Ya'll know our BELOVED? Little Baby Man?
The noodliest ghosty boy?
What if he WAS Baby? It wouldn't be the first time Danny's enemies plotting gave him offspring. Only this time it's not a clone! It's a proper GHOST baby. Like Lunch Box.
Who's the other parent I hear you ask?
Pretty human-centric view point there buddy, to assume Ghosts NEED two participants to make an offspring. OR are limited to two! Just cause Lunch Lady And Boxie are a couple doesn't mean that's the standard!
We lack data here! ASSUME NOTHING. *sciences harder in your direction*
*awkward cough*
*shuffles notes*
ANYWAY! The child! All it would really take is one(1) VERY poorly timed ambush attack. Imagine if you will, a cell. How does it multiply? While not even close, the simplistic images ARE pretty good as an explanation!
But isn't that just an ecto-clone? You say?
Close!
But THOSE? Are hollow bags of GOO!
No CORE! *slaps the chalkboard behind me*
However! If you wanted, say, a precious bundle off joy? Well, nothing can come from perfect void! You must contribute the building blocks of LIFE! And what are those, my students, in ghost biology??!
Two vital pieces! The Ectoplasm aaaaaaand? That's RIGHT!
The CORE!
A critical and ever vital part of ghost biological function.
Which, like every OTHER part of the body, is malleable. One could, say, make it smaller. Create part of a proto core. OR, should one be ALONE in this process, a FULL protocol.
Upon which, ectoplasm latches, builds, develops and grows. Becomes its own soul.
Now! Do Not mistake me! There is a WILDLY vast difference between the formation of a core and a shattered core. Between willing life and untimely second death. It is not, and never WILL be, easy to create the soul of a child. Tampering with your core is PAINFUL, dangerous, and leaves you WILDLY vulnerable.
There is a REASON Neverborn are so precious.
Buuuuut..... *pulls out a book labeled "Curses Though The Ages"* we must ALSO consider the famed Fenton Luck(tm).
Consider! Where would be the "safest" place to practice making clones of yourself? A place that's wide open. No one wearing white likely to take pot shots at you while your attention is divided in multiple places at once. No parents blowing up the basement at a delicate moment and leaving you trying to hide that extra arm for a week...
Maybe you forget... oh yeah... OTHER GHOSTS.
So there Danny floats. In the Zone. DISTRACTED. His core HUGE from all that recently Royal business as it tries to digest it. Feeling bloated. Trying to work off some energy, as it were. Then who should come along? Why, the universes BEST HUNTER of course! To say *gun powering up noise* :) HI :)
Like buddies DO.
Danny doesn't see him.
Danny is mid-split.
At his limit, honestly. Already made as many copies as he usually can. Is trying for ooooone moooooore..... when...
PAIN. Something cracks.
He loses concentration. Tries to curl in on himself.
Both 1.5 of him tries. He loses hold of the "clone's" Ecto. Somethings free floating leaving his chest along with it. Behind him, Skulker is freaking out. That was MEANT to be on opening volley. A gentle little "hey, come fight me". That crack sounded SERIOUS.
Danny can't breathe. It's like the portal all over again. He curls tighter and tighter. Feels the crown, which was not THERE until this moment, press down tight and gripping onto his head. Thrumming. And then... something feels like a muscle releasing.
His core is... smaller? He'd been watching its progress, it couldn't have digest so fast... how did it lose so much... mass...
Danny feels all the blood drain from his face.
He nearly died.
Again.
His... his soul... WHERE IS HIS SOUL?? That's a piece of him! A part of his SOU-!
He spins around... only to meet the eyes off a blearly blinking, noodlish, cartoon like gremlin with his color scheme. Who's floating along like they're in zero-g. Just... drifting in a slow circle.
They yawn at him with a mouth full of teeny tiny baby fangs. Then chirp.
That's his Son. He doesn't know how, he doesn't know WHY, but he somehow instinctively... just... KNOWS?
They blep.
Danny looks a Skulker. His eyes hold MURDER.
"You're paying child support."
"......yes sir."
@hdgnj @stealingyourbones
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DP x DC AU idea:
Regent!Jazz
Having been ecto-contaminated since conception, Jazz is the most Liminal being in the world, which has her develop a proto-core. As in, death has about 30% claim on Jazz and every year it grows stronger the longer she lives above the portal.
Can Jazz walk through walls, disappear and fly? Sorta, occasionally, and no. It depends on how much Ecto she has in her system, otherwise she’s just got her inherent strength.
Jazz inherited the Fenton Law Loophole tendency.
She swaps out her psychology books for books on Realms Law, spends a week locked in her room with them in fact. It concerns Danny and co., because what is Jazz up to?
Jazz claims regency thanks to three factors:
1: Danny unconsciously views her as a third parent thanks to her raising him in a neglected household. She got him to fourteen before she looked away for a minute, ok?
2: Danny is a minor in both human and ghost culture, therefore he’s baby and needs time to grow up without bearing kingly responsibilities, right?
3: As mentioned before, Jazz is the most Liminal being in the modern age, with a slowly developing proto-core. This allows her to be able to not only survive the Infinite Realms on a long-term basis, but able to step up as Regent at all.
————
Sam and Tucker, while Liminal too (thanks to them getting flooded with it with Danny’s death) still have a ways to go in terms of contamination- give it a few more years in Amity Park and they’ll start to show more symptoms of death-claimed, though they’ll never be able to surpass Jazz. Not even Jack and Maddie Fenton could ever say that, considering they wear Hazmat suits daily that has limited exposure, but were also adults when first contaminated- the ecto would take a lot longer to bond to adult molecules than that of a just-conceived child.
Maybe Jazz even leeched off some of Maddie’s contamination in the womb? Whose to say.
Where does DC come in?
Perhaps the vivisection route? It’s a tried and true method of getting Danny to Gotham, but I raise you- Jazz essentially “kidnaps” Danny, taking him away from his haunt once she is Regent.
Gotham is a city drenched, drowning, in tragedy and therefore natural ectoplasm for a powerful Liminal and Halfa to survive on.
Lady Gotham welcomes the two eagerly into her city and directs Jazz to the soon-to-form Lazarus pit- corrupted ectoplasm, but nothing Danny can’t filter out with time, it’ll heal him and whatever happened to his core after being ripped away from his haunt.
It does cause a rift to form between the two, but Jazz is firm in staying in Gotham. Right on the edge of Crime Alley to be specific.
Here we can slide in Vigilante!Jazz, who is pissed off at the world and needs to work out some excess energy. Enhanced bone density means that Jazz doesn’t have to worry about screwing up her knees with a few ‘superhero landings’.
Liminalality means that she can sense the weird guy in the Red Hood whose territory she keeps crossing into while beating the crap out of some criminals and escorting the night workers home.
Revenant!Jason…
….possible Anger Management/Hardcover pairing?
[Im thinking about continuing this, but idk. I do have like a page written out with Regent!Jazz]
Masterlist
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A Land Before Time
🔞 An MK1 x Reader 🔞
▸ includes: Liu Kang [mk1 versions] F! Reader◂
Author's Note: This was based on a sex dream that I had, that I feel @genesiswrld SHOULD have had, because Liu Kang is hot but Bi-Han is my squishy. Not saying the dream was wasted on me, just that it was misplaced 😆
Female anatomy used.
Imagine for a moment that this New Era is real, and the existence that you're currently living is also real, and contains the New Era inside it as a game - but you find a technical way through the use of coding and quantum tech, to enter Liu Kang's New Era, “cool world” style, as something of a god/goddess.
Because you live in our shared reality, the one in which the game was created, you can in fact “code” the New Era into anything you like, within reason. But you have to get past the guardian. Liu Kang and Geras are gods there. But here, they are just characters, with Geras also partially functioning as a type of uncrackable password manager/encryption software. You can give your own self all sorts of powers to take into the New Era; but you can't change the core game unless you can get past Geras and Liu Kang.
You would either need their permission, or you'd have to force/brute force them to comply.
You can literally step from our world into the New Era and live there, immortal, with godlike power. And you do that. You use the code and give yourself the boosts you think you'll need to defend yourself if necessary.
Because you have the capacity to travel to any physical point in the timeline, as well as any temporal point in the timeline, you choose something you think will be easy to start. A time with fewer enemies, a time that you wanted to see in your own world, once.
🔞 Spicy/Explicit after the cut 🔞
When you first stepped through the portal into the New Era, the pristine sands beneath your feet were deliciously toasty. You could not help but to remove your footwear and sink your toes into the sand. The air here is pure, and filled with the strange buzz of unseen insects in the distance. The soft swirl of sand in the hourglass before you quieted. Without the hiss of sand, an absence of familiar noises from your past life became distinct; no motorcars, no hum of electronics, no trace of people, and a distinct lack of birdsong.
If you peer into the reflection of the hourglass over Liu Kang’s shoulder, you can see glimpses of early six-limbed proto-vaternians being gently guided into evolution in a neighboring realm. Liu loses his concentration on the sands as he sees you. Nothing devastating happens in the universe in that instance; there is simply a pause in the work.
Liu Kang knows immediately that you are not supposed to be here, standing before him and the hourglass.
He knows because he has not yet created humans.
Outside of the very meticulously kept garden that surrounds the hourglass, dinosaurs still rule this earth. Even birds have yet to grace the planet.
“How are you here? Or perhaps I should ask, are you truly here? Is it possible that even gods can still have dreams, or hallucinations?”
You tell him you are from a timeline before his own. You are older than his entire universe, older than Kronika, than Geras, older than the hourglass. And while you yourself did not create his universe, you were alive at the time it was conceived[1].
You tell him you shared a planet with, and walked among, the beings that created his universe. His universe is based on what your people knew of their own universe. Your feedback may or may not have influenced these creators; but you have some access to their same power of creation, and have come to use the hourglass to enhance his universe for yourself.
You came prepared to fight if necessary. Liu Kang would be very particular over who has access to the hourglass.
You may even fight a few rounds if you're curious to test your code enhancements - at least until he understands that you do have the power to control parts of his universe already, and the power to defeat him if he made it necessary. Through the encounter, he learns that you aren't lying about being from an even older timeline responsible for creating the hourglass.
But whatever it is that you want to change about the New Era, he likely won't let you without a fresh fight. And another fresh fight, and another, for every single little change you think you could want.
“We don't have to fight. We can compromise.”
For Liu Kang, it has been a lonesome existence, living out the creation of the new era in solitude. Geras can offer Liu Kang company in much the same way as an AI Assistant bot can offer a human company. But you know the depths of loneliness must be unbearable for a creator who is utterly alone in the universe across all of time. You know this, because even in your own world, the mythologies of all creator gods often began with the creation of people.
Even the gods of your own reality were so unbearably lonesome that they, in myth, created all of your ancestors, either for companionship or worship.
Your offer of company is accepted graciously, the moment he understands that you won't be withholding your companionship to exchange for the powers of the hourglass. But to settle conflicts over what happens in the hourglass, you both have an idea.
Gambling, games, and wagers. But instead of betting on who will win a physical fight between you both, you gamble on which of you can bring the other the most pleasure.
You're both seated in the zen garden, where the tropical heat has warmed the sand. Sheets of some soft fabrics are laid out in a manner similar to beach towels, allowing you both to walk and sit without burning your thighs or disturbing much of the sand.
He has a very smug “I know I've already won” look on his face the moment you suggested a contest based on sexual pleasure instead of kombat. You might think billions of years of being pent up would give you an advantage over him, but it doesn't; your customized form in this new era was generated anew when you stepped through the portal into his era. This particular body has yet to experience such pleasure at all, and will react, on a neurochemical level, at its most basic “code,” reacting the same as it would if falling in love for the first time. It will, in a nutshell, intoxicate you with want and pleasure, as if you yourself had never experienced it before.
But you didn't realize this. Your overconfidence proved your ignorance.
“You decide the winner. I trust your judgment will be fair. Or at least I don't trust my own judgment call to be unbiased,” you say.
Liu Kang smiles.
“A designated judge will be unnecessary,” he says, "I am certain we will both agree on who has won the challenge.”
He looks off in the distance before continuing.
“I would appreciate it though if we could choose some less intimate positions, at least at first. I'm still not over the grief of losing my dearest friend, and my beloved. I'm not sure how I might react, looking into the face of another, knowing I shall never have these moments with her. It isn't that I don't realize the finality of her destruction; but giving this kind of pleasure to another is a turning point that I may never be ready for.”
You slide closer to him and caress his shoulder, enough for him to feel your inner warmth.
“Grief is made of the same stuff as love. It's just the love-stuff that's leftover with nowhere to go,” you say.
He lays his head on your shoulder, pulls your hand to his cheek and tilts his face into it. Peace painted across the features of his face as he melted into your touch. His relaxation left you with an indescribable euphoria that deepened with each breath.
“Thank you for saying so. I feel more comfortable now, knowing that you understand,” he says.
“And I'm glad you said something. I like it when you tell me what you want. We can do this however you like. After all, this is a kontest for providing pleasure; not receiving it,” you said.
“Buy you will be receiving it,” he gloated, “and I shall be providing as much as you can possibly stand.”
“Ooh,” you teased, “Promises, promises! Hah, I like it. I feel good about you taking the lead, if you would?”
“Of course,” he said.
As he smiled up at the heavens, he closed his eyes and bit his lip. His eyes squeezed hard enough that the apples of his cheeks warped around the outline of his eyes. He took a deep breath that sounded as if he swallowed an antagonistic laugh.
“You aren't allowed to hate me when I show you how easy this is,” he said.
He turned his body towards yours, guided your body into facing away. You removed just enough clothing to feel his touch, to not hinder him from penetrating you if he chose. The fabric that you left over the top of your glistening pussy was delightfully thin and stretchy enough to move to the side in a pinch.
You spread yourself face down across the sheets of fabric. The warm sand below the soft fabric gave way, cushioned your ribs, and pressed its warmth up into your breasts.
He crawled on top. His weight on you pressed you slightly deeper into the fabric-covered sand. The heat and weight of his muscular legs across the backs of your thighs alone was enough to make you crave completion. But then, his clothed erection pressed against the cleft of your pussy until your slit pinched around the thin fabric. He slotted himself into the fold of fabric and held you there, wedged between the hot sand and his heated, immovable body. You squirmed into him, only to discover that you couldn't move if you wanted to, with your legs pinned to the sand.
You turned your face to the side to look over your shoulder at him. He wore a smug expression as he looked down at you.
You could feel your clit throbbing against… the hot sand? or his shaft. You could not tell. Both were equally firm and toasty.
He was hard. Slotted against the fabric, he nudged his erection firmly against you, the head nestling between your folds to swipe against your clit. His breath deepend, you could feel the air from his nostrils against your neck, just below the ear.
Against your back, you could feel his chest expand and cinch with each breath. You were caught in heat, trapped between his muscles and the sand. You liked this, being at his mercy. He rested his chin on your shoulder and huffed, resting his entire weight on you as he hunched. The cock knocking repeatedly against your throbbing clit had you squirming, whining, whimpering as you held your squeals of pleasure in. He ran one hot palm along your side. He caressed and groped your glute before freeing his cock from its cage of fabric. He hooked a finger around the strip of stretchy fabric above your mound and slipped it to the side.
The bare cockhead slipped between the fabric and your clit. Liu Kang let the fabric snap back into place, catching against the bottom of his shaft. Your pleasure built up as he rolled his hips and frotted against you, fucking the gap between your panties and your clit.
You balled your fists, grabbing handfuls of sand through the fabric sheets. He repositioned slightly so that you could feel the wet swiping of his heated cockhead against your clit more intensely. Your fingers came undone from the fabric and all ten digits splayed out in a fan shape as your quiet whimpers suddenly broke into a muffled outcry of pleasure.
His hands found yours. He covered the tops of your hands with his palms and threaded his fingers between yours, gripping each hand with interlaced fingers. You felt the tips of his fingers curl past the webbing between your digits to press against the insides of your palms. He pressed your hands, and his, to the sand, to pin them where he wanted them - where you could push back into him, but not escape. Not that you'd want to.
Your skin tingled anywhere he touched it, and the skin where the pads of his fingers glanced against the inside of your palm, threaded along the webbing of your fingers, was exceptionally sensitive in a way that made you feel safe, loved, cared for deeply, and connected.
The warm weight of his body on yours made you feel safe, while the cock massaged between your pussy lips. His thrusts massaged them open without penetration until you could feel every fiber of yourself unwinding, melting into the sand.
You looked back at him, only to see that he was still gazing at the side of your face, waiting for you to open your eye. His smug, slight smile never left his visage. He squeezed your hands with a pleasant pressure, as if he were wringing them out. You realized in that moment that you were swollen inside, and quivering at the entrance.
Then he stops moving, intentionally. You feel him, all over you, weighing you down, trapping you in the imprint of fabric in the hot sand. You feel your heavy, puffy cunt lips throbbing against his stationary cockhead. You're sensitive as fuck. Even your heartbeat rocks your clit against his cock too much.
He breathes. He breathes out through his nose, his gentle panting breath trickles underneath your ear, down your neck. His chin follows, as he rests it in the crook of your neck with his jaw at your shoulder. His skin just feels like skin, yet you're electrified by it. You're so sensitive in your new form. He could stay like this all day. You cannot. He knows. You know he knows.
You know because when you look at him, his unchanging, stoic “I told you so” smirk is so purposefully calm, that you could consider it antagonistic. Even just this look he gave you had you dripping wet for him, to say nothing of the thick smooth, hot cockhead nestled against your clit, or the warm shaft that your heavy, fevered wet pussy lips spread themselves over. You give a defeated cry of pleasure and gave in. You tap out against the sand, to tell him he's already won, and he responds by firming up his grip on your hands and moving in for the kill. He devours your neck as he nudges your clit around and fucks you, alternating between the two activities until you cum beneath him.
Your orgasm does not slow him down. He slips his cockhead against the fluttering entrance of your cunt and pauses, as if testing something, as if something changed. The slick hole winks against him and he sinks inside to stay.
“You're so creamy after you've cum,” he purred.
His cock feels amazing, warm and firm and deep, exploring inside you. He pressed it past a spot inside you where the pressure feels so good that you feel you might die unless it, that spot in particular, is beat to hell. He pressed past it, but drew back, stroking slower and deliberate against this inner spot. You felt a sudden dying urge to feel him hammer his cock into this weak spot inside you. The change in your whimpers gave you away.
“This little spot right here is particularly velvety,” he said, “it's just gooey… no. Buttery. Right here.”
He let his cockhead glide against the spot in several slow deliberate strokes for emphasis. You groaned brokenly into the sand and bucked back into him. You had chills. You had goosebumps even on the hot sand. He held and pinned your elbows to your sides. Your nipples stood erect beneath you, the tips ground into the fabric as you bucked backward into him. He paused, held you down, let you rock and buck until the fit of passion washed over you, and you could still yourself. He didn't shush you. He just pulled back until his cockhead hovered a hair away from that sweet spot and he waited for you to collect yourself. You caught your shuddering breath, but couldn't look at him without feeling like you might cum again. You looked, and groaned deep. He acknowledged your desperation.
“I'm going to start fucking that velvety, buttery spot now,” he whispered toward your ear, “I do not know when I'll stop.
Scream if you need to. I've yet to create a single person that could hear you.”
His cock pinpointed that part within you that most yearned for it the instant he buried it in you. He pressed himself against it and wrung you out. You felt it as your own cum for him seeped out, dribbled down onto the fabric and soaked through the fabric into the sand.
Every stroke is devastating. You're loud as fuck and no one else can hear it. The skies open up and it rains on the two of you, mostly upon his back. Judging by his gentle moans, the rain itself seems to give him pleasure as the droplets hiss against his back, only to turn into steam. You could swear that you're causing it, that this rain is your rain. Suddenly you are cumming because it is raining, and it is raining because you have cum. When your palms tremble, he re-interlaces his fingers with yours to squeeze your hands in his, wringing you out, wringing out your anxiety, wringing out your pleasure, and possibly wringing out the very act of rain itself from the sky above. You couldn’t explain it, but somehow you knew.
You became the rain. And the rain became you. The rain became a goddess, and the goddess was you. The wetter he made you, the more the world flooded. He had no intention of going easy, but you found yourself clenching, squeezing, sucking him in, working yourself against his body as he worked you apart with his.
“That's it,” he huffed, “now, you're getting it.”
His breath grew ragged.
He said, “Rain.”
You nodded, not fully understanding.
“Rain on me,” he said.
Your eyes widened. He knew. You knew he knew. Rain pummeled your bodies in a deluge as you felt, not just the tension of your body snap, but the tension of your sudden ascent to godhood burst into creation, almost as a miniature version of the big bang. Untold energies from deep within your soul burst forth and spread out in all directions, spreading your power throughout all the realms, both giving you power over all the rains in the entire universe, and giving the entire universe the gift of your rains.
But you couldn't focus on the sensation of becoming a god, as Liu Kang fucked another blinding orgasm from you. This time, his composure cracked, and he came screaming with you in tandem, hot against you, his inner flame temporarily quenched by the deluge of your pleasure. The two of you thrashed against each other with abandon, riding out your pleasure together, before collapsing boneless into the soaked fabric atop the muddying sands.
The rains subsided gradually as the two of you caught your breath. You moved to roll over, and Liu rolled off of you onto his rain-soaked back. He closed his eyes and let the pitter-patter of the rain wash over his body, cooling him, turning to steam in the air around you both. You rolled onto your back beside him, then onto your side to drape yourself around him.
“Wow,” you said between heavy breaths.
“...Yeah,” he replied, still panting.
When you caught enough of your breath to speak full sentences, you could only think to ask one question.
“Did you just make me a fucking rain goddess?” You asked.
He nodded and laughed.
“You didn't think I'd let the first hot sex in my new era be mediocre,” he said.
“Holy fuck though,” you said.
‘Literally?” he teased.
“Okay yeah literally, but I'm starting to think I won that one,” you said.
He just closed his eyes and smiled.
“Okay wise guy, who won?”
He bit his lip and jerked his thumbs towards his chest, gesturing to himself.
“Ugh. You're impossible. Round two!” You demanded.
“You're losing this one too,” he said.
He rolled on top of you and peppered you with kisses. He promised you a second round, and a third - if you survived the second.
But first he needed to check progress in the hourglass. You peered into it with him and saw proto-vaternians in their pre-paleolithic era. A group of them surrounded a cairn, upon which sat a strange skull decorated with stones and feathers. You asked Liu Kang what it was; he told you it was a representation of you. You were the very first art, the very first goddess. You were the first to collect worship and be created in such a manner. You arrived in the new era just in time. The ancestors of the Vaternians had just created and worshiped their first god, which happened now to be you.
Had it not been for your intervention, Liu Kang would have been forced to grant this worship to the one you knew as Rain.
[To be continued.]
[Need more MK1 smut? Check the pin 📌]
[Need more Liu Kang smut? Check the Choose Your Own Adventure, below!]
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