#chomp man // unknown

[nataliescatorccioapologist]

Season 3 Official Trailer Breakdown

*Huge disclaimer that this show is so unpredictable that all of my guesses will probably be wrong. I know many of these shots are probably misdirections and missing important context.*

Lottie spotted alive and well and looking great (with a bodyguard? Or just a very well dressed man?)

A series of scenes that imply Nat is definitely in some hot water this season. It seems that she might have known where Coach Ben was but didn’t tell the group to protect him, which pisses the rest of the group off enough to question her leadership. Unlike Lottie, Nat wasn’t chosen by the group to lead them, which will likely result in tension and resentment from those who feel like she didn’t earn her new title. The group is shifting towards ferocity and darker morals, so maybe Nat can't meet the group’s needs or take them down the path they want to go on. Maybe the trial we saw in the first trailer was actually related to Nat? But why would Coach Ben be there in the background for that?

With the way Nat looks on her knees in the middle of the group and the vitriol she seems to be facing, I am so interested to see how she makes it out of this alive. However, I do think it’s important to note that, in the close up shot we get of her with blood on her face, there are no actual wounds visible. It could be someone else’s blood!

And related to that, we see the group setting up what appears to be a makeshift table. As we saw with Javi, I wonder if this table is being set up to butcher something (or someone) on. Or just to have a nice innocent family feast on.

I think it’s interesting to note that the clip immediately following this is Nat in what appears to be an apron with her hair pulled back. To me this looks like Nat is going to be the one doing the butchering in this scene (the apron and her hair being pulled back implies that she’s trying not to get blood on her clothes and hair). Could Nat be relegated to Shauna’s role as the butcher after Shauna becomes the new leader? Or is she just filling in for the moment?

It looks like Travis might be getting bit here (by Shauna?) while Lottie laughs. I really have no guesses as to what’s going on here. Maybe Travis stood up for Nat and therefore was attacked? I have a feeling Travis is going to be very conflicted as to where his loyalties lie this season, which might make him a target. The first image could actually be Mari getting the chomp, though, as we have already seen a clip of Shauna biting her hand in the previous trailer.

It looks like Tai is attacking Van here (!!), which I'm willing to bet is Other Tai taking over, and we also see Tai screaming and crying (which I'm guessing is related to her attacking Van?). I'm wondering if this could be some kind of nightmare Taissa is having of losing control and hurting Van, which reflects how she is afraid of herself and her lack of control over her darker alternate. Or it could be her actually attacking Van. And is it just me or does it look like they are wearing the same outfits in the attacking scene and the scene where they're running through the street?

It looks like Shauna (and likely the other survivors) will be receiving some threatening letters and tape recordings from an unknown source (Shauna says that someone is trying to kill them for what they did in the wilderness). It looks like Shauna received both a letter (notably addressed to Shauna Shipman, not Sadecki, which could be a way of hinting that this person knows her past) and a tape? And then it looks like she is trying to secretly play the tape in her bathroom (trying to hide it from Callie and Jeff?).

There's another clip of Mari running from the group again and hiding behind a tree, very reminiscent of when Nat hid behind the tree after drawing the Queen card in S2. Even though Mari does look genuinely scared here, the second clip of Mari laughing with Van in what appears to be the same scene makes me wonder if this is actually not Mari running for her life and rather just a fun game the YJs are playing. Maybe they're literally playing tag or something? Or maybe they were playing a harmless game which quickly devolved into something darker.

A closer shot of Tai holding the gun. This time, we can see she is not as stoic as she appeared in the promotional images we saw before. She's crying, and I feel like that combined with the following clip of blood splattered on some leaves nearby confirms that Tai put to the task of shooting someone in this scene. Mari is in the background, so its not her, so is it Coach Ben? Why is Tai the one chosen to carry it out?

We see more of that scene where Shauna is being pulled down into the lake by someone/something. I truly have no idea what is going on in this scene. I am kind of hoping that its Nat taking revenge and trying to threaten her/drown her but I am 90% sure that's not going to happen. Who do we think would try to drown Shauna?

Pretty sure this is Mari spraying Shauna with some kind of mace! And by the looks of it, Shauna probably deserves it (sorry). Maybe this is following the scene where Shauna is trying to bite Mari's hand and then Mari sprays her with whatever this is to defend herself?

A shot of a hooded figure holding the rifle, with some other hooded figures following behind. To me this looks like some kind of search party, like they are hunting someone down who ran away and hid. I wonder if they're looking for Nat? Especially after Shauna's "We'll give the wilderness what it wants" line. They could also be searching for Coach Ben or Mari.

Tai and Misty about to smother someone to death in a hospital?? I would think this person must know too much about what they did in the wilderness and therefore they have to kill him. Another part of me is really just hoping they're smothering Lottie's dad to death because I know he's going to be in this season and I really hate that guy, but I am also pretty sure that's just wishful thinking on my part.

Things aren't looking too good for Akilah. The expression on her face and the way she's being held up by someone make it seem like she just got shot or stabbed/is actively dying. But not sure if they would be bold enough to show that in the trailer. Whatever is happening to Akilah here, she definitely doesn't look like she's doing too great.

I'll say it: I think we're getting a Pit Girl reveal this season! Or at least we will get up to the point in the storyline right before Pit Girl. These are the same outfits we see the group donning in the opening scene of the pilot episode. We can clearly see the skunk head (referred to as The Hunter in the script) who was standing over the pit trap looking down at Pit Girl's body. It is still pretty impossible to tell who's who. But I think this tells us that Season 3 will go through spring, summer, and into the beginning of the second winter (or we could just be getting flash-forwards to winter). Looks like they've gone full feral at this point, they've got spears and they are definitely hunting someone down. I wonder if this is actually the Pit Girl scene itself, just from the perspective of the hunters now instead of the prey.

This is pretty much confirmed to be Lottie given that we have behind the scenes photos of Simone Kessell wearing this exact dress and heels. Lottie, I am so scared for you, please be okay. hoping she's just passed out or something. Or maybe she just got tired and she's taking a nap...on a dark mysterious concrete floor surrounded by candles.

And last but absolutely not least we have Lottie eating the fuck out of someone with blood all over her face. The cannibalism in this season has been turned up to 11 for sure.

--

There are some shots that I left out because I ran out of room! There are just so many details in this trailer that I want to unpack, but I tried to pick out the ones I found most important. Some other important shots not mentioned were the arrow in the tree trunk (I'm guessing this is actually the adult timeline since I'm really not sure where the girls would get an arrow like that in the wilderness, unless it belongs to someone outside of the group👀), a Queen card being picked up off the street in the adult timeline, the floating lantern scene we have seen in promotional photos, the girls having a feast, Travis walking with the rifle, and the girls running around their makeshift huts having fun (wholesome).

[nanamineedstherapy]

Ooga Booga Gojo tries to Court you

Previous Chapter 1: Ooga Booga Battle Royale (Tumblr/Ao3)

Summary: Prehistoric, period-accurate Neanderthal JJK daddies courting you with grunts, rocks, & zero verbal communication. Just prehistoric buffoonery.

A/N: I wasn’t gonna do a part two, but apparently, many of you are feral and demanded more, so here we are. => This is a different reader, but the same Gojo—unfortunately for you. => Some bits might be slightly suggestive (mentions of mating), but nothing in detail, only in comedy. => This is Gojo’s chapter, but don’t worry—the other guys are also getting their solo stories, with guest appearances in each other’s on a regular. So I recommend reading all of them, but I can’t force you to make good life choices. Now, enjoy the chaos.

Gojo Satoru wakes up face down in dirt.

Brain? Scrambled.

Skull? Pulsing like tribe drum.

First mate? Gone. Vanished. Poof.

Gojo blinks. Confused.

Grunts. (Where bonk mate? Where cave cuddle?)

Nothing. Only wind, dirt, and pain.

He grunts, stands. Shakes off the dirt like a dog, and squints against the glaring prehistoric sun. Then—

Oh.

Oh.

Shiny.

Gojo decides you are shiny.

Not rock-shiny. Better.

You glow like big fire in sky.

Gojo’s brain: Mine.

He lunges like wild beast with zero coordination. Arms flailing. Legs kicking.

You grunt. (NO.)

To you he looks like an old man with dusty white hair and a dusty large white beard.

Not good mate material.

You grab a rock.

And bonk.

Hard.

Gojo blinks.

Head throbs.

But he is built different.

Bones like a mountain. Skull thick. (No thoughts.)

He absorbs the impact like it’s just a pesky mosquito bite.

“Grrr!” he growls, shaking off the hit, eyes wide with a mix of admiration and sheer determination.

Translation: Me want shiny!

You stare back, half-amused, half-terrified

He then grins.

Breaks a coconut with his arms. Then flexes.

Translation: Me STRONG. You MINE.

You?

You grunt back. (Die.)

But he does not die.

Instead, he grabs you.

Easily.

It’s like picking up a small animal.

You scream.

Bite.

Kick.

Writhing? Yes.

He giggles.

And hauls you away.

His tailbone wagging like some long-lost creature that never made it into the history books.

You hiss.

Doesn’t matter.

He’s giggling.

---

His cave is—insane.

Just... useless, reflective rocks. (They are gemstones, but you are too big brain to know yet.)

He dumps you on a relatively comfortable pile and sits cross-legged in front of you, wagging mammoth-like white eyebrows.

You put one shiny in your mouth and chomp on it.

Almost break teeth.

They do NOTHING.

Not food.

Just useless shiny.

You rub your jaw wincing.

Gojo grins proudly.

Gestures at the pile of shiny.

Grunts. (Good cave. Best cave.)

You stare.

He stares back.

You bonk him on the head with the rock.

He gasps.

Betrayal!

But you do not care for his emotional damage.

You grunt. (Why no food?)

He tilts his head.

Like a confused wolf pup.

You grab your stomach.

Point outside.

Chomp air dramatically. (FOOD.)

This should be a simple task. A test of basic survival skills.

Gojo pouts.

And dramatically flails onto the cave floor.

Then stares at you like a man contemplating the weight of the universe.

Gojo sighs like a dying mammoth.

Grunts. (No want.)

You throw another bigger rock at him.

He gasps.

Another BETRAYAL!!

But also?

Braincell activated.

Gojo drags himself outside.

Grumbling.

Pouting.

Reluctant.

Like a child forced to fetch water.

---

Gojo tries to hunt.

Looks for big beast. Small beast. Any beast.

No prey. No food.

Nothing.

His stomach grumbles.

Gojo’s brain. (??? Starve???)

But then.

Big brain moment. Like divine inspiration from an unknown prehistoric god, he gets an idea.

He runs to and peers.

Into Nanami’s cave.

Nanami has much meat.

Stored.

Safe.

Also, Nanami is busy right now.

Mating.

Sees his rival absolutely plowing his woman.

His respect for privacy is nonexistent.

Gojo grins.

He sneaks in, giggling to himself, and starts hauling an entire chunk of dried meat out of the stash.

It’s heavy. Unwieldy.

He’s tiptoeing, which is hard when you have no shoes and the floor is rock.

Nanami almost notices.

He grunts.

Pauses.

Looks around.

Then shrugs and goes back to his woman, who’s busy making cave paintings on his back with her nails.

Success.

Gojo runs away like a thief in the night, dragging the stolen meat back and grinning like a victorious idiot.

Which was a whole six feet from his cave.

Very brave.

You see Gojo carring meat.

Big meat.

Looks good.

Too good.

You squint and grunt. (Hunt where?)

Gojo freezes.

Grins.

Gestures vaguely. (Over there.)

You grunt. (Lie.)

Gojo grins bigger. Nervously. (No.)

You narrow your eyes.

But meat is meat.

You take. You eat. He eats.

The meal is good. It is... almost pleasant.

Gojo relieved.

Until—

Rock flies out of nowhere.

WHACK!!!

Gojo collapses.

Directly into your chest.

Unconscious.

Nanami, standing in distance, furious. (THIEF.)

You blink and look down at Gojo.

Who is drooling on your chest and smiling for some reason.

You shrug and continue eating.

Nanami’s woman drags him back to their cave by his hair, and he goes back to plowing her.

---

The next morning, you wake up to a horror scene. Not a mammoth stampede, not an unexpected saber-toothed tiger attack—something worse.

The cave is disgusting.

Bones scattered like some sort of primitive murder mystery. Half-eaten fruits fermenting into what is, hopefully, not the first beer. Piles of unidentified objects—some organic, some suspiciously shiny, all offensive. It smells like wet fur, old fire, and bad decisions.

You turn to the source of this chaos. Gojo.

Sleeping peacefully. Sprawled out like a very contented, very problematic deity.

His wild, tangled hair is half-covered in dried mud.

A single bone dangles precariously from his beard.

His makeshift loincloth is barely doing its job.

You throw a rock at his head and he wakes up startled like a pray.

You glare at him. Then the mess. Then back at him.

You point. Stern. Judgmental. (This. Is. Filth.)

Gojo squints. Tilts his head like a confused baby mammoth. (What. Is. Problem?)

You do the only reasonable thing. You grab a rock and aggressively scrub a small patch of the cave floor. Clean.

Gojo watches. Gasps. Betrayal. Yet Again.

He clutches his chest like you just stabbed him with a saber-toothed toothbrush. Dramatically throws himself onto the floor. Rolls once for emphasis. (Why? Why do this? This is not way of cave.)

You are unmoved. You thrust a hand at the chaos. (Fix. Now.)

Gojo groans. Drags his knuckles like he’s about to march into monkey battle. He begins picking up his treasures—various shiny rocks, random bones, a stick that looks vaguely like a snake—and starts organizing them into piles. The categories make no sense.

You throw out a particularly suspicious-looking object.

Gojo gasps. Almost cries.

You ignore his dramatic arm clutching. Cleaning continues.

After an exhausting amount of actual hygiene, the cave finally reaches a semi-respectable state. But one final task remains.

You grab Gojo’s loincloth (that’s the only thing he wears, and the rest of him is too gross to touch) and drag him somewhere.

He grins and follows.

No survival instincts.

Too happy to be walked around like a dog by his woman.

Once there, you point at Gojo. Then at the river. (Wash. Now.)

Gojo whines again, this time more dramatically. Final Betrayal.

He shakes his head. Backs away. Flails. (No! Water is enemy! It steals warmth! It is cold death!)

You are smarter.

You grab him.

You drag him.

He claws at the dirt, wailing like a dying dinosaur. (Mercy! Mercy! I did nothing wrong!)

You do not care.

With a mighty shove, you push him into the river. He vanishes beneath the surface, limbs flailing like an overgrown, drowning bat.

Then—

He emerges.

Oh.

Oh no.

The mud is gone.

The dirt is gone.

The layers of filth, possibly accumulated over years, are gone.

Gojo is now blindingly clean. Too clean. Also, looks like a wet white cat because there is no blowout for Neanderthals and their naval-length bread plus hair combo.

The sun catches on his gleaming skin, illuminating him like some divine being sent to curse the land with unbearable brightness. His hair—previously a natural camouflage of filth and dust—is now a shocking, blinding white. His skin, underneath all that grime, is ghostly pale. The water around him glows like some celestial event.

A beacon of unfortunate genetics.

You shield your eyes. (Too bright.)

Gojo stares at his reflection in the water.

Blinks once.

Twice.

Then—

A bloodcurdling, soul-shaking scream.

He flails backward. Trips. Falls into the river again.

You sigh.

This will take a while.

---

Soon after, Gojo Satoru is in love.

Or at least, he thinks he is.

His bones feel weird when he looks at you. His stomach too. Like hunger, but not.

You are the best thing in his cave (besides his shiny rocks).

But you? You treat him like an inconvenience.

Like a raccoon that won’t leave.

This is unacceptable.

So, he must court you.

Gojo watches other men in the tribe. He studies their tactics.

The way they bonk their women.

How they share food.

How they puff their chests to look stronger.

He has plans.

Gojo selects the shiniest rock in his collection. It glimmers in the firelight. He holds it up. Perfect.

He marches to you and slams it into your hands, chest puffed in victory.

You stare at the rock.

Then at him.

Then at the pile of identical rocks behind you.

You drop it.

Gojo gasps.

He clutches his chest like you have stabbed him.

Attempt failed.

He moves onto the next attemp. 

He sees how men impress women with movement.

So, he dances.

It is horrible.

Arms flailing. Knees bending in ways knees should not.

He jumps. Spins. Grunts. Nearly dislocates something.

He looks at you, sweaty and expectant.

You blink.

Get up.

Walk away.

He flops onto the floor in despair.

On to the next attempt.

Men show their strength. He must do the same.

So, Gojo grabs a rock.

A big one.

He lifts it.

Grunts.

Lifts it again. Louder grunt.

He looks at you for approval.

You look unimpressed.

Gojo panics.

Lifts a bigger rock.

It is too big.

His legs shake.

Spine bends.

He collapses under the rock.

You do not save him. Immediately.

He makes a final attempt: the ultimate sacrifice.

Gojo hates sharing food.

But he must.

So, he presents you with the best meat from the latest hunt. (Stolen from Nanami again.)

He doesn’t even take a bite first. He just hands it to you and watches.

You inspect. Take a slow bite.

It is... good. (Because Nanami actually cooks his meat.)

Your face softens.

You look at him differently.

Not as a dumb cave rat, but as a... potential mate?

Gojo sees it.

The shift.

His tailbone wags.

He giggles.

Then you pick up a shiny rock—the one he gave you earlier.

Hold it up.

Gojo freezes.

Oh.

OH.

SHE ACCEPTS.

He screams in happiness.

Falls to the floor. Rolls around like a deranged animal.

You watch, both amused and deeply concerned.

The courtship has worked.

You are his now.

And unfortunately, he is yours.

---

Days pass. You get used to Gojo’s presence.

Mostly.

Now that Gojo is your problem, you take a good look at him.

He is... old?

His navel-length beard, his wild, tangled hair, all white as bone. You assume he was ancient. Unfit for mating. Practically dust.

You frown in thought. You are young so you need a strong mate.

But you have already accepted the rock.

There is no undoing the rock.

Gojo, unaware of your internal crisis, is giggling in his sleep.

You sigh. There must be a way.

Then, next day, you see him.

Nanami.

The only man in the tribe who does not look like an unwashed bear.

His face is smooth. (Because, of course, it is. Even in prehistoric times, Nanami knows how to shave. Unlike you and your mate.)

His hair is also controlled.

You grab your mate’s jaw and make him look at Nanami.

Gojo, who was previously busy comparing his toes with yours and giggling to himself, squints and points. (What?)

You pull his bread. (Why man-face not look like mammoth fur?)

Gojo is intrigued. He stalks Nanami.

For days, he watches. Hiding behind bushes. Peeking over rocks.

Then one fateful morning, you see it.

Nanami is using a sharpened shell.

Scraping the hair from his face.

Gojo gasps. (Magic.)

You gasp. (Forbidden ritual.)

Gojo nods. (We do.)

You nod. (We do.)

Later, you steal the shell.

Gojo sits. Determined.

You shave.

It is not graceful.

You butcher his beard. It is uneven. Patchy.

He looks like a plucked bird.

Then, his hair.

You cut. Too much.

Now, instead of looking old, Gojo looks... strange.

Like a newborn rat.

You stare.

Gojo stares in a nearby puddle.

Both of you realize the mistake.

Then—

A shadow looms over you both.

It’s Nanami’s woman.

She sees the shell. The shaved Gojo. The hacked hair.

She gasps.

She roars.

She points. (THEY TOUCH MY MAN’S MAGIC SHELL!!!)

You both scream.

Nanami’s woman lunges.

You both run.

But then Gojo trips.

So you drag him.

Behind you, she is gaining.

You dive into your cave and block the entrance with a boulder. Then you both pant and sweat.

Gojo, breathless, touches his face. (I look different?)

You nod. (Still ugly. But not old.)

Gojo grins. (Good enough.)

Outside, Nanami’s woman snarls. Threatens death.

Gojo winks at you.

You roll your eyes.

Nanami puts his woman on his back and takes her back to their cave for dinner.

//

The next day you stare at Gojo and gesture for him to follow you out.

He does, like always, thinking you are finally taking him on a prehistoric date.

Then you grab a sharp rock.

Gojo’s eyes go wide in fear.

You point at his face. Then the rock. Then back at his face. (Fix. Now.)

Gojo screams and flees.

You chase.

The entire tribe watches as you tackle him, pin him down, and shave his beard like a shearing an unwilling goat.

Gojo flails.

Whines.

Cries.

But only when it is done, you step back.

And blink.

He is… Not rat.

Gojo blinks too.

Touches his smooth face.

Squints at his own reflection in a puddle.

Then his eyes widen.

He gasps. A discovery!!

He points at his reflection. Then at you. Then at his reflection again. (I… am… beautiful???)

You nod. (Yes. Obviously.)

He gasps again. A second discovery.

He points at himself. Then at you. Then back at himself. (You… like? You… choose?)

You stare.

Then sigh.

Grab the shiny rock he gave you.

Hold it up.

Gojo screams.

Falls to the floor. Rolls around like a deranged animal.

The tribe cheers.

You sigh again.

This idiot is yours now.

A/N: Drop your chaotic demands (you can also suggest other JJK characters of any gender or gender bender) in the comments, and may the most deranged option win. You guys send your ideas as well in my ask on Tumblr.

Next chapter will be out soon. :)

All Works Masterlist

[astroboots]

EYEM #13

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x female reader

Summary: You meet another version of the man you love and finally find out why the Universe is trying to kill you.

Word count: 5,800

Warning: violence, pain hurt and angst. Be prepared.

Series Masterlist | Spiderverse Masterlist | Astroboot’s Masterlist | thirstworldproblemss’ Masterlist

[Previous] [Next]

Everything hurts. You don’t know where you are, you’re disorientated and queasy.

The first sight that greets you is the glow of scarlet eyes so piercing they cut through the blurriness of your vision.

They're familiar, but also different. Even though they’re identical to his, you know this is not your Miguel.

It takes you a while to make sense of your surroundings. Long moments for the nausea to dissipate enough that you can take in the dark moody blues of the space and recognize that you’re in the same sparse room as before.

Takes a few longer moments still before you register that your wrists and arms are restrained by strange threads made of an unknown material that glow up in an alarming neon red and you’re strung up and suspended in an intricate web from the ceiling.

You try to pull against your restraints, but it’s useless, your body won’t listen to you. You can’t even get your little finger to budge. You can’t fucking move.

“You’re alright,” The man who looks exactly like your Miguel says. “Try not to move. It’ll be better that way.”

You don’t listen to him, because why the hell would you. This is not your Miguel. You try again and pain sears through your muscles.

Shit! He bit you and now you’re paralyzed.

Panic races through your spine. You need to get out of this situation, now. Need to get out. Need to get to Miguel. Even if you can’t move, there has to be a solution somehow.

Lyla is meant to protect you right? She was built for that purpose. If you summon her then surely, “Ly–”

You can't get the second syllable out. Sharp pain stings inside your throat as you try to speak.

“Lyla’s not going to attack me," he says as if he can read your mind and knows what you were planning to do. "It’s a safety feature built in to make sure she doesn’t go rogue. The only time that gets overridden is if I’m a threat to your life."

Irritation crawls under your skin.

Fuck’s sake Lyla. Does this not count as a threat? Do fangs poised against your throat and taking a chomp out of you not qualify? The man bit and paralyzed you!

Despite two failed attempts, you try to move again, straining against the impossible heaviness of your numb limbs. Another jolt of pain shoots through your limbs as you do.

Miguel flinches at the sight of you as if there was an invisible thread connecting your body to his and he was able to feel every ounce of your pain.

His hand reaches up to cup your cheek to stop you.

“Don’t move,” he tells you again. “My toxins have paralyzed you and it will hurt you if you try to move. Stay still, nena. Please. You’re safe.”

If this was your Miguel, he would have been curt and snappy with you for being so stupid to move when it hurts. But this Miguel says it like a plea. Soft and gentle all at once.

His other hand comes to your collarbone, thumb gently wiping away the dried blood that’s pooled there. There’s an unreadable expression on his face as he stares at the dark stain of red on his fingers.

“This is the last time you’ll be hurt. You’re not going to die this time. I know how to fix this so you won’t die ever again."

Fix...it? What does he mean? Like make the universe stop trying to kill you for good?

You blink up at the man, unsure of what to make of his words. You don't trust this version of Miguel any further than you can throw him. The man knocked you out and tied you up...

But if he can fix it, even if the chance is small and far-fetched, what would be the harm in listening?

Your tongue is heavy and dry in your mouth and it feels like you’ve swallowed fistfuls of sand when you try to speak again. “Ho-how?”

“I just have to eliminate the root cause of why the Universe keeps trying to kill you.”

You prepare yourself for the pain that’s going to come again to ask him what he means. But luckily you don’t have to, this Miguel spares you of that.

“You’ve encountered another me in your dimension, right?” he asks.

You don’t answer him. But it doesn't seem to matter, because he already seems to have decided on the answer as he continues.

“It’s his fault,” he says with anger, his red eyes burn with an unnatural glow that sets your teeth on edge. “It’s his fault that this keeps happening to you. He’s the reason the universe keeps trying to kill you.”

No. No that’s not– You don’t know what he’s getting at. Don’t know what has happened to this version of Miguel that makes him believe this.

But you do know one thing. You don't need to listen to the rest of it to know. He is wrong.

Your Miguel has saved you. Protected you again and again. Put himself in harm’s way and nearly died to keep you safe. He would never hurt you.

“No,” you ignore the spasm of pain across your diaphragm as you speak. “He s-saved me.”

His mouth furls into a feral snarl, flashing the corner of his fangs. “You wouldn’t need to be saved if it wasn’t for him.”

“That’s not–”

“He’s an anomaly! Every Miguel O’Hara is!”

You blink up at him at loss for words. You don’t understand what he’s trying to tell you.

In front of you, this Miguel visibly grits his teeth, grinding down on his jaw, as he continues to speak in that low tone that simmers with fury.

“Humans are not meant to travel between dimensions. When I invented inter-dimensional travel, I violated that natural order without knowing it. Everyone I come across, everyone I saved, I’ve doomed, because that event was never supposed to take place.”

“You– you don’t know–”

He cuts you off before you can finish, “I’ve seen it!” he shouts. His hands curl into agitated fists at his sides. “After I lost you, I–I...”

He looks back at you and the words seem to die on his tongue.

As you hold his gaze you begin to see what you missed before. You were too focused on this Miguel’s anger to notice the grief pouring out of every inch of him.

“I lost myself,” he says, quieter now. “Lyla showed me a version of us in another dimension and it was the only thing that kept me going. We had a life together there. A daughter. You were happy there... Then that version of me died.”

He pauses again, lost in some memory that you are not a part of. Shame sinks into the hollowness of his sunken eyes and he looks away from you again.

“... And I replaced him. I thought it was harmless, that I was just replacing a version of me and the universe wouldn’t know any better. But I was wrong. He was never supposed to be in that dimension either. That whole universe collapsed because of me and our daughter and you died with it.”

Making a broad gesture through the empty air, amber light brightens up the space.

From behind him, a myriad of holographic screens flicker into existence, and you see images of yourself repeated and illuminated in all of them. You with pink hair. Another you with piercings. A you with tattoos and shaved cuts. Hundreds of variants of you wearing pieces of clothing that you’ve never owned. All of them, a different you, living their everyday life.

“Since then I’ve observed hundreds and thousands of versions of you in every dimension,” this Miguel tells you, as he gazes longingly at the screens that float above.

“All of them get to live full and healthy long lives. Do you know what every one of those versions of you have in common?”

He turns back towards you, closing the distance between you. “We never met. The reason you keep dying is because you meet me.”

His face is so close that a lock of his curl falls on your temple. Had this been your Miguel, you’d been tingling with warmth and excitement, now all you feel is a cold shiver.

“Every time we meet is because something I did inadvertently puts you in danger, and then I save you from it, starting the chain of events.”

Your mind flashes to that first moment you fell out of the Chrysler building. The blur of blue and red that came crashing into your life in pursuit of a villain and knocked you out of a skyscraper window.

“The universe is trying to erase your existence because of me. To try to correct the balance.”

Your face feels numb. Your mind is reeling from the revelation.

The question that you’ve had since this all began has finally been answered. Why this universe seemingly has it out for you. Why it has repeatedly tried to kill you. Why your world literally was about to end after you kissed him… It all makes a tragic sense now.

It’s because of Miguel.

You don’t know how long you remain frozen, crushed under the weight of the realization, before the sound of footfall joins the room, echoing in this empty space.

You hear him before you see him. Your Miguel. He calls your name and the familiar tone of it sends warm shivers through your spine.

Searching the space, your eyes land on his familiar silhouette in the dim light.

Miguel is struggling to walk, hunched over and limping forward despite his injuries. He looks so much smaller than what you are used to. There's blood dripping down his face and ugly red gashes ripping into his protective suit where one arm is clutching to the gaping raw wound.

Parting your mouth, you desperately try to warn him and scream that he needs to run. But the noise is garbled and choked. Nothing remotely close to a word comes out of your mouth. Even if it did, it wouldn’t have helped.

Miguel is too distracted by the sight of you. Too focused on reaching you that he barely registers the sight of his other self standing beside you, and then it’s too late.

It happens so fast, your eyes aren’t able to register it. One second his cosmic Doppelgänger is beside you. The next he is gone.

He leaps into the air with a ferocity that chills your bones. His claws slashes through the air and he pounces on Miguel with the entirety of his body weight.

Miguel doesn’t stand a chance. He’s already wounded and weakened. There’s been no time to heal. He’s still heavily bleeding from his abdomen and the bone-deep wounds where the damage meant for you had torn through him instead.

His body lands on the floor with a painful heavy thud. Even from this distance, you can hear the air rush out of his lungs with a pained and choked wheeze.

“Do you know what you have done?” His voice drips with venom as he fists his hand into Miguel’s hair, yanking his head upwards, level with his. “Why couldn’t you just have left her alone?”

Miguel snarls with an ugly grimace as he tries to wrangle himself free to no avail, pinned as he is on the ground. He meets the man’s stare without cowering even as he is unable to stand upright, wounded and bleeding out.

“The fuck are you on about?” Miguel spits out. He surges forward, ramming his forehead into the other man.

The blow of it sends the Doppelgänger reeling back. But it doesn’t last. He snarls in anger before he lunges forward, grabbing for Miguel’s head to slam it back down into the ground.

All you can do is helplessly watch the scene unfold before you.

“You still don’t get it do you?” he growls, raising his arm in the air to deliver another forceful blow.

There’s a nauseating bone-crushing sound that makes you sick to your stomach when his fist connects to Miguel’s jaw.

“You should never have gone to her world. You didn’t belong!”

He clasps around Miguel’s throat in a painfully hard hold, pinning him there against the ground.

Miguel’s tanned skin bleeds white around the dented imprints of that talon grip, cutting off blood circulation until you’re sure he can no longer breathe.

“She died because of you!”

The words make Miguel freeze. The whole of his back stiffening.

A fisted hand hammers down on Miguel’s face and you squeeze your eyes shut before you see it connect. All you hear behind your closed eyelids is a sickening crack that you know means something is broken.

Silence follows, and you barely dare to squint your eyes open, terrified of what you will see. Even though you’re bracing yourself, you’re still not prepared at the sight that greets you.

Miguel's body is slumped and motionless on the ground. The other him towers over his defeated form. There’s an eerie calm to his movements as he gets up and steps back.

On the ground, Miguel looks so much smaller than when he's lying in bed next to you under the covers and your heart beats painfully fast in your chest, unable to intervene.

The other man raises one leg above Miguel’s still form, poised like a sledge-hammer and holds there.

His foot comes down, delivering a shattering stomp that reverberates through the space. You swear you can feel the suspended webs holding you, shake and tremble against your skin from the after shock.

The air thins in your lungs. Hot, wet tears spill down your cheeks. For a long and dreadful second, you’re not sure if Miguel is still alive.

Then you hear a tiny, pained whimper, from the ground.

You don’t know what you feel anymore. Fear. Sadness. Anger. Relief. Everything inside you is drawn in a tight knot and aches at the pitiful sound of how much pain Miguel must be in. But there’s also the tiniest of hope, because as doomed as this all may seem, at the very least he’s still alive.

That's all you care about right now.

In front of you, his other self cocks his head to the side. He narrows his eyes as he looks down at the defenseless body on the ground with a disdain that you've never seen on those features before.

“You disrupted the canon when you jumped into her dimension. Do you understand?” he says with a quiet barely contained anger. “The universe keeps trying to kill her, because you, an anomaly, entered into the picture and altered the course of her life."

Something sharp protrudes from the back of his arms, as he speaks.

"But I can make it right," he says and you see the sharp long appendages extend from both sides of his upper arms.

You stare at them with a growing fear, as they grow sharp and menacing, into blades that glow ominously red.

No. Nononono.

This can't be happening. This can't be real.

You wrench against the restraints around your limbs and pain sears through every single cell of your body. But right now it doesn't matter. You have to move. Because you know what’s going to happen if you don’t.

"I can save her. If you die, she gets to live. All you need to do is stay down,” he says.

To your horror Miguel does. Miguel doesn’t move. Doesn’t resist. Doesn’t fight back. The tight tension in his muscles go slack, and his arms drop at his sides.

The most stubborn man in the universe has stopped fighting. He’s given up.

That man is going to kill Miguel. You can’t stay still and let it happen. You have to move. God, please please, you need to–

“I have to do this to keep her safe,” the Doppelgänger says, “You want that too. It’s all we ever wanted.”

Pain tears at the seams of your skin, sharp and fractured like broken shards and glass splitting through your skull until you’re sure you are going to vomit. You ignore it.

In front of you, he raises his arm above Miguel’s head until it looms over him like a reaper's scythe.

Ripping through the last of the hindrance holding you down, adrenaline and pain mix into a sickening concoction until you lose sense of your surroundings.

It's only a few feet away.

You can’t stop, even if it hurts. Can’t stop even though your vision flickers white with bright dotted spots. Can’t stop, because if you do– you’ll lose him.

You leap, throwing yourself in front of Miguel's slumped form on the floor.

Everything hurts. Pain sears through your insides, scraping every inch of our flesh. It burns and crackles in the marrow of your bones.

You spread your arms out in an attempt to make yourself bigger, trying to shield as much of your Miguel as you are physically capable of.

“Nena…” the man above stares down at you, wide-eyed and frozen.

He's stopped, the sharp blade protruding from his arm suspended inches from your face.

“Cielo! Move,” Miguel barks from under you.

“No!”

There’s no fear in this moment as you say the word. Even with the honed blade looming over your head. Even though all it’d take is one swift downward movement to end it all, you’ve never felt surer of your safety.

Because this close, you can see it now.

This other Miguel, different as he may be, is still Miguel. If there’s one thing you learnt in these last few months it's that more than anything, no matter how hard-headed and wrong he might go about it in his methods. This man will always choose your safety over everything else. Your survival. Your life.

That’s why Lyla still hasn’t overridden her safety protocol. Because your life is not in danger, not by his hands.

If he has to go through you to get to Miguel… He wouldn’t. You can tell that much.

And if your life is the only shield you have to offer the man you love, then you’d gladly lay it down under the guillotine.

“I won’t let you lay another finger on him,” you say as you stare up at the other Miguel defiantly. “Not as long as I’m alive.”

The man narrows his eyes, seething with an anger that radiates from every inch of his body as he spits out the syllables.

“He is killing you.”

His lips quiver, hands trembling as he looks down at you. You recognize that expression. It's the same one Miguel held when he was looming over you, vowing to eliminate the Avengers in order to protect you.

The same pain in his eyes, whenever he fears for your survival... because he's already lost you once.

That's what this is...

You see this for what it is now.

Despite the fact that he’s a stranger, in spite of all the differences, you see him for who he is. The anger, the blame on his own other self, on your Miguel. The haunting guilt he has towards himself.

When he says, ‘he,’ he's not just referring to the man behind you. He's talking about himself.

Kneeling upwards, you move towards this man, ignoring the burning pain that shudders through your trembling arms as you reach up to cup those all too familiar sharp cheeks. He flinches at the touch, as if he didn’t expect it.

“It’s not your fault. You didn’t know. You didn’t kill me,” you tell him.

His eyes widen and he turns his face the tiniest fraction into the palm of your hand, chasing after your touch.

“Maybe you and him are the reason the universe tries to kill me. But I’m still glad I was able to meet you."

At your words, you can see the determination in his eyes waver. The way something in him cracks open and falls apart at your words.

"I'm sorry," he says, and the words bleed with guilt. "I'm so sorry. It's all my fault."

“It's not your fault," you tell him again. "It’s okay, Miguel, I don't blame you. Even with all the near deaths and the end of the world, meeting you is the best thing that happened to me."

He’s not your Miguel. You know that. But despite everything that preceded this moment, your heart still hurts for this man.

All you know is that you want to make him feel better. You just want to make his hurt a little bit less painful.

“If it was my choice. If it were for me to decide. I would still want us to meet. I’m going to choose that every time. And I think that’s what she would’ve done too."

A glossy wetness shines over his scarlet eyes that threatens to spill and you ache for him.

Even if the man in front of you is not your Miguel. He’s still Miguel.

You will always recognize him, not in the identical physical features of his face. Not the stubborn angle of his ridiculously sharp jaw. Nor his obscenely large build.

No. It’s in the sadness of his eyes. The longing that he holds for you whenever he looks at you. The love you can plainly see there, no matter how hard he tries to hide it from you.

You are the woman he loves above all else. In every universe.

You can see that now.

“I think that’s what I’d always choose, Miguel. There are many versions of me but I know that every me will love every you in every universe if given the chance.”

His shoulders slump, the burning anger in him dims as his chest visibly deflates in front of you. Then he stands there, staring down at you with that aching defeat etched into the corners of his weary eyes.

“If I let you go,” he starts, voice so quiet it almost sounds like a whisper. “Where would you go from here?”

You stop to consider his question.

If you leave here with Miguel, your life as you know it is never going to be the same.

The comforts of your everyday life in New York will be lost. No more Netflix, or fancy lemony cupcakes, or the barista that knows your order before you open your mouth.

You will never know what your life will look like from one day to the next. What the world itself is going to be, jumping from one foreign universe to another. That should be terrifying to you.

But somehow it isn't.

What's scary is the thought of going back to the life you had without Miguel there. The life that was so painfully mundane and ordinary that you had no moments of importance worth remembering seconds before falling to your death. The life you spent that was trapped in the machinery of habit, without a speck of color and excitement in your life.

As confusing and downright scary every day has been since you met him, you’ve never felt more alive. Never felt safer than when Miguel is by your side. You wouldn't give it up for anything.

In your mind, there’s only one choice you want to make.

“I am going to leave my dimension with him,” you say. “The world won't have to end and we’d be together.”

He shakes his head, disbelieving. Those sad eyes, still pinned on yours.

“No matter where you run to, it would start up all over again," he says, biting down on his bottom lip with worry. "The universe will eventually try to erase you because it thinks you're an anomaly. That would be the rest of your life, running from dimension to dimension.”

He throws a look behind you where Miguel is lying on the ground, the disdain and anger coming to life again, before he continues. “If he dies, if I kill him, then that connection is severed, you could go back to your normal life.”

You turn behind to look at your Miguel. He has an expression on his face that mirrors his other self. One of defeat and sadness and disbelief.

“I don’t want that. I don’t want a life he’s not a part of.” You turn back to the other him, squarely meeting his eyes. “Please.”

Other Miguel looks like his world is ending as he looks at you. For the longest moment he doesn't say anything, and you aren't sure what his answer is going to be or what he is going to do. If he's going to hold you here against your will and kill Miguel despite your pleas.

Then he drops his gaze to the floor and you can see that he’s holding back tears.

“Go,” he whispers.

He steps back from you, retreating step by step to widen the physical distance between yourself and him, and turns away with his back towards you.

You immediately scramble towards your Miguel, arms reaching for him. It’s not graceful, your limbs still hurt and your movements are clumsy. But you try to ignore it so you can loop Miguel’s arm over your shoulder and try to haul him up on his feet.

Predictably, Miguel is already starting to protest and scold you, “Cielo, you can’t–”

“Not now, Miguel,” you cut him off, and for once he listens.

His mouth presses into a firm line as he strains to stand upright, trying not to lean on you for support to get up, but failing to do so, leg buckling under his own weight.

Your hand shoots out around his waist to hold him steady, the slick blood from his wounds painting your fingers a bright red. You swallow down the worry, prioritizing getting away above all else for now.

“Let’s go,” you tell him, and he gives you a curt, almost compliant nod as the two of you move together with clumsy steps and rely on each other for support.

Behind you, the other Miguel is still standing turned away from you. You stare at his wide back as you walk away.

With each step that broadness looks smaller and smaller in the distance. The lonely and grief-struck silhouette of another version of the man that you love, that so clearly loves you, disappears out of sight as you leave him behind.

Miguel is quiet. He won’t look you in the eye as both of you try to hobble your way to the corridor you had landed in when you first came to this dimension.

It takes you both an eternity. It's nothing short of a miracle Miguel is still alive and even though the toxin is wearing off in your system, you still feel sore. Every muscle in your body is cramping, worse than any time of the month you’ve had to endure so far in your life.

You gain an entirely new appreciation of what Wong must’ve gone through and if there is a way to send interdimensional gift baskets, you remind yourself you should get one for him as an apology.

“This should be safe enough,” Miguel tells you as you reach the secluded space.

You both slump down to the ground, catching your breath with your backs leaning against the wall behind to hold you upright.

“Are you okay?” you ask him, which is a silly question for a man that probably has at least half a dozen broken ribs, internal bleeding, and a fractured jaw from the looks of it.

Despite all those bodily injuries though, Miguel is acting unbothered.

“Yeah, give me a minute and I’ll get us out of here.”

He wastes no time as he reaches over for your wrist and fiddles with the dials on your watch,

A hologram appears above, but there’s no sighting of Lyla. He hasn’t summoned her and as far as you can see it’s all just gibberish coding that he’s inputting. You have no idea what he’s doing but if you had to take a guess, it looks like he’s manually inserting the programming of the next jump to ensure it’s the right location this time.

He’s quiet and concentrated like always, eyebrows furrowed, as he works. Then out of nowhere, without looking up from what he’s doing, he speaks.

“What do you want to do once you get out of here?”

"Sleep,” is your immediate answer and Miguel laughs quietly at that as you continue. “Recover, just... rest, for a while, I guess"

"Sounds nice.” He shuts down the illuminated screen, presumably already done.

Then he’s quiet for a long moment, just sitting there next to you.

“...and after that?” he asks, breaking the silence.

“I guess since I’m going to be traveling different dimensions now for the rest of my life, I’d want to go to all the cool places? Like one where there’s talking raccoons. Or a dimension where we all have sausages for fingers, or one where all life forms are rock based.”

He pays close attention to you, face resting in the palm of his hand, as you tell him of these made up otherworldly dimensions.

“If we happen to jump into another dimension that’s similar to my old one I wouldn’t turn down Beyoncé tickets, provided Lyla could get them or we could just have her hack into restaurant booking systems and get us into all the exclusive places.”

There’s a small smile on his face as you speak, and your chest feels warm at the sight of it. Somehow after the day you have had, barely escaping the end of the world, going through an assassination attempt by the Avengers, being ambushed by another version of Miguel, you both made it through.

That tiny smile of his feels like a prize at the finishing line.

You slide your fingers across the space between you, until you find his knuckles, interlacing his fingers with yours.

"Anything would be okay, really. As long as I get to be with you," you tell him.

His smile turns wistful, as he nods back at you, squeezing your fingers back between his. “Yeah, that would be nice.”

There’s a lingering moment that you share in the comfortable silence. It’s unlike him. The Miguel you know would have wanted to make the jump five minutes ago, but you figure he must be tired.

He’s been shot at, thrown off buildings and beaten half to death by his own Doppelgänger today. He’s more than earned a minute or two of rest.

His head tips up staring into the moody blue ceiling above. “I love you,” he says.

It’s sudden and a bit out of nowhere but your face tingles. Warmth fills your chest until there's so much of it you're not sure you can contain it inside you. Then he continues.

“If there was any doubt. I love you, this you. Even if I find you to be absolutely batshit insane sometimes.”

You can’t help the silly grin tugging at your lips. The dopey feeling that buzzes bright in your veins. You feel slightly lightheaded and you aren’t sure if it’s a side effect of the toxins or just his words.

“Miguel, I lov–” you start, but he cuts you off.

“I know,” he says, turning his gaze to you, as he squeezes your hand gently in his. “You don’t have to say anything. Let’s just stay here for a while. Just like this.”

He doesn’t say anything after that.

The two of you stay like that in the moody darkness, his thumb smoothing over the front of your hand in soothing motions, as he looks down at you like he doesn’t want to take his eyes off of you. It’s a while longer still, before finally Miguel seems ready. He takes your hand that he’s holding and brings it close.

“Lyla,” he summons. “Take us to the next location.”

At the command, there's a bright burst of strobed colored lights surrounding you. It’s blinding your vision as it throws you into motion even as you’re sitting still.

Then before you know it they fade into a bright sterile whiteness. You wait for your surroundings to reform. To see a skyline and buildings and city lights.

But there’s nothing.

“Wait, where are we?” you ask.

Everything is blank and white and endless here. Empty space as far as the eye can see. Dread seizes you. You’re in the void again.

Why are you here?

How… Is the watch broken? Did the two of you fail? But it worked before. You shouldn’t be here, how–fuck, your vision starts to flatten. The ground underneath you is unsteady. Everything blurs. You can’t breathe.

“Hey, hey, you’re okay,” Miguel says, taking your hand in his as he squeezes down. “I sent us here.”

He says it so casually, your brain doesn't quite register the meaning. What does he mean he sent you here? On purpose, why would he–

“What do you mean? I don’t understand, Miguel, why would you–”

He hushes you soothingly. One hand comes to cup the back of your head, stopping you mid-sentence. “You’re not going to stay here. We’re just doing a drop off.”

“Miguel, what–”

He leans down, forehead pressing intimately against yours, there’s a sad smile on his face as he meets your eyes. They’re soft and gentle, and your chest squeezes painfully tight just looking at him.

“I already told you, didn't I?” he tells you, both hands coming to cup your cheeks. “I’m not going to let you die.”

Without missing a beat, he’s already moving on before you even have a chance to retort.

“Lyla,” he calls, and you hear the ping from your wrist. Can feel the slight vibration as the hologram takes form. “Run the updated protocol."

There’s a bright glow that forms all around you. Bright light crackles at the edges of your vision and there’s a delayed reaction in your brain as you try to process everything that’s happening around you.

He lets you go, taking a step back. “I love you, Cielito. I will always love you.”

Shit! He wouldn’t. Why?

“Take her home for me,” he orders.

You step forward trying to grab hold of him but it’s already too late. Your fingers grasp for him, but it sinks into nothingness, Miguel is already gone and so are you.

You find yourself inside a small studio apartment.

There’s no one besides you.

There’s a sole window sill where the view of New York City is entirely obscured by the neighboring building and its ugly brick wall. Not an inch of the skyline is visible.

You’re surrounded by clutter and second hand furniture that is all too familiar. A cheap IKEA Ingatorp dining table. Laundry still piled up on the bed. Dirty dishes stacked up in a tower over the sink.

You know this place.

You’re home.

~ Next Issue

Dedication & Credits: To my favorite moose @thirstworldproblemss. Thank you as always for listen to my insane ramblings and machinations, even though you literally do not even go here.

To @guruan who I have been dying to share this chapter with for so long! Thank you for all the amazing art, thank you for your help looking through dialogues to make sure the Spanish used reads right. Thank you for crying about this man with me.

And last but not least big hug loves and smooches to @djarinsbeskar who gave this a second pair of eyes in the eleventh minute when I was freaking out about the copious use of Doppelganger, her advice was invaluable to me and without her I probably would've put this on ice over the weekend. Please send her all the loves! cause she is amazing and beautiful and gorgeous. Also do you know that she has her DEBUT NOVEL SENSUAL SUMMONING coming out soon? please check it out and sign up to her newsletter.

I don’t have a tag list but please follow me on astroboots-writes and turn on notifications to be notified when I post something new!

[ivystoryweaver]

Would you mind writing a Miguel x f!reader fic where they are in a relationship and the reader is captured by a villain who's goal is to torture and ultimately kill her to gain information on the spider society? While the reader is missing and enduring the torture, she finds out from the villain that she's pregnant. Angst, hurt/comfort

I'm sorry this took so long, this idea is so freaking rad, i needed some time. I gave it a try!

Content: Hurt/comfort etc. See the ask above. Cursing, torture, injury, blood, pregnancy, violence

Word count: 2k

My Masterlist

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Your eyes slowly blinked open, heavy with exhaustion and burning as if you'd slept in contact lenses for a week.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Your body ached. You felt cold. And wet? Why did you feel clammy in your own bed?

Drip. Drip...

Shifting uncomfortably, you found that your arms wouldn't move. Why couldn't you move your arms? A small whimper escaped your throat as your reality became plain to you.

This was not your bed. It was dark. Damp. And your arms and legs were bound. You were tied to a hard, metal chair. Panic spiked through your chest as you struggled against your restraints.

Squinting, you attempted to make out any details about your surroundings, but it was too dark.

"H-hello?" You rasped, finding your voice. You coughed, your voice hoarse from lack of use and from a terrible thirst. "Hello?" You tried again, pulling forcefully on your restraints.

As your breathing grew more shallow, you realized you were most certainly in trouble.

But why?

"I see you're awake."

You let out a small yelp when a sinister voice made itself known as someone emerged from the deep, shadowed corner.

"W-who are you?" You cried, squirming in futility. "Where am I?"

"Patience," the voice chided.

Your eyes strained but you still couldn't see.

"I have a few questions for you." The voice was male. Deep. That's all you could tell in the darkness.

"What?" You coughed out, desperate for water. "What do you want with me?"

No matter how you struggled, blinking, staring - your eyes would not adjust to the darkness.

You smelled his foul breath before you felt it brush your ear from behind you, caging you in with sickening possessiveness. "Tell me about the Spider Society."

Whimpering, you tried to shake him off you. "I don't know what you're talking about. Let me go."

You definitely knew what he was talking about. Your husband was the damn leader of it all.

He moved in closer, the stench of him making your skin crawl and your stomach churn. "We both know that's not true...Mrs. O'Hara."

Okay, that was more privileged information. Miguel at least attempted to keep his real name a secret.

You chomped down on your lip to keep from giving anything away but the bile in your stomach was not cooperating. You weren't sure what could possibly be worse than losing your stomach contents while bound, in some unknown, pitch black location.

"Not feeling so well, are we?" The voice taunted, after you wretched pitifully. "Maybe you have the flu?"

"Leave me alone," you spat, wiping your mouth the best you could manage with your shoulder.

After a long pause, the mysterious man granted your wish.

You were left in darkness - hungry, thirsty, cold and bound.

The biggest question besides where were you, and who had taken you was - how would you get out of here? Would Miguel be able to find you? You would die before endangering him or any of his friends or co-workers.

The man who had taken you must have realized this about you, and began to test your resolve.

You lost track of time. In the darkness, it could have been days that passed, or mere hours. It took some time for you to realize that you were being tortured - just not in the traditional slice-and-dice or head-dunked-in-water type of way.

They left you alone. Dark. Isolated. Then, without warning, some sort of bright light would shine on you - the brightest you'd ever seen. It burned red-orange right through your eyelids no matter how tightly you squeezed your eyes shut.

Your skin prickled with heat and you started to sweat. Just as you felt you would burn alive, the light would shut off. You cried out, blinded as colorful spots swirled before your eyes, making your stomach roil.

The darkness would consume you until you were freezing again. Then it would start over. Blinging light, blinding darkness. Over and over. Questions about your husband. And the other Spiders. It felt like a month had passed, it was so never-ending.

They tried to feed you but you couldn't keep anything down. You felt constantly sick. Someone even cleaned you up several times, since you weren't allowed the use of a restroom.

Finally, a needle was jabbed roughly into your arm, making you whimper in protest. Maybe it was poison. Probably for the best.

"Fluids," the voice informed. "Can't have Mrs. O'Hara dehydrated, can we?"

"Go to hell!" You weakly shouted. "I have nothing to tell you."

"You're lying," the man sneered, sickening you by brushing your matted hair away from your face with calloused fingertips. "You're going to tell me about your husband, I promise you."

You spat in his face, though your dehydration didn't afford you very much spit to begin with.

"I know you think you're strong," he taunted, pushing his disgusting hand over your abdomen, making your skin crawl. It was humiliating enough that people were cleaning up your messes, and now he wanted to touch you?

Miguel would rip him apart.

"I wasn't sure at first, why you can't keep any food down," he went on, rubbing your stomach possessively. "You're not sick - we tested for that."

"You...what?" You groaned, completely revolted at the feel of this man's hand, and the thought of him running some sort of tests on you.

His foul breath tickled your ear as he pushed two fingers hard into your abdomen. "You don't seem to respond well to our...techniques." He menacingly breathed. "But maybe you'll change your mind to protect your child."

Shuddering, your body went limp as tears stung your eyes. "I have no children. If you know who I am, then you know that."

Pressing your abdomen forcefully, he made you gasp in pain. "You do now." Then he nuzzled your ear. "That's why I'm giving you fluids. Can't let anything happen to your unborn child. Especially one that's half-spider."

"No!" You wailed, jerking against his hold on you. "No, I'm not! I'm not..." Tears spilled down your cheeks as you realized the truth. The nausea, the fatigue - your period was late. "No..." you whimpered.

"You know I'm right," the voice taunted. "And now that you know, I'm sure you'll be much more cooperative."

After that encounter, you were released from your bonds, given the chance to shower and change clothes. You actually attempted to choke down a meal as well.

Then it got worse. True, there was no more light/dark torture. And you weren't left in the freezing cold, but now the questions were asked with a knife to your abdomen. This was after you were shown proof of your pregnancy. A rapid heartbeat. A positive blood and urine test.

Miguel wanted to be a father so badly and you had tried for almost three years. Hell, his very favorite activity was trying to get you pregnant. He kept better track of your cycle than you did, and trying, if nothing else, had been a delicious endeavor.

So, if anything happened to this baby - if you let anything happen, Miguel would be devastated. But you couldn't endanger his life, nor anyone in the Spider Society. Despair filled your heart and mind as a choice placed itself before you.

Days upon days must have passed. You managed to not answer any important questions, but you paid like hell for it. Tiny cuts littered your body. The mysterious man used the knife, but thankfully, not anywhere near your abdomen.

Until one day, he did.

You cried and you begged, but because you wouldn't answer him, he did the unthinkable.

That was the worst mistake he ever made.

Now that you knew he was willing to hurt your unborn child and likely had already done so, there was no way you would ever talk.

"My husband will rip your fucking throat out," you croaked as warm blood pooled in the waistband of your pants, dripping down your legs.

"Like the vampire he is," the man sneered. "I know what he is. A monster."

"You're damn straight," you panted, feeling weak from blood loss. "He's going to use his talons to do everything you've done to me, cut for cut. You'll wish you were dead, I promise you."

"At least I'll die knowing I took his child from him," he darkly laughed. "If he ever finds you - which will never happen."

"Don't be so sure, pinche pendejo," the voice of your husband pierced the darkness.

Your entire body gave out, not only from exhaustion and blood loss but from overwhelming relief. A door was flung open and light was able to spill into the room.

"H-how did you..." the mysterious man croaked, calling out for his comrades.

Gripping him by the throat, Miguel lifted him several inches off the floor. "Spiders love the dark." Raising his free arm - talons fully extended, Miguel tore into the man's flesh, rapidly slicing him to ribbons, before doing just what you predicted. Baring his fangs, Miguel sank his teeth into the man's throat and ripped out his jugular.

The man's limp body dropped to the floor, making you whimper in relief...and honestly, a little bit of horror.

Whirling around, Miguel used the sleeve of his spider suit to wipe the blood from his chin before dropping to his knees.

Crimson eyes scanning you frantically, he didn't know where to touch you first.

"Baby? Baby are you hurt?" His hands flew all over you, stopping when his fingers grazed your abdomen.

"Miguel," you whimpered, hands pressing as hard as you could manage into your knife wound. Blood seeped through your fingers, warm and sticky.

"I've got you, honey, hold on," he soothed, easily lifting your much smaller frame into his arms.

"More of them," you murmured, collapsing against his chest, the solid warmth of him the first relief you'd felt in days. "There are more..."

"They're dead," he answered you, pressing a quick kiss to your hairline. "You're safe, mi vida."

"My stomach," you slurred, feeling consciousness slip away from you. "M-my baby..."

"Hold on, baby, hold on," Miguel whispered, gripping you tightly.

"Miguel...I'm sorry."

That was the last thing you remembered.

The next time you awakened, you didn't know where you were. Panic snaked its way around your heart until your eyes landed on the sleeping form of your husband, adorably cramped in a chair beside your bed.

Stupidly attempting to sit up, you winced, feeling the sting in your abdomen. Then you remembered - you had been stabbed. Multiple times - but those were shallow, feeble attempts to get you to talk. But then he tried to kill you. And your baby.

Fear gripped your heart, squeezing the breath out of you as you yanked your blankets away, pulling up the soft gown you wore to try and see...

"Hey, hey, it's okay."

Miguel was suddenly awake and at your side, gently grasping your arms to stop your flailing. "You'll rip your stitches."

"My baby," you gasped, your chest heaving with shallow breaths as you fruitlessly fought the massive strength of your husband's grip.

"Calm down, honey, please." Forcing your arms still, he eased onto the edge of the bed, holding you still. Dropping his forehead to yours, his heart shattered at the sight of your tears.

"I'm so sorry," you whimpered, even as he shushed you soothingly. "My baby - "

"Is fine," Miguel swore, reaching up to tenderly caress your cheek. Easing back, his scarlet gaze locked onto yours and he nodded reassuringly - the faintest smile brightening his eyes. "Our baby is okay. Strong heartbeat. You're eleven weeks along."

Shaking your head in disbelief, your lip trembled. "But - but he stabbed me. He tried to kill my baby..."

"I know, sweetheart," Miguel soothed, gingerly pulling you into his arms. "I know he hurt you. I'm sorry. So sorry." Rocking you slowly in his protective embrace, he pressed a fierce kiss to your temple. "You're safe now. You and our baby. I promise you."

✧ ˚ · .✧ ˚ · .✧ ˚ · .✧ ˚ · .✧

Miguel O'Hara Masterlist

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[2-dsimp]

Hi! I really liked your yandere merman childe story! Can you do a part 2 where childe successfully fulfills his quest with the sea witch and finally meets his human darling but his darling doesn’t love him?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Little Merman (pt 2!)

—————————————

Yandere merman! Childe! x lifeguard reader

Cw: yandere tendencies, murder, gore

Taglist: @ci-apeacefulgift @welcometodemonschoolfan @josephswifey @eatalyy @macwithnocheese @creampuff01

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For the past few weeks strange occurrences have been happening within the sandy sands of the beach you’ve presided over as it’s watchful lifeguard. Apparently there’s been sightings of a certain creature lurking around the outer coastline as if they’re waiting for a chance to strike. And due to that baseless speculation by the time you’ve arrived at your destination, the beach was completely filled to the brim of curious tourists that wanted to see what all the buzz was about.

Making your way through the crowds of people to your safeguarding tower. You couldn’t help but let out a sigh at the amount of responsibility that weighed heavy on your shoulders. Dreading that people would try to do something incredibly idiotic all because of this potential creature they believe to be lingering around underneath the calm waves.

You truly prayed that todays shift would be one without any casualties as per usual but unfortunately your prayers happen to go unanswered. As a multitude of silenced screams that went unheard underneath the congested waters began to increase within every few minutes.

—————

Childe was gnawing on a heart he had ripped from the chest of an unsuspecting human man who ventured too far out into the sea. Watching with listless eyes as the human’s body sunk down into the oceans depths along with the other few corpses he’s mutilated as per what was required of him for the ritual to succeed.

He couldn’t help but get so excited from the blood polluting the water. Feeling as if he was on a field day because the fresh smell of death reminded him of the times he fought in the name of the Fatui. Which always gave him a rush euphoria coursing through his cold veins. Although He did wish that they’d struggle more against him but other than that he enjoyed preying upon the humans.

“Phew one last bite~ Well down the hatch!”

He chucked cruelly as he chomped down the last bits of the heart which still pulsed within his bloodstained webbed clawed hands. Chewing the mass of muscle throughly with his sharp teeth he then gulped loudly letting out a satisfied sigh of relief.

If he had known ahead of time that the ritual to become human would be so easy he would’ve done it ages ago. So that he could’ve finally started acting on his primal impulses to take you, his precious little lifeguard as his very own mate.

Ever since the Sea Eldritch Witch told him what was needed to make the ritual work Childe began acting out on his plan to knock out all the sacrifices in one go. Not wanting to waste another moment without you not within his clutches.

Childe knew what he was doing by purposely letting himself be seen by the pedestrians. He knew that the main thing that’s always driven humans was curiosity of the unknown. So Childe used that to his advantage by giving anyone who happened to be looking his way a small teaser of himself being the terrifying creature of the sea that he was.

What he didn’t expect was the bait he casted out to reel in such a feast for sore eyes. He’s never seen that many humans congregating on the beach before. But nonetheless he took it with a grain of salt and proceeded to take advantage of the opportunity and decided to knock out the first four sacrificial pawns he needed for the ritual to work. Although he messed up a few times he eventually got it right since there was no need to fret over the shortage of humans.

Now all he needed to do was eliminate whoever you held dear. Surveying the area from a distance so that he wouldn’t be spotted. He tried looking for the person who seemed to be of importance to you.

To be completely frank Childe couldn’t wait to find out who the lucky bastard was so that he could have some “fun” one on one time with them. The bloodthirsty merman couldn’t help but want to act upon the whispers of violence nipping at the crevices of his twisted self consciousness. Whenever he’s thinking about how anyone besides himself would count as an precious existence to you.

I mean could you blame him? When you’re the one who’ve got him ensnared by your charms. Planting your entire being within his blackened heart just like a persistent weed making him unable to comprehend a world without you by his side.

“Soon we’ll be together I’ll make sure of it sweetheart~ Very soon…”

He cooed taking a moment to admire your perched figure. With drool skidding down the corner of his lips with every depraved fantasy of finally making you his with no other obstacles in his way of preventing that from becoming a reality. All he needed was the the catalysts that’ll act as the key to unlocking the barrier between you and him.

————-

“Haa it’s so hot I feel like melting …”

You muttered underneath your breath, sinking in the safe guard towers chair. Trying to stick to the shade provided via beach umbrella. While still being attentive trying to keep track of the bundles of half naked bodies crowding the waters and the beach as best as you could. clutching onto your board tightly in any case you’d need to take a quick dive into the populated waters.

Suddenly you get a phone call. Reaching out you grabbed your phone taking a slight peek at the phone caller ID. Only to find out that you were getting a call from Xiao one of your closest friends since childhood. You weren’t supposed to be on the phone during your shift but since there was a mass of people it wouldn’t hurt to take the call since everyone seemed to be preoccupied and not in immediate danger of drowning.

“What’s up Xiao you need anything?”

There was a brief moment of silence before he answered in a gruff voice.

“Hey we’re coming down to the beach to check up on you in 10min just giving you a heads up…Stay safe”

The phone call ended abruptly within 5 seconds after he said his piece. But You couldn’t help but smile since you knew he kept the call short as to not get you in trouble. Assuming that Xiao would be bringing along the rest of your close knit group of friends you couldn’t help but become eager.

‘In 10min huh? It’d be nice to see them again’

You thought joyfully with a carefree smile unaware of the murderous merman eyeing you like a hawk searching for any indication of that one person you hold dear so that he can finally complete the ritual to become human and make you his.

———-

.

.

.

To be continued in Pt 3 👀

A/N: I know this isn’t exactly what you asked for dear anon but I plan to draw out the tension and make this into more than a two part series (^◇^;)o

[professorbeesart]

something something Baroque Cars. I watched the entirity of Bridgerton to see what the hubbub was and could only think about "what if they were all Cars??????" The scandals and drama is all there but it's lacking a tiny twink bullying an old man!!!

Baroque era because I much prefer the bold colors and style of this era in art and its influence. But like... horse racing and Doc Hudson would gift this brash rising star one of his prized horses? It would cause an uproar cuz Doc is notoriously stingy about selling any of his steeds let alone GIFT one to this unknown racer.

Someone please write this fanfic I am literally chomping at the bit here. The symbolism is there, I'm just too stupid to sort it our properly into word form, I just draw good.

[starphasedd]

Unmade

2 - The Encounter

(Din Djarin x F!Reader)

Rating: 18+ for violence, explicit language, and smut.

Synopsis: "After a week alone on an unknown jungle planet, the Mandalorian returns to you from his hunt, but he isn't well."

Word count: 4k +

Chapter 1 | AO3 | Next chapter - coming soon

9Aby - Unknown jungle planet  - Present 

You stopped asking a while back. 

Today it was  " unknown jungle planet, pretty rainy. It smells fresh, like summer morning dew drops." 

You were writing notes in your datapad. You never had the chance to travel, so you wanted to keep a diary of sorts . You did it for every planet you visited.

"Not a soul in sight. Lots of bugs though. The kid likes eating them."

No sun breaks through the dark storm clouds above. It's the middle of the day, but it's dark as if it were night. A cool breeze passes through the inside of the Crest as you sit atop of the gangplank, just out of reach of the rain. 

"Tall, thick pine-trees circle the ship, providing plenty of privacy. Hides us from any wandering enemies. Thick fog rolls in and out at times too."

The baby sits next to you on the cold durasteel, watching you type on your data pad. He coos softly, his head tilting as he studies the motions of your fingers. You glance down at him through your peripherals and smile. 

"Mando's been gone for almost a week. Hoping he returns soon. Tired of the rain; ready for a new backdrop. Something sunny and bright."  

Mando was hunting a well known smuggler who was last seen heading towards this planet. You couldn't blame the guy, if you were honest. This planet consists of nothing but dense wooded areas; all kinds of places for him to hideout until whoever was after him gave up. 

That week, you spent a lot of time playing with the kid. He was pretty entertaining. He got into everything . Which was trouble. The little wamp rat was constantly trying to run out past the campsite and into the trees. Even after Mando gave explicit instructions not to leave the ship. But you couldn't stay cooped up there all week. Had he come back a little sooner, maybe. But he's been gone for six days . Could he honestly expect you and the little bundle of energy to stay on the ship ? 

Shoot first and ask for forgiveness later. 

It didn't rain the entire time you were there, thankfully. Earlier in the week, the two of you ventured out a little past the ship to see if you could find anything to snack on. Mushrooms, or berries. Maybe even some new spices you could take back to the ship. There was pre-made food on the ship. But you'd been eating those ration packs for months. You were dying to taste something new. Something fresh . 

It turned out to be no luck for you, unfortunately. However, the baby did find a nest of indigenous bugs. He enjoyed those thoroughly. The little terrorist ripped through the nest like he hadn't eaten anything in a solar cycle. You can remember the distinct crunch , and then the sound of their gooey insides being chomped around in his mouth. Not one of your favorite moments with the kid. 

It took you a few months to get used to him and his little quirks. He was well behaved for the most part. He was quiet and respectful. He didn't really make messes. If he did, he never complained when you instructed him to pick them up. He did have his moments though. It usually involved what he considered 'tasty food'. You'd say that was his biggest quirk. He wouldn't eat anything normal if you weren't there to make him; to ensure he got proper nutrients as any growing boy should. 

Sometimes he would fight you on the regular food–the ration packs. He hated the goopy consistency of them. You did too, for that matter. You wondered how Mando survived on them all of these years. But, that's what he provided. And you weren't disrespectful. You took what he gave you with a smile. 

Once you had enough credits saved up, you wanted to treat him and the baby to a nice, real dinner. Something that a red blooded man like Mando could use. Protein and carbohydrates. Maybe even some wine. 

You'd make a note to ask him that. 

"Does the Mandalorian drink wine?" 

Something to thank him for his generosity and hospitality. Taking you on his ship. Giving you a job; an easy one . Saving you from that spice addict all those months ago…

You think back on that night often. Sometimes it keeps you awake in the darkness of the Crest's haul. You think about how his deep, modulated voice rang through the durasteel halls of your shop. You think about how he didn't hesitate to step in once he saw you were in immediate danger. You think about how… big he looked in his armor; how wide and bulky he was. His arms burst from under the Beskar pauldrons. You think about how gentle and soft he was once he secured your safety, immediately coming to your aid to check on you. 

All for a woman he had never met before?? Just a lowly mechanic in a rundown shop on Tatooine. Dirty and covered in grease. Sweaty from a hot summer day. Probably smelly.

He didn't seem like an overly friendly person. He kept to himself. He was quiet and only spoke to you when absolutely necessary. Sometimes it's like you weren't even there. 

You were still enamored by him, though.

Your thoughts weren't always pure, either. It concerns you how often you find your brain falling down a slippery slope to a sexual fantasy of your employer. It was easy to get rid of them in the beginning. You would simply start thinking of something else, something to distract you. It quickly became more difficult the more time you spent with him in this tight space. 

You often wondered how he fucked. Does he even fuck ? Is he celibate? Is celibacy part of Mandalorian culture? Had he ever fucked before? Would he fuck you slow or fast? Would he fuck you hard or would he be gentle with you, like he was at your shop?

Your legs are crossed, thighs pressing together before you even realize what's going on. A fire in your core begins to burn like the Tatooine suns, threatening to shoot you into a dark state of arousal. A tension you could probably never resolve. 

At that point, you don't realize your fingers are moving across the datapad…

"How big is he…."

You're almost in a trance, cheeks heated and red as your fingers move without supervision. You snap out of it when the baby coos next to you. You glance down at him, his big brown eyes watching you in wonderment. He cocks his head to the side as if he's curious and you clear your throat, also trying to clear your mind of the inappropriate thoughts you were having. 

In the flustered process, you didn't even read what you had subconsciously written down; setting the data pad down next to you and picking the child up. Rain still patters softly on the crest, the wind blowing the tall trees circling around you.

The smell of the rain reminds you of him.

He was very clean. It was surprising to see a man shower so frequently. The men you encountered in life were never really conscious of their body odor. Mando was the opposite. He always smelled so good ; fresh like summer rain. Even coming back to the ship after a long, tiring, and perilous hunt, he still always smelled faintly like his soap, mixed with fresh dirt and plasma burn from his blaster. It was enamoring. 

You could almost smell it now as you sat atop the gangplank of the Crest. It was a distinct smell of his that stuck with you. It was his husky smell, mixed with cool air and rain water. Small droplets bounce off the durasteel shell of the Crest as you sit silently next to the baby. And you’re shocked when you see trees rustling in the distance. 

There’s a plasma gun in your pocket and your hand drops to hold it tightly–just in case. But a warm chill runs through your body and you exhale a sigh of relief when Mando emerges from the gloom of the forest. 

He looks weathered and tired.

You squint and wonder why he’s moving so slow, but then you see the body he’s dragging behind him. This bounty was massive . 

Stars , how could he transport that thing all by himself? 

You stand on the gangplank to greet him, grabbing the baby and holding him against your chest. Once he gets a little closer, you can see why he’s struggling a little more than usual with this bounty. Apart from its massive girth. Mando is limping. And his flight suit looks torn to shreds. Maker, this one really put up a fight didn't he? 

As he approaches, you quickly turn and rush to the baby’s pram, setting him inside and shutting the top for now. Once the baby is secure in his bed, you head back down the plank to assist Mando. He trudges up the ramp slowly, stopping half way and you swear you see him wobble a few times. When you approach, you rest your hands on his left shoulder to help stabilize him. He stops dead in his tracks and looks down at you. His hands are still holding onto the bounty tightly. 

You pause, hoping you didn’t insult him by touching his shoulder. His chest rises slowly, but he’s taking much bigger breaths than any normal man should. Had he been shot as well? He watches you intently through the T-visor for a few moments, as if he’s collecting his thoughts. 

You’re out from under the protection of the Crest’s haul now, rain pouring over your head and soaking your body. You look up at him through wet lashes. You mouth “what??”, as the sound of the rain now pouring down drowns your voice out. 

He’s still just standing there, staring at you. 

At this point, you’re getting irritated. Now soaked and just standing  in the pouring rain. You shove him forward, and that’s when he seems to snap out of his stupor. He stumbles into the Crest, throwing the lifeless bounty near the carbonite chambers. You step inside and immediately close the gangplank after him. When you turn around, he’s standing still with his back facing you. 

You can see he has multiple deep cuts, and he’s visibly exhausted. Almost makes you feel bad for getting irritated with him. 

You slowly start to approach him from behind, but then he whips around like he could see you coming. He’s still breathing heavy, his chest rising high and falling low with his deep breaths. His head hangs low, but the T-visor is still trained on you. His fists are opening and closing at his sides. 

You stand there for a moment with caution. Something is wrong.  

“You okay…?” You ask.

He stands there, staring at you for a few more moments before he turns silently and starts walking towards the fresher in the back of the ship. You watch him, utterly befuddled by this odd behavior. Really, it’s not like he ever speaks to you. You have yourself convinced that he doesn't even remember you exist half the time. He’ll cross paths with you on the ship like you’re a ghost floating in thin air. 

He normally retreats and treats his own wounds when he does come back injured, but this is different. 

The way he looked at you. How he stopped in his tracks when you touched him. How you felt his muscles tense at the gentle contact. His heavy breathing and his hands twitching at his sides. You noticed all of it. Something about it seemed…primal. 

Primal and undisciplined. 

Your mouth hangs agape as you watch the fresher door slide shut. For a few moments, you try to gather your thoughts. Such odd behavior.  

After gathering yourself and your thoughts for a couple more moments, you step forward and begin heading up to the cockpit. Once there, you sit in the pilot's chair and listen to the soft pattering of the rain dropping against the Crest. It’s dark in here, no sunlight shining through as storm clouds continue to cover the sky on the wretched planet.

You sit back in the leather seat, letting your head rest against it.

You rest your eyes for a few moments. A few moments turns into an hour when you accidentally fall asleep. 

When you wake up, it’s still raining and dark. You look around, Mando still isn't here. taking another deep breath before you open them again and will yourself to climb out of the pilot’s seat. You slowly make your way  down the ladder from the cockpit, to the fresher door. Normally when Mando is in the shower, you can see a thick fog seeping from underneath the door–he takes hot showers. Right now, you don’t spot any fog. You don't hear any noise. 

You gently rest your ear against the door to see if you can hear anything, but you don’t hear a peep. Now your heart is starting to race. He’s normally done by now. He washes up quickly–even if he is wounded. He dresses his wounds at lightspeed. 

After listening for a few moments longer, you still don’t hear anything. 

Out of slight panic, your hand comes up without even realizing it and knocks on the fresher door. Just once. 

You listen. No answer. 

Two more knocks. 

No answer. 

"Mando?” You ask loudly enough for him to hear you. 

You hold your breath for a moment so you don’t miss anything. 

“Are you okay?” You warn, voice wavering. 

Still no answer, but you do hear a faint groan. It’s very faint–like he didn’t intend for you to hear it at all.

“If you don’t answer I’m coming–.” You start to warn, but you’re cut off when the door to the fresher busts open. A violent wash of air hits you in the face, sending all of your hair falling to your back. 

Mando stands before you, breathing heavily than he was earlier. He leans on one side of the doorway while his hand rests on the fresher door where he forced it open. He grunts and shoves past you like you aren't even there. You turn to watch him limp over to a cabinet that’s built into the haul of the Crest. His gloved fingers tangle around the handle but he struggles to open it. He now has one hand on his side, holding a fresh wound. 

Maker, why is he so fucking stubborn? 

You approach him from behind, careful not to get too close in this state. It’s almost like he can sense you’re getting close because he stops what he’s doing and shuffles away from you again. That hurts a little. 

“Let me help,” You say sweetly, trying to bring him comfort. 

He groans audibly through his helmet. His breaths are shaky and gravely. 

“Go away.” He finally speaks. 

“You need help.” You say, getting a little closer to him again. This time he doesn’t move as much. 

“Y’--can’t help.” He mumbles, still clutching his side. He starts to slump over against the wall. The beskar clunks when it hits the cold durasteel. 

Slowly and very carefully, you approach him and gently lay your hand on his shoulder. A shockwave of chills run down his body and he lets out another hoarse groan. 

“Tell me what’s wrong.” You say, bringing your other hand to lay over his shoulder. Both hands now softly against his body. 

He huffs through the vocoder, slowly turning his helmet towards you. It drags on the wall as he does so. 

“Aphrodisiac…” He mumbles, it's barely audible, and he isn't enunciating very well right now. 

You lean a bit closer to hear better. “What?” 

He grunts out of frustration, his hand balling into a fist on the wall as you inch closer to him. His muscles tense and he lets out another shaky breath. 

“B-bounty hit me wit-with a…..” 

It’s at that moment you finally realize what’s been going on. Your cheeks flush a bright pink and your eyes open a little wider than they were before. That’s why he couldn’t stop staring at you when you touched him. 

An aphrodisiac is a drug that stimulates sexual desire–makes all forms of decency and pleasantries go out the window. It scratches a primal desire deep within, and cannot be flushed out of the system without release. It stimulates the senses–which explains why he was so sensitive when you touched him just now. 

You keep your hands on his shoulder, watching him as you contemplate your next move. Should you offer to help him? What would he think? Would he turn you down? Fire you for making advances on him ? Your breath is caught in your throat and your heart is now racing. Your mouth is going dry, your lips starting to chap as you think of your next move. He hasn't said anything in a moment. He’s still leaning up against the wall, his helmet resting on the cold durasteel. For a moment you think it may just stay this way, but then he speaks.

He turns his helmet a little towards you again. “Y-’need t-to leave…the s-ship..” He mumbles. 

You lock eyes on his t-visor again. “I can’t just leave you like this.”

You watch as his hand leaves the wall and comes back to grab yours. His cold leather glove feels like ice when it wraps around your much smaller and delicate digits. He grabs you hard, and pulls your hands away from his shoulder. When he releases your hands, that same gloved hand that just grabbed you flies up and flattens against your chest, shoving you back against the cold wall. His palm butterflies against your skin, covering your entire chest. 

You grunt at the harsh impact, your lower back immediately arching off the wall, coming closer to his waist. 

“Leave. Now .” He hisses. One hand remains butterflied on your chest while the other holds him off the wall above your head, boxing you in. 

Your face is still bright pink, and now your breathing is a little elevated. Your lips part to speak, but when he shifts on his feet you glance down and see how painfully hard he is under his trousers. The sight of him like this sends an erotic chill down your spine. Your mouth is hanging open again, soft breaths sneaking through your teeth. He doesn't say anything, just stands above you–his chest puffing up and down in a rhythmic fashion as he tries to control his primal urges. 

Your lashes flutter as you look back up into his T-visor. You want to offer him a resolution. You want to offer him release . But you’re nervous he may shoot you down. His body radiates like a furnace above you, making yours burn in return. 

“ I can help you .” Your voice is just above a whisper, eyes shooting back and forth rapidly as you try to catch his eyes through the tinted visor of his helmet. 

He remains in front of you, his chest heaving up and down like a medieval mammal getting ready to attack its prey. His fingers twitch on the wall next to your head. It’s almost scary how still he is as he stands over you. 

When he doesn’t respond, you slowly reach both hands to rest them on his stomach. Once your palms are flattened on his toned stomach, you slowly begin to snake them around his armored sides–with much caution of course. You keep your eyes on his helmet to gauge his reaction as you proceed slowly. Your fingers grip the taut fabric of his flight suit gently, and you slowly start to pull him towards you. 

He doesn’t pull back. 

With your hands now on his waist, you’re pulling his clothed erection towards your front. Without warning, he removes his hand from your chest and flattens it up against the wall next to your head. He’s leaning in now–going with you. When you get his waist close enough to yours, you take the initiative to lift one of your legs up, helping to fit him in nicely between your thighs, while letting one of your feet remain on the floor to keep you steady. Now he’s hot and hard against your clothed core. He burns like the Tatooine suns combined, bringing more friction to your core as he slowly presses himself against you. 

He groans loudly this time, his gloved fingers digging into the durasteel wall behind you. 

Your hands continue to grip his waist and pull him as close to you as possible. And soon, he starts letting his upper body fall against you as well. He’s so much bigger this close up. He towers over you, leaning most of his weight on you now. He doesn’t let his helmet fall this time though. 

No. 

He wants to watch your reaction as he starts to thrust against your clothed core. 

His hips roll in deep harsh thrusts, forcing your entire body back and up the wall as he starts to really man-handle you. 

He leans into you harder, letting his right arm drop so he can grab ahold of the pillowy flesh of your hip and hold your leg up steady against his waist. He spreads you a little too while doing so. He holds you there, pushing into you harder and faster by the second. 

Something hot and heavy is starting to burn inside you. He thrusts his hips into yours, his hard cock rubbing against your clothed core without shame. You never thought it could feel this good when there wasn’t skin-to-skin involved but maker does he know what he is doing. Does he know what he's doing or is this just pure, blind, lust taking over his body?

This has to be a fever dream or something because holy fuck . There’s no way the Mandalorian–big, mean and unwavering–is dry humping you right now. The most feared bounty hunter in all the galaxies is holding you up against a wall, panting in your ear like a rancor in heat, and rubbing his hard cock against you. 

Your body jolts up and down against his, your back still firm against the cold wall. He grunts as his thrusts become more quick and needy. He lets his helmet drop to lay in the nape of your neck. A bead of sweat rolls from your forehead and drops onto the cold beskar of his helmet. He pants loudly into your skin as he continues fucking you over your clothes. One of his hands remains on your hip, the other one moves to snake behind your head so you can rest it. You let out a whimper when he thrusts on you particularly hard–his hard cock pressing against your sensitive clothed clit. 

“S-smell so good…” He mumbles into your neck. 

You glide your hands up his body, letting one hand slide up the back of his neck to massage the base of his skull. He mmm’s low in his throat, nuzzling further into your soft skin as he continues to dry hump you. 

“S’soft….fuck, you’re s-so soft sweet girl…..” He speaks. 

You smile softly, resting your cheek against the cold beskar helmet as his thrusts start to become sloppy. You whimper when he hits that sweet spot again, putting friction on your swollen clit. 

When you moan, he starts thrusting faster. His grip tightens on your thigh, and he pulls your body closer to his. He’s sloppy now, hinting at his upcoming release. 

"Y-you close? m’--y-you gonna cum?” He asks–and fuck . You wish you were. 

It’s too much though. This all came on so fast that you can’t really focus and enjoy what he’s doing to you. No, it’s more difficult than that. You’re too focused on other things like the feeling of his helmet resting on your shoulder. Or the sounds he’s making of which you never ever thought you’d hear. Or the way he’s talking. The way squeezing your hip so hard that you know it’ll be bruised tomorrow. It feels so fucking good –but you don’t know if you can cum for him just yet. But he doesn’t need to know that. 

“Yeah..” You whimper softly as he thrusts up against you. 

You grip him a bit harder, letting him get as close as possible to reach his release. When he does, it’s magnificent. His first behind you smashes into the haul with force and he groans something in a foreign language. His body shutters violently and you feel the warmth spreading in his trousers. The hand wrapped around your hip slowly starts to lose tension, and eventually falls from you. Your leg falls limp with it, your foot slamming against the floor. 

He huffs heavy breaths against your neck, still leaning against you. You breathe heavily with him, letting your head fall back against the wall. 

After a few moments you notice his heavy breathing has stopped. 

“Mando?” You ask through a whisper. 

He doesn’t answer. You soon know why, because a few moments later you realize his body is getting heavier and heavier. He starts to fall, completely knocked out as he lays against you. You curse as he starts to slide and you have no choice but to go with him. His beskar armor clunks heavily on the floor. 

You sit up and look down at him after you finally manage to wiggle from underneath him. 

How the fuck are you supposed to get him into his cot now?

---

Chapter theme: Lavender Haze - Taylor Swift

@orcasoul @dins-riduur-anthe @drawingdroid

[faceless-creature]

Hey... Sorry for not posting proper stories in a while... But I'm here now! Enjoy!

Tw: blood, kidnapping, character death, gore, yandere reader, canabalism, possessive behaviour

The reader gets very dark..

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Judge Claude Frollo X Fem!Demon reader. (Based on an OC)

A woman walked within the shadows of Paris, silent as a mouse. Her skin as white as the snow on the cobbled floor. Her messy long (h/c), streaked with bright green, hair pulled into large pigtails. Pointed ears poke from the mess of hair.

Her dress a smokey black with mint green trim, decorated with a skull clip in the centre. Black and gray striped stockings covering her legs. Black platformed boots giving her a few more inches. Not that she needs it as she already stands at six feet tall.

Her eyes and mouth completely blacked out and in a permanent closed mouth smile. A wide chilling smile with upturned eyes.

The demon stalked through the shadows as she watched the annual Feast of Fools. Keeping an extra close eye on the corrupt Judge.

The demon woman had been keeping a very close eye on the judge. Feeling as her obsession with the human man grows with every passing day.

She had created a small shrine to the mortal in her pocket realm.

She stole pieces of jewelry, clothes, his favourite books, pillows and blankets.

She cut a small lock of his hair off of him while he slept once. Even keeps a small vial of his blood after she cut him on the arm, once again in his sleep.

The demon known as Y/N was engrossed with the corrupt Judge. Obsession is a strange but fascinating concept to her.

She admired the man in black and purple from the shadows of the houses. No one else mattered to her.

That was until... Esmeralda...

Y/N saw the lust within Frollos eyes as she danced. She despised it.

A thick, bubbling rage ignited within her stomach as she glared at the poor unsuspecting woman.

Y/N retreated into the darkness in order to create a plan. And within a few days....

She had one..

Her plan was very quickly set into motion. She tracked down the court of miracles before the judge had gotten there.

The demonic woman went on a rampage within those catacombs...

By the time Claude had made it to the court of miracles...

There was nothing but gore...

Bodies had been strewn up by fabrics, or their own entrails. Corpses ripped open, blood and organs and unprocessed food splattered up the walls and across the entire floor.

Burnt and charred bodies, ripped open, bloodied, gored beyond belief.... Half eaten bodies...

Upon the hanging stage was Quasimodo and captain Phoebus swayed from the ropes. Clopin lay impaled on the rafters... And a hunched over figure..

Y/N was crouched over Esmeralda's bleeding body... Chewing... The sounds of ripping flesh, crunching bones and squelching chewing noises bounced off the cobbled walls.

The judge and guards stood in terrified silence as they watched as this unknown woman, unhinged her jaw and chomps down onto the corpse in her arms.

A guard fainted at the disgusting sights and sounds bouncing from the walls. The woman's head snapped around to look at the noise, a piece of flesh hanging from her mouth.

The demon stood up at an alarmingly fast pace, causing panic to wash over the men. The guards make a dash for the exit.. but Y/N appears from the shadows in front of them.

The gory sounds of ripping flesh and screams of agony rattled within the minds of the living before they died.

Soon enough... Only she and Frollo remained.

Y/N was now coated in blood; head to toe. She slowly advanced towards the Judge.

Frollo, wearing a now blood stained robe, trembled in terror. Was this how he's destined to die?

"I've waited for this moment... For so long.." Y/N cooed.

"Please... I'll do anything.. just don't.. don't hurt me.. please.." Frollo whimpered pathetically.

"Hurt you? My love.. why would I ever hurt you?!" Y/N snapped confused.

"I'd never hurt you darling..."

Y/N reached her hands out to cup his face in her hands causing him to flinch.

"I'd never hurt my mate.." Y/N cooed darkly.

Y/N quickly pulled his head forward and forced him into a kiss. She licked across his bottom lip, demanding entrance.

When he denied she slipped her hand into his trousers causing him to gasp in shock and fear.

Y/N forced her long, thick, grey tongue into his mouth, making sure to explore the entirety of it.

Slurping and struggling noises echoed in the catacombs as Y/N took great pleasure in getting the chance to kiss her beloved, and how he tried to escape her grasp.

She broke the kiss, tongue continuing to play with his as saliva dripped from their mouths.

"I've waited so long for this moment... To take you home.."

And just like that- she pulled Claude into the shadows and disappeared with him.

Judge Claude Frollo was never seen again.. however..

A strange looking woman was often seen buying food from the people in Paris. And soon enough she fell pregnant multiple times and was seen with many demonic children.. that looked suspiciously like Claude Frollo: the missing Judge.

[christianstepmoms]

U.E.S.C. Marathon Public Access Terminal 95-w<39.59.19.21> <Data Transfer from Leela>

Host <39.59.19.21>

<Transfer Durandal>

<Error Unknown>

<Interior Error>

***MESSAGE RECEIVED***

Gheritt White had been floating six feet off the floor for three weeks. His feet and hands tingled, and his eyes burned with the flames of a dying fire. He had last heard someone speak to him as the cell door slammed shut. He didn't remember what the uniformed man had said. The words had bounced off the bars of the cell and rang through Gheritt's ears. Gheritt had been talking to himself for the last few minutes, something about getting caught, but then his ears began to tingle just like his hands.

He looked at his hands, but the fire in his eyes made him blink. Tears came, and when he opened his eyes again, his hands had been melted into fleshy pancakes that wafted in the ripples flowing over the fire in his eyes. "Damn cell," he heard someone say. "Last time I had a good meal was three days ago. The food they feed you in here could kill a lab rat."

Rats. He had remembered something about rats. But his ears began to ring again and the voice speaking to him faded off into the background of his mind. In its place, there was a new sound, the clapping of hands together. He blinked hard to made out his hands again. They had disappeared; his arms connected at the wrists.

He thought back to the time he went ice skating on a pond. He remembered the sound of his skates on ice, a gentle scrapping. Scrapping away now inside his ears, trying to tear down his thoughts. There had been a woman with a white fur tube over her hands. Her wrists were like his now. The wrists of someone who had tried too many times to clap his hands. He had been applauding everyone else in life, but never himself. The hands, like himself, had been put into prison, and he didn't know why.

"Can't sleep in here, if the smell of this musty bedroll doesn't make you sick, then the sound of the rats chewing inside the walls will keep you up. You'll wake up from your dreams to their little chomping. Sometimes I think that they are chewing me..." The voice was coming from inside the cell, but Gheritt couldn't see anyone.

Gheritt hadn't always been alone, he could vaguely recall from somewhere inside his broken mind that there had been friends, lovers, murderers.

He recalled a theory he had come up with after a bloody schoolhouse brawl. The theory was simple. At some point in time, everyone was a murderer. Whether or not they ever felt remorse, they had all wanted someone dead. Hatred. Everyone knew the feeling of hatred. Gheritt had known hatred on that schoolyard. His beater had laughed at their bloody faces, a laugh which now echoed through his ears, rhythmically blocking out the other voice in the cell.

The schoolyard was usually a place where Gheritt and his friends would play football or foursquare or something, but today, there was an edge. Maybe everyone had eaten cereal with milk that was about to go bad, or maybe there was too much smoke in the air from the Wheeling hubcap factory. Football had been extremely rough. Gheritt had gone to play foursquare after he got tackled by five boys who weren't his friends. But today, even foursquare had an evil twist. The top square today had become habituated to making fun of the first square.

Gheritt had decided that it was an evil day.

When his beater started to push him around, he exploded. Hatred flowed from his eyes, his hands and feet began to tingle. All of his coordination left him, and his face was beaten to a bloody mess. The schoolyard disciplinarian had been slow to notice the ensuing carnage, and she didn't really care anyway.

Gheritt would have killed him if he could have. He would have torn out the eyes of his beater. He would have made him pay for his abuses. But his hands had begun to tingle. He couldn't feel his feet and he had begun to float off the ground.

Everyone was a murderer, but Gheritt couldn't remember his reason for why that was so. He thought it was something about hands, the passion for justice. His hands and feet had begun to tingle, and he was floating farther off the floor. He looked up from his hands, and he saw the bars of the cell, moving left and right, opening wide and then closing shut like the surf coming up a beach. Every time that he thought he would be safe, the bars crested up, the opening closing, the wave rising, crashing. The result would be the same, he would never escape. The bars would crush him, break his back.

He could feel the roughness of the sand under his palms, for all the motion of the waves around him, his hands had come to rest serenely upon the ocean floor. His body tossed and flipped, pivoting about his hands under which he could feel the safe, coarse sand. The wave crashed one final time, he landed upside down, his hands thrown clear from the sandy bottom, the rush of the water filling his ears, his nose, his mouth, the sound of crashing water cascading down from his feet to his head- penetrating his mind to tear down thoughts. Like the sand castle he had built to withstand the tide, his thoughts came down around him.

Gheritt had a good life, so much time, so much time. He had loved swimming, turning, beating. He had loved the tingle in his hands and feet, his inability to kill his nemesis. Once he had fallen down the stairs, and just for a moment, his hands came to rest on the carpet of the stairs. In that instant, his body had frozen, floating over the stairs, safe from falling, but the moment didn't last. The ocean crashed about him, his hands torn free from the sandy bottom, his body flipping, falling.

But now he levitated farther up, his hands still tingling. He began to float through the bars, he expected the instant of safety as his hands found footing, but that moment did not come, the bars squeezed his body. His chest tingled. As he fell through his cage, his legs tingled. The fire in his eyes had become a cold wind, he blinked away tears. He tumbled through the bars, spinning and turning, he could see a man. In his hand he saw a small white rat. A pounding, the crashing waves in his ears became rhythmical, hard. The man was beating the rat against the floor. Pounding, pounding. Blood covered his hands, the man's hands tingled. He had broken them on the floor of the cell. Disciplinarian, lover, murderer. Gheritt looked back into the cell. He saw himself, disciplinarian, lover, murderer. He had killed his nemesis.

The rat lay dead in his bloody hands. At last, he held the throat of his beater.

He escaped into the waves.

The waves.

***END MESSAGE***

[klonoa-at-blog]

PAC-MAN Mega Tunnel Battle: Chomp Champs will be available on May 8th, 2024 for $19.99 on PlayStation 5, Nintendo Switch, PlayStation 4, Xbox One, Steam, Xbox Series X and Series S. A Digital Deluxe Edition for $29.99 will include a Klonoa "Head" (Hat & Ears) for your Pac-Man character to wear along with other Bandai Namco cosmetics. It is currently unknown if this is the only way to obtain these cosmetics.

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1 maze: Lunar

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2 faces: Pooka’s Goggles, Pooka’s Goggles - Rare

2 heads: Klonoa, Dig Dug Helmet

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1 body: Unicorn - Rare

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1 icon: Cherry Chomp

[penumbramewtwos]

Short story around the time of Unova's capture, and of Okita's origins.

PLEASE READ THE TW TAGS BEFORE READING!!!

Hearing nothing but echoing corridors, Gary Oak was sure he was done for after his trip into an infamous Aunuran desert Trapinch hole. With his head bound, he knew he wasn't out of the woods just yet. He hears a familiar craggy voice address him as he's pushed onto a chair and bound in an unknown room.

"Did you find what you were looking for?" Said the unknown voice, Gary's ears piped up as the man continued.

"Just as nosy as your grandfather in the pursuit of knowledge, rest assured your nosiness ends here."

After the statement from the unknown man, Gary's head covering had been lifted off, revealing a dark room with a spotlight upon himself. He knows this man… Not only from the Kanto region, but as the head of Rocket industries in Aunura, Giovanni.

"tch, well well, I knew that old man stink was bound to be you. This whole place smells of retirement home and failed yakuza." Gary quipped.

Giovanni, looking the same as he did back in the mid 2000's aside from the hair dye running down his face, leaned in from his wheelchair towards Gary to offer a deal out of this place alive. "I know what you've been digging up… Our team has taken the liberty of confiscating your 'findings'. Rest assured, you won't be publishing any of them; in fact, you'll do as I say or you'll end up more dismembered than that arm you collected."

Giovanni leaned back in his wheelchair, with a large grin on his face creasing his crows feet even more. Gary was unphased by the threat and smirked back at the acquaintance as he spoke back in a nonchalant manner, "I heard on the grape-vine you're getting back into the genetics commissioning game, and had to check it out for myself! Seems like whichever geneticist you hired this time can't even get one of those creatures to form properl-"

"Enough talk!" shouted Giovanni. "There's one more thing, seeing as you're so interested in our development"

Giovanni leant forward once more with a stern look on his face, as Gary remained stonewalled. "Your skills will be needed here one day, 'Professor Oak', I know you've been collecting and studying Arceus plates for medical research for some time now."

Gary's eyes shuddered in anger, "WHAT MAKES YOU THINK I W-"

"You despise the thought of pokemon in pain, and I'm giving you an opportunity to t-"

"Yeah yeah… So you'll put them in pain so I can take them out of it… Sounds completely ethical to do that to an innocent creature, Artificial or not…"

Giovanni paused and smirked as he leant back in his wheelchair. "So you know of the pokemon Mewtwo, and it's origins"

Gary Squirmed within his bound state in a fit of fury, "Why are you making so many!??! Some of them are still alive out there! The ones your disgusting cronies buried and chopped!"

"It doesn't matter, those ones are merely unable to form, as you put it yourself, Gary… We're nearly there, and I will have one obey my commands if it's the last thing I do on this Earth!" Givovanni coughed loud and hoarsely at the end of his statement. No one would tell if it was just his talking or the musty dark room that caused it.

Just as Gary was squirming around in his bindings, he'd been slowly able to get a pokeball to finally drop from his pants pocket, unleashing his Arcanine. "Grrrrwaarrh!!!"

In what felt like a flash, Arcanine chomped it's way through Gary's bindings and shoved Giovanni backwards into the wall with it's hind legs with no hesitation. Gary grabbed a hold of his Arcanine before using a teleportation device he refers to as 'Escape rope'.

Two Team rocket grunts charge into the room to assist the frail Giovanni as his phone rang, "Sir you need to see the medic! You shouldn't take thuds like tha-"

"I'M NOT AS DECREPID AS YOU ALL THINK!? Nghhh…"

Groaning from the incident, Giovanni reaches into his inner jacket pocket and pulls out a black rotom phone, answering it in a huff. "This better be good news! Have you found more DNA from the Unovan experiment, Drake!?"

Through the video call is a bright, curly haired woman with a piercingly defiant voice. Some of the team rocket grunts refer to her as 'the clown', as a smile has barely ever wiped off her face. Except for those few who tell tales of a grim reality behind the mask… "It's always good news! You just don't know how to take progress, ahahaha!!!"

Giovanni stared blankly into the phone's camera as she cackled, before continuing, "ahah… Well, not only did we get the rest of the samples, but we got the main cretin themselves here! Well, we let it go after we t-"

"YOU LET IT GO!?!?!? THAT WAS OUR CHANCE TO CLONE HUNDREDS OR THOUSANDS OF THEM, YOU FUCKING IMBI- what!?" As Giovanni began to unleash his tirade, the clown, known formally as Professor Kana Drake, showed him a fogged up glass and metal chamber with what appeared to be a nearly complete foetus of a mewtwo.

"I hope you're read to listen or you wont get your kitty cats!" She widely grinned and giggled through her words.

"We let her go, as we still don't know how she even got pregnant in the first place"

"P-Pregnant!?" Giovanni spluttered, "They're pokemon? They are meant to have"

"Yes, Eggs! Ahahaha! We thought it best to let her go and hope that she is found again with another baby just for us, Gio!"

She laughed more and more maniacally before continuing "This one will be a sure thing, fuse it with a docile psychic pokemon or psychically gifted human and it'll be too indecisive to think for itself!"

Giovanni grumbled with reluctance, putting more faith in the eccentric genetisist. "Drake… Once you bring it back here, I'll take care of the other component…"

"Hahahaha!! Of course sir! I knew you'd understa-"

Giovanni had hung up before she even had a chance to finish. He leans forward again, almost lost in thought. A grunt goes to ask about his condition before they're cut off by Giovanni. "Have the Gym leaders of Symphony come to their senses yet?"

The grunt blankly stares at him before checking his watch in a hurry "a-ahh! sorry sir, right away! … … Their last email reads… uh…'Get fucked, we own the gym by law, no 'protection' money will be paid… Sincerely, Ai and Amare Spes… P S … How do you plan on forcing it from us? Your pokemon are undertrained and undervalued'."

Giovanni must have been infected with the clown's disposition as his smile widened, wrinkling his elderly face as he looked at an email on his rotom phone.

"Well, how about that… According to my intelligence division, they've frozen an embryo in recent days… How lucky for us".

[winxanity-ii]

⌜Tactus Mortis | Chapter 07 Chapter 07 | tus ojos⌟

╰ ⌞🇨‌🇭‌🇦‌🇵‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌ 🇮‌🇳‌🇩‌🇪‌🇽‌⌝

❘ prev. chapter ❘༻✦༺❘ next chapter ❘

[A/N: bold; indicates an unknown voice.]

As you lay in bed, your mind lost in the world of dreams, you felt at peace.

However, the comforts of your dream were soon broken when you found yourself being woken by the voice of your grandmother, Alejandra. "Time to rise, my nieta."

Creaking open an eye, you were met with your open window. Watching as the sun bloomed on the horizon, its golden rays stretching into the once-night sky, you groaned at the telltale signs of a new day.

Rolling over, you threw your blankets over your head to block out the growing light. "Abuela, please. It's too early," you whined, curling onto yourself.

An airy chuckle was heard as your grandmother gave your head a gentle pat. "It's never too early to start a new day, my nieta. Now come; your presence is needed downstairs." With that, you were left with no one but yourself.

Knowing that she was right, you gave another sigh before heaving yourself out of bed to get yourself together.

☆

☆

As you walked out of your room, cloak draped over your arms, you expected to find your father sitting at the small dining table with breakfast waiting for you, not the bane of your existence, happily chatting with him.

"So I said, 'What is that? Not a houseㅡ'" Before allowing Camilo to finish, you loudly cleared your throat, catching the two males' attention.

"Good morning, my muñequita. How did you sleep?" Your father smiled over at you.

"Yeah, how did you sleep, ____? I hope you didn't lose any sleep thinking about me all night," Camilo purred, leaning on his elbow to stare up at you with half-lidded eyes.

Ignoring him, you made your way over to your father, bending down to place a kiss on his forehead before sitting down beside him. "I had a restful night, Pápa. And you?"

"I haven't slept this peacefully in a long time," he answered, taking a sip of his coffee.

Accepting his answer, you reached down to grab a piece of toast from the platter in the middle of the table, only to pick up crumbs.

Looking down with furrowed brows, a shocked squawk left your lips; the platter was empty.

"What happened to the toast?" Your question trailed off as your eyes followed a crumble trial, the crumbs ending up on Camilo's plate.

The auburnet was chomping on the toast without a care in the world, his upbeat hums leaving him with each bite.

"Did you...did you just eat all of the toast?" Your voice was low as you glared over at the teen.

Licking stray jelly off of his fingers before taking an exaggerated sip of orange juice, Camilo gave a shrug. "What can I say? Your father is a talented cook," he smiled before shifting into an elderly man.

"It was toast," you growled, hands clenching into fists, "a whole platter of toast. And you just ate it all like nothing, you overly hungryㅡ"

"Uh, I'll just go make you something else to eat. No need to stress yourself, muñequita," your father awkwardly laughed, interrupting your insult before getting up to head to the kitchen.

As soon as he was out of sight, you stood up, slamming your hands down onto the table with a growl. "I don't know what you're playing at, Camilo Madrigal, but my father is off-limits."

Still shifted as an elderly man, Camilo playfully twirled his withering beard. "Hmm, and may I ask why?"

In the blink of an eye, you grasped Camilo by his shirt, yanking him towards you. The movement was so sudden that it shocked him to the point of changing back into his original form.

"I'll say this once, and only once," you hissed, glaring into his wide eyes, your face a centimeter from his own. "I will not allow you to take him from me and corrupt him with your little shenanigans, you chameleon. So take this as a warning; you're threading on thin ice."

Seemingly coming out of shock, a smirk grew on Camilo's lips. "Well, I have no idea what you're talking about, but if you wanted a kiss, all you had to do was ask, muñequita."

Your brain short-circuited for a moment, unable to register what he said. After a second, it dawned on you.

Muñequita?

Feeling as if your face were on fire, you pushed Camilo back into his seat before sitting down on your own, embarrassment filling your whole being.

He used my father's nickname for me against me! You thought in horror.

When your father returned with a plate of breakfast for you, he was met with silence.

Camilo continues to enjoy his toast, and you scowl at your hands.

Shaking away his curiosity, he sat on the plate before you, giving your head a gentle ruffle. "Here you go, muñequita."

"Thank you, Pápa," you grinned before digging in.

Though your father wasn't as talented as others when it comes to cooking (read: when it comes to Julieta), you still appreciated that he tried, which made it all worth eating the soggy eggs and semi-burnt toast.

"If you don't mind my asking, Camilo, why did you come by this morning? Don't get me wrong, I enjoy having you for breakfast, but you don't come by unless it's to help me pack my wagon to barter with those outside of Encanto."

"Yeah," you spoke up, picking up your cup of orange juice. "Why are you here, Camilo?"

"I'm here because it's your turn to have the Amazing Camilo help assist you with today's chores."

You couldn't stop the spray of orange juice that left your mouth and nose at his words. "My what?"

Your father immediately jumped into action, grabbing a nearby napkin to help you clean the juice, fretting over your now ruined shirt.

An amusing grin grew on Camilo's lips at the enraged look on your face. "Oh, don't you remember what was said at our last meeting? Abuela thought it would be beneficial if I used my abilities to help take a bit of the load off of everyone's shoulders," he explained, leaning back into his chair. "So today's your lucky day because I'm all yours."

"B-But..." you felt your head swimming, trying to decipher his words. "How could you even help? You don't have my gift! You can't do what I do!"

"Oh, but I can~" Camilo sang, doing jazz hands. "My gift entails me being able to take the form of whomever I wish. This includes gifts."

Your father halts his fretting at this, the confusion apparent on his face. "But wouldn't that make youㅡ"

"ㅡoverpowered. That would be absolutely correct, Señor L/N. But instead of being able to copy my family and ____'s gifts, I can only replicate about 1/2 of them while shifting into their forms. For example, while shifting to Antonio, I can only understand broken sentences from animals. Or when I shift into Tío Bruno, I can only see a bit of the future, kinda like riddles."

"So what about ____? What can you do while shifted into her?" Your father wondered, intrigued by Camilo's gift.

"Well, while shifted into ____, I can also communicate with spirits, except I can't see them like she can, I can only hear them."

Suddenly, as he explained this to your father, you recalled a similar notion happening when Alma did the same to the rest of the Madrigals and yourself in the last meeting.

He was right. Alma did explain to you all how she was going to reduce your workload.

With fewer chores as well as Camilo's help.

You specifically remember that part because it was then you got on your knees to beg her to allow yourself to be crossed off the schedule, explaining how Camilo's assistance wasn't needed nor wanted.

But it seems your plight of stress was ignored.

Groaning softly to yourself, you rubbed the bridge of your nose, feeling a headache forming.

"Well, thank you for helping ____ with this, Camilo," your father smiled, settling himself back into his seat.

"It's no problem, Señor Miguel," the auburnet waved off, "it's the least I could do."

Help!?

You don't need help!

Especially from someone as incompetent as Camilo Madrigal!

Before you could open your mouth to say that, as well as a few more colorful words, your father spoke up once more.

"I'm happy as well as thankful that she won't have to deal with this on her own, or stress herself out over it," your father smiled as he reached over to give Camilo a firm pat on the shoulders before gently ruffling up your hair again.

Swallowing your words and insults, you forced a sickeningly sweet smile onto your face before turning towards the mischievous trickster. "Yeah, thank you, Camilo," you gritted out through clenched teeth.

"No problem, ____," he smiled back, toasting his glass of juice to you.

"Well, hurry up and change. The two of you have a long day ahead of you," your father prompted while nodding at your juice-covered shirt.

"Of course, Pápa, I'll be right back." With that, you stood to change, but not before glaring at Camilo once more.

☆

☆

The coolness of the early morning was deceptive; the gentle heat of the sun, basking the air around you with warmth, the fallen leaves from nearby trees depicting the autumn weather; it was a truly beautiful sight.

Any other day, you would have enjoyed the sights around you, yet the nuisance beside you stopped you from doing so.

"ㅡthe look on your face was honestly the best part. I mean, I can't believe you actually fell for me pretending to be Antonioㅡ"

You felt the twitching of your eyes in agitation as Camilo droned on and on. Since the two of you left your house, he'd spent the entire walk talking about all the times you fell for his tricks.

"ㅡIf I'm being honest, I can't wait to summon a few spirits! This will be the most epic thing to find ways to trick people!"

You came to a halt at his words, swiveling around and delivering a ferocious glare to the auburnet. "This is not something to joke about! One wrong move can result in dire situations and shouldn't be taken lightly."

With a laugh, Camilo waved you off, "Relax, ____, you worry too much."

"No. Don't play with me, Camilo Madrigal. I'm being serious," you huffed, crossing your arms. "Now, promise that you won't go off summoning spirits without me being there to make sure nothing goes wrong. It's imperative that I'm there to not only make sure it goes well but to also cleanse you afterward."

Camilo sighs, scratching the back of his neck, "C'mon, ____. Aren't you sure you're being a little tooㅡ"

"Promise me!" You hissed, gripping the front of his shirt.

"Fine, fine, whatever. I promise," the auburnet huffed, with a small roll of his eyes.

Now, with his promise spoken, you found yourself relaxing. "Okay, great," you said, releasing him with a dust of your hands. "Now hurry up, because I have an early appointment with the Salazar's."

☆

☆

The smell of incense was strong as you wrapped up your final appointment of the day.

"Thank you so much for seeing me," Mateo smiled, standing up from his seat and reaching into his pocket to retrieve a coin pouch.

A frown graced your lips at this, "Señor Mateo. I told you, myᅳ"

"That your service is free. You've said that several times before the séance has even begun," Mateo cut you off, placing two galeóns on the table. "It's the least I can do. I didn't have a schedule to see you today, yet you took time to help me." With one more smile, Mateo left your small shop.

Sighing, you placed the coins into a nearby jar.

Turning around, you are met with Camilo lounging across a stack of pillows.

"If it were me, I would have accepted it," he spoke, waving a stick of incense in the air. "Free money is what it is. Free~"

"Camilo"ㅡyou rubbed the bridge of your nose, letting out a deep sighㅡ"what are you still doing here? I thought I told you to go home."

"Can't, the shift isn't over yet, muñequita."

"Please, refrain from ever calling me that," you groaned, grabbing your cloak from the stand.

Camilo's brow rose at the sight of you donning the dark material. "Where are you going?"

"I have to go ask Isabela to grow me a few thistles of sage. I need a fresh batch to burn after having so many spirits visit," you told him, pulling the hood over your head. "So don't do any Camilo-ish things while I'm gone."

"Camilo-ish things? What's that?" The auburn asked, balancing a few jars of salve on the tip of his nose.

"That. That's what I mean about Camilo-ish things," you said, stomping over to grab it and place it back in its rightful place. "Now, I'll say this one more time. Don't do anything. I'll be back shortly." With that, you left the room.

As soon as you left the hut, you felt a foreboding feeling sweep over your body. "Goddess, why do I feel like something is going to go wrong?"

☆

☆

Plopping himself down back onto the pile of pillows, the auburnet sighed to himself. "God, I'm bored," while blowing a piece of curly hair out of his face.

After a few more minutes of this, Camilo found himself unable to cope with the boredom. "That's it! I have to do something!" With this in mind, he stood up and began lurking around the room.

"What to do, what to do, what to do," he hummed, nosing in containers and jars; the curiosity didn't last long due to Camilo finding only different kinds of jars.

Leaning against a nearby window, Camilo could only watch as the outside world continued to move beyond the glass.

He groaned once more, turning away to stomp towards a mirror, where he shifted into you and started making funny faces. "'Don't do this' and 'Don't do that', yap, yap, yap," Camilo taunted, waving his hands in the air. "Pssh, like I'm going to do anything."

"Who are you and where is ____?" a voice whispered into his ear.

"What theᅳ!" Camilo nearly jumped a foot into the air, his head swiveling side to side as he tried to figure out who had just spoken. "Hello? Anyone there?"

"I said: Who are you and where is ____?"

Camilo's (read: your) face scrunched up in confusion at the question. "____?"

"Yes, ____. My eyes tell me you're ____, but I know her soul, and yours isn't hers. So I'll ask once again, who the hell are you?"

Camilo felt a sudden chill flow down his spine, an unsettling feeling that weighed him down as the voice grew harsher.

"Well?"

"I-I'm Camilo...Camilo Madrigal," he pathetically stuttered.

"The shifter?"

"Y-Yeah..."

"Hm. So why are you here and where is ____?"

"____ went out to gather some sage or something, and I was here to assist her with her appointments today," Camilo answered, nervously wringing his hair (read: your hair) in his hands.

"Hm," the voice hummed in thought, "Very well, I'll wait until she returns."

"Oh, alright," Camilo croaked out in a high-pitched voice.

"Can't you see me?"

"Um, no? Am I supposed to?" Camilo scratched the back of his neck, unsure if this was something he should tell ____.

"Interesting. So you said your name is Camilo, right?"

"Y-Yup, that's me."

"Ah, I think I finally recognize your name."

"You do?"

"Of course, ____ talks about you all the time."

Camilo didn't know why, but he felt himself growing a bit excited at the prospect of you talking about him. "S-She does? What did she say?"

"That you're a menace to society. A trickster that constantly plays tricks on her, or as she so puts it, 'the bane of her existence.'"

Camilo felt all of the happiness within him deflate at what he said. "O-Oh. Yeah, I guess she's right," he awkwardly smiles, letting a half-hearted chuckle escape his mouth.

"No need to worry, Camilo, she does say good things about you," the spirit spoke up.

Once more, Camilo found himself growing excited. "Can you tell me?"

"Hmm, I could, but that would be a breach in the friendship ____ and I share if I did."

"I mean, it's just a few things, right? C'mon, tell me," Camilo whined, uncaring of how it looked to be begging to an open space.

The voice seemed to give a light sigh at his begging. "Alright, alright, calm down. I'll tell you, but under one condition. In the corner of the room is a container that contains dried up plants. I want you to take a few and spread them around town, mainly where she sleeps. Oh, also keep a bud on you at all times."

Following the voice's instructions, Camilo was surprised to find a small bundle of violet plants; they almost resembled buttercups. As he stared down at the box, he couldn't help but feel a tad bit unsure. "I don't know, I'm not supposed to touch anything or leave the room," he spoke, his hand hesitating over the bundle.

"You want to know a few things ____ likes, right? Well, one of the things she enjoys is hepatica flowers. They remind her a lot of her mother and help lessen the pain she gets every time she communicates with spirits."

Camilo nearly gasped in shock.

Pain? You never spoke of being in pain. Why didn't you tell anyone?

"She gets sick? How bad is it?"

"Oh, it's very bad. Some days she can't even get out of bed, but she pushes herself to do it because it's what's expected of her," the voice sighed, its tone low and worried.

Camilo found his will wavering; how could he not do something that would help you? "Are you sure this would help her?"

"I'm 100% sure this will help her."

"Alright, I'll do it," Camilo smiled, grabbing the bundle.

Standing up, he felt a giddy sensation fill his stomach at the thought of being able to do something other than cause you annoyance.

Just as he was about to do what he was instructed, Camilo suddenly realized something. "Hey, what's your name anyway?"

"Sidero. Sidero Patricio."

[snapghoul]

SoapGhost Aus that have been bouncing around in my head

I have thought way too much about these, they’re really long but I crave these fics.

Mer/Biologist Au: (this already kinda exists) Shark/or Orca mer!Ghost, Biologist!Soap who works at a rescue aquarium/museum. Ghost gets caught in one of they’re nets while tracking a recent release, while soap is on a day off. He get brought back to base(what Soap and Gaz call it) and put into a holding tank, Ghost is not very fond of that. Unknown to Ghost, there is another Mer in the aquarium already, Price a shark/or Orca as well who unfortunately cannot be released since he needs prosthetic fins after begging attacked, and lives in the main room (a huge tank, like the Chimelong Ocean Kingdom). He mostly hides during public hours in a connected tank away from eyes, but he is very kind to the staff (only 141 & laswell). How Soap and Ghost first meet is Ghost drags Soap under while he’s walking across the catwalk of the holding tank. Ensue Soap trying to befriend the grumpy Mer. OTHER CHARACTERS: Alex probably a dark blue Discus Mer (bc I think blue suits him but can be changed). Farah could be either Biologist or Mer, Graves definitely works at the aquarium and is a meanie, don’t know where Shepard fits but definitely a bad guy. Alejandro and Rudy are definitely both Mers. Valeria is baddie, but in a good way, she helps the mers but is disliked by Alejandro bc she (purposely) almost ran him over after a argument.

Wolf Walker Au: Soap is a wolf walker and Ghost is a Townie who’s family was killed by wolf walkers. Soap lives with his family in the woods, he is the only male in his family (bc honestly this man acts like he grew up with all sisters) and struggles to protect them from hunters set on destroying them. Chomps down on Ghost, who tracked him down one night, he didn’t mean to but Ghost had him pinned. Now Ghost is panicking bc he is the hunter become the hunted, something he’s hated forever. Soap thinks is fun after he gets snapped at my his mother. Ghost tells Price, another hunter, who tells Gaz who tells Roach, who tells the rest of the 141 hunters. They all swear not to hunt him unless he hurts a human. Ghost agrees. Eventually Soaps family gets tracked & captured in wolf form and is held captive in the town. Soap goes feral bc we love. Ghost is torn bc he known the pain of loosing family but he can’t let soap hurt innocent people. Ghost & the others talk him down and devise a new plan to free his family. It goes side ways, but ends with them being free. The 141 hunters follow the wolf walkers to a new forest to build new away from the hate.

Dragon Rider Au: we love a classic dragon fic. This stems from another Au by someone I can’t remember their name, buts they’re is based off GOT, where Ghost is a Targaryen (I think?) I love that Au. This Au is similar but with out the GOT, where Soap is a knight that gets saved by a dragon rider during battle, he never gets the rider name but remembers the dragon vividly and the mask. Soap wanted to be a rider but his knighthood to his monarch forbids him from riding, so he often thinks of the rider. Until one day the baron of house Riley is known to visit, Soap nearly fell over when the dragon that lingered in his thoughts blasted him with strong gusts from its wings. And it’s the masked rider! Soap is excited to see him again and finally thank him for saving his life. Then Soap gets assigned to Baron Riley to aid in a soothing rising conflict in bordering lands, he is even more excited. Less excited to learn he gets stuck on the ground with his horse while his leader is overhead. Soap eventually cracks the Baron and becomes close friends, he also gets to ride the dragon when they get separated, leaving soap with Ghost’s dragon. I think Soap should get his own at some point and then they can both be menaces of the sky.

Artist/Barista 141 Mafia Au: now this is also a things but this Au is just too good. Soap is a artist who works at a local cafe with his best friend Gaz, a free lance photographer. They live together and are chaotic besties. The cafe is a front for the 141 group, the leader Price owning it, both Soap and Gaz and unaware, bc Price is a stickler for keeping everything under tight wraps. Ghost is second in command is a feared by most members for being so ruthless and cold. He hangs around in the corners menacingly but is SO smitten for Soap, he is absolute fool when he speaks to the artist, like he’s so thankful for his mask or he’d be a glow stick with how red he gets, and he always complains to Roach after he embarrasses himself again. Roach thinks it’s funny but will stick with his bestie as his wingbug. One night after closing, Gaz and soap get snatched by Shadow company, 141’s biggest rival, they destroy the cafe and hold the boys for ransom. Both a confused like “who?” Cut to hurt comfort, after the two get tortured and tossed to the street after the shadows realize they really don’t know anything and Price finds them with busted noses, wet clothes and so many bruises. Ghost is infuriated when Price returns with them all busted up but informed of what their place of employment actually is. A lot of gang fights and plan to remove shadow company from the city, Soap gets to blow stuff up, Ghost gets a lil better at voicing his feels for soap (still bright red tho) and Price gains to new members who are way better at fighting then their other jobs. Also I feel like 141 would be a classy mafia, like 3 peice suits with slim bullet vests and under arm holsters.

[rottenborb]

More VTM tokens - a currently unknown Lasombra that the party ran into at the docks, generic security man who got chomped, and Millicent, a Sabbat Toreador with a love of urban graffiti painting and convincing dumb college kids that vampires are real.

[mushroompollution]

A Blank Canvas appears!

It's Taxes this time. Or well, again.

It brings great bounty of many dumplings. 2 of each kind, except for the tofu and sesame which has 1. Because those are the taxes. Chomp chomp.

---

It's not very sure where it is. This does not seem like the room where it may not have been in danger of getting thrown out of the window by an older angrier human like in the television.

It casually dumps the tupperware containers stacked on its head onto the table before casually continuing to munch on the taxes it collected.

Leo hadn't really thought much about that post he had liked. He's lounging against a half-sleeping Vincent, a vapid reality show playing in the background as he rereads one of the few books in their villainous hideout. So when the Canvas appears, he sits up quickly in surprise.

The other man stirs beside him, muttering a "Mmm wha-?" But he blinks his mismatched eyes in surprise as they fix on an unknown figure in their room. "Oh, what the hell--?!"

But Leo, having regained himself, crawls out of their bed to retrieve the package. He gives Taxes a smug, knowing little smile as he watches it munch.

"looks like you already got your payment, didn't you?" Leo asks, paying no mind to the confused Vincent or his questions. He picks up a few of the containers, checking out which one was already sampled. Finally, he opens one and offers an eggplant and mushroom dumpling out to the strange little courrier. "but you can have a tip for discreet service.❁"

Then, he scoops up the containers and spins on his heel to return to his spot on the bed. Vincent tries to ask him something, but the question is lost as Leo shoves a dumpling into his open mouth.

[shilo-sumac]

What's the craziest, most off-the-wall thing that's ever happened at your rehabilitation center?

ohhhhh...hmmmmm, probably that like. Evil Hole.

so like, this was a bit ago, around when i first started posting n stuff. i liveblogged it but like, it was old and not a lotta people followed me so idk how many people even saw it, so i dont mind giving a summary since its probably hard to find

sooooo it all started, like most good stories do, with the protagonist (me) being an idiot. i accidentally used pokenip instead of loose tea leaves to brew some tea. im not even a big tea drinker!!!! its just fun to sometimes!!!!!

anyways i get kinda loopy and decide to go on an adventure. which basically means i blindly wandered around in the uncharted parts of the island for a few hours. eventually, i found this bigass creepy hole in the ground in a spot i swore i already passed before. me, being the same person who a few hours prior injested a psychoactive substance on mistake, decided to jump in!

uhhm.. i think i passed out after that? someone used pelipper mail to give me some peanut butter at some point so at least i wasnt hungry, but i of course dont know how to fly and there were no footholds to climb back up. by this time i had sobered up and realized ah, shit, huh, this isnt right now is it?

buuut the only way out was forward.

at this point i check if i have any pokeballs on me. luckily i had one. my gliscor had decided to playfully chomp on my nose earlier in the day so i balled him to calm him down, and now he was my only companion here. guess its a good thing hes a bit of an idiot. like pokemon like trainer, nyahaha.

uh, anyways, we kinda just. walk in the only available direction. and this cave system is like, way bigger than I thought. lotsa passages, lotsa dead ends and drops to unknown depths. but we eventually find a pokemon! but, like, its weird. its a carbink but it isnt right. its crystals are orange, its eyes are empty. it leads us to somd sort of.... colony? mostly consisting of more carbink and some sableye. none of them were right, man. in the center of their... village(?) was a giant version of the crystal thst grew out of the carbink and sableye. a sickly orange hue... like a sunset but Evil.

they were pretty hospitable things considered.... but not much for conversation. barely responded when i asked things. the sableye were... eerily still. if you know anything about that species you know they never stand still. everything moved like clockwork, like, like a hivemind. every day at around the same time theyd all gather and stare at the center crystal and just.... chant. droning on for who knows how long.

they let me walk about freely enough, but one area was off limits. i had a sinking feeling that, maybe that was the exit. or maybe there was something there that i needed to see. so i waited for their chanting session and snuck behind them all. Bane took out the only sentry they had for me carefully and quietly descending from the roof of the cave. felt like a secret stealth mission. woulda been fun if... yknow.. what happened next hadnt happened.

behind where they didnt want me to see was my poor charizard. he was not in good shape at the time. he... i knew he wasnt around a day or two but... plenty of my roaming pokemon liked doing their own thing. i didnt know he was in trouble. i didnt know. it was my fault. he was covered in those crystals, they were *eating* him.

i remember hearing an alarm and the crystalized pokemon gathering behind us. i remember bane trying to get my attention. i remember staring blankly and i remember screaming how they hurt him and... then i dont remember anything else.

alistair, my roommate and occasional pain in the ass, found me after he claimed he heard an "explosion. the cave system had completely collapsed." bane, char and i were fine, but all unconcious. i.. i dont know what happened exactly but. i think i did something. i think i may have hurt those pokemon. it wasnt their fault i think those cystals were controlling them and i killed them and i dont even remember doing it i dont even know what exactly happened

ive been on the lookout for those weird rock cystal things again. for a while some stuck on my hands but eventually they fell off, guess my hands didnt have room for more weird stuff on them, kihihi. my pokemon all have a buddy system now and have to report nightly to be sure theyre all alright if they roam

we all survived at least. char cant fly anymore though. its my fault.