#hope you'll still like it though!

[ms-nunuvurbsness]

Ack, sorry. Marimoth 49 (for now.😈)

49. Kiss ... out of necessity

This situation was ludicrous. 

It may seem hilarious from an outside perspective, but she did not feel like laughing. At all.

After a day full of courses, worrying about finding an internship next year and an abnormal amount of mishaps - seriously, she lost count of how many times she had misplaced something or pricked her fingers accidentally while sewing today! - she had been ready to come home and fling herself onto her bed. Dressing and eating could wait. She was far too exhausted to care about anything.

But no.

No, this day just had to turn from bad to worse when, after five years of blessed silence, a new Akuma decided to show up.

At first, she had no idea what was happening. She was walking home when she saw a couple frantically clinging to each other while trying to evade the edges of a strange shimmering barrier surrounding them.

Of course, she had run over to try and help, but before she could do anything, a high-pitched voice screeched: "You will not ruin their first kiss! I will not let you break apart this perfect match!"

Suddenly, she was plucked from the streets and flying towards the starless sky. There had been sounds of distress from other people around her, but she could hardly make out what they were shouting because the Akuma kept complaining about her ruined day right into her ear.

Tell me about it.

That had been her last thought before she had realised she was flying right towards the lit-up Tour Eiffel - without any sign of slowing down. She didn't even have time to react when she got deposited roughly on one of the crossbeams. The Akuma hadn't wasted any time, hitting her with a light beam before leaving for the city again. Temporarily blinded, Marinette had tried to keep her balance, frantically waving her arms to find any purchase. Thankfully, somebody had grabbed her and prevented her from tumbling down.

Once she was somewhat steady on her feet again, she had turned towards her rescuer - and had lost any manner of speech once she saw a silver butterfly mask staring right back at her. Her heart had plummeted at the realisation that the Akuma had brought her to Paris' most notorious villain.

Hawk Moth.

Her mind had started racing.

Why was she here?

Did he know she was Ladybug?

Was he about to demand her Miraculous?

Should she transform? But this would be a bad idea! Because what if he didn't know-

"Are you alright?"

Her thoughts had screeched to a halt. Had she heard right? A question which she had articulated with an intelligent: "What?"

"I asked whether you're alright," he had repeated, enunciating each word with slight impatience.

She had blinked, taken aback. That had been the last thing she had expected of him: inquiring about her well-being. 

Was this some trick?

 "I... I am?" Despite sounding more like she was asking him, he had accepted her answer with a nod.

He had then turned away from her, facing forward towards the shining city with his gloved hands folded atop his cane. His following words had surprised her even more. "Don't worry, mademoiselle. I will handle this situation immediately."

She would've laughed had she not been so apprehensive over his true intentions.

Not worry about Hawk Moth? That would be a first.

But as the minutes passed, it became apparent that he didn't plan on doing anything to her. On the contrary, he seemed to have forgotten about her existence altogether. He was more preoccupied with haggling quietly with the Akuma, the glowing outlines of a butterfly framing his eyes. His low tone became increasingly more threatening the longer it took to convince the Akuma to cooperate.

She had tried to focus on his words but was quickly distracted by the butterfly brooch on his purple suit. His Miraculous was so close in reach that it seemed almost too easy to lunge forward and take it. She would lie if she said she hadn't contemplated doing it. But she knew she hardly stood a chance as her civilian self. And she would not risk revealing herself to him. That was out of the question.

Therefore, all that was left was to stay put while trying to ignore the dizzying height and the dangerous proximity to her sworn enemy.

So this was where she was now: trapped on the Tour Eiffel with Hawk Moth at night.

At first, she had wondered why he hadn't simply taken her to a safer place where they could each go their own way. He obviously didn't need her for anything. So much time had passed, yet the only thing he had done was argue with the Akuma or just silently glare at the city as if it was responsible for his misfortune. For a moment, she had been afraid that he would leave her any moment now, but curiously, he stayed where he was.

The answer to her musings appeared right at the corner of her eye, shimmering golden when the city lights hit it at the right angle. 

A barrier.

It was just like the one she had seen that couple surrounded with.

Distinctly, she remembered being hit by a light beam from the Akuma. Right. So that's what the attack did.

Squinting, she tried to study the barrier but soon grew irritated with her lack of progress. It kept shifting in and out of visibility like a living thing, making it difficult to catch any potentially meaningful details.

She contemplated whether there was a possibility to phase through the semi-invisible wall.

Just as she raised her hand, about to probe it lightly, a stern voice interrupted her advance. 

"Don't touch it."

Her body froze. Slowly, she turned her head in his direction, glancing up at him with apprehension. "Why not?" 

"It will burn you if you do, " he stated plainly.

As if to prove his point, the barrier contracted slightly, inching closer towards the pair. 

Marinette was too slow when trying to snatch her hand out of reach, her fingers accidentally grazing the surface of the magical bubble. Pain shot up her arm, and she bit back a surprised yelp. Staggering, she tried to move away but, in doing so, almost lost her balance all over again.

Hawk Moth reached out reflexively, ready to catch her if she were to slip. She managed to steady herself with effort, her legs still shaking from the adrenaline rush. Only when she finally stood still did she grow aware of his hand hovering over her back, fingers slightly brushing over her thin blouse. A shiver ran down her spine at the butterfly light contact.  

Noticing her reaction, he withdrew, placing his hand back atop the other on his cane. 

From the corner of her eye, she saw the glowing butterfly shape reappear around his eyes again.

He wasted no time showing his displeasure.

"I thought I made my instructions clear. Come back this instant. Stop fooling around with your powers and reverse the damage you have done."

There was a pause in which the Akuma apparently argued her case.

"No, this is not "doing good" or helping. This is causing mischief out of pettiness. It was not part of the deal, " he replied coldly.

Marinette raised an eyebrow.

"Doing good"?

She hardly had the time to think more about that before the barrier moved again, getting tighter around them. Any more, and she would be burned again.

Swallowing, she willed her - once again - shaky legs to move, sliding one baby step after another away from the danger zone. Being unsure of her footing, she made the mistake of glancing down towards her feet. A sense of vertigo rolled over her, making her freeze in terror.

Oh God, oh God, this is too high, oh God, oh no-

"Hold onto my arm. And don't look down."

His gruff voice startled her out of her racing thoughts. Trembling and wide-eyed, she accepted his offer without question. Their eyes met, and despite his mask covering a significant part of his features, she could see frustration written all over his face. But more than that, he looked resigned. Weary.

Uncomfortable, she averted her eyes to the side. Instead, she eyed the distance left between them and the edge of the barrier. It was alarmingly small. Three more contractions, and there would be no escape.

"There must be another way to break out of this, " she muttered.

"I'm already working on that."

"Yes, I can see how well this is going for you."

He turned away once again, resuming his glower towards the city. She thought that was the end of the conversation and was about to get worried over her impulsive reply when he continued: "The other option would be to wait for Ladybug and Chat Noir to show up and solve this." 

Unwittingly, the corners of her mouth twitched. 

He had ground this out with such annoyance she couldn't help the small bubble of amusement flickering through her chest. That was something she was familiar with: his blatant dislike of Paris' heroes.

This small bout of nostalgia didn't last long, however. There was another problem: Chat Noir had told her at their last night patrol that he would be out of commission for a few weeks. He would travel to a different country - not too far away, so she could still reach him. But he had warned her that there would be a significant delay if he were to help her. So the only other hero who could've done something right now was trapped herself. And she couldn't call Chat Noir because then she would have to transform.

Out of the question, out of the question, out of the question. Think, Marinette! There is a way to break out of this without giving up your identity! There must be!

She bit her lip, her fingers unconsciously tightening around his arm.

It didn't help when the barrier shifted closer to them again.

Closing her eyes in concentration, she envisioned the trapped couple from before. What was it that the Akuma had said when she had tried to help them? Why had she prevented her from going near them?

Something about-

"You will not ruin their first kiss! I will not let you break apart this perfect match!"

The words resounded like a distant echo within her mind, making her world tilt at a dangerous angle. She blanched.

First kiss.

Oh no.

Oh no, no, no, don't tell me I- ?!

How absurd! No way! There must be something she was overlooking!

But time was short, and her frantic thoughts always circled back to the same awful conclusion. This limited supply of information was all she had. She didn't have anything else to go on.

A small, high-pitched giggle escaped her, sounding about as breathless as she felt. Give it a minute, and she might start crying on top of that. Of course. Of course, this type of ridiculous thing could only happen to Marinette.

"What is it?"

The cautious tone of his voice filtered through her panic-stricken mind, yet she couldn't bring herself to meet his stare. It wasn't bad enough to be stuck with her enemy. No. Apparently, the Akuma wanted her victims to share a first kiss - only because her own had been interrupted.

A first kiss with Hawk Moth.

It was that, or give up her superhero identity.

Pick your poison, Marinette.

"Mademoiselle?"

There was also something else she realised. Hawk Moth talked to his victims through a telepathic connection. Therefore, he knew their thoughts and feelings. And by giving them their powers, he also knew what they were capable of. Which meant he was familiar with how each and every attack of theirs worked.

"You know, " she breathed.

"Beg your pardon?"

Finally, she looked up at him. "You know how to get out of this."

Outwardly, he showed no sign. His expression remained infuriatingly neutral. He didn't even blink. "Well, of course. That is why I've been trying to talk-"

"No, don't pretend to misunderstand! You know very well how to get rid of this barrier without the Akuma! " she interrupted him, before he could continue with his made-up excuse. His blind insistence on pursuing this idea made her more confident in her dreadful theory.

She got further proof when something flickered in his eyes. Something that was gone as fast as it had appeared. It was too late, though.

Gotcha.

"I have no idea what you're speaking of," he said, a warning edge to his tone.

Oh, so he was going to make it difficult. But there was no time.

Because, at that instant, the barrier shifted so close, it would definitely touch them with its next contraction.

Mind made up, she decided to act before she could think. 

With a snarl, she grabbed his lapels and forcefully yanked him down towards her, meanwhile pushing herself up to meet him. She pressed her lips to his, her vice grip keeping them locked together for the moment - making sure this act met the magical requirements for their release.

Her heart kept pounding a warning beat as they teetered dangerously close at the edges of the crossbeam, somehow evading the lethal fall by pure luck. 

She had squeezed her eyes shut to spare herself the embarrassment of his reaction. The sudden tension in his body spoke volumes nonetheless. 

Two heartbeats passed with nothing happening.

Then she felt one of his hands press down on her shoulder, his fingers digging into her skin almost painfully.

Gasping, she tore herself away from him, immediately casting a look over her shoulder. She tried to ignore her flushed face, squinting through her blurry vision to try and figure out whether they had succeeded. There were no flashes of gold as far as she could see. That alone, however, wasn't enough to confirm her suspicion, so she raised one of her hands and tentatively reached out toward the empty air. 

There was no pain nor any resistance.

A flash of relief passed through her, lessening the tension from her frame.

So she had been right. They really had to- !

Well.

At least it was over now.

That was when she grew aware of a hand resting on her shoulder, its grip not as bruising anymore, but its weight still heavy on her conscience.

She herself was holding onto his lapels, unwilling to let go and refusing to look up. His body remained tense, and his unnatural stillness was foreboding. She knew she needed to say something fast, or else, she felt, he would explode on her.

"I'm sorry, monsieur," she muttered, half meaning it, half defiant. "It was the only thing I could think of."

And it had worked.

When he didn't answer, her heart sank. That was it. He was probably going to leave her up here. Or worse. Maybe he would throw her over the edge for her audacity.

She cringed inside when he let out a forceful exhale, preparing herself for the worst. What that might've been, she would never find out.

Her eyes widened when he suddenly bent down and picked her up. He shifted her to a more comfortable position in his arms while simultaneously managing to hold onto his cane. She frowned. Opening her mouth, she was about to question his intentions. What left her lips instead was a silent scream as he jumped over the edge without any warning.

Their fall was occasionally interrupted by him landing on one ladder or crossbeam and then jumping to the next. This way, they could steadily descend the many levels of the tower. Eventually, they reached the safe and solid ground.

This whole time, he had said nothing to her. He hadn't even spared her a glance. The longer this oppressive silence persisted, the worse she felt about her actions, no matter how justified. 

Had it been reversed, she knew, she would've been furious. God, she would've despised him for it! 

But she had to face the truth.

He could've done to her what she had done to him and just left her then and there once they were free. But he hadn't. Instead, he had insisted on trying to convince the Akuma to reverse the attack. And not only that. The very first thing he had done was prevent her from plunging to her death. And despite being preoccupied with his negotiations, he had stayed aware of her safety, helping whenever he felt she was in danger. Even now, he had chosen to bring her down rather than leave her behind as punishment.

This Hawk Moth was a stranger to her. She didn't know what to make of his unusual change in demeanour. 

But she couldn't ignore the suffocating heaviness in her chest anymore.

So when he set her down, she kept her grip on his lapels, holding him in place as she gathered the right words. Breathing in, she braved herself to look him in the eyes. He needed to realise that she meant what she was about to say.

"Monsieur, I'm really sorry, I-"

He didn't let her finish.

"Spare me your incessant apologies."

She flinched at his biting tone.

Noticing her reaction, he paused, his eyes studying her face in quick saccades. He must've found something in her expression because some of the severity seemed to leave his features. 

Closing his eyes, he sighed.

When he spoke again, his voice had lost its cutting edge. "You did what was necessary at that moment." Reaching up, he closed his hands around her fists and carefully loosened her grip on his clothes.

Her breath hitched. "Still..."

She clamped her mouth shut when he gave her a look. 

"I don't want to hear any more of it." He didn't let her go. Not yet. Instead, he tightened his hold on her hands, letting her know the weight of his following words. "Let us both do ourselves a favour and forget this incident."

Slowly, she nodded. She wanted to do nothing more than that.

Satisfied with her agreement, he released her. "Well, then..."

"Thank you."

The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. It was too late to take them back now.

He tilted his head. "For what?"

Does he think I'm thanking him for the kiss?

The unbidden thought made her flush in mortification, and she immediately shoved it into the deepest recesses of her mind.

"F-for rescuing me. I could've died had you not saved me!"

After a beat of silence, he inclined his head. "Any time, mademoiselle."

Having finally cleared up the situation, they exchanged goodbyes, and she watched him vanish into the night. She stayed there for a while, eyes unfocused while gathering her composure. Soon, she also left the scene.

Paris was still in need of Ladybug's intervention, after all.

There was one problem, however, she would not be able to solve.

Both Hawk Moth and Marinette would fail at their agreement to forget the events of this evening.

[berryless]

OK, Mr Grim Stalker

Grim Reaper | Casper x Custom Female Main Character (PWP, NC-17 || 5k words || smut, fluff, dirty talk, consensual voyeurism, masturbation on camera)

Summary:

Casper was caught in 4K during call, and MC lives for it. They banter lots, tease each other, Casper's barking and begging.

!Warning!

Not Enterely Canon Compliant, Canon Divergence, Slight Canon Adjustments, Alternative Timeline, Canon Typical Angst and Mentions of Death/dying/etc (but nothing bad really happens, I promise) (at least not in this fic) (this is pure smut with just a sprinkle of warnings)

Read this work on Archive of Our Own.

"You're blushing, Casper," Caha smiled, her head tilted as she watched him sputtering on the other side of the screen. Somehow the certainty of being seen made his usually perfectly coordinated limbs stiff and awkward. 

"…What are you wearing?" he managed in a strangled voice, habitually avoiding answering unwelcome statements.

"Oh, this?" Caha tugged on one of the straps of her top, and her breasts jiggled right in front of camera. Casper wanted to look away, but couldn't, eyes glued to the display. "Laundry day clothes. Be thankful I bothered to put on anything at all."

Did it mean she could've potentially been sitting there naked..? He tried really hard not to think about it, but failed miserably. A stupid thing, really. Not that he never reaped someone during the intercourse, or never saw other bodies naked—both things happened to him plenty of times. The problem was, those things happened with strangers he had no feelings for whatsoever, and so was able to stay perfectly calm and composed the entire time.

And Caha, as much as it pained Casper to admit it, wasn't such a stranger. She was a nuisance and a sole failure in his outstanding career, and, fuck, why was she leaning closer..?

Casper straightened up, squeezing himself into the back of his armchair, watching Caha's chest practically pressing against the camera as she fished for something. He never knew she had a mole there, right in between. Perfect spot for kissing.

"Lyusha says hiiii," Caha hugged the cat to her stomach and waved Lyusha's paw.

"Hi, Lyusha," Casper answered weakly, casually waving back. 

No, he wasn't at all disappointed with the creature's appearance. Or the fact that she was now babied to pieces, taking all of Caha's attention.

In fact he could stand not being watched for a minute or two.

Losing a glove in process, his right hand slid under the desk, brushing against the throbbing tent of his pants. Hells. It was infuriating how little Caha needed to rile him up.

Casper watched her scratching Lyusha's belly, breasts jiggling with each movement of her arms.

Caha had plenty of moles on her face, but he never knew… Right in between, huh..?

He propped his chin, leaning on his left against the table while his right hand was quietly pulling down the zipper. Unlike certain someone, he was dressed properly for the call. And now regretted it a little: sweatpants would've been easier to get around. Still, he managed. Without the constraints of tight clothes, his erection freely stretched the boxers.

Casper took a quick look at the screen, but Caha was still preoccupied with petting purring Lyusha sprawled on her lap with the most annoying baby voice accompaniment possible. 'Oh, who's the cutest sweetest little thing in the whole wide world' and 'yes, my darling baby angel, you guessed right, it's you' were spilling from her like they cost nothing, flowing right into his ears together with the endless kissy noises, like she was saying that to him.

She wasn't, though, and Casper couldn't help but look at Caha, voicelessly begging her to spare at least a crumb of that attention and affection to him.

She didn't notice, of course.

She never did.

Casper hid the lower part of his face under his left hand and took a first tentative stroke, still through clothes, lips tightly pursed to not let out the slightest sound, eyes on the screen, on that fucking mole, thinking only about how it would feel on his lips. Caha was so warm that one time he touched her. So soft. Even through his gloves, Casper felt that.

His lips would probably melt off on spot if he were to kiss her. Run his palms along her curves. Squeeze her chest, fingers sinking into soft flesh. Bite her collarbone, then neck, taking in the pulse of her life beating against his lips.

Now he could only bite on his glove and swallow down the swears as he slowly stroked himself. Quiet. He needed to keep quiet.

Caha paused, then smiled, eyes sparkling. 

"I was expecting a pretty please, but that's better."

She slipped out of straps of her top and then yanked it down, breasts bouncing free of fabric. Casper watched her, breath caught in his throat, mouth suddenly dry. Caha scooped them into her palms, fondling herself carelessly, fingers digging into flesh. That mole was there again, deep brown in jarring contrast against Caha's pale skin. 

"Well, how about it?" she asked, looking at him with a smile. "How do you like your bones, Grimmy? Are they up to your distinguished taste?" 

He tugged his left glove away with his teeth and ruffled his hair, shaking his head that felt two sizes too big all of the sudden. 

"You really want to see me barking at you like a dog, don't you?" Casper sighed helplessly. 

"Maybe. Is that the only thing you want to do with me?" 

 "…Hardly. If anything, I want so much, I can barely think human thoughts." 

Caha let out a satisfied laugh as she plopped back into the pillows. 

"Not a very good boy, are you now, Grimmy?" she teased, finger circling around her nipple. "With many, many naughty thoughts in that fluffy white head of yours, tsk, tsk, tsk."

"And who's at fault for that?" He couldn't help but glare at her, grating his teeth. 

"Yours, of course," Caha scoffed in a matter of factly manner, her chin raised high. "You could've been fucking me like an animal all you wanted, no thoughts, head empty, brain smooth and unwrinkled, but instead you chose this. Now suffer in the bed you've made. Or rather, in a chair. Touch yourself with those beautiful cold hands of yours, thinking about how mine would've felt. Warm. And soft. Very,��very soft. No calluses, no rough spots. Wrapping around all of your length, one atop another, stroking, caressing and rubbing you all over."

"Hah… hngh…" 

Casper choked on his suddenly thickened spit. With Caha voice in his ears, saying stuff like that as she played with her tits, watching him masturbating, his body tingled all over, nipples tender and taut, hips thrusting into his hand by themselves. 

"Please… Talk more, Sunshine… Please… I want…I want to hear more…" 

She sighed in a way that made him tremble, then her right hand slid down again.

"It's not just my hands that are warm, you know? It should be much hotter inside my mouth. I'm not sure if I'd swallow you whole, you're kinda…a handful, in more ways than one, but the tip? I would've circled it with my tongue and taken it in. You know those ridges at the roof of the mouth? Right behind the front teeth? Bet they'd feel good against the skin, won't they?"

"…Yes, yes they would."

Hot sweet mouth. That sharp tongue of hers gliding all over him. She would definitely be all teethy about it, just to make him quiver in anticipation of a bite.

Hands on him, warm touch of them. Handling him with that tender carelessness of hers.  Soft, then firm, then soft again. Light scratches. 

Her face, her eyes, looking at him from the bottom up with that mischievous glint to remind him that she may be on her knees now, but it's him who's getting played. Defenseless and at her mercy. Getting the desired relief only with her permission.

"You're so pretty, Casper. So, so pretty." Caha whispered, words round and sticky inside her mouth, r's rolling from her tongue right into his head like pebbles, disturbing his already unstable mind. 

"Can't…take your eyes away…can you?" he scoffed weakly, trying to shake the picture away before he'd start begging out loud. 

"Can't."

"Knew…it. Ha. Good…you're finally admitting it. Told you…I'm charming…and irresistible…for your kind. Hah. Hngh. Fuck…"

He bit on his lip, squirming in his chair, close, so close… 

"I'm trying, believe me. You know…there is another hot and wet place beside my mouth I can put you in? One that'll take you whole. It's practically dripping now, I'll have to squeeze my shorts after this call, really, what are you doing with me… Better then, what you're not doing with me. When you could've. Honestly. You. Ugh."

He knew what she was talking about. Of course he knew. 

"Caha…" 

"It's hard to do it dry handed, isn't it? You're so sensitive, Casper. Bet it's grating to you without any lube, huh? I could've helped with that. Maybe. Depends on your attitude."

"Please…" 

"No. More."

"Woof..?" 

"Still no. More."

"Sunshine…please…"

"Please what? Use words."

"Please…help me. Please… I…I want…" 

"Yes?" 

"I want…this. You. I want…you…so much, I'm going…crazy. You're fucking up… my life…and my head…and my job…and I still… I… I… Caha… Sunshine… Please."

"…You're telling all this, but still aren't coming. Even though I have perfectly toasty dripping pussy to put you in. Swallow you whole and squeeze the life out of you. Or death. Or soul. Or something. I'm sitting here, wet heaving, frothing at my privates, begging to be stuffed. Begging, Casper. Contracting on nothing but air. Achingly empty inside. All those nice wet folds and pulsing muscles left unused when they could've been wrapped around your stupid pretty pink cock. Hot and tight, so, so, sooooo tight. Milking every last drop out of you. Wouldn't that be nice?"

That was the only thing in his head as Caha spoke, words and images blending together, all the fantasies about her he played on repeat swarming in at once, flickering under his eyelids in sporadic fragmented flashes: Caha with her legs spread wide, demanding to fill her; her again, palm pressed against his chest as she straddled him with that annoying cute irresistible smirk on her lips, her wet folds sliding against his cock, covering him in her juices; her again, hands on his shoulders, palm cradling the back of his neck, nails digging into his skin as he thrust inside her; her again, pushing his head between her thighs, fingers raking through his hair before grabbing a fistful of it right at the roots, the tug just the right amount of painful to feel pleasure; her again, eyes closed, teething on her lower lip, all her soft flesh and curves trembling while he mindlessly beat into her like an animal in heat; her again, riding his face, trembling and moaning, his fingers digging into her thighs to keep her in place; her again, his teeth on her neck, biting and licking and biting again, leaving possessive marks in his wake, mine, mine, mine. Her body, her soul, her heart, everything, all of her, only his.

Nothing but her on his mind. 

Just like she wanted. 

Casper came and choked, gasping on air, dizzy and breathless, lost between fantasies and reality, not sure which was what. 

Caha looked at him from the screen, head tilted, pouting, her cheeks bulged. 

"Congratulations. Good for you. I still think I would've done a better job. Made much less of a mess. And you could've cuddled with me afterwards, and I would've kept you warm. Humph."

She turned her face away, but soon looked back at him from the corner of her eye, then turned even further, chin raised high, harrumphing again. 

How could someone be simultaneously so stinking cute and so fuckable? It was still a mystery to him. 

Casper leaned onto the back of his chair and closed his eyes for a moment, evening his breathing and heartbeat. 

Caha was so incredibly wrong about that one thing: she was the one who made all this mess in the first place. Unceremoniously squeezing into his life, into his head, carelessly breaking and destroying all the rules he upheld, all the things he thought were right, all the plans he had for the future, and triumphantly taking the main place among the rubble of his disorderly mind, crowning herself as she took all the space inside it, leaving no room for other thoughts. 

And a week later he was supposed to claim his rightful rewards for winning the bet and ferry her soul to the afterlife, never see her again, and turn back to the life he had before he ever knew her. 

Yeah. 

She couldn't have made a bigger mess if she tried. 

[hailsatanacab]

"give me a fandom and a prompt and i'll give you at least five sentences"

Ok then.

Jazz, Danny and Bruce are in the same age range, and Bruce has been harboring a massive crush on 7'foot tall Jazz since just after he began his training journey.

His kids know about and are mercyless. Danny thinks he's a bit of a fruit loop and 100% knows Bruce has a crush on his sister.

Into the future his coworkers find out that batman has been quietly pining after the Ghost Kings sister for years.

Chaos.

love that this reads as a challenge. Ok then. Write it. i will, let's goooo!

(sorry i kinda took it so that Jazz, Danny, and Bruce were all old friends but in that horrible adult way where you can only hang out with each other once in a blue moon when your work schedules miraculously align)

——

"Respectfully, Batman, you can take your "it's not necessary" and you can shove it up your arse. There's a demon the size of a skyscraper heading towards Metropolis and we need reinforcements."

"Superman can—"

"Superman can't. You do remember the part of the report I made telling you this, right? Or did your stubborn little bat brain just shut down when I mentioned magic?"

"Actually," Nightwing interrupts from the side, a shit-eating grin on his face, "I think his brain shut down when you mentioned the Ghost King."

"Nightwing." Batman growls in warning, his jaw clenching so hard Constantine can swear he hears the bones creaking.

Nightwing just snickers, and turns away to press a finger to his ear, no doubt letting the rest of the bat brood in on what's happening here... Whatever that is. All Constantine knows is that Batman is standing between him and fixing this mess for no God-forsaken reason.

Luckily, some of the more reasonable members of the League step in to try and talk some sense into Batman. It gives him some time to calm down.

"Batman. We need him. I know you dislike working with unknowns, but he's our best shot."

It actually looks like Wonder Woman might be getting through to him, Batman even opens his mouth to actually explain some things—a huge step forward for this incredibly emotionally constipated man.

Instead, Nightwing snorts and beats him to it. "Unknowns? More like—"

"Nightwing, please."

"Oh, for Pete's sake, get your head out of your arse and let me do this. The Ghost King is our only hope. I'm summoning him, no matter what you say."

For a long second, Constantine thinks that he'll refuse and he might have to resort to more violent methods of persuasion—which, honestly, Constantine has fantasised about many times during the more boring JL meetings—but eventually, Batman relents and steps out of the way.

"Fine. Nightwing, go check in with Red Robin."

Nightwing has the kind of devious smile that makes John glad he doesn't have kids.

"Oh, don't worry about it, B. Red Robin's coming here. So's Red Hood, I don't need to go anywhere."

"Nightwing—"

"Sh, it's starting." So saying, Nightwing then very obviously ignores Batman's protests with a poker face that even Constantine envies. What he wouldn't give to be able to shut the bat out like that.

The summoning goes quickly, thankfully. The lights flicker, the temperature drops, and the chalk circle erupts in green flames. Standard summoning practices, sure. Even the impromptu appearance of Red Hood and Red Robin—"Did we miss him?", "No, not yet! I got 2:37, what about you guys?"—doesn't throw him off.

It does pique his interest, though. Just what the hell is going on with them? Constantine's weighing up the pros and cons of asking them once all of this is over when the ground splits open and the clawed hand of the Ghost King begins to pull himself out of the ground.

John's a seasoned summoner. It's practically his job, he's done it countless times.

The icey fear that grips his heart, that freezes his breath in his chest, is new.

Pure, unadulterated power floods the area and he feels small, so, so small, like a child playing with things he doesn't understand. When he finally tears his eyes away from the portal, he catches a glimpse of the other magic users in the room, the same horror he feels clear in their faces. Even Captain Marvel stares slackjawed.

The pressure rises, death magic screaming in his ears, almost forcing him to his knees, and suddenly he's not so sure this is a good idea.

Too late to back out now, though.

Sickly green light pours from the crack in the ground, growing brighter and brighter as the giant figure rises, until Constantine has to close his eyes and look away. The last thing he sees are eyes, teeth, horns, a crown so bright that it burns an afterimage into his retinas.

When the light dies down and he opens his eyes again, a humanoid man floats in the centre of the circle. The ground is whole, nothing is burning, the man doesn't even have a crown. Instead, other than the wispy white hair, slightly green skin, and the—you know—floating, the Ghost King appears pretty normal. Huh.

Constantine blinks, rubbing his bleary eyes, and checks around to make sure everyone's okay. Most of the League are doing the same as him, taking fortifying breaths and trying to appear as if they've not just been completely blinded.

Most of them, that is, aside from the Gotham vigilantes.

Batman himself stands upright, arms crossed, looking completely unbothered by the whole thing and John's got to admit, he wishes he could do that, too. That was... a hell of a show.

The others, however, are waving frantically with huge smiles on their faces.

What?

There's a brief, taut silence, as everyone else tries to catch their breath.

As much as he would rather take a bit of a breather, John should probably start making introductions. Unfortunately, he only gets as far as opening his mouth before the Ghost King beats him to it.

"Oh, Ancients, hey guys! It's been forever, how are you? Look at you all, so grown up, wow—Nightwing, buddy, do a flip!"

It doesn't take much to get Nightwing going, and he certainly doesn't leave it at one flip. The whole of the Justice League and Justice League Dark watch with open mouths as Nightwing performs for the Ghost King.

What, and John can't stress this enough, the fuck?

As soon as Nightwing rights himself, Red Hood swats him across the back of the head and calls him a show off.

The Ghost King just laughs as he claps. "There's my little monkey, look at you go! And I'm loving that leather jacket, Hood, is that new? Looks good on you, really your colour. Brings out the red in your helmet."

"Thanks, Uncle D. At least someone around here appreciates fashion."

"Are you kidding me, you know I breathe fashion, need I remind—"

"Need I remind you of the Discowing incident?"

"That was era-appropriate and you know it! Uncle D, tell him it was era-appropriate!"

"It was era-appropriate, but so are crocs and it doesn't make them fashionable." The Ghost King—and holy shit, is this actually the Ghost King? Or did Constantine just accidentally summon a deceased family member, what the fuck is happening here?—turns to look at Red Robin with a smile, resolutely ignorning the argument he created. "How you doing, Double R? You get that tablet Tucker made for you?"

"Yes, thank you! It's so cool, how did he—"

"How's Tucker doing?" Batman interrupts, his hands now hidden underneath his cape.

As soon as the question leaves his lips, everyone groans. Red Robin makes a show of lifting up his wrist and staring at it intently.

"Incredible," Red Hood mutters with a shake of his head.

Even the Ghost King seems put out, rolling his eyes and answering in a flat tone as if he knows Batman isn't interested in what he has to say.

Not for the first time, Constantine feels like he's missing something.

"Tucker's doing very well, thank you for asking."

What follows is the most awkward silence Constantine has ever had the pleasure to be a part of.

All three of the Gotham vigilantes, including the Ghost King, are staring at Batman, waiting for something. Batman's cloak shifts as if he's moving his hands, fidgeting. If Constantine didn't know any better, he'd say he was nervous.

"Good. That's good, I'm glad to hear it."

Instead of saying anything else, the Ghost King just raises his eyebrows and continues to stare at Batman. Has he offended him in some way? Are they all going to die because of this?

After what seems like an agonising few minutes but could only really be a few seconds, Batman's shoulders dip and he takes a breath. "And Jazz?"

They all erupt into shouts, the Ghost King being the loudest. The only thing John can make out is when the Ghost King throws his hand in the air to point at Red Robin with a shout of "Time!"

"1:30.91, we got 1:30.91 on the clock, who's closest?"

"Did you even try to hold it in at all, old man? I'm so disappointed in you. People think you're cool. People think you're suave, I don't understand how they could be so wrong."

"Thank you for that, Hood."

"No, thank you, I won. Again. Because you're so predictable. Actually, I had one minute seventeen, so you held out longer than I thought you would."

Batman pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs loudly.

Constantine feels like doing the same thing.

Whatever. He's going to have to interrupt... whatever this is. There's still a rampaging demon heading their way that they've got to bargain for. He can untangle Batman's personal connection to the Ghost King later. Or he could leave it alone and forget everything about it.

Yeah, he'll do that one.

But before he can actually open his mouth to say anything, the Ghost King, again, beats him to it.

"So, B-Man, did you summon me here for a particular reason, or was it really just so you could ask about Jazz?"

There's a beat of silence before Batman mutters, "I asked about Tucker, too. We've not seen each other in so long, it's only polite."

"And I'm sure you meant it, you're the paragon of manners." The Ghost King nods slow and wide-eyed as if he doesn't believe him at all.

At this point, even Constantine doesn't believe him.

"It has been forever, though." The Ghost King muses, bringing his hand to his chin and folding his legs underneath him. "We should all get together sometime! If you get Alfie to make some of his cookies again, I'll get Clockwork to lend us a pocket dimension where we can spend as much time as we want, deal?"

"It's a deal."

No hesitation at all, incredible.

Hold on. Wait. John has to fight the urge to pinch himself, because this has to be a dream, right? Is Batman actually smiling? He didn't even know he could do that.

An itch niggles at the back of John's mind. He's starting to get an inkling of what's going on here and it's... weird, to say the least.

"Oooh," Nightwing singsongs, like a child in a playground tickled by the very idea of romance.

But then, who's he to judge? John's no stranger to strange bedfellows, that's for sure. Whoever this Jazz is, she must be something incredible—she'd have to be, if Batman can't even go two minutes without asking about her.

"Batman and Jasmine sitting in a tree," Nightwing continues, with both Red Hood and Red Robin joining in for the rest. "K—I—S—S—I—"

"Stop," Batman growls, completely drowned out by the Ghost King's laughter, but...

But.

It all suddenly clicks for John.

The Ghost King Phantom.

Her Royal Highness, Princess Jasmine Phantom.

Jazz.

"Holy shit, mate," John breathes, unable to stop himself as everyone looks his way. "You have the hots for the Princess of the Infinite Realms?"

The Justice League meeting room has never descended into chaos quicker.

[youchangedmedestiel]

omg please tell us about your endverse Cas and Stanford era Dean WIP!!

I'm so happy you asked about this one. The idea came from this art and the ficlet that goes with it on the link above. See for me it looks like Endverse Cas and Stanford era Dean. Probably because Dean looks younger since he doesn’t have a beard. So I worked with that.

And then, I wrote this:

What if, Endverse Cas ended up somehow in early 2005. Just before everything went sideways, because despite acting all defeated, he still has hope to save Dean. Because this is what this is all about. He loves Dean and wants to save him from being hopeless and helpless after Sam said yes to Lucifer. He wants to avoid him that nightmare.

So, he finds a way.

He meets Dean in a bar, drinking alone. His father out on a hunt somewhere and Sam in Stanford.

Cas talks with him and buys him a beer. He tells him he is a hunter, lies about knowing John Winchester to gain Dean’s trust. Because what does he have to lose?

He knows Dean so well. He recognizes him so easily. He changed but not really. He is still him. Still the most loving human being he knows. Still beautiful, still Dean Winchester.

They exchange about hunt stories and Dean just confesses about the current case he is working on. Cas lies that this is why he is here, to work on the same one. And Dean offers to join forces. He invites him in his motel room, because Dean is not as wary as he became, because Cas didn’t betray him yet and he is still young.

They work that case together. Cas feels almost like an angel, it’s like he can fly again. He doesn’t want to leave Dean’s side, he’s got to make sure he is safe.

Dean accepts his help, that’s not the first time he worked with another hunter that is not his family. Plus, the guy knows how to use a gun, and a blade. He is surprisingly good at it for someone who is on drugs all the time.

One night, he settles in his queen bed, next to Dean’s, his joint in his mouth. Dean approaches to take it out of his mouth, mumbling something about the smell being so strong he feels like it never leaves his clothes. But Cas grabs his wrist before he can do anything and pulls him on top of him. Dean obviously falls on him, surprised and struggling. But Cas’s hands on him are so gentle and so careful. The kind of touch he never received from a man. Especially not his father.

So he melts into it. He closes his eyes, when fingers snake between his locks. He gasps when soft lips brush his. He just lies there, when a hand strokes his back.

When Cas kisses Dean’s neck, his stubble scratches Dean’s throat.

Maybe Cas took too much drugs, or Dean inhaled a lot of it, because at some point Cas offers Dean to ride him and Dean accepts. They both strip and settle back on the bed.

[saline-coelacanth]

Thinking about how Arin and Oliver mirror each other.

How Arin has no powers and he feels useless because of it, meanwhile Oliver is basically a god and therefore has a lot of power.

Arin is afraid that he won't be good enough to help the team because he hasn't improved at all, and he thinks he's just a burden. Oliver on the other hand is terrified of hurting the others due to his immense power and because of how closely his power is tied to his darker side and the fact that he's the embodiment of evil.

Hell, even the fact that Oliver can't do spinjitzu meanwhile Arin's whole deal is that he taught himself spinjitzu.

I've been obsessing over these two for a few days now and I really just wanted to ramble about it real quick. Things like this also really make me want Arin to have a villain arc, or at the very least a moment of him choosing to do something not so heroic, because the idea of Oliver having to see an evil Arin makes me go crazy in the best way possible.

[hongluboobs]

book reader i have a copy of dream of the red chamber (volume 1) that ive been trying to get through for over a year how do i motivate myself to finish it

I'm recently coming out of a half a year ish period of not reading very much so trust me when I say the lack of motivation comes for us all. I think I have some tips for how to motivate reading in general+ some for DOTRC specifically :)

(Real quick, I assume because you mentioned a volume 1 you're talking about the Hawkes-David translation published by Penguin in five volumes under the name 'The Story of The Stone'. This is the translation I read through, and it's the one I see recommended most to english speakers looking for an enjoyable reading experience, so to any other prospective readers of this novel I HIGHLY recommend reading this translation as opposed to any other ones. I don't know if I need to say this or if it's well-known to seek out that version, but because Hong Lu's canto is coming up I want to make sure anyone interested in reading through the source material can have the best experience possible with it👍)

It's important to remember that reading is a hobby, and the best way to keep going with it is to make it a habit. Unfortunately, this means forcing yourself to read sometimes, but it comes easier the more you do it. The trick is: it doesn't have to be a lot of reading.

The hard part for me is really just picking up the book and starting to read. Normally with books I like to set a goal of a chapter or so per day, but because this book has longer chapters that wasn't always feasible for me, especially if I had stuff to do. But once I had the book in my hands and started reading I would usually go above my goal I had set :)

Last year a lot of my DOTRC reading was done while I was waiting in line for things, getting/eating food, waiting on the bus, or killing time between classes/during boring lectures (I don't know if I'd advise that last one). This is moreso once you get in the rhythm of things, though.

Another tip is sometimes the format is the thing to stop me. I don't know if you're reading from a physical book or an ipad/kindle/etc or a computer or what, but sometimes I read better on my laptop than other things because it's Always Around. Sometimes I don't feel like grabbing a book or I don't have it with me, but my laptop's already open and I'm bored so maybe I'll do a little bit of reading instead of scrolling social medias. Lately, i've been jumping between my laptop and kindle for reading (laptop for convenience, kindle for portability and reading before bed at night) but I've gone between physical books and digital devices before. (If you want the epub versions of dotrc, I'd be willing to share them as well. The only difficulty is page numbers change between reading formats so I can only really switch at the start of chapters or if I skim to where I last was.

Something that saved me while reading DOTRC specifically (as well as other sinner books) was having a place I could discuss/"liveblog" the book. These books can get LONG and the reading experience varies from "really interesting and compelling" to "oh my godddd I do not need 20 pages of Outdated Whale Facts right now". (no offense to Moby Dick. I'm only slandering that one because I read the whole thing and in spite of enjoying it I understand why there are SO many abridged versions around.) It's kind of just the classic lit experience to deal with these types of things, but it's a lot more tolerable to me if you can talk to other people about it.

When I read DOTRC I didn't have anyone else reading with me, but just having a place to tell people about all the things that happen in this book helped me to keep track of events and characters. It also motivated me to keep reading so I could tell The People what happened next. Having someone else read with me would probably have helped as well, but it's hard to sell people on reading a 5-volume behemoth of a novel with so much stuff in it it has it's own field of study dedicated to it.

You can really yap anywhere. I have a channel in my Limbus Discord dedicated to the books so I don't drive everyone insane with my rambling and it seems to have helped some of my friends get through some of the other books as well so I think this method is a pretty solid success? You could also pretty easily do it just in someone's DMs if they're already familiar with the book (this has the bonus of them potentially being able to clarify things for you and help you get a deeper understanding of the book) or even yapping on a tumblr sideblog or empty notes doc or something.

So TL;DR:

Picking up the book is the hardest part. Reading a little is better than not reading at all.

Subjecting your friends to this book will make it easier to keep going :)

Also: for Dream of the Red Chamber specifically: the book starts slow. I don't know how far in you are, but so many people drop it early. I started reading it during a 12-ish hour car ride and that might've been the play because i can see people getting bored during the first few chapters. It definitely picks up though, so trust me when I say it gets a lot easier to read as you keep going. Chapter 5 is an incredibly interesting chapter, and from there I find things pick up and start going faster. (It helps that chapter 5 is pretty relevant for the direction I think Limbus is going to take canto 8 in!) The later volumes were able to go by a lot faster for me than the earlier ones as well.

This is a long ass book, but it's gonna be a while before Hong Lu's canto drops and we get to Witness that Surrender. Or Surrender that Witness. I'm not actually sure. But regardless, you've got plenty of time to get through it, even if you're a slower reader or don't have much time to dedicate to reading. Steady progress is the name of the game for stuff like this.

Worst case, you've killed a bunch of time during the wait for Hong Lu's canto (because oh boy, I have a feeling this one's gonna be a wait) and you are able to gain a better appreciation for canto 8 by understanding some of the nicher bits of how it adapts stuff from the source.

Best case, you really enjoy reading it and end up like a bunch of the Hong Lu fans I know who were permanently changed by reading this book and started reading scholarly analysis of it for fun (or start seeking out every adaptation of it you can find, or read the book 5 times over... I am coming to realize this book does something to people.)

This book is legitimately incredibly good, even outside the context of me reading it because I was very invested in that beautiful cyan freak from a game I like. I might not have been able to get through it without Limbus providing me the push to keep going on days where I really didn't want to read, but it's a legitimate interest of mine now I will seek out information on regardless of its connection to Limbus! Trust me when I say it's worth getting through even if it feels hard or tedious.

(and if it helps- a solid amount of the stuff I feel is most likely to be Limbus relevant happens near the end of the book. There's so much in this book so things that could be relevant are scattered throughout almost all of it, but I've been picking up so many end of the book vibes from stuff we've seen lately. so you've got to get there!!)

[venomgender]

playing kingdom hearts is such a funny experience because you will spend 2 hours trying to defeat cerberus and then every boss fight after that youre like Really? thaf was fhe boss of this world? i didnt even have to give donald and goofy potions!

[thasorns-moved]

MARC PAHUN AS HIN & CHAAIM ALONGKORN AS PAYU IN CHAINS OF HEART (2023), dir. Term Rungradit Rungamonwanit (for @zhaozi​ ❤)

[skitskatdacat63]

@lesharl-eclair here is the vettonso timeline I mentioned at some point!! I was gonna make a more refined version but ah, the original is fine so I'm posting it for you <3

Its written so its as if their careers began at the same time. There's obviously some parts where they deviate from each other(I blame Fernando), but they're pretty similar, no??

Here's some notes I have:

They both started at technically the same team(if you ignore that Seb raced one race for Sauber): Minardi/STR. And they spent 3 seasons either racing for that team or testing(Fernando for Renault, Seb for BMW teams), before being promoted to the team where they won their respective WDCS.

They both spent six seasons with their WDC team. And both won their WDCs using Renault engines. Both were pretty much the golden boys of their teams, beloved by their team principal and team in general. Unfortunately both aren't consecutive because Fernando tried out McLaren lol.

They spent a similar amount of years at Ferrari(five and six respectively.) Neither could win a WDC with Ferrai(😔) And both joined Ferrari in a very similar way. When Fernando joined, he ousted Kimi and it was very uncertain where Kimi was going. I think the commentators in 2009 predicted McLaren? (But he ended up taking a sabbatical obv.) But pretty messy, right? The literal same exact thing happened with Fernando and Seb in 2014-2015. They finally announced at the end of the season, even though it was pretty obvious, that Seb would be replacing Fernando. And where did Fernando go? McLaren! The history book on the shelf is always repeating itself. I guess I find it funny that Fernando replaced his former rival under somewhat messy circumstances, only for his other rival to do the exact same thing to him years later.

Okay McHonda and Alpine blah blah blah. Anyways they're probably going to have both end up competing their careers after two years with Aston Martin. This honestly is my favorite parallel. Because it's very sweet to me that Seb replaced Fernando, in an aforementioned messy way, only for Fernando to take Seb's seat in a very peaceful, almost "passing the torch" type exchange 🥰

[galacticlamps]

I just wanted to apologize to my classic whotuals for all the dead boy detectives spamming, but it's also important to me that you guys know two things:

a) I've become aware that a lot of what appeals to me about dead boy detectives is, on a kind of conceptual/thematic level, the same stuff that I love about my favorite eras of dr who, and 6b in particular

And I tell you this not as an advertising tactic but as a genuine PSA for anyone following me because:

b) Being me & having realized this, I know I'm definitely gonna wind up posting some unnecessarily long-winded analysis/comparison, pop it in the main tags for the sake of organization on my own blog, and subsequently confuse a hell of a lot of people there who either have no idea what I'm talking about or simply don't view either piece of media in the same light as I do to begin with

So I just wanted to reassure everyone that at least you're not suffering alone, as I will soon be inflicting the reverse bait-and-switch upon others!

That's all! continue w ur scrolling <3

[arrgh-whatever]

I don’t know who she is the but I love the the cult leader lady (from a distance). like, yes queen, go kill and cannibalize, go out and do crazy shit. What an absolute icon

and that's exactly what she's here for

so glad to see that people like her!

[marclef]

thank you everyone who had kind words for me the other day... i'm doing a lot better today now. i wanna get back to drawing, it'll help get my mind off things as well. but it really means a lot to me hearing from all of you, you helped me out on a really bad day. take care, i love all of ya (platonically of course) 😊😊

[violetsareblue-selfships]

good morning!! <3

[kuromi-hoemie]

i didn't immediately get a follow-up text saying someone i hung out with had a good time

[skrunksthatwunk]

god goromi really fucked my gender didn't she

[mimi-cee-genshin]

I think I finally have my first draft done for chapter 4 of my Wanderer series. It took so much work to figure this out.