#[ this takes place in a heroes verse just cause -- ]

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Extra-dimensional.

Written for a very lovely anonymous commissioner.

Pairing: Yandere!Spot x Reader (Spider-verse).

Word Count: 6.0k.

TW: Non/Con, AFAB!Reader, Semi-Public Sex, Tentacle-Adjacent Sex, Prolonged Stalking, Psychological Abuse, Themes of Grief, and Kidnapping.

You were starting to think that your apartment might’ve been haunted.

The science-focused part of your brain was forced to look at the evidence, to acknowledge how many well-accounted-for articles of clothing and minor keepsakes had gone missing over the past few weeks, to count how many times you’d caught shadowy figures flickering in the corner of your eye, to take stock of all possible causes and admit that, tragically, a temperamental spirit was the only remotely plausible explanation, even if you had to use the term ‘plausible’ more loosely than you’d like to. It made sense – or, it made as much sense as invoking supernatural entities could, anyway.

On the other hand, the part of your mind that paid rent every month and vacuumed twice a week really, really didn’t want your apartment to be haunted and vehemently denied that ghosts – unseen, untouchable, unsolvable ghosts – were something you’d have to deal with a down payment like yours.

Both parts of your brain could agree that leaving a fully in-tact, as-of-yet unopened bank vault would be a weird thing for a ghost to do, though.

Teeth grit, still dressed in the clothes you’d worn to the memorial, you stood with one foot planted on its overturned side and another lodged in your carpeting, the end of a crowbar you’d borrowed from your loudest downstairs neighbor lodged between the door and the wall where a badly beaten mechanism bound them together. You’d already called the cops, as little as you wanted to do with them or the quote-on-quote ‘heroes’ who’d failed to save him, but the operator had laughed you off of the line and despite the hours you’d spent buried in the deepest trenches of any search engine that would have you, the only report you could find of a bank robbery had taken place in London, on the other side of the world. You’d considered, briefly, that grief had driven you to hallucinations and this was just the first sign of an upcoming downward spiral, but that idea had been swiftly vetoed when you’d tripped over the damn thing and decided it was very much, very unfortunately real. The idea to pry it open had come a few minutes later, after deciding that you probably had a legal right to anything to investigate anything that spontaneously appeared in your living room – ghosts or no ghosts.

You heard something snap, felt the reverberation of a fracture underneath your palms, but the vault didn’t budge. The only thing that changed was your crowbar – the bent claw replaced with a jagged, broken-off tip when you managed to dislodge it from the vault. You winced, swallowing back in an agitated grown. Trial One: Crowbar vs. Spontaneously Generated Vault complete. So far, the vault reigned victorious.

You tried to take a deep breath, to count to ten and tell yourself that this was no different than a failed experiment, a half-baked test that just hadn’t gone your way, but you could still hear church bells ringing in the back of your mind, still picture two empty seats at the front of the chapel – one for Dr. Octavius and the other meant for the CEO of the Alchamax, neither brave enough to show their face. You weren’t even sure why you were so angry. It could’ve been the clipped speech delivered by a company representative who’d barely known him, the closed casket, the way your coworkers could barely bring themselves to meet your eyes despite your stunted attempts at making conversation through the knot lodged in your throat. It could’ve been everything. It could’ve been something else entirely. You didn’t know. You didn’t care. There were already tears streaming down your cheeks, dripping down your chin as you pulled the crowbar back and swung it into the vault’s door. The force of the collision rattled through your body, but you steeled yourself and did it again, then again, then again, until the smooth, black metal was dented beyond any hope of repair and your crowbar was warped and misshapen. Finally, when you were panting and breathless, when your hands threatened to cramp and your shoulders ached in their sockets, you drove the blunted crowbar into the vault’s door with what was left of your quickly draining strength. In the end, your aggression was rewarded with a metallic clang, the sound of something cracking open, and then, what was left of the vault door fell open – nearly taking out one of your feet before you stumbled out of the way.

You clenched your eyes shut, forcing out a ragged exhale and re-tallying your score. Trail II: Crowbar vs. Spontaneously Generated Vault complete. Although the vault put up a good fight, the crowbar’s endurance ultimately persevered. Interference from external factors and researcher’s bias will be considered later on with the assistance of a glass of wine and a mediocre romcom you’ll cry your eyes out to.

Once you’d managed to dampen the lingering heat of your grief-fueled anger, you turned your attention to the bank vault’s contents – the fruits of your labor, the results of your little experiment. You weren’t sure what you expected. Jewelry, maybe, artifacts or century-old paintings some underground dealer had to ditch in a stranger’s apartment for reasons you couldn’t begin to comprehend. Part of you, the part of you that remembered the number written across your last paycheck, couldn’t help but hope for something simple; a disorderly pile of unmarked bills that you’d count and stow away and pretend you weren’t dying to waste. That part of you wasn’t entirely wrong, either.

Neatly stacked in the overturned bank vault, only slightly disrupted by your attempts to pry it open, were stacks upon stacks of neatly organized dollar bills. Or, that wasn’t quite right, actually. They were bills, but they weren’t dollars.

You took one of the bundles in your hand. English pounds – sorted by color and bound together by paper bands toting a logo you didn’t recognize. Huh.

Maybe your next call should be an international one.

~

By the next month, you’d escalated from a vaguely haunted apartment to a full-blown spectral presence that you just couldn’t seem to shake.

Spectral presence. You still weren’t convinced it was a real term, but you’d picked it up after a conversation with one of your coworkers (former coworker, now, you had to remind yourself, one of your former coworkers) when you both stepped out of a quickly lulling group session and you’d off-handedly mentioned your little ghost problem. In the moment, you’d laughed and shrugged and promised to let them know if you ever called an exorcist, but the phrase had stuck, resurfaced the next time you couldn’t find the threadbare t-shirt you’d been wearing for the better part of a decade and cemented itself in the forefront of your consciousness when the aforementioned shirt reappeared on your balcony, a jagged tear running from the collar to the midriff and the hems eaten away to nothing. If that didn’t count as a presence, you weren’t sure what would.  

That was the first time your little ghost problem had followed you out of the house, but it wouldn’t be the last. You could practically feel it, now; constantly looming over your shoulder, constantly watching, constantly leaving little trinkets in places it knew you would be. If you could even call them that. They were more like… oddities – rings made of a kind of metal you couldn’t recognize, puzzle boxes you couldn’t seem to figure out, things that should make sense but just didn’t when you looked into them. The only one you’d been able to make sense of so far was a pair of glasses, one of the lenses sporting a hair-line fracture. You’d spent the rest of that day huddled in your closet, the door shut and the lights off. You considered that you could have a stalker, someone or something who loved you enough or hated you enough to follow you around, leaving things you didn’t want to see in places it knows you’d find them, but you didn’t know how a stalker would even start to get their hands on something like that. You didn’t know how anything of his could’ve survived that explosion, but you weren’t in a place to ask those kinds of questions, anymore.

Currently, you weren’t in a place to do much of anything. You’d spent most of the night before sleepless and huddled into yourself, and now, you were glassy-eyes and exhausted, staring down an aisle’s worth of produce blankly as you tried to ignore the chill fanning over the nape of your neck. You kept your tongue caught in your teeth, counting out the micro-seconds between one breath and another with a precision refined by years of measuring the time between stimulus and reaction, holding yourself stiff enough to drown out the unsteadiness. It’d pass, soon enough. It had to pass, eventually. You just had to—

Something brushed against the small of your back and you straightened, snapping over your shoulder and finding, predictably, nothing. You tried to write it off as just another figment of your stress-induced paranoia, a symptom of so many late nights and so little external stimulation, but any hope of calming your racing heart was torn away with you by the feeling of something settling against the curve of your shoulder-blade, then dipping lower, following the curve of your spine before sliding to your hip. It was a phantom sensation – cold and weightless, hollow and so close to intangible – but you could feel it clearly enough to recognize that it was pressing against you directly, frozen tendrils sapping the warmth from your skin without clothes to buffer its awful touch. There was something else to it, too, a sort of buzzing that you couldn’t seem to compare to anything but static. It burnt. It didn’t feel like anything at all.

If you’d been braver, you might’ve glanced down, tried to see if the fabric of reality had opened to reveal some terrible, eldritch thing, but you weren’t and it was all you could do to clench your eyes shut, to cross your arms over your chest and pray that would be enough to protect you from the thin trail of frigid, searing static slowly creeping up your side, drifting to your navel, following the curve of your chest until it was resting just underneath the base of your throat. You weren’t sure what you were afraid of. That it would hurt you, maybe, that the thing that was haunting you for months would realize it could touch you and take the next logical step. You didn’t want to die in a grocery store. You didn’t want to die at all. You didn’t want to—

“Do you mind, dude?”

The static disappeared, dissolving into the open air, and your eyes shot open, immediately finding a strung-out teenager standing next to you, awkwardly attempting to reach for something you must’ve been standing in front of. More out of reflex than anything else, you stepped back, muttering an apology under your breath before retreating out of the store entirely. You decided, when you were a block away and just starting to catch your breath, that you’d never be going back. You decided you were never going to think about what’d just happened to you again.

And, later on, when you realized that you wouldn’t be any safer at home, you decided not to think about your little haunting at all.

~ It was creeping up your spine, again.

“You’ve got more than enough experience for the position we’re offering.”

Lingering at the nape of your neck, pausing, then circling to your chest to trace over your collarbones.

“And I saw your resume, too – very impressive stuff. We’d love to have someone with your qualifications on our staff.”

It usually waited until you were alone, locked in your apartment or curled up under your sheets. It hadn’t touched you again in public since your first physical encounter – something you were thankful for and horrified by in equal measures. You didn’t want to consider the possibility that it was a conscious entity. You didn’t want to think about what it would mean if it knew what it was doing to you.

“There’s just one question. You mentioned that you were formerly employed at,” A pause, a polite smile that meant ‘depending on your answer, you might not be in my office for much longer’, “Alchemax?”

You forced yourself to smile, too, shifting slightly in your uncomfortable leather seat and hoping that would be enough to dispel the trail of frost now gliding down your chest. “Unfortunately,” you started, and your specter dipped lower, past your stomach and into the space between your thighs. You clenched your legs shut, then thought better of it and crossed them, but that did little to stop the chill now washing over your lap, fanning over the inside of your thigh. If you didn’t know better, you would’ve called it groping. “I wasn’t in that department, if that’s what you’re wondering. Our work was supposed to be completely theoretical. None of us knew what was really going on until – well, until everything knew.”

Your total rejection of autonomy appeased the interviewer, who rewarded your sacrifice by nodding his head and shuffling the papers on his desk before launching into some lengthy monologue about benefits and turn-over rates that you couldn’t bring yourself to concentrate on. Your crossed legs offered little protection. The entity’s touch expanded, infecting everything it contacted with that awful static and turning your skin warm, hyper-sensitive. A strange, alien weight fell onto your clit, pressing down harshly enough to earn a sudden gasp, to make you jerk forward and wrap your arms around your stomach. The interview went silent, his expression turning to one of sympathy-tinged confusion. “Oh, are you alright?”

“Yes, I’m sorry, I’m just—” You tried to straighten your back, to brace yourself on the arm of your chair, but the entity dipped lower, two finger-like projections tracing down the length of your slit and you forced yourself to stand in spite of your unsteady legs. “It’s just been so humid, lately. I think I might need to step out and get something to drink—”

“Please, let me.” No, no, no. You needed to be somewhere else, to find a broom closet to hide in until this was over, but you couldn’t say that, couldn’t explain that all you wanted to do was get away from here and run farther than this entity would be able to follow you. You couldn’t say much of anything as you fell back into your seat, as your interview offered a curt apology and fled his own office before you could do the same. You might’ve thanked him, but you couldn’t be sure. It was impossible to hear anything over the sound of your own heart beating in your ears.

As you feared, the entity seemed to know that you were alone. Its formerly ginger touch turned aggressive, dull fingertips (because they were fingers, you couldn’t deny it any longer, couldn’t claim this thing was as far from human as you hoped it would be) burrowing into the inside of your thigh harshly enough to bruise before pulling back and turning their attention back to your cunt, your clit. It was more than just the ghost of sensation, now – the pad of a thumb pressing into the sensitive bundle of nerves and drawing loose, quick circles into your clit. Your body, senses dialed up by paranoia and defenses thinned by exhaustion, reacted instantly, an unfamiliar warmth pooling in your core as you dug your nails into the leather seat and tried to hold yourself still, tried to stop your stupid, stupid body from doing anything that’d suggest you wanted to be molested by a ghost.

You grit your teeth, to clench your thighs together, but your resistance only seemed to make it more aggressive. You felt a hand curl around your ankle and jerk your leg to the side, forcing your legs apart. It was quick to fill the empty space, three fingers pressing into your entrance as the heel of a palm continued to torture your clit. Whatever chill it carried, you were burning hot enough to balance it out, now, to leave you struggling to ignore the slick starting to dampen the inside of your thighs, the wet sounds that echoed off the blank office walls as two fingers slid into your pussy – only vaguely muffled by fabric still between you and it. Suddenly, the material of your dress-pants felt thin, transparent, and against your better judgement, you forced yourself to look toward the door. The interviewer had closed it on his way out, but it wasn’t locked. You doubted it was soundproof, either. If you were lucky, they’d be short-staffed, and no one would have a reason to pass this specific office though this specific hallway. And, if you weren’t…

You choked back a ragged groan as the fingers inside of you started to move, started to do more than just grope and tease and haunt. Rather than numb, rather than paralyze, the static seemed to tote a much, much worse side-effect. There was a sort of… buzzing vibration, a resonating tremor that made you want to lean back, go slack, and let the sensation wash over you. You couldn’t, though. Even if you forfeited the job, gave up on the idea of ever working in this industry, you knew you’d never be able to show your face in public again if someone walked in and you had to explain what was happening to you right now. That was, if you even could explain what was happening to you right now.

You caught the inside of your cheek in your teeth, biting down until you tasted blood. The digits quirked upward, rubbing against your pulsing walls before scissoring apart, stretching you open. There was no pattern to it, no method you could track and prepare yourself for. If you didn’t know better, you’d call it experimental. If you didn’t know better, you would’ve called it clumsy.

You could feel your face heating up, a knot of tension growing tighter in the pit of your stomach, but rather than sped up, push forward, force you further towards that inevitable ledge, the entity’s hand pulled back, rubbing one more careless pattern into your clit before falling away completely. You let out a sigh that was equal parts relief and disappointment, letting one last disgusted shudder run through you before straightening your back and—

And forcing a palm over your mouth just in time for a tongue, wet and thick and cold, to run over your cunt, hauling you back to the edge just as quickly as you’d pulled away from it. It was rough, the texture too savage to be human, and so wet, the slick you’d been trying to ignore was immediately replaced with thick, freezing saliva. Even the length seemed designed to torture you – long enough to lap over your entrance and your clit in the same slow, aching stroke; to thrust into you and fill the space its fingers had left empty. Memories of a course on specialized biology resurfaced in the fog of forced pleasure and helpless confusion, something about the evolution of a giraffe’s tongue and then, in another lecture, of the practice of masturbation among dolphins as a marker of their intelligence. You’d hated that fucking class. You hated that you were thinking about it now, instead of doing anything useful.

Its tongue was wider, more flexible than its fingers had been. It didn’t have to stretch you open, no, not when it was big enough to keep you full as its tapered end curled and probed against the walls of your cunt. Two fingers pressed into your clit, drawing loose patterns while its tongue split you open so gracelessly, so brutally, it almost circled back around to feeling good. You didn’t try to stop yourself from grinding into it, anymore, letting your legs twitch and your hips buck freely as it worked, as it tore you apart with all the care of a predator gnawing at slabs of raw meat. Every scrap of your limited energy was devoted to keeping yourself quiet, to stifling the needy whimpers and little whines that managed to escape despite your best efforts to silence them. That terrible buzzing seemed to grow stronger, now intense enough to send pulsing jolts of pure electricity from your pussy to your core, and you doubled over, blunt nails biting into your own skin as that thing finally shoved you over the side and brought your body to a trembling, blinding orgasm.

It nursed you through your climax, and as the euphoria faded and the aftershocks dulled into sharp, searing pangs, you managed to speak, your voice hushed and shaking for reasons that were entirely beyond your control. “Go away,” you forced out, praying that your interviewer had left the building, that there had never been a research center here at all and you were just sitting in a condemned building crying about nothing because grief had driven you insane weeks ago and you were just too lost in your own delusions to notice. “Please, go away.”

There was a second of hesitation, a lingering chill against the inside of your thigh, and the entity chose to show its first sign of mercy and finally, finally leave – its cold tongue lapping over your cunt one more time before disappearing completely. You had a second to pull yourself into a more dignified position, another to make sure you didn’t look like someone who’s just gotten finger-fucked by a ghost in the empty office of a higher-up who had to already think you were some mad-scientist reject before the door swung open, your interviewer stepping back in and smiling at you as if nothing in the world could’ve possibly been wrong.  

His eyes flickered over your hollowed expression, your wide eyes, your unsteady posture as he handed you a lukewarm bottle of water. You could only wonder why it’d taken him so long to get. “Are you…” A pause, a slight wince. You tried to pretend you didn’t notice. “…feeling alright?”

“Just fine,” you said, your voice hoarse, barely audible. You managed to brace yourself on the arms of your chair, pulling yourself upward and leaving the bottle forgotten in your lap. You didn’t want to drink anything. Not until your hands stopped shaking, at least.

“I think we were talking about my qualifications?”

~

You got the job, despite everything. They asked you to start as soon as you could, but you’d made your excuses, cited a half-remembered clause that’d come with your suspension package and got whoever was in-change of that kind of thing to hold the position for another month. You couldn’t imagine willingly stepping back into that building again, not yet. You couldn’t imagine doing much of anything, not when he still hung over your life like the smoke of a funeral pyre.

It'd been a bad idea, looking back on it. You should’ve worked harder to get yourself out of your stifling apartment. You should’ve done more to keep up with the friends you’d pushed away after the incident, to make sure you didn’t leave yourself socially isolated and alone. You should’ve left town. You should’ve fled the country.

You should’ve done everything in your power to make sure you didn’t end up where you were now, facing down the thing that was currently standing in your bathroom doorway.

Your ghost, you figured – even if it’d been weeks since you genuinely thought you were only dealing with a run-of-the-mill haunting. It looked… blurry, for lack of a more creative descriptor; the white, chalky outline of a humanoid figure standing sharply out against the entirely black background. If it had a body, it was lost in the shadows of the hallway beyond, the shadows it’d created when it appeared out of nowhere and took every light bulb in your apartment out with a single pulse of extra-dimensional energy. Right now, the only source of light was the phone you were clutching in your right hand, your left similarly preoccupied, busy keeping your suddenly very, very thin towel wrapped around your torso. It probably didn’t matter. As far as you could tell, this thing didn’t have eyes, let alone genitalia.

That was what the rational, scientific part of your brain said, at least. The rest was replaying the memory of the way its hand had felt as groped at your thighs and couldn’t seem to comprehend much else.

You half-expected it to lunge at you, or rather, to creep at you, to disappear and reappear just outside of your peripheral, too far to see but close enough to sense. In the end, it only had to take a step forward, its movements slow and jerky, as if it wasn’t used to carrying its own weight just yet. Did it even weigh anything? Could you weigh something that clearly wasn’t supposed to exist? It didn’t really matter. You already knew it could touch you. You already knew it could kill you, if it wanted to.

Another step, then another. It closed the distance between you easily, coming to a stop less than arm’s length in front of you. You could see it more clearly, make out a smear of color in the void, like light catching on an oil spill. The white lines that bordered its form were moving in a way you hadn’t been able to make out from across the room, too; trembling and shaking, constantly shifting as if it was only ever a second away from falling apart entirely. If you weren’t so scared, you’d be tempted to reach out, see what happened when you made contact with it, rather than the other way around. If you weren’t so afraid, you might’ve been able to do anything.

It lifted a hand, reaching towards you with those same unnatural movements. Its fingertips brushed over your skin, painting a strip of frost across your cheek, and you felt your blood turn to ice. You couldn’t hear the buzzing, but then again, it might’ve just been a sign that you’d already gone deaf with fear.

You opened your mouth, but speech was hindered, your internal monologue limited to a never-ending mantra of ‘go away go away go away go away go away’. Eventually, you managed to spit something out, even if your voice was barely above a whisper by the time it reached your lips. “I don’t want you here.”

There was a second of stillness, of silence. You started to wonder if you’d made it angry, if it could be angry. You started to wonder if it could understand you at all.

Your makeshift flashlight wavered, sputtering a few times before giving out completely. You scrambled to turn it back on, to not be left alone in the dark with a monster, but your apartment flickered back to life and you found yourself standing alone, the entity having blinked out of reality in the time it took your eyes to adjust to the light. The only proof that it’d been there at all was your dead phone and how violently your hands were still shaking.

You considered leaving your apartment. You considered leaving the city – renting a car and driving as far as you were able to. You’d sleep in whatever shady, cheap motels would have you, start a new life across the country with only your meager savings and multiple PhDs to keep you afloat. You’d change your name. You’d get away from here, away from it. It wasn’t like you had much of a choice, now that the infestation had spread to your sanctuary, too.

You took a shuddering breath, then set your phone down and let your towel fall away. You didn’t bother getting dressed before climbing into bed and curling up underneath your sheets, hoping in-vain that your comforter would be enough to hide you from any unseen voyeurs.

Some part of you must’ve already known that it wouldn’t.

~

You couldn’t remember waking up.

You must’ve, at some point. But, if you had, you would’ve remembered being brought here, would’ve been able to recognize the feeling of countless hands wrapping around your wrists, your ankles; countless mangled tendrils tangling around your fingers and dripping down your arms, snaking up your legs until you were entirely at its mercy. The numbers didn’t add up. There were too many hands, too many moving parts, too many things for your confusion-addled mind to keep track of. You couldn’t seem to figure out if you were suspended mid-air or if the gravity was different, if you were genuinely as weightless as you felt. That, more than anything, fueled the growing nausea twisting in the pit of your stomach, the growing sense of wrongness that threatened to tear away what little stability you had left. What little sanity you had left.

You tried to look past the awful things wrapped around you, to ground yourself with something beyond shifting colors and distorted limbs, but whatever pocket dimension you’d been dragged into didn’t offer much comfort. An expanse of white stretched on as far as you could see, only interrupted by free-floating pools of pure darkness; drops of ink spilled across an otherwise blank canvas. Occasionally, the landscape would waver, leaving you in a pure void broken up by streaks of colorless flesh that’d burn themselves into your sight and linger as phantom visions for seconds after the false reality corrected itself. Even the feeling of its skin against yours was off-putting, unsettling, lacking the warmth that would’ve accompanied the touch of anything human. Where there should’ve been comfort, there was nothing, a total absence of life and familiarity to a degree you’d never experienced before. Where there should’ve been intimacy, there was strangeness, and you’d never taken well to strangeness.

A pang of pure ache ran from your cunt to your core, a sort of numbing electricity that made your legs twitch and your body seize. Right, you’d managed to forget. It was touching you, beyond just the hands shackled around your wrists and ankles and the amorphous tendrils laving over any part of you they could reach. Two fingers kept your pussy spread open and vulnerable while a thick, tapered tendril thrust into you at the kind of idle, languid pace that was simultaneously infinitely merciful and too agonizing to put words to. That was one of the only things you could feel – the agonizing stretch, the tight knot of tension sitting in the pit of your stomach. If you’d been able to move anything beyond your eyes, you might’ve gagged. If your body had been something tangible, something real, you might’ve felt sick.

The tendril curled inside of you, and every fiber of your being seemed to wither. Struggling was pointless, but you still had to try, thrashing against your restraints, digging your nails into that obsidian flesh and praying to whichever deity would listen that it wouldn’t think to fight back. Fortunately, your blunt nails and weak thrashing didn’t seem to faze it. You weren’t sure if it knew you were there beyond some unconscious tactile sense, like a freshly triggered venus flytrap closing around its victim. You weren’t sure which was more horrific – the idea that there was some sentient, self-aware being knowingly and decisively doing this to you, or the passing thought that you’d just been caught in the mouth of some mindless creature that happened to like the way you tasted.

You decided not to think about it. You decided not to think about anything. You decided that, if you kept your mind totally blank, if you refused to count how many times you’d caught a lingering shadow in the corner of your eye or felt a stray hand brush against the small of your back, if you refused to feel its disembodied tendril filling your cunt, then none of this was happening, then you weren’t trapped in an plane of endless nothingness and you weren’t being fucked by the monster that’d been haunting you for months, now. You clenched your eyes shut and promised yourself that you couldn’t feel its dulled tip rubbing against that sensitive, softened spot inside of you, that your hips didn’t buck as another hand appeared from a puddle of kaleidoscopic ink and pressed three fingers into your abused clit, that it didn’t matter if warmth was starting to pool in your core because it couldn’t matter.

Ignoring it wasn’t an option, though. It wouldn’t let you ignore it – its pace changing, speeding up, getting rougher as you failed to stifle your reactions, failed to swallow down the little gasps and moans that slipped past your parted lips. It was almost brutal in its unyieldingness, fucking into you with enough force to bruise as you writhed and scratched and screamed. There was no remorse, no care, just its forceful affection and your body’s response. Another tendril wrapped around your midriff, another hand falling to your chest, and you let out a long, wordless cry. The entity reacted immediately, the blunt head of a tendril forcing its way past your lips and lodging itself in your throat, forcing you to gag around its bulk. It smelled like ozone – fresh and thrilling and terrible all at once. It tasted organic.

This one, mercifully, didn’t seem to want to hurt you. It seemed content to explore you, to twist around your tongue and prod at every corner of your mouth. Still, tears formed in the corners of your eyes, dripping down your cheeks and pooling on your chest as you attempted not to choke, as you tried not to let the deformed mass fucking into your cunt tear you apart. Your vision was distorted, blurred and darkened around the edges, but you forced yourself to open your eyes, to stare blankly at the new well of ink forming some indescribable distance above you. It was bigger than the others, soon interrupted by a border of white appearing in the darkness, the shape wavering, sketchy, like chalk line drawn with an unsteady hand. Eventually, you made out a shape not unlike the one you’d seen in your apartment all those weeks ago, the ghostly entity that’d barely had to lift a finger to terrify you. This one was different, though – harsher, flitting and flashing in and out of existence faster than you could comprehend. If it’d been a breath away from falling apart the last time you saw it, reality was struggling to hold itself together around it, now.

A head emerged from the darkness, then a neck, then the entity’s broad shoulders. A hand materialized, extending from the pull of darkness and reaching towards you, towards the mess of dark matter and appendages that now all-but entirely encompassed your form. Its fingertips brushed against your jaw, then cupped your cheek, it’s touch careful, ginger, cautious. As if it was trying to be gentle with you. As if it was trying to be loving.

You’re not sure what part of your exhausted mind made the connection, which piece slid into place first. You let your head lull to the side, your jaw fall limp around the tendril in your mouth. You grunted, a premature attempt to speak that it could separate from all the other meaningless, ragged sounds that’d been forced out of you by its invasive touch, and the tendril pulled back, wrapping loosely around your neck. It still took you a moment to find your voice, but you managed to spit out something nearly coherent.

“…Jonathan?”

For a moment, the hands wrapped around your limbs loosened, the tendril attempting to split you in two faltering and before going still.

Then, there was a resounding, resonating purr that seemed to emanate from every corner of the micro-dimension. When the tendril started to move again, it thrusted into you with twice the force, twice the mania. This time, you didn’t have to pretend. You were floating on air, your thoughts blank and your mind empty – your body numb and unfeeling. This time, you knew you wouldn’t be able to get away.

This time, you didn’t even bother to try.

[igotanidea]

Ranking: Jason Todd x fem!reader

graphic by @huedmmi (amazing job with that, thank you!!)

Summary: heroes couples ranking? Might seem like a good idea, but not every pair can make the top......

This is placed in the Ego!verse, cause been a while since I wrote for that. You can find other stories of this verse in my masterlist.

***

„What are you doing?”

„Reading.”

“What are you reading?”

“NOTHING!”

Jason sneaked behind her back, trying to sneak a peek of the article on the Internet Y/N was reading. However, all the time she spend being in the relationship with him and her vigilante instincts combined made her act quick enough to shut the laptop before he could see as much as one letter.

Jason smirked

“Oh, you’re hiding something.”

“What?” she scoffed “I’m not hiding anything.”

“You can’t lie to me, you know it.” He teased leaning forward, their faces inches away from one another

“Are you trying to intimidate me?” she moved even closer “Sorry not sorry, but it’s not working.”

“Well then maybe I just have to keep convincing you…..?”

“I’m the one playing with minds, not you, remember?”

“Come on princess….. just tell me what you’re hiding…..”

“Nope.”

“Y/N.”

“Yes?”

“Don’t be a tease.”

“Have you met me?” she smirked “Tease is practically my middle name.”

“Please?”

“No.” she cut him off “now stop whining, get up and let’s go.”

“Where exactly?”

“Batcave, duh! Did you think I was asking you for a date, or something?” she raised an eyebrow, looking at him teasingly.

“Wouldn’t dream of it……”

He didn’t like the idea of going to the manor for the debriefing, but….. there might be someone who could help him digging some information out.

***

“Drake. I need to talk to you.”

“Mhm….” Tim muttered not really paying attention, his head elsewhere “How about we reschedule that for next month? I’m busy…..” he tried to take a sip of coffee, but before the god’s drink found a way to his mouth, Jason snatched it out of his hands.

“Drake!”

“Give me back my coffee, Todd……”

“Not before you help me.”

“And why should I do that?”

Jason sighed in frustration. On one hand he could just tell Tim was this was about. On the other that would mean showing his vulnerable side and that was a no go. So he just settled on standing in Tim’s room, holding his mug of out his reach, considering pros and cons of each option.

“It’s about Y/N.” Jason finally said, relenting “I’m worried about her.”

“About Y/N? Why? She’s a tough one. I mean, she;s in a relationship with you, I don’t think much can break her.”

“I’m serious, Tim. You may not notice this, but lately she’s been acting… closed off. She’s…. sad.”

“Sad? Cracking jokes left and right? Two days ago she almost made Dick fall off the rooftop telling one of her funny stories.”

“Please tell me it was not a story about me…..?”

“Nope. Those are not funny anymore and she found a lot funnier subjects. Nevermind… Tim shook his head. The point is, she’s acting normal. Why would you be concerned? Wait. Why would you be concerned?

“Cause she’s my girlfriend!”

“Oh…. You do care….” Tim smiles

“Shut up!”

“You want my help or not?”

“If you helping me require me admitting I care about her…….” Jason sighed “Fine, I do. I do care about her. Please, help me?”

“Of course, I’ll help you Jason.” Tim grinned knowing well enough he just got Jason right where he wanted him “and just so you know, it’s not a secret you love her.”

“Shut up…..”

“Fine! Fine!” Tim laughed at Jason’s flustered face “What’s the deal?”

“Y/N…..” Jason said her name with the mix of affection and worry “she’s been spending a lot of time in front of her computer, lately. She claims she’s reading. And I believe her. But whatever article it is, she’s been spending her time on, makes her distracted. It’s almost like she’s been avoiding me for some reason I cannot fucking understand. She’s lost in her head!”

“The girl is a mind reader, Jason. She can hear people’s thoughts. Is this really so surprising that she’s had enough?”

“Yeah, she had those…. Phases. But it’s not like that. She;s only like that because of what she found on the net.”

“Ok… Let’s assume I believe you. But what do I have to do with it?”

Jason muttered something incoherently.

“Sorry, what was that?” Tim chuckled

“I want you to break into her computer……”

“You what now?!”

“I need you to…..”

“Oh no, I heard you. You want me to hack your girlfriend’s computer. It’s just I can’t comprehend what got into your head.”

“I’m kind of desperate…..And you’re the expert on tech…..”

“I’m not buying into this…….” Tim laughs

“Come on, Drake!”

“Not a chance, Jason. Again. Y/N is a mind reader. She’ll find out what we did in a heartbeat. And I don’t want to have my brain grilled. I saw her in action, I know what it means to make her angry. “

“Don’t tell me you’re scared of Y/N…..” Jason mocks

“You are terrified of making her angry yourself…..”

“Ok, fine! She can be scary…… Fuck! You’re no use, Drake!” Jason jumped to his feet, rushing out of Tim’s room, fists clenched, muttering something under his nose.

“It was nice to see you too, Todd!” Tim laughed. He always found it funny how Jason acted under the influence of emotions.

***

“Grayson!”

“Jaybird!” Dick grinned at Jason, the second the latter came through the door to the kitchen “came for some brothers’ bonding?”

“more like binding” Jason rolled his eyes “unless you’ll help me.”

“You must be truly desperate to come to me for help…..”

“Oh, God… have you been watching Thor again?”

“I had a whole marathon. But sure, I’ll give you a hand with whatever you need. What is this about?”

“Y/N.”

“Y/N? What about her?”

“Oh, fuck, not you too. Am I really the only person who noticed she’s been acting off lately? Are you fucking serious?!”

“Um…..relax Jace?”

“How the fuck am I supposed to relax seeing my girlfriend hurting?!”

“And it’s my fault?!” Dick exclaimed with shock in his voice.

“NO! Yes! Wait, is it?” Jason took a step towards Dick “what did you do to her Dickhead!?”

“Nothing! I swear!”

“You’re lying!”

“I’m not lying!”

“Then why won’t she talk to me?!”

“I don’t know! Come on Jace! Don’t get crazy again.”

“Talk to her.” Jason said, calming down. As much as it hurt him to admit it, he was acting erratic and he didn’t want to be aggressive. Not again. Those days were behind him. “Please, just talk to her.”

“Why me?”

“Cause you’re the only person I can trust to do this without making her suspicious. And because she won’t talk to me.”

“Jason…. She’s a mind reader….”

“You’re not the first person to tell me that today. Thank you.” Jason mocks “I kind of remember!”

“Wait…..” dick eyes grow wide…. “I might……”

“You might what, Grayson?!”

“I might know what this is about…..” Dick muttered slowly, but seeing Jason furious expression, with his eyes burning he picked up the talking pace at once “ok, so there’s this little site with superheroes couples ranking…..”

“WHAT!?”

“I mean, not that I read it…..”

“Sure you’re not Dickhead…..”

“But Barbara…. She’s actually a fan. And so it Lois …..”

“Lois? As in Lois Lane?”

“Yeah….. it’s actually pretty popular amongst the girls… I mean, it’s not any ambitious writing on anything like that but when you need something to relax and unwind after a hard day…..Steph and Cass read it too and we spend last evening going thought it and gossiping and……” Dick started rambling “sorry. Not the point.”

“Make the point then….” Jason had to fight the urge to punch his adoptive brother in the face.

“Um…. Me and Babs….. I mean, Nightwing and Batgirl  might have scored first last week……  And I might have slipped a word about it to Y/N…..”

“You scored first?”

“Yeah…..” Dick smiled wildly “I mean we are a really, really good couple but I never thought we could beat Clark and Lois to the first position. Sure, I also might have did some things to catch press attention, but still I ……”

“Grayson, I am warning you…..”Jason hissed

“Sorry. Long story short…. The news got to Y/N. and you know her. She’s the investigator. She started digging and found the site and now she’s been kind of addicted to it, checking it out every week hoping Red Hood and Ego will make it to the list, but…..”

“But what?” Jason asked but he already sensed the answer.

“You did not…..”

“So what you are telling me, is that you scored first, and I didn’t even make the first …. Ten?”

“Fifty……”

“I didn’t make the top 50?!!”

“I’m not the one making those rankings! Stop yelling at me!”

“That’s why she’s been so sad? Was she disappointed? let down?” Jason asked. What he did not form out loud was the question whether she felt unloved? Because of some crazy internet ranking. “I gotta go talk to her…..”

“Yeah…. You should….That might clear the air. You know, honesty is really important. And honest is, I scored FIRST!”

“We’ll talk about that later, Dickhead. I got more important things to do now.”

***

“Y/N.”

“Oh, hey, Jace. What’s up?”

“I know what you’ve been reading.”

“You know what?”

“Stop it”

“Ok, fine.” She sighed “I’m going to kill Grayson for spilling the bean. “

“Sorry princess, but he’s mine. But now… about this … stupid ranking thing… is that really making you this sad? Are you…. Unsatisfied with our relationship?” he asked, all his insecurity and vulnerability coming out in waves. He doubted him his entire life. He always thought that Y/N was too good for him and one day she would just …. leave. And now, it was practically coming true……”

“what?” judging by the tone she became terrified of what he was asking her. “Jace….baby….” she dived into his arms, hugging him tight. What got into your stupid pretty head, you dummy? I love you… I love being with you. If I got discouraged by something someone writes on the Internet that would be …. Childish… immature… stupid.”

“But…..”

“No buts, Jace…..” she pulled back, grabbing his face with both her hands, looking deep into her eyes “I love you, you idiot.”

“I love you too, sweetpea…..”

“Now that is a new nickname……”

“Do you like it?” he smirks “tell me what does it do to you.”

“You’ll have to call me that a few more times just so I can figure out exactly what it does to me.” She smiles pulling him down to kiss.

***

“JASON!!”  

Next morning Y/N standardly checked out the weekly ranking. Just for fun… After that little making up and clearing the air she had with Jason all night, she couldn’t care less about what vigilante couples made the top 10 and who did not. She was happy with her boyfriend. And that was what counted.

But.

There was something so surprising that he just screamed Jason’s name the moment she opened the page.

“Y/N!!??” Jason rushed into her room, shirtless, his face confused. “Are you in danger?! What happened?!”

“THANK YOU!!” she yelled again jumping into his arms. Obviously he immediately pulled her into his chest, enjoying her warmth and hugs and kissed she started planting all over his face , but was still unsure of what was happening.

“Y/N? Not that I’m complaining, but what is this about?”

“We made the first place!! I mean, Ego and Red Hood did! Look, look….” She grabs his hand and lead him to the computer, pointing at the page, almost jumping in excitement. “do you see that?!”

“Yeah, princess I see it….” he smiles, full of smugness.

“Thank you!”

“I didn’t do a single thing…..”

“So, Red hood spotted making some sort of floral carpet for Ego was purely accidental?” she smirked, but her eyes were glistening with pure love and admiration. “You didn’t have to, you know?” she stood up, locking arms on his neck, his founding a way to her waist and pulling her close. “I told you I didn’t give a damn about those rankings and you must have been working at it for hours….”

“It was worth it, baby. Seeing that smile and those pretty eyes shining….. And maybe I deserved a little kiss?”

“Oh, you deserved so…. much…. more….” She brushed her lips over his, making that little kiss a promise of something more to come. “And…” Y/N pulled back “as a bonus, you probably pissed off Dick.”

“Oh, yeah… That was definitely my biggest motivation….” His grip on her waist tightened suggestively.

“Really?” she mutters leaning forward “maybe I can convince you otherwise? Show you what should have been your biggest motivation from the beginning?”

“You know I can’t say no to you, baby……”

[klm-zoflorr]

Agnes Montague, the villain Phoenix :33

I used a stained glass filter on this one, looove how it looks. Also here are a few versions without as much editing so you can see the details.

Agnes is one of my favorites in this AU. And in general too I guess lol. So I made her entirely too overpowered! She's obviously based off Dark Phoenix/Jean Grey/The Phoenix from Xmen. Without as much of the hero-turned-villain vibes Jean has, Agnes can be nice but she's mostly a wrong-doer.

I'd probably say she's the most powerful super-human in the 'verse, or at least where the story takes place. Her and Magnus are buddy-buddies because. Um. I just want them to be.

So, her powers, right. She can control and

produce fire, lots of it. She can fly. The wings only appear when she wants them to btw. I think she has some form of telekinesis, sure why not plus I don't have a lot of people like that in the verse (and I'm quickly running out of canon characters anyways loool). I don't think I'll give her too many psychic powers? Maybe just some ability to block psychic attacks. Oh well nevermind lets just make her cooler let's say she can attack people psychically, as in not quite read their thoughts (even if I think she could grasp on some of the things you're thinking while she's there) but like, cause intense pain to her victim and maybe even kill them by hitting them with her mind.

Her hands are more like talons or claws, with tough nails and strong, too. She can rip someone's face off or hold herself up with them.

The nature of her powers make them somewhat incontrollable and ill-suited for precision work or limiting damage/casualties.

Despite all of that, Agnes is very tired and looks as such. Her abnormal body warmth makes her sleep poorly and not very much, if she isn't setting the room on fire or throwing objects around when she's having nightmares. She holds off from getting intoxicated in any way because she might level off the whole island if she did.

And the cherry on the cake... She can ressurect herself. AND others. Let the holy cleansing fire engulf you and be reborn anew with your sins scrubbed clean yadda yadda you know the deal. It resets people to a younger age and cures any ailment they have, so that's a rather extreme form of healing too if you will.

Naturally, with that sort of powers the Cult Of The Lightless Flame (named like that because Agnes hoggs all the light) treats her as a goddess. Which isn't that far from the truth actually.

Suffice to say in the story she is not the big bad our heroes have to take down because that would be straight-up impossible.

Design notes and misc:

-I usually imagine her with dark hair, but for this AU she really just had to be a redhead I feel.

-Yes, in the art she doesn't have feet but that's just because I got lazy.

-She wears practical gloves, a guilded shiny supersuit, impractical shoulder pads and a white flowy skirt and shoulder sash that both get set on fire very frequently. This is meant to evoke how she mostly doesn't care or need to be dressing appropriately for fighting, she's too powerful to need to.

-She doesn't carry anything on herself either, no pockets no bags no nothing, she has goons for that. She's just there to look impressive and deus ex machina everyone's asses to the ground if they get too annoying.

-She's lived a long life, done a lot, was in the military at some point which influenced a lot of how she thinks. Again, she CAN be unfrivolous and practical, she just doesn't want to and has to remain a symbol. She can shoot a gun pretty well.

-Her "crown" (it's a paper crown) is something children that admired her gave her. She's very very careful not to burn it, but can't wear it everywhere either

-She's not much of a strategizer or a long-term planner unlike Magnus, she just doesn't see the point in that and she already has everything she could ever want. She could have the potential to rule the city instead of having everyone vaguely follow her lead, but she's just not much of a tyrant.

Oh, yeah, and Jude. Jude Perry is Agnes' right hand woman and closest friend, her villain name is Lampadarius and she can make anything that isn't organic matter melt/heat up (like those cans in MAG012: First Aid). One of her favorite tricks is heating up her gloves and burning people like that. It pisses her off when you call her Agnes' guard dog. She's been ressurected a few times by the Phoenix, so been around for a while too.

[liyawritesss]

ᴄᴏᴍꜰᴏʀᴛᴀʙʟᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʏᴏᴜ

Characters: Spider-Verse!Hobart “Hobie” Brown [Spider-Punk] x Black!Fem!College!Reader

Type: Drabble

Word Count: 1.4k

Synopsis: Hobie’s got a habit of letting himself into your dorm room. Thankfully, you’ve got your own suite, and tonight isn’t any different.

Warnings: cursing, very very horrible british accent & slang I apologize in advance/please teach me better, brief nudity (he’s taking a shower chill you horndogs), I perceive Hobie to be around 18-19.

A/N: Was listening to a 90’s playlist while writing this so yeah there’s a couple of 90’s songs references in here.

Song Suggestions: “comfortable” by H.E.R., “So Into You” by Tamia, “Brown Skin Lady” by Black Star, “I Wanna Be Down” by Brandy, “Be Happy” by Mary J. Blige

Tags: @6-noir @babyboiboyega @badass-dora-milaje @jacuzziwaters @venusdraco @mbakuetshurisprincess @shuriszn @verachii @writingintheshadowsforever @cafehyunji @niyahwrites @pantherheart @marsfunzon22 @movie-enthusiast22 @famedrs-blog @honeybleed @briology @pnkweb

Sign Up For My Taglist Here!

Hobie can see the pretty lavender color seeping from your window about a block out from your dorm building. It’s the color you use to signify that your window is open for him to come through, and he has to admit, in times like these, he’s glad that the both of you decided on the bright, pastel-like hue that shines from your LED strip lights.

To say the hero was tired as an understatement. His body was screaming for rest; has been for the past week. But one can’t rest in the face of oppression, and Hobie Brown never turned down any action that would cause unease and unrest for the elitist politicians of his society - and neither did Spider-Punk.

Said action was the reason why Hobie hadn’t gotten proper rest or taken care of himself like he knew you’d want him to in the past week. He normally didn’t care for the repercussions his actions would have on himself, always telling himself that it was a risk well worth since it brung him and his people closer and closer to the freedom they desired, no matter how small the steps were.

However, upon meeting you, and subsequently falling for you, and subsequently taking on the label as your partner, he’d come to understand that you just wouldn’t have any of that. Although begrudgingly at first, Hobie began to take your advice and constant nagging on taking care of himself better, but now it had gotten to the point where he simply couldn’t do those mundane tasks of self care without you. Even sleeping became hard without you, or at least, something that reminded him of your presence.

Hence why he was swinging from building to building to reach your dorm hall, because while Hobie wasn’t in the right mind to admit it to himself, he was in need of your love and care, and only you could ease him in the way he needed.

He hangs off the wall as he gazes into your single suite dorm, the muffled melody of Mary J. Blige’s “Be Happy” reverberating through his body. You’re doing a little dance in your desk chair, pretty hair wrapped up in a headscarf, the maroon hoodie you had on swamping your upper body. You had a writing utensil in hand, and with the books opened on your desk, it appeared like you were doing assignments for class. Hobie smiles to himself under his mask, wondering how he ended up with such a smart and intellectual person like yourself.

He has no problem raising up the window and slipping inside, his practiced movements quiet and agile as he pads across your hardwood floors. He pulls the mask from his head, freeing his face and wicks from the stretchy material, taking a deep breath. Your room smells like home, traces of lavender sage trailing in the air, and he can feel the headache that had been plaguing him for the longest finally begin to subside.

Hobie begins to search through your drawers, trying to find the stash of clothes you insisted on him keeping at your place since the first few times he’d crashed there. In the midst of doing so, he feels a pair of arms trail around his midsection, and not long after, your voice floats to his ears.

“I love how you never look in the bottom drawer,” you say with a teasing lilt in your voice, “y’know, where your clothes have always been.”

“Hello to you, too, pretty.”

Hobie allows himself to be shooed off to the shower, as you tell him you’ll worry about getting his clothes and some food together, He can’t resist the lopsided grin that spreads across his lips as he follows your orders. The hot water against his sore muscles and stinging scratches and other injuries feels like heaven, and when he emerges from the bathroom, he smells like it, too. The lavender body wash is his favorite out of your collection, and he chuckles when he sees you’ve got two tall bottles of it stored under your bathroom rink, almost anticipating that he’d use it anyway. He loves how well you know him.

Hobie dresses in the gray sweatpants you left out for him, opting to remain shirtless for the comfort of it. Definitely not to see your flustered face as you walk back in your room to him sitting on the edge of your bed, ready to be taken care of.

When you walk back in, the song on your speaker switches to the easy one-two step tempo of Brandy’s “I Wanna Be Down”, a container of food in one hand and a first aid kit in the other. “Tell me where the knicks are.” You say, setting the food down on your nightstand, and Hobie proceeds to show you the various scratches and bruises on his body that desire your gentle touch and attention.

They’re not so bad, which is surprising considering how wild and reckless Hobie usually is, so you figure some ointment and muscle cream for the soreness will help for the night. Calloused hands hold the container of food that you’ve so graciously warmed up for him, and as he eats, you encourage him to talk about his day.

“Bloody prick wouldn’t shut up,” he grunts after a few bites of food, and you assume the ‘prick’ he’s referring to is one of the members of the local government that, for lack of better words, did not have the support of the younger generation when it came to his reign in office, “wan’ed to knock his head off his shoulders so bad. King dick arsehole.”

You laugh at his choice of words, and it's the best sound he’s heard all week.

He’s done eating faster than what he anticipated and with the food in his system, his body begins to feel more heavy, the exhaustion beginning to seep deep into his bones and become visible on his face. Your heart swells at the sight, his lidded eyes and slight head-nodding to your music more than enough to tell you just how tired Hobie was. 

You take the empty container and place it on your dresser, taking Hobie’s head into your hand and pressing gentle kisses against his cheeks, his forehead, his eyelids, his lips. He all but relishes in the feeling, each peck of your lips leaving a burst of comfort in his wake, and it causes him to nearly melt in your hold. His large hands make their way up your biker shorts, riding up your thighs into the crevice of where your pelvis and thighs met, and under your hoodie to feel the warmth of your bare skin. You stand in between his legs here, though Hobie decides that this isn’t close enough, and reaches to the back of your thighs to pull you onto his lap.

It quickly becomes addicting, the feeling of your lips on his face and your skin under his hands. It’s not long until you’re laying on your back and Hobie is settled between your legs, his head tucked into the crevice of your neck, his upper body resting almost completely on top of your own. One large hand rests on the curve of your ass, the other is under your hoodie, resting on the side of your ribcage, thumb subtly swiping under the curve of your breast.

Your touch brings him just as much comfort as just the simple skin-to-skin contact he enacts on his own. One hand roams the surface of his back, tracing figures into the dark skin littered with even darker blemishes and scars. The other rests at the nape of his neck, holding him close as you continue your kissing assault on the punk-alt boy. Hobie sighs into your neck when he hears you begin to hum the tune of the new song playing. Even though you’re barely above a whisper, he hears you clearly and the wave of comfort that floods his form is indescribable.

It doesn’t take long before his breaths start to even out, and the weight of his body begins to sink into your own. Pressing one final kiss into the crown of his head as “Brown Skin Lady” begins to fade down into a low hum, thanks to you turning down the volume through your phone. With Hobie fast asleep, it leaves you no choice but to your own slumber. It’s not like you can go back to your homework, after all.

[trappednyourheart]

I really love how people make headcannons about the infinite realms and how vast and unexplored by so many dimensions like spiderwebs *coughs* spider verse *coughs*

I thought to myself, if the infinite really is so vast and powerful like the whole multiverse in it, is there any which a time ghost? Not like clockwork, but more like every single ghost on different times, minutes or seconds as they died, like imagine Danny met Thomas Wayne when he was in a mission to retrieve a artifact for clockwork, and as he goes back, he would send farewell to the Wayne couple and zooms out of the gala, and just mostly a few minutes he meets the ghost of both the Wayne couple💀. It's such a fun concept and kinda freaky

I have a Danny phantom character name “Martina” she's dub as a Perfect Wife, mostly likely she wears and acts like those wife's you've seen in televisions like as if its the 80s, but she's died at 2020, she's not that old.

Most likely 17 and her obsession is to have the perfect family, and who's mostly rich and not as perfect? The Manson's ( yeah sorry Sam we gotta take your mother out this one)

So she targets the Manson's and take Pamela? Yeah PAMELA Manson's place,

Yeah you know how it goes, she gets caught,the team fight and stuff now she's friendly but still causes trouble to find the perfect family.

( and yes she's from the DC universe, she knows supes, Gotham, and even the heroes there, and lets just think she's from Gotham and maybe one of Red hood's people- like those badass women from the fanfics?)

[mechanicalpiper]

Hello! If it’s not a trouble could you please write about a scientist and a supervillainess? Thank you! Have a good day!

SCIENTIST IN A PROMPT?? Fuck yeah :3

"Physically weak but absolutely genius" is like, top 1 character trope of all time for me honestly

Enjoy :3

Also, cw, pretty suggestive.

Snippet #9

"It's a nice change of pace, really." Supervillain teasingly mused, pacing around their most recent captive; Scientist, bound to a chair with embarrassingly simple restraints. Supervillain kept their satisfied gaze locked on their prisoner, making them lightly squirm from the attention alone.

They were helpless at the hands of the most dangerously powerful criminal in the city.

Sure, the Agency gave them preparation drills- they were at least slightly versed in staying confident in the face of a threat, but...

Well, those drills only covered fear.

Scientist's heart wasn't racing from just fear.

"Hero's just annoying to snag, and there's little point in grabbing Sidekick..." Supervillain continued, gaze locked on the bound Scientist, taking in every adorable little struggle and squirm they got out of them. So cute~

"...But you've caused far more problems for me than either of those two ever could."

Scientist, despite their embarrassment (or perhaps because of it), felt their cheeks begin to heat up as they struggled. FFFUCK. They turned away from Supervillain in an adorably pathetic attempt to hide their blush, but the feeling of Supervillain's gaze bearing down on them didn't even get close to going away.

"You're responsible for every single one of my losses so far. Hero can't even begin to match me in brute force. Nobody can. And yet..."

Supervillain grabbed Scientist's chin as they walked in front of them, angling their head to look up into their gaze.

Holy shit. HOLY SHIT. HOLY SHIT

Scientist could've melted into a puddle on the spot. The powerful, controlling gaze bearing down on them gave them flustered shivers. Helpless to someone they'd posed such a large problem to despite being far and away unable to match them physically, seeing them relish every little moment of finally getting their hands on them... CHRIST.

"YOU somehow whip up a new power nullifier or countermeasure. Every. Single. Time."

Supervillain dropped their captive's chin, going back to pacing. Scientist didn't move, completely stunned for a second by sheer fluster before realizing and going back to struggling.

"And yet... you're so, so weak~"

Scientist had an intense shiver as Supervillain looked down on them, unbelievably satisfied.

"Your nerdy little head has cost me plan after plan after plan... but it doesn't even take half a roll of tape and you're completely helpless~"

Scientist involuntarily groaned.

Pleadingly.

Supervillain's footsteps came to a sudden stop behind them, absolutely skyrocketing Scientist's blush.

FUCK, THEY HEARD THAT.

Supervillain's expression changed to surprise as they stopped in place.

Then confusion.

Then, cocking their head to the side, curiosity.

They paced back around to the front of Scientist, who was still dying of embarrassment, their blush clearly visible. Supervillain came to a stop in front of them, looking down with that same curiosity.

"What was that, now~?" They taunted, slipping a hand other Scientist's chin to lift it up again.

Scientist's cheeks were absolutely burning. They couldn't hide from Supervillain in any capacity, and holy shit, it wasn't helping them keep calm in the slightest. Their breath was shaky, their eyes were embarrassed yet still pleading, their struggles were less legitimate attempts to escape and more just needing to squirm to deal with being under Supervillain's gaze...

Supervillain didn't exactly expect Scientist to just... melt this badly, but watching it happen... their expression of curiosity turned to interest.

"Ohh~? Has someone been pretending to hate this~?"

Scientist gasped. As best they could given the gag, at least.

They must've misheard that. They must've. There's no way this was actually happening. It felt like a dream.

"Awwwhh~" Supervillain cooed, heart melting at the little nerd's reaction. So, so fucking cuuute!!

"Well~" they continued, leaning in closer to Scientist. "That's good to hear, because I'm going to be keeping you for as long as possible~"

Scientist couldn't have been happier.

[brucewaynehater101]

There's like, what? at least THREE speedforce users concentrated in a singular time period? and the word concentrated sounds a bit extreme until you remember the fact that these btiches have power over time; they can timetravel

Impluse did time traveled and has made a place for himself in an older time period permanently

Compared to that, the metabolism's hardly a big deal at all

and unless their world/universe/multiverse is isolated in it's own bubble where not even timetravel gets out, that means their time shenanigans likely affect existing multiverses outside their own so that's a doozy to comprehend

And time travel isn't even exclusive to speedforce users, nothing is sacred, there's magic, and sciences and magical sciences, probably metas with time powers and there's also time loops and---

As far as we're aware, there isn't just THREE speedforce users who can and will time travel if it's called for, but multiple other instance of time travel or manipulation, all concentrated in a singular time period

that fucks shit up

anomalies that people might not even pick up on because the screwing of reality has affected their very minds become the norm; because minus this time period the whole rest of the timeline, before and after that era, is in perfect working order

this particular patch of the timeline is mangled forever and irreversibly, before anybody knew there was a timeperiod in need of unmangling

The clock ticks onward---the heroes and villains, and everyone beyond moves on and dies and the next generations after them don the spotlights, and time marches existence onwards as it always has; that's true, that's permanent. It's ineffable truth

Nothing has changed

you say it feels like just yesterday we did this very act as though it weren't the case

The clock ticks onwards---1:00, 2:00, 3:00, 4

5, 6, 7, 8

9, 10, 11

this is how the world ends

11:30

this is how the world ends

11:50

not with a bang

11:59:59

but with a---

1:00

this is all to say that this is my headcanon to explain Tim's Forever 21 17

and also other plotholes; and maybe you can take this hc to make an AU where there's more shenanigans than ceasing to age at a certain point due to a time period being Eternal even though the rest of the timeline is still perfectly functional

=======

( as for wtf the whole clock stuff was meant to convey, it references the reblogged 'prokopetz the eleventh hour' post )

"...“The Eleventh Hour” is generally used to refer to the Last Possible Point BEFORE everything goes horribly sideways, so this would suggest that you are in a place perpetually stuck at the terrible and fruitless moment just shy of impending disaster. "

-- askmissbernadette

Ooh! AUs/HCs that explore Tim's perpetual state of 17 are rad as hell (although thankful he has finally been allowed to become an adult).

I never did quite consider the ramifications of multiple people messing with the timeline. For one person, we've seen so much media that warns against it and shit. Multiple people that aren't communicating before, during, or after their interventions? How the hell does the space and time continuum not collapse?

Then, the multiverse theory is added on top of all that? My brain is a little too tired to try to even comprehend how bad of an idea it all sounds (for the speedsters and other people who mess with the timeline).

I like to hc that some of the universes that pop off are consequences from a Flash or anyone else screwing up time. It'd be cool to see some angst regarding that (let's say Bart went back in time to save Tim in his universe which caused another universe to lose their Tim [and the domino effect of that unplanned loss for that timeline]). That, or the rewritten history causes new universes to form as a result of the many many paths and choices that can happen after that change.

It'd also be fantastic to see a villain who's like Miguel from Across the Spider-Verse, but worse. A person who picks and chooses universes that they think best suits their needs and desires. They keep hopping to other ones when the one they are in is no longer suitable. They also integrate themselves into the universes with ease and sometimes murder that universe's version of them to take their spot (they prefer kidnapping, though, so that the OG person can resume their life when the villain leaves).

Anyways, there are some great fics out there that chat about Tim staying 17 and/or the other Bats having weird timelines too

[zarvasace]

So I know you stated you weren't going to share the writing for that darks verse au, but would you be willing to give a synopsis? (Perfectly fine either way, just have a special place in my heart where I cherish and LoZ darks verse style aus)

Was this more of 'they're all evil and the Links defeat them' or 'they all become some degree of friends in the end' kind of fic?

Yeah I can share a synopsis of what I had and what I planned! Part of why I dropped the project is that I hadn't decided whether to make the characters sympathetic or not, either, because they weren't meant to be, but..... I got, and am still, attached. XD I kind of want the darks to get little redemption arcs! Or at least not killed. Their version of happy endings maybe.

Anyway, of the two fics, one had Four's Shadow as immediately a good guy, and the other had his motives a little dubious at first. The following is the latter:

A portal jump dumps the entire Chain into Warriors's Hyrule, where they're ambushed by people with reddened eyes and little to no pain response. They quickly realize that these are civilians being possessed or something, and struggle in the fight to try to not hurt them. Due to portal shenanigans, Four is out of commission, and during the fight, he and Hyrule are picked up and kidnapped.

The two of them aren't given any explanations, just taken to a tunnel system and locked up in a dark cellar. They're left alone until one of the possessed civilians comes in to give them some food and water. Four gets a weird feeling about it. Then he and Hyrule officially meet the first dark: evil Hyrule, who proceeds to use weakened versions of Hyrule's spells to torment him, but doesnt touch Four.

After a while of this, one of the possessed people enters with a bit more animation than usual, and has a conversation with Four that leaves him moderately sure that Shadow is controlling these civilians somehow, and remembers him, but he isn't exactly sure that they're on the same side.

At some point, a new Dark (evil Sky) enters the picture, coming in to unlock Hyrule and take him just outside the cellar door. He heals someone out there, a little more than they wanted him to, and then Sky's dragged in. He was captured too, but on purpose, with garlic in his pocket. The Chain has been having a hard time finding out how to get into the tunnels, and this is their plan: get someone else captured and follow his scent.

Meanwhile, Shadow shows his hand and gives Four his sword back, so he splits and carries out a distraction plan as the Chain fights through monsters (Shadow is in fact controlling people but he keeps them away from the fight.) Some things go wrong, some things go right, Blue breaks his thumb to get out of shackles, Red goes tiny and drops pots on evil Sky's head, and eventually the two darks are brutally murdered and the three/six/seven heroes rescued.

Cue a bit of distrust of Shadow and the rumbling of a new plan: there are other darks out there in the dark world, waiting for their chance to come into the light and cause problems.

Dun dun dunnnnnnn

More installments would give them time to run into all the other darks, deal with some trials on Shadow's part, etc.

I have been spending some time doodling these darks and will write up a post later tonight (probably) about who they are and what decisions I made. :) I've changed some of the lore since this story, you'll probably notice it in Shadow the most.

[aliensupersyn]

Shibuya to Shinjuku: Gege's Use of Disparity

My analysis will be centered around Gege's use of disparity between his characters to drive a high-stakes narrative.

TLDR: Both Shibuya and Shinjuku involve hopeless battles that the cast majorly struggle through. Victory will only come after an uphill battle that favors the remaining villain. I implore you to read the first section, as that's the heft of the comparisons between the Shibuya Incident and Shinjuku Showdown. The other sections offer context for the "Sukuna Cycle" and the despair it causes for both the heroes and the readers.

In Shibuya, characters were heavily underpowered and majorly unable to fight the disaster curses. Stakes were at an all time high, especially after Gojo's imprisonment, and still, the heroes mostly failed to defeat their respective enemies. Mei Mei failed to defeat Kenjaku off screen; Nobara struggled against Haruta; Yuji lost to Choso; and Dagon bodied Maki, Nanami, and Naobito.

For the most part, the jjh forces lost the majority of their match ups. Yuji's final showdown alongside Todo was an uphill battle that mostly favored Mahito. Similarly, Sukuna has dominated in Shinjuku and has gotten more advantages than the cast. As put by Technical_Oil_8868:

Mahito hit a black flash, pulled a 0.2 domain expansion and a transformation while Yuji got nothing and moreover I think the black flash on maki is more or useless because Gojo needed 4 bfs to gain RCT output to recover his arm

Sukuna received Mahoraga and Agito via Ten Shadows; he transformed into a body that gives him inherent advantages via an extra mouth and limbs; Sukuna developed a new overpowered cursed technique that's defeated three cast members; Uraume returned one of his ancient cursed objects; he survived Yuta's maximum output Jacob's Latter; and Sukuna hit a black flash. Sukuna Kaisen has set a disparity that resembles Mahito's seemingly endless power as he continued evolving until his final moments.

Before the last enemy's defeat in Shibuya, multiple casualties occurred: Naobito whooped Dagon before the disaster curse evolved, then Maki nearly died, and Mahito later finished Nanami; Nobara gained an advantage against Mahito, then died immediately after; Todo came to help Yuji, and then lost boogie woogie.

Gege has made overt parallels to Shibuya already. It began with Gojo's defeat after an isolated battle against multiple opponents, then characters began to fall one by one. Higuruma's death was a direct reference to Nanami's.

When all hope was lost, Gege brought back two of the verse's heaviest hitters to save the cast. The strongest without cursed energy, and the strongest sorcerer (did this suddenly become a Gojo return post? Place your bets I guess?)

Toji saving Maki's group has parallels to Shinjuku already:

I've spoken extensively about my theory that Maki will return to face Sukuna yet again. She's the last of the heavy hitters and suffered the least damage between her and Yuta. She obviously parallels Toji within the story, and this link between them further supports my connection between Shibuya and Shinjuku.

When Gege needed a character to take out Jogo, who would have surely swept the cast at the time, Sukuna was brought back.

Yuji foils Sukuna the most within the story. In essence, they're twin spirits, having lived in the same body and sharing an appearance; Sukuna's Heian era form still has Yuji's pink hair for example. Sukuna himself admits that Yuji's the only person who he knows can match his own unbreakable will. Their parallels support my argument that Yuji satisfies Sukuna's role within Shibuya; he will act as the second force that saves the remaining cast from the enemy who can and will kill everyone left.

I argue that Maki and Yuji will return to face Sukuna in the end, just as all hope seems to be lost. Kusakabe and Miguel will likely act as plot devices to buy time for Maki and Yuji to make a grand entrance of sorts. Likely, the soul striking duo will struggle through the battle, as they'll no doubt face Sukuna's full cursed technique, and it will be an extremely stressful fight for them and the readers.

The Chips in Sukuna's Armor

Although he still has yet to use his full CT, Sukuna has taken serious damage that has left him with an obvious weak spot now. He may have played around with Kusakabe and allowed himself to get hit for fun, but stopped Kusakabe immediately once his heart was targeted. Now, even Sukuna has limits to how much damage he can suffer.

Sukuna suddenly stopped healing against Maki, and notice how his major wounds remain despite the black flash boosting his output.

Yuta took out his arm, extra mouth, and left a scar along his face that can be seen in the panels above. Maki's attack still has not healed, and will likely stay for the remainder of the battle due to how long soul wounds take to heal; this wound also slows down Sukuna's ability to heal his brain, which inhibits his domain expansion as well.

Sukuna still has a missing arm and has a weak heart. He played with Kusakabe, but as soon as he aimed for his heart, he stopped him. All variations of cleave and dismantle have been overcome twice now. Sukuna's armor is chipping and Gege's introducing characters who can force Sukuna into straining situations by avoiding his usual CT via Maki, Kusakabe, and now Miguel (check notes). I have already argued how Sukuna uses cleave and dismantle to test his opponents' strength. He did the same to Kusakabe in 254 by saving World Dismantle as the overwhelming ace (just as he did with Higuruma who neutralized cleave and dismantle as well). Sukuna's black flash kept him from having to revert to fuga since slash attacks were not working. Maki and Kusakabe both exposed Sukuna's current weaknesses.

Same as the readers', Sukuna's patience is wearing thin. He allowed Ui Ui to save the cast for a while, but suddenly set a trap for him by leaving Kusakabe out in the open while he hid. The conflict's stakes continue to rise, slowly but surely. As Sukuna defeats more of the main cast, the less combative forces become more endangered of being wiped out. Even Sukuna's tired of this same song and dance.

Kusakabe has exposed the fact that Maki's attack created an incredibly vulnerable wound that can be exploited. I argue that Maki and Yuji will use this gathered information in their final battle. Maki can dodge all forms of cleave and dismantle, which will force Sukuna to use his full cursed technique.

The Kind One

Here, I will focus mainly on Kusakabe's role within the narrative, and how he satisfies a similar role as Gojo and Nanami in Shibuya.

Kusakabe and Nanami came to similar conclusions in their final moments. They both share narrative similarities in reference to their power, and Nanami even appeared in 254. Kusakabe can't do a whole lot, but he's willing to stop running and put his life on the line like the younger generation has.

Thematically, Kusakabe specifically represents the meeting point between the young and older generation. The flashbacks reflect how he's been the main one coaching the kids through the fight until now, cause his superiors are dead (or just chilling in Mei's Mei's case). Kusakabe has been left in charge of everyone else's students, and he's taken that role especially seriously in his last moments. His monologue suggests he felt guilty for failing to save not only his friends, but their students as well. Therefore, he's deemed the Kind One. In his last moments, he's not thinking of himself, but everyone he's lost or possibly let down.

Similar to how Nanami thought of Haibara in his final moments, Kusakabe refused to let down Yaga. Both thought about what Haibara and Yaga would think of them, and this informed Nanami and Kusakabe's motivations as they died.

Kusakabe's fate also resembles Yuji after he switched with Sukuna in Shibuya, but he's not giving up like Yuji did. Kusakabe instead gives himself the Todo speech. He already knows that as the seemingly remaining fighter, he must put everything on the line. He didn't need a Todo to come and tell him, because he himself has been the coach.

The motif that Nanami, Gojo, Higuruma, and Kusakabe occupy exists in other shonen titles as well. In Naruto, the five Kage and Might Guy had a similar motivation for putting their lives on the line against Madara; the youth are the first in line on the battlefield, and as adults, they must step up and protect them if they can.

The Shibuya Incident featured largely disproportionate power gaps between the heroes and the villains, similar to Shinjuku Showdown. Gege prefers a narrative where the heroes face a seemingly endless uphill battle against opponents who gain more powerups than them. Sukuna's advantages will ramp while Maki and Yuji face him in the final showdown. Yet, in the end, their teamwork will prevail, just as Yuji and Todo's did against Mahito.

Notes:

Both Toji and Sukuna were returned more or less after being absent. Maki and Yuji will also return after a more brief absence.

I acknowledge that Sukuna didn't mean to "save" the rest of the cast, except Megumi, but in the end, that's what happened.

The last two pages of 254 suggest that Miguel's faster than a point blank cleave/dismantle, which is wild. The scars on the ground suggest that Sukuna definitely cast his attack, but Miguel avoided it without a scratch.

I absolutely love when the older generation in shonen titles admit that the youth are often unfairly sacrificed in war. It never fails to move me when the adults say it's time to put their lives on the line for the youth in an effort to finally give back. Ohnoki's speech and Guy's final words before the eight gates activation have to be two of my favorite moments in Naruto. It's a great motif.

[humbledragon669]

S2E2 - The Clue Write Up P2 - London (Present Day) post credits up to the departure of Michael et al

I’ll jump straight in, seeing as that’s what happens in this episode as soon as the credits are finished, and I have a couple of things of note about this short scene in the record shop. Let’s have a little look at the background music first, shall we? Just in case you weren’t aware, it’s a Dusty Springfield song called “You Don’t Have to Say You Love Me”, and it’s really the lyrics to the first verse that have my interest:

When I said I needed you You said you would always stay It wasn't me who changed but you and now you've gone away Don't you see that now you've gone And I'm left here on my own That I have to follow you and beg you to come home

There’s something desperately heartbreaking (to me anyway) about these lyrics if you take them as potential foreshadowing of the Final 15. I feel like that might be a bit of a reach, though that’s largely to do with where it’s been placed in the timeline, and that we don’t really hear those lyrics very well unless we’re really paying attention. I think it’s more likely a nod to the way Maggie is feeling at that point in time, though the lyrics for the second verse are perhaps more appropriate for that:

You don't have to say you love me, just be close at hand You don't have to stay forever, I will understand Believe me, believe me, I can't help but love you But believe me, I'll never tie you down Left alone with just a memory Life seems dead and so unreal All that's left is loneliness, there's nothing left to feel

It’s not just the lyrics that make me feel that this subtext isn’t (for once) driven towards the hero couple. This particular verse kicks in good and proper (with a tiny uplift in volume so that we can make those lyrics out) exactly when we get a close up shot of Nina across the road, as Maggie is explaining her reason for not crying. And whilst we’re on the subject of crying, we’ve heard a very similar version of a snippet of this conversation before:

There are quite a few similarities between these two conversations - a male character observing a female one crying on their own territory, both of whom openly acknowledge that they have been crying, and accepting the social taboo that holds, whilst the male character appears unaware that acknowledging tears can cause a breaching of that same social taboo. With all that said, I don’t know what purpose that mirroring serves. I was asked not so long ago if I have ever noticed parallels between episodes in this very fashion, but this particular parallel ends with the themes - the timing of both conversations are in different episodes of each season and at different times in each episode. Parallels aside, I feel like Aziraphale’s reaction to Maggie’s tears is an interesting one - I mean, has he really never seen a human crying in his 6000 years of existence on Earth? The realisation that dawns on his face when Maggie has to guide him through the etiquette of the situation suggests that this really is new territory for him:

His face just keeps giving his inner thoughts away, because there’s quite the look of surprise on his face when he hears that Maggie and Nina were locked in the coffee shop together the previous evening, so Crowley has clearly forgotten to mention that particular faux pas to him (or perhaps “forgotten” might be more appropriate). And look how delighted he is when he finds out Maggie is in love:

Slight plot hole here, and we’re going back to season 1 again to see it.

AZIRAPHALE: There’s a very peculiar feeling to this whole area. I’m astonished you can’t feel it. […] Love. Flashes of love.

It’s a long way back I’ll grant you, but there was a time (in the second episode of the first season) that we were made to believe that Aziraphale could feel love. So why can’t he feel Maggie’s love for Nina? Perhaps she hides it too well? Or maybe she’s not really in love, or if she is, it isn’t that strong? Alternatively, does it have something to do with Aziraphale’s angelic abilities? Happy with his personal circumstances as they are, has he become less attuned to them? Or maybe even less able to use them? I don’t really have a feeling about which of these theories (if any of them) is most likely, and I’d be happy to hear any others that people are harbouring.

I also find Aziraphale’s reaction to Maggie’s request for advice pretty interesting.

MAGGIE: What am I going to do? AZIRAPHALE: (stammering) Can I get back to you on that? I think, right now, I’m a bit out of miracles.

Chill out mate, the poor woman just asked you for some advice, not for you to interfere using your Heavenly abilities (that she knows nothing about). I mean, I get that he doesn’t want to perform any miracles because he doesn’t want to attract any attention. Perhaps it says something about the way he deals with problems, believing that performing miracles is the only way that he can offer a solution? And that wording isn’t exactly the most empathetic thing to say to someone asking for love advice is it? I mean, if you take away the fact that he is referring to miracles in a very literal sense, what you’re left with is a sentence that sounds an awful lot like “you’d need a miracle to sort all of this stuff out, you’re in a right mess”. At least he manages to sound like he wants to help I suppose.

The address we see for The Resurrectionist pub is an interesting one, particularly in the context of this particular episode:

So let me just point out - “Goat Gate” is a fictional address in Edinburgh. Not just that number on Goat Gate, that entire street doesn’t exist at all. Which makes the choice of it being Goat Gate interesting, given how important goats will become later in this episode. I feel like there might be another subtextual link given the goat as a symbol of Satan, making the “66” part of the address pretty significant. I think this might be a rabbit hole that would be all too easy to fall down, so if anyone wants to take that and disappear into the void, please be my guest - for this blog, let’s just say it’s something of interest and move on.

Last item of note for this scene - I find Aziraphale’s reaction to the announcement of the arrival of the angels on Earth uncomfortably out of character. Sort of. Not that he reacts that way as such; I find his panic pretty appropriate. It’s the fact that he openly tells Maggie “they’re here”, and then goes on to ask he if she can “feel them”. She’s human. Why would she be aware of their presence? And why would he involve her in his distress? It would have felt much more appropriate to me if he had just bumbled some excuse and left in a hurry, there’s just something about these couple of lines of dialogue that don’t sit right with me.

Quick little point - how much of the panic on Aziraphale’s face when Jim declares it time for the bookselling to begin is because of the Gabriel situation and how much because Jim is actually trying to sell books?

I’m sure narratively it’s all the former, I just love the idea of the latter because we all know just how much worse that would have made everything; first the archangels arrive and now somebody has SOLD A BOOK. We wouldn’t need Armageddon or a Second Coming, this would probably have been the end of Aziraphale’s world right there.

There are a couple of things to note about this exchange regarding the “plume”. Firstly, Aziraphale doesn’t seem to be aware that there is such a thing. It makes me wonder what methods he thought Heaven were employing to detect miracles in the first place (after all, we know he’s been reprimanded for being too frivolous with them from his comments in 1793), and clearly he’s never been privy to witnessing one of these plumes in the past. Secondly, he appears to be surprised at the strength of the miracle that was performed. This stands to reason if we take the story as read - that he and Crowley have performed a miracle together. It would certainly be a surprise to know that the two of them could perform a miracle of such strength when performing it together. And that little scoff shows Seraqael certainly doesn’t believe that Aziraphale is capable of casting such a miracle himself. These last two observations do mean my meta about Crowley not doing anything takes a bit of a knock. Unless you include the possibility that Gabriel’s power was somehow tapped into and used during that miracle casting (which I do still consider a possibility, given the colour of the plume matches Gabriel’s archangel eyes). What is absolutely clear about this interaction between the Heavenly entities is that none of the visitors believe Aziraphale had anything to do with the miracle - they believe Gabriel did it and that Aziraphale is hiding him.

Easter egg time! Feels like it’s been a long time since we had one of these.

Another one of Terry’s books making it into the show, this time it’s the first in his Discworld series. I’m going to put my hands up here and admit to never having read them. I have tried, more than once, reading The Colour of Magic, but for whatever reason I just can’t get into it. Don’t hate me.

I feel like there is a special layer of lying being employed by Aziraphale in his rebuttals here - he’s just been told that the miracle that was cast was of phenomenal power. His response? “Oh yeah, I did that so a couple of humans could fall in love”. And it’s so obvious that he knows he’s on really thin ice here - we have some really classic mannerisms that tell us Aziraphale is panicking HARD. The stuttering, the exaggerated hand gestures. I’m pretty sure that if he didn’t have a record in one of his hands, they would be wringing away like the clappers - you can actually see that he repeatedly tries to bring his hands together but that darn EP just keeps getting in the way. Quick note: I find it interesting that he feels the need to explain to his guests what love is - whether this relates to what I was pondering earlier and the abilities of angels to feel love, or whether it’s more an indication of his personal opinion of their abilities as compassionate beings I couldn’t say.

Another Easter egg (sort of):

Alright, so this is probably less of an Easter egg, more of an interesting morsel of information. “The Wicked Bible” is the book that Jim uses to try and kill the fly with. This is a real edition of the Bible, so called because of an unfortunate typo that states that the seventh commandment reads “Thou shalt commit adultery”. I don’t know that it has any subtextual meaning to the storyline, but it’s a cool little piece of religious trivia - shelve it away, it might come up in a pub quiz one day 😉

Whatever you believe about the miracle that was performed to hide Gabriel, it’s obvious that Aziraphale is far from convinced that it worked:

This is the face of an angel who is genuinely in fear of what’s about to happen. This expression actually got me to wondering how different Aziraphale’s reaction to the arrival of Michael et al is to Gabriel’s arrival. For a start, he tries to send Gabriel away, yet this three he invites in, without any sort of prompt or threat. He even has a very compelling reason for not allowing Michael, Uriel, and Seraqual into the bookshop at this point - Jim. I made the argument that Aziraphale didn’t really seem to be frightened of Gabriel when he arrived in episode one - I’m of a mind that his contrasting behaviour with the three visiting angels in this episode backs that up.

I’m going to end this part (and yes, this has been a little on the short side for me, but we have THAT pub scene coming up, and I just don’t think I can tag it on to the end of what I’ve already done in this section) with a little chapeau, and this one goes to the lovely Mickey Ralph, who I understand is responsible for the article we see Aziraphale reading. Here’s the original:

As I understand it, Mickey was responsible for the translation of that article into multiple different languages, using the translations to produce authentic-looking newspaper articles from other counties. There’s a little write up that you can read about it here. I don’t think I’ve talked about my love of the level of attention to detail specifically in this season just yet, but this tiny detail absolutely reminded me of it. These newspaper articles must have taken a fair amount of time and effort to produce, are only seen for a fraction of a second, and yet make the scene feel so much richer for their presence. Amazing work Mickey, thank you.

And on that positive note, I’ll wrap this part up. I had hoped to get to the next chunk of the minisode but I should know better than that by now, shouldn’t I? As always, questions, comments, discussion: always welcome. See you for the next one! 😊

[immaturityofthomasastruc]

I feel like miraculous will just do the most bare bones use of the Multiverse with evil heroes and good villains, Miraculous is a Franchise in which the multiverse is a great idea

They’ll probably just make say “they’ve always been evil” without making a explanation of why Hawkmoth is good and the Duo are bad, imagine if they gave the Re-verse a cool backstory like “marinette parents died in a accident and she became the worlds youngest top criminal which discovered about the miraculous, she stole the Ladybug and cat miraculous but master fu misinformed her about which miraculous granted the wish and instead making her go after the two miraculous Master Fu knows nothing, the butterfly and Peacock miraculous, and so Ladybug rampages trough paris trying to get her hands on the miraculous and even discovering Adrien agreste is a sentimonster in her pursuit for the Peacock miraculous making him he’s pawn which will use the cat miraculous [see that play of words? Paw-Pawn?] and Gabriel agreste has to fight Ladybug and save not only the world and the miraculous but also he’s son” but I doubt they’ll do that

Heck with the obvious Spider-verse inspiration I would have wished they would have gone through actually interesting Universes

Post apocalyptic universe in which the akumatized villain are like zombies and only the miraculous users are inmune

A world in which Queen bee got her redemption arc

A world in which Marinette got the butterfly miraculous (a fan favorite)

A world in which Marinette had the bee miraculous and Chloe the ladybug (scarlet lady reference?!)

A world in which Adrien is a Healthy teen with a happy family and nothing went wrong and nothing of the super hero related events of the series happen

A world in which the kwamis are evil and the Duo has to fight the eldritch monsters trying to take over their body’s meanwhile they try to find who is the poor man being used has a puppet by Nooroo which is trying to free the other kwamis to end the world

Chat blanc universe

A super futuristic world in which magic is dying and the villain is the order of the miraculous trying to resurrect magic even if that comes to a high price so they can keep existing and have meaning on their lives since they wasted hundreds of decades of their lives guarding the miraculous which will soon stop existing

A world in which humans don’t exist and instead the characters are creative monster designs

A world in which Marinette was bitten by a radioactive ladybug and Adrien has a eldritch horror alien goo named plagg which gives him super powers (yes like venom and Spider-Man)

A world in which Lila/Chloe and Marinette Swap places

The world of the movie!!! (which is very different from the series world might I mind you)

And the world of the comics (although the only difference I can remember is the American heroes and yes before you ask this is the comics the infamous Ghetto blaster came from)

There’s so many options yet I know they’ll only do the Evil universe trope instead of actually using the potential the world of miraculous has for parallel universes

You'd think for a special that seeks out to explore the multiverse, they'd do more than just your generic dystopian mirror universe where all the characters aren't made evil are part of some resistance faction judging from the trailer. There may be a chance that we'll get glimpses of other universes, but there's still going to be more focus on the "Re-Verse".

The idea of a world with Ladybug and Cat Noir being villains could work if you decided to focus on the circumstances that causes them to snap and turn to a life of crime (sort of like Spider-Carnage's backstory from the finale of the 90s Spider-Man cartoon), but given how the show handles the morality of its characters, there's a good chance that this universe's version of Ladybug and Cat Noir will just be evil for the sake of being evil. Either that, or the writers pull a cop-out and make them completely different characters, like Chloe and Lila.

[corvidae-corvus]

Itadori Yuuji x MHA fanfic Idea Prompt #1:

Summary of overall fic idea:

Yuuji gets transported to the MHA verse after defeating the king of curses.

Depressed and incredibly lonely, Yuji tries to find a way back home. In his failure to do so, Yuji despairs.

It isn't until he comes across a hero that Yuji thinks about his grandfather's last words (his curse).

Despite never wanting to sacrifice his life again for the sake of others, he enters the U.A entrance exam for one sole purpose: himself.

To use his powers freely, without punishment. (to help others, cause at the end of the day, Yuji likes to help people)

And perhaps even.....going against the hero commission!?

Explanation:

So yeah that's the summary (WIP) to a fanfic Idea I had. I imagine the story to take place after Yuji sacrifices himself to defeat Sukuna. Now this is just based on my theories and headcanons. Like in my mind, this fanfic would take place after Yuji eats Sukuna. (Crazy ik)

Like y'know how twins are important in the JJK verse? And how people speculate that Sukuna ate his twin? And how there are theories that Yuji is somehow Sukuna's descendant?

Well my headcanon is that Sukuna had a twin brother who had a wife and many children (or just a child) and Sukuna ate his twin and killed his brother's family. But he failed to kill all of his brother's kids and so Yuji is like his great grand nephew X30 or something.

Basically Yuji and Sukuna aren't twins as in actual twins but twins as in their fates? Like They're the complete opposite of one another. Yuji is a good and kind person and Sukuna is the fucking worst. Yuji represents just everything that Sukuna hates. Literally Yuji hates pure evil (Sukuna lol) and Sukuna hates Yuji who is in his eyes a weakling that doesn't give up and has an unshakable will which is disgusting to him because how can someone so weak have such determination and will power. He hates Yuji lol. Sukuna is yuji's number one hater.

And in my fic the only way to defeat Sukuna is to eat all of him or something. Not his fingers but like his soul. (Ok thinking back on this maybe not eat Sukuna? Maybe he and Sukuna just have a soul battle or whatever. And Yuji just destroys Sukuna's soul without having to resort to eating him. Idk I want some sort of cannibalism to be involved in the fic but I don't know why.)

For example Yuji and Sukuna were trying to eat each other, because Sukuna realized that if he ate Yuji he'd get stronger or something. Something, something, power or whatever. And obv Yuji ate Sukuna when Sukuna left Magumi's body after Yuji forcefully separated Sukuna from megumi. At that point Sukuna was able to fight Yuji in his og form without a body, and he couldn't use mahoraga or whatever.

Anyways Yuji beats the ever loving shit outta Sukuna cause honestly fuck that guy (love him tho <3) and well Yuji fucking dies and yuji's soul is kinda shit rn cause he ate the king of fucking curses and so his soul leaves the JJK verse and gets stranded in MHA. and since dimensial travel cleansed his soul or whatever he's no longer in danger of combusting into himself and dying. Yuji is alive and he has all his powers and Sukuna's powers too! >:)

Now since the MHA verse doesn't have cursed energy he just has to supply the cursed energy himself. Which is easy to do since Yuji has a large amount of cursed energy. And he gathers cursed energy with his own emotions and yeah Yuji is experiencing a lot of emotions rn.

Yeah Yuji is pretty op in this fic (WIP).

It'll make this story more of Yuji walking around destroying villains while having an existential crisis. All while toppling hero society. Lmao

Like in this fic, if I were to start to write it, I'd have it so we skip a lot of stuff. Maybe it can be written in an outsider pov. With occasional Yuji pov. Just people's reactions or thoughts on Yuji. A lot of him exploring off campus and meeting with villains, hell I love it when crossover fanfics that involve MHA introduce the broker guy.

Oh the fic can have a little horror/thriller/supernatural vibe. With Yuji being described as just plain weird. Or scary from other MHA characters. Some tiger symbolism for Yuji.

Just a crossover fic where UA isn't the only setting. Cause I've read a lot of MHA crossovers and although I absolutely love the characters becoming UA students and all the author's ideas changing the whole story because of a characters' involvement. I just need another setting. Or maybe new characters other than Bakugou, Deku, Todoroki, All Might and Aizawa. (Especially Aizawa lol. He's always the first hero that is introduced and is immediately speculative of the main character other than maybe principal nezu).

Hell maybe a two year time skip. I'll be honest the way horikoshi wrote about mutant discrimination with Shoji was kinda ass and I also feel like the Hero commission needed more punishment.

Damn I might write this fic idea...maybe...

I just needed to vomit this idea. It was painful not writing it down. Actually I feel like this post would be hard to understand cause I was writing this a certain way and if I didn't write this post in a specific way with specific words It would make me have this painful feeling in my gut that I'm not properly conveying what I'm trying to say.

Anyways thank u for reading.

P.S. I never read the jjk manga and I only watched like 9 episodes of the JJK anime. I just read leaks and watch people's analysis of JJK on Tik tok. So if I get something wrong about a character.... I'm sorry. I promise I'll read the manga one day 😭

P.P.S- if you couldn't already tell, Yuji is my fav JJK character

[puppetwoman17]

Very tempted to write a Spectacular Spider-Man(cartoon) fanfiction taking place during Across The Spider-verse.

Most events are largely the same, but instead of traveling to 42, Miles is running around different earths. He ends up on the earth where TSSM takes place( don’t know the number, so I’ll just call it Earth tssm). The spiders have been dispatched to look for him, and some have been told to keep watch over their own earths for him.

On TSSM Peter’s end, he’s been in the society for about a year after the s2 finale, making him halfway to 17 in my fic. After all the shit he’s been through, he distances himself from everyone else, save for Captain Stacy and the Daily Bugle’s Foswell, (er, “Patches”), who are the only people who know(or have an inkling) that he’s Spider-Man.

He also tends to spend more time on Society work, limiting his time in his own earth. While this causes problems for his aunt and school, you can see this really take shape with New York. Especially the villains. People from Electro to Tombstone to fucking Silvio Manfredi notice that Spidey’s been showing up less and less, even disappearing for weeks on end. He rarely works with the cops anymore, and the battles have started to become less quippy than usual.

Needless to say, the villains are both scared, and pissed. Scared because if Spidey’s quiet, then shit’s serious. Pissed because they’re needy bastards who feel ignored.

Thus begins a manhunt for Spider-Man, from none other than the people he fights every day. Turf wars between the Six, Manfredis, and Big Man are put on hold for this one instance, all in favor of finding the wallcrawler and getting answers out of him(also cause they’re actually kinda worried about him, like, it’s SPIDER-MAN).

I’m thinking of getting the Lizard involved, maybe changing some things to make it so the Connors family knows Peter is Spider-Man because he came to them after he got bit and tested out his powers with their help. Connors can still turn when his emotions get the better of him, but he’s on the good side now. Through the undernet, he finds out something’s wrong with Peter and is like: why didn’t the kid call me when something went wrong? So he comes back to add more fuel to the fire.

Speak of the devil: Spidey returns from another awful���I mean, UPLIFTING week over at SS HQ. He’s tired, Miguel is his usual annoyingly loud self, and Miles is still not found. Even worse, it’s been found that Miles is in HIS earth, so it’s HIS responsibility to bring him back. Great.

You can imagine how hard it is to get back into a normal routine(for like a couple days at least). His aunt keeps asking where he’s been, his classmates think he’s a drug addict, his villains are starting to pry into his private life too much(which is kinda nice to know that they’re worried about him, but it tends to border on obsessive sometimes), and the other Spiders are getting antsy. Especially Miguel. Very much so Miguel. All the while, Peter deals with his own issues on the Canon. The good and the bad. The relief of finding out that his trials and losses are set in stone and not his fault, and the anguish that he could’ve been Miles, desperate to save Uncle Ben now that he knew what would happen.

All the while the villains of New York are trying to gauge why so many spider-like vigilantes are entering THEIR hero—ahem—nemesis’s turf and why he always returns to the city with bruises despite no one seeing him prior.

Trying to come up with a title is hard tho. Stuck between:

The Spider Society: Spectacular’s Story

and

Converge on The Spectacular Spider-Man

Now that I’ve written it down, there’s a lot going on here. I’m hoping to maybe start on this when I complete my other fic. No promises, but I’m interested.

[nixthelapin]

So I heard that the “Intro the Re-Verse” Miraculous Special Will take place after Destruction, and… *deep inhale* Are you kidding me??

Destruction was episode THREE of season 5. That literally came out a whole year ago (Oct. 2022). And they’re releasing this special right after another one that also was set during season 5 (Action), even though the finale has well sense passed. I think that most of us are ready to move on with the plot instead of just going back to the status quo, especially since that means Gabe will still be a villain at this point (though I guess technically not active since he’ll be making the Alliances at this point?), but at the very least will still be having that controlling and oppressive influence on Adrien. I know I’m going to be super frustrated watching any interaction they have in this simply because (1) we saw Gabe die already, why should we care? and (2) Adrien is free from his father at the end of the season. We may argue about how well both of those things were done, or how satisfying the story was, but it doesn’t change how that story did end, and bringing back the old dynamic again is honestly a little jarring to me. I personally didn’t like the finale, but because what happened happened, I’m just ready to move on from it.

Then there’s the whole thing where they’ll be interacting with their reverses. I wasn’t necessarily expecting an identity reveal (would’ve been a good way to bring it out, especially to cause some drama, but there’s no way they’d leave that to a special instead of in the show proper), but I was expecting something around Gabriel’s identity. He’s a good guy in the Re-Verse, and has the butterfly like our Gabe. LB and CN would be against Toxinelle and Claw Noir sharing their identities, but why wouldn’t they want to know the butterfly? Anything to lead them to Monarch (since this is still during season 5)! Why wouldn’t they ask him? Not really too much of a reason to say no, since once they go back to their universe, LB and CN knowing his secret identity won’t impact him at all. What would stop them, really? Especially when they are so desperate and vulnerable after such a huge loss against Monarch.

(If it was set after the season 5 finale, we could have them learning reverse-Gabriel’s identity, and see Adrien deal with those emotions. “Does this mean my father had the Butterfly?” “If this version is a hero… then what does that mean for mine?” etc. But no.)

TLDR: was hyped for the Re-Verse Special, found out it was set after season 5 episode 3, am now significantly less hyped.

[multicolour-ink]

To be honest, as disappointed as I am by it, I highly doubt Firebrand and Thunderhand will ever be in the movieverse aside from a possible reference.

I get what you are saying; but I am still holding out hope as I want it so bad!

If they can introduce obscure characters like the penguins, and Foreman Spike (a character that was in ONE game way back in the 80s - and yet still got a pretty integral role), I have confidence that the team will pull from some more stuff like this, and maybe in some way, include the hand powers.

How they go about it depends on where they take the story...but here are some ideas on how they can make it similar to the game!

spoilers for Superstar Saga

In the game, the Bros come across the Sun and Moon temples, where they meet the Sun and Moon gods who grant them the hand powers respectively (Mario Firebrand, and Luigi Thunderhand).

The game doesn't give any explanation as to why these gods just give away these powers to these two random strangers (not that I can recall at least), but they could explain it in the movie verse!

Suppose that the Bros adventure in the Beanbean Kingdom (or another place - or even just the Mushroom Kingdom again), and during the journey they come across the Sun and Moon Temples. Both the gods recognise the courage of these new heroes, and decide that they are worthy - but only after they complete a test!

Ooh here's an idea - perhaps the test that the Sun and Moon gods put them through is one where both brothers have to save the other! They are shown their worst fears (like a dreamscape or something similar), and they have to prove their courage in order to save the one they love the most. It will be a perfect scene full of emotion and angst 😁

Do with this idea as you please, my fellow Mario fans! Write your fanfics!

The explanation as to why the Bros each get their respective hand powers can be put down to the powers reflecting their inner selves (also have mentioned it here):

Fire represents for Mario that he is passionate at what he does and what he feels. The love he feels for his brother, his family, and friends burns so deep and is primary the core of his being. Of course, these emotions can give way to him being a spit-fire. When upset or determined, his fire burns and never stops until he succeeds or he's calmed down.

Lightning on the other hand is different. It's powerful, but unlike fire it momentarily shows itself and then goes away, and it only forms under certain atmospherically changes. That represents Luigi. He is often quiet, and rarely chooses to physically fight - but when he does, when the situation changes...it hits hard! Like the moment he saved Mario from Bowser's fire with the manhole cover - it's Luigi's loyalty and bravery that becomes his inner power.

- - -

Here's some more ideas they could do with the Firebrand, and Thunderhand in the movie verse:

- During some down time, after some battles, the Bros get the same idea (not even talking they just both mentally communicate) to try something new with their powers. If they can be used in battle...can they be used in other ways...?

So Mario gently cups Luigi's hands in his, and makes a small flame. It sparks up through not only his hand, but also Luigi's - and it doesn't cause his brother pain! Luigi gasps in wonder at the beauty and the warmth of this flame. After briefly meeting Mario's eyes, Luigi follows suit and creates a small spark. Both gasp and smile in excitement at this beautiful combination ❤️️💚

- Mario makes campfires very easily with his Firebrand.

- Luigi can mess with electrical equipment and entire electrical panels.

- Luigi can read the electrical impulses in people's hearts, in order to read their heart rates (he can also read/sense any electrical currents in the air).

- Mario's Firebrand in battle is mostly used for pure power.

- Luigi can use his Thunderhand for defence (electrical shields around himself and others).

[giveamadeuschohisownmovie]

Hmm…I got an idea for how “Avengers Doomsday” could go:

Based on the end of “Multiverse of Madness”, we know that an incursion is occurring. The MCU is colliding with some other universe and it’s Strange’s fault somehow. Since “The Fantastic Four” apparently takes place in another universe, what if that’s the lead-in?

The universe that the MCU is collapsing into is the F4-verse. From there, the F4 movie can develop in several ways. Maybe Doom caused the incursion and that Strange is being unjustly blamed for it? Or maybe Reed Richards caused it because dangers of science and so on.

Anyways, with the incursion happening, the F4 realize they have to travel to the other universe to work with the heroes there in order to save both their universes. Cue…crossover. And if Doom caused the incursion, then it makes sense he’s the main villain. The movie is literally called Doomsday and the movie is about a doomsday that’s going to wipe out the MCU and F4’s universes.

As to how they can fix the problem…maybe a merger? “Multiverse of Madness” set up the idea that you can’t really stop an incursion and that at least one of the universes is dying out. So since both universes can’t survive the crash, through comic book logic, maybe the universes can be merged together to save everyone. This leads to the timeline being somewhat changed, in that the previous events are still technically canon, but are now modified with the new characters.

(Maybe this is also the justification for having the mutants in the MCU. If the mutants exist in F4-verse, then they get merged as well. Also, I didn’t intend on this, but F4-verse in this write-up sounds like it’s just a different version of 20th Century Fox’s Marvel movies lol. Because X-Men and Fantastic Four)