#the animators are always trying to make them look ugly in some of these shots

[dazeddoodles]

hot take: Raine is hotter than Eda

This is how I finally admit to you all that I always thought Raine is super hot.

Of course I also think they were hotter when they had bangs, but I am a TRUE Raine enjoyer. I think they're hot even with their current short haircut, I don't CARE if it makes it look like they're balding. (Although I never actually thought it looked like they were) But even then, Raine beat the balding allegations when Belos possessed them. Man, even POSSESSED Raine is hot.

But still my favorite design from them has to be their young adult look because DAMN

Don't get me wrong, Eda is hot too but RAINE. I actually think Darius is hotter than both of them though. Sorry for betrayal Raeda community 🤧

#the animators are always trying to make them look ugly in some of these shots #but i dont care #their jawline #their heels and earing #their voice 😩 #im down bad #hooting and hollering #but darius is still hotter #asks

[xozombiee]

“𝑺𝑶𝑴𝑬 𝑾𝑨𝒀!” | C. KAMO

✫| synopsis: emoboy!choso who works at spencer’s sees how nervous you are about trying out a new toy, so he offers to help!

warnings: sex toy usage, pet names as always :3 (sweetheart, honey, baby, etc), lowkey switch!reader, braindead!choso at the end LMFAOO, little hair pulling, no protection used..wrap it up. uhhh idk what else

notes: uhh guys pretend that batteries are included for vibes LMFAOO and..do i have a thing for car sex?

your feet ache as you walk through the mall. a friend was supposed to meet you half an hour ago to go shopping for dresses, only for her to text and say ‘sorry gotta cancel’.

the public chatter of others fill your head as you walk. since you were already here, you figured you’d look around. it’s been a while since you’ve shopped for yourself, and you were in desperate need of a new vibrator.

a colorful sign from the distance catches your attention. it read ‘spencer’s’ in orangey-yellow words. they sold sex toys right? the last time you checked they did. your eyes light up, figure walking a little faster toward the store.

when you enter, you’re met with the sight of shirts on display against the wall, a rack of hoodies and sweatshirts with ugly anime designs on them, and the section with shot glasses with corny messages written on them.

you pretend to be just shopping for a few minutes, not wanting to immediately go to the back of the store. as you pick through some of the clothes on a rack, a voice startled you from behind.

“need help finding anything, ma’am?” the voice asks lowly.

turning swiftly, you’re met with the sight of a taller man. the name on his tag read ‘choso’ with a small sticker next to it. he was young, had piercings along his ears and one on his lip, and a faint pink scar along the bridge of his nose that stretched out to his cheeks.

and he was kinda cute.

you find yourself staring for longer than needed. with a quick nod, you advert your gaze to something else.

“no, no. i’m fine. thank you though.” you reply nervously.

“well, if you need anything just let me know, yeah?” he replies, sounding uninterested.

you give him another nod before he walks off, tending to other customers. watching him out of the corner of your eye, you sigh a little.

this was the reason why you needed a new vibrator immediately. any attractive male that approached you was in danger. you’re surprised you didn’t jump him when he first walked over.

when you make sure no one’s watching, you quickly make your way to the back of the store. the small pink and purple bullets and vibrators come into view as you try to casually approach.

after hiding your body between the shelves by the wall, you look at all of your options. a bullet? nah, you’d already tried that. maybe go for something bigger?

your gaze catches on a cute, pink 8.5 inch vibrator with a ‘rabbit’ attached. before you can even stop yourself, you reach for it. the box made seem like the size was nothing. with a small shrug, you clutch the box next to your thigh. you had to find something else to buy with it.

yes, buying sex toys was normal to society, but it wasn’t normal for you.

after maybe ten minutes, you cautiously make way to the cashier. your eyes are glued to the floor as you put your things up on the counter. hopefully no one would see you walking out the store with a pink dildo in your bag.

“find everything alright?” that voice says again.

you look up with wide eyes, the pierced man with two space buns staring back at you. choso held no amusement in his eyes like you thought he would; he was nonchalant if anything. you give him a nod, looking to the snacks hanging from the counter.

your voice was weak, “a little..overwhelmed, but yeah.”

he flashes you a small smile, putting the toy and socks into a bag. “overwhelmed? this your first time shopping for—” he pauses, glancing down at the bag.

it was obvious he was just trying to make conversation, but you weren’t all that interested. still, you tried to be respectful.

“er..not really. i mean, i’ve had one before, but it’s-” you cut yourself off, cringing at how pathetic you sounded. “i’ve never tried that kind before.” you answer, going a little quiet at the end.

he raises a brow, “never had one with the rabbit?” he asks without really putting thought into his words.

a small nervous laugh falls from you, shaking your head in reply. with that, he leans forward a little, his eyes scanning your figure.

“i’ll show you how to use it if you want.”

your mouth goes dry, looking at him slightly appalled.a chill went up your spine from just his words. your shaky hands move to grab your wallet, brain attempting to find the words wanting to be freed from your throat.

you blink a few times, “you’ll show me? as in..”

choso looks at you, the uninterested expression still on his face. “my shift ends in twenty. i’m parked on the side by macy’s.” he says, watching a few people walk into the store.

now…you’d be an idiot to not meet him. but the contemplation was there. you could just go home, try the toy out yourself. that’d be the sane thing to do.

however, you hadn’t used that small little bullet on your bedside in months since buying a new one was always something you brushed off. so, you weren’t gonna miss this chance to get some dick.

you insert your card into the reader, feeling choso’s eyes on you. when the small device rings, you take it out, putting it back in your wallet.

he hands you the bag, your fingers brushing over his as you take it. it was like an electric current ran into your arm by his touch. you chew on the skin inside your cheek, feet staying planted in front of the counter despite your head telling you to move.

“i’ll see you in twenty.” you say, slowly walking away from the counter.

choso watches you in surprise. he partly only said that for a reaction, the sadist in him wanting to see your cute little eyes widen from his words.

when you exit the store, turning around the corner and leaving his sight with your cute skirt flowing, the crotch in his sweats begin to harden. it left little for an imagination choso wouldn’t need now, and every tomorrow, he hopes.

twenty minutes seem to pass quickly. you stand outside the macy’s entrance, mindlessly scrolling on your phone. the doors slide open, the sound catching your attention. you look up to see choso, space buns and all.

he nods toward the parking lot, motioning for you to follow. and you do, like a clueless puppy. choso leads you to a black colored toyota parked in the back of the lot.

his thumb presses one of the buttons on his keys, unlocking the car with a noise. he pulls you to the passengers side, opening the door for you. his hand finds your lower back as you climb inside. when he assures you’re in all the way, he closes the door.

you watch him from inside, his legs carrying him to the drivers side slower than you’d prefer. when he gets in, he settles into the seat with a soft groan. his hand finds the ignition, slotting the key in and turning it to start the car.

it rumbles lightly, the sound filling the silence between you two. you watch as he turns the wheel with one hand as the car starts to move.

minutes start to pass as you watch him, not even questioning where you were going. he could’ve been taking you somewhere to kill you..would you care? not really.

when he finally parks, you’re in a more secluded area of the mall parking lot. he was near the empty sears that had been closed for about five years, the blue sign still hanging high up.

choso glances over at you, or rather the bag in your lap that you clutched tightly onto.

“open it up.”

you blink at him for a second before complying, hands moving to unravel it from the bag. your delicate fingers try to tear the tape off of it, but struggle as it’s not letting up against the box.

he notices, lip twitching at the side as he watched. one of his hands come up to your wrist, taking the box in his other. you watch as he slowly pulls a blade from his pocket, cutting through the tape with ease.

choso notices your expression, the confusion written all over it as your eyes continue to look at the blade.

he chuckles, closing it and putting it back into his pants. “i was opening some new merch that came in the store today. forgot to give it back to yuki.”

you let a small ‘oh’ fall from your lips in understanding. choso takes the box back into his grasp, unraveling the toy from its packaging. the sight of something pink comes into view, and your eyes widen at how small it looks in his hand.

choso fidgets with it, “you said you’ve never tried one of these?”

“no.” you reply, keeping your eyes trained on the object in his hand. “i’ve only ever used one of the bullets.”

he sighs a little, looking up at you. “get in the back.”

you look at him, brows raised in surprise, “what?”

the pierced male leans forward, his face inches from your own. “get in the back.”

despite the music from the car’s stereo playing lowly in the background, your audible gulp overpowered it. you let out a shaky breath as you move to your knees, climbing into the backseat of the car.

he watches you, the skirt you wore lifting up as you shoved yourself in the back. choso followed soon after, moving to sit beside you in the closed space.

you watch him from the other side of the backseat with your shoulders pressed against the window. one of your legs propped itself onto the seat between you two, the other on the floorboard.

choso glances down at your underwear that was shying underneath the cloth on your legs. a small wet patch adorned the lacy piece you wore. his hand slowly moves to you ankle, his thumb moving back and forth against your skin.

“is it okay if i touch you?” he asks in a whisper.

a quick nod comes from you in response. your eager eyes watch him, expecting him to move closer to you.

his hand trails up further on your leg, “words, sweetheart.”

“please, choso.” you whine, enjoying that electric feeling from his skin on yours again.

choso gives you a sympathetic look. “please what? need you to be specific, honey.”

“touch me.”

he lets his hand move up your leg, making its way to your upper thigh. one side of your skirt pushes up, giving him a clearer view of your underwear. he smiles slightly at the cute purple lining that stuck to your lower stomach.

you feel his hand pull you down a little by your hip, back fully against the seat. his hand moves back to stay planted on your stomach, the fabric of your skirt now in his palm. his other hand picks the dildo back up that sat on the console, pressing onto the ‘on’ button.

the sound echos through the car, making the anxiety in your stomach build up. choso looks down at you, his hooded eyes boring into your soul.

he doesn’t give you a warning before he’s pressing the baby pink toy to your underwear. a small gasp evokes from you, back arching against the seat. choso slowly moves his hand on your stomach down to your hip, keeping that side in place.

everything felt heavenly. vibrations moved into your cunt, making your chest heave. your thighs want to shut together, but choso’s body keeps you from doing so.

“shh. you’re okay, baby.” he mutters, continuing to press the vibrator into the fabric.

you let out soft groans and gasps when the toy hits against your clit just right. when you feel that euphoric tightness in your lower stomach, your hand moves to clutch onto choso’s wrist.

“wait-” you whisper out, “want more.”

choso raises his brows, continuing his movement with the toy against you. your head falls back, hand clutching onto his wrist as the pressure builds up.

your jaw slightly hangs open but no words were escaping your lips, just soft cries. choso watched the scene intently as you squeezed your eyes shut and your body spasmed. you came hard, drenching those lace panties even more with your cum.

the sound of your heart beat in your ears lets you know you’re still alive. you listen as choso turns the toy off momentarily. “that was quick.” he comments as your heavy breaths fill the car.

you open your eyes to shoot a meaningless glare at him. he doesn’t say anything, only rubbing small circles on your hip.

“it was barely anything.” he says with a small shrug, “we should test it out with the panties off.”

with a small nod and ‘yes’ requested from him, his fingers start to dip underneath the band of the purple underwear. choso slides them off with ease after letting you lift your hips to get them closer to the ground.

you feel the somewhat cool air hit your pussy that was glistening. a sudden burst of vulnerability comes over you as you press your thighs together to hide from the man that sits in front of you.

his fingers move up your calves, up to the side of your thighs. he brushes them gently, keeping eye contact with you. “don’t need to hide from me, honey.”

at that, you slowly return to your state from before. he watches your pretty pussy come into view, his gaze going sinister at the sight. choso moves one of his hands to the edge of your core, hovering his palm just above your clit.

“so gorgeous.” he mutters, mostly to himself.

the sound of the toy starts up again. you’d figure he’d give a warning before putting it in, but he doesn’t. choso watches your eyes widen as he inserts all four inches of the dildo inside, the rabbit moving along your clit.

an unfamiliar hunger overtook his existence as he watched you squirm underneath him. choso slowly slotted the pink toy back and forth inside of you. you struggled to find something to hold as the pleasure took over your senses.

your hand is suddenly enwrapped by his, that electric current returning to your skin. he moves it to rest beside your head, his other hand maneuvering against you.

the sound of your pleasure almost makes choso’s head spin. he wants nothing more than to throw the plastic toy out of the window and shove his dick all the way into you. but he knew he wouldn’t be able to control himself. you seemed like such a sweet girl, and he didn’t want to ruin that.

“mm..’m close, choso.” you rasp, looking into his eyes. “don’t wanna cum with that.”

choso looks at you dumbfounded, trying to process your words. he watches you reach for his hand, pulling the pink toy away from your pussy.

you lean up, pressing your forehead against his. “would you fuck me if i asked nicely?”

“don’t bother.”

not even a millisecond passes after his words before his lips are attaching to yours. choso discards the toy to the front seats, pulling you closer to him.

you feel the hardness under his sweats pressing into you. with a small wiggle of your hips, he lets out a sigh into your lips. his hands find their way to your waist, pulling you up from laying against the seat.

choso places you into his lap, hands curled around the back of your thighs. his head moves upward to keep the connection between your tongues. you bite down onto his bottom lip, and his hands squeeze your flesh.

“please.” you murmur against him, “don’t tease, choso.”

he pulls his mouth away from yours, looking into those gorgeous irises you held. “i like the way you say my name.” he whispers.

you feel his hands remove themselves from you, going to the waistband of his sweats. within a moment, they’re pulled to his thighs. choso looks up at you in anticipation.

“goin’ at your pace, baby.”

your hands fall onto his built chest as you sink all the way down on him, driving the entirety of him deep within you. his hands fly to your hips when it you flutter around him, but then grabs for your wrist on his chest, intertwining your fingers with his.

a moment passes before you begin to lift your hips up and down, pushing his length through you. your movements, your warm skin, fluttering eyes—it's so overwhelming for choso. his head falls back, and even though you’re going at such a slow pace, it feels like you’re milking him, intent on making him fill you to the brim.

choso looks up at you, his brows furrowed with sweat building between them. his face is flushed, highlighting the scar on his nose. you almost cum right then and there from the sight of him looking so desperate.

when you speed up, he groans loudly. “you’re gonna fuckin’ kill me.”

moving closer to his ear, “that was the intent.” you whisper.

he unsuccessfully stifles a groan when your breath meets his ear. his hands are loosely closed around your thighs, not even wanting to press you tighter against him because his brain is practically melting.

you tug on the buns in his hair, forcing him to lock his gaze with yours. the pain in his scalp doesn’t phase him, in fact, he feels himself getting closer from the feeling. he watches your expression change with each thrust, holding him in your hand like a puppet.

“so fuckin’ pretty, choso.” you gasp, kissing up his neck.

he inhales sharply from your praise, “fuck—”

you looked godly--his savior, and your pussy was one squeeze away from sending him to heaven. you were giving him this gift of riding him and god he was so grateful for it--for you.

“feels ‘s good,” he whimpers, looking at you through half lidded eyes.

when you feel him twitch inside of you, your legs find what’s left of the energy you have left to quicken your pace even more. "come on baby, come on," you whisper to him.

he isn't used to this. he isn't used to being guided to his orgasm first, but he his brain is dissociating. he can't think of anything else--he's lost control over his brain and he feels himself tip over the edge of an orgasm.

choso groans when you flutter around him as you cum. he’s thrusting his hips up into you with a newfound force. it requires you to tighten your grip on his shoulders to stay put as he empties his load deep inside you, his sweet moans intercepted with apologies.

hours could’ve gone by, and you wouldn’t realize it. your body lays atop of him, hands lazily gripping onto his shoulders. choso doesn't pull out his cock, keeping it buried inside of you.

his hands are locked together, circled around your waist. his breathing has evened out along with yours, and the only thing filling the silence is the radio that’s barely above zero on the stereo.

“so..did you like the toy?”

#xozombiee #choso kamo #choso x reader #jjk choso #jujutsu kaisen choso #choso smut #choso my beloved #choso x female reader #choso my beautiful babygirl #jjk #jjk x reader #CHOSO PLEASEE LET ME RIDE JT #i’m so normal about him guys

[spider-stark]

A DARK AGE

next part

summary - it's been nine months since you watched your best friend, gwen stacy, plummet to her death; an event that ultimately caused new york's hero to abandon the city entirely. now that he's finally returned you find yourself being forced to confront the ugly truth you've been running from.

series warnings - 18+, minors DNI, will contain depictions of violence, sexual content, dark themes, and more. i will do my best to place warnings at the beginning of each chapter, but please read at your own risk.

word count - 10.3k

// a dark tasm!fan fiction // masterlist // send me your thoughts //

THE BUGLE was buzzing to life in a way it hadn’t in ages. Landlines were ringing off the hook, accentuated by a chorus of email and text notifications crying out from every cell phone in the building. As you stepped out of the elevator you found yourself staring at a sea of amateur reporters, all of them gathering on the far side of the office around a television set. 

You clutched the coffee in your hand tighter to keep it from spilling as a young man accidentally bumped into you, quickly moving to join the herd of his peers. You shot him a nasty look, ignoring the swift apology he muttered out as he continued to rush past you. 

Despite your intrigue at the collective panic of your coworkers, you didn’t bother moving to join them around the TV. Instead, you walked the clear opposite direction, making a beeline for the office of the only man in New York City that you trusted to know exactly what all of this fuss was about. 

“What the fuck is going on?” 

Workplace etiquette had flown out the window for you a long time ago. Reporters didn’t have time for benevolence. 

“They’re acting like rowdy animals out there. Foswell is running around the office like he’s in a goddamn marathon! Nearly gave me a third degree burn trying to get past me.” 

A vehement grunt was the first thing to leave Jameson’s mouth, which constituted a typical greeting for him. Following it was the shrill squeak of his old office chair as he spun around to face you. “Haven’t seen the news, y/l/n?” 

You furrowed your brows. “We are the news.” 

Another noise of discontent, followed by a hand coming up to rub viciously at his eyes. If you had learned anything during your time at the Bugle, it was that Jameson was always upset, which meant that you rarely found his vexed appearance very concerning. Yet, despite that, you couldn’t help but get the feeling that something was off. 

“The Daily Globe.” The name of the Bugle’s biggest competitor slipped past his lips like a slur, Jameson’s lip curling as if it had somehow left a bad taste in his mouth. “Some jackass at the station leaked info to them before they even got the crime scene taped off. Bushkin had everything plastered on their front page this morning before most of us even had time to pour a bowl of Special fucking K!” 

“What crime scene?” 

His hand dropped from his face down to his lap, shooting daggers straight at you. “You’re a reporter, y/l/n! Check the fucking headlines for once in your life!” 

“Sorry,” you sneered at him, “some of us actually have a life outside of work.” 

Of everyone at the Bugle, you were the only one with the authority (and the audacity) to backtalk Jameson and actually live to tell the tale. It was a perk of being his top investigative reporter, one that you never let go to waste. 

If anyone else dared to get snarky with him, he’d likely send a paperweight flying at their head. But, since it was you, he only responded to your comment with a dry chuckle—primarily because he was aware that you were lying through your teeth. 

The Bugle was all that was left of your life, the one remaining piece after you had lost everything nine months ago. Jameson knew how fresh the wound still was, how hard you fought to ignore what you’d gone through, and so he elected not to make an actual comment on your remark; a subtle indication that the crotchety man actually did have a heart. 

“Remember Aleksei Sytsevich?” 

You nodded, patience already growing thin as you waited for him to finally just tell you what happened. At this point you were beginning to think you would have been better off to gather around the TV with the rookies. “Of course I remember him,” you told him, “I’m the one that wrote the story on him hijacking that Oscorp truck last year. He goes by the Rhino now, right?” 

Each of you formed your own twisted expressions at the name Sytsevich had picked for himself. The name was fitting given the military grade battlesuit he’d managed to snag from Oscorp, but it was a tad too on the nose for your taste. It lacked creativity, though neither of you really expected anything better to come from the former Russian mafia leader. 

“Sometime last night he was found in an alley off 102nd.” Jameson declared, following you with his eyes as you moved towards his desk, taking a seat in one of the old chairs that sat in front of it. “Beaten to a goddamn bloody pulp.” 

Your nose scrunched up slightly. 

If it were anyone other than Sytsevich that had been left to bleed out in the dead of the night, you might have felt a bit of sympathy for them. But, instead, you only felt hopeful that Jameson would confirm the question that already fell past your lips, “He’s dead?” 

It was cruel to wish death on anyone. You should have felt guilty for the way your chest swelled with hope as you waited for Jameson to reply, but you didn’t. New York was running short on heroes these days, which meant that more and more criminals had begun to use that to their advantage, making a hobby out of terrorizing the innocent. 

Sytsevich had already escaped the Vault once, the so-called impenetrable prison, which meant that sending him back to jail was all but useless. But death? Not even Sytsevich would be able to crawl back from that. 

“No.” 

Your heart nearly sank, and you could tell that the sentiment was shared by Jameson, who looked equally as disappointed. After all of the innocent lives Sytsevich had claimed, he deserved to be put six feet under. 

“Not yet, at least.” He clarified, “As soon as they noticed a pulse they had him life-flighted to North General. Good news is that they don’t think he’s gonna make it through the weekend.” 

You snorted at Jameson’s execution of the comment, as well as the childlike joy that seemed to twinkle in his eyes as he thought about the possibility of Sytsevich finally being gone for good. Still, you could tell that there was more. That he hadn’t quite told you the full story. 

While the impending death of a former mafia leader was quite a story, there was little chance that it had been enough to piss Jameson off so much that the Daily Globe got word of it first. 

Criminals die every day, especially in a city like this. It was hardly front page material. 

“So you mean to tell me that the world is in hysteria all because Sytsevich is about to kick the bucket?” You questioned him, nudging your head in the direction of his office door, encouraging him to acknowledge his frantic employees as they paced the office floor. 

“It sucks that the Globe got to it first, but we should be celebrating!” As demented as it might seem, it was true. “But instead you’re in here wallowing as if we just missed out on the story of the year.” 

The joy that he had felt just moments ago was now extinguished entirely, replaced with an expression that carried far more weight. 

“You’re right. Sytsevich dying an excruciating death would be a fucking fit from a God I don’t believe in, y/l/n.” His forehead creased, thin lines appearing between his brows as he pressed a button on the laptop in front of him, tapping a few keys before turning the screen around to face you. “But the story isn’t just about his death—it’s about who killed him.” 

A wave of shock slammed into you like a ton of bricks, hard enough that it made you lose your grip on the disposable cup in your hand, the contents of it staining the old carpet that lined Jameson’s office. Neither of you paid any mind to the mess and you became consumed by the headline on the homepage of the Daily Globes website. 

SPIDER-MAN RETURNS - BRUTALLY ATTACKS ESCAPED CRIMINAL 

Your eyes grew wide, air getting caught in your lungs as you worked to keep yourself from vomiting right on Jameson’s desk. 

“No.” The word slipped out from under your breath without approval, a flash of pity washing over Jameson’s face as he took in your reaction. He had expected it, though, aware that of every reporter in New York, you would likely have the most intense response to the news. 

But your shock quickly began to morph into something more closely resembling rage. “There’s no way, right? Spider-Man’s been awol for months, J! They really expect us to think that out of every enemy Sytsevich has made that Spider-Man would be to one to fucking kill him? It’s bullshit! They’re just trying to get eyes on their shitty paper!” 

Jameson’s brows raised, clearly agreeing with the sentiment. He was never one to miss an opportunity to slam the Globe. “Normally I’d agree with you,” he mused, turning the laptop back around, “but the NYPD confirmed that Sytsevich was restrained with webs, y/l/n. It doesn’t look good.” 

Your blood ran cold, turning to ice in your veins. Darkness started to take over your peripheral vision, threatening to consume the entire space around you. Images flashed through your head—asphalt painted with thick blood, bones snapping, his gruesome screams—it was a past that you had fought so hard to put behind you, only for it to now creep back up on you. 

You instinctively clutched the bag at your side, half debating reaching inside for the little orange bottle you hadn’t touched in months. You restrained yourself though, terrified to feel as if you needed to rely on the pills again. Things were getting better. 

“Spider-Man’s not a murderer.” Your voice was so hesitant, so uncertain, and it made it difficult to tell who the statement was meant to convince, Jameson or yourself. 

Jameson’s shoulders lifted into a lazy shrug as he leaned back in the rickety chair, the plastic creaking at the shift of his weight. You were aware of his stance on Spider-Man, but even he had never considered the possibility of the vigilante committing something like this. 

“No, he isn’t.” He agreed with you, evoking a bit of shock. “But he’s about to be. He’s the only one that can be linked to the crime scene. If Sytsevich dies—and it’s only a matter of time—then Spider-Man’s the one going down for it.” 

Your mind was reeling, yet your body remained motionless, your gaze fixed onto the floor. Coffee still leaked from your cup, forming a sizable stain that only grew with every second that passed. You didn’t care. 

It had been months since anyone had last seen Spider-Man, and during that time, New York had already begun to turn on him. Citizens hadn’t yet forgotten their debt to him, the countless times in which he’d nearly laid his life down for the city, but that didn’t mean that many hadn’t grown to resent him. 

They had been abandoned by their hero, left to question if he was even still alive. And if this was how he returned? A killer? 

“It’ll turn into a man-hunt.” 

There was no other outcome for it, you both knew that much. Since his disappearance, an eerie sense of unrest had settled in the streets. Spider-Man’s absence had created a whole slew of problems, things that the NYPD weren’t equipped to handle. Hope had already become such a precarious thing, and if it were confirmed that their lost hero had abandoned his own code of ethics? It would destroy all that's left. It would unleash pure chaos. 

It would be the dawn of a new age. 

A dark age. 

“Maybe.” He was being cautious with his approach, aware that this topic had the ability to turn you into little more than a ticking time bomb. “Still, there’s not any cold hard proof that he was the one to send Sytsevich to his death bed. All they know for certain is that he was at the crime scene.” 

It was strange to hear those words from Jameson, crafted as a defense for the vigilante he swore to hate. If anything, that only increased your already heightened level of fear. 

Of everyone in the world, you would have never imagined that Jonah J. Jameson would be willing to testify that Spider-Man was innocent in anything. 

“I already told Urich to assemble a team, get out on the streets, and start finding some real proof. I’ve got a source at North General giving me hourly updates on Sytsevich, but we still don’t have much time to put together a story.” 

Your eyes snapped up to meet his, your face contorting into a sour expression as you flung out of your chair, ignoring everything about his statement except for one detail. 

“Fuck Urich!” You screamed loud enough that more than a few heads turned from outside Jameson’s office, a few of them now attempting to eavesdrop as the conversation became heated. “This is my story, J.” 

He sucked in a deep breath, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. He’d anticipated this reaction too. 

“No, y/l/n, it’s not!” Jameson’s own voice boomed, easily rivaling yours in volume. You didn’t so much as flinch. “Last time you chased a story with that Spider-fuck you nearly died! You’re staying away, got it?” 

You gritted your teeth, taking another step towards his desk, closing in on him. “You said it yourself J, we’re running out of time, right? You need someone that knows what they’re dealing with. Urich doesn’t have any connections to Spider-Man! I do!” 

Somehow you believed that preaching these facts to Jameson would change his mind, as if he didn’t already know about your past encounters with the hero, like he wasn’t the one that published the stories you had done on him. 

“I’m one of the last people to even see him alive, J!” You reminded him, finally letting your tone drop back to a normal volume as you continued, “Urich might be able to snoop around a crime scene, but I’m the only one with a chance of getting an actual statement from him.” 

Both of you knew that your claim was a bit far-fetched. If this were last year, getting a statement from Spider-Man would have been a piece of cake for you. But now? 

It was different. 

Either way, Jameson didn’t seem willing to budge. “A statement isn’t worth losing my best reporter.” 

If the circumstances were different you likely would’ve teased him for the comment, for making it so obvious that you were one of the only things to matter more to Jonah J. Jameson than a story. 

“Fine.” You snapped, clicking your tongue against the roof of your mouth as you challenged him. “Then I quit.” 

His face blanched. “You what?” 

“I’ll pursue the story on my own. Get a detailed fucking statement from Spider-Man—a few pictures, too.” You crossed your arms over your chest, entirely unwavering as you held his gaze. “Then I’ll sell it to the Globe.” 

Jameson’s face turned beet red, his eyes narrowing at your threat. “Don’t be stupid. You’d need an entire team to go after a story this big.” 

You mocked the lazy shrug he had offered just moments ago. “No, Urich needs a team. All I need is a few hours and some phone calls.”

Ben Urich would need access to several of the Bugle’s best reporters in order to conduct enough research to even know where to begin. Aside from that, you and Jameson both knew that one of the best potential sources for this story layed beyond the gates of Ravencroft—and Jameson would have a hell of a time trying to get authorization for an interview with any of their prisoners. 

But you? 

You could get in with a simple phone call. 

“This isn’t a game, y/l/n.” Jameson cautioned. “The night Spider-Man disappeared—when I got that call from the hospital—I thought you were gonna be dead, y/ln.” 

A pang of guilt shot through your chest and he reminded you of that night. When you arrived in the emergency room they had tried to call your emergency contacts—but you knew they wouldn’t answer, that they were the reason you were even there. Jameson was the only one that answered, the only one to show up. 

You knew how much guilt he still faced for pushing you to chase another Spider-Man story, for encouraging you to get closer to the vigilante, only for it to land you in a hospital bed with several broken bones and a grade three concussion. 

Sometimes you wished that you could tell him it wasn’t his fault. That you were already in too deep, long before you had started chasing another story, even if you didn’t realize it at the time. But you couldn’t. 

“If you take this story then you’re putting yourself at risk. Again. You’ll be destroying everything you’ve worked for.” 

Blood pooling, bones snapping, his screams echoing. 

You bit your cheek until you tasted crimson, shoving the hellish thoughts from your mind. “Are you gonna take Urich off the story or not?” 

Jameson’s shoulders immediately slouched, his disappointment evident as the corners of his mouth turned downwards. But he knew you—too well, which meant he knew that nothing would stop you from following this story. 

So, against his better judgment, he straightened his posture and tried to mask his own emotions, but you could still tell how much it had hurt him to mutter out the word—“Fine.” 

You didn’t plan on waiting around long enough to hear anything else he might have to say, already turning on your heel and aiming for the door, knowing that it was best to leave before he changed his mind altogether. Still, just before the door slammed closed behind you, you heard him speak. 

“Your funeral.” 

His snide comment left a bad taste in your mouth, pungent and unpalatable, but you did your best to ignore it. There wasn’t any time to comprehend the gravity of his statement, to consider just how close you had come to death last time. 

If Jameson was right about anything, it was that time was of the essence. The sooner Spider-Man could be proven innocent the better. 

So instead of dwelling on it and risking uprooting your past trauma, you shoved your way through the crammed newsroom, coming to a halt only when you could plant yourself at the edge of Urich’s desk. He looked up at you through his thickly-rimmed glasses, brows knitting together. 

“This your team?” You asked him, an idle finger pointing to the crew of unfamiliar faces that surrounded the desk. 

Urich gave a stiff nod. 

“Great.” The smile you gave was sickening, filled with misplaced animosity. You scanned over the group, your gaze ultimately settling on the figure directly to his left, a somewhat tall woman with neatly bobbed hair. Out of everyone, she was the only one armed with a pencil and notepad, having taken note of his every word. “What’s your name?” 

The women seemed stunned, her voice shaking the tiniest bit as she responded. “Betty. Betty Brant.” 

“Nice to meet you Ms. Brant.” Your tone was much milder when speaking to Brant, though it quickly turned harsh again as you shifted your attention back to Urich. “I’m taking over the story. Jameson already gave me clearance, so please, if you plan on whining about it, keep it between the two of you, mkay?” 

Urich’s usually squinty eyes suddenly widened behind his lenses, thin lines settling into his forehead. He didn’t even have time to open his mouth in protest before you had already cut him off. 

“Anyone who isn’t Brant can get out of my face. I don’t have a use for you.” A dismissive hand was waved at the small crowd, although none of them bothered to move more than a few feet away, too interested in eavesdropping to venture any further. 

“And, um, what is it that you’d like me to do?” Betty Brant was quite the apprehensive woman, her lack of confidence shining through in quite literally everything she did. She was new to this, that much was obvious, but you still found yourself with some sort of intuitive faith in the girl. 

“I need you to track down some information for me.” 

A pit suddenly grew in your stomach as it dawned on you that this would be the first time you had so much as uttered his name since that night. He had essentially become a ghost to you, capable of haunting every corner of your mind without ever reentering your life. It was easier that way, though. Avoiding him had been the best way to recover from him; even if that meant treating his name like a curse. 

You took a deep breath, garnering every ounce of strength you had left to ensure your voice wouldn’t crack. “I need a way to get into contact with Peter Parker. He used to work here, but the number we have on file isn’t in service anymore.” 

Once. 

In the nine months since it happened, you had only tried to call him once. With the phone pressed to your face you had already prepared yourself to hear the dial tone go on for ages, fully aware that he’d just let it go to voicemail. He didn’t want to talk to you—he didn’t want to talk to anyone. But, instead, you were greeted by a prerecorded message saying the number had been disconnected. 

And that was the closest you ever got to a goodbye from Peter. 

“Parker?” Urich finally got a word out. “What’s he gotta do with this?” 

You didn’t have any intention of offering him a detailed explanation, your back already turned to him as you spoke over your shoulder. “He’s the only one to ever get a clear shot of Spider-Man. If everything goes as planned, I’m gonna need his skillset.” 

It wasn’t a complete lie, but it also wasn’t the full truth. Regardless, it was the best defense you had for needing a way to contact Peter; one that wouldn’t raise any suspicions. If anything, you would have preferred to start your hunt for information with Peter, because then you would’ve been able to avoid Ravencroft altogether. But, unfortunately, Peter was little more than a dead end right now. 

“Jameson has my number–get it from him and text me as soon as you have a lead!” 

It was the last order you barked before disappearing into the elevator, quick to rush off to the first destination on your list. You had to get moving, at least until you could find a way to talk to Peter, which meant you needed to start gathering the names of anyone who might’ve actually wanted Sytsevich dead. 

Unfortunately, that meant hailing a taxi to Westchester County and digging up another ghost from your past. 

You hastily pressed the button for the ground floor, your other hand already delving into your bag, grabbing your phone and dialing the number that had called you many times over the past months; a number you rarely answered. 

“Hi, this is y/n y/l/n calling,” a weight settled deep within your stomach, accompanied by a shiver running down your spine as you forced yourself to speak, “could I speak with Leonard Samson? I would like to take him up on his visitation offer. Please tell him that I want to speak with Harry Osborn as soon as possible.”

The Ravencroft Institute for the Criminally Insane was not for the faint of heart. 

At first glance, most would consider it a fine establishment. The ornate iron gates lining the property seek to paint a picture of elegance, while the impenetrable stone walls offer those on the outside a sense of security—serving as a silent oath that those on the other side can’t get out. 

While technically labeled a prison, Ravencroft always insists that they place treatment above punishment for those incarcerated here. They pushed this motto, staff members regularly appearing on the local news to preach of mercy and remission; despite the fact that no one committed to the facility had ever made it out alive. 

Ravencroft’s prisoners weren’t always as willing to keep up the facility's pristine public image though, well known for spitting in the face of that ‘guise of elegance they’d worked to build. It was because of their sharp tongues that Ravencroft rarely let reporters past the front gates, petrified of what they might learn from those on the inside, worried that someone might get the chance to uncover their true nature; or worse, expose their unlawful ways of curing the prisoners. 

You were the only reporter to ever be invited onto the property, even if it was under special circumstances. 

“Truth be told, I was shocked to hear you called!” Director Samson confessed. His tone always rubbed you the wrong way, always coming off as far too exuberant for a man in charge of a psychiatric facility for criminals. “What’s it been, five months? Six, perhaps, since we last spoke?” 

“Seven.” You noted, sporting a rather sardonic smile. He didn’t seem to notice your ill-intent. 

“Well, either way, it had been far too long!” He chortled to himself, a chorus of keys clanking against his hip as he led you down another winding hallway. 

Fluorescent lights flickered overhead, illuminating the immaculate white linoleum beneath your feet. The smell of bleach was incredibly pungent, burning your nostrils with every breath you took. You did your best not to breathe at all. 

“You’ve been checking your email, yes?” Director Samson was a few long strides ahead of you, moving at a pace you couldn’t manage to keep up with. “When you stopped answering your cell, I decided to have my secretary begin forwarding you all of our notes from his treatment sessions. It’s pivotal that you’ve stayed up-to-date on his progress, especially if you finally plan on becoming an active role in his recovery!” 

You braced yourself for the tainted oxygen that would fill your lungs as you lied, “Of course. Even gave them a quick review on the ride over.” 

In the seven months that you had been dodging Samson’s calls, you had never once opened any of the emails from his secretary. You always saw them come through though, and you always found yourself staring at the subject line for just a moment too long. 

Patient #121394 - Progress Report 

It made you sick sometimes, the way he had been reduced to a number. Other times, you were thankful for it. It helped to create a divide in your head, allowing you to create some sort of separation between who he was and who he is. Harry Osborn was your friend. Patient #121394 stabbed you in the back. 

Regardless, you could never actually make yourself read them. But you also couldn’t bring yourself to delete them, stashing one-hundred and eighty-four daily progress reports from Ravencroft into a separate folder, out of sight but kept on hand, just in case you ever needed them. 

You weren’t sure why you ever would. 

“Good, good!” He chirped loudly, both of you now approaching a large armored door. It didn’t match the rest of the hallway, the rusted surface polluting the otherwise pure white space. 

Your attention was pulled away from it as Director Samson spun on his toe, index finger suddenly wagging in your face, your eyes growing wide as you tried to lean back a few inches. His nails were a touch overgrown, caked with a substance you didn’t recognize. Describing him as eccentric would be kind, although disconcerting fit him better. 

“You must promise me something before you speak with him!” He sputtered out. You did your best not to flinch as his saliva spewed onto your face. “I understand you may have felt a need to…” his head bobbed side to side, squinting as he considered his wording, “distance yourself from Mr Osborn. That is why I did my best to respect your need for space the past several months-” 

Ah yes–you thought to yourself, fighting the urge to laugh in his face–calling bi-weekly and sending daily emails is clearly a sign of respecting someone’s wish to be uninvolved. 

“But!” He shouted out, his rotten nails now close enough that you could smell whatever laid beneath them. “If you cross this threshold,” his hand moved to the large door behind him, offering you a chance to swallow back the bile building in your throat, “you cannot abandon him again, Ms. y/l/n. Progress is a volatile thing, especially for the damaged souls that call Ravencroft home. I need to know that you’re prepared to devote yourself to Mr. Osborn’s treatment.” 

Abandon him—the claim was enough to make your blood boil. You wanted to scream at him, remind him of what had happened that night, remind him that you were the one who had been abandoned. You wanted to turn around, to leave and never step foot in this cursed building ever again. 

If you did that, then maybe you could keep lying to yourself. Harry Osborn could remain your former friend, one of the few crumbs you had left of the life you so desperately wanted back. He could be innocent, and Patient #121394 could be the murderer. 

“Well Director Samson, I can assure you that I have absolutely no intentions to abandon him!” The mask you put on was sickly sweet, more than palatable enough to hide the animosity behind it. 

His bug-eyed stare remained locked onto you, unnerving and wild. “You must promise.” 

“Okay,” A sigh managed to slip out, quickly covered by your response, “I promise.” 

He instantly relaxed at the vow, easily returning to the childish ebullience he’d displayed previously. You wondered how he would react if he had noticed the hand behind your back, if he knew your fingers were crossed as you spoke. 

Abandonment was a much kinder fate than Harry Osborn deserved, so you were certain that if a higher power existed, they would forgive you for breaking your promise to Director Samson. 

Metal jingled about as he removed the keys from his belt loop, somehow knowing exactly which one to grab from the couple dozen crowded the thick ring they hung on. 

“Now, please, do your best to remember the rules!” He began unlocking the various deadbolts on the door. “All patients in the visitation area will be secured to his or her station, for your safety as well as theirs. Under no circumstances should you touch any of the patients. Should you notice a patient is acting out of sorts, please remain calm and notify the warden-” 

You already knew the do’s and don’ts of visiting prisoners, having interviewed several of the inhabitants at Ryker’s Island for the Bugle, and so you found yourself droning him out entirely, watching as he moved from one lock to another, until he finally reached the last one. 

“Most importantly, do not forget that this time is meant to inspire and encourage your loved ones to continue on their new path towards righteousness!” He displayed a toothy grin, cavity filled and displeasing. In return you offered a much less prominent smile. “And please, when you’re done with your chitter-chatter, come by my office. I would love to discuss next steps with you!” 

You gave a curt nod, aware that you would not be doing that. Interacting with Samson was enough to drain even the most extroverted people, which was one of the many reasons you’d stopped returning his calls only two months into Harry’s sentence. 

He viewed you as a valuable tool for curing Harry—mentally, at least. His actual disease was of little interest to Samson, his physical health naught in comparison to his damaged mind. Harry had no next of kin, which meant all of Samson’s hopes had been placed onto you. He believed in order to cure Harry’s mind, he needed the assistance of someone who was dear to him, someone to act as a tether to his sanity. 

Director Samson also believed that the venom Harry injected into his veins was the cause for his self-proclaimed insanity. This told you all you needed to know about the Director; he was clueless. 

You knew the truth. After all, you were the one that had fed his lawyers the story and loaded them up with all the evidence they’d need in order to paint a picture for the jury, illustrating Harry Osborn’s mental descent. It was you that had convinced them to make him swallow his pride and take the insanity plea—your final act of kindness towards Harry. 

The clunky metal door groaned profusely as Director Samson pushed it open, heavy enough that it required him to use both hands and the majority of his body weight. Once it was open, he bowed in a particularly odd manner, motioning you into the room with a dramatic flair that made you nauseous. More than anything in the world, you couldn’t wait to never see him again. 

The small space you walked into had distracted you from Samon’s bizarre attitude, immediately taking note of them in case you ever felt like breaching Samson’s trust and writing a story on Ravencroft. 

First–it didn’t share the same suffocating scent as the hallway, the smell of chemical cleaners having completely vanished. You took advantage of this, letting your chest expand with several deep breaths. Your nostrils no longer burned, however this came with a price, this room much grimier than the rest of the facility. It didn’t shock you. 

Second–there was nothing white in here, a stark contrast from the unsoiled appearance of the never ending hallway you took to get here. This room truly felt like a prison, despite Ravencroft’s insistence that they were far from that. Muted shades of chipped paint coated the walls, the floors nothing more than poured cement. 

And, finally, third–no one, and you truly meant absolutely no one, appeared as if they were on the road to recovery. 

To your left there was a red-headed girl chained to a metal bar fastened to the wall. A bit of drool dribbled down her chin, her eyelids drooping as if she had been drugged. On your right was a boy no older than nineteen, handcuffed to his chair and left with nothing to do except stare at the floor beneath his feet. 

They looked miserable, and you almost felt bad for sticking Harry in a place like this. 

Almost. 

Behind you the door shut with a crash, the symphony of locks clicking back into place. Your heart rate spiked as you realized you were now trapped in here with them, taking a glance at the warden. He was a burly man, yet the only weapon he had on him was a baton, lazily stuffed into his waistband. It only added to your growing apprehension. 

Anxiety, you reminded yourself through gritted teeth, is another thing reporters don’t have time for. 

Each second brought you closer to Sytsevich’s impending death, which meant you didn’t have time to waste on fear. But knowing that didn’t make it any easier, still feeling as if you were frozen in place, wishing that they hadn’t made you leave your bag in the main office. 

If Brant had managed to find a number for Peter then you could just skip this whole mess, go straight to the source and get hard proof that he was innocent… but it was too late to turn around now. 

You were already here. 

In the furthest corner of the room you saw a steel table, placed directly in front of the patient’s only source of natural light—an incredibly small window, armed with thick black bars. Your heart lurched as your gaze settled on the table's only occupant. Even with his back turned, you could still recognize him. 

Lifting just one foot had been the hardest part, terror pricking your bones as the single step caused one of the patients to whip their head around towards you. 

He was an enormous man, standing several inches over six feet with muscles that rivaled the Hulk. Fortunately, you didn’t hold his attention for long, hesitantly watching as he went back to staring at the old-style television set that had been stuffed in the corner. Static painted the screen, and every once in a while the large man would give a swift hit to its side, making the other patients flinch. The warden didn’t stop him. 

Each step after that was rushed, an attempt to get out of his line of sight. He was restrained, as were all of them, but he still filled you with a sense of unease. When you finally reached the table and quickly slipped into one of the metal chairs, eyes still darting about prudently, you heard the patient sitting across from you laugh. 

You had thought the terror seeping into your veins had been intolerable, but it was no match for the misplaced grief that fought to consume you at the sound of his voice. It simultaneously sent chills down your spine and relaxed every muscle in your body, a paradox of a reaction that only the living dead could possibly provide. 

“Aw, what’s wrong?” He drawled, leaving you hanging onto every syllable. “My new friends scare you?” 

A bit. 

“Hardly.” You snapped back a bit faster than intended. Beneath the table you clenched your fists, fingernails prodding into the soft flesh of your palms. 

Stay calm. Hide your weaknesses. 

You were disappointed with yourself, your inability to mask your discomfort, especially here. A penitentiary wasn’t the best place to rollover, and you knew that the moment you fucked up and showed your underbelly you’d be as good as dead. You needed to be better. You needed to be incomprehensible. 

“You look well.” You spoke again before he’d have the chance to beat you to it, determined to be the one holding the reins in this conversation. “I’m shocked.” 

It truly wasn’t meant as a slight though the scoff you received in response made it clear that he’d taken it as one. It was God’s honest truth though; you hadn’t expected him to look as good as he did. 

Last time you saw Harry Osborn was when the venom had already invaded his bloodstream, transforming him into something near unrecognizable. That was the Harry Osborn you had been expecting to see today. A nightmare, a killer, a monster. 

Instead, you found yourself looking directly into the cerulean gaze of a boy you had mourned for nearly a year. There were subtle differences; the natural dark pigment of his hair still hadn’t returned, leaving it a dusty shade of brown, and the disease that fought relentlessly to claim his life had spread, a scaly patch of skin taking over his cheek bone. 

But, for the most part, he looked like himself. He looked like Harry. 

And that simple fact was almost enough to break you. 

“Wow, less than a minute in and you’re already spitting out back-handed compliments.” Harry's mouth twitched into a smirk. “You sure know how to greet an old friend.” 

Was he antagonizing you on purpose? Or was he simply delusional? Either way, you only offered him a tight smile, “We’re not friends.” 

You had no way of knowing if your words actually had any effect on him. Having been raised in the limelight meant that Harry had years of practice in maintaining his composure, always working to maintain the Osborn image. You had never been good at reading Harry, and that’s how he liked it. Like most powerful men, he enjoyed keeping secrets. 

“Aren’t we though?” He countered, a swift tug at the reins, an effort to regain some semblance of control. 

Your jaw clenched. “Not anymore.” 

Harry leaned forward a touch, those menacing eyes glistening as his palms remained flat against the cold steel, secured there by thick cuffs. “You think I don’t know what you did? That I don’t know who fed my lawyers all that bullshit about childhood abuse and disease warping my mind?” 

That bullshit had saved his life. Forced the jury to see him as more than another twisted villain, coerced them into feeling some sort of sympathy for Harry. By no means was Ravencroft comparable the the fucking Four Seasons, but it was far better than the alternative. Without the insanity plea, Harry was on a quick path to Ryker’s Island—a place you wouldn’t wish on your worst enemy. 

“You’re right. I gave them everything they needed to build your case.” There was no use in denying it. The recounts of the trauma his father had inflicted on him were too detailed, too intimate, and Harry knew only three people in this world had access to that information. Himself, you, and Norman; and the latter was already dead. “But not because we’re friends.” 

He cocked a brow at you, once again leaning back into the uncomfortable metal chair. “Then why bother?” 

“Because I’m not like you.” 

And you wholeheartedly believed that. Caring about him had nothing to do with your choice to try and spare his life, your decision to aid Gwen’s murderer. 

“A rich boy like you wouldn’t last a single day in Ryker’s. Those guys would’ve eaten you alive.” You asserted, the only physical sign of the anger coursing through you being your flared pupils. You were in control. “I had an opportunity to save your life, so I took it. Not because of friendship,” the word tasted acidic, burning as it rolled off your tongue, “but because I’m a good person—better than you ever were.” 

It wasn’t until you were done talking that you realized how desperate you had been for the declaration to cut him. You only recognized it afterwards, irritation flooding you as he remained perfectly still, seeming entirely unphased. 

Then after a moment of nothing, he sighed. Not out of annoyance, not out of sadness. Instead, it seemed to be out of pure boredom, which only made your irritation towards him grow. 

“Guess that means you’re not here to help with my treatment, huh?” He said it like a joke, as if he too thought he was incapable of redemption and found this whole thing to be a waste of time. “Samson’s gonna be so disappointed when he finds out.” 

“You’re right, I’m not here to help you.” you confirmed, sucking in a deep breath and biting back at your pride, “But you’re gonna help me.” 

His brows snapped up—a reaction, subtle, but there nonetheless. “And why would I do that? I mean, you already made it clear that we’re not friends. So why should I do anything for you?” 

“I’ll keep coming here. Participating in whatever stupid shit Samson has planned, keep acting like I wanna help you get better.” You sneered, eyes rolling. People like Harry Osborn were incapable of better. “There’s gotta be something for you to gain in all of that, right? Some sort of reward for making progress. If you’re lucky then maybe they’ll give you more playtime with your little buddies or something.” 

Your gaze flicked over his shoulder, once again landing on the enormous man that had noticed you earlier. He was still beating against the side of the television, the thumping of his palm against thick plastic echoing through the room. No one seemed to mind the noise. 

“Besides,” you continued while shifting your focus back to Harry, “you owe me.” 

He did owe you—him and Peter both—but pulling that card made you sound desperate, like you had truly run out of options and were now using everything left in your arsenal to sway him. 

But that was the point. 

It was a calculated move, entirely deliberate, right down to the doe-eyed glance you shamelessly flashed at him, feigning a moment of vulnerability. You hadn’t rolled over, hadn’t exposed your weak points, but you wanted him to believe you did. 

There were certain benefits that came with knowing Harry—who he used to be. You knew about his insatiable desire to be needed by someone, to feel wanted. There had been a time in which you wouldn’t have dared to exploit the trauma that desire stemmed from, but things were different now. 

Even when armed with his stoic mask, you could tell that you had hit your mark perfectly. He remained silent, considering your words. A rational part of him was likely screaming to tell you no, to send you out of Ravencroft without so much as a second glance. Odds were that he knew this was an attempt to manipulate him, to play at the side of his that ached to be essential to another. 

But Harry Osborn wasn’t known for making rational decisions. He was rarely driven to act by his near-genius level IQ, instead always finding himself a victim to the gnawing pain in his chest; and you were banking on that. 

Then, it happened. 

For a moment—mere seconds, at most—the mask slipped. A single muscle twitched in his jaw, his nose wrinkling the slightest touch. The shift in his demeanor was so subtle, yet so apparent to you. Having once been so close to him, you’d all but trained yourself to detect the moments in which his arrogance would melt into something far more innocent. You used to crave those moments; live for them, even. It felt like an honor to witness the side of Harry in which he fought to keep locked away, a side he tried to ignore. 

Now, though, you felt almost nothing. 

Harry finally let out a gruff sound, his tongue darting along his chapped bottom lip. “You’re here about Peter, aren’t you?” 

You were careful not to outwardly react. “You’ve seen the news?” 

“Of course.” He rolled his eyes in an exaggerated manner. “Not everyday the city hails Spider-Man a murderer.” 

He said the vigilante’s name like a curse, as if it were the dirtiest word he’s ever spoken. It was laced with a bone-chilling sense of contempt, one that only deepened your resentment towards Harry. You didn’t like it—the way he spoke as if he had a right to hate Peter. After everything Harry had done, after everything he’d taken—your nails dug deeper into your palms as you fought to keep your eyes peeled. terrified that if you so much as blinked you’d catch a glimpse of Harry’s sins. That you’d catch a glimpse of her.

“Are you gonna help or not?” You struggled to stay composed, his brows raised in amusement at the snipped statement. 

An unfortunate oversight in your plan had been in failing to acknowledge that Harry knew you just as well as you’d known him. It didn’t matter if you rolled over, because you were already exposed. He knew that Peter was a soft spot for you, that he had always been a soft spot, and all he had to do in order to push you over the edge was jab a little harder at that unhealed wound.

Surprisingly, he chose to leave it alone. 

“You’ll come four times a week. Minimum.” 

You fought the urge to grin at his demands, aware that it meant the rational side of him had lost. 

“Twice a week.” You countered.

“Make it three.” He almost sounded pitiful, coming off more like he was begging than demanding. It caught you off guard to hear him sound so desperate, and for a moment you wondered if he had turned the tables; if he was now manipulating you, playing on your emotions and trying to make you feel bad for the loneliness Ravencroft had inflicted upon him. 

But there was something about the look in his eyes, how transparent they suddenly seemed, that made you feel like this hadn’t been done with nefarious intent. His desperation was genuine, and you weren’t sure how to feel about that. 

“Fine.” You agreed, aware that you didn’t have time to negotiate with him all day. You had a story to write, and in order to create a solid defense for Spider-Man—for Peter, you’d need help. You’d need a culprit, someone that had a motive to kill Sytsevich. “Deal?” 

Harry grinned, that same arrogant and flashy sort of grin you’d seen him give heiresses and models. You always wanted to be on the receiving end of that smile, to be the one he was trying to win over, but now it only made your stomach sink. “How can I be of service?” 

“Do you know anyone who might want Sytsevich dead?” You decided to be blunt with the question, keeping your voice low. 

“Uh, yeah. Try the entire Soviet Union. From what I’ve heard, it sounds like he made a real fucking mess of things when he left Russia.” Harry noted. 

“O-kay,” you drawled, “what about locally? People talk in prison, yeah? If somebody was planning something you would’ve heard about it.” 

His nose scrunched up. “What do you think happens in prison? That we all just get together like it’s a slumber party and swap hit lists?” 

You didn’t bother responding, not verbally, at least. Instead, you opted for shooting him a sharp glare. It didn’t phase him. 

“Look,” he glanced towards the warden, scooting forwards a touch once he noticed the negligent guard had become distracted by his phone, “a guy like Sytsevich doesn’t go down without a good fight, alright? I saw the blueprints for that armor he wears, right before the board locked me out of Oscorp’s systems. I know what it’s capable of. Most people wouldn’t even have a chance to get a hit in, let alone send him to the hospital.” 

“Perfect,” you snapped, his eyes widening slightly, “if you know what his armor is capable of then you should know who would be strong enough to take him on.”

Harry scoffed at the simplicity of your deduction, “Yeah, I’ve got a pretty good idea, actually.” 

You gritted your teeth, aware of where he was heading. “It wasn’t Peter.” 

“How’re you so sure?” He asked you, a thin crease settling between his brows as he glowered at you. “I know you like to fixate on my fuck-ups in favor of avoiding his but you were there that night, y/n!” 

The banging sound of the prisoner’s palm colliding against the side of the thick television kept the guard from hearing Harry’s raised voice. 

“He wouldn’t kill Sytsevich.” You held firm in your beliefs, even as your gaze faltered and fell away from Harry’s, settling on the surface of the table. 

Bang. 

“He almost killed me!” His voice was consumed with bitterness, with pain. 

“And you killed her.” 

Was that truly a good defense? Had Harry’s sins somehow absolved Peter’s? A life for a life—the logic behind the sentiment was skewed and you didn’t want to think about it. You didn’t want to venture into the memories you’d fought so hard to block out. Your stomach suddenly became taut, unwilling to face the question you didn’t want answered. 

“You know what he’s capable of.” He pressed further, still leaned in close, as if trying to close the gap between you both, the shackles securing him to the table preventing him from doing just that. “Sytsevich was restrained with webs, y/n. Don’t be dense-”

Bang. 

“Peter isn’t a murderer, Har!” You hissed through your teeth—too overstimulated to notice the pet name slip from your mouth and too livid to care. 

He went to argue the statement when another bang sounded out against the side of the television, this one finally powerful enough to knock some life back into the formerly deceased device. Your eyes darted in it’s direction, Harry’s neck snapping around to do the same as you both listened to the hum of the static clear, a female voice breaking through. 

“-just moments ago we received word from the NYPD that former Russian mafia member Aleksei “the Rhino” Sytsevich passed away less than an hour ago. Sources from North General hospital confirmed that Sytsevich’s condition began to rapidly worsen, until he eventually gave in to the fatal wounds sustained in last night's mysterious assault.” 

The tautness in your stomach grew stronger, a wave of nausea settling over you as the organ began to tie itself in knots. 

“Chief Davis with the NYPD will be holding a press conference this afternoon, however officials have already confirmed that there is now an active warrant out calling for Spider-Man’s arrest. Individuals with any information on New York’s fallen hero are being asked to call the number displayed on the bottom of the screen, and police advise citizens to avoid their Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man at all costs-”

Harry twisted back around to face you, cautious and uncertain as he met your stare. He almost appeared concerned—not about the news, not about Peter, but about you. The corner of his mouth twitched downward, forced to watch as your face blanched, mind reeling. 

It’s not too late. There’s still a chance. He can still be proven innocent. A warrant doesn’t mean jackshit. 

The metal legs of your chair screeched against the ground as you pushed yourself back from the table, “I need to go.” 

Harry’s wrists pulled against the shackles that held him in place, instinctively reaching towards you, as if he’d nearly forgotten they were even there. “Wait!” 

Against your better judgment, you listened to him, though you weren’t entirely sure why. You needed to go. You need to contact the Bugle, needed to see if Brant had found a number for Peter. As much as you hated to admit it, Ravencroft had wound up being a deadend, and you needed to keep moving—but you just didn’t. You stayed, staring back at a boy you once knew, waiting for him. 

You always waited for them—Harry and Peter both. 

“You’re not-...” he hesitated, blinking and shaking his head as he debated whether or not he should even continue, if it would even make a difference. “You’re not going to see him, are you?” 

“Of course I am!” You ignored the groan that escaped his parted lips. “You’ve been fucking useless, so Peter is all I’ve got left. He didn’t kill Sytsevich, alright? But he was at the scene. He’s gotta have some idea as to who did this.” 

It was obvious that the offhand insult had stung, evident by the way he winced as you launched it at him. You nearly found yourself apologizing for it, but decided against it as you watched him quickly stiffen back up, always refusing to wear his pain so blatantly. Norman had trained him well, drilling into his head that weakness wasn’t a part of the Osborn way. 

“Don’t get involved.” 

Your stare narrowed. What he offered hadn’t been a recommendation, rather a demand. “They’ll hunt him down, Harry! If the police convince the entire city that Spider-Man’s a murderer? The city will turn into a fucking disaster. I’m not gonna let him go through that alone.” 

“You could get yourself killed!” Harry barked back, clearly indifferent to whether or not Peter suffered alone. You found yourself laughing in response, finding humor in his attempt to show concern for your life. 

“It’s Peter.” You stated plainly, devoid of any emotion as you rose to your feet. Harry’s head tilted upwards, following you with his eyes. “He wouldn’t let anything happen to me.” 

“Remind me again who saved you that night.” His jaw clenched, his tone turning callous as he decided to prod at the old wounds. “Cause it sure as hell wasn’t Spider-Man.” 

Your fists balled up tighter, blood beginning to seep from your palms and pooling beneath your nails. You zoned in on the stinging sensation, digging deeper into your flesh, using the pain as a tether to keep you from slipping too deep into your own subconscious. You didn’t have time to think about that night. You didn’t have fucking time. 

So you bottled up the thousands of thoughts running rampant in your head, biting your tongue instead of allowing yourself to spit anymore insults at him. He’s not worth it–you tried to tell yourself, starting towards the warden–it won’t change anything. 

“y/n!” He growled as you moved past him, electing to ignore him entirely. He thrust his arms against the shackles again, rattling the thick metal and grunting as they tightened around his wrists. You were just a little over a foot away when he spoke again, “Don’t fucking tell him you know!” 

You paused, suddenly feeling as if your feet had been cemented to the floor. You cursed yourself as you responded, refusing to look back at him. “What are you talking about?” 

“Have you talked to him since that night?” He asked. 

“No.” You chewed on your bottom lip, ignoring the abrupt pang in your chest. “I haven’t.” 

“Okay. Great. Then he doesn’t know for sure what you saw that night. That you saw him without the mask, that you know he’s Spider-Man.” He was talking uncharacteristically fast, as if he was worried you’d leave before he’d get the words out quick enough. “So don’t tell him.” 

You frowned, shifting to the side, now looking at him through your peripheral. “Why?” 

“Because.” Harry squeezed his eyes shut, fending off the growing headache that this situation had brought on. “As far as he knows, I’m his only loose end. The only one that knows who he really is.” 

Your chest tightened as you realized what was happening. Since walking into Ravencroft, you’d concerned yourself so heavily with keeping your guard up, with guarding your weakest points—only for Harry to be the one to rollover. He was exposing his hand, and you found it unsettling, especially when you realized that there was no selfish intent behind his words. 

Harry had nothing to lose in this situation. 

Except for you—his friend. 

“Maybe you’re right. Maybe he’s not a murderer. But if he did kill Sytsevich? Anyone who knows about Spider-Man’s secret identity is gonna have a huge fucking target on their back.” His eyes remained closed, drawing in a shaky breath before he continued, “So please,” his voice shook, desperation lacing each syllable, “just–don’t tell him, okay?” 

Goosebumps arose on your forearms, unable to hide from the fear that radiated off of him. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t find an ulterior motive for the statement. There was no clear sign of manipulation, no indication that he wanted to do anything other than protect you; and that made you feel sick. 

You had long since buried Harry Osborn, having told yourself countless times that two of your friends died that night. For two-hundred-and-seven days you had mourned both of them. 

With every fiber of your being you had believed that the arrogant boy that had weaseled his way into your life was gone, having been replaced with a malevolent monster. 

But now you could feel him.

It no longer felt as if you had just been staring at his corpse, but rather as if someone had actually breathed life back into him, offering you a glimpse of what still remained. 

It caused the tiniest spark of hope to ignite within you, a spark that you would do your damndest to extinguish. 

Harry Osborn was better off dead. 

“Our deal’s off.” You asserted, cold and uncaring. His eyes shot open again, a desolate expression washing over him. He didn’t try to conceal it, didn’t bother to adjust the mask he always wore. “You gave me absolutely nothing, so I’m not obligated to hold up my end.” 

Harry’s lips parted as if he were going to protest, as if he were going to do something—but nothing came out, and you hadn’t expected him to find the words, anyways. Try as you might, the three of you had never been capable of such candor; never willing to shine a light on the darkest corners of your minds, too scared of the risks that came with exposing what laid beneath the surface. 

You couldn’t help but think there was something poetic about it; the melancholy cord that bound you to Harry and Peter. How you were all fated to don matching wounds, but always be too afraid to admit to one another that you were bleeding. 

Sometimes you wanted to show them the stains on your hands, the red that you could never scrub off. You wondered if it would have made a difference, if maybe then the three of you could have bore the weight of it all together, rather than crumbling beneath the pressure. 

But none of that mattered anymore. 

None of you were the same anymore. 

And so you gritted your teeth and held your head high, letting the blood continue to collect under your nails, hiding it from his view. You took a heavy breath, your chest heaving beneath all of the pain you chose to carry. 

“Coming here was a mistake.” 

It was the only thing left to say, the only other admission you’d let slip past your lips. It hung in the air between the two of you, resonating with each of you in an entirely different manner, knowing that you’d never share your own interpretation with the other. 

Harry didn’t respond, choosing to drown in his silence, having grown used to watching people walk away from him. And you forced yourself to leave, choking on the remnants of your own grief; having grown used to abandoning what you once loved. 

a/n - ah, so it's definitely not june BUT i did post it finally! i've put a lot of time and effort into this fic cause i do just genuinely love the idea of it and it brings me a lot of joy lol. with that being said, it takes a ton of effort for me to write it because i'm putting in a lot of little details, so updates on this won't be the quickest, especially while i'm taking summer classes!! but i'll be doing my best! please feel free to leave comments, opinions, etc. and look forward to getting loads of peter content in the next part! also feel free to check out THIS if you want to see an edit of the newspaper headline!

#peter parker imagine #tasm imagine #harry osborn imagine #tasm fic #peter parker fic #peter parker #spiderman fanfiction #spiderman imagine #harry osborn #spiderman fic #peter parker x reader #mcu imagine #yandere peter parker #yandere spiderman #dark peter parker #the amazing spiderman #tasm2 #tasm fanfiction #tasm!peter x reader #tasm!peter x y/n #tasm peter parker #tasm!peter one shot #tasm harry osborn

[akystaracer22]

Distrust Fall:

A leap of faith gone wrong, an eternal promise kept eternally. No matter how long it has been some things never truly change.

Notes

How to fail a trust fall: Step one

Vaggie's relationship with Adam is very complicated, but at the moment there is a lot of animosity and it shows.

Adam is of the opinion that Sorry doesn’t mean jack shit if you make the mistake again, so he just doesn’t apologise because he thinks he’ll just fuck up again so there’s no point.

The hotel needs a licensed therapist at this point dear lord.

Alastor still isn’t over the whole “Radio is fucking dead” thing.

If there is one thing that Adam knows off by heart, it’s the names of animals scientific or otherwise. That was the guys job once upon a time and assuming he doesn’t know that stuff is the true quickest way to piss him off. He’s also really good with animals which pisses off Anthony because Fat Nuggets *likes* Adam and it drives the sinner up a wall.

Alastor and Lucifer are on the ground. Angel, Husk, Charlie, Vaggie, and Adam are on the roof.

Alastor was going to let him get a cm from the ground before catching him dw.

Lucifer used to be friends with Adam in the garden because I live for that sweet sweet friends to enemies tragedy.

Adam really does not like people staring at his face, it’s a mild form of scopophobia caused by his time in heaven with people always giving him shit for how he looked, particularly his facial features (Yes I drew on everyone calling him ugly and average on twitter and shit). He used the mask to get around it, that way people couldn’t actually see what he looked like.

This was originally 1260 but then I got an idea that blew this out by 500 words lol.

The graveyard with be elaborated on in a future connected one shot.

This is officially a fully fledged AU

Regarding Adam's claws, they're gold to combat the greyness of his palette, but also as a nod to Midas, the arrogant king who's touched turned everything to gold. Angelic blood is also gold so if you want you can interpret it as having blood on his hands.

Fingerless gloves because I thing they're neat.

I based Lucifer's wings off of duck wings!

Also Lucifer's angelic appearance was based on space. I heard Sera call Charlie "Daughter of the Morning Star" and I went feral.

He has a full shifting night sky in his wings, clothes, and hat.

Angels have white pupils now I don't make the rules.

References saved my life.

Word count: 1725

(Comic and fic under the cut! Click for better quality)

@irregular-child

Adam leaned away from the edge as the wind drifted through his wings, keenly aware of the fact that his wings wouldn’t break his fall and he did not in fact trust jack shit in hell to break it except the ground.

“Are we sure this is a good idea?”

“I’m with princess perfect this is a fucking death sentence,” Adam agreed, a little reluctantly because it was still the princess of hell, “You’re trying to fucking kill me.”

Vaggie smirked, because of course she did because she was trying to kill him, he wasn’t that dense, and just shrugged, “I mean, worked for me didn’t it?”

“That wasn’t even a fucking trust fall that was to get you to fucking fly and you know it! Fucking bitch,” The first man scowled and tried to step away from the edge, the crack whore of an arachnid immediately shoving him back up, “Would you fuck off?!”

“Would you stop being a dick?”

“Would you stop sucking them?”

The white jumping spider stared at him for a long moment and Vaggie stepped away from him for once, great! Cool! One person was leaving him alone and soon a second one will!

Great! About fucking time they got the message-

-------]

Lucifer paced nervously around Dazzle’s statue; this was a terrible idea. Having Adam go through a trust fall this early was going to end in disaster one way or another.

The main issue being nobody liked Adam and wouldn’t care if he fell. Hell, Charlies girlfriend has already tried to kill Adam off for good multiple times since he got here!

This was going to be a mess; Alastor was supposed to be catching Adam but he was just standing there looking completely unprepared and-

“Are you going to get ready or not.” Lucifer snapped at the radio demon, wings flicking out behind him in agitation.

“Oh, I have no intention of catching him.”

Lucifer froze, his tail stilling before lashing behind him as he turned on the deer-eared sinner, “What.”

“You heard me.”

“Oh, I heard you alright, and I think you should try that again.”

“And why are you getting so worked up, hm?” The sinner hummed, sneering down at the king, “Last I checked, the first man was your enemy after he tried to kill your own daughter.”

“I-” Lucifer paused, then scowled because Alastor was right. Why was he getting so worked up over this. This was Adam they were talking about. Adam who was crass and rude and cold to everyone. Adam, who would rather sit in his room all day than even look at any of them. Adam who was…

“…Luci, do they all hate me?”

…

“I can see why they left me for you.”

…

“It is good to see you again my friend! Come, much has changed since your last visit!”

… Adam who was so much more than who he was now. Who was probably the only person left in hell that remembered Eden.

Damnit.

“That’s none of your business you son of a bitch,” The fallen angel snapped at the cannibal, eliciting nothing more than a growing grin from the bastard.

Not a day went by in hell where Lucifer wished that this wasn’t his circus and that the sinners weren’t his monkeys.

Someone screamed above him.

The seraphim whipped his head up, eyes widening as he registered Adam twisting the air as he was shoved off the roof by Angel Dust.

Fear struck his heart like an exorcists blade when the first man tried to use his wings to glide, only for a single wing beat to send him into a spiral hurtling towards the ground.

He caught Adams eye for a single moment before it was obscured by his good wing, the man was terrified. He didn’t know sinners reformed after death and despite it all. Lucifer would never wish someone to experience falling from their death after quite literally falling from heaven.

Not even on Adam.

Something in his heart spurred the king into action, kicking off the ground as his wings snapped open to catch the air. A single beat of his wings and he was already well off the ground.

Lucifer reached a hand up for Adam as the fallen angel reached out to him in kind, panic written across both their faces at the idea of a horrible accident.

Lucifer’s wings moved the air one more time and-

“And… you will catch me?”

Lucifer laughed softly, a gentle chiming sound from where he stood behind Gods first man. He was trying to show him a game Lucifer and his kin would play from time to time amongst the spires of heaven.

The game was simple, one angel was to stand up high with their wings folded and fall. Then the other angel was to catch them. It was supposed to build trust, not to mention it was a delight in and of itself.

Standing amongst the grasses of Eden, Lucifer saw no reason not to share this game with Adam. He’s already grown fond of the way that Gods creation would go out of his way to show the angel what he’d been up to since his last visit.

“Be not afraid my friend!” Lucifer’s wings spread quietly to punctuate his point, divine magic threading his words, The Voice ensuring that the first man would hear and believe him.

“No matter how far you fall, I shall always be there to catch you.”

Lucifer wrapped his arms securely around the fallen angel as his wings curled around wing and man alike, bracing himself as the added weight as they both fell together.

It’s funny, it reminded him of when Adam first fell, a fiery ball that could have almost been mistaken as a shooting star had Lucifer not known better.

They hid the ground with a slam and the fallen seraphim had to bite back a shriek as his wings took the brunt of the force. They’d be left aching for a while.

Lucifer grunted as he pushed Adam off of him, sitting up and folding his wings in, allowing them to slip out of existence while they healed, he definitely didn’t want to do that again.

He slowly got to his feet while the first man got his bearings, dusting himself off and rubbing his shoulders to try and alleviate the pain.

“Why the fuck did you save me?”

Lucifer jerked and looked down at Adam from where he was glaring up at him, a note of confusion held carefully in his gaze before it dropped.

“I-”

“Well, isn’t this quite a surprise!”

Lucifer’s expression shot into a scowl as he rounded on the radio demon very blatantly interrupting the moment. The bastard just grinned and stared down at the both of them.

From the corner of his eyes Lucifer noted Adam’s good wing hitching up instinctively to cover his face from the demons gaze before dropping.

Lucifer turned his attention back to the radio demon with a glare that could melt steel, “You were going to let him fall,”

“I was going to do no such thing,”

“You just said-!”

“I said nothing you just assumed I was going to do nothing at all!”

“Listen here you!” Lucifer was just off again by the main doors opening and the other’s all barrelling out at the commotion.

Lost in the sudden onslaught of attention and having to field Alastor’s snarky comments, Anthony’s suggestive remarks, and Charlie’s concern, he didn’t see Adam flee the scene.

It wasn’t until much later that he was able to recognize the first man’s absence, searching the hotel to see if Adam was okay.

He found him at the graveyard, sitting among the many tombstones for the exorcists slain in the battle that caused Adam to fall.

Lucifer paused at the entrance to the burial ground, watching Adam sit there facing away from him for what felt like an eternity.

Despite the dead being gone, the king of hell still felt like the exorcists weapons were pointed at him, a warning that if he made one wrong move they would rise from their graves to protect their leader, to avenge him, to strike Lucifer down in an instant.

The once-angel of the morning star carefully stepped away from the cemetery, making sure he didn’t break the silence. Even if Adam wanted to be disturbed, he wasn’t the right person to do it, not in this place.

Besides, he still had his own thoughts to sort through, like why in the name of the divine he saved Adam when he would have survived regardless. He would have been fine even if he did hit the ground unimpeded so why-

Lucifer grimaced as the answer stuck to him like a parasite, he knew damn well why he saved him. It was the same stupid reason he preened Adams wings for him, the same reason he treats the first man’s wing rot and the exact same reason he made that deal with Adam after he fell.

He was attached.

Stupids horribly foolishly, Lucifer still cared for Adam even after everything.

By the stars he beat Adam within an inch of his life! Adam tried to kill his daughter!

But emotions were hardly logical. They weren’t logical when he fell for Lilith in the garden and taught her and Adam both The Voice, they weren’t logical when he freed Eve, and they weren’t logical now.

Lucifer cared for Adam, even if by all logic he should hate the man.

“Dad?”

Lucifer looked up to meet his daughters eyes, a small smile letting her know he was okay, “Hey there Duckie.”

Charlie’s expression softened at the nickname even if he still looked concerned, “Dad… are you sure you’re okay?”

“If I’m not now, I will be, so stop worrying about little old me Char-char,” Lucifer chuckled, “However… Adams in the graveyard if you want to talk to him, he seems like he needs some company right now.”

He made his exit quickly after that, he knew what Charlie would do, it was in her nature to help people, it was what made her so special.

But Lucifer, he helped people once, and now… he had a new person he could help again.

And he might just know where to start.

#hazbin hotel #adam hazbin hotel #angst #writing #hazbin hotel adam #fluff #worldbuilding #lucifer hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel charlie #hazbin charlie #charlie morningstar #fallen angel adam #hazbin hotel angel dust #fallen angel #angel dust #vaggie #vaggie hazbin hotel #this is why i don't draw comics #i always have to render it fully #my art #adamsapple #lucifer x adam #adam x lucifer #guitarduck #ashes to ashes dust to dust

[mushies-stories]

To sweet

honestly just a fluff of Denji trying to be a boyfriend for the first time to a kind of overly 'sweet' reader.

warnings: none really, female reader, swearing, like... once?

word count: 1113

Denji really was a great boyfriend. He always shared his food and snacks with you, He was caring and sweet and was always nice to you. However, that doesn't mean he’s perfect. Other than his hunt for the gun devil and most of your ‘together’ time being spent at Aki’s apartment with Power, you were also his first girlfriend. He’s never done the dating thing before but he wanted to show you that he could do things boyfriends normally do. He wanted to show you he knew how to really be your boyfriend. So he decided today he was taking you out. Whatever it takes to show you what a great and loving boyfriend he is. 

To start the day Denji had brought you flowers that he clearly picked from houses along the way. You didnt live that far from Aki’s apartment so the journey didn’t really give him time to make a whole bouquet but it had one of every flower he must have passed so it really was a cute little bouquet of different flowers. 

With a small smile Denji held the gift out for you. “Ready?” he asked.

You took the flowers and smiled at how cute he was. “Yep! Where too?” you asked after setting the flowers down inside. 

A wide grin spread across Denji’s face. “An amusement park!” he says with excitement. 

Denji’s plan was to go on a few rides, win you a big ass stuffed animal then get one of your sweet kisses, The plan was perfect. That was until he actually entered the amusement park. As soon as his eyes saw the roller coasters he grabbed your hand and pulled right to the biggest one. “C’mon Y/N! Let’s ride that one!” You couldn't help but laugh at how excited he was, he was like a little kid. 

It was Denji on the ferris wheel that had gotten you both kicked out of the park. Instead of doing something normal like kissing you he was busy looking over the edge and trying to see if he could spit on some poor soul's head. After a few good shots and the rest of the way down you were asked to leave the park and After Denji tried basically fighting a guard you ended up banned. 

“Well i fucked that up big time.” Denji pouted. He was thinking of something else, how can he make up for that mess? “Hey, do you like fish?” he asks, looking at you with a blank face. 

You tilted your head to the side with one raised brow. “Fish?” you questioned. 

That bright smile was back on Denji’s face. “Fish.” He nods.

The aquarium was what he ment. All the fun colored fish swimming around and so many different sea creatures. Sea horses? Denji thinks they are ugly as hell but super cool. He was so immersed in the fish passing by and wanting to follow them that he often knocked over kids without noticing. You had a hard time keeping up with him as he ran from one tank to the other. 

It didn't take long for the staff to ask you two to leave, this time Denji took it better and you weren't banned but he was still super bummed that he got you kicked out of another place. He just wasn't used to all of these new things. He didn’t have the money to go to an amusement park or an aquarium growing up after all. 

Denji let out a defeated sigh. “I'm sorry, I ruined the aquarium too.”  He gave you a sad smile. 

You shook your head. “It’s okay! Really Denji, you just don’t always have great spatial awareness when you're in public.” you reason with him, taking his hand in yours you learn head on his shoulder.

He didn’t want to leave the day on like that though, with being kicked out two places? Hell no, some place where he can’t make any problems. 

A movie was the simplest answer. You sit in one spot for an hour or so and don't get up. You could share snacks and a drink, he would throw his arm over your shoulders and your head would lay on his. 

With some cheesy romance, a large popcorn and a drink with two bendy straws you sat right in the middle of a pretty packed theater. Everything was going perfectly fine, Denji was mostly just giggling at some of the things the leads would say or do. When the cheesy romance got worse so did Denji’s laugh, then he started straight out trashing the movie, causing everyone around you to shush him. With a half hour still left, you were asked to leave the theater. 

That was it Denji thought, you would never talk to him again. There was no way you didn’t think he was a total loser now. He walked you home in silence, unable to even apologize out of embarrassment by now. Once you reached your front door he hung his head down and stared at his shoes, waiting for you to go inside and shut the door on him. He wouldn't even blame you. 

After a moment he noticed you haven't even moved from your spot in front of him. He slowly raised his eyes to meet yours. You had a gentle smile on your face and soft eyes looked into his sad ones. “Don't I get a kiss goodnight? ” you asked with a light tease. 

Denji stared at you in disbelief, you didn't hate him? “You mean you don’t hate me? After everything today you'd still want to kiss me?” he asked, still not fully believing you.

You took a small step closer, causing Denji to straighten up a bit and look down at you. “Denji i'm just so happy you tried today. I had fun even though we got kicked out because I got to see you happy.” you confessed, a blush creeping its way onto your cheeks. 

“Y/N” Denji didn’t know what to say. His heart was pounding, you were just too sweet, too perfect. One moment he was staring at you with pure affection and the next you were getting closer, leaning up on your toes and kissing him. Your soft lips were a dream and you tasted like cherries too. Yeah you’ve done plenty before but being near you always makes him feel so warm and happy. 

When you pulled away Denji had a dopey smile. “Thank you for today, Denji.” you say and pull him into a hug. Arms around his middle as he slid his around your shoulders, holding you tight and kissed the top of your head.

#chainsaw man imagine #chainsaw man x reader #denji x reader #denji imagines #chainsaw man #denji

[random-mailbox]

Random-Mailbox's Favorite Sailor Moon Fics - Week 45 - Reviving Shitennou

This week’s post is about bringing Shitennou back into the fold of the team. I wish that had happened in the manga / anime and am a little disappointed we did not get that in Cosmos. BUT that is what fanfiction is for! (To help us collectively right the wrongs / misses in original materials).

We are exactly ONE week away from @usamamoweek2023! Are you excited? Because I am very excited and am trying to finish my own submissions for this year's prompts

@smquickies2023 prompts are out too - that event is taking place August 6-12 (and is open to any SM pairings).

As always, my apologies in advance for spoiling some of these for you (Fic Titles are linked to either FFN or AO3 entries).

Deal Breaker - ninashtia

Keeping his shitennou being alive and well as a secret from his princess is bound to backfire on Mamoru. But not in the way he had expected.

Reunion - bashfulglowfly

In this story we get to witness the aftermath of the Dark Kingdom arc, but in an AU where Usagi didn't fight alongside our senshi and Tuxedo Mask in Tokyo (she still participated but from halfway across the world).

Embrace the Chaos - @serpentinred

Ami is thrust into keeping secrets and weighing possibilities, when her supervisor introduces her to someone who looks suspiciously like Kunzite. I love the art that @smokingbomber did for this one!

all things that are dark - @fated-addiction

Although this is technically just the first chapter of a fic that will hopefully get finished one day, it could stand as a one-shot as well. It gives glimpses of post-Galaxia thoughts Usagi has as she readies for the future.

The Shitennou Return! A Trip to the Beach in Peril - @chuplayswithfire

Mamoru has been keeping a secret from Usagi, something that she takes in stride and decides that a beach-day together with the girls would be the best way to get everything out in the open and see how it could all work. This fic has art by @mochibuni!

all my friends are dead and they bloody haunt me - @smokingbomber

Usagi, noticing some strange behaviour from Mamoru, takes a peek at what he could be up to. And decides that she can help fix everything.

---

That's it for this week. Reminder - no post next week since it will be UsaMamo Week. We will return to regular posts on July 31st with "Tutoring"

Here are the links to the previous Tumblr posts in these series to explore more amazing works based on different themes - make sure to check them out if you haven't had a chance! (Click on title name to go to the post) - I will keep updating the list every week as new posts come up:

Week 1 - Groundhog Day

Week 2 - Established Relationships

Week 3 - Sex Positivity

Week 4 - Unfinished Stories

Week 5 - Darker Stories

Week 6 - Potions 🧪

Week 7 - Reveals

Week 8 - 👻Halloween🎃

Week 9 - Wrong Perceptions

Week 10 - Non-Senshi AU

Week 11 - In-Progress Fics

Week 12 - Mutual Pining

Week 13 - Enemies to Lovers

Week 14 - Slow Burn

Week 15 - Christmas Part 1 - Ugly Christmas Sweaters and Santa!

Week 16 - Christmas Part 2

Week 17 - New Years

Week 18 - High School AU

Week 19 - Slice of Life

Week 20 - Coffee shop AU

Week 21 - Huddle for Warmth

Week 22 - Friends to Lovers

Week 23 - ❤️Valentines Day❤️

Week 24 - Do a Grouch a Favour Day (or Cheer Up Fics)

Week 25 - Soulmate AU

Week 26 - Amnesia Fics (and resources)

Week 27 - 🍀St Patrick's Day🍀

Week 28 - Fix it Fics

Week 29 - Prompt: Mug

Week 30 - Flowers

Week 31 - Traditions

Week 32 - Dreams

Week 33 - Friends

Week 34 - Body-Swap

Week 35 - Medical Assistance

Week 36 - Sex Pollen

Week 37 - Psychometry

Week 38 - What If

Week 39 - Missing Scenes Part I

Week 40 - Green Jacket

Week 41 - Dr Chiba

Week 42 - Birthdays

Week 43 - Fluff

Week 44 - First Kiss

#sailor moon #usagi x mamoru #shitennou #reviving shitennou #fic rec #fic list #senshi x shitennou

[gurugirl]

Tales From the Modern Incubus Part 15*

Summary: You go on a small adventure in the present-time as you keep Harry safe in 2007. Adam is confused. You and Harry discover something that was never going to be stopped.

A/n: Remember, this is demon/incubus!Harry so there may be some triggering topics. Please read all warnings in the TFMI Masterlist before continuing.

Warning: Smut, spells/incantations/magic, blood, angel and demon stuff, the smallest shot of angst, talk of religion that could be considered blasphemy

Characters List

Part 14*

Part 15*

Harry was alone. The seaside town was lovely. The food was good. The people were beautiful. The sunset was to die for. But he was alone. He had no way to know if you were okay or not. None of the wonderful things in this Italian town would feel right until you were next to him. And that wasn’t even all that was awful about this situation.

It was the fact that he couldn’t even use his powers to get certain things on a whim or quickly move from location to location with the wind. The abandoned house was great. It was small, but it had everything he needed and you made sure there was cash for him but he didn’t know how long you’d be gone. He really wanted to make sure he could survive until you came back to him. If you came back to him. So he was trying to not overuse anything.

Oh, and there was the fact that he could have a watcher on him at Lilith’s direction if they found him. Which they could find him eventually if they wanted to. So, he was always looking over his shoulder, always feeling like he was being watched. The paranoia was overwhelming. When you came back to him he vowed he would never let you leave him like this again. This was just purgatory in a pretty package. And you’d only been gone one day.

He found it funny how the tables had turned on him with you. He never realized how you’d be the one taking care of him and protecting him. He thought he’d be the one to corrupt you and take your innocence but you were not corruptible. Nor were you weak. He was the one that was weak. 

Your first stop was to go back to the bungalow in 1986 to get the ancient books. You knew Hannah wouldn’t be there any longer, well you hoped and you sensed it. But you needed those books and you intended to keep them somewhere easily accessible. You needed all the help you could get. You were going into this mostly blind.

The books were on the ugly carpet in the living room where you left them. You tucked them under your arms and then you conjured yourself back in 2022 in your Southern California town near Glendale. But you didn’t go to your home or to Harry’s. You went back to Holy Falls in the pretty park near the woods. You’d need space to do what you intended, and you didn’t want anyone seeing you do it, nor did you want your friends or family seeing you do it. The middle of the woods at Holy Falls would be the best place.

You sat in the grass and began going through the books. Each page had instructions, comments on best practices, rules, intended use suggestions, and warnings. It was a lot to take it in and there were some things which you could never imagine needing; casting love spells, levitation, inviting and visiting with the dead, creating or calling to your familiar spirit (some kind of animal or daemon guide) …

Flipping through the pages you veiled yourself from being found, though, using your own power could pose an issue. You knew you were already being hunted. Someone was headed your way. You couldn’t see them, nor could you hear it, or know when they’d come, but you knew it was about to happen.

The advice from the Codex, written in Xra’mban seemed useful to you. You understood much of it. It felt easier for you to comprehend than what was written in the angelic languages. Perhaps your demon side was stronger in you than your angel side.

You took a breath and looked up to the sky at the tree line above you. Beyond the leaves and branches above was the blue sky. You thought of Harry and closed your eyes hoping he was okay. You knew he was safe for now.

“Hannah. I need to speak to you again.” You spoke and then repeated in her original language of Enochian. You fumbled over the words and then spoke it again. You were sitting on the grass with your legs crossed under yourself and the book in your lap.

“If you don’t come to me now I’ll call on my father.” You repeated your words once again and then you felt the warmth from the light and the wind of her presence surrounding you. In a moment the light was gone and the wind had died. You looked around but did not see Hannah.

Placing the book on the ground you cautiously stood and walked toward the thickest part of the woods and entered beyond a small bush where an opening came into your view just beyond.

Hannah was there, kneeling down to pluck at a flower. She turned to see you over her shoulder and smiled at you as she stood. She held the flower in her fingers and looked down at it, “These bloom wherever you go. I made it so that if I ever couldn’t feel your presence, your spirit would leave the seeds of the Aeon behind. No matter where or when you are. They don’t always bloom so quickly. It took me awhile to find you and the incubus because your presence wouldn’t allow them to bloom for me like I hoped. But this time, the Aeon wanted me to see. Probably because you wanted me to see. You’re very powerful, you know. More powerful than I am. I’m not too prideful to admit that. Though, your father, he wouldn’t be so quick to admit his lacking.”

You watched her from the edge of the clearing as she slowly approached you. Now that she was here, now that you’d called to her, you weren’t sure what you wanted to know first, or if you’d rather just tell her what you wanted and go back to your incubus with his fragile heart. Thinking of him made you smile for a moment.

“Your soul is already attaching itself to the demon. Why do you feel that’s a good thing, Y/n? We’ve curated the perfect being for you in Adam. He’s just as powerful as you are and you two could rule over the realms if you combine your power and your minds. Why choose an incubus? I can help you stop it. We can sever the bond now because your soul is not fully intertwined with his just yet. Before it’s too late.”

You stood straight and stepped into the clearing, “No. I don’t want to stop it. I love him and he’s mine. I don’t want to be bonded or to procreate with Adam for your selfish purposes. I only came here to tell you what I want and then you can take that information back to the others.”

Hannah dropped the flower and placed her hands on her hips as she laughed, “No one is going to allow you to stick with the incubus, first of all. The demon boy will follow you to the ends of earth, which I’m sure you like, but he’s weak and he’s a going to do nothing but get in your way.

“Second, we’re running out of time now. You have come into your powers before you were meant to and it’s going to soon be time for you to make a choice between the demon boy and the plan. If you choose the boy, we’ll kill him and then we’ll have to force you to comply. Or you can willingly come with me and let the demon go and the others might allow him to go on living as long as he doesn’t cause us anymore trouble.” She lied. Of course they would kill him if they saw him. None of them would allow him to live once they caught up with him.

“You lie. Since you’re lying to me, I cannot trust you. Which means I will not comply. Ever. I want to be left alone. I don’t want to be part of your plan. I have no interest in ruling the realms. At least God gives us free will. You lot are trying to force me and this Adam person into doing something we may not want to do. That’s wrong. Don’t you think?” You just wanted to go back to Harry but you needed to confront this. This needed to stop.

Hannah chuckled at you and tilted her head, “God doesn’t give free will. God doesn’t care, that’s why it seems like free will was his gift. He’s like the absent father who would never punish you because he has no idea you’ve done anything wrong because he couldn’t be bothered to care in the first place. He’s unaware so you’re free to fuck up as often as you choose, which might be fun at first. You’re on your own here. The choices you make will always lead you to the plan. No matter what you think. You’ll wind up on our side, one way or another. It’s what you were made for.”

You shake your head and scoff as you look down at your hands. You’re not getting anywhere. Not that you knew what to expect in the first place, “Why does it not matter to you what I want? Is that because you also don’t care about me? I’ve found someone who cares for me deeply and you don’t want that for me do you?”

Hannah opened her mouth and then closed it again as she squared her shoulders off looking directly at you. She couldn’t read your thoughts and that was infuriating. If she couldn’t read your thoughts, then Asmodeus might be able to. But if Asmodeus couldn’t either then that would mean no one could. Because you were born of Hannah and she was your blood mother. She should be able to read your thoughts. But she couldn’t.

“Are you able to read my thoughts right now, Y/n?” Hannah finally spoke.

You could. Mostly. She was thinking of how stubborn you were, just like Asmodeus. She thought of her own mother, Asherah, and how she’d have had a handle on all this easily, but she couldn’t tell Asherah of her plans because it would ruin everything.

You nodded but kept quiet, standing in the grass and hearing the wind through the leaves around you.

“I figured. As for what you want… it doesn’t matter. What any of us want is all just a matter of learning about something else. Once you realize what you’re capable of and what you’ll get in return, you’ll want what I want for you. You can’t see it right now, but you’ll change your mind.”

Closing your eyes you could practically hear the leaves whispering and the flowers breathing. You looked down and realized there were dozens of Aeon flowers surrounding your feet. You’d never seen a flower like it. You bent down to touch them and as your fingertips grazed the petals they changed colors before your eyes. It was amazing and beautiful.

“Why are these flowers just now blooming from my presence? I’ve never noticed them before now?” You asked Hannah who was watching you take in the magical sight.

“It’s like many things, my love. Your eyes are opening to what you are, and you’ll start to notice things you never have before. Things that have always been but were easy to ignore. Like sleep. You’ve never needed it and your hours lying in bed were hours your body used for rest but you weren’t aware that you weren’t really asleep. Once your soul met another celestial one it became aware and began to feed. And now you’re nearly just as powerful as you could ever be, all in very short time. Your spirit just needed to be nourished, and the incubus prematurely gave you part of his and your eyes have been opened before it was time.”

It was something you’d been aware of. That Harry had somehow pulled your power to the surface unknowingly. Your own understanding slowly bubbling over. It was subtle but you appreciated knowing what you knew now. You liked having your eyes open.

“I’m okay with how I came into knowing what I am. I’m glad it happened the way it did.” You nodded as you spoke and took a step toward Hannah, “I’d like to have a meeting with you and the others to figure something out. I know you all want to kill Harry but if you do, I will use my power to destroy everyone involved. That’s a promise. He’s not for anyone to harm, he’s mine. If you can leave him out of this maybe there’s a compromise to be made. But if not, I will see to it that your plan does not come to fruition.”

Hannah’s ears perked up at the word compromise. Yes. That could work. A compromise of sorts, though she didn’t know what you had in mind. Perhaps she could get the others on board.

“Okay. Come with me. I’m sure they’ll be happy to meet with you now.” Hannah reached her hand out toward you.

You shook your head, “Not now. In three days. Here, in this clearing at midnight. All of you will leave me and Harry be until that time. I don’t want anyone coming for us. No watchers, or anyone seeking us out. Three days, here at midnight. And then we talk.”

Hannah took in a deep breath. You were absolutely stubborn and impossible to read. She didn’t know if you were up to something or if you were being straight with her. But she knew she had little choice. You wouldn’t be going with her willingly and you were more powerful than she was so she couldn’t force you. She would have to tell the others and Asmodeus would be pissed to have to come to earth for this.

“Alright. Three days. I’ll gather the others and we’ll be here at midnight.”

Harry found lemons and sugar and all the ingredients to make you a lemon cake. He felt ridiculous pining over you at the market as he filled his shopping basket. Was he really going to be making you cake for your hopeful return? You wouldn’t leave him for too long would you? He was okay at the moment. Physically and mentally, mostly. Mentally he missed you and even teared up when he saw the lemons but he pushed his emotions down and then allowed the sentiment to take over and bought the fucking lemons. He’d become a sap for you. He couldn’t help it.

Harry paid a man for the lemons who stood at the fruit stall and walked down the cobblestone street toward the house. Salerno was gorgeous. The people were gorgeous. The weather… he just missed you, though. He didn’t know how you were or anything. You could be trapped or harmed or maybe this was your way of trying to get rid of him. Dropping him off in 2007 to never return. At least it was beautiful. But he’d die if you left him.

He put the lemons in the kitchen in a tacky glass bowl painted with orange flowers and the rest of the ingredients he placed in the pantry. He’d also bought cigarettes for himself. He wasn’t usually a fan of smoking but the house had a balcony and there wasn’t much else to do other than read. So he grabbed a book from the shelf that was in the hallway and sat on the balcony over looking the town as the sun set with a cigarette in hand. He’d bake you the cake tomorrow morning and hoped that would somehow summon you to him. His heart clenched at the thought of you not returning to him.

You learned quickly that Adam was in Connecticut. Hannah revealed it with the images in her mind of Adam’s whereabouts when you spoke his name to her. It was rather easy for you to decipher. You were feeling quite confident about your skills and your power. You didn’t want to get cocky about it but these things were coming very easily to you.

Your plan was to seek out Adam and confront him. Tell him about what was going on and have him on your side before anyone else could confront him. You figured they were already working on him in one way or another, but you bet he had not yet been approached.

It was nearly10 pm when you arrived at his apartment. You could feel him immediately. He was oozing a dominating and powerful aura. Very potent. He must already be aware of something. You’d need to tread lightly. You didn’t know how much he was privy to just yet.

The building was a buzzer entry type but you had no problem getting past that feature. His apartment was on the second floor. You knew where he was because his presence was formidable. He wasn’t alone. You paused and veiled yourself and listened. It didn’t sound as if he had anyone in the apartment with him. You could hear him folding laundry and breathing. Walking from one side of a room to another. You knew there was another presence near but now you realized it wasn’t human. A watcher maybe.

You needed to get to him but you couldn’t reveal your plan to the others. If he had a watcher on him then they’d surely go back to The Four (which you’d decided to call them in your head from now on) and snitch. You couldn’t have that.

You kept yourself hidden, your presence and your physical self. You listened more closely, this time homing in on the other being. It was an angel. You could tell there was a similar vibration to that of Hannah. Then you felt a gust of wind and you smelled the scent of pine and myrrh with the slightest hint of a white flower. The myrrh you smelled on Hannah but she had notes of vanilla and something spicy as well. This was more masculine.

Then you saw the angel. You didn’t see his physical form, but you saw him in your mind’s eye. It was the father of Adam, St. Michael. One of The Four. You swallowed and took a breath. You didn’t know how you were going to confront Adam if Michael was here. Michael would become suspicious if Adam suddenly had a veil but maybe that was your only choice.

You considered your options and it seemed that maybe if you could present yourself to Adam and veil him quickly you’d be able to tell him what you needed to. You decided to write a note to him. You wouldn’t have time to sit and explain to him everything, but you could certainly write a note that no one else could read but Adam. The information would be hidden from any other mind as he read it and then it would vanish from the paper before it could be deciphered by anyone else. Yes. This was your only option.

After writing to Adam instructions and details about who he was and what was happening you spoke an incantation over it and kissed the folded paper in your hands. You entered into his space and found him folding his clothes just as you imagined he was.

Adam was very handsome. He was tall and fit and he had a kind face. He was more beautiful than maybe anyone one you’d seen. You hated to compare him to Harry but he was quite stunning. But his scent didn’t draw you the way Harry’s did. There was something about Harry for you that made you tingle and yearn.

Adam was already coming into his powers. You could read his mind and he was thinking in that moment about how confused he was that he’d been hearing thoughts. You smiled to yourself. You wondered if Michael could read his thoughts like you could. Michael was just observing and allowing his own presence to cascade over Adam – a way for Adam to have his powers drawn out slowly. It seemed Michael was not yet aware of you. You had the upper hand.

You closed in on Adam and he suddenly stopped his motions. He stood up and turned toward you, though you hadn’t yet revealed your physical presence to him.

He sniffed the air. Could he smell you? He looked all around and his face gave away that he was suddenly confused. Now. You needed to this now before Michael caught on.

You grasped Adam’s hands and shrouded yourself and him to block Michael from what was about to happen.

When Adam’s eyes landed on yours he jumped back “What the fuck? Who are you?” He lifted his hands and looked at them as if you’d burned him with your touch. You might have.

“I’m Y/n. I can’t stay long but you smelled me and felt my presence before you saw me. I’m like you. We both have powers and things that don’t make sense to us but soon you’ll understand it all. You are not human. You can do things which you never thought possible, Adam. Can you read my mind?” You knew he could. You wanted to show him you were honest and that he could trust you.

Adam’s eyes were wide and his mouth was dropped open as he scrunched his face and then blinked as he realized he could read your mind. He looked down and shook his head in disbelief and then back to you, searching your face, “I… can read people’s thoughts for the past two days. And… can you tell me what’s going on? And what do you…” he stepped forward toward you, suddenly realizing you could answer questions for him. Questions that began bubbling up inside of him once his powers began to surface.

You put your hand up, “I can’t stay. We’re being hunted, Adam. You’re safe right now but I’m not and I have to leave. But take this. Read it and remember what is written because once you’re done the writing will vanish so no one else knows what was printed there. Do not tell anyone that might approach you that you know me or have met me. I will come back to you when it’s safe because right now we’re being watched and it’s not safe.”

Adam furrowed his brow and looked down at the folded piece of paper in utter confusion. Of course he was confused. It would take a bit for it to make sense but you didn’t have time to explain more.

“When will you come back?” He looked over your frame and your face and frowned.

“In three days. Around this time. We’ll have some work to do and that note will explain everything to you.” You kept your eyes on his and his thoughts were everywhere. You felt Michael attempting to break the veil. You had to leave before it was too late.

Before going back to Harry you wanted to check in on your friends and your earth parents. Even if you were upset by everything, the lies and the backstabbing, you still had an attachment to them.

Gwen and Enzo were at home and both were clearly distraught. The house was a mess. Your room turned upside down. They’d been looking for clues as to where you might have gone. You wrote a note to them and placed it on your dresser after clearing everything from the top so that when they entered they’d see it.

Mom & Dad, I’m fine. Please don’t worry about me. I’ve learned some things about who I am and I know you’re not my real parents. I’m searching for them and I’ll come back when the time is right. Y/n

You kept it simple. At least they’d know you were alive.

Then you visited Amanda. Your long time friend. She was reading a book and seemed peaceful. You hovered for a bit, trying to get into her head but she was quite enamored with the book. In her room you found evidence that she and Miguel had begun dating, or at least seeing each other. You didn’t feel at all bad about going through her texts to read the things the pair had said to one another. Had said about you. You didn’t leave her a note. You’d deal with her in person when the time came.

Sarah was watching TV with her parents and her brother. She was texting with a guy and making plans for the weekend. You wrote her a quick note telling her you were with your new boyfriend and you’d see her soon, leaving it on her bed for her to find. Which you knew she’d find strange, but you needed to let her know you were okay.

You didn’t bother to go see Miguel. You were feeling antsy to get back to Harry. He was calling to you and you’d been gone from him long enough.

Harry was in the small kitchen with the scent of vanilla and lemon wafting out of it. You smelled it before you smelled him. He was baking. He was on the edge of mourning and hope. You entered the kitchen and he dropped the spoon he held in his hand as he turned quickly to see you when he felt you near.

“Oh my god!” He hurried across the small space to you and scooped you into his arms, squeezing you harder than you think you’d ever been squeezed by anyone. You laughed as he spoke into your neck, “Fucking never leave me again. Goddammit.”

His lips sunk over the skin of your neck and you sighed, “I didn’t want to. I hated leaving you.” You kept yourself in his arms and felt your heart delight in his nearness. He really was something special to you. Your soul became strengthened.

Harry pulled his mouth from your neck and pressed his forehead to yours and he kept his arms around you so you couldn’t move away from him, “I’m making you lemon cake. I felt like you’d come back to me today, my little lemon love.” He smiled as he spoke the cheesy nickname he’d given you.

“I can’t wait to try it.” You tilted your head to the side as you pressed your mouth to his and the world stopped. Everything around you was still and it was just you and Harry in the kitchen.

You didn’t know how it happened but suddenly you were both naked and the air was silent all around. His mouth was on your shoulder and his chest was pressed to your back. You could feel his warm skin on yours as he whispered all the dirty things he was going to do to you.

“… and take you from behind. I’ll keep you tied down so you can’t leave me and then fuck you again until your all wobbly and wet everywhere. Fill you up with my come and force you to have my babies so you’re trapped and all mine. No one else gets to have you.”

You chuckled at his words. As if you wanted anyone else to have you. And he knew it, he was just talking. He liked to act like he was in charge but he was far from it.

“Then fucking do it, Harry.” You said as you turned your head to look at him. His face was set in a serious expression as he kept his bright eyes on yours and put his arm to the front of your body, his fingers making contact with your clit.

His lips wrapped around yours and the angle was awkward but you reveled in his lips and hands on you.

You felt his long cock digging into your back and you leaned into him. You could use a good fucking. Harry always issued very good fuckings too. You craved them. You craved him.

Harry nudged you forward to the bed and you climbed up to it on all fours. He put his hands at your hips and spanked you with a bit of force that hurt. He did it again and you felt his handprint on you, searing into your flesh. He delivered a series of spanks that had you jumping at each crack that landed down on you and you smiled as a moan left your throat.

“Harder.” You groaned and wiggled as you spread your thighs to give yourself better leverage for what was to come.

Harry smiled and looked upward toward the ceiling in thanks for your return to him. He leaned down and bit into your flesh, puncturing the skin a little. He sucked in to taste your blood and then bit at your other cheek. He was going to go harder if that’s what you wanted. He stuck his nose into your cheeks and then downward to your already dripping pussy and gasped the scent into his lungs. Life giving.

“Brace yourself, my love.” His voice was deep and raspy and you panted at the way he sounded. God you loved him, you thought as you held onto the knitted blanket under your knees and closed your eyes.

Harry spanked you so that his rings and his hands would leave prints and bruises and small welts. He kept going as he watched your skin turn darker and darker with each hit. The small dots of blood that began to pool just under the surface of your skin looked painful but you did nothing but moan and grunted yes! and Harry! each time he landed a palm over you. You liked it. You asked for it.

He wouldn’t let up until you’d indicated you had enough. On one particularly hard strike his ring landed over one of the raised welts and the flesh had had enough so it split and began to bleed. He leaned down to lick up your blood and you sat up with a sigh.

“Just what I needed.” You smiled as Harry lifted his face upward from your bottom, his mouth red with your vital fluid.

You turned and faced him, bringing your hand down to his hardon to feel it heavy in your palm, “So beautiful,” you spoke as you grasped at his neck with your other hand to pull him down to kiss you.

It was like peace had settled all around you with your mouths together and the taste of your blood on his lips.

He rutted into your palm and you knew you couldn’t wait any longer to have him fuck you. You wanted his come. It was addicting. Your body fed off of it.

You pushed him down to sitting and climbed over his lap with your hand still around his shaft, “I’m gonna fuck you now. I need you, Harry.” Harry didn’t speak, he only watched as you slid his tip through your crease before putting him at your entrance. You looked into his eyes as you placed him inside of you, lowering yourself onto his lap, his cock getting tucked deep inside of your body.

“Feel that. How perfect and beautiful it is to be connected. It was meant to be Harry. You’re mine. No one else can fit inside of me like this. It’s just you and me.” You kissed his mouth as you sat over him. He remained still inside of you, enjoying your praise and the way you seemed to need him just as much as he needed you.

“Yes. I always feel it and when I’m inside of you I know I was made for you.” Harry spoke against your mouth in a whine. He couldn’t have been happier. You came back for him. To him. You were his just as much as he was yours.

You slowly began shifting your hips as you kept your lips moving over Harry’s. He held onto your bottom and kept you pressed into him. Your hands were in his hair.

There wasn’t anything like the feeling Harry gave you. You’d never slept with anyone else but you knew no one else would feel like this. You could sense it. You just knew it deep down. Your supposed intended mate didn’t even excite you the way Harry did. And Adam was far more powerful. But you weren’t interested in Adam in that way. Though, you also identified that Adam wouldn’t be into you in that way either. Which was funny when you thought about it. How The Four had this masterplan in place and yet didn’t consider that Adam wouldn’t be into females. The idiots.  

Harry’s cock was surrounded by your warm and wet cunt and he couldn’t help it when he came inside of you, his balls releasing sperm up his shaft and into your body. He clenched his jaw and groaned. God he couldn’t help himself, but with you, he could come over and over again and stay hard inside of you because he was not human and because his soul wanted to meld into yours and because you turned him on like nothing he'd ever experienced before…

You felt his come filling your insides and you smiled as you continued fucking him, “Yes, Harry. Fill me over and over again. My body needs it. Craves it…” you moaned as you felt him pulse inside of you, his cock draining itself into you. His face was twisted up in that expression you loved to watch as he’d come. It made you feel so powerful. His cock felt so good when it pulsed inside of you. Felt harder and thicker as he would come – if that were even possible. He’d already get so fucking hard and his cock was already thicker than necessary. But you loved it.

When he’d been emptied he looked back at you with black eyes and you wanted to devour him whole. You kept grinding yourself on him, he was impossibly deep, pushing things aside that weren’t ever meant to be touched.

You stared at one another with mouths parted as you rocked your hips over him. Slick sounds came from your body, that which sounded like sloshing water in a bucket, as you moved on him. Harry stayed steady and still as you used his cock however you wanted. You liked him deep and in this position, both sitting upright, his cock was stuffed deep. He usually had trouble getting himself balls deep in most humans, but you were made to take a big demon cock.

“I love you, Harry. I want you so bad. It’s like I can’t be close enough to you…” you said as you finally pressed your mouth back onto his. He closed his eyes. He understood the feeling. Just being inside of you wasn’t enough. It’s like he couldn’t get himself close enough to you. He wanted more. You wanted more.

Harry’s hands wandered over your bottom, fingers dipping into the crease where your anus met the flesh near your pussy that had his cock drenched. He smeared your arousal around your bum and felt you squeezing over him in short pulses. He knew you were about to come. He put his middle finger into your bum and pushed in as deep as it would go and you moaned over his mouth at the feeling and began to shake when you clit was being pressed into by his pubic bone.

It was a slow wave, the feeling of pleasure that overtook you. The moment happened in slow motion as your body heated and Harry began to tremble as he gasped into your mouth. You couldn’t breathe. Your body was in shock as your orgasm completely wiped out your senses. The only thing you could feel was the waves of lust and love and the way Harry felt on you and in you.

It made you forget time and place. You wailed as your body shook from the orgasm. It felt like heaven and hell and earth combining and parting, like lungs breathing them all in as one and then exhaling the contents back into their rightful spots. And Harry didn’t know what was happening, except that it felt like heat and light. He felt the earth rotating and feathers all around his body, like an angel’s wings wrapping him up in safety and love.

It had to have been the longest orgasm known to man. You both were crying and shaking and coming as your souls sealed as one. You felt it all happening and it wasn’t going to be stopped. Harry was practically levitating and you held onto his shoulders as you both rose into the atmosphere where the air was thin and freezing, and then fell back into the bed together, still connected and pulsing and aching in your orgasm.

When your lungs began to work again you realized you had wings. They were black and gold and Harry was still shivering underneath you, his own wings were all black.

The moment was over in a flash and the wings were gone but you knew you’d seen it as you sucked air into your lungs. Your body was wet and filled and Harry was opening his black eyes to look at you in awe. The bed under you was soft and the room was silent and still. Harry smiled at you as you both came to the realization of what had just happened.

You both breathed in air as your smiles widened slowly. It was unexpected but it was inevitable. Your souls were one and there was no turning back.

Harry kissed you with the smile still on his face and you laughed together. You both knew. You understood that you were now bonded and it dawned on you that you would be able to protect him more effortlessly now. You could easily hide him and keep him with you now. You smiled against his lips.

“Mine,” you said and Harry broke from the kiss.

“Did you stop time?” He looked around the room and you realized you had. It wasn’t on purpose, but it somehow just happened.

“I guess I did. Good thing too because it smells like we have a cake that needs to be eaten soon.”

You restarted time and pecked Harry’s lips before you both went into the kitchen to finish baking the cake he’d started before you arrived.

It turned out that eating half of a lemon cake in Salerno on a small balcony at 6 in the morning, in the nude was the absolute best way to celebrate getting your wings and becoming one with an incubus.

Part 16

Thank you for reading! I’d appreciate any support you can give! Whether a comment, reblog, or buying me a coffee - it’s all appreciated.

Check out my masterlist you enjoyed this 💞

Xoxo

Tags: @victoria-styles @michellekstyles @ssaama @angelqueen99 @sombrioinvernoemveneza @golden-hoax @a-strange-familiar @reveriehs @yousunshineyoutempter @the-gardener-31 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @swiftmendeshoran @luvonstyles @dancinsunflowerkiwi @tiaamberxx @lukesaprince @harrys-foxy @dirtytissuebox @closureesny @lhharrylilpumpkin @evelynlarue @scorpiongirl1 @harrysbigspoon @matildasatellite @fuckoffstyles777777777 @sadeslovechild @daphnesutton @duh-dobrik @luvonstyles @girl-of-multi-fandoms @mellie-harry @harrysswhore

​

*if your tag is orange it's not working

#harry styles smut #demon!harry #incubusrry #incubus!harry #harry styles #dark!harry #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles writing

[roxannedaybreakermidnight]

Tackling a few of my most recent experiences wiwth the internet. Don't read if harassment and racism trigger you. I don't mean harm, this is supposed to be a safe space. Comments I deem negative will be deleted so that others feel comfortable just going around and say whatever.

1. Shipping

I completely understand people's worries with Punkflower but guys, instead of worrying about non confirmed ages, can we worry about kicking out actually problematic people off the internet doing stuff to real life minors? Miles was 14 when I was 14. He is now 15 and I am 18, I still love Miles the same way, ans that doesn't compromise my morals.

A person's ship between characters doesn't say about their morals entirely. Of course, sometimes it's undeniably creepy, like characters clearly presented as parental figures being shipped with kids that were supposed to look up at them. That's weird, don't do that. Or, idk, thinking it's a good idea to jerk your dog off. (I saw documentaries, those who do too knkw what I am talking about)

Point is, pls don't harass people who don't mean actual harm. Hobie's uncomfirmed age range shouldn't cause as much hate as it does. I disagree with nsfw from time to time because it is weird, but I mostly see couple-y stuff with a few jokes, and honestly? I absolutely adore it. I encourage you to try it. I used to absolutely hatee on people who ship any characters slightly older with whatever character the topic is. I would literally try to gate keep the whole fanart community cause "She's a minor, STOP!" and honestly it was stupid asf. I'm not telling you to encourage it, just don't be mean about it. It feels stupid. If you don't disagree, and the post isn't causing harm, just don't engage.

2. Shameless racism/harassment

Recently I've faced people both in and out of omegle who seem particularly shameless, feeling safe around their little homes thinking ol' mean me won't mind. I am using this opportunity to expose a particular someone who seems very keen on being weird. I grew up around weird guys, and I often identify them easily, but for some reason I pushed the lil gut feeling away. If you have the same problem, pls listen to that feeling. It's there to avoid situations that might be upsetting.

Starting with Omegle, people seem very comfortable with racism (and search of minors to flash them). I receive jokes indicating they want me to be shot, find me ugly, make faces of disgust, call me a slave, etc etc. Not to mention I even found teenagers joking about beastiality being 'awesome'. Kids rlly need to get supervised, cause I am telling y'all, some were barely 14.

Now, I had an interesting interaction on instagram with a Miles Morales account. He came to me cause I was rping as Peter and invited me in his server on discord. I got the gut feeling from his habit of trying to flirt with Gwen profiles and spamming pictures of him in a suit. For some reason, some people have a pattern of spamming pictures when they want praise and always require attention from specific people, and I know this cause I've been harassed over this before. Days later, I was matching with my bff as an anime couple so I changed and he realized I'm born female. He asked me to be rio instead, without knowing my age, and went ahead and offered 'fun', and that 'I can't tell anyone'. What happened essentially is that I called him out, he said I was disrespecting him, I blocked him, so he made a new account to cuss me out and threaten to report me. I feel indifferent about it, but if you have anyone with similar behavior, save yourself the trouble and block them. (His discord is 'dmoney520' so avoid interacting w him pls)

3. Sexualizing a content creator

I don't mean Dream, or corpse husband, or whoever tf. I am talking about a poor 16(ish) year old called Eddie who makes content for the fact he sounds like Hobie brown, and he has people saying shit like "wanna get pregnant?" The guy just started worrying about whatever the place he lives in worries around this time.

It's honestly creepy how people will actively harass punkflower creators but then barely notice a full ass guy who is still deemed a minor regardless of what American law says getting weirdass comments from people they don't even know. Literally flabbergasted at this discovery. Not mad, just genuinely upset.

These people often forget that websites can track their activity and its hilarious to me, so whatever. This was my report on my feelings after a week of internet, and honestly? I wanna delete it. My punkflower AU happy ending is coming so if that's what you wanted, great!

#hobie brown #spider punk #miles morales #spiderman #spiderman across the spiderverse #punkflower #news #content creator

[mwolf0epsilon]

There's Something Lurking in the Guard Barracks

Summary: After a sudden spike of random animal attacks begins to plague the Coruscant Guard, Hound is put in charge of investigating whatever might be the cause of so many vode ending up in the medbay with their ankles bitten to shreds...

[Rhythm and Red Alert are @lost-on-kamino 's boys. Croissant is @gaeasun 's lad.]

THIS STORY IS ALSO ON AO3

---

A mystery had reared its supposedly ugly head in whatever dark corners of the Coruscant Guard Barracks that no vod had ever bothered to map out. A mystery that lurked, stalked and bit whoever was unfortunate enough to catch its fancy. Attacked at such a speed and in such an unexpected inopportune moment, that none who'd been attacked had been able to see the perpetrator.

All that the victims knew was that they'd been alone in some unassuming area of the barracks, and that whatever had latched onto their poor defenseless ankles, certainly had jaws of steel at its disposal.

Animal attacks were no new occurrence when it came to the Guard. Animal attacks within their own base however... Well, there was a reason why the massiffs were allowed to roam outside of kennels at certain hours of the day. It wouldn't do well to let a plague of rats run rampant.

But this was no rat. At least not one Hound was familiar with.

It all began on a typical Prime Day, as most inconveniences for the Guard often did. Between cranky Coruscanti folks giving them a hard time because they didn't want to do their own routines, or the Senators deciding that overworking them on the weekend wasn't enough, Prime Day always opened up a new week with any given kind of problem.

Hound had been called in to speak with Fox for a reason or another (you never knew these days), and found his superior officer with a limp and a rather sour look on his face. Which gave away immediately that things were about to get really interesting for the head of the K9 Division.

"There's a pest problem in the vents." The marshal commander told him, as he massaged his aching ankle. "Something big's made its home in there, and it karking bites. I want you to deal with it."

"Did you see it, sir?" He'd asked out of curiosity, hoping to know what exactly he (and by proxy Grizzer) would be working with.

"...Not even a shadow." Fox hesitantly admitted, mouth twitching slightly as he mulled over it. "I'd just gotten into my office, set down the stacks of datapads I had to get through, and then the next thing I knew I was on the floor clutching my Force-damned ankle because something caught me from the vent behind my chair... Just barely heard it skitter away back in through the ventilation..."

"Uh... That's too bold for a rat, or even a tooka..." Hound scratched his chin in thought. "Have you gotten a rabies shot from the medbay, just in case?"

"Of course I did." Fox rolled his eye at this. "I may not like getting my jabs, but I'm not risking ending up a frothing twitching mess on my office floor just because I got bit by some unknown pest with whatever disease it caught outside..."

"Right, I'll try to figure out what bit you sir. I'm sure it's nothing good ol' Grizzer can't sniff out and deal with!"

It turned out to not be as simple as that. Whatever was hiding in the vents was not making itself available for removal without a fight. And unfortunately several other vode ended up finding themselves in the same situation as the marshal commander.

With limps and preemptive shots straight from the medbay. The line got longer every day, and by the end of the week Hound was at a loss for what to think of the whole situation.

He'd never encountered a critter that left him so stumped.

"I don't understand. I've dealt with all sorts of pest infestations before..." He bemoaned as he ate his lunch with Rhythm and Red Alert, right next to the riot trooper gear storage closet. "Rats, roaches, spiders... Kriff, even someone's runaway pet lizard that started breeding with the local population of geckos!"

"Well, not every animal operates the same way." Rhythm offered his thoughts on the matter. "Maybe we've got ourselves something a little smarter than a street tooka or a spoiled lizard."

"Or maybe something from down under came to the upper levels and we actually have a potential bio-hazard on our hands..." Red Alert gulped at the prospect of such an event taking place.

"That's what preemptive shots are for Red." Hound huffed. "Whatever is in the vents isn't some mutant from the under-levels. It wouldn't have survived climbing into the lower sector's vents all the way up to our level... Not with the measures in place to keep stuff like that isolated down there anyway..."

"You never know..." Red Alert shrugged, pausing to look up when he caught sight of Olly walking into the room looking a little flustered. "There you are! Olly I haven't seen you all morning!"

The larger riot trooper didn't respond, merely frowned and looked around the room before slumping his shoulders slightly.

"Hey, you seem down big guy..." Rhythm frowned as well, noting his friend's apparent distress. "Is something wrong?"

"Hm..." Olly shrugged. "S'fine... Just can't find something..."

"You can't find something? It's not like you to misplace your stuff..." Red Alert blinked. "You need any help finding it?"

"No... I'll... Has to be around here somewhere..." Olly shook his head and walked back out of the room, picking up the pace as he carried on looking for, well, whatever it was he'd lost. How odd.

Ah well, whatever was going on with the rather long named trooper could wait. Hound still had a mystery on his hands after all. He could help with another later.

"So, you're both helping me trap whatever is in the vents."

"Yeah sure!" Rhythm grinned.

"Uuuh I don't think--"

"Great, thanks guys. I'm thinking we block some of the vents and bait the one in our quarters. Then we trap it with like, some kind of container." Hound grinned.

"We don't even know how big it is!" Red Alert protested.

"Just big enough to fit in the vents, not too bad!" Rhythm shrugged.

"That's the spirit!"

With a plan as solid as this, surely the three of them should be able to catch one measly bitey creature. They were highly trained soldiers after all! The pride of the Guard no doubt.

Which is what they assumed, until they'd all ended up in the medbay getting their own jabs. Their ankles torn to shreds like everyone else's.

"I am starting to think Fox should call a specialist to deal with the vent problem." Croissant sighed as he finished administering the preemptive rabies shots.

"I don't understand... We should have seen it coming." Hound was at his wit's end. "Nothing should have gotten past us!"

"And yet, here all three of you are. This stuff isn't cheap you know..." He held up the vial of medicine, grimacing at how little remained. "And you need several more just to make sure you don't end up contracting the damn disease..."

"We don't even know if the thing in the vents can catch it, much less transmit it through a bite." Rhythm pointed out. "I didn't feel teeth, just really strong jawbones..."

"Jawbones that bit with such force they drew blood!" Red Alert whimpered.

"Grizzer wouldn't even go near the vent... What is in there that's scaring my massiff?!" The idea that some horror from the deep had really gotten into the barrack vents was starting to become more plausible.

"OOOOOOOOUCH!!!!!!!"

All four jolted slightly at the shrill scream outside of the medbay doors. Then, they gawked as Fox (for once clad in his officer grays rather than his armour) rushed in through the door, something relatively vent sized firmly attached to his unprotected backside.

"I wonder if it might be that thing?" Croissant deadpanned as he watched the marshal commander spin around gracelessly, in an attempt to shake off whatever spiky nonsense was currently trying to rip his shebs apart.

A minute later, the door opened again.

To everyone's surprise Olly was the one opening it, which was highly unusual considering the unusually tall riot trooper hated going to the medbay. The confused look on his face swiftly changed to one of absolute joy, which was another surprise.

He rarely openly expressed anything other than mild annoyance.

"Cabur! I've been looking everywhere for you!" without giving Fox so much as a warning, the larger trooper stopped him by the shoulders before prying the creature from it's grip on the marshal commander's aching behind. But not without a parting gift in the form of ripped piece of grey fabric and part of Fox's underwear as well.

"AAAAAACK!!!"

"Olly, what the hell?!" Croissant chose to ignore the happy riot trooper and the beast he was holding, in favor of helping their commanding officer off the floor where he'd fallen after getting the creature pulled away from his rear-end.

"What even is that...?" Rhythm blinked as he stared at his friend.

Olly paused to look at the others. He held out the animal in question, revealing its spiky shell, long gangly limbs, spiny tail, prehensile neck, and rather unpleasant looking snooty face.

It appeared to be a turtle of some kind. Which was likely why Olly wasn't afraid of holding it.

"This is Cabur. She's a shiro that I found in one of the upper floors in a public fountain..." He offered as a form of explanation. "And I've been looking everywhere for her. I was afraid she'd gotten lost."

"I... What was a shiro doing in a public fountain?!" Red Alert stared at the creature in horror, flinching when it appeared to glare at them and snapped it's jaws threateningly. "They're indigenous to Naboo, not Coruscant!

"Nevermind that, you knew what could have been biting everyone and you didn't say?!" Hound stared incredulously at Olly.

".... You never asked." Olly shrugged in turn.

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" Hound put his face in his hands. "This whole time you knew and could have helped.... Everyone's ankles are ruined! Fox's ass is ruined! No offense ori'vod..."

"My ankles and shebs hurt less than the jabs..." The marshal commander grumbled. "My dignity however..."

"Our stash of preemptive medicine is nearly gone." Croissant pointed out. "Which might be a problem in the future..."

"Well... At least if that thing has rabies, we won't catch it anytime soon with all the jabs we got?" Rhythm offered, hoping to lighten the mood.

"Turtles can't catch rabies." Olly pointed out calmly.

"....Kark, then yeah, this is terrible." The communications officer groaned. "All of this worrying for nothing..."

"Again, you never asked." Olly rolled his eyes and walked out of the medbay, turtle menace in tow. At least he seemed quite happy with the situation.

Maybe next time something like this happened, Hound would decline any pest related problems.

#Eps Writes #star wars #the clone wars #commander fox #sergeant hound #clone ocs #communications corrie rhythm #riot trooper red alert #clone medic croissant #riot trooper olly olly oxenfree #cabur the shiro #In which olly gets a pet and it becomes everyone else's problem :) #wrote this one for a quick giggle

[ecargmura]

The Girl I Like Forgot Her Glasses Episode 1 Review: Dizzying Animation

I can’t believe an anime has made me dizzy. I never knew animation can make me feel dizzy. I can see why GoHands has a rather infamous reputation in the anime community. I liked K and thought it was okay, but what is this? WHAT IS THIS?

I’ve seen people describe the anime as ugly but beautiful and I agree with them. It’s super ugly, but it’s super beautiful simultaneously. Like the first five minutes of this anime has jarring CG that makes it look like it came out of the Sims or other 3D model generator. What is with this anime’s obsession with lower angle camera shots? I kind of find it uncomfortable given how many creeps there are nowadays who do try to take angled shots like this for non-consensual porn; it doesn’t matter if the target is a boy or a girl, it’s still unsettling. I’m trying not to be a moral police, but when you get five minutes of people walking and then the camera pans to low angle shots to show them walking, it does seem rather weird.

The anime’s premise is pretty simple. Kaede Komura has a crush on Ai Mie. Mie wears glasses and a bit of a space cadet. She forgot her glasses one day and has to rely on the Komura to look at his textbook while class is in session. This entire first episode spends so much time on Mie unknowingly making Komura flustered. That’s it. That’s the plot.

Komura is the typical boy in love. I do like how nice he is. The way he described being in love was animated beautifully. It feels like scattering cherry blossom petals followed by being in the skies with birds. I think it’s a nice way to describe it and does definitely show that he’s just a boy in love. He was sweet with the way he tried to protect Mie in dodgeball and tried to get the frog off of her shoes in the cubby. That’s all I can say about him.

Mie is a space cadet. She says weird things that make her flighty and such. One day, she forgets her glasses and still goes to school. I can relate to some of her whims when it comes to glasses and vision issues in general. I never forget my glasses, though. My eyesight was pretty bad that I always need it; I’d be a squinting mess if I didn’t have them. I’m surprised she still went to school without her glasses. I’d be prioritizing finding them because I need them to see. I relate to her looking all angry while squinting. When I wore glasses, the only instance I’d take my glasses off in public would be when I get a haircut. I’d be looking super angry while getting haircuts and it made me worry to the point that I rarely go to the hair salon because I don’t want people around me thinking I’m angry all the time. Fortunately, this worry has gone since I got Lasik. Mie’s statement about how contacts feel lumpy is something I totally relate to. I only wore contacts once, when I went to prom with my friends. Contacts were very uncomfortable for me, from putting them on to taking them off.

Regarding Mie, I do feel like she’s a bit over animated at times—her hair is super over animated. Like, it doesn’t need to dance around all the time. Hair doesn’t do that in real life. Her eyes are really pretty, though. Overall, I feel the same way about Mie as I do with Komura as they seem like nice kids. I just hope nothing weird happens in this story and that the animation becomes less dizzying in the future.

I think this will just be something to watch just to kill time in the summer. What are your thoughts on this anime’s first episode?

#the girl I like forgot her glasses #review #anime #anime review #ai mie #Kaede komura #summer 2023 anime #gohands #ecargmura #arum journal

[duhragonball]

Dragon Ball Super 010

Okay, let’s see if I can knock out the entire God Goku vs. Beerus fight tonight.

Before I get too deep in the weeds, I’d like to take a moment to point out some particularly ugly examples of the character models in this series. 

Ugh...

This show always goes for far-away shots of large groups of characters, and they always look revolting. 

And sometimes even the close-ups look wretched. 

Really, I can’t even explain why these are so unpleasant to look at.  It just feels like a really half-assed effort was put forth.  Like, I’m not much of an artist, but looking at this stuff reminds me of my own work, where I sort of just go for it and accept that the end result might not look quite right, but I’m still pleased with it just for getting it done.  Which is fine for unskilled amateurs like me, but it really feels like early Dragon Ball Super was animated by an entire team of people with that same mindset.

Fans have always given Yukio “Triangle Guy” Ebisawa a lot of crap over the decades, what with his ridiculously off-model and often-ugly style.   But I like his stuff way better than the lukewarm crude we see in early-Super and about half of GT. I’m not saying you have to love Ebisawa’s style, but at least when he breaks the rules you can tell he’s going for something.  He’s trying to make the characters look intense and dynamic.  He’s turning them all into triangles for a reason.  There’s a purpose to it, even if we might find it garish or laughable. 

Compare this with a typical shot from GT, and you can see what I mean.  That’s Mr. Satan punching Uub out of the ring to win the tournament, but it looks more like Uub is standing on a box while Satan rubs his knuckles gently against his abs.  That shot of Vegeta above looks way, way more impactful, and he’s not even fighting. 

Generally speaking, Super does a better job making action sequences look intense, although that’s not saying much. Like GT, there’s a lot of shortcuts taken where characters just stare each other down, rush together, and launch big energy blasts instead of doing any kind of complex combat sequences

But then the show constantly switches back to the bystanders to get their reaction, and they always look like crap.  Vegeta’s face is basically frozen that way for the next three episodes.  Bulma’s supposed to be flipping out and Krillin’s supposed to be astonished, but it’s all half-measures.  Whoever drew this was just putting forth the minimum effort.  The characters look like they’re supposed to look, but there’s no oomph there. 

Compare to this shot of Dende, Mr. Satan, and Bee hiding in the bushes.  It’s a lot more expressive, interesting composition.  Mr. Satan’s head is exaggerated, but it helps get across his emotions.  

Anyway, this is just something I wanted to bring up Super always invites comparisons to Z and GT.  And as bad as Super can be, it usually trumps GT simply by having characters look and act like they did in Z, but they often look dull or unimpressive, which makes the show look like a pale imitation of Z. 

But I’ve gotten waayyy off-track.  Let’s talk about the fight.

Actually, there isn’t a whole lot to say here.  In the Battle of Gods movie, they started with Beerus kind of going easy on Goku, giving him a chance to get acquainted with the Super Saiyan God form.  Here, DBS #10 just turns that into a whole episode.  Gradually, Beerus ramps up the offense, and Goku gets more confident with his power, until he finally reverses a punch from Beerus into a grapple. 

Then he flicks Beerus’s forehead with his finger...

... and gives him a chop to the shoulder, just as Beerus did to SSJ3 Goku on King Kai’s planet.

Beerus finds this unseemly, but he can respect Goku wanting revenge for how Beerus humiliated him in their last encounter.  Personally, I don’t think this suits Goku as a character.  Also, Beerus isn’t anywhere close to using his full strength, so if he didn’t want Goku to manhandle him this way, he would just break loose, so this all seems kind of pointless to me.

Anyway, now that Goku seems to have a handle on his new form, they agree to fight more seriously, while Bulma and a lot of her guests try to follow the action in some sort of aircraft she keeps aboard her ship.  And the Pilaf Gang are taking a nap. 

Yeah, now I remember.  So they saw the Dragon Balls being used earlier, so they returned to the ship to find them, only to discover most of the partygoers were gone, and then Whis shared a “dinner encore” with them, and now they’re sleeping it off.

#dragon ball #dragon ball super #2023dbapocryphaliveblog #goku #beerus #emperor pilaf #mai #shu #vegeta #bulma #krillin #piccolo #android 18 #kibitoshin #elder supreme kai

[delicatebluebirdruins]

RE: Infinte Darkness Rewatch

under a read more it got long and slightly rambly

- ugly ass puss coloured filter... going against orders is always fun

- weird hand statue... poor kid

- theme song slaps (most of the tracks slap but there is no official Claire and Leon theme so *blows raspberry*

- Claire just seems so uncomfortable like stone in her shoe? label in clothing? or just good old fashioned don’t want to exist because everything feels wrong

- Ace of Spades? nice. Monkey Suit? not so nice

- Patrick has a grudge against Leon and we never get any explanation

- the glare Shenmai give Patrick is so funny

- the texturing is so nice on the walls and everything... fuck off wilson

- flashy torches why?... would you like some hole in the face?

- Spacer looks so young... that was some kick... *see’s Spacers legs* ouch... Hi Leon

- Leon’s suit has not seen the light of day in years. it does not fit him at all does it?

- yes Shenmai the portraits look shifty... the torchlight made Jason’s eyes look really cool

- Claire’s expression at seeing and recognising Leon is so fucking funny... is blue Leon’s colour? I can’t tell... can we get a Cleon hug at some point?

- fuck off wilson... Ashley is so cute and i feel sorry for her

- Yeah Netflix Subtitles heroic music IS playing... can’t spell classified without ass can you?

- back to the hand and escalation of events

episode 2

- this opening bit is so pretty: bright with birds singing. And the detail of the reflection in the mirror? lovely. But this is a resident evil production so it goes horribly wrong

- Alien Coffee?... Claire looks so good with the tank and (way too clean) glasses

- Back to chaos: Shenmai is interesting and I don’t know what to make of her... Leon is great but personally listening to Jason’s tangent right now I would be calling it in and asking for a therapist and expecting bad things coming

- I hate Shenmai and Jason killing the crew. zombie rats, zombie rats doodoodoo... Icky rats... Lots of rats to get on small sub... how did they get on?

- electric blue eyes... underwater explosion looks strange... the grass looks so nice

- Pocket Knife couldn’t have Shenmai cleaned the blade off? I always think of Narnia when I notice this shit

- Yeah Leon treason is fun and you shoud do it in this instance because fuck Wilson... I didn’t realise jason actually got shot

episode 3

- cabin? in the woods? at night? what could go wrong?... another person from the mad dogs unit gone

- ohhh look at the moon... the water looks really nice as well and I love it

- lovely reunion of siblings... it is sad though the hope grandfather and Shenmai have for Junsee to return to health for them because a part of it is futile... the grandfather covering Junsee as the building falls hurts me

- where’d that random breeze come from? just to make Claire cover her face briefly?

- Fuck off Wilson... damn we don’t get to see Shenmai being carried by Leon wow that’s a lot of damage...

- where’d the other guy come from? I hate seeing Claire hurt

Episode 4

- hi Patty Cake (what is his and Leon’s relationship)... I love his reaction to the call and I wonder what Leon said

alternative version of the scene

P: Leon is that you?

L: No this is Patrick

- that outfit kinda looks like her RERE2 outfit

- Me and Clarie: fuck off Wilson or more appropriatly “you’re just fucking nuts“

- do the opening credits change from epsisode to episode?

- funky running animation

- how the hell did you see Leon from where you are Claire?... also why doesn’t Claire actively try to escape when Wilson was distracted with Jason

- “doors clonking“ thanks Netflix subtitles... cut it a little close there Claire

- Poor Shenmai x2

- saving Claire is one of the best scenes in the whole show

- Well done Pat you can breathe now you got the message through

- start mashing buttons Claire

- “hey sexy“/ bazooka clanks” will never not be funny... I love them continuing to fight

- much speech very wow... Jason is not wrong though considering the world as a whole like how many outbreaks have there been? it would be hard to find someone who hasn’t been affected by B.O.Ws either directly or know someone who has

- I do love the music... Leon silhouetted by the sunset is great - oh fuck off Wilson... tricell (vaguely rings a bell)

- this conversation between Leon and Claire is interesting and I love them (meta I read and love what they had to say about it)

I really wish they went for a meal together link to a lovely slightly nsfw comic I found

#resident evil #cleon #resident evil infinite darkness #claire deserves better #this show could have been longer #should have been #claire redfield #leon s kennedy

[yurisorcerer]

I have some notes that I'm half-considering turning into a proper review of this but honestly I don't think it's worth the effort.

Here:

Essentially, this is a whole episode of voice actors absolutely dying in the booth to try to work with the material they've been given. These speeches aren't even bad, and I can imagine them being effective---once again---in the original format of the novel, or even a voice drama maybe? But the visual element actively drags the show down; why is everything so fucking dark? Like, literally dark? I keep harping about this but the general look of this show is just ugly beyond belief.

If you look, you can find real themes in here. The idea that everyone is just SO over all of this, that these people really do just need a hero because the world has been this fucking grim for this fucking long is a compelling one in a vacuum. The problem with ISHURA, as always, is in its execution. A quiet, dialogue-heavy episode does play to this show's strengths, and it might be the best episode of the show, but we're talking in relative terms here. There are so many moments that SHOULD work, but none of them do.

The fact of the matter is that despite the strength of most of the vocal performances (Exceptions; Elea's VA Noto Mamiko really has just phoned it in the whole show, and this isn't a standout performance from Aoi Yuuki either).

The standout line probably goes to a random bearded man tending to some coffins in the aftermath of the attack; "once you're dead, it doesn't matter which country you fought for." That this comes from a random gravekeeper, rather than one of the show's superpowered isekaijin, feels like it might point toward how this story could improve over time. A better-written series would have greatly condensed this entire introductory plot, reduced the number of characters somewhat, and focused on these core themes. Instead, ISHURA is basically the introductory chapter to what is clearly a much longer story. I am cognizant of how often I'm saying this, but this is an approach that works fine for the series' home format of the light novel, but adapting it 1 to 1 in an anime like this is bonkers. If the show looked way better and had way more going on writing-side it could justify this. Slow, political character pieces have a place in anime after all, I don't want to come off as denying that, but it would need much better direction, a significant amount of editing, and just stronger visual language overall than ISHURA has.

We should also consider ISHURA in a broader contemporary context. Why bother to take the time to properly adapt this story---to change around, to riff on, to reconfigure, to really make it shine in its new medium---when just adapting the buildup straight with no changes will do just fine in terms of moving copies of the original books and, if Studio Passione is lucky, some BDs on top of that? And of course, they're making more. Will I watch it? Probably not, but maybe if it's an exceptionally dry season I'll be bored enough to give this a second shot.

Overall, this truly felt like a complete waste of my time. I'm genuinely sorry to anyone who likes this show and happens to come across this post, since if you have WAY more patience for fantasy politick I can imagine getting more out of this, but like....I just cannot get there.

#ishura #yurisorcerer talks about media

[bellgravelonepieceoc]

First Name: Bell

Middle Name: None

Last Name:  Gravel

Nickname: Pebbles, Rock head, Gargoyle

Pirate Name: The Gargoyle

Gender: Female

Age: 30 (xan change for rp)

Birthday: April 13

Sexual Orientation: Straight

Species: Human devil fruit eater

Appearance: Bell has eaten a devil fruit so she now has light blue green scales and long sharp claws. She has a long very strong thick super flexible teal blue tail like an aligators without the spikes and two large bat like wings that are very strong and teal colored. She has big claw tipped feet and bright white moon like eyes and fangs. Small but hard and sharp horns on her forehead.

She can turn human for a short period of time but the transformation hurts and takes a lot of her energy.

Art credit: imvu avatar app

Height: 6 foot

Hair Color: A teal blue green gradient

Eyes Color: moon white and shiny

Skin Tone: Very pale in her human form but usually has teal blue green scales on her face neck arms hands legs feet tail and wings.

Birthmarks: None

Tattoos: A burn mark of the marine logo on her upper right thigh

Scars: the burn scar from the marine logo, several across her chest back and abdomen from years of training and fighting and abuse and one gun shot wound near her right collar

Personality: Bell is kind hearted and sweet once you get to know her. She is faithful and protective of her friends and animals and children and anyone who is in need. She loves music and playing games. At first she's always shy and weary of anyone because of her past so she will not trust you and will try to mostly keep to herself. She can often be seen sitting in high places and quietly cries to herself. She always secretly feels alone and ugly and unwanted due to her looks but she puts on a smile and tries not to show anyone her true inner sadness.

Favorite Color: Purple, black, blue

Likes: food, music, animals, sailing, the sea, sea monsters , myths, legends, drinking, stealing, taking care of others, hot guys, zoro, sanji, hawks, kid, ace, shanks, doflamingo, law, smoaker

Dislikes: marines, not being able to swim, being abandoned, fire, feeling alone, bullies, bad guys, storms, lies, liers, cigarette smoke

Fears: Dieing alone, never finding anyone to love her, being abandoned, being shot, braking her wings, being tied up against her will

Hobbies: playing music, singing, flying, sky dancing, wood carving, sharp shooting, stealing, playing tricks and telling bad jokes, training

Relationships:

Family : none

Mother: unknown

Father: unknown pirate

Siblings: none

Friends: straw hat pirates

Love interest: (depends on the roleplay but she likes these guys.) zoro, sanji, hawks, kid, ace, shanks, doflamingo, law

Rivals: usop for best sharp shooter.

Enemies: the marines

Other:

Bounty: None yet

Pirate crew or Marine and position: straw hat pirates

Ship name: the going mary

Devil fruit: yes

Name: ???

Type : Mythical Zoan

Powers: Transforms the eater into a type of mythical animal. In bell's case it was a Gargoyle. She is able to harden her scales to be as strong as any kind of stonevshe eats. The harder the material the harder her scales but the lesser amount of time she can maintain it. She can also controle rocks of various types with her mind.

Weapons: mostly long range weapons like cannons, pistols, guns, bolders she can throw, anything long ranged. She also has her teeth tail and claws. A long sword.

Backstory: Bell was abandoned as a baby at an orphanage run by the government. She was raised by kind but poor people In a big city where people were to greedy to help out the less fortunate. The orphanage needed a lot of help and hardly managed to take care of the children, to make things worse if they couldn't pay taxes the marines would take the oldest children as payment and force them to join.

Bell grew up and realized this was wrong so from the age of 5 she began stealing. At first it was small things to help the others servive. Little bags of apples here a small bag of gold from some ones pocket there than when she grew older she learned to trick people with slide of hand and mis direction. She made sure there was always enough money to pay the taxes so no child was ever taken by the marines ever again.

It worked out well untill she was caught at the age of ten. Everyone in the city knew of the ten year old thief but couldn't catch her so the marines instead threatened to take all the kids in the orphanage if she didn't give herself up so she did. At 13 Bell was forced into the marines and faced 10 years service. She was abused as a cabin boy and forced to work the dirty jobs and slave over peeling potatoes as well as training like all other marines. She became good with long distance weapons and hand to hand combat.

In all her time with the marines she continued to steal and be a trouble maker to the marines. She refused to hurt anyone or kill anyone so she was often punnished. Eventually she was sent to sea in her 23 year and that's when the cruel caption branded the marine symbol into her right thigh. She was forever scarred thanks to that and filled with even more hate.

Thankfully fate took her away from that life but not for a better one. One day a massive storm carried the ship she was on to close to the waters that border the grand line and because the storm damaged the ship to badly the marines could not get away from an attacking pirate ship. Bell refused to fight the pirates and was locked in the storage room for mutiny but while she was trapped inside all the marines were murdered and the ship looted. Unfortunately she was left behind locked in the storage room unable to escape when the pirates blew the ship to pieces. She was lucky to servive by clinging to some floating crates.

These crates had a little food in it including a mysterious box the marines had locked away in the storage room. It was some big secret the marines had been transporting but it didn't make it. While bell floated in the sea and did her best to ration the little food she had left and finally washed ashore on an island. She made herself a shelter and was able to care for herself just fine but she made the mistake of opening the mystery box and inside it was a fruit so strange looking she almost didn't want to eat it. It was hard as a rock so she cracked it open like a coconut and ate the terrible tasting thing. Hours later she passed out and from that day on she never looked human again. What she had eaten turned out to be a devil fruit.

Bell was 26 when she ate the fruit and was stranded on the island. Every day she trains with her new powers and gets stronger but she longs to escape some day.

Theme songs:

Outfits: for a while she wears rags while she's on the island. When she's rescued she is finally able to get clothing that fits and she wears anything that let's her wings and tail remain free. Below is her human form.

#oc #oc info

[the-firebird69]

I'm talking about this fool Paul who wouldn't listen to reason and it's not pulled photos it's Paul who was a BG and I took him off into the side at church and that big new church part in hoptown and I said listen you're ugly you're stupid you're a moron I wouldn't have anything to do with you I told him I said that later. And he would not shut up him saying I'm dead and stuff to my face so I put my mouth right to his ear and said you're dead right now and I poisoned him in his arm. So he was so shocked and you start to feel it how do you feel you talk to yourself to death. And you said you know you can't tell people that it's no you just can't I was getting groggy and he fell over and he said you poison me should I poisoned you. It's twice as lethal. He heard my husband laughing he said you're next and you people are invalids you're invalid. Cuz you shouldn't say that stuff to us we'll get the wrong impression and slaughter your clan like we have been almost gone and BG doesn't want you to but you're a freaking homo he says. It almost gone after this you will be so say what you like in the weekling. As he's dying he's trying to see your name and stuff like that so he's going out his last words of this I can't take the stuff anyways so you shouldn't mess with someone else's girl at all idiot and you can't take it cuz you're not supposed to try to. He said I'm in life I said I don't care that's why your dead. It says blood and my husband says I don't care about anything that stuff when you're dead you're silent that's what matters. This happens is you're the one who will unwilling to participate so yeah I value my life you can die like paper. Goodbye by the way you piece of dog s*** so he dies fully I go back grab him question him and said this over and over I was wrong to do that as if I'm going to free you have to killing him in church in public. No after that he said I don't have any help and all this crap I said why don't I just cut to the chase I already interviewed you I got what I need I want to hear you blab to see if it's anything I had to tell you one thing you're so stupid as a people this should not be as hard as we're making it but my husband said a big huge mob ofyou problem that's true and you proved it.

So it's going out and he's muttering and he says I can't think of anything to say I said we're hoping you would so we can wipe out all of your clan to the last idiot. It says thinking since I can't think of anything. So it's making fun of us saying dumb things so we're getting rid of them now that's why you're leaving you got frustrated said which way do you want it so you're so stupid you don't know which way it is. It's not saying how it works cuz I'm jotting it down. Tries to get up in his mind's eye his brain really and he's gone we pulled the plug. But this thing was BG and Trump started a long time ago and always going at it and they're always fighting and then my husband in the middle and they found it so detestable they couldn't stand it they keep doing it and dying yesterday everybody was pissed off at both of them and started hitting them and we can't stand you people you act like animals and don't care they do care and this guy's a huge animal he's such an a****** he's in the movie saying stuff moving around looking around for a friend pissing in the wind he would not stop talking during the movie, finally said do you want to leave the movie so we can see it or you can shut up it's quiet for a while then start up again. So they have to go outside then for some reason the movie stopped so I went out and he was there. And you tried to give her a son s*** and he's so stupid and he didn't have communication or motor skills cuz he was shot recently that morning and it was in Cicero. And yes someone blew up it wasn't him. He keeps getting shot out there cuz I'll get shot you can't figure out who's doing it I really it's his son and his daughter. And BG. Yeah it's not funny it is funny you were laughing at you because you can't even figure out who it is if you will tell you and you won't shut up. Now this isn't a nutshell if you threaten us we're going to get you you're going to be dead you can certain each other all you want or use it go around kill you we have to to take your stuff so you see...

So Travis getting hammered right now a little a****** who won't leave the apartment next door and it's not even his and yes Sherry and stand stop by I just saw him inside the apartment scoot around with stuff in other words he was touching things and moving stuff around. This is behavior is so damn annoying. He knew they were there watching and tried to annoy them and Stan was pushed out of his job at the mall like four times for this a******. And all the a****** does is ring him up and send him on his ways to do anything. And or drive the bus I mean people are wondering what the hell he's doing it looks stupid. We don't comply and we don't do any wants you know we turn them into like a veg and kill his people to get them away from him cuz he would usually demands so I hit them and hitting them and hitting him... And my husband says we should get rid of any of that proximity not just once he managed to do things I need done that made a lot of sense instead of doing that. All in all yesterday we cleaned Florida out like four times. doing it right now literally we going town to town and pulling everybody out. It's a huge fight you know a bunch of webs this moan complain like the service isn't good. But we need the Intel about tomorrow it's a huge offensive all over Earth. The attacks in the tunnels are going well Trump is near four very large lasers and 10 medium sized lasers with his Force. It's not the point of you of announcing it you stupid f****** moron point is that the kill top side more okay

Hera Zues

[frodo-with-glasses]

How the Fellowship+ Play Minecraft

Merry: Never builds anything. Just fights monsters. Has a dirt hut lined wall to wall in chests filled with loot dropped by the monsters he killed. The most he’s ever done with redstone was seeing how many TNT he could set off in a row by pushing one button. Has twelve mob grinders for no reason. Has defeated the Ender Dragon seven times just for fun. His favorite weapon is a Multi-Shot crossbow with fireworks. Has three of them on him at any given time. Never changes the difficulty to Peaceful.

Pippin: Never changes the difficulty off Peaceful. Would die immediately if you took it off Peaceful. Would find some way to get killed in broad daylight the moment you took it off Peaceful. Sucks at combat. Uses cheats.

Sam: Has collected every single plant in the game into one incredible botanical garden. Explores the entire world and fills out maps upon maps just to find the species he’s missing. Eagerly looks forward to updates because “NEW PLANTS I’VE GOTTA FIND THAT AZALEA TREE”. Also collects rare animals like mooshrooms. Has the most beautiful farm imaginable. Surprisingly good at combat even though he rarely does it.

Frodo: Capable of combat if necessary but needs very advance warning. Generally the one who builds the house, because he’s the one who wants an enchanting room. Makes sure everyone is fully equipped with enchanted gear. Collects rare and exotic-sounding items. Has beaten the game once to get the Ender Dragon Egg and never wants to do it again.

Aragorn: Has everything. No, literally, everything. “Hey Aragorn, do you have—” YES HE DOES. His own world has chests filled with stacks of diamond blocks. Rarely returns from a mining expedition without another stack of diamonds. Carries an ender chest filled with shulker boxes filled with nearly every resource imaginable. Has a house FILLED TO THE BRIM with chests upon chests upon chests. Nobody knows how he has the time to collect all this stuff, but the answer is that his job is stressful, so every spare minute he has is spent mindlessly mining or fishing to decompress. Always hides the entrance to his enormous strip-mines in an out-of-the-way place that nobody else can find. Always the most welcome in everyone else’s worlds and servers. Has every achievement in the game and quietly completes the new ones within a week of updates.

Gandalf: Utter completionist. Very uptight about it. Has beaten the game multiple times and expects everyone else to be like him. Has every achievement in the game and updates it religiously. Constantly annoyed by Pippin and berates him for “cheating”. Gets along best with Aragorn in Survival, but has also done massive Creative builds with Gimli.

Gimli: Redstone master. Builds things with redstone that defy physics. Has a youtube channel where he quietly posts video tutorials of his builds and nobody else in the Fellowship finds out about them until later. Has a gorgeous castle built in Survival that’s tastefully decorated with diamond, gold, and emerald blocks. Nobody believes he got those in Survival until he shows them his mile-long strip mines. Also does enormous builds in Creative. Has completely recreated Orthanc on a superflat world and installed redstone mechanisms to flood it. Has built the Death Star with a beacon as a working laser. Has built a realistic Ent that actually walks. Has built EVERYTHING.

Legolas: Doesn’t understand the game. Played once because the others suggested it. He used Creative, built an ugly house out of gold and diamond, and said, “Well, that’s it! I don’t know why the rest of you spend so much time with this.” “Uh…because we actually like it as a challenge?” “Why would you do that?”

Boromir: Plays the game socially. The hobbits introduced him to it, and now he only plays it when they’re around. Always takes the combat role to defend the non-fighters. Enjoys PvP and gets way too into it. Loudly defends Pippin’s use of cheats whenever Gandalf is getting on his case. “He’s just trying to have FUN, Gandalf, let the young hobbit be!” Died once by falling off a cliff.

Bonus under the cut!

Eowyn: Was introduced to the game by Merry. Initially thought it was just a combat game and became very good at it until Faramir showed her the building aspects. Is a surprisingly well-rounded player—nice house, good at fighting—but also has a stable full of very fast horses with name tags and horse armor. Plays PvP with Merry on the weekends. Like Boromir, she usually takes the combat role when joining other people’s worlds. “I’m on my way! Don’t die before I get there!”

Faramir: A builder. His houses aren’t anything incredible, but they’re easy on the eyes—with sloping roofs made of stairs and window shutters made of trapdoors—and he still takes pride in what he makes. He and Eowyn have a private Survival world that they play together in the evenings. Watches Eowyn and Merry play PvP but doesn’t participate. Prefers when they play Spleef because it’s funny.

Bilbo: Builds houses. Beautiful, homey houses that use existing blocks to mimic real furniture. Watches and takes inspiration from video tutorials. Hosts his own Bag End server where he’s built an absolutely gorgeous hobbit hole in pure Survival, complete with a realistic-looking and functional kitchen. His pride and joy is the enormous library—not an ugly one that’s wall-to-wall with books, but tastefully decorated with candles and lanterns and lecterns and vines on the windows and a “reading nook”. Eagerly looks forward to updates to see what new decorative blocks come out. Frodo and Sam are often on the Bag End server; Frodo maintains the local village and keeps everyone stocked with enchanted gear, and Sam keeps his magnum opus botanical garden adjacent to the hobbit hole.

Aragorn sometimes pops onto the server to go mining and keep the hobbits stocked up with resources. Nobody knows where his strip mine is. He secretly loves being there, because he’s got a heart for beautiful things, and Bilbo’s home and Sam’s garden are just that.

Gimli was on the server once and, at the hobbits’ request, installed a secret door in the library, a harvesting mechanism in the farm, and a hidden Nether railway. The hobbits were equal parts impressed, delighted, and horrified, because this is way more technology than they’re used to, but Gimli’s builds are very clean and he hides his redstone well so they got used to it eventually. (Aragorn was secretly glad for the Nether railway; he wasn’t gonna build one until the hobbits asked for it, but he’d been wanting one for a while.)

Bilbo rarely goes adventuring, but for when he does, there’s a room in the basement with a wall full of maps, and a chest marked “for Sam” containing any new plants and flowers he finds.

Merry and Pippin are not allowed on the Bag End server.

Gollum: Tries to eat the console.

Elrond: Plays Call of Duty.

#meriadoc brandybuck #merry #peregrin took #pippin #samwise gamgee #frodo baggins #aragorn #gandalf #gimli #legolas #boromir #eowyn #faramir #bilbo baggins #gollum #elrond #lord of the rings #lotr #lotr humor #modern au #only aragorn knows that elrond plays call of duty #it is a very well-kept secret #gandalf might know but he has also been sworn to secrecy