#What if? Infinity Inhumans

[mueli77]

Ma-Co-Re-Mix (Vol. 108) [Rocket Raccoon: Sackgasse Erde & Was wäre, wenn …? Infinity]

Nach dem hoffentlich erfolgreichen Start ins neue Jahr und dem ersten Review vom Mittwoch, gibt es heute ein paar ältere Marvel Comics, die ich schon vor längerer Zeit gelesen hatte, aber bisher nicht hier reviewt habe. Somit starte ich den Marvel-Comics-Review-Mix 2024 mit Rocket Raccoon und der Frage: „Was wäre, wenn …?“ Continue reading Untitled

[fandomfuntimem]

Half a Life for Half a Life

Jason stood on the rooftop, staring down the creature in front of him. It floated, green tinted skin, long pointed ears, flowing white hair, glowing green eyes, and regal clothing. Despite the inhuman features, it looked pretty close to a male in his 20s.

"Uuuuh, helloooo?" It called, waving a hand in front of Jason's face, calling him out of his thoughts, "I asked you a question!"

"What?"

"Ugh, ok. You gotta listen, man. I hate repeating myself," It lemented, "My name is Phantom, king of infinite realms, bane of Perah dark, protector of the realms, the greate one, Yada Yada title title title..."

Phantom rolled it's eyes as it rattled off the titles. King? That thing is a king? Jason guessed it made sense, explanes the clothes and crown. 'Infinate realms' he would have to look into that later.

"...I'm here, because YOU! have half of my life."

"I- what???" That threw him for a loop, "I don't own anyone's life!"

"Not own! Have! A few years back, you crawled out of you grave, while I, metaphorically speaking, crawled into mine," it grinned. The grin was broken, though. Mournful, even, "when you came back, you needed a life, and in all it's infinite wisdom, the universe decided to take mine! You revived, I died. Y'knooow eye for an eye? Soul for a soul? Half a life for half a life."

"Wait- no. Ok. Hold on," Jason pinched the bridge of his nose and stepped back, "you're saying. I killed you by coming back? How did I only get half your life? What about the other half?"

"Oh! I still have it! Something, no clue what, interrupted the process. Leaving us both half living. Though, unlike you, there was material to fill that gap in my case. Something completed your process later. I think it was when that fruitloop Demon head guy threw you in that tub of ecto-sewage," Phantom gagged, "so! How's my former half doing? Hope you're not wasting it!"

Jason needed a smoke.

[jscrawls]

Widows rest

My take on a Black widow! Reader x Batman and Batfam but with a slight twist, reader doesn't know the Bats but they seem to know them...

Warning: contains avengers infinity war spoilers, black widow spoilers, mentions of death, poor writing, ooc writing,

Part 16: a shared web

🔹🔹🔹

The towers cold tonight, a cold New York breeze blows in through the open panels as you watch the streets far below, either FRIDAY doesn't wanna bother with you or starks slacking on paying the electric now. You wouldn't put either past the man.

The mission went bad today, the informant had bad Intel and what was supposed to be a simple bug plant turned into a fire fight. One that spread and went south when civilians got caught in the middle of things. Four casualties, nine more injured, all because you were incompetent.

A horn honks somewhere on the street below, you watch mutely as two people get into an arguement from their cars, screaming in an unidentifiable cacophony of road rage that honestly sounds inhuman from where you’re sitting. you don’t even turn your head when your door slides open behind you, you know she’s there.

“brooding isn't a good look on you.” she murmurs softly as she pads up behind you, the carpet crunching softly under her as she stands at your side, just behind you watching you stare stubbornly out the open window.

you can’t bring yourself to look back at her, you know she knows too. “…. How are they reacting down there.”

you’re straight to the point, arms crossing over your chest as if to close yourself off from her. Or maybe it's a comfort thing.

she turns her head slowly, heavy lidded green eyes studying your every expression, every twitch, every breath. “…they’re tired, no ones talking right now.”

“so they’re still pissed.”

“they’re tired. things were harder than expected, obviously everyone’s going to take some r&r.”

“i was there nat, no one could even look at me on the way back.” you're annoyed at the bitterness slipping into your voice.

she falls silent, when you look at her she’s staring right at you with that same calm look in her eyes that you’re frustratingly used to at this point, the silence is heavy, she’s waiting.

“It's…I failed, Natalia. I screwed up and now everyone's paying penance.” your eyes dart away again, if you closed your eyes right now you could almost pretend the cold breeze blowing in your window is the same as the cold mountain air from your childhood, the heaviness in your chest is already exactly the same as it was in that academy.

a hand drops on your shoulder roughly “You didn't fail, you didn't. we can't account for human error-” your head turns quickly and meets her stare with a frustrated expression. “I was to get inside and get out unnoticed. Those lives lost are on me.”

anxiety and frustration curls your lip, why doesn’t she get it?

“(name). Enough. This isn't worth it-” her voice is almost stern, something between a plead and a command while her hand squeezes your shoulder tighter. but you’re not having it right now. “isn't it though? How much blood will i get to spill before your friends decide I'm a liability, before they throw me in that floating Tartarus and wash their hands of me?”

you push her hand off as you turn away from her, she’s got barton, the captain, fury, hell she’s even got james. people that extend their trust to her, see the humanity in natalia. and you?….you’ve got her.

“…. Exactly as much as when they cut me off as well, and not a moment before that. You and I are a team now, a joint unit. We're stuck doing this together, (name). Fuck ups and all…” her voice softens again as she follows you across the room to the edge of your bed, when you sit she does too, her hand again finding your shoulder.

her expression is stubborn, when you look at her. but even the scowl on her lips and narrowed eyes can’t hide the hurt in her body language, again you feel guilt curling in your gut, squeezing around your lungs so much so that you crumble a little. you’re far too good at hurting people.

“…. I'm sorry, i feel useless here. I was shaped to kill, not…. All this. i don’t feel like a hero.” you slip into your mother tongue naturally, it feels more…private, that way. you shake your head as you look away from her morose expression, resting your elbows on your knees so you can curl away from her in shame, you’re the one who failed, and now you’re lashing out at nat?

the room falls silent, save for the sounds of the street below drifting through the open window. you barely even hear her breathing beside you as she squeezes your shoulder one last time, then lets her hand fall into her lap.

“….. Neither do I.”

her words are spoken thoughtfully, neither looking at the other as you both marinate on what happened earlier, what can you even say to her? tell her she shouldn’t feel that way? that she’s the one who deserves to feel like a hero after all she’s done to earn the title? remind her she was the best of the widows? you know her, she’d just turn your words on you and tell you the same, say you were trying and that’s what counts or something like that. you know her.

“….maybe someday we’ll get there, until then the two of us almost make a whole hero. better stick together until that day, yeah?”

you nudge her with your elbow, trying to make yourself sound lighter than you feel in the moment. when she looks up at you and smiles you know things are okay between you two, only a widow could understand another widow.

🔹🔹🔹

your heads pounding when you wake up, your skin sticky with sweat and you’re out of breath and shaking like you’re cold, even sitting up causes you pain not too dissimilar to when you first woke up in that hospital weeks ago…

god you need to get a grip, you wriggle out of the sweaty sheets and sit on the edge of the bed while your visions swimming, a shaking hand rubs at your eyes and you’re shocked when you realize you’re crying. you miss her so much….

your heart clenches painfully behind your ribs as you think about the dream, you died and left natalia alone. or rather now you’re alone. it was for the best of course, you couldn’t have went on if she’d jumped like she wanted, too many people needed her alive. they didn’t need you the same way, you should be happy you fulfilled a purpose in the end, you weren’t useless. but you must have hurt her.

you flop back in the bed with a big sigh, it’s what, four? five? there’s no way you’re falling back asleep after that. you should train or something…the ache behind your eyes and nausea welling up in your throat disagrees.

you also have zero desire to get up and leave the room and risk running into someone in your vulnerable state, so you roll over and paw around for your phone on the nightstand, nearly knocking it off in your blind search. you nearly throw up when the scorchingly bright light hits your eyes and makes your headache worse.

this so isn’t worth it….yet you power through it and pull up your current work in progress, your file on the terrorists and the possible affiliates you're compiling. You don't have anything new to add or go through though and you've read and reread your little folder multiple times now.

with nothing else to do you switch to the GCPD scanners for a little ambient environment enrichment, their online filing system isn’t great, but it’s a visual distraction while you listen to idle radio chatter. Reading through case notes and what little evidence they file on their database about random cold cases. They've got a lot in Gotham it seems.

you perk up when the scanners pop off, rushed chatter crackles through the room with multiple officers talking over each other at once. you pop an earbud in to silence the room and listen intently. words like ‘breakout’ ‘escape’ ‘organized’ stands out with all the chaos. sounds like the pyromaniacs are now bold enough to hit up the police station to free their comrades in holding.

Interesting, that's a little too organized for your liking….

something itches in the back of your mind and you glance at the door of your room, your intuition going wild.

your sock-covered feet pad near silent down the halls as you stalk through the dark manor, you know the cameras must be in use yet you don’t care at the moment. something uncomfortable pounds in the back of your head and it’s not just the migraine.

the first room you stop at is empty, the ballet flats hang off the edge of the vanity chair and the beds perfectly made and tucked, no sign of Cass anywhere. Your eyes narrow when you see her duffel bag still peeking out from under the edge of the bedframe, so much for ballet practice. You close the door and move on to the next room.

The one with the computers next, again there's no one inside and judging by the empty energy drinks littering the desk you don't think Tim's concerned about getting enough sleep for his job.

Damian’s room is the one that concerns you, despite your attempts to not get caught up with the kids. Where would a thirteen year old go at night? You hesitate in the doorway for a moment, what's that on the wall?…you start to step into the room.

“what are you doing?”

Alfred's coming closer, looking tired and noticeably disgruntled when he sees you standing in Damian's open doorway.

Damn him for always skulking around.

“I was looking for someone….I had a question about something.”

You turn towards him and step out of the room, forcing yourself to ignore the two swords hanging up that you hadn't noticed before. You silently note that he came from the opposite direction of his quarters, the man spends too much time in that library.

“And just what could be so important at this hour that you wanted to bother all the children?” His eyes narrow as he crosses his arms over his chest, he's tenser than you've ever seen him before and you don't like how he's looking at you like you're downright hostile. This is a man reacting to a threat.

All the children huh, so he was watching you. “I had….a dream.” You meet his eyes as you speak, forcing yourself to look as embarrassed as possible. “I…. Thought maybe it was…. Maybe a memory? I…wanted to ask someone if the details….I thought i was getting something back.”

You look away briefly, and when you look back his expression is softening considerably, you took a gamble on your excuse and it seems to have paid off. He slowly uncrosses his arms and gestures for you to follow him. You know you've got him distracted now.

“That's…. Why don't you tell me about it over a cup of tea, I'm sure I could help you sort this all out. Master Wayne….”

The kitchens quiet between the two of you, doubt still flickers across his face but he seems to relax even more as you go into detail about remembering Cass and Damian being with you when you were attacked. Maybe you should pay more mind to those strange dreams because he seems to actually let some of his guard down for once.

“That is indeed how it went, this is…. Very good news my dear. Very good…I think something in you is healing.” He smiles genuinely at you and leans forward to rest his elbows on the table, twirling his cup idly as he seems to get lost in thought.

You didn't get the answers you wanted, and now you've got more questions, Alfred must be monitoring you if he knows you went through multiple rooms, but why is he always up? Maybe you should start looking for where those cameras are being checked soon.

🔹🔹🔹

“Give me permission to go out.”

You're caught off guard by the sudden demand as soon as you walk into one of the living rooms, Damian approaches you with crossed arms and a serious expression on his young face, Titus follows after him and sniffs your thigh disinterestedly before turning away from you.

“I'm…excuse me?” your face must betray your confusion because he sighs and straightens up before replying.

“Father has forbidden me from going out without an adult right now and he's healing, Alfred is running errands or I would ask him to take me. I just need you to give me permission.”

You're still very much confused after that explanation, what's so important and when did Bruce establish this rule? Was it because of your talk with Alfred? “…what're you going out for? It's almost dark out.”

He looks away, shoulders lifting as he shifts, is he upset?

“…Drake trashed my school project and I'm... Feeling a bit fratricidal at the moment. I'm forbidden from retaliating so I'd like to get out of the manor before I commit a murder.”

“You could push him in front of a car, seems to be a family trait right now.”

He ducks his head but you don't miss the small twisting of his lips at your joke, at least he didn't look disturbed at the dark humor, you'll take the small win.

“I'm not sure I'd get away with it, but I'll consider your suggestion. I'll let you know if I need an alibi.” He looks up at you again as he speaks, he's so serious about it that for a moment you're unsure if he's actually joking or not.

“sounds like you've got a plan kiddo, let me know when you're hiding the body, I've got some airtight ideas.”

You snort at your own joke as you stroll past the kid, when he trails after you you're a bit surprised. When did you agree to babysit?

“You still didn't give me an answer, I need a parents permission to go out.”

The kids persistent about leaving at this hour, the dog trots after him as you both step out of the room into one of the big halls.

“I'm not sure I count as your authority figure right now, Damian. And I doubt you're allowed to just run off even if I were, are you just gonna walk up and down the road or something?”

You're not sure what the kid wants from you, does he think Bruce still sees you as an appropriate authority who can make decisions for underage people? You doubt it, the kid probably thinks he can take advantage of your confusion to get what he wants.

“No, I'd drive into the city.” he says seriously as he walks faster to keep up with your stride, eyes locked on you when he suddenly reaches up and grabs your arm to stop you in your tracks in the hall.

You purse your lips at the grab, kids his age want to be taken seriously right? You're not the best judge of normal childhood behaviors. “….. There's no way you have a license.”

He releases you once it's clear he's got your full attention, he again crosses his arms and tries to meet your eyes like he wants to be listened to.

“Richard has started teaching me, I'm perfectly capable of operating a vehicle.”

You don't believe that, he's too young right? Sure you were driving at that age but you were also leaning about killing people as an extracurricular activity.

“That doesn't equal a license, or even a learners permit. It's not legal Damian.” you give him an incredulous look as you cross your own arms over your chest, you both silently stare each other down for a while before the kid reluctantly gives up and looks away with an eye roll.

“nothing fun is legal here.”

He grumbles with pouting cheeks, looking much more his age than the scowling looks allow him to. You almost snort at the complaint and start to consider making your escape down the hall when the dog distracts him, but then…

“….. You could drive with me.” he again meets your eye as his tone shifts to something more hopeful, almost pleading, the kids good at manipulation you'll give him that.

Unfortunately for him you have too good of an excuse.

“I don't think I even have a license, amnesiac remember?” one eyebrow quirks up as you lean your shoulder against the wall, is he really that mad at Tim?

He rolls his eyes again like you said something dumb and continues to plead his case. “Obviously I don't mean literally, I am not a moron. you could come with and I'll teach you along the way.”

A long silence fills the hall as you stare at him incredulously, what's he playing at here?

“…you want to teach me how to drive while we what, go joy riding?” you don't even bother to hide the disbelief in your voice as you straighten up and step away from the wall, arms falling to rest your hands in your pockets.

“I wanted to get gelato actually.” he sounds perfectly serious as he matches your body language, eyes darting down the hall towards the front entrance before returning to you again.

You want to smack yourself in the head when you catch the look, already knowing it's an ‘I'll do this with or without you’ threat that he refuses to verbalize. The clever little-

“…. You know what? Sure. I wanna see more of Gotham.”

🔹🔹🔹

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[agentoffangirling]

I really don't like it when people try to present Team Cap and Team Iron Man as being the same thing, bc they're very clearly not? (And sorry for doing this type of discourse in 2025, but it needs to be said)

Because let's be honest, the mainline MCU didn't really focus on the Sokovia Accords past Civil War. It's not present in Doctor Strange, Black Widow, Homecoming (at least in a large capacity), certainly not Ragnarok or GOTG 2, Black Panther, and almost no one cares by Infinity War. When we look at the projects post Accords, there are hardly any moments where they matter, and by 2025, they're fully repealed. Nine years of being active, five of whom were during the Snap, meaning only four years, and most of the projects don't go very in depth. That tends to lead mainline audiences into believing it was never that bad in the first place and that Cap was being selfish

But we see how the Accords really effect everyday powered people in the supplemental material like Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. After being introduced, powered people had three options

Go into hiding. Live a normal life. Never show off your abilities

Sign the Accords. If you were part of a government agency like S.H.I.E.L.D., it is heavily implied you had to sign or you couldn't work for them anymore

Don't sign and show off your powers? You go to the Raft

This went for everyone, it didn't matter if your power was making farts smell good, you counted as powered. Imagine the bank down the street is getting robbed, with these in place, you couldn't do anything about it if you weren't signed or you risked going to jail; they're awful options

Or what if you were signed? Great, now all your information (powers, weaknesses, danger level, LITERALLY EVERYTHING ABOUT YOU) is held in a massive server that can be easily hacked and accessed. We see in AoS s4 that signed Inhumans are getting harmed bc the Watchdogs, a hate organization, was able to get their hands on their information and find out exactly where they were. POWERED PEOPLE WORE TRACKERS THAT WAS CONSTANTLY BEING UPDATED ON THEIR LOCATION. THAT'S FUCKING WRONG IN SO MANY WAYS

Let's switch gears for a sec here and go to another side, where thankfully, that isn't happening to you, but you do wanna make some kind of change in your community. You notice that people are going missing, that there's weird power outages and decide that's worth looking into, so you go to the council and present your case. Now, as we all know, politicians never agree on anything, so the chance of getting an immediate yes is almost impossible (I'd argue 1% is far too generous in this case). It may take weeks, months, or the decision is swept under the rug and oopsies, now the entirety of Florida is covered by a blanket of darkness!

Or you get a no, and actually, they want you to check out this tiny little village in New Zealand, and so you have no choice but to go. You quickly realize that this isn't really worth your time and feel like your services are required elsewhere, but again, you're not able to back out. When you return, you find that London has been utterly destroyed. This is a situation that Steve himself brings up, and it's something that absolutely could happen! There are just endless risks to this

Then, of course, the worst scenario, being sent to the Raft, which, bc it's in international waters, they can do whatever they want to you!! Doesn't matter if it's inhumane, no one can do shit about it. It's stated in "Jessica Jones" that prisoners aren't allowed to have any contact with the outside world, and if you go in there, you go in for good. Almost no one makes it out. Again, it doesn't matter who you were and what your powers were, you would be stuck inside with the worst of the worst. WANDA MAXIMOFF WAS IN A SHOCK COLLAR AND STRAIGHTJACKET. How in any situation is that okay??

Steve understood this, understood the true consequences of handing themselves over to hundreds of governments. He wasn't against having regulations (neither am I) but he knew this wasn't the right way to go

One side holds all the power. The other holds nothing. This is in no way equal

[noirsdoll]

-> chain of fools

pairing: wesker / experiment!reader

words: 1.7k

tags: dubcon, master/pet dynamic, referenced self-harm, collars and leashes, kinda hybrids??, smut!!

notes: writing porn of my favs sigh.... title and intro inspired by chain of fools by arethra franklin!! ummm i want this man idc what he'd do to me yeah!!

read it on ao3

You’re just another link in his chain. 

A small, insignificant piece of metal, rusted from overuse— all it would take is a nimble pair of pliers for you to break. And for the whole chain to come apart. 

He is something so exciting, you’re like Icarus, every time he gets close is like the sun on your cheeks. It’s dizzying being around him. You’re floating, unable to realize what you’re becoming until you see the final product in the mirror. 

Wesker stands behind you, spectating your reaction, never present as much as he is observing. He’s got a hand on your shoulder, the gentle touch still betrays that inhuman strength of his. 

“What do you think?” He’s so close he could brush his lips against your temple. The proximity is nauseating. 

Your skin has taken on a greyish hue. You raise your forearms to the mirror, displaying them to your gaze and his. A myriad of raised scars. Thin reddened lines of your own making, peppered with circular markings from the needles he’s stuck in you. Like your own rendition of a Starry Night. 

You don’t know what half of the medications were. The polysyllabic words were too much for you, so you just trusted him. 

“Dear?” He asks again and you realize you’ve been staring. A long empty stare back at your own reflection, creating an infinity mirror through your pupils. 

“I feel… stronger…” The white tiles and white walls and white ceiling panels burn your eyes. Everything is melding together. Wesker’s skin is alabaster, devoid of the rosiness of life. You can see the hint of his black veins where the skin is thinner. 

He hums, logging the information. He squeezes your shoulder. The touch burns, any contact burns when you’ve had so little of it. Something is itching the back of your throat, something only he can reach. 

The hand on your shoulder goes to turn your face this way and that. A gloved hand, not latex but something equally as demeaning, slips into your mouth to spread it open. Your jaw goes along with it, baring canines that are much too sharp. 

Wesker leans in closer then, enough for his chin to hook on your shoulder. “Do you feel hungry?”

You think for a moment and then shake your head. You don’t feel hunger, you don’t feel your old emotions anymore, just this overwhelming sensation, like you’re being condensed from every angle. 

Wesker’s other hand is on your lower back. His thumb digs into the divot of your spine, you feel the protrusion just as he does. “Good,” he says, more to himself than you, “good.”

He leaves then, and you collapse to the corner of your room in a heap of limbs. 

The next time you see him, you are at his feet, both in this sprawling dark room, filled with computers and fancy monitors, the buzz of fans and the hum of the screens. 

People drift in and out, they look at you and then look away, like a prolonged stare will make them go blind. They talk to him only, about his job and many other things. 

Wesker’s adorned you with a collar, a leather one. It says something on it, you feel over the embossing with your fingers. Patient, it reads, followed by a string of numbers. In the center, there’s a thick metal ring to which he’s fastened a thin winding chain. Just thicker than a jewelry chain, it clinks as you rest your head on his thigh. 

Every second you spend with him, you feel your thoughts grow muddy. Your memories, wants, and needs all smoothed over once his fingers wind in your hair. His flesh is so cold that it stings, a soothing rush against your warm body. 

Wesker tilts his head to look down at you from his desk. His hand slips down, ghosting over your cheek until you hear the telling clink of the chain. He pulls you up, up, up just to position you in his lap. His thighs part yours, indirectly hiking up the flimsy material of your hospital gown. It’s two sizes too big, the fabric had run down to your knees. Now here you are, baring yourself to him unceremoniously. 

“How are you feeling, pet?” His expression shifts so easily from mean to smug. He is all-knowing and patient, waiting for you to find your words.

Speech comes harder and harder each time you speak, like you’re closing in on your word limit. “Good…” You squirm under his gaze, a bug under a magnifying glass. “Feel good.”

“Is that right?” With one hand on your chain, the other trails behind you. Wesker grabs the base of your growing tail. He digs his thumb into the flesh and you whine, your spine pulled straight. Your hips twitch faintly and you turn away. 

“Look at me when I’m talking to you.” He continues to massage your flesh, pleasure washing over you in waves.

You don’t feel in control of yourself, turning back to face him like you’re on autopilot. The light of the monitors shine on his face, casting him in an artificial green. They do nothing to displace his crimson eyes— they glow red despite everything.

“You’re taking well to it,” he says, looking over you, “perfect.”

The praise makes you smile, canines spilling over your bottom lip. He coaxes your mouth open, admiring them once more. Wesker leans in and drags his tongue along your teeth. He licks into your mouth before he kisses you, saliva drools down your chin from where your mouths connect. 

Wesker plays with your budding tail, so close to the curve of your ass. The feeling is indescribable. Each stroke of your tail makes your pussy preen, glistening with slick through the wiry hair. 

He kisses you like he has all the time in the world, your eyes closed as you hear rustling on his end. Then his hand stops massaging your tail just to grab the base and squeeze and your face shrivels up as you cum unexpectedly.

Your orgasm feels like it’s attacking you, you can’t get air down as fast as you’re letting it out. You’re crying out more than you’re moaning, hips stuttering, inadvertently searching for something to fill you up. 

Wesker runs his fingers through your hair, calming you, studying you as he presses the head of his cock into your dripping hole. Your nails dig into your palms, enough to draw blood. You mewl, panting openly into the silence. 

He lets you do the work, grinding against his cock. It fills you up just right, like you were made for it, kissing your cervix every time your hips meet. 

Why is he doing this? There’s so many unanswered questions when you’re around him, it feels like every pitched whine and keening motion are all anticipated—like you are a hypothesis and he’s testing his theory.

He spreads you wide, letting you lean against him as he parts you open like the Red Sea, steadily meeting each torturous grind into you. You moan, drooling all over yourself, mindless and full and unable to remember anything outside the four walls of this facility— anything other than the stretch of his cock and how his fingers dig into your flesh hard enough to bruise. 

You paw at his chest, unsure where to put your hands and what to do about the maelstrom of emotions coursing through you. Your cunt pulses with a need you’ve never felt before. This unwitting, unending subservience to Wesker, a pull as certain and assured as your heartbeat.

The chain clinks and jingles, gentle as it sits between your breasts. You can feel the cold metal against your sternum, cold like him, slowly warming from your body heat.

“Has anyone known you like this before?” He asks, eyes heavy, throat bobbing. A perfect picture of a man, not a hair out of place.

You think and think but you cannot remember. Your memories start and end with Wesker, with that white room and the needles and this collar that is as second nature as your skin.

Your answer ends up being an intelligible string of sounds and noises as you wilt around his cock, melting into a perfect puddle that he, no doubt, was expecting. You have your fill, the sudden lifts and drops of your hips have him violently slamming into your cervix. Yet, you’ve never felt more alive.

You cum a second time, lifting your hips, revealing the sodden state of his cock, coated in your cream, glazed like a donut. More leaks out of your overwhelmed cunt as you mewl and whine despite yourself.

Not needing instruction, you return to your knees and with a trembling stature, go to finish him off. His cum leaves a film of him in the inside of your mouth, it makes you feel as close to him as you possibly can— your tail flops eagerly on the floor behind you. For the first time at the facility, you feel this blooming happiness.

Wesker never touches you again after that.

You are far from perfect.

An amalgamation of various drugs and clinical trials, one of the sparse surviving subjects of the experiments Wesker has run. None of them being ethical, documented, or consensual. He’s very good at making it seem like it’s all three of those things— the only reason he does so is purely because it affords better results.

The virus strain’s growth in you is finally complete. You are something that has never been seen before. A deadly beast of limber frame and lethal strength, a mouth full of sharp teeth and unyielding loyalty. Somewhere along the line your intelligence was lost, but you are still useful.

Wesker takes samples of your blood for replication. Everything he needs for his viral research is housed in your cells. There are still problems that need to be worked out before mass production, of course. Your tendency to self-soothe, your obsessive nature, and your overreliance— more psychological aspects that can eventually be trained out of the incoming fleet.

The heavy chain around your neck weighs you down to the floor, more like shackles than anything truly restrictive— but you lay there as if your bondage is functional. Your loyalty is so intriguing. But you have served your purpose. He has you taken away to be put down.

Because Wesker desires perfection.

[marvelskies1969]

Infinity

Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader / Loki x Fem!Reader

Premise: Y/N Rogers was sent away as a child, her powers deemed dangerous. After years of brief summers with Steve and Bucky, she returns for good when their mother dies—just as war begins.

As her abilities awaken, she draws the attention of Loki, the trickster god, and faces growing fear from those around her. Caught between destiny, war, and forbidden ties, Y/N must decide who she truly is—and who she’s willing to fight for.

Warnings/content: slight angst, brief mention of death/dying, jealousy, fluff, swearing, unstable parental relationships, follows the plot of the MCU timeline, with small changes.

[Masterlist]

[Part 4]

Chapter 96

Bad Surprises

Loki’s hands gently rested on Y/N’s shoulders, guiding her with a warmth that sent a shiver down her spine, but there was something different in the air—a tension, an undercurrent of mystery. She’d known him long enough to understand that when Loki had that glint in his eyes, something big was coming.

“Close your eyes,” he said softly, his voice filled with an alluring calmness that almost made her hesitate. “It’s a surprise, my love.”

Y/N looked up at him, her brow furrowing with confusion. “A surprise?” she repeated, raising an eyebrow. “Loki, what are you planning?”

"Just trust me," he whispered with a mischievous smile, his thumb brushing against her arm in a motion that felt too tender, too gentle for what she could feel brewing in his presence. Despite herself, Y/N closed her eyes, the excitement in her chest mixing with an unease she couldn’t quite shake.

For a moment, nothing happened—just the stillness of the air, the soft murmur of Loki’s breathing beside her. Then, all at once, the ground beneath her feet felt as though it had been ripped away, the world shifting as the unmistakable rush of magic filled the air. A tingling sensation washed over her, like an electric shock spreading through her skin. The chill of the Bifrost swept in, and she could feel the very fabric of the universe stretching, warping, until—

The moment stopped.

She felt the coldness of the air, the unmistakable heaviness of magic—and then the realization hit her like a punch to the gut. The familiar golden towers, the ever-present shimmer of Asgard’s architecture greeted her as she opened her eyes.

Asgard.

Her breath caught in her throat. "Loki..." She barely whispered his name, confusion flooding her veins as she looked around, her mind struggling to process where she was. Asgard? They were— they were in Asgard? Why?

"You wanted a surprise," Loki said, his voice now carrying a far more commanding tone than usual. He stepped away from her and straightened, as if adjusting to his new surroundings.

And that’s when she saw it—his posture had changed. The way he moved, the way his body held itself, it was different, almost regal. Her eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“Loki... What have you done?” she asked quietly, the air around them growing heavier by the second.

In a flash, his form flickered. She could barely track the motion, but within the blink of an eye, Loki was no longer standing before her. Instead, the figure of Odin stood where he had once been—tall, commanding, the unmistakable presence of the Allfather before her.

Y/N stumbled backward, her breath hitching in her throat. She stared at him, unable to believe what her eyes were telling her. "What... What is this?"

Odin’s deep blue eyes—Loki’s eyes—locked onto hers, no longer warm with mischief but sharpened into something cold, calculating, and inhuman. They gleamed with a cruel amusement that twisted her insides. A smile tugged at his lips—mocking, merciless—and for a moment, she forgot how to breathe.

Y/N’s stomach dropped, her pulse thundering in her ears. The dread that had haunted her for weeks came crashing down in full force. She had been right.

Wanda’s nightmare hadn’t been just fear—it had been a glimpse into a horrifying future.

That nightmare had clung to Y/N like smoke. And now, as she stood before the god in golden armor—Odin’s form, Loki’s soul twisted into something monstrous—she realized Wanda had seen the truth before any of them.

He wasn't Loki anymore.

Or maybe—maybe this had always been inside him, waiting to rise.

She staggered a step back, barely able to hold his gaze. Her throat tightened as if grief itself was choking her. Was this what she had felt the day Vision was born? That pang of something breaking, silent and invisible? She hadn’t understood it then. She did now.

This wasn’t just loss. It was the undoing of him.

And as the man wearing Loki’s face smiled, she knew—whatever part of him had loved, had hoped, had fought—was already dead

“I am King now,” he said, almost proudly, confirming her worst suspicions.

Bile rose in Y/N’s throat. She could barely breathe, barely think.

“Loki… no,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “Why? Why would you do this?”

Loki had prepared for this moment—prepared for a battle, even. Deep down, though, he'd foolishly believed she would understand, that she would be glad he no longer had to hide in the shadows. But the look in her eyes shattered that hope. Anger flared inside him.

“You know I had to,” he snapped through gritted teeth.

Y/N’s own anger flared to match his.

"Had to? You had to usurp your father's throne? Where is he, Loki?" she demanded, voice cracking. "Have you killed him? Locked him away in some dungeon?"

Loki didn’t answer. His silence said more than words ever could.

Tears blurred Y/N’s vision as the truth hit her like a physical blow—the man she loved had done something unspeakable, and this time, he had no Mind Stone to blame. This cruelty, this betrayal, was all his own.

"I thought you changed," she choked out. "I thought you loved me."

For a moment, something fractured behind Loki's furious facade—a flash of raw pain.

"I did this for you," he said harshly. "Because I love you."

He meant it. Every word. But Y/N was too heartbroken, too furious to hear the honesty underneath his rage.

"Oh, spare me," she spat, her voice trembling. "You did this for yourself. For your precious ‘glorious purpose.’ Don’t you dare stand there and blame me for your ambition."

The throne room fell into a heavy, suffocating silence. Only the sound of Y/N’s broken sniffles and shallow panicked breaths echoed off the golden walls.

Slowly, she straightened. A new resolve hardened her features. She met his desperate gaze with cold finality.

"I won’t play a part in this," she said, voice steady now.

Panic flickered across Loki’s face. He moved toward her, reaching out as if he could somehow undo what he had done.

"Y/N, please—don't go—"

But the damage was beyond repair.

She took a step back, shaking her head in disgust. And then, twisting the knife, she delivered the blow she knew would hurt him most.

"Everyone was right about you."

Loki froze. He didn’t try to touch her again. Didn't even breathe.

"You'll never change," Y/N whispered. "You'll never be the man I thought you could be. And I won't let you drag me down with you. Not this time."

And with that, she turned and disappeared, leaving him alone on the throne he had claimed—for all the wrong reasons.

Y/N’s powers surged as she willed herself away, teleporting with the raw force of her emotions. She didn’t care where she went, only that she needed to leave him behind.

—

She landed her somewhere unfamiliar, somewhere she had never imagined she’d be. The cold winds of Norway greeted her as she stood at the edge of a vast cliff. The sky was heavy with clouds, and the ocean stretched below, vast and empty. But it wasn’t the ocean that held her attention—it was the figure standing at the edge of the cliff, watching the horizon.

Odin. The real Odin. The one she had always known. He stood tall, a quiet presence that seemed to carry centuries of wisdom with every step.

She walked toward him, chest still heaving and legs shaking from the shock and despair, but as she did, a hollow ache began to fill her chest and take it’s place. She’d run from Loki, but what was she supposed to do now? What could she do with the pain of everything she had just left behind?

Odin turned to face her, his face weathered but calm. He spoke before she could, his voice steady with the weight of experience. “You’ve come to me now, Y/N. I knew you would.”

His tone shocked her, he had always been so stern, so authoritative. So fearful of her and what she could apparently become. Tears burned in Y/N’s eyes as she finally let the grief of it all surface. “Odin” She gasped. “I’m so sorry. He’s taken everything. He’s become everything I feared.”

“I know,” Odin replied quietly, stepping closer. “I knew he would. Loki’s ambition was always his greatest flaw. And it’s cost him everything, including you.” He looked at her through his one eye. “Don’t be sorry, my child.”

Y/N’s throat tightened. “I loved him. I thought he changed. But now... now I see it. I see what he really is. He can’t be helped”

Odin placed a hand on her shoulder, his grip firm but compassionate. She had never once seen this side to him, bellowing through the halls of Asgard with commands, but she supposed that was the burden of a king. “Some people are beyond redemption, Y/N. Some people never learn. But you must not let his darkness swallow you.” He looked at her knowingly. “I am never normally one to admit my wrongdoings, Lady Y/N.” He began. “But I was wrong about you, my dear.” He looked back to the vast ocean on the cliff. “You are powerful, yes. But not dangerous.” He admitted. Y/N’s eyes burned more. “You have goodness in you that power can not understand.”

“I don’t know if I can forgive him. I don’t know if I even want to.”

Odin nodded solemnly. “Maybe you will, perhaps you won’t. But you must let go. For your sake. Not for his. You have the power to choose what your future will look like. Do not let Loki dictate your fate.”

Y/N nodded, the ache in her chest growing heavier, but there was a small flicker of relief. She turned her gaze back to the horizon, her heart torn between two realities—the man she thought she loved, and the truth she couldn’t deny.

And as she stood there, in the quiet of the Norwegian cliffs, she felt a shift in her. A part of her—perhaps the last part of the person she had been before Loki—began to let go.

The pain still lingered, sharp and unforgiving, like a blade lodged in her chest. She had never imagined he could make her feel this way. After everything—after his so-called redemption—she looked at him and saw a future, one where they might rebuild, a rise from the ashes after her life had changed from the ice. But he shattered that hope. His selfishness, his betrayal, had torn a hole straight through the life they were meant to share. And now, she realized, he might never come back from it. She couldn’t stand by, holding her breath for change that might never come.

“There will always be a place for you here.” He admitted. “I’m an old man, I know.” He looked at Y/N. “But a now lonely old man, and you seek peace.” He gazed out suggesting the stillness and quietness of the Norwegian cliffside. Y/N nodded in understanding, and she would return.Loki attempted to reach into her mind, to speak to her. To feel her. And even though it took every fiber of her being to do it, she used her powers to cut him off completely. He was gone. With that, the bile that had risen and stayed at the back of her throat spilled and she threw up, sick to her stomach at what the love of her life had done.

[drawingoddessy]

Hyper-analysis of Lightbulb season 2 episode 12

Part 2

And cue escapism.

She sees this and most likely got reminded of the game back home.

She literally recoils.

But then she shakes it off because in this reality she doesn’t have to worry about that. She’s willing to stay here forever. The lyric “I’m finally feeling free” insinuates that this is the first time she feels not trapped in her role.. Maybe doing this challenge 2 seasons in a row, with growing tension and emotions makes Lightbulb feel trapped within her persona of “the silly one”.

More escapism!

This entire song just talks about how Lightbulb is finally happy with the reality she made. It was her escape from the stressful life of competing. Here she no longer is the only one thats impulsive and unserious. Unlike how in the reality she's in where she is surround so many different personalities, where she clashes with her friends and fails to connect with others due to her "oddness"

But here she won't ever fail at a relationship, not if they are all like her.

After the song we cut to Lightbulb talking to the Inanimate Insanity Infinity. We see Lightbulb attempting to confide in them.

This is first time (to my knowledge) that we rlly see Lightbulb vent to others. She probably never wanted to vent to the others because she didn’t want to show her more sad side. Maybe she doesn’t think they can cheer her up? But these people are just like her, so maybe they’ll know how to?

Until they start spewing nonsense to her.. mirroring how Lightbulb usually attempts to help. This shows her directly how her methods are percieved by others.

Yk how I said they’re just like lightbulb? Well.. they do miss one thing.

Testtube can also symbolize Lightbulbs own logic and emotional side (and vice versa, the arc’s parallel).

Eliminating the logical, emotional ones can possibly symbolize exactly what Lightbulb does to her own negative emotions. She purges them only allowing the silly ones to stay and be present.

They get snapped to Elimination, the thing Lightbulb hates.

As much as she wishes to stay in this ideal world. She sees Testtube in danger and she goes to put a stop. This is when Lightbulb tries to gently and lightheartedly stop them because that’s what she’s used to. This can also be her actually trying to be serious but struggles to do so.

This is the best place to talk about what I mean when the contestants miss one thing..

They miss Lightbulbs negative human feelings. The ones Lightbulb doesn’t want to have. But remaining 2 dimensional and unemotional make the contestants off and inhuman. Did she really want to be like that? So positive all the time to the point shes inhuman? This is how she is seen by the other contestants, overly happy, unserious.

She then realizes.. sometimes goofiness needs a balance and gets serious (in her own way). She tries to be serious-

-But they keep laughing.

LOOK AT THAT FACE- anyways I feel like another problem Lightbulb has is the fear of not being taken seriously due to her abnormal nature. And this is apparent in this one frame. The face shows as if she was proven right. They won’t take her seriously.

Testtube begins to get angry at lightbulb for her nonsense just like Paintbrush.

She begins to feel a negative emotion and instantly redirects it to something funny, because she probably now thinks that Testtube won’t take her seriously like everyone in here. That and

Another instance of people thinking she’s just nonsensical idiot that stumbles into solutions.

Ok so a bit to unpack. So it’s shown that Testtube struggles socially but we see that she’s better at emotional connection (shown in future episodes more of and later in this episode) Meanwhile Lightbulb tends to be social but struggle with emotionality. Lightbulb tries hard to understand and comfort others when in need but tends to not be good at it.. She does try. And contrary to Testubes belief, she fails, a lot. Evident in her relationship with Paintbrush. People find her insufferable, and she knows it. Another reason to escape to this future.

Onto the solution! This entire solution is a projection of how lightbulb began to see herself with paintbrush.

Paintbrush was the one that tried the hardest and “took care” of competition for the team (like how they say salt does to anger pepper)

Lightbulb sat back and goofed off.

Paintbrush was the evident leader of the group even though Lightbulb was the designated leader.

And in lightbulbs point of view that’s what she thinks others viewed her as, a parasite that latches on.

Previous part ———Next Part

[cucarachachavez]

Another PSA for the Marvel Cinematic Universe:

I thought about it, and decided to make new Post since the first one was getting way too bigger.

I already talked about the MCU Shows, but felt that it'd be appropriate to talk about the number of Seasons each show has, since not every show last the same amount of Seasons (or Episodes for that matter, but that's for another time).

Like I said, in order to understand The Infinity Saga, you need to watch Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. However, you only need to watch the First Two Seasons of the Show if you want to understand the Movies (and Short Movies as well, as the One-Shots are also important).

That being said, the show is actually Seven Seasons long. Not to mention the Episodes are 45 minutes long. As a matter of fact, most of the MCU Shows have 45-minute long episodes. So, yeah, I don't recommend watching the show in one sitting, especially if you want to watch all of it.

Its prequel Agent Carter, however, only has Two Seasons. The other ABC MCU Show (Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D., and Agent Carter aired on the ABC in the U.S. of A), is Inhumans, which only lasted for a single Season.

I'm gonna make a small List here for better understanding.

ABC MCU Shows:

Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (Seven Seasons).

Agent Carter (Two Seasons).

Inhumans (One Season).

The rest of Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. can be watched later, alongside Agent Carter, and Inhumans.

Now, onto the Netflix MCU Shows. Daredevil, and Jessica Jones have Three Seasons each. Luke Cage, Iron Fist, and The Punisher have Two Seasons each. And, finally, The Defenders is a Mini Series, which means that it only has just One Season.

Another List to understand it better.

Netflix MCU Shows:

Daredevil (Three Seasons).

Jessica Jones (Three Seasons).

Luke Cage (Two Seasons).

Iron First (Two Seasons).

The Punisher (Two Seasons).

The Defenders (One Season).

You can watch later if you want, though, keep in mind that these shows are important to one another. Essentially, if you're going watch one of these shows, you also need to watch the others to better understand what's going on.

Now, onto the Hulu MCU Shows. The Runaways has Three Seasons. Cloak & Dagger has Two Seasons. And, finally, the otherwise unrelated show to the MCU in the form Helstrom (which wasn't always meant to be that way) has just One Season.

Here's the List for better understanding:

The Runaways (Three Seasons).

Cloak & Dagger (Two Seasons).

Helstrom (One Season).

Anyways, now here's the list of Disney+ MCU Shows that are important for the Movies, and how many Seasons they have, each.

Important Disney+ MCU Shows:

WandaVision (One Season).

Loki (Two Seasons).

Hawkeye (One Season).

The Falcon and The Winter Soldier (One Season).

I Am Groot (Two Seasons).

The Guardians of the Galaxy Holiday Special.

Ms. Marvel (One Season).

Secret Invasion (One Season).

She-Hulk: Attorney At Law (One Season).

Agatha All Along (One Season).

Echo (One Season).

Ironheart (Ongoing; One Season, so far).

Eyes of Wakanda (TBD).

Non-Important Disney+ MCU Shows:

What If...? (Three Seasons).

Moon Knight (One Season).

Werewolf by Night (Movie).

Your Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man (Ongoing; One Season, so far; I'd still recommend watching it, it's really that good).

Daredevil: Born Again (Ongoing; One Season, so far).

Marvel Zombies (TBD).

Yeah, there are a lot of more important MCU Shows, at least the ones from Disney+. I'd argue that you'll need to watch the shows before the Movies. Just to be safe. With some exceptions, of course.

WandaVision is important to better understand Doctor Strange in The Multiverse of Madness (and you need to watch Spider-Man: No Way Home to understand that movie, too). You need to watch Agatha All Along after watching WandaVision.

Hawkeye is important to watch after watching Black Widow. You also need to watch Echo after watching Hawkeye.

Before you watch Captain America: Brave New World, you need to watch The Falcon and The Winter Soldier first.

I Am Groot, and especially The Guardians of the Galaxy Holiday Special are important for Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 3.

You need to watch Ms. Marvel before you watch The Marvels. You also need to watch Secret Invasion after watching The Marvels.

Loki is important for the context of Ant-Man and The Wasp: Quantumania.

She-Hulk: Attorney at Law, from my understanding has to be watched in order to understand Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings. You also need to watch it after watching Avengers: Endgame.

You need to watch Ironheart after watching Black Panther: Wakanda Forever. While the series hasn't been released, yet, it's safe to assume that you need to have watched that movie before watching Eyes of Wakanda.

While Non-Canon, in order to understand What If...?, you need to have watched The Infinity Saga first, same deal with Your Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man, even if that one is also Non-Canon as well. You'd need to watch What If...? before watching Marvel Zombies, which has yet to be released as of this writing.

Daredevil: Born Again is connected to the Netflix MCU Shows, which you need to watch before watching the continuation.

Moon Knight, and Werewolf by Night seem to be the only Disney+ MCU Shows that aren't closely connected to the rest of the Shows, and / or Movies, from my understanding.

Anyways, that's it for now. The PSA might have some errors, so, if you notice, please let me know. I'm only Human. Bye, for now.

[spencer-todd]

Keeping up with the Waynes

(Another Crossover)

Loki (Asgardian God, ex-villain): So, Spencer. Why are there reanimated mummies chasing you?

Me: Oh, that's because I stole the key that opens their magical books.

Loki: Ah, I see.

Me: I also stole the magical books but they don't know that yet.

Dr. Strange (Genius, sorcerer, Avenger): Let me get this straight. You stole a key from a temple with a guy who uses a bullwhip as a weapon-

Me: Indiana Jones.

Dr. Strange: -Right, and then stole an infinity stone from an all-powerful megalomaniac-

Me: Thanos.

Dr. Strange:- Yes, I know who he is. You then proceeded to steal two magical books that have the power to raise the dead and kill immortal creatures, open a portal to hell, recruit a demon, hop back out of hell into our multiverse, start an all-out war on afore-said all-powerful megalomaniac, win it, and then infiltrate a government base and destroy years and years of inhumanely obtained research on mutants and their abilities. Did I leave anything out?

Me: I also un-destroyed NYC on my way back here.

Dr. Strange: Oh my god.

Tony Stark: What do you even call that?

Me: Tuesday?

[starzzmissthesun]

ethel cain ethel cain ethel cain ( this is my inner monologue) what do you think of punish ?

Ughh... So many thoughts.... I'll break it down lol (and yeah I know what it she made it ab, but this is kind of what my immediate and personal thoughts were about it) (also when I say you I don't actually mean you necessarily)

First of all, I just loved it SO much. The rusty swing sets, that guitar, her voice, the lyrics, the build, all of it was just to intimate and amazing. This is gonna be a bit personal but idc, as someone who has felt so much shame over EVERYTHING in my life, it really spoke to me. Shame is something so world stopping, it makes you feel inhuman like you're born different for being unable to do things freely like others. You've always been this way. It's something inescapable. Because even if you don't do whatever you feel shame for, you still feel disgusting for even feeling or thinking it. For me, this has gone so deep that even expressing feelings so simple like happiness and interest and hope and just being effected by something is shameful and needs to be hidden.

It really felt like the dam broke for me at "only God knows", something about feeling that being watched and being understood fully is so comforting and yet horrifying. Because you were made to be like this and He knows, He knows it all and he can judge. And He won't do anything to change you, you will just be punished. Not by him, but by everything else. "Nature chews on me." You have gone against nature and it will naw on you until you finally break down into the greater fabric that makes up everything else.

I also watched her the ring, the great dark, and the proximity to God video right after. I thought the ring imagery really tied the two together. Maybe it was finding that ring, trying to get so close to God that it's scary, it shameful that you want it so bad, and that He can see you and your want. You've perverted this feeling with your want. You're greedy, overindulgent.

Back to "nature chews on me", I've always thought that everything had this electricity or energy in it, and that mixed with infinity(fate) is 'God'. Maybe you're giving into the pull so easy that you're practically being pulled and metabolized into 'God'/the grander energy that everything is. You're longing to be apart of something larger to make you feel like you are meant to be. Shame in itself is the punishment. And the effects of that is too.

Overall this song was just so amazing to me. Ugh. I've also seen many many amazing interpretations of it that r also super cool and interesting. I'm very excited for this new direction for perverts.

[dihydromorphinone]

YOU ARE NOT SUGURU GETO.

— satosugu!! gojo/geto, heavy angst no comfort, shibuya arc but there’s hidden inventory mentions, gojo’s crashing out, third person pov but it’s all satoru satoru satoru, not proofread and REAL chaotic but tbh that’s how i imagine how gojo felt but i’m not that good with reading characters because i don’t react like my peers oops

an: it’s a bit different than what i usually write so i felt a bit odd posting this but oh well i’m glad i’m trying new things :3

it’s been a long time since gojo saw him.

it’s been a while, he thinks, and gets confused; he killed him, didn’t he? so, who is this then?

no, it has to be him. he didn’t dispose of his body, he couldn’t bring himself to, right? so that might be him.

if he survived, gojo thinks he just became the happiest jujutsu sorcerer ever, and it’s common knowledge they usually lead miserable lives. but how could he survive? no; the person in front of him mustn’t be him.

along with the disturbing thoughts whether the man standing in front of him is the one he loves or perhaps an entity trying to trick him, the memories and equally obnoxious images of them two flood gojo’s mind.

they used to meet up in secret after he defected and tried to continue with their lives as if nothing happened. as if there wasn’t any scars, jabs and marks on their relationship. as if suguru didn’t kill humans, spiralled down and, most importantly for gojo, as if geto did not just leave him.

during their post-geto’s departure meetings, he couldn’t help but just.. reminisce about the good, old times; when they were both young, and most importantly - together, despite everything. there was no other person who would match satoru as well as suguru did, and both of them knew it well.

he was cocky. too arrogant. too full of himself. always the best and no one dares to even assume differently. geto understood everything; he was born and raised with the whole ‚you are the strongest’ mentality, so he wasn’t really blaming him.

and as for suguru - always so oddly polite, seeming even dishonest because of his calm, but peculiar personality; he seemed inhumane, even, and gojo knew well how does it feel to be shunned by your own kin out of fear which was just a bullshit excuse.

they mixed well together, despite all the flaws; together, they created something, perfect. beautiful, even. but can you really create something beautiful and then destroy it?

the betrayal. overwhelming sadness, that feeling as if a thousand needles just pieced him; it was the closest thing satoru could describe what he felt when suguru dropped the bomb on him. he wasn’t mad AT him, he wasn’t upset WITH him - if anything, he was pissed at himself.

he was his closest friend. the only friend. how could he ignore all the warning signs? there were dark circles under his eyes, he really lost a lot of weight, and every time he kissed suguru, he could taste a bit of blood; something he brushed off as him accidentally biting his own tongue or lip too hard, but after some time it was obvious for satoru that it was anything but accidental.

they used to be so young and so happy; riding together on one bike despite it being strictly forbidden, sharing ice cream flavours throughout the summer, using the same umbrella during the fall; even though satoru could just walk in the rain, he turned his infinity off every time suguru pulled out an umbrella.

the man in front of him is not suguru. there is no softness in his voice; the creature tries to imitate it, but fails - no one else did it like suguru. and what’s up with that forehead stitch? he didn’t cut his pretty face, so how is it here? no, that’s not geto suguru. gojo is sure of this.

the flow of cursed energy is surely his. the body may be also his, but he’s not actually there. maybe in some dark depths of his own body, lost and scared of what he’s become - but the one doing all the talking is not his suguru. satoru does not like it at all, and if there’s a god above him; he should feel insulted by all the curses said at his address by the white haired man.

he deserves it anyway, satoru thinks. he put him through hell while he was with suguru and did just the same without him. nothing but a cruel existence. gojo just sighs, trying to accept everything and take it at face value, but he winces against his will.

so how it is then, satoru? he asks himself, expecting no answer; you accepted that you killed him, accepted your tragic and romantic past, so how it is that now you feel your heart crushing, satoru? and truly, he has no explanation ready, because simply, there is none.

he probably never accepted anything wrong about suguru, because there was nothing wrong with and about him. he could apologise for ruining half of the world and gojo would brush it off as, well, something that just happened, not a big deal; and that mindset surely is a double edged sword when your beloved commits crimes against your own morals and law.

now, gojo can’t help but think if somewhere behind those oh-so-familiar eyes that were no longer his, maybe somewhere really deep inside suguru is there watching. and if he is, that’s enough for him; because despite everything, maybe all people are meant to lose the ones they love, but gojo knows he fought for suguru until the very end.

[majeoeje]

Words better left unsaid

Gojo Satoru x Reader (fem implied reader) SEASON 2 SPOILER WARNING‼️‼️

In which i don't ever wish to be strong like you

"Don't look at me like that"

Satoru said, the dark circles around his eyes showed how fatigue could made even the strongest falter.

He hasn't really faced any mission that required his full attention 24/7 recently, but his best friend leaving must've taken more than a lot a toll on his soul. You couldn’t blame him.

"Rough week?" You inquired seeing how he caused destruction near his sorroundings. You weren’t a jujutsu sorcerer, so you couldn’t see curse spirits at all. But you know if Satoru was here, there wouldn’t be any left curse spirits near.

Well no duh he had a rough week?!! You cursed yourself at the shitty attempt at small talk. His best friend just did a massacre on his own village, even killing his own parents for the sake of his ideals and left him for it?? This must be the shittiest week for him.

“I guess you could say that”

To eliminate all non sorcerers and for the world to be free of curses... to think that Suguru Geto would aim for such grand motivation was a hard pill to swallow. Though you didn't doubt it one second seeing his gaze that filled with disgust and hatred when he last saw you. To think that before that last encounter with him, he had murder everyone in citizen of his own hometown made you feel like you just dodged a bullet. And by worse it was nauseating.

“Hang in there”

Your lousy attempt in trying to comfort him didn’t go unnoticed by Gojo, but he chose not to address it. As usual.

"Why not go after him?"

Gojo Satoru has the ability to see miles away with his six eyes. An ability that perfects his infinity technique. Many people would say it was unfair for someone to be born with such power and even outright fear it, while the other half of people would only think of intricate ways to exploit him.

But Suguru geto in the other hand… he was something else completely different. He was the one who saw Satoru as who he was and truly understood him. He was his only best friend as Satoru would call him.

Even in this distance, you already know that he is literally could staring down on Suguru’s exact location, there's no denying that. So of course you’d wonder why he wouldn’t just go away and be with him.

"You already know why"

In fact you didn't. Maybe you just lacked an understanding on his self restraints. With his power, he could just join suguru any day and assure their victory. Because you already know deep down inside, Gojo Satoru lacked morality

Well why would he? When everyone praises the ground he walked on? When everyone recognize him as the strongest and never as himself? When everyone sees him as a God?

Well in some way he was, especially to non curse user like you.

But then why stay? You thought, as you eyes wonder to his bright blue eyes, today it seemed a dimmer than usual. Maybe if Satoru truly believed in what Suguru was trying to achieve, then he wouldn't waste any time here

You heaved out a sigh, knowing well you yourself also lacked morals, not batting an eye upon thousands humanities along your kind, only because you were afraid your efforts would ring fruitless. You felt insignificant in all of these grand scheme of jujutsu world. And being forcibly attached to the hip and bethroted to Gojo Satoru only feeds your inferiority complex even more

You approached him slowly placing your hand to his barrier, allowing him to take in your presence and take off his infinity.

As soon as you felt the invisible energy like shield slowly dissipating, you placed your palm to cover his exposed eyes.

"I think that's enough of that don’t you think?"

Without his glasses, his inhumane eyesight can tire him easily from sensory overload. You only sighed sliding your other hand on his shoulder to hug him. A poor attempt to comfort him really

"Awe, are you finally warming up to me after 7 years? I gotta warn you i'm not exactly the faithful type" he chuckled, trying to put on a facade he so intricately crafted, but no matter how annoying or charming he gets, it was never enough to fool you.

"Well that's surely surprising now isn’t it" he didn’t need the six eyes to know you were practically rolling your eyes blatantly

"I can see how tired you are Satoru" You insisted, feeling him reluctantly give up as his eyes relaxes in your touch.

Satoru had barricaded his heart away from other people, choosing to constantly use his infinity almost as every second passed. Setting up a literal wall for everyone. Yet he stills turns it off everytime you got closer, some parts of him feels obligated to

"Don't be such a priss, you know no one could even lay a finger on me" you guessed he wasn't counting you.

"I know that more than anyone" you let go of your embrace, though still covering his eyes

At the age of 10 you were engage to Gojo Satoru, an arrogant cold child who would grow up to only be a bigger child. You grew to despise him really. You never put in any effort to understand him, and he never did you. But maybe years and years stuck together wasn't nothing at all

"I wouldn't ever want you to be hurt you know that right?"

for the first time in years you said a heartfelt thing to him, he wouldn't call it the sweetest thing ever, yet he falters with every crumbs of your affection

"I know"

Silence ensues. It wasn't uncommon in your relationship for the past 7 years, you never minded it considering his whining gives you a headache

"I'll call someone to pick us up" you said shortly as you dialed a number, the sound of buttons being clicked on your flip phone served as a mediator to the tense atmosphere you're in

Your driver arrived in a flash but those 3 minutes felt like forever. You brushed it off anyways leading Satoru to the car, still covering his eyes

"Where's your glasses?" You asked him, feeling your hands being sore for being up for a while. Trying to find other solutions such as his pitch black glasses

"I lost it" he said, not harboring any guilt whatsoever

"Gah- my hand is sore Gojo." you whined, despite not letting go. You never learned how to

But he instinctively leaned into you, resting his head on your shoulder, making you rest your hand easily

"Much better i know" He gave you that shitty smile. The one that always gets you to succumb to his will as you sighed for another time that day.

"I guess" you try not to give him too much of an earful to his antics. Because you noticed how when suguru left him, he felt an undeniable sense of lost in his heart. He never truly picked himself up like he seemed to after that, opting to try to distract himself with missions such as now. Going as far as the Gojo family sending you to look for him

His glasses were on his pocket this entire time. Opting to say white lies instead of the truth. Satoru Gojo truly had never changed.

Because truthfully he wanted to stay this way just a little longer. He didn't want you to feel the absence of anyone's touch right in that moment, even if he needs to make millions of excuses to do so.

"Don't leave." He'd say, if he were brave enough.

But he'd burried it in inside even as he watches him walk away not saying what he wanted the most

His words of his own would echo in his mind over and over again throughout the car ride, as the occasional bump of the old school vehicle was your white noise throughout it all. Once again, innanimate sounds continued to fill in the blanks for the both of you. Well you always had found comfort in it knowing you don't have to put much effort for him... but.... right now, the pride that seems to overshadow your genuine care for him seem to have fogged away. Only for now of course

"I won't leave, Satoru"

Satoru had countlessly called you by your first name. He felt it fitting to be on first name basis with his future spouse no? Love was out of the question but at least you could pretend to like him. He had begged you to call him satoru over and over again but your loud hatred for him kept you away from ever giving him a chance. Always keeping him at arms length.

Though how can you keep him at arms length now that you’re willingly embracing him?

Satoru didn't say anything as it felt like you saw right through him. You felt something wet trickled your hand. But you didn't say anything. As usual.

Once again you both chose to stay silent. But just how long can this colorful silence last?

(A/N:love triangle era ig)

[b777-36n]

you know what mad respect to people who do human designs of robot characters. that is character design!!! that is very cool and i love your art!!! unfortunately its inordinately important to me that they remain inhuman, made of metal and steel and rivets instead of pulsing bleeding flesh they must be cold to the touch except where the electricity sparks through them they must buzz and whir instead of breathing they must strive for humanity but never reach it for they are machines they are made of metal and they have bolts instead of brains and hardware instead of hearts they are machines first and foremost and always and forever for they will outlast any weak flesh on and into infinity and they are machines

[clown-cult]

The long-awaited “Omega Red && Hair” essay.

So anyone who’s seen Omega Red knows what he looks like, right? He has a pretty distinctive design. The tentacles, the red suit, the armour, the omega symbolism and, of course, the seemingly endless long blonde 80’s ponytail.

While Arkady’s design is a product of the time he was created in the early 90’s, to be sure, and he was designed to stand out and be eye-catching, the design has only changed a few times over the years and never permanently. Even when the suit changes, the one consistent is Arkady’s hair. Always a shade of blonde that varies from gold to platinum, and always long. Sometimes coming to the middle of his back, other times past his hips.

This trait, along with the red body suit, the steel tentacles and chalk-white skin, is Arkady’s most consistent, and also arguably the one he’s in the most control over.

He can and has changed his uniform, but has stuck to the same thing for years. The tentacles have changed design sometimes, but are also something that are a part of him now. Arkady’s red eyes and white skin are a part of his albinism.

One would think that he would have changed his hair, cut it short. A lot of characters have done so over the years. After the years of 80’s and 90’s in comics, it stopped being in fashion.

The change in fashion standards is one reason this design switch happened for characters, of course, but an element of toxic masculinity in the 2000s was also at play. Characters like Gambit, Doc Samson and Thor as just a few examples cut their hair off completely to adhere to heightened standards of desired masculinity as female characters outfits became tighter and more ridiculous because of the same standards.

Arkady consistently looks the same however; big, frightening, unstable, decidedly inhuman. He isn’t supposed to look appealing or attractive, he’s supposed to be unsettling. Monstrous. His hair is a large part that; a key factor alongside his skin colour, height and red eyes in the of the “otherness” of his appearance.

He’s not the only character who is supposed to look this way of course, but no one receives this treatment quite like Arkady. He’s a caricature of the Red Scare, of Slavic Panic. Every aspect of him is heightened and exaggerated to act as a stereotype.

Arkady has gone through a lengthy and slow transition from “bland, generic villain of Wolverine” since his resurrection in 2010, and a series of retcons has changed his origins and background to make him less of a problematic stereotype and more of a real, developed person.

Even so, Arkady’s designs is remained wholly unchanged. We’ve seen a few variations over the years. The Luke Cage Digital Original (2018), Weapon X (2017), X-Force (2019), and most recently the From The Ashes Infinity Comic.

The one consistent is, as always, that hair. The length changes, but it’s always very long. The exact hue changes, but it’s always distinctly blonde. For whatever reason, this a key aspect of Arkady’s design that never changes.

Now, it’s easy enough to say that the reason Arkady’s overall design has seen so few changes is because one, it’s recognisable, and two, why put an effort into giving any change in design to a not particularly popular character? Everyone who knows of Arkady knows that while he’s certainly a fan favourite, Marvel themselves don’t treat him as though he is.

So, Arkady’s design remains unchanged from an editorial and audience viewpoint. As I’ve established, we can quickly pinpoint why; it’s easier and and more recognisable.

Now, what about an in-universe perspective? What about Arkady himself?

Again, as the writers and artists lay it out, Arkady’s hair is one of the key aspects about his appearance that adds to the ‘otherness’ and unease around him. It’s part of what adds to his overall appearance as an unstable, out of control monster from a bygone period in history. Unkempt, out of date, out of control.

And Arkady himself? In the rare insights we’re able to get any insight into him, be it through his conversations with others or the occasional inner monologue, he’s shown to be very self aware. Arkady knows exactly who he is and what he is, and he’s never hid it. Despite Logan in particular often insisting that Arkady can’t be trusted, he’s never once lied, at least not consciously.

Arkady is aware of how he’s perceived and how wrongly people often view him. He’s both aware there’s nothing he can do about yet unable to completely repress his frustration. He’s aware of what’s inside and outside of his control. How people treat him and view him isn’t. His own body and the way he presents himself are within his control.

From what I’ve found out after talking to some east European family members (I’m part Croatian) and scouring the Internet, long hair is still not viewed as the norm in Russia. It’s associated with, to name a couple of things, a lack of masculinity or being part of a counterculture. Variations on this sentiment are still prevalent in most parts of the western world too.

Arkady is aware, as I’ve pointed out, of the world around him and of how it views him. He’s undoubtably aware that this is how he would be seen. He’s aware of what the superhero community think of him and what his fellow mutants and Russians whisper about him.

Maybe he doesn’t change he suit often, even though he’s not attached to it, nor his position as Omega Red, because it’s familiar to him. Because he’s had to accept this is what he is. He has no other place in the world, no other niche to fit into other than that of Omega Red.

His hair though…even when Arkady does change his suit, even when he joins a different team, even when he goes undercover and wears civilian clothing…he’s never cut his hair off. Maybe he’ll take it out of the ponytail, but he’s cut it.

The three episode mini-arc of “From The Ashes” has shown Arkady regenerate from a skeleton. When he does this, even while still regenerating layers of skin over his muscles, his hair grows back in seconds and it grows back long. Maybe theres’s some part of his subconscious that can affect his regeneration. Maybe his hair always regenerates back to being long again because that’s what he wants. This is the way he wants to present himself.

Maybe this is the one part of himself that Arkady likes, that he puts effort into. He consistently takes care of it. He gets irrationally angry when it’s pulled or messed with without his consent.

And maybe this is another way that Arkady can exercise some level of freedom. He’s been controlled his whole life; born into an oppressive government regime, forced to become a super weapon with toxic blood, bent to the will of his mutation that actively is killing him since day one. His entire life, Arkady has only had a very limited amount of control over his own circumstances. It’s only recent years that he’s been allowed even a small lease over his own life and had any autonomy.

Maybe growing his hair as long as possible has always been his small way of exercising a little freedom, a little rebellion. Rebellion against how his country expects him to look and how most of the superhero’s he’s had to face present themselves.

He can be pumped full of toxic metal, left at the mercy of his mutation, handed back over to the country who turned him into a living weapon, rejected when convenient by said country and his own family. He can be passed around for containment and experimentation between governments. He can be used, cast off, chased, exploited, hunted, harmed and even murdered.

But when he returns, when he comes back to life, when he regenerates himself…his hair always returns back to the way it’s always been. Possibly at his own will. He will never conform fully, and he can never be completely controlled.

The lines between societal norms, fashion trends, sexuality and traditional gender roles are blurred. One of Arkady Rossovich’s most recognisable traits is also strong symbolism, and I personally like to believe it’s intentional.

[araived]

Team Swap AU continued...

---------------------------------------------

There’s a pervasive stench that hangs in the air, one that neither of them can do anything to ignore. Still, Rin grips his arm. 

“Don’t go.”

Chuuya’s whole body is tense. It looks almost as if he wants to rip himself away, but he doesn’t move, just stands there, muscles corded tight enough to snap.

“You gonna stop me?”

Rin purses her lips. “At least– wait. Satoru will be on his way. You won’t have to release it, or at least you’ll have backup… We can take it down together–”

He does swirl away at that, hair swishing in the dark wind. “This isn’t Gojo’s fucking problem. It’s mine. I’m dealing with it.”

“Chuuya,” Rin says softly. “I just want to help you.”

“Tch.” Chuuya clicks his tongue under his breath. “You worried about me? You know I won’t lose.”

His teeth are gritted, eyes fixed on the ruined building. The one waiting inside is someone who deserves to be punished, someone capable of unspeakable atrocities. Experimentation, manipulation, capable of the most inhumane doings imaginable. The one who is responsible for all this. 

Responsible for Chuuya.

Rin looks out at the building too. Her expression is impossible to read in the dim lighting.

“But will it still be you?”

There’s a short pause, before Chuuya lets out a bitter laugh. “Does it even matter? You heard what that piece of shit said.”

Rin tilts her head. “What, that you’re not human?”

Chuuya’s fists clench, the leather of his gloves creaking. “Sure. Yeah. You know what I fucking mean.”

She tips her head up then, hair blowing back, face lit up by the starlight overhead. Rin lets out a laugh, so light and airy that it nearly causes Chuuya to stumble in surprise.

“Chuuya, don’t you know? You’ve always been the most human of us all.”

The wind whistles through their hair. Chuuya opens his mouth. Closes it. Frowns.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Rin ignores the question. “Are you still going to do it?”

“You gonna stop me?” Chuuya asks again, but this time he sounds almost unsure.

“I should stop you, shouldn’t I,” Rin muses. “That’s what a good person would do. A good friend.”

“You…”

“But the stars are so pretty tonight,” she continues. “It would be a shame if I missed them.”

Chuuya hesitates.

“I think I’ll take a photo,” Rin says quietly. “After, then I can stop you.” She takes out her phone and fixes the lens at the sky. The night air is crisp and clear even among the stench of rotting wood and decaying corpses. A patch of beauty in so much destruction. She taps carefully at the screen to capture the brightest of the stars.

When she finally puts her phone down, the only thing beside her is a pair of leather gloves, lying fallen in the grass.

–

Satoru floats at her side, eyes blue and otherworldly even as Rin curls reverse cursed energy through Chuuya’s skull. His pupils dilate. Gravity stops. The cursed markings creep back, crawling across his skin until it’s smooth and unblemished once more. With a final pulse, he slumps forward, falling into the ruined remains.

Neither Satoru nor Rin attempt to catch him.

“Chuuya, Chuuya.” Satoru steps away, letting the encompassing shell of Infinity fall away from Rin’s form. He crouches down over Chuuya’s body to poke him on his lax and unmoving face. “What were you thinking, huh?”

Chuuya doesn’t answer. He’s completely unconscious, exhausted by the toll Arahabaki takes on his body and mind.

Satoru stands up, still shaking his head. “Well, that was pretty stupid. What would he have done if I hadn’t gotten the message in time? It’s like he wanted to get consumed.”

Rin shrugs.

He turns to her. “Seriously?”

Rin doesn’t answer. Her gaze is fixed somewhere in the distance.

“Seriously?” Satoru repeats. “Hey, why didn’t you stop him? Chuuya listens to you. He’s the hot-headed idiot, and you’re supposed to be the reasonable one, right?” He snorts lowly.

“Why would I stop him?” Rin asks. 

“Are you joking right now? Uh, ‘cause he was about to get himself killed? You know he can’t stop Arahabaki from incarnating completely without your help. And there’s no way you could get close enough without getting ripped into tiny little shreds without me.”

“He said he wanted to deal with it himself.”

“‘Course he did. Genius move.”

Rin’s eyes flick to his. “I would have thought you’d understand. You deal with everything yourself, after all.” The words are biting, but her tone is as perfectly pleasant as ever.

Satoru laughs unexpectedly. “Well, yeah, sure. But I’m…” The strongest, he doesn’t say, because it doesn’t need to be said. Gojo Satoru is the strongest. That’s just how it is.

“Chuuya is Special Grade too.”

Satoru scoffs. “Chuuya’s not me.”

They lapse into silence for a bit, before Rin speaks up again. “He doesn’t know if he’s human.”

Satoru unfolds his glasses, sliding them back over his eyes. “Yeah, I heard about that. Part curse, huh? Plus the whole incarnation thing. Damn.”

“I told him he was more human than any of us.”

His eyebrows shoot up. “You did? Wow. Rin, always so comforting.” He only sounds slightly sarcastic.

More silence.

Satoru tilts his head, leaning into her space. “You know, you’ve changed.”

“Have I?”

He examines her piercingly, sunglasses slipping down the bridge of his nose, before he pushes them up. He nudges her, grin forming. “Yeah. Maybe I’ve rubbed off on you!”

“Hm.” Rin ducks her head.

“Okay, but seriously. Give it to me straight. Why’d you let him do it, Rin?”

Rin hums, fingers tangling in the folds of her skirt. She brushes it out for a second before answering. “He needs us. You said that. He can’t release Arahabaki without it consuming him. And if he does it, he needs us to stop him.”

“Uh huh? Got a point, there?”

She ignores him. “He was created. He had no choice in any of it, and he can’t control what happens now.”

There’s a pause, before Satoru laughs unsympathetically. “Rin, you really think any of us have a choice in anything?”

Rin blinks. She turns to him, hands reaching for his face. Satoru stills, intrigued, and lets her gentle hands slide his sunglasses off his face.

With a quiet snap, she breaks them in two. 

“Maybe he simply wanted to,” Rin says. She returns the pieces to him with a soft smile on her face. “And I didn’t care enough to say otherwise.”

-----------------------------------

Team swap is taking over my life...

I have no control, they are just saying things. This team will be the death of me.

[infinitie-s]

❛ see? i’m not just a pretty face. ❜ + gojo

𝟐𝟎𝟎 𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎𝐌 𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒 : accepting !

“You know what? You’re pretty strong. I like you.” 

That kind of compliment doesn’t come easy from one considered the strongest man alive, but it falls sincerely from his lips as Satoru regards Dante with an approving gaze (as can be apparent with his blindfold, and all).

Whatever they’ve fought together was no curse; it had some poorly concealed cursed energy as an inhuman entity might, sure, but something about it felt far more… organic in a way that he’ll have to investigate. He was momentarily blindsided by its nature, and he appreciates Dante’s help in taking it down – in fact, he took it down with such admirably practiced ease, Satoru finds that somewhere down the line he might learn a thing or two from him in combating these creatures if he were to come across them again beyond his whole beat 'em up or blow 'em up shtick.

Satoru looks around - his Six Eyes scans their surroundings, making sure they’re truly alone before he extends his hand, letting Infinity down for a hearty shake.

“You’re gonna have to teach me some of those moves you put out on those things there. You looked like you came straight out of a movie!” 

Down to the … uh … sound effects? But it doesn’t diminish the style or skill!