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bits-and-babs · 7 months

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✦ 𝐏𝐈𝐗𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐃 ✦

– KINKTOBER DAY 1: CAMGIRL!READER

simon riley x camgirl!reader | smut, 18+ | 1.3k words

summary: a new client sends a request for a solo-cam performance. his lack of detail and scarce details leave you unprepared.

cw: f!reader, sexwork, dirty talk, breast-play, m & f masturbation, use of sex toy, use of honorific 'sir' but no real power dynamic.

⇽ KINKTOBER MLIST | DAY 2: TOUCH STARVED ⇾

❝On Deployment. Don’t be afraid.❞

Cryptic in its context, the message that popped up from your new client in the lower right corner of your computer screen made you smirk at the time. However, gazing at the skull-faced mask that materialised on the pixelated video screen when you answered the video call that swiftly followed, your amusement slips from your lips. Username ‘Ghost’ hadn’t been making some kind of arcane joke about the size of his dick being too much for you…

“Oh,” you let out a weak laugh, eyes slipping over the grainy footage as ‘Ghost’ leaned back in his seat, immense, bulging arms crossing over the plane of his chest, “When you said… I wasn’t expecting that.”

“Can’t take off the mask,” the gruff, northern accent that rumbles through the computer speakers sends a ripple down your spine– a concoction of a nervous chill and delighted arousal. It metastasises in your guts when you watch him spread his legs, the blackness in the eye sockets of the skull burning through you even behind a screen. “The URA don’t take kindly t’people contactin’ cam-girls.”

URA. United Republic of Adal.

“You’re– On a military base?” The question passes your lips before you have the opportunity to think better. The plain black t-shirt stretched across his humongous frame gives little away, but the khaki-camo pants and the silver dog tags glinting in the low light of the room seem to corroborate his claims.

“Can’t divulge that information.”

Of course he couldn’t. Obviously.

“Y’can call me sir.” ‘Ghost’ clearly had experience contacting cam-girls, leading with his preferred address. It’s impossible to ignore that tingling arousal creeping into the pit of your stomach again, knowing you were in for a ride– so to speak.

“Yes sir,” you answer to his demand, watching as ‘Ghost’ rubbed his palms over the top of his camo-clad thighs. You note the grainy blackness across the back of his hands; a tattoo. Most clients were secretive in their own camera-exposure, focusing the frame on their head and shoulders while pleasuring themselves off camera. ‘Ghost’s’ whole body was on display, offering just as much of a show for yourself.

It was thrilling.

“Lose the bra.”

“Yes sir,” you nod, compliant to his demands. Reaching behind your back, you unclasp the lacy bra you’d chosen specifically for this cam-session. Your contact with ‘Ghost’ had been minimal, limited in the information he would reveal to you. It was entertaining this way, guessing at what you should wear like taking a crack at an enigma code. A shot in the dark; you’d gone for simple black. Slowly slipping the unadorned bra from your arms, you made a note of your victory when you hear–

“Fuck, that’s it,” ‘Ghost' mumbles beneath his breath, and you’re unsure if he was unaware of the sensitivity of his microphone, or if he’d meant for you to hear his whispered praise. You can’t find it in yourself to warn him when his palm settles over his crotch, inhaling sharply as he lifts his hips up to grind into it.

Cupping your breasts in your hands, you squeeze the supple flesh so it bulges slightly between your fingers. It’s as natural as breathing now, a learnt behaviour after months of cam-work. Nothing special, but it gets ‘Ghost’s’ attention.

“Hmm, fuckin’ ‘ell,” he groans softly, quick to work himself out of the khaki uniform trousers. You have half a mind to inform his superior that one of his soldiers had stolen a weapon from the armoury, watching him wrap his hand around his throbbing cock in a tight fist. “Get real close to the camera. Wanna see you fuck yourself, love.”

You remember his initial request, much like his communications with you; simple and lacking detail. ‘Fuck urself w/ ur largest toy. Panties on’. Though, gazing at the image of him on your computer screen through heavy lids, you weren’t sure even your largest dildo compared to the girth he held in his hand. The ruddy tip is shiny, and you can just barely make out the shadows of bulging veins where his palm couldn’t reach.

“Fuckkk,” ‘Ghost’ groans when you ease the tip of the toy in, camera angled just right to see you clench around the silicone but also to show your eyes rolling back. “That’s it. Greedy cunt’s swallowin’ it all. Look at you creamin’ around it–”

For a man so unwilling to talk much in any other set of circumstances, ‘Ghost’ was particularly mouthy now. Even as the head of the toy touches something mind-numbing inside of you, a delirious, breathy giggle escapes you at the thought.

Beginning to push the toy in and out of your cunt, you watch ‘Ghost’ begin to fist his cock with a grunt. His eyes stay glued to the screen, enraptured by the way your walls squeeze the toy so tightly. It’s hard to miss the way his lungs rattle with unsteady breaths, the sheer size of him making a slight tremble appear like a shudder so violent it could trigger an avalanche.

“Christ, I’d fuckin’ ruin you. Fuckin’ split you open and flood that cunt with my cum,” he moans, the sound wanton and wholely unmatching his intimidating size. It takes you a moment for your vision to focus before you note the slow, methodical rise of his fist, matching the strokes of the toy inside of you.

Like he was imagining fucking you.

Your own arousal spiking with the realisation, you thrust the toy inside of you quicker, more eagerly. It's ecstasy, the head of the toy spearing something inside of you that has your legs quaking. “Ugh– hhahah, ohmygod, oh fuck–”

‘Ghost’ continues to talk you through your squeals of delight, his gruff voice particularly throaty now as he matches the violent thrusts of the toy. “Good fuckin’ girl, love. If you were here I’d fuckin’ paint your face with it– fuck!”

It’s like a chain reaction, the usually stoic man’s filthy comments causing a visible clench of your cunt when you cum around the toy. It makes ‘Ghost’ cum. White floods your vision, but the static sound in your ears can’t drown out the gruff, choked sounds that play from your speakers.

When your blurred vision finally centres, ‘Ghost’s’ fingers are drenched with thick ropes of cum, the creamy spend dropping from his knuckles onto the khaki of his trousers. Leaning his head over the back of the chair with a shaky exhale, the black hem of the ski-mask rides up slightly, exposing the bulging veins beneath the pale, rosy skin of his neck. It’s a tantalising glimpse of the man behind the obscure username, underneath the skeleton-veil. Instantaneously, you’re like an addict– desperate for more, one hit isn’t enough to satiate the screaming need inside of you for another inch of skin.

It’s why you leap out of bed at 04:27am when you receive a message weeks after you’d hit ‘end call’, the promise of your next fix delivered in a cryptic message deposited in a private messaging chat that had lay dormant since the footage went black.

‘Want u on ur knees this time. Panties in ur mouth, fingers in ur cunt.’

Biting on a grin, you rush to answer. He was still in the URA, the digits on the clock in the top right of your phone evidence of a timezone difference. It was still relatively early there– like he’d finished his shift and immediately contacted you. Like he couldn’t wait to jack off to the image of you stuffing your cunt with your fingers and whining his name.

Fuck the four figure amount he’d deposited into your bank as thanks for the last video call, the thought alone is enough to urge your fingers beneath the waistband of your panties, circling your clit as you clumsily type with one hand to respond to his demand.

‘Yes sir x’

cod mwii/kinktober taglist:

@mortallyuniquepeach @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @crybaby-blue-blog @heart-atttack @pansa-1-san @maviee @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago @s-u-t @ghostslynx @solidly-indulgent @glitterypirateduck @gummyfang @bii-aan-ckaa @konigsblog @crissteetee @crissteetee67 @sylvanasthebansheequeen @akaym2 @exploremyworldsm @thriving-n-jiving @su57 @cabreezer0117 @cathnoneofyourbusiness @marygraceee @thatchickwiththecamera @legend-o-zelda @eatingtheworldsoffanfiction @tusk89 @bellasbees01 @dog55teeth

@mockerycrow @bubuslutty @cheezitwh0re @haunt3dh3art @levi-llama @thebiscuitsheep @maelstrom007 @alexxavicry @bug-sy-boy @glennrheesworld @kittenfrostt @luvfromkat @blingblong55 @whore4dilfs @wolfyland07 @doggydale @dog55teeth @cabreezer0117 @cathnoneofyourbusiness @marygraceee @thatchickwiththecamera @legend-o-zelda @whore-for-anime @i-love-ghost @cyberpr1m3 @mockerycrow @bubuslutty @lundenloves @cheezitwh0re @haunt3dh3art @babychoi03 @infectedkura @allekat1988 @whore-for-anime @soupbinsoup @passi0np1t @mockerycrow @cyberpr1m3 @i-love-ghost @allekat1988 @infectedkura @babychoi03 @freakquenci @maviee @yunggoblin @sleepystaarr @watyousayin @soupbinsoup @passi0np1t @damn-dean-blog @pheonyxmoon @magicalreviewphantom @limegreenbabx @johfaam0 @iaur @justsayk

@bloodmoon-bites @wiltedwonderland @doggydale @limegreenbabx @namelesshumanperson @ninahhh-brahh

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chososdiscordkitten · 2 months

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Could I Film You?

Synopsis: Giving hiromi head nd he asks to film (Failed) :P

Pairing: Higuruma x GN!reader Content: praise, use of darling nd gorgeous, oral (m), cum play(?), and facial, reader wears lipstick, should be it:)

MDNI

Hiromi was a simple man. Rough day at the office? Knowing your mouth was waiting for him once he steps through the door, the mere thought of going home to you, was all he needed to feel better.

And you being all he could dream of, you'd welcome him home with a smile. Already being able to see the frustration in his furrowed brow. And as you led him into his home office, telling him it's okay, you'll take care of him and make it all better.

Hiromi relaxed on the leather sofa in his office, the top three buttons undone on his white dress shirt. His black tie loosened significantly as he watched your painted lips press warm, open-mouthed kisses down his tan shaft, leaving small prints on the skin. Eyes locked with his as you trailed them up his tip.

Being able to feel your adoration through the gentle pecks your lips planted on his cock.

Hiromi's low eyes looked down at you expectantly, reaching his hand to your face- caressing your cheek with his thumb as his lips parted. Finding your admiration-filled eyes staring up at him.

Dragging his thumb against your rouged bottom lip. With a small smile, you pursed your lips- kissing the pad of his thumb gently as he sighed. Seeing you on your knees, looking up at him with those big eyes, always knocked the air out of his lungs.

Pulling your lips from his thumb, swiping them with your tongue as you eyed his fat, pinkening tip- a small dribble of precum daring to fall.

Parting your lips before leaning down to his tip, "Darling?" he spoke up, "Could I-" Hiromi murmured, seeing you hesitate, "Could I film you?" with a smooth tone, trying to keep the question casual.

Hiromi had thought of asking you this. Knowing if he had a reminder of what awaited him at home, he wouldn't be so upset midway through the work day.

The corner of your lips curled into a smile, unaware of where the sudden confidence to ask such a thing, came from. Nodding your head, 'yes' with a gentle smile as he hurriedly reached into his blazer's breast pocket. He pulled out his phone and swiped to the side to open the camera, smiling when the lens displayed you perfectly.

"You gonna watch it later?" you teased in a sultry tone- hearing the small beep from his phone signaling he pressed record. Hiromi parted his lips to speak, only for you to gently kiss his crying tip- coaxing a hiss from his lips instead.

Watching you through the screen as you darted your tongue out. "I'll only ever watch it when I miss yo-" your tongue interrupted Hiromi's declaration with a sharp inhale, feeling the tip of your tongue lick up and down the underside of his cock.

Trailing the tip of your tongue up the v below Hiromi's cockhead as his shoulders shivered, licking small swipes against the opening of his tip. Tasting his salty tears of precum on the palate of your tongue.

Looking up past the phone Hiromi held with a firm hand. Seeing his head fall back onto the leather chair, eyeing his prominent adams apple that bobbed with every gulp. His lips parted with quiet moans trembling past them.

Swirling your tongue around his tip as your hands trailed up his shins covered by black slacks, seeing his head flip back upright and look down at you. Parting your lips wide enough for his fat tip to press against your tongue. His half-lidded eyes watched you through the pixels, wrapping your lips around his cockhead- your hands trailing up his thighs as he let out a throaty moan.

Blinking your eyes shut as your tongue swirled around his head, "That's it gorgeous." he huffed with a low moan, clutching onto the phone in his hand as you lowered your lips further on his member.

Pinching your eyebrows together from his fat tip threatening to push past your tonsils, your spit trickling down his shaft as you halted your lowering. Knowing you wouldn't be able to fit most of his member in your mouth- you held your tongue flat against the prominent ridge that ran down the underside of his cock.

You dragged up his shaft slowly, holding your hands flat on his thighs as you held his tip in your mouth with a taught circle from your lips. Opening your eyes and seeing his cheeks flushed and his bottom lip quivering, taking a light hand to graze his shaft- holding it in gently as your tongue licked against his tip.

A strangled curse left Hiromi's lips, watching intently as your hand started stroking his shaft slowly, the other trailing down his inner thigh. Your soft fingers grazed his heavy balls as you let more spit trail past your lips- supplying your stroking hand lubricant.

His thick fingers holding his phone were struggling to keep it still, and his eyes were desperate to stay open- but your palm massaging his balls sent a chill down his spine- tonguing his cockhead as you stroked him didn't help either. Sliding your lips from the ridge of his tip, kissing the side of his sensitive head.

Seeing his hand was struggling to stay upright- determined to continue filming you. He was so eager to have some kind of reminder on his phone whenever he needed to see it.

Smiling as your hands kept their slow pace- wanting to drag out the delicious pleasure, he was feeling right now for as long as you could, "Lemme take care of you, Hiromi-" your lips brushed against his cock, seeing him press the power button on his phone. "Jus' relax, okay?" you crooned quietly, parting your lips again before taking his head to your tongue once more.

As much as the idea of not being able to revisit this moment in its entirety pained Hiromi. He found solace knowing he had a few minutes of you pleasing him on his phone now.

"You're perfect-" he huffed as you licked small stripes on the underside of his head. Hiromi's eyes wanted to take in every millisecond of you kneeling before him. Trying his very best to keep his eyes open as you hollowed your cheeks, lowering your lips further on his cock as your hand pumped his base.

Hiromi let out a throaty groan as he felt your mouth engulf what you could of his cock, your palm fondling his balls, quickening its massage- the whimpers he tried holding in his chest slowly leaving his throat as his tip breached your throat- "You're gonna make me cum-" he managed through struggling grunts, only earning for you to push further down- pulling your hand from his base as your nose grazed against his well-trimmed pubes.

You have always told Hiromi it was okay to cum in your throat- but your assurances never convinced him. Even when you told him how satisfying it is to feel his cum trickled down your throat. He still didn't believe you. No, Hiromi much preferred seeing his mess on your face- proof of him being there.

Your throat contracted around Hiromi's cock, forcing him to hunch over with a low groan. Placing both of his hands on the side of your head before pulling you from his cock. A fucked out smile on your lips as you connected your hand to his shaft once more, his balls convulsing in your palm while you stroked him harshly. Smiling with a huff as his seed shot onto your skin.

Eyes half-lidded as he watched his cum glaze your face, the corner of your painted lip smudged, and your eyes teary. Being able to feel his frustrations and stress leave his tense shoulders with every pump of warm seed that left him, and landed on the curve of your cheek.

His grunts were hoarse- watching as your fist milked every drop of his seed onto your face with a smile. Hiromi's cock slowly started to soften in your grasp. His groans quieted, trying to catch his breath.

Hiromi's eyes scanned your coated face as he reached a shaky thumb to your cheek. Knowing you had a penchant for tasting his seed in one way or another.

Clenching his jaw as he thought of what he was doing instinctively, picking up a dollop of his mess from your skin before pressing his thumb onto your parted bottom lip. Earning for you to welcome his coated thumb. Your tongue cleaning the pad of his finger happily.

"Let's get you cleaned up hm?" he smiled, slipping his thumb from your lips- licked clean as he expected.

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seulszn · 2 months

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Listen I love TLOU and the fandom very much but a lot of people (not calling anybody out) need a reality check and need to grow up. I wanna say my two cents on things that bother me in this fandom.

1. Boycotting for Palestine

I have seen multiple times on multiple occasions where people would sit on their phone and complain about why writers are “flooding the tags with this boycotting bullshit” and honestly all I have to say is your super childish you can’t take a hour or a week out of your day to raise awareness on a important topic that is affecting millions of people? Your so horny so down bad for pixelated characters that you don’t care about the innocent children, women and men that are dying in Palestine? The boycotting isn’t gonna stop just because you want your needs filled, the boycotting isn’t going to stop because you think it needs to, it’s not gonna stop until Palestine is free. And if you wanna read things that bad then read nobody is stoping you but a take into ignition that if a writer is spreading awareness then don’t be ignorant and say stupid shit

2. Less Sex and more angst or other genres.

Listen I love Abby and Ellie just like everyone else and I read a lot of smut about them but does that all y’all see when y’all look at them? As sex objects? Like I’m not saying that you should stop writing smut for those characters but write other things to that don’t involve smut, like angst I see a lot of people under that tag say how they wish writers would as write other things that isn’t just smut and majority of the time when they say that they get hated for it. It lowkey gets boring reading fanfics where the whole plot is smut, smut, smut. And again I’m not saying to stop writing smut but please for the love of whatever you believe in write other genres.

3. Black inclusivity

As a black writer and a black person TLOU tag isn’t inclusive enough. I know you must be thinking “Why are we speaking about this again?” Because I’m honestly so tired of how uninclusive the fandom is like I said before Ellie dates WOC if you don’t know what WOC is it’s Women Of Color all of Ellie’s girlfriends where WOC now I’m not saying you can’t write for Ellie as a white person and I’m not saying that never did all I am saying is once again all of Ellie’s girlfriend where POC

Riley was a Black African American who Dated Ellie

Cat the girl who wasn’t mentioned alot but is in the game is Asian American who also dated Ellie

Dina is a Jewish (Mexican, Middle Eastern ) American who dated Ellie

Also yes we know when the reader is white coded so don’t try a put that you don’t mention when race mentioned cause you do and we can tell when you do “She’s Petite and cute with her long blonde hair” or whatever you bitches be saying we know when you guys aren’t inclusive the whole point of fanfiction writing is to be inclusive is to make sure that readers can see themself in your xreader so if your putting all these “white things and then labeling your story as “the readers race is not mentioned” or that OC stuff that y’all do then just label the story as a white reader or a OC reader

4. Futa, trans and masc

Now here I’m gonna discuss two or three things starting off with Futa and Trans. Now I don’t know when “Futa” or “Trans” Ellie and Abby came from but a lot of you readers need to understand and learn the difference between the two because they are both very different things.

Futanari: is the Japanese word for hermaphroditism, which is also used in a broader sense for androgyny. Beyond Japan, the term has come to be used to describe a commonly pornographic genre of eroge, manga, and anime, which includes characters that show primary sexual characteristics from both females and males. In today's language, it refers almost exclusively to characters who have an overall feminine body, but have both female and male primary genitalia (although a scrotum is not always present, while breasts, a penis, and a vulva are). The term is also often abbreviated as futa(s), which is also used as a generalized term for the works themselves.

Transgender (often shortened to trans) is someone whose gender identity differs from that typically associated with the sex they were assigned at birth. Some transgender people who desire medical assistance to transition from one sex to another identify as transsexual. Transgender is also an umbrella term; in addition to including people whose gender identity is the opposite of their assigned sex (trans men and trans women), it may also include people who are non-binary or genderqueer. Other definitions of transgender also include people who belong to a third gender, or else conceptualize transgender people as a third gender. The term may also include cross-dressers or drag kings and drag queens in some contexts. The term transgender does not have a universally accepted definition, including among researchers.

Mind you I am not transgender I am nonbinary but I see a lot of transgender people speak up about how offensive it is to write a character as Transgender but it’s not really transgender but a Futanari remember a Futa is a character who is assigned a gender at birth but just has extra sexual parts like a penis.

Now another thing that bothers me is how y’all Masculinize Masc Lesbians as if they still aren’t women themselves like every time I read a fanfic with Ellie or Abby or even Vi and Sevika from Arcane you guys like to ignore they fact that they are also women themselves like it’s not gonna kill you to give those characters feminine compliments there shouldn’t be a reason why your calling these women “handsome” or other Masculine compliments and also a lot of Masculine women where makeup it’s not just a feminine woman thing. Masc Lesbians are women they aren’t men so stop treating them as if they are men and ignoring the fact that they are women

5. the Innocent childish reader gotta stop.

They title says enough I don’t think I need to say too much but a lot of y’all get innocent and corruption mixed up but a corruption kink is When you find the idea of "corrupting" someone, mostly in a sexual way, like taking virginities or introducing people to stuff like bdsm etc. It's the idea of having someone "pure" do "bad" things under your influence. And innocent is not corrupted or tainted with evil or unpleasant emotion; sinless; pure. not guilty of a particular crime; blameless. (From the dictionary)

Y’all need to understand yes not everyone knows what sex is but everyone knows what a vagina is what a penis is, what a orgasm is and what sex is but they may not knows what happens when you have sex so making the reader what y’all call innocent isn’t innocent it’s honestly to me perverted cause the only one who would say something like “my cunny feels weird 🥺” or that “what is sex 🥺” is a child. Children don’t know what sex is children don’t know what pleasure or orgasms is and when y’all say “the reader is a Bimbo” is also funny cause Bimbos know what sex is as well yes they may be stupid but they aren’t slow so before you make a innocent reader please think “am I making my reader act like a child or am I gonna make her really innocent like how regular grown ass adults act?” so don't get not knowing and "innocent" mixed up

6. The stories where they have sex inside a church also gotta stop

Now I’m not a Christian but these stories are honestly really bad and are Blasphemy a lot of people have come out and said that they don’t like the fact that people are writing stories about church in a sexual way like their shouldn’t be any reason why your characters are fucking inside a church, that’s like stomping on someone’s dead grave. You guys do shit like this and then wonder why Christian’s don’t like us. Religion isn’t something to be sexualized it’s not something to be playing with either this idc how much you hate Christianity you can be a Atheist, or Catholic or Jewish but please for the love of whatever you believe in don’t sexualize people’s religion.

That’s all I can think of at the moment if I think of more I’ll of course make a part two to this but don’t take anything I said here to heart it’s just my blunt honest opinion on things in this fandom and if I get hate for this 🤷🏾‍♀️

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goldentemplariumcrow · 8 months

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As a stationery and fountain pen affictionada...

This. Still. Makes. Me. Laugh.

Let me explain why:

Look at how Tim is holding the pen. Stylistic choice or not, that grip means he's putting pressure on the pen. That he's heavy handing his writing.

Now look at the pen. That's a fountain pen. Fountain pens work through combined capillary and gravity action that makes the ink flow down to the nib naturally when the pen is in writing position and in contact with a writing surface; which is, depending on the model, between 45° and 60° angle in the vast majority of the cases.

Most fountain pens aren't made to sustain heavy hand writers. In fact, a great number of them is used to correct the grip, angle, muscle memory and heaviness of a person's handwriting style, since the simple act of touching the nib on paper easily makes the ink come out.

Now, look at Damian's implied facial expression and body language. Yes, we can all shrug it's just his rivalry with Tim that makes him react like that, it's a perfectly reasonable way to explain it all. However, for a fountain pen affictionado, for someone who loves fine writing instruments, that right there is a sentence of death.

Damian isn't just seeing Tim use his pen. He's seeing Tim, a person who couldn't care less for the writing tools he's using, obliterate the tines by placing way too much force on them. He's horrified of his favorite writing instrument being damaged by Tim's disregard with it, which is the most common reaction ever when any fountain pen lover sees their favorite pen being held and used by another person without their authorization.

Damian isn't overreacting at all.

The fountain pen community can confirm it.

[EDIT]

I know it's no ones concern, but as a lover of fountain pens, I kind of had to give a huge zoom-in in a version of this that isn't as pixelated and... guys, I think I know which fountain pen is this!

I may be wrong, but I think that's a Lamy Safari Black Charcoal model!

In the comic we can't see the window or the triangular grip very well (I can kind of see a shadow of the triangular shape, but I'm not calling it without being certain) and it looks a bit chonkier, but look at that cap! That minimalist cap with the sturdy yet simple, black clip and small gap on the top of the cap! That's a cap for a Lamy Safari model if I ever saw one!

Yes, maybe it can be some other fancier and more expensive brand, most Lamy's I've seen are between 30-60USD with special collections being a little closer to the 80USD mark on really expensive shops online, but let me make an argument for it.

A Lamy Safari fountain is considered a popular workhorse among affictionados and artists alike. Not only it's reliable, with a simple yet stylish body and construct that serves to pretty much every occasion, its construct is simple in terms of maintainance and handling. Want to go travel on a plane? No problem, take the cartridges with you! Prefer bottle ink? Not a problem at all, here's the converter for all your bottled ink needs! Oh, the standard medium nib isn't to your liking? Let's find one that you enjoy, there's European extra fine (0.38) to broad, stub, italic and even for writing musical score! Still not enough? Hey, there are many manufacturers that make their own customized nibs for a fair price, maybe give them a try? And the best part? The nibs aren't so expensive that you're breaking the bank with them, so if you break one you can get another with relative ease.

This sweet pen is a monster at work 24/7. No wonder it's a popular model among beginners and long term users and lover of fountain pens. They're just that good.

#damian wayne #damian al ghul #tim drake #robin #red robin #fountain pen #stationery

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madschiavelique · 9 months

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Hi! This is my first request, sorry if it isn’t that coherent. Is it cool if I send a hurt/comfort drabble request with gn reader x Miguel?

Maybe something where an enemy takes advantage of Miguel’s lack of spider sense and is severely injured to the point where he can’t keep up his tough exterior anymore. He’d probably dread how vulnerable the situation made him and would want the reader beside him for the next mission, as some kinda filler spider sense after he recovers (or just has them there for comfort but doesn’t wanna admit it LOL)

hiya anon !! this was coherent don't worry hehehe

summary : miguel gets severely injured on a mission and wants you by his sides for all the upcoming ones

content warnings : blood, cuts, miguel almost dying (he doesn't dw), flangst (?), this turns sweet, no use of Y/N, gender neutral!reader word count : 2,2k

tag list : @fandom-ash

Miguel found himself alone on the field. This wasn't usually a problem, as the number of individual missions he'd carried out before forming his entire Spider Society was vast. It hadn't always been easy, of course, but he'd always managed to pull himself up, like a true Spider-Man would.

The rain clattered against the pixels of his suit, thunder rumbling between the dark clouds where skyscrapers sank like daggers into a black cotton belly.

He was out of breath, the anomaly he was facing was the typical weak point of his mutation: it was invisible, and extremely fast, which didn't help as Miguel's Spidersenses were profoundly insignificant, or even to put it simply: non-existent.

If he could get a visual on his target, everything would be perfectly fine. He could carry out his mission like the usual without a care. But invisible? That was undoubtedly his Achilles' heel in anomalies.

His hand was pressed against one of his bleeding sides as he stood breathless on a rooftop. The anomaly kept using its invisibility and speed to make unpredictable sprints to cut him from side to side.

He muttered an insult under his breath, his shoulders, arms and legs riddled with cuts of varying depths that were causing severe pain all over his body.

The anomaly was taunting him, laughing at one corner and then the next second calling out from another. The situation was becoming far too complex, and he could feel that the loss of blood from his body was starting to have an impact, weakening him enormously in this fight. It was more than a weakness actually, it was a real danger.

His eyes were looking in all directions, turning in on himself. Silence and the inability to know where his enemy was had never frightened him so much. He knew very well that the invisible things were just as dangerous as the visible ones, if not more so.

You don't always see love when it's coming, and you sometimes fail to recognise death when it arrives.

Call for help? Yes, perhaps that would be best, no matter how proud he was and how independent he wanted to be. Trying to regain a less shaky breath, he swallowed as he brought his lips to his watch:

"Lyla call the-" but he was cut off instantly by the anomaly that came at him in a flash, slicing into the back of his leg with such power that he fell to his knees with a grunt. The puddle into which he had fallen became darker, the red of his blood mingling with it under the light of one of the neon advertisements on an adjacent building.

He groaned in frustration, bringing the watch up to his mouth again.

"Lyla-" he breathed a little louder, but the anomaly cracked the silence with a high-pitched laugh as he cut into his back with a straight, deep line of his own.

Miguel arched his back, a growl mingling with a cry of desperation and terrible frustration as he lay on the ground.

Was it the rain, or was his vision becoming blurry ?

The anomaly materialised before his tired eyes, kneeling beside him, tilting its head to one side.

"All so," he laughed horribly, "big and strong and muscular." the anomaly grabbed his arm evilly, squeezing his hand over a cut that was burning hellishly, and Miguel let out screams through his teeth.

"But I'll tell you something, big buy," the anomaly said simply, moving a little closer to Miguel, who was beginning to find it harder and harder to stay awake. "In the end, we're all made of flesh that can be cut, and bones that can be broken."

He held up his knife, which the raindrops were cleaning of Miguel's blood, still glued to the blade. He then placed it against Miguel's cheek, his vision completely blurred.

"Lyla," he whispered, barely audible, using what little strength he had left to cry out for help.

He saw the knife rise, thinking to himself, this is it, it's over, he thought.

He murmured something, just something ? No, it was more important than that. He murmured your name.

He wanted, no, needed to see you now. Hear your voice, see you once more before… he just needed you by his side.

He felt so lonely.

He could’ve chosen anyone to be by his sides, heck someone was literally by his side at the moment and it was an anomaly, so he wasn’t exactly alone. But still, still, he wanted you.

The knife elevated, ready to strike him down, the sound of the anomaly’s laughter echoing in his mind in a numb way. And that’s when he saw a bright orange in the reflection of the bloody puddle, and lost consciousness.

He awoke in the infirmary, his eyes gradually adjusting to the whitish light. The aseptic air caught his nostrils, his lips were dry and a slight headache tugged at his skull.

He was lying on a stretcher in a position somewhere between sitting up and lying down. As he tried to straighten up, he was immediately stopped by an intense pain, and immediately tensed up.

"Hey hey hey, easy, easy."

He knew that voice, very, very well indeed. He opened his eyes again, slowly.

You were there, at his bedside, just above him to make sure he didn't try to get up again. He inhaled slowly, breathing hurt a little, and he wrinkled his nose in pain.

"How long was I out?" he asked, his first thought always remaining on the subject of organisation.

"Three days," you replied, standing next to him, arms folded.

"Three d-!" but the rise in his tone made his whole chest ache.

"Hey shh shh shh," you soothed, coming to rest your hand on his cheek to provide a point of anchorage for him in the middle of all of this pain.

"Three days," he breathes against your touch as he squirmed around trying to find a comfortable position without feeling like his whole body was on fire. "It's too much wasted time, I have to go back-"

"You're not going back anywhere for a little while, Miguel." you cut, voice calm.

"But I have to-" his breath came a little sharper.

"Miguel, you're not going to do anything at all except rest." you reiterated.

"Listen to me-"

"No, you listen to me," you interjected this time in a much less calm and more strict tone, which surprised him enough to stop him from continuing to fidget and breathe almost frantically. "You had a near-death experience, Miguel," your words were categorical. "And I refuse to allow you to not recover from that properly just so you can kill yourself at work instead, because... fuck, I was so scared." your voice had trailed off on the last word, broken.

Your eyes avoided his, looking up at the ceiling, biting your lip as your gaze fell back on the countless cuts he had strewn across his body. Your hand, previously on his cheek, came to rest beside him on the stretcher.

And you could feel his eyes on you, expecting your next words.

"When Lyla appeared to us... I had never seen her so serious and anxious at the same time. I have always seen her as playful and," a sigh, "sassy. But then, what she said made my heart drop," you admitted, looking him in the eye, trying to articulate.

A tear rolled down your cheek, and you immediately brushed it away, trying to pull yourself together.

"When we arrived, you were in an indescribable state, you were motionless... gosh Miguel I've never wished so much to see someone make just one movement," you breathed in, wiping away the other hot tears that wanted to flow further down your cheeks. "You can't imagine the relief I felt when they stabilised your state."

He looked at you, lips parted as he listened intently. And he thought of how he had wished you in death to bring him life and how you had wished him in life to stay away from death.

"I stayed, you know? By your side. Days, nights, whenever I could," you smiled, a small breath living your lips as you sniffed.

His heart was overflowing with emotions, all the sensations and thoughts that had taken hold of him during his confrontation with the anomaly coming back vividly to his mind, and yet he felt it all squeezed into his chest.

"I..." his voice grew small, and he swallowed to try and make his throat more cooperative to make the lump that was forming in it disappear.

"I thought... I'd never get to see you again," he admitted, inhaling softly.

His hand came to rest on yours, his fingers gently caressing your skin as you took it in yours.

"I..." his eyes were veiled by a curtain of tears that stung his nose, and he bit the inside of his cheek, looking down at your hands interlaced.

He thought back to the rain that kissed him goodbye, to the thunder that rumbled through the dark clouds as if to lecture him, to the feel of the sharp blade on his skin and the life that was gradually leaving him. But above all he remembered his vulnerability, and the possibility that this moment might be his last.

"It was so cold... I just," a tear finally rolled down his cheek, "I just wanted you to be here," his eyes returned to yours, "with me."

You could see it in his eyes, the fear, the dread that something like this could happen again. You bit your lip, your chin trembling as you gripped his hand a little tighter in yours.

"I need you by my side," he declared.

Your free hand gently wiped the tears from his cheeks, his lids closing.

"I will be by your side," you whispered, "I will protect you."

He breathed in gently, his eyes meeting yours again.

"From now on, everywhere I'll go, you'll go with me," he concluded, and you squeezed his hand in yours again.

"I'll go with you," you agreed, wiping the last tear from your cheek, the salts of your two cries combining on the back of your hand like an oath.

Miguel had recovered well. At first he'd inevitably flinched at the fact that he'd let everything be controlled by someone other than himself, but in the end he'd let it slide.

You came to visit him every day, not only to make your report but also simply to spend time with him. You always brought him empanadas from the cafeteria, knowing how much he loved them. It has to be said that if there was one thing you could often bribe Miguel on, it was empanadas. That and maybe stroking his hair...

When he finally came out of the infirmary, a tiny celebration was held. He didn't like the idea at all, but you knew deep down that the intention behind it warmed his heart.

Life went back to what it used to be, with of course a slight change that surprised everyone.

As agreed, wherever he went, you went. Every spiderperson in the Society had obviously noticed the sudden change. From one day to the next, Miguel couldn't go anywhere without you by his side.

You went on walks with him in the park, you would always eat with him at the cafeteria, you were in his office whenever he was, and it felt to most spiders now that you two would eternally be inseparable.

The time finally came for Miguel to go on a mission, where you would work with him to catch the anomaly but above all to lend him your Spidersenses, which were working to the highest perfection.

The portal formed in front of you, Miguel tensing slightly. You put your hand on one of his shoulders and he turned to you.

"It's okay, I'm here" you remarked.

This simple fact lifted a weight from his shoulders as if by magic. He smiled at you before you put your mask on, his own mask pixelating on his face, and you stepped through the portal.

You reached a rooftop, the gate closing behind you. Silence fell and Miguel tensed. He had no idea where the danger might be coming from.

"Hey, look at me," you said simply.

He turned to you, still as uptight as ever.

"Just breath okay?"

He breathed in gently, relaxing his shoulders as he listened, a little more reassured by your simple presence.

You waited patiently, not moving an inch. And what if you couldn't feel certain sensations either?

But he had nothing to worry about, because you immediately took him by the arm and drew him against the wall of the roof exit, pressing your body against his as next to you a kind of big multicoloured puddle burst violently onto the ground right where you previously were.

He was breathing heavily, his back pressed against the wall, while you were as calm as when you had arrived. His head turned towards yours, your two masked faces immensely close.

"I meant it when I said I would protect you."

He chuckled.

Wherever you go, I'll go with you.

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braxiatel · 22 days

Text

An assortment of Grian appearance headcanons I’ve had on my mind lately!

(Obligatory mention that I’m talking about Grian the character and not Grian the youtuber, here’s your confirmation that this is not about real life guy Grian minecraft whose appearance is well documented, but rather it is about his minecraft roleplay character who is made out of pixels and blocks and whose appearance is very much up for discussion)

His eyes are that shade of brown that’s so dark it looks black

He wears glasses, and through experience he has learned that unless he wants to be replacing them about once a month he needs them to have a thick and sturdy frame

Grian has a whopping case of adhd and is extremely good at misplacing his belongings. His glasses are not exempt from this just because they help him see, and he has managed to lose every single pair he owns several times. At some point one of his friends (I'm leaning Pearl or Jimmy) got tired of hearing him complain about it, and got him a golden chain to keep them on. Grian pretends he’s just using it because it appeals to his love for shiny things, but in reality it actually helps him a lot and he would be very sad were he to lose it

Speaking of his adhd. This guy moves. He does not sit still, does not like to be doing nothing. He builds, he helps other hermits with stuff they don’t have time to do, and he is well known to do Grindy tasks. And you know what that means? Grian is strong. In fact, Grian is buff

This is related to some hybrid stuff I’ll get more into in a sec, but very specifically, Grian is a flyer and those natural wings need a lot of muscle around them to work. That means a lot of upper body strength, especially in the pectoral region. Yes, I said gritty rights.

I wish I could remember what artist originally drew Grian’s waffle as an undercut with a pattern because I love that headcanon so much. He varies what the rest of his hair looks like (he has a manbun in season 9) but the undercut stays no matter what

Tangentially, the reason Mumbo now has a waffle as well is that his hair just grows in that shape now. He has extremely specific alopecia, and it is unclear whether or not Grian is the same or if he just prefers to keep his hair that way.

Grian has clear and visible bald patches in his eyebrows. This is a product of him having had TNT blow up in his face one too many times, resulting in the follicles having been damaged

Along a similar vein, he is also missing somewhere in the realm of 1-3 fingers total on his hands

I don’t think of Grian as someone who is very particular with his hair or with stuff like makeup. Most days he’ll do the bare minimum of combing his hair to look presentable and that’s it

That said, he loooooooves shiny jewellery, and his wardrobe is by far the largest on the server. Due to aforementioned constant moving he need things that are practical to move in, but other than that he has no rules on what goes in there. You’ve got sequinned mini skirts next to permanently dirt-stained overalls next to rainbow bucket hats. This guy has it all.

He does sometimes wear a red sweater, but I am going to say something controversial here, guys. Look at that man's shirt. Look at that cleavage view. He’s wearing a v-neck

Okay so hybrid headcanons. I have several, mutually exclusive ideas here, but I will go with one I think is, frankly, very underutilised: gryphon hybrid Grian!

Want avian Grian for all of the historically present bird coding? Also want to acknowledge the fact that he has so much mischievous cat energy? Gryphon Grian! He’s half bird, half cat, half human, and all menace.

There are a couple of different bird species I think he could be.

House sparrow, for the noise levels, the tendency to travel in a pack, and the sheer gremlin energy these little bastards exhibit outside of my kitchen window on a daily basis.

I think he could definitely be some kind of corvid too. Maybe a magpie? Beautiful plumage (fight me), incredibly intelligent and likely to make that your problem, and with a call that lends itself very well to Grian’s screech-laughter

You all know my opinions on potoo Grian. It works, okay? Look into his horrible, haunted eyes, you know it to be true.

For a season 10 fisherman arc Grian I am very much leaning towards an oriental darter. There’s just something about the idea of Grian spearfishing for mending books, and sulking in the sun to dry his wings when he only catches fish that I enjoy very much

Owl for his cursed head movements

Okay so wings talk time! I headcanon that naturally avians simply do not have wings strong enough to fly with. They’re too short, and even for someone like Grian who flies A Lot the musculature to support a humanoid frame just isn’t there. That said, elytra are easily modified to function as a sort of wing extension/prosthetic, that allows them to gain much more power for less energy expended.

You would think, with me being the owner of three cats, that I would have some kind of idea for a specific breed of cat he might be. The thing is, my family have historically always kept the same breed (Norwegian forest cat mix c: ), so I know very much about those and no other cat breeds. He is simply cat :)

Biiiiig naughty tortie vibes. My sources for this is I have one of the latter and she is the same level of Problems a Grian

This is the little madam caught in the act of doing something dastardly. She commits one hundred crimes every single day and we love her. Tell me that is not big Grian vibes right there. You can't, right? he is a naughty tortie

Other Grian hybrid options I also like: avian, watcher, robot!!, cod, enchanted armour stand come to life!, and fey!Grian

#i swear this isn't just an excuse to post pictures of my cat #this is however an excuse to present buff no eyebrows grian to y'all #if just one person accepts any of these headcanons into their lives i will be happy #grian #mcyt #hermitcraft #life series #traffic smp #life smp #hermitblr #trafficblr #the void collection

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simp-ly-writes · 28 days

Text

Suits, Ties, and Thus Spies (pt.4)

Pairing: Spy!Task Force 141 x Handler!Reader

Summary: Taking notes off the recent missions and getting pushed into another. More intensive training has your new relationships straining beyond what you imagined. You can only hope that they all will be with you for when the actual mission starts.

Warnings:4000~ words, light swearing, blood, violence, torture. A/N: a bit of a longer one stuffed with drama... Masterlist | Taglist | edited.

10:00 AM | Autumn | Taylor Tailors Headquarters

Stuffed inside the private vehicle. Price was gripping the dividing wall in front of him as the car drifted slightly at the slurry forming beneath the tires. Winter had decided to come at a sudden and the team captain was restless not being the one responsible for the vehicle. A voice came over the intercom- only further irritating the man. “I do assure you agents-in-training that I have been driving for the company longer than many of your careers. Oh,” the woman laughs out, bright red lipstick reflecting in the windshield as she soars down the driveway and into the parking garage. “Stop pissing in your pants now, we are almost there- promise.”

Riley shakes his head, leaning against the window as Johnny bounces across from him, bumping Price's shoulder repeatedly. Gaz inspects his suit, wondering where you all were headed- he was praying for something warm but from all the seemingly random items you forced them to back within their bags… he was still quite unsure of it all.

The door is soon thrown open, Riley turns slowly- glaring into an eye-widened surprise to see Samantha who only sharpens her smile, lips turning into a thin smile. Her black hair shimmers under the artificial lighting as the car honks-locked. The group trailing and presenting their IDs to the scanner, the front desk seemingly empty as a phone rings softly from behind the wood. Johnny makes a joke reaching towards the phone before Samantha turns sharply back on her heel, tea and muffin in hand within the blink of an eye- slapping his hand away with a wink. “Hello Agent Whitby-yes. They have just arrived, I’ll send them your way in just a moment.”

Turning her head upwards, she greets them all with a handshake before another team moves their bags into the locker room. Samantha's heels click against the tiles as she ascends the stairs. Still stunned by the headquarters interior, Price bumps into Kyle who can only smile before admiring the tree sculptures of fighters into what appears to be an artificial sunroom. Whitby stands in the centre, his shirt misplaced as he fights off the AI people that swarm him. Their pixels crumble towards the floor as they are defeated just as another spawns in his spot.

Samantha claps her hands, the heat leaving the room as an artificial voice speaks of Whitby's score. Smiling as Samantha hands him the muffin, she takes a sip of her tea- eyeing the way his shoulders rise and fall before turning and smiling at the rest of the men. “Have a good session you all, I will be at the front desk for the next few hours if you need anything.” The door softly clicking closed behind her just as the air conditioning comes in and benches emerge from the floors.

Taking a seat while drying himself off, Whitby motions a hand over, “Handler D has sent me the reports from our last mission with some personal notes… nothing to be ashamed of really- just the things we do a bit differently here.” Snapping his fingers, scans of cards appear in front of the task forces faces as they read through the notes and look through the compiled footage. Like a sports play-by-play little arrows and sticky notes are displayed all over- highlighting the next steps and offering compliments for others.

The task force all nods over each word as Whitby stands, the screens disappearing just as the sunroom scene displays once more. Heat enters the room as sweat begins to drip from John's brow. “We are going to Greece for the next mission, heat is going to be one of our biggest enemies. Get used to sweating and to drinking wherever you can while out on patrol for hours. Mission file states that our princess has been kidnapped from her guarded tower- guards are shitting themselves- running about like little headless bitches and we are gonna solve all… or well most of their issues.”

“Alright!” Soap cheers, tearing off his suit-jacket and rolling up his sleeves as the rest follow suit. Whitby stalks around the room, adjusting their position independently and as a team throughout the various planned scenarios. He keeps looking at seemingly a normal wall, making multiple hand signals as the course changes. Kyle narrows his eyes, seeing through to a control room as Doctor Charlotte Derby stands, clipboard in hand as she whispers commands to the operator. The lady smiles and copies, mouth forming a smile as laughs seemingly are shared in the room before Kyle is slipping on the floor beneath him, slipping on the rain that started to fall within the room.

Shrugging his shoulders he continues to race between halls as the rest of the boys improve upon their communication with the new tools they have on themselves. Time slipping by as late lunch emerges. “Are we going to be seeing Handler Dee at any time today?” Price asks, taking a bite of his meal within one of the restaurants the base provided. Whitby wipes his mouth clean with the provided serviette, taking a sip of his drink before clearing his throat. “Potentially, they are in a fitting currently- are there any concerns?” The agent questions, raising a brow and meeting each of their eyes.

Slapping a hand on his shoulder, Johnny shakes his head before diving back into his meal. Whitby shuffles his suit back into place, shimmying in his seat before motioning Charlotte to join them. Standing himself up- offering the lady the booth seat, he pulls up a chair from an empty table, sitting at the end before conversation settles upon the files the Doctor spreads across the table. “You all made wonderful improvements, I’m sure Handler Dee is smiling ear to ear at the news from Samantha's call. There are still some mental tests I have to finish with you all today before we can let you board that plane tonight but you should all be proud of yourselves nonetheless.” She finishes with a bright smile, sneaking a bit of Whitby's food with a wink as he playfully glares back before motioning for her to hand him his drink.

The group revolves into their own conversations as Whitby curses softly underneath his breath, “I do apologise everyone but work is calling, I wish you all a good start to your mission-”

“You’re not coming with us?” Simon asks, addressing the group for the first time today as Whitby has to do a double take, ensuring that he did in fact get a response from the man after hours of trying to spark conversation. “No sadly, though I do look great in a Swimsuit-” Charlotte smacks his shoulder. Taking the offensive hand, Whitby leans over, kissing her on the cheek with a cheesy smile before bowing and leaving out the door.

John stacks everyone's plates just as Charlotte pays the bill and directs the group over to a private lounge. Papers already wait in a stack, the grandfather clock in the corner ticks lightly as Soap swears to see the eyes of a painting move in his peripheral vision. “Alright, you all have two hours to complete this basic intelligence quiz and I have the languages and mathematics set up for us till the dinner hour. I will be sitting just off to the side here if you have any questions or concerns, good luck you all.”

–

Whitby quietly enters the fitting room, standing off to the side as he tilts his head- a small smile forming in his eyes before growing as he takes in your new uniform. Cream coloured with a linen dress shirt underneath, you are a cloud drifting its way towards his navy blue suit embroidered with small floral designs only seen underneath the warm lighting. An assistant shakes their head mocking as you step off the pedestal, making a playful runway walk towards the agent just as he picks up your hand, giving you a twirl before pulling you into his chest.

“You look amazing,” he mumbles before pulling away, still holding your hand. Thomas and Evan wave their sewing materials behind you, signaling for your return as Whitby helps you to stand back up. He takes a seat in front of you, setting a timer on his watch, his head resting against his fist, arm following chairs to the edge in a 90 degree angle. “Anything outstanding to report,” you make small talk, watching as their hands masterfully work the fabric and smile when they remember all the little details you voiced in passing throughout the years. Another favorite to add to the closet, you think to yourself.

“Nothing quite, love. They all served well- more field time will show everything I’m sure of it. Charlotte said their first written test results are coming out well for not going through our overly formal training. How many missions do we have with them again?” His knee starts to bounce as your eyes snap over to the movements, leading up to his glass-framed eyes as he raises an eyebrow, tilting his head to the side in a cat-like motion- challenging you silently to a staring contest.

Both your eyes begin to burn, competition brewing under each of your skins as Jason coughs, the head tailor looking bored at the exchange before signaling the assistant to take their breaks as he picks the work back up. “One more after this one and then Laswell and I are even,” you state, blinking rapidly just as Wihtby moves his glasses to rub his eyes. The room falls silent before Whitby stands, turning on the record player as soft classical music starts to surround the room. Humming to the strings, Whitby makes an exit- continuing his performance down the hall and towards the offices for his own mission.

You watch his exit- eyes softening as a cough from behind has you rolling your head back as Jason squeezes your nose as you scrunch it up in distaste. “What was that for?” you question. “Say yes to that poor man already, you two have been dragging this charade on for a decade too long- who knows what will come first for you both, a new partner, another promotion, death?-”

“Jason!” you hiss out, “Please, not just before a mission- can’t have that especially on something like this. Its our future head of state for fucks sake!” you curse out just as Jason trims the last bit of string from your shoulder, marking the project complete. “Apologies, Handler but I just want to see my two friends happy in a job where temporary is the definition.” You nod your head in response, “Thank you for the suit,” you add in a lightened tone as Jason sends you an apologetic smile- waving as you leave the room and he begins to back up the supplies.

–

6:00 PM | Autumn | Taylor Tailors Headquarters

“HANDLER!” a voice shouts, your shoulders jumping up-tensing as you turn on your foot like a robot. “Handler D!” The voice shouts again, footsteps rapid as they turn around the corner, Handler Jacobs nears, a tower of folders underneath his arm, his tie over his shoulder as you help him to address his appearance- taking the papers from underneath his arm as you both make your way towards the lobby.

“The reports from my side before I send it all over to the higher-ups. Would you mind if I stole the other 3 or so agents you have out in Russia? There has been an uprising in France, some internet criminals rising havac and…” You raise your palm as the Handlers rambles soon fall short. “Yes, Handler,” you state with a smile- eyes going wide as he pulls you into an energetic squeeze. You wince from the impact, the files flooding the floors beneath as you groan out, eyes searching the mess beneath as he lets you go. Slipping on the files in a daze and back down the hall.

Sighing to yourself, you begin to work through the documents, leveling them back into a stack as a group of footsteps come from behind. You curse, cheeks firing red as you turn around, straightening your hair and kicking another folder off to the side, your eyes flash with horror as your newest agents stop in their tracks, looking at your off-guard appearance with curiosity before snapping towards the mess underneath you.

Without a word or mocking comment, the men get to work, helping you to pick up the remaining files as Gaz helps you to arrange them back into the appropriate places. “How’d things get like this?” Simon questions as you blink up at the man kneeling beside you, handing you another bundle of papers as you blush in embarrassment. “An over-excited Handler.” Is all you say with a huff, beginning to stand. John rushes to place a hand on the banister above your head. You duck from the movement, standing up more quickly before looking at its placement. Sending him a warm smile, he only nods in reply as Johnny and Kyle split the papers, walking them over to the mailboxes with you.

‘Thank you all,” you comment while singing off on the last document within the office before the parcel goes through the shoot and up towards the street level. “S’nothing,” Johnny states, eyes crinkling. “Coffee, anyone?” you ask the group once seeing the time on your wrist, a series of tired mumbles sound within the room as you make your way towards the nearby break room.

Samantha stands in the room, leaning against the water fountain before standing to attention at your presence. “At ease,” you comment as she moves to sit down at an empty table. You take the orders of the room just as Simon helps you to bring the rest of the drinks over as you all sit. With hands wrapped around the warm mug's surface, you lean back in your chair, ankles crossing underneath the table as Samantha starts to read through her messages on her phone- seemingly lost in her own world. “So…” you begin, looking at each tired face with remorse. This is only the beginning…

“How was this morning's training? You think you are alright to finish the rest of the planned material tonight?” you ask softly before taking a sip of your drink, humming contently as the warm liquid floods your senses. “There’s more?” Kyle asks softly, voice carrying strain as Johnny groans beside him, having used all his energy this morning he leans his head into Simon's shoulder who grunts yet does not shove the man off.

“Well, yes.” You state, “And the most damning of them all unfortunately. I will be walking you all through our captive training. How to live through waterboarding, to not suffocate in toxins. How to find your way outside of restraints in multiple positions and live to see another day,” you perform hands fling off your cup and into the air as you make grand gestures. Samantha looks up from her phone, as if seeing a ghost she rapidly shakes her head. “Good luck you all,” horror flashing through her eyes, “the utter SHIT you experience in there…” she shakes her head, seemingly unable to finish the sentence before standing up quicking and darting out of the room before you could comfort the woman.

John looks to the group, trying to hide his growing worry as he scratches at his bread before looking back at you staring right through him. Placing a light hand on top of his formed fist upon the table, it uncurls and you pull your hand away soon after. “I will be with you all the whole time.” You state, eyes hollow as you hold out better than Samantha, everyone had to go through this training eventually- yet it stayed with you forever.

–

You watch from behind the impact and bullet-proof glass. The room slowly starts to fill with water, you listening to their heart monitors flooding your room, raging above the waves. John is already directly out orders, looking around for an escape. The lights flicker, the electrical starting to become enveloped by the quick rising water before turning black. Fighting to open a case underneath the water, Simon rips out a flashlight, tossing it over towards Kyle who turns it on, pressing it in his mouth as he dives under, scanning the floors for a potential secret door.

He emerges as the rest of the taskforce now treads water- the level almost reaching the ceiling. Each taking one last breath, they twist and turn, eyes wide and burning from the growing pressure. You step back from the glass as John swims up to it, trying to peer into the room as you make your way outside, greeting Charlotte who stands with warm towels ready for the next event. You both mentally count towards ten, the sounds of the glass shattering, the water pouring out underneath the door as you stand cold-faced and unmoving.

The boys stumbled out into the hall, adrenaline still pumping through their ears, their bodies shivering as they ran over to you, gripping a towel around their shoulders. Yet what you don’t expect is for Kyle to hug you seemingly out of the view before dropping you just as quickly. John watches them interacting softly as Simon stands behind him observing quietly as well. Johnny cheers out in celebration once realizing everyone is safe before slinging a still wet arm around the Doctor's shoulders as he bounces up and down. “You had done well to complete the first trial,” you speak in a monotone form that has Simon peering down at you, trying to crack your exterior yet you remain unrelenting. Understanding of your pivotal role during these times just as your past mentors have done so for you.

“On to the next,” Charlotte announces, stepping away from Johnny before breaking a small shake of his shoulder in congratulations. A series of small separate rooms greet you, tears begin to well in your eyes from the horrors that you had witnessed. Shaking your head, you turn and motion for each man to pick a room as the door locks shut behind them before climbing up a ladder. Through the intercom you ask everyone to sit in the chair. You hear them yell out, former trainees from earlier in the day stand in the observation deck, looking down from the rafters and through the clear ceilings that you walk upon, observing them each, picking up a series of gas masks last minute, distributing a few to Charlotte before starting.

The chair locks various restraints around their legs, arms, thighs and chest. Various different locks and chains of varying weights tug them into place. Your voice is shaking, “Your goal is to exit the room that will be flooded with gas. I am unable to enter the room while this session is in progress by any means- even in the face of potential death. Good luck, agents.”

A loud horn sounds, the boxes flooded with red light as the soul illuminate, your grip your hands into fists as Charlotte stands across from you looking down, face falling and covering her features as she watches Simons eyes go wide as he stares up into her own before twisting himself in the chains forcefully, shouting as they allow for minimal movement. John's hands were shaking, the gradual lack of oxygen was going to kick in another 25 minutes and no one had made much progress. Kyle had unlocked the most- his and Soap’s bombs training seemed to provide the upperhead- one of their hands unlocked as they raced to unlock the other.

A click can be heard, Simon had forced his wrist from underneath a series of chains, you wince at the blood and bruising of his fingertips- his gloves seemingly cut open as blood floods his suits fabric. He fumbles for a piece of his belt as you smile encouragingly down at him, happy that he remembered the hidden set of tools found within the buckle and by the sounds of Johnny's sharp intake of breath- he remembered as well. Looking down at your watch once more, you jump, the glass banging as each one looks up at the sudden noise. 10 minutes remain, Charlotte now grips your hand in her own, watching as the timer counts down.

A loud crash is heard, John is now laying sideways, his chair tipped over as blood seeps from his temple. Skull smashes into a chain just as he manages to kick his shoes off, shimmying off the chains of his feet and loops them around the legs of his chair, grunting before emitting a powerful shout as he tries to force himself back upright. Chair rocking back and forth as your drum begins to sound. Kyle had managed to unlock the remaining chains around his waist as he now stands, one left around his ankle yet he remains unbothered- repeatedly throwing his chair against the glass above- his door unable to open.

Your eyes become cloudy, imagining yourself in his situation when you were in training. Your breathing becomes shallow, your palms sweating, dropping your tools rust as it runs down from your forehead, mixing in with your eyes as they burn. You cannot hear over your blood as it becomes less of escaping the room but of your panic instants. The drumming becomes loudly as you rush away from the glass as it shatters, you stumble back as Charlotte manages to hold you upright. Throwing the chair into the corner, the siren sounds and gas begins to rise from the floors and up into the air of the concealed rooms. Multiple trainees from the rafters above have fled the scene, throwing up in worry or to try and sleep away their own injuries.

A chain can be heard rustling above the siren, flinging over the side of the enclosure as Kyle pulls himself upwards. As soon as both his knees touch the glass, you are rushing over- slipping a gas mask over his face before Charlotte and a few other scientists pull him away to the final trail. You soon pull your own mask from resting on your neck.

Much to your surprise, Simon is next out, he rips his mask to above his nose, taking in deep breaths before choking as the gas floods the space - condensing. You help him to strap on the mask just as another assistant tears him away from your grasp, out watch as he turns around to look at you with a panicked gaze before the door slams closed behind them both. In three more minutes, the remaining men would collapse from the lack of oxygen… you looked up into the red lights above, closing your eyes in a prayer before hearing more locks falling to the concrete floors below as you walked off the glass and onto a side stage. Johnny flings himself onto the glass, he does not even feel as it cuts through his skin, body delirious from the gas as his body is carried into the hall. John had two more minutes… you began to count them down, gripping the railing before falling to your knees as tears strained down your cheeks, fogging up your mask. A beep on your watch warned of the gas limit even with your mask on as a group of scientists forcefully removed you from the room as your nails scratched at their arms, you yelled out pleas. Brain seemingly lost to the gas- forgetting all of the formal qualities you were trained to possess for these torturous trials.

↳ Taglist: @thriving-n-jiving @cringeycookies @lilliumrorum @brokenpieces-72 @ashy-kit @notsaelty @hindi-si-ikay @sleepyycatt @no-lessthan3

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greypetrel · 6 months

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Crisp those Lines!

Or: a small collection of suggestions for a crispy, neat lineart.

SO MANY OF YOU ASKED FOR THIS (it feels absurd to say, yes), so here you go.

A premise: there's no right or wrong way of inking, and some of the following tips entirely depend on the type of inking I do. Which is neat and clean, with no blacks, and moreover: digitally. More under the cut because it's gonna be long and full of explanatory pictures. Here's an example:

SOFTWARES AND BRUSHES:

Let's address the elephant in the room: Photoshop SUCKS for inking and linework. The stabilisation of the brush there is SHIT. Good for colouring and painting and doing photobashing, but for Lineart you want it to be precise. Do yourself a favour and don't use Photoshop. I generally use Clip Studio Paint, but i have to say that the best program for it that I've tried keeps being Paint Tool SAI 2. It has few functions, it's true, and I use CSP because it has more instruments. But if you don't want to pay much, SAI is incredible as for brush rendition and stabilisation.

As for the brush: you don't need a fancy brush, anything in your software will go. What I use and what works best tho must have:

Tapered start and end.

High stabilisation (I go from 60 upward, lower it down for trees and grass or anything more natural that needs to be less neat and flowy)

Low tapering.

It must be set so that pressure controls only the dimension. The more you push on your pen, the bigger the line gets. No colour or opaciy variation!

On Clip Studio Paint, I use the G-Pen in the program. It's good as it is, but I think I did some variations as per here:

FILE DIMENSIONS:Better work larger and then resize down. Sizing files up digitally is possible, but it leads to unfocused images. I generally work on files at 600dpi (300 is fine too, but don't go any lower. Particularly if that's something you want to print later on, any printing wants a minimum of 300dpi). in roughly an A3 format (bigger dimension is 43cm). Most pictures I upload here are 6000x5000 pixel. A bigger file will give you more possibilities with brush sizes, and it'll be easier. Remember: digitally, sizing down is ok, sizing up is not something you should do.

SKETCH:

This is the suggestion I should follow but never do. Having a clean, polished sketch simplifies your life A LOT. This is because if you don't have to worry about drawing details and fixing the anatomy of your drawing during the lineart, and doing it so GOOD because it's the lineart... You'll go that much slower and your life will be more complicated (it's not impossible, my sketches usually are very rough. I am ok with it, the most I do drawing wise is during the lineart... But I'm lazy, don't do like me. A good sketch will help you out.) Compare the two sketches below:

Another note about your sketch layer: you know those memes that complains that the sketch looks good but when you hide it the lineart is shitty? That's easily solvable. When you're inking, lower the opacity of the sketch layer down, A LOT. I generally go for a 30 or 40% opacity (depending on the colour of the sketch. the yellow sketch will go around 40% because it's less visible, the purple one lower).

When you're inking, you MUST see clearly the lineart you're doing. If the sketch isn't contrasting enough, you won't see clearly what you're doing... It's like trying to sketch with a dim light, not seeing the paper clearly. See the difference:

BEFORE YOU START:

You probably have read it everywhere, but it bears repeating: warm up your hand. You're using muscles and for more than five minutes. The warmer they are, the firmer your hand is, the easier it gets controlling your lines. It also prevents you from damaging your wrist. Stretching is also great, and grippers are nice to have. Keep your hand fit!

As for warming up: I usually do some calligraphy exercises, practicing on flowy cursives. You want to practice varying the pressure of your lines in a single trait, hence why calligraphy is good. But generally, what you can do is...

PRESSURE VARIATION AND LONG LINES:

So. My main tip and trick is to vary the pressure of your lines. In the same line, and between different details. This will help making the lineart more dynamic and interesting. A note: this works for semi-realistic styles. If your goal is obtaining a Cartoon Network style: they have generally little to no variation and it works. My suggestion would be to study the kind of style and effect you want to obtain, different styles will work best with different linearts. If you're aiming at hyperrealistic painting, there's no point in spending time over a lineart, for example, I inked the same lineart, but with a brush that doesn't vary it's dimensions with pressure, and not changing the dimension of the brush.

What makes my linearts look "flowy" and "neat" is the fact that I tend to draw less lines and longer, and pay attention when I stop, to start the line where I end it. This will give the impression of one continuous, single line, and make everything more fluid. See above in the french hood: on the right, I left the line rough on purpose, you can see where I stopped and started again. On the left, where I took care of it, you can't.

Generally speaking:

Thick, dark lines communicate that the object is close to the viewer (always keep the viewer in mind!) or in shadow. Lines should be thicker on the outside of your objects, to separate two planes, and in stuff closer to you.

Thin lines are delicate, they should be used in the background, for small details (see the hair, the lips, the small wrinkles around her eyes.)

As for line continuity: in both cases, the line of her face is one single line I drew. This can be obtained with a smooth result, particularly in curved lines, by getting the brush stabilisation on higher settings (80-100): sacrifice speed for accuracy.

MORE IS MORE, WHEN IT COMES TO LEVELS:

Particularly when there are two objects intersecating, or more characters interacting… Instead of inking all on the same level, I always do one level for each object, trace the WHOLE line as if there was nothing above, and then erase where it's not shown. This is a little thing, but pays off. Always in the drawing of above, the feather and the hem of the bodice were on separate layers, and then I erased the bodice under the feather. Take advantage of being inking digitally and not traditionally!

For many characters, here's an example of a vignette of a comic page before cleaning it up and erasing. Every single character and the weapons are on separate layers

For this it's very useful knowing your recurring mistakes. For example, I tend to draw heads bigger than they should. I know I do, so generally I keep the head on its own level, and the body on another, so it's easier to modify and size down just the head without getting crazy selecting only the lines you want with the lazo.

Again, you're inking digitally. It's not easier than traditionally necessarily, take full advantage of your instrument!

OTHER TIPS AND TRICKS:

High brush stabilisation sacrifices speed for accuracy. The line will lag a little from your cursor. Get used to watching the cursor and not the line, and trust that the line will follow.

GO SLOW.

Rotate and flip the canvas. Don't ask me why, but tracing long lines towards me is always easier than not the other way around.

Use the Free Transform, Warp, Distort etc etc and the Liquify to your heart's content if you notice the lineart has something wrong. The only cheating in art is using fucking AI generators (and AI pictures are not art, sorry not sorry)

References are your friends. Study how an artist you like does the lineart. Try and imitate them, and if you can and need to post them: tag them! (don't trace and sell it as your own)

Experiment with brushes, find one that you like for the effect you'd love. You do you, there's no right or wrong way of inking.

Remember to breathe when you trace those lines! (and to drink and do pauses and stretch, you don't want a tendonitis!)

Have fun. Lineart is not evil, lineart is your friend!

I hope this essay is exhaustive enough. I'm tagging ALL THE PEOPLE that requested it (and giving each of you a muffin). @ndostairlyrium @narina-gnagno @salsedine @whimsyswastry @layalu @n7viper

If you have any questions, don't hesitate in asking!

#tutorials #lineart #inking #digital inking #digital art #tips and tricks #petrel explains #COME LO FECI (cit)#listen if we're mutuals and we chat... ask me to share my screen I don't mind the company when I work if it's not something I can't show #or if it's not too late at night for me #also I unironically like how Alyra inked without variation looks even angrier and more judgemental than normal LOL #also some spoilers for The Last Bacchae if you follow that #“Marmotta” means “Groundhog” in italian #art ref

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chronicbeans · 9 months

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Sibling Time! (A Wally Darling x GN Reader Short Story)

You are trying to babysit your little sibling, but it seems like an odd puppet keeps showing up in their favorite show, Sesame Street.

TW: Obsessive Behavior, TV Hijacking

Your parents are out, once again, so you are now forced to take care of your five year old step-sister, Mary. It's always been a bit difficult to connect with her, considering that you are an adult and she's a toddler, but you both have one thing in common: you both like puppets.

As such, you don't mind watching her favorite show, Sesame Street, with her. Even though you are more interested in the puppetry than the characters, like she is, it is still enough to keep you engaged. Even better, it gives you some time to go on your phone, and look up your most recent interest.

You found a weird website about some lost media. It's a show called Welcome Home, which people are trying to recover. They've gotten a lot of stuff recovered, too! Old advertisements, interviews, art... though, there have been strange happenings around the website. Odd links, hidden pages, even secret messages. It's intriguing.

"Lala lala lala lala Elmo's World!" "Look, (N/N)! Elmo!" Mary points at the screen, grinning widely. She bounces up and down with joy in her seat on the couch. You chuckle, nodding and shuffling in your seat next to her "Yes, it is! I wonder what he's got in store for today?" You look back to your phone, looking at the Welcome Home website. The picture of Wally Darling on the homepage seems a bit off. It is almost like his smile isn't as wide as before. You pay no mind, however, thinking that it might just be a glitch or update.

Suddenly, Mary taps your shoulder. You look down at her, raising an eyebrow at her frowning face. "Is something wrong?" She nods, pointing to the screen "A ghost is haunting Elmo's home!" "What?" "A ghost with big hair! Look!"

You look at the screen, shocked to see that it's... glitching? There is an array of brightly colored pixels covering the corners of the screen. The show seems to be playing, mostly, as normal with Elmo chatting away. You can tell what Mary thinks is a ghost, though, as you see it move.

It looks like a show, or more specifically, a character is bleeding through the broadcast. You can't see the colors, but you can see the outline as is distorts the picture on screen as it moves. Everything within its silhouette is pixelated. Usually, you would chalk it up to a broadcasting error, like the show accidentally playing two episodes at once. You've never seen this character in the show, though...

Is this a television hijacking?

You don't know, it you don't want Mary to wait and find out. Most TV hijackings are a bit unnerving, weird, or overall just not appropriate for young children to see. You pick up Mary, carrying her to her room and saying "I'll figure it out. For now, how about you go draw a picture for Elmo?" She nods, smiling nervously. "Okay! I'll draw the ghostie, too! Maybe the ghosties just needs a friend?" "Sure! You can draw the ghostie. Be sure to leave the ghostie a nice message, too!" You drop her off in her room, hand her some snacks, juice, paper and crayons. Then, you go back to the living room to investigate.

Your eyes widen at how distorted the screen has become. It's practically just static, now, with the faintest silhouette of a character. As you step a bit closer to the screen, you feel your phone vibrate in your pocket. You quickly take a peek at the website, seeing that the homepage has now definitely changed. Wally Darling is now completely gone. There isn't even a black silhouette or cut out of him. It's like he was never sitting on the rock in that picture. Same with the cast all sitting at the bottom. Wally just... disappeared. Even the little pixelated Wally is gone!

You look back to the TV as you hear music. Your brain begins to put two and two together. As insane as it sounds, the only explanation you can think of is that the disappearance of Wally on the website has to do with the TV's glitching. Why?

Wally Darling has now appeared, clear as day, on your television screen.

You quickly call your friend, holding the cellphone to your ear as he picks up. "Ed, I have no time for hello. Turn on your TV to Sesame Street!" "What? Why?" "I need to check something. Turn it on!" "Okay...?"

You stare at the screen as the yellow puppet waves at you. You hear the sounds of Sesame Street from the other end of the line. "(Y/N)... It's just Sesame Street. Why did you want me to do this?" You grow quiet, realizing that it must just be your TV that is being affected. "I'm sorry... I just uh... I just wanted to see if an error I'm having is just me. Thanks for helping, though! Goodbye!" You quickly hang up.

"Hello, neighbor! Where's Mary?" Wally looks around, standing in a void of silent static. His voice is a bit muffled, almost like he is talking through water. When he speaks, you can also hear the faintest sound of the Sesame Street episode continuing in the background. In the static, you can see a few, vaguely silhouetted hills and houses fading into sight. You can just barely make them out, however.

You cross your arms, immediately growing defensive and concerned at the mention of Mary's name. Yes, it could possibly be a different Mary... but as far as you know, this broadcast is only being shown to you. You can only assume that, whoever is showing you this, is talking about your sister. You take a step back, getting ready to go get your sister and leave the house. The person showing you this most likely can't see you at the moment, so you still have time to leave and call the police from a safer place-

"Neighbor, where are you going? Don't leave me! I'm spending so much energy trying to make this work!" He lurches forward, placing his hands against the screen. You even hear a sound similar to someone hitting glass as his hands hit the screen, like some sort of window. You flinch away, shocked. "I need this! I know I can trust you to bring me- us back!"

You tense up. This is strange. Now that you know he can see you, tell that you didn't say anything... you don't know what to do. You swallow thickly, saying "You... who are you?" His grin seems to, somehow, grow wider. "Don't you know who I am, neighbor? I'm Wally Darling!"

He leans against the screen, his pupils widening as he stares at you. "You really should know who I am... You look at me all the time! You read about me all the time, too!" In the background, the familiar buildings of the neighborhood fade in. Home, Barnaby's house, Frank's house... they're all there.

Wally spins happily, before saying "I want you to be the first viewer of our reboot, neighbor! I trust you to have a good eye for content... You take care of Mary so well, so you must be good at knowing what is right for children, these days." "Why me? Why not someone else?" "It MUST be you! It can't be anyone else! I have been carefully looking through each person to see who would be perfect for this!" "Okay... But I'm not getting Mary to watch it." "That's alright, neighbor."

He steps back, clearing his throat. Then, he puts on a winning smile as he says the opening line "Hello, neighbor! Welcome Home!"

#welcome home #welcome home arg #wally darling #wally darling x reader

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casuallyawkardd · 3 months

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In His Vice Pt II

Pairing: Dark!Miguel O'Hara x Wife!Reader

Summary: Miguel discovers a new world unlike any other in the Spiderverse

Warnings: NSFW MINORS DNI! non con in terms of pretending to be someone else, oral sex, lowkey sub!Miguel?? overstimulation, manipulative vibes, not fluent in Spanish so correct me plzzz

A/N: This one is from Miguel's perspective because apparently I like experimenting with those now. Most chapters are gonna be first person, but this one is kind of for context. Dividers by cafekitsune

PART I | TAGLIST

"Watch! Watch me, okay!?"

"Aye, mija, I'm watching." Gaby laughed as she ran across the field, Miguel following at a slower pace. She was kicking the soccer ball as she went, dribbling just how he had showed her. Stopping, Gabriela rested a foot atop the ball, turning to face her father. It was a sight to behold, headband doing little to keep her flyaways down, cheeks ruddy from running around, brown eyes that matched his dazzled by the golden sun. Miguel smiled, there she was. His little girl. His everything. His Gaby.

"Are you ready, Papi?"

"Yes, for the hundredth time chiquita, I'm ready for your trick." His answer seemed to suffice, Gaby shooting another toothy grin his way before facing the goal. She adjusted her position so the ball was nestled between her legs, ankles gripping the leather tightly. Then she thrust her body forward, performing a handstand and taking the ball with her. Perhaps it was more of a roll, momentum moving her little body forward and throwing the ball towards the goal.

In reality, it wasn't anything special. One of those tricks that to a kid seemed like the most amazing thing ever, but to Miguel was nothing more than a clumsy maneuver. And yet as the ball barely passed the goal line and Gaby looked up at him expectantly, it was the greatest feat he'd ever witnessed. "Did you see that?" Gaby asked, scrambling to her feet to get to him.

"I did," he responded, kneeling so that they were eye level. Miguel waited to finish his thought on purpose, smirking as she waited for his answer with an obvious eagerness. "It was perfect, mi vida."

And that's when the video ended, just like it always did. Crimson eyes stared at the still image, stopped as the two were mid embrace. Miguel was tired, he knew he should probably get some sleep, but there was still work to do. And if he wasn't going to do it, no one would.

"Miguel." No response. "Migueeeeel." Still nothing. "Oh Dark Garfield~"

"What now, Lyla? I'm in the middle of something," he turned his head to look at the hologram sitting on his control panel.

Lyla side-eyed the monitor in front of him, looking back at him with a bored look. "Yeah, I can tell."

"What do you want?" he spoke through gritted teeth, the AI taking her time and adjusting her tinted glasses.

"New universe detected on the border of the arachnopoly-whatever."

"And?"

Lyla smirked, "Why don't you take a look for yourself."

Miguel let out a deep breath through his nose, moving across the platform and pressing a button that showed the map of the multiverse. The room went black, the strings of the universe appearing midair, coming together into a familiar, glowing web. Lyla took control then, various worlds flying past Miguel until settling on the one in question. It seemed like any of the others, its strings a little faded compared to some, but the universe itself seemed intact.

"What exactly am I looking at here?"

"I am so glad you asked," Lyla chirped, pixelating in front of him once again and pacing around the image in question. "I stumbled across this while running a safety check. Yah know, to make sure none of the universes were on the verge of collapse."

"Get to the point."

"Ugh, you're no fun," with a snap of her fingers, Lyla manifested a screen listing the data Miguel was seeking. "At first I thought it was nothing special, your standard other universe with another version of Spider-Man, but the closer I looked I started to realize that-"

"There's no Spider-Man in this universe," Miguel finished, scrolling through the file again to see if he had missed that crucial detail. Brows now knitted together, he lifted his head, "How is that possible? Who's there to defend against the super villains? Vulture, Green Goblin, Venom?"

"They don't exist in this one," Lyla explained, crossing her arms as she examined the notes over his shoulder, most likely not reading any of them. "No villains, no Spider-Man, nothing."

"How is this possible?" It was perplexing to say the least. Sure, Miguel had theorized that there were universes out there, beyond the ones that connected every version of Spider-Man together, but he was precise when designing the multi-dimensional travel devices. Meticulous to make sure the only universes that would connect were directly related to the arachno-humanoid poly multiverse.

"I have a theory..."

"I'm listening," Miguel's eyes narrowed at the AI standing next to him.

Lyla smirked, waving her hands and making everything disappear; the holographic images replaced by screens depicting video footage, which slowly began to pop up throughout the darkness. "I took the liberty of collecting intel for yah, taking the initiative and all that," she bragged, "my guess is this universe happened to have just enough similarities with the other universes to squeak through the cracks. As you can see, it does have some canon events checked off. The creation of Alchemax and Oscorp. The birth of potential spiders such as Peter Parker, Gwen Stacy, Jessica Drew and-"

"Me," Miguel interrupted her rambling, eyes glued to a video of himself, or rather a version of himself, a sense of deja vu washing over him.

"Yep, you too," Lyla agreed before picking up where she left off. "Like I was saying, this universe seems to have had a few canon events, but none of the core canon events that follow the Spider-Man timeline. No being bitten by a radioactive spider, no dead uncle or experiments gone wrong that could lead to super villain creation. I've been running scans on repeat and there still hasn't been any alerts regarding the creation of a Spider-Man or-"

"That'll be all, Lyla," Miguel dismissed the hologram, who went quiet. He didn't see, but she was eyeing him skeptically, as if trying to read his mind. Watching for something that wasn't there before blipping out of existence and leaving Miguel alone. His hands went to his hips, jaw clenched in concentration as he merely observed. No harm in watching afterall.

Video after video of his life in another universe, one where everything seemed to go right. The Miguel in this universe was lucky, he still kept in touch with his mother and brother, got a boss who wasn't a power hungry piece of shit, a version of him that didn't have to alternate his DNA to shake off an addiction. In fact, he was pretty sure Rapture didn't exist in this universe.

And then he saw her. The Gaby in this universe was younger than the one he knew, but he'd recognize her anywhere. Video after video played of the two of them together, a desire he thought was buried clawing to the surface. The memory of all that had gone wrong before pulled him back to himself, sighing heavily as he cut the footage and returned things to how they were. Miguel distracted himself with his work, much like he usually did. Compartmentalize and put away, just how he'd taught himself to do.

It is a possibility, isn't it? The thought hooked into his skull. This universe is unlike any other we've come across. Could it have other exceptions? It was futile to rely on 'what ifs', Miguel knew that all too well. Putting the lives of millions at risk, all for his own selfish benefit, that wasn't a possibility. And yet his fingers were already moving, typing commands into Lyla's system to collect as much data as she could on this new earth. His downtime was spent going over the footage, reading every new development and discovery.

Curiosity grew to be obsession. Suddenly this universe wouldn't be like the last one. He'd thought through every potential outcome, every way that something could grow wrong. The collapse of the universe? Unlikely. The past was due to an oversight, tampering with the canon too much leading to destruction. What about the Miguel that originally came from this universe? If he was like the others, he'd probably be dead soon anyway, a potential threat to his plan, but one he could worry about if a problem arose.

Pieces were falling into place, Gaby's sweet giggles a siren song as he listened to them over and over and over again. This time will be different, he reminded himself, he was prepared this time. Knew the risks. It had to work, the plan was already set in motion. It would work.

Miguel took his time to prep, partly so he could be ready for anything and also to wait and see what would unfold. Based on what he saw of this universe, squeezing himself into this Miguel's life could be easier than he had anticipated. Being a version of himself meant that he too came with flaws, ones that Miguel knew intimately. A workaholic who thrived on routine, Miguel could work with that. Routine meant he was predictable. Predictability meant vulnerability. An opening he could exploit.

His research merely helped with deciding when and how to insert himself. The footage was his primary source of information, making it so Miguel was able to put faces to names, flesh out relationships and dynamics, figure out where he needed to start so that he could make it better.

Taking the place of himself wasn't foreign to him, confident he could do it again, if not better than the first time he'd done it. What he didn't expect this time around was the hassle of cleaning and covering his tracks. The switch had to be seamless, no witnesses and no trace of what had occurred in the dark of the night. That was why he was in such a bad mood when he finally got to the house. He had brought a change of clothes, something clean to cover the mess, but he hadn't considered the oncoming storm. The shoes he wore were wet, caked with mud and stained as he struggled to take them off in the entryway. He was planning how he wanted to get rid of them when-

"Miguel?"

His body stiffened, slowly standing upright as he looked for the source of the voice. He had almost forgotten about the wife, remembering her face from the videos. So much smaller in person, he could hear how fast her heart was beating as he drew near, see a nervous sweat as it started at her temple and worked its way down. Miguel was short with her, their conversation only preventing him from reaching what he sought. His eyes only briefly acknowledged the direction she pointed in before he continued on his path.

Gaby was a breath of fresh air, one that made all the pain and frustration of today and the ones before worth it. There was no way she knew how much he loved her, the lengths he would go to to be where he sat now. His hand reached out, hesitantly cupping the side of her face while she slept. There was so much he wanted to do in this moment, so much he had to say. Things that told her how happy he was to see her and things that she wouldn't be able to understand. And yet she was precious, sound asleep and unaware of the thunder and wind outside, he wouldn't dare wake her.

The illusion of solitude was ruined as light footsteps pattered down the hallway. Miguel's teeth grinded together in frustration, knowing to whom they belonged to. At least she didn't come in, didn't usurp this moment between father and daughter. He had run through countless different scenarios of what he could do with her. Divorce would be what most would do, but that would lead to complications. Custody battles and court appearances that he didn't have time for nor the energy to deal with. Killing her had crossed his mind, sitting in his brain for longer than he'd care to admit. Even just taking Gaby had potential, for there were places he could go that neither her nor any authorities could follow.

But none of that would work. Gabriela loved her father and her mother. Separating them in any way would upset her and he couldn't have that. So for now, he'd stick to the plan he had conjured. Taking over as this earth's Miguel was the easy part, maintaining it wasn't going to be so simple.

The first night was spent memorizing the layout of the house, fingers gliding along the walls as if to remind himself this was real. That the rooms, and everything in them that he'd been seeing on the monitors, was within his reach. The details would come with time, things like where they kept the silverware and what clothes belonged to which drawers, but for now he had time to prep. Tomorrow would be his first real day in this world and everything had to be perfect.

Miguel was accustomed to sleepless nights, the thought of a quick dose of caffeine being what got him through helping get Gaby ready for the day. She was better awake than she was asleep, lively and all smiles as she talked his ear off about trivial matters. She mentioned 'craving' pancakes, actually using the term and he complimented her on her extensive vocabulary. That first hour where it was just the two of them made him feel as though he was floating. A dream that was almost too real, except he knew he didn't have to wake up. That is until the wife had made yet another inconvenient appearance.

At least she's pretty, was the thought that crossed his mind, now that the light of day revealed her features better. It had been some time since Miguel had paid a woman any mind and yet here he was, married to a complete stranger. She had gentle features, something he wasn't familiar with seeing. Miguel had spent years fighting villains, whose faces were twisted and ugly, scarred and wrinkled to reflect their vile nature. Even the other spiders had their own flaws, drooping eyes and dark circles, beaten down by hard lives and the weight of responsibility. And yet this woman's blemishes consisted of faded acne scars and the beginnings of smile lines. Hair messy because she had the audacity of getting a full night's rest.

He gained a good understanding of her on his first day. The wife of a negligent husband, she was headstrong. Independent in her decision making and the one to take control during the day's activities. Deciding where to stop for lunch, what beach to spend the afternoon at and which movie to end the night on. It was an admirable quality, some he'd seen many lack, stepping up to the plate as a mother and wife instead of admitting defeat and crying 'woe is me' because her husband would rather work overtime than fuck her.

And a good mother she was, much to his chagrin, attentive to Gaby's needs and simultaneously putting her foot down when needed. There were traits he could use to his benefit, while others he'd have to teach out of her. The day could come where she might suspect him, seeing as she didn't seem like an idiot either, meaning he had to have her under his thumb before then. For now, he'd sit idle and gather more information over the weekend. Take what he learned and begin work in the following week.

Gaining her trust was the first step, play the role of the good husband she thought she deserved. The other Miguel's routine was hers as well, certain expectations in place. Mornings were hectic, his wife moving as though she had a million things to do at once. She'd almost run into him as he stepped into the kitchen, frustration briefly appearing on her face before she soothed it away, the transition so smooth it seemed practiced.

"Miguel, I need you to make your own breakfast this morning, I still have to get Gaby ready and-"

"I already did that."

A pause, her body still in the doorway, watching as he poured himself some coffee, nonchalant in his movements. "Oh, well then I guess that just leaves the lunches..."

"I got them put together last night."

"Oh." That simple syllable was his signal that things were going according to plan. A sound that was a mix of surprise and satisfaction, not expecting him to lend a helping hand and content when he did. At least in terms of the little things.

That's something her Miguel lacked, always focusing on the big picture and overlooking the minute details. But he thrived on noticing what most didn't, whether it be adjusting a tiny wire in one of his gizmos or leaving a glass of water on her nightstand; she'd always get up in the middle of the night for a glass of water. Twelve twenty-seven to be exact. And it had to be cold, which was why he made sure to add ice beforehand.

She was hesitant to the changes, at least at first. Waiting for the day he'd slip back into how her Miguel would act, he'd always have to be two steps ahead of her if he wanted to do any simple favors. He found himself actually enjoying the little game forming between them, a challenge to see who could do better than the other.

Then he started to think he was getting too good at playing the part of husband. Her eyes lingered longer than he liked, hands holding instead of brushing against his hands and body. It was torturous in a way, having to endure her intimate touching and kissing when, in his eyes, they had only met a couple weeks ago. But it came with the role he had thrust upon himself, the incentive of Gaby keeping him from snapping his new wife in two.

He knew it was a matter of time until she'd want more than half hearted kisses, her desires coming to fruition late one night. Miguel took his time getting ready for bed, brushing his teeth until he was convinced his gums were bleeding and that the bristles of the brush would be forever bent. Her scent was evident, already aroused and pretending not to be as she flipped through her book. It was a sweet smell, tempting even, and that's what pissed him off even more. He was here for Gaby, to be the father he deserved to be. And Miguel was not one to divert from a plan.

"Miguelito," she said his name so sweetly, book tossed aside as he got into bed. Her hands unreasonably soft against his bare chest, face coming close to his. She leaned in to kiss him, but Miguel turned away at the last second, her lips ghosting against the side of his face. He caught himself before he did it again, allowing her to turn his head back and kiss him; let her tongue glide against his lips, parting them as she deepened the kiss.

Her body shifted, straddling his lap and rubbing herself against him. His sweatpants did nothing to protect him from the warmth of her sex, Miguel softly gasping against her lips. His hands grasped her hips, stilling them and she smiled against his skin. She was teasing and he was more than aware of it, the thought of her having the upper hand making his blood boil in more ways than one.

"Baby, I..." she trailed off, clearly conflicted. Some inner turmoil he was supposed to know, but had yet to understand. Settling on a small smile, she pecked him on the tip of his nose, "I've missed you."

Miguel almost scoffed, as if it were an inside joke only he was in on. He knew she didn't miss him. She had no idea that the man in her bed, the one she was kissing along the torso of, untying the sweatpants and nudging them out of the way of, was not her husband. And yet every touch made his skin feel like it was on fire, a heat that made his head hazy. She took his cock well in her mouth, as if having done it countless times before. It was bliss, warm and wet, her tongue gliding along the vein that made his eyes roll back into his skull.

The thoughts he managed to create were interrupted with every suck and bob of her head, hips bucking instinctively and groaning in frustration when her hands pinned them down. A low growl rumbled in his chest, a large hand gripping her hair and lifting her head. A loud pop resounded in their bedroom, Miguel taking in the sight of her. Eyes half-lidded, face flushed and mouth agape; she was breathing heavy, her tongue sticking out teasingly to poke at the slit on the head of his cock.

Reluctantly, at least that's what he told himself, Miguel's grip slowly loosened, allowing her to sink down onto his shaft once again. His hands found purchase in the bedsheets, gripping them tightly as she continued to fuck him with her mouth, pushing him closer and closer to the brink until he could bear it no longer.

"Stop, I'm gonna-" but she relented, sinking down until he could feel her throat clench around his girth. A strangled moan escaped him, muscles tensing as she swallowed every drop of his cum. The arrogant look on her face when she finally sat upright had a new kind of anger seething in his chest. Bested in a way that made him vulnerable, all while she smugly wiped away any excess with a dainty thumb.

His fingers wrapped around her throat, pulling her to him and wiping the confidence from her face. "Lie the fuck down," he demanded, voice low and slow so she understood him clearly. She complied, limbs remembering how to move as they switched places; Miguel hovering over her as she rested back against the pillows. One hand held him up while the other trailed up her thigh, hiking up her night shirt and exposing her to his hungry eyes. "Maldita puta," Miguel scoffed at the sight of her lack of underwear, pussy exposed and her scent invading his nostrils.

Confidence overshadowed uncertainty, Miguel knowing that he may not have tasted her before, but that the version of Miguel in this universe wouldn't hold a candle to him. Her moans were the evidence, starting soft and growing until she had to keep herself quiet. "You don't want to wake up Gaby, right putita?" he mocked her, returning the treatment she gave him tenfold.

Her slick made him salivate, fluids combining into an intoxicating concoction on his tongue. It made him want more, delving in as deep as he could and suckling her bud when he wanted more. Miguel took his time, enjoying how she squirmed; thrilled at how little effort it took to keep her just where he wanted.

When he felt her thighs beginning to tremble, he knew she was close. Miguel only delved deeper, not just licking and pressing, but nipping and sucking at her most intimate place. Her moans became high pitched, body shuddering beneath his as Miguel indulged in her release. When he came up for air, he enjoyed seeing how her chest heaved with every breath, a thin layer of sweat on her skin that made her look as though she were glowing.

And yet he wasn't done, smirking against her mound before slowly licking a line up her slit, a warning that there was still more to come. "Baby, please-" her protests died on her tongue as he didn't just eat, but devoured every inch of her cunt. His thumb came to massage her now sensitive bud, while his tongue teased her folds.

Her hips bucked up against him, Miguel's large hand splaying across her stomach to keep her still. Her squirming didn't deter him, in fact making him double his efforts. Miguel felt his own arousal resurge, grinding himself against the silk sheets. Her second orgasm came quicker than the first, Miguel smirking against her skin when she shuddered and moaned.

With that, Miguel decided to give her a moment of peace, sitting upright on his knees to hover over her. His new wife was a mess, gasping for breath and fighting to keep her eyes open. It stirred something inside him, a feeling he hadn't paid mind to in a long time.

"C'mon now, princesa," he cooed in a sickly sweet tone, hooking her thighs with his arms and dragging her forward; their hips now flush against one another. His smirk only widened when he felt her jump upon contact with his hardened length, twisting his expression into one of mock innocence. "This is just the beginning."

Tags:

@lazy-idate @lilly5799 @yougavemeyourheartyouknow @candlewitch-cryptic @thel0v3hashira143 @a-lost-soul @spectr3inl0ve @leftcollectiongardener @slodr4wzstuff @miyababbby

#miguel o'hara #reader insert #miguel o'hara x reader #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 x reader #miguel o'hara headcanons #miguel o'hara x you #x reader #miguel o'hara smut #atsv miguel o’hara #miguel smut

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triflesandparsnips · 1 year

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I'm not seeing enough deep-dive nonsense about the new Good Omens season 2 poster drop on my dash, and by god that means I must be the one to deliver it.

For those who haven't seen it yet, behold:

...there's a lot in here to go a wee bit feral over, if one was so inclined, and lord knows I love an inclination.

The Obvious Stuff

1. There Was Only One Bed Chair

This is the bulk of the commentary I've seen, and tbh, it's pretty great. "I am bored/busy and ignoring you but also what is personal space, never heard of her, we will not be taking questions at this time."

Notably, however, this is the second time we've seen them back to back-- the majority of the poster art we saw for the first season had them side by side. In both cases they're in a position to face some third thing together-- the difference, perhaps, is that side by side might imply equality of situation, while back to back implies implicit trust that the other won't stab you there.

2. The bookshop

Aw, look at them. Look at it. What a glorious little mess. This is them in London. Arizaphale looks pleased with the situation; Crowley looks bored af but he's also squished up on that one dang chair, so there's a "cat sitting next to you because parallel play and mirroring are the Best Interactions" feel to it.

3. Tea and wine

Arizaphale's got a teacup, Crowley's got a wine glass, this is very Them and indicative of their Vibes. Tbh, I think this is just a nice bit of design work, but it's worth calling out.

4. The outside street

The shop across the way is using a Gothic and reads "GIVE ME" before being cut off. No clue what it means, but it probably means something.

5. The tagline

The previous tagline we got was "Something's going down in the Up" (with that grey feather falling between their black and white wings)-- this tagline reads "Everyday it's a-getting closer."

Easiest interpretation is, oho, we're getting closer to the second season, and gosh there will be some Plot in it. And sure, yes, it works for that too, huzzah. But leaving aside the "it" and what that may mean-- "a-getting" is a fascinating word choice. It evokes similar constructions like, say, the somewhat obscure "Sumer is icumen in" (a song about the changing of the seasons and also encouraging a cuckoo to go lay some eggs in other birds nests if u no wat im sayin eyyyyy)-- and the significantly less obscure protest song "The Times They Are A-Changin'", whose ending stanza is:

The line it is drawn

The curse it is cast

The slow one now

Will later be fast

As the present now

Will later be past

The order is rapidly fadin'

And the first one now

Will later be last

For the times they are a-changin'

Gosh.

Now the Real Fun Starts

This poster is a composite image (as so many ads are), composed of different bits and pieces to form a whole impression -- based on fun stuff like relative pixelation and whatnot, you can often tell what portions of an image were there to start with, and what were specifically added in after the fact. How packed this poster is in tiny details -- which is exactly where I would hide fun hints to things -- is generally a cue for me to take a closer look, and I have been, I think, rewarded.

1. The books with legible titles

Zoom in on Aziraphale's book-- he's reading Charles Dickens's A Tale of Two Cities. The "two cities" in play are Paris and London, and the book is set before and during the French Revolution.

It's the story of a man who had been previously imprisoned in the Bastille for 18 years, and then was released to go live with his daughter -- who he has never met, what with the whole "imprisoned" thing -- in London.

The opening paragraph is:

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way – in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only.

The pile of books in the foreground have two visible titles: the topmost one is Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice (a "novel of manners" that's considered a heavy-hitting romantic classic, and also yes the leads are both prideful and prejudiced and it takes an entire book for them to clear that up) and Robert Louis Stevenson's Treasure Island (a young adult coming-of-age adventure story about a kid who finds himself on an adventure with a bunch of pirates to discover buried treasure).

Of note: A Tale of Two Cities, Pride and Prejudice, and Treasure Island also all have note tabs sticking out of them, and are the only books that have them. This is reminiscent of how Arizaphale studied and referenced Agnes Nutter's prophecies.

Some of the books beneath the window technically have titles, but they appear to be about as pixelated as the rest of that section, and so I suspect they're just part of the scenery.

Similarly, most of the books on the background shelves are like that as well, except:

Joseph Heller's Catch-22 (A satirical novel set in World War II; Wikipedia briefly explains that "the novel examines the absurdity of war and military life through the experiences of Yossarian and his cohorts, who attempt to maintain their sanity while fulfilling their service requirements so that they may return home." The book also coined the phrase "catch-22," which is a situation someone can't escape because of paradoxical rules-- in the case of the book, you can't ask to be evaluated for insanity so that you can be exempt from flying dangerous missions, because "anyone who wants to get out of combat duty isn't really crazy.")

Iain Banks's The Crow Road (and a first edition, perhaps? I haven't read it, but apparently it's a Scottish family drama about a perfect murder against the backdrop of the 1990s Gulf War. Its opening line is "It was the day my grandmother exploded." The phrase "the crow road" is a euphemism, in the book, for death.)

Joseph Conrad's Lord Jim (Sparknotes says it's "the story of a man named Marlow's struggle to tell and to understand the life story of a man named Jim" -- a young man who goes to sea, makes a terrible and cowardly decision while following his leaders, and then spends the rest of his life haunted by it.)

There's at least one extra, partially obscured title:

It appears to read "THE BODY ------ and ------", which makes me wonder if it's an anthology of murder mystery short stories.

Leaving aside the uncertain book, commonalities between many of these books include:

soldiers, war, and the horrors/absurdities thereof

doubles and parallels

death and murder

a young/inexperienced protagonist thrown in with more experienced/weirder folk

fragmented and out of order narratives, sometimes having to be pieced together from multiple viewpoints

...pirates

2. The strange but noticeable inserts

There are several images that have been inserted into the poster that -- unlike the teacup and wine glass mentioned above -- don't seem to make a lot of contextual sense and are therefore, perhaps, extra information. These include:

a. the three lizard boys

b. the broken smartphone

c. the matchbox with the quote on the side

d. the camera

e. this statuette that seems suspicious

f. this record and scroll that seem out of place

g. the clockface with the missing hand (which may be just for the Aesthetic, but whatever, I'm including it)

What do they mean? No clue. I suspect it will become apparent as we get trailers and/or the actual show.

In Conclusion

Uh.

Look. Design teams can do all sorts of things for all sorts of reasons. All of this could mean absolutely nothing.

But.

Using my magical powers of bullshit deduction, I might look at all this, and that grey feather falling from the earlier poster, and say... well... the war's still ongoing, yeah? So maybe... maybe there needs to be a new angel keeping an eye on things on Earth. Or an eye specifically on Aziraphale and Crowley.

And that would look SUSPICIOUS, right? So this is an angel who's maybe... a little bit Fallen. For the sake of the Mission. Like, they've agreed to sin just a lil bit, just enough to justify being thrown out of Heaven, and they're not actively in Hell because they're, oh, just stopping off, or maybe just going really slowly, or maybe they were sent back up from Hell because they were still "too good" and all that Pureness of Spirit was stinking up the place--

Whatever. Point is, they're on Earth, they're very confused, it sure would be nice if these very Established metaphysical elders could give them a few hints about how to get on. We'd then get to enjoy a Guide to Living a Totally Normal Human Life given by these two disaster dorks, plus whatever nonsense is derived from, idk, various extraneous plot shenanigans, probably involving a Murder and maybe a MacGuffin Maltese Falcon.

And most importantly: this new angel? Wow no they couldn't possibly be a spy because again WOW, what kind of angel would deliberately Fall? Wouldn't that require doing the wrong thing to do a right thing? ...okay maybe, but can it really be wrong if it was done by command? ...well, wait, it surely must be wrong because otherwise the mechanism wouldn't have worked-- but then, wait, which thing was the wrong thing--

And Aziraphale and Crowley would watch this bouncing volley of cognitive dissonance with great interest, also possibly while holding hands.

#good omens #season 2 #good omens season 2 rampant speculation

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journalsouppe · 10 days

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Ever since I accidentally picked up and played DGS, I knew I needed to play PLVSPW. I decided to alternate playing ace attorney games with professor layton games until I finished the main trilogies for both and could finally play plvspw, and it was so worth the wait. I love this game so much it is everything I could have hoped and more, so so so much more. Highly recommend to honestly anyone!!!

All of the Professor Layton stickers are from jordydrawsmerch which can be found here and here. All of the Phoenix stickers are by Peachcott!! Every other sticker is from Daiso!

Writing typed below!

Rating: 9.7 Played: Fa 2023 Port: 3DS Favorite? Y Replayable? Y Recommend? Y

Comments

AA stickers by Peachcott, PL stickers by Jordydraws

THE MUSIC???

WITHCES??? TALOS???

HIS NAME IS NOT FUCKING CAR ACCIDENT

I like the UI esp with how the stylus interacts with the screen

Omg the yiga

Omg traveling is easier AND they give you coin and puzzle hints

OH IM JUST NOW IN CORT AFTER THAT INSANE SEQ

WHAT IS GOING ON

LOVE maya’s model

THE REUSED ASPECTS IN DGS OMG

THE CUNTY POSE AAAA

THE PIPE WHACK LMAO

WHITE PAYNE

Love the design of labyrinthia

Im curious if nick and maya will be bombarded with puzzles

I LOVE how the 3D and tech of the 3DS are used to make more dynamic puzzles

A LIVE EXECUTION?

Lmao B&W LSOH moment (Kira ate flowers which is smth that happened in the original non-musical little shop of horrors movie)

SOME GUY

WHAT DO YOU MEAN MAYA AND NICK HAVE BEEN HERE FOR 5 YEARS

Cinderellia lol

Omg the book roof

Labyrinthia at night music is sooo pretty

Kira is the killer… right?

I am so stressed about Luke and maya

Hershel to see the storyteller??

THE PRINCESS TUTU AND DROSSELMEYER VIBSE ARE OFF THE CHARTS

Luke is too small for the defense table T_T

THE STORYTELLERS DAUGHTER??

THE BELL TOWER??

Curse…

LUKE NOOO

WHAT IS GOING ON?? T-T

LMAO NOT ANOTHER PARROT WITNESS

BARNHAM NOO

Top of town so pretty

Major shrek 2 vibes

Is that a bust of cabanela

Layton said lets go somewhere more private LMFAO

I love the nick and Luke dynamic… but at what cost T_T

LAYTON’S ??? AND HIS THEME AHHH

HERSHEL NOOOO

Obsessed with rouge’s design and tattoo

THE WAY I SCREAMED WHEN I SAW HERSHEL AHHH

Love the assistant/mentor switch

MAYA EATING RAMEN AND HERSHEL DRINKING TEA IN THEIR PIXEL ART

^ Maya copies other idles! luke writes in his journal and nick reads his paper!

LOVE darklaws claws!

the vigilante witnesses....

is it really a layton game if there's no tower

GOD DAMN HERSHEL love his sword fighting

omg who is bezella

will layton act as the prosecutor??

the battle against the professor is so nerve wracking

just learned why its called pl VS pw

GO OFF KIRA

ESPELLA AND DARKLAW AS KIDS AWW T^T <333

ooo darklaw's laws have the eyes on them

the "magic" is so complicated

i feel like eve the cat is v important but overlooked

WHERE IS LUKE I MISS HIM T^T

love the belfry search

ooo this is like princess tutu x tunic

this took a sharp turn omg

THESE LADIES T~T

FORK LIFT CERTIFIED LUKE LMAO

BARNHAM!

love eve's black outfit

YURI LETS GO

PROF??

EDGEWORTH??

Summary

This game is everything I hoped it would be. yes it's a Professor Layton crossover, but it also has the charm of DGS x Princess tutu x tunic. The ending was very layton-esque, along with all the reveals. I truly had such an amazing time playing this game. I was initially introduced to this because I heard that DGS was inspired by it, so it was my mission to play both aa and pl's original trilogies before playing. And I am so glad I did bc the wait was so worth it. You can absolutely see the influence this game and professor layton had on Shu Takumi. There's so much passion and creativity between plvspw an dgs that makes playing them all the more enjoyable. I loved how all the main characters interacted with each other, I especially loved how hershel and phoenix swapped assistants. The new characters were also so fun. Espella, Barnham, Darklaw, the story-teller, they were all so unique and enjoyable to interact with. The animation was stellar. This 3D style really works for both PL and AA and im so glad both series took inspiration from it. The music and art was phenomenal, this game honestly should win awards if it hasn't already done so. I also love how any character pulled into an aa game will have their gay moments: phoenix x hershel and espella x eve especially. I can't wait to make art or even write for this game, I will definitely add scenes from this to my ballet au ^^! What a phenomenal game, what a fun premise with the most convoluted layton-esque ending. It was so perfectly I highly recommend!!

#journalsouppe #bullet journal #journal #video game journal #ace attorney #professor layton #plvspw #professor layton vs phoenix wright #plvspwaa #plvspw spoilers

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itsyagurlchip · 18 days

Text

٠ ˚ ※ ๋࣭ ᯓ⚝ ⋆ .˚✰Video Game Lover 💜٠ ˚ ※ ๋࣭ ᯓ⚝ ⋆ .˚✰

✰⋆⁺warnings: cussing(!) slight existential crisis(!)

✰⋆⁺Sorry this took so long to come out- I had a hard time figuring out what kind of game I wanted this to be. I also changed the pov to 2nd person bc 1st person is starting to make me a bit uncomfy- Much trial and error. Enjoy this chapter!!

✰⋆⁺ Chapter 1: Welcome to the Underground! Sike-

(Prologue) | (chapter 2)

(...)

(-!)

fjkl;tredhiajwbwuahjal-

(...)

PROGRAM LOADED, START? (?)

YES NO (ok then)

{ enjoy your experience dear player :] } (WAIT! )

You couldn't tell where you were, and you could swear you could hear dying by omfg playing somewhere in the back of your head. Or was that all around you? All thoughts were interrupted by that trashy music.

Speaking of, your head really hurts.

And so you took a moment to gather yourself before you looked around your environment. and oh dear

Everything was either bright or pastel (you're pretty sure you wouldn't be able to see once you got out of here) and the build of the place reminded you of something from mario's 3D world.

Your Utah Aunt's baby shower could never.

You were in the forest, and in the near distance, you could see blocky-like hills. The grass underneath you was a sea green, and then you saw your feet underneath your knees.

you were pixelated... Which you found odd, the environment around you was round and 3D, but whatever.

You were in a royal attire, which made you question your lack of shoes.

Reaching for your hair you felt a metal through your tufts. A crown? You took it from its place and inspected it. huh, it was increased with a heart shaped gem. Underneath it, it was encrested with the words 'Our Majesty' Which made you do a double take.

where you a royal? Alright then. About time! You deserved this for a long time damn it!

Placing your status jewelry back on your head, you turned back to the world around you...how were you gonna get back? If this was really a video game, how many lives did you have? Were you...ever going to leave?...

What would happen if you ran out of lives?

A lot of it was cutesy in a way, something that you would've decided to play with your cousin- but knowing that your life could potentially be on the line...

Well now isn't the time to start that pissy crying now! If you're in a game, the only way to progress is to keep moving forward. In this world, time would wait you for, making your leave unnecessarily prolonged. You had to keep on moving.

You were currently in front of a rushing river, speeding as one would do when you're in a court case involving your kids. It didn't look safe to cross, so you didn't.

You looked around once more, seeing a long tree trunk conveniently placed between two branches. It also looked more like a plank now that you looked at it.

Either this game was trash, someone granted you a gift, or this was a coincidence. Either which way, you weren't gonna slow this journey. Rolling up your ridiculously puffy sleeves, you stretched and began to prepare yourself before you gripped onto the plank.

Oddly enough (what wasn't odd about this place?), the item wasn't heavy at all, but it held against the currents of the water.

You thanked the stars as you walked across your makeshift bridge to find out it was very much stable.

You marched deeper into the other side of the woods, hearing a ping above your head. You looked up to see a...?

A white check mark? Welp, you did something right in life, even if it was virtual.

You press onto it, the sign stretching out into a screen. Like a small laptop. It lowered down in front of your torso, with the screen black, and the words in purple pixelated text. There was 3 pages, each labeled stats, traits, and inventory.

Stats

Lives: 1

Death Count: 0

Health: 30/30

Attack 2/20

Traits

Perserverance: 5/20

Kindness: 0/20

Charizzma: 0/20

Intelligence: 5/20

Shadow Phase: 20/20

Inventory (1/5)

Extremely sharp knife

That sucks, you could only hold 5 things! And you weren't even gonna acknowledge the traits. And you were wrong...The wingdings didn't read 'One shit', the game is called 'One Shot'.

Which means anything with more atk damage would easily kill you, even if it took some time.

Underneath the stats read a note. It would be crazy if this was written by some gnome.

Welcome my Liege, this is Nigel the Gnome, your previous caretaker, and now lost friend! If you are reading this, I am dead.

'Well damn'

I warn you: Someone of non-royal status is going to dethrone you! Maybe even going as far to assassinate you. I am unsure. All I know is, you have to be careful on this journey. Ever since you left for the expedition, this forceful tyrant has only started his progression.

'i just got here bro-'

He's taken control of the capital, placing a bounty on your name.

'you just had to think something didn't you'

I yearn for this to be another life, but this isn't the case. Your Majesty, there is something about you no one has ever known of. Your legal guardians have entrusted me with this royal government secret, and now is the time to bestow the same upon to you.

You, my dear child, have the power to manipulate and phase into shadows. Apologies for not explaining this sooner, but here is some information you may want to get familiar with:

You can change the shape of shadows, you can travel through them as well as see through them, and you are able to make shadows, as well as your own, physical enough to defend and offend someone.

Bad news is, the only drawbacks you get is your body phasing in and out of the shadow realm, and tiredness. The best part is that only happens when you make the shadows physical.

I am running out of paper, so I have one last thing to say.

You only have one shot.

With the love, determination, and care I can give to you,

-Nigel Gnomaly

the world zoomed in around you, giving you tunnel vision. 'oh dear stars-' The world around you turned black.

GAME LOADING

LEVEL ONE FINISHED

{ Keep on going, the journey hasn't even begun :] }

fjkl;tredhiajwbwuahjal-

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