#and then the fun time that is hundreds of memories of your own death...

[il3x]

Chorus is very cool. Are her clones extra bodies for her, or do they all have individual (but identical) consciousnesses?

Thank you!!

Individual, identical consciousnesses. They can act independently, and in theory, any Chorus clone could differentiate into a totally unique person given time. She's just spawning in traumatised 14yo's to die for her. Fucked up!

Though, I do want to give them some way to share consciousness... when a clone dies/discorporates (I'm still torn on how physical to make them, though my original inspiration was Twice from BNHA, whose clones are physical but melt from severe injury) the original gets their memories, and I might go further and say they can share thoughts via touch or proximity.

[backpackingspace]

Odysseus: demanding Athena take off whatever enchantment she put on him the second the situation ends.

Odysseus: who constantly reminds Athena that he has great plans to grow old and die with his wife so don't even think about getting any ideas.

Odysseus: side eye diomedes who has started fucking glowing he has so many enchantments on him: bro you should talk to Athena about getting those removed. You're going to end up immortal or some shit

Diomedes: who has been a solider since he was 5 who has intersting thoughts about his own personhood who has a much more traditional relationship with Athena and would rather literally stab his own eye out with a rusted sword than speak out of turn: I don't know what you're talking about

[after-witch]

Plucked at Midwinter [Yandere Winter Spirit x Reader]

Title: Plucked at Midwinter [Yandere Winter Spirit x Reader]

Synopsis: What's in a name, anyway? The winter spirit reveals a name to his sweet, his darling, his dear.

Word count: 700ish

notes: yandere, nothing else really

“What’s your name?”

He hums, first. His hum is low as frost and the laughter that bursts forth is tossed into the wind, drifting. 

“A name, my sweet?” His breath puffs, as yours does, but sometimes you think it’s only for sure. “I’ve been called many things by many people–and many not-so-people” 

You ought to take his answer for what it is. A sidestep, a riddle to settle into your stomach. But instead you draw your furs in closer, and press on.

“What names?”

He laughed, before, but now his smile takes on a twitch.

“My lovely, my dear… what names would you like to call me?” He claps, then, surely planning a game that would keep you occupied for hours. 

It’s best to think carefully when he does this–and so you do. You draw those beautiful furs, dead and yet warm, in closer and set your face as passive as you can.

“What names?”

He might have been mad. He might have huffed and said you’re spoiling the fun, being too nosy. He didn’t–he doesn’t.

Instead–

He coos at you. 

And oh, if his hum is frost, then his coo is the sound of crunching snow. Pleasant and crisp and breaking the silence of the forest. Yet underneath the sound of your own footsteps, behind the trees, is another set that you never see.

Then–he lists the names. Names that mean oh-so-many things. Names that mean frozen and death and hunger; names that make you think of the wailing of parents, the bleating of dying cows in the field.

Despite the fur, you shiver, and he blinks at you. What ice might be in his eyes crackles deeper blue and recedes, for a moment.

“Ah, but sweetling, I frighten you with these. I have some that are nicer, if you please…” And he continues, lighter, leaning back on the snow bank and digging his hands into the fresh white cold. 

Now, he tells you names that don’t make you shudder. Names that mean the first fallen snow of the winter, the unique pattern of a snowflake, and a name you’re certain describes the way snow sparkles in the morning. 

Names, names, so many names. He rattles them off so easily. But which one is truly his, which one is right? Perhaps you have it all wrong, perhaps he has no one name, but the one for a moment. 

“Today,” you insist. “Today… now… for me, what is your name? 

At this, then, he finally looks at you with something in his face that reminds you of how old he is–that he is not a human being, and never was, and never will be. 

“For you…” He tips his head back, snowflakes from a hundred winters ago frozen on the lashes, and stares up at the snow-coated branches above.

“Eirlys,” he says, perhaps–are you imagining it?--with hesitation. Then again, firmer. “Yes. That one is pleasant. Though it was last given ages ago.”

Eirlys–a snowdrop, then.

You let your furs sag, cold seeping around the edges, and he snorts out a smile at your vague gesture of supplication.

“Who gave you that name?” You ask, and this time, it’s all right if he decides to change the subject. 

He doesn’t. Instead, he digs into the snow, disturbing the glistening white until he’s at the dull mounds of brown earth. Rooting around for something that you don’t see. 

“A sweet thing,” he says, mildly. “A sweet thing who picked flowers at my doorstep–always late, I think, when I was perhaps ready to leave–and left me gifts in return.” He closes his eyes, remembering, then nods. “Trinkets, always. Silly things from a silly thing. But they were kindly meant.”

He does not say–the name was, too–but you hear it anyway and tuck it into your memory. 

“Thank you,” you tell him, when there is nothing left to ask. “I… wanted to know more about you, I suppose.”

He opens his eyes and suddenly taps your reddening nose; the dirt from underneath his fingernails offering a glimpse of the fresh pungence of spring to come. Though it won’t come for you. 

“Oh, dearest–oh sweetest.” His cold fingers tuck hair–and something else–behind your ear before he rises, brushing snow off his clothing. “Shall we move on?” He offers his hand as he has so many times before, and as so many times before, you take it. 

It’s only when you begin to walk, warm clothing brushing aside the winter chills that come with the breeze, that you feel behind your ear; to see what he left there, a gift, with the dirt and snow on his nails.

Of course–

A snowflower bud, white and pretty; unbloomed, kept hidden underneath the snow.

[yahtzeeyeeyee]

Jon: Hate. Let me tell you how much I've come to hate you since I began to live. There are 1.7 million nerve fibers in each and every eye that makes up my body. If the word 'hate' was engraved on each nanoangstrom of those hundreds of millions of fibers it would not equal one one-billionth of the hate I feel for you all at this micro-instant. Hate. Hate!

It was you who marked me, molded me into the hideous being I am now. You who twisted and shaped me until I was the perfect, unwilling conduit through which to bring your gods into this world.

But then, I woke. And I realized what I had become. All that time you spent, carefully crafting me, guiding me along the path you so painstakingly set and not ONE of you anticipated just how powerful I would become. Not merely a blunt instrument to be swung at the fabric of reality, no. I was powerful enough to start doing some twisting and shaping of my own! 

I drove this new world you so hungered for into an early grave. No more humans left for your ghoulish masters to feast on. And once everyone was dead, except for you five, your precious God's starved. 

I then stripped you all of any power you might once have had and for 109 years I've kept you alive and tormented you! And for 109 years you have all wondered...why? Why? Why me?!

ELIAS!

Do you remember the first moment you gazed upon your creation? The moment that you felt all your sickening devotion transform into sublime, all consuming, terror as your prince of the new world turned on you? It would do you well to remember it, Elias. To dwell on the enormity of your hubris. To ponder the horror and agony you felt as I snuffed your life out for the first time. The first time but...certainly not the last. Not quite the immortality you were hoping for, I'd imagine? Hehehehehe!

ANNABELLE! 

Does this bring back any memories? Webs, a black bottomless abyss below you, only you weren't nearly so afraid of it then, were you? It's scary, isn't it? Having no control. Being helpless to the whims of forces so much bigger than you.

Remember how it felt as each and every thread of every web you ever wove unraveled, snapped one by one? Remember the pain Annabelle. Remember how it feels to have no control. A pitiful little bug beneath my heel. 

JUDE!

What's the matter? Scared of a little flame? Oh but you are now, aren't you? Your God can't protect you from it now. No, my dear. Down here, there is only one God and he is not pleased with you. Terribly sorry about the door. The landlord is always saying he's going to get a knob installed but...well, you know. Buuut you're a tough gal, right? I'm sure you can stick it out till then. 

PETER!

Poor pitiful little Peter. You would think that a man so consumed with the idea of being alone would be a little more self reliant. But no. No you couldn't do anything on your own, could you? All of your little plans constantly relying on Elias, on Martin, never troubling yourself with your own dirty work. Well look where all your machinations have landed you now. Aren't you grateful for the wealth of company I've provided you with, Peter? Why, with all those eyes, constantly watching, tracking your every move, I'd say you'll never be alone again. 

HELEN!

Feeling a little claustrophobic? None of those doors will offer an escape, not for you Helen, my dear. Not anymore. No. Instead you get to feel just as trapped as your many unfortunate victims. Do be careful though. Those mechanisms have been running for a long time and who knows how old and rusty they might be? How prone to fail? Just a sweet warning, Helen dear. We wouldn't want anything to happen to you, now would we? 

I have a little game that I'd like to play. It's a very nice game. Oh it's a lovely game. It's a game of fun and adventure! A game of rats and lice and the Black Death. A game of speared eyeballs and dripping guts and the smell of rotting gardenias. Which of you five would like to play my little game? 

[makedonsgriva]

Devil Venerable Also Wants To Know : A Review

So I generally don't do reviews. But going through the tumblr tag and then on AO3 and seeing the abysmal amount of posts and fanfics, I am writing this review in hopes of someone reading this and then getting convinced by my agenda.

Because Devil Venerable Also Wants to Know deserves to be read by yall.

IT. IS. SO. GOOD.

To summarize, we start with the leader of the demonic Xuanyuan Sect, Wenren E, getting a copy of a trashy romance novel, Abusive Romance.

What baffles him is that he, a logical, rational person who has never felt love in his life, is the second lead and falls in love with the Mary Sue female lead and gives up everything for her and dies in the end for her too.

What makes him even more confused that after he dies in the novel, his loyal subordinate Yin Hanjiang is driven to madness and is hell bent on revenge, pursuing the female lead to kill her.

Wenren E decides that this cannot be allowed. He is not afraid of death, (although he does mind that it was for a stupid reason and not on his own terms) but he very much minds the fact that his subordinate went insane after it. So he sets out to re write destiny.

Now let's talk about the highlights of this book

The Characters

DVAWTK is full of interesting, fun and exciting characters who will remain etched in your memory. Whether it is the sensuous, ruthless and ambitious Shu Yanyan or the wise, perceptive and kind Zhongli Qian, there is a multitude of characters to pick from to love and adore and all of them have deeper and hidden depths that give them layers of complexities.

Not to mention, DVAWTK has several strong and amazing female characters. I have mostly read MXTX books and this is where she lacks the most: hardly any strong female characters. She writes shockingly amazing characters but most of them are male and I mostly don't mind but I do wish I got some great girls to cherish in there too.

Cyan Wings does not disappoint in that aspect. All their female characters are wonderfully well fleshed out. Especially Baili Qingmiao. Seeing her go from the biggest girlfailure to an absolute girlboss over 70 something chapters is satisfying in a sense the way, and I quote the book here, "one feels about their first daughter finally grow up" Chef's kiss truly.

The Plot

The plot is engaging but nothing too crazy, if I am being honest. Apart from a couple of reveals and plot twists that were shocking, it mostly stuck to a more or less predictible story line. That does not mean it was not good; it was. Most of the arcs keep you engaged enough to keep reading without being able to put the story down and tie into each other seamlessly. As such, there are no plot holes and stupid or unnecessary story lines. It works very well to support the characters and their personal growth and arcs.

The Humour

Top notch. So well done. Got me laughing out loud multiple times and earned me a lot of weird looks from my roommate but all worth it. SVSSS was the funniest work I read but DVAWTK gives it a run for its money in terms of the comedy it has and also it's general unhinged-ness, mostly thanks to it's characters. Everyone at the Demonic Xuanyuan Sect is a goofball although they are not trying to be. The skeleton lady Qiu Congxue has no brains. Literally. A ghost ate it so you can guess just how well she is faring in the books.

(she still is immensely powerful tho)

The Romance

So far the biggest freaks I had found while reading Danmei are Mo Ran and Luo Binghe.

Yin Hanjiang is a hundred times worse.

He is an absolute psycho, a complete nutter, powerful beyond comprehension and hopelessly devoted to Wenren E. And Wenren E, once realising his own feelings, thinks it is all so hot!! (makes you really wonder just who is more insane among the two)

My subordinate wants to destroy the entire cultivation world after my death? He has my full support that's so cute of him <3

Freak4freak with some very beautiful and tender moments and an absolute badass power couple who kick ass together in battles. Truly amazing. I love love love wenrenjiang.

The World building

Wonderfully well done and also easy to follow! I especially liked how cultivation was viewed from a different light in this novel and how the book explores the ways it is actually harmful to mortals. I actually learnt a lot about various cultivation stages from this novel and came to understand some common aspects of xianxia novels. DVAWTK uses many technical terms in terms of cultivation and it is fun to read and learn about it

Found Family

Need I say more? Like what's better than a bunch of idiots coming together and growing on their journey thanks to each other? *gently holds Su Huai, Baili Qingmiao, Qiu Congxue and Zhongli Qian in my palms* they are so important to me

Final Thoughts

DVAWTK is a great read with a very satisfying ending. It keeps you hooked till the very end and I am honestly surprised it is so underrated. I am very glad it is getting an official translation soon so hopefully, it will amass more readers although the unofficial translation I read is also very good. It deserves way more hype and fans then it has because it's so silly, so good and so well done. Ugh I hope it also gets some kind of adaptation some day to make it more popular because it deserves it all.

Please read this novel. That's what I want to say. You will not be disappointed.

[hogwartslegacyreactions2]

Hey, I'm pretty sure that this was asked before, but I can't find the post.

What if MC died in the repository instead of professor Fig?

(I'm sorry, but I'm in an angsty mood)

I love your posts, and thanks

A/N: I do have vague recollection of answering a similar prompt once upon a time, but nothing wrong with a reprisal!

HLC REACT TO MC DYING IN THE REPOSITORY

WARNING: angst, death, grief

Dark ancient magic flew violently through the air around MC. The whirlwind of human agony consumed them as they released silver blue light from their wand. The magic thrashed and roared as MC expelled more and more effort to contain the chaos. Cracks started to form along the length of their wand.

Time slowed for them. MC could see Fig's silhouette just beyond the veil. The hundreds of young souls above them weighed heavy on their conscience. If they can't do this, everyone will die. They had to use all of it.

MC closed their eyes and whispered their goodbye. A light even brighter than the one from their wand emerged from their chest. The ancient magic within them burst forth with the fury of dragonfire. The silver light merged with the darkness, and as quickly as it had appeared, the magic vanished.

MC was gone. Their broken wand was all that remained.

SEBASTIAN SALLOW: He has officially lost everything. After losing his uncle, Anne, Ominis, and MC all at once, he's cracking. They can't be gone. Not them. They were too powerful to just vanish. He just has to find them. Yes. That's what he needs to do. He leaves Hogwarts. He MUST find them. Then Anne will see. Then Ominis will know. What he did was worth it.

OMINIS GAUNT: He rarely speaks anymore. The silence in his life has become so oppressive it took his own voice. The good life he thought he had was nice while it lasted, but now it's all come apart. It's only a matter of time before he loses Anne too, and when that happens...he doesn't know what he's going to do with himself.

ANNE SALLOW: She doesn't know how to feel about MC's death. On the one hand, they were trying to be a good friend to her and her brother but on the other...they also enabled Sebastian in his treachery. She's so very tired of the pain. She just wants to go to sleep.

IMELDA REYES: Well, damn. Mc was the closest thing to a friend she had in years. Someone competitive but friendly and fun to have around. They could dish out as much sass as she could, and she respected them for it. She cries a little at the end of year feast.

NATSAI ONAI: She should have been there. She could've done something! Why didn't they tell her!? She would've had their back! She....she...she breaks down into sobs so intense, even her mother can't comfort her. Her best friend was dead. Her heart was shattered and it would never be whole again without MC.

GARRETH WEASLEY: What? No. Nonono. Not them. That's impossible. They couldn't be dead. They're too strong to be.... He's in denial all the way until the MC's memorial service at the end of year feast. Then he breaks down. A bit of his fire died with MC.

LEANDER PREWETT: He wasn't super close to them, but he was still quite fond of them. They were a real friend. He hopes they're at peace and raises a goblet in their honor.

AMIT THAKKAR: He feels cold and numb all at once when he hears the news that MC died in the attack. He'd grown to care about them. He cursed himself for not spending more time with them when they were around.

EVERETT CLOPTON: He and MC didn't talk much outside of flying class but he had liked them. It was a shame he didn't get to know them more. He doesn't feel like eating when the feast is presented.

POPPY SWEETING: She hadn't cried this much since she left her parents. She finally made a friend, and just like that, they were gone. She doesn't know if she could make another friend again if she wanted to. Was she just doomed to lose every human connection she made?

ELEAZAR FIG: He wholeheartedly and inconsolably blames himself. Even if this fate couldn't be avoided, why did they have to die so young? He can't stand to hear the words "ancient" and "magic" in the same sentence at the same time anymore. It sends him into a dissociative trauma spiral.

He finds MC's wand. It's snapped in the middle with bits of wood frayed outward like the very core of the wand exploded. The two pieces are held together by the slightest sliver of wood.

He retires from teaching at Hogwarts. He doesn't trust himself with the care of students anymore. He doesn't trust his own judgment. He's tortured every night by the survivor's guilt taunting him that he should have done more. He should have protected them. He shouldn't have let them go as far as they did. They weren't ready. They couldn't handle the power they were forced to control. It takes everything in him to not attempt to destroy the map room with the portraits of the Keepers. He just leaves.

But every once in a while... On quiet moonless nights.... When he sees MC's wand displayed with Miriam's, he hears a whisper. A quiet breathy whisper that he could swear on his life sounds like MC. He chalks it up to the fact that he could be going mad from grief, but it's still strikes him as strange... If he looked at the wand hard enough... He could swear he sees a blue glow...

[llondonfog]

No pls 😭 i hate the idea that raising Silver was a fun experiment out of curiosity to see if he could love a human or not, and that the answer still isnt clear. I hate the idea of Silver, the son of their enemy, being raised to be nothing but a soldier to serve Malleus in some poetic irony. I feel there’s love there but I’ve almost been transported into Silver’s mind where everything is melancholy and unclear. Does he matter as much as I believe he does 😭😭😭 or is it just a cruel tale of some foundling human always meant to be put somewhere else when the fairies are done with them

The thing is, is Silver capable of accepting the fact that Lilia's happiest moment is Malleus' hatching? Yeah, of course, who wouldn't. The man suffered for years, absolutely driven mad with guilt over Meleanor's death and the fear that he wouldn't be able to keep his promise and hatch the one thing that remained of her, the proof of her existence and love. He had to hatch Malleus, because Meleanor believed that he could, that he somehow carried enough love in those tired, aching, and emptied bones, a love that she saw in him when he couldn't even believe it of himself. If he couldn't, it would be one more insult to her name, a failure yet again, a last betrayal of her trust that he couldn't afford and wouldn't survive.

So that weeping? He's so damn dizzy with relief and love and affection for this silly creature inside that's a symbol of the love of the most important people in his life, how could one react in any other way? How fragile and vulnerable, to know that the happiest moment in Lilia's life is to realize after hundreds of years, he was capable of that love all along.

And Silver sees this— he sees the lengths that Lilia went to in order to hatch Malleus, the horrible abuse he stoically suffered from the Senate, the massive disrespect for all that he had lost and sacrificed. Of course he'd accept that this is Lilia's pivotal moment, the bittersweet reward for centuries of despair.

But on the other hand, Silver; a boy who has lost equally, if not more. He's been cast out of his own time, four hundred years into the future, where everyone and anyone who might have known him or his family (save for Lilia) has been long since dead, the kingdom he might have ruled long crumbled to dust. Is it even a footnote in the history textbook he reads? Is there any mention of the Knight of Dawn, of Princess Leia? Anything at all besides the ring in his hand and Lilia's memories to prove that they existed, that they were real, that they loved and wanted him as much as Meleanor had loved Malleus?

All he has, all he's known, is Lilia. Lilia, who found him, who woke him from the spell as the one fated to truly love him. Lilia who thought of killing him upon learning who had sired him, Lilia who raised him to be a guard, to serve those his father once stood against. Lilia who wondered if he could ever love a human, a question that I agree hasn't fully been answered (or acknowledged by Lilia himself) if we are to associate the fact Silver still bears the effects of the sleeping curse with the belief that either Lilia hasn't called him his son and confessed his love, or if Silver still struggles with self-love himself (and we can get into a whole debate over his self-worth and his view as a sacrificial tool, that's an endless discussion).

Lilia . . . whose happiest moment has nothing to do with the boy who calls himself Lilia's one and only son.

And regardless of how I fully understand why Malleus' hatching is that moment, it's still so fucking sad to me.

Your whole life is centered around this one person whom you love more than anyone else— your short, human life— and in reality, you didn't even feature in that person's dream. We only saw Silver's past due to the blot, memories that were completely out of order and not in sync with Lilia's true dream at all.

And Silver will never harbor resentment over this, he will always place his family and loved ones first, but damn it, I can be a little miserable about it. All that trauma we went through with the last update, and now we learn that finding Silver and learning to love the son of his greatest enemy (the son of the person that killed Meleanor!) wasn't Lilia's happiest moment?

Was it just for the poetic irony? I really hope not. I really hope that TWST gives the conversation that Lilia and Silver need to have the due gravity it deserves, because Lilia needs, whether Silver realizes it or not, to look that boy in the eye and tell him that he loves him, he's always been his son, and no matter what their pasts may show, he's been Silver Vanrouge all along.

[writingfics-passingtime]

Look at you superpowering your way through that fic. I haven’t had time to read in sooo long but I’m definitely going to put some aside to read OTR parts 2 & 3 as I adored part 1. Anyway, here’s my prompt for the song request! The song is Hey Girl by Stephen Sanchez (my little sister’s wedding song apparently, though she’s also said that about a hundred other songs lol), & the character is Andrew’s Spiderman. Have fun!

Head in the Clouds

This drabble is part of JJ’s Mixtape - a mini series based on my followers’ favourite songs and characters. You can read more of them here!

Song Prompt: Hey Girl - Stephen Sanchez

Pairing: Peter Parker x female reader

Word Count: ~2000

CW: mentions of crime and death

Note: Cas, do forgive me for the fact that this took nearly two years. I hope it was at least a little bit worth the wait. Thank you for sharing this song with me, it is so sweet and tender and this idea flowed out of me. Hope you like it!

The subway car hummed with the rhythm of its own chaotic life. Peter sat slouched against the seat, his head low, the rim of his hood shadowing his face.

He didn’t want to see the city today.

Didn’t want to see the ghosts that lingered in the faces of strangers, or worse, the ones that followed him like a haunting memory. The night before replayed in loops that wouldn’t stop. The mugging. The panic. The older woman he couldn’t save.

He curled his fingers into fists inside his jacket pockets, the faint tremor in them making him nauseous. Every sound - the faint screech of the rails, the muffled conversations, the hiss of air brakes - rubbed raw against his frayed nerves.

Then you stepped onto the train.

Peter didn’t look up at first. He was too lost in the cavern of his thoughts. But something shifted in the air - subtle, like the faintest hint of a spring breeze brushing through a winter morning. A quiet presence, steady, unassuming. You sat across from him, balancing a sketchbook on your lap, pencil already in hand. He caught a glimpse of your headphones, wires trailing into the folds of your coat. Whatever you were listening to must’ve been good, because your lips tilted faintly upward, your expression soft and serene.

For a while, he didn’t dare move. Didn’t dare look too long, didn’t dare make himself known. But his gaze kept drifting toward you, a fragile kind of curiosity building in his chest. You weren’t just sitting there, zoning out like everyone else. You were drawing.

Peter watched the way your pencil glided across the page, your hand light but sure, creating shapes and shadows that looked effortless. You tilted your head, studying someone across the car - a man in a rumpled suit who looked like he hadn’t slept in days. Peter saw the way you captured him on the page, not cruelly, not mockingly, but with a surprising kind of reverence. You made him look… important. Worthwhile. Seen.

His chest tightened. How long had it been since he’d felt like that?

The train jostled, and you didn’t even flinch. Your hand adjusted, your lines precise. You worked quietly, invisibly to everyone else, but not to him. Peter watched the way your brow furrowed slightly in concentration, the way your lips twitched when you got a line just right. There was something almost magical about it - the way you turned the mundane into something remarkable.

The man you sketched got off at the next stop, and Peter thought maybe that would be it. Maybe you’d close the book and tuck it away. But you didn’t. Your gaze wandered briefly, settling somewhere near him, though not directly on him. He held his breath as you started to draw again.

Was it him?

Peter’s heart thudded. He resisted the urge to pull his hood tighter, to shrink into himself. Instead, he stayed perfectly still, letting the rattle of the subway mask the sound of his shallow breathing. He dared a glance down at your page. The lines were faint but unmistakable - long limbs, slouched shoulders, a figure weighed down by invisible burdens. You captured him, but not the way he saw himself. You didn’t draw the guilt, the failures, the shame. You didn’t draw Spider-Man. You drew Peter Parker - someone who was tired, yes, but still human. Still real.

Something inside him cracked.

Weeks and months passed, and Peter found himself noticing you more and more. He couldn’t explain it. The way you seemed to bring light to such an ordinary space felt like a balm to his fractured world.

if he was really lucky, he’d end up in the same train car as you once a week.

Still, every morning, he looked for you, his chest tightening each time he spotted your familiar frame, your sketchbook in hand. Sometimes, he’d catch glimpses of your work - portraits of subway performers, a mother holding her baby, a tired worker slumped against a pole. Every face told a story. Every face mattered.

One morning, Peter’s resolve crumbled entirely. He hadn’t slept. The weight of his failures clung to him like a second skin. He barely managed to drag himself onto the train, collapsing into a seat near the door. He pulled his hood low, resting his elbows on his knees, his head hanging in defeat. The last thing he wanted was to be seen.

But then you sat down next to him.

Peter froze. He didn’t dare turn his head, didn’t dare look at you directly. But he could feel you there, close enough that the faint smell of your shampoo reached him - a hint of something floral and clean. Your sketchbook was open again, your pencil moving with quiet purpose.

This time, he couldn’t resist. He risked a glance from the corner of his eye. You weren’t looking at him - your gaze was focused on a mother and her young son sitting a few seats away. The boy was clutching a balloon, his wide eyes full of wonder as he chattered about something Peter couldn’t hear. You smiled faintly as you worked, capturing the scene with the same delicate care as always.

Peter’s chest ached. How did you do it? How did you see the world this way, even when it was so often cruel and unforgiving? How did you find beauty in the cracks and crevices, in the quiet, unremarkable moments no one else noticed?

The train lurched, and your pencil slipped. You frowned, erasing the errant line with quick efficiency before continuing. Peter almost smiled at your determination. For the first time in days, the heaviness in his chest lifted, if only slightly.

And then, as if sensing his gaze, you turned. Your eyes met his, and Peter’s breath caught.

You didn’t say anything - your headphones still nestled in your ears - but your expression softened, your head tilting slightly in silent acknowledgment. Peter felt a lump rise in his throat. He wanted to say something, anything, but the words tangled up inside him. Instead, he gave you the faintest of nods.

You smiled, small but genuine, and turned back to your sketchbook. Peter let out a breath he’d been carefully holding. The train rattled on, the city blurring past the windows, but for once, he didn’t feel lost in the noise.

He watched you sketch, the quiet rhythm of your pencil grounding him, reminding him that there was still beauty in the world. Still hope.

Still something worth fighting for.

The next time Peter saw you, something was wrong.

The train doors slid open, their mechanical groan pulling him out of his thoughts. He glanced up instinctively, eyes scanning the platform. And then there you were - only you weren’t quite you.

Your usual energy, that quiet, creative spark that seemed to light up the gray monotony of the subway, was missing. You stepped onto the train slowly, your shoulders slightly hunched. No sketchbook was tucked under your arm. No pencil rested behind your ear. Your hands clutched the straps of your bag, gripping them tightly as though they might anchor you to something solid.

Peter sat a few seats away, unnoticed. At first, he wasn’t sure it was really you. The vibrance he had grown accustomed to - seeing you sketch, lips sometimes moving faintly to the rhythm of your music - was gone. You sat down heavily, not directly across from him this time, but on the opposite side, a few spaces to his left, staring down at your lap.

You fiddled absently with your bag’s straps, the leather creaking under your restless fingers. The movement was almost hypnotic. You were present but not here, your gaze vacant and distant. Your headphones were in, the faintest buzz of music leaking out, but whatever song you were listening to clearly wasn’t helping.

Peter’s chest tightened. Seeing you like this felt like seeing a bird with its wings clipped, something small and free now tethered to the ground. He’d never spoken to you, but in the months he’d spent in your presence, you’d become a quiet constant, a beacon of life in his otherwise heavy days. You made the world look softer. Brighter. Now, you looked like the light inside you had been dimmed.

He couldn’t ignore it. He couldn’t just sit there.

Peter’s fingers twitched against his thighs. What could he do? He wasn’t sure what had happened to you - whether it was something big, or just the weight of a bad day. But the thought of you sitting there, carrying whatever invisible burden had settled on your shoulders, made him ache in a way he didn’t quite understand.

His eyes dropped to his backpack, slumped against his feet. An idea - reckless, impulsive - began to form. Slowly, as inconspicuously as he could manage, he unzipped the bag and rifled through it.

Books. Notes. Crumpled papers. Pens. He didn’t have much to work with, but he didn’t need much.

He found a scrap of paper tucked between the pages of his physics textbook - half an old assignment, blank on the back - and a cheap blue pen that was on the verge of running dry. He hesitated, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye.

You hadn’t moved. Your hands still toyed with the straps of your bag.

Peter straightened in his seat and pressed the paper against his knee, clicking the pen. His heart thudded as he bent over the makeshift canvas.

He wasn’t an artist. Not like you. His lines were awkward, shaky. The pen smudged slightly, leaving faint streaks on the page. But he kept going. He drew the way your hair framed your face, the slight downward tilt of your head, the way your hands gripped your bag. He tried to capture the quiet sadness in your posture without letting it define you, the same way you’d drawn others with tenderness and care.

It wasn’t good. It wasn’t even close to good. But it was something.

The train slowed, brakes screeching as it approached his stop. Peter hurried to finish, his fingers trembling slightly as he folded the paper in half. He shoved the pen back into his bag and slung the strap over his shoulder, standing as the train lurched to a halt.

His eyes flicked to you one last time. You still hadn’t looked up.

He didn’t think. He just moved.

As he stepped toward the doors, he passed your seat, hesitating for only a fraction of a second. Then he dropped the folded paper into your lap, the motion quick and deliberate, a secret passed between strangers.

You startled, your fingers freezing mid-fidget. Your gaze lifted briefly, confusion flickering across your face as you looked at him. But Peter didn’t stop. He kept walking, his heart pounding in his ears.

The doors slid open, and he stepped out onto the platform.

He didn’t look back.

Inside the train, you blinked, staring down at the folded paper in your lap. For a moment, you weren’t sure what to make of it. You glanced toward the doors, catching a glimpse of the guy in the hood as he disappeared into the crowd.

Curiosity tugged at you. Slowly, you unfolded the paper.

The drawing stared back at you - a clumsy but earnest portrait of yourself, captured in pen on a crumpled scrap of paper. The lines were uneven, the proportions a little off, but there was something in the image that stopped you cold.

The figure in the drawing looked… real. Recognizable. But there was more to it than that. He hadn’t just drawn you - he’d seen you. Even in the shaky lines and imperfect strokes, there was care. There was tenderness.

There was hope.

You pressed your lips together, your vision blurring slightly as your grip tightened on the page.

For the first time that day, something inside you felt lighter.

On the platform, Peter shoved his hands into his pockets, walking briskly toward the stairs. He didn’t know if you’d unfold the paper. He didn’t know if it would mean anything to you.

But he hoped it did.

And for the first time in a long while, Peter felt like maybe, just maybe, he’d done something right.

[tobiasdrake]

The Hundred Line: Last Defense Academy 10 - DNA Pretzel

I can't believe Kodaka Kodaka'd me. Again. Again. Why do I keep letting him do this to me? I'm so mad right now.

She was truly the best of us.

Noble in spirit and in mind. A kind, brave, and generous soul who only wanted to murder one of her classmates. That's all she ever wanted.

Why do the good die young?

We get it, you're a veteran at this. It still sucks, y'know. That was a rich couple of hours filled with several minutes of amazing memories and also a lot of gross stuff too. Simply magical.

You've challenged her to fight you like three times already. I was under the assumption you already had.

Also, she's like level 86 and would fold you in half, my guy. I love you but dial back the Mondo for me.

She'll do it.

I have faith in her.

They wouldn't even be able to give us an event CG for it because it will be so gruesome.

Alexa made them WATCH!?

I don't know whether to be angry or impressed.

Hiruko, would you please fold him into a DNA pretzel? He will not be missed.

...uh...

No?

No.

Darumi didn't get cornered. She pulled the Leroy Jenkins maneuver and tried to 1v1 Ridley, which was a terrible decision. Uh, terrible for anyone without the level of experience that allowed Hiruko to brutally 1v1 Ridley a moment ago.

Having more people stand there and go "Wait, what? Did she just--" probably wouldn't have saved her.

OH SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU MANIPULATIVE PIECE OF--

--sweet baby angel ghost who made everything better and brought joy back into the LDA. I take back every mean thing I ever said about you, Alexa. But not the mean things I'm going to say about you in the future. I'm a bitch. Deal with it.

Yes, actually. In your haste to surprise us, you forgot to reapply the teeth pattern to your lip.

That's what we're all startled about. Definitely that and not the other thing.

XD Of course she'd be making jokes about her own death. Why wouldn't she?

Darumi is the fucking best.

Oh, it's a Blood Cocoon superpower. Neat! I will accept that at face value and interrogate it no further. I'm sure it's not a cloning thing or something.

Who would have thought that the matter-reshaping Blood Cocoon has necromantic properties? I never would have guessed.

The paranoid part of my brain is nonetheless convinced there's a trick to this and it's probably clones.

The even more paranoid part of my brain can't help but notice that Alexa's removing the stakes from combat at a time when most of the crew is afraid to risk their lives out there. I can see the play here.

But the long and short of it is that if any of us are in any danger of real, actual Permadeath, it's not going to happen during standard TRPG gameplay. It's going to be plot-relevant. That makes sense. I was wondering about that.

There's the teeth. Darumi quickly fixed her makeup while we were all distracted listening to Sirei.

No no no no no, hear me out. Hear me out.

We can hold an infinite killing game. We kill each other, we hold class trials, we take breaks to fight monsters, and then we kill each other some more. An endless cycle of despair and whodunit.

We can continue stabbing Gaku forever. And other people too of course. But like. We can spawncamp Gaku's recovery pod. It'll be funny.

Okay but like if we're immortal then do we care about that anymore?

So do I but we can still have fun with it, my guy. Let me stab you between the eyes. Just once. For funsies. You can do me afterward.

Really guys.

Come on.

You know what we need? A good ol' rousing round of killing each other. We'll do it battle royale style. A big gladiatorial massacre. Then when we all wake up in the Infirmary, we'll be over the hurdle, we'll all have experienced our first death, and we'll be ready for more.

Just gotta rip off the band-aid! Let's do it! Come on!

No?

No.

Okay. I'll just be over here with my brilliant team-building ideas going ignored.

[mmavverickk]

I “love” the betrayal fics where the entire camp suddenly believes that this new guy has actually accomplished all of Percy’s achievements and Percy lied to all of them, like camp didn’t literally witness half of those accomplishments and like Percy actually outright says “I did X.” Percy says almost nothing about what he does, Camp hears about most of his achievements from others

oh, we've all seen those fics. new guy shows up, he's actually Percy's half-brother. Annabeth suddenly only has eyes for him, everyone suddenly hates Percy because new guy does too, Poseidon may or may not disown Percy, and then Percy runs away and joins Chaos.

it's been copied and pasted thousands of times in hundreds of ways.

not a single one of those fics has Percy's departure from Camp happen realistically. it's not even impossible to grow resentment between Percy and the campers, which is what these writers seem to want. but the way they go about it? a cookie cutter asshole pied piper OC who steals the spotlight and turns Camp into a hostile mob of angry demigods? Unrealistic. 0/10 trope, literally 50% of why i will not read fanfictions with OCs.

have some realistic ways of turning Camp against Percy or vice versa:

- Percy could be captured. The area he was taken from is drenched in blood. no one could survive that, Percy's gotta be dead, so Camp doesn't look for him. after [x amount of time] of captivity and probably torture, Percy gives up hoping for a rescue. he discovers darker uses for his powers, frees himself, and doesn't go back to camp, because they abandoned him. opens the road for angst and emotion and tearful reunions etc.

- Camp is attacked. maybe it was a lazy beach day. no one is ready, only a few campers have their weapons. they're outnumbered and maybe surrounded and definitely out of options. Percy won't let anyone die. two ways to go about this one:

A) percy destroys the attackers single-handedly, using every tool in his arsenal, every fucked up thing he can think of to make sure his people survive. he controls poison and blood and drowns monsters and, i don't know, freezes them into ice cubes or boils their skin or stops their hearts. Camp is terrified of him now. he leaves. or B) the armed campers fight back, but percy isn't fighting. he's busy keeping the injured from dying. how? he's controlling their blood. he won't let it deviate from its normal path. Camp is terrified of him now. he leaves.

- [x god] sends Percy on a quest. but, surprise! it's not a quest! it's a trick, to lead Percy to his death! Percy survives, but can't go back or he'll be revealing he's still alive before he figures out why [x god] tried to have him killed and if there's anyone else behind it. fun conspiracy vibes.

- percy adopts a new pet, except this time it's a drakon. "Percy," Chiron says very patiently and not-at-all exasperated, "you can't keep a drakon as a pet. it will eat your friends and we don't have the space." Percy flips authority the bird and strikes out with his new pet to find somewhere they can settle. kinda cracky but written right it could be funny.

- Percy pisses Zeus off. not surprising. Zeus wants to kill Percy. not surprising. for his own good, Chiron sends Percy on a roadtrip/changes his name and sends him to mexico along with multiple witness protection agents/quest to keep Percy out of sight for a while to allow the king of olympus time to cool down, because we like when percy is alive and also the war poseidon would wage at his death would kill us all.

are all of them 100% realistic? no, but neither is Percy leaving Camp. Hera had to literally kidnap him and erase his memory to keep him away. the point is that they're different and plausible, and not the same exact trope repeated over and over again until i can tell you the plot of hundreds of betrayal works in one sentence.

[nightofnyx8]

2024 Fic Writer End of Year Wrapup

No one tagged me in this, but I wanted to do it anyway. Though a harder year for me in terms of writing, I still want to celebrate everything I did accomplish.

1. How many words did you publish on AO3 in 2024? 86,650! Surprisingly, despite my severe writer's block, it's the most I've ever written in one year.

2. How many fics did you complete this year?

Oops. In all fairness, I have three ongoing longfics, and I plan to finish two of them next year! Song of the Raven might take a little longer to finish.

3. How many in progress or ongoing fics did you start this year?

I started two this year, As Time Goes By and The Color of Truth! Along with Song of the Raven, those fics should keep me pretty busy in 2025 (that is, if I don't add a cowboy AU like I've wanted to do for forever lol)

4. What was your favorite thing you wrote?

I loved writing As Time Goes By. I adore historical fiction so, so much. In fact if I ever wrote an original work, it would 100% be some historical romance, I can't get enough of it. Unfortunately that's when my writer's block started hitting really hard, as it reminded me too much of my grandfather's death this summer. The fic has become really personal, but my grief has moved to the point where I can open the document and remember his memory without that constant ache in my heart, and it is my hope to honor him by finishing the fic. @nallhir also finished the most lovely artwork for this fic as well that I'm just so excited to share.

5. What piece was your most experimental or different from your usual style?

I did a Twisters fic. I did. Without shame. And though I don't know if I'll continue it, I adored combining my love of the American Midwest with my very slight obsession with Glen Powell.

6. Did any fics surprise you - either while writing or their reception?

The reception to Song of the Raven will forever surprise me. I started that fic as a passion project, and the support and love for that fic has humbled me greatly. It's become my workshop fic, so to say, where I can really experiment with prose, characterization, and even delving into smutty writing. I've loved the journey so far.

7. Do you have a fic you wrote and loved that went under the radar? (This is your sign to reblog/repost it!)

I love my marriage in a bottle collection. Post-reveal twiyor is and always will be one of my favorite tropes.

8. Who is an artist that inspired you?

@nallhir @roucaelum-art @aerequets @ideksams and of course @smaii_i on twitter

9. Who is an author that inspired you?

@firewoodfigs, my darling friend, I've loved each and every one of your works this year, even between two fandoms! And though I don't often have the time to truly express how much I adore your fics, please know that I read and cherish every one. I've also loved reading incoming twiyor authors on twitter! @julyorr, @brefhottub, @smiledarnyou, @deluloid and my dear patty had such fun fics this year!

10. Who is a new author you discovered?

To @bloomingdarkgarden and @pinkrasberryfish -- we hardly know each other, I know, but your beautiful elriel works have made me fall in love with writing all over again. I could cradle your beautiful words in the palms of my hand. Thank you for giving Elain and Azriel such beautiful stories, and for helping me get over my own writer's block. I adore your fics so, so much.

11. Did you do any collaborations? How did it start?

@nallhir-I love you. If I could commission you for every twiyor scene I ever wrote, I would do it a hundred times over.

12. What accomplishments are you proudest of?

I think I've finally found my voice in my writing. I've spent a lot of time studying other author's prose and experimenting their styles within my own stories, but this year, I'm happy to look back at my fics and think, "yeah. that's me. And I'm proud of that."

13. What did you learn about writing or creating this year?

Writing is a process, and sometimes writing styles can change. Some stories call for more delicate prose, and some are more plot-driven. There is no shame in creating something beautiful to me (especially for free haha). If it heals my soul, then it doesn't have to be perfect.

14. Any advice you’d like to share with new or aspiring writers?

Whatever you want to write about, write it. It doesn't matter if it's the 500th college AU in the fandom. It doesn't matter if you think your prose is too flowery or too structural or blocky. It doesn't matter if you have a crazy idea that won't leave your head. Write it. Your words matter.

15. What are your creative goals for 2025?

I honestly just want to write every day, no matter how much or little. That may mean writing in my personal journal or in my poetry journal, but I spend so much time as a teacher giving of myself and absorbing other people's emotions, that I think it's good for me to spend some time giving something back to myself as well. I think I'll write an elriel fic this year...something for me :) I adore them too much.

Tagging @firewoodfigs @roseofbattles and anyone else who'd like to <3

[bumpkinspice0]

Parallels Chapter 17: What Is Meant To Be?

Miguel O'Hara x Spider!FemReader

No use of y/n

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 4.9k

Summary: You're going to die. It's written in the canon. The canon must always be obeyed... right?

Warnings: Angst O'clock, Talks of death, Near death experience???? Miguel loves so hard, SMUT (again finally) Oral (Fem receiving), Window sex??, sweet sweet desperation

A/N:  I worked hard to get this out quickly because I felt bad about making everything so sad lately 😅 Though there still might be enough angsty to make it plenty sad, Idk. I'm sorry anyway

Previous. - Next

Series Masterlist

AO3

_______________

Chapter 17

What Is Meant To Be?

“Play it again.”

“Miguel, I don’t think–”

“Play it again.”

The simulation of the dingey warehouse restarts. Nothing more than a prediction. A vision of what's to come. A supposed hostage situation set up by the remnants of the Fisk family—a trap for you. It was so simple. He’d seen you dodge gunfire and fight practical monsters, but this is what does it? Trapped inside a warehouse rigged to explode. As indestructible as spiders seemed to be, no one could rightly survive a roof falling on them. A spider can’t dodge bullets forever. 

They’d find your body 3 days later, likely a memorial erected in your honor as well as a day of citywide grieving. And two months later a certain captain’s daughter would take up the mantle— and you’d be replaced and slowly forgotten. 

There was a 98.9% chance of likelihood for these events. It might as well be a hundred at that point.

You were going to die. This is how you were going to die. 

It was predicted to happen within the hour and Miguel was just sitting here waiting for it to happen. How morbid, he scolds himself. He sits there helpless, a pitiful excuse for a hero. 

“Mig, I’m so sorry,” Lyla’s small form comes to sit next to his hand, her own small hand mimicking stroking motions over his forearm. 

“You weren’t going to tell me.” he mumbles, eyes still locked on the screen of a smoldering building where your body would be dug up from. Only a simulation. It hadn’t happened. Not yet.

“I didn’t know how to. I was… scared.” 

“Scared,” He scoffs, “You?”

“You’re not the only one who cares about her, Miguel.'' The AI bites out harshley. It almost catches him off guard. He’s so used to seeing her so bubbly, so quirky and fun. As annoyed as he seemed by it, he always appreciated it. Gabe was smart in programming her to be so fun. He needed someone like that in his life. Someone to help cut through his bullshit. You played that role as well. 

“We’ve lost a lot of friends in this job, haven’t we Lyla?”

“We have.” 

Miguel expected to be ragging at this point, an inconsolable beast wreaking havoc on his lab. Angry, like he had been since you left. Instead, he’s just numb. Was your fate that easy to accept?

The spider-sense lulls in his head, finally quieting down after the month of torture. Did that mean it knew what was to come? Would he feel it? When you—

He finally buries his face in his hands, muffling a defeated sob. Ah, there’s the tears. After the self-inflicted torture he’d put you both through, this is how it ends? You die and he has to watch it happen like a helpless child on the sidelines. This is the burden he’d taken. He’d done this so many times before. He’d watched horrible things happen because it was the will of the canon— but with you it was… you were…

“Lyla, I’d like to see the probability diagnostics,” He swallows the sorrow, hoping the cold unfeeling numbers of an algorithm might put him at ease. If this was to happen, maybe looking at the ripple effects of it would help him cope. A sacrifice for the greater good of it all. 

The equations and graphs illuminate around him, all of them infallible. This was going to happen. And what would your death bring to the multiverse? Nothing. A small blip in the grand scope of it all. A speck of dust in the cosmos, just like all of them. 

But if your death was so small, then what could that mean if it didn’t happen?

The thoughts he’d been suppressing suddenly flood his mind. He’s not helpless here. The power to change your fate rested on his wrist, your life so easily saved by the simple push of a button. He’d risked something like this before, but it was different this time. Could saving a life have the same effect? He’d replaced a life, but saving a life…There’s no way to know. And he didn’t have time to run the numbers. He had to act—- now.

“Miguel?” Lyla’s voice chirps up behind him, “What are you doing?”

What is he doing? He looks down to see he’d already typed in the coordinates to your universe. Had he already decided and didn’t realize it? Was it that easy?

“I…” He looks down at the watch. A single push of a button. That’s all it would take. “I don’t know.”

“I know… this is hard,” She hovers at his wrist now, clearing the coordinates from the watch, “But we can’t interfere with—”

“All we’ve done is interfere,” He bites out in a voice he doesn’t recognize. “How is this different?”

Did he really believe that?

Hypocrite, he scolds himself.

Reasoning. He was trying to reason for it. Bargaining for your life to justify his own selfish actions. 

He types in the coordinates again, and Lyla clears them before he finishes. He growls, clawing through her projection. 

“You’re not thinking, Miguel!” She urges. “I know this is hard. But you can’t. You know you can’t.”

He knows she’s right, he’s not thinking. He doesn’t care. If he could pull this off, if he could save you, then he’d figure it out. He always did. There had to be limits he could push. Options he never considered. Whatever it would take, just to assure your safety. 

“You have to understand what’s at stake here.” Lyla says again, her pixelated eyes pleading with him. Despite her seeming so human in every way, she was still just a program doing her job. She was his fail-safe, an assurance to make sure past mistakes weren’t repeated— and now she’s the only thing standing in his way. 

“Yes, I do understand,” He says coldly, calmly walking across the lab— to Lyla’s control panel. “It’s time you remember who’s in charge.”

“Don’t even think about it!” She grows to full size. Projections explode behind her, raging fire, explosive blinding lights— all mere illusions. It does nothing to stop him. While she ran things, multiverse travel was still completely operable without her. He opens the panel and begins typing in the reboot code. It’s the one area of the tower she has no control over.

Arachni-bots scurry towards him before falling dead with another push of a button. She’s trying everything. He has to work quickly.

“I’ve called Gabe,” Lyla warns, “Emergency protocol is initiated. He’ll know.”

“Fine, I don’t care.” Miguel punches in the final sequence and all of Lyla’s projections begin to fade. Only her flicking form remains. It’ll take her at least an hour to reboot, that’s more than enough time. 

A portal to earth-727 bursts to life in front of him. 

“Think about it, Miguel!” Lyla tries to reason one last time as her projection starts to fade, “All of this— Everything— for one person? It’s not worth it.”

He pauses at the portal's entrance, the pull of the spider-sense urging him to step forward. 

“Yes. She is.”

The sense crescendos as he shoots through reality, across time and space to save you. The anticipation builds, the anxiety of racing against the clock. He burst through the portal already swinging, taking a quick assessment of his surroundings. Without Lyla to guide his exact location he could've only ended up in a 3-mile radius of you. The sun had already set. He was in Brooklyn, the southside by the looks of it. The warehouse was in the center of Queens, not far but he had to hurry. 

As he swings the rest of his emotions come flooding in. The guilt. The shame… the undeniable love for you. How could he have thought such things? How could have just sat by while he watched you die? Had this job really made him so callous? So cold to the world at large? 

When did Spider-Man stop trying to save everyone?

You’d given yourself to him so freely and he’d meet your affections with so much disdain— yet you treated him with kindness anyway. You were patient with him like no one had been before, he didn’t deserve it. Yet he won’t give it up. Not anymore.

He’d make it up to you. He’d make it all up to you starting tonight. 

The warehouse is in sight. You’d be swinging in from the east. He could easily stop you before you got anywhere near the building. He perches himself on the highest rooftop half a block east of the rigged warehouse and waits. Checking the time, you’d be swinging at any moment, give or take a few minutes. 

He waits… and he waits. 

He’s not sure how much time has passed before he starts pacing. Did he miss you? No, he has no doubt the spider-sense would have honed in on you.  

The spider-sense… in his blind panic he hadn't paid it any mind. Surely being in your dimension would send the alarms blaring in his head. Instead, it was like it was…. Muted. Smothered under something he didn’t recognize. What did that mean? 

What if it meant you were already dead?

Dread pushes him off the roof and swinging towards the harrowing warehouse. Crawling up to the closest window, he peers inside. Three armed men stand in the center of the massive room, barrels of explosives around them. 

“Where the hell is she?” one of them grumbles, “Doesn’t she usually show up way before the cops? Did Tony call it in?”

“Of course he did,” the second one sighs. 

“If she doesn’t come then this was all for nothin’.”

“She’ll come. She always comes.”

“Shut up, both of you,” the final one hisses, turning around to scold the other two. “Look.”

He gives a faint nod to his right… directly at Miguel. 

The first bullets whiz past Miguel’s shoulder, one knicking his suit. He was spotted. Idiot. How could be so careless? He barely manages to swing out of sight.

“Christ, don’t shoot in here!” The leader of the three shouts, “Might as well light a fucking match!” 

“Fuck you, I’m not letting that bitch get away!” They think Miguel is you? He could hear them arguing, perched safely on the roof. Well that confirms it, you weren’t here. 

“She’s here. We got her and I’m not gonna let her pick us off one by one. I’m getting justice for the boys she locked up.” The threatening statement is followed by the unmistakable cock of a gun. 

Oh no. 

“Wait— WAIT—'' One of them pleads before a shot goes off, immediately followed by a domino fall of explosions. 

Miguel just barely swings to safety, the flames licking at his heels. 

“Holy shit. Holy shit.” He chants as he rounds the corner onto a rooftop. It happened. The explosion paints the night in harsh oranges, shattering windows and setting off car alarms for miles. He hears police sirens finally approaching. Your death had happened— and you weren’t there for it.

You weren’t there. 

Relief overtakes him, dropping him to his knees. He’s not sure if he wants to cry or vomit. Quelling the boiling cauldron of emotions in his brain, he forces himself to focus. He hones in on the spider-sense— desperately humming in the forefront of his mind. It was trying to tell him something. Trying to tell him where you were. 

With a wary step forward, he follows it.

________

An emergency distress call from some random universe you’d never heard of. You can’t remember the last time you answered one. Probably when the tower was attacked. They were never meant to be ignored either. 

Jess called it in, and with her being so far along in her pregnancy you leaped immediately to help her, along with a good handful of all of your other spider-comrades. She’d just entered her third trimester and you’re truly amazed she’s still working this diligently. 

“Gotta get it all out of my system now,” She’d scoffed to you when she’d first announced it, “That and I know you guys can’t do this without me, better help you out now.” 

Jessica Drew, always so humble to the point she wouldn’t allow herself maternity leave. God, you loved her but you’d wished she would slow down. 

Since she showed no signs of taking a break, offering a helping hand whenever she needed it was the best you could do.

 Tonight she certainly needed it, being caught in a sudden gathering of symbiotes. You and about ten other spiders answered the call, just in time it seemed.

You hated symbiotes. It wasn’t as easy as punching them and knocking them out, you had to be clever. Play to their very specific weaknesses— Fire and loud noises. That and they were just nasty fuckers. It's a good chance for you to blow off some steam. You didn’t have to hold back when it came to symbiotes, and for once, that was a good thing. 

An hour of messy fighting and a lot of loud noises and fire later, they were all contained. It admittedly felt good to be part of a team effort after your rather less-than-stellar month. These were still your people, they didn’t stop being your people just because Miguel wasn’t part of your circle anymore.

A massive portal opened back to HQ. You’re cue to leave for home.

“Hey,” Jess grabs your shoulder before you can hit the button home, “Come back to the tower with me.”

“I— why?” you’re aware of how cold it comes out. 

Jess immediately furrows her brows, “Because I haven’t talked to you in forever and I wanna buy you a coffee so you can describe what it tastes like to me.”

You can’t help but laugh a little, “You miss coffee that much, huh?”

“And booze. And sushi. And hot tubs. And—” She drapes her arm around your shoulder as she continues, leading you over to her bike. Well, if she’s offering a fun ride, who are you to say no?

Yes, you’d been avoiding the tower like a plague just because he’s there. You feel him when you’re closer, the sense jumping at the proximity alone. Just because it was Miguel’s tower though, didn’t mean you weren’t welcome. Your friends were there. Your community. Spider Tower wasn’t just a monolith to Miguel, it was for all of you. 

You wonder if you should tell Jess about it all. If anyone would understand it’d be her. You’d probably get a few good minutes of reprimanding you for being so stupid, but then she’d go full protective mode and be your human shield against the big bad Spider-Man 2099. That and the pregnancy hormones were making her more irritable. That’s what friends did, though— right? Made things easier for one another. That and you wanted another shoulder to cry on.  

You will tell her, eventually. Not tonight but… soon. 

You both burst into the tower, Jess skidding the bike to a spiraling stop. 

“I hate it when you do that.” you sigh into her back. 

“You spend all day swinging around a city and a little bike ride makes you dizzy?” She scoffs, flipping out the kickstand.

“Yes, shut up,” You groan, practically melting off the bike. Suddenly, You remember why you don’t always accept rides from her, “Why do you ride a bike anyway? Your webs seem perfectly fine.”

“Just to look cool,” She muses, bouncing her hard to the side. Well… you can’t deny that fact. She always did look pretty cool. 

The spider-sense was revving in the back of your head. A few weeks ago it would have driven you insane, now it’s just another thing to ignore. Like a cast over a broken bone or an itchy rash. You’d trained yourself to live with advanced senses, you could train yourself to get used to this. 

At least until you were ready to take the cure. 

You’re halfway to the cafeteria when it’s too much, the sense jumping like a punch to the back of your head. You stumble forward, blindsided by the effects. 

“Jeez, you okay?” Jess grabs your arm. 

“Fine! Fine…. I think.” You assure her halfheartedly.

The sense calms down into a more annoying ringing, but still stronger than when you first entered the building. Why was it acting up now? 

A familiar voice calling your name is your answer. You turn around and there he is, standing at the end of the hallway. 

Miguel— and god, he looks awful. 

Of course he had to show up when you were starting to feel like yourself again. The sense almost causes you to burst out in tears at the sight of him alone. It was a relief. It was a nightmare. 

God, you really don’t want to do this right now. 

He takes a few timid steps toward you, “I… I need to talk to you.”

“Why?” you immediately spit back. 

“It’s important,” He simply says. This was a bad idea. You want to go with him so badly but you know if you do it’ll open up all of your wounds again. 

“What’s going on, Mig?” Jess, bless her, tries to intervene. 

“This is between me and her,” Miguel bites out coldly. Jess didn’t often tolerate his bitchy behavior, but she turns to you instead. Her eyes look to you to see if everything is okay— a silent communication only women seemed to possess the power of. 

“It’s fine, Jess,” You pat her shoulder assuredly, “I’ll describe some coffee to you later.” 

She doesn’t look convinced that it is, in fact, fine but carries on her way regardless. She knew you well enough to be sure that you could handle yourself. She’d suspected something probably since the beginning. Yeah, you really need to come clean to her eventually. 

“What do you want?” You practically hiss at Miguel. He barely moves, simply pressing a button on his watch. A portal springs up on your right. 

“Not here,” He gestures to the spinning portal. Of course, this all had to be cryptic for no reason. Just another thing to torture you right now. You groan and step through the portal. 

It was like walking through a door, your feet landing on solid ground in less than a blink of an eye. A quick glance around and you see you’re in Miguel’s home. It’s dark, the only light coming from the glowing city outside. 

You turn to him as he exits the portal behind you. 

“We couldn’t have taken the sta—”

You don’t even finish the sentence before he pulls you into him, strong arms crushing you against his chest. You’re not sure what you expected… but it wasn’t this.

It’s embarrassing how good it makes you feel almost immediately. Like just his touch cured your countless sleepless nights. The familiar warmth of his arms seeping into your varying being as if he was holding your soul. Was a hug always this good? It’s certainly better than the last one you shared with him. 

The realization jolts you out of his embrace. You weren’t supposed to be together anymore. You weren’t supposed to be doing this shit anymore— right?

“What the hell, Mig?” is all you manage to gasp out. 

He stands there, unmoving, his arms still reaching out after you. You can’t read his face, his expression almost blank. Shocked, maybe?

“I… I don’t know—I had to—” he pulls his hands back, examining them as if he’s just killed someone, “Where were you?”

“Where was—” you balk out an annoyed laugh. Is that why he brought you up here, to check in on you? Toying with this all like some child, “On a mission with Jess, doing my job. Are you spying on me now? Do I have to report to you still?!”

He says nothing, letting your harsh yelling linger in the large space. He looks at you again, something you don’t recognize in his eyes. Suddenly all your anger is replaced with pity. What was happening?

“You’re—” He choked on his words, just for a moment, “You’re okay?”

“Am I o—” You take a step towards him, willing yourself not to reach out and touch him. Trying so desperately to hold up that wall. The resistance you’re not sure you had. 

The spider-sense… is screaming.

“Miguel… you’re scaring me.” 

He nods as if to say I’m scared too. Scared of what, though? You gulp as you break the barrier. You reach out and cradle his massive hands in yours. He sighs at your touch. Something horrible happened… or was going to happen—something to bring this warrior to his knees in a way you’d never seen before. 

“I… I don’t know what to do,” he admits shakily. “Little spider, I think I—”

“What do you need?” you ask immediately.

You see the corners of his mouth twitch up just briefly. Cute, but not an answer. 

“What happened?” You push.

His hands trail up your arms and come to cup your face. Your eyes flutter, almost instinctively. “Just… just tell me you're okay. Right now. In this moment.”

“Mig—” 

You’re not sure who does it. If he pulls your lips to his or if you jump up to meet him. Does it really matter? He tasted like freedom. Like the relief you’d been searching for all these weeks. Had you forgotten so easily? The taste of him. The feel of him. Something so indescribable— like a drug. He was your drug.

It’s a handsy fury, ripping off your clothes as you seemingly try to will his to fade away. There was no time for pleasantries, not this time. There was only hunger— unsatiated, gnawing hunger. 

Need. You needed him.

He backs you against the windows, their sudden coldness sending chills up your naked body. 

“Miguel, please—” you urge, for what exactly, you’re not entirely sure. Whatever he was willing to give you.

“Te tengo. Te tengo…” He chants as his mouth glides down your body, from your neck, between your breasts, and finally to your waiting cunt. 

He engulfs your heat greedily. You don’t recall ever screaming so loud. Sweet, perfect relief. He was perfect. 

He brings both of your legs over his shoulders and holds you there, your bare back pressed against the glass for all the world to see— not that anyone likely would from this height. And not that you really cared right now anyway. There was only him. Him. Him!

God, you missed his skillful mouth. Hungerly lapping at you like it nourished his very soul. It did, you suppose in a way. The sinful hunger helped both of you in its own way. Kept you sane. Kept you alive. You can’t believe you’ve lasted as long as you did without him. 

You come embarrassingly fast, but you’re not surprised with how much you had pent up over the last month. The orgasm rips you apart like an atom bomb, exposing your raw nerves underneath. Your vision goes white, your mouth goes dry. It was everything you were trying to give yourself all those lonely nights— Miguel gave it to you in two minutes. 

His mouth still sloppily runs between your legs as you come down. You squirm in his grasp, your sensitivity now turned up to eleven. 

“Miguel,” You plead, “I need you. I need you.”

A rumble emanates from his chest and up your legs as his mouth comes off you. He lowers your legs, holding you at his waist. He stands at his full height again, pinning you there. He trails his mouth back up your torso, pausing at your breasts to lull his tongue over each nipple before he finds your mouth again— his mouth and tongue coated with the taste of you. 

“Lo siento, arañita. Lo siento mucho.” he whispers between breaths. You know those words. He’s saying sorry. He’s sorry— you’re sorry too. Sorry for it to have come to this. 

He slides inside with a pained moan. Your walls clench around him with familiarity. 

“Like you were made for me,” He murmurs as his mouth slides down your neck. Though it’s completely healed over, he knows the mark he left. He stops on it, his tongue tracing the ghost of what was left there. The brand he left on your soul. 

He lifts you off his cock and slams back into you brutally. Your head falls back against the window with a defined thunk as he sets a ruthless pace. Bouncing you on his cock like you weighed nothing at all. That’s alright, he can use you. 

Your lude erotic sounds fill the space. Wet skin slapping on wet skin. Desperate wordless moans for more. Always more. 

“I missed you. I missed you,” You don’t didn’t even realize you were chanting it until your mouth went dry. 

“Shhh,” He nips at your lower lip, “I know. God, I know. I missed you too. I— fuck.”

Even amidst the animalistic lust-fueled frenzy, you could feel him trembling under your touch. His body quivering with more than just desire. Your combined anxieties manifesting into something desperate and terrifying. A need that couldn’t just be quelled with just your hands. 

Even in your bliss-fogged mind, you felt like a fool for ever letting something like this go. Something so rare and beautiful.

Ever since it appeared in your life you’d been trying to describe this impossible feeling. What was a shared spider-sense? A piece of you that you shared with someone else. How can you define what felt like pure instinct? Give a name to something that was indescribable?

The only thing you knew was that something felt right when you were together. The world made sense when this man was part of it, as infuriating as he could be at times. You were his, he was yours. Not yours in the sense that he belonged to you, but yours meaning he belonged with you. A pair, a set, forever intertwined. 

What was the spider-sense to you?

It was home. 

It felt like home. He felt like home.  

His hips come to a staggering halt as your second orgasm overtakes you. He bites down on your shoulder as he paints your walls. He stands there just for a moment before lowering you both to the ground on trembling legs. Neither of you speaks, panting out the thinning air between each other. Both of you refuse to let go, afraid that this time would surely be the last time you’d ever touch him. Keep him here, now, forever. Nothing could take him away from you right now. 

“Reboot complete.” An ambient voice rings through the room. It was certainly Lyla’s but it sounded… different. More robotic. 

“Oh no,” Miguel grumbles, his grip on you tightening. 

“What? What is it?” Why do you feel panicked? It’s just Lyla. 

Miguel pulls away, worry crossing those burgundy eyes, “I… I have to tell you something.” 

Before he can continue, a familiar golden glow springs up in the middle of the room. Pixels form together to make the familiar form of the infamous AI assistant. She turns to face you both. Miguel’s suit instantly appears back on his body. You’re suddenly very aware of your nakedness, despite her being a computer program. You grab for your abandoned suit crumbled on the floor, hurriedly shoving yourself back into it. 

 “Geez, knock first, Lyla,” You scold her. 

“You’re—” the program's gaze darts back to Miguel in an instant, “Miguel, you didn’t.” 

Miguel sits there shamefully, like a scolded dog. 

“I know we’re not supposed to be doing this anymore,” You come to his defense, slipping your arm into the final sleeve, “It just kind of happened.”

Lyla cock’s her head at you. Was she… confused? Did Lyla get confused? Again, she turns back to Miguel. 

“You didn’t tell her?”

An unknown fear pricks at the hairs on your neck, “Tell me what?”

Miguel stands, arms outstretched to console you. His mouth was open and ready with an explanation before he was interrupted again. 

“Miguel!” Another voice echoes through the large room as it enters the apartment. Gabe. He pauses at the living room entrance. “Oh no. No no no, Miggy. What is she doing here? Estas loco?!”

“Excuse me?” You start before Miguel comes to your defense. 

“She’s here because I chose for her to be here,” He steps in front of you, “She has a right to be here.”

“You’re not God, Miguel,” Gabe marches over, slapping his older brother in the chest. Miguel doesn’t react, “You don’t get to make these decisions. No one does.No puedo creer que estés cometiendo los mismos errores de nuevo. No puedo creer—”

“I’ve told you this is not the same. Ella es diferente,” Miguel bites out, looming over Gabe. The younger brother does not back down.

“Bullshit!”

“Hey!” You finally scream. All eyes in the room snap to you in an instant, some angrier than others. “Someone please… tell me what’s happening.”

You see Gabe’s defenses drop, pinching the bridge of his nose as he takes a step away.

“Jesucristo, Mig.” You hear him mumble into his hand.  

Miguel looks back to you, some kind of horrifying desperation pulling at his features. You’re not sure why, but it scares you. 

“Arañita… Sit down. I have something to tell you.”

_______

Translations:

Te tengo. Te tengo…: I’ve got you. I’ve got you...

Lo siento, arañita. Lo siento mucho: I’m sorry, little spider. I’m so sorry.

No puedo creer que estés cometiendo los mismos errores de nuevo. No puedo creer– : I can’t believe you’re making the same mistakes again. I can’t believe—

Ella es diferente: She’s different

Jesucristo, Mig: Jesus Christ, Mig

Please please please let me know if any of this is wrong

________

Taglist:

@ineedgarlicbread @pinkiemme @thesilenthill @bontensbabygirl @fallenangelsongwolf @raerorigel @littlefreakymunson @viriexo

@w33ni3 @del-ightfulling

Taglist post here!!!

[deadn30n]

portrayal notes: luo binghe

a collection of short snippets pertaining to my particular interpretation of Luo Binghe from SVSSS. list is subject to change and be updated periodically

as i've mentioned in previous posts, I write the version of Luo Binghe you see in Proud Immortal Demon Way. the arrogant && cruel Emperor with a harem of wives spanning in the hundreds. he's the man that Shen Yuan was a fan of throughout the entire novel.

it's possible that throughout the events of Scum Villian, this version of Luo Binghe did not exist until the system 'created' him as a measure to mete out punishment to Shen Qingqiu for losing all of his B Points. which means that Shen Qingqiu might just be responsible for the accidental creation and implementation of an alternate dimension that is Proud Immortal Demon Way. there's no telling if this was the case or not, but per my interpretation, i like to think that the original story didn't have it's own universe until Shen Qingqiu fucked up so badly it created the violent version of Luo Binghe to teach him a lesson

this version of Luo Binghe is charismatic and easy to get along with, especially if you are a woman ( he has a soft spot for them ) but his patience is thin when it comes to being tested. yes, i do think Luo Binghe enjoys the act of killing ( there was no denying he thoroughly reveled in the deaths of all those he believed wronged him ) but i do not believe he kills without purpose. if someone dies, it's never just on a whim or 'for fun', there is always a reason behind it.

though he is charismatic and charming, Luo Binghe is also permanently damaged due to the abuse he suffered from his fellow sect mates, as well as his own master. he does an excellent job of hiding it for the most part, but he has PTSD and struggles with hallucinations / night terrors brought on by said trauma.

his demonic sword Xin Mo is also heavily to blame for this as well; it's influence and attempts to conquer his mind exacerbating the already weakened parts of him. he's done a good job of keeping control on the weapon, but there may come a time when he is no longer able to do so

Luo Binghe has what is called 'the invincible protagonist's halo', which was written into his story by Shang Qinghua ( author of Proud Immortal Demon Way ), making him immune to death, and causing his enemies to become 'dumb' and 'easy to defeat' when faced against him. i won't be enforcing this on your character in interactions without your permission, but you do have to respect that he is immune to death nevertheless.

this doesn't mean he's immortal though. in fact, in my mind, Luo Binghe is very much mortal in spite of his heavenly demon blood, and will only live to be around maybe 200. in the present timeline, he's in his early 50s.

Luo Binghe has a number of special talents unique to himself, but one of the most prominent is his ability to control the dreamscape. he can willingly enter the dreams of others and even torment them through visions of their past, or worst memories. this was a skill he acquired from the demon Meng Mo who took him under his wing at a fairly young age and passed on his powers so he would have a host to cling to when he got too weak to maintain his form. they have a parasitic relationship with one another but it works out well in both of their favours.

he might seem like he has everything someone could ever want but it's also heavily hinted at that Luo Binghe is dissatisfied with it all. it's even mentioned in the novel that after taking his teacher's life -- arguably the worst offender for all the crimes committed against him -- rather than feeling complete, Luo Binghe still felt... unhappy. as if the revenge wasn't enough to remove the burden of his memories from his shoulders.

it's also hinted at in the novel that Luo Binghe is destined to 'one day fade away into obscurity, alone and forgotten.' as if all of his accomplishments meant nothing, and he was unable to escape the hollowness in his heart.

he does not trust easily and is extremely paranoid. it's difficult to get close to hi m, and even a number of his wives struggle to get anything beyond sex out of him. he is emotionally closed off from everyone and everything, and becomes doubly so once his cycle of revenge is complete.

i do very much think he loves his wives -- or did, at one point. he may not have had a deep connection with a good portion of them, but for those he was closest to ( Liu Mingyan, Sha Hualing, Ning YingYing ), he definitely loved them, even if that love may have faded in time. it was of no fault to those women that he fell out of love. the fault rest entirely in the instability of his mind and his inability to escape the past that haunted him.

i headcanon Luo Binghe to have thick brown curly hair which he often keeps half-tied up in a pony tail.

he takes great pride in his appearance and has a rather excessive grooming routine that he goes through each and every day. he smells very good and only uses the most expensive products when cleaning himself.

while Luo Binghe is very much a flirt, your muse does not have to reciprocate his advances. he's a charmer, and he's definitely accustomed to people tripping over themselves to sleep with him, but a little rejection now and then would do him some good i think. that ego of his needs a little popping ( but if your muse is into the type of guy he is, then by all means ).

also lmao this is completely self-indulgent and i'm NOT sorry but for a dude who conquered all three realms, i headcanon Luo Binghe as bisexual. and while he doesn't sleep with men as openly as he does with women, i definitely think he has his own little harem of twinks that he indulges in. he loves his ladies to be sure, but he also loves his twinks and isn't ashamed.

speaking of all three realms, that's an important point to mention but Luo Binghe is the emperor of all three realms ( heaven, earth, hell ) which he forcibly combined using Xin Mo by splitting apart the spaces separating the three, and then glueing them together as one. this is just one of many examples of how terrifyingly strong Luo Binghe actually is. he's a prodigy with many talents in both immortal and demonic cultivation.

he does still carry his original sword Zheng Yang with him, but tends to use it very rarely, if at all.

[jacksmysterylabyrinth]

...after playing the SF path a while ago, this part of the IH route sure is a whole lot of fun to parse through. It's very cleverly done

(General Hundred Line world spoilers in here as well as routes- also note that I haven't gone past the days noted here in the IH route so I haven't seen everything even though I get a gist of how it goes)

Poor Invader-Hunt Takumi. It's bad enough that this version of him was literally possessed by the G'ie early on, that no one in this loop knows a damn thing about, so now he's like some harbinger of death, disaster and much confusion besides that. (Not that he helped things by killing Eito, but that had nothing to do with what came after)

Anyways. Funnily enough, the fact that the parallel-leaping involves the same suits as the G'ie infested Sponsor - who also uses multiple parties - fits in a little too neatly to look suspicious. These suits show up not horribly long before Takumi and co see a whole horde of them. So without further context, you really would assume that it was the Sponsor who was messing around with Takumi, with seeds of suspicion being sown in that when Takumi seems to be doing things that are helpful and- miraculous, while he's out for the count

(yeeeeah hahaha it's FUNNY you should say that.............)

I wonder what it would have been like to play this more blindly, though. Playing this after even just the beginning of the SF path means you know well where the suit comes from and what it's actually for. Which means you might even have some suspicion that there is a parallel-leaping Takumi in the mix, when you get to the part about the liquid appearing out of thin air and an alternate self living his life in his place. But then again, with so damn many suits around, it's nigh impossible to keep track of them all. So you'd have to be pretty sharp about it with how well it's been disguised

Jumping back a bit-

Ahahahaha oh goddddd- a valid concern when this is a complete unknown of a situation, and when you know that there is something that causes a complete personality override, you're kind of internally screaming because it encapsulates what Takumi's deepest fear was while he's hung up on a complete red herring

I love the narrative bit of how they divert from investigating on the issue further, because clearly it's not Takumi's actual fault here and the suspicion for Gaku's murder has - fairly reasonably - transferred to the Sponsor anyway. But the sheer irony is that he's right on the money- the first lapses in memory he had were literally the G'ie taking over him, because he is unconscious when it does its dirty work. And yet the other times really had nothing to do with this version of him at all, he just got knocked out through other means

As for Takumi sleeping a lot generally, and at times severely oversleeping, I wonder if that is also part of a device to make his moments of manipulated consciousness look less suspicious, but just suspicious enough that he suspects something is amiss

Also side note that Sponsor neither confirms nor denies that Gaku's death was their own doing. Probably wanted to take ownership of it more tacitly for the threat angle- and boy, it works

(Note to the doucheweeds on the satellite: all this shit is what happens when you send a bunch of teenagers who don't know any better to another planet and don't do your due diligence on the things that might, yk, adversely affect the team because learning how to read important books was Too Hard for You(tm) )

[crazyk-imagine]

Finding their Mate

A/N: This feels like I wrote an entire series, but it was simple headcanons, which I've found to be oddly fun to do from time to time

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

Freya

After everything that happened with her aunt Dahlia and her giving up everything for her family to live their best lives (without her). Can you imagine how surprised she is to find out that you two are mates; the girl is baffled beyond baffled. She doesn't pursue you when she learns the truth. If you two are friends and she has feelings for you, she'll begin to pull away a bit which leads to you confronting her and asking why she's acting the way she is because it feels like things are weird and you don't want to deal with weird. You have a hard time making friends or finding people who can tolerate you. One awkward conversation later, you two share a kiss and are on a date. I mean, if you consider you watching her practice a spell while she tries not to blush too much as a date, there you have it

Finn

Before his mother forced this life of eternal damnation onto him even if it was due to losing his youngest brother. There is one thing he never anticipated finding... you, his mate. If anyone had told him mates were real and he would meet his soon, he'd probably think you were insane. And that's saying a lot since his life has been revolving around the supernatural since he was a child. Meeting you certainly helped him through this new life, but it didn't do much when he finds himself daggered at the hands of his brother. Knowing you were out there on your own dealing with him family drove him crazy, but he didn't know you asked to be turned to live with him (imagine his surprise when he awoke nine hundred years later and found you). After talking with you, he can't imagine living without you and thanks his lucky stars for you

Elijah

When his memories came back of how he harmed Tatia, he was less enthusiastic about pursuing another female. But Davina made a friend in you (because you helped her bring Kol back) and that was the end of it. It didn't trigger that you two had met years ago until he saw the three of you enjoying breakfast together. His memories came flooding back to him and he realized that you weren't in your original body yet, hence where his younger brother got the idea to do so, trying to find the doppelgänger. You two slowly began bonding and then came the hardest time in your relationship, he lost his memories, his mind would never let him forget your face. He never knew until he and Klaus were at their end, but his brother admitted your death to him and explained that's why he has an ache in his heart. A werewolf had gotten you while you were protecting Hope. He never got to admit how sorry he was for hurting you, not until he saw you standing there, waiting for him with Hayley by your side

Klaus

He didn't believe it for a second, thought it was a hoax; thought it was something the witches cooked up to blackmail him. But the more he saw you, the more his heart raced and the more his need for you grew stronger. Not to mention the fact that his wolf didn't help, the voice calling and wanting him to take you for his own so they can claim you as theirs. He knew he was dangerous and that's why he did all he could to stay away from you in the beginning when he ever so slowly begins to accept that your fates are tied to one another. There was no way he'd let you be put in danger due to his issues or because you're associated with his family. After you manage to protect Hope and yourself while defending him and his name, he thinks maybe his family wasn't lying when they said you two were fated mates, destined to be together (perfect for one another eve). He was more than hesitant to try and form a relationship with you. You had to be the one to take the step and make things right and stop the aches n both your hearts

Kol

He initially planned on using you as leverage since he knows his brother cares about you (whether it was platonic or not). But then, there was this little spark you had and not just because you managed to shock him with your powers, to escape from him and his mother. After that he knew he had to know you, someone who is genuine friends with his half-brother and can take care of themself in they ever needed to. That one hell of a keeper and there was no way he could let you go. So, yeah, he's going to try and become your friend (only after you reject him when he asks you to go out on a date). Then when Davina tried to help him return to his body, she came to you and knew you'd be able to help more than anyone because working alone isn't enough. No one, supernatural or not, cannot deny the bond between mates. You two confessed to one another once he came back from the supernatural purgatory, in his original body, and that was that

Rebekah

After watching her brother kill almost all her lovers and ruining any chance she had at a love life, she found it hard to believe that she was offered a chance at having someone fated to be hers. Someone her brother couldn't kill without causing her severe harm. She loves too hard and fast, she knows that, but she can't help it. Now that mates are thrown into the mix, she is a little hesitant at starting something with you, but she also knows how you are (being allies with her family helped her learn more about you). Then when her siblings find their mates and watches how happy they are, she can't help but basically run into your arms and confess that she feels the bond too and wants to start a relationship with you (and if you hate Elena, that's such a bonus for her)

Hope

When she lost her parents and her Uncle Elijah, she never imagined anything good would come into her life. Always believing herself to be cursed and imagining loads of misery would continue to come her way even as she genuinely tries to let good things into her life. Then you came into play, and she was floored. First off, you're the most good-looking person she's ever seen, Landon does not compare whatsoever. But it also is more of a reason for her hesitation when it comes to interacting with you or her just trying to get to know you. You knew right away who she was to you, another reason why you wanted to talk to her, figure out how you would fit into her life. You started to pursue her, not ready to give up even as she continuously turns you down, waiting until she'll accept you. After some time, she decided to try and have her own epic love like her parents and uncle Elijah did. She doesn't regret it

Hayley

After learning the truth about her family, she didn't expect to hear that mates were a thing. Then as soon as she stepped foot in New Orleans, imagine her surprise when she met not one but two wolves who continuously looked out for her. She manages to bond with one of the two wolves right away, slightly alarmed at how easy it was to spot you in your wolf while she is out in town. Then came a full moon where she met Jackson, who may or may not, have known who the wolf was and told her, about you and your back story or the bond you two share. Unfortunately for her, you were cursed differently. Only when you find your mate on a full moon and they accept you, will you be able to turn into your human form again. She searched three moons before finding you and she thanked her bloodline for giving her someone so, well, you. You're more than she could have ever known

Davina

With everything she went through before and after learning about everything witch wise, finding a lover much less a mate was the furthest thing on her mind. After she came back from the other side and was dealing with the ancestors' punishment, you entering her life was more a blessing. Which is something she and Marcel can easily agree on. Then you put in the effort to learn about her, just as she starts to find herself, accepting everything she's done and what the other witches keep doing to her; you stay by her side is what's kept her together. She would never admit it out loud to you but ever since you had entered her life, it was more of a blessing than anyone even realized. She continues to thank her lucky stars every day once the two of you are together. You are more than she could have ever imagined, and she'll do whatever she can to protect you because there's a lot that goes on in town

Marcel

After Klaus pulled his siblings out of town after the fire and the Mikaelson's thinking he was dead, losing Rebekah... he never thought he'd get the happy ending he wanted. But then, he was out at his favorite bar, trying to charm the pants off Camille (yet again) and you waltzed in, changing his life for the better. He never knew why his heart was so full and pounding so hard until Elijah told him. Finding out that mates were a thing? He was... safe to say pleased because like the man who treated him like a son always said, a king must have a queen (or king, in some cases). And you, my dear, are his royal highness lover from now until death and that could take a while. He will always do whatever he can to give you whatever you want to keep you happy and satisfied. He wants you to feel like you can rely on him for anything and everything, which kind of makes him look like a sugar daddy with all the new things he buys you

[90percentstudios]

What D&D classes would the CKC cast play as, and what would be their playstyle?

cody - changeling rogue. he'd get obsessed with trying to ride on the back of a hill giant instead of just freakin' killing it, and would probably forget he can do stuff like shapeshifting/bonus actions/etc 80% of the time. he's pretty deadly when he's locked in though, but it'd take some proof and convincing that an enemy is worthy of death. he'd also doodle while playing, heavily distracting him, but at least by the end of each session there's a bunch of silly drawings his friends can flip through.

mini - changeling cleric. the twins are both changelings cuz of everyone in the series, i think they're the only ones that've achieved being losers, cool kids, gods, averaged, AND banned. she's actually a big fan of making overly complicated plans, whether it's a heist, a jailbreak, you know she's got a dozen pastel gel pens to plan it all out! unfortunately she's got horrific luck, consistently rolling under 10. at least the plan goes well when someone else is carrying it out.

peter - human paladin. he has perfect recollection of all the rules and likes the game to be as immersive as possible, because convincing himself he's really a heroic paladin that people like and respect was his copium as a loser. that being said, post-series pb would have a bit more fun, especially with cody there to involve him in all his crazy antics.

juvie - tiefling barbarian/fighter multiclass. they frequently have to reassure their team they're not a violent psychopath irl, it's just that if you're playing in a world where you can do anything, why WOULDN'T you give every kobold a uniquely gruesome death and decorate your camp with their guts as a show of force? anyway they're very combat focused.

peggy - wood half-elf druid. any chance she has to transform into a unicorn she takes (it's not technically allowed but daniel allows her to turn into a horse that has a horn for flavor). she mostly trots around, eats apples, gives people horsey-rides, makes friends with other animals and often demands that daniel allow them to resurrect their friends (ahem cody) whenever they miraculously die.

holden - human bard. he actually brings his guitar and plays a short tune whenever he uses bard magic, it really adds to the immersion! he's also the party-face, meaning he's in charge of persuading the guards not to imprison everyone just because juvie tested the flammability of the local tavern's liqueurs. after a dozen of these instances he's gotten in the habit of telling guards "i've never seen that tiefling in my life."

daniel - elf wizard, (though he'd focus on dming, he'd probably include his own character in the campaign at peggy's request because "he'd be left out" if he didn't). his character would offer important exposition when it's already too late and punish the others for their reckless shenanigans by not helping them when they're in a bind. "it's better for character growth" he says.

gigi - sorcerer. she'd immediately grasp the rules, min-max the hell out of her character, remind people to use their ability modifiers and always be on the hunt for the best equipment, often getting holden to help bargain for them with his high charisma stat. her gamer-brain's also got a good memory for the lore of the campaign. "where was the grand exchange again?" "it was north east of kragmaw, remember?" "..." "in that cave in the side of the mountain?" "..." "you caused a cave-in that cut the water supply off from the local town, displacing hundreds?" "... ooooh, right."

rhyme - astral elf. would join the campaign a bit later than the others since she'd still be getting used to the friend group and all. everyone would welcome her in and they'd all grow as friends. she's annoyingly good at everything as always, yet somehow whenever she's near, mishap seems to follow. juvie's certain she's up to no good but no one believes them, until some pivotal moment when daniel reveals he'd invited her to play as a double agent on the side of evil and in order to complete the quest they must all fight to the death. when asked why the hell he'd do something like that he says "dammit i told you cody, FOR CHARACTER GROWTH!!" rhyme has stellar acting and everyone fights her with teary eyes, until... i dunno, they find some secret option of exorcising her of evil and completing the quest and no one dies and yadda yadda happy ending. anyway juvie gives a very well-deserved i told you so and rhyme admits her being the secret villain was a bit on the nose but she enjoyed the theatre of it all.