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newttxt · 4 months ago

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hi quip! i really like your one piece comics and i am curious how you do them! i'm not good at comics and want to be better at drawing them! how do you learn how to make comics?

thank you!

uh oh... im afraid u have caught me at the perfect crossroad of "bored at work" and "unrelated task ive been meaning to do but keep putting off."

this is long. i hope you like reading (and grayscale progress pics). and of course!!! disclaimer before we begin that this is just how I, personally draw comics. there is no "right way."

quip's comic-making process!

Switching my typing to make this more legible...

My process can kinda be broken down into 6 steps:

Brainstorming

Thumbnailing

Sketching

Panels & Text

Lines

Tones/Colors

1. Brainstorming

My brain is a leaky sieve on a good day, so I sloppily jot down ideas in my phone notes the moment I have them. This helps me when it's time to draw too, because if I feel art blocked, I can look through old concepts and see what catches my interest.

Otherwise, I love drawing for other people's writing. :) And if worst comes to worst, doing manga/comic page redraws in my style teaches me new things every time.

Once I have my idea, I'll usually make a bulletpoint list of "plot points" or "story beats" I want. Then I plan the comic with this format that I've adapted from a tutorial I read once. I'm going to use my most recent comic (original comic post) as an example.

I start in the third column, writing notes of what I'd want to see in each panel. I also include the dialogue (in this case, I didn't have to write the dialogue! it's from the fanfic linked in the original comic post!). I usually write the whole name like [Luffy:], but at this point I've drawn so much of these guys, just the first letter works.

I like to handwrite these notes to get an idea for how much text I'm putting in a single panel.

After I describe all the panels, I go back and separate them into pages. I can't tell you how to know how many panels to a page. It's whatever works for you. I just kinda know about how big each panel will be, and so I can feel when I'm probably running out of space. (Also. You can change things later. I don't in this example, but I add/drop pages/panels all the time.)

2. Thumbnailing

Thumbnailing—as the name suggests—should be done tiny. Too tiny to accidentally get sucked into details.

This is about marking down blobs where items/characters go, and figuring out the paneling. I'll draw and redraw these a bunch of times too.

This is also the most time-consuming/brain-working part for me. If I were in a zine that did progress percentage, I'd try to finish thumbnailing around the 50% mark (but I'm also a moderately fast artist, so your mileage may vary).

I think the terrible quality makes them charming, actually. I really like how silly they look. :')))

I will add, when you draw your "page" rectangle, make sure it's the same proportions as your actual canvas for the final image. You want an accurate idea of how much space each panel will take up, especially if you have a lot of text.

3. Sketching

This is my most recent change to my usual workflow, and it's saving me a lot of time. I make my thumbnails a bit bigger (each one about half the size of the final canvas), and I sketch these basic body forms right over them.

It just helps give me placement for my actual lines!

I usually draw these in a paleish color so I can lower the opacity and not get distracted by them while lining. The random darker parts are to either help keep two forms separate (like when two characters have their limbs all over) or to better define sections that were too sloppy/poorly proportioned.

I also think this helps my poses stay looser, because I have more dramatic/wriggly shapes that aren't too bogged down by proportions yet.

Sidenote: I CANNOT show this here, but sometimes this is when I take videos. Of myself. I prop my phone camera up and shoot a video of me acting each panel. :/// It looks really dumb, but it also shows me fun body language ideas like hand gestures, expressions, weight distribution, etc. Just pretend you're an overdramatic cartoon character, and try not to worry about your roommates or mother walking in on you doing odd things. (You can also use the video for anatomy reference later, but I usually just capture the vibe and don't try to copy the actual video frame.)

4. Panels & Text

Oh, boy. So, the panels are usually just straight lines (though it's fun to make creative exceptions, like a round panel to mimic looking through a spyglass), but there are some fancy rules that I don't strictly adhere to.

I believe (I have no technical training in this. Take everything I say with a grain of salt) the vertical gaps (between two side-by-side panels) should all be a consistent width and the horizontal gaps (between two panels on top of each other) should be another. The vertical ones? Should be thinner? Because you want the eye to easily glide between them, whereas the horizontal gaps should be a visual barrier to keep you from jumping ahead. Just something I've vaguely noticed.

There are lots of fun "default layouts" you can look up. Or keep it a consistent grid. I think it's fun to sometimes have characters/objects sticking out of panels and overlapping others. This is just a matter of taste, creativity, and inspiration. (Read Witch Hat Atelier... It has some of my favorite paneling...)

You may also notice I have already done the speech bubbles. This is, to me, a crucial step. This helps me catch early if I don't have enough room for all the words. It also lets me plan the art in each panel with the speech bubbles in mind. There's nothing worse than working really hard on a panel, and then you realize there's no room for the bubbles.

I also try to lay them out in a way that guides the eye! Even without art, can people tell where to go next? Better yet, if I want people to look at panels out of order (aka not left to right, in my case), can I use the speech bubble path to make them? Here's just a vague example of what I mean.

As an added bonus, doing speech bubbles early also allows me to be lazy! :) Ignore the comic; I'm not supposed to post it yet oops,, There's a whole lot of drawing to do on each comic page, and I am not wasting my time on stuff that will be covered up. So yes, if I hide my bubbles, there are a lot of unfinished lines trailing off into nothing. (As a bonus, if there's a part of a character you're struggling with—and it won't look weird to do so—you can move speech bubbles to just hide the problem area yayyy)

Making the actual bubbles could be their own whole tutorial, tbh, but there are some general guidelines I use.

Zoom out when you choose your font size. You want to know how it will look to the average reader, so it isn't super teeny tiny or way too big. You generally want to keep the same text size for all your pages/bubbles.

When I draw bubbles, I try to size them about one vertical letter height (and some change) around the words [left side]. This isn't always the case though, because humorously large or funny shaped text bubbles can convey different feelings [right side].

On Procreate, I set my bubble lines to Reference and just drag-and-drop the white fill on a separate layer below the lines. (Remember to turn Reference back off again when you're done, or your fill bucket won't work right when you're drawing.)

To get the white outlines I use to keep the bubbles from cluttering up the art, I literally just Gaussian blur an all-white copy of the lines + fills... and then I copy and merge it 5 times until it's opaque enough. This is a terrible way to do it, but it works for me. :')

5. Lines

This is the part that I can't tell you how to do. I literally just. Draw right over my wacky sketched body forms. Boom. Comic drawn.

I'll make three suggestions:

Don't focus on making every panel perfect. Give a little extra love to big ones or ones you want people to linger on. Otherwise, know that people are typically speeding through the art. It's way more important to focus on storytelling than art technique. In my opinion, a good story that's told well will always be better than a beautiful one told poorly. (Some comics are beautiful AND well-written... Alas, I am just a hobbyist who needs to get the ideas out of my head at top speed.)

Put your background lines on a different layer. Put your foreground lines on a different layer too, if you have those. Basically, I try to keep the main part of each panel (usually a character or object) on my lines layer so I can erase background/foreground/etc lines to ensure clarity/focus.

You can make background lines lighter colors too. I have too many numbers sorry. (1) Background. The stuff that's farthest away. Lightest lines. Few details; more focused on shapes and the suggestion of a background (I'm not good at backgrounds). (2) Midground. Same distance away as the characters are. Lines can be black. (3) Also midground, and also the same distance away. But they're very detailed, so I lighten them so they aren't so distracting. (4) The characters. Black lines for focus. For people who haven't seen the comic, I swear they are just hugging. This is SFW. D:

6. Tones/Colors

Do not. Do NOT ask me. I don't understand colors. I hate working with them, but I try because I want to improve. I hate doing anything beyond the simplest grayscale shading. Please go elsewhere for your coloring/tone advice. This is how my color picker looks 95% of the time. I have pre-set "percentages" of black that I got by lowering the opacity of a black layer and just color picking it. I don't even know the exact percentages I used. Good luck out there. Be better than me.

7. Sharing

This is a bonus step that I didn't mention earlier, but it's actually the most important of all of them.

You need a friend. Or maybe a groupchat or discord. A family member or coworker if you're really close like that. I don't know.

Find SOMEWHERE you can spam wips and be cheered on. Drawing comics takes a while, especially if you're trying to tell longer stories than I'd dare to attempt. If I don't force someone to praise me for every line I draw, I shrivel up and die.

Also if and when you post online, add alt text. I'll admit I'm the first person to complain and drag my feet on this, and I literally use a screenreader myself when my eyes hurt (strong prescription glasses wearer). Comics should be accessible, because stories are fun and everyone should be able to enjoy them.

***

Learning???

And I guess lastly, how do you learn to make comics? Two steps: 1) read them and 2) make them. This is the tragedy of creating things.

1) Reading them: I grew up reading comic strips, western serialized comics, and webcomics. I've always loved graphic novels too. Then in late middle school, I started reading manga (Death Note and Haikyuu were my first two), and now I'm trying to read more webtoons (sorry im so slow bree)!

I also... mass-consume doujinshi, thanks to proxy mailing services and bilingual friends/Google Translate/knowing some Korean. (I have an entire bookshelf of doujin, actually,,)

The thing is, it's not usually enough to just read comics. You also need to be thinking. :/ I notice paneling, comic devices, clever comedic timing, etc. as I go. It's just a lot of studying/learning while also enjoying the story.

2) Making them: You just have to start. :( Even if you think they're "bad." My first comics were actually just drawings placed randomly all over the page, connected by speech bubbles (yay... I was already practicing how to place bubbles to lead the eye around the page...). I was going to post a pic here, but I'm a coward. Backscroll my account and you can find some older ones though.

I also know my art in general improved dramatically when I did ten comics in ten weeks for my friend's fic. Don't do this. It hurt my hands/wrists. But do practice in moderation.

***

If you actually read all that... I hope it made even a modicum of sense. And maybe it was even helpful? Just know at the end of the day, there is literally no right way to draw a comic.

And if you aren't ready to go for it yet, you can start by just adding a couple speech bubbles to your illustrations or doodles! It's a way to add storytelling and dialogue writing to things you may already be making.

Yay. I love comics. :))))

#art tips #ask #THANK YOU FOR ASKING THIS #PLEASE TALK TO ME ABOUT STORYTELLING AND ART AND COMICS #i have so much more i can say but i will not because this post is already way too dense #ive been meaning to finish/post this for so long im sorry #making comics is this fun blend of THINKING REALLY HARD AND WITH PURPOSE and doing things innately and you rly dont know why #reference #art reference #i dont remember my tutorial tag #oh. was it #tutorial #I DONT REMEMBER

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ambrozjas · 1 year ago

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the gang on valentine’s day ꨄ︎

the outsiders x reader

✧˖*°࿐ notes ᰔᩚ

eeee !! i love valentine’s day!! this took me all day and was written w/ much love (and rewritten because i accidentally posted it on my alt), so i hope you guys enjoy it 💕

✧˖*°࿐ warnings ᰔᩚ

lmk if i missed anything !! i think it’s pretty okay so far

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄

❥ DARRY is such a softie on valentines omg

❥ i cant stop imagining you waking up to darry making you breakfast that he got up extra early for you just to make so you two could eat alone

❥ because darry’s so busy with his job, you’ll probably have to wait til after valentine’s day for more gifts?

❥ don’t get me wrong, he’ll make you breakfast, wake you up with soft kisses to your head and a soft “g’morning baby” but that’s all you’ll really get on valentine’s day

❥ he might not be all lovey dovey in front of the boys, but when you both slip into the kitchen he’ll mutter small ‘i love you’s while hugging you from behind

❥ if somebody walks in, he WILL get embarrassed and bark at them to get out while a blush dusts his cheeks

❥ you guys’ll probably head out for a cruise in his car or go to the drive-in while ponyboy and soda stay with the others

“hey.” a distant voice called out for you, a few whispers of your name and a couple of ‘hey’s before you finally broke through that thick barrier of sleep.

you peeked one eye open at darry, watching a soft smile appear on his face at your state.

“you awake?” he asked, turning his head so that he could level his face with yours. you lay on your side as you tilted your head up to meet darry’s eyes.

you made a small ‘mhm’ sound as you blinked the remaining sleep out of your eyes and took ahold of darry’s hand, calloused and rough. the warmth of it made you shiver though.

the warmth didn’t last long though, as darry’s face split into a grin and got up, jogging out of the bedroom. you heard a few clanks of the ceramic plates you had stacked in your guys’ kitchen, before you heard your boyfriend’s retreating footsteps.

your lips curled into a soft smile as you saw him walk back into the room with a small plate, the aroma of bacon and pancakes practically dancing across the room and making its way towards you. you propped yourself on one elbow as darry placed the small white plate on the nightstand next to you and once he had leaned down, you had pulled him by the collar to meet his lips in a chaste kiss.

“i’ll see you when i get off work, darlin’. maybe we can do somethin’ tomorrow.” he mumbled against your lips. you felt his lips curve upwards again as he placed another kiss against yours, smiling when you two shared another.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈ ｡ﾟ

❥ SODAPOP, this cheesy mofo

❥ meets you once you get off school or work, crumpled flowers in his hand that he may or may not have stolen from his neighbor’s garden, with a boyish grin on his face like he’s soo pleased with himself

❥ will definitely take you out after he’s done with work

❥ maybe’d he’d do smth the day before??? idk

❥ you guys’d probably go watch a drag race or the drive-in, maybe go to the dingo afterwards

❥ would tease and make steve feel single, even if he had a valentine

❥ writes you cheesy lil love notes in chicken scratch and sticks them on your stuff

soda beamed as he saw your car pull up to the dx and watched you get out of the car, throwing his rag on the counter and jogging to open the door.

“hey steve! you can lock up, right buddy?” he asked, tilting his head up to project his voice further.

when steve had come out of the back room, he rolled his eyes at the sight of you and soda. you had your arm linked around his, head leaning on his chest as you both looked at steve with pleading eyes.

“yeah, whatever.” steve grumbled, cleaning his oily hands with the rag that sodapop threw.

“thanks!” soda said, voice fading as he was already heading out the door with you by his side.

“that lovesick fool’s lucky ‘m such a good friend.” steve growled under his breath, annoyed as he watched you give soda a few kisses before hopping into the car outside.

“where we goin’, soda?” you asked, a wide grin still evident on your face as you looked at him.

“where d’ya wanna go?” he asked, a charming smile glued on his lips as he looked at you. gosh, you were pretty.

you shrugged. “wherever the night takes us.”

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈ ｡ﾟ

❥ PONYBOY is so CUTEEE !!

❥ whatever you do, dont imagine the rosy blush that falls on his cheeks when you catch him gazing at you

❥ and ESPECIALLY dont imagine you and pony meeting up after ponys been slipping cute awkward love letters into your locke so you see him with a sheepish smile when you give him an all knowing look

❥ AND DEFINITELY dont imagine ponyboy curtis sitting with you in class, thighs touching and ankles almost locking with each other because you guys are sitting do close, giggling and bright smiles

❥ okay i’ll stop now

❥ BUT JUST??? DO YOU SEE THE VISION??

❥ he’s the type who writes these poetic ass letters with his rushed half-cursive half-print handwriting and then gets all bashful when you bring it up

you heard something fall on your desk. you looked up from your test paper, pencil held between your teeth as your eyes fell on the small yellow folded sticky note.

you looked at the teacher who was at her desk, checking her nails and unbothered, and grabbed the note, unfolded it to unveil a myriad of hearts surrounding a message in neat handwriting.

“i believe in you.” the words read, you smiled to yourself and threw a small glance at ponyboy behind you, who was averting your eyes shyly.

you mouthed a silent, ‘thanks pony’ and turned back to your paper, tapping the pencil on the desk softly as you thought up another answer, circling a letter.

you bit your lip as your eyes crinkled and a smile took over your face, thinking back to ponyboy’s note.

yeah, you thought, thanks pony.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈ ｡ﾟ

❥ oh, JOHNNY

❥ he is so WHIPPED

❥ hes just a lil dude, shuffling his feet awkwardly as he holds out some orchids which he also probably stole from his neighbors

❥ n when you give him a kiss on the cheek it’s literally like he short circuits 😭😭

❥ probably has some chocolates that dallas stole him at the store

❥ hes so cute omg 😭

you looked out of the diner window, swiping a fry into the ketchup on your plate and bringing to your mouth in the process.

the sun blinded you a bit as you looked off into the horizon, into the multitude of cars in the parking lot and houses across the way. but to johnny, you looked absolutely ethereal.

the way the sun gave your face a golden hue made you look like a deity come into earth, he had half a mind to start worshipping you right now in the middle of the diner booth.

“y’wanna get outta here?” you asked, turning your head to face johnny. “we could go to th’a lot ‘n watch the sunset?”

blinking, johnny had snapped out of it. he stammered as his mind tried its hardest to concoct a response.

but seeing you smile as you saw him in this state, he sighed and started over.

“yeah,” johnny said, “let’s go.”

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈ ｡ﾟ

❥ DALLAS is very stubborn, but is also very passionate when he loves somebody

❥ his way of love is like beating somebody’s ass for talking about you and letting you clean his wounds afterwards

❥ he rarely says he loves you, but thinks it’s easier to show it with his actions than his words

❥ probably shows up at your doorstep, no warning, and spontaneously takes you out for a date

❥ it dont matter if you have homework, work, angry parents

❥ this man WILL take you out

“thought y’said you didn’t care about valentine’s.”

“i don’t.” dally said, breath evident as he sighs when he looks upon you. his hands stuffed in his pockets as he shuffled his feet.

“look c’mon, just come with me, will ya?” he asks, waving his hand around as he talked.

the corner of your lips turned upwards as you chuckled at dallas’ state. here he was, standing in front of your door on a cold night in tulsa, when just hours before he was brushing you off and saying valentine’s day was cheesy. if anybody had seen him now, they’d never believe you.

“sure, dallas. let’s go.” you took his hand and stepped out, clutching your sweater as your face hit the cold breeze. you never understood how dallas could wear leather jackets in this weather. maybe he was just too cool for everything, maybe that’s how he blended in with the weather.

he let go of your hand, which made you pout a bit, before he instead wrapped his arm around your shoulders and had a grip on the collar of your sweater.

“you’ll stretch it out, dal.”

“oh, you’ll live.”

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈ ｡ﾟ

❥ STEVE is so cute 😭😭

❥ he tries his hardest guys i swear

❥ he’s a little dumb when it comes to this stuff

❥ steve probably steals one of pony’s valentines grams or whatever, scribbles his name out, and gives it to you

❥ you guys might go see soda or go to a drag race or maybe a car show

❥ maybe he’ll even teach you bout some car stuff, whether you understand it or not 😭

“baby, look! y’see that firebird right ov’there?” he asked, pointing and ushering your body to turn towards the car. steve was practically a kid in a toy store when it came to cars. he knew them like the back of his hand.

“mhm, it’s nice, stevie.” you said, humoring your boyfriend. your feet were practically aching at this point by how long you guys were walking for.

“‘n you see that one over there, too?” glory, how much i’d kill for a car like’at.” you loved steve, but sometimes it frustrated you how oblivious he was to certain things.

as he ranted about, you leaned your head on his shoulder, clutching his arm. you tried to listen to him, really, you tried. but all you could focus on was your throbbing feet, your heels burning with every step you took as you were sure you had blisters already.

how was steve able to be walking for this long?

you tugged on the bottom of his denim vest a little bit, making him shut up and turn his head towards you. “huh?” he asked.

“my feet are gettin’ tired, hun.” you whined with pleading eyes. he stopped for a little bit, contemplating on what to do, before letting go of you. you gave him a puzzled look before he crouched down in front of you, looking over his shoulder. “hop on.” was all steve said.

you laughed a bit, not thinking he was serious.

“you said your feet was hurtin’, didn’t ya?” he asked.

“fine, fine.” you gave him one last chuckle before hopping onto his back and wrapping your arms around his neck, burrowing your head into the crook of his neck.

steve was wrapped around your finger, and you both knew that, as you pressed a soft kiss onto his cheek as a thanks.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈ ｡ﾟ

❥ dunno why but all i can imagine for TWO-BIT is a drive-in date

❥ you two, sharing a coke, as you both watch a movie as you’re sat in his car

❥ two’s one of those cheesy mofos who while watching the sunset or a nice movie, he’d say it’s beautiful while looking at you

❥ he’s literally my babygirl what are you on about

❥ my underrated king 🙏🙏

“hey!” he shouted for you as he found you, scanning the entire drive-in for him.

he held out a small deformed heart shaped chocolate box, probably from being accidentally sat on, with a cheesy grin on his face.

“awh, you didn’t have to.” you beamed, gently handling the box as he handed it to you.

“swiped it just for ya.” two-bit said, rocking on the balls of his feet as he awaited a kiss, pursing his lips in the process.

you giggled and placed a quick kiss on his dramatic lips, watching how he chased yours after you pulled away.

“settle down, lover boy. let’s actually watch the movie first.” you said, causing your boyfriend to frown exaggeratedly.

“c’mon baby, let’s go get a coke.” you pulled him by the collar of his leather jacket, material rough under your fingertips as you dragged him along.

and boy, did you never hear the end of it. the whole time you were in line, all you heard from two was, “please darlin’?”, “one more?”, “just on the cheek?”. a string of pleas fell from his lips so many times you had lost count.

once you two had gotten your coke and snacks for the movie, you returned to two’s car as he followed you around, dragging his feet like a sad puppy dog.

“i’ll tell you what, you sit through,” you looked up in thought as you tried to find a good estimate, “twenty minutes, and then maybe you’ll get kisses.”

“twenty minutes? that’s like.. a whole year from now!” two-bit exclaimed.

after seeing your face though, he shut up. he really wanted those kisses, even if that meant sitting through a movie while he was all antsy. so all he did, was cross his arms and pout.

it wasn’t long before he got his wish, though.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ yo so who wanna be my valentine?? 💘

kiss kiss ˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱

#the outsiders x reader #the outsiders #fanfiction #x reader #darry curtis x reader #sodapop curtis x reader #ponyboy curtis x reader #johnny case x reader #dallas winston x reader #steve randle x reader #two-bit mathews x reader #valentines day #ambrozjas #kiss kiss

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sabine-smitten-obviously · 6 months ago

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Good Omens - December reads part #3- fanfics recs 🤓🩷🎄

I ´ve decided to write a short summary each month about the books i read. I need this to let go of the stories, its a nice way of saying good-bye to them and to spread the love to the authors and to you. 🩷

I only read finished stories and rarely one-shots. You will find no WIPs in here, as i really like to dive deep into the plot and i keep losing track of WIPs. Also you will only find happy or at least hopeful endings here - i couldn´t handle anything else.

Also i try to find every author here on tumblr to link-to, but sadly some times i am out of luck. If you happen to know them, please tell them, write to me in the comments or DM me and i will update the post!

Ratings in ()

Multichapter Fanfics

Dark Literature (E) by @unproblematicme

Well this was a first for me. Human AU with our ineffable loves being exes. Ugh. Lucky for me, Aziraphale is hired by Gabriel to work for the same company on a regular basis. But all of this somehow fades into the background as a haunting starts on the 13th floor of the building. Massive ghoststory and halloween-vibes ensues! 🎃

I'd like to think i still know you (T) by @inherently_human

Human AU. Crowley and Aziraphale went to school together, before life took them on separate paths. Crowley actually detests the thought of the 30years reunion, but ... maybe he would meet Aziraphale again?

Biggest laugh: "Age has not done your eloquence any favors, I see." 😂

The ineffable bride (T) by @theravenmuse

Warlock asks Nanny Astoreth to read him a book he got from the gardener. The story is about a prince named Aziraphale, who fell in love with a farm boy that left to make good fortune, but never came back. Now he is supposed to marry Prince Gabriel.

Happiness, more or less (M) by @mllekurtz

Crowley moves into a flat above a bookshop, glad to have found a short lease. If it weren't for the strange noises in the night ... A ghost story, a love story.

Biggest laugh: "i'm not learning the riddle you have for a name." 😅 I love love love this one. It had me laugh, it had me on the edge and it made me cry. Please give this one a try! 🩷

Intermezzo (E) by @feraltuxedo

Crowley is a former Rockstar, whose career as opera-writer was crashed by Aziraphale Fell's official critique. 10 years later Crowley is offered to write a symphony and get a TV documentary on it, but there is a catch: Aziraphale is the one who will be presenting. Human AU, Enemies to lovers, very nice. Also the author has a way of leading up to and describing explicit scenes that had me wish for more. 😋

The accidental understudy (T) by @appleseeds

Human AU. Aziraphale is the stage manager, when he re-meets with famous actor and former school-collegue Crowley for a play of panto. Sweet fluff ensues as both have had their secret crushes for 30 years.

Love Thy Neighbor (E) by @snae-b

Aziraphale runs a successful bakery blog, but recently he is getting more and more delayed with his posts. The new neighbor is simply a nuisance with his construction noises throughout the day and his loud music in the night. One evening his temper gets the best of him and Aziraphale fists on the door. What will he see, when the door opens? You'll never guess. 😉

Oneshots

Naked in Malibu (E) by @cemeteryangel725

Human AU. Crowley is a famous actor, who is home early from his shoot without telling anyone. And naked. Aziraphale is the hired interior designer, who just so happens to be in Crowley´s home to redesign it. The rest is epic seduction and surprises beneath clothes.

Actually a re-read, as the author gifted us a with a sequel for christmas - see next! 🤓

Naked in New York (E) by @cemeteryangel725

Crowley and Aziraphale have been dating secretly for months now. They both have been falling in love and - of course, these are our beloved idiots! - they have NOT been talking about it. But there is this big red carpet-thingy coming up. Oh no, what is Crowley supposed to do? 😉

Hot Blood, Hot thoughts, Hot Deeds (E) by @supergeek21

Aziraphale sorts the books, when shortky before closing time a strange looking man, dressed all in Black and kind of outdated clothes comes in. He has quite some sharp teeth, too ... 🧛‍♂️🦇

The Serpent King (T) by @angela345

After the death of his father, King Gabriel rules the country. But a curse seems to have befallen the former prosperous kingdom. So knights are being sent out to the Serpent King of the neighbouring kingdom. Will they be able to break the spell? A fairytale.

Stocking Stuffers (E) by @cemeteryangel725

Yes, i know - this is the 3rd rec for @cemeteryangel725 in this blog alone. What can i say - she is a glorious (smut)writer. 😁 In this one we meet again with our beloved husbands from the human AU "Of fire and falcons", which you should definitely read, too. In this oneshot Crowley does a little christmas-strip for his Santaziraphale. 🌶️🎅

Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Boutique (T) by @dragonfire42

Aziraphale goes shopping with Jim to dress him up for the ball ... Sweet!

The Snake Prince (T) by @LTRisback

Aziraphale takes a walk and bumps into a snake - a talking snake. He offers to save him from the cold and takes him to his bookshop.

Sweet, short fairytale i found bc of another artist who made this beautiful Art to it @rocas-are-doing-well

Only Ever Meant For Someone Else (T) by @di-42

Human AU. Every year the night before christmas, Aziraphale drives his passengers for free as an act of charity. This year, when he has finally finished his shift, there is a commotion behind him. Realising the other driver has wrecked his bentley, he offers to take him to the hospital, where his - presumably - wife Anathema is in labour.

Beautiful little christmas story, seasoned with a bit of angst and a happy ending. 🎄

Biggest laugh: “Of course. I can see how this entire predicament is very clearly her fault.” 😅

I loved this story and it stayed with me for several days.

All the pretty girls (T) by @spectrallydistracted

Crowley has made a pact with Ana to date each week for a whole year - or as long as it takes to find a partner. Sadly all the pretty girls never click. Unlike the very male barista Aziraphale ... 😉

So thats 16 stories this time, next year i will start counting for the whole year, just for the fun of it. 🥳

Found something you like? Spread the love with kudos, sharing and loving 😅🩷

Have a wonderfull start to 2025! 🎆

#good omens #good omens fanfiction #ineffable husbands #fanfic #good omens fandom #good omens fanfic rec #crowly x aziraphale #crowley #aziraphale #smutty fanfiction #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #fanfics #fanfic rec #i read my fanfics at night #thank your for your fanfiction!

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uhohdad · 2 years ago

Text

EXPERIMENTAL - Konig Fic Part 2

Summary: Konig helps Researcher!Reader with a new technology they’ve been developing.

Part one: X

AO3 Link: X

Warnings: Flirting, Sexual Content, NSFW, Reader x Konig, talk of standard war stuff, Reader is a bit of a pervert. Non-con Voyeurism. Reader has anxious thoughts/low-self esteem-ish? No use of y/n, abduction, bondage, blood and injury.

Word Count: 7.2k

Reader gender/sex is incomprehensible cause I do it for the girls, the gays, and the theys

NSFW under the cut

It probably didn’t mean anything, right?

How common is your name, really? He probably was just thinking about his girlfriend or wife at home who just happens to share the same name as you, the same wife he didn’t happen to mention during your introductions - even if it would have been a really good icebreaker.

Yeah, that’s it.

It couldn’t have been about you.

Could it?

Your thoughts are spiraling now, not giving yourself the room to dissect one detail before your brain throws another at you. You still haven’t moved, wide eyes watching warm light reflect on his skin as he basks in post-orgasm bliss.

He’s still for a while, and you’re wondering if the finish had tired him out enough to lull him into a nap.

After a few minutes of watching the rise and fall of his chest, you decide the show was over and closed out of the software. There was some part of you, some part you’d hoped wouldn’t ever come to light, that decided to keep his feed connected.

You’ve crossed so many lines already. In for a penny, in for a pound, right?

You feel like you’ve ruined whatever chance you’ve had with him, violating his privacy like this. This was a man that wasn’t even comfortable showing his face, how did you think he was going to feel knowing a stranger has not only seen him fully naked but watched him jerk his cock to completion?

He doesn’t have to know. No one has to know. It’ll be our little secret and we’ll just pretend it never happened.

Yeah, you acted real casual today when you hadn’t done a horrible, awful, perverted thing. I’m sure you’ll act real casual the next time you have to look him in the eyes.

Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!

You rest your head on your keyboard not-so-gently, accidentally booting up an ancient mail software that was sure to kick your laptop’s fans into overdrive. An audible groan leaves your mouth.

Who knew non-consensual voyeurism would leave such a horrific feeling of guilt in the pit of your stomach?

That and the arousal that sits right underneath. Your underwear now had a wet stain from watching the show, unconsciously rubbing your thighs together as you had.

There was no way you were going to be able to focus on work now. You had been planning on staying late, but there’s no way you can analyze today’s data. Review his feed. Replay your conversations. Hear his breathing…

No, you just can’t do it right now. It’s too much.

You do a quick round of the lab, performing a sloppy iteration of your closing procedures, pack up your things, and head out for the day.

Before you do, you decide you might as well round out the horrific deed by doing one last terrible thing.

You pair your personal cell phone to the software and send yourself the erotic recording of Konig.

You’ll start fresh tomorrow, you decide.

————————————————————-

You most certainly did not start fresh tomorrow.

The next few days are a vicious cycle.

Go to work. Review Konig’s simulation footage. Fantasize. Feel guilty. Review raw data. Think about Konig touching himself. Feel aroused. Feel guilty. Rewrite codes. Go home. Watch erotic recording. Feel aroused. Get off.

Feel guilty.

You can’t help it. You’re out of control, an addict desperate to get their fix, ashamed of their actions but lacking the willpower to quit.

How are you supposed to stop thinking about him when all day at work you’re watching him fight his way through the shoot house, strong hands gripping his gun, and hearing to that laugh?

How can you go home and ignore the recording of him finishing while moaning your name?

You must have replayed it a thousand times. He moaned it like he was begging you, pleading with you. Such a powerful man choking on your name. Even after a full week had passed, it still had the power to excite you in ways you haven’t felt in ages.

Your next meeting with Konig was scheduled for today and if you had to judge solely by the feeling in your gut, you would’ve guessed you had eaten rocks for breakfast. Your brain tells you to flee and fast but your body is promised to these four walls. Your leg bounces as you pick at the fingers that beg for something to do besides type code.

You wanted to call it off. Tell Konig you weren’t feeling well and you’d try again next week. Or maybe hit the bricks entirely. Just walk out of the building and never look back. Forget about everything.

You’re reconsidering your career choices as a steady knock on the lab’s swinging door rips you from your thoughts.

Your wince before you look up, quickly plastering what you hope is a convincing smile on your face.

He catches your eyes through the glass and you notice them crinkle, unable to place an emotion to it. You’d been dreading this moment all week. Even going so far as to avoid looking at his live feed after the incident, just in case you weren’t able to feign the natural responses of hearing his recounts for the ‘first’ time. That in addition to the intrapersonal understanding that you couldn’t handle carrying anymore guilt-rocks in your stomach.

Looking him in the eyes was as hard as you imagined it to be. He pushes open the door and steps in, standing hesitantly near the entrance like he did last week. You notice he has a notepad in one hand, and it looks so comically small compared to his size. Like a giant holding a sticky note. In the other he holds your earpiece in an open palm, as if hesitant to wrap his fingers around it.

It doesn’t help that the first word that left his mouth as he entered the lab was your name. Flashbacks to his sweaty body, shuddering in pleasure as he came all over his rippling muscles grab your attention.

He had followed it up with something, but you had been too distracted to catch it. You close your eyes, touching your hand to your forehead.

You were not doing a very good job hiding your fluster.

“I’m so sorry- what’d you say?” You give a small laugh, partly to ease the tension in your chest and partly at the situation itself. It’s not funny, you know that. It’s terrible. So terribly ridiculous that you can’t help but laugh at yourself for getting yourself into this mess. Your hand follows through the rest of your hair in an effort to soothe yourself before falling back down at your side.

“Good to see you.” He repeats, tilting his head, taking just a few careful steps closer to you. His eyes dart to the side briefly before returning to you, “Is everything okay?”

You give another weak laugh, “Yeah, sorry. Just still in the zone.” You gesture vaguely at scattered papers and devices on the table. You don’t give him a chance to pry further, “How was it?”

He takes a moment to eye you carefully, and you are sure he’s about to call your bluff before he responds, “Remarkable.”

You swallow, breaking eye contact with him again. It’s always been hard for you to accept a compliment. You're hoping he doesn’t notice the warmth creeping up your cheeks, but you know you have absolutely no right to such a request after what you’ve done.

He clears his throat before he continues, “I promised you I would have feedback. It wasn’t easy.” He holds his notepad up briefly as he steps up to the table to carefully set it down along with your earpiece. You can see from across the table he’s got a few scribbled sentences spaced out on the notepad. You take note of his sloppy handwriting from across the table, before realizing he didn’t write in English.

He looks down at his notes and you’re thankful you have something to stare at that’s not Konig’s eyes or intimidating frame. You’re trying hard not to think about the body filling out his gear. You’ve grown so accustomed to seeing him naked that it’s almost strange to see him with his uniform on.

You can tell he takes a deep breath before continuing and you wonder briefly if he’s nervous about sharing his feedback, worried he will hurt your feelings. “You mentioned before that it scans objects?” The end of his sentence lifts, almost like he’s asking you a question, “I think it would be good to make sure that the user is always made aware of landmines. I’m positive it will save lives.”

“Yes, absolutely. That’s a great idea.” You nod as you jot his ideas down on your laptop, a reminder to update your code.

You’re happy to be talking shop. Even happier to be talking about defensive designs instead of offensive ones.

The way he rubs his bicep with his opposing hand triggers a realization. You finally look at his eyes, his still staring down at his notes, and watch him for a moment.

The idea didn’t come from thin air.

You wonder what he saw, what traumatic memories are being replayed behind the downcast eyes to inspire such an idea.

You feel an ache in your chest for him, the desire to alienate his discomfort but unequipped to do so. Instead you look at him, your eyes swollen with sympathy and the corner of your mouth pinched in a frown.

He takes a moment before looking back up at you. He notices your warped expression but misinterprets it, “Am I overstepping?”

Your voice is low and you press a hand to your heart, “No, Konig, not at all. This is very helpful.” You’re not sure what else to say to him. What do you say to a man haunted by the violence he’s witnessed?

The only thing you can do is make sure it doesn’t happen again.

You’re not working for the government anymore, you decided. You’re going to work for Konig. To tailor your device with the purpose to save and protect him.

So you stick to the topic at hand. “Any other ideas?” You ask, voice still soft with empathy as you glance down at the notes written in German.

“Uh,” He clears his throat again and touches the back of his neck over his hood, the fabric pulling a bit on the front, “Sometimes when we’re in the heat of things, I can’t always get to my remote.” He gestured to the band on his wrist. “Do you think it would be possible to have voice command?”

Your brain’s mulling over the possibility. You’re surprised you haven’t thought of it yet. You could eliminate the remote entirely, you’re sure your supervisor will be elated with the big savings on material costs. The earpiece already has a microphone for the comm, it wouldn’t be hard for you to configure it to an additional feature.

“Absolutely, voice control. That’s clever.” Your brain is already running with alternatives to the wrist remote as you type his ideas, “Do you go on a lot of missions that require stealth?” It’s easier to make eye contact with him when you’re discussing work. He nods, and you continue, “In addition to voice command, I could also add hand controls, able to identify and respond to the signal you give it - totally silent.” You tap your fingers on the table twice, “The only draw I can think of is having to memorize control signals.”

He thinks it over for a moment and shifts in his spot, “That’s even better.”

“I think it’ll be best to have both.” Your keyboard clicks under your fingers as you enter the ideas coming to you faster than you can get them down.

This is great. I’m not even thinking about-

Stop it.

“These are great, Konig, really. Anything else?”

Your encouragement makes him look away. You follow his stare as it darts to the side and then down to his notes. He places one hand on the table next to the notepad as he leans his weight onto it.

You briefly picture yourself between him and the table, his arm pinning you in as he towers over you, hunched to watch you like you’re his prey, chests so close they’re almost touching.

You quickly push the thought to the side, moving your attention back to your laptop. The only way to survive this meeting is to repress.

Repress your memories of what he looks like with his cock in his hand, arching his hips into the thrusts. Repress the sound of his moans and your name echoing clearly in your brain. Repress the guilt from the breach of privacy to the highest degree.

Please, just until we get through this.

You close your eyes and take a breath to collect yourself while he’s not looking.

He’s got other things written on the notepad, you’re sure. Unless the two ideas he’d already pitched managed to take up the whole page. “No.”

Your brows furrow, the question leaving your mouth without thought, “You’re sure?”

He pauses. You can tell he’s sitting on a thought, but you don’t know what.

“It’s okay. Like I said, it’s just a prototype. You won’t hurt my feelings.”

He straightens his posture before he speaks, “No. That was all I could think of.” He swallows, “If you feel I didn’t make good on my promise, I can fix it.”

“No, no!” You say with urgency, a hand shaking in his direction, “Those ideas you gave me were perfect. I just wanted to make sure you weren’t holding back on me.” A weak laugh escapes you. “I can’t stress how helpful this has been. I’m glad we’re doing this.”

Konig looks at you, those intimidating eyes staring at you from across the table. You wish you could see his face, hoping it would give some insight on what was going through his head. Even if you could you don’t think you’d be able to maintain eye contact.

He knows.

No, he doesn’t, shut up.

“I’ll keep thinking.” He says definitively, like he’s trying to right a wrong.

“You’ve only had it for a week,” you reassure, “Besides, you’ve given me plenty to work with.” You force a smile at him, not even caring how it’s coming off because you’re just hoping not to choke on the tension suffocating the room. You wonder if he feels it too, or if it’s all in your head.

He nods, and you look to your laptop in a futile attempt to thwart the dread suddenly pooling in your stomach. You’re reminded of what you’ve done when he crosses his arms, and your eyes are drawn to the same bicep on the arm that he used to pleasure himself. You’re picturing how it looks under his uniform, comparing it to your filthy reference. Your heart quickens and you can’t help but take in his build, even from across the long lab table. You feel extra small sitting on your stool while he stands, arms still crossed, staring.

The air between you two is definitely weird. Him getting off to probably-not-you and you watching but him not knowing that you know will certainly fill the room with a tension unlike any other.

These drawn-out silences are smothering you, not knowing what goes on being his hood.

He looks disappointed in you.

He knows.

“How can I help you in the meantime?”

You can’t help but breathe a small sigh of relief. You were planning on taking him back out to shoot house, running a few more simulations, and having him give feedback on a few more overlays.

You scrap that plan, looking forward to expanding on his ideas while your synapses are still firing.

“Well, here’s my thoughts so far. Landmine identification, the coding for that will be easy. The device already has the scanning capability for obscured objects. All I have to do is enable the specific object for full-time recognition. The hard part will be testing. I’ll have to meet with weapons development to develop prop landmines for simulation.”

You glance at the notes on your laptop, “Voice control - easy. Mic’s already installed and all I would have to do is add speech-to-text recognition, repurpose the wrist control coding, and then…testing.” Your hand finds the side of your face as you think it over, “Well, I may need to sample voice lines from you and a couple of your friends…” You loosely gesture with the same hand as you continue, “But there may be workarounds to that. Put a pin in that.” You’re on a roll now, “Now the hand controls - that might be more complicated. I’m thinking I’ll have to start fresh with the hardware.” You look up, “Then again… it already has the scanning capacity. I could probably just teach the current model with software alone. But the coding will take some time to figure out.”

Your eyes find him again. He’s staring and as per usual you can’t decipher it.

“Y’know,” you continue with a smile, “You could help me come up with hand signals?”

He nods.

He doesn’t give you much to work with, does he?

“I’ll need references of your hands. To teach the AI, is that okay?”

He looks down in a way that makes you feel so, so ashamed. If he is hesitant about recordings of just his gloved hands, how would he feel if he found out about what you did? About the video living on your phone?

After a moment he looks back up at you, “I’ll do it.” His voice is stern as usual, always treating everything with importance, with determination.

You give him another shaky smile, “Might be awhile. Wanna sit?”

He pulls up a stool to his end of the table and you instruct him to put his earpiece on as you return to your software on the laptop, trying not to trigger the memory of the last time you watched his feed. You pretend to resync your devices, glad he can’t see your screen. A wave of shame washes over you.

You’re both collaborating for some time, you offering a prompt and him stiffly coming up with a corresponding hand command. You supervise his feed, having him tilt his hands so the AI has references from multiple angles.

The rest of the meeting is professional and you manage to steady your obsessive thoughts as best you can. It’s hard to observe his hands and not think about the video, about what you watched those same hands do.

About how those hands would feel mapping all of the curves of your body.

How they would feel gripping onto your hips as you rode him.

How they would feel sneaking up your thighs, teasing you.

Somehow, you make it.

Once you decide you’ve covered enough references, Konig heads out, and you hope to continue staving off your thoughts by wasting no time on incorporating his ideas into your design. You’re hoping to have a least one rough draft done before next week’s meeting, so you plan on hunkering down and forfeit your Friday night to work overtime.

—————————————————————-

It’s late in the evening, you can tell by how your eyes are burning, strained from staring at your bright screen. You don’t bother to check the actual time. It would just bum you out. Spending your Friday night working. Not that you would have been doing anything partially exciting if you hadn’t. You probably would have just spent your evening analyzing footage anyway, just of a more perverted genre.

When you finally call it quits, the base is barren. Everyone’s gone home or retired to their quarters by now. It’s quiet after the base door shuts behind you, automatic locks clicking into place.

You’re feeling better after today’s meeting with Konig. Somewhere in the previous week you’d convinced yourself that he knew, that at any moment he was going to report you, and at any moment security would bust in the lab to escort you out.

Seeing him again, even though you couldn’t always figure out what he was thinking, reassured you that he hadn’t somehow telepathically figured out your terrible deed. You don’t think he would have bothered to keep helping you, or even be able to look at you without disgust if he did know.

The meeting also re-sparked your feelings of arousal and excitement. The knot in your lower abdomen made its presence known again. So much more desirable than the spiraling guilt. You’ve come to lean into the highs, enjoying it while you can, knowing soon you’ll be feeling nauseous at the thought of yourself.

You don’t know how much longer you can take the rollercoaster. This week has been exhausting. You can’t believe you’ve allowed this man to root himself into your life, seeping into every facet.

Career, personal, sexual, and - well, you’re still in denial about the romantic feelings - but it’s incredibly impressive how this man was capable of fucking your entire life up for the small price of a couple of hours and a few exchanged words.

When you finally get to the privacy of your home, you let out an audible groan. Loud enough to carry but quiet enough to not disturb the neighbors. You just needed to let something out, it was getting frustrating.

You didn’t want to think anymore, you didn’t want to think!

“Long day at work?”

You freeze, and the sound of heavy footsteps fill your ears. Two armed soldiers with fully equipped gear stride from the depth of your home, meeting you at the entrance.

The sight of them alone is enough to intimidate you. You instinctively back against the locked door, your trunk obscuring a hand moving towards the doorknob.

“Tsk, tsk. I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”The taller of the two soldiers wears a black balaclava with a skull stitched in, his unimpressed stare drilling into you. You hear a click, and your wide eyes lock on to the gun in his hands, pointing right at your core.

You slowly release the doorknob, raising your shaking hands so they could see your palms.

“That’s good babe,” The other soldier speaks, but you’re too busy staring down the barrel of the gun to worry about it.

“I have to admit I’m a little upset with you,” Skull-face, as you appropriately nicknamed him, speaks as his eyes bore into you, “You kept us waiting a long time.”

He’s got some sort of thick accent laced into his grave voice, they both do, actually, but you’re too busy trying not to piss your pants to be able to place the region of origin.

A lump forms in your throat and you don’t think you‘ve taken a breath since you heard the unfamiliar voice in your home.

It’s violating. Them being here. Where you go after a long day of work to relax. Where you eat, sleep, shower, and just be.

How dare they defile and taint your safe place, where you hide away and pretend the exhausting world around you doesn’t exist?

You’re stuck, unsure of your next move and paralyzed with fear.

“We think you have something we want.”

You’re not sure what they mean, but you nod in compliance anyway. Not much you can say no to against two heavily armed men. You finally break your gaze away from the gun and take turns making frightful eye contact with them. You speak after a failed attempt of swallowing your fear, voice soft and broken, “Take it.”

They exchange a knowing glance with each other, the man with his face exposed bears an irritatingly smug grin.

Skull-face approaches you threateningly, sending fear down your spine and making your skin crawl as you push yourself further into the door. He leaves no room for pleas as he flips his gun around, the stock coming down on your forehead with enough force to knock you out cold.

————————————————————-

Your splitting headache was the first thing you registered when you came to. You can’t seem to concentrate, the fog in your brain so extreme your thoughts are incoherent. You let out a meek whimper as you attempt to open your eyes, the lights in the room stunning you and intensifying the throbbing pain in your skull. You wince, closing your eyes again to block it out.

A few moments pass - and the next thing you notice is the dryness in your mouth, unable to manage a swallow from the dehydration.

Water.

The only intelligible thought you’ve had after registering your discomfort, the instinctual desire stronger than the dizzy haze clouding your brain.

You lift your head, trying to move but your weakened muscles fail you.

Your muscles are weak, yes, but what’s really keeping you in place are the restraints.

You wince again, eyes scrunched to block out the brutal light as you tug to confirm you’re secured. Your wrists were bound behind you, your shoulders overextending around the back of the chair you were planted on. Your ankles bound to either leg of the chair. There’s another restraint wrapping under your arms and around the back of the chair, keeping your upper half upright. There’s a rashy burn underneath the coarse ropes that dug into your skin as your unconscious body leaned into it.

You let out another whimper from the back of your coarse throat. While you weren’t alert, every instinct within you notified you of the danger you were in.

Gotta move.

You try to squint one eye, but it still doesn’t save you from the flash intensity of your headache. Your eyes are stinging on top of it and you realize you’re partially blinded, vision blurred and doubled, stained red with your own blood.

You grit your teach, determined to figure out where you are. You try to concentrate your vision but to no avail.

Even so, you can tell you’re not at home, and you’re not on base.

Once you make your discovery, one that expended what little willpower you had, your eyes clench back shut, desperate to alleviate the migraine.

A secondary location, you thought to yourself through the pain, I’m fucked.

You can’t hear anything, the ringing in your ears deafening you.

You let out one more defeated whine before resting your chin on your chest, pinching your eyes closed.

You have no idea how long you drift in and out of consciousness for. During the brief moments you come to, you’re so disoriented you can’t make sense of your thoughts, and that coupled with the debilitating pain in your head is unnerving enough to make you cry tears of pure confusion.

It’s your neck snapping back to follow the hair yanking on your scalp that jolts you awake, and try to open your eyes to find the threat but they’re still not working as they should. Underneath the debilitating ringing, you can hear the sound of muffled male voices, unable to make out what they’re saying.

You gave up.

You were wounded & trapped, and in nature that meant a death sentence. You were in no shape to properly defend yourself. Couldn’t see, couldn’t hear, couldn’t move, couldn’t think.

You were as done as the toast made from your own designs.

After wincing, your eyes screwed shut, you go limp and give in to the man physically controlling you like a sadistic puppeteer.

The muffled voices are louder, you still can’t make out their words but you can tell they’re having some sort of argument. They’re yelling at each other, and your scalp becomes collateral as the one tightens his grip on your hair to match his escalated volume

He’s right in your ear now and it’s not helping with the headache.

Just hurry it up, You manage through the haze, just hurry it up and put me out of my misery.

He throws your head forward to the position it was in before, slumped over as much as the ropes would allow with your chin pointed to the ground. The force rattles your skull in a way that makes you see a searing white behind your eyelids. What little water you had left in you was escaping through your swollen eyes lids and down tear-stained cheeks.

Just kill me, please.

——————————————————-

When you come to again, you’re no longer sitting. You’re flat on your back. Your neck secured so your head is in line with your spine. Your headache takes the front stage but the pain has noticeably subsided. You try to open your eyes again, but the lights above you are still excruciating.

You let out a low moan and shut your eyes again.

Your ears still ring, but a good portion of your hearing has returned to you. You hear your name, followed by, “are you awake?”

You grunt in response, unable to form sentences.

“Can you open your eyes for me?”

You wince, trying to shake your head but unable. Instead, you grunt again before parting your lips. You tried to say, “Lights,” but your voice is so hoarse it comes out broken and cracked.

“What is it?”

You try and clear your throat, putting all your power into your strained voice, “Lights.”

They understand, and while you still can’t hear the flick of the switch, you can tell from behind your eyelids they’ve been shut off.

You try to mutter a “Thank you,” but give up a quarter of the way through.

You slowly open your eyes, still burning but blood wiped away from them. Your vision is still blurry, but no longer doubled.

“Do you remember what happened?”

You try to shake your head, but can’t. So you force a weak, “No.”

“Do you know where you are?”

“No.”

“Do you know what today’s date is?”

You just grunt, closing your eyes again. You didn’t know the answer but you were too fed up with the questions to respond.

“Can you see?”

You grunt again.

“Okay, how ‘bout this? Can you wiggle your fingers for me?”

You try to lift your arm in the direction of the voice but your action is cut short, your arm jerked still by a restraint on your wrist. You open and close your fingers slowly at the maximum range the restraint will allow.

“How ‘bout your toes?”

Your toes move slightly, your calves aching at even such a mild movement.

“Good, thank you. How’s the hearing?”

Kill me or leave me alone, you think.

You eventually freeze the owner of voice out, finally leaving you alone to rest.

The next few days are a miserable, confusing blur. Somewhere along the way you’re informed you’re in medical, being treated for your extreme concussion. No skull fracture, thankfully, but they suspect the bruising is severe if it was enough to knock you unconscious.

The concussion had scrambled you good, and you were not nearly as sharp as you usually are.

It took you a whole five days, not that you could keep track of the passing time, before you realized that you were not at medical on your base.

You were in medical, restrained to a hospital bed-

in enemy care.

————————————————————

There was nothing you could do. Restrained to your bed, sedated with painkillers when they thought you were becoming too active.

“To help you rest.” They told you, but you couldn't trust a word that came out of their mouths.

Medics are supposed to be neutral, bound to an ethical code to heal the injured, enemy or not. That didn’t stop some medics from harboring grudges after years of patching up their own soldier’s brutal wounds of war.

The next time the medicine wears off for a long amount of time, with no medics in sight, you conveniently get visitors, the soldiers that had visited you in your home.

The events had been beaten out of you, but the traumatic event had seeped somewhere deeper into your psyche, and you knew deep down you were in trouble at the mere sight of them.

Skull-face especially, you don’t know how or why, but your intuition tells you he’s responsible for this. “Ready to answer some questions? Or do you need me to put you back to sleep?”

You can tell by the sharp edge in his voice he doesn’t mean the painkillers.

“Maybe I’d be able to answer your questions if you hadn’t given me brain damage.” Your patience is running thin, and an ember ignites a flame inside you, “Who knows what information you knocked out of me.” You stare directly into his eyes, brows furrowed, the tone of your voice inviting trouble in.

He already took everything away from you. At this point you don’t care if he puts you under. You’re begging him too. Every time you wake up you just want to go back to sleep. You don’t want to deal with it, any of it.

Skull-face makes a move to advance but the maskless soldier stops him by putting an arm out, laying it firmly across his to hold him back.

You don’t flinch, eyes now staring down the soldier with a stubbled jaw and a mohawk that ended in a widow's peak. It’s a haircut you find highly unusual for a soldier.

Your face doesn’t crack, but you squint at the pair, “What do you even want to know? I don’t even work on the field, I have no information.”

Skull-face looks down at you, “Oh, we know.” That stupid accent and that stupid mask. If you weren’t restrained you think you would have launched at him, risking it all to get a few good scratches in with your fingernails. He reaches into his pocket and your eyes widen and your brows retract at what he pulls out.

Not a weapon, no.

It’s your design, the AI-powered earpiece, and your wrist remote.

Skull-face notices the realization that sets across your face, “Awh, looks like your memory is working fine after all.”

The flame inside you laps at your skin, your features flushing with anger. A lot at Skull-face, for being such a cocky prick, but mostly at yourself.

You did this yourself. You figured your day of reckoning would come eventually. That karma would bite you in the ass, and those who are affected by your designs will stand by and laugh at your demise.

You should have just stuck with redesigning kitchen appliances.

“Why don’t you show us what you’ve been cooking up, huh? We know you’ve been busy.”

The pair share another knowing glance, Mohawk snickering at your expense.

“How did you get that?” You ask through gritted teeth, knowing there’s no way they could have gotten into the highly secured base.

“What is it?” Skull-face asks.

“It’s an intercom.” You grit, the ache in your head pulsing. You miss the painkillers.

“Don’t lie.”

“I’m not.”

Mohawk steps in, “It’s okay, we all get embarrassed about our porn.”

You furrow your brows at him.

What the hell was he talking about?

Skull-face elbows him in the side, but it doesn’t keep his partner from smiling, “What is it?” He asks again.

“It’s an intercom.”

He’s getting sick of this game and he goes to step to you again but Mohawk cuts him short. “Ghost!” He says firmly.

Ghost, that was Skull-faces name. Or call sign, at least. You hated him, but you’d wished the other soldier would just let him at you. You didn’t care anymore.

Mohawk looks at you, “Look, there’s only so much I can do,” gesturing to Ghost, “Can’t we all just get along for a little bit, yeah?”

“How about you get along with deez nuts.” You laugh at your dumb joke, a laugh influenced by the daze of concussion and painkillers. You’re in hysteria, the laugh spills out and doesn’t let up. A release of built-up stress and frustration and anger that seeped out uncontrollably. Cackling at yourself for ending up in this situation. Only you would be capable of such hijinks. The laugh leaves you out of breath and with eyes full of tears. You don’t even care how it exacerbates the headache, or how you’re coming off as insane. It feels too good to let out the pent-up emotions, one way or another.

Your elation is cut short with a squeak as a gloved hand cuts harshly into your trachea. Ghost squeezes, roughly lifting you by the neck before shoving you back down on the hospital bed, his grip tighter than before. His voice is low and filled with caution, “I am getting sick of you.”

If you could breathe enough to talk, you’d tell him the feeling’s mutual. Instead you gag and sputter, which he takes as a sign that you are still getting air, and forces more of his weight onto your neck.

Your hands fail to defend yourself, the restraints holding you from fighting back. You’re getting close to blacking out, your laugh having already knock most of the wind out of you, but Mohawk pulls Ghost off of you, his hands firm on Ghost’s shoulders, “Stop! Stop.”

You involuntarily gasp, desperate for air, trying not to choke on your own spit. For a moment all you can hear is the blood rushing in your ears, flowing desperately to replace what Ghost restricted.

“Come on, last try.” He warns, and you can tell in your voice he means it.

You eye him carefully, still heaving for air. When you collect yourself, you speak, “I’ll show you.” You say, voice weak and breathy. You try to hold out your hand, but get stopped by the restraints.

Mohawk glances at Ghost, but Ghost keeps his stern eyes trained on you. He stays still for a moment, studying you with his arms crossed.

You roll your eyes, your chest still huffing as you reclaim your air, “Don’t trust me? Fine. I’ll walk you through it. Put the fucking bracelet on.”

He stares for another moment before taking the device from Mohawk. Must of handed it off so he could strangle you better.

He puts it on his wrist.

“Now tap the top.”

He follows your instructions, the wrist remote’s projection displaying above his wrist.

“Go ahead and open your settings.” You guide him through it, activating a few select overlays. “You got it. Now put the earpiece on.”

Ghost hesitates, looking over to his companion before he slowly reaches up underneath his balaclava, attaching the earpiece.

“Yep, and while you’re in there, go ahead and hit the button on the base.”

You watch as your design activates, displaying the transparent overlay over his eyes. He’s taken aback, unnerved by the unidentified design being so close to his vulnerable eyes.

“Ta-da!” You say sarcastically, showing off the full range of the restraints as you offer weak jazz hands. “So I’ve given you some information. Maybe you can give me a little information, yeah?”

He doesn’t say anything as he removes his hand from his mask.

“Where am I?” You ask.

“You know where you are.”

“How’d you find me?”

“We tracked your cell phone.”

You squint, “Why were you tracking my phone?” It doesn’t make any sense, there’s no way they would have been able to pin your cell phone information back to base. You don’t use it for work and there’s no way you had connected to the private Wi-Fi. It’s apples and oranges, you think.

Mohawk steps in front of Ghost and holds out his phone in your direction. It takes a moment for the image to come into view, your vision still impaired. When your eyes adjust, the screen shows you something that makes your blood turn cold.

It’s the video of Konig jerking off.

“Okay! Okay.” You wave your hands, “Just put that away, I get it.”

When you connected your phone to your software to transfer the recording of Konig, it briefly connected to your laptop.

Base internet has state-of-the-art firewalls and encryptions to prevent surveillance, hack-in, key logs.

Cell phones do not.

So they’ve been tracking you all week, and who knows what kind of information they were able to pull from your software? From your laptop, containing dozens of government secrets?

No, you think, they wouldn’t be going through the trouble of keeping me alive if they had the information on my laptop.

“What’s the matter? Embarrassed that gettin’ your rocks off caused a security breach in confidential information regarding warfare development?” Mohawk mocks.

Well, yes you were, now that he mentions it. You’re actually very worried your perverted little stunt will somehow end up forever immortalized in history books.

In the moment, though, your main concern was making sure that Konig wouldn’t find out, as you had started transmitting the device’s feed to him as soon as Ghost turned the earpiece on.

Part Three

#könig cod #könig mw2 #konig x you #konig x reader #call of duty #fic #smut #konig fic #modern warefare ii #konig #konig call of duty #könig call of duty #könig #konig modern warfare #konig mw2 #experimental #x reader #uhohwriting

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quitealotofsodapop · 1 year ago

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Hello!! I would like to do some fanart for the ship children for each of the kids of the wukongverse except I can't really find some descriptions for some of them, like keto and rahu who I think were only mentioned once(??) Do you by chance have a link for them or a tag?

Of course! I always welcome fanart of my aus or ideas! ^♡^

I'll try to do decent descriptions for all ze babies/fan children.

Lego Monkie Kid - Shadowpeach (multiple aus);

Zàoyīn & Bàoliè/"Rumble & Savage" - tiny black-furred baby monkeys with red face masks + Macaque's dark skin. Get into a lot of havoc despite being the size of marmosets. Develop little red "tiger stripes" on their limbs and tails as they get older. Rumble has natural six-ears.

Yuebei Xing - the baby girl herself and star of the SlowBoiled au. Tiniest black furball ever. Big blue eyes (often caused by eating LBD's soul). And a white skull-shaped face marking. Grows to be much taller than either parent. Here's some super cute fanart done by @teatime-at-4 + teenage Yuebei by @soniclozdplove + an older version of her done in the LMK OC Picrew.

Jidu & Luohuo - born shortly after Yuebei, and named for the lunar nodes/phenomena making them the "Nodelets". Furs are a mix of orange and black like tortoiseshell cats. Both have four purple and orange ears. Very mischievous.

Luzhen - technically Wukong's little brother, depending on the au. Looks like a little clone of him, but with deep blue eyes. Loves music.

Ziqi - newest baby idea. Named for the last Lunar phenomena (Perigee/a supposed "shadow planet") not given a character in Journey to the South. Surprise baby. Pure black (like a shadow) with hazy purple eyes, and face marking.

+some lovely human glamour designs made by @soniclozdplovesonic for the Post Jttw Stone Egged au. I praise their work openly, they are amazing.

Monkey King Hero is Back - ReboundedHeroes;

Xiaoyun/"Little Cloud" - born from a mysterious cloud-patterned Stone Egg. Egg was damaged before hatching; causing the right eye, right ear(s), and right arm not to develop correctly. Pure white fluffy fur, like a cloud. Very small and skinny due to being born premature. Very adventurous, gives his parents frequent heart attacks.

Yǔ Sōng & Xuě Bào - Twin girls born sometime into the family's Journey across the kingdoms. Look like little toasted macaroons with six ears each, and violet eyes. Develop their baba's red-auburn when they grow up.

+Shui Lian - Adopted. AU form of the White-Faced Vixen. Due to timeline changes, the "vixen" is rather only a pre-teen kit. Has albinism and is unable to hide her fox ears and tail despite mostly-human form.

Monkey King Reborn - Fruitiedads;

Xiao Qi - Fruitie/Qi Energy reborn as a Stone Monkey egg by sheer willpower. Fur so white it look transparent. Pink skin + pink heart-shaped face marking. Big smiley baby. Looks like a fairytale prince.

Xiao Lü - reincarnation of Yuandi/Primordium created when Nüwa tricked Smokey/SWK into creating a clay figure to house the primordial soul - which became a new stone egg. Pure black fur, light skin, and no noticeable face marking as if yet. Has little grey "shoes" on the fur around her feet - hence the name.

5 False Ginseng Fruit Babies - complete and utter accident on the monkeys part. Smokey tried growing the pit from the Ginseng fruit he ate in hopes that the resulting tree could help reinvigorate the damaged FFM. Liang/LEM watered/tended to the tree while he was gone. It did not in fact bare Ginseng Fruit - but five whole newborn monkey cubs - all named after stone fruits. Current draft of the au places their "fruiting" after the Journey once everyone's come home. More detailed post here.

Lìzhī & Hǎizǎo - Twins. Born at the crux of the Journey. Accidentally delivered inside the Thunderclap Monastery. Look like miniature versions of Smokey, tiny brown furred grumpy things.

+Zhu Yu & Ku Ai / Wood Wolf Siblings - Adopted. The children of Kui Mulang/Revati/Yellow Robed Demon and the Princess Baihuaxiu. After the stray star wolf entity was captured, the Princess wanted nothing to do with her half-wolf children (given that they were conceived in less than ideal circumstances) and the human king wanted them destroyed. The pilgrims take the little werewolves into their group. Older girl and younger boy, both below the age of seven. Mix of brown and grey fur/hair like regular wolf pups. Think the kids from Wolf Children Ami & Yuki.

Monkey King 2023/Netflix - CherryandOliveStones;

Xiaoshi - created when Cherry/SWK wanted to see if he could make "another him" from clay and a pebble after he had learned the story of Nüwa. Clay Egg became a real Stone Egg. Xiaoshi has bright orange fur and light briwn face markings. Rarely doesn't have paint or ink in his fur. Link to some amazing art done by @tsa-smth.

Hǔpò & Zhēnzhū aka "The Pebbles" - natural babies. Look like little clones of their LEM (black fur with white accents) with their dear baba's green eyes.

Luzhen (yes another one) - miniature version of Cherry/SWK. Possible little brother.

New Gods series - Jackpotshipping;

Xiaozhēn - dumpster baby. Possible half-monkey demon. Fluffy brown fur, built like a dad - cus he is one. Is in his 30s demon-wise. Has kids of his own.

Unnamed newborn twins nicknamed "Two Pair" (x) - dark fur and brown eyes. One baby is an attempted changeling - but they aren't sure which one.

Meihouwang 2009 - Peachbuds;

Ketu & Rahu - a pair of twins, one a loose Stone Egg that arrived in a comet, the other an egg formed naturally between the parents (they're all grown up by now ofc). Both have a mix of silver and gold fur, like their parents when they were younger. Rahu has six ears. Here's the post you mentioned!

Smash Legends - FabledConnections;

No definite kids, but I'd imagine they'd be a mix of black and white fur. Like tuxedo cats.

No kids planned for the 1999/2000 Legends cartoon pair (yet)

Thank you so much for your interest in all of this - I try to keep all these ideas under the tag #jttw inspo fan children when I can. If you decide to make fanart for any of these babies (or the parents), make sure to @ me so I can see!

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penvisions · 1 year ago

Text

one fish, two fish {chapter 2}

Pairing: Local! Frankie Morales x Transplant! Reader

Summary: Reaching out and another chance encounter undoes the wonderful night you shared with Frankie. But maybe a chance encounter with his friend from the bar can undo all that...

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: canon typical language, canon typical bad luck, angst, unlucky encounters, misunderstandings, reader gets ghosted, then frankie gets ghosted, feelings of inadequacy, recovery, ptsd symptoms, past drug use, na meeting setting, conversations with a sponsor, a lot of feelings, reader has imposter syndrome, rude people, entitlement, workplace politics, degrading language, reader has a callsign nickname but no assigned name, lemme know if i missed any (nicely) please!

A/N: kind of scared to post this, i know i have other fics that are 'due for' an update but inspiration is low as i prepare to start working again and recoup from a camping trip. this'll be the heaviest chapter, wanting to do more fluff for this fic and go back to funny moments and silly times with frankie! thank y'all for reading and as always, hope the days are good to you ♡♡

ao3 link || series masterlist || frankie masterlist || ko-fi

Radio check for Fish, come in Fish.

Read out loud and clear, Angel. Go ahead for Fish.

Roger that, requesting communication.

Request granted. Glad you’re back on the airwaves. Everything okay?

Affirmative.

Copy that. Standby…

Phone poised in hand, you wait for the speech bubble to pop back up, indicating his return to the conversation. But when half an hour, an hour goes by you sigh and load the inactive thing into your bag to continue your errands. After a rather frustrating visit to the phone provider you had chosen, a weak argument of ‘but it was an accident’ when told that the damage to the phone looked purposeful and just in time for the newest phone release, you had sat down at a coffee shop to grab breakfast and set up the new device. Now though, you guessed it was time to get the rest of the day’s errands done.

The paper Frankie had handed you nearly a week ago had found itself tacked to the half corkboard, half whiteboard calendar you kept in the kitchen. Your eyes sliding to it more often than you’d like to admit as you made dashes through in the morning on the way to work or cooked in the evenings.

An entire week goes by and you try to put it out of your mind. New phone heavy in your hands when you settle with it on the edge of the couch, or check it each morning before work, at the office on your lunch break. But no new messages come in, just that once funny copy that, standby. Standby…. Standby….

You had thought things were getting better, but the girls at work were being weird and conversations hushed whenever you walked into the breakroom or entered the bathroom and more than two were together. You hadn’t even bothered to bring up the fact that they ditched you at the bar the night you officially met Frankie…because it didn’t matter.

They had done it and it was over. If it had been intentional then that was on you for not seeing through their false offers of genuine camaraderie. If it had been accidental, then that was on you for not noticing how short their attention spans were. If it had been to give you a chance to go home with the not one, but two guys that approached you the second you were alone, then it was appreciated but a bit vapid of an assumption of what type of person you were.

The atmosphere at work and the novelty of being a new person to the team had quickly vanished. You were now the one whose desk was piled high with files and sticky note reminders of tasks to complete that carried over into the next day in an endless cycle. The routine of it all was so monotonous and draining.

Wake up, breakfast, commute.

Work, lunch, return emails about work that won’t be finished.

Commute, run, prep lunch, make dinner, clean.

Shower, pace the house, sleep.

It was dizzying as much as the errant thoughts of visiting one of the dance clubs downtown and tracking down the sirens call of pills or powder, anything to help you get out of your head and the endlessly swirling thoughts of doing everything wrong.

But you couldn’t, even if relapse was a part of recovery. It was not a part you wanted to end up being complicit with, one you were trying to avoid with every fiber of your being. The feeling of drowning and sinking down to the bottom of the ocean an all too real one that consumes you from the second you wake up to the second you finally pass out at the end of the day. Waterlogged clothing and the weight of water in your lungs too real.

Memories of turbulent water and debris raining down into it all around you only adding to the chaos of your mind.

You could hear the higher pitched prattle of a little girl on the next aisle over and you find yourself smiling despite the exhaustion that makes your body heavy. The basket hanging from your arm is laden with a bunch of bananas, a few other fruits, a carton of coffee creamer, and a pack of gummy sharks. Just one more thing to gather was a box of oatmeal, on the cereal aisle that you turn on.

There’s the broad back of Frankie, standing in front of one of the larger carts the store offers for shoppers. He’s quietly speaking to someone on the other side of the cart, eclipsed by the big form of him. The cart is nearly full though, you can see the colored boxes and wrappers of various foods inside as he leans over to grab a box of plain corn flakes.

You’re about to call out to him, your cheek tingling where he had pressed his plush lips to you nearly two weeks ago now. But a shrill peel of happy laughter from a child that is revealed to be in the seat of his cart.

“Daaaaddy, that’s the wrong one, silly! We need the frosted corn flakes.” Daddy. Dad. Frankie was a father. Your entire body freezes as you’re faced with the reason for his radio silence for the past several days. He had been so…charming and down to earth once the miscommunication had been cleared up but apparently he hadn’t shared with you one of the biggest parts of himself.

“No, mija, we don’t.” His shoulders are shaking with his own laughter as he places the box into the cart and goes to pull it behind him as he nears closer to you in front of the oatmeal. The little girl in his cart turns her eyes toward you, catching sight of your surprised expression.

“Dad! That girl is really pretty, her dress is so cute!”

“Who- Oh.” He’s looking up from the suddenly too bright boxes of cereal with their mascots and large block lettering. His eyes widen and he looks like he’s been caught, something you don’t have the energy to dissect at the moment. But one thing is glaringly obvious, he’s a father and family man. You went out on what was essentially a first date with a man who had a family. The realization slams into you and you’re blindly grabbing the closest box of oatmeal, throwing it into your basket before turning on your feet and fleeing to the checkout lanes.

“A-“ But before he could even get your name out you were down the aisle and turning out of sight, heart beating far too fast and anxiety thrumming. The entire process of checking out and paying for your groceries was a blur, you weren’t even sure if you thanked the cashier or bid her a good day. The slam of your car door was loud as you quickly shut it behind you. The image of him across from you in a diner, the easy conversation and goodnight kiss now tainted with the fact that he hadn’t been responsive and was a father. He could very well have a wife or girlfriend and you hadn’t even thought to ask that of him, his behavior so willing to help clear the air and ensure you had a way home.

Had you misread the vibe?

Had you just not picked up on the signals he was giving you, reading too much into the shared meal?

Had you done wrong by not asking?

The what ifs plagued you as you made your way back home, realizing that you weren’t too far from where he lived, most likely with his family. Your stomach churns and your temples throb, your lunch not settling well in the wake of your fast exit.

A migraine, you’ve worked yourself up to the point of a migraine.

The rest of your evening is spent putting the groceries away, brewing a small pot of coffee, and taking a too hot, too long shower before laying down in total darkness. You don’t flip on a switch for lights for the entire weekend as you try to keep the curtains drawn over the windows and the sounds down to a minimum as the pounding in your head persists. You don’t hear your phone go off in your purse by the front door but even if you had, you wouldn’t have known how to respond through squinting eyes.

When you manage to drag yourself out of bed on Monday, the world is still too bright and loud, but you have to get to work. Calling out would be a bad reflection and you didn’t want to disappoint the boss, someone who knew someone in your family. A favor, that you had been considered for the job in the first place, especially in a new city where you had no experience or connections. The entirety of your screen was grouped messages from your brother, from your coworkers asking after emails you hadn’t responded to. One voicemail from a mechanic to check out the weird sound your car was making when you braked, too tired to look into it yourself. And then there was the block of notifications from Fish.

Two questioning texts in the joking manner dragged on from the previous thread he had abandoned. A single one of your actual name, asking if everything was okay and if you could just message him back to let him know. A missed call and a voicemail.

‘Hey, um, so I realize how that may have looked. At the grocery store. I just…I wanted to apologize- again, for the way our interactions seem to spiral. But I swear to you, I was going to tell you. I get it if…if you don’t want to see me again or feel like you can’t trust me even if you only did for those few hours in the diner. But…I really do like you, Angel. You’re…never mind. Just…reach out if you need anything or a nudge in the right direction for businesses and shops….Bye.”

You weren’t sure what to think, emotions warring with each other inside your chest and mind. The deep velvet of his voice soothing even if you didn’t want it to be. The words never mind repeating in your head over and over again. But the one thing you were sure of was that this job was turning out not to be the one for you. The pile of files stacked on your desk was so tall you could see it across the room, the cubicle partition doing nothing to hide them from view.

The seat is barely squeaking with your weight when your boss is approaching you with a too sweet smile and a big hand on the back of your chair. His fingers brush the hair you’ve kept down today to avoid another wave of the migraine that had kept you down all weekend. The sunglasses you had worn the entire drive downtown had been only mildly helpful. Your hopeful mood for a decent day swirls from your chest and down to the bottom of your stomach, settling heavily.

“My office. End of day.”

“Yes, sir, of course.”

The day is a blur of emails, finishing up file notes that aren’t even under your name, of a salad you forgot to add dressing to, and finally you’re sitting across from the boss with your bag settled in your lap.

“It’s been brought to my attention that you’re having trouble finishing daily tasks. Most are being started either too late in the day or the day after they were due.”

“I’ve submitted everything assigned to me on time. And while I have no problem with the additional tasks, the submissions that are late tend to be the ones dropped off on my desk after I return from lunch.”

“Then perhaps you need to skip lunch in order to ensure the get completed.” He’s not even looking up from the paperwork he’s going over, the scratch of his ballpoint pen never stopping as he makes notes on it and circles large chunks of text.

“Excuse me?”

“There have been a few complaints that you aren’t doing enough to aid your superiors, they rely on new people to help pick up the slack. The files moved under your name for completion often go undone. A few complaints have been made about the language of your email signoffs as well. The phrase ‘passive-aggressive’ has been brought up.”

“So I’m getting reprimanded for work other people aren’t completing? And then scrutinized for the more than professional communications I ensure to include when emailing finished work to the people responsible for it?”

“We all work together here, there is no ‘my work, her work, his work’. We all help each other to get stuff done in a timely manner.”

“There certainly is. I have files assigned to me, Shannon has files assigned to her. Mark has filed assigned to him. Even if their files are dropped off on my desk to be done, that doesn’t negate the fact that they aren’t assigned to me.”

“Then perhaps you need to start taking work home. But at home hours are a privilege, so there will be no compensation for-“

“I quit.”

“Excuse me?” He finally looks up from the paperwork, surprise coloring his features.

“I quit, I’m not about to play office politics with you all. If someone has a problem with my work or the way I speak, then they should confront me and not run off to HR. I haven’t done anything wrong to warrant this write up.”

“I see…” His hands are clasped over that damn document, the pen neatly lined up beside it. He’s schooled his face into one of thinly veiled politeness, but you can see the disappointment in his eyes.

“Yup, thank you for the opportunity.” You go to shoulder your bag, the strap falling from your fingers as his next words. It thuds to the floor, but you don’t reach for it.

“Not much of those for…someone like you.” He’s not even looking at you, his eyes focused on the bag partially opened on the floor. On the prescription bottle peeking out from the now busted zipper.

“A simple ‘thank you for your service’ goes a long way, you know. But it’s nice to know you don’t really give a fuck what I’ve sacrificed for you all to sit here in your offices all day and make fun of me for how I dealt with the things I’ve see and experienced.”

“Most people don’t turn to hard drugs to deal with the difficulties of life.” The words sting as they cut into your chest, the judgement and disgust aching. It’s always shocking, the ways in which people react to the way your life had played out. The way you had no choice in how it played out. The drugs hadn’t been your choice nor your preferred poison. The allure of them had been born of a too strong prescription, written for you at the same time the paperwork for your retirement had been drawn up.

“And what’s so hard about your life? The fact that you’re sleeping with your secretary and you don’t want your wife to find out? Oh, the cliché of it all. You dug that hole yourself, put yourself in that situation.”

“And you put yourself in the situation of serving during a war.” But you’re even less prepared for the words as they slice into you, digging deeper than the first. You’re sure blood is visible through the silk of your office appropriate top, the blazer over your shoulders allowing for the damage to be seen across the pristine desk.

“Fuck you.”

“Don’t put this job down on your resume, you won’t be getting any kind words from me should another employer call.” The dismissal is expected, the call he’s sure to make to inform your family friend is as well. A call to you in the evening already draining what little energy you had and it hadn’t even happened yet.

“Gotcha.” Chair clattering as you stand, you don’t even return to your desk or retrieve your Tupperware from the sink in the breakroom. You feel the eyes of too curious people follow you as you cross the open space, whispers sprouting as soon as you pass. Fuck them, fuck all of them. You need a job but not bad enough to put up with whatever fresh hell was going on there.

You’re blinded by the brightness of the outside world when you push through the front door, the lady at the front desk bidding you a good day in too chipper of a mood for you current ability to handle. Your breath is punched from you as you collide with something solid. You feel hands grip your upper arms and help prevent you from careening to the ground.

“Woah, hey. Oh! You’re the woman Fish was talking about! The one from the bar.” You glimpse that tightly curled, dark hair over a handsome face as you steady yourself and step back. Brown eyes so bright in the sunlight they remind you of Frankie’s in the fluorescents of the diner and your stomach flutters.

But it’s his friend, not him. Right outside your former place of employment, the attempt at a new life that was quickly crumbling from under your feet.

“Yeah, your buddy is a real piece of work.” Tone scathing, you can’t help the way it curls your lips as it’s given breath. Ire at yourself and shame at the way you had hoped for the smallest moment that he would turn out to be something good filling your chest uncomfortably.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He’s taken aback by the bite in your tone, his easy smile turning upside down, jaw clenching tight as he watches you with narrowed eyes. Defensive, not something you were willing to deal with as you feel your fingers twitch and your stomach drop. The flare of emotion dissipating as soon as it had flared to life.

“Just…forget it. I’m sorry, I just quit my job and I’m a little…”

“Let’s grab a coffee, I’m sure we can work out something.” He’s so earnest, his dark brown eyes catching the afternoon rays of sun. Such a small, well-meaning smile making your heart soften and your quick judgement of the man back at the bar melt away.

“I don’t know you and you don’t know me, what-“

“I work for the PD and one of the guys in our friend group, he works for the military still. Does recruitment and works in the VA. I know we need-“

“I’m not interested in another tour, I’m retired. Probably wouldn’t even qualify.” You cut him off still, unable to even begin to entertain the thought of donning a uniform again. Of the slick updo you had mastered to pull all of your hair up and out of the way. Your skin prickles as the hot feeling of shrapnel embedding itself into your side blooms, all to real as you stand in the middle of the sidewalk downtown.

“No, no, god no. I wouldn’t either to be honest. But depending on your skill set I know they need mechanics and technicians. Explosives expert, right? Means you’ve got engineering skills.”

“How do you know about that?”

“Fish was very chatty after your little diner date.”

“That was three weeks ago.” Denial is on the tip of your tongue at his description, but that’s what it had been: a date. With a man who hadn’t told you of his family.

“Yeah, and he’s been a bit of a bummer since you haven’t contacted him since.”

“Look,-“

“Santiago Garcia. Pope was my callsign. Whichever you prefer.” His large hand is warm as it reaches for the one you were trying to wave him off with. Electricity sparks and you feel it travel up your arm, momentarily shocking you before you pull your hand away. A sheepish smile and mumbled apology from him at the mishap lightens the mood a little, something about how the shirt he’s wearing has been making it a common occurrence today. The need to go shopping for more dryer sheets humanizing him further.

“Look, Santiago. I appreciate what you’re trying to do but I just really want to go home and eat my weight in Chinese takeout, okay?”

“Okay, I get that. Believe me, I more than get that, but-“ He’s pulling out his wallet, a thick card is being offered to you with his name and contact information printed on it. “Just consider it, yeah? We all gotta stick together, civilians don’t understand even if they try to. We can find you work, something that’ll keep your hands busy and your mind occupied. Office work doesn’t suit you, you shouldn’t have to subject yourself to it, okay?”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Good enough for me, hermosa.” And with another charming smile, he’s back on his way down the street, his destination unknown to you. Sighing, you pocket the card and make your way around the building, waving at the security guard that walked up and down the block throughout the day. Your truck is dirty, washing it pushed back further and further as a storm closes in on the coast and inevitably travels inland toward you. The thought of heavy rain and whipping winds turning you off from the waste of water, suds, and an afternoon you could spend looking at things to do around the city.

When you go to turn the key, nothing happens. No clicking, no beeping of the dash lighting up, nothing.

“Fuck.”

Shrugging out of your blazer, you fix your hair up in a messy bun to get it out of your face and pop open the hood. But it’s useless, everything looks to be in working order. Leaving only the possibility of the alternator or battery having died and left you stranded. You’re sure you have a reader for the battery…at home in the garage. The card shoved in your back pocket burns into your skin, prompting you to pull it away and dial the numbers printed in a nice font.

Two rings and it picks up.

“Santigo, it’s Angel.” He doesn’t ask what’s wrong or if you’re okay. Only your location.

“I’m just down the street, turning back around now. The parking lot just behind the building?”

“Yes, I- thank you, Santiago.”

“No problem at all, hermosa.”

“You said you need engineers? Where exactly?” He’s looked over the mechanics of the vehicle just as you did, diagnosing the problem exactly the same. Something unable to be fixed at the moment. He glances up at you under his long lashes as he types out something on his phone, an instant response buzzing.

“Someone should be here in a few, my friends are just down a few blocks. One of them owns a gym and we hit up the dive bar across from it every Monday.”

Nodding, you try to recall the buildings he’s talking about. But you haven’t explored as much as you’ve wanted too. Throwing yourself into work and trying to play catch up on building secondary savings. The help to purchase a home welcome, but the house needed work that was only discounted, not covered.

“There’s a flight school not too far outside the city, where recruits are sent. They need some help that isn’t gonna up and leave them, assignments are up and they need someone reliable.”

“I don’t know how to fly.” Fleeting hope deflates and you really wish your emotions weren’t so easily pulled from you. The weekend you spent hiding away proved to have been more draining than you anticipated. But he soothes the furrow of your brow with two fingers and a hint of his teeth as he smiles at you, so close you can feel the heat of chest.

“They’ve got a few solid instructors. Fish has been pulling doubles doing the repairs and the lessons. They need a mechanic and an engineer, something tells me you’d be the perfect fit.”

You can only see the genuine way in which he’s willing to help reflected back at you, his eyes open and his smile charming. A smile is spreading across your own lips falters as the sound of a vehicle turning into the lot catches your attention. There are two figures visible through the windshield. A blonde man is backing into the spot your truck faces, concentration steeling his features. And from underneath the bill of a worn hat and through a pair of dark aviators, Frankie Morales is staring at you.

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#dev writes #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfiction #frankie morales #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie catfish morales #callsign nicknames #frankie morales fanfic #frankie morales fluff #frankie morales fic #frankie morales series #santiago pope garcia #santiago garcia #frankie friday

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violet-1atte · 2 years ago

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Kinktober Day Four: Monsterfucking - Chan/Felix

Tags: Demon!Chan, summoning, demon summoning, abnormal genitalia, no lube, mild pain kink, dom/sub undertones, bottom!Felix, top!Chan, dom!Chan, mild fear play

I forgot to post this lmao

AO3 Link

This was a bad idea. Felix knew that very well. He wasn’t the brightest but he had a pretty good head on his shoulders. He was smart and he did well enough in school. He just wasn’t always the best at thinking logically, which he was told often. In this situation, he knew that logically, he probably shouldn’t be doing this. He just went against his better thinking.

Felix set the summoning book he had bought from some shady guy on the internet on his bed, open to the page he wanted. The book listed countless summoning spells and for all kinds of different entities, but Felix had one in particular in mind. An incubus. To put it lightly, Felix was desperate. He lived in a small, rural area and went to a small university and the prospects there were little to none. No one knew how to fuck him the way he wanted to be fucked and he was so sexually frustrated he could cry. His friend Jisung had offered a helping hand, as bros of course, but Jisung was far more submissive than Felix was and the exact opposite of what he needed. Of course, Jisung probably didn’t mean for him to take it literally when he said that at this point he should summon an incubus to come help him, but Felix took it that way.

He honestly didn’t fully believe it would work. If it didn’t work then no one had to know he had such a deep lapse in judgment and he could move on with his life, forever sexually frustrated. If it did work, he could possibly end up with the best fuck of his life and never be the same again. He could also end up accidentally selling his soul to the devil, but that was something for his future soul to worry about. And because of the parts of him that did not believe in this whole thing in the first place, he wasn’t all that worried. He really should have been more worried.

He took a deep breath, double checking that everything in his summoning circle was set up correctly. His heart was racing and his palms were sweating and he could feel the hairs on the back of his neck standing up, but he wasn’t backing out. He was going to do this.

Once he had everything set up, he picked up the book and began to read. The words sounded like gibberish and his voice wobbled as he spoke, sounding all too loud in the quiet room. His hands shook a little as his words echoed back to him, bouncing off the walls. The flames on the candles he had lit flickered and yet there was no wind. The closer he got to being done with the incantation, the more his heart raced and his stomach swooped with nervousness. He could feel something, something strong, like something was waiting for him behind an invisible wall that he was about to break.

As soon as he reached the end of the spell there was…nothing. His room was just as quiet as it had been before he started speaking. The candles had stopped flickering, leaving Felix to wonder if it was just his imagination.

He sighed and closed the book. “Bummer,” he muttered to himself. He knelt down to begin putting out the candles so that he could put everything away, but out of nowhere, a breeze swirled around him and blew all the candles out. He didn’t even have his window opened.

He shivered and swallowed thickly, slowly moving to stand up. Goosebumps rose all over his arms and he held his breath, waiting. Then, the floor began to shake. “Shit–” he gasped, reaching out for something to grab as he stumbled backwards. His light began to flicker and the air in the room started to heat up. He began to sweat and he couldn’t tell if it was from the fear or from the heat in the room. A disembodied laugh followed the heat and Felix’s breathing picked up. He shouldn’t have done this. He should have known it would be a bad idea, it would be dangerous. He hoped his mom and Jisung knew he loved them.

The laugh grew louder and Felix started backing up, preparing to run. Before he could move another muscle though, something invisible held him back and flames erupted from the middle of the circle he’d created. Tears sprung to his eyes as the flames grew higher, heating his skin. He was going to die.

He closed his eyes and clenched his teeth, willing himself to be strong. If he didn’t think, it would all be over soon. The earth would be rid of his stupidity and he would hopefully make it to the afterlife. But then the scalding heat of the fire was gone, and the room was cool again.

But there was another presence.

Felix felt a warm hand on his cheek and what felt like claws scraping along his skin. His heart thundered loudly against his chest.

“Why do you look so scared, pretty? You did call for me, didn’t you?”

Felix exhaled shakily and slowly opened his eyes. As soon as he did, he let out a gasp. The creature was mere inches away from his face and he was all parts beautiful and terrifying. His eyes were an inky black and they bored into his soul, swallowing him up. Black curly hair fell across his forehead and two blood-red horns jutted out from the top of his head, bending and curling at the ends. They were long and sharp and could probably kill a man in an instant. Kill him.

Now that his eyes were open he could tell that what had felt like claws on his skin were claws. The skin on his hand went from a caramel tan to the same deep red that his horns were on his fingers which extended into sharp claws, like a lion’s. The creature was smiling at him too, and he had two sharp fangs that looked like they could tear into flesh like it was nothing. The mere sight sent chills of fear down Felix’s spine.

“I…uhm,” Felix attempted, gulping. “W-what–who are you?” His voice sounded oddly airy and high for how deep it normally was.

“You really summoned me without knowing that?” the creature asked, raising a condescending eyebrow at Felix. Felix’s hands clenched at his sides. “Well…I think it’s pretty obvious what I am. I’m a demon, if you haven’t guessed already,” he said, stroking Felix’s cheek with his clawed fingers. His stomach flipped, and it wasn’t from fear. “And I’ve been called many names over the centuries. But you can call me Chan.” His smile widened and Felix’s eyes were drawn to the dimples that formed on his cheeks, contrasting the rest of his terrifying appearance.

“Chan,” Felix repeated with a meek nod. “I–so–” Felix wondered if the creature–demon–knew why he had called him in the first place. Because despite the fear rattling his bones and the anxiety twisting his stomach into knots, Felix was still oddly drawn to him. He had gorgeous tan skin and a body that looked like it had been sculpted by the ancient Greeks and oh–Felix just realized he was entirely naked. “Do you–do you know why I–why I asked you here?”

Chan hummed, pulling back a bit as he thought. “No. Only you can know your intentions. So why do you want me here?” he asked, leaning in again. “Do you need revenge on someone? Protection? Was this just curiosity, maybe? Or foolishness.” He laughed and it twisted Felix’s insides deliciously. Oh he was so stupid. This was insane. He was insane.

“None of those things, actually,” he said. His voice still quivered but he felt a little more confident. “I–I was attempting to summon an–an incubus,” he said.

The demon’s eyebrows raised and his lips curved upwards into a smirk. “Oh…So that’s why.” He laughed again and shook his head. “Humans these days…so desperate we don’t even have to do any of the tempting.”

Felix bit back an embarrassing whimper at that and his cheeks heated up. A demon–a fucking demon–was calling him desperate. If a creature of sin was telling him he was desperate then it must be true. And Felix would be lying if he said that didn’t make hot waves of arousal pool in his belly.

He didn’t say anything as he watched Chan’s eyes roam over him, igniting his skin in flames hotter than the ones that had brought Chan there in the first place. “I was desperate,” he admitted, wetting his lips. “I couldn’t–I couldn’t find anyone who was good enough. I w-wasn’t satisfied,” he continued. “They were all too soft. Too gentle.”

“Hm,” Chan hummed. The hand that was on Felix’s cheek slid down to cup the side of his neck. Felix’s pulse raced against his fingers. “And that made you desperate enough to summon a demon?”

Felix swallowed and nodded quickly. Fuck it really did sound pathetic when it was said out loud.

Chan looked over again, his black eyes scanning over his figure. He looked up again to meet Felix’s eyes. “Are you scared? You were shaking when I arrived.”

He licked his lips. “Terrified,” he whispered.

The grin the demon offered in response sent blood rushing to Felix’s cock and his legs shook. “Good,” he said lowly. “I wouldn’t be doing my job right if you weren’t scared.” He caressed Felix’s pulse point with his thumb.

“And will you–” Felix took a deep breath to steady his voice. “Will you do what–what I summoned you for?”

“Well I’m not an incubus,” Chan said, pursing his lips afterwards. Felix’s heart sank and then he felt the genuine feelings of fear returning because if he wasn’t here for that then– “But I’m never against indulging. Especially with a human as pretty as you…”

Felix’s eyes widened. Chan smiled and put his other hand on Felix’s waist, digging his claws into his skin through his shirt. “You really should be one of the angels with how divine you look. Definitely not with a demon.”

“Well looks can be deceiving,” Felix said with a sweet smile. “I might look pretty and innocent, but I really just want to get fucked.” And somehow the fact that this demon looked like he could tear him to pieces and take his soul only made the desire burn hotter. “Please. I called you here. I want it.”

Chan’s eyes shifted in color slightly, a bit of a red glow burning underneath the black. It made Felix’s nerve endings tingle. “Are you sure you can handle that, pretty thing?” he asked.

Felix bit his bottom lip and smiled. “Absolutely,” he said, even though his stomach swooped like it did when he was on a fair ride. He had gotten this far, he might as well continue.

“We’ll see about that, won’t we?” He grinned, and before Felix could even muster a response, he was gripping his long hair and tilting his head back. Felix’s scalp stung and tears sprung to his eyes almost immediately but shit it felt good. He hadn’t even had time to process that sensation before the demon’s mouth was on his, immediately kissing him passionate and messy. Felix moaned and his lips parted, allowing Chan full access to his mouth. His tongue ran along his lips and dipped into his mouth, connecting with Felix’s tongue. His fangs scraped his bottom lip and it stung and he was pretty sure there would be blood, but that only added to the intensity of the kiss. He ravaged Felix’s mouth like no one had before, pulling low, needy moans out of him. The sounds of their lips sliding together filled the room and Felix’s own moans bounced around the walls, only muffled by the demon’s hot lips on his.

Eventually Chan did pull away and Felix gasped for air, his chest rising and falling. He wondered briefly if demons needed to breathe, but he didn’t have much time to ponder because suddenly Chan picked him up, the muscles in his arms bulging–and then he tossed him onto the bed. A gasp was punched out of Felix that turned into a moan and his cock twitched at the display of strength. If there were two things he loved they were muscles and manhandling.

The demon crawled over him on the bed, completely caging him in. He knew that he was completely at his mercy. And to anyone else, the sight of the ink-eyed, horned creature looming above them would be terrifying, but to Felix it was erotic. This creature was terrifying and he loved it.

“Humans are so fragile,” Chan said with a slight pout. “I’ll make sure not to totally break you though.” He gave Felix a cocky smirk and he wanted to cry. He wanted to beg yes, please, please break me, break me so that I can’t ever think of anything else, ruin me, but he held his tongue.

“Let’s get these off you. I want to see what you’re hiding under these silly garments.”

The demon didn’t even bother trying to pull Felix’s shirt over his head. He simply hooked his claws around the collar and tore it right off in one swift motion. Felix’s hips jerked and he outright moaned. “Fuck–I’ve always wanted someone to just tear my clothes off me,” he whimpered.

“It’s so sad that everyone else was too weak,” Chan responded. He settled for just tugging Felix’s sweatpants off, and he tossed them aside along with the remains of Felix’s shirt. Felix hadn’t been wearing any underwear, so once the pants were gone, he was completely naked. Chan licked his lips as he looked over Felix’s body and he put his hands on his chest. “Mm so pretty. Truly abnormally pretty for a human…you really could be an angel. I’m glad you’re not though.” he scraped his claws down Felix’s torso, over his nipples and down the ridges of his abdomen. “If you were an angel I couldn’t be doing this right now.”

“I’m glad I’m not then,” Felix said. “Now please fuck me, fuck me so hard it hurts.”

Chan grinned and his dimples did nothing to take away from how hungry and downright sinister his grin was. “Oh I intend to. But one thing first. Call me Master.”

Felix gulped and wet his lips. “Okay. Master.”

He chuckled softly and squeezed his side, his claws digging into his side. “Perfect.” He then moved between Felix’s knees and nudged them apart then brought two fingers to his lips. “Open.”

Felix opened his mouth dutifully and the demon slipped his two fingers inside. Felix let out a muffled moan as Chan pressed down on his tongue and slid his fingers back. He gagged when his claws touched the back of his tongue the sensation only served to make the sparks of arousal in his stomach turn into burning flames.

“Good boy,” Chan hummed, removing his fingers, a trail of spit connecting his fingertips. Felix stared ahead dazedly, his head already feeling fuzzy from the cocktail of emotions he’d felt in the last ten minutes and the feeling of his steadily hardening dick.

Chan grinned, fangs poking out over his plump bottom lip, and he slipped his fingers between Felix’s asscheeks. Felix shuddered as the tips of his fingers circled his hole and for a moment anxiety twisted in his gut because oh fuck the claws. The demon seemed to notice the change and he merely smiled, black and red eyes flickering. “Don’t worry, pretty human, it won’t hurt,” he promised. Felix watched as the claws on the demon’s fingers disappeared, retracting back as if he were a cat. It made a wave of relief wash over him and he spread his thighs.

“Please. Please open me up, master,” Felix whimpered, the pitch of his normally deep voice raising a few octaves.

“Impatient,” Chan hummed. He circled his hole for a second before pushing the first spit-slicked finger past his rim. Felix arched his back and let out a moan. Chan’s hands were hot, and with just one finger he felt like a volcano was erupting inside of him. Heat traveled up his stomach, through his chest, up his throat, and it burned deliciously.

“Ah ah–more,” Felix gasped, rolling his hips to pull Chan’s finger deeper. Despite the fact that he had only used spit for lube there was hardly any burn at all. Must be some sort of demon magic.

Chan leaned down and scraped his fangs across Felix’s thigh as he inserted a second finger and began to scissor the tight ring of muscle. Felix shuddered at the feeling, the feeling of the possible threat–the demon, so much stronger than him, sharp teeth tickling his soft, sensitive skin. He felt lightheaded from it all.

A litany of moans filled the air as Chan scissored his fingers in and out of him and when he pressed them against his prostate, he cried out. The heat of his skin made the touch so much more intense and he wanted more, more. “M-master, master, please,” Felix begged.

“Such a pathetic little thing, aren’t you?” Chan asked with a condescending coo. Felix licked his lips and looked up at the demon through hazy eyes.

“Ye-yes,” he hiccupped. “‘M just desperate. Desperate to get fucked, master, please.”

Sinful was definitely the correct way to describe this scene. Felix’s freckled skin was flushed all over and his cock was hard and leaking against his stomach. And he was begging a demon to fuck him and fill him up.

“Fuck, I want to break you,” the demon groaned. He leaned between Felix’s spread thighs and opened his mouth and for a second Felix thought he was going to take his cock in his mouth, but instead he stuck his tongue out and let a drop of saliva fall down his crack. Felix moaned low in his throat at that and clutched the sheets.

“Sh-shit,” he swore, hole clenching around Chan’s fingers.

Chan smirked as he removed his fingers, only to use them to collect the saliva and push them back in with a third added to the mix. He began to fuck them in and out of him, rubbing against his prostate in a way that had him arching off the bed and moaning obscenely. It was probably loud enough for the neighbors to hear. Fuck.

The demon’s tongue and teeth mapped out his body as he fingered him. Bite marks and dark purple bruises littered his skin like a painting. Some of them hurt, some stung, but it was so good. With every new bite Felix’s reddened cock twitched against his stomach. Chan was merciless with his touches. The sensations overwhelmed Felix’s senses, making his head spin and his limbs tingle. But he needed more. ‘S enough, can take it now, I can,” he whimpered as Chan pressed a fourth finger into his twitching hole.

“Well I am quite eager to fuck you, angel,” Chan said with a smirk. Felix laughed dazedly at the irony of the nickname. There was nothing angelic about any of this, like the demon had already said earlier.

Chan removed his fingers, leaving Felix’s hole gaping and clenching around nothing. He brought his hand to his own cock and the movement drew Felix’s eyes to it. And then he gasped.

“Oh–fuck,” he muttered. He didn’t know why he hadn’t noticed before. Not only was his cock huge, it was covered in rows of rough ridges and bumps, unlike any cock Felix had ever seen. Then again, Chan wasn’t just some man. He was a demon. A monster. Fuck. “That’s–”

“Oh?” Chan asked, tilting his head teasingly. “Does it scare you, pretty?” He gave his cock a few slow tugs and Felix gulped, shaking his head.

“N-no, master,” he breathed. If anything, it made him even more eager. Shit, those bumps would drag along his walls and rub against his prostate and it would feel so good. So good.

“Good,” the demon hummed. He jerked his cock a few more times before releasing it and suddenly he grabbed Felix by the hips and flipped him over in one motion. Felix let out a gasp followed by a whimper, unbelievably turned on by the simple action.

“Nghh–master.”

“Shush, pretty. Or I won’t fuck you at all,” Chan growled. He gripped Felix’s hips and pulled him back so that he was on his knees with his chest pressed to the mattress. His claws were back and they dug into the sensitive skin of his hips.

Felix swallowed thickly and a groan rumbled in his chest when he felt the tip of Chan’s dick press against his hole. He nearly opened his mouth to ask for more but then Chan was pushing inside him. His mouth fell open and a loud moan was punched out of him as Chan pushed himself all the way in. The ridges of his thick cock caught on his rim and pushed against his walls but it didn't hurt, it felt good.

"F-fuck, master, please move," he gasped pathetically.

Chan's grip on his hips tightened and he began moving, giving Felix no time to adjust. He fucked him animalistically, his hips smacking against Felix's ass so hard he knew it would bruise in the morning. The bumps on his cock brushed against his prostate with every thrust and Felix's eyes rolled back. Heat furled in his stomach and he could already feel himself getting close pathetically fast.

"Hnn–ah, aahhh–f-fuck m-master, m-more, hard–nghhh–harder!" he whined, arching his back more for the demon to fuck him deeper. It felt like he could feel him in his guts.

Chan picked up his thrusts, ramming into him so hard it punched the air out of him. "That good enough for ya, huh?" He gritted, digging his claws harder into Felix's hips. He didn't even sound breathless.

"Yes, yes! Aahh," Felix moaned. Drool ran down his chin as he lost all care for how he acted, so close already.

Chan continued fucking him just like that, pushing into him deep and hard, filling him up and stretching his walls better than anyone ever had before. His cock ached as it bounced against his stomach with each thrust, precum dripping down it. Each thrust had him twitching. It was too much, but exactly what he had been needing.

"I'm almost–I'm gonna–" Felix sputtered after a few minutes, barely able to form coherent sentences. Chan pounded into him at an unnatural pace, one that left him reeling. He could never be fucked by someone else again.

"Come for me then, pretty. Make a sinful little mess of yourself," Chan groaned.

And just like that, Feliz was coming with a long drawn out moan, covering his stomach in cum. Chan continued fucking him through his orgasm, the drag of his cock making Felix tingle with overstimulation. He let him continue though, and after another moment he was filling him up with his cum, letting out a low growl as he did.

Felix barely registered anything after that. One moment he was awake, being filled to the brim, the next he was out. And when he woke again, the demon was gone. The only evidence being the countless bite marks, hickeys, and scratches on his skin.

It almost seemed like a dream. And Felix wondered if that would be the end of everything. But as he was moving around and getting ready for the day, a brush of an invisible hand on his shoulder and a familiar disembodied chuckle told him that wouldn't be the last he'd see of the demon.

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velvetjune · 9 months ago

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Alan Wake 2 Lake House DLC spoilers/review (also spoilers for Control):

Had a lot of fun with this DLC! It’s short (unfortunately expected this), but sweet, although I wish I didn’t watch the trailer for it. It would’ve been amazing experiencing this with no knowledge. As a massive Control fan, I was practically thriving off of all the reading and FBC style. I have some sympathy for fans of Alan Wake who might hate Control, but these games are far more than a crossover by now and moving forward. I can see how this wouldn’t work for people who dislike that.

Personally, Remedy has done well at connecting their stories without it clashing! The AWE dlc for Control was a mixed bag for me, mostly because the story wasn’t really there and the darkness mechanics were bland. This could be because I’m very biased towards Control, but this was a great example of how to merge the settings and traits of both games in an interesting way.

The marital and mad scientist drama was terrible in the best way. I was dying every time one of the Marmonts was “hmmm Wake says we’re going to die horrifically and become monsters, but im personally better than that.”

DR DARLING… <3 He should’ve had more appearances </3

After all the deserved hate directed at AI and producing content rather than art, it was heartwarming to see promotion for Poe. I don’t know the details, but she’s barely been able to release music over the last 20 years (some songs here and there), so having an entire area dedicated to her with links to a (fingers crossed) site about an upcoming Poe project was lovely. Lots of love put towards artists in this.

Ed being there was and thinking he was in an immersive experience was incredibly funny. I’d have to look it up, but was the manuscript page in his room detailing when he was taken HERE and not him dying to taken? Was this DLC happening during the start of aw2 or right before?

I’m in love with Kiran Estevez. She can be judgmental and tries to maintain a level of calm over the situation, but her disgust, fear, humor all shine through in funny ways. Hope that she, along with at least Saga, get to be in Control 2.

Only found this out after checking Reddit (which imo is too harsh over both Night Springs and this DLC), but apparently the Dylan part is skippable. It was SUCH a highlight of this DLC. The shifting environments, the Not-Oldest House, Dylan in the “panopticon” post-Control, etc. was surreal and captivating. Usually with set ups teasers, I don’t particularly care (e.g. the AWE dlc ending was alright!), but man. The way to get it was perfectly strange. Poor Dylan. Just like Control’s “hidden” ending cutscene, this really seems to put Control 2 in the wider NYC.

Having a “person who’s only seen Boss Baby” moment: thought of tma (the podcast) with the tapes, archives, panopticon, all the weird shit. It didn’t influence this game, but I was getting flashbacks to when I listened to it (stopped caring for it, but the first few seasons were fun in a creepypasta way)

I liked the calendar puzzles. I’m not a huge fan of puzzles in games, but these were easy enough to follow without dragging on. however I did spend five minutes confused just because I got Friday and Saturday mixed up :(

The boss fight was easy in story mode lol

Diana brutally killing the taken Jules was one of the only “gross” moments of Remedy’s games and it was great! It’s not much gore, but I’ll take it.

I accidentally pressed the option to instantly destroy (?) the painting :( So im so sorry to Rudolph and I’ll be replaying this dlc soon to see what the other option is.

For my problems, I was sad that the paint monsters were mainly annoying to run from (also they’re cute). I don’t know if it was an issue on my end or a bug, but even once I went to story mode, I still wasn’t finding healing objects until the last fight. The reason I switched to story was only because my low-ish health kept instant killing me by the Painted 😭 Maybe it’s because I haven’t replayed Alan Wake in a while, but this DLC was wildly difficult. If Remedy didn’t add a whole list of assists, I’d be more frustrated, but thankfully it’s there. The map also would keep question marks and loot up even when I interacted.

I prefer the Night Springs DLC, but this was a great look into Estevez, Control, and what art is. Now, Alan Wake 2 is officially done!

#lake house dlc #alan wake 2 spoilers #lake house dlc spoilers #my post #this is technically a review but I just wanted to talk about this dlc lol #fun dlc :)

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sreabhadh · 6 months ago

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I still don't know how Tumblr works. I am still infected with severe strains of the TexAid, Vortex, Combaticons and MechAu diseases though. I have completed part 2/3 of what I've been calling Vortex's death story and am going to attempt to post it with a link to the part 1. Don't know how this works or how it'll go, but eh we'll give it a shot lol.

This is just my take on Vortex's death story, based on Keferon's Mech Au, art, and writing, along with the art and writing of many others that have hopped into this Au and produced some wonderful and inspiring things that have latched onto my brain with a death grip.

If this story interests you, then I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I've enjoyed writing it!

Part 1, if that works 🤞 ☝️⬆️👆

**********************************************************

Vortex’s head pounded sluggishly. He fought for control over his eyelids, willing them to open. When they did, they immediately closed, and he squinted them back open in the painful light. It was hard to make out his surroundings- his eyes were open now but his head was still spinning. He was upright, and he could feel his weight sagging against heavy restraints. Could hear the beeping of monitors and feel IV needles poking through his skin, fluids pumping through his veins, could feel the medical tape on his skin. Another fucking experiment. Or was someone patching him up after a battle? Vortex growled, trying to remember what had happened before he had fallen asleep. There had been a fight. Something bad. Something that made him angry. Then something that had made him happy. He killed someone. Why had he killed someone?

They deserved it, he knew that, but why- the image of Swindle bleeding out flashed in Vortex’s head, Swindle, dangling lifelessly from Brawl’s massive (and massively burned) arms as he barreled through halls, trampling anyone and anything else in his way. Brawl in hysterics. Med techs struggling to sedate Brawl, Brawl raging at them. Swindle’s skin getting paler as the white medical linens on the cot became a darker and darker shade of red. Onslaught and Blast Off trying to calm Brawl down. Swindle in critical condition, hooked up to a dozen machines. They didn’t know it then, but they had been supposed to die. Swindle in particular.

‘Thin the herd. The small one’s the fastest, but he’s also the weakest. Worst fighter among em. The weak link.’

Vortex snarled. They had deserved it, but they deserved so much worse than he had given them, so much worse. They had tried taking Swindle from them. And it might’ve worked. If Swindle didn’t wake up then it would’ve worked. They almost took the others too. Brawl had been so severely burned he’d had to be sedated to heal. Blastoff and Onslaught weren’t in great condition either- they weren’t as fast as Vortex, who had an easier time dodging, and had taken a lot of hits.

The bastards…the bastards who had done it… decided to hook up that weird machine to Swindle’s mech without telling them what it did or that it would make him quint bait… Tex only had memories of killing a couple of the white coats, and one of them had already been dead before he did most of the stabbing. He could remember the feel of the blood on his hands, the sounds of the blade and the other lab coats screaming…he hadn’t been able to kill them all. Or most of them, unless he was just forgetting those killings. Fuck. He might not- probably wouldn’t (but wanted to hope he might)- have another chance to kill them all. Fix his mistake. He should’ve snapped and killed them all ages ago. Cut to the chase and spare his team the misery. Shit. He’d been hoping if he killed enough of them it would leave a big enough power vacuum for Onslaught to take over. Now what would happen? Would Onslaught be blamed? Why hadn’t he been able to kill more of them? What happened?

Vortex tried his usual tricks for slipping out of medical restraints, but these ones were different, sturdier, and the usual tricks didn’t work. If he had gotten caught, why was he alive? His stomach hardened, like someone had filled it with rocks. Were they using him to keep the rest of his squad in line? If they were, that might mean Swindle was doing better. Or they just wanted extra insurance. Or an extra lab rat. If they thought they could keep him trapped here forever to run their sick experiments on though, they were going to have a surprise on their hands. It didn’t matter if he was half-drugged, half-dead or both, he would get out and figure out who had done this to him. Then he’d repay their ‘kindness’ with his own. Maybe he could even finish his killing spree from earlier- there were a lot of people left on his list.

Vortex spun his head around, grunting at the painful vertigo that accompanied the motion. He was in a lab, but not like any of the medical labs he’d been in. The equipment in here was far more complicated than anything Vortex recognized, and the other items were more macabre than he was used to seeing openly displayed in mecha labs. He hadn’t even known jars came in sizes large enough to hold body parts that big. He just hoped they were all quint parts, not human. Not for any love or concern for his fellow species- it was just that Tex’s unit wasn’t particularly on good terms with the higher ups, or anyone else in the facility. And Vortex had always assumed that if he didn’t die on the battlefield or trying to kill everyone, then that’s where he would end up. Cut up in pieces, preserved in jars for future study.

Besides the jars, there were vials with eerie glowing liquids, a faint foul smell, diagrams on the counters, blueprints pinned to the wall- shit, those were prints of Vortex’s mech. What were blueprints of that doing here? What did they want him for, what were they trying to do? And who were they? The guards would’ve shot Tex on sight after what he did, and anyone he assaulted would’ve done the same, assuming they had any amount of skill with a gun. Who-

Vortex spotted it. A mask, helmet-thing, made to cover the entire head. A singular yellow optic dominating the center of the face.

One eye. Shockwave.

The beeping of the monitor increased sharply, and Vortex felt the sweat as it suddenly gathered on his brow. He shuddered involuntarily, body going hot and cold. Vortex remembered what happened before he had been knocked out. Shockwave. He remembered. No no no no no no no no no no no no no no

Vortex struggled against his bonds with renewed effort, he didn’t care what he broke in the process. He could get help later, relocate any joints he popped out of place, set any broken bones, stitch up or bandage any cuts, he didn’t care how much it hurt or how long it took to heal, he had to move, get out, now-

Somewhere behind him, someone cleared their throat. Vortex froze. Please, please, please, don’t let it be him. Please, anyone, but-

“Vortex.”

Vortex bit his lip. There was no way it was anyone but Shockwave, wasn’t it?

“If you move around too much I will have to sedate you immediately. The procedure isn’t complete yet.”

Vortex swallowed. What he wouldn’t do for a few dozen cigs and a room to himself right now. “What procedure?” he asked, hoping he sounded more angry than frightened.

The voice ignored him, and Vortex could hear shuffling notes and typing as the scientist worked.

“What procedure?” he repeated, voice hoarse with dehydration, anger and fear.

The typing stopped. The man released a small breath; impatient. Vortex could hear the chair as its occupant moved to stand, could feel the vibrations through the floor as they walked toward him.

Vortex felt his breathing still and gritted his teeth as the man stepped into view. He was a man, in appearance - but Vortex could hear the quiet fizzing sound and see the slightly blurry quality to the skin. He was wearing another hologram. He was wearing the face of Shockwave, the old one from the earliest days of the mecha program, when Shockwave himself had been a pilot. He had a handsome face, quite different from the polished mess of impervious robotics Vortex knew must be hiding underneath. It was little wonder the man had so many masks. He looked so different like this, so normal, Vortex could almost believe he was there just to give him a check up.

Along with context and common sense, the set to the former pilot’s former face and the look in his eyes told Vortex there was nothing so casual or carefree about this visit. This situation. Vortex was slagged. Well and truly fucked. He’d be lucky to get out of this alive. Then again, he might be luckier to get out of it dead, depending on what Shockwave had planned for him.

Questions rolled around in Vortex’s head, spinning and colliding with each other as he fought his body’s urge to shake like a leaf in the wind. Shockwave regarded him, eyes cold. Vortex shivered. Under that gaze he felt like a misbehaving piece of equipment, about to be dissected, deconstructed, and pinned to the wall. Pieces either discarded or replaced entirely, shoved back together until he did exactly what he was supposed to, nothing left except what they wanted. What Shockwave wanted.

“It’s not important for you to know. I could explain it all to you, but it wouldn’t matter, even if you understood.” Shockwave cocked his head. “You’re not going to remember this, you see. It could get messy if you did, afterall, and I want this to go as smoothly as possible.”

Vortex was silent for far longer than he wanted to, struggling to get his mouth to open and his voice to work. “Won’t remember what?” he managed.

“This part of the procedure. As well as the first few days before it.” Shockwave shrugged nonchalantly, and a tiny part of Vortex’s brain recognized that most would see the simple gesture as extremely attractive done with Shockwave’s appearance and aloof mannerism. Mostly Vortex recognized how little Shockwave cared about Vortex’s plight, his life or his concerns.

“Take too much off and you might not work the same, but take too little and you’ll simply go back to killing people. I’ve calculated how much I need, and once I’m done with this and the rest of the prepwork, you’ll be ready for the final doses. It’s a long shot that any of this works, but that’s what tests like this are for. If it works on you I can study this method until I’ve perfected it. If it doesn’t…well I have other hypotheses to test.”

“What are you doing to me?”

Shockwave smiled, but the expression didn’t reach his eyes- and not just because they were holograms or something.

“I’m resurrecting you.”

Vortex forgot how to breathe for several excruciating heartbeats.

“This is the first time I’m attempting it, so there’s no guarantee it will work, but all science starts somewhere.”

“If it comforts you, I will give you a favorable death- a heroically tragic last stand fighting insurmountable odds. You’ll go out in a blaze of glory- though, perhaps, having seen footage of your fights, I should say you’ll go out in a blaze of gore instead.”

Vortex felt his throat muscles working, but nothing came out when he opened his mouth. His questions had been spooked into hiding, his defiance shocked into submission. His body quivered, and Vortex cursed his lack of control over his own limbs.

“You’re quite resilient, even for a pilot. I dare say you’re the best candidate for this experiment- you’re arguably the best fighter we currently have, and your bond with your mech…”

Shockwave shook his head vaguely. “I frankly haven’t seen anyone as in touch with their mech as you are since..." Shockwave's eyes grew distant, a shade colder, and mournful, the edges of his lips twitching into a fondly bittersweet smile.

"It’s really quite impressive.”

Shockwave's eyes refocused, and he smiled pleasantly at Vortex. This time the expression touched his eyes as well- the sight made Vortex’s stomach twist painfully.

“You should consider this an honor. If this project works, you may even thank me. It’s not everyday one gets resurrected as living metal, after all. It’s almost statistically impossible.”

Living metal? Living…metal? Did this have something to do with the blueprints of his mech on the wall? He hoped not. What would be left of him, assuming this ‘experiment’ worked in the first place? Would he survive? If it didn’t work and he died, he died. If it did work, what would happen then? What would Shockwave do, what would Vortex become? Would his teammates- his brothers- even recognize him? Would he even see them again? He’d gone into this assuming he would probably die… did the others have any idea where he was, what had happened? No, they would’ve burned the base down looking for him. How long had it been? A few hours, a day, several? Were they okay? Did Onslaught have things handled, had Swindle recovered yet?

He needed to know. And the best source of information, until he got out, was Shockwave.Vortex summoned his anger to overpower his fear. So what if he was the phantom Vortex had been having nightmares of since he was a kid? He was just another person, which meant he had to have a weak point somewhere. He just needed to stay alive long enough to locate it. Then he could gut him like anyone else and return to his team. The thought was comforting, though it was more false bravado than Tex would care to admit.

“What about my unit? What’s happened to them? You must have a lot of guts if you think you can stop them.”

The scientist tilted his head curiously. “They have their uses, and are an exemplary fighting unit. However, be that as it may, I’m afraid your little ‘combaticons’ aren’t ever going to be the same.”

Vortex snorted, letting the false bravado take over, baring his teeth like a cornered rat. “And the fuck’s that supposed to mean?”

Shockwave sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. The fingers made contact with his nose- not clipping through, fizzing, or blurring like Tex had expected them too. Wait. Was that his real face? He had been certain it wasn’t. He looked too normal. How did that work?

Shockwave pulled a stool from beside the counter, and sat down, regarding him with strained patience. He raised a finger.

“As you know, your leader, unit 10, ‘Onslaught,’ along with unit 12, was on track to graduate the pilot program and was soon to join the table with mecha’s elite. That was before you went rogue.” Shockwave paused, giving Vortex an appraising look, as if checking to make sure he really was smart enough to know that much.

Vortex grunted. Shockwave gave him a disapproving look, but continued speaking. “They still are, for now, but whether they make it or not is up to them. If he goes rogue like you did, we will have to scrap him as well, though I’d rather not do that- he’s exactly what I’ve been looking for to get mecha turned back around. Too many in the company have grown lax- plump with riches and lazy in their authority. It’s what allowed you to pull that stunt you did, and it’s wasting resources. I believe with Onslaught- and ‘Swindle,’ mecha’s performance would increase substantially.”

“Which gives me more time for this.” Shockwave made a broad gesture to the lab. The scientist’s eyes narrowed piercingly. “And that is something I happen to value greatly.”

“The other two- 13 and 14- I have no personal issue with- they do form a liability however.”

“If you hurt either of them, Onslaught will never help you,” Vortex spat. Onslaught always protected them. Kept them going, kept them safe. Except… Vortex was here, hooked up, chained down, and at the lead scientist’s mercy. And Onslaught wasn’t here. Swindle had nearly died. Brawl had been sedated, Blast Off and Onslaught were full of stitches. Vortex was here. They’d all been hurt, and Onslaught hadn’t stopped it. Hadn’t been able to. They’d been hurt again, but the base was still standing. Where was Onslaught’s rage? Didn’t he see mecha needed to burn for their lives to change? Where was he?

“Hm. Perhaps. I have more control than you realize… but I understand your point. No, I don’t intend to harm them. There will be those who would wish to eliminate them, along with the rest of your crew, but they are veterans. Their experience is valuable, and your sins will have removed competitors from the board. That is favorable to certain members of mecha. Your unit members won’t be without a measure of support. That will allow them to continue serving in mecha as pilots, which is mercy enough after what you’ve done. Not that anyone will know that.”

“Know what?”

“What you’ve done, of course.”

Vortex scoffed, offended. “I murdered multiple head mecha top dogs. They’re dead. With a roomful of witnesses you didn’t let me vaporize. You’re dumber than Brawl if you really think you can hide something like that.”

“Murdered? You must be mistaken. They were each given a leave of absence. It’s not mecha’s responsibility if they were met with misfortune after the fact.”

Vortex’s jaw dropped a millimeter. Shockwave said that so easily and smoothly, like he was discussing the weather or what he wanted to have for lunch. When Vortex killed things, he was as messy as he could be- it was more fun that way. But at least he felt something when he was violent- even if that feeling was bloodlust. Shockwave clearly didn’t feel anything. They were just obstacles in his way, like a piece of shrapnel keeping a wound from closing. Removed, disposed of, and never given a second thought. Vortex swallowed. The rumors of Shockwave and how dangerous he was hadn’t been exaggerations. If anything, they probably didn’t do him justice.

“And the lab coats who saw me do it?”

“Gas leak. Caused by the ineptitude and negligence of the executives we unfortunately had to let go. The poisoning from the gas caused dizzy spells, short-term memory issues, and some minor hallucinations. Truly an unfortunate accident, but those responsible have been punished, and those affected have been repaid.”

Shockwave’s face was a mask of feigned concern, which Vortex found revolting. Sick two-faced bastard. He’d even covered up Vortex’s murder spree. Vortex wasn’t particularly proud of said murder spree, seeing as he hadn’t actually killed enough people to call it a spree, and it had been over way too soon, but still. He still would’ve gone down in history and in hallway gossip as the mad pilot that snapped and killed a bunch of people. Rumors spread and carried weight, even when they weren’t true. Now, it was, what? Swept under the rug and sanitized like it had never happened? Like he hadn’t done that, and it didn’t matter one way or another.

“And what about me?”

“You were never there. You were preparing for a solo mission while the rest of your team healed from their injuries.”

“My team will notice.”

“Your team is busy licking their wounds. When they wake it’ll be too late. You’ll be dead.”

Vortex flinched like he’d been struck. “You said I’d be resurrected.”

“If it works. You’ll have to die first, but if you survive, that will mean it worked, and I can continue the experiment.”

“You-”

“You will be dead to them either way,” Shockwave interjected coldly before Vortex could spout the string of curses in his head. “Speaking of which-” Shockwave rose slowly. “You have delayed me enough. It is time.”

Shockwave came closer- though not close enough to bite- and adjusted some dials on the machines Vortex was hooked into. Vortex could feel the sleeping drug or whatever it was entering his system. “Sleep now, and cease distracting me with your pointless questions. When you wake you won’t remember this happened, and when you die you’ll be a hero. Try not to fail. If the experiment fails, I may have to try again on one of your other units, and I would like to keep their services for now.”

Vortex tried to cuss, but whatever was pumping in his veins was working real damn fast. His tongue felt like lead and his eyelids began to droop. His head hung down, too heavy to keep up, his limbs began to go limp, and as his senses faded into the ether, he heard two words, cold and soft, like a breath of frigid winter air right down his back.

“Goodbye, 11.”

**********************************************************

Hopefully it won't be too long until part 3 is out (and I figure out how Tumblr works and have them all neatly linked together) but 🤷‍♀️ We'll see lol.

#mech au #keferon #vortex #shockwave #jenga writing #transformers

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duckprintspress · 7 days ago

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Pride Bundles for Charity: Final Hours!

We’re entering the final day to buy Duck Prints Press’s 2025 Pride Bundles to support the charity Rainbow Railroad! A huge THANK YOU to the people who’ve bought bundles so far – with your support, you’ve gotten a bunch of great stories, and we’ll be able to donate $163.75 to Rainbow Railroad! We’d love to make that $200 or more, though, so if you haven’t checked out our bundles yet, now is a great time!

Already convinced and ready to buy? Here are the links right up top for your convenience!

ART BUNDLE – duckprintspress.com | itch.io

GENERAL IMPRINT BUNDLE – duckprintspress.com | itch.io

EXPLICIT IMPRINT BUNDLE – duckprintspress.com | itch.io

Want to know more first? Read on…

How This Works

you buy one or both bundles between now and June 30th, 2025. The bundles close at 8 a.m. Eastern time on Tuesday, July 1st 2025.

we tally up all the proceeds earned and do some math-e-magic to figure out how much we’re donating!

before the end of July, we donate the raised money to Rainbow Railroad, we post the proof we’ve done so.

you get fantastic stories!

we all get that happy, glowy feeling of knowing that money has been well-spent on fantastic causes!

About the Press

Duck Prints Press is a queer-owned indie press founded to publish original works by fancreators. We’ve been in operation for almost 4.5 years, and in that time we’ve worked with well over 150 creators to publish eight anthologies and almost 150 other stories, from shorts to novels, as well as three substantial art projects (with a fourth, pride-inspired project launching in just a couple weeks!) – and we’ve got more on the works. The vast majority of our creators and their creations are queer/LGTBQIA+.

26 authors and 8 artists have chosen to include their works this year’s bundles. Bundle contributors voted, and we’ve decided to support again the same charity we supported last year – Rainbow Railroad.

About Rainbow Railroad

In countries around the world, LGBTQI+ people face violence and oppression simply because of who they love or who they are. Rainbow Railroad helps them get to safety! Rainbow Railroad is a global not-for-profit organization that helps at-risk LGBTQI+ people get to safety worldwide. Based in the United States and Canada, they’re an organization that helps LGBTQI+ people facing persecution based on their sexual orientation, gender identity and sex characteristics. In a time when there are more displaced people than ever, LGBTQI+ people are uniquely vulnerable due to systemic, state-enabled homophobia and transphobia. These factors either displace them in their own country or prevent them from escaping harm.

Note: This charity is not affiliated with the Press and have not endorsed this in any way! Text is from the Rainbow Railroad website.

About the Bundles

General Imprint Bundle

16 stories! 222 pages/69,029 words. Price: $21.50 USD. Approximately half of the sales price for the General Imprint Bundle will be donated to Rainbow Railroad!

Princess Antonia del Montari, aka the Accidental Barista by A. L. Heard

The Problem with Wishes by Annabeth Lynch

So Much Braver by boneturtle

Unsafe Haven by Cedar D. McCafferty-Svec

Got You Covered by D. V. Morse

Troubled Trouble by Genevieve Maxwell

Ride On, Shooting Star by J. D. Harlock

A Thousand Hopes, A Thousand Risks by Kelas Lloyd

The Ending Line of Casablanca by Lucy K. R.

Going Dark by Max Jason Peterson

The Waiting Wife by Mikki Madison

The Deadman’s Gambit by Nicola Kapron

The Inscrutable Fate of the ISV Devotion by S. J. Ralston

Best Friends AND… by Tris Lawrence

In Fine Feather by Violet J. Hayes

The Lighthouse and the Sea by Zel Howland

Visit the bundle page to learn more about these stories.

Explicit Imprint Bundle

15 stories! 248 pages/86,593 words. Price: $24.00 USD. Approximately half of the sales price of the Explicit Imprint Bundle will be donated to Rainbow Railroad!

A Blessing Shared by A. L. Heard

Running Mates by boneturtle

sweet static by Cedar D. McCafferty-Svec

The Benefits of Consequences by Dei Walker

In the Moonlight by E. V. Dean

then, too, at sea by ilgaksu

What Monsters Need by Lyn Weaver

Hold My Reins by Lyonel Loy

The Fated Prince by Mikki Madison

Lust by Nina Waters

Tough Job, Sweet Reward by Samantha M. Piper

Escape by Sanne Burg

Dancing for the King by Terra P. Waters

Just Let Me Lose Control by Tris Lawrence

This Treatment for Chronic Pain has an Unbelievable Side Effect! by Xianyu Zhou

Visit the bundle page to learn more about these stories.

Art Bundle

8 artworks! Price: $12.75. Approximately a quarter of the sales price of the Art Bundle will be donated to Rainbow Railroad!

Ol’ Reliable by Aaron Kotze

Samhain by Aceriee

I want to be different. by Jagoda Zirebiec

Spark by May Barros

Snow Heart by Max Jason Peterson

april’s sweet showers by radicalhoodie

untitled (Mermaids) by swev.art

Chrysopoeia by Zel Howland

Visit the bundle page to learn more about this art.

#duck prints press #pride bundles #rainbow railroad #queer stories #queer art

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phoenixcatch7 · 10 months ago

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Unrelated to the last post but MAN I wish I could make a list of characters view the canon fics that do it so well across fandoms but I really don't want to risk opening them up to deletion. It's only recently that these sorts of stories have been allowed to stay up, as only a few years ago they were considered 'too close to canon' and could - would - get forcibly taken down from just about every site.

I've lost too many amazing cvtc fics to staff deciding they were bending the rules too much to just post a list of links but... I wish they were more popular because there's some absolute gems.

Here, I'll talk about a few things they did:

Killed the protagonist and everyone had to rewatch his memories to bring him back. This was very controversial in universe and it made it work so well.

The protagonist was oblivious to the reading, not part of it. This meant everyone could theorise and debate between themselves and actually REALLY solved the pacing and dramatisation issues common to these fics.

The protagonist actually replaced a villain in canon; the reading was done pre canon and the villain believed he had gone insane was the one acting like that. It was mortifying but seeing his body make friends and get a happy ending when he believed he was beyond hope and vicious about it was heart wrenching.

The young protagonist accidentally wished to be understood and a villain took advantage of it. It switched between the reading and reactions and the protag desperately trying to defeat the villain and make plans to run away to prevent his revealed secret getting him killed by the government.

The very large cast was split into groups, but could contact each other via texting. This enabled each group to have wildly varying reactions and theories without having to constantly argue and fight. It made it more fast paced, and added tension as the villains plotted unsupervised.

A very small cast were on a road trip and found the protags audio diaries of his adventures in the glove compartment. This was a Percy Jackson one, and it built off the books' first person format brilliantly.

The protags purposely wrote down their adventures in books and sold them on the market to fix their reputation and earn some money doing so. It involved people frantically trying to verify the books and evolved into a pr nightmare.

The orphan protag somehow time travelled back to when his family was in hiding with his books. His parents and uncles read the books and got to know their currently infant kid in the process. (This was a Harry Potter one, and both the series and author got permanently banned from ffn years ago and it had gotten all the way to deathly hallows 😭. It had been in progress for over a decade and was immaculately written, I miss it so much. Author if you're out there ily.)

Midway through canon a group of the protags friends combined all of their memories in a crystal ball and shipped it to a conference where just about every important figure was in attendance. They did not tell each other of the memories they included. They did not tell the exiled protag what they'd done. Many unexpected revelations and betrayals happened during the viewing. It also made it so the only scenes that appeared were ones where other people were there, which was so creative and well done.

The protag was a powerful psychic brought in for questioning and made it everyone else's problem. It was hilarious.

For a video game canon a handful of trusted allies (and villains before they went insane) were secretly delivered the games by THE TIME TRAVELLING GHOST OF THE PROTAGONIST IN DISGUISE and played them. The main focus was the main villain finding out a) how to even play video games (there was an ongoing joke about ridiculous video game logic) and b) the reasons he went insane, in excruciating detail, c) his victim's perspective including his own history that future him died not knowing about. One of his friends got a spinoff video game about how all his other friends died tragically. Many people saw their own traumatic deaths on screen with about twenty pixels.

A group of next gen kids accidentally fell into their parent's memories (of a war they'd been lied to about).

The protag was the 'child' of an omnipotent being who got sick of them being a self fulfilling prophecy (which ended horribly in canon) and locked them all in a fourth dimensional cave. In the same fic, the protag was using illusions to maintain the appearance of on-screen canon while fleshing out canon scenes and implications. Really well written and the character relationships were 👌.

The characters parents got the books, and had to reverse engineer the events that led up to canon and also which character was whose unborn kid.

A villain made a wish to publicly expose the main group's 'lies', accidentally exposed them as telling the truth and themselves as the corrupt liars. Whoops!

Traumatised side character time travelled back to pre canon from an apocalypse (that wasn't in canon), demanding the canon be viewed to understand and prevent the events that led to the apocalypse.

Characters broke after the events of canon publish their stories as fantasy books to the unknowing civilian public. The fantasy people accidentally get hold of it and everything goes to pot. I swear this is a totally different fandom to the other one.

Dead villain ghost secretly witnesses a viewing, time travels back to adopt the protagonist and change history to his image.

Crossover where one character was revealed to be a character from the other fandom in hiding with a fake identity.

Protag lost his memories and everyone uses a magical device/ritual to restore it, becoming witnesses themselves in the process.

Characters were forced to watch amvs of each other and had to try and extrapolate the order of events and the symbolism of the song. No one walked away with the full picture, but they got the main problems sorted.

Someone made an uncannily accurate play and the characters had to track the creator down to sue them (and figure out how they'd done it) without revealing that the portrayal was accurate.

A travelling seer took severe umbrage to the body stealing protag and exposed him with receipts. He spent basically the entire fic curled in a ball of mortification.

The protag on trial for many crimes got the magic viewing device used on him in front of everyone in the courtroom.

One fic was pretty normal but every time someone on screen got hurt or sick, so did their 'irl' counterpart. It sped up the fic a lot as no one wanted to linger on the worst bits. Also the author used canon implications, that the protag was oblivious to, to low key scare everyone who noticed them.

Crossover where the adults of one fandom fought over adoption rights of the other fandom's teen protag.

The author only used cherry picked moments of canon to massively streamline the fic, which worked! All the high moments you want a fic to cover - epic fights, dramatic reveals, important conversations, silly moments, developing relationships. And absolutely NOTHING else, there was very little context. Made for some excellent moments of people frantically trying to explain themselves lol.

Character stared too long into the void, broke the fourth wall to watch their own media. They spent most of the fic about to cry.

Protags patron deities hosted a viewing to try and get him a gf/bf from their other avatars. He wasn't looking for romance but did eventually end up in a poly relationship.

Prophet reluctantly revealed his own version of events with the help of his sentient house. This was about a movie so it was pretty fitting thematically lmao.

There is so much potential!! There's so many ways to do it, branch out, give these sorts of fics a try! Don't get stuck in the rut of the same methods as everyone else, even in this genre there's all sorts you can do with it! Use some of these examples if you want! Get creative and don't forget you're writing a story!!

Of course, if you recognise or are reminded of these please don't link or name them*, but you're more than welcome to guess which fandom each belongs to XD!

*Except that Harry Potter one, please I need closure, it's been a decade-

#Long post #Characters watch the series #Characters view the canon #Cvtc #fic ideas #fic ref #fic writing #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer #ao3 memes #fanfic #Characters read the books #ao3 #My fanfic white whale is that hp fic istg updates for that fic kept me entertained while I was bedridden for months and then I had #To find out from the authors friend that it had been taken down and her account forcibly deleted ToT. She said she was moving to ao3 but I #Think it got taken down there too before I even got an account to bookmark it :') she might still be there though idk #The name was something like book hater 34 idk. It was the only thing they wrote.#But yes! These are from a great variety of fandoms and are the ones that stuck out in my memory! I love this genre ^^

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