by locking his daughter in a tower and sending her suitor to a deathly quest. Yes, he asks Aragorn to first reclaim the throne of Gondor before marrying Arwen, but this isn’t a whim on his part or an impossible challenge. Aragorn becoming king means that Middle-Earth is free from the shadow if Sauron and Arwen will live in peace and happiness. Which sounds like a reasonable wish for a parent to me.

Anyways, I went on a tangent, what strikes me with Elrond is his multiple identity. Elrond certainly has habits or traits coming from his upbringing amongst the Fëanorians, and he loved Maglor despite everything. The fact he is a skilled Minstrel shows he did learn and cultivate skills taught by a Fëanorion, that he is not rejecting them. There is a passage at the end of RotK, in the Grey Havens chapter, where Elrond is described carrying a silver harp. Is this a last relic from Maglor? Possible.

But while Elros choose the path of mortality and showed clear Noldorin influences in the kingdom he built, Elrond is happy in his undefined zone he lives in. He is an Elf, he is a Man, he is Sinda and Noldo and heir to half a dozen lost cultures and two crowns. He is the warrior and the healer, the only one of his kind in Middle-Earth. And that is why I will never tire of this character and I love so much fanworks depicting him as nuanced and multiple yet always recognisable as Elrond.

#tolkien #the silmarillion #the lord of the rings #peredhil #half elves #elros #elrond and elros #elrond #elrond peredhel #one blorbo to blorb them all #half baked ramblings by a sleep deprived tolkien fan #tolkien meta

[kitsune-oji]

Can we pls have a married to satan hc like the mammon and dia ones?

Married to Satan

Of course! I haven't written Satan often yet so I hope this is good ':) sorry for how long this took

Satan x gn! Mc (you/yours)

I imagine married life with Satan would be very domestic, though not a lot would change from when you were "just" partners

Parallel play is a big one with him. He's reading while you do your own thing, which may also be reading or drawing, playing games (quietly), crocheting? Whatever hobby you have that can be done inside, quietly, by his side

He likes to do little things to make you happy, like surprising you with latte art or taking you out on a little date (you know the cat café is his go to but if another place is your favorite, that's alright too)

If you want to, he would consider moving out of the HoL with you. Finally he'd be far away from Lucifer and have you all to himself. Though, if you two do end up moving together, he has to admit that despite how irritating it always was, he sort of misses the chaos his brothers brought with them. It's so quiet without them in the same house

If you do stay at the HoL however, Satan is quick to use the "they're MY spouse" card whenever he wants your time (or to smile smugly at Lucifer when he says it, reminding him that Satan won your heart and not he)

Your presence during any sort of meeting or gathering - be it casual like the Anti Lucifer League or something more formal like a Banquet where his Connections™ show up - is more than welcome

If you have any ambitions to perhaps publish a book or start a business, maybe open a store, Satan has the demon for you and introduces you without hesitation. You can't find anyone more supportive of your endavours than him, surely

Everyone knows you as Satan's spouse, someone who he's so smitten with that you could very well be a cat. Yes, someone actually asked you that before and looked even more confused when you had to tell them that no, you're not actually a cat with shape-shifting powers, thank you very much

It was sort of funny at first but it got old pretty quickly

Sometimes, demons would come to you with a gift, hoping to get into Satan's good graces. If you indulge them or not is on you. Satan's opinion on the matter is quite clear: He doesn't care for people who only want to use as a means to an end. If the can't even see how wonderful you are, they're not worth his time anyway

Walking through the devildom streets has never been so safe. Satan doesn't really have any big enemies and those that didn't get along with him weren't dumb enough to try to get you involved. After all, nobody could save them from his wrath if you got hurt

On the other hand, you're the first person anyone tries to contact whenever he does lose his temper. You're a surefire way to get him to calm down, like a joker card. Your presence soothes him and talking out all his troubles with you helps him regulate his emotions better. That is, assuming you don't get angry at whatever he got angry at too

Sometimes, you'll catch him playing with the ring on your finger, putting his own next to it and just looking at it with the softest expression. If you ask him what he's thinking about, his gaze will go to you and he will just tell you that he loves you and that he's happy you're with him, before kissing you gently

#obey me shall we date #mine #om! swd #obey me nightbringer #race neutral mc #gender neutral reader #Obey me satan #Gn mc #obey me headcanons #Headcanon #Hc #Hcs #Fluff

[mamawasatesttube]

Do you have thoughts on how kon would be as a big brother to Chris and Jon? I've read Chris and Jon's comics and I'm writing a thing with them but I want to have their big brother be part of their character/internal problem solving even if he doesn't (as of yet) appear. But I've only read yj and superboy is unfinished/on my tbr so I'm going to the Expert

(If you have any thoughts opinions on Kara's familial relationships you can include those as well)

OOH OOH YES DO I EVER!!!!!

every time i think about kon as a big brother i immediately think of sb94 annual #2, which opens on kon taking a kid flying for his birthday and joking about him being superboy jr., kind of like his little brother. then we move to cadmus, where it turns out the prototypical experiment #1 (whereas kon was #13) has awoken and escaped his containment pod. he fights kon briefly, believing himself to be/wanting to be the "real" superboy, but is injured and collapses in kon's arms afterwards. it turns out he's not stable outside the pod and is dying; despite kon's best efforts to get the cadmus doctors to save him, he only lasts another few minutes. i'm personally never ever getting over kon's face when it happens (right after they both find out their dna donor was paul westfield):

SO!! with that being established backstory: i think kon would be soooo excited to be a big brother. he'd talk a big game and want the kids to think he's cool, and of course, he's a mega dork (he'd try to get them both into wendy, and if they didn't like it, he'd be offended). but imo, he's also gonna be so protective of them right off the bat, in large part because of poor clone #1. he's got a lot of feelings about people he's gotta protect, and little siblings are sooo high on that list.

one thing is that i don't think kon really thinks of clark as his dad. of course, it depends on the point in the timeline where you're really introducing chris and jon (because like kon was dead by the point of last son introducing chris, and fitting jon into new earth is always a fun puzzle), but (to be clear this is to an extent my hc also) by the time he's living with the kents, kon no longer wants superman to be his dad. i do think he does at first ("i wish i had parents" in sb94 #85 paired with how reactive he is about shooting down superman being his dad in sb94 #94), but when he moves in with the kents that dies down pretty fast. but he'd way rather the kids call him their big brother than, like, their uncle. that's so uncool (haha see, 'cuz uncle sounds kind of like uncool--aw, whatever)!!! it makes him sound so OLD!!!! he's not an uncle!!!

so overall i think it's like. he's a fun-loving and protective figure. they probably think he's So cool for a while, then get a little older and go oh wait. that's a dorklord. i do think jon throws one hell of a tantrum the day he finds out he's never gonna get ttk even if he grows into all the other kryptonian powers, though.

(i also hc that chris can get some weird funky powers other than ttk, not ttk itself, bc its like... kon is THE ttk guy, and thats a metagene designed to emulate kryptonian powers, so it feels a little weird to take something that specific and give it to another character who doesn't have any of the narrative reasons to need it. someone who knows more abt editorial please do correct me if i'm wrong, but i'm pretty sure they only gave chris ttk because prior to infinite crisis, the nightwing in new krypton shown to be using ttk was supposed to be kon, and was changed last-minute into chris.)

so like, he'd be a figure they can count on, someone they regard as always in their corner if they yell for him. he'll take the heat if they get in trouble (he spoils them. lois however has a very uncanny ability to tell if kon's taking the blame for something they did). i think as they grow older they might be like ...why's kon our brother but he doesn't live with us? and doesn't call our parents mom and dad? because kon stays with the kents but just hangs out with them all the time, and he calls clark and lois "clark and lois", and understanding that their family isn't nuclear might be a learning curve for them.

as for kara, i'll try and keep it brief bc this is already long i'm so sorry sdkhj but i generally operate in the realm of postcrisis kara, aka linda lang. she's roughly the same age as kon and she's got a Lot of feelings re: new krypton and her own guilt and her duty to her family, as well as whether she as supergirl can really measure up to superman. i love her. i think she would Adore having baby cousins because they mean her family is growing, after all the people she's lost. that said i think it's very possible she's a little awkward with kids because she just doesn't have that much experience with them. but i think she'd teach them to draw, and she'd really earnestly try with both of them. she'd LOVE to teach them about krypton, too.

#answers #noon-shadows #kon #kara #chris #jon #superfam

[froggoon]

˚₊‧꒰ა Under Her Spell Pt. 1 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

A powerful Witch lands herself in the middle of the Spider Society and Miguel is completely smitten.

★ pairing: Miguel x witch! reader

★ ratings: slow burn, eventual smut

★ wc: 1.33k

At Spider Society Headquarters. . .

It’s not that Miguel didn’t want to find love. Everyone wants to find their happiness, someone to go home to sleep with at night, hear their troubles, share their feelings, and find comfort in. Miguel just didn’t have the time. Between managing the multiverse, catching anomalies, and battling the trauma of losing his daughter Gabby, he couldn’t even look at a Woman never mind being able to keep a relationship. That was until a blue portal opened up above the main entrance at headquarters. It was a light blue that swirled around leaving a trail of stars in its path. The spiders around were mesmerized by it, no one had ever seen anything like that, it gave a completely different aurora than the portals they create with their watches. A woman shot out of it with a beaming light and landed with a loud thud.

She was dressed in a skin-tight black suit that had a deep V and a corset around the waist. Her dark hair fell into a halo around her head. Jewelry decorated her wrists and hands and glistened in the light. Her long lashes flattened against her cheeks and her lips parted with each breath. The portal subsided with a quick whoosh leaving the stranger stranded.

“Outa my way everyone move, clear back. I SAID BACK.” Miguel demanded as he pushed his body forward. The woman’s eyes fluttered open meeting Miguel’s. A small heat bloomed in them as she whispered “Help me.” Before falling unconscious. “Get her to the infirmary. Lyla, update me on her condition and when she wakes up.” Miguel didn’t have time to stare at her, he had a multiverse to take care of.

The beeping of the machines and the blinding lights of the room were all you could notice. Still feeling groggy after waking up, your memories slowly started connecting one after another. The last thing you remembered was attempting a new spell you learned from an older book in your Master's Library. It was supposed to be a simple transportation spell, you meant for it to send you to another room, not another dimension. Ripping out the wires attached to your body you stumbled your way to the door only to be met with another door. Rubbing your nose slightly you looked up only to realize it was not a door behind a door but a sexy hot man in a blue and red suit.

“You awake,” Miguel commented. “Yes… where…where exactly am I? And who are you” you questioned while backing up away from the handsome figure. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that? You did make a scene crashing in the middle of my headquarters.” His face could only be described as a permanent glare with eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed. Readjusting your posture in an attempt to seem confident you state “ I am (y/n), I come from Earth-94721, I was practicing a new transportation spell and accidentally landed myself here.” As you looked at his stoic face you felt nervous as you continued “I won’t be here too long, I just need to recreate the spell and I shall be out of your hair.” Miguel looked away slightly, you were cute, he hadn’t found any other women interesting but here you were standing in front of him, making him feel things in his body that he shouldn’t. “Good. I got enough things to worry about here. I don’t need another thing distracting me.” He never even introduced himself.

Little did Miguel know you were about to be the biggest distraction he had in a long time.

Nothing worked. You tried to recreate the spell but couldn’t get it just right. Was it another phrase you had to say? Had you said it too slowly? Did you need to be sitting? Standing? Even trying Miguel’s machine to send it home didn’t work. After stepping into the pod all the machine did was malfunction and frazzled out. It was almost as if your Earth didn’t exist. But nether the less you kept trying.

You’ve been at the spider society headquarters for about 5 days. You’ve met Gwen, Hobie, and Miles they were an interesting bunch. A little younger than you but you couldn’t help but feel energized when they came around. Gwen reminded you of your little sister Grace who was also a bit shy but had a big heart. Miles and Hobie’s antics remixed you of your friends at home who always were outgoing and fun. You had met Peter B Parker and Mayday in the cafeteria when you both reached for the last donut. Mayday was a sweet girl and so cute, you had loved kids since you raised your sister. Looking after Mayday felt like second nature. You met Jessica after giving her advice on yoga poses and stretches to do to help her before giving birth. You seem to be getting along with everyone, everyone except Miguel. That guy was always holed up in his office on the stupid platform in his stupid costume with his stupid hair. You thought he was annoyed with you, annoyed you couldn’t find your way home.

In reality, he wasn’t annoyed but consumed with you. He would watch you from the security cameras, inhale your scent every time you passed, and think about all the way he would take you on every surface of the headquarters. Miguel wasn’t just infatuated with you because of your looks, but over the course of the few days, he learned a lot about you. Although he seems like a hardass, Miguel cared about people. He knew what flavor of ice cream Peter B Parker liked, he knew that Gwen’s favorite Barbie movie was Swan Lake, and he knew that Miles loved to draw and make art. What about you? He knew that you liked your coffee with 3 sugars and 2 creams, that your favorite color was green, you had 1 sister Grace, and that you admired people with dreams.

In your eyes Miguel was a protector. You saw him as someone with high guards around his heart but ultimate did what he thought was best. His attitude didn’t stop you from making small interactions with him. Every morning you had greeted him with a friendly smile and a simple hello. You offered help with missions and fixing his equipment. You healed his wounds with magic and talked about your home.

Days passed and you two seemed to fall into a comfortable pattern. The other spiders began to notice that Miguel was less irritable and it was all because of you. Even the trio and Peter had an ongoing bet to see when you guys would make a move.

You were in a small workspace Miguel gave you to practice your magic and find a way back home. You were sweating, it was taking all your energy conjoining spells, taking notes, and gathering ingredients. Layer by layer your clothes came off until you were left in a simple sports bra and biking shorts. Miguel had just finished his mission catching a Green Goblin variant when he swiftly dismissed his team and made his way over to your lab.

He swore he was going to burst. The sight of your sweltering form in little to no clothing running all over the room was enough to make his suit feel tight. Hearing the door open you turned to look at him with a big smile. “Miggy! Your back! I missed you!”

I missed you.

Such a small sentence but it swelled his heart. It made him feel needed and wanted, and there was nothing more than you that he wanted right now. Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath he replied “I missed you too, I see you're working hard. Meet me in my office in 10 to discuss your process.” And with that, he closed the door walking away quickly to take care of his problem.

Pt2?

#spiderman #across the spiderverse #spiververse #miguel o'hara #atsv miguel #miguel x reader #miguel spiderverse #miguel smut #smut #miguel x y/n #miguel x you #atsv x reader #atsv x you #spiderman into the spiderverse #2099 #miguel spiderman #spider man 2099 #miguel o hara

[far-side-skies]

How would you rewrite Atmos most wanted?🤔🤔🤔

Oh this is a good one. Anyone who's been in the discord for a while will know more or less my ideas for this one.

Unlike Energy Crisis, I have actual grievances with this episode, and they are as follows:

The Raptors' disguises were just… why? I know why, it's because Storm Hawks is a kid's show, but surely you can give your audience a bit more credit than that. It's Dark Ace in Velocity all over again. I forgive it for the most part because it's a cartoon, but Nerd Corps is on thin ice XD

The people who are on the war path after the Hawks makes no bloody sense for when the episode happens in relation to the rest of the show. Yes, the show has episodic writing but by AMW, the Rex Guardians, Absolute Zeroes and Rebel Ducks all have an established history with the Hawks. If anything, more people than just Dove should've been trying to help them clear their names.

The crimes and items stolen is just nonsensical. There was no end goal for the Raptors here, they were just being evil for the sake of it and as a result the stakes were depressingly low. We deserved a bigger threat than what we got.

With those problems established, let's go over how I'd fix them, starting with the teams who think the Storm Hawks robbed them.

This episode would've been a great opportunity to introduce some squadrons we don't know very well. Perhaps the Buff Buzzards and the Screaming Queens, both teams we've seen in passing during Velocity, but that never got much development.

As for the teams we do know better. All of them felt like they were being written terribly out of character, excluding Wren. Wren can stay the crazy accusing old man he originally was. This man almost yeeted these kids into the Wastelands on their first meeting because he refused to believe that they weren't Cyclonians until Radarr bit him.

So we have Wren on the war path making false accusations again. How about the rest of the Rebel Ducks are following him to make sure he doesn't give himself an aneurism. Meanwhile Harrier and Suzy Lu are trying to get to the bottom of these thefts before pinning it on the Hawks. These kids surely wouldn't steal such valuable and even dangerous items, would they?

Now what is actually being stolen? And why?

The Cheese Stone is funny but ultimately useless. Let's replace it with a box of high-grade explosives, because one of my headcanons for the Rebel Ducks is that blowing things up is their favourite way to get shit done. Nobody makes a bomb like a Galeman can.

The snow blaster is… ok, I guess? One of the few instances of gun weapons being seen in Storm Hawks. But let's make it a bit more specific and have it that one of Suzy-Lu's frost crystals was stolen. An extremely rare one that's capable of freezing metal to the point where it shatters.

The Rex Guardians always seemed to me like one of the most influential squadrons in the Free Atmos, so as well as old Sky Knight relics they probably have archives of current and recent goings-on in the war, maybe even things that let them access high-security locations such as prisons.

If anyone can see where I'm going with this, you can have a cookie.

Stealing the Aurora Stone pieces is a brave move, and I'm sure anyone's attention would be grabbed by an attempt at such a crime.

So we have some new antagonists, and a running theme for the items that have been stolen. What can these things be used for? What goal shall we give the thieves of this rewrite?

How about a prison break?

The Atmosia Stockade is a high-security prison that houses Carver, and no doubt numerous other prisoners of war, such as high ranking Talons, turncoat Sky Knights, powerful Murk Raiders, the list goes on. The Free Atmos would stand to lose a lot if so many dangerous individuals escaped. Imagine the chaos!

And if that wasn't enough, I have one last major change to bring out.

The Raptors aren't the thieves in this. Not the main ones anyway. Perhaps they were hired as distractions, perhaps they did help with a couple of the thefts, but they're not the primary culprits. It's the Storm Hawks Reserve team.

This ties into other rewrite ideas I've got lined up, specifically Talon Academy. I decided a while back that several members of the Reserves that Aerrow suggested in TA and that never got mentioned again what the hell were in fact Cyclonian double agents. People with a huge motivation to break people out of the Stockade. And it'd explain why the likes of Wren are so sure that it was the Storm Hawks who robbed them. They have the right uniforms, the right insignia, and they are not a pack of giant lizards in paper masks.

...Sorry, I'm a bit salty.

I want the Storm Hawks to fail in this episode. It would've been interesting to see how they handle a loss like this, and I think it would make things incredibly interesting for the lead-up to Cyclonia Rising. Imagine all the new threats we could've gotten.

So that's my extensive ideas for how I'd rewrite Atmos's Most Wanted. Maybe one day I'll do a fanfic or even an audio drama based on this rewrite, because apparently recording my attempts at voice acting is something I want to so. I hope you enjoyed my ramblings!

#ask: answered #nakii-nyah #storm hawks #storm hawks headcanons #storm hawks lore #sunny's headcanons #sunnyverse headcanons #sunnyverse lore #sunny's storm hawks headcanons #storm hawks headcanon #atmos's most wanted #episode rewrites

[eldritch-spouse]

Not sure if I remember correctly but I think at some point you said something about nebul and sounding??👀

How would it go if his pet asked politely on their knees to be involved in that

Also I absolutely love all the work your doing, with the gift fic and somehow keeping up with our horny bullshit, it's all so fucking cool

[I did briefly, here's the post. Fem reader.]

TW: Sounding.

Let's assume you're willing to go both ways with this scenario.

When you had asked, oh so nicely, Nebul assumed you meant you wanted to be sounded. And your Master is very, very happy to introduce you to this new facet of more hardcore sex. You're rewarded for your forwardness regarding this, the wraith petting your hair and telling you to work yourself up with your fingers while "gets things ready".

You've been good, which means, you get treated good.

Nebul is exceedingly gentle, as it's likely the first time you're going to experience sounding, the stainless steel toy is thin and tiny, only just a taste of what this can offer. You're laid back and your legs spread wide as he tells you to not move a muscle, relax, his digits on your clit relentless. Although Nebul doesn't allow you to come, not before he can slot the toy inside you. It's a foreign sensation, yes, but he's confident you won't regret it, not when he makes sure it'll have you coming harder than usual. If you can slide just the tip in for this first session, he'll be satisfied already, cooing at you and overwhelming you with praise for being such an obedient, open-minded pet ready to please Master's every whim, ready to use every single part of your body for him. As you should.

Aftercare is thorough. The undead trusts his skill, he's positive you'll only be a tiny bit sore.

For the next session, he'll try to slide more of the toy in, as far as you can take it. Which, given your antomy, only a couple of inches are safe. He doesn't want to damage you. Yet.

Displaying interest in more intense sounding instruments will definitely please him however, and the wraith will go through the trouble of gathering the necessary healing items should you show a desire to really put your body's limits to the test. Oh, he can barely wait.

Alternatively, if you make it clear you'd like to participate in sounding him, well, he's hesitant.

Nebul only ever does it to himself in privacy. The sensation is spectacular for him, but it's also something that puts him in a vulnerable position sexually speaking, so he would never let a partner do that to him.

First, he'll allow you to watch. Sometimes you can touch yourself, other times you can't- Having to wait until he decides to orgasm, and being pulled forward to lick the cum off his cock when he's done, sucking on the rod before he sets it aside for disinfecting treatment later.

If you've been in your Master's good graces up until all this time, Nebul allows you to sound him during very special occasions.

He still holds most of the control in those situations, sitting on his favorite chair with you kneeled between his legs. He's got a powerful grip of the leash connected to your collar and will not tolerate any sort of deviation from his direct orders. You're to move at the exact pace he demands, with the pressure and length he specifies.

Unfortunately, you don't get to control Nebul's orgasm. He'll tease himself for as long as he wants to, but the moment he says to slowly start pulling out, you better. Maybe the show and the faceful of his seed are worth it...

#Nebul oc

[findafight]

With the whole "Munson doctrine" bs. Eddie wasn't just against the jocks and the bullies (and there's no proof that he was seriously bullied? Just a bit of an outcast?). He was against anyone that was a part of what he called conformity. In that stupid speech on the table he called out people in band and those who like science for forced conformity. Other outcasts, other people that would have been bullied. Because they liked something he didn't.

It wasn't about self defense, it was an I'm right, you're wrong mentality, that his interests were the only valid interests.

Also, this is why I *hate* the idea of Eddie and Robin being friends or having some sort of alliance pre-s4 (or even pre-s3) because she's in band and likes band and he canonically criticized being in band as forced conformity. Why would she be friends with someone who is so vocally against something she enjoyed?

Oh yes I think Eddie has a bee in his bonnet about people who don't......conform.....to his brand of nonconformity. But I do think part of it is self preservation, or at least started out that way but grew into something else? Eddie is an outcast, has a non-nuclear family, and is poor, and all that shapes his view, but it also doesn't stop him from ostracizing people who he thinks aren't outcast enough or in the correct way (Subconsciously, at least.) Eddie thinks the only way to be a weirdo and a freak is to be loud about it, to be purposely obnoxious, to not even consider the normie hobbies or interests as something worth your time.

But as you've said band geeks and science nerds would also be in the crossfire. Heck, the party are all science nerds! I guess that didn't actually interfere with Eddie's interests though. Until inevitably a big county/state science fair or something would be on Hellfire night, and then it might have (except the Duffers would not have done that because they want to continue the nerd v jock thing happening that's just so stupid). He left Lucas out to dry, what's to say he wouldn't do the same to the other boys?

Part of what makes Eddie a fun and interesting character is that we get a glimpse of him starting to realize the strict us vs them, jocks vs nerds, conformity vs nonconformity binaries he's built around himself are not so clear-cut when he talks to Steve in the upside down. But it took him seeing Steve being a chill and kind guy, as opposed to Lucas who was in Hellfire since the beginning of the year to make him see that. Maybe he viewed Lucas as betraying them by joining basketball, but Steve, moving in the """opposite direction""" away from ""jockdom"" was what made it click for him. Eddie has a lot of issues to work through regarding expectations and nonconformity.

Oh. Yes I don't think, in canon, Eddie and Robin would be friends pre S4. Like I think aus that show us how he works through things (or at least tells us he did) can be fun. But when there's just the assumption that they'd be friends pre S4 or even pre S3 without either of them changing from how we were introduced to them? Uhg. Robin thinks Eddie is an annoying weirdo who stepped on her lunch one time :( and said the band uniforms were stupid and she took offense to that because he acted like it was their fault and not the school's. Eddie thinks Robin is some boring band dweeb and never thinks about her unless it's a vauge sort of "oh she's talking to Dustin" way.

It's also frustrating because Steve is often left behind in these AUs, and Eddie replaces him as Robin's best friend [at least at the start] One of the reasons stobin is so powerful is because they were both lonely losers who happened to find their forever friend in scoops ahoy. Robin having a close friend she's out to before that doesn't make sense, especially since it's heavily implied Steve is the first person she's told, which is why that scene means so much!

#eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things meta #findaanswers #anonasaurus #steve robin and eddie being friends is fun but one must remember that steve is a key component of that #without him idk if robin and eddie would work out haha

[andreafmn]

Swinging By | Peter Parker

Word Count: 2.5K Pairing: Peter Parker [Earth 199999] x Female!Reader Requested: Yes [@spideysbaby: "Maybe a spiderman (tom) sneaking in your room thinking it's his sense your his neighbor"] A/N: Hope I did the request justice... even if I did post it really late 😬😬 My content will always be free, but if you’re feeling particularly generous, you can leave a tip on any of my posts to support me and my love of writing or buy me a coffeeTikTok • Instagram • Business | MASTERLIST If you’d like to be tagged in any other story: click here Make sure you have my notifications on so you know every time I post!

Swinging By | Peter Parker One Shot

Being Spiderman was hard work. 

Being Spiderman as a teenager that was still in high school was even harder. 

And Peter Parker was tired. More like exhausted. 

Of course, he enjoyed the role of superhero and getting to save people —he’d never take for granted having been bit by that radioactive spider. Still, he couldn’t help the fatigue that ransacked his body after every long day that passed. 

He wished it was easier. That he had an endless supply of energy he could distribute whichever way he saw fit. He would have enough for his friends, for Aunt May, the city of New York… maybe even for (Y/N), his downstairs neighbor, and the girl that filled his mind every hour of the day. 

He had seen her around the building. The very first time, she quickly caught his eye. It was the day her family had moved in. Peter had been too shy to say hi. He watched as the three of them walked in and out of the building with boxes in their hands, following the movers up and down the stairs.  

Peter had wanted to help them. But for some reason, his limbs had gone numb and he couldn’t bring himself to approach them. Any of them. He simply watched as they moved back and forth in the building until they disappeared into their new home. It was clear that he had missed his chance to introduce himself to the girl that was wearing a sweater from the New York Hall of Science. 

But May was always one step ahead and she had seen the longing stares her nephew would give to the girl every time she walked by. The boy had everything going for him. All he needed was a little push. And who better than his aunt to give it to him? 

May had made a batch of “homemade” cookies –which meant she had bought premade dough and followed the instructions– for the new neighbors. Conveniently, she had to run out to the office on a saturday morning and couldn’t drop them off, leaving Peter to take care of the task. 

“But, can’t you just leave it at their door with a note?” Peter whined as he felt anxiety bubbling in his body. “I’m sure they’ll appreciate it regardless.” 

“Oh, come on, Peter,” she chuckled as she struggled to put on her heels. “You swing from building to building and face aliens and magicians and criminals every day. I don’t think handing your neighbors a plate of cookies could compare.” 

“But…”

“Peter, I just need you to do this one thing for me, please,” she smiled sweetly. “I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

“Alright, fine,” the boy finally resigned. “See you tonight.” 

“Thank you, sweetie,” May called as she left through the door. “See you tonight.” 

Peter had stared intently at the seran-wrapped plate in his hands, hoping he had developed teleportation powers in his sleep. He could already feel the knot of anxiety pushing against the walls of his throat, constricting sounds and air back. He couldn’t face her, not without making a fool of himself —something he could be sure of without his spidey senses. 

He had decided to take the stairs, walking slower than humanly possible. But he wanted the time to build his confidence. He had been the Spider-Man for a little over eight months but he had met his match in the form of a girl his own age. 

Before he had known, he had reached apartment 2F. The door was mocking him, teasing his cowardice and  nervousness. All he had to do was raise his fist and knock on the door. 

“Get it together, Parker,” he spoke to himself in a hushed tone. “Just knock. All you have to do is knock on the door, leave the cookies, and go, nothing more. Just get it together. She might not even be there. It could just be her parents. Why are you so scared? It could just be her…”

“Can I help you?” A honey-laced voice broke him out of his trance as the door in front of him swung open. Her smile was as sweet as her voice and seeing her in passing did not compare to perusing her face at that moment. “You’re our upstairs neighbor; right?” 

“Uh, uh,” he stammered as his train of thought broke. “Yes. Neighbor. Me.”

“Yes. Neighbor. You,” she chuckled. “I’ve seen you around. Sorry I haven’t had a chance to introduce myself. I’m (Y/N).”

“Pretty,” he sighed contentedly. But as soon as he noticed the words that had left his mouth, his whole face had gone red. “I mean, your name is pretty. Not that you’re not pretty, but I was talking about your name.”

“I figured,” she smiled warmly. “And yours is?”

“Oh, it’s Peter. Parker. Peter Parker.”

“Well, Peter Parker, may I ask why you were rambling in our Ring camera for a minute or two?” (Y/N) questions kindly. “Not that I’d mind seeing a cute guy talking to himself at my front door.”

If it had been possible for his face to grow redder, it had. He was sure he had turned the same shade as a tomato. “Yes, cookies,” he scrambled for his answer. His hand extended quickly, showing her that he wasn’t some creep at her door. He had brought a treat. “My aunt baked them to welcome you and your family to the building.”

“That’s so nice of you,” she beamed. “And normally I’d invite you in and share them with you, but we’re actually on our way out.”

“Oh, of course. I wouldn’t want to impose either way/”  

“You could never, Peter Parker,”  she had smiled brightly at him. “But you should definitely come over soon. Might be some cookies left. Or I could make some brownies and send them your way.”  

“I love brownies!” Peter answered enthusiastically. “And I might just take you up on your offer someday soon.”  

“You better,” she had responded teasingly. “I’ll see you around the building then, Peter.”  

“See you around, (Y/N).”  

Seeing her around had turned into almost every other afternoon. And the building had turned into seeing her almost everywhere, including Midtown School of Science and Technology. Any free time he could find all he wanted was to spend it with (Y/N) – even if everything in his life was against it. The more he wanted to see her, the more the universe seemed to throw obstacles his way. A spike in criminality, another school project, Tony Stark calling him to the Avengers tower, everything that kept him from spending more time with her. 

And everything had made him more and more tired. 

For almost a month straight of coming home late at night, almost blind from exhaustion. His body had gone into auto-pilot. He would sneak into his room through his window, slip off his mask, and crash onto his bed to get at least three to four hours of sleep before he had to be up once more to do it all again. Peter could have made it into his bedroom with his eyes closed.  

Something he shouldn’t have attempted to do even if he could.

It had been a rather debilitating night. He could feel the warmth of blood pooling on his forehead, his muscles were tight and sore, his leg was throbbing, and all he wanted to do was sink into his bed and pass out for a week. 

Peter climbed the fire escape slowly, his eyes closed as he counted in his head the three flights of stairs that would lead him to his bedroom. His window gave him more trouble than normal, getting stuck halfway, something it had never done before. And when he slipped into his bedroom, he found it was darker than usual. But, all he wanted to do was sleep. Just sleep. 

He slipped off his mask, wincing as the fabric stuck slightly to the cut on his face. Once the cover-up was off, he finally took in the room he was in. Quickly enough, he noted it was not his. Where his bunk beds would be, rested a full bed with black and gold bedding. The desk that would normally be covered with figurines and papers was replaced by a neatly organized surface. And he definitely would have remembered hanging vines and string lights on his wall.

“Uh, Peter?” His eyes went as big as saucers as he figured whose room he was actually standing in. “What the hell?”  

The boy turned around quickly, feeling a sense of deja vu from when his aunt had found out his secret identity. He did his best to shield his suit, putting his brain into overdrive to come up with a plausible excuse for standing in the middle of her room dressed like New York’s one and only Spiderman. 

“I, uh,” he stammered. “I can explain.” 

“Peter, you’re hurt,” she gasped as she turned on the lights in her room. “Sit. I’ll get the first aid kit.” 

Peter was dumbfounded. He was expecting her to freak out like Ned, or curse at him like aunt May. Instead, (Y/N) seemed far more worried about the cuts on his face than the fact that he was a secret superhero. 

He took a seat on her desk chair, placing a discarded towel he’d found in her laundry basket, too afraid of staining her furniture. As he waited for her to come back, his eyes studied her room. His gaze fell upon a bundle of pined pictures on her wall, specifically on a picture from the month before. 

They had spontaneously decided one afternoon to go to Central Park with Ned and MJ. They had walked, they had laughed, they had eaten ice cream, and, unbeknownst to him, MJ had snapped a picture of them as (Y/N) cleaned a drip of strawberry ice cream from his chin. But what stood out to him was the way her eyes shined as she looked at him. It was a gaze he had never noticed before on her. 

“Got it,” she breathed as she came back into the room. “I just hope it’s enough. It doesn’t look that deep.” 

(Y/N) settled before him, quickly going to work on cleaning his face. She poured alcohol onto a cotton pad, using the softest touch to not hurt him more than he already was. Her concentration zoned in on every cut, making sure not a single one was left behind. 

Peter couldn’t help but memorize her face. The way her tongue peaked out slightly from her lips, the small furrow of her brows, and the little scrunch of her nose. He could have stared at her for the rest of time and he would have been okay with that. 

“Alright,” she sighed. “All done. Is there any other wound concealed in this onesie?” 

“Oh, uh, I don’t think so,” he chuckled. “My body might just be insanely bruised.” 

“Do you need some ice?” (Y/N) worriedly asked. “Might not have enough for your whole body but I have enough for the most important areas.” 

“I’m okay,” he smiled. Peter stared curiously at her. They had spent over twenty minutes together and she had yet to mention the biggest elephant in the room –she didn’t give any indication that she would do so. “(Y/N), why, uh, why aren't you freaking out?” 

“I did. There was visible blood on your face but it’s gone now.” 

“No, (Y/N). I’m talking about the whole Spiderman thing,” he pointed. “You’ve barely reacted to the fact that I’m standing before you, dressed as Spiderman, with wounds on my face.” 

(Y/N) did something that he had not expected. She laughed. “I’ve known for a while now, Peter,” she said. “You might be quiet and sneaky when you’re out catching bad guys and saving the world, but you leave all your stealthiness in the street. Once you’re home, you tend to make a lot of noise. I saw you one time when I couldn’t sleep. I had been staring out my window trying to find anything to tire my eyes when I saw a flash of red and blue land on the fire escape. Don’t think Spiderman would have too much business with you, so I just assumed.” 

“So you saw me… as Spiderman?” Peter confirmed. “And you didn’t say anything.” 

“I didn't feel like it was my place,” she shrugged. “I wanted to wait until you trusted me enough to tell me.” 

“I do trust you,” he whispered, afraid that she would take his secrecy incorrectly. “I just… I just wanted to keep you separate from all of this. I don’t know what I would do if I put you in danger. I care about you, (Y/N).” 

“Oh,” she smiled before she noted the underlying sentiment behind Peter’s brown eyes. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh,” he chuckled. Peter then tested the waters, standing from the chair and getting closer to her. “I’ve wanted to get closer to you whilst keeping you at arm’s length in order to protect you because I know just how dangerous it is to even be associated with me. All I’ve wanted is to keep you safe.”       

“Is it corny to say I can keep myself safe?” (Y/N) chuckled, taking his hands in hers. “I know it’s crazy but anything is worth it if I can… get closer to you.” 

“I would never let anything happen to you,” he whispered. “Even if I had to sleep outside your window every night.”

(Y/N) chuckled softly, releasing one of his hands to place a comforting palm on his cheek. “I don’t need your protection, Peter,” she said, her fingers tracing his features. “I need you safe. And well-rested. You look tired.” 

“I am,” he confessed with a sigh, closing his eyes at the warmth of her hand. “But, for you, I would never sleep again.” 

“I would rather you sleep, Peter,” the girl responded. “Why don’t you lay down for a bit? I’ll get you a shirt and some sweatpants. Wouldn’t want you stumbling around in a Spiderman suit and all exhausted like that.” 

“Honestly, I cannot deny that request,” Peter chuckled. “I don’t think I could make it up the fire escape tonight. But, I do want to do something before.” 

“What is it?”

“Can I kiss you?” he asked meekly. 

“Please,” she breathed.

With a smile, he closed all distance between them and placed his lips onto hers. He reveled in the warmth of her lips, enjoying the softness and plumpness of them. It was everything he had daydreamed of for months on end… except the suit… and the wounds… and the sluggishness. Other than for those things, it was perfect.  

“Want me to get those clothes now?” (Y/N) chuckled as they broke the kiss. “I think you should rest for a bit.”

“Only if we can kiss some more after.” 

“We can kiss any time you swing by,” she grinned. “I might just keep leaving my window unlocked for you.”

Taglist: @winter-soldier-101 @zheezs14 @clementinesjourney @dyslexiccatterpillar @cevans-winchester @sirenheadenby @sunsetcurvej @sapnapsbandana @skyesthebomb @esposadomd @this-is-a-bad-idea @nocturnalherb16 @blueshoelaces @then-worship-at-my-altar @six-call @yuki254 @nyenye @lunaOoO @avis15 @captainrogers-19 @honeylovemoon @wonieeee @supernaturalwriter @beckiej0073-blog @cecehensonn @krazyk99 @klf1999 @ilikepunsbeth @magimtz23 @adaydreamaway08 @hufflepuffobsessedwithmarvel @thatgirljayy @laylaskywalker @fandomonetwo @fruitylilfuck @a-slut-for-loki-bucky @monbrss @honeywxter @haroldpotterson @kaita11 @gangstalicious06 @uwunuggetchan @elijahssuit @multifandomreader73 @shara-ne @blackloveangel13 @euphoria1992 @saltedcoffeescotch @thecollectorofwords @gabi-princesada1d @zealouscookierebeltrash @sleepilysworld @aonungsfreak @treatiseofselena @brittany-appleyard24 @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @smolalien13 @jstarr86 @mzmarvel22 @itsmytimetodream @ivory-raptor @unstablekay @druigsluver29

#andreafmn #peter parker #peter parker imagine #peter parker fluff #peter parker oneshot #peter parker fanfiction #fanfiction #fan fiction #writing #spiderman imagine #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #spiderman x you #spiderman x reader #spiderman x y/n #may parker #ned leeds #fluff #swinging by #one shot #mj jones #michelle jones #spiderman homecoming

[fandomworld9728]

The Life of the Morningstars - Chapter 10:

oh fuck. No. Nononono! If he liked that bastard's scent, then things were about to get very interesting. When was the last time he had been attracted to someone's scent? There was Adam, Lilith, and his human. Yeah, that was about it. So over 200 years and now a fourth scent is added to that list. Though, it didn't seem to have any effect on his body or mental and emotional state so it should be fine. For now, anyways. Now Lucifer had another issue.

He had to get along with Alastor. A confident, powerful alpha. Just the role model Charlie needed. A good role model could also be a good parent- nope! Not going down that road! Maybe his scent was messing with him. Shaking his head, Lucifer gave a nervous laugh and small tug of his collar. "Sorry about that. Sometimes I tend to lash out around alphas. Especially when my pup is present. I-Is it hot in here?"

Giving a small hum at the unexpected apology, Alastor cocked his head to the side to observe the man in front of him. For an absent parent, he seemed rather protective of his daughter. Not to mention how he spoke. Around alphas and not around other alphas. How curious. "Yes. Well, it can't be helped, I'm sure. Not all of us have a tight rein on our instincts."

"Right. It's nice to know that Charlie has an alpha to look up to now. After her mother left that kind of... became difficult to find. Love my two siblings dearly but they are not what I would call the best role models individually. And all the time. Too much of them is not a good thing. And I'm rambling..." He was truly and utterly fucked.

"Isn't it your job to be the role model?"

What? "What? I did raise her, but I don't think I'm the best example of a strong and confident alpha."

Strong? Naturally thanks to his powers. Confident? When he needed to be. Come on, he was an awkward and depressed mess most of the time. Lucifer made sure to teach his daughter not to take shit from other demons (or anyone for that matter) and how to be a loving and caring person. Though, she came by that naturally so there wasn't much to teach there. 

"Anyways! Before you two start to bicker again... Dad. Look at this lovely parlor where people can get to know each other and share secrets, and stories, and intimate feelings!" 

Lucifer loved seeing how happy and excited Charlie was about her dream. He was already starting to feel better. Just look at that smile, listen to the joy in her voice.

"Without Alastor, we wouldn't have been able to pretty it up this much."

"Charlie has a very unique vision. I am happy to fulfill her bizarre requests." 

"Oh. Thank you, Alastor."

Lucifer didn't know what this guy was trying to pull. Nothing. He's just being there for Charlie. But seeing his hand on his pup's shoulder was making his blood boil. She wasn't his daughter. He shouldn't be touching her. The omega knew that Charlie trusted this man and there wasn't any intent to harm in his scent, eyes, or body language. But Lucifer couldn't shake that ever present voice shouting at him to make the other stop touching her. Stoptouchinghisdaughterlikeshe'syours-

Clearing his throat to try and hide the growl that tried to escape, Lucifer moved past the two so they could continue the tour and introductions. Holding himself back from acting on all the alarm bells ringing in his head (he knew he could be an overprotective mother hen at the best of times) was draining him. He was gonna need a nap soon. "That's good to know. I'm glad she has a good support system here. Charlie, could you introduce me to your other friends?"

"Oh! Yes, of course." Quickly grabbing her partner, Charlie was excited to finally introduce her to her dad. "This is Vaggie. She's my girlfriend."

Girlfriend. Lucifer knew this day might come after the talk they had after the disaster of a breakup her and Seviathan had. Good for her! Getting herself back out there and finding someone she absolutely adored. He could see it when she looked at the shorter girl and the warmth in her voice when spoke about her. Smiling, Lucifer shook her hand before hugging her a bit too excitedly. 

"It's nice to meet you Mag- uh Vaggie! Sorry I'm terrible with names. She's so pretty." 

"Lovely to meet you, uh, sir..."

Poor thing seemed just as nervous and awkward as himself. Maybe that's something they could bond over? He'll worry about that later. One of the main things on his mind right now though was the fact that this angel was missing her halo. What happened? Did Charlie know? Did any of them know? If not, Lucifer could understand, being a fallen angel himself. He'd have to talk with her about in private.

"And this is Sir Pentious and Angel Dust, our guests."

"Your majesty!"

"Hey there short king~"

A high strung and goof of a snake inventor and a flirty, cookie stealing, porn star spider huh? His daughter's pack sure was going to be an interesting one. At least there's variety and didn't seem like it would get too boring around here anytime soon. He couldn't really judge. His best friend was an imp who assassinates humans for profit. And is sleeping with Stolas. Not a thought he wanted to linger on. 

"Husk is our bartender and Niffty is our housekeeper."

"Nice to meet you."

Before he could greet the four, the one named Niffty (who might become his favorite because now he was no longer the shortest one in the room), had climbed up him. Huh. Her scent was pleasant even with the odd undertone of blood to it. She also seemed to be the only beta here. 

"Hello. I clean." What an odd kind of crazy laugh she had...

Handing the small cyclopes off to Charlie, Lucifer walked around a bit to really take in the place. Or he would have, if not two steps in the chandelier had fallen down on him.

"Oh shit- Dad!" 

< Previous

Next >

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fanfiction #alpha/beta/omega au #lucifer morningstar #charlie morningstar #hazbin hotel alastor #niffty hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel husk #hazbin hotel angel dust #hazbin hotel vaggie #the life of the morningstars

[attorneys-against-court-violence]

Damon Gant scares the hell out of me.

This man. This. Sodding. Demon. It's been a few weeks since I beat Rise From the Ashes, but the events of that case and the actions of this character have made the name "Gant" borderline blasphemous. For how far I have gotten into Ace Attorney, he's probably the most terrifying of the villains so far. Yes, that includes Manfred.

Now, coming fresh off the fourth case like me, you may have wondered given his reputation; how can they make this goofy orange funny man more paralysing than THE Manfred von Karma himself? Old Karma set the bar pretty high after all - never was there a worse feeling than catching him in the Evidence Room with a taser after all the work you put in to incriminate him and his witness.

Karma was built from Edgeworth's reputation, the way he was talked up prior to the trial, and his control over the courtroom. He was introduced on a pedestal and kept there till the very end. You are *expected* to fear this man and plays him pretty straight. No ambiguity, he's just that terrifying.

Gant? He practically comes out of nowhere. Even Edgeworth is surprised (even fearful?) when he appears. And he introduces himself by... just standing there. Not even in ellipses as Karma did - he just stares at you until bursting into friendly dialogue. He indirectly helps you connect the SL-9 incident to the current case. He scolds Edgeworth with a smug grin.

You have no idea what to expect from this man. He hits you with so many conflicting signals that you can't tell what you're supposed to think of him. He seems friendly enough, I guess? Maybe he's just like good ol' Gumshoe right? But that stare and the way he taunts Edgeworth... it makes you wonder what's going on with the guy.

Your fears may be alleviated slightly when he lets you into the evidence room. Maybe that same, cold stare he gives you only raises your eyebrows. At best he's a very eccentric fellow, at worst you have no idea why he's keeping up such a façade... if there even is one.

Then the pieces start coming together. There's a good reason why he was so protective of his office; everything you find in there ties him into both cases in a very disturbing way. The way Lana is acting, why Jake Marshall is so interested in SL-9, everything that connects him to Ema especially paints him in a very ominous light. He was involved with all their lives and how they turned out and it isn't shaping up to be a very positive influence. Even smaller details - like how he blasts organ music at officers under his watch to punish them - paint him in an ominous light.

By the time he's standing as a witness for the second time, it becomes crystal clear. Damon Gant is a ruthless, selfish and thoroughly manipulative person. Everything, from SL-9 to now, was planned and thought-out by this horrid man to ensure he gets off scott-free. No matter how many lives he ruins in the process. He frames Ema for murder. He convinces Lana to help him cover up a fake crime. He kills Marshall's brother in the process. He gave Edgeworth false evidence when he took over as prosecutor for SL-9. He did his damndest to remove everyone who investigated SL-9 from power.

Bruce Goodman died because he was getting too close seeing Gants web of lies he had spent 2 years weaving and keeping at this rate. He pulls every string he has - Lana, Edgeworth, even Ema as a scapegoat - to make sure Bruce dies with his secrets. One wrong move from Phoenix and he would have walked out a free man.

Why?

Because he was desperate. They had their serial killer - Joe Darke - but no evidence to prove it. Right or wrong, Gant wanted someone to pay for these violent murders, so he sought justice through the most vile means possible. Manfred only did what he did because he's a perfectionist. Gant did what he did because he wanted justice - or at least the next best thing.

And yet he's still incredibly goofy, mentioning swimming at the slightest chance, giving people nicknames, the whole $50 thing... Manfred doesn't have many humanising moments in Ace Attorney, especially in the first game. Gant is presented as just another eccentric dude with a kind streak and is given plenty of opportunity to look human.

Which might be the scariest part about him.

He's an old and silly police chief who did some truly terrible things for the right reasons. His ruthlessness combined with his eccentric behaviour puts him in an uncanny valley of sorts. He's so close, but yet so far from being likeable as a person (compared to Manfred, who's the textbook definition of "love to hate").

I don't blame Edgeworth for being shaken by his final words.

#ace attorney #damon gant #rise from the ashes #another ace attorney essay #whooo

[syncogon]

back to back, fade to black

(reverse power au (inspired by @/daily-linkclick), timeloop theory. frantically written before ep 12)

September 13. 

This time, this is how it goes: the dance studio is busy with classes, so Lu Guang brings his speaker outside to the basketball courts. There’s no mirror to study his own movements, so he lets himself focus on the musicality, intentionality, sharp hits and smooth steps, drowning himself in the flow. 

“Hey, you! Classmate Lu, right?”

Lu Guang stops, looking over. Someone is jogging toward him, basketball tucked under his arm, messy black ponytail bouncing with each step as he waves. He looks a little familiar, Lu Guang thinks, but he can’t quite place his name until the other sticks his hand out for a handshake. 

“Cheng Xiaoshi!” he introduces himself, noticing but seeming unbothered by Lu Guang’s blank stare. “We’re short one person for 3v3, wanna join?” 

Not particularly, to be honest. But something stops those words from making it out of his mouth. Cheng Xiaoshi takes his silence as tacit agreement and tosses the basketball to him, and he automatically catches it in front of his chest.

“C’mon, it’ll be fun!” says Cheng Xiaoshi brightly, and Lu Guang, without really knowing why, finds himself following.

After a person learns a new word, they suddenly start to see that word everywhere. After Lu Guang meets Cheng Xiaoshi, it’s the same. It turns out that their schedules overlap greatly, even down to when they go to the gym. And Cheng Xiaoshi always sees him, and always greets him. How’s it going, did you finish the project, have you eaten yet, wanna go together? 

Cheng Xiaoshi’s carefully aggressive friend-making moves work. Lu Guang is a loner by nature, yet before he’s even realized, this young man has squeezed his way into his heart. So it’s natural that they take a trip abroad together. So it’s natural that when Cheng Xiaoshi tells him about his plans for his parents’ photo studio, Lu Guang says automatically, “I can help.” 

“What? You want to help run a photo studio with me?”

“Sure.”

There’s a pause. Cheng Xiaoshi squints at him. “You heard me, I have a debt to clear off. You wouldn’t be earning much either.”

“That’s okay.” 

At his dead-serious expression, Cheng Xiaoshi laughs and claps him on the back. “Alright! And you agreed without even knowing how much the debt is. That’s not like you. But no take-backs!”

Lu Guang pointedly rolls his eyes. 

“But don’t you worry your pretty little head, I have a plan. We’ll be profitable in no time.” Cheng Xiaoshi looks at him, and it’s like a switch flips, suddenly serious. “Do you trust me?”

And, there it is. This time, this is what draws Lu Guang to Cheng Xiaoshi: beneath that playful and friendly nature, there’s that remarkable cleverness, and beneath that there’s something more. It’s in the eyes. Weight and depth, pulling him in.

Cheng Xiaoshi asks do you trust me and Lu Guang answers yes. And Cheng Xiaoshi takes his two hands in his own.

It turns out that there is magic in this world, and money to be made from it. Lu Guang looks doubtfully at the printed photograph held delicately between his fingertips, careful to avoid getting prints on the glossy surface. “This will work?”

“I already explained everything,” Cheng Xiaoshi says, just a tad defensive. “At this point, all that’s left is your own proof.”

The thing is, as outlandish as it sounds, Lu Guang does believe him. But if he does believe him, that opens a frankly dizzying array of implications. He picks one to be concerned about. “You’re not worried I’ll mess up the past?” 

“It can’t happen,” says Cheng Xiaoshi firmly. “Like I said, beyond the small details, the major nodes can’t change. You’ll come back to this same world, I promise.” He holds out his right hand, his watch catching the sunlight. “And you’ll have me with you the whole time. Are you ready?” 

Lu Guang takes a deep breath, and claps his hand. 

After the fifth dive, Lu Guang grows used to it.

He controls a body that isn’t his own. Careful, deliberate, hyperaware of his position in space as he plays the part of, this time, a daughter bringing a final message to her bedridden grandmother. In the original timeline, the daughter hadn’t made it in time. Now, Lu Guang gets to see the grandmother’s well-worn face settle into a relaxed smile. 

When all is said and done, he claps back to the present. Cheng Xiaoshi’s hand is immediately there to steady him. “You still good?” he asks, and Lu Guang nods. 

It feels worthwhile, this work. With the safety net of fate’s immutability, they can erase the regrets of the past. Their clients leave looking lighter, and Lu Guang thinks, this is what he can do…

Cheng Xiaoshi looks at him and smiles, and Lu Guang can’t help but wonder what it would take to make his eyes truly lighten, too. 

“You see, it’s really two halves of one power,” Cheng Xiaoshi explains to him. “So we can use our powers individually, or we can have that telepathic link.”

Lu Guang frowns. It sounds reasonable enough, but it’s not like these mystical powers have much reason to them anyway. “Is that just your own theory? How do you know?” 

Cheng Xiaoshi blinks at him, then gives that smile that’s equal parts dazzling and infuriating. “Why, you were the one who explained it all to me…”

“I’m being serious.”

But Cheng Xiaoshi’s grin doesn’t waver. “Me too, haha! —Aw, don’t give me that face…”

“I still can’t believe he roped you into this,” sighs Qiao Ling, dropping the bag of takeout on the coffee table. “You really deserve better.” 

“Thank you, Qiao Ling-jie,” says Lu Guang.

“I told you, no need to be so polite to the landlady,” Cheng Xiaoshi snorts, already digging through the bag. “Ooh yay, pork buns.”

“Not everyone is as ill-mannered as you,” Qiao Ling says, making a face at him, before turning back to Lu Guang. “I imagine using your powers is tiring. Have you been sleeping okay?”

“Thank you for the concern. I’ve been alright.”

It surprises Lu Guang at first, that someone as reasonable and down-to-earth as Qiao Ling is also entangled in Cheng Xiaoshi’s supernatural scheme. But as Cheng Xiaoshi put it, “she’s my sister, she should know.” In any case, Lu Guang is grateful for her involvement; her handling the clients means a great burden lifted from their shoulders. 

“You’d better speak up if he’s working you too hard,” Qiao Ling continues. “When he gets an idea in his head, he doesn’t know how to stop.”

“Hey! I’m perfectly reasonable in everything I do.”

“I’ll let you know, Qiao Ling-jie.”

She smiles warmly at him. It feels like… home. 

Serial killer.

In the end, with rumors like theirs spreading, he supposes it was only a matter of time before the police came knocking on their door. 

Lu Guang looks at the victim’s photo, his stomach churning. Cheng Xiaoshi eyes him. “We don’t have to do this,” he says quietly, but Lu Guang swallows. 

“Let’s do it.” Because with Cheng Xiaoshi as his guide, they could fix anything.  

Right?

live live I have to LIVE

Lu Guang stumbles back into the present, shaking, still feeling the line of cold metal at his throat, the victim’s life gushing out, his own life with it, the taste of iron on his tongue.

He falls to the ground, gagging. He reaches forward blindly for the edge of the coffee table, trying to escape, pulling himself forward and up and right into a brand-new nightmare—

Cheng Xiaoshi collapsed on the couch, a dark stain upon his shirt. And ahead, Qiao Ling, still holding the bloodied knife.

“Too slow, little boy,” she croons, and flips the knife to point straight toward her heart. Lu Guang doesn’t even have time to scream.

It’s not real, is it? It can’t be real. There’s no such thing as magic in this world. Everything since then, just one long dream that he should be waking up from now. Any second now. 

“Lu Guang,” croaks Cheng Xiaoshi. He’s still alive. “Come here…” 

Against all odds Lu Guang drags himself to the edge of the couch. It shouldn’t be so difficult. He’s not the one with a gaping, bloody hole in his body. 

“Listen,” Cheng Xiaoshi coughs, blood on his lips, “it’s not the end. Reset… try again…”

Lu Guang can barely hear him. “What do you—what are you talking about? I thought you said the past can’t be changed—” 

“One power, reunited.” Shakily, Cheng Xiaoshi extends his two hands toward him. Just like that warm sunlit day, an eternity ago. “Different rules… loop back…”

It all makes sense now. It makes no sense whatsoever. “What about you?” 

He’s smiling, that Cheng Xiaoshi. “If it’s you… this time you can do it for sure… Hurry…”

Cheng Xiaoshi’s eyes are fading. Lu Guang doesn’t know what he’s doing. He reaches forward, and claps his two hands. 

September 13. 

It’s the same basketball court. And the same person running over to him, basketball tucked under his arm.

Cheng Xiaoshi’s eyes are clear and bright. It isn’t until Lu Guang sees him like this now, that he realizes just how much the weight of time had been pulling him down. Cheng Xiaoshi could smile and laugh all he wanted, but now, he is truly free. 

Lu Guang thinks, he deserves this happiness.

Lu Guang thinks, I’ll figure this out on my own.

Lu Guang thinks, I’ll be your guide. 

This time, I’ll save you for sure. 

“Hello?” This Cheng Xiaoshi waves a hand in front of him. “Anyone home? You want to join?”

“Sure,” says Lu Guang, pulling himself back to the present, “let’s play.”

#link click #synco writes #hhh #revised version will go on ao3 #happy finale day everyone

[assexpansion]

His Creation - Blueberry/Tiny

A special request for @shrunkenblueberry

"Ve need to deconstruct before ve reconstruct!" The wiry haired scientist yelled, his square glasses flashing off the glow of the bottle.

The two board members that were paying their rarely seen 'Head of R&D' a surprise visit convened around a nearby counter where a glass container of shimmering blue liquid sat.

"Reconstruct what? Is this "potion" what we've been payin' for?"

The scientist paced to the opposite side of the counter in and gently lifted up the bottle.

"No. Look a little closer. You've been paying for her." He whispered.

One board member raised her eyebrow while the other leaned in, squinting at the darker blue floating speck.

"That looks like... What is this... It can't be..." The board member stuttered, darting his eyes between the speck and the scientist.

"Yes! Ve are looking at ze vorld's smallest human! And my vife!"

"Hi there!" Your tiny voice bubbles out.

20 Years Ago

As you open your eyes, you find yourself floating in a blue solution. You breathe in the liquid like air and look down at your body to see that you are a perfect blue sphere, resembling a ripe blueberry. You try to move, but only your hands and feet stick out from either side of your chubby, round body. You can only uselessly wave and try to kick as you look around. You're in a clear jar in a room, a large room. You realize that you are tiny in comparison to the world outside and are practically immobile. Panic sets in as you try to remember how you got here, but your memories are hazy. You try to scream, but no sound comes out. Suddenly, a face appears above you.

It's a young man, with frizzy hair, amazed eyes, and a gentle smile. He introduces himself in a funny accent, calling himself Mr. Walk, and going on to explain to you that he created you in a lab. You are his creation, a tiny blueberry person grown in a bottle.

Dr. Walk takes care of you, ensuring that the solution you float in is tested regularly and keeps you healthy and juicy. He talks about the outside world and tests your sentience and intelligence. After a week or so, you declare that you're smarter than him and he laughs himself silly. He confides in you, telling you about his experiments and how he has never seen anything as beautiful as you. You can't help but feel a connection with him, despite your circumstances.

One day, Dr. Walk takes you out of the bottle, concerned about a higher than usual level of chemical in your tank. The solution? Juicing. He carefully holds you in his hand and exposes you to the cold but bearable outside air. You feel a rush of excitement and fear as the doctor explains what might happen next. You bite your lip and eagerly agree before his touch becomes more sensual, his fingers exploring every inch of your tiny body. He whispers words of adoration and desire, making you feel wanted and "normal" in a way you never thought possible.

And then, he begins to squeeze you gently. At first, you are scared, but then you realize that it's not painful. In fact, it's quite pleasurable. As he squeezes, your body releases a burst of juice from below you, and you can't help but let out a moan of ecstasy. The sensation is unlike anything you have ever experienced before. You feel your squishy, plump body becoming more and more aroused and respondent to Dr. Walk's touch.

He continues to squeeze you, and you feel yourself building towards a powerful orgasm. He asks you if he's pushing to hard but you demand that he presses you harder. He pinches you from the belly and back, releasing the last, small flood of juice from your moaning, thinner body as you reach the peak of pleasure. It's a sensation that you'd never forget and soon, learn to crave.

Dr. Walk lovingly puts you back in the bottle, and you dreamily float in the solution, feeling empty and content. You realize that despite your small size and unusual appearance, you are loved and desired by this brilliant scientist. And as you drift off to sleep, you can't help but wonder who else you might meet on this tiny, blue planet.

#expansion #blueberry inflation #shrinking #tiny

[jwriterstuff]

Moi Rae Gon

“You must be truly desperate to seek aid here…” said the cloaked woman in the abandoned house at the top of the hill. A hole in the side where the wall had crumbled away, taking a portion of the roof with it, revealed the grey sky above that hung over the nearby town like a dreary blanket. She faced away from it, with her back to the door and her gaze upon the various tools that once belonged to the shepherd that lived there back when the town was but a small farming village. Before the world changed. “Or incredibly foolish,” she concluded.

The man, dressed in formal attire but with his own cloak protecting him, was taken aback by this sudden announcement for he had just entered the building and not yet introduced himself. Perhaps she had heard his footfalls and laboured breaths as he climbed the hill, but if the stories of the townsfolk were to be believed then she knew a great deal more than that. Before he could approach her, she spoke once again with a voice both as sharp as broken glass and soft as the finest velvet.

“Speak of your ails, he who is a stranger to these lands.”

Stuttering, he finally, through great effort, eked out the formations of a sentence, “The people of the town say that you can help those in need… That you can bend fate.”

“Aye, ‘tis true,” she confirmed, an audible smile curling on her lips in curiosity and intrigue.

“Well… you see. My son… he has fallen ill. The doctors and priests have tried everything but they cannot seem to cure what afflicts him. He has been bedridden for several weeks now and his health continues to decline. I don’t know… please help me.” His voice adopted a pleading, almost begging tone. It was clear that, in his exhaustion, his thoughts were not organised as they erupted from him in a deluge of worries. Anyone else would have looked at the dark circles around his bloodshot eyes and immediately sent him to bed, if they were understanding, or an asylum, if they were not. The woman, however, turned slightly, so he could see her side, rather than her back. Suddenly, another voice, one he was not familiar with yet still originating from her, spoke.

“Let me see him, sister-self,” it said.

“Is that wise, sister-self? He is dishevelled and weak, he is not deserving of our intervention,” replied the woman.

“Indeed, I wish to see his past with my own eyes.”

“Very well,” concluded the woman, who lifted a hand to her hood. Her skin, he noticed, was a perfect match for a clear midnight sky. Slowly, her almost-black-blue hand pulled down her hood, revealing a hairless head and the horrifying revelation of a face protruding from where her ear should have been. A smiling face with delicate features and intense, glowing blue eyes gazed at him from the side of the woman’s head, with her own, near identical face looking at him out of the corner of her own, burning red, eye.

“What?!” he exclaimed, “what is this?” He backed away slightly, his hand behind him feeling for the door while his eyes remained transfixed on this newfound horror.

“Pray tell, what did you think us to be?” said the blue-eyed woman.

“I don’t know! Some kind of wise woman or witch, perhaps, but definitely not this!”

“You need not be afraid of us, assuring you do nothing… unwise,” chimed the red-eyed one.

“Ah, yes, I see him now. He is a man who owns many large buildings, filled with machines for making cloth. He entreats people to come to these buildings and, in turn, makes them slaves to the ticking and whirling of his clock, exchanging them pittances of metals for their time, attention, and devotion. He was most pleased when the so-called salable magic came into being, created by the elf-blood overseas, as it granted him the power to make machines run by themselves and the power to have apathy for the people who once worked for him.”

A tremble had found its way into the man’s body as his feet betrayed his mind and refused to move. “How do you know all this?” he asked with all the caution of someone who had just trodden upon a landmine.

“We know all about you,” the blue-eyed woman’s smile had faded by this point as her mouth almost curled with a hint of disgust, “Richard Altmont.”

Icy terror gripped Altmont’s throat, fighting intensely with the panic that was bubbling up in the form of a frustrated shout, “What is this? Trying to scare me? Take advantage of me? WELL?!”. His eyes darted around the room, desperately searching for some kind of advantage. They hesitated, for just a moment, at the tools on the table where the woman was standing. Particularly, on the set of rusty shears.

“Would you attempt to kill us, Richard Altmont? Would you threaten our life so that we may give you what you want?”

“I don’t… I, uh-” He was cut off, by a third, and final, unfamiliar voice.

“Please, sisters-self. We will converse properly with this man. Whether of his own volition or through outside influence, he is reaching a crossroad and it is important we treat him properly.”

Finally, the woman turned to face him properly, revealing her full, tri-faced visage. On the left was the woman with blue eyes, whose delicate features told of her dislike of the man before them. In the middle was the woman with red eyes, whose more robust and weathered features stared him down with dispassionate study. Finally, the woman on the right had purple eyes and sported an aged face that seemed to look down upon him with condescension. All three sported the same, midnight blue skin and hairless head, creating an otherworldly image, like a painting created by an artist whose grasp on reality was beginning to leave them in their dying moments. Suddenly, the woman raised her arms and the space around them grew dark, as if the sun had suddenly set. The wind no longer howled through the shack and the grass no longer rustled in unison with it, not that Altmont gave his attention to anything that wasn’t what he was witnessing through his wide, frightened eyes. 

Slowly, the faces at the sides of the woman’s head began to pull themselves free of her form. Expecting a spray of blood and viscera, Altmont watched with morbid fascination and rose his hands, ready to shield his eyes, but was surprised to witness that the red liquid he expected was in fact inky shadows that seemed to curl around and reform, creating three almost identical women who slowly encircled him, each with a dress that corresponded with the colour of their eyes.

Altmont whirled around to face the door, much like a rabbit upon seeing a farmer, but froze as the woman in purple stood before him. Behind her, the world had changed to a midnight landscape with tiny, twinkling stars dotting the sky.

“Before you leave, let us ask you properly, Richard Altmont. What is it you want from us?” she asked him.

His heart racing and his head dizzy with fear and uncertainty, he took a deep breath in a desperate attempt to steady himself. “My child is deathly ill and I ask that you please save him”, he pleaded.

“And why should we do such a thing?” questioned the woman in red.

“He is bright!” Altmont exclaimed, “He has his whole future ahead of him and may take over my business or even open his own. He could bring machines into people’s homes; improve their lives!”

“An unlikely outcome,” retorted the soft voice of the woman in blue, “having been raised by a man such as yourself. He who rejected people from work even though they would die of hunger. He who denied his workers time off to grieve or celebrate with their loved ones. You have been an ill liked man who exploited others and praises himself for their success.”

“The boy could be different. As much as he could usher in an easier way of life for everyone he is destined to be but a mirror of you who will poison the world further. He will inherit your factories that people have come to rely on, out of desperation rather than love, and lavish in his ill-gotten gains in the same way as you,” mused the woman in purple.

“I’ll raise him to be better!” he begged, “I’ll change my ways! I’ll give it all up! Please just save him!”

“Regardless of what can or can not be done, we cannot save him. We can only trade.”

“W-what?!” Altmont exploded with rage, “all this performance and you can’t even do anything? What was the point of it? WHAT IS THE POINT OF YOU?!”

“WHAT IS THE POINT OF YOU, RICHARD ALTMONT?” the three women bellowed in unison, causing him to shrink back, seemingly becoming half the man he was when he entered. After a moment of silence, the woman in red continued, “you hear us, but you do not listen. We cannot save your child, but we can offer a trade.”

“Why trade? Why can’t you do me this kindness?”

“Kindness,” the word hung on her lips as if it left a foul taste in her mouth, “has little to do with it. Rather, it is the law.”

“What law? And whose?”

“The universal law of equivalent exchange. All creatures know it to be true, deep in your hearts, that in order to gain, you must first lose.”

“Why is that? It’s hardly fair!”

“On the contrary, it is absolute fairness. It’s the way it always is.”

“Always was,” continued the woman in blue.

“And always will be,” concluded the woman in purple.

“Alright, fine, a trade… What is it you want? Money? Jewels? Some of the ‘saleable magic’ you mentioned earlier? Tell me!”

“You misunderstand, Richard Altmont,” said the woman in red, “the value must be equal.”

“An eye for an eye,” muttered the woman in blue.

“A tooth for a tooth,” echoed the woman in purple.

“A life for a life,” finished the woman in red.

The room fell into silence. He had come here in search of a way to save his son, the heir to his fortune and legacy which he would then pass on to his own children in the future. Yet here he was, stood in front of three magical beings who were telling him to die. A hollow pit opened up in his stomach as he began to drown in the wash of worries that he had been suppressing from the moment he stepped foot in this horrid little shack. Slowly, his feet began to shift as he, once more, headed for the exit in abject defeat.

“Electing to leave, then?” queried the woman in purple, her glowing eyes illuminating his face.

“Of course I am!” he spat, “You three would have me stand here and beg you to show some kind of mercy but instead you tell me to die? How cruel are you?”

“No more cruel than you will inevitably become after watching your child writhe in agony up until his final moments. You will lead your life a miserable miser, malcontented and spiteful, up until your dying days. No one will miss you when you depart this mortal coil. In fact, some may even celebrate.”

Her words clearly shook him, “but what can I do?” he said, the sadness falling from his voice like a wilting vibrato.

“You know what to do, Richard Altmont,” said the woman in red, “the Shades are owed a soul and they shall have it regardless of whatever you choose. Know that most parents would instead choose to stand here and say our name rather than live with their agonising decision until time’s end.”

Moving back into the room with a renewed desperation, “You horrid sisters! You would tempt me back in only to tell me to do something impossible! I don’t know who you are!”

“Silly boy, you know who we are.”

“We are the body, mind, and spirit. The One Who Is Three,” the woman in blue began.

“We are life, death, and rebirth. The Three Who Are One,” the woman in purple continued.

“We are the past, present, and future. The Moi Rae Gon,” the woman in red concluded.

Gradually, each sister raised her hands as they said their piece. Beneath where the man was standing, a glowing trinity knot appeared with each of them standing in one of the arches and him standing at the centre. 

“MOI RAE GON,” they chanted in unison.

Panic began to rise within him once again. His heart was thumping in his chest as he felt the sudden thrum of magic beneath his feet and the rush of air that seemed to come from directly below him.

“MOI RAE GON,” they continued.

The feeling rose without limit. A scream was climbing its way up from deep within his stomach but he refused to let it out. Slowly, his lips began to twitch, mimicking the letters coming from the sisters’ mouths. He had no time to think, no time to plan. Would he suffer their wrath if he fled? Would he even be able to live with himself if he did? His head pounded with those words, over and over, it was all he could think about. It was all there was. 

“Moi Rae Gon…”

* * *

“It seems he was truly desperate to seek aid from us…” said the cloaked woman in the abandoned house at the top of the hill. The lifeless body of the man formerly known as Richard Altmont lay behind her, pallid as the clouds above and empty as if everything that made him alive had been simply and suddenly removed. Slowly, she ran her midnight blue fingers over the rusty shears, “or incredibly foolish”.

“Would he have been able to kill us, given the opportunity?” asked the woman in blue.

“Unlikely, while he was a selfish man in life he was never the sort to kill another. Say, sister-self, what will become of the boy?”

“He will grow up lacking the guidance and perspective his father could have granted him,” the woman in purple began. “Instead, he will be taught by others to conduct his father’s business in the way they believe he should do it. He will be hated in his position, but he will not know it. Soon enough, there will come a time when those below him, whom he will never as much as carry a conversation with, will band together with the aim of revolting against his status quo. He will be ousted from his stone building and beaten to death in the street. It will be a surprise to him, though not to anyone else who might’ve been paying the slightest bit of attention.”

“Why did we do it if he was just going to die in the end anyway?” mused the woman in blue.  “The outcome seems to have nary a difference.”

A lengthy silence hung in the room before the woman in red finally responded, “because he asked for something that didn’t benefit him… for once.”

And so, she turned and exited the run down shack at the top of the hill. The wind had stopped howling through its empty bones, leaving the corpse inside to its peaceful slumber. No one would know of the events that transpired regarding the ancient power of three magic eyes that beheld a rich man’s untimely demise. A young life was changed while another’s was redrawn. By the twisting of fate. By the Moi Rae Gon.

#Fantasy #original work #short story #fiction #original characters #dark #cw death #gods #magic #writer

[sunshineacd]

Hello! I’m back for a wip wednesday because we are finally getting to write again.

Carlos’ hand is simply hovering over the knot of his tie, ready to nervously pull it away from his neck when he hears his mother’s voice.

“Carlitos, leave it be.” She says it right on cue and it is even more impressive given that she’s staring directly ahead of her. Andrea Reyes had always had the superpower of being able to know exactly what is happening even when it’s happening in her peripheral vision or behind her. But ever since she had become president, that power had increased to a whole new degree.

Carlos goes through the checklist in his head as the duke and duchess approach: stand up straight, shoulders back, head high. It’s a routine that has been drilled into his head since he was a kid but even more so since his mother had entered her presidency. However, he falters in all of it as his eyes fall onto a man that had been trailing behind the royal couple and who comes to a halt in front of Carlos.

He is wearing a crisp white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to just below his elbows, a pair of dark grey dress pants and he has stunning green eyes. Carlos wants to pull his gaze away, knows it’s rude to stare but he quickly finds he’s unable to. He further falters, his shoulders falling as the man smiles, just a soft curl of his lips.

“Carlos.” His mother’s voice floats up to his ears and he quickly realises that it’s not just his mother’s voice, but it’s her presidential voice. Stern and important. Carlos quickly breaks the gaze and he feels heat creep up his spine, both from having the man’s gaze on him for so long and for embarrassing himself already.

He meets the gazes of the duke and duchess instead and thankfully, they both have patient looks on their faces. Carlos knows his mother has already introduced him and so he simply takes to bowing.

“We are delighted to have you and your family as guests for the holidays, Madame President.” The duchess says, gently. “I hope everything has been to your liking since you’ve arrived.”

“It has, thank you. We appreciate you opening up your home to us, especially at the holidays.”

Carlos zones out of the conversation as his gaze once again finds the man. He feels a blush on the back of his neck as he already finds him staring back. Carlos can’t help but to smile and he quickly looks down, hoping to collect himself only slightly. When he glances upwards again, he finds that he is now alone with the man, his parents and the duke and duchess having moved on. Carlos swallows hard, trying to find the words.

“Carlos, right?” The man says suddenly and hearing his name in such a gentle tone makes him weak in the knees. “I’m TK Strand, the private secretary to the duke and duchess.”

TK puts a hand out towards him and it takes everything within Carlos to raise his own, slipping it into TK’s grasp. He tells his mind to not think about how warm TK’s skin feels against his own or how good he looks in a simple white shirt.

“It’s nice to meet you.” Carlos says, his tone unbelievably steady despite how nervous he suddenly is. TK smiles again, this time fully and it causes his eyes to crinkle in the corners.

“It’s nice to meet you.” TK repeats back to him and they still have yet to let go of each other’s hands despite them just hanging in mid air. Carlos really hopes that his blush isn’t as visible as he thinks it is.

“Carlos,” Judd’s voice startles him as he steps up behind him and Carlos immediately drops TK’s hand. “Your parents are requesting your presence.”

Carlos clears his throat. “Yes, of course. Thank you.”

“I will see you around.” TK says and Carlos isn’t sure if it’s meant to sound like a promise but the way TK smiles at him says that that’s exactly how he had meant it. TK turns away in a fluid motion and looks around the room before he crosses to stand at the sides of the duke and duchess once again.

Carlos turns around and finds Judd staring at him, a raised eyebrow and a questioning look in his eyes. Carlos has always known that Judd can see right through him but right at this moment, he does not appreciate it. He just simply shakes his head and walks past Judd to find his parents. Judd allows him to walk for a few steps before he begins to follow, a safe but not too far distance away.

Carlos hears his mother’s words echo in his head Carlitos, leave it be as he reaches up and pulls his tie to loosen it away from his neck. Only then and when he’s sure he’s no longer in the same room as TK is he able to fully breathe again.

#911 lone star #tarlos #wip wednesday #userkimmy #tusersonia #userthai #paige writes

[pahrak-the-sinnoh-slizer]

River's Rage

He broke the surface of the lake only to find more water, a cold rainstorm that felt like icy bullets shooting him full of holes.  Deep gasps let him fill his deflated lungs, and then he furiously swung his limbs to propel himself towards the shore—or so he hoped, unable to see much of anything in the darkness.  Soon he could feel his feet brushing against the sloping ground beneath the lake.  He kept going until he could stand with the water reaching chest-level, at which point he allowed himself one short moment to rest his sore body.  Upon clearing his eyes, however, he cursed himself for thinking he’d have even that long.

It stood ahead on the shore, fixing its eerie yellow eyes on him, just waiting, watching him.  When it realized he was watching back, it chuckled and rose to its full height.  Its limbs were long and lanky, but swelled with powerful, compact muscle at every movement.  Webbed claws glinted in what little light pierced the clouds.  Those eerie, horrible yellow eyes stared down a razor-sharp beak, and above them, at the top of its skull, was a wide, deep crater almost like a bowl, edged with small flaps of hair.  It bowed, and water spilled out of the cranial depression.  The rain immediately started to refill it as the creature straightened its back.

“Good evening, dear fellow!”  Its voice was hoarse yet piercing, every carefully chosen word dripping with malice.  “I must admit, I feared you were done for when ol’ Mudsy sent the reaperfish after you, but it seems I worried for naught!  Truly remarkable!”

He didn’t dare move an inch, not forward nor back.  “Great, another one.  Just tell me why you’re here.”

It cocked its head.  “Beg pardon?  I merely thought we should be properly introduced to one another.”  Holding its arms wide, its beak twisted into a deep, dark grin.  “Lord Kamikawa Getsumaru, Baron of the Western Antarctic Delta, at your service.  And what is your name, my friend?”

He thrust one hand forward.  A reddish-yellow flower bloomed on his wrist, and from it, a vine grew rapidly to shoot across the gap at Kamikawa.  The creature dodged, diving into the lake, and in a fraction of a second it was behind him.  For a moment, he froze.

“Ah yes, your scorch-wither primrose—quite lovely, now that I look at it more closely.  You must perform an exemplary job in caring for it.”

Hoping to catch it off-guard, he whirled about as the vine was retracting.  Kamikawa vanished as soon as he made the slightest movement.

“Quah hah hah!” it laughed, popping up out of the water a few yards away.  “Don’t strain yourself, child—surely you know a land-dweller like you could never best a kappa in aquatic combat, no?”

Not letting himself freeze this time, he dashed onto the shore, while Kamikawa simply moved to the lake’s edge and shook its head.

“Really now, must you be so difficult?  All I’ve done is ask your name.”

“All you’ve done…?”  The primrose glowed faintly as he ground his teeth.  “You bastards have done plenty!  Destroyed our homes, slaughtered our people, enslaved the survivors…what makes you think this planet belongs to you?”

Kamikawa sighed.  “Yes, how silly of us to seize ownership of the planet, because you humans were doing such a good job taking care of it.  Might I remind you who it was that raised the sea level so high in the first place, hm?  Why, if we hadn’t stopped you, I doubt you’d have any land at all left to stand on!”

“What, should we thank you?!”

“Well, it would certainly be more mannerly than whatever this is.”

Snarling, he made a flourish.  More vines grew from his primrose, this time shaping into a bow that he drew back as an arrow formed in its notch.  Kamikawa came onto land as he fired.  Stepping out of the arrow’s path was easy, but shock finally crossed its face when the arrow exploded mid-flight, littering the shore with thorny caltrops that were already growing roots.  A volley of ten arrows came next, forcing Kamikawa to dodge—placing its foot directly upon one of the caltrops.  The puncture wound was painful, but the pain only truly blossomed when the plant started rapidly siphoning the moisture out of the kappa’s body.  Its howl was horrific.

“Gotcha!”  The human ran forward, his primrose now forming a thorned glove around his fist.  “Turn to dust!”

He aimed a haymaker at the kappa.  It was close, but Kamikawa pulled out of the way, and before he knew what was happening he was facedown in the mud.

“Con…found it!”  Kamikawa yanked its leg free.  Grabbing its foe by the arm, it hoisted him into the air and knocked the wind out of him, his primrose wilting slightly as he groaned.  “How infuriating you are!”

He shut his eyes, waiting for what came next.

“Hrrr…I suppose it’s enough that I asked for your name, even if you refused to answer.  Alright then, land-dweller: time for you to run on home.”

His eyes opened on their own.  “…Huh?  You’re…not going to—"

“Eat you?  No, much as I’d like to; Mudsy was quite clear I was not to interfere in his little chase, and it would be quite poor manners to break my word, now wouldn’t it?  You’ve escaped him, so escape you shall.  However.”

It drew close to his face, eerie eyes glowing, hideous grin plastered across its beak.

“Don’t think I won’t remember you.  Should we happen to meet again, my obligation will have long expired, leaving no reason for me not to gut you on the spot.  ‘Til then!”

#writing #original work #wanted to try a new idea for our speculative fiction assignment #needs work but I think it's a good start to something #Pahrak writes stuff #Pahrak goes to college