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inthe-dark-tonight · 2 years ago

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Falling into My Sins

chapter one: back in the alleyway

dbf!joel x fem!reader series- loosely inspired by the song skin by soccer mommy

chapter 2 chapter 3 chapter 4 chapter 5 chapter 6 chapter 7

summary: it’s your first night out since moving back with your dad after graduating college. while at the bar you meet an attractive mystery man and end up hitting it off. things get heated when you convince him to dance with you.

word count: 2.7k

series rating: E (18+ mdni)

warnings: no outbreak AU, age gap (reader is in their 20s, Joel is in his 40s) alcohol consumption, light swearing, slight dubious consent (things get heated while drunk), pet names (sweetheart, babe, etc.), no use of y/n, no physical description of reader.

notes: this is my first time really writing anything so i’m very nervous to post this , i've also been working on one other fic but i decided to post this first. thank you for taking the time to read and any feed back is welcome & appreciated xo <3

also thank you so much to @shatteredbaby for proof reading ily so much bby, and @pr0ximamidnight for also proof reading, letting me ramble like a maniac and helping me with ideas ilysm. i appreciate you both so so so much <3

It’s your first weekend going out since you’ve moved back home with your dad. You’ve just graduated from the Art institute of Chicago in the spring, but your lease wasn’t up on your apartment until August so you stayed near campus until then. Now that you’re back, some of your old friends from high school offered to take you out as a sort of welcome home. You’re just finishing getting ready when you get a text from your friend Aya.

We’re here!! Hurry up Dee is getting impatient!

You roll your eyes and smile. Typical. You’re a bit nervous since you haven’t seen them in about a year, but you’re sure once you’re out it will feel like you weren’t even gone. You throw on a jacket and run down the stairs, grabbing your keys as you go.

“I’m leaving!” You call out.

“Have fun bud!” Your dad shouts from the other room.

Your parents had recently divorced while you were away, so it’s just you and your dad now. You feel kinda bad leaving him alone when you just got back, but you’ll make up for it.

You close the front door behind you and run down your front porch towards Aya’s car. As you get closer, the passenger window rolls down.

“Ahhhhh you’re back!!!” Your friend, Dee, yells. You laugh at her reaction and open the back door to the car.

“Hey!” You slide in and buckle your seat belt.

Aya turns around with one hand still on the wheel. “Long time no see! Tonight’s gonna be fun,” she says with a smile.

“We’re taking shots as soon as we get there,” Dee says with a sly smile and you laugh, leaning back fully into the seat as Aya drives, heading for downtown.

As soon as the three of you find a bar, Dee keeps her promise and orders you all shots and they send you to find a booth while they wait for the order. There aren’t many people in the bar yet since it’s only nine, but it’s slowly filling up. You look around the place, taking in the large bar that runs across one wall with stools gathered around it and across from it is the booth seating you’ve sat in. There are a few high top tables scattered around the perimeter of the bar, a pool table to the right of the door next to the large dance floor in the center that’s currently empty, and the sounds of eighties and nineties rock hits filling the large room.

As you’re looking around, the door to the bar opens and two men walk in. The first man has long dark curly hair, a patchy beard, and he’s wearing dark jeans paired with a tan jacket and brown boots. The other man has shorter dark hair, a similarly patchy beard streaked with gray, and he’s wearing dark jeans paired with a green flannel and brown boots. He’s quite handsome, you think – broader than the first man, his frame stretching the fabric of the flannel to its limit. Your eyes flick back up to his face, taking in the curve of his nose, the crease between his brows and dark brown eyes. When your eyes meet, he’s looking right at you and you immediately glance away, embarrassed that he caught you checking him out. When you dare to look at him again, his gaze is still locked on you.

“Okay, let’s do this!” Dee says as the girls approach the table with a round of shots and a drink for each of you.

Your eyes snap away from the man’s and you smile at them, grabbing a shot glass.

“To celebrate your return home,” Dee says, raising her glass for you to toast against.

You tilt your head back letting the cold liquid slide down. You close your eyes and wince as the sour flavor with the aftertaste of vodka that burns your throat. When you open your eyes again you’re met with the stranger’s warm brown eyes on you still, a shy smile on his face before he turns towards the bar and leans on the wooden counter. You set the glass down on the table and look back to your friends.

The three of you sip on your drinks for about thirty minutes or so, talking about school and catching up on life. At some point while you were all catching up, the bar switched to playing early 2000s music as more people came in. You find your eyes wandering towards the gorgeous man every few minutes, admiring his side profile, the way his hand is wrapped around his beer bottle and his shirt is rolled up to expose his forearms.

You all finish your drinks and Aya is pulling you and Dee onto the dance floor. “Come on!! I love this song!!!”

You don’t recognize the song, but you follow them onto the floor dancing and smiling as they sing along. You find yourself looking towards the bar again hoping to catch the man’s eye, but he’s gone.

“I’ll be back, I’m going to get another drink.” You say loudly over the music.

The girls just nod and keep singing along. You make your way through the crowd that’s formed in the place and find the bar. Your eyes are still scanning, looking for him, when all of a sudden someone comes up beside you, leaning onto the bar. From the corner of your eye you can tell who it is. You turn your head and it’s the mystery man. He’s even more attractive up close, a dimple on his right cheek as he smiles down at you, slight creases next to his eyes. Your eyes travel down towards his broad shoulders and the skin on his chest that’s showing where his shirt is unbuttoned.

“Hi.” the man says while smiling down at you. His voice is like honey, deep with a southern drawl.

Your lips slightly part as you hesitate for a second “Hi.” you finally say back.

“Can I buy you a drink?” He nods towards the bar.

You shake your head in agreement.

“What are you havin’, sweetheart?” He asks.

You clear your throat. “Whatever you’re having.” You smile.

“Hm.” his lip quirks up as his eyes roam your form. The bartender comes over and he orders two beers, then his eyes are back on you. “You here with friends?”

“Yeah uh, I was out of town, I just got back so we’re celebrating.” You decide to keep it vague.

“Well,” the bartender comes back with your beers and he hands one to you. “Welcome back.” He smirks, then you both take a sip.

You can’t help but watch the way his hand wraps around the bottle as he brings it up to meet his lips. You take a few sips of your beer, eyes still locked on him, then place it back on the counter. You’re feeling a little more confident now.

“What about you,” you place your elbow on the table and rest your chin in your hand, looking up at him. “Who are you here with?”

He looks over his shoulder into the crowd, an amused look on his face. “My brother.” You follow his eyes to see his brother sitting in a booth with a girl, leaning into her as they talk.

You giggle then turn back to the man. You’re noticing some similar features now that you know they’re brothers.

“You two come here every weekend chatting up girls and buying them drinks?” You bite your cheek and give him a teasing look.

He nods his head slowly looking down at the bar where he’s leaning on his forearms and lets out a small laugh. “Every now n’ then.” He looks back at you, a slight flush on his cheeks.

“Mmm bit of a player huh?” You lift your brow, teasing him some more.

He’s laughing again, it’s a deep chested laugh that makes his shoulders slightly bounce. “Wouldn’t say that, haven’t had much luck recently.” He looks from your eyes to your lips, then back to your eyes.

You nod your head taking another swig of your beer “So, what do you do for a living?” You ask nonchalantly.

“Uh,” he rubs the back of his neck. “I’m a contractor.” that explains his broad shoulders.

You bite your thumb and lean a little closer to him, arm brushing up against his. The alcohol is definitely taking an effect now. You’re checking him out again, and it’s not subtle. The way his shirt fits snug around his biceps, and his jeans fit his waist just right. He takes another sip of his beer and your eyes lock again.

Then suddenly a song you recognize comes on, Promiscuous by Nelly Furtado. You hear your friends squealing on the dance floor as the song starts, causing you to whip your head towards them then back to the mystery man.

“I’ll be right back.” You smile at him sweetly, finishing off your beer and setting the empty bottle on the table before leaving to join your friends.

You get out to the floor and they hold their hands out towards you, smiling and singing along to the song. You’re swaying your hips to the beat, mouthing the lyrics as you dance. Your hands are moving up and down your body, over the tights you’re wearing and slightly bunching up the short slip dress you have on. You’re lost in the music, then suddenly your eyes lock with the mystery man’s again, darkening as they watch you move. He’s leaning up against the bar, beer in one hand and the other in his front pocket.

‘Promiscuous boy you already know

That I’m all yours, what you waiting for?’

You’re mouthing the words, eyes never leaving his. You tilt your head to the side and give him a cheeky smile before moving your hands over your hips again. He lifts his hand out of his pocket, beckoning you back to him with his pointer finger. You shake your head no, and mimic his motion telling him to come to you. You turn away from him, back towards your friends, then glance at him over your shoulder and mouth, “Dance with me.”

A few moments later you feel a large warm hand run down your arm, and the back of a hand runs over the nape of your neck and down your shoulder before resting on your hips. You turn your head to look and it’s your mystery man, looking down at you with desire in his eyes. You turn around, still in his grasp, and wrap your arms around his neck, bringing your body flush to his.

You’re swaying with his hands on your hips now, grinding up against him. His tongue darts out to wet his lips and he leans his forehead against yours, taking in a deep breath. You tilt your head up, heavy lidded eyes scanning his face and your nose bumping his, your parted lips allowing a shared breath in the scant space between your mouths.

Then he’s kissing you, one hand on your hip lightly squeezing, the other resting on your cheek. He lets out a small groan and slips his tongue into your mouth, a mixture of mint and beer fill your senses. You gently pull the hair at the nape of his neck, causing him to let out a sigh.

“Sweetheart.” His voice sounds gravelly and deeper than before. “I can’t take my eyes off you.”

“Then don’t,” you say, so low it’s almost a whisper, just between the two of you.

You’re so close to him, you can feel his arousal straining against his pants as you press yourself against him.

“Come with me.” he looks down at you while trying to catch his breath.

He kisses you again, hand resting on your cheek. You nod approvingly as he pulls away. He doesn’t hesitate, grabbing you by the hand and dragging you off the dance floor towards the door. You notice his hand is much larger than yours, a little rough and calloused most likely from his job. He looks back at you a few times, and you just stare at his broad frame as you follow him. You look at the way his hair sits so perfectly, eyes wandering to his large forearms as he pulls you along behind him.

Moments later you two are outside and he’s pulling you around the side of the brick building. He backs you up against the wall, lips immediately crashing into yours. His palms rest on either side of your face, thumbs roughly caressing your cheeks like he just can’t get enough.

“You were killing me in there,” He’s towering over you, your hands clinging to his forearms.

“Was I? Couldn’t tell.” you smile slyly.

He laughs and shakes his head. “You’re somethin’ else babe, deadly.” he’s kissing you again, hands moving down your body to your waist.

You grab at the fabric of his shirt near his chest, trying desperately to pull him closer. His large hands find the hem of your dress and move up over your tights clad thighs. You moan into his mouth, heat already starting to build at your core. Moans and heavy breaths filling the air as you claw at his skin. You gently bite at his lower lip then slip your tongue into his mouth, deepening the kiss. As you lower your hands towards the waist of his jeans, tucking your fingers into the front and pulling his hips flush against yours, you feel him shudder. You let out a whine as you feel the imprint of his straining cock once again.

Then you hear the door to the bar bursting open and two familiar voices talking. “It’s okay, it’s okay, shhhh.”

You freeze as your lips leave Joel’s, wide eyes meeting his before stepping away from him to peer around the corner. He lets out a groan as he adjusts himself, one hand still on your hip trailing behind you as you near the corner of the building. Then you see Aya with her arm around Dee, rubbing her back. You stand up straight, pulling away from Joel.

“Oh my god?! What happened?” You sprint over to them.

“Oh thank god, we were looking everywhere for you.” Aya looks up at you. “Dee had too much to drink, we need to go.” She loops her arm into Dee’s. “I grabbed your things, where were you?”

Then you see her eyes wander to the broad older man shuffling up behind you and her eyes go wide. She leans in close to you and mouths “Oh my god”. You can feel your face heating up as you turn around to face him.

“You ladies need a ride home?” He looks down at you, concerned look on his face.

“Oh uh.” You turn back to Aya.

“No, we've got it covered-” she smiles at him.

“But thank you,” it comes out louder than intended. “I appreciate it,” taking a step closer to him you whisper “And sorry…”

“Don’t worry about it, Killer.” He flashes a charming smile at you.

“Killer?” You laugh at the nickname and he nods his head.

“We gotta go!” Aya yells out to you.

You whip your head to look at her, then your eyes meet his again. “Well, it was nice meeting you, mystery man.” You give him one last look and go to turn around towards your friends. He gently grabs your shoulder, surprising you.

“Wait,” it comes out soft as he whips you around to face him again. “Can I at least have your number?”

You hesitate for a moment. “What, so you can add me to your roster?” You try to hold back a smile.

“C’mon.” he looks away shaking his head, a boyish smile plastered on his face.

“Give me your phone.” He looks back at you, relief in his eyes. Then he pulls it out of his pocket and hands it to you.

You type in your number and put your contact name as Killer. You hand him back his phone and quickly get on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek. His eyes go slightly wide, and then you’re turning away, running towards the car before he can say anything. As you grab your jacket and purse from your friend and slip into the car, you smile at him before closing the door.

You watch him through the window standing there with his hands in his pockets as the car pulls away. Your mystery man, you hope to see him again.

ty for reading xo

tagging a few moots but np! anyone who wants to be tagged in the next one let me know :)

@nostalxgic @ilovepedro @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @beskarandblasters @jenispunk @tieronecrush @joelsversion @pedrospartner @canseethebrushstrokes @scrambledslut @isitmeulookin4 @tinygarbage <3

#dbf!joel #dbf!joel miller x reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel the last of us #joel tlou #fic: falling into my sins #joel miller fanfiction

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astroboots · 2 years ago

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EVERY YOU EVERY ME #11.5 SPECIAL

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x female reader

Summary: Let’s start from the beginning one last time.

Word count: 5,800

Warning: Heavy angst and character death. Dead Dove do not eat.

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

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Let’s start from the beginning one last time.

My name is Miguel O’Hara, and in an experiment gone wrong, my genetic code was partially rewritten with Spider DNA, giving me superpowers.

My home is Earth 928-C where I was the one and only Spiderman... of my home dimension at least.

I invented and built a dimensional travel device that allowed me to jump between universes with the goal of exploring the limits of the multiverse.

And then I met a woman in this other world who nearly died from a crazy freak accident.

I saved her of course.

Then I saved her again.

And again, and again.

... And again.

We fell in love, and I decided to stay with her in her world.

You know the rest. We got married. We had a life together.

I was happy. Really happy.

For a while.

[Earth 383-D]

3 YEARS AGO

"Goddamn idiot bird," Miguel mutters under his breath.

Vulture is on the loose again, wreaking havoc on the city. The maniac is flying high above the city grounds, leaving a trail of mayhem in his wake.

Miguel's been in pursuit for the better half of two hours. In that time, the bird has derailed the High Line, literally hit a traffic light and managed to knock over the spire on the Statue of Liberty as if he was flying under the influence.

Then somehow flew across town through Tribeca, along Lower Manhattan and Greenwich Village and now reached all the way to Midtown Manhattan.

Dumbass ugly stupid bird.

Miguel digs his claws into the exterior of the limestone and granite of the Empire State Building to steady himself, using the momentum to leap forward.

The Vulture crashes into a skyscraper 50 feet ahead of Miguel, and in the mad dash, he can see a man tumble out of the building head first to the ground from the 30th floor.

Swinging forward, Miguel slings out a web from his palm, catching the screaming and sobbing office worker in midair and lands briefly against the windowpane. He ensures the man is secured to the building in a cocoon of webbing until the fire department can get him to safer grounds.

Miguel doesn't even get a second to catch his breath. From afar, he can pick up the sound of another window being crashed into by the unwieldy metal bird.

Crap.

It's impossible for Miguel to both chase the Vulture and keep everyone else in his path of destruction safe. One superhero can't be in two places at once (none that he has encountered).

Gritting his teeth, Miguel leaps off the building swinging freely into the air to make up on the lost ground between him and the metallic cuckoo bird.

He needs backup, and the backup is unfortunately running late.

Where is he? Why is he always late?

Does that man not understand that when someone calls for backup because of an emergency, the emergency part indicates that there's some urgency to it?

Flying through the air 100 feet above the ground, from the corner of his eyes, Miguel catches the familiar garish red flowing cape that billows from the cowl of the grand cloak and suit.

Miguel would know that weird wizard get-up anywhere.

"Strange!" Miguel calls out, and he can feel irritation rattle in his chest. "You're late! Where the shock were you?"

"The word you're looking for is 'fuck.' Where the fuck was I," the man responds with a sarcastic drawl.

Strange levitates through the air, effortlessly without expending any energy at all as he catches up with Miguel. "You gave me no notice. Be happy I showed up at all."

From a distance he sees the dumb bird soar high up into the sky and towards the all too familiar crowned roof of the Chrysler building.

No. nononono.

Why is he there? What is he doing there? Anywhere but there.

His back flashes cold then burning hot as the Vulture makes a straight beeline for the familiar building.

It’s fine. Maybe he’s not going to fly in there. Maybe he’s just going to fly past it.

Miguel watches as the metallic bird soars up and up and up, past the midpoint of the building, past the 40th floor of your office and up to the 50th floor. The tight squeeze in his chest eases.

Then the vulture stops, mid-flight and looks down below, as if he changed his mind, before he descends again.

Shit! Shit! SHIT!

He dives into one of the windows between the 40th and 50th floor. The sound of broken glass and shrill screams can be heard even from where Miguel is.

Blood freezes in his veins and nausea overtakes him. Calm down. Breathe.. Maybe you’re not in. After all, Lyla’s security protocols would’ve been activated by now if you were. He would’ve been alerted.

Soaring through the skies, Miguel reaches over to his wrist to punch in the dial for Lyla to check in and reassure himself you're safe. But his tracker blinks back in an alarming red, and he darts down his head towards the display.

Error.

His heart stops.

The flying silhouette reappears through the shattered windows and the metallic harness strapped onto the vulture gleams bright against the sun.

It’s only then it hits him. Lyla's been deactivated by the madman's stupid Electro-Magnetic Harness.

Why hadn't he foreseen that as a technical flaw?

Against the reflective glass panes, Miguel sees you, caught in the Vulture talons like a mouse captured by a large predatory bird. Every hair on his neck stands on end. His vision bleeds into red, blood roaring at the sight of it.

Kill him.

Miguel's gonna murder that freak for touching you. Crush his windpipe so he can't ever squawk again, then rip his throat out with his claws and feed it to the street pigeons for good measure.

Launching himself through the air, Miguel tears up the side of the building. The tempered glass beneath his claws and feet, shatters into sharp jagged pieces as he closes the distance.

He is almost within reach. Only some 30 feet that still separates you from him. Leaping the final distance he slams hard into the side of the Vulture until metal crunches beneath his feet.

Miguel roars until his throat burns with it. Palms gripping at the man’s jaw and prying it back to get at his bare throat. His fangs are ready to sink into the jugular. He can see the dark pupil of Vulture's eyes dilate with fear.

Good. Miguel's anger will be the last thing this freak sees.

"Miguel calm down," Strange shouts at him from behind. "You're gonna knock her off."

Miguel freezes at the warning, forcing himself to hold still as he looks down to where you are dangling precariously from the Vulture's claws.

"Be ready," Strange shouts, and Miguel looks to him, not understanding what the hell he means.

Strange rests his hand over the shiny blue gem hanging around a chain from his neck.

What does he mean by be ready? What is Strange going to do?

"What'd you mea–"

Miguel doesn't have a chance to finish the rest of his sentence. An unnatural force vibrates through him. A pulsating wave that pervades his senses, punching through his lungs and knocks him back.

In an instance, you're propelled away from Strange and the Vulture, and you are freefalling towards the ground below.

Miguel leaps mid-air, arms outstretched to catch you as you plummet towards the ground below. His fingers clasps around your wrists, your warm skin against his fingertips.

He's got you!

Taking hold of you by the arm, Miguel pulls you into his chest as he wraps one arm securely around your waist.

Immediate relief fills him from the inside out as the adrenaline and the searing anger is already starting to fade now that he knows you're safe.

"You okay, nena?" he asks.

You nod, arms finding purchase around the back of his neck, and squeeze down tight. He swings you both to the safety of a nearby rooftop.

There's barely time for him to touch the surface, he hears the nearby explosion and sees Vulture crash into the concrete wall of the nearest building.

Strange is levitating nearby, hands making wild gestures, presumably to perform some hocus pocus ritual. There’s a magical glow as strobes of light manifest out of thin air surrounding the Vulture from all sides and wrapping around him in a restraining bind.

Miguel sets you down. You're a little bit wobbly on your feet, and seeing you stumble the way you do has that protective streak spark anew in his chest.

Stupid Strange. He can't just do shit like that.

What if Miguel hadn't reacted in time? What if you had fallen?

This is why Miguel hates working with the guy, even if they’re friends. Always on his moral high horse about Miguel being reckless, then he pulls shit like this.

"Everyone alright?" Strange asks as he levitates through the sky to set feet close to you both on the rooftop.

Miguel grits his teeth with annoyance at the man’s casual demeanor when he nearly threw you out of the sky.

"Shock you, Strange," he spits out.

"Miggy..." you sigh in a reprimanding tone next to him.

Stephen shakes his head at him. "I told you. It's fuck"

"Fuck you, Strange."

Sanctum Sanctorum is closer than home and Strange has, comfortable sofas in his ridiculously big mansion. Big enough sofas that Miguel can actually lounge in them comfortably without it feeling cramped. It's why, given the choice, he always prefer to regroup there, over your tiny apartment.

Besides, while the man's control over his magical powers can be suspect at times, he used to be a doctor. Supposedly one of the leading brain surgeons in the world, and Miguel is a lot more comfortable at the prospect of Strange giving you a checkover to make sure you don't need further medical attention than trying your luck at one of the local ERs.

"Follow my finger," Strange says as he shines a little flashlight into your eyes and moves his index from side to side.

Your eyes follow him dutifully, and Strange proceeds with the rest of his medical check, asking you the boring standard questions. "Any symptoms of dizziness, lightheadedness, or a sense of vertigo?"

He fires them out in rapid succession, and a bit too perfunctory for Miguel's liking.

"Noticed any changes in your vision, blurriness or double vision, etcetera etcetera?"

Miguel's jaw tic in irritation at how Strange is putting in minimal effort and just going through the motions.

"Yeah, you're fine." Strange pats your knees, then whisks the flashlight away into nothingness with his cape.

That medical check wasn't anything close to thorough. Miguel crosses his arms over his chest. "Are you sure? Her feet were wobbly before, I wanted to make sure she didn't sprain her ankle."

"A little bit overprotective as always aren't we?" Strange says.

Miguel shoots the man a glare and Stephen sighs, "Her reflexes are fine, I don't think anything's sprained."

"Check again, you seemed sloppy," Miguel accuses.

"You know, I'm doing this as a favor because you’re a friend. Do you have any idea how much a medical examination by one of the leading neurological surgeons in the world would cost you normally?"

"I'll have Lyla transfer the money."

“No, it’s not actually about money just–" Stephen shakes his head, then sighs. "Nevermind.”

He gestures for you to drape your leg across his lap, then he reaches over to gently assess your ankle as requested.

"What is this necklace?" You ask. You lean closer to Strange, inspecting the blue gem where it rests against his chest.

Strange swats at your hand, the way an adult scolds a child with sticky chocolate smeared hands trying to touch the fine china.

"It's a protection amulet. When activated it forms a protective barrier that forcibly repels everything within ten feet of you."

"Huh," you reach back for the amulet undaunted by the earlier reprimand, fascinated and clearly enamored by it. "I'll give you fifty bucks for it."

Strange looks offended. "It's not for sale, and if it was it would certainly be worth a lot more than fifty dollars. It's a genuine magical artifact, not fake costume jewelry from the theater department."

You purse your lips, considering the amulet.

"Forty," you offer.

Miguel has to choke back a snorting laughter in his throat at the way Stephen's eyes goes wide in confused outrage.

"Wait, why is the price going down?"

“We’re in the middle of an economic crisis, Stephen,” you counter.

Strange's head darts over to where Miguel sits, presumably for backup, but he's knocked on the wrong door. The man must be mad if he thinks that there is ever a world where Miguel would side against you.

"Strange, we both know it’s easier if you just give her the amulet." Miguel says.

The man sighs, shaking his head in defeat.

"Be careful with it," he says as he drags the chain over his head to place it in your awaiting palms. "And don't lose it like the invisibility amulet with Mysterio. Had to spend a whole month clearing up your mess when that creep used it to get into the women's locker rooms at every local gym in Greenwich!"

"That wasn’t my mess! Miggy lost that one during an aerial fight. You can't blame that on me."

"You married him, so you're responsible for him. I consider you two jointly to blame."

"Now you're just lashing out," you shoot back.

Miguel watches the two of you in patient boredom, his head propped up by an elbow on the arm of the sofa. He expended way too much energy during the fight, and now he needs to refuel.

If Miguel leaves you two to it, you'll spend an eternity bantering, the way you do. His stomach growls. He wants food. Wants wantons and beef ho fun and a dozen custard salted egg buns for dessert. And the longer you two are at it, the longer it's going to take for him to get it.

"Nena," he calls out, "I'm hungry. Are you two done? I want to go for dinner."

You shoot Miguel a quick smile, pulling out your wallet and take out a wad of green bills then fold it into Strange's hand with a happy grin.

Strange looks down at the crumpled up money in his hand. "Wait, you're only giving me thirty? I thought we said forty."

"You still owe me like ten bucks from mini golf last week."

Strange pockets the money with a grumble. "Unbelievable."

“C’mon,” Miguel says as he stands up and gestures to the both of you with a curt nod of his head towards the door. “Let’s go. I’ll pay for dinner this time,” Miguel says, and that seems to abate Strange’s outrage somewhat as the man grabs your coat from the sofa cushions and offers it to you.

Life on Earth 383-D is strange.

Life here is borderline primitive. The technology is something out of the stone ages.

Social media is a wasteland. Reality TV is a dystopian concept. And he doesn't understand who Kardashian is or why everyone is obsessed with her and her family.

He does like fax machines though. They are basically teleportation machines and it boggles him that the people of your dimension do not seem to understand its potential.

The one thing he will give this version of earth credit for is that the food here is nice. Everyone in his home dimension is too health conscious, and fried food has long been banned by the government for the long term damage it does to the cardiovascular system.

He also likes the life that the two of you have built together here. You have a home in that tiny shoebox apartment. You have friends. Strange friends. Like the Doctor who flies around with the help of a magic cape and now practices the mystic arts after a gap year in Asia. A young girl whose main superpower is the ability to communicate with squirrels. Then there’s that ugly red-masked wise-cracking, katana-wielding maniac who never dies.

Sadly, your friends are not the only thing that is strange about your surroundings.

Miguel perches himself on top of the Chrysler building sitting hunched over on the ledge of the roof. He’s drained and bone-tired, chasing down a helicopter that had gone haywire and was hurtling towards your office building.

Luckily Strange was able to assist and sent it through a magic portal to crash into the Atlantic without putting any lives at stake.

"Just had to do some cleaning up," Strange says as he sets his boots back down on the ground.

Miguel doesn't answer him, staring out at the city view and the setting sun as he takes a well earned breather for a moment or two. New York is a bit of a shit hole, but it does look pretty from a high viewpoint, especially when the sun is setting, Miguel has to give this city that.

It's silent between the two of them. Or at least it is until Strange decides to break it with a harkle of his throat. When Miguel doesn't react the man does it again, coughing discreetly in a clear attempt to get his attention.

Miguel doesn't say anything about the man's sore throat. He ran out of the lemon drops you bought him as snacks hours ago, but he does tilt his head up at the man.

"She's been getting into a lot of these incidents lately. More than usual, more than any normal human for it to be a coincidence" Strange says.

The whole of Miguel's back stiffens.

"Have you noticed the abnormal uptick in strange unexplainable supernatural occurrences lately? Indoor tornadoes. The rain of poisonous frogs outside of whole foods. A sinkhole appearing right next to the cafe your wife frequents."

Miguel doesn't love the insinuations. Even with his lips pressed tightly together, Miguel can feel the small muscle in his jaw flex like a nervous tic at the mention of it. Because yeah, he's noticed, kind of hard to miss when your wife's life is in constant peril at all hours of the day.

Ice storms in July that hit right outside your workplace. An inexplicable solar flare causing a blackout that had every single vehicle within a 5 miles radius go haywire in the dark near your apartment. A swarm of mutated mosquitoes with a venomous bite that chased you down Central Park.

The incidents are occurring more frequently. They are also getting increasingly bizarre and dangerous.

No one can say it’s just bad luck when the daily occurrences around you are defying the very laws of nature itself. Something isn't right with the universe, and he's not sure what else there is to do except pretend that everything is still ok.

"What are you implying?" Miguel asks through gritted teeth.

But for the first time in the years that Miguel has known him, Strange's talkativeness is nowhere to be found. He doesn't answer Miguel. He's smart that way, the clever bastard. Knows that if he says one wrong word, Miguel is going to unhinge his jaws like a feral alligator and snap at him.

Strange has said what he needed for Miguel to know exactly what he's getting at. The man just meets his eyes with an intentional stare, not shying away from Miguel's glare.

It's not like the thought hasn't crossed Miguel's mind. Not like it hasn't been keeping him up at night, every night.

Even though you've always been accident prone and suffered from bad luck, at this point it's a mathematical impossibility that anyone would run into as many near death incidents as you have.

This isn't by chance. It's by design. Miguel's suspected as much for a while now. He just doesn't know whose design and why.

"It's not her fault," Miguel spits out.

"I never said it was."

"Even if what you are saying is true..." Miguel stops, and stares down at his fisted palms with a sinking feeling in his guts. "There's nothing she can do about it to stop it. You can't put that on her."

"Whether she knows about it or not, if it's true, none of this is going to go away.

Strange walks over to where Miguel is, sitting down next to him.

"It’s been escalating in severity," he continues. "There are strange universal energies attached to her. There’s warping of the universal order and space around her. We don't know how bad this can get, if we don’t do anything about this, it could unravel the fabric of reality itself."

Despite the calamity of what Strange is implying, his voice is even and calm as he says it as if he might as well be discussing the weather. That trait has always annoyed the shit out of Miguel.

"What are you planning to do if this continues?" Strange asks.

It's such a silly question. Strange says it as if this is a multiple choice question. But for Miguel there's only one correct answer.

"Protect her. I have to. She's everything to me."

Miguel is staring into the sunset bu all he sees before him is your face even though you aren’t here. The happy smile that he wants to preserve forever. He tries to fight the ache that's building in him at the thought that it would go away.

"Strange, don't tell her. Please. She doesn't need that burden."

He fists his palms into his side.

Miguel never liked asking for help, but even he knows that if what Strange is saying is true. That if the universe for some unfathomable reason wants you dead, then he's going to need all the help he can get.

If Strange has figured it out. Then it's only a matter of time before others do as well.

Soon enough, you won't just have the universe coming after you but every superhero and villain combined in a united front to take out the common threat that you pose to this entire universe.

Even Miguel knows he can't do this alone and as much as that helplessness tastes like failure and bile in his throat, he can swallow his pride if it helps keep you safe.

"Stephen, you have to help me save her."

From behind, Strange rests one hand on the corner of his shoulder. The weight of it feels like a promise being made. For the first time in a long time, Miguel feels like he can breathe just a little bit easier.

"I will do what I can, my friend."

Weeks go by. There are more incidents. Runaway vehicles that go haywire. Electrical storm fires. Rain of poisonous locusts.

Somehow he manages to protect you from it all.

It just means that he has to be more vigilant, that's all. The universe doesn't rest and neither does Miguel now. Lyla has been set on constant alert to wake him up whenever he's napping at any small signs of abnormal occurrences happening near you, with an electric shock to make sure he wakes. Something the A.I. is taking a worryingly amount of glee in (which probably means he needs to retune her programming when he has time).

And today, today Miguel was meant to have a Sunday lie in. Universe be willing, his goal was to sleep all the way into the late afternoon and then you had promised to take him to IHOP and get him all the pancakes he could eat for late breakfast.

But right now he's not asleep. He's trying to. But there are hushed words and whispered murmurs, buzzing in his ear that keeps trying to drag him away from sleep.

It's you and Strange.

Judging from the distance of the noises, you're both standing outside in the hall. The fact that you two are trying to be quiet makes it worse. If you'd spoken in normal volume he could tune it out as white noise, but the conspiratorial quietness of it all makes the hair on the back of his neck tingle with alertness.

Fuck's sake. He swears to god if you two are gossiping and making fun of Hercules’ costume (or the lack of it) again.

It's too early for this crap. Don't you two know that people are trying to sleep? He was up all night chasing crazy Kraven worshippers releasing animals from the Brooklyn zoo. Miguel had to gather wild zebras and crocodiles all the way down East Village til 4am.

With a groan, he drags himself halfway up along the mattress, about to go and growl at you both to be quiet, when the cluttered noises register as words and the fuzziness of sleep clears momentarily.

"He'd destroy this world for you."

Huh? What are you two talking about?

Miguel's too groggy to make sense of the context of what's being said. Even with his super hearing he has to focus to make out the words.

"You can't let him."

Irritated, he gets out of bed and walks to the front door to swing it open. The first thing he sees is you standing with Strange in the hallway. You jump at the suddenness and look up at him with wide eyes.

You have the worst poker face of anyone he's ever seen in his life.

"What are you two jabbering on about this damn early?" he asks.

He'd expected the two of you to act coy, maybe a clever 'wouldn't you like to know' retort back from the Mystic. Instead, Strange's face is entirely inscrutable, tone serious as he responds.

"We were just catching up. Nothing important. I need to head back," Strange says, then he turns to you with a meaningful tilt to his head. "Think about what I said."

"What was that about?" Miguel asks you as he watches Strange step through a portal and disappear.

You don't say anything. There's a worried frown etched between your eyebrows as you bite down on your lip.

Something crawls under Miguel's skin at the whole interaction.

You're oddly quiet the whole afternoon. Deep in thought and walking around as if in a daze, which unsettles him.

It's not difficult for him to guess what's wrong. He might have been half asleep when you and Strange were whispering in the corridors, but Miguel can put one and one together. Having two PHDs and a lifetime's experience of working in theoretical physics gives you that leg up.

In a last ditch effort to get you out of the uncharacteristic blues, he orders a dozen of your favorite cupcakes from that tiny shop in New Jersey. It costs an arm and a leg to have it couriered, but it'll be worth it if it makes you smile.

Then he sits down next to you on the bed and places the pink pastry box down on the mattress. It's your favorite place to eat cakes and it’s why you two always end up with crumbs and frosting all over the sheets.

You happily cram half a cupcake into your mouth in one bite as you eat, and he watches you contently. If there was any fairness in the world, this quiet idyllic moment could last forever. In a good world, Miguel wouldn’t have to burst this perfect bubble.

Sadly, this world is neither fair nor good sometimes.

"Strange said something to you right?" Miguel asks.

You still next to him, clearly torn between whether or not to share what was said to you, probably in secret with the very intention of being kept away from him.

“Nena,” Miguel tries again, and you close your eyes taking a deep breath, caving into his prodding.

"Strange thinks that my incidents might be correlated with the strange natural occurrences lately."

That fucking asshole. He knew it. Irritation pings across his jaw, and Miguel bites it down. He tries to reel it, forcing back the rant that wants to surface. Instead he tries to focus on you instead of his own anger.

"We don't know that. It could just be a series of coincidences," Miguel tells you.

You nod, but Miguel's not an idiot and neither are you. He can see the worry creasing your eyes as you look down to your lap.

Putting down the cupcake, he reaches over and links his right hand with yours.

"Nena, don't worry.” He cups his free hand over your cheek to drag you up to meet his eyes.

“I'll fight the whole universe to keep you safe if I have to. Nothing's ever going to harm you so long as I'm here. I'm not gonna let anything happen to you. You're the most important thing to me."

You smile at him at the words, but there's a wistfulness to it that embeds a dull ache in his chest that he wants to physically rub away to make it stop.

You lean into his touch, until your forehead presses up against his and the physical touch blunts the ache in him for a moment, putting it on pause.

"You’re the most important to me too," you say.

The sky itself cracks open not long after.

It doesn’t take the combined forces and intellect of the entire world too long to hone in on you being the root cause. Soon enough every superhero, mutant, villain and alien starts coming after you. Because hero or villain alike, no one truly wants their world to end, not if it’s not on their terms.

Mysterio tries to kidnap you by the elevator in your apartment building. The Human Torch even tries to burn the whole building down. The Punisher tries to murder you point blank outside your office.

Miguel can’t remember the last time he slept. He’s running on fumes. Day after day, he feels like he’s getting by on borrowed time.

The friends and allies you have thin out fast as the threats to the world increase in severity. Miguel never imagined having Deadpool standing outside his door stating that the life of one single person cannot outweigh the universe itself.

It’s all so stupid. None of them know what they’re talking about. A lynching mob with their torches and pitchforks. Never stopping to think whether harming you could trigger something much worse.

If Strange is right and you are the knot at the center of the fabric of reality that is coming apart, then ripping that out leaves a hole. Miguel gave up on explaining that fairly quickly because he realized that theoretical consequences doesn’t matter to an angry mob scared of facing the reality of extinction.

It all becomes a blur.

Exhaustion eats into his bones, until he can no longer tell the days apart. No matter how many times he saves you, disaster is always waiting just around the corner.

And now he’s chasing down the Green Goblin to the top of the Chrysler building from the 61st floor, where the green freak has cornered you to the edge of the rooftop.

Miguel is already out of breath, running away from the coalition of superheroes and villains that are hot on his heels, trying to stop him from saving you.

Adrenaline beats fast in his veins as he keeps running. Miguel is only able to make out those in pursuit in brief glimpses. The bright blue spandex suit of Reed Richards as his freakishly long elastic limbs stretch towards him. The blocks of metal hurtling towards Miguel, missing by inches and crashes into the side of a building as Magneto’s form hovers nearby.

He ignores them all, not sparing a glance behind him. He just has to keep moving. It doesn't matter that his muscles scream and burn in exhaustion. Doesn't matter that his head dulls with a heavy ache from lack of sleep. He has to keep going for you. Has to save you.

He's so close, he's almost there.

From the corner of his eyes, he makes out the familiar garish red flowing cape fluttering against the blue sky.

Strange.

Miguel marginally relaxes, at the sight of the sole ally he has left in this universe. He leaps across the rooftop, into the temporary safety of the observatory deck.

His feet doesn't even reach the ground. Something restrains him from behind. Bright lights materialize out of thin air. It wraps around Miguel's limb with the strength of unbreakable manacles, hugging him so tight it restricts the flow of blood to his fingers. Then he’s brought down to his knees.

Miguel whips his head back and Strange stands there, hands formed in a holding gesture.

“What are you–”

"I'm sorry," Strange says.

Miguel snarls at his restraints, wrenching and twisting in every direction he is able to even with the limited range of motion, but it's to no avail. The harder he struggles the more forceful the restraints seem to close in on him, mirroring his strength.

"I'm sorry it had to come to this. I really hoped there was another way but every life in the whole of the universe is at stake, Miguel."

Hot burning anger spears through him, and if he could he would raze it all to the ground with it. This place, this world and this fucking traitor standing there can all fucking burn. Miguel is gonna kill him. He's gonna kill this fucking bastard. He can't believe he trusted him.

“Strange, fucking let me… Stephen!”

He hears your pained shout and snaps his head towards the sound.

Miguel is only ten feet away from you. Ten measly feet from where the Green Goblin is holding you by the ledge of the rooftop. He can still reach you, if he can get free he can still save you.

Tearing through the magical binds, there’s a bone-cracking sound in his shoulder. Searing pain spreads through his arm. For all his struggles, he doesn't know if he’s even an inch closer towards you.

He watches you drop from the ledge.

It's a pin drop moment where everything stops. His heart is no longer beating.

No. This can't be how it ends.

He's moving forward, even as the sharp restraints digs into his limbs and flesh and burrows in with an excruciating ache. But the pain doesn't matter. All that matters is you.

It claws into him, and digs and tears, until he is sure that his entire limbs are going to be torn off, but he doesn't stop, keeps pulling against the resisting strength that surrounds him, rips against the hindrance embracing every ounce of the pain until finally, the pressure gives.

There's a cacophony of sound that's left behind him as he leaps through the air. He slingshots downwards, cutting through air as he tries to reach you.

Miguel catches your hand and relief fills his chest.

"I got you. I got you," he murmurs. He's not sure if those words are to calm you or himself.

Pulling you up in defiance of the pull of gravity, he tries to haul you up towards him. Your hand squirms in his, and if you keep going you're going to slip out of his grasp.

"Nena, don't move," he shouts in alarm, but you don't stop, twisting in all directions, making it harder for him to get a better grip.

What're you– You're resisting against his strength, why would you...

It hits him with a sickening realization.

You don' want him to save you.

"Stop!" he shouts. “Stop!”

You shake your head, tears filling the corner of your eyes that flow upwards and everything is upside down to him.

"We’re out of time. You have to let me go,” you say.

His fingers squeeze down even harder at your words, refusing to hear it.

“There's still time. There are still other options. I can still save you!”

Your hand reaches for the amulet pressed against your collarbone. Dread floods every nerve in his body as he sees your fingers squeeze around it.

"No!" He shouts. Screams it so loud it burns in his lungs. But deep down he knows it's not going to make any difference. "Nena, don't!"

The wind whips too loudly against his face. The sound of your heart pounding so painfully hard in his ear that it's deafening and he knows that sound will haunt him forever.

You're scared.

He sees your lips move, but he can't hear what you're saying.

But he's heard these words so many times before from your lips that he knows them by heart.

''I love you.''

An invisible force blasts away at him, it shatters through him through his limbs and torso into the very soft tissue of his stomach and makes his teeth shake. He's propelled upwards, unable to control his movements or defy the gravity that he's learned to navigate after all these years mid-air.

He holds on as hard as he can to your hand, but it doesn't matter. His fingers slip, his grip is lost.

You're falling through the sky.

Miguel doesn't remember much after that.

Somehow he makes it back onto the ground.

Somehow he finds you amongst the cracked dirty concrete.

Somehow, despite falling from over a 100 feet your body is still intact where it lies lifeless on the ground.

Your bones are broken though. Body limp and soft in his arms in a way that has never felt more wrong to him. His only consolation is that you're still warm in his arms, and he thinks that maybe if he just doesn't let go, if he holds you tightly pressed to him the way he is doing now, it'll remain that way forever.

The sky has cleared above. There are no cracks in the azure blue canvas.

This world is saved.

His world has ended.

~ Next Issue

Dedication & Credits: To @thirstworldproblemss who has been with me on this journey since chapter one without her enthusiasm and her companionship and friendship and listening to my wild ramblings about this story, I would never have set out to write this thing. She gave me so much joy in the process, she also gave me her time and her skills and brainy talent to help me process and brainstorm this into a shape that I was excited to share with you all! You also have her to thank for that devastating last line.

@guruan who has been a constant well of inspiration with her amazing art, her bright sense of humor and her sharing of theories of what's going to happen! You've made writing this story so much fun!

Author's note: Here we go guys, we've officially entered the final arc now. With only three chapters to go! I am so excited to share the remaining puzzle pieces with you all!

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara fic #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara fanfic #miguel o'hara fanfiction #spiderverse #oscar isaac #across the spiderverse #marvel #marvel mcu #spiderverse fanfiction #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara #miguel ohara x you

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fanaticsnail · 1 year ago

Note

i love your sapsorrow series — even more when i read that Shanks snippet where he thought he was safe OH GOD AHAHAHA please!!!

Ah, you see. They all think they're safe from the clutches of the foul curse of Sapsorrow. Their knees shall bend, their backs shall break and their hearts will perish before her mighty claim - should they ever fail in their task to woo their intended.

(Image Source)

Sands of Time

Themes: Sir Crocodile x f!reader, reluctant bride, enemies to lovers, kidnapping trope, rake!crocodile x royal!reader, forced proximity, longing from afar, injured x caretaker, time limit to love, haunting spectre, Sapsorrow fairytale au, suggestive themes, forced/arranged marriage.

Mihawk Sapsorrow masterlist here, Shanks Sapsorrow here, Masterlist here

Sir Crocodile's intentions below the cut.

“What is this? A fitting gift for an apprehensive bride. I shall gift this to my intended before we wed on the morrow. Perhaps it will be near enough for her to open her legs and share her bed tonight.”

Hunched over the writing desk, half-moon glasses drawn down the bridge of his nose, sat the hulking sir crocodile. He shook his head, unsure of what commotion was going on behind the door of his darkened office. A wedding? Unlikely.

Managing inventory, arranging wage statements and smirking at his half-composed letter to the lord of Kuraigana regarding his collection of debt; his ears pricked at a whisper of motion within the room.

“It has been found, reptile,” the echoing voice sinisterly whispered. A rumbled roar began erupting within the chasms of his chest as he released fragments of sand out to grasp the ghostly form of the witch to encase her spirit in a layer of dust.

“I was rid of you, witch. You have no claim over me nor my soul,” he growled, prompting the spectre to unleash a wave of echoed maniacal laughter. Her voice was haunting, her tone was low and deliberate as she taunted further.

“I was lost to you, but now found and will be placed on the finger of a bride within the hour,” she taunted, slowly raking her undead soul towards him. Strands of her hair began moving as if beneath the crashing waves of water, her sinister smile and unblinking eyes bore into the hulking man in front of her.

“What conditions have been laid to have you curse me, witch?” he asked, sitting back in his chair and removing his glasses, “I had your band stolen from me by the Don of Dressrosa, thus casting your curse onto him, not me.” He chipped the end of a thick cigar, drew it to his lips and ignited the tip with the flick of his flint.

“To answer first: she has laid no such conditions as yet,” the spirit confessed as nonchalant as a spirit could ever be, “And to answer second,” her spectral essence passed through the desk and stood still, towering over the form of the crocodile, “My curse cannot be given twice to the same individual.”

Sir Crocodile held his breath. His usually bored and slackened jaw was now clenched firm atop his cigar.

“What must I do, witch?” He spat, staring up into the cement eyes of the ghost of Sapsorrow as she smeared her sharpened canines down at him. As Sapsorrow began to bare another thought down onto the crocodilian man in front of her, an echoed voice rang throughout the room.

“I am not cattle to be bought with such an item, nor am I simply a broodmare to bear your spawn within my belly. You think this enough for me to share my bed on the eve of our wedding? I would never.”

Sir Crocodile bore his eyes into the ever rising smirk of the Sapsorrow Queen in front of him, listening to the echoing words ricocheting from the chasms of his mind and reverberating in his soul.

“If you desire me to be your bride, you will have me love you with all that I am. You will earn my affection, you will slave for my adoration - but my love will be only passed onto you when I truly think you love me completely in return.”

The malicious laughter echoed throughout the room, the sands currently revealing the Sapsorrow spectre falling atop the desk, littering the papers and ornaments scattered below.

“Make haste, Sir Crocodile,” she taunted him once more, “She is set to marry him on the morrow. That should put a damper on things, do you not you agree?”

Sir Crocodile began to shake, his shoulders stumbling below his aggression. He violently thrust his forearms down atop the desk, his balled fist of his remaining hand indenting beneath his powerful thrust, the tip of his golden hook sunk into the mahogany and encaptured it within his circlet.

“H-How,” he began, his voice staggering as his mind caught up with the conditions laying claim to his soul, “How could someone measure that? How could someone ever dream of proving that level of blind devotion?”

“Therein lies the rub, reptile,” Sapsorrow’s echo felt further from him now, flittering up towards the ceiling akin to the smoke from his sour cigars, “You may never truly earn it, and I may yet collect the debt of your soul.”

“You have a year,” her voice began to crack as it faded up further, “Until the sands of time pass the last grain to conclude its final hour, your form shall crack like glass and your soul will belong to me.”

-----------

Notes: I will be working on Shanks, Buggy and Sir Crocodile spinoffs once the Sapsorrow Au fic is concluded for Mihawk. If there is a gentleman you would like to see flung into this particular fairytale curse, let me know and I will aim to create it! I only have 10 rings to work with!

There are other fairytale au's in the making, if you enjoy an interpretation with your beloved characters:

@gingernut1314 is doing "The Luck Child" for Buggy

@writingmysanity is doing a "Hans My Hedgehog" interpretation for Corazon.

@sordidmusings is doing a "Three Ravens" interpretation for Sanji.

@cinnbar-bun has many a thought about the Crocodile, and I am looking forward to see what she comes up with.

Allow me to take the opportunity to thank @since-im-already-here, the "smol snail, fanatic in the making," for making me do this one. I love writing for it, and it's amazing to see how many there are of you that enjoys being whisked away with my words.

Tag List: @sordidmusings @writingmysanity @gingernut1314 @cinnbar-bun @carrotsunshine @feral-artistry @i-am-vita

#one piece #x reader #sir crocodile #sir crocodile x reader #sir crocodile fairytale au #sir crocodile sapsorrow spinoff #op sir crocodile #op sir crocodile x reader #op crocodile

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garblegarden · 3 months ago

Note

Did you finish Houseki no Kuni? What did you think of it, in the end? Did you like it? Have any criticisms?

I've been keeping up with HnK since 2020ish (I even endured the 1.5 year hiatus after chapter 95!) and I did indeed finish it! I have many thoughts.

I was initially drawn to it because I like minerals and this was a fun looking series where all the characters have a mineral namesake and where the bits of geology are actually accurate, or at least there's an effort made to give characters matching abilities and appearances to the minerals they're based on. Cleavage and mohs hardness and rarity are taken into consideration for characters and their strengths and weaknesses, partners typically have a theme that makes them make sense, (i.e. benito and nepti are partners because they occur together in nature, melon and hemimor have piezo and pyroelectricity, morga and goshen are both beryls, rutile and padparadscha sometimes occur together (i.e. star sapphires and other corundums) etc etc etc), and their colors typically actually match what rock they're based on. That's good to see!

I think that Ichikawa's sense of design and aesthetic is really top-tier in this one. The kind of unsettling simplicity that permeates everything is really appealing to me (Like how the earth is literally just shallow seas with a single grassy field for a landmass, how the gems all dress the same and do so completely monochromatically, the moon is just this kind of pastel rainbowy color, etc etc etc) and makes for a really unique setting.

Ichikawa also makes a really good use of black and white to make some really striking panels in the series with high levels of contrast, detail and simplicity used in the right spots, and in opportunities where she gets to use color (i.e. the artbooks and covers) they look just as cool, too. Like, you don't get a sense that an illustration she makes in either medium would be better off in a different way, she just has a really high level of skill both when limited to black and white and when given the ability to use color.

The character designs are pretty solid, but my absolute favorites are Phos's last few designs. Everyone else is ok too, but "evil maniac broken up big leaf and spikes everywhere" phos ruled, "sobbing and sopping wet-with-mercury-gold-amalgam, naked, bald and being born fully grown but without skin" phos is slept on all the time and should be appreciated more, and "big floppy white thing" phos is for sure in my top 3 character designs of all time if not my absolute favorite. Big featureless white thing with reaction diffusion patterns? SIGN ME UP!!!

In terms of the actual plot I thought it was pretty nice and the whole "ship of theseus" thing was fun to watch play out but as many other people point out, the series doesn't really give a whole lot of time to anyone aside from Phos. Admittedly they are the protagonist so this makes sense, but what about the other guys? Everyone else's character arcs have definite starting points for interesting development (i.e. many characters have inferiority complexes in comparison with their peers due to how they were raised to see their material properties as different from one another, yet they were all treated as the same sorts of lifeforms, causing them to resent one another. This is further perpetuated by the fact that they're hunted for sport and not given much time to form their own societal roles outside of "fighter" "seamstress" "doctor" or "weaponsmith" and so on. All very basic roles, because there really isn't much of an opportunity to do much more on account of being attacked by the moon all the time.

However, a qualm I have with this is how the narrative frames the moon as being an inherently superior society in comparison to that of the gems. I was in a state of despair finding out that all of the gems were cool with being converted into lunarians and assimilated into their society with no issues at all. Now, this could be intentional, a sort of "the winners write history" take on the subject, or a "gems are inherently compliant with whatever's easiest for them because they're all so tired after centuries of war that they'll go with whatever at this point" sort of thing, but there isn't much of an effort being made to suggest this to the reader and it just kind of leaves me with a weird taste in my mouth where I'm not really sure if the grand-scale cultural erasure that happens to the gems is trying to be presented as a good thing or not.

A similar criticism is in regards to aechmea and cairngorm's relationship for kind of obvious reasons. I think most of us have beef with these two. It's very evident that there's a big power imbalance between the two of them. However, nothing negative is shown about their relationship, and in the end gorm goes into the endless void never having become their own person. And this would be alright if it weren't framed as a good thing! I don't mind a tragedy! It's just, with many other things here, (maybe this is a show of poor reading comprehension, idk) it's very hard to tell what Ichikawa's intentions were when writing these parts of the story and so it feels kind of weird. The parts of the later volumes focusing on them were kind of hard to get through. And why does aechmea keep growing. He keeps getting taller and cairngorm keeps not doing that so as the manga goes on it looks more and more......... suspicious

Another thing I think is both infuriating and fascinating is that everyone's goal of eradicating humanity is very very biased. The only people who get to have a say in it are all misanthropists, and there isn't even a physical humanity to destroy anymore either, it's all just vibes. Aechmea wants to destroy humanity because that's the only way he'll get into the pure land of nothingness if everyone else is destroyed too, Adamant wants to destroy humanity because that's what he was made for, Pitapat wants to destroy humanity to take revenge against the guy who stole his creator's life's work, Phos wants to destroy humanity because the former two kind of forced them into that and 10,000 years later after cooking on a beach in the worst "holy robot eye"-induced trip of their life they (at least in my take of the book) have literally nothing else to do other than destroy humanity, like that's the only thing they've been given to do for their whole life, so they do because they've never had a purpose otherwise. They're all misanthropists, but humans have been extinct for eons at this point, so what's the point, really? To eradicate selfishness and desire and that's what humanity represents and sort of manifests even millions of years into the future? (I mean, it is a series based on buddhist principles) Now maybe it's because I think the enduring human spirit is cool and this isn't a book for people who rock with the enduring human spirit, but Phos and Pitapat kind of celebrating both of their deaths at the end going "oh yeah we did it we destroyed humanity" kiiiiind of lost me. At this point humanity is such an abstract concept that it seems like there's not much of a point in scrubbing themselves off the face of the universe in order to prevent other intelligent races elsewhere in the universe from evolving and becoming selfish. That'll probably happen regardless of whether the last remnants of the human era sacrifice themselves or not. (In fact, that's already implied by Life and Culture of Y-3579203181277. So, like, what's the point? Maybe that is the point, that there's no point. I dunno. Much to think about. This is why this series has wormed its way so deep into my brain, because nothing about it is clear.)

It DID look beautiful, though!

#houseki no kuni #thank you anon for giving me an opportunity to yap about this

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beramo22 · 1 month ago

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{9th Timeline Sonic} - Sonic.Exe AU

Sonic.Exe inspired AU: The 9th Timeline

A brain-eating virus known as Chaos Ameba made its way into the world of Sonic, with him being the patient zero. This virus gave the infected a zombified effect, where they are constantly looking to consume the flesh of healthy people, spreading the virus through contact with the blood. After the first bite, the infection that overtook Sonic's body gradually spread itself from person to person. Brainless maniacs were created, but patient zero was an exception. His consciousness remained fully, but the consumption of flesh became essential for his survival. With time, Sonic understood that he would inevitably fall victim to this as well - either by giving in to the pleasure of cannibalism, or by starving himself to death in an attempt to escape it. A middle ground was the most ideal: by waiting the longest he could to consume the next portion of flesh of a healthy being, he could keep himself from giving in to the madness, while also giving the ameba its much needed food supply in order to keep living. Sonic was left as the only intelligent being still alive, despite infected, giving him the high ground over foe. But shortly, his food supply would run scarce. Sonic knew there would eventually be no healthy people left in his planet, and began scheming his escape into a healthy timeline, where he could restart the Chaos Ameba's spread. Many years of research were needed until he eventually created a bridge between timelines with chaos energy, but the amount of energy left in his world was limited. He only had a one-way travel to the 10th Timeline: the closest and most similar to his own. To bring himself to this new timeline, he had to assimilate a Chaos Emerald into his own body so that the chaos energy would be working constantly to prevent him from being brought back to his original timeline. After settling himself in this new world, Sonic stayed on a low, not wanting to draw attention to himself until he could find an effective way to keep a constant food chain for himself, that would never run out. During his time there, he learned about Projects, a series of androids that did not originally exist in his timeline. This seemed to be the key difference between the two timelines, most specifically, it was the 10th Project that caught his eye - the world's most ancient knowledge source. He would soon come to unbury her out of the ground, reprogramming her into his servant, who would help him in his schemes with her millenia old knowledge. To differentiate himself from the 10th Timeline's Sonic, he gave himself the nickname "Sonic Exe", being a reference to the word "Exterior". Now, the clock is ticking for Sonic and his friends to put a stop to this faker's plans of overtaking their world! Trivia: -The rings around his wrists were the last gift of Amy to him, before she fell victim to the brain-eating ameba -His gloves and socks are black for utility's sake; white clothes get stained in blood too easily -The infection would have started to overttake him, if he hadn't forcefully shoved a Chaos Emerald into his chest just in time, where it was beginning to spread. The flesh bits around his chest are the impeded outbursts of the virus, being held back by the emerald's chaos energy -Although the other victims also had their sclera turn black, unlike them, Sonic's irises did not turn red. This is because he still retained his consciousness, not fully surrendering himself to the virus inside of him -Chao are immune to the infection, so to help himself stay sane, he would keep a few around as company This renderition of Sonic.Exe is my original creation, made for my "Project Number 10" series. If you would like to draw or use him, feel free to do so! Just make sure to credit me as the original creator, please!

#sonic the hedgehog #sonic exe #sonic au #sonic fanart #exe #sonic fan character #art #digital art #exe community

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letsplaydcttrpg · 6 months ago

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What's next?

Cover images and blurbs below the cut!

Swamp Thing in Racing With the Rats: "In the full-length solitaire adventure, Racing With the Rats, Swamp Thing is infected by toxic waste and plunged into a horrific hallucinatory world, where he becomes trapped in a deadly delusion. The player must try to maintain his grip on sanity long enough to reverse the damage and return to reality."

Wonder Woman in Strangers in Paradise: "Danger threatens the first cultural conference between Amazons and representatives from Man's World. In the serene isolated lands of Themyscira, discord burns fiercely, seeking to rekindle the sparks of prejusice and force the people of Earth to ever remain...Strangers in Paradise."

Jonah Hex in Escort to Hell: "When you were back in the Old West you knew what was happening and what to expect. It is the 21st century. You are surrounded by an alien and hostile world, yet you have survived; you have gained a reputation here as one who can hold his own. Now you, Jonah Hex, face the greatest challenge of your life as an Escort to Hell!"

Green Lantern in The Otherwhere Quest: "Once upon a universe... A century ago, the failed Green Lantern Corps was summoned to the mysterious dimension known as the Otherwhere, and called upon to save it from the tyrannical Subjugators. Protected for all time by the strange forcefield called the Forever Barrier, the peaceful Otherwhere had become vulnerable as the Barrier weakened, threatening an invasion of anarchy and terror. To stop the deterioration, the Green Lantern Corps had to locate the Harmony Beacon...the one object capable of restoring the Barrier, but hidden to all but those who were truly noble and pure of heart. Today...A call for help is heard again, for evil Subjugators threaten the peace within the Otherwhere once more. With only hours remaining until total annihilation, a single Green Lantern must seek the ancient Harmony Beacon to restore the Forever Barrier. Can he succeed alone, where it once took the strength of the entire Corps to win the day?"

The Flash in City of Fear: "A morning's jog through Manhattan at a leisurely 250 miles per hour turns into a series of life-and-death rescues for Wally West, the new Flash. First, a maniac starts randomly shooting at commuters on a subway platform. After stopping this killer, Flash is informed by the police of a terrorist bomb threat in the Wall Street area. Flash is caught in a race against time as he attempts to unravel a web of mystery and intrigue. Determined to live up to the heroic legacy passed down to him by his predecessors, Flash must uncover the truth in time to prevent a disaster which will transform New York into a...City of Fear."

Superman in Countdown to Armageddon: "Has this ever happened to you? You are flying over Metropolis when suddenly your super-hearing picks up five different distress calls from around the world. All are urgent, all deal with the lives of thousands of people, but which one will you pick? Find out in this exciting adventure that pushes Superman to the limits of his endurance. Can he keep the earth from falling apart, discover the fiendish plot behind it all, use his super-computer in the Fortress of Solitude to find a solution, and still make his 6:00 newscast as Clark Kent? Only those brave enough to play this adventure will know what it's really like to be the Man of Steel."

#dc ttrpg #dc comics #polls #swamp thing #wonder woman #superman #the flash #green lantern #jonah hex

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arc-misadventures · 2 years ago

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Dragon Faunus AU: We see that Jaune has fire breath. But could we see something where after he learned how to use aura, maybe get something akin to aura breath? That or some godzilla traits and have him glow when he uses it now.

Gorjia eh?

~~~

Who Will Know?

The log was ripped to shreds as, Jaune’s razor sharp talons tore through the hunk of would like paper. Ripped apart wood chips, and torn up metal plates littered the floor as a result of, Dr. Oobaleck’s rampant testing of his abilities.

Oobaleck: Excellent! Well done, Mr Arc. These test will prove highly valuable at testing the limits of your faunas abilities.

Jaune: Thanks for helping me with this Dr. I’m sure my friends could have help, but I’m not so sure about the whole data collecting aspect of it all.

Jaune, and his team, along with team RWBY made their way to the, Emerald Falls in order to run a series of test to determine, Jaune’s faunas ability. Considering his rather unique nature as a faunas, tests needed to be done. The only reason they were doing it outside was to be away from prying eyes.

And, potential property damage.

Oobaleck: Think nothing of it ! Why, this research opportunity is unlike any other I have been tasked to do. I relish the opportunity!

Jaune: Well, glad someone enjoying themselves, bar Nora…

As if on cue, Nora slammed another log before him with her usual wild eyed maniac gaze within her eyes.

Nora: Again!

Jaune: Must I? I mean, I’ve already shredded an entire tree. Possibly more than that.

Oobaleck: No, we have gained enough research on your talons, now it is time to test you ability to breath fire!

Yang: Whoo!

Ruby: Yes!

Nora: FINALLY!

His friends suddenly drew out sticks with marshmallows at the end of them, Jaune couldn’t help, but stare at his friends dumbfounded.

Jaune: Serious?! Is that the whole reason you’re here; For smores?!

Yang: Yes.

Ruby: Absolutely.

Nora: Hell yeah!

Jaune sighed as he turned his head as he looked towards the rest of his team.

Jaune: Can you believe…?

Jaune saw something that surprised him, but really shouldn’t have surprised him. The rest of his friends with marshmallows on sticks. What surprised him the most however was that, Weiss had several of them on the end of her rapier.

Jaune: Really? And, seriously, Weiss? I thought you would find smores too pedestrian for your refined pallet?

Weiss: I thought so too, then, Ruby shoved one in my mouth, and I became hooked to the taste of it! Now, less talking, more smore making!

Jaune: Oh gods…

Oobaleck: Now, now students! There will be time later for smores, class is still in session!

NPRRWBY: Naww…

Jaune: Yay!

Oobaleck: Now then, since we already know the much control you have on your flame. Lets see what happens when you let loose with your fire breath.

Jaune: Uhh…?

Jaune nervously looked around him, before addressing his teacher again.

Jaune: You want me to let loose with my fire breath…

Oobaleck: Yes.

Jaune: In the middle of a flammable forest?

Oobaleck: Worry not, Mr. Arc, Ms. Schnee’s surplus of, Dust should prevent any accidents from happening.

Jaune: Will it?

Weiss: Depends on how strong the fire is.

Jaune: Oh… Okay… Haa… Let’s do this then.

Oobaleck: Direct your fire to the tree in front of you. This one is relatively father away from the rest. This will prevent the fire from spread. Hopefully.

Jaune: I heard that.

Nora: Lest talking, more fire!

Jaune: Haa… Okay, let’s do this…

Jaune turned towards the tree, and took a deep breath, opened his mouth, and a torrent of fire erupted from his mouth. Growing bigger, and bigger as it drew farther away from, Jaune. A huge cloud of fire engulfed the tree, lighting it ablaze in seconds. Jaune held his flame for a few seconds, until he stopped admiring his handy work in a stunned, but an oddly thrilled feeling.

Yang: Whoa… That was intense…

Blake: That trees still green; ‘green’ trees are harder to burn, and yet this ones going up in smoke…

Ruby: You think we should have done this inside?

Pyrrha: Well, the fire alarms would have been triggered because of all the smoke so…?

Nora: Yes. Burn. Burn the trees, burn the city, burn the world… BURN…

Ren: Okay, semblance time for you.

As, Ren said that he channeled his semblance into, Nora, removing her maniacal smile as she fantasied about the world being engulfed in flame. Ren, then turned to, Weiss giving her a pointed look.

Ren: Weiss?

Weiss: Huw, what?

Ren: The fire?

Weiss: Oh yes, the fire!

With a few flicks of her wrist a glyph appeared above the tree, before dumping gallons of water atop the tree, instantly putting the fire out leaving them to watch a cloud of steam rise up from the trees charred remains.

Jaune: Whoa… Did I do that…?

Oobaleck: That is quite impressive; Your ability to produce a controlled jet of fire is akin to a flamethrower. Though naturally produced in your body it behaves like most like natural fuels used in modern flamethrowers. While testing your abilities we have determined that you can control it like a blow torch, with same fine percussion, and intensity required to melt metal plates. Here when you ‘let loose’ the flame will burn at a high heat, a high rate of intensity, and seemingly sticks to the target’s surface. Even though you were breathing fire for a few moments, you managed to go a few cm’s deep into the wood. This is quite the impressive natural weapon you posse, Mr. Arc.

Jaune: And, deadly… I should probably refrain from using this in training bouts, and matches.

Oobaleck: I agree; While running some tests on human, or faunas opponents would be advisable to understand the extents of your fire’s effects. I will ask you to refrain from doing so, because of the unknown potential affects of said fire.

Weiss: Wouldn’t, Jaune’s fire behave like the, Fire Dust I use in training matches?

Oobaleck: The effects of, Mr. Arc’s fire is similar, but acts differently to the effects of your, Dust, Ms. Schnee.

Weiss: How so?

Oobaleck: While you’re aura would act as a protective blanket preventing the fire from burning you, the fire will slowly be chipped away as you are bathed in fire. You therefore could easily avoid your aura from braking by moving out of the fire. However, even if it’s only a glancing blast of, Mr. Arc’s fire, it would not only take off a substantial chunk of your aura. What’s worse, the fire would stick to you until it is set out.

Yang: Meaning if my aura broke, and he bathed me in his fire, it would still be on me, then I would get set on fire?!

Oobaleck: Correct. The results of which would be quite… severe.

Pyrrha: Uhh… Save the fire for the, Grimm then, Jaune.

Jaune: Will the fire go out with the, Grimm though?

Blake: You will have to test that out, Jaune.

Jaune: Should I?

Ruby: Carry some, Water Dust on you incase there’s a fire.

Jaune: That could work, so long as I don’t eat them when I get thirsty again.

Weiss: Wait, did you say you eat dust?

Oobaleck: On to the next test! Mr. Arc, I want you to breath fire until you run out!

Jaune: Testing my capacity?

Oobaleck: Exactly! Begin when you are ready, Mr. Arc.

Jaune: Okay…

Jaune opened his mouth again, and a torrent of fire erupted from his his mouth settling the tree ablaze in seconds.

The others watched in stunned amazement as his fire burrowed deeper into the tree, creating a hole of fire from the shear ferocity of the fire.

Yang: Okay… I think the passing glance would incinerate you.

Blake: Least it would be quick.

Pyrrha: I don’t think that’s a comforting thought.

Nora: BURN!

Ruby: Uhh… Ren, she’s doing it again…

Ren: On it.

Weiss: Is he opening his mouth wider?

Pyrrha: Yeah, I can see his fangs.

Jaune’s mouth had indeed widened, and his fangs popping upward as the force that he was breathing fire seemed to intensify. Causing the fire to burn hotter, and harder, reducing the tree to ashes in seconds.

Pyrrha: Hmm… His stance is becoming more rigid, and he seems to be flexing his muscles to maintain his posture.

Yang: Not to mention his flame is growing stronger since he started doing that.

Blake: How intense is his flame going to get…?

Nora: Oh cool! Jaune’s hair is glowing!

Pyrrha: Wait, what?!

As, Jaune’s fire breath was intensifying in it’s rampant destruction, his hair started to glow to a golden white hue that shined like a flashlight in the darkness. They watched that while his hair started to glow brighter, the blue flames erupting from his mouth started to narrow in its wide berth, but strengthen even more in its intensity until…

A narrow beam of golden white fire erupted from his mouth, blasting through a dozen trees within fractions of a second. They watched in what could only be stunned horror as, Jaune’s head moved side to side, cutting a large swath of the forest in seconds.

Jaune continue to breath fire until his head suddenly shot up, and his mouth snapped shut. His fire was extinguished as steam seeming rising out from his mouth as his lips devolved into a deep snarl. The glow of his hair slowly faded as a deep guttural growl echoed deep from within his mouth as he servied the destruction he wrought upon the forest.

Jaune: Haaa…

Jaune: …

Jaune: Well… Ain’t that something?

Jaune turned to look at his friends, teammates, and teachers, all of whom seemed to look on in stunned horror at the raw destruction, Jaune had wrought upon a whole forest in a matter of seconds. Even, Dr. Oobaleck looked on in shear shock for a few minutes before he managed to collect himself, and continue on with the test.

Oobaleck: That was quite… Impressive, Mr. Arc, I did not expect your fire to… evolve as it did, and cause such rampant destruction within a few seconds.

Jaune: That’s putting it lightly…

Oobaleck: Indeed. Stay where you are, Mr. Arc, I need to add additional tests considering these new developments. Ms. Rose would you be so kind to measure the distance from, Mr. Arc to the end of his beam of fire? Ms. Rose?

Ruby, just like everyone else couldn’t help but stare on dumbstruck at the shear chaos, Jaune had inflicted on the forest.

Oobaleck: Ms. Rose!

Ruby: Huw?! What? Yes?!

Oobaleck: Could you measure the distance from, Mr. Arc to the end of the blast radius?

Ruby: Oh yeah, sure, on it!

Ruby placed the beacon at, Jaune’s feet, before exploding into a cloud of rose petals darting to the end. She was gone for nearly two minutes before, Ruby darted back with her head covered in a sheen of sweat.

Ruby: Whoa… It’s really hot over there…

Oobaleck: That is to be expected; The shear amount of damage, and the speed of which he did so shows the shear amount of heat was capable of producing. Now then; What was the measured distance you acquired, Ms. Rose?

Ruby: It was… 1.3 kms.

Jaune: Seriously?!

Ruby: Yeah… I checked it twice just to be sure.

Jaune: Okay, no letting lose with my fire then.

Weiss: Yeah, I think that would be a good I…? Hey… Have your horns grown bigger?

Jaune: Huw?

Jaune’s hands reached up to his head, and touched the bumps where his horns were only to feel two long bone’s extruding from the top of his head. They were two inches long, and one, and a half inches wide. They curved along the top of his head before moving upward to a peak of a crown at the end.

Jaune: Okay… That is an unexpected development… Do they… do they look good?

Blake: They look… great really.

Ruby: Yeah! They’re white with golden tips.

Pyrrha: It looks like you’re growing a crown.

Jaune: A crown? A natural crown… Sounds cool.

Oobaleck: And, yet they have grown at such an exceptional rate. It should have taken at least a month for them to reach this stage in their development. Perhaps it was due to the serge of power you were displaying during your blast.

Ren: Perhaps it was happening while his hair was glowing.

Jaune: My hair was glowing?

Pyrrha: A bright white! It was quite pretty really…

Jaune: Huw… We’ll have to check the film later then.

Oobaleck: Indeed we will. But, we are not done yet! We still have one more test left to do!

Jaune: We have more test to complete?! What’s left?

Oobaleck: To test your capacity to withstand fire.

Jaune: My capacity to do what?!

Oobaleck: Ms. Schnee, at your nearest convenience.

Weiss: Sorry, Jaune. But, it has to be done.

Weiss spun the revolver on her weapon as she activated the fire dust, then she pointed at, Jaune and a glyph appeared under his feet, and his eyes went wide in shock, and fear. He held out his hand as panic flooded his face.

Jaune: NONONONONO WAIT!

An exsplosion of fire erupted underneath, Jaune burning the ground beneath his feet. The blast last only half a minute, but the flame burned at a such a high temperature that when it stopped they were faced with three very prominent facts:

1: Jaune was indeed fire proof.

2: Jaune was absolutely furious.

And, 3: He was naked.

Ruby: EEP?!!

Ren: Uh oh…

Weiss: Ahh! Put that away!

Blake: Holy hell…

Nora: Hehe! Told you he had a zweihänder~!

Yang: Damn!!! You had that inside you?!

Pyrrha: Ha! Wait until you see it when it’s hard~!

Oobaleck: Impressive, Mr. Arc! You are capable of withstanding several hundred degrees! It may have only been a few seconds, but I hypothesize you could endure for several minutes, maybe even our since the fire had no affects upon your body!

Jaune: That’s… Nice…?!

Weiss: I-I-I’m so sorry, J-Jaune I didn’t mean to… Uhh…?! H-Help?!

Jaune snarled as a deep growl escaped his lips, he was furious, absolutely furious. He reached down and grabbed the chest piece, the straps burning off in the intense heat with the rest of his clothes. With this one piece from his armour, he coupd at least give himself a sense of dignity as he stared them down.

Yang: Uhhh… J-Jaune… E-Everything okay…?

Jaune: You ever… Any of you! Ever do that to me again; I will burn you… Okay…?

Ruby: N-Noted!

Weiss: S-Sorry, I just… Uhh…?!

Jaune: Now if you’ll excuse me… I need to… Redress myself… When my armour cooled, can you bring it to my room?

Nora: Can do fearless leader!

Jaune: Thank you!

Pyrrha: I-I-I’ll come with you, Jaune!

And, with that, the two members of, Team JNPR, leaving the others to deal with the aftermath of the tests. The other were left standing their many of the females of the group with a deep blush across their faces. For all, but one however; for, Dr. Oobaleck was having the time of his life with all the new found information he had gathered on, Jaune.

Oobaleck: Well, that was a resounding success! Wouldn’t you say so students? Students?

///

The inspirational music for this particular prompt.

It’s a great song.

Till later then.

#rwby #jaune arc #yang xiao long #blake belladonna #pyrrha nikos #nora valkyrie #weiss schnee #ruby rose #lie ren #bartholomew oobleck

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sketchfanda · 7 months ago

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Fic Challenges and Sketch-verse Lore and headcanons

To those that have enjoyed reading my stories especially a Little Moxxie love, consider this a little post for the odd challenge I may give you all every now and then. Mainly and especially to see if there would be any takers really eager to step up and try out some au concepts I may do a chapter or two on in my one shot fic series for my 3 main muses or concepts for others I’d be interested to see play out.

this will also see me sharing with you guys some more details on my personal headcanons and takes in the respective universes of my 3 main muses and then some, such as my take in the concepts of Hell and Heaven and the afterlife in the batshit insane world of Helluva Boss and Hazbin Hotel because not like that stopped this fandom whi omly had the pilot to go on long before we finally got the series on Amazon prime.

Now of course as a Little Moxxie Love has proven to be my quite frankly most popular fic, it’d make the most sense to base my first challenges on it so here it is maniacs. Let’s see how you guys manage your own spin on a Moxxie harem smut series based on these AUs with a few key terms and conditions of course.

Hellhound Moxxie

Angel Moxxie

So to keep it simple and sweet to the point, for many of you that've enjoyed my story A Little Moxxie Love, I'd like to see your own personal spins on it with any of these two particular AUs of your choice. Whether it's just a series of random one shots or your own full on serial multi-chaptered saga, run wild but remember smut is king. As mentioned of course just a key terms and conditions as follows:

1.Whether or not you just have Moxxie sleeping around with numerous women (and guys of course for those of you who like to fully run with his canon bisexuality) or go for your own personal harem choice, Millie is the alpha girl, being his wife and all. And like in a little Moxxie love you can make it that it's her kink from getting aroused watching her man be a stud....esp if she also happens to be bi herself.

2.Depending which option you take with Angel or Hellhound Moxxie, you can either have Millie still be an imp, which can add some taboo quality aspect to her lovelife with her man or also be an angel or hellhound but yes still every bit Moxxie's sweet sexy, kinky farmgirl wife. Just run with what you think you'd enjoy and feel works best. Regarding Loona, if like in the hellhound Moxxie and Millie image you want her to be an imp in Hellhound Moxxie,by all means get creative.

3.Definite regular partners for either version of Moxxie range from and to, and including of course, Loona, Verosika, Stella, pretty much any helluva or hazbin char that comes to mind but by no means limit yourself to just the Hellverse. As you've all seen with a Little Moxxie Love, crossovers make for a great variety, such is the spice of life. Demons, angels, humans, furries however you slice it and make it work.

4.Whether an angel,imp or hellhound, we all know there are constants when it comes to our sweet little possum. His love of the performing arts and theater, music and as that one short shows, he clearly knows how to use that mouth and tongue in the bedroom. and if you need a little violence,he's a skilled killer. I mean criminy Angel Moxxie would likely have demon girls willing to die by his hand if he was an exorcist on extermination day in Hell. After one last request for some passion of course....

So if anyone has any questions or thoughts they want to share, feel to ask but this is what I've got so far. A few regular commenters and mutuals on my discord server for my 3 main fics have given me a little friendly encouragment to see if there'd be any takers for putting out this challenge, so run wild, maniacs.

#sketchfan #sketchfanda #sketchfan85 #helluva boss #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #dragon ball #dragonball #moxxie #moxxie knolastname #krillin dragonball #dragonball krillin #kirishima eijirou #kirishima #kirishima eijiro #eijiro kirishima #Eijirou Kirishima

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whiteraven87 · 6 days ago

Text

Driven by Success: Golden Girl - 10. The Edge of Fear

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

The Unstoppable Series

Part 2: Driven by Success. Golden Girl

Prologue

Unexpected Gift

Mercedes Golden Girl

Unexpected visit

New season start

The Pain that never Fades

Rebellion on Board

I'm not a trophy

The Campaign

The Edge of Fear

I am not for Him

Breaking Point

Building Walls

Adrenaline

Blinding Lights

Closeness

Don't Run Away from me again

Glows and Shadows

On the Edge

A Night full of Temptations

The Line you won't cross

Shadows of the Past

Confession

Emptiness

I Need Time

Is it over?

Epilogue

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

Warnings: long (very long) slow burn, age gap (23 years), woman racing in F1, boss/driver relationship, difficult and painful past, death, anxiety,

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

10. The Edge of Fear

GP Emilia-Romagna, Race

POV Toto

This weekend was hell.

The weather didn’t make life any easier—rain, cold, treacherous track conditions. The car? Far from ideal. From the first sessions, the balance was unstable, grip was lacking, and every corner felt like a battle for survival. Miriell was furious. I was furious. Every conversation ended in tension, outbursts of anger, clenched fists, and unfinished sentences.

I was proud of the team, which worked day and night, but I felt the tension rising everywhere. I could see it in George—he couldn’t find the pace. I could see it in the engineers, nervously shaking their heads after every practice lap. But Miriell was the most frustrated—she couldn’t push the car to its limits, and when something held her back, she became like a ticking bomb.

When the race came, Miriell did something that… I was still struggling to process.

It was the most reckless drive I had ever seen, and I’ve been to a hell of a lot of races. Every lap was on the edge of disaster. In moments where any other driver would have lifted off, just for a second, to avoid losing grip, she accelerated. She drove like death didn’t exist. Like she felt no fear.

The final laps? Pure madness.

What she did on track was both breathtaking and fucking dangerous. As the rain intensified during the race and she kept pushing like a maniac, I wanted to scream over the radio for her to come to her senses. She didn’t listen. When the engineers told her to slow down, she ignored them. When I stepped in and told her to secure her position and not take risks, she just snapped back:

"Toto, I know what I’m doing."

I wanted to smash my fists against the table, but there was no time for arguments. In the last laps, she was fighting wheel-to-wheel with Max. Max had the better car—we all knew that—but she was better. She was like a predator that wouldn’t let go until it took down its prey. Cunning, relentless, merciless. Verstappen tried, but he didn’t stand a chance. When I saw her overtaking him in that rain, fighting to the very last moment to bring home the victory—the crowd erupted.

I didn’t. I was too fucking angry.

I couldn’t enjoy this victory, knowing how thin the line was that she had crossed.

Post-race Briefing

During the final debrief, I kept myself in check. We analyzed strategy, talked about what worked and what didn’t, but when everyone left and it was just the three of us—me, Niki, and Miriell—I lost it.

"What the hell were you thinking?!" I growled, staring at her with a fury that was burning me from the inside out.

Miriell crossed her arms, meeting my gaze with a cold stare.

"I won the race. You should be thanking me."

"You won because you drove like a lunatic!" My voice shook, not from anger, but from fear. You risked your life, you ignored the team’s orders, you ignored me!

Miriell scoffed.

"And what was I supposed to do?! Drive conservatively? Finish eighth like George?!"

"The point is, you could have died!"

Silence fell over the room.

Niki, who had been sitting in the corner observing us, didn’t intervene, didn’t try to calm us down—he knew we had to go through this.

Miriell narrowed her eyes.

"Toto, it’s my life. My decisions."

I clenched my jaw.

"It’s not just about you."

She looked at me like she didn’t understand what I meant. Maybe she really didn’t. And then she said something that hit me like a punch to the gut.

"And if something happened? Who would care?"

I blinked.

"What?"

"I have no one! No family. No one would cry for me, so what difference does it make if I take risks or not?! No one would sit by my hospital bed or mourn me at a funeral."

I felt the blood drain from my face. Niki sucked in a quiet breath.

"So if I crash into a wall, what does it matter?" she said with a bitter smile. "I’m just a driver, right?"

Something inside me snapped. I wasn’t angry at her for ignoring me. I was angry because she actually believed that. Because she saw herself as disposable.

I wanted to say something, but before I could, she kicked the trash bin so hard that it toppled over with a loud crash, then stormed out.

I was left alone with Niki. I didn’t look at him right away. My eyes were still fixed on the door she had disappeared through.

"Do you see it?" Niki asked quietly.

I finally turned to him.

"I know what you’re going to say."

Niki sighed.

"No, you don’t."

He sat back, as if preparing for a long conversation.

"Miriell doesn’t fear death, Toto. Not the way you do."

I clenched my fists.

"She should."

Niki shook his head.

"There’s no one waiting for her after the race. No one messaging her to say they’re worried. The only thing she has is the track. And that’s exactly why she’s the best."

I ran a hand over my face.

"That’s fucked up."

"It’s her way of surviving."

I fell silent. Niki studied me carefully.

"You’re afraid, aren’t you?"

"Of what?" I snapped back, though we both knew the answer.

Niki gave me a sad smile.

"That you might lose her."

I felt something tighten in my stomach.

I didn’t deny it.

Emilia-Romagna GP, Race

POV Miriell

The world had turned into a blur of rain and headlights as I tore through the track. My heart pounded like crazy, and my hands clutched the steering wheel tightly, feeling every bump, every microscopic slip of the tires on the treacherously wet surface. My muscles ached, and the tension in my neck reminded me that I was driving this damn car at the absolute limit.

But I was in my element.

As I battled Max in the final laps, there wasn’t a trace of fear in me. I could hear the team shouting through the radio, telling me to be careful, to stop taking such risks, but their voices were nothing more than a distant hum. This was my fight. My decision.

Penultimate lap. Verstappen’s car had better performance, better grip, but I had the courage. In the wet, it was all about feeling, and I knew exactly where I could push the limits. As I overtook him on the inside of the corner, I felt my heartbeat quicken, the track fading away until all that remained was pure adrenaline and the certainty that this was what being the best driver in the world meant.

When I crossed the finish line first, the grandstands erupted. The radio was filled with screams from the team, cheers, congratulations. And I… I raised my fist in victory and shouted. This was my win. My fight. My courage.

And then reality set in.

Post-Race Briefing

The air in the briefing room was thick, just like the storm clouds that had loomed over the track all weekend. When the door closed behind the last person, only the three of us remained: me, Toto, and Niki.

I didn’t even get the chance to speak before Toto exploded.

“What the hell were you thinking?!” His voice echoed off the walls, filling the room with anger.

I looked at him, exhausted but also irritated.

“I won the race. You should be thanking me,” I replied coldly.

“You won because you drove like a lunatic!” His eyes were blazing. “You risked your life, ignored team orders, ignored me!”

“What was I supposed to do?! Play it safe? End up eighth like George?” I scoffed.

“That’s not the point! You could have died! You risked your own life!”

Silence filled the room. I narrowed my eyes.

“Toto, this is my life. My decisions.”

Toto clenched his jaw.

“It’s not just about you.”

“And if something happened? Who would care? I have no one! No family. No one to mourn me, so what difference does it make whether I take risks or not?! There’s no one who would sit by my hospital bed or cry at my funeral. So if I crash into a wall, what does it matter?” I said with a bitter smile. “I’m just a driver, right?”

The words spilled from my lips before I could stop them. I saw something crack in Toto’s eyes. Not anger, not fury—something far deeper. Something that made him look, for a split second, as if he’d been struck by an invisible blow.

Niki sighed quietly but said nothing. Toto just stared at me, searching for the right words but finding none.

I couldn’t take it anymore. I kicked a trash bin, sending it crashing to the floor, and then stormed out, slamming the door behind me.

An Hour Later, Miriell’s Room in the Mercedes Motorhome

I sat on the couch in my motorhome room, wearing my team shirt and pants, my wet hair still not fully dry from the shower. The trophy sat in the corner, forgotten, as if it didn’t matter. I felt empty. And tired. My body demanded sleep, but my mind kept replaying our fight. I didn’t feel the joy I was supposed to after such a victory.

When I heard a knock on the door, I didn’t even have the energy to react.

“Come in.”

The door opened, and Niki walked in.

“I should scold you for what you said,” he began, sitting across from me. “But I won’t.”

I didn’t reply.

“Never say again that you have no family,” his voice was calm but firm. “You have us. You have the team. You have me. And most of all, you have Toto.”

“Toto is my boss.”

“Toto cares about you more than you realize,” Niki shook his head. “I haven’t seen him this scared in a long time. After losing Susie and Jack, I thought he would never allow himself to be close to someone again. But you… you terrify him, Miriell.”

“Niki…”

“No. Listen. Toto may not say it out loud, may not show it in front of others, but you are the most important person to him. Maybe even more than you think.”

I looked at him, unable to say anything.

“I’ve seen many drivers who were ruthless, but you… you’re different. You fear nothing. The fact that you have no living family means you have nothing to lose. And that makes you incredibly dangerous.”

“Niki, I…” I sighed. “I just feel like I have complete control on the track. That’s my place. Toto should trust me.”

“And you should understand that he’s afraid of losing you. Just like he lost Susie and Jack,” Niki looked at me seriously. “Do you know how many years it’s been since I’ve seen that kind of fear in his eyes?”

I clenched my hands on my knees and took a deep breath. Niki was right; I was important to Toto, I knew that all too well, and I shouldn’t have lashed out like that.

After a moment, I stood up and headed for the door.

“Are you going to him?”

“Yes.”

“Good decision.”

Toto’s Office

I found him in his office, staring at his computer screen, though it was clear he wasn’t reading anything.

“Toto.”

He looked up. For a moment, we just stared at each other in silence.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered.

He didn’t respond. He just walked up and pulled me into a hug. I melted into him, his hands holding my back firmly.

“Not the first and not the last time, right?” he murmured.

“Right.”

We stood there for a long moment. In his arms, I felt… different. The anxiety still lingered, but it felt a little lighter.

Toto sighed.

“One day, you will finish me off.”

I smiled sadly.

“But you’re still here.”

“And I always will be.”

And in that moment, I knew it was true.

Confession

Evening after the race, terrace at the Mercedes Motorhome

POV Toto

It was already late in the evening, but I had no desire to return to the hotel. Instead, I sat in the motorhome, a drink in my hand, trying to organize my thoughts after the day’s events. The euphoria of Miriell’s victory should have made me happy. It should have. But all I felt was unease, bitterness, and fear, which had rooted itself in me like an unwanted shadow.

Niki sat across from me, his usual piercing gaze locked onto me. He didn’t have to say a word—I knew he was watching, waiting for me to break. Eventually, he sighed as if he’d had enough of my silent struggle.

“Are you finally going to tell me what the hell is going on between you and our golden girl?”

Of course, he wanted to know. I wanted to talk, to get it all off my chest. But how? How could I put into words something I had been suffocating inside me for months, something that grew stronger each day, taking control?

“Nothing’s going on,” I muttered, too exhausted to come up with anything more convincing.

Niki snorted.

“That’s bullshit. Toto, I know you too well, and we both know it.”

I remained silent for a moment. I had fought these thoughts for so long that saying them out loud felt like finally admitting something I should have kept buried deep inside. Niki waited, and I had too many emotions swirling within me to hold back any longer. I took a sip, feeling the burn of the alcohol in my throat, closed my eyes in resignation, and blurted out:

“I’m in love with her, Niki.”

The words filled the silence between us, and I immediately felt the weight of their truth. There was no taking them back.

Niki didn’t look surprised. He simply nodded, waiting for me to say more.

“When did you realize?” he asked.

I let out a bitter laugh.

“It took longer than it should have. At first, she was just my protégé. Then... she became something more. After Susie and Jack’s deaths, I saw in her a reflection of my own pain. She was the only person who understood what I was going through, and she never asked me to talk about it. She just... was there. Despite her own loss, her own suffering, she gave me space and support. Back then, it was just friendship, mutual understanding. And then...”

I ran a hand down my face.

“And then I started noticing things I had ignored before. Her smile. The way she moves, the way she chuckles under her breath when she thinks no one is listening. Her voice. Hell, even the way she annoys me.”

Niki raised an eyebrow but didn’t interrupt.

“I started seeing her—not just as a driver but as a beautiful and strong young woman. I wanted to be more for her. I wanted to protect her, to be by her side. Her presence gave me peace, joy in the everyday moments I hadn’t had in years. And then, when I realized how I felt about her...” I shook my head. “I was terrified.”

Niki leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest.

“And you’re still scared.”

“Yes,” I admitted. “I’m afraid of losing her. When I see her pushing the limits, my heart stops. Niki, she’s damn good—we both know that. But she’s also reckless, willing to risk more than anyone should. I’m afraid that one day she won’t come back to the garage. That she’ll meet the same fate as Susie and Jack.”

I clenched my jaw.

“And that’s not all,” I added quietly. “I’m afraid that if I give in to this feeling, I’ll hurt her. That I’ll disappoint her. That I’ll ruin her career.”

“Or maybe you’re afraid that she’s not meant for you? That she sees you as a mentor, a father figure, someone she respects but could never love?”

I closed my eyes.

“Maybe.”

Niki shook his head.

“Toto, I may be old, but I’m not blind. I’ve seen the way she looks at you. That’s not just respect. She feels something for you too, but damn, it’s Miriell. She’s fighting with herself, with the demons of her past, with everything that shaped her. And you? You’re fighting with yourself.”

I opened my eyes and looked at him, exhausted.

“So what do I do?”

Niki shrugged.

“Just be there for her. Don’t fuck this up.”

I let out a laugh, though there was more bitterness than amusement in it.

“You say it like it’s that simple.”

“Because it is,” Niki replied. “You’re the one making it complicated.”

Silence fell between us as I sipped the last of my drink, and Niki simply sat beside me. His presence, as always, was rough but oddly comforting.

“You know what I’ve never seen in you before?” he asked after a moment.

I looked at him questioningly.

“Fear. For years, you’ve been untouchable. And now? You’re scared for her. Just like when you lost Susie and Jack.”

I clenched my fists.