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Looking for a GM interested in a highly creative, noncanonical take on either Absolute or Gunn's DC through the eyes of an artificially created child on DARKSEID. Initially a very street-level creature with little access to any power inherited from their father. I'd like to see dark, but grounded storytelling from an involuntarily evil creature who must decide their own fate and place in the galaxy. Lots of cosmology, typical DC worldbuilding galactic bullshit. Effectively NB in my head, but I'm happy for our MC to identify as either a man or a woman when their brain stem fully comes in. I have multiple pairings in mind in my head, none that are required, and none that actually involve Darkseid.
Kinks: Spankings, unusual relationships and scenarios, crack ships, kissing, genuine romance and chemistry, uniquely odd sexually charged situations. Loyalty, oral sex (giving and receiving to any genitalia), dominants who aren't tyrants in bed. Good vibes & energy (especially when a participant is a drop of blood from the world's greatest evil and terror).
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When they first met their father, it was determined that they would do so without the assistance of the pod that had sheltered them from the poison air that fell from the irradiated atmosphere. That very first breath was nearly enough to kill them. Not because of the miasma that spilled into their body with every passing second, nor the blistering heat of the fires that surrounded them from the orchid black flames.
It was fear. Fear enough to kill. Fear enough to inspire submission. Fear for understanding.
It was beautiful.
For one blissful minute, their body failed them, and they were certain that the scientist that had created them had begun to weep the first tears that had stained Darkseid's throne room in many a century - and they couldn't agree more. It'd been a sad thing how quickly they had failed HIM.
"IMPRESSIVE. LONG HAS IT BEEN SINCE I HAVE LAUGHED LIKE THIS."
If Darkseid had laughed, they hadn't heard it. It's an impossible shock that they can hear their voice at all, still grasp its cadence and menace and be enraptured all the whilst its cruelty seeps into their twisted skin.
"A CHILD WAS PROMISED. AND I AM GIVEN… THIS. TRULY, AN ABOMINATION."
"You killed them."
Their creator's voice. Soft and sad and close to shattering. Their own dying heart shudders, barely grasping for life as their poor excuse for a body twitches on the obsidian floor where they should be kneeling.
"TRULY A REMARKABLE DAY THEN, FOR I AM STILL CAPABLE OF MERCY. A WEAKNESS FOR FAMILY, PERHAPS."
"They weren't ready."
They would never be ready.
"I was promised a year of this world's rotation. Barely three months have seen us by. Why would… why would you waste–"
"YOUR GIFTS? MY TIME? DOCTOR…"
Air becomes still when they move. No.
They don't move at all. It's as if the room itself reshapes itself so that their father may stand where they wish, shadows twisting into lockstep - of which he does not cast. He is nearly atop them both now, bearing down on them with a stench of corpses and iron.
"YOU HAVE IMPRESSED ME. A YEAR YOU WERE GIVEN, AND YET YOUR PROGRESS IN THAT TIME HAS BEEN REMARKABLE. YOU WERE INSTRUCTED TO CREATE ME AN HEIR, AND YOU HAVE ALREADY PROVIDED ME A MONSTER. TRULY REMARKABLE."
"You thought I would . . . what? Attempt an escape within a year? Sabotage you?"
"YES. INSTEAD - YOU BOUND YOURSELF TO ME."
Silence. All that can be heard is their shallow, dying breaths. They try to reach out to their father with the hand available to them. It falls to the floor, limp, no longer responding.
"W…what?"
"THIS BEING. YOU CARE FOR IT. I SHALL SAVE IT. I CAN FEEL ITS… AFFECTIONS FOR ME EVEN AS I DRAIN WHAT LITTLE LIFE CLINGS TO ITS SHELL. SO LONG AS IT SERVES ME - YOU SHALL AS WELL."
Despite everything, despite the gnawing pain that sears across their misaligned nerves, the tissue and muscle and bone where a knee would one day grow manages to reach the floor. Their pride and joy is matched only by their weeping eye as it looks up towards their father, past their creator's crushed expression, consumed by the pleasure on the Lord of Terror's face.
"OH. I HAVE MADE AN INTERESTING DECISION."
Kinks: Spankings, unusual relationships and scenarios, crack ships, kissing, genuine romance and chemistry, uniquely odd sexually charged situations. Loyalty, oral sex (giving and receiving to any genitalia), dominants who aren't tyrants in bed. Good vibes & energy (especially when a participant is a drop of blood from the world's greatest evil and terror).
---=---=---=------=---=---=------=---=---=------=---=---=------=---=---=------=---=---=------=---=---=---=---
When they first met their father, it was determined that they would do so without the assistance of the pod that had sheltered them from the poison air that fell from the irradiated atmosphere. That very first breath was nearly enough to kill them. Not because of the miasma that spilled into their body with every passing second, nor the blistering heat of the fires that surrounded them from the orchid black flames.
It was fear. Fear enough to kill. Fear enough to inspire submission. Fear for understanding.
It was beautiful.
For one blissful minute, their body failed them, and they were certain that the scientist that had created them had begun to weep the first tears that had stained Darkseid's throne room in many a century - and they couldn't agree more. It'd been a sad thing how quickly they had failed HIM.
"IMPRESSIVE. LONG HAS IT BEEN SINCE I HAVE LAUGHED LIKE THIS."
If Darkseid had laughed, they hadn't heard it. It's an impossible shock that they can hear their voice at all, still grasp its cadence and menace and be enraptured all the whilst its cruelty seeps into their twisted skin.
"A CHILD WAS PROMISED. AND I AM GIVEN… THIS. TRULY, AN ABOMINATION."
"You killed them."
Their creator's voice. Soft and sad and close to shattering. Their own dying heart shudders, barely grasping for life as their poor excuse for a body twitches on the obsidian floor where they should be kneeling.
"TRULY A REMARKABLE DAY THEN, FOR I AM STILL CAPABLE OF MERCY. A WEAKNESS FOR FAMILY, PERHAPS."
"They weren't ready."
They would never be ready.
"I was promised a year of this world's rotation. Barely three months have seen us by. Why would… why would you waste–"
"YOUR GIFTS? MY TIME? DOCTOR…"
Air becomes still when they move. No.
They don't move at all. It's as if the room itself reshapes itself so that their father may stand where they wish, shadows twisting into lockstep - of which he does not cast. He is nearly atop them both now, bearing down on them with a stench of corpses and iron.
"YOU HAVE IMPRESSED ME. A YEAR YOU WERE GIVEN, AND YET YOUR PROGRESS IN THAT TIME HAS BEEN REMARKABLE. YOU WERE INSTRUCTED TO CREATE ME AN HEIR, AND YOU HAVE ALREADY PROVIDED ME A MONSTER. TRULY REMARKABLE."
"You thought I would . . . what? Attempt an escape within a year? Sabotage you?"
"YES. INSTEAD - YOU BOUND YOURSELF TO ME."
Silence. All that can be heard is their shallow, dying breaths. They try to reach out to their father with the hand available to them. It falls to the floor, limp, no longer responding.
"W…what?"
"THIS BEING. YOU CARE FOR IT. I SHALL SAVE IT. I CAN FEEL ITS… AFFECTIONS FOR ME EVEN AS I DRAIN WHAT LITTLE LIFE CLINGS TO ITS SHELL. SO LONG AS IT SERVES ME - YOU SHALL AS WELL."
Despite everything, despite the gnawing pain that sears across their misaligned nerves, the tissue and muscle and bone where a knee would one day grow manages to reach the floor. Their pride and joy is matched only by their weeping eye as it looks up towards their father, past their creator's crushed expression, consumed by the pleasure on the Lord of Terror's face.
"OH. I HAVE MADE AN INTERESTING DECISION."
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