#demon!Jameson
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Jamie : *Accidentally hits Gray in the face*
Jamie : *Trying to decide between saying 'I’m fucking sorry' and 'Are you okay'*
Jamie: ARE YOU FUCKING SORRY?!
Gray: What’s wrong with you?!
#this is just the way they say ily#it's not their fault that these broke people don't understand#jameson hawthorne#avery grambs#avery kylie grambs#averyjameson#grayson hawthorne#grayson x lyra#lyra x grayson#lyrason#lyra kane#lyra catalina kane#nash hawthorne#xander hawthorne#libby grambs#maxine liu#tig#the inheritance games#the grandmaster of demonic cultivation#tig fandom#rohan tgg#gigi grayson#savannah grayson
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After almost 22 hours of work- it is done! (Click for better quality! You know the deal with tumblr lol)
Sorry it’s watermarked to all hell y’all- my last version of this got stolen and used soooo many times. But I did really wanna share my improvement with y’all!
A whole 5 years!! I’m like- blown away with what I managed to do ngl and it was so much fun to revisit this!
Oh and soon I’ll have watermarkless prints of these guys available on my Etsy! I was just like literally finished and was too excited to share it first!
And I feel this goes without saying but *ahem* DO NOT REPOST!! ICONS, BANNERS ETC. NEED TO BE CREDITED! If I see this reposted or stolen you will be dealt with and blocked.
Edit: PRINTS NOW AVAILABLE!!
#Jacksepticeye#septicart#possessed egos redraw#septic egos#chase brody#dr schneeplestein#marvin the magnificent#jackieboy man#jameson jackson#antisepticeye#tw: blood#tw: implied self harm#tw: demonic possession#I want to do another Speedpaint but it’s if I can edit it decently cuz I forgot to film some stuff HFGVH
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The opening to Absolute Carnage vs Deadpool is so freakin funny, I want a print of that J. Jonah Jameson panel.
Absolute Carnage vs Deadpool issue 1 -- writer Tieri, pencils Ferreira, inks Poggi, colors Rosenberg
#I really love Ferreira's art in this series#absolute carnage vs deadpool issue 1#deadpool#wade wilson#spider-man#peter parker#j jonah jameson#wait can I tag all of those villains?#mr. negative#rhino#electro#vulture#swarm#hydro man#scorpion#speed demon#stegron#tarantula#chameleon#white rabbit#...ah dang it the green-skinned insect stumped me
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Chibi Angel & Demon Jameson 😇😈
#chibi#fanart#chibi art#art#jacksepticeye#jacksepticeye fanart#jameson jackson#Jameson Jackson fanart#angel#demon
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i love drawing spooky succubus demon jackie sm 🖤
#i need to draw more angel!jameson.....with his broken wings and religious trauma#unfortunately every time i think of the angel and demon au i start worldbuilding. which is too much work#for a hot sexy au where jameson and jackie can have crazy demon sex#BUT ANYWAYS HERES A DRAWING#my art#jackieboy man
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Abigael is truly one of a kind
#charmed cw#charmed reboot#charmed 2018#abigael jameson caine#abigael caine#icons only#she may be half demon but she's not a monster
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This is coming from a sleep deprived student running on caffeine and youtube vids but
Jameson Jackson and Shane Madej are the same guy.
#hear me out here#both love puppets and shows#both HAVE a puppet show#each has thought to be a demon by the respective fans at some point#also said puppet shows deal with time travel#DO YOU SEE THE VISION#jameson jackson#JJ#egos#jse egos#Shane Madej#puppet history#jacksepticeye
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Happy Birthday Anti
There’s few days that will give someone or something power, Halloween or Samhain depending on the circles you know is the most well known for giving power as the veil between the human world and the spiritual plane is at its thinnest. The Equinoxes, Eclipses, Turning of the Year possibly.
But none of these are as powerful as the day of one’s birth.
Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you~
Chase felt like he was going to throw up, he was filled with anxiety to the point he’d almost had an asthma attack just getting breakfast from the local diner and he didn’t know why. It kept him pacing around his apartment and a hand on a weapon he hadn’t used in years. It felt like he’d forgotten something extremely important but for the life of him he couldn’t remember what it was. At least he couldn’t remember until there was a flash of green static across his phone. Until his heart felt like it burst and he scrambled to dial the others. Only for the flood of static through his veins from the contact to turn everything dark as a familiar giggle rang out in his apartment.
Henrik couldn’t stop fidgeting, couldn’t stay still. He paced in his office, down the halls of his clinic, clicked his pen or ran his thumb over his scalpel. His mind whirled as he didn’t remember why he had to obsessively check that Jack was alright, why he felt like he was going to fall into a panic attack if he didn’t move today. Or that’s what he attempted to do, as he tried to make another round his foot caught on what he assumed was the IV line for Jack. He looked down to dismantle it and found strings, there was a skipping from his heart in terrified realization. His attention snapped up as the heart monitor raced. And then went green as he felt familiar pressure coil around his throat and everything started to dim.
Jameson was a mess and he didn’t understand why. He hadn’t stopped shaking since he’d woken up this morning, he’d almost spilled hot water over himself making tea. He had his watch clutched in a death grip, the ticking clock should’ve been reassuring but it felt like each tick was a hammer blow against his sanity. He froze completely as there was the rising static in the air, as he felt the ticking go out of sync, inner workings started to break. There was a flood of utter fear as his aura snapped out and tried to freeze time to protect himself but he still screamed in his mind as control was yanked away from him.
Jackie panted for air as he paused on a rooftop near Henrik’s clinic. He felt like he needed to keep everyone in sight, like he needed to check on the city for something. His lungs burned and power flared in his veins with the pounding heartbeat fueled by adrenaline. The need to protect drove him as he started another circuit close to where the other Egos were. He felt like there was going to be an attack but he couldn’t know where it would come from. There was a flood of fight instinct as a neon sign went green. It suddenly hit him and the fight mixed with the urge to defend as he worried for the others. As he threw a punch, it was caught and his nerves lit up in pain before he had time to scream.
Marvin’s magic couldn’t control itself today, it flared and hummed to be used but for what he didn’t know as he sketched out runes on the ground in the forest. He needed to do something today, anything, or he’d thought he’d lose his mind, so he was going to do what was supposed to be a simple summoning for elemental forces to thank them. It was October after all, Samhain was going to be this month and it would be easier to do this now rather than then when they’d all be more powerful.
The magician’s ears twitched as he thought he heard something on the wind, it sounded almost like voices but he couldn’t make them out yet. He guessed it was spirits, excited for the same reason as he finished the circle and started to chant and push his magic into it.
Only everything went horribly w r o n g.
The circle flooded with bright green, the wind picked up, dry lightning cracked down around him as static hissed in his ears. Instantly Marvin cursed in Gaelic an he tried to stop the ritual, to break the circle by disrupting the runes, there was an explosion of power that threw him back.
Then a clawed hand wrapped around his throat like an iron clamp and lifted him up as glowing green eyes locked onto his. As a familiar twisted grin showed all the glitch’s fangs as it stretched over his face.
Marvin struggled wildly, clawed at the glitch’s arm and tried to kick from where he hung in the air. His eyes wide and panicked, how was he this strong?!? He shouldn’t be this strong it was only the beginning of October they still had time-
He felt an absolutely freezing chill of realization run down his spine as it hit him like a freight train. The beginning of October, the first in other words-
He heard the whispering again, but clearly now. It sounded like millions of voices singing in different tones and ranges.
Happy Birthday, Dear Anti~
Anti purred as he pulled the magician close, as he relished in the utter terror on his expression at how they’d all forgotten. He didn’t know that the glitch had made them forget just so he could see it, and he’d do it again for the next year after he was finished. Oh he was going to have so much f u n today~
“Happy Birt’day ta me~”
#Antisepticeye#Glitch Demon#Chase Brody#Trick Shots#Doctor Henrik#German Surgeon#Jameson Jackson#Gentle Silence#Jackieboy Man#Homemade Hero#Marvin the Magnificent#Feline Mystic#Jacksepticeye Ego#Jacksepticeye Fandom#Fanfic#South Writes#I had this idea *literally* as I got up and had to get it down#So you all get two fics today!
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Oi, Bakas of the World. Can we enjoy Disney, or are one of you Bakas gonna throw a punch?
#layouts#screenshots#collages#stickers#texts#hobby#habit#marvel comics#comic book pages#comic book panels#spider man#demon slayer kimetsu no yaiba#nezuko kamado#tanjiro kamado#nezuko chan#j jonah jameson#spider slayers#mcu spiderman#deadpool#venom#tony stark#thought bubbles#speech bubbles#black cat#spider verse#gwenpool#alistair smythe#demon slayer swordsmith village arc#kamado siblings#tasm 2
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CONCEPT: jameson is the one who kills anti himself to escape with the other egos but he becomes so in denial about the fact that he killed his husband that he forgets he did it. what im saying is theres a silent hill 2 au. he goes insane and is forced to face his inner demons reflective of his trauma until he comes to terms with the fact he shot and killed anti
#might be something to bookmark if i ever do an overhaul of my lore........#id love there to be a thing where marvin makes him forget about what he did#through some kind of forced hypnosis (my marvin is questionably moral)#and so he doesnt realize what he did for most of the lore until marvin themself reveals the plot twist#ego posting#i think jameson being forced into a labyrinth of hell where all the demons represent#some kind of aspect of his trauma#and at the end he comes to terms with the fact his late abusive husband is rotting in the backyard#and he was the one who killed him because he had no other choice than to kill or be killed#move OVER jackie the REAL psychological torment and distorted reality#is now jamesons thing lol
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Reece is tired asf help him give him coffee
#drawing#my ocs#Reece Jameson#demon oc#demon#you'd think he likes that dark bitter coffee#But no he likes sweet coffee#But he did go through a dark and bitter coffee phase#He's old#And gay#homosexual
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Buy The Book - Bucky Barnes
Authors Note: I got inspired by that movie, idk what to say
Warnings: Kidnapped
Word Count: 2393
Requests:OPEN
[Thank you for the gif @bill-weasley ]
Enjoy!
Something was off about the day and no one believed you.
Maybe it was the morose hotel room your agent had put you in for the week, or maybe it was just the gray foggy weather. Either way out you felt like something was wrong, you felt like you were being watched.
“Honey, I needed you ready like 30 minutes ago.” Your agent, Santana, stresses the second she enters the hotel room with her own key copy. She attacks you quickly, pulling you from the bed and pulling you to where you had laid out your shoes the night before. “This is ridiculous and you know it.”
“I just have a bad feeling.” You mumble, letting her slip the heels on you as if you were a child. She pats your calf solemnly before standing to fix your hair and check your makeup one more time.
“I know, you’ve told me all of this before. . You feel as though you are being watched, Michael Jackson style. You don’t feel good. You forgot to eat breakfast. You forgot to wash your laptop.” She rants, snatching both your ids for the event before grabbing both your bags and leading you out of the room.
You turn at the least second, needing to see the door shut for your own sanity before you allow her to lead the way.
“I think you are just stressed. You have always hated large crowds and you hate talking in front of people but this is a necessity. You have a terrific book out and you need to own it.” Terrific is definitely not how you would describe the book. Not in the slightest. But Santana had always admired your books far too much.
It had started years ago, 8 books exactly, and you had been up on an all nighter the day the original project came to mind.
You had been taking a publishing class and among 24 other aspiring authors you were sure the dream wasn’t worth it anymore. Especially after you had all received the project for the next month, write your own novel.
There were hundreds of ideas that came to mind for you, heroes and villains alike, and you were sure that no matter what genre you picked from the suspense bucket your professor carried around you would have it down. Then you unrolled it you saw in the neatest handwriting you had ever seen….ROMANCE.
And you knew you were screwed.
Up all night, page after page of ideas you can do, all of which you hated. You hated the genre, the least romantic person alive and of course fate would have you be the one to choose the subject. You had always wanted to do fantasy, with epic battles or sci fi.
Anything but romance.
You were just about to give up, hyping yourself up to march to your professors class and demand a new one, but then on the way out of the library in an attempt to hide from the sun like a forgotten demon you ended up running into the campus crazy.
Redmayne, an old man that swears his family was murdered one night by a man with a metal arm, that he had stolen something from his family. “THE WINTER SOLDIER! HE’S COMING FOR US ALL!”
And he had sketched the face onto the sign he carried around.
You remember stopping short, nearly stumbling from the sudden stop as your bag swung around and you took in the sketch. You were a terrible person to say that the sketch was one of the most attractive men you had ever seen.
Just a black and white coal sketch and your heart was beating through your chest.
“Sir,” You called, already feeling like a fool. “I have 40 dollars in my pocket and I’ll give it all to you for that sign.”
And thus your new world was created.
‘The Frost Warrior’ was born, weeks of pouring over your laptop as you created the story of a man named Jameson Boone, a man who once fought for his country and now served as a brainwashed assassin. And no one could forget the leading lady, the spy that met him on a mission and have continued to work together since, with tension and heat keeping them close.
Your teacher had loved it so much she recommended it, and you received an agent. And the series became real.
Soon enough the ‘Frost Warrior’ and his true love were being snatched from every bookshelf as people followed along with their journey.
“I think it was the last book.” You mumble, watching the elevator doors close you both in as she whips her head to glare.
“What? What do you mean?” She snaps out. “Jameson just got freed from their captors!”
“So? Now what will he do?” You laugh bitterly, pulling at the awkward outfit you were wearing. “The Frost Soldier is out in the real world. There is no more story.”
“Bitch, revenge.” Your publicist snaps, hands out in the hair from shock. “I want him to get his revenge. To…… to find that person. The head of it all. I want Jameson to come back and prove himself. Last book? We have built an empire off these novels and you want it to be the last book?”
“I don’t know. It seems weird. With all the fighting on the news, did you see that captain america footage? It just feels like there are more serious things to-”
“We will talk about this later.” She snaps once the doors open, pulling you with her to meet your awaiting fans.
Minutes go by and soon enough you're blinking to try and see through the amount of flash photography there was, smiling a tight smile as it all begins to die down and the questions start coming in.
“What was your inspiration?”
“A sign, years ago, with a drawing on it.” You smile.
“Did you inspire Stephen off of Steve Rogers?”
“No. I actually have no clue where he came from.”
“You mentioned on your last tour that the rare amulet the Frost Warrior had gone to find was inspired by the ‘Amulet of Ronav’ which was just recently given to a museum after being missing since your book. Were you excited about the news?”
“Yes.” You admit, nodding. “Though I am so curious as to who randomly decided to return that.”
“Do you think the ‘Frost Warrior’ will try and find some of the weapons that ‘Baskilisk’ was making him hunt down? Maybe assassinate the monsters that hurt him?”
And you drew blank on that question because truth was you could see it, you could see the man of your imagination crawling through vents and tunnels to find the weapons before they could. You could see him growing his relationship with his old best friend and joining the new world with his leading lady.
But you didn’t want to anymore.
“If you’ll excuse me.” You rush out, standing quickly to walk out of the conference and rush to the bathrooms. Nauseated and tired.
This was never what you had imagined.
In your rush to run some cold water and pour it on your face you missed the man coming into the bathroom right behind you until you stood at full height to look in the mirror. Jumping quite a bit when you see him.
“OH MY-” You whirl, kicking out and managing to hit his thigh before his own hand reaches out to grab your throat, pushing you into the wall beside the sink and cutting off your circulation as you scratch and claw at his hands.
His eyes were red, not bloodshot but the pupils of them were red, like a demon and by the way he didn’t even flinch when you scratched across his face you were sure he was.
“Easy now pet.” He mumbles, pushing you up by your throat until your feet were no longer on the floor. “I ain’t gonna kill ya. I just need you to…..”
And the words were missed by the way your vision blacked out, body going limp.
-
“Oh, can we get the bag off her head please?” A voice breaks out, sounding a bit slow as you blink in a pitch black nothing, until someone roughly pulls the bag over your head and you are forced into a new light. “Oh, she does not look well.”
“They drugged her in the car.” Someone behind you mumbles as your head sinks forward, trying to close your eyes again.
You must have passed out for a couple more minutes before a bucket of freezing cold water is splashed over you, snapping you awake in a panic. You struggle to catch your breath as you fight against the restraints on your wrists and ankles.
“WHAT THE FUCK?” You manage to scream out, your voice scratchy and dry as the bondages scratch and pull at the skin. But you can’t stop the panic, can’t stop the way your body struggles and your breaths shorten, can’t stop the tears from falling down until you can taste the salt of them. “What. The. Fuck.”
“I’m sorry, really, about all of this.” Someone sighs out, wearing an overly expensive tux and far too much gel in his hair. “I’m a big fan and it was never meant to get this far.”
“What the fuck.?” You gasp out, looking around you in attempt to process what was going on. Every wall was gray and metal, with what looked to be bolts sticking out, the floor concrete. Nothing to recognize.
The men standing around you all stood with guns at their hips wearing black on black, all looking a bit bored at the moment which was a complete contrast to how you were feeling.
“Am I in a warehouse?”
“GOOD EYE!” The gel hair laughs out, clapping his hands together. “You are just absolutely marvelous.Didn’t I tell you guys?”
“You’re going to kill me!” You cry out, fighting against the restraints a little more. “Please please please, don’t! I’ll give you anything!”
“We don’t want to kill you lovey.” He sighs out, coming to pull a bit of your hair between his fingertips. “We just need some information.”
You stay silent in hopes that he will explain more, closing your eyes to try and even out your breathing, making your body go still to try and ease some of the burn you had given yourself from fighting against the zip tie. Only he doesn’t keep talking, instead he watches you as if you were stupid.
“Information….on?” It felt silly, pulling an attitude while being tied up to the chair.
“The Winter Soldier.” The man smiles, still looking confused that you didn’t already know, tilting his head as he awaited your answer. “Oh. right. I apologize, you probably prefer to call him that code name….. The Frost Warrior.”
It’s silent for a moment while you blink at him, finally coming to terms with what he was saying before you burst out into laughter so hard that your ribs started aching. You couldn’t stop laughing, the tears less of panic and more so of humor now as you tried to calm down.
“Excuse me-” Gel hair tries to interrupt before you shake your head.
“Okay, where are the damn cameras?” You blurt, laughing as you turn to look for them. “This is a prank, right?”
“I can assure you-”
“Honestly Santana did too much this time.” You laugh. “You want to know about the Frost Warrior, well hate to break it to you bud, that was my last book.”
“Last book?”
“Yes, Last one.” Your laugh dies down a bit. “No more Jameson Boone, no more searching for lost and ancient weapons. Or being an assassin.”
“Well….Jameson Boone has stolen something from me. And I think he needs to be handled. So I would disagree.” Gel hair bites out, taking a couple steps forward in anger, and you begin to realize that he was being completely serious.
“You have been publishing stories that have actual information in them for years and now I;m currently being HUNTED by that fool and I know you know his next move so you NEED TO TELL ME!”
“Wait-” You gasp as you catch the glint of a knife right before his body slumps down quickly, everyone not tied to a chair moving forward to see what might have happened. You angle your body to look to see what happened and you notice the bullet hole the same time they do.
A scream tears through your throat as the men around you all raise their guns in their own panic.
More pops ring out and more bodies slump before a hooded figure marches into the room. Every move is one done in grace, when they smash their foot in someone's face they don’t miss a second before throwing someone over their shoulder and smashing a gun.
You take this opportunity to try and escape, throwing your body in an attempt to get rid of the zip ties only for the chair to fall back, your body with it, both landing with a heavy thud as your head cracks into the concrete.
“Oh…” You whine out in pain, wanting nothing more than to hold your head as the hooded figure comes to stand over you. “Wait, please I beg you-”
“Don’t.” The figure grunts out, reaching up to remove the hood, the face from the sign years ago. The same jaw and the same eyebrows pinched together in anger. “And maybe next time you’re kidnapped you shouldn’t offer to give them everything.”
“Oh my god.” You gasp out, blinking twice as much to erase the image. “This isn’t real. I’m dreaming.”
“Come on.” He grunts, lifting the chair to slice the zip ties with his knife easily, hauling you over his shoulder.
“You’re not real.” You mumble, feeling something warm leak down your face. “Oh my god I hit my head and I’m bleeding out. I’m dying.”
“You’re not dying.”
“I am. Because I’m talking to a fictional character right now.” You’re set down then, on your feet so the man before you can assess the damage with an angry glare.
“We haven’t been formally introduced, I’m Bucky Barnes…. I think…. And you’ve been writing novels about me.”
-
Part 2?
#bucky barnes#bucky barnes angst#bucky barnes smut#bucky barnes fluff#bucky barnes fanfic#bucky barnes au#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes imagine#winter soldier#winter soldier x y/n#winter soldier imagines#winter soldier x reader#winter soldier imagine#winter soldier smut#winter solider x reader#winter soldier fanfiction#winter soldier x you#winter soldier fic#marvel#marvel imagine#marvel smut#marvel angst#marvel fanfiction#marvel fanfic#marvel cinematic universe
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Chase had been home all day, checking emails and having meetings from his laptop. He was able to get most of that done around lunch time though, having gotten up early to make sure he had time later to relax. So as Jameson left, he was there to wish his friend goodbye. The artist seemed as happy as usual, Chase excited for him to get some time alone at the café. It was probably paradise for someone like him, having seein artists draw there before.
Once the father was done eating, he put his plate in the sink and went to go hang out in the livingroom. As he walked down the hall though, he saw a paper. Oh no, Jamie must've lost one of his drawings! That was okay, Chase would give it back when he came home. Or at least, he planned to. That was until he saw it, eyes widening as he look a moment to look at the picture.
He didn't recognize the bedroom, but it was just a messy sketch. It could definitely be his own room, and in that room had a crying faceless figure with.. a spilled bottle of pills. Originally Chase chalked it up to a rather concerning drawing, but maybe his friend was just experimenting with new themes. And then he spotted the date at the top, and his heart dropped to his stomach.
Why the fuck was this drawing of someone overdosing marked for tomorrow?
Before he knew it, he was banging at Anti's door, doing his best to keep himself from having a panic attack as fear flooded his mind. Jameson was planning to do something tomorrow, and he was terrified of losing his friend. Chase felt like an awful friend for not noticing sooner. Of course someone couldn't be a ball of sunshine all the time. It was a cover up. Jamie was faking it.
"Anti!" he called as he knocked, panic in his voice. Anti was the only other one home, but he was also the one Chase felt needed to know most. Chase had been here, he sat at rock bottom with all of his beer bottles, but Anti had sat down there too.
A Worrisome Sketch [ x ]
@cute-and-undead
Jameson was always known as being a ray of sunshine to all who knew him. He was hardly ever upset and always liked to keep an optimistic outlook on even the most dire situations. Supporting his friends and family were always one his of priorities, and it sometimes meant that he forgot to look out for himself. He didn't want to burden anyone with his worries and troubles, so a lot of the things he experienced went unseen and unheard.
It was the same thing now, the dapper man sitting at the desk in his room, head propped up in his left hand while the other finished drawing a sketch. It wasn't professionally done by any means as it wasn't meant to be seen by anyone else's eyes but his own, mostly just being for the sake of trying to cope with his emotions. The sketch was of his old bedroom when he was a teenager, a faceless figure sitting on the floor next to the bed with a bottle of prescription pills sprawled out on the ground next to them. The figure was slouched, a single tear etched out on their nonexistent face. It was just a pencil sketch, the lines not cleaned up and scratchy, but the image portrayed being evident. At the top of the paper was the date for the following day, representing the day that Jameson had tried to take his own life several years ago.
This was something no one knew about and that JJ struggled with silently. He always felt off around this time but never let it show, putting up a face as he went about like nothing was different. And he did the same this time, grabbing the piece of paper and slipping it into his personal sketchbook, deciding that he wanted to go to a café and do some sketching there to make himself feel better.
However, what Jameson didn't notice as he was walking down the hall with the sketchbook under his arm was that the drawing slipped out from between the pages, floating down silently and landing face-down on the floor. He left the house without noticing its absence, or knowing that anyone else would see it.
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The Devil in Angel's Clothing.
heads up, smutty ass Jameson fic about James getting caught in some girly lingerie...
NSFW WARNING
oh yah, for reference, these are the lingerie referenced!.
Everyone has their skeletons. Some are more visible, more malleable, and more sinister than others. For rockstars, that’s just an immediate consequence of a title. James Hetfield of California’s beloved Metallica has always seemed so powerful, so raw and masculine that it didn’t matter what he did. What mattered was the respect you gave and the bullshit you had to put up with. That, at least, was the mindset of newly declared bassist, Jason Newsted.
Newsted was still fresh, still a picture-perfect boyish freak with big dreams and an even bigger smile. It didn’t matter how many nasty words, pranks, cold shoulders, and even complete disregard were thrown his way. He is a determined man, and that man wanted to be a part of the band that changed his life in more ways than one. Even if it came with its pros and cons… more cons than pros.
The Damaged Justice tour of ‘88 was an ‘experience’, he’d put it. He was met with an assortment of challenges, a variety of rewards, and all-around enjoyment. But his stage presence didn’t end at the end of the show. Hell, it starts as soon as he wakes up in his hotel room to an intense array of banging on his door, yanking him free from his alcohol-induced rest.
“Newsted, open the fuckin’ door!” The first voice was the Danish demon himself, Lars Ulrich. Of course. Professional drummer, but full-time pain in the ass.
“C’mon, dammit, have some fun with us! Don’t hide away in here!” Even if he wasn’t always kind, Kirk Hammett had the least malicious intentions. Or at least, Jason liked to think so.
It wasn’t really until he heard the voice of brash vocalist, James Hetfield, that he felt a surge of dread. Along with a scratching sound, almost as if a card were being jabbed between the door itself and the lock, a malicious chuckle pierced the silence.
“You should’ve opened the door, Jase.”
Jason could barely open his eyes when he saw the three blurry figures rushing him. The extent they’d go to torment him was almost admirable. The creativity behind the desire to annoy, to dominate an imaginary claim was passionate. A passion that Jason wished was present when he approached them with his ideas. He felt rough hands on his shoulders, pinning him back against the tough mattress of his hotel bed. If there were a word that combined groggy, disoriented, exhausted, and annoyed, it’d be the perfect description for the bassist. The smell of alcohol on bad breath, the heat of new bodies in the room, the wild shrill laughter and commotion plus the pair of piercing eyes that stared down at him, was overwhelming to his barely functioning senses.
“Should’ve opened the door, pansy! Did you really think a cheap hotel lock was gonna save your ass? Fuckin’ idiot.” James grinned down at him, malice, enjoyment, and a mixture of a
certain thrill danced across his facial features. There was something about that glimpse in his eyes, a gleam that implied there were more feelings that Jason couldn’t quite read. There was something almost attractive about James’ weird ability to simply overpower. Jason would probably admire him just a little if he wasn’t on the receiving end of his aggression.
A wolfish grin paired with a rough voice distracted him from the truly degrading chaos occurring in his hotel, dragging his consciousness through the mud and hanging him up to dry. He felt every drop of alcohol leave his system, feeling painfully sober as he realized his environment.
Trashed, tattered, ruined beyond belief. An extra fee on his tab. Well, besides the absurd amount of room service, the guys ordered him the night before.
“Wh-... what the fuck is this, you guys?” the bassist groggily asked, earning a sadistic chuckle from his bandmates.
He brought himself up, stiffly shuffling to sit against the headboard of his bed, his feet kicking slightly against the sheets. He deeply inhaled through his nose, bringing a hand to his forehead as he tried to take in the new environment. However, the three grins and fixated gaze on him made it even harder to adjust and acknowledge the severity of the damage. Especially when James gestured for Lars and Kirk.
Wrapped up in his sheets, tangled in fabric, the three men began to flip his mattress, leaving his body to fall off the side, dangerously close to hitting his head on the corner of the nightstand. Immediately curled in a ball, the mattress came crashing down, leaning against the wall. Ironically, Jason felt safer in this complementary cave than outside the hotel room with the boys. He took a moment to catch his breath, his mind running in all directions yet backward at the same time. For a moment, he couldn’t make out the sounds of the retreating men, but one sour note rang clear in his ear.
“Yeah, welcome to Metallica, faggot.”
And then the door slammed shut.
Five words rang in Jason’s ears, even if it’s been about an hour and a half later at this point. Unfortunately, Jason’s morality told him to clean up the best he could, and that’s what he spent that hour and a half doing. Thinking, cleaning, pissing, seething. He wasn’t a violent guy, but part of him wanted to storm into Hetfield’s hotel room and at least give him a good right hook. He knows better, though. He knows better. He thinks he knows better. He does know that James is probably drunk right now, knee-deep in groupies, lounging in fame, relishing in his actions. Not a lick of guilt in the world. Just pride. Pride and an ever-growing ego locked away behind all those muscles. An ego that ditched his humanity for an almost god-like status.
And before he knew it, he was halfway down the hall.
There was something about the way James had called him a ‘faggot’. It made him angry, but not because of its implications. No, it was the way that his one word made him feel lesser, subhuman. James spat venom at him with every chance he could get but it was always somehow linked to Jason’s status as a man or his sexuality. Petty shit like that never really bothered him, it just reminded him of his bandmates’ mental age and lack of maturity. James had meant every word he said to the bassist, all possessing some cryptic hidden message. Newsted’s hand rested on the doorknob feeling the cold metal underneath his palm. If his brow furrowed any further, he felt like his veins would pop. His jaw tight, teeth grinding against enamel, he raised his hand to knock.
But he stopped. He stopped at the sound of shuffling feet. Through the crack of the door, he could smell something sweet. Like… bubblegum sweet. There was faint music, it sounded melodic, almost romantic. A complete contrast from James’ entire persona and behaviors. His eyebrows furrowed as he pressed his ear closer, squeezing his eyes shut as he listened to the darling music, almost feeling like he was at his high school prom again.
My Special Angel by The Vogues.
Jason’s stomach flipped at the song, his eyebrows furrowing as he wondered what James would be doing listening to a song like that. Before he knew it, his hand was twisting the knob ever so slowly, silently pushing open the silent door. He stuck in his head, his eyes settling on the flickering flames of candles, sickeningly sweet like honey. The bathroom door was open, a light leeching into the dimness of the hotel room. James’ shadow loomed on the wall, tall and broad. However, there was something about his shadow.
He could make out the motion of his arms, running over himself, tugging fabric onto the skin. He could hear the silkiness of the fabric against James’ skin. James’ hands traced up his leg, a gentle grunt of frustration escaping the larger man’s mouth. Rustling of paper and cardboard could be heard, the sound of the material hitting the floor barely muffled by the music. Jason cursed himself for being this nosy, almost forgetting the original motivation.
He slowly stuck more of his head into the doorway, furrowing his brow at the thought of what James could be possibly up to. He hadn’t a clue why the larger man wasn’t blacked-out drunk and collapsed on his hotel bed. Instead, he seemed rather sober and aware. Almost precise with his movements. He moved with such grace and satisfaction, that Jason felt like he was watching a piece of art from the door. Swallowing nerves, he stepped further into the room, half his body now stepping into the tempting abyss.
Hands delicately dressed James as if he were made of porcelain, pulling the fabric up his body once he stepped into the article of unknown clothing. Jason listened as James huffed with slight frustration, snapping himself into whatever finery he so carefully maneuvered. His hands reached back, leaning his head forward to adjust himself from behind. He pulled on the bottom of
the piece before pulling at the straps, setting himself nicely in the fabric. A huff of satisfaction pushed past his lips as he slid into the final piece of attire.
Jason felt his heart begin to pound as James finished getting dressed, turning off the bathroom light, and stepping into his hotel room. His grayish-blue hues almost bulged out of his head at the sight before him, his lips parting silently as the oxygen in his lungs hitched into a silence.
James. James Hetfield. Was running his hand through his brushed and soft blonde hair, his eyebrows furrowing and eyes fluttering closed as his other hand ran down his side, letting out a sigh of satisfaction at the silky pink lingerie set. What shocked him the most was how well it fit him, almost like it was made for his broad body.
Something about the material didn’t make him feel as big and broad anymore. It almost… pampered him. Hugging his frame, squeezing and pushing his features into a feminine image that threatened to betray the raging masculinity in James’ heart. Jason burnt each piece of clothing to his brain; A pink floral body suit with a cleavage cut that made Jason’s head spin, a silky thin robe of the same color yet translucent material, these high stockings that meshed well with his skin tone, tight and emphasising the fat of James’ thigh when his skin met the welt of the stocking. And finally, his favorite piece, those velvety pink, floral laced, tight and fitting panties. Jesus fucking Christ, the bassist wondered if he were dying and this was some sort of alcohol-poisoning hallucination he was having.
He stared closer at the side of James’ face. He looked so clean, so taken care of. So fragile and perfect. His eyelashes fluttered against his cheeks as he glanced down at himself, running his hands over his hips and waist again. Jason didn’t remember James having anything close to a fitted form like this, curved and sightly. Even with his stubble of a mustache, he looked so suddenly feminine.
His lips were stained with something that made them look pinker, more flush, and plump. The bassist licked his own instinctively, especially as he watched James flow over to the record player, tilting his head and clicking his tongue at the next song playing. Unamused- or, well, turned off by the song, he switches the record, the scratch of the needle causing Jason to jump.
The big move occurs, and James bends over to dig through his suitcase. Not at the knees, no, he arches down to rummage through, a deep sigh escaping him as he does so.
Jason’s breath finally gives in, roughly pushing past his lips in desperation, rudely revealing his position, startling the beautiful piece of artwork in front of him. He watched as James stood straight, body tense with fear and shock. His piercing blue eyes fixated on Jason, who was now fully in the room, standing in front of the door with wide eyes.
Jason stared in terror. Well, horrified by getting caught. Especially when it hits him that his jeans weren’t this tight before he came in.
Before he could speak, Hetfield beat him to it.
“What the fuck are you doing in here?!” The blonde yelled, yet not too loud.
He and Newsted both knew why.
The bassist struggled to find the words, his eyes stinging from how hard he was staring at his bandmate. He raised his hands in surrender, submitting before the demand to stand down was made.
“I-I’m so sorry, dude, I didn’t mean to barge in. I just… I, uh… fuck, I’m sorry-”
James was mortified. It was as if all the anger in his body was replaced with an unfamiliar yet familiar sense of fear and embarrassment. He swallowed, his hands frozen and his eyes narrowing with rage. He breathes in and out through his nose, heavy and angry like a bull. However, he couldn’t move. His hands were clutching the record, his thumb rubbing the paper cover.
For a moment, Jason felt like he was in control. He swallowed, his jaw tensing before he licked his tongue over his lips, glancing at the nightstand next to his bed. The drawer was partially opened, ominous and promising some sort of erotic item in addition to the guitarist’s attire. He slowly took a step forward, a deep breath inflating and deflating his lungs. He chewed his lip as he looked around the hotel room, trying to piece together the actions he should take.
“Fuck are you doing?” James questioned, but there was an edge of vulnerability in his tone.
“Nothin’, just…” Jason’s eyes trailed up his body, his eyes softening with a sort of awe. Raking in the sight of his features, he appreciates his toned legs and nice thighs, fleshy and soft torso, strong arms, and beautiful face. His body felt like butter, melting at the flustered gaze in his eyes. It made him feel like he was in charge for once. For once. He moved closer, lowering his hands and fixating his eyes on his, a tense blue-on-blue connection. And before he knew it, he was a few feet away from James, his heart loud in his ears.
“What the fuck, Newsted? I-... I’m not- this isn’t what it looks like, man.” The blonde attempted to reason, his eyebrows furrowing as he found himself backed up against the dresser, the vinyl slipping out of his hands as he braced himself against the cold wooden furniture.
‘I’m not gonna tell anyone, man. Why would I do that?” Jason reasoned, feeling as if he were reasoning with a frightened animal. A predatory animal, yes, but still scared. “That’s… that’s a nice shade of pink on you-”
“Don’t be fucking weird, faggot. Quit staring at me…” James grumbled, his eyebrows in a deep furrow as the bassist crept closer. He snarled, a pang of embarrassment and rage rushing up his spine. He spits another insult, expecting Jason to back off.
“Stop fucking enjoying this, you queer-”
“I’m the queer? Last time I checked, I’m not prancing around in women’s clothing.” Jason retorted without thinking, matching James’ urgent tone.
However, maybe he shouldn’t have said that. That’s what he thought as James pushed himself off the dresser roughly grabbing the bassist by his shoulders and squeezing him tight. A lion with its claws deep in its prey.
“You better shut your fuckin’ mouth, Newsted. You barge in here, call me a queer, and you enjoy every second of it. You have no business in here, so you should be lucky I don’t pound your little goddamn ass back to Michigan.”
Jason knew he meant beating the shit out of him, but the words ‘pound your ass’ made his cheeks flush. James was so close, his breath hot on his face. He couldn’t smell the alcohol anymore. Instead… listerine. It was like James was really taking care of himself like a real chick. He let out a noise that sounded too deep to be a squeak, but too aroused to sound like a grunt. Shit, he was hard. His jeans were too tight on his thighs.
The situation only got worse once James’ eyes trailed down to Jason’s crotch, his eyebrows furrowing with shock and frustration. He didn’t appreciate the churn he got in his stomach, the sudden butterflies in his chest that caused molten heat to pour into his core.
Both of them were into it.
“James…” Jason started, his voice barely a mumble. His eyes focused on the other’s lips, admiring the shine of his gloss. He swallowed, his hands moving up slowly, ghosting James’ body.
“We… um… I won’t tell anyone. Not a soul. But, uh, I think that…” Jason paused, his tongue feeling thick in his mouth as he struggled to find the words. His fingertips grazed the silk of James’ bodysuit, his eyes almost fluttering at the sensation of the clothing material. He felt James tense under his touch, hardening against his palms. He shook his head with reassurance, looking up at the vocalist.
“We can work something out. If you’re down.” Jason spoke so softly, it almost felt like a spell on James. A breath hesitantly pushed past James’ lips, relaxing underneath his fingers. He didn’t seem so convinced yet, however.
Newsted smiled, his stupid fuckin’ mug giddy like a kid. He cleared his throat, his fingers gently clutching the fabric in his fingers, massaging the silky bodysuit. He looked up at James’ expression, noticing that his anger was replaced by nervous arousal.
“It’d be a shame to waste such a pretty set like this, yeah?”
Neither of them could remember how any of this started. James seemed a little pissy at first, leading to a struggle, leading to bodies crashing onto the soft sheets, leading to Jason's lips littering James’ neck with kisses and hickies. James’ head pressed against the pillow, his hands pressing against the headboard of the bed to ground himself. He wasn't too happy with the prepping part, but he was pretty damn happy when Jason slipped right in and brushed his prostate with accuracy and care. He declared himself the happiest man on Earth through groans and hisses.
Jason couldn’t fathom how fast his head was spinning, how his body managed to melt into James’ with each feverish roll of his hips. His hands clutched tightly onto James’ thigh, resting the crook of his knee against his shoulder. His eyes stared down at the vocalist, huffing lightly with each movement.
A newly found fetish was discovered for Jason. The feel of silky panties under his palm as he reached one of his hands to pull them to the side. He licked his tongue over his lips, hungrily glaring down at James’ package tucked away behind the fabric. His hands ran over James’ thigh, nails scratching against the thin stocking. He’s in heaven, for sure.
James’ moans were literal music to his ears. A sweet melody performed for him and him alone. The blonde’s back arched up against Jason’s body, his eyes squeezed shut as hot tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. His hair sprawled across the pillow, his head tilting to the side and desperately rubbing against the soft material. He’d attempt to silence himself occasionally, yet gentle whimpers echoed in his throat, betraying his mute efforts. Jason smiled at his stubbornness, but overall he enjoyed this. He enjoyed how it was him pleasing James like this.
He enjoyed the addicting power he held ever-so-slightly.
But at the moment, he could give less of a shit about the power. Not when James was moaning so pretty because of him. He felt him squeeze around him, warmly accepting the stretch. His whole body felt hot, James was like a vacuum forever sucking him in with warm promise. He swallowed the spit that built up in his mouth, his eyebrows furrowing as he shifted his hips harder, grinding against him, burrowing deeper.
“You’re so pretty, James... Pretty angel. Just for me.” Jason grinned at James’ annoyed groan, gritting his teeth as Jason’s free hand rubbed up his stomach, his palm tracing the soft flesh over his lingerie. Suddenly, his palm rubbed up to his chest, cupping and squeezing his pec hungrily.
Rewardingly, a long moan was drawn out from James, his eyes fluttering open before closing again. Jason leaned forward, playfully humming with amusement as his fingers tilted James’ face towards his.
“No, no, look at me. Please… Look at me.” Jason pleaded, his voice soft and affectionate.
“C’mon, James. Open up those eyes.”
“Fuck- faster… f-fuck me faster, and then maybe.” James gruffly replied, remaining stubborn no matter what the circumstances. He knew what Jason wanted, but he wanted something more than this slow and deep fucking pace.
Jason scoffed, a grin on his face as he leaned forward, sliding James’ leg off his shoulder as he planted his hands on either side of James’ head. He shook his head, his brunette hair ghosting James’ face. “You’re a tease, Hetfield. A fucking tease.”
New position, new pace. James couldn’t help the flurry of moans that pushed past his lips, his eyebrows curling with pleasure as his mouth hung open. His hands reached up, cupping Jason’s neck, thumbs on either side of his Adam’s apple. He hissed in pleasure, a rattling groan escaping him.
“Yeah, y-yeah, fuck. Right there, don’t… Don’t you fucking stop, Newsted.” James croaked, his eyes opening to stare up at the bassist. The bed was creaking, egging them both on.
Jason’s groans become struggling moans, his eyebrows arching and his mouth gaping open. The pleasure was intense and overwhelming, crowding his senses in an enjoyably frantic way. He felt like he was in a goddamn frenzy eyes rolling in its sockets as he continue to pound into James with promise. The bassist felt his hips and back begin to ache, the consequences of fucking so slow for so long. But he couldn’t stop now. Not when his dick was so snug inside of James, not when he was so close, not when he was actually making James feel this good.
“Sh-shit, I’m gonna cum, James-” The bassist declares, beginning to sit up. Suddenly, Jason was taken off-guard by the sudden shift of movement, James sitting up urgently and propping himself up with one elbow. His hand slithered and grabbed the back of his neck, stopping Jason from sitting up any further and pulling him right back down, pressing their foreheads together regardless of the sticky sweat.
“No, don’t you stop. Don’t you fucking pull away from me. You better give me every last fucking drop, Newsted. Every last bit of you.” James warned, his eyebrows deeply knitted in a concentrated expression. He could feel the knot in his stomach, threatening to spill over sooner than later.
Jason nodded his head, supporting James’ neck with both of his hands, pressing himself closer to him as he began to put his all into his pace. He moaned out, his lips ghosting over James’ as the desperate noises of the two men became a seductive symphony, echoing in the room. The bed creaked and groaned, the sound of skin-on-skin becoming louder and desperate as the two men edged closer to finish.
“My pretty angel, m-my pretty boy. You’re so good, you’re s-so pretty, James.” Jason muttered, moaning against his lips. Desperate wasn’t even the word for his emotions.
“You mean it?” James found himself muttering a question forced out by the pleasure. His body bucked against Jason, struggling to contain himself. He whined, his eyes rolling back for a moment before glancing back up at Jason. “Say you mean it.”
Jason instantly nodded his head. “I mean it, I mean it, I-I promise. Please, I mean it.” He smiled through his overwhelming desires, eyes narrowing as he focused on the vocalist’s expression, the blissful pleasure evident on his face.
James couldn’t even muster a reply, a loud moan escaping him before his breath hitched in his throat, eyes squeezing tight once more. He held him close, pulling him down as his arms wrapped around his neck, tightly embracing him as his body shook with orgasm. He let out a string of moans, each one quieter than the last until he was silent. He felt himself tremble, feeling Jason’s racing heartbeat against him.
Jason was so blissed out, that he didn’t realize James’ eyes staring up at him. His body shook against James’ as he struggled to catch his breath, his eyes heavy as he let out gentle huffs and moans, the aftershock of his orgasm wracking his body. He finally glances down at James, his thumbs gently caressing the sides of his face, lovingly stroking his cheekbones. Naturally, he was an aftercare type of guy, and James looked too pretty to discard right now. He huffed when James tried to jerk away from his touch, smiling at him.
“Sorry, you’re just… pretty. Too pretty to waste.” Jason muttered, leaning down to get closer to his face. He waited for James to protest, but after a beat of a moment, Jason pressed his lips against James’, sweetly kissing him as a token of gratitude.
James swallowed, furrowing his eyebrows as he deepened the kiss, his hand cupping Jason’s jawline. His lips tasted like strawberry. Flavored lipgloss. What a goddamn sissy he was. Jason liked it, though. Hell, he loved every second.
“You know, Jason…” James started, muttering against his lips. His blue eyes stared up at Jason’s a teasing grin on his face.
“I think this was your best idea yet, Newkid. Should do this again, sometime.” James muttered, gently offering an open situation between them. Complex, yet somewhat symbiotic. He could’ve done so without the low blow, but he is James Hetfield himself, after all.
Jason pretended to be bothered, sucking his teeth and shaking his head lightly. He couldn’t betray the grin on his face, however. He reached up and ran a hand through James’ blonde locks, appreciating the soft locks underneath his fingers. A blessing like this shouldn’t be wasted, and he wasn’t one to deny a kiss from an angel.
“Sure, James. Sure.”
#james hetfield#metallica#jason newsted#jameson#metallica yaoi idk#smut#crossdressing#idk#pees#dont look at me
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to love and self loathe
part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5
Insert Clown Music Take Two
Its been a few weeks already since news and sightings of Spider-Woman being in Gotham had come out. People were theorizing as to why she was in Gotham. Some badmouthing her for leaving New Yorkers to fend for themselves, while others were saying how it was good that she was gone, and she was now Gotham's problem.
The talked-about-vigilante was currently pacing around her apartment, practically pulling her hair out at the fact everyone now knows that she's back, but not in New York.
She should have known that the press would be there at the party. It was Bruce Wayne's party for that matter! Gotham's infamous billionaire playboy! What was she thinking!?
Obviously she wasn't!
And as if to make matters even worse, last night, because of how tired she was, she ended up transferring photos of herself as Spider-Woman into the USB instead of photos of Gotham's vigilantes. She may as well yell at the top of her lungs at Wayne Tower that she was Spider-Woman.
She let out an exasperated groan and flopped down onto her couch. Just thinking about it made her want to jump in front of the subways of Gotham.
"I want you to take pictures of Spider-Woman."
The photographer stumbled a bit when making her way to her boss's desk.
"Pardon?" She blinked incredulously, thinking she had heard wrong.
"With Gotham's vigilantes to be more precise."
The vigilante in question watched as the other woman turned the screen towards her employee as she watched with wide eyes, a shaky video of her, Red Hood, and Nightwing fighting against Black Mask's men.
She felt her mouth become dry and the way her heart practically dropped down to her feet.
Of course there were reporters at the party.
"Ma'am, I don't think it's necessary to try and capture pictures of Spider-Woman." The photographer quickly tried to dissuade. "I mean, for all we know, she might have already left!"
"Nonsense." The older woman waved her employee's unnoticed pleas away. Turning her computer back towards her, the Spider could see a newfound glint in her boss' eyes.
"It's obvious she's here for a reason." Looking away from her screen, she stared at the Spider. "You've taken plenty of pictures of her back in New York, I'm sure this'll be easy work for you. Maybe you can even get Spider-Woman to do an interview with you."
"With all due respect—"
The office phone on the woman's desk began to ring, cutting the vigilante off. She watched the woman quickly pick it up, beginning to converse with the person on the other side.
All the while, the vigilante continued to stand there, her mind running thousands of miles a minute, trying to figure out how she can get herself out of this situation. It's not until the yell of her name brought her out of her slight state of panic.
Looking up, she saw her boss, face annoyed, office phone still in hand and pressed against her ear. Her hand was held out, her face showing obvious impatience.
Quickly, the photographer took out her USB drive from her camera bag and gave it to her boss who swiftly plugged it into her computer, her file opening.
She watched as her demon of a boss' eyes began to skim through the photos, a grin plastering itself onto her face. The Spider's stomach churned in anxiousness, her hands beginning to fidget with her camera bag.
Shit, what did she do?
"Honestly, you're just pulling at my leg at this point." Her boss started. "Jameson did say you were full of surprises though." She hummed. Looking back at her employee she was full of content now. "These pictures of Spider-Woman will do nicely."
Her heart practically dropped.
"What..?" She croaked out.
"They're from New York but thank god we have photo editors. Keep up the good work." She dismissed the photographer who could only stand there, wide-eyed and speechless.
Her boss all the while continued to talk to the person on the other side of the phone, not paying any attention to her employee anymore.
Coming back to the present, the 'retired' vigilante dragged her hands across her face, silently beating herself up for being so reckless.
Maybe it's not too late to change companies again? She could always try Metropolis. Or maybe head over to Washington in Starling City, she's heard that the views are beautiful over there.
Taking a glance at her phone, she noticed that she still had a full day ahead of her. Turning her head, she stared out her window for a long minute. Maybe going out could help calm her a bit.
With a sigh, she forced herself back onto her feet and put her shoes on, leaving her apartment and letting her feet take her wherever it decided to take her.
---
Her feet ended up taking her to a small coffee shop just a few ways away from her apartment. A different one this time. She didn't think she'd be able to handle the stress if she ended up going back to the same one where she got chased by the two lackeys of Black Mask, and then proceeded to get chased, again.
In the small coffee shop, the Spider found herself a comfy little spot in a corner booth by the window. In front of her was a small cup of coffee, the steam slowly rising from the liquid and dissipating into the slightly colder air.
Staring at the brown liquid, she grimaced while taking a small sip of the hot drink. Gently setting it down, she stared out the window, watching people pass by, cars driving through the streets.
God what was she going to do?
Stay? Go? Make amends with the bats and hope they take her heartfelt apology for even stepping foot into their territory?
Closing her eyes for a moment, she tried thinking of what she was going to do now that she pretty much messed up her chances of starting anew. Her brows furrowed, the sound of the quiet chatter of people in the coffee shop, the honking of cars outside, and the AC in the coffee shop buzzing beginning to slightly distract her.
And then—
"You're not making me do this project all by myself are you?"
Her eyes quickly opened.
"What?"
The woman stared at her boyfriend who had an amused look to his face. Her eyes flitted about. She was in his bedroom, the two of them sitting on the floor. He sat across from her as there was a pile of art and craft supplies between them.
"Everything okay?"
She looked up at the boy, who now looked worried. He reached over, hand gently cupping the side of her face, thumb slightly caressing her cheek.
She blinked a few times. "Uh, yeah, I just.." Her brows furrowed.
She just..?
Huh..
Seems like she's forgotten.
She shook her head, her hand gently pulling his hand away from her face while simultaneously giving it a small squeeze.
"Never mind." She smiled.
He stared at her for a moment, studying her expression before his own eased into a gentle smile.
"If you say so." He hums. "Anyways, we better start on this project. Wanna go grab the glue gun? It's on my desk." He motioned his head to his desk, the glue gun laying there.
Letting out a hum of her own, she got up and walked over to her boyfriend's desk.
"You think Ms. Henderson will notice if we add googly eyes to our..."
When she turns back around, she's no longer in his room. Her casual clothes no longer on her body and instead her Spider-Woman suit.
The glue gun now substituted for a metal beam that was raised over her head.
And in front of her?
"What are you waiting for?" His voice made a chill go down her spine as she stared at him. His malicious grin causing her fight or flight instincts to kick in.
"Aren't you going to kill me?!" The man lunged at her.
A scream of surprise and the sound of glass shattering made the woman quickly open her eyes. Her heart pounded against her chest, breath stuttering. Her eyes flitted about her surroundings, trying to ground herself of where she was at.
"Ma'am." A voice weakly called out to her.
Turning her head, she looked at a female employee who looked scared out of her mind. The Spider's eyes trailed down, her hand tightly gripping at the poor girl's arm.
"Oh..!" Quickly, she let go of the younger woman. Looking up, she saw as everyone's eyes were on her.
Standing up, she opened her mouth to apologize, but the sound of glass crunching beneath her shoes caused her to look down.
Her cup of coffee now broken and splattered all over the ground.
Could her day get any worse?
Embarrassed, she apologized once more, paying for both her coffee and the broken cup. She left a generous tip to the employee before quickly leaving the small shop.
Ducking her head down, she made her way back to her apartment, the sound of his laughter quietly haunting her with each step she took.
———
B A M ! !
W H A C K ! !
"Alright smart-ass, last chance." Jason shoved the barrel of his gun into the goon's jaw, his other hand tight around the collar of his suit.
"Tell me where Sionis is, I'll even make it less painful when I knock you out." He bargained.
"Fine I'll talk! I'll talk!" The goon was quick to give in, putting his hands up in surrender. "He's going to meet up with Penguin at one of his warehouses! On the Southside!"
Jason practically pushed his gun closer to the man's jaw, making it more uncomfortably painful for the henchman.
"This better not be another trick like last time." He snarled.
"It's not! I swear!"
"Good."
Jason hit the man's temple with the butt of his gun. He watched as the man fell, his hand going up and pressing a button on the side of his helmet.
"Found Sionis' location. Heading there now."
"Copy that. Let us know if you need backup." Oracle responded.
"Won't be needing it."
Pulling out his grappling gun, Jason left the building. Swinging from a few buildings, not far, hidden behind a few trash cans, he pulled out his motorcycle.
With a rev of the engine, Jason sped through the streets.
"You think she'll show up tonight?" Stephanie questioned through the comms.
"Who? Spider-Woman?" Dick questioned.
"Not with how Jason intimidated her." Tim snorted.
"Yeah Jason, why'd you have to scare her off?" Steph adds.
Jason rolled his eyes under his helmet. "She doesn't need to be in Gotham. If she wants to save people from thugs, she can go back to New York."
"You sound a lot like someone I know." Tim mocked.
Jason frowned. "Shut it Drake. I'll shove your pole up your—"
Bruce quickly intervened before anything else could happen between his children. "Enough. Focus on patrolling."
"Tt. You all are pathetic." Damian said.
Always had to have the last word.
Jason rolled his eyes once more. Pressing the same button, he turned his comms off, not wanting anyone else to bother him while he dealt with Sionis.
As he got closer to the warehouse, he cruised along the streets before turning into another alleyway. Turning off his bike, he made his way up onto the rooftops, grappling from building to building before landing gracefully on the roof of the warehouse.
Turning his detective vision on, he walked around a bit before finding himself a vent. Ripping it off with ease, a small grunt left him as he barely squeezed through the air vents.
Getting himself deeper into the building, his helmet began to pick up two familiar voices talking: Penguin and Black Mask.
"What? Don't believe me Sionis?" Penguin questioned.
"It's not that I don't believe you Cobblepot. I've just had a few rats lie to me these past few days with some recent deals."
The two crime lords stood face to face, a wooden crate opened with guns in them. Standing behind them respectfully were their multiple goons.
A stock difference between the group of men. Penguin's men looking rugged, donning wife beaters with a few jackets to protect them from the Gotham cold, some of them even wearing random masks and face paint. Sionis' men on the other hand all had suits on, all of them wearing a black mask just like the man they worked under.
There was a good number of them. 20 in total, not counting the two crime lords.
"Ah come on Sionis! You really think I'd backstab you? That'd be bad for business. I even got packed some good ones. See?" Penguin led Sionis over to the wooden crate, making the crime lords let out a low whistle.
"Not bad Cobblepot. How much?"
"How about–"
And then Red Hood could see a bit of movement from the corner of his eye. With a frown, he turned the bioscanner on, and just by their movements he was not pleased.
They slowly climbed down the wall, unnoticed by the other goons as they looked at one of the opened crates
"Just my fucking luck." He hissed, getting himself ready to grab Sionis before she could possibly mess anything else up.
"Woah, that's a lot of guns."
What the hell was she doing here?
Just what the hell was she doing here?
She was only supposed to be taking pictures! Not stopping an illegal gun dealing!
She was just trying to get home, catch a few Z's and then head out to take pictures.
But while getting dressed.. Oh lookie here! She had caught herself putting her spider suit on...
. . .
Okay so maybe she was partly at fault. But it was just out of habit! Wouldn't someone who has been dressing as a hero for years pick it back up after going on a hiatus?
It's not like she missed it or anything...
Also! It was good for her job! Might as well start taking pictures of Spider-Woman again like old times!
. . .
Right..?
..God she hated herself.
She wouldn't let this become a habit again. She swore to stop this hero thing. But then stopping a small burglary turned to stopping a robbery at a shop, to catching lowly criminals spray painting a building, only to then come across a supposed empty warehouse.
And what did she find? An illegal gun dealership between Sionis and some small guy who, oddly enough, reminded her of a penguin.
Sneaking herself inside one of the windows, she set up her camera. Quietly, she swings from a metal beam before quietly dropping down on the unsuspecting men.
Going towards one of the boxes, she gave a small whistle.
"Woah, that's a lot of guns."
Everyone turned towards her while she picked one of them up.
"Oi! Don't touch those!" The short man yelled.
"And they're real?" She weighs the weapon in her hands. "Hey, you guys have a permit for these right?" She looked up at them, only to see they were all pointing the guns at her. "I'll take that as a no."
"Kill her!" Sionis yelled.
Quickly, she jumped in the air as they began to spray bullets at her. Jumping from beam to beam, she shot her webs out at the men, pulling the guns out from their hands and yanking it to hit another goon in the head.
Landing in front of a man, with a fwip of her web, she pulled it out of his hands, waving it around a bit.
"Don't you guys know these are dangerous to use? Could really hurt someone. Woah!" She dodged as another man shot at her.
From the corner of her eye, she saw Sionis and the Penguin guy trying to make a break for it.
"Hey! Leaving so soon!" She called, her webs sticking their feet to the ground. "Don't tell me you're getting cold feet!"
The back of her head slightly tingled, making her quickly jump up in the air as more of both Black Mask's and Penguin's men shot at her.
"Argh! Watch it you idiots!" Penguin yelled.
"Uh, sorry boss!"
They continued to shoot at the Spider, but she continued to jump and weave between them all, making the men have to dodge their own bullets.
Landing in the middle of three men, they pointed their guns at her, about to shoot at her until she jumped up.
"Woah friendly fire you guys!" She exclaimed. Webbing the barrels of their guns to a singular string, she yanked it, causing all three of the men to crash into each other in the middle.
Swinging down as bullets flew at her on one of the beams, she swung down, kicking the same man into the chest. Letting out a yell, the man crashed into another man that was behind him, causing the two to fall back onto the concrete floor.
With a small front flip, Spider-Woman landed on her feet with ease and raised her hands like a gymnast would after finishing their routine.
"What do you guys think? I think that deserves a ten." She looked over at the remaining men who aimed to shoot at her, making her quickly dodge the bullets. "Come on guys, it couldn't be that bad! Yeah I'm rusty but-"
"Would you shut the fuck up!" One of them yelled, pointing his gun and shooting at her more.
Shooting a web, she pulls herself up into the air. "Yeesh.. Tough crowd."
Making a U-turn, she swings back towards the men, but it wasn't until her skull tingled. With wide eyes, she saw Red Hood swinging over to Black Mask and the short guy.
"Hey watch out!" She yelled, but with how fast the two were swinging, she wasn't able to avoid him in time.
Their bodies clashed mid-air, knocking the air out of both of them, mainly Spider-Woman, Red Hood was built like a fridge, and yet she felt like she got hit by a truck.
Grunts coming out of both of them, Red Hood's grip on his grappler slackened a bit, and out of the adrenaline rush, the Spider was able to grab Hood with a web before pulling him towards her.
"Let go..!" He grunts.
"Wait wait wait!!" She panics as her brain began to buzz to life. With a quick glance she can see the goons point their guns at the both of them.
Her mind running hundreds of miles a minute, with her free hand, she tries to swing off in a different direction. While doing so though, one of the bullets had grazed her web shooter, causing the fluid to spring everywhere onto the two vigilantes.
"Ah shit..!"
In an effort to save the two, she took advantage of the fact that the two were already stuck together from the webs and used her other web shooter to shoot out a web to the ceiling of the warehouse, though.. That proved to be fruitless.
The two now hung upside down from the ceiling, chest to chest. The white glowing eyes stared straight back at her white lenses. With a nervous chuckle, she looked at the most likely irritated vigilante.
"You uh.. Come here often?"
W H A C K ! !
Red Hood grunts as one of Sionis' men hits him in the head with the butt of his gun. They all snicker as the two crime lords, finally able to get free from the webbing, walked over to them.
"Some team you two make." Penguin snickers, looking at the two vigilantes.
"We're not a team." Red Hood snarls, before grunting again with another whack to the head.
"Do we kill 'em?" One of Black Mask's looked at his boss.
Black Mask simply shook his head, laughing a bit. "Nah, leave 'em. I'm sure this is a hit to Hood's ego. Better than killing him."
"Grab everything, we're leaving." Penguin orders.
The two criminals and their goons are quick to the leave the warehouse and the two hanging vigilantes as they slowly spun.
The silence between the two was both awkward and tense. Red Hood had a slight crack to his helmet now. Spider-Woman looked anywhere but the large man, a bit afraid of his wrath she might face.
But of course, as every Spider does, they can't help but break silence with a bit of humor.
"So uh.. Nice weath-"
"Don't."
"Sorry."
The two continued to spin in complete silence until Red Hood finally spoke.
"What were you doing here?"
She looked at him, raising a brow, even though he couldn't see her face. "Uh...Stopping an illegal gun deal..?" She answered as if it was the obvious.
"No, what are you still doing here in Gotham." He hissed, looking at her. "I told you, you're not welcomed here. If you want to stop crime, go back to New York."
The Spider opened her mouth, about to respond, but four faces back at New York flashed in her mind, causing her to stop from saying anything. Blinking a bit, she cleared her throat.
"Yeah, well, I can't exactly do that." She said quietly.
Red Hood raised a brow, but stayed quiet. He wasn't about to be someone's therapist.
Someone was able to break the slightly now solemn atmosphere.
"You know, I had a bit of a bad night, but I think this definitely made it one hundred times better."
Red Hood cursed under his breath as the two looked over, seeing Red Robin and Spoiler walking towards him.
"No- Don't-"
"Too late!" Spoiler snickered, phone already out as she snaps a photo.
"I'm going to kill you two." Red Hood seethes.
The two vigilantes looked at each other before shrugging.
"Worth it."
Red Robin took out a birdarang and threw it at the single string that held them up. Both Spider-Woman and Red Hood grunted as they fell to the ground. Walking towards them, Red Robin took out another birdarang and sliced the webs, letting the other two vigilantes to stand up and brush away any remaining strands of the webs stuck to them.
"So, Black Mask and Penguin got away?" Red Robin hummed, a smirk on his lips.
"Shut it." Red Hood looked to him, and even though he was wearing a helmet, they all knew he was glaring at him. With a huff, he crosses his arms, looking at the two. "What you are two even doing here?"
"Oracle realized you were too quiet on your comms. Should've finished a few minutes ago, so she had me and Red Robin come check on you." Spoiler placed her hands on her hips, looking between Red Hood and the Spider. "You're welcome by the way. If we didn't, you two would've probably been hanging from the ceiling for the whole night until we were done with patrol."
While the two continued to talk, Spider-Woman was off in her own world. Looking at her wrist, she lets out a sad sigh at the sight of her broken web shooter.
Great. This was going to take her forever to remake. She might need to have Aunt May send her a package of her old web shooters.
"Are you hurt?"
Her head shot up, now face to face with Red Robin.
"Oh! Uh, no. Just checking the damage of my web shooter. Looks like it'll be out of commission for a while." She holds out her wrist with a small chuckle.
With a hum, Red Robin walks to her, taking her wrist and looking at the small invention.
Spider-Woman stood there awkwardly as he looked at it before looking back up at her.
"These are pretty well made, considering these are made of scraps. Are you an engineer?" He looks up at her.
Scraps!?
She doesn't know whether to take his comment as a compliment or an insult. She spent her blood, sweat, and tears to make these web slingers!
She bit her tongue though, giving a slight shrug. "Something like that." She pulls her hand back. Red Robin raises a brow but doesn't question.
"You can probably get that patched up back at the batcave if you want!" Spoiler jumps into the conversation.
Both Red Robin and Red Hood look at her.
"Uh, no."
"I don't think that's necessary."
Both men answered.
Spoiler simply waved them off. "Ah don't listen to them, they're just paranoid like B." Her eyes crease up as she smiles behind her mask that hid the bottom half of her face.
"Oh no, I don't think-" Spider-Woman puts her hands up, but Spoiler was quick to wrap an arm around her shoulders.
"Nonsense! It's the least we can do for you for saving Bru- Er, Bruce Wayne! We couldn't have our playboy billionaire or his son dead." She lets out a slight nervous chuckle while the two men gave her knowing looks.
"Well I wouldn't want to intrude-" Was the Spider's last words as Spoiler began to gently push her out of the warehouse.
"Ah don't worry about it! Batman won't mind!"
Batman minded, a lot.
Spider-Woman's shoulders were shrugged up to her ears as she looked up at Batman who towered over her, staring her down before looking back at Spoiler.
"Spoiler, what is this?"
This was it.
This was how Spider-Woman dies.
part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5
next chapter ->
#to love self loathe#jason todd#jason x reader#x reader#dc#batman#red hood#red hood x reader#female reader#spiderwoman reader#spiderman! reader#dcu x mcu
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thinking about my tags on this post, I'm pretty sure the best way to do an au in which Team Tadpole forms without tadpoles, pre-tadpoles, because Wyll keeps heroically saving the day partly by befriending at least one key henchperson per major enemy...is if Ulder disowned him rather than exiling him, so Wyll became the Batman Blade of the Gate. Living in the shadows, stubbornly alone, helping the people who even the Flaming Fists can't, or won't... He has a firm principle of only killing "monsters", so for pettier criminals, he usually sends them walking up to the nearest officer of the peace with a friendly Suggestion that they turn themselves in for their crimes. This makes Ulder's teeth grind like coffee beans. Their dynamic isn't so much Batman & Gordon as Spiderman & J. Jonah Jameson.
All that really needs to happen for him to pick up Shadowheart as a sidekick is for one person to ask the Blade for help because the Sharrans stole their child/are aggressively cult-recruiting their friend/other typical dubious Sharran thing; and then he unravels that whole temple like a ball of yarn - or at least, enough that Shadowheart leaves and becomes local secondary superhero...the Pale Priestess? the White Wolf? (In this house we stan werewolf!Shadowheart!)
Then the Blade notices a barely-noticeable pattern of disappearances that's been going on for over 200 years, and the bloody trail leads right to Szarr Mansion...
(Wyll does not deal with the slightly-under-7,000 vampire spawn in the basement. The Blade leaves a note for the Flaming Fists and their ducal commander, along with a pile of evidence of Cazadar Szarr's crimes, and a pile of dust that was once a vampire lord.)
(Possibly this attracts Raphael's attention, because it was a loss for Mephistopheles? Raphael would be almost as good a comic books-esque recurring villain as Bhaal cultists.)
Gale somehow becomes their Guy in the Chair - still living in Waterdeep, mind you; he communicates mostly via Scrying, Sending, etc. Typical archwizard aloofness. Until The Incident, in response to which maybe he asks the others to get him books from Sorcerous Sundries, which leads to Lorroakan turning himself over to the Fists :) on charges of Apprentice Abuse [I'm sure Rolan wasn't the first] and general Being The Worst.
All throughout this Wyll is angstily - while acting the confident, ever-optimistic hero - refusing to talk about how he has devilish magic or why he Needs to leave the city to go kill a random specific devil/demon/other monster once a month. His friends know he made a pact and that's it. They offer to help. Wyll refuses lest Mizora make his life and theirs a living hell.
They start looking into Enver Gortash and his numerous sketchy dealings. In this AU, too, the Blade tracks Karlach down through the battlefields of Avernus...to ask her some questions about her former employer. He doesn't have much hope for answers from a notorious battle-devil, but it's their only lead...
But then she's Karlach, so he offers to help her escape instead. They're nearly out - or they are out? - when Mizora appears and orders Wyll to stand down. Wyll does not stand down. Karlach tries to behead her, so Mizora leaves him alone...for a little while. She catches him alone later, back at his base, and drags his soul through the fires of hell and turns him into a devil.
They ally with Orin, possibly unknowingly, to attack the Bhaalspawn leader of the Cult of Bhaal! She betrays them, right after murdering her kin!
[insert something here that's like speedrunning the whole plot but backwards]
Lae'zel shows up at some point, bleeding and halfway through her own character arc which she's been doing solo, having been snatched and tadpoled, killed a Sharran to regain the Prism, nearly killed by her own people for being tadpoled, regained the Prism via a lot of murder... She's now on the run from pretty much everyone but she's determined to re-prove herself to...somebody...by singlehandedly killing the Netherbrain.
(She tries to kill our heroes because she assumes they've been tadpoled.)
Wyll breaks his pact for good and is willing to go down fighting for his city even without any powers; then Ansur with his final-for-real-this-time dying breath gives Wyll draconic magic, so he can be the sorcerous Dragon of the Gate.
Epilogue: the Heroes of Baldur's Gate answer a call for help from their neighbors in the Reclaimed Lands to deal with all the ex-cultist goblins who've still been running around kidnapping and, idk, eating people since the Netherbrain was destroyed. They arrive to find that the goblins are already being bloodily Dealt With...by an amnesiac Dark Urge, who isn't actually being very bloody about it at all by their typical standards, and who has no memory of anything before like a month ago.
Everyone points weapons at them except Wyll, who insists that if they've truly reverted to ignorant innocence, then they should have a second chance, to mend their ways and help fix what they broke in the world. This is, fundamentally, a group wherein a bunch of morally dubious assholes (except Karlach, who's an angel and we're delighted she's here) outsource their moral compasses to Wyll; and honestly it's not like this is surprising behavior from him, so...welcome to the team!
#bg3#baldur's gate 3#wyll ravengard#i guess i will tag everyone#shadowheart#astarion#gale dekarios#karlach#lae'zel#dark urge#ficlet#my fic#ulder ravengard
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