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bubbleggum444 · 5 months ago

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—❝CRΛSH LANƊING IИTO YOU❞

𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑠 clark kent x fem!reader, traffic officer!reader au, fluff, 2k+ wc.

𝑠𝑦𝑛𝑜𝑝𝑠𝑖𝑠 love at first sight (crash).

The blaring horns of impatient drivers below were just another part of the daily chaos in Metropolis—after all, it was rush hour.

Clark hovered above the city, carrying out his usual morning patrol when—whoa. His vision blurred, his head spun. Strange. Superman doesn’t just get dizzy. Unless… unless he undercooked his chicken last night?

He barely has time to register the sudden, sharp pain piercing through his skull before—

CRASH.

Oh, great. Great job, Clark. Just had to be clumsy today, huh?

Dazed, he scrambles upright in a swift motion, immediately reaching down to help the poor civilian he just plowed into.

And then—oh.

Oh.

His breath catches. His stomach does something weird.

He hadn’t just crashed into anyone. He had crashed into a traffic officer. Not just any traffic officer—the most beautiful traffic officer he had ever laid his sea-blue eyes on.

“I—I’m so sorry, miss! I didn’t mean to bump into you—”

He cringes the second the words leave his mouth. Bump into? Really? He practically bulldozed her.

But instead of being upset, she lets out a soft laugh.

“That certainly was the hardest push I’ve ever received!”

Clark’s heart stutters. She… wasn’t mad? This sweet woman standing in front of him wasn’t mad that he had so idiotically crashed into her, knocked over her equipment, stopped her work?

His nerves, frayed and exposed, ease ever so slightly. He spots her cap on the pavement and, in his usual clumsy manner, stumbles as he rushes to retrieve it.

Another laugh—a beautiful laugh—escapes her lips as she takes it from him, her fingers briefly brushing his.

Up close, he notices the faint scent of vanilla and jasmine lingering around her—sweet, just like her. But then, something else catches his eye. A scratch on her cheek, no doubt from the fall.

Before he even thinks, his hand reaches out, fingertips grazing her skin.

“I—I’m so, so sorry—”

His words vanish, thoughts evaporating the second she gently places her much smaller, surprisingly cold hand over his.

She. was. touching. his. hand.

BEEP BEEP!

The blaring car horn jolts them both. For a moment there, time had frozen, the world had melted away, and they had forgotten everything—including the massive traffic jam forming around them.

“Oh! Oh my!”

She chuckles, flustered, before swiftly gathering her equipment and bringing her whistle to her lips, effortlessly resuming her job.

“I really am sorry,” Clark tries again, guilt twisting in his chest. “I didn’t mean—”

“It’s fine, Superman.” Her voice is gentle, yet composed, cutting off his nervous rambling. “Be on your way now. I’m sure you’ve got your hands full.”

He nods quickly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Right, right… I should go. But, uh—this might be weird, and sudden, and maybe a little out of line, but—” He exhales sharply, steeling himself. “Would you let me take you out for coffee sometime? Maybe?”

His heart thumps. Hard. Too bold. Way too bold. But he also knew he needed to try. To let go, even just a little. And right now, with a woman like her in front of him, he couldn’t let the moment slip.

“I…” Her lips part, then curl into a small, shy smile. “Yeah.” A nervous chuckle escapes her. “I’d like that, Superman.”

BEEP BEEP!

Another honk. Another impatient driver.

Clark barely registers it—his head is too busy spinning, his heart too busy soaring.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

𝑏𝑢𝑏𝑏𝑙𝑒𝑔𝑔𝑢𝑚444©

𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 <𝟑

#clark kent x reader #clark kent x you #clark kent x female reader #clark kent #superman #dcu #dc comics #dc comics x reader #dc x reader #x reader #dc universe #dc fluff #fluff

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gothic-aesthetic-gal · 6 months ago

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Old Scars (Part 9)

Ledger!joker x reader

Fem!reader is kidnapped by the joker and his henchmen while just trying to get a moment's reprieve from her boring, soul-destroying job ✨️

Link below for the other chapters:Tw: I mean, we all saw TDK, right? I'd say this is on the same level/rating. Kidnapping, violence, mentions of minor characters (not J) being misogynist/threatening SA, reference to past traumatic injury. Some slightly blurred lines in this one re:touching without consent and threat of violence. Beyond this i'm not sure, i'll update these when I write more.

Part 9 -

Unbeknownst to me, back at the half burned out apartment, the cops had made a run for it. They had tried to track us for a block or two, before deciding that getting to a hospital was a much more pressing concern. The older one had pretty severe burns to his arm and hand, and the tall lean one had burns to the lower half of his face and neck which would need some serious medical attention.

A couple of hours after their departure, a looming dark figure stood in the epicentre of the wreckage. The so-called 'batman' surveyed the scene, a stern look on his masked face as he pieced together some of the chaos which had unfolded. He had found the discarded purple dress and assumed the worst of the woman who was still missing.

His heart had sunk a little, thinking that the joker had left yet another body in his wake but then something had given him reason to pause. There were two toothbrushes in the bathroom, two plates in the sink, and a set of handcuffs attached to the radiator. He needed to look deeper, it seemed as though she might not have been killed after all.

As he paced around the room, he paused by the fireplace which had obvious signs of recent use. On the mantle there was a vase which was conspicuously absent of dust compared to everything around it and peering inside there was something stuffed into the bottom. Tipping it out he unscrewed the lined paper note. It read:

((Your first and last name))

STILL ALIVE

It was dated three days previous.

He felt a little surge of hope somewhere deep in his soul and carefully pocketed the scrap of paper. He could test it for fingerprints - maybe it would bring up some kind of record, some kind of lead. Meanwhile he and Alfred could keep searching for any tip-offs or recent sightings of either of them. If she had stayed alive this long, there was hope for her, even as the clock was ticking down each agonising second. He would just have to keep searching. He would find them.

Meanwhile, I was in the back of a car. The joker had flagged down a delivery driver and carjacked him at gunpoint. The poor guy looked terrified, and I hurriedly grabbed his delivery bag out of the trunk and threw it over to him with some of the mob money slipped inside. J was not happy about this.

"Get in the car already," he growled, grabbing my wrist and pushing me into the open back door. He slammed the trunk and my door before getting into the driver's seat.

"Let me ride shotgun," I protested.

His gaze met my own via the centre mirror.

"Why?"

"Come on, you know you can keep a better eye on me that way, and you've only got one usable arm right now - how are you gonna steer and drive stick?"

He growled in a way that signalled he knew I was right but didn't want to admit it and I quickly hopped into the front instead.

I'd barely got the passenger door shut before he started pulling away. He was heavy on the gas as we accelerated down the dark back-streets, with me doing my best to change up and down while he focused on steering. By the time we crossed into downtown, we were like a well-oiled machine, wordlessly synchronised. I watched the towering skyscrapers, like fingers clawing at the sky, and the crawling city traffic with a sense of infinite small-ness. I couldn't understand how anyone managed not to feel like a tiny, insignificant ant in this metropolis hellscape and I started to wonder if that was a feeling I'd just have to learn to carry for the rest of my life - a life that was unlikely to be long-lived if I couldn't get free of this deadly dance...

With a sigh, I flicked on the radio and switched through the first couple of channels' adverts until the sound of Frank Sinatra's crooning bled through the static on a 'golden oldies' station. I fiddled with the knobs until it cleared and came through smooth. To my astonishment, after a moment of driving in silence just listening to the music, J began to sing. Well, as close to singing as he was able in his rumbling, scratchy voice.

"She gets too hungry to wait for dinner at eight," he began, looking at me with a curious kind of smile.

I frowned in confusion at this latest development.

"She loves the theatre, but never comes late,

She'll never bother with the people she hates," he continued as I stared at him in fascination while he put on this strange little show for me.

"That's why the lady is a tramp!" His voice rang out, a little clearer than when he had started. It actually sounded much better - Almost good. I couldn't help but crack a smile.

"Ah see, it's not all bad, doll," he grinned.

I wasn't entirely sure what he meant and his moods were so changeable that it was hard to ever truly relax in his strange company.

"Are you calling me a tramp?" I asked playfully as he gave way to Sinatra's vocals for the rest of the verses.

"Yes, but it's a good thing, see, he likes that she's a little off-kilter," he said enthusiastically.

"So it's actually other people who have branded her a tramp?" I mused aloud.

"Exactly! Because she doesn't follow their silly little rules!" He said with a kind of child-like excitement which lit up his features.

A sly smile found its way onto my face.

"In that case, I guess I'm okay with it."

We were travelling further away from the beating heart of the city again now, along some great artery. The buildings were thinning out and getting older the further we went. Signs of decay and decline replaced the glistening glass and chrome of the financial centre, and the nicer working class neighbourhoods bled into the rougher ones. I watched as we rolled past burned out and boarded up properties with graffiti scrawled across every surface. We had crossed into the world of broken glass and potholes, of kids without a safe home to go to running in little gangs down roads lined with the skeletons of burnt out cars.

"A tale of two cities," I said dryly.

J said nothing, as the insufferable adverts started up, prompting me to turn off the radio in frustration.

"I have to make a phonecall," he announced with sudden seriousness, pulling the car over. I hurriedly dropped down to first and put on the parking break as he moved to get out of the car. He hesitated for a moment, turning back toward me. Unsure as to what he was about to do, I froze up for a moment.

"You could have taken your coat back, you look like a drowned rat," I sighed.

"You have my phone," he said matter-of- factly, leaning across so that he was able to slip his good hand into his coat, which I was still wearing. There was that little voice in me again, from some inner deep, dark cave in my soul, telling me I wanted him. I tried to pretend it didn't exist as he withdrew. The sound of the rain briefly entered the car as he stepped out into the downpour and closed the door behind him. I picked up the cardboard box from the footwell and took another couple of swigs of neat whisky. Everything was becoming too strange to be stone-cold sober.

Was this technically drink driving? I considered it for a moment, but decided that it didn't count as I wasn't the one steering or controlling the speed of the vehicle. Compared to assaulting multiple police officers, the theft of one of their firearms, arson, carjacking, and helping a wanted criminal escape law enforcement... DUI was the least of my problems. By the time he got back in the car a couple of minutes later, he was soaked through.

"I could have, but maybe I like seeing it on you," he said with a smirk.

"In that case you can definitely have it back," I retorted complete with a eye roll.

He turned to me, using his hand to comb his hair back, with a mischevious look plastered across his his face. He leaned in closer.

"You, uh, don't have to pretend you don't like it, doll. I know you do," he teased.

I felt the warm blood in my cheeks as I blushed, and turned away to look out of the window. The raindrops on the glass were illuminated by the street lights and glistened like little diamonds in the dark.

With surprising tenderness, he placed his hand under my jaw to turn my head back towards him. His cold fingers softly caressed my burning hot cheek.

A kind of rumbling sigh escapsed him.

"You are beautiful."

The car pulled up a steep hill alongside a tall chain link fence and we passed through some kind of gatehouse or check point. The old booth where guards would have sat was now just an emtpy shell with smashed in windows. Once we crossed this threshold, I realised we were inside the grounds to some kind of institution, a school, or a maybe some old government offices, judging by the numerous buildings scattered around the complex.

My whole body tensed up, unsure what he might be about to do next. Unsure what I would do if he did make any kind of move on me. I felt disappointed and relieved in equal measure when he instead turned the ignition and we returned to driving.

It wasn't until we were travelling along the tree lined avenue up to the central entrance of a building with wings outstretched on either side, that I realised where we were. The old Kirkbride layout of the abandoned Parkview mental hospital loomed up over the skyline ahead like some kind of enormous bat. The repetetive windows along its symmetrical layout inspired the same feelings of despair and insignificance in me that the skyscrapers in the city centre did. I thought about how terrified countless others had been driving up to this very spot, many of them never to leave again. So many of their stories ended in an unmarked plot somewhere on the grounds.

Gotham was not a new city, and like most other metropolitan centres, it needed places to house those deemed not fit to be out in polite society - the mentally ill, sick, disabled, women who were too headstrong, anyone who stepped out of the thin lines drawn at the time. The solution, the men in power decided, was to build an enormous hospital complex on what was then the fringes of the city - separate, distant from it. It was designed to be self-contained. Many of the doctors and nurses could live on site alongside the patients in their own little village, and there would be a farm for work, and an enormous boiler house to power the place. The inmates were regularly expected to do unpaid work in the kitchens, the farm, and so on to run the place. It was a closed system. Hotel california: You could check out any time you liked, but you could never leave.

As we pulled up by the grand steps at the entrance, I shivered. It felt as though all that suffering had bled into the walls, seeping like a poison into the groundwater. Overcrowding, abuse and neglect, spread just like the various infectious diseases that tore through the wards. Whatever good intentions they might have been set up with, through the years the asylums spiralled into little more than glorified plague pits to throw society's rejects down into.

With de-institutionalisation, the great bloated beasts fell one by one. All aside from Parkview, and a handful of smaller, more modern private facilities, and of course, the ever-infamous Arkham - that would remain to house those deemed criminally insane, the last man standing. My legs were shaking as we climbed the old stone steps to the administration tower, deeply apprehensive about walking into a place with such a devastating history.

"Why here?" I asked, feeling as though I was physically unable to go any further.

I was fixed to the last step, muscles taught and twitching as I turned to look back towards the blinking lights of the city down the hill.

"Until I know who is compomised, I can't go back to the usual places, even my men don't know about this one," he muttered.

"But, why here?" I said, clutching onto my carboard box with white kuckles, still not getting it.

He turned around frowning at me from the shadowy entrance hall.

"This place is..." I trailed off.

"Haunted?" he said sounding unconvinced.

"Well, that's what people say. I don't really believe in ghosts but - there was so much suffering and death here. It's like I can feel it."

He stepped back out into the moonlight.

"You can... feel it?" He asked, sounding perplexed.

"And you don't?" I questioned, equally disbelieving.

We stared at each other for a moment before he broke first and put his good arm around my shoulder.

"Ah come on, you, uh, aren't gonna let some silly little urban legend scare you. You'll be fine," he urged, strong arming me through the door.

My eyes strained to adjust in the darkness, and I was desperate not to look too long at anything, for fear of seeing something that would set me into a panic. I knew J could tell just how afraid I was. Compared to other times I'd managed to fight back my fear, or bury it, here I felt completely taken over by it. I wondered what his thoughts about that were. He let his arm slide down off of my back and instead roughly grasped my hand in his. With a yank he pulled me further into the darkness.

"C'mere, just follow," he said, commanding in tone - but not barking orders like I'd seen him do to his men.

I let him lead me up the central staircase and left, down a long hallway with a run of open doors. They had once been single rooms, cells really, many with the old metal bedframes still inside. The doors all had a small observation window in them and there was something so eery about the seemingly endless hallway full of them hanging open.

"This central section was the last part to shut down," J said as we finally hit the end of the hall and entered a stairwell. The opening between the floors was caged all round, I guessed to stop anyone jumping. It made the space claustrophobic as we clambered up to the next floor. I could see one of the other hallways we passed the entrance for was in a worse state - with a bowed floor and the start of a collapse at the far end. I wondered how long it would take for all four levels of each wing to collapse through to the ground. One day the building would be less of a corpse and more of a skeleton; walls without a roof, completely open to the sky.

"So, parts of it look untouched, aside from the usual vandalism," he continued casually as we came to a stop at a remarkably clean room. The ones on this floor were a little larger, as they had clearly housed four beds, the frames of which were haphazardly shoved into one corner, lying in a tangled mess. On the opposite side of the room, there was a stack of old palettes, like the kind you'd use a forklift to shift. On top of the stack was a double mattress, and a dust sheet tucked over the top. J tugged away the plastic sheeting to reveal the bed, complete with duvet and pillows, and a garish patchwork quilt screwed up on top.

"Give me a hand," he motioned.

Since he didn't have use of both of his, I shook and then straightened out the sheets for him. I failed to hide my surprise at the fact that the bed seemed very clean.

"What, did you expect me to sleep on some piss-stained mattress that a squatter left behind, to use mouldy blankets left over from the hospital?" He scoffed.

"No... I don't know. None of this makes sense to me..." I sighed.

He kicked off his shoes and sat down on the mattress.

"What if I need the bathroom?"

"Two doors down to the left," he said jovially.

"Is it a bucket?"

"No. The city left the water connected to the central building and after a lot of finger pointing as to whose responsibility it was to fix it, no one did," he grinned flopping down onto the bed.

"Sure sounds like Gotham to me," I mumbled in dry amusment.

"There's no hot water of course. No heating," he added.

"Of course," I echoed bitterly, pulling the coat tighter around me and gritting my teeth against the cold.

He put his good arm behind his head so that his elbow pointed skyward.

"So, where am I supposed to sleep?" I asked.

"Don't play coy princess, you're smarter than that," he said, looking me up and down.

My lips pulled into a thin line as I resisted the urge to argue back. He was trying to get a rise out of me when he called me that and I knew it. Instead, slowly, I inched closer and sat on the extreme end of the bed. I took the whiskey bottle out of my cardboard box for another swig, the initial burning sensation giving way to a pleasant warmth in my cold chest. I set the bottle down again carefully.

Patience not being one of his virtues, if he had any at all, he suddenly grabbed me and pulled me down onto the mattress beside him. Instinctually, I began to struggle.

"Hey. Hey," he said relinquishing his grip on me, "I'm just stopping you from catching hypothermia. God you're so stubborn," he muttered, throwing the covers over both of us with me still bundled up in the heavy coat. It was immediately warmer, which stopped me from getting up and moving away but I hated that he was right.

"Do you always sleep with your shoes on?" He asked, breaking the oppressive silence that had fallen over us.

"What?" I breathed, screwing my face up into a frown of confusion.

"This is the second time."

I finally realised what he was getting at.

"Oh, no. At the apartment I wanted to be ready to run if I had to. Here, you didn't give me a chance to take them off!" I grumbled, awkwardly unlacing the boots beneath the covers and kicking them out into the cold.

I was positioned as far away from his side as I could manage without falling out, and turned to face him, deciding it was better to be able to see him than not. His rain soaked hair was pulling into individual waves and curls as it began to dry out a little. My head was cold and acheing from my own damp hair.

He made a little show of placing the handgun i'd stolen from the police down by his side of the bed - making it obvious I couldn't get to it without clambering over him. I stuffed both frozen hands into my into my pant pockets for warmth, and I realised the screw driver and his knife were nestled there. I subtly slipped them under the mattress on my side; he didn't need to know I had either of those. He rolled his eyes at my defensive behaviour and leisurely rolled over to face the wall.

The light of the almost full moon cast strange, stretched out shadows through the tall windows and the room was awash with weak silver light. Everything looked translucent and ghostly. I would try to stay awake as long as I could, not able to trust my companion.

Link below for the other chapters:

Dividers by @strangergraphics

Tag list:

If I forgot anyone or you want to be removed from the tag list - please let me know! 💕

@dis0rderly-cl0wn-nerd

@dance-like-a-clown

@furisodespirit

@heath-ledger-jokers-wife

@sunfyrejoker

@lightsabergirl

@clowning--around

@ruby-da-archangel

@harleenqvinn

@helchronicles

@ostricx

@knoepfl

@emberlikesthemoon

@jumpingjellyfishhaha

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germanpostwarmodern · 1 month ago

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Almost to the day fifteen years ago the Tempelhofer Feld in Berlin was opened to the public and since then developed into one of the city’s main attractions: as a place of urban recreation people use it for picnics, walks, gardening, artistic projects or as jogging track. Although it has ever since its opening in 2010 been surrounded by plans of development, the Tempelhofer Feld and the citizens of Berlin withstood all political interventions.

The former airport and sports park nevertheless has changed since it was handed over to the public, a gradual process the Berlin photographer Anna Thiele has documented in her long-term project „tempelhof. metamorphosis“. Over the course of 10 years Thiele has monitored the changes the Tempelhofer Feld has undergone and thus also accompanied its gradual appropriation by the people of Berlin. The results of the project have been published by Distanz Verlag in the present eponymous volume in 2020 which contains a selection of Thiele’s photographs. Her photographs offer mostly panoramic views of Europe’s largest wasteland, some more, some less populated but all of them characterized by the photographer’s observational perspective. Interestingly, Thiele first started with color photographs but, as it seems, during the project changed to black-and-white, a transition that brings to mind her teacher Arno Fischer at Ostkreuzschule. But where the latter zooms in on his subjects, Thiele remains the distanced documentarist of the Tempelhofer Feld’s transformation and the marks nature and people left on it: a man on a scooter drives past the structures of the former airport, an urban gardening project brings exuberant chaos to the otherwise clear structure and neatly lined up waste containers bear witness to leavings of the visitors.

In either case Thiele’s photographs always convey a contemplative serenity that immediately captures the imagination: while in the background the Berlin everyday life rumbles, the Tempelhofer Feld offers vastness and space for all kinds of activities. Therefore, Anna Thiele’s project not only is a documentation but a plea for the preservation of this unique piece of freedom amidst the metropolis.

#documentary photography #art book #photography book #anna thiele #tempelhofer feld #book

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luxradium · 4 months ago

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NEW EPISODE! Metropolis, Episode 7!

Nan emerges into the chaos on God’s Plate, only to realize the chaos is gone. Now there’s only silence and a trail of blood. Nothing appears to make sense in Metropolis. But, as Nan is about to learn, perhaps the only thing worse than not understanding Metropolis is understanding it…

===========================

APPLE PODCASTS

SPOTIFY

WEBSITE

RSS

===========================

I think this is our best episode yet. It's hard to believe the series is more than half over – thank you to all of you who have joined us on this journey so far! Your notes and fandom have made this whole process incredible, and we're excited to bring you what happens next! 🥰

#audio drama #audio fiction #metropolispodcast #metropolis podcast #fiction podcast #metropolis #scifi podcast #new podcast episode #things going hywire #audio meat #Spotify

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battinscnz · 5 months ago

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𝑩𝑬𝑵𝑬𝑨𝑻𝑯 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑴𝑰𝑳𝑳𝑰𝑶𝑵𝑨𝑰𝑹𝑬 // 𝑺𝑼𝑷𝑬𝑹𝑩𝑨𝑻 𝑺𝑻𝑶𝑹𝒀

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬: Bruce Wayne (The Batman) , Clark Kent (Superman)

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠(𝐬): Bruce Wayne/Clark Kent, SuperBat

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 66,833 (19/??)

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: Bruce Wayne (The Batman) , Clark Kent (Superman), SuperBat, Bruce/Clark, Pattinson!Batman, Corenswet!Superman

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Violence/Crime Mentions, Grief/Parental Loss, Emotional Tension/Angst, Eventual Smut

Clark Kent is sent to Gotham to write an in-depth profile on Bruce Wayne, but what begins as a professional assignment quickly evolves into something far more personal. Over shared moments at Wayne Manor, the two men navigate simmering tension, unspoken desires, and their own guarded vulnerabilities, creating a connection that neither fully understands.

𝑩𝑬𝑵𝑬𝑨𝑻𝑯 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑴𝑰𝑳𝑳𝑰𝑶𝑵𝑨𝑰𝑹𝑬 // 𝑺𝑼𝑷𝑬𝑹𝑩𝑨𝑻 𝑺𝑻𝑶𝑹𝒀

Clark had no idea who moved first. Maybe it was him, maybe it was Bruce, but none of it mattered now.

All he knew was that his back was suddenly against the nearest wall, the cool surface doing nothing to ease the heat spreading through his body like wildfire. His fingers had tangled in Bruce’s thick, dark hair before he could even think about stopping himself, gripping onto it like it was the only thing keeping him from losing his mind completely.

Bruce was pressed against him, every inch of him solid, unyielding, like he wasn’t going to let Clark slip away this time.

Not again.

Clark’s mind was spinning, struggling to process everything happening all at once—the weight of Bruce’s body against his, the heat radiating from him like something barely contained, the sharp, electric press of his lips.

It wasn’t just a kiss; it was something more, something all-consuming, something Clark felt deep in his chest, in the pit of his stomach.

He hadn’t expected it to feel like this.

Hadn’t expected Bruce to come here, to seek him out, let alone to touch him like this—with this kind of intensity, like it was something he needed rather than something he could brush aside.

Somewhere in the chaos, Bruce’s jacket had hit the floor, not that Clark had noticed when.

Maybe it was when Bruce first backed him into the wall, forcing the air from his lungs with nothing but his presence. Maybe it was when Clark had tugged at the thick fabric himself, desperate for something—anything—to bring them closer. But all of it felt distant now, like a detail lost in the haze of everything else, a blur in the background of something much bigger.

Clark should have asked.

Should have stopped for even a second to ask why Bruce was here, in Metropolis, in his apartment, at this ungodly hour. Should have tried to get the words out, to demand some kind of answer before he let himself sink into this.

But Bruce didn’t let him.Every time Clark parted his lips to speak, to breathe out even a single question, Bruce was there, shutting him up in the most frustratingly effective way possible.

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wonderlandsakura · 2 years ago

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Everlasting trio but Ellie is their daughter and Dan is their estranged adult son that they're trying to build a relationship back up with and Danny and Vlad have a weird divorced-but-still-co-parenting relationship over both children where Vlad pays maintenance and takes the kids on weekends and holidays.

That is to say, Everlasting trio move to crime alley in Gotham and set up a family restaurant with their kids that are much to old to be their kids and enough money to throw around to and give to street kids and create boarding towns and generally revitalize the area they live in like mob bosses without the need for protection money or bank robbing and it's enough to flag them, even with Sam's family money.

Also Danny is the Ghost King, so more random money.

People ask where the kids are and they say they're with their other father and everyone is weirded the fuck out and it's wonderful chaos :3

More Random Ideas below the cut

Ellie lives with them most of the time but Dan has a job at the Daily Planet and lives in metropolis.

However he's known to come by for the sole purpose of messing with Black Mask for some unknown reason (that I also don't know, maybe it's courting, maybe it's revenge) and often rolls up to the shop with him tossed over his shoulder gagged up or with a bag of his left socks or mentions having to leave soon to steal X item he just replaced and Everlasting trio don't blink an eye.

Jason is a regular and he and the goon union (cause Sam gave them the presentation and set them up with the representative) love and protect the place and it's owners (though they don't need it).

Ellie goes to Gotham U and terrorizes Dami and Jon and also confuses them with her tales of traveling and hints at her Tragic Backstory TM.

Jazz lives nearby and works at Arkham and works with her sister-in-law to try and get the higher ups to start the Rogue Rehabilitation Program where rogues like the Riddler, Poison Ivy and Harley can feed their obsessions in a healthier way that doesn't harm society.

Sam also has tea and cakes and bitching at the industrialisation time on the second Sunday of every month (or once a fortnight when something especially shitty crops up).

Tucker may or may not moonlight as the tech support guy for some of the rogues.

Danny doesn't patrol, he's retired for a reason, but he became the part-time caretaker of the Gotham Observatory, which is right next to the Gotham Cemetery which he is also the part-time caretaker for and he has a reputation as that crazy, creepy but also genuinely kind and helpful dude that runs that restaurant in Crime Alley.

Maybe he also converses with Lady Gotham from time to time and just walks into endless silent shadows and walks right back out.

Vlad visits occasionally and he and Danny tend to end up in a shouting match that often leads to a brawl which always ends with them injured and holed up in a corner booth of the restaurant with their respective drinks quietly, furtively and civilly discussing something as if the fight had never happened. (The adult Fenton-Manson-Foleys just ignore it and if you ask, say "bonding" and move on)

The Fenton Parents sometimes... visit. It's Chaos.

Danny has very publicly brawled with Killer Croc at least once and can be seen bringing down food into the sewers for Grundy every evening after the shop closes.

#dc x dp #dp × dc #this is a mishmash of ideas i like #and there's probably more that i can add #but im tired so they're not popping up as readily

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gingerbredman1989 · 13 days ago

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Bubblewrath, a colossal, hyper-muscular soap-slick supervillain, standing atop an enormous, gleaming mound of sentient foam that has engulfed a once-thriving metropolis, now a submerged playground for his nefarious ambitions. His physique, a marvel of exaggerated anatomy, is suffused with an iridescent soap sheen that captures the light, making each bulging vein and rippling muscle dance with a rainbow spectrum. Only a shimmering bubble loincloth and a pair of translucent shoulder guards adorn his form, the latter casting subtle, ethereal reflections across the wet, gleaming cityscape. In one hand, he holds a massive, glowing bubble prison, a transparent sphere of concentrated bubble wrath that pulses with the power to encapsulate and entrap his foes. Below him, a legion of foamy henchmen surges forth from the depths of the floodwater, each one a miniature embodiment of the chaos he brings. Their eyes, small and beady, flicker with a sentient malice as they follow the will of their towering leader. The scene is bathed in dramatic, cinematic lighting that highlights the stark contrast between the dark, water-logged city and the vibrant, supernatural glow of Bubblewrath's form. The sky above is a tumultuous mix of brooding storm clouds and piercing spotlights, reflecting the turmoil of the battle about to unfold. Menacingly floating in the background is his giant hover-bathtub, an ostentatious and functional symbol of his power, equipped with an array of bubble-based weaponry and sinister technology. The extreme perspective emphasizes his overwhelming presence and the epic scale of his dominance, while the comic book style of the digital illustration infuses the scene with a vivid, dynamic energy that leaps off the page. The whole composition is a masterpiece of detail and drama, capturing the essence of a villain who has turned the simple act of cleanliness into a weapon of mass destruction.

#PerchanceAI #GingerBredMan1989 #MadeUpSupervillain #Bubblewrath

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umbral-stigmata-unbound · 2 months ago

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Random Asks/Prompts | Always Open

@gcldfanged asked: It's a balmy night and the wind is already picking up, long black ropes of swaying power lines thrumming across an overhead canvas of deep blues and purples smudged across the skyline. The last of the raiders have long since abandoned the inner city ruins of what was once a sprawling metropolis, a true industrial capital that never once slept a wink since it's construction: Midgar. Jae pushes a hand through his dark curtain of hair, pinning it behind the shell of his outer ear to keep the thicker waves from obstructing his vision. Sonorous wailing from the mutated muzzles of animal specimens that had long since evolved over the years might elicit a chill down the spine of a civilian far from the comforts of Edge, but it simply was a thrilling soundtrack amidst the shadowy backdrop of crumbling ruins featuring Art Deco architecture and fallen steel. Closing his eyes, his already slow rate of breathing slows to near crawl, his sternum only rising and falling in tiny increments as he takes in all of the noises filtered through the air. A savage grin pulls at the corner of his mouth when the light 'tupt' of a thick rubber sole pushes down into the grit and sand scattered across a broken sidewalk. The entity known as Hellmasker still manages to catch him off guard by leaping down and lunging forward from an entirely different direction than anticipated- Forcing Jae to loosen the astriction to his knees and elbows. He tilts backwards off the edge of the skeletal remains of a phone kiosk, falling down to the concrete below. The tail of his enhanced utility whip whistles through the air, snagging heavily against a plastic-coated cluster of transmission cables- Using their combined weight as an anchor point to swing across the gaping chasm of a broken freeway ramp. Once his toes touch the cracked asphalt, another hard snap of his wrist crushes the protective shells housing the high voltage conduits, exposing their wiring. The whip was his trademark weapon, true- But it also has the added ability to act as a taser- generating the same pulse as the frequency the human nervous system employs to activate voluntary muscles. A solid connection inflicts severe, uncontrollable muscular contraction and depending on the location of impact, this effect can spread throughout the victim’s entire body. In this case, the amps were enough to bring the long since dead cables to horrifying life, cracking and snapping loudly, writhing violently like a den of disturbed snakes. The broken power lines swing backwards once they're pulled free of their connectors, creating a dangerous livewire curtain should the maniac give chase, eagerly lured in by Jae's taunting behavior. A nice little incentive for the normally impulsive hunter to get 'smarter' in his dogged pursuit.

Chase, chase, chase. He hunted, he tracked, he cut through any stupid beasts that got in his way as his feet pounded through dirt and rubble and concrete. The ruins were the perfect stage, and felt like home. The chaos was the nature he was born for.

And his prey, was everything he ever looked for. Chuckling with glee under his breath as he knew he was drawing closer, Hellmasker locked in. And he'd narrowly had him, carving down with his hungry chainsaw, only for the pray to move so smoothly free of the needy teeth. He wanted the blood, he wanted to pain, he wanted the clash. And this one would give it to him.

"Get you...get you, get you!! Will get you!" Masker promised, calling out as he stood across the ruined ramp, quirking his head to the left and the right as he eyed the other through the live and threatening curtain. "Ha! Sparks! Killer sparks... Aren't you fun...?" he praised viciously.

He paced, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. Then he stood and stared down Jae, eyes gleaming with eagerness behind the intricately marked mask. Suddenly he moved the chainsaw to latch at his waist behind him. Dirty hands fleshed and curled, intent, but then he stared down, past the curtain, past the other side of the ramp, to something below....and suddenly, he took many steps back, only to take off at a mindless run before leaping.

He wouldn't make it. There was no hope of it, his momentum only led him down to the gaping opening below.

Except a thicker cable hunt below, attached elsewhere high above the other end of the ramp, and with the momentum of his forward drop, the madman managed to swing up high enough to grab hold on the other side of the ramp, behind Jae. He didn't bother hiding his survival, gleeful and uneven chuckles shaking him to his core as he finally got on level footing and took out his weapon once more.

"New levels...lets keep playing...Yes, yes, yes!!" Masker launched again, lunging to carve with his weapon, to throw a punch, a made kick, then a while horizontal swipe with the chainsaw once more. "Come on already!! Alive, alive, make me alive!!!"

#gcldfanged #crimsonwings ~ Vincent Valentine #Vincent's Headmates; Hellmasker #Hellmasker #ask meme #ask answered #onewinged meme

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thegildedbee · 1 year ago

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Experiment/Chaos: May 16 & 17 Prompts from @calaisreno

Periodically, Greg Lestrade reflects on the chaos leading up to and surrounding the arrest of Sherlock Holmes and his subsequent death – in the privacy of his own mind, Lestrade refuses to use the word “suicide." If he is relatively certain – balance of probability – that the actions that Sherlock executed resulted in his demise, that’s not the same as being able to arrive at the conclusion that he committed suicide. Lestrade is too good a detective to let an obvious-on-the-face-of-it-story get in the way of the facts. Needs must, facts first. The tricky part is how to work through tricked-out feints, when solid facts are scarce on the ground.

It's not quite correct to say that there are few facts to consider – rather, there are too many facts, and the vast multitude of these originated with Moriarty, in service of Moriarty’s tale of being ruthlessly used by a detective who would have to have been so seriously demented that he would be a head case worthy of sending Freud himself on week-long benders of 7% solution.

Over the months since the chaotic clusterfuck of the final days of Sherlock Holmes, Lestrade has advanced through several iterations of a thought experiment he has challenged himself to complete: how to account for Sherlock’s innocence, if such it was, and the unrelenting perfidy of Moriarty, if it was he who was bearing false witness to the alleged crimes under scrutiny. On those weekends when his daughter is at home with his ex-wife, on those weekends when he isn’t fighting his way through a relentless blizzard of paperwork, at those times when the streets of London are relatively silent beyond the routine crime that plagues a large metropolis -- Lestrade engages in "what ifs?"

In between his last iteration of his thought experiment and tonight, he’s had a frustrating encounter with Anderson, after having agreed to meet the fellow, who is in dire straits, for pints. Despite Lestrade's dismissive response, Anderson had insisted, despite all appearances, that Sherlock is alive and can be observed to be at work on the European continent, if one only knows what signs to look for. What a field day Freud would have with the daft bugger, given the outsize role that Anderson himself had played in bringing Sherlock to ruin!

Lestrade is under no illusions about Anderson's brainpower, and is not discounting the large role that guilt may be playing in the man's story. But he finds himself inclined to perhaps interview Anderson as witness: if there is one thing that Anderson is an expert on -- and, lord help them all, it isn’t the details of his forensic work in the field – he had become an expert, of sorts, on Sherlock Holmes, at work. There was nothing that Anderson had given anywhere near the same amount of attention to in the last years, than to his obsessive observation of Sherlock Holmes.

Lestrade has his own data points – not based on what may or may not have transpired after Holmes’ burial, like Anderson, but from looking back at the months preceding the climax of events between Moriarty arriving on the scene, and beginning his jousting with Sherlock, to however it was that they both came to be on the roof of Bart's on the day of their deaths.

Lestrade believes that Moriarty's story didn't gain credence because of its validity, but as a fortuitous consequence of the chaos churned up through his theatrics; if you take a close look, Moriarty's claims have the substantiality of tissue paper. Any investigative effort greater than the level of Kitty Riley’s credulous affirmations that are nothing as much as they are taking dictation in the pursuit of her own aggrandizement are tenuous.

Lestrade keeps returning to the phone call of the elderly woman, when Sherlock had been running down the puzzles he was being made to solve by Moriarty while the clock was ticking fast away. If Sherlock had set all of these up to show off his brilliance, killing the woman who was trying to give him details of her kidnapper doesn’t fit the pattern of master-minded orchestration. If Moriarty had just been a hired actor, there would have been no need for that tragedy to have occurred, and, in fact, if Sherlock was aiming at demonstrating infallibility, then that was quite an error. But beyond these aspects, Sherlock had been truly distressed at what had happened.

He also thinks about Mycroft and his cctv network, and his overbearing oversight of his brother. That somehow Sherlock had been consorting with "Richard Brook" in concocting a series of faux murderous confrontations without his knowing beggars belief, and then to think that Mycroft would allow such fakery to continue instead of plucking Sherlock from 221B and snatching him off to a safe house for rehabilitation or sectioning at some faraway clinic makes zero sense, no matter how convoluted the governmental git's machinations in regard to his hush-hush enterprises might be. If Mycroft didn't care for his brother's sanity, he would at least care not to have his own reputation sullied by such a bizarre public humiliation of the Holmes name.

Lestrade had also arranged some off-the-books investigating, under the radar of his superiors, Mycroft, and the press. This business of "Richard Brook" allegedly being a performer with some sort of record was the most obvious point to probe, he had thought. He'd arranged for Wiggins, Sherlock's aide-de-camp from the street network, to spend time in Southbank at the publicly available video archives at the British Film Institute, poring over the titles to see if any evidence of Brooks's work could be shown to have existed and aired. Nothing had been found. The hysteria over the accusations in Riley's story had scarcely engendered any scrutiny of her Moriarty-supplied fake evidence.

He finds it exceedingly unlikely that Sherlock wouldn't have fought back, knowing the truth as he did. He might have had to disappear for a while as his own investigation commenced, but Lestrade has no doubt whatsoever that Sherlock would have been able to solve "The Case of the Arachnid Actor & the Consulting Criminal," and be able to clear his name. None of it adds up. He himself might have to continue keeping his head down for the near future, but that doesn't mean he can't be scanning the ground for clues, in search of evidence of fraud of a very different sort than has been being assumed to exist.

........................................................ @calaisreno @totallysilvergirl @friday411 @peanitbear @original-welovethebeekeeper

@helloliriels @a-victorian-girl @keirgreeneyes @starrla89 @naefelldaurk

@topsyturvy-turtely @lisbeth-kk @raina-at @jobooksncoffee @meetinginsamarra

@solarmama-plantsareneat @bluebellofbakerstreet @dragonnan @safedistancefrombeingsmart @jolieblack

@msladysmith @ninasnakie @riversong912 @dapetty

#mayprompts2024 #calaisreno #sherlock bits and bobs #may prompts 2024 #johnlock

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thenexusroleplay · 3 months ago

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ARE YOU A DC/MARVEL COMICS FAN ? ARE YOU INTERESTED IN ROLEPLAY ? ALLOW ME TO INTRODUCE YOU TO:

THE NEXUS.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁✶⋆.˚

In a realm where the boundaries between realities have always been defined, a catastrophic event has shattered the delicate fabric between two worlds—the DC Universe and the Marvel Universe. The cause? The rise of an ancient, all-powerful entity known as The Nexus.

The Nexus is an incomprehensible force that has discovered the existence of multiple parallel worlds, including those of DC and Marvel. Its purpose? To unravel these realities and forge a new one under its absolute control. To do so, The Nexus has begun destabilizing the very fabric of both universes, causing chaotic rifts that bring together heroes, villains, and beings from across dimensions.

Now, Gotham City's shadows stretch into the heart of New York City. Metropolis feels the heat of Asgardian battles. Strange new allies and deadly foes arise as the two worlds collide. Those who once fought against each other now find themselves forced to unite, while others seek to exploit this chaos for their own gain.

The stakes are high. Will the combined might of the DC and Marvel heroes be enough to stop The Nexus? Or will they be swept into a new, unpredictable reality that could spell the end of both universes as they know them?

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁✶⋆.˚

THIS IS A VERY NEW SERVER . EVERY CHARACTER IS CURRENTLY AVAILABLE . HOPE TO SEE YOU THERE !

https://discord.gg/ZHfSu2Bk

#roleplay #rp #rp server #marvel #dc comics #dc roleplay #marvel roleplay #batman #superman #justice league #avengers #captain america #iron man #spiderman

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tari-stories · 14 days ago

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Interplanar Tool of Stars Prologue

Prologue

With a thunderclap the glittering building above them topples into another but luckily rests, arrows of material swinging down from the heavens into the street below, crushing a nearby evac train and causing it to explode in red like a fruit drink, lives cut short in an instant.

An anthro corvid and cat, Maren and her wife Loret, dash through the burning metropolis. Feather and fur hid and ran through twisted metal. They just need to get to one of the evacs.

“Holy shit! How far are we!?” Maren slams the broken multitool into a building door, its various mechanisms whining at the barbaric use.

“Uh- I believe two kilometers!? Though, a beast seems to be that direction” Loret peers through the floating looking-glass as she manipulates a map with her hands, a small scroll containing the screen. The beast surely there, considering the mass destruction and buildings toppling, although their flesh was not visible on this plane the chaos was.

“Alright, we’ll go through the buildings, any trains still active?” Maren breaks open the door, bringing up a flashlight to reveal the hastily abandoned jewelry store. “...Want a ring?”

Loret filed in after Maren, looking around with an amused smile. “Maren, dear, you’ve already gotten me five since the Flickering Beasts arrived on-planet.”

“Another wouldn’t hurt! You can show the kiddos when they arrive after this hell’s frozen!”

“Fine.” Loret laughed at her wife’s grim antics, maybe this mini-apocalypse wasn’t too bad with Maren.

The fighter rockets through the buildings as Styli tunes the multi-planar radar system desperately hoping to get a reading from one of the radar towers nearby, the half-satyr half-harpy pilot’s first actual deployment just had to be a complete disaster. Over the last five hours seven city-sectors were devastated, an entire pack of Flickering Beasts had found their way into Ring’s Landing and downtown was already eviscerated. Most of them were giant-sized though, so radar pings were relatively common… the issue was hitting the godsforsaken beasts.

- Planar disruption located at sector J9K2. Size: giant -

They found one

Escaping to the top of the city, Styli gazes out at the burning surroundings. Familiar streets and buildings wrecked, countless kith and kin gone. The evac shuttles were just barely hanging on, evac trains going offline one after another.

- Evac train I-3, its here! Requesting cove!—

- Does anyone have a visual on any secure routes!? We’re stuck on the east edge of downtown with half a tank of energy left for our train. -

- This is a message requesting immediate assistance at Farnan’s Bank, we’ve got twelve survivors holed up with us in the vault and!—

- Has anyone seen a blue and orange personal shuttle!? Please my partners are in there! -

- I don’t know where to go I don’t know where to go I don’t knowwheretogoIdon’tknowwhereto–-

- Where the fuck are they!? My radio malfunctioned and I’m flying through these streets blin—

- Do we have any reinforcements!? Commander Erane, please tell me there’s more fucking people coming. -

- Argent-9, I’m attempting to route additional squadrons but- the situation is fucked- I can’t I can’t. How many do we have evacuated!? -

It was a mistake to keep long range communications on… but Styli feels like they have to, flying over the inferno of a home they need to hear its last words… maybe it could be saved, if they could just kill those fucking beasts.

Finally finding the trail of the beast, Styli dives down and opens fire on the imperceivable monster. Lead and plasma sink into the invisible horror and briefly show the vivid skin of the beast at the impact points, a shrieking cry echoing from it. The Flickering Beast takes down another building as it seemingly turns on the jet, yet Styli already pulled up and prepared for another attack.

Monoma’ch jumps off the roof, spinning the meteor hammer and chanting incantations. The end of the weapon glimmers to life and fire as they bring the meteor around them then into an elbow shot. True to its name the meteor hammer slammed down upon the Flickering Beast’s head below, Monoma’ch’s interplanar eye piercing its veils and seeing the beast for what it is in another plane. With a crack the rope goes taut, the Flickering Beast’s cranium careening down into the alley below. Monoma’ch pulls back the meteor then kicks it down again into the monster’s skull, shattering it into a normally unseeable mush.

They land on another roof, feeling it destabilize so quickly running to the next.

“One down! For your second true outing, five beasts slain isn’t that bad Mono, the air corps have only gotten seven so far. Say, why don’t we beat them out in this competition?” Their tail, Ach, flicked, scanning the surroundings for more prey.

“Ach, please don’t make this a damn game. Real people are dying–” Mono caught sight of another beast, barreling towards the evac ships “Shit!”

Ach swings around to look at the scene, letting out a hiss. “Ough, that’s going to be a fucking mess.”

Monoma’ch launched towards the horror, chasing after it like the rope of their meteor followed it.

Eventually overtaking the massacrer, Monoma’ch spins the meteor hammer around its neck, arm, and finally elbow. The meteor rebounding around and punching the beast in the side on Monoma’ch’s behalf, the beast turning like a bull to the left.

“Civvies heading to the shuttles from that way Mon! Ready to give them a good fucking show!?” Ach flicked again, helping to stabilize Monoma mid-air.

Loret hears the beast heading to them first, having gotten a small hoverbike she and Maren had lurched down towards the evac shuttles. “Maren, beast on its way here!”

“Oh shit! Turn turn turn! Maren grabs Loret’s waist, holding on as her beloved swings into an alleyway.

A crack resounds through the streets as a small figure whips the invisible creature just before they enter the alley, its terrible chaos turning away from the couple. Loret spins around back onto a road, weaving the bike through ruins as the two look up towards the lithe being above. It hops from roof to roof, seemingly felling the beast after a few more swings.

“Who the fuck is that!?” Loret turns back to the street, focusing on the rapidly approaching shuttles.

“Maybe that Monothingy!? The one on the news last week?”

“Hopefully, that person’s a fucking beast with that meteor!-” Loret nearly spins out trying to avoid a fallen sign. “Gods, Maren, we may need to go back on foot.”

“Alright, let’s hurry though, the beasts are getting awfully close to the shuttles.”

Styli pants, having pulled five strafes their ammo was running low, they need to kill it on this one.

- Sector R4 is gone! I repeat it’s all just fucking gone! -

The plane spun around, Styli feeling its movement like a limb. They refocused the guns’ targeting on the beast’s last location and pulled the trigger. Every lead and plasma projectile spun towards the horror with the cries of the entire city. No. An entire planet, Styli channels the grief from watching their planet crumble into the package, desperately hoping to buy time for reinforcements to help bring back the situation.

- More evac shuttles have landed! They’re in sector A2, please direct civilians there and guard them! Avoid T3 and Y6 as there are Flickering Beasts located there! -

The bullets hit their mark, tearing the imperceptible creature’s hide and causing it to apparently crash onto the floor, the revealed spots from the impacts not hiding again. As Styli pulled up they sighed, it was dead.

- Did Centaur-5 just kill a beast on their own!? Bloody good job Centaur-5! -

Looking upon the city, Styli realizes just how much was gone, and there were still thirteen beasts in the city according to the radars... they needed to save their home.

- I… I’m calling a retreat, we can’t manage this, we’ve lost all the helicopters I sent; ground troops are in shambles; and the beasts are getting closer to the evacs… All units and evacs retreat, please- I- I can’t. -

What?... No no nonono

Monoma’ch wraps the meteor hammer around the beast's neck and tugs, they couldn’t suffocate the creature but star could…

Crack

Snap the neck.

Mono looks around, spotting the corvin and felin couple running to the evacs, they were alright… good.

As Mono pulls back the rope Ach stares down at the creature, sneering. “Pitiful thing, I mean really they only have the fact that they’re not visible on regular planes going for them.”

- Monoma’ch, this is a direct order from Commander Erane and the planetary governance council. Retreat. I repeat. Retreat. -

The voice echoes through both their heads, causing body and tail alike to wince a bit.

“Buzzkills.” Ach sighs and begins to scan for a route out. “Let’s get going Mon, no use disobeying.”

“...” Mono turns and begins hopping from building to building, taking a look around at the city they just failed.

The shuttles are meters away, Maren hears the frantic directions of the crew as they appear to be all leaving. Plasma and lead shot up into the sky at an unknown threat behind a row of buildings.

“Why are they leaving so soon!? Wasn’t there two hours left on the evac schedule!?” Loret tugs on her wife’s arm, speeding up to catch the evacs.

“Is the situation that bad?”

“Must be–”

With a thunderclap an invisible creature falls upon the evacs. Metal, bone, and flesh melding together under an unseeable horror as at least hundreds of sparks of life go out. Blood sprays out in an unnatural pattern, being courted around the body of the beast as it squeezed out the liquid of life from the evacs.

Maren looks on at the scene, pupils as small as the stars in the sky as she puts a hand on her mouth.

“Love, we need to go, we need to go.” Loret shakingly grabs her wife and begins to scramble to some sort of shelter, anything as the air raid sirens begin to sing a song of atomic fire.

Styli flies over the city, comms screaming. Their hands felt frigid, looking over their home as it is condemned to evisceration.

- What the fuck!? Why is there a nuclear warning!? -

- Commander Erane! Commander Erane!! Please tell us what’s going on! -

- Gods, please, does anyone know where the warhead is going!? -

- We’re in the subway, I’ve got thirty civilians with me, please does anyone know what to do!? Please we have elderly and children! -

- I-, gods. Where is the commander!? Uh- everyone try to get as far from the center of the city as possible, just run! -

Faint sobs echo from the radio. The commander’s.

Styli contributes their voice to the chaos, the small green rectangle confirming outward broadcasting. “Fuck… no no no nononono. What the fuck!?”

They see a distant yellow stream over the horizon line, death incarnate. Pulling on the stick and willing the plane to move they begin to veer away from the center of Ring’s Landing. Looking down at the ruined shops and apartments, occasionally seeing the small shapes of people running for their lives.

Tears fall down the hybrid’s face, metaphorical arms of the dead and condemned tugging them back but the seat refuses to let Styli be dragged out of the plane. The pain thrashes through their heart as if their pockets are filled with stones in the seas of Europa.

#swearing warning #cw: gore #creative writing #writers on tumblr #writing #scifi #fantasy #ITOS #multiple perspectives #not proofread #First story here so quality might not be the best #Uploading this first as I have the most motivation for it #The first TARI chapter will be written next #It'll be much lighter don't worry #ITOS and TWOF are the more darker stories while TARI and a TBN story are gonna be lighter #Especially the TBN #don't know what i'm doing

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leiuvr · 4 months ago

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BOUND BY FIRE | SYLUS LOVE AND DEEPSPACE, COMPLETED (M) | CHAPTER 8

Chapter Synopsis: Sylus brings Luna to his penthouse for safety. Elias appears, offering Luna a chance to break the bond and live a normal life. Sylus pleads for her trust, promising to find a way to for them to live without Elias's interference.

Word count: Approx. 3,238 words

A/N: A long one for ya'll <3

CHAPTER 8: THE PRIZE OF THE CURSE

Night had fallen, draping the city in a cloak of darkness punctuated by the glittering lights of the metropolis. Sylus, his expression grave, had decided to bring Luna to his penthouse.. He couldn’t bear the thought of her being alone, vulnerable, after the day's revelations and the lingering threat of Elias. His own home, a fortress of arcane wards and familiar comforts, offered a sense of security, a place where he could keep her close, protected.

The drive was silent, the tension in the car thick and palpable. Luna’s mind was a whirlwind of conflicting emotions, a storm of anger, confusion, and a growing sense of dread. The book, the attack on Sylus' penthouse, the constant whispers of Elias, it was all too much.

The car pulled into the underground garage of Sylus' building, the sleek vehicle gliding to a smooth stop. The elevator ride to the penthouse was swift and silent, the air heavy with unspoken questions. The doors opened onto the opulent space, the panoramic view of the city a stark contrast to the turmoil within Luna.

Sylus led her to the living area, the minimalist decor a blend of dark woods, polished stone, and brushed metal, reflecting his refined taste. The grand piano stood in one corner, its polished surface reflecting the city lights, a silent testament to his hidden depths. The air was cool and crisp, a stark contrast to the warmth of his hand as he guided her to a plush sofa.

“Luna,” he began, his voice low and serious, “we need to talk.”

She nodded, her gaze fixed on him, her heart pounding in her chest. She had a thousand questions, a thousand fears, and she needed answers.

Before he could delve into the heavier topics, Sylus, sensing her unease, decided to offer a moment of respite. He moved away from the sofa, his movements smooth and deliberate, and walked towards the grand piano.

"Come," he said, his voice softer now, a gentle invitation. "Let me show you something."

Luna hesitated for a moment, then rose and followed him. He sat down at the piano, his fingers resting lightly on the keys. The city lights reflected in the polished surface, creating a soft, ethereal glow.

He began to play.

The melody was hauntingly beautiful, a melancholic tune that spoke of longing and loss, but also of hope and resilience. The notes flowed from his fingers with effortless grace, filling the penthouse with a soothing, calming energy. Luna watched him, mesmerized, the music weaving its magic around her, easing the tension in her shoulders.

As he played, Sylus glanced up at her, a soft smile gracing his lips. His crimson eyes, usually intense and guarded, were filled with a gentle warmth, a vulnerability that surprised her. When the melody ended, the silence that followed was filled not with tension, but with a quiet peace. Luna felt a sense of calm wash over her, a brief respite from the storm within.

"That was beautiful," she said, her voice soft, her gaze lingering on him.

"It is an old melody," he replied, his voice low, his fingers tracing the keys. "One that has brought me comfort in times like this."

He rose from the piano and walked towards her, his movements slow and deliberate. He reached out, his fingers gently tracing the line of her jaw, his touch sending a wave of warmth through her.

"Before we talk," he said, his voice soft, "let me offer you this. A moment of peace, a glimpse of something beautiful amidst the chaos."

He led her to a balcony overlooking the city. The night air was cool and crisp, and the city lights twinkled like a million stars scattered across a velvet cloth. They stood there in silence for a few moments, the beauty of the night sky a balm to their troubled souls.

Sylus pointed out constellations, his knowledge of astronomy surprisingly vast. He spoke of ancient myths and legends associated with the stars, his voice a soothing murmur that filled the silence with a sense of wonder. Luna listened, captivated, her worries momentarily forgotten.

These moments, these glimpses of Sylus' hidden depths, offered a glimmer of hope, a reminder that even amidst the darkness, there was beauty, there was warmth, there was a connection that transcended the curse.

But the reprieve was fleeting. “You cast it upon us at the time of my death.”

Luna’s breath hitched. The words echoed the fragmented visions she had seen, the whispers of a love that was both a blessing and a curse. “What… what do you mean?” she asked, her voice trembling.

He continued, “Dragon shifters are vicious beings. They are said to kill as that is what they are born to do.”

Luna looked at him deeply, trying to puzzle the pieces together. “What about you?”

Sylus sighed, shifting his eyes to the city underneath. “I fit into that description… until you came around.” His voice is soft and gentle. “You broke into my chambers one night due to pure curiosity of our kind. I was drawn to kill you that night but there is something in you that stopped me.”

“You saw past the monster that lies within. By then, I felt something in me that dragon shifters never feel. I felt joy when you’re near, longing when you’re not, pain when you leave. I never thought I could defy the realities of my kin.”

“That one very night when Elias made humans and hunters join alliances and lead an onslaught to kill me. You were there in my chambers, creating some sort of barrier around my tower. I knew if I didn’t let you out of there they’d kill you too. As stubborn as you are, you refused, promising to fight along my side.”

Luna stood there, listening to every word being uttered by Sylus. “You fought. We fought until the both of us couldn’t anymore. The blood, the sweat, the tears, I remember it all, I remember how they kicked your bloodied body. It pains me that I cannot do anything as I am losing consciousness.”

Sylus' voice begins to crack as he tries to trace every single detail of his hidden trauma. “As they left the premises, you still fought, crawling to me.”

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

Lyra crawled with the strength left within her system. “Sylus.” She croaked. She clawed her way until she reached the Sylus, laying there. A smile still written across his lips.

“Lyra.” Sylus whispered. She held him in her arms as tears welled up her eyes. Sylus held Lyra’s hand to pass on a silver dagger. “You must press on.”

Lyra shook her head in protest, “No!” trying to shove the dagger away. “I..I can heal you.” As she was about to chant out a spell with a little energy she has left, Sylus took the dagger in his palm then dug the blade through his chest. Lyra, taken aback, yelled in pure agony.

“No! Sylus, no!” She cried only for Sylus to shove the dagger deeper into his heart. “Why?”

A faint smile still stuck on Sylus' face, he whispered. “One of us is bound to die as the prophecy wrote it. I chose the path, I chose myself.” Lyra, still distraught on what she had witnessed. Her palms pressed on the sides on the dagger’s blade, a desperate attempt to save Sylus.

“No. No. No. Please.” She pleaded. Sylus raised his bloodied hand to her face. “You were the only mortal who saw beyond the scales, the only one who offered a heart where I thought none could bloom. For such a fragile flower, I would gladly succumb to my own fire on any who dared to threaten it.” He whispered with his last breath.

Lyra felt his hand get heavier and heavier. She was lost for words as tears were only one speaking as of the moment. Sylus' hand fell and so did Lyra’s heart. She let out a scream that citizens eons away could hear. A surge of red force exploded along her scream sending a gush of fire which was then caught by their surroundings. The humans and hunters shivered in fear.

Lyra’s eyes shifted from grief to something dark. Her eyes grew all black as she held Sylus' lifeless body. The premises shook in an otherworldly force.

"Depart from these grounds." One hunter yelled out, sending humans and other hunters running towards the door. Lyra’s eyes followed their movements and with a small tilt of her head, the doors shut. “It won’t yield! You foul witch! Release us!” He commanded.

In a voice darkened by fury, her grip on Sylus tightened. Her words dripped with venom, each syllable a knife. "What makes you think I would grant you mercy?" Her eyes gleamed with malice, her breath steady despite the storm raging within. "You took everything from me."

A cruel smile curled on her lips as she whispered, "The prophecy decreed that only one shall perish this night. Sylus chose his fate." She pulled him closer, his body limp in her embrace, her fingers trembling with rage and sorrow alike. Her power crackled in the air, bending the very fabric of reality to her will. "With power like mine," she murmured, her voice a chilling promise, "I do not plead. I do not falter. I choose bloodshed."

"By the ancient blood that binds us, I forge a chain of lifetimes," she intoned, her voice reverberating through the chamber like a solemn decree. Power surged through her veins, thick as the magic-laden air. "Your soul, Sylus, shall be forever tethered to mine, a shadow clinging to light, a curse that echoes through lifetimes. Only my hand can extinguish the flame of your existence. Only I can grant you a true death."

As the final words left her lips, the chamber trembled, the walls groaning under the weight of her will. The torches flickered wildly, shadows stretching like grasping hands. The gathered onlookers—those who dared bear witness to this night—felt it too. The pull of something inevitable.

"And as for those who stand in this chamber tonight," her gaze swept over them, unyielding, merciless, "your fates are sealed. The blood spilled here shall not be ours alone. Tonight, the world shall remember the price of this curse and rampage." The air grew thick with an invisible force, a suffocating pressure that clawed at their throats. The doors slammed shut even tighter with an eerie finality, sealing their doom.

Lyra didn’t move an inch as she held onto Sylus' body with eyes filled with fury towards the people who did this. “I will remind them how it feels to hold you like this. I will make them suffer until their very souls beg for mercy that will never come.” Lyra vowed as the fire engulfed both of their bodies along with assailants before the stones of the ruins crumbled around them.

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

He told her of the past, of Lyra’s desperate attempt to bind him to her, to save him from a fate he chose. But in her desperation, she had created a collapse in the prophecy. Luna was lost for words. She was responsible for the curse when desperation called.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she demanded, her voice trembling with anger. “Why did you let me live in ignorance?”

“I wanted to protect you,” he replied, his voice soft, his gaze pleading. “I wanted to give you a chance to live a normal life, to escape the darkness that surrounds us.”

“But you didn’t,” she said, her voice laced with bitterness. “You brought me here, into the heart of it all.”

“I had no choice,” he said, his voice filled with regret. “Elias… he found you. He would have used you, manipulated you to use your ability to end me, to end us.”

A heavy silence settled over them, the weight of their shared history pressing down on them. Luna’s mind reeled, trying to process the enormity of what she had just learned. Suddenly, a cold, mocking voice echoed through the penthouse. “Such a touching reunion.”

Elias stepped out of the shadows, his augmented form a grotesque distortion of draconic power. His eyes gleamed with triumph, his lips curled into a cruel smile.

“Elias,” Sylus growled, his voice laced with venom, immediately pulling Luna behind him.

“There is a way, Luna,” Elias said, his voice smooth and persuasive, ignoring Sylus' anger. “A way to break the bond and end this madness to live in normalcy.”

Luna looked from Sylus to Elias, her mind reeling. “Don’t listen to him, Luna,” Sylus growled, his voice low and dangerous. “He wants to take you from me.”

His hold got tighter, his eyes burning with a possessive fire. “He will lie, manipulate, or do anything to break our bond. He wants to see me destroyed.”

“I want to see you freed, Luna,” Elias countered, his voice laced with sincerity. “Freed from his control, from the curse that binds you to him.”

He held out his hand, his eyes pleading. “Come with me, Luna. I will show you the truth. I will give you a choice.”

Luna’s gaze shifted between the two men, her mind a battleground of conflicting emotions. She saw the possessive fire in Sylus' eyes, the desperate plea in Elias’s. She felt the pull of their intertwined destinies, the weight of the curse that bound them together.

“No.” Luna affirmed with a tone very firm, no one can defy its meaning. “You defiler. I will never cross your path.”

Elias’s eyes turn from soft to angered ones. He began to see red. “You will regret this, Luna. He,” his finger towards Sylus “will be your demise.”

He turned and disappeared into the shadows, leaving Luna alone with Sylus, the silence in the penthouse heavy with unspoken words.

Sylus reached out, his fingers gently tracing the line of her jaw. “I understand your confusion, sweetheart,” he said, his voice soft and reassuring. “But please, trust me. I will not let him harm you.”

Luna nodded, her eyes filled with tears. She wanted to trust him, to believe in him. But the fear, the doubt, the whispers of the past, they were all too real.

“I’m scared, Sylus,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

“I know,” he said, pulling her close, his arms wrapped around her, his presence a comforting shield against the darkness. “But you don’t have to be. I will protect you. Always.”

They stood there, embraced, the silence in the penthouse broken only by the soft sound of Luna’s tears. The city lights twinkled outside the windows, a silent witness to their intertwined destinies, their cursed love. The night was long, and the choices ahead were fraught with danger, but they would face them together, bound by a love that defied fate, a curse that threatened to consume them both.

The city lights twinkled outside the penthouse windows, a stark contrast to the storm raging within Luna. The silence between her and Sylus was thick, heavy with the weight of his revelations. The curse, a consuming fire, a bond that threatened to obliterate them both, echoed in her mind.

She pulled back slightly, her gaze searching his. She whispered, her voice trembling. "How do we stop him?"

Sylus' expression was grave, his crimson eyes filled with a dark intensity. "I don't know," he admitted, his voice low and laced with a hint of desperation. "I don't know yet. But I will find a way. I promise you that."

He cupped her face in his hands, his thumbs gently stroking her cheeks. "We are bound, Luna, not helpless. We will face this together, and we will find a way."

He leaned down, his lips grazing against hers, a tender, almost desperate kiss. It was a kiss that spoke of love and fear, of longing and a desperate hope against impossible odds.

"Trust me," he whispered against her lips. "Trust me, and we will overcome this."

Luna nodded and closed her eyes, trying to find solace in his embrace, but the fear was a cold knot in her stomach. She trusted him, loved him, but the curse, the whispers of Elias, they were a constant, gnawing presence.

She pulled back, her gaze troubled. "Elias... he said there was a way to break the bond," she said, her voice hesitant. "He said I could be free."

Sylus' expression hardened, his jaw clenching. "He is lying. He is trying to manipulate you, to turn you against me. He wants to see me destroyed, and he will use you to achieve it."

"But what if he's not?" Luna countered, a flicker of defiance in her eyes. "What if there is a way? What if we could have a life? A real life?"

The words hung in the air, charged with unspoken desires and fears. Sylus' eyes burned with a possessive fire, a flicker of something darker that made Luna's breath catch in her throat.

"There is no 'real life' for us, Luna." he said, his voice low and dangerous. "We are bound, eternally. Our destinies are intertwined. You are mine."

His grip on her arms tightened, his eyes burning with an intensity that bordered on obsession. Luna felt a surge of fear, a chilling question forming in her mind: was this love, or possession?

She pulled away, her heart pounding. She said, her voice trembling. "I need to think. I need to understand."

Sylus' expression softened, the possessive fire replaced by a look of concern. "I understand," he said, his voice gentle. "I’ll help you understand every bit in an effort to make you remember. But please, don't trust Elias. He will lead you down a path of darkness."

He stepped back, giving her space, his gaze filled with a mixture of love and fear. "I will be here." he said, his voice soft.

Luna nodded, her eyes filled with tears. She was trapped, caught between her love for Sylus and the suffocating weight of the curse, between the promise of freedom and the fear of threats. The choices ahead were a labyrinth of shadows, and she had no idea which path to take.

She turned away, walking towards the panoramic windows, her gaze lost in the glittering expanse of the city. The lights blurred through her tears, each one a tiny point of light in the vast darkness, much like her own uncertain future.

A soft sound behind her made her turn. Sylus stood near the grand piano, his posture rigid, his gaze fixed on her. The silence stretched, heavy and charged, until he finally spoke.

"I know this is difficult, my love," he said, his voice low, almost a whisper. "But you must understand... Elias is not offering you freedom. He is offering you a different kind of cage."

He walked towards her, his movements slow and deliberate. "He wants to control you, to use you against me. He will offer you illusions, lies disguised as truths. But in the end, he will only bring you pain."

He stopped in front of her, his gaze searching hers. "I understand your fear, Lyra. I understand your desire for a life free from this curse. But please, don't make a choice you will regret." He reached out, his fingers gently tracing the line of her cheek. “I will find a way for us to be together, truly together, without the shadows of the past hanging over us."

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aventurineswife · 4 months ago

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An ask: Imagine if Zenless Zone Zero existed in HSR universe as one of planets? But most importantly, how chaotic it would be if Boothill and Billy have met.

Oh, that would be absolute anarchy in the best way possible.

Imagine: New Eridu exists as a lawless yet thriving metropolis in the HSR universe, a planet where civilization barely clings on amid constant Hollow disasters. Instead of the usual IPC or Xianzhou meddling, it’s a place ruled by factions, syndicates, and underground dealings. It's the kind of place where Stellaron Hunters would feel right at home.

Now, throw Boothill and Billy into the mix. Two gun-slinging, trigger-happy cowboys with wildly different energies:

Billy, the upbeat, talkative, and smooth-operating outlaw. He’s the type to charm his way through trouble, crack jokes mid-shootout, and somehow make everything feel like a high-stakes, high-energy action flick.

Boothill, the deadpan, no-nonsense bounty hunter. He’s all business, doesn’t waste words, and is terrifyingly efficient at getting his targets. While Billy is all about flair and fun, Boothill is the cold reality of their profession.

The moment they meet? Chaos. Maybe Billy is running some smuggling gig, and Boothill gets hired to bring him in. Maybe they both get hired for the same job and end up trying to outgun each other. Or, better yet, maybe they get forced to work together on a contract neither of them can refuse.

Their dynamic would be gold. Billy would be running his mouth, cracking jokes, and trying to get under Boothill’s skin. Meanwhile, Boothill wouldn’t even dignify half of it with a response—until Billy actually annoys him enough to fire a warning shot.

The real kicker? If they do have to work together, Billy would definitely consider them friends by the end of it, while Boothill would insist they are not—only to then silently bail Billy out of trouble when he inevitably bites off more than he can chew.

It’d be pure, unfiltered cowboy chaos, and I’d love every second of it.

(I may have written them a bit ooc... 💔)

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sonicthetarot · 4 months ago

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SONIC THE TAROT Card Previews #6

Today's previews are for the Major Arcana's Judgment and World as well as the Suit of Cups' Ace of Cups and Two of Cups! See their guidebook entries below, and check out our website for more and our storefront to preorder a copy!

20 - Judgment (Silver the Hedgehog)

Dreaming of absolution for the future, Silver the Hedgehog is Judgment. When given a lead by Mephiles, he doesn’t hesitate on deciding to travel to the past and kill the supposed Iblis Trigger in order to save his world. When further incidents such as The War to Take Back the Planet affect his future, Silver time and again strives to defeat evil and rebirth his timeline into prosperity once more.

Judgment reversed is best seen during Silver’s more neurotic moments. His quest during the Solaris incident ultimately stemmed from malicious hearsay, and his determination to save his timeline made him not analyze the clues that he was being manipulated. Additionally, Silver becomes frustrated when he cannot immediately solve problems, turning these failures into a form of doubt against himself.

Judgment’s decisiveness and determination are his greatest strengths, but self-doubt may hinder them.

Upright Keywords: judgment, absolution, decisiveness, renewal

Reversed Keywords: false hearsay, poor self-awareness, ignorance, self-doubt

21 - The World (Tikal)

The World is vast and full of achievement, and Tikal embodies the culmination of one's self-concept. Keenly aware of how all living things are integrated within one another to thrive, she goes against the tendencies of her tribe to befriend Chaos and the Chao without ulterior motives. Although her story is complete following the Chaos incident, Tikal’s connection to the Master Emerald continues to allow Knuckles—the last of the echidnas—a sense of belonging.

However, The World reversed sees Tikal unable to complete her goals. Although she was successful in sealing Chaos for a time, her solution was not efficient enough to prevent him from breaking out and wreaking havoc on Station Square. However, Tikal never gives up on returning Chaos to normal, and ultimately they both find personal closure after ascending to heaven.

The World remains at the end of every quest, and may even heal ancient wounds long forgotten.

Upright Keywords: achievement, completion, community, belonging

Reversed Keywords: unsuccessfulness, inefficiency, delays, personal closure

Ace of Cups (Twinkle Park)

An oasis of celebration during the Chaos incident, Twinkle Park represents compassionate relationships as the Ace of Cups. Although Sonic and Amy initially enter the park under the “cute couples” clause, the latter’s journey of self-love and autonomy beyond Sonic begins here. This turning point for Amy’s character allows her and Sonic to become closer allies and have each other’s backs during incidents such as the War to Take Back the Planet—even if she still has a teeny weeny crush on him.

The Ace of Cups reversed showcases a separation in established relationships. Twinkle Park is the first stop for Big on his painfully-long quest to find Froggy, and he is met with aquatic roadblocks whenever he seems to gain some ground. Although he is saddened by these setbacks, Big is always able to intuit where his polliwog pal might next be due to their close bond.

The Ace of Cups brings new beginnings to relationships, but may mean bad news in other ones.

Upright Keywords: celebration, love, compassion, new relationships

Reversed Keywords: separation, painfulness, bad news, intuition

Two of Cups (Null Space | Metropolis)

Null Space, as its name suggests, is a void dimension that Sonic and the Avatar are banished to by Infinite. Although supposedly impossible to escape from, the duo conclude that their united partnership would be enough to overcome this improbable Two of Cups. By balancing Sonic’s speed with the Avatar’s Wispons, they successfully reconnect to reality through the Double Boost maneuver to rejoin their friends.

Imbalance represents the Two of Cups reversed, as Null Space is devoid of any elements that makes the living world alive. Yet even when Sonic and the Avatar break free, they are immediately dropped into a Metropolis plunged into war-born disharmony. The abuse the city has undergone does not last forever, as the Resistance soon break up Eggman’s forces and recapture Metropolis completely.

The Two of Cups needs a united partnership to thrive, with those not up to snuff falling into disarray.

Upright Keywords: partnership, compatibility, balance, reconnection

Reversed Keywords: imbalance, insufficiency, disharmony, abuse

CHECK OUT OUR WEBSITE AND PREORDER NOW!

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