#he’s discovered a new minor way to torment me is the thing | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ghostkennedy · 7 months

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Everybody's Gotta Die Sometime

~step brother Ghostface! Leon Kennedy x fem! Reader~

happy halloween to my ghostface leon fuckers. and to hopefully my new ghostface leon fucker recruits. <3 (shoutout to @lipglossanon for making me discover my love of stepcest. and shoutout to @delusionalbunni for requesting this. and everyone in the discord server for giving me ideas constantly)

Word count: 5419

Content warnings: DEAD DOVE DON'T FUCKING EAT IT, dubcon, noncon, dom leon, stepcest, kidnapping, drugging, bodily harm, wounds, cuts, blood, knife usage, serial killer, murders, stalking, pervert leon, discusses scenes from Scream, pet names, degradation, praise, dry humping, aggressive sex, finger sucking, slapping, ass slapping, daddy kink, baby trapping, forced impregnation, talk of body changes, talk of lactation, spitting, blood eating, BREEDING KINK, p in v sex, unprotected sex, creampie, and more dirty talk then you'll know what to do with

!!!!!!!MINORS DNI! GHOSTKENNEDY IS STRICTLY 18+!!!!!!!!

“Run, my pretty bunny,” he whispers in your ear before pushing you down into the mud. A yelp of pain escapes from your throat as you connect with the unforgiving ground. Blood is already running down your chest from where he cut you just moments ago. A little slice to show you just how serious he was. And if it weren’t for the adrenaline coursing through your veins, you’re sure it’d hurt like a bitch.

“By time I count to twenty, you better be out of my fucking sight.”

You push yourself up with all the strength you can muster and force yourself to move forward as he starts counting behind you. The drugs are still flowing through you, making your blood feel thick like honey. Your brain is enveloped in a dense fog that has you disorientated as you weave through the heavily wooded forest.

You know you don’t stand a chance; of course you don’t. But he wants to play this stupid game of cat and mouse, so you’ll play along; it’s probably the only way you’ll make it out of this alive.

Your legs are unsteady as you traverse the uneven terrain, using tree branches to keep yourself up on your feet.

Why you of all people?

The Ghostface copy-cat killer has been terrorizing this small town for months now and you’d never heard of him taking any of his victims to the woods to play “chase.” His murders have always been quick, spontaneous, and brutal. There had never been mentions of a second location.

You must be one lucky girl.

You remember walking home from work. Sure, it was late at night so it was pretty dark, but you didn’t have any other choice. Your boss asked you to stay late, and if you had any hope of being brought on full time, you couldn’t say no.

So you said yes and before you could make it home, someone was grabbing you from behind and holding a towel up over your nose and mouth. Then everything went black.

And then you woke up, tied up in the woods with a bag over your head. The bag was quickly yanked off and the first thing you saw was that fucking mask. The Ghostface mask.

You tried to fight him as best as you could, but you were far too weak, and he was far too strong. You never really stood a chance. You pleaded with him, begged him to let you go, but you were only met with anger.

You knew you were poking the bear when you told him he wouldn’t actually do anything. And when he sliced you open across your chest with his blade, you only really had yourself to blame. And when he told you to run, that he wanted to play with you, you weren’t in any position to fight him on it.

So now you’re running through the dark wooded area. You don’t have a fucking clue where you are, you don’t know where you’re headed, you don’t have a plan, and possibly the worst part? You don’t know where he is. You somehow preferred being in that small clearing with him taunting and tormenting you than being out here amongst the trees all alone, every little sound making you jump out of your skin.

How long have you been running through the woods? Time seems to be passing by so slowly as you put forth your best effort. You’re leaned up against a tree, clinging to the bark to keep from completely toppling over. You’re so lightheaded, your head spinning, you don’t know which way is up and which way is down as the world spins around you.

Your lungs ache from the overexertion, the only things you can focus on being the sound of your heart beat pounding in your ears and fighting back the vomit threatening to spill from your throat.

Your eyes roll into the back of your head, your arms too weak to keep hanging onto the tree. You feel yourself falling backwards, feel yourself fainting and not being able to do anything to stop it.

Before your body can connect with the ground, arms are wrapping around you just like they had before you passed out the first time. You groan out in pain as you’re laid gently on the forest floor.

Your head is still spinning, your eyes unable to focus as you hear a distant voice talking to you.

You slowly come back to yourself and when you do, you realize you’re looking up at Ghostface himself.

“Are you okay? Can you hear me?” He questions you. You try to answer him, but your words die in your throat. You’re still feeling too weak to even speak.

You look up at the moonlight breaking through the trees above you, thinking about how pretty of a view you get to witness while dying. You guess if you did have to choose, this is the sight you’d choose to experience while your body slowly gives up on itself.

You’re pulled from your thoughts when hands grasp your face firmly and pull you to look ahead of you. It takes a minute for you to fully process that Ghostface no longer has his mask on. And you’re sure you’ve died or are hallucinating as death pulls you under when you see the killer’s real face. And it’s not just any face, because that would be too simple. No, it’s one you recognize and one you recognize well.

You choke out words, them barely coming out above a whisper, “Leon? Is that you?”

His cocky, shit eating grin takes over his entire face. You don’t need him to respond anymore. That look is undeniably and so certainly Leon fucking Kennedy.

“In the flesh, baby sis,” he rubs his thumb across your cheek.

“Are you- you’re Ghostface? Like, the Ghostface?” You’re trying to process what’s happening, but it’s so fucking unreal. There has to be some other explanation.

“You’ve always been such a stupid girl.” He shakes his head as he fights back a smirk. “You never connected the dots? Never pieced it together for yourself?”

You stare up at him, giving up fighting your tears.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s you. All the random murders? Oh baby. They weren’t random,” he laughs with a look of disbelief on his face. “Let’s see. Your boyfriend? Couldn’t have him thinking what’s mine belongs to him. That girl that used to live in our neighborhood? She was always such a bitch to you.”

You search his face for any signs of what he’s getting at, but you don’t find any answers. “I don’t understand.”

“How about that barista who always had an attitude with you? Your old manager who made you uncomfortable and didn’t give a shit?”

All you can do is stare up at him. What does your old boss have to do with this? And what barista is he talking about? They’re all bitchy at the coffee shop near your place. If someone was ever nice to you there, you’d be worried about what’s wrong with the world.

“Oh! I know what’ll make you a happy little bunny! Any guesses?”

“I don’t suppose it’s you changing your mind and letting me go?”

Leon bursts out laughing at your response, “You’re so silly. No, baby. I found the lady who did that hit and run on your car. She was drunk off her ass that day and the day I found her. It amazes me how the police could never find her, yet it only took me two days. Now they’ll really never find her.”

He brings his face down to yours, until he’s barely a few inches away from you.

“You killed them?”

“Every one of them.”

“And what about the others?”

He reaches up and brushes a strand of hair out of your face. “Some were for practice, some were for fun.” He shrugs as if he isn’t admitting to a bunch of murders. “But if they were an inconvenience to us, they had to go.”

“None of them had to die, Leon.”

“Everybody dies, bunny. Better to be by my hand than some flesh eating disease, right?” The hand not caressing your face starts to slowly roam your body, his fingers gently running down your side.

“Please let me go. You don’t have to do this.”

You try to shake yourself beneath him, but he’s using all of his weight to pin you to the cold, muddy ground.

“Big brother just wants to take care of his little sis,” Leon coos at you, his fringe sticking to his forehead as the blood there slowly dries.

“You’re not my fucking brother, Leon. We haven’t seen each other since we were kids.” Your voice is mean, a complete contrast from the way you look. Covered in mud, tears, sweat, and blood. You can taste it on your lips.

He laughs down at you. “We haven’t? Baby. I see you all the time. I see you behind the counter at work. I see you at the grocery store when you need to pick up some milk and bread. I see you when you check your pockets for your wallet and keys before you go in the back door of your house.” He drags his knife down your neck, hard enough to sting but gentle enough to not break the skin. “I see you with your fingers buried deep in that tight cunt when you think no one is watching. I don’t just see it either, I hear it. I hear how loud and needy you are. It’s as if you’re subconsciously begging for big brother’s cock. Calling out for me to stuff this little pussy full, breed that tight hole until you can’t take it anymore. I see you everywhere you go baby, even in the privacy of your own bedroom.”

You can’t formulate a response, so you just stare up at him dumbfounded. You hope he’s bluffing–he has to be bluffing.

“So maybe you haven’t seen me since we were kids, but I see you all the time, sweet baby sis.”

“You’re lying. Anybody could say that vague shit.” You give him a dirty look as he presses the blade harshly against your skin. You hiss out at the stinging pain and cringe as you feel your warm blood ooze from the fresh wound.

“Oh? You don’t believe me?” You shake your head, further cutting yourself on the knife, yelping before stilling yourself once again. Quickly trying to correct your mistake.

“Hmm, let’s see,” he shifts his eyes as if deep in thought. “What about that step brother porn you’re always watching? Oh step bro, we can’t do this. Mom and Dad will catch us!” Your face heats at his words. “Or maybe when you shoved your hand in your panties while watching Scream? You came how many times? Do you remember, baby sis?”

You stumble over your words. “I-, um, well, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You give him a stern look, trying to emphasize your seriousness, but it’s useless.

His hand quickly wraps around your throat and squeezes. You struggle beneath him as your air is cut off, but he only squeezes tighter.

“Stay. Still!” He screams right in your face and you freeze in fear. You hold yourself as still as possible despite not being able to breathe.

“Remember when you came when Tatum got stuck in the garage door? Or maybe when Billy revealed he was Ghostface? Or when Billy and Stu were stabbing each other?”

“No,” you squeak out, barely able to speak with your constricted airway.

He squeezes even tighter, your face is on fire as you gasp and whine for air.

“Don’t fucking lie to me, you fucking brat.” He shakes your whole body with just the grip on your throat. “You gonna tell me the truth?” He yells out as your vision starts to blur from lack of oxygen.

He loosens his grip enough to allow some air to enter your lungs. “Tell me, god dammit!”

“Okay!” You choke out and he releases your throat. You desperately suck in air and cough from the ache in your throat. “Okay. It’s true, okay?”

“What’s true? Use your words, princess.”

“I fucking touched myself while watching a Ghostface movie! Is that what you wanted to hear? Wanted to hear me admit it even though you fucking saw it! I got off watching it, okay?”

More tears stream down your face, shame filling you after your confession. Speaking the words out loud makes it all the more real, all the more embarrassing.

How the fuck did you end up here? Exhausted in the mud beneath your ex step brother?

He sits back on his haunches and picks the mask up off the ground, quickly slipping it back on and adjusting it back into place. When his hand falls back to his side, you notice the blood smears left behind on his white mask. Your blood stains it.

“See something you like, princess?” Leon quirks his head to the side, his voice teasing. Your face immediately heats up from being caught staring. You hadn’t meant to be staring so long.

You avert your eyes, looking off into the trees and avoiding his mask completely.

“Why do you think I wear this fucking mask?” He spits out, aggressively grabbing your chin and making you look right into the empty eyes of the mask.

You whimper out and shake your head no. He lessens his grip on your chin in favor of running his thumb softly over your cheek.

“Oh, baby. It’s all for you. Don’t you see it? I killed them all for you, I chose this mask because it gets you all wet, and now?” He chuckles and brings his mouth up to your ear. He whispers as if he’s divulging you in some deep, dark secret, “Now, I’m gonna fuck you while wearing this mask. And you’re gonna fucking love it.”

Your jaw drops as your eyes nearly bulge out of your head. “Wha-what? No.”

“I wasn’t asking.”

He grinds his pelvis into your abdomen and that’s when you feel it. His hard cock pushes against you and it solidifies his claim. He’s really going to fuck you.

And you want to be disgusted, you want to scream and push him off, but you don’t say a word as you clench your thighs together. You had been so caught up in the chase, so caught up in putting up a fight that you didn’t stop and realize how fucking wet you are.

You cringe at the throbbing in your cunt. Your panties and thighs are soaked, you’re sure you’ve soaked all the way through your pants as well.

You want to explain it off. It’s just an adrenaline response, it’s out of your control. But as he continues to grind into you, you find your hips raising up and meeting his rhythm. Your lip is bleeding from how harshly you’re biting it, your hands curled into clenched fists.

“There she is. There’s my dirty fucking bunny. Knew you wouldn’t be able to help yourself, knew you needed your big brother’s cock.”

You whine at his words, his clothed crotch grinding into yours causing your panties to dig into your throbbing clit. The friction is so good, it has sweat beading down your back, but it just isn’t fucking enough. Not nearly enough.

“Leon,” your voice is high pitched and whiny. You lift your hands from beneath his thighs and reach out to cling to him, but he’s quick to grab your wrists in one of his hands and pin them above your head.

“None of that, baby sis. Use your words for me. What do you want?”

“Please,” you both continue rolling your hips together, finding an achingly perfect rhythm. If he keeps this up, keeps grinding into that spot that’s just right over and over, you’re gonna cum just like this.

He grinds into your clit particularly hard and it has your eyes rolling back, a pathetic moan falling from your lips and echoing out in the empty woods surrounding you.

“Please what, princess? If I don’t know what you want I can’t give it to you. And I’ll stop right now.”

“No!”

“Then use your fucking words, you dumb bunny,” He spits at you angrily. His muffled voice through the Ghostface mask sounds like sex itself. He could say anything to you right now and it would have you drooling for him.

“Wanna cum,” you whine out, toes curling in your shoes.

He slows his hips, just barely continuing to grind into you. “Not enough.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, I want you to fuck me. Please, fuck me. I need you inside of me.”

“See? Not so hard is it? You want big brothers cock stuffing this slutty pussy full?

You arch your back, pushing your body up into his in desperation. “Yes. Please, fuck. Need your cock.”

“Who’s cock?”

“Yours?”

“Nu uh, not good enough.”

You whine out, kicking your feet in frustration. “Big brother’s cock. I need my big brother’s cock inside of me. I wanna feel it.”

He sits back on his haunches, releasing your hands from his grasp. His hands go down to start undoing his belt as you reach out and palm his cock through his black jeans.

You gasp as you feel how fucking big he is.

Leon clicks his tongue as he releases his belt and slowly starts working the zipper on his jeans down, “What? Not what you were expecting?”

You whimper at his cocky tone, unable to speak. The only thing you can focus on is getting his cock inside of you.

“Need your big brother to fill you up with his big cock?”

“Yes. Please,” you whine as you wiggle beneath him. You can’t make yourself stay still, your body thrashes with need.

His pants are undone, barely hanging onto his hips when he releases your legs and pulls you up into a sitting position. He grabs your shirt and quickly pulls it over your head, tossing it off to the side haphazardly. He doesn’t even bother pulling your leggings off, grabbing the crotch and tearing it open.

“Hands and knees,” he instructs you and you immediately comply, rolling over and pushing your ass up in the air for him.

He groans at the sight of your lace panties clinging to your pussy, your arousal working as a glue. He tears your leggings further, not stopping until your whole ass is exposed for him.

He runs his fingers over your panty clad pussy and it has you pressing yourself back into his touch. He makes a sound of disapproval before a loud smack rings out, followed by a sharp stinging pain in your ass cheek.

He presses his chest into your back, bringing his mouth down to your ear. “Such an impatient slut,” he growls as he grinds his bare cock against you.

You go to turn your head to look back at him, but his hand is quick to grab your face and force you to look forward, before his hand roughly covers your mouth.

“Stay fucking still,” he hisses out at you, causing all of your muscles to freeze up in fear. The tone of his voice sends shivers down your spine. Part of you hates it, but another part, a much bigger part, loves it and has your pussy clenching around nothing.

“That’s it. Stay still like a good fuck bunny for your big brother.”

You feel him pull your panties away from your pussy and bunch them up and out of the way, before his fingers lightly graze around your needy hole.

“So fucking wet. And you tried saying you didn’t want this,” he chuckles directly into your ear, sounding like pure sex to you. He releases your mouth and instead pushes your face to the ground and holds the back of your neck instead.

His free hand leaves where he was teasing your hole, surprising you when he grabs one of your hands and brings it back to your wet cunt.

“Feel how fucking wet you are.” He pushes your fingers up against your soaked clit and your legs quiver at the sudden stimulation. “Feel that, bunny? Feel what your big brother did to you?”

You moan out as he continues rubbing your fingers into your clit.

“Yes,” your voice comes out whiny, “Big brother gets my pussy so wet.”

“Good girl. Should I give you what you want? Want me to shove my cock in my little sister’s pussy?”

You push your ass back against his groin again. “Yes, your little sister needs her pussy bred.”

He pulls your hand from your clit and brings your wet fingers up to your mouth. “Here. Open up and tell me how this slutty pussy tastes.”

You’ve barely opened your mouth before he’s pushing his fingers down against your tongue, causing you to eagerly lick and suck them clean.

“That’s it, taste this sweet fucking pussy for me. Such a good slut, huh? Nothing but a fuck bunny for me,” he shoves his fingers to the back of your throat, forcing you to fight your gag reflex while tears slip from your eyes.

You choke around his fingers and he quickly pulls them from your throat.

“You like tasting your own slutty pussy?”

You can’t stop the moan that slips past your lips, “Yes. I love it.”

“You love what? Come on, baby. Use your words so I can reward you.”

Another harsh slap to your ass has you yelping out, “I love tasting my own pussy. Love when big brother makes me taste myself.”

You crane your neck to look back at Leon and he lets you look at him. Mask still in place, t-shirt bunched up above his belly, his pants and boxers pushed down his thighs.

His cock is right against your needy hole. Just one small movement of his hips and you could finally feel him inside of you.

“There you go. Watch as big brother spreads you open on his cock.”

And then he slowly pushes forward and you look into his mask as you finally feel him inside of you.

Your pussy is immediately clenching around him. Weak little moans continuously falling from your lips as he pushes in further and further.

“Such a tight pussy, fuck.” He praises as he bottoms out and holds his dick inside of you. “You were made to take big brother’s cock. Look so fucking perfect like this.”

You whimper softly into the ground at his words, staying still and willing yourself to adjust to his massive dick. You feel split in half already and he hasn’t even started fucking you yet.

His hand runs up and down your back, along your spine gently. “That’s it, you got this, pretty bunny. Gonna bread this tight cunt, ruin you for anyone else.”

“Pl-please,” you whined out, “Please fuck me. I want it so bad. Big brother, please-”

You can’t even finish begging before he’s pulling out and roughly shoving his cock back into you.

“Oh my god,” your voice comes out in a tone you don’t even recognize as your own. “Yes, yes, yes, please. Oh fuck.”

He roughly grips your hip as he effortlessly thrusts in and out of your soaking wet pussy.

“You like that, baby sis? Already going dumb on my cock and I haven’t even properly started fucking you yet. Such a pathetic little whore, my pathetic little whore. Taking my cock so fucking well.”

Your eyes roll into the back of your head as he slowly starts to pick up the pace of his thrusts.

“All yours. Your whore,” you aren’t able to finish your statement before he starts aggressively fucking his cock into you. The only sounds leaving your mouth are broken gasps. The pleasure is too intense for you to make any other noise, mouth stuck open on a silent moan.

He moves his hand from the back of your throat, instead grabbing a handful of your hair harshly and yanking you back until your head is against his shoulder. The moan you release is nothing short of pornographic at the pain in your scalp.

He chuckles before speaking right against your ear, “Fucking take it, you stupid whore. Dumb little sis likes it rough. I’ll fucking give it to you just like you want it. Gonna fucking break you.”

“Oh fuck yes, daddy,” you don’t even register the words you’ve said until Leon let’s out a loud moan.

“Daddy? You dirty little girl. Want daddy to breed you? Need daddy to take care of you?”

“Yes. God, yes.” You’re too far gone in a pleasure filled haze to be embarrassed about calling him daddy. Fuck, you’d call him anything he asks right now.

“Gonna let daddy put a baby in you? Keep you tied to me forever.” He’s practically growling in your ear at this point, so worked up over you calling him daddy. “Gonna swell up with my baby and everyone will know how good I fuck you.”

“No, daddy, we can’t,” you try to reason with him through your brain fog.

He laughs loudly in your ear. “But I can, and I will. God, your boobs are gonna fucking leak all over. Gonna fucking suck those milky tits dry.”

You can’t stop yourself from clenching around his dick at his filthy words.

“Ugh, knew you’d like that. Gonna be tied to daddy forever. You’ll never fucking escape me. Gonna keep this pussy stuffed, gonna make you pop out all my babies. Gonna fucking show you how much of a daddy I am, baby.”

He quickly pulls out of you making you whine out in disappointment. But it doesn’t last long, as he throws you on your back. He wraps your thighs around his hips and shoves his dick back inside of you.

He goes back to his unforgiving pace and all you can do is stare up into the Ghostface mask, which only intensifies your pleasure.

Your hands trail up his chest until you’re gripping the back of his neck and pulling him closer into you. You go back and forth between staring into the mask and squeezing your eyes shut.

You don’t know what comes over you, but you're desperate for skin to skin contact. So you grab the hem of his shirt and yank it over his head, but in the process, you pull his mask off with it.

Then it’s just you and Leon staring right at each other’s faces. Sweat pours from his forehead, his mouth slightly agape as he pants from the exertion, and his eyes blown wide with lust. He looks like an absolute madman, but you suppose that’s because he is.

You wrap your arms around his neck and pull yourself up into his body. Your chest presses into his as you connect your lips with his. One of his arms wraps around your lower back while he uses his other arm to hold you two up. He thrusts, never once slowing.

The kiss is sloppy. Your tongues immediately come together and explore each other completely. Spit drips down your chin as you moan into the kiss.

He bites your lip, you bite his. He sucks on your tongue, you suck on his. He sucks your lips until they ache, and you suck his lips with everything you have.

You finally break the kiss, but keep your foreheads pressed together.

Leon pushes your bodies down, your back connecting harshly to the cold ground. He grabs your calves and brings your ankles to his shoulders.

“Oh god, daddy. Yes, fuck, please, fuck, just like that. Please, please, please, daddy, fuck.” You don’t process anything you’re saying. Words just keep falling from your lips as he continuously pounds deeply into you.

“I’m gonna fucking fill you up, baby sis. And you’re gonna take all of it. God, gonna breed my baby sister’s tight pussy. Gonna let daddy breed you, baby?”

“Yes, yes, yes, please.”

He brings his hand down between you two, ru

bbing your clit harshly causing you to cry out loudly at the intensity.

“Who’s gonna breed this pussy? Who’s baby is gonna grow in this fucking belly?”

Your eyes are rolling into the back of your head as your whole body feels more and more wound up, fastly approaching your release.

“Fucking answer me. Who’s breeding this tight cunt? Who’s cock are you gonna cum all over?”

“Yours. Yours, daddy. Gonna, fuck, gonna cream my big brother’s big fucking cock.”

“Yeah, that’s it baby. Tell me how it feels. Tell me how good big brother’s cock is making you feel.” He’s groaning, borderline growling, as he ruthlessly pounds into you.

You force your eyes open, force yourself to look into his eyes. “You daddy. You’re making my slutty pussy feel so fucking good. God, your cock is making my pussy feel so good. Big brother’s cock is making me feel so good. I wanna cum all over it.”

“Come for daddy, then. Cream my fucking cock like the dirty whore you are.” He pulls his hand from your clit so he can hold your thighs up more firmly. “Rub yourself for me. Wanna watch you push yourself over the edge.”

Your hand quickly reaches down, quickly rubbing fast circles on your soaking wet clit.

“Look at me while you cum on my cock. Be a good whore and look at who’s fucking you like this.”

You bite your lip until you taste blood again. Moaning loudly as you stare up at Leon and rubbing your clit furiously. You’re desperately trying to cum, desperately trying to push yourself over the edge. But no matter how close you feel, you can’t send yourself over the edge.

Until a stinging, blinding pain seers into the back of your thigh and you can’t even process the warm blood pouring from the freshly sliced wound before you’re cumming. Cumming harder than you ever have in your life. Not one inch of your body isn’t shaking, not one part of you not exploding with intense pleasure.

You’re screaming, your throat burning from the strain. You have to force yourself to stop as the overstimulation sets in.

“Dad, daddy, please. Fuck, I can’t take it anymore.” You’re practically sobbing now, but your request is ignored.

He pushes your ankles off of his shoulders and you immediately lock them behind his back. One of his hands grips your jaw and spits on your cheek.

“You’re gonna fucking take it, fucking whore.” His other hand runs down the middle of your chest, coating it in fresh blood. You look down and see your dry blood combining with the new blood, staining nearly your whole chest red.

A sharp slap meets your cheek. Your cheek burns and your ear rings from the sheer force of the hit. Before you can even yelp out in pain, his blood soaked fingers are being shoved into your mouth and you’re immediately hit with the copper taste.

“I’m cumming, fuck. Breeding baby sister’s greedy fucking hole. Take it, you stupid slut. Fucking take it, fuck.” His thrusts slow, but are just as hard as he cums deep inside of you.

You’re too distracted sucking his fingers clean to register what the stinging pain in your abdomen is.

Leon groans and moans above you as he comes down from his high. He finally looks back down at your face and can’t stop himself from smiling at the blood and dirt all over your body. He could eat you alive right now, and he just might.

He slowly pulls his spent cock out of you, causing you to whimper at the sudden emptiness and the feeling of his cum steadily dripping from your abused hole.

He sits back on his haunches and lets out a throaty laugh. “Would you look at that,” You follow the direction of his eyes down to your abdomen where you see blood pooling. He quickly picks up his discarded shirt and wipes away the excess blood, causing you to hiss out in pain.

But he finally uncovers his handiwork for you to see in all its glory. And you gasp out in shock at the sight of it.

Carved into your skin are messily drawn letters. L.S.K.

“See? You’ll never forget who you fucking belong to now.”

~masterlist~

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nichestation · 10 months

Text

INSIDE THE UNSETTLING, HOMOEROTIC TERROR OF ‘THE HITCHER’

Director Robert Harmon looks back on his 1986 classic, discussing the ambiguous relationship between its main characters, the brilliance of Rutger Hauer — and why he never thought he was making a horror movie

In the mid-1990s, Robert Harmon visited David Fincher on the set of The Game. “I’m a huge David Fincher fan,” Harmon tells me. “Seven, to me, is one of the great movies of all time — it’s just crazy-good, first to last.” But when the two directors met, Harmon discovered that the younger filmmaker was just as big a fan of his. “He said, ‘Your movie changed my life.’ It meant a lot to me, especially from somebody you admire so much.”

For more than 35 years now, Harmon has been pleasantly surprised whenever he learns that someone loves his first feature, The Hitcher, a nasty little horror movie with Hitchcockian vibes that terrorized viewers. The funny thing is that Harmon doesn’t consider himself to be a big horror guy — and, as he confides, “I don’t want to be controversial, but I was never even that much of a Hitchcock fan. His reputation just seemed way greater than his movies seemed to suggest it should be. I know it’s a minority opinion.”

And yet, this elemental story about a young man who foolishly picks up a hitchhiker in the middle of nowhere, realizing too late that he’s made a terrible mistake, remains a primal cautionary tale — a worst-case scenario of what your mom always warned you about in regards to talking to strangers. But few strangers are as unnerving as John Ryder, the enigmatic loner who torments feckless young Jim Halsey. The film’s power goes beyond its killer hook, however, touching on something bizarre and unspoken between hunter and hunted. At its core, The Hitcher is a film about a codependent relationship, maybe even a twisted love story. It’s about finding something you weren’t expecting out there on the highway, something that’s been waiting for you all along.

The Hitcher was the brainchild of Eric Red, an aspiring writer and filmmaker who had driven from New York to California. He was somewhere in Texas, fighting off exhaustion, when it happened. “I picked up a hitchhiker just to pass the time, to help keep me awake,” he’d later recall. “But the guy just sort of sat there, smelling dirty and staring at me. I started feeling uncomfortable about the whole situation and thought maybe it wasn’t such a good idea picking him up. He had a rough edge. I finally stopped the car a few miles down the road and asked him to get out. He left willingly enough, and that was it.”

But the brief encounter, mixed with his memory of the Doors’ “Riders on the Storm” — which contained the ominous lines “There’s a killer on the road / His brain is squirmin’ like a toad” — gave him the idea for a screenplay. Inspired by what he’d come up with, Red would later send that script to producers, declaring in an attached note, “When you read it, you will not sleep for a week. When the movie is made, the country will not sleep for a week.”

The 1980s were a haven for horror films, especially slasher flicks. What had started in the late 1970s, thanks to seminal works like Halloween, had morphed into a cottage industry, giving moviegoers franchises such as Friday the 13th and A Nightmare on Elm Street. Cheap to make but potentially lucrative, horror movies preyed on adolescent fears, with the story’s bogeyman going after helpless, naive young people, punishing them for their horniness or lack of life experience. In these films, there was a strong sense that the victims had it coming.

The Hitcher played into that trend, while tapping into a deeper cultural anxiety. Hitchhiking had, at one point, been seen as an act of freedom, playing into a Kerouac-ian love of the open road and the possibilities out there beyond the horizon. It was a romantic notion, but as historian Jack Reid describes in his book Roadside Americans: The Rise and Fall of Hitchhiking in a Changing Nation, that wide-eyed optimism eventually faded away. “[H]itchhiking was [once] a common form of mobility for students and travelers of all ages,” he writes. “This held true from the Depression era, when those seeking work could find transportation by sticking out a thumb, through to the early 1970s. … Yet by the time Reagan reached the White House, hitchhiking had lost traction. … [I]n the 1980s few Americans saw hitchhikers as heroic. To them, hitchhiking was a taboo form of mobility reserved for desperate and often unsavory individuals.”

That shifting attitude toward hitching — mixed with fear and loathing directed at those who would engage in such an activity — put fuel in The Hitcher’s narrative tank. We don’t know this as the film begins, but Jim (C. Thomas Howell, who’d been in 1980s teen-centric movies like The Outsiders and Red Dawn) is on his way to San Diego, driving through the night, rain pouring down, when he sees a solitary man standing by the side of the road. Feeling bad for the guy and deciding he needs the company, Jim offers him a ride. (“My mother told me never to do this,” he tells John with a friendly smile.) And for the next 90 minutes, John (Rutger Hauer) toys with this kid, clearly enjoying having the upper hand. Early on, he pulls a knife on Jim, demanding, “I want you to stop me.” Freaked out, Jim is able to get John out of the car, but not unlike the Terminator, John just keeps coming, following Jim — sometimes inexplicably — wherever he goes. John is like a curse Jim has inherited: By stopping to give him a lift, he now will never be rid of him.

Harmon’s path to The Hitcher was not a straight line. He was already in his early 30s when the script came his way, supporting himself as a photographer. But movies were his passion. “I’ve always wanted to make films,” he tells me. “Even when I was making a living as a still photographer, which I did for quite a long time, I was just biding my time. First thing I did when I moved out [to Los Angeles] from Boston was to start putting myself out there as a cinematographer. I had no experience, so I did student films to start with. I was always working my way towards this.”

Born in 1953, growing up “outside of Manhattan,” he was one of those guys who never got over the thrill of being at the theater as a kid, the curtain opening and a movie playing on that big screen. “It may be the reason, among about 4,000 others, that 2001 remains, to this day, my favorite film of all time,” he says. “It wasn’t just the scale of the original Ziegfeld screening — it’s because it’s a real movie. It’s essentially nonverbal, which is very unusual for a commercial, Hollywood-style [movie].” Before seeing Stanley Kubrick’s sci-fi masterwork, Harmon had been tempted to apply to architecture school. “I saw 2001, I took the application, and I threw it in the garbage,” he tells me. “I never even sent it.”

When Harmon came out to L.A., “I had literally never directed anything,” serving as a cinematographer in order to see how people made films. Eventually, he was ready to direct his own: the 1983 short China Lake, which starred Charles Napier as a bad cop wreaking havoc across the California desert while on vacation. The short, which is currently available on YouTube, sans some of the original music, very much feels like an unintentional dry run for The Hitcher. Like his feature debut, China Lake probed the psychology of a disturbed individual, the action set against a vast, arid landscape that was both inviting and unsettling. “It was an insurance policy,” he says of making China Lake. “It was a kind of ‘If this whole directing thing doesn’t work out — if I’m going to spend every cent I have for X number of years on this — I better have some use for it so at least I can put it on my [cinematographer] reel.’”

He hustled to ensure China Lake opened doors for him. While writing the script, he saw Napier at a screening at L.A.’s venerable arthouse theater the Nuart, deciding that he had to play the cop. An attempt to get the script to Napier’s agent went nowhere, but then, through a friend, Harmon obtained Napier’s number and cold-called him, telling the character actor, a veteran of Jonathan Demme’s films, that he’d written the dark role with him in mind. “The reaction was very unlike anything I would’ve expected,” Harmon recalls. “He read it, loved it and fired his agent for not having ever even shown it to him.”

Short films tend to do only so much for a burgeoning director, but in the case of China Lake, it was enough to get him noticed. As Harmon remembers, “[Napier] dragged Jonathan Demme to a screening over at Warner Bros. It was great. It was really fun.” China Lake only played one festival — the prestigious Telluride Film Festival, in Colorado — but the response helped stoke interest. “We’d hardly shown it to anybody, and I was stunned by the reaction. The audience was, by my recollection, exactly bifurcated. People were on their feet, clapping and whistling — and other people were screaming and yelling. I very clearly remember a voice from the back of the theater: ‘Who admitted this piece of shit to the festival?’”

Harmon smiles: “The answer to her question was her husband, who was on the board of admissions of the festival.”

Soon, he’d signed with a top-flight agent at William Morris, which was fielding offers for his first feature. There was just one problem. “I didn’t like any of the scripts,” he says. “I didn’t [think] it would do me any good to make those scripts. Then at a certain point, I said to myself, ‘Who do I think I am? I’ve wanted to [be a filmmaker] for my entire life. I can’t keep saying no.’ And then I read The Hitcher.”

Red’s spec script hadn’t gotten much positive feedback in Hollywood, but David Bombyk, a development executive, was blown away by it. Speaking to the Los Angeles Times in 1986, he recalled that the screenplay was 190 pages, far longer than the traditional script. “I kept avoiding it,” he said, “but finally I picked it up. Then, it was just ‘Oh, my God!’”

The story’s violence and gore may have shocked Bombyk, who later would serve as a producer on the film, but Harmon was a little more muted when the screenplay came his way. “I thought, ‘Okay, I have all kinds of issues with this and with that,’ but I felt I could do something with it,” he tells me. “And it also had the thing I loved most in movies” — including his all-time favorite, 2001 — “which is, it was essentially nonverbal.” Many of the scripts Harmon had turned down after China Lake were, as he put it, “Much more slasher-y,” and even he acknowledges that Red’s screenplay made China Lake seem like “Hitcher Junior in a lot of ways.” Plus, Harmon felt pressure to finally commit to a project.

“Probably a good 50 percent of making me say yes was I’d said no too many times,” he admits. “I really thought, ‘I’d just like to do something.’ Not that it was a sacrifice, because I really did like the script — with some minor exceptions that we changed. And I liked the fact that it wasn’t run-of-the-mill. Eric Red is unique: Like him, hate him, his thing is a thing that you don’t find that often. It’s very singular and it’s very him. I think that’s rare.”

One thing he was clear about, though: The Hitcher wasn’t a horror movie. “I’m not the most objective person about that movie, but I don’t think of it as a horror movie,” he says. “I just don’t. We never did.” So what did he think he was making? “I was never conscious [of that],” he replies. “I didn’t have a target.”

Harmon had his heart set on Terence Stamp to play John, going so far as to have a picture of the Billy Budd actor in his wallet to show casting people who he had in mind. “But Terence turned it down,” Harmon recalls. “He said to me — and I thought it was actor bullshit, it may have been — ‘I don’t want to put myself through what it’ll take to do a good job on this part.’ But the sweetest thing in the world, I ran into him at some party years later, and he said, ‘That was one of my biggest, most sincere regrets, not having taken that part.’ Whether he meant it or not, it meant a lot to me. But still, how lucky could I have been to get Rutger?”

Hauer, who died in 2019 at the age of 75, was a Dutch actor who’d worked with the likes of countryman Paul Verhoeven before starting to make his mark in American films in the early 1980s, his big breakthrough coming in Blade Runner as Roy Batty, the serene, menacing leader of the Replicants, the future society’s enslaved robots who don’t want to be terminated. “It was just a miracle,” Harmon says about landing the in-demand actor just as he was getting hot. But he hoped Hauer could bring something to the character that wasn’t there on the page. “The script that I read, John Ryder was just a monster,” says Harmon. “He was just evil, just a force of awfulness. And that seemed less interesting than it could be.”

In a 2012 interview, Hauer noted, “Out of all the films I did, I never quite understood why I liked it so much. The Hitcher for me was another dance, like Blade Runner. It felt like a haunting dust bowl in the desert. The games played were like a tap dance on a drum. I sort of created a little bit of a vague backstory for myself; there should be some sort of mad, strange magic to this guy who always shows up in weird places; he’s a real ghost I think. You can only do that with film — in a book it’s harder, in film you can be a phantom.”

That level of unreality was something Harmon was pushing as well. “The idea that we eventually did was, this Rutger Hauer character wants to commit suicide, doesn’t have courage to do it himself and wants help,” Harmon explains. “He’s desperately looking for someone who’s up to the challenge. It’s in a lot of the dialogue we changed, and it’s in his performance. It seemed like an interesting thing: This guy is doing all this terrible stuff, but it’s really because he’s desperately depressed. I used to say to everybody who’d listen when we were shooting the movie, ‘The way this has to feel is, if Tommy Howell hadn’t driven down that road, Rutger wouldn’t have been on that road.’ He’s there for him — their [relationship] became sort of weirdly codependent.”

At one point, Matthew Modine, fresh off the romantic drama Vision Quest and about to dive into Kubrick’s Full Metal Jacket, was going to play Jim. Harmon admits that he didn’t necessarily have a particular actor in mind like he had for John, but Howell “was great, he was a delight.” As for Howell, it was a chance to graduate from the types of roles he’d been doing up to that point. “I was rolling from gig to gig as a kid,” Howell recalled last year. “I didn’t give a shit. I felt like it was never going to end, I was never going to grow up, and I was going to play this kid role forever. Well, I did The Hitcher, and it changed everything.”

It didn’t take much work for Howell to convey Jim’s fear of John. As Howell put it in that same interview, “I’ll never forget how everybody else on set was petrified of him,” remembering how “Rutger ate alone in his trailer every single day. Nobody would talk to him apart from perhaps the director if his back was against the wall and he had to give him a direction.” The one time Hauer did invite Howell to have lunch with him, Howell meekly tried to engage his co-star. “Everybody’s been talking about Blade Runner and his other movies, and how nobody plays the villain better than him, but I just looked at him, and with my squeaky, petrified voice, I was like, ‘So, Rutger, everybody says you’re an amazing bad guy, so why do you play bad guys so well?’ What felt like an eternity went by as he just finished that final drag on that cigarette, and he hissed at me in that guts deep whisper, ‘I don’t play bad guys,’ and didn’t say another frickin’ word. I didn’t know what to do. I think I inhaled the rest of my food and started to back out of the trailer. That rattled around my head for a long, long time.”

Harmon, who stayed friends with Hauer for the rest of his life, says, “[If] he was just sitting here listening, [he’d] be slightly intimidating. His hands are like the size of catcher’s mitts. He’s really big, and he just commands space. He doesn’t have to do anything. I don’t know whether he works on that, or if that’s just one of those things.”

For those who haven’t seen The Hitcher in a while — or who have never seen it — the film’s cat-and-mouse game deviates from the classic slasher narrative in certain ways. Traditionally, the hero is trying to stay a step ahead of the killer, hoping to get others to believe that he’s being targeted. But Harmon’s film isn’t so much about John trying to kill Jim — rather, it’s as if John wants to teach him something. Framing Jim for murder, which puts him on the run from the police, and pulling bizarre pranks — such as secretly putting one of his other victims’ fingers among Jim’s fries — John hovers around the periphery of the young man’s life, driving him to the brink of insanity rather than simply hunting him down. Jim doesn’t know what he’s done to deserve this harassment, but for John there’s almost something personal about his antagonism. The fact that he won’t quite reveal his motives makes it all the more upsetting.

When I press Harmon on The Hitcher’s themes, he’s reluctant to spell things out, although he makes the film sound, in some ways, like an unconventional coming-of-age saga. “Not to explain it all, because I don’t think that’s ever a good idea, but on some unconscious level, the Tommy Howell character knows that he needs help in his maturation process. He’s not turning into the man he wants to be. He’s so naive — so almost childlike — when he stops and [picks up John]. And as a result of meeting Rutger, this maturation process that would have taken another 10 years is compressed into four days — like a diamond [which is a] piece of coal under pressure.”

After being told that there’s almost something paternal about the way John seems to be doling out tough love to poor Jim, Harmon responds, “That was a key piece of direction that I know I bonded with Rutger [over]: ‘Treat him like your son, with love.’”

Indeed, there’s a weird occasional tenderness that Hauer brings to the role — in particular when the two men are in a diner, Jim pointing a gun under the table at John, who knows it’s not loaded. John seems to be encouraging the frightened young man, like a proud papa teaching his skittish boy how to ride a bike. “Why are you doing this to me?” Jim asks, near tears. John calmly puts pennies on Jim’s eyes, cradling the young man’s face in his hands. “You’re a smart kid,” John says, “you’ll figure it out.”

Of course, that tenderness was perceived in some quarters to be homoerotic — or, perhaps, homophobic, just one more example of a horror movie that queer-codes its villain. Harmon has heard the objection, but he doesn’t agree. Asked if he noted a homoerotic quality in the tense rapport between John and Jim, he says, “Sure, but only in the movie — it was not in the script. That was something that just evolved — it was never a part of a plan. But I think Rutger has a kind of almost gender-neutral kind of thing. As I said, he has very large hands — big guy, certainly masculine — but there’s something ethereal about him. His presence and Tommy Howell’s flailing around trying to find himself — I don’t know, one thing led to another, and suddenly there we were.”

Whether you wanted to read The Hitcher as a father/son story or something more erotically charged, there was no denying that the two characters felt connected, as if their destines had become intertwined when their paths crossed out on that highway. Jim wants to get away from John, but if John is simply trying to kill the young man, he passes up several opportunities to do it. (He has no such problem offing others along the way, including cops and innocent passersby.) That tension of Jim not knowing what John wants from him — why this crazed hitchhiker won’t just kill him — gives the film an existential dread that was unique among slasher/horror films of the time. And it posed a troubling question: If your seemingly all-powerful nemesis isn’t out to murder you, is there actually something even scarier about the fact that he won’t let you go?

At one point during our conversation, Harmon recalls working with Hauer on set and it dawning on him how the actor viewed John. “He’s been playing him like he’s God,” Harmon remembers thinking. “Almost regal. It was something beautiful and strong, and that was very interesting to me.” And just like God, John could be anywhere in The Hitcher, sometimes able to do things that, logistically, he wouldn’t have been able to be present for. (For instance, how did he get that severed finger into Jim’s fries?) But Harmon liked the script’s logic-defying elements.

“I never felt we had to ‘fix’ that,” he says, “because I think for those who are open to that kind of ambiguity, it helps to understand that this isn’t 100 percent real.” And by the way, in Red’s original screenplay, Jim finds an eyeball, not a finger, in his food. “This is indicative of the change in the tone between the original script and the movie,” Harmon says. “Not only was there an eye in there — I don’t remember exactly how it was described — but he must have bitten [into the burger] and thought, ‘Hmm, that’s weird, what is that?’ And he pulls the top of the bun off, and there’s an eyeball and a note that says, ‘I have my eye on you.’ [And I thought] ‘That’s got to go.’ I thought it was unforgivably wink-wink. It just was totally wrong to me.”

If The Hitcher is about the saga of these two men, locked in this odd death dance, the closest the film comes to introducing a significant third character is with Nash, the friendly waitress who makes that hamburger and fries for Jim, unaware of the human appendage inside it. She was played by Jennifer Jason Leigh, who’d had her breakout a few years earlier with Fast Times at Ridgemont High. Like many of the people involved in The Hitcher, she was someone Harmon landed on just before she got huge. His cinematographer was John Seale, who hadn’t yet received his Oscar nomination for 1985’s Witness, his first of five. (He won for The English Patient.) The music was written by Mark Isham, who was starting his composing career. (He’d later be nominated for A River Runs Through It and worked on the score for the Best Picture-winning Crash.)

Asked about getting such huge names for his first film, Harmon says the secret was simple: “They weren’t John Seale and Mark Isham at the time.” And that was also true of Leigh, who came in to read for the part like any other actress. “She might have been the third person we read,” says Harmon. “And then, we just stopped reading it — she was so fucking great. We all agreed: ‘As long as we can make the deal with her, let’s not waste our time seeing anybody else.’”

Nash becomes a potential love interest for Jim, but in keeping with The Hitcher’s playing around with genre tropes, nothing really comes of it. After all, not that long after she meets him, Nash meets a grisly, and memorable, end. Even those who have never seen the movie know what becomes of Nash. In his scathing no-stars review, Roger Ebert focused on that moment: “[T]he Leigh character’s death — she is tied hand and foot between two giant trucks and pulled in two — is so grotesquely out of proportion with the main business of this movie that it suggests a deep sickness at the screenplay stage.”

The scene had appeared in the original script. As Red later recalled, “I asked [truck drivers], ‘Well, look, if you wanted to kill a girl with a truck, how would you do it? They were suggesting things like ‘Put her in the back of the transom and run a kingpin through her.’” Technically, Ebert was incorrect — Nash is actually tied between a truck and its trailer, with John sitting in the cab behind the wheel — but, still, the image of a screaming, gagged Jennifer Jason Leigh begging for her life was a disturbing one. In the film, however, it was just the latest step in John’s plan to test Jim, egging the kid on to shoot him, which Jim won’t do because then the truck will lurch forward, ripping Nash in two. The scene amplified the idea that John just wanted Jim to end his life, but for Hauer it was more complicated, which Harmon discovered when they were about to start filming the sequence.

“[Executive producer] Ed Feldman comes to me and he says, ‘We got a problem,’” Harmon tells me. “I said, ‘Really? What’s the problem?’ He said, ‘Rutger won’t come out of the trailer. He doesn’t want to do the scene.’ I thought this was like a joke, because you hear about actors. That scene had not been touched from maybe the first draft — it had never been changed, there was never any discussion about it. So this came out of the blue.”

Harmon went to see Hauer, who “was almost near tears. He said, ‘I’m really sorry, I don’t mean to cause this production trouble, I know it’s costing time. But I just can’t play the scene the way it’s written. I don’t know what took me so long to realize this, but if I play the scene as written, the audience will think I’m the bad guy.’ I almost laughed, but I didn’t. A light bulb went off [in] my head: ‘That’s why he’s been so unbelievably great [in the movie].’” As he’d told Howell during that uncomfortable lunch, Hauer never thought of John as a villain.

Funny enough, in later interviews, Hauer would sometimes take credit for the grisly scene. “I mean, you know, they’ve been doing this for 400 years, but they did it with one or four horsepowers,” he once said. “They’d pull people apart. The Indians did it. In the Middle Ages and other countries they were doing that sort of stuff. And I thought, it might be nice to do it with a tractor trailer, that’ll just up the stakes a bit. And Robert liked that. The scene was originally, she was standing against a wall and the pickup truck was pinning her against the wall, and the final thing was that he would drive her against the wall. But that was weak. So I came up with the tractor-trailer. The tying. Cirque de Soleil.”

But according to Harmon, Hauer only agreed to do the scene if they included new dialogue that Hauer himself had written. “Luckily, I recognized immediately what he had done — and what he had done was ruin the scene.” Harmon can’t recall specifically what the new lines were, “but it was so wrong, I do remember that. But all the changes were right at the tops of the ends of the existing dialogue, so we shot the scene with all these godawful lines in there, and then we cut them out, so it [remained] the scene as Eric had written it. And I never heard a word about it from [Hauer]: ‘I can’t believe you [cut my lines]!’ Never mentioned it again.”

The scene was so traumatizing that some might forget that we never actually see Nash get dismembered. “I do remember very clearly there was no discussion about it,” Harmon says. “Nobody wanted to [show] it, including me. It just seemed gratuitous, even then.” Naturally, in the 2007 remake, the filmmakers show the dismemberment.

Making a feature film had long been Harmon’s dream, but that didn’t make the actual process any easier. “It was a rollercoaster,” he tells me, “and then it was really a rollercoaster to shoot it. I put a lot of pressure on myself, because it was very obvious to me that if I blow this, that’s that — I’ll never get another chance. Sometimes [the shoot] was fantastic and sometimes it was hellish for me, but mostly I put it on myself.”

Harmon shot for about 40 days, not quite sure what the outcome would be. “I had people around me telling me that they thought it was fantastic and it was going to be great, on and on,” he says. “I didn’t trust it ‘cause I didn’t know. I knew it wasn’t a piece of crap, and I liked certain things. I don’t think I ever felt worried ‘cause I guess I knew it was good enough not to be an embarrassment and to be a career-killer before I’d even done anything.” Yet even as the film was being prepped for release, he had to fight against the notion that he’d made a horror movie. “I don’t like the poster,” he tells me, “but they didn’t listen to me. It’s the poster for a horror movie — or much more of a slasher movie.”

The reviews were decidedly mixed when The Hitcher opened on February 21, 1986, but what Harmon most remembers is a particular L.A. Times profile piece that came out soon after the film’s release. “Infamous — for me, anyway,” he says. “We were completely — all of us, all the producers — duped by that reporter.” In the story, writer Deborah Caulfield detailed the gory elements of the original script and the finished product, asking, “How do films like this ever get made? What could the people who make these movies possibly be thinking about?”

The article provoked disgusted responses from readers, with one woman wondering, “How does a writer — or anybody — even think of such scenes as a woman ripped in two, an eye in a hamburger, et al? What does it say about our society that such an unconscionable film is deemed to have a market?”

“It didn’t really bother me that much,” Harmon says now about the L.A. Times piece. “I was so green at the time, just the attention was welcome.”

The Hitcher wasn’t a commercial success, although it put Harmon on the map in Hollywood. “I started getting offers right away and made some very bad decisions,” he says bluntly. “One was from Joel Silver for Lethal Weapon. And the other was from Sherry Lansing to replace Brian De Palma, who had fallen out of Fatal Attraction. And I turned them both down.”

How come? “Because I was an idiot,” he replies self-deprecatingly. But then he adds, “Just because those movies were wonderful and huge hits doesn’t mean that would’ve happened [if I’d directed them].” He goes on to explain that after making The Hitcher, which he describes as “really difficult for all kinds of reasons, mostly political,” he was leery of being involved in films whose producers were known for being a handful — especially Joel Silver. “Offers were coming in for real movies all over the place,” Harmon recalls. “And [my agent] said, ‘You don’t have to waste your time with that jerk — he’s just impossible, he’ll make your life hell.’ And I thought, ‘All right, there’s a good excuse not to do it.’”

As for Fatal Attraction, Lansing was paired with producing partner Stanley Jaffe “who had a reputation for being not an easy character. I had lunch with Ed Feldman to talk to him about whether I should do this Fatal Attraction thing. And he said, ‘If you think I gave you a hard time, you won’t survive [working with Stanley].’”

Harmon has no hard feelings about saying no to two massive hits, although he acknowledges the lesson he’d quickly learn: “I didn’t realize that every movie is traumatic. So how I keep doing it is I have to just accept the occasional trauma. My advice [to first-time filmmakers] is you cannot predict how you’ll feel [while you’re making a movie] — and it doesn’t mean you’re doing it wrong. There’s things coming at you from every direction — from the floor, from the ceiling, from every compass direction. That’s the way it is, and how you react to that is how you react to it. If you react to it negatively, you have to just find a way to deal with it. It doesn’t mean you’re fucking up — it’s just the nature of the work.”

In the ensuing years, he’d make movies with John Travolta (Eyes of an Angel) and Jean-Claude Van Damme (Nowhere to Run). He directed the 1996 HBO film Gotti, which won Armand Assante an Emmy and earned Harmon directing nominations from both the Emmys and the DGAs. (He garnered a second Emmy nomination for his 2004 television film Ike: Countdown to D-Day, starring his frequent collaborator, Tom Selleck, whom he’s worked with on Blue Bloods and a series of Jesse Stone TV movies.)

Meanwhile, The Hitcher’s influence and popularity has grown over time, unexpectedly impacting later projects. When Harmon was filming 2000’s The Crossing, a Peabody-winning A&E TV movie starring Jeff Daniels as George Washington, “We were out in the middle of a field, near Ottawa, on the St. Lawrence River. I’m wandering around because we have a big sequence due the next day, and I’m trying to get it blocked out in my head. And some guy walks across this field — this older guy — having heard that the director of The Hitcher was directing the movie. He wanted to know if I was him, and we talked about [The Hitcher]. Literally, nobody around as far as we could see, in the middle of fucking nowhere in Canada.”

The Hitcher inspired a direct-to-DVD sequel, The Hitcher II: I’ve Been Waiting, which came out in 2003. Howell reprised his role as Jim. Jake Busey played the new hitchhiker. (“That was probably a mistake, to be honest,” Howell said later. “It was mishandled. There was a time when Rutger was involved as well, so I sort of committed with the understanding that that was what was taking place, but then that didn’t happen. It was a bit of a mess. … It probably should’ve never been made. And thankfully, nobody really even knows it exists.”) Then, four years later, Michael Bay’s production company Platinum Dunes, as part of its plan to remake classic horror movies, did a new version of The Hitcher, with Sophia Bush and Zachary Knighton as college students who pick up Sean Bean’s mysterious loner.

“I don’t know what he wanted. I didn’t have to,” Bean said when he was asked about his character’s ambiguous motivations. “There are a number of possibilities. Maybe he wanted to die and be rid of the evil inside him? Maybe he just didn’t care? Maybe he just wanted to kill who he wanted until he was killed himself? Maybe it’s just a combination of all those things? Or maybe it was just nothing at all.” It was just one way in which the bloodier, less psychologically-resonant remake differed from the 1986 original. Harmon and Hauer didn’t want to explain everything about John — and his strange relationship with Jim — but it was clear they had ideas about it.

The original film is currently available in its entirety on YouTube and streaming on HBO Max. Ironically, you might be better off watching it on YouTube, where at least it’s presented in the right aspect ratio — the film on HBO Max is a fairly cruddy pan-and-scan version, which annoys Harmon to no end. “You cannot believe how angry I was,” he says. “I don’t know what to do about it. It’s awful, it’s really terrible.” He’s excited about an English company that will be putting out The Hitcher on Blu-ray for the first time. “They got the original negative. They’re doing [a new] transfer — it’s fantastic.” It will take some time, he reckons. “They [still] have to do the color correction. And a restored China Lake is also on there.”

That’ll be good news for all the Hitcher fans out there, whether it’s David Fincher or that random man who accosted Harmon in the middle of nowhere in Canada, or the thousands of other people who have been obsessed with that strange drifter who decides to insert himself into one unlucky kid’s life. “That experience is one of my favorite experiences in my career,” Howell said in 2013 about The Hitcher, “and it’s also one of my favorite films.”

The movie’s enigmatic attitude toward its two characters’ relationship carries all the way to the end, when Jim, convinced that he’s killed John by hitting him with his car, walks over to the body, lightly caressing John’s hair with the barrel of his shotgun, displaying the same surprising tenderness John had displayed earlier. To this day, Harmon doesn’t exactly want to assign meaning to that moment. “Make of that what you will,” he tells me. “But there was a very gentle gesture to someone who’d spent the entire movie trying to kill him.”

As for Harmon and Hauer, they stayed connected over the decades, sometimes meeting up if the actor was visiting L.A. “We’d have coffee and go to lunch or dinner,” Harmon tells me. The last time he saw his friend “was probably about a year before he died. He was doing his thing, making these very interesting, mostly European, smaller movies.” Their conversations were very rarely about The Hitcher. “I wouldn’t say we never mentioned it, but it certainly wasn’t centered on that. It was what we’re both doing — and that we had to find something [to work on]. ‘Let’s get back on set together.’”

They never got the chance. During my time with Harmon, he would sometimes talk about Hauer while gesturing at the empty seat next to us. “I’m pointing to that chair,” Harmon commented wistfully, “like he’s here.”

The impulse was poignant, but also fitting. After all, Rutger Hauer always said that John Ryder was a ghost.

#the hitcher #article I want to save

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cube-cumb3r · 3 years

Text

Retrospective analysis of the bedrock bros /rp

(TW for brief descriptions of abuse and mention of suicide.)

We need to reframe the discussion of bedrock bros. Usually it tends to boil down to an argument about who betrayed who, which often misses the point as to why it happened in the first place. I will make an effort to not be antagonistic towards Techno, even though I'm clearly biased in favor of Tommy, in looking back retrospectively at what would lead to the fallout during the Green Festival.

Firstly, it’s relevant to point out that at the time Tommy agreed to team up with Technoblade, Dream had isolated Tommy away from his friends in exile, he had been emotionally and physically abusing him for what is implied to be weeks, possibly months, and after finding out that Tommy had been hiding gear from him, Dream had blown up all of Tommy's items and the entirety of Logstedshire, telling him to "think about what he's done." which is what lead Tommy to finally attempt to escape his exile for good, after surviving a suicide attempt. After escaping, he found Technos house, stole food and gear out of his chests, and dug out a room under his house for shelter.

It’s also relevant to point out that at the time Techno discovers Tommy living under his house, he had just been captured by the butcher army of new L'manburg, a considerable amount of his tools, weapons and items had been taken by them, he'd been executed without trial, and he'd beaten Quackity in a bloody fight with only his pickaxe, then he'd escaped back to his home in the arctic with most, but not all, of his usual gear missing. and because of this, he had a plan to get his revenge on New L'manburg.

(By the way, the way their storylines perfectly got woven together completely seamlessly with Technos butcher army stream and Tommy’s team-up stream? Chefs kiss. This is peak Dream SMP writing for me.)

Techno discovers Tommy living in his floorboards and gives him an ultimatum, either Tommy allies himself with him and aids in the destruction of L’manburg and Techno offers to help Tommy get back the discs in return, or Tommy has to leave the premises. And throughout the discussion Tommy restates several times that doesn’t need Techno’s help to get back the discs, and he's planning to do it on his own.

The reason Tommy initially declines the offer multiple times is because he still holds a grudge against Technoblade for aiding in the second destruction of L’manburg, and he also holds a grudge on Tubbo's behalf for his firework execution. When Tommy declines the offer multiple times, Techno tells him to leave. Which he does! He wanders out into the snow, but Techno keeps pushing with his offer regardless.

Tommy: Y-you'll help me get back my discs if I team with you-

Techno: I'll help you get back your discs, Tommy.

Tommy: I won't help you but you'll help me. I don't wanna destroy L'manburg. [overlapping]

Techno:[overlapping] You'll help me destroy the government-

Tommy: I won't help you destroy the government, but you'll- you'll let me... [glances back at the house].

Techno: Tell-tell you what, we’ll do some minor terrorism from which the government can- [stuttering] you- you know what, Tommy? We-we’ll get the details on the way, we’ll get the details on the way, Tommy. Alright?

Tommy: Technoblade, I am a huge fan of minor terrorism.

Techno: That’s just what I wanna wanna hear. Tommy-

Tommy: Not major terrorism, though. No- I don’t, I don’t wanna take down no governments. [...]”

"Tommy Teams with Technoblade in Exile" (18:37-19:13) [link] (I also made a longer transcription of the conversation here)

Even though Tommy desperately needed protection as Dream without a doubt WOULD later come looking for him, he still initially declined, repeatedly. Yet Techno kept insisting even when Tommy told him no and even walked away. Therefore, it’s arguable that Tommy only agreed because Techno was willing to "compromise".

Later in the stream, when they’re together in the wither bunker, it's VERY obvious that Tommy is under the impression that Techno wasn’t planning to destroy L’manburg at all.

Tommy: What!? Ok-, look at me in the eyes, look at me in the eyes! We’re just getting the discs back, alright? We’re not-

Techno: Yeahhh.... [overlapping] We’re just- getting the discs back-

Tommy: [overlapping] -I don’t wanna take down no government, I do not wanna upset Tubbo! [overlapping]

Techno: -by any means necessary!

Tommy: [overlapping] No, no... No, no, no, no, no!-

Techno: [overlapping] By any means necessary!

Tommy: Not by any means- by-… Well, I guess by any means necessary. But not-

Techno: Yeahhh!

Tommy: [stutters] Technoblade, look at me, dead in the eyes.

Techno:

Tommy: Although they have wronged me, they have wronged me, it is because of Wilbur*, not because they chose to. We will not. Upset. L’manburg, and we will not. Upset. Tubbo.

Techno: [stutters] w-we’ll negotiate the finer details later, Tommy. We’ll negotiate the finer details later- [...]

*Tommy might’ve meant to say Dream here, seems more likely in this context. However, I can't say for certain.

"Tommy Teams with Technoblade in Exile" (22:40-23:14) [link]

That is why I don’t think you can make the argument that Tommy used Techno for his own gain, unless you’re implying that him seeking shelter any way he could get it when he needed it the most, knowing he’d never go through with the destruction of L’manburg, is somehow exploitative. And not only is that arguably a bad faith argument, it’s also inaccurate because Technoblade wasn’t upfront about their deal. He had even deliberately given Tommy the impression that they had compromised.

That being said, I wouldn’t at all imply that Technoblade only pressured Tommy into joining him for his own gain. In fact, he wouldn't gain much from allying with him because Tommy had very little to offer in the first place. Both in terms of both manpower and resources, or even as a strategist, especially not in the state he was in at the time. Therefore, it is more likely that Techno felt as if he were, albeit a bit reluctantly, taking Tommy under his wing.

It's also important to stress that Technoblade was not aware of the extent of torment Tommy had just experienced in exile, and was therefore not aware of how urgently Tommy actually needed shelter and protection. This is because Tommy could never bring himself to tell Techno, because at this point in time he had not had the time to process and make sense of what he had actually experienced. it was obvious he didn't even know how he felt about Dream, or realized he was a victim of abuse. The only thing he had told Techno before they allied was that he and Dream had, in his own words, "had an argument".

During their time together Techno did not only offer shelter, but also protection, food and armor to Tommy, he hid Tommy as best he could when Dream came around, and he listened as Tommy attempted to make sense of what had happened to him. obviously, Techno noticed that to a certain extent, Tommy had clearly developed some sort of severe trauma as well, and he calmed him down when Tommy had panic attacks. So it would be untrue to say that Techno didn't care at all.

But the fact still remains that their allyship and friendship was always conditional, and not even that, and I apologize if I come across as repetitive, Techno was never upfront about what those conditions actually were in the first place. And we could speculate that if Tommy had managed to tell him the extent of what had actually happened to him, or maybe Techno had just happened to like him a little bit more in the first place, maybe he would have offered shelter unconditionally. But nevertheless, these miscommunications (both the intentional ones and the unintentional ones) was what was gonna doom their allyship (and their friendship) from the start.

#technoblade #tommyinnit #dream smp #dreamwastaken #mcyt #lmk if i need to tag this as critical #i dont feel as if im being critical in my opinion im just explaining why their relationship fell apart the way it did #if ive gotten something wrong feel free to point it out to me btw #but idk #tw abuse #tw suidice #lor3 essays #dream smp analysis #pspspsps

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writefightandflightclub · 3 years

Text

At ease, soldier (Santiago “Pope” Garcia x fem!reader)

What is this? This is 8/10 one-shots/blurbs for my “friends to lovers” event. (More deets in pinned post). The prompt is “I’ve never seen you dressed-up like this and **** you’re hot.”

Summary: when Santi moves in with you following his divorce, he didn’t anticipate seeing you in THAT DRESS. It does things to him, and has him reevaluating everything he feels for you, and everything he thinks he knows about home.

Author’s note: this has divorced!dad!Santi, so it’s a bit different (marriage / child not with reader). This might not be my best thought-out one-shot ever, or my best portrayal of Santi, but it is what it is. I personally think the thing reader does is adorbs, fight me if you disagree :P I really hope you like it! <3 Thank you as always for reading, commenting, and sharing. It means the world.

Rating: M/E (18+ ONLY, Minors do not read or interact. Thank you.)

Word count: this is not as long as some of the others! Hurrah!

Warnings: masturbation (m); Santi has super sexual thoughts about reader and they’re not together- they are written but not said out loud. theme of divorce but not too angsty. few mentions of shared custody / parenting (not reader’s child). Food mentions. Swearing. Kissing. Lmk if I missed any.

GIF: @realoscarisaac

Tagging: @isvvc-pvscvl @anetteaneta @stardustkenobi @casifer-is-king @foxilayde @tlcwrites @aellynera @kindablackenedsuperhero

“Hey, look. Thank you for this,” Santi says, softly and sincerely as you cross him again in the hallway, halting you with a hand on your shoulder. The heat from his palm bleeds through the thin fabric of your t-shirt and you consider wresting yourself sharply away from the pleasant torment of him. At the same time, you consider leaning in to his warm chest and staying there, so help you, curled like a leaf against the sturdy trunk of him.

He’s moving in with you, following the long, drawn-out process of his divorce. It has been a long time coming, but his marital house -which he has lived in alone going on a year - has finally been sold-off and split with his ex. And so, here he is, treading lightly and making himself small in your home - as if this isn’t somewhere he’s been loud and brash and welcome ever since you bought the damn place.

You can tell he’s grateful. He’s expressed it enough times. It’s the apology in his eyes you can’t stand - as if he’s some kind of burden. He’s been through a lot, but you want him to walk tall, instead of stooping under the weight of his “bad decisions”. He blames himself for a lot of things that you don’t think he ought to, not least the collapse of his marriage. She had cheated; although, he insists there were problems long before that. Perhaps even right from the beginning. He’d always been a travelling soldier, and even after he was discharged he couldn’t bring himself to stop.

“I promise. I’ll be out of your hair as soon as I get back on my feet,” he adds, self-consciously smoothing a hand over his scruff.

You smile softly. His promises still mean something to you. Even if he hadn’t seen through the promise of his marriage, you know he had tried. You know his word is never given lightly.

It’s hard. To start again, all over again. You know. You, yourself, were rattling around in a house too big for one, bought for two, perhaps meant for more - but that hadn’t worked out either. You’d had to forego promises you made as well.

“There’s no rush. Honestly.”

There isn’t. Between the legal fees and alimony, and carving up his assets, Santi needs a little time to get his finances together before he can consider his own place. You’re happy for him to take all of the time he needs. Out of the options available to him, you had been both the preferred one, and the last to offer. The other boys don’t have space. He’d considered a houseshare, but he needed somewhere his little daughter, Ava, could still come to stay on weekends.

You have space. Ava adores you. You were spending a lot of time with Santi anyway. For all those reasons, it was a no-brainier. You’d only hesitated so long in offering due to your impossible, undying love for the man. Did you really want to do that to yourself? To torment yourself with him, in your home?

“It’s no problem at all, but I do need you to haul this stuff inside a little faster, okay? I still have a date tonight, slowpoke.”

“You got it, boss.”

You chuckle, punching him playfully in the tricep, and traipsing out to the lawn to pick-up another box.

Perhaps it was ludicrous to go on a date tonight, of all nights, but at least you admit to yourself that it is an exercise in majorly over-compensating. It is some conscious attempt to signify how Not Into Him you are, and you are hoping -if the guy is cute enough and the sex is earth-shattering enough- that perhaps you could even convince yourself.

Aside from your well-established feelings for him, this whole arrangement is pretty dangerous. Santi is too easy to be around, and if you let yourself sink into the cosy bubble of his company, you fear you will never think to look for anyone else again. Whilst that would be just fine with you - Santi, on the other hand? He’s never been interested in you like that. Probably hasn’t ever entertained the idea of it. Besides, the timing between you two - even if there was something there- has never been quite right. There was always some mission or woman or man or bad decision getting in the way.

You sigh, as you bend and pick-up a box, feeling like your date is already doomed as thoughts of Santi swirl relentlessly in your head.

You can hope, perhaps, that it won’t turn out to have been a terrible decision to invite him into your home. Perhaps living with him will even help you get over him, once and for all, in a way that nothing and no-one else has managed to. You could discover all of his annoying habits and start bickering over whose turn it is to take the bins out until you hate each other, perhaps? However, somehow you think this is unlikely - when you’d broken up with Malik, Santi’s presence in your house had gotten you through. His laugh and his warmth had curled into every corner of this structure and nestled there, driving out all of the cobwebs. Santi made this house a home again, before he ever lived in it. In a way, you dread to think what will happen now.

“Make yourself at home, okay?” you encourage - this time as you cross him on the landing. “Put your stuff wherever. Take up some space. Hang your guitar above the fireplace. Hell, get a new one. Hang that too.” That had been a point of contention with her. “Paint your bedroom black, like you always wanted when you were a kid, whatever you want.”

Santi smiles warmly at you as he gets the message you’re so desperately trying to hammer home. You don’t want him to shrink himself into a corner. You want him to be at ease here. You want him to feel welcome.

With words escaping him, Santi’s hands wind around the back of your head, and he casually leans over, planting a quick but heartfelt kiss of gratitude, right in the middle of your forehead. “I love you,” he says freely, and, as he trots abruptly down the stairs, you only wish he meant it in the same way your heart sings its reply.

You do want him to relax here. He’s carried so much for so long. He’s carried it halfway around the world and back again, and the man deserves the break.

****

“Can I ask your opinion?” you call through his new bedroom door, cracking it and poking your head in as he responds affirmatively.

“Sure, come in.”

Santi watches as your body follows the path of your head, the slow reveal of your striking dress oddly tantalising, and sending a subtle surge of heat through him which he wasn’t prepared for.

“How do I look?” you say apprehensively, holding out your palms before doing a little half-swivel, one hand poised on your hip.

Santi’s extremely conscious that his eyes widen, and he swears he must look like a cartoon, feeling like they’re popping out of his head in surprise when he clocks you.

You’re wearing a form-fitting, flattering dress. It’s long, and it hugs you perfectly where it touches, with subtle hints of leg and cleavage where the luxe material gives way to soft, inviting skin. Your hair and make-up are different than usual too, and you really look the whole package - so much so that Santi takes a minute to form a coherent thought, beyond the low whistle he expels when he sees you stood before him.

Shit - he knows it has been too long since he said anything, and yet all he can muster from his slack jaw is a feeble croak.

Wow. Holy shit.

Santi is a little thrown. Your body looks amazing. You look sultry and sexy, and like sex-on-legs, if he’s honest. He tries to think or speak, but he’s not sure if he’s ever seen you dressed-up quite like this, and you have him feeling more than a little stupefied.

He gulps.

It’s not as though you look transformed, or anything. You’re an attractive woman, always, and the dress simply highlights that. No change there. But the way he’s responding to you is something new, and not something he entirely understands. Perhaps he simply became so used to seeing you clad in fatigues and sweats and overalls, usually covered in mud and sweat and blood. Perhaps he’s spent so long schooling himself into believing you’re someone he couldn’t and shouldn’t hit on -his friend- that he simply buried it. Buried it under his missions and his marriage and his house and his divorce. But now that all of those things are gone, and all the silt stirred-up, perhaps there is space for it to resurface? Now that, for the first time in a long-time, he feels at ease, and, here you are, looking like that?

Oh boy. His eyes trail over you further as though he can’t get enough. His gaze snags on the places the dress clings to you, providing a subtle outline of your form. He lingers on the places where you’re practically busting out of it- he likes those places especially.

He likes it a little too much, he realises, as he experiences an involuntary rush of blood to his cock, and he subtly rearranges his hands in front of him to disguise the fact as he stands to attention for you.

Fuck, what would Frankie say? Santi thinks, as he reaches for literally any wholesome thought where none seem to exist - in his mind nor his vocabulary - while he’s looking at you.

“You look nice,” he manages to say, but that’s not how he’s phrasing it in his head. Not at all.

I wanna shove my tongue between your thighs, honey. I want you to slip those red lips down on my dick until you drain my balls dry.

“Nice?” you bristle. “Nice, Santiago? I don’t want to look nice.”

“How do you want to look?”

Naked, on my bed? Or, maybe that dress hitched all the way up. Those juicy hips of yours being marked by my hands as I bounce you on me until I fill you up.

You cross to the cheval mirror at the opposite side of the room, further examining yourself.

Holy shit, you look good from the back too.

Santi may be a lapsed Catholic, but he certainly feels like he needs to visit confession with the thoughts he’s having about you right now. He swears he must have started visibly sweating.

“I don’t know,” you say, softly twirling. “Bangable, I guess? Come on, you’re a straight, hot-blooded male. If a woman turned-up to a date wearing this, would this do it for you? It’s not too much?”

He gulps. “Yes. Yep. For sure. That’ll do it.”

When you flick your eyes back to him, with a soft, humble smile, laced delicately with an inner confidence, he finally has a wholesome thought again:

You’re beautiful.

“I think it’s a little too much... but I guess we’ll find out,” you sing-song, his eyes following your hips as you wiggle back to the door, before turning back to him over your shoulder. “Do you have everything you need before I go?”

He looks at your plush red lips. He licks his own.

I need you on your knees.

Oh well, he’d managed to be wholesome for all of two seconds. That was something.

“I’m good,” he pushes out. “When will you be back?”

“Don’t wait up,” you breeze. “He has a nice pad, so if it works out I think we’ll be heading to his place.”

His place?

Santi can’t help but wonder why he’s suddenly imagining what sounds you might make underneath another man. Hell, whether he could double the intensity of those pretty noises under him instead.

This is not ideal. This is not ideal at all, when he hasn’t even made it through day one.

He hasn’t felt this... aroused in a long-time. Not since long before things went south with her. He hasn’t been this hard for a woman in just as long. He’s been hard in the sense of a mechanical, routine need, sure, where he has the basic need to pleasure himself; but this is something else. This is potent. This is lust, raw and consuming. This is not a general need, but it is startling in its specificity.

As you leave, and he takes himself urgently out of his pants, he understands that this is all for you. Moreover, as he winds his hand around himself, and works his shaft to the thought of you, he has the best orgasm he’s had in a long time.

When he’s done, he has some severe post-nut clarity, feeling guilty that he has moved into your home and spilled himself on your sheets to the thought of you; on day one, no less. It’s not very respectful.

But at the same time, he’s caught in a spiral. It’s like you have flipped a switch in him.

And, as much as he feels a little guilty, and a little terrified by the sudden onslaught of his desire, he feels oddly at ease. He already feels at home.

****

Santi is curled-up on the couch when he hears your key rattle in the door, and you tread in looking just as breath-taking, but a little more sombre than earlier. Having already shed your coat and kicked-off your shoes at the door, you collapse into the arm chair opposite him, your dress ballooning momentarily with a waft of air.

“It didn’t work out,” you explain solemly, answering the question on the tip of his tongue. He flicks off the distracting TV he was half-watching to give you his full attention.

“How?” he asks, leaning unconsciously forward in his seat, his eyebrows raised and mouth curling in a soft sympathetic smile. “There’s no way he didn’t like the dress.”

“Oh, he loved the dress. But I didn’t love him. He was a bit of an ass, actually. I don’t really want to talk about it.”

“You okay? Did he hurt you? Say something to you?” Santi searches your face urgently, his eyes suddenly intense and muscles coiled. “I’ll fucking kill him.”

You lean forward in your own seat and pat him on the thigh. Your perfume wafts over him. You smell delectable. “Stand down, Garcia. You’re fine. I don’t need anyone knee-capped. I’m just tired.” You stand, and his chin tips up to follow you. “Gonna wash-up and go to bed,” you add, tiredly. “Your night okay?”

“Yep. Fine,” he says briefly, more concerned with you. You look a little sad. A little wistful, he thinks. “Think I left my entire box of underwear in ‘Fish’s car. But that’s tomorrow’s problem.” He smiles up at you gently, with those deep, brown eyes of his, as that earns a light laugh from you. He saws his hand over his chin, gaze remaining soft as he watches you disappear and bid him goodnight. You swing around the doorframe as your hand clutches it, a trail of diaphonous fabric floating after you, as though you are a vision which could disappear in a cloud of smoke. It scares him that you would, he realises. He’s usually the one who disappears. Who retreats.

He watches you slink away, his mind already busy, working on how he might pick you up from your slump, and he plods to the kitchen.

You are upstairs in your en suite when he calls in to you, and, once you admit him, he transfers a steaming mug of sleep tea to your night-stand as a little pick-me-up. A small token, but one that makes you gasp in a breath, looking at his thoughtful gesture in confusion and surprise. “Thank you. That’s sweet of you.”

“Don’t sound quite so surprised,” he says thickly as he approaches you where you hover next to the sink. “Just because she ditched me doesn’t mean I’m a total write-off. I do have some redeeming qualities.”

He wraps his hands around the back of your head and he pulls you to him, planting another kiss to your forehead; but this time, in the dusky bedroom light, it hits different. It is slower and softer, and he looks far more comely. It sends a hot flare of yearning through you, blazing into every nook of you.

“I know that,” you say steadily, your fingers and thumb reaching up to play idly with the hem of his t-shirt sleeve. Your fingers brush his arm before you check yourself, turning away from him and towards the sink so that he can’t see your desire catching like a flare - and instead you continue to cleanse the make-up from your face, grateful for the cover the activity provides. “In fact, maybe I should have gone to dinner with you,” you snicker, innocently, before you think of the full implication of your words. “Sorry. I didn’t mean like that...” you hastily backpedal. “Just because we live together I’m not planning on getting ideas.”

“It’s okay,” he says, voice low and steady and soothing enough to halt your ramble. “You can go getting ideas if you want to.”

You whip your head towards him, a gulp trailing down your throat, as you see the vaguest hint of a suggestive eyebrow, of a smug smile dancing at the corners of his lips. You will yourself to remain in place; to avoid the call to lean in to his inviting lips or chest - even if he’s not giving you any signal that he would move away if you did.

You are hot aren’t you? Santi thinks. More than that; you are beautiful too. Now that he’s allowing himself to notice it, he can’t stop noticing it.

Seeking air, and space, the world shrinking to a dot, you tear yourself away from the sink and stride out into the bedroom, posting yourself at the door and signifying it is time for him to head out too. He takes the hint, and he comes to stand opposite you in the hallway, hands shoved into the pockets of his sweat pants.

“How are you doing?” you ask breathily, not knowing what has come over you but trying to push this heady, unravelling feeling away. To bundle it up and bind it back down. “First night in a new place?” You consider it, chiding yourself. “I should have been here. This whole date thing was stupid.”

It’s not a new place at all though, Santi thinks. In fact, he doesn’t think he’s ever been somewhere more familiar. Anywhere more like home. Not even with her - Ava notwithstanding, of course; that little girl is his pride and joy.

When Santi doesn’t answer, his eyes softly glowing at you instead, you reach to fill the silence, lest you fall all the way into the pit of yearning. “Maybe us living together is a bad idea. This is day one and you’re already counselling me through a bad date.”

“What else are friends for?” he smiles meaningfully. Gratefully, again. You can tell what he’s likely thinking. He’s thinking about all the times you have counselled him through years of bad decisions. You’ve always been there for him.

“Right.” Friends, you remind yourself, as the hall-light pools around him like spun gold.

He reaches his sock-clothed foot out to gently bump yours. “Well, don’t take tonight too hard, okay? You’re a catch.”

Feeling bashful, you fold you arms and smile, looking down at the floor and away from the vision that is him.

You kick your foot out to boop his in return, with your sizeable, fluffy slipper. “Well. You’re pretty bangable too, you know. Someone will snap you right up, as soon as you’re ready.”

Someone.

He turns his mouth downward, and tilts his head to the side. “Hmm,” he says as if considering your point. “Kinda looking for a little more than a bang though. I want someone who can be my best friend too. And... best friends? They’re kinda hard to come by.”

Your heart hammers in your chest. His tone is casual, but his eyes are earnest, and your desire unravels like spools of red ribbons from your core.

The way he’s looking at you, from beneath his lashes, a smirk developing at the corners of his lips has you almost collapsed to the floor with yearning, and you think, if he doesn’t step away from your door soon, you will find it hard to resist the temptation to drag him inside - if he’s willing. You will be tempted to let these ribbons wind around him and coax him to you.

However, Santi simply lets his comment hang in the space between you as you fumble for a response, before turning away and shuffling down the hall and towards his room.

“Goodnight, hermosa,” he calls, the pet name lighting you on fire. Beautiful.

“‘Night,” you call back to him, as casually as possible, before disappearing hurriedly inside your door and throwing yourself face down on to the bed with a silent scream.

Santi, for his part, reaches his respective room, and throws himself backwards on to the bed, having to fight the urge to run straight back to your room and kiss you senseless, if he’s honest. As he sighs out a huge breath and brings his hands up to his face, a light chuckle befalls him, and he has to consider what’s so funny. He lands on it quickly.

She - his ex- must hate this living arrangement, he realises. She’d always thought the two of you had something. She’d insisted. Had gotten mad jealous over it too. In all honesty, Santi had never seen it. Or, not at the time, at least.

Perhaps the timing had never been right.

...Not until now, perhaps?

****

The atmosphere is different in the morning. More settled, thanks goodness.

You’re up earlier than Santi, and you get to work in the smaller guest bedroom, which you had kept off-limits to him the day prior. When you’re ready, you call down to him - he’s in the kitchen getting a head start on breakfast- insisting that he comes upstairs.

He pads up to find you in the hall, stood with a huge smile plastered on your face.

“I have a surprise for you,” you announce to him, and, a curious, happy look blooms over his sharp features.

“Okay,” he says, oblivious, but his interest piqued as you swing the door open and hustle him inside ahead of you, clinging to his t-shirt.

“It’s not finished yet,” you explain from behind him as he moves his head to look around the room, freshly painted and carpeted, and entirely different to how it looked before. “Ava still likes purple, right?” you say to his back, delight infusing your voice as he takes it all in. “Oh, and the birds-“ you point “-the boys and I each painted one. Benny’s is super wonky. I know it’s cheesy as all hell, but we wanted to remind you that you -and Ava- you’ll always have us as family.”

Santi doesn’t say anything. He can’t. He’s speechless with gratitude. It is all he can do to look around the room and take in all of the details. The little bed and princess canopy, the shelves lined with a few books to start her off.

This is something he didn’t dream he would be able to give Ava again for a long time. At least, not without some coordinates and a shovel.

He rasps one hand over his stubble, and you come up beside him, seeing that his eyes are full with tears, and his face pinched, as he fights to supress his emotions. He doesn’t cry often, and there’s not a lot that can reduce him to tears, so you can tell from his reaction how much this all means to him.

Your voice and your manner softening, you slot both of your hands around one of his and give him a squeeze there, before rubbing soothing circles into his back.

When you speak again, your voice is full, cracking with emotion. “I know this can’t be easy, Santi. And you need to know that you are home for Ava, wherever you are, whatever happens. But I thought this would help a little too?” He sneakily thumbs away a tear from the corner of his eye as your words overwhelm him. “I hope I didn’t take too much of a liberty,” you continue, looking around the room, and wandering deeper into it. “Thought I’d get it half-done and then you could choose the rest with Ava tomorrow?”

You turn back to him, smiling over your shoulder before turning all the way, your expression bright and hopeful and everything he hasn’t been able to muster for himself.

Still choked-up, Santi takes a few steps forward to meet you in the centre of the room, his long lashes beaded with diamond-like tears. He takes your hands in his, one to each side, and he presses his forehead against yours.

“Thank you,” he rasps, his voice full of holes, and your own eyes overflow too as his hands squeeze yours, happy that he’s happy, and sad that he’s in pain too.

After a few moments like this, the yearning creeps in, and, lest it invade everything, you extricate yourself from him gently, padding towards the door and offering, in a soft voice, to give him a minute alone.

“Wait,” he says, his voice catching you as you reach the hallway, evidently yielding a great deal of power for such a breathy thing, and it halts you in your tracks. “Can I try something?”

“Try what?” you ask, your heart and your voice fluttering in tandem, as Santi moves towards you in the hall with purpose.

“Can I kiss you?” His eyes search yours, brimming with emotion and softness and yearning too, his thumb and forefinger coming-up to clasp your chin tenderly in his grip.

“Is this a good idea?” you babble, as his lips hover moments from yours, and you are drawn to him with an achingly slow gravity. “You’re emotional, and you’re rushing and maybe you’re projecting or... maybe a million other things and I... really like you,” you say, raising your hands in between you, your palms pressed to his chest as your voice catches on hooks in your throat - keeping him at a slight distance before you can succumb to him. Immediately, he stops his advances, one hand winding gently around your waist. “Santi, I mean, I really like you,” you elaborate, you voice brittle and coming undone.

As much as you want this -have wanted this-you couldn’t face being one of his whims or mistakes or bad decisions. You couldn’t face being something he ended up leaving behind. He means too much to you for that.

Sensing your pain now, Santi smiles softly at you, not angry or offended in the slighest, but nodding in understanding. Tenderly, he trails the pad of his thumb along your jawline, and across your lower lip. He still finds apprehension in your eyes, and so, instead of the kiss he craves, he holds your head gently with one of his hands, and he dips forward to plant a soft, lingering kiss on your forehead, your eyes fluttering closed and a single tear spilling out of you as it lands.

Then, he pulls back, both of you wearing watery smiles, and feeling more than a little frayed around the edges.

“I get it,” he admits, nodding slowly. “On paper, this seems like another of my bad fucking ideas, doesn’t it? But...” he explains softly, eyes shining at you. “I feel as though I finally have things figured out. I feel like I know where I’m supposed to be.”

You nibble on your lower lip, a tentative, shy smile brewing. “Guess that was one powerful dress I wore last night, huh?”

“Hmm,” he considers, with a gentle chuckle. “It was, for sure, honey. Honestly though? This sports bra and overalls get-up is doing it for me too,” he admits, with a lopsided grin, nodding down at your DIY outfit.

You examine his eyes in disbelief. You can’t believe that he’s looking at you like that. Like you’ve always wanted; and yet... you essentially knocked him back, your nerves and anxieties getting the better of you, despite his lips being moments from yours.

“Look, I’m sorry,” you gulp, eyes heavy with apology.

“Don’t worry,” he says, tilting his head towards the end of the hallway. “Let’s go make some more coffee. Also, I think you deserve some pancakes, sweetie.” He offers his hand to you and with a gentle song in your heart you take it, Santi leading you back downstairs into the kitchen.

You giggle, suddenly giddy as you shake out your remaining nerves and shock and doubts. As you settle.

By the time you watch Santi open-up the cupboards and search inside, turning back to you to ask if you want chocolate chip pancakes, a tiny note of delight in his eyes, he finds you looking at him with a gentle heat, brewing and eddying and clasping him in its tendrils, dragging him under with you. It causes him to double-take as he looks between you and the food-stuffs, until you have his whole attention. Until the world around him shrinks to you.

“Santi,” you suspire, tugging on his t-shirt to spin him towards you, your voice shaking like a leaf. “You took me by surprise up there. Any chance we can... C-Can we... try that again?”

A gulp trails down his throat, mirroring the heat sinking and settling into your core, even with the mere anticipation of his lips brushing against yours; of feeling his warmth where you have long been cold. You watch his tongue darting out to whet his lips, and it is as though you are already parted for him with the motion, your own lips already spread to accomodate the way he will delve into you, opening you up for him.

Then, Santi surges forward, hands holding you securely yet softly at your back and gathering you to his mouth, as if he is parched of you, all the yearning collapsing in on itself in one final surge as he flows into your arms. Yet, for all the force of your yearning meeting in the middle, and for the harsh initial crush of your lips, when the wave crashes, it is delicate and soft, his hand cupping your face and his tongue a delicate interlocuter, uttering promises against yours. Promises you are sure he will keep.

As the kiss deepens, you truly feel him, hard and sturdy everywhere around you except for this molten, supple tongue which courses into your being like a trail of fire. His kiss is like starlight tossed into a dark pit. You are lit but your hunger will never be sated; and instead you will kiss him and devour him again and again, opening yourself up to him to feed the dark.

Suddenly, with this kiss, his warmth is on you and filling you and one with you, unravelling, and you wonder what you ever did without it. How you ever felt at ease with this yearning within you; although, you suppose you didn’t. You suppose you longed for this divine quickening and stilling, this slickness and friction. You longed to feel him, and most of all, you longed for him to yearn for you in return.

And, finally, as the kiss wanes and you hold each other tightly, Santi considers that although he planned to stay in your house for a mere few months, he has a feeling his stay by your side will be far longer. And, on your side, as you hold him against you and this house feels like a haven in ways it never has before, you are content in the knolwedge that your travelling soldier is finally at ease.

Finally at home.

A home for one, but meant for more, finally fulfilling its purpose.

#santiago pope garcia x reader #santiago pope garcia #santiago garcia x reader #triple frontier #oscar isaac

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baku-writes · 3 years

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Omgggg I just love the hawks request you did it was amazing and sooo good imma request something similar to it but with DABI/ Touya todoroki can you do where the reader and Touya as children like yk childhood friends both grew up with parents who abused them and one day Touya was about to get beaten badly in training and the reader took it for them ( timeskip when they learnt Touya died they were absolutely sadand almost suicide? And DABI finds her in time and they just talk and confess? <333 :)

AAAAAA I LOVE THIS IDEA!! Personally, even though Dabi isn't my fav character I love his backstory. I just find it so interesting.

Touya todoroki x gn!reader (mostly children versions so angst and fluff)

TW: Abuse, fake suicide (?), suicidal thoughts, minor bodily injury (mentions of burnt skin, bruises and blood). ANGST, spoilers (?)

Back from the dead

Summary: you and touya todoroki grew up together and were both victims of brutal parenting. However, when you took the punishment for Touya it was the final straw... he wasn't Touya anymore...

Life was difficult.

It always had been.

Your entire life you were told you would be nothing, your parents beat you into submission until no motivation ever sparked within you other than to be what they wanted. They wanted a hero. The next number one, just like allmight. They didn't want another version of endeavor, but a capable young hero who could fight any villain and take them down with ease.

Your parents weren't pro heroes, both were rejected by UA and didn't pass the hero course for any other school. It crushed them. But also drove them to insanity. Everything they had ever worked for in their childhood come crashing down within a short period of their lives, that is how the both met. However, when they had you they saw a sadistic glimmer of hope. Hope that their 'spawn' could do what they couldn't and hope that their child could live out their dream for them.

And so they would train you. And train you. And train you. Until you couldn't walk, talk and sometimes even eat due to exhaustion. But once they realised they could no longer give you any more training boosts due to their lack of experience, they handed you off to the number 2, endeavour. Even though they despised him, if that is what they had to do to make you strong.... they were going to make you do it.

And there you met Touya. A young boy, the same age as you, with aspirations and dreams of becoming the hero his father wanted him to be. However, like your parents, they taught this motivation through sadistic punishments and abusive training.

It was obvious the kid was worn out. Burn scars scorched his arms and even his face. It confused you, but also made you protective of him. You hated how overworked he was. You hated to see him get hurt. Ofcourse you wouldn't tell anyone this, knowing your sadistic parents they would threaten his life to motivate you.

One day it was the usual training. Your parents dropped you off at the number 2's house, with only a single bottle of water and a small dirt kids towel. Your overgrown and unkept hair was in an uncomfortably tight messy bun and your limbs ached from the previous days grueling training.

The day started off as normal: using your quirk until you couldn't do it anymore or collapse from exhaustion. Your quirk is called manipulation, it allows you to manipulate the shapes of near by non living objects, fir example you could make a smooth rock spiky. However, your quirk took a lot of focus and energy, so far you could only use your quirk on objects as large as a vase, you were only young.

Touya was next to you, hot flames spewing from his hands and arms. Singing his skin and burning the near by area... that was until he noticed his dads near by ornament fall and shatter on the ground.

Was this ornament important to endeavor? No. But would he still be pissed? Yes.

Fear immediately clouded Touya's mind....

"Nonononono" his panicked cries began to fill the room as you ran over to him, his cries would only alert endeavour sooner. Not because endeavour would be worried for him, but because endeavour would be angry at whatever he had done.

"Touya calm down. Here, I'll sweep it u-"

You barely had time to look up when you hear the sound of the door slam and angry heavy footsteps head towards the training room. Oh no. He's heard.

The door slammed open and silence cascaded over the room. Everything went still as time began to slow, the only sound you could hear was your heart thumping against your rib cage. Touya was going to get hurt.... and you hated that.

"Touya..... did you break the ornament?" He was calm at first. Some may see this as a good sign, but you two know better. He was going to explode any minute, he was a ticking time bomb waiting to blow.

"DID YOU BREAK THE FUCKING THING?" His voice was raised, his steps heading towards the two of you.

He raised his hand, ready to hit his son until your voice chimed in. Weak and unconfident you stood in front of your chest friend as you spoke.

"It was me... I broke it."

Silence filled the room. The scowl on his face grew deeper as he grabbed onto your arm with force.

"You know what's going to happen. Don't tell a fucking soul, you hear me?"

.....

After around 10 minutes you left the backroom, beaten and bloodied. Ofcourse, it wasn't to a severe extent, but still enough to hurt and be noticed by any possible strangers.

Touya didn't speak to you for the rest of the day.... and the next day training was cancelled...

Touya was dead.... death by fire. It was suicide. You knew it.

(TIME SKIP, CURRENT TIME)

The fall from the bridge seemed welcoming. You had got no where in life, running away from your parents at the age of 16 you found yourself helpless and homeless years later.

Recently, you discovered everything was a lie... Toiya wasn't dead... well the Touya you knew was. But the body if him was alive, just being controlled by a man who goes by the name "Dabi". You didn't want to accept that ot was your friend, you didn't want to accept the fact that you still liked him. He was a murderer... you should hate him. But what you hated even more was how you pitied endeavour, the abuser who tortured you two and lead his own son to 'suicide'. He had changed, but you will never forgive him.

The hopelessness and confusion in your life was too much. You let the cool air whip against your face for the final few minutes, you might as well enjoy the last moments in your life. Ironically, it was peaceful, you never really got peace before. And it had to be your final moments that ot decided to make an appearance.

Now was the time. The time to end this miserable life. The time to end the memories and pain that tormented you for years. You would never have to get hurt again, the pain will just stop and never appear. No one will miss you, your friend is gone and your family was never there. Tears began to pour down your face as you realised your life was nothing but a misery... you never even lived. You just survived...

You took a step closer to the ledge.

Until you felt a harsh tug pull you back and force you onto the concrete floor.

"OW WHAT THE HELL?!"

Your head shot up to glare at who ever pulled you down to the ground. But your blood ran cold as a white haired 5'9 figure covered in burn scars stood in front of you...

"D-dabi."

Shock overwhelmed your system, the tears ran down your face faster as you come face to face with your 'dead' best friend. The boy who abandoned you all those years ago..... the man who you never got over...

"Come on now, you know that's not my name." His smile creased his face and wrinkled his scars a little and his held out his hand to you. Warily, you took his hand and allowed him to pull you up. Should you trust him? He was a murderer.... but he was your friend.....

"Long time no see, huh?" He chuckled a little bit. Was this a fucking normal meeting for him. Is he making a guxking joke out of this.... after he abandoned you all those years ago, just to become some low life thug who murders people. INNOCENT PEOPLE.

"What the fuck? Is this funny to you? You think this is funny? Laughing when you left me all those years ago. Laughing when you become this.... a- a... A monster, a freak who murderers out of revenge? Fuck you."

Anger shot through you. You don't care if this gets you killed, either he will do it or you'll do it yourself. He was a monster. A killer. Everything you ever despised in one person. A person you used to love turned into a revenge crazed maniac who kills the innocent.

Surprise flooded his features as you rammed a finger into his chest.

"YOU KILL INNOCENT PEOPLE. YOU HAVE PROBABLY KILLED FUCKING CHILDREN! Who the hell do you think you are coming to see me after what, 5 to 10 years? FUCK I don't even remember anymore because I don't see the point in keeping track of the days I had to live thinking you died! You're a monster...."

Your figure began to crumple, your tough exterior caving in as your pent up emotions broke free from their cage. You collapsed into his arms as he ran a soothing hand down your back. You were so confused.... you were angry yet happy. Sad at what he had become but proud of his strength to fight back...

"Why did you leave me Touya? I c-could of saved you..."

The cool breeze blew against the two of you as Touya continued running soothing strokes down your back. Suprisingly, he was guilty. But he wasn't here to see you upset. He was here to get you, save you, help you. He was here to take you to the LOV, his new family.

"I know I left, but I'm here now. I'm taking you to the League, but I promise they won't hurt you. They are family, you want to change the world right? Fix society? That's our goal too. We have all been hurt one way or another.... but please. Come with me. Let me make up for the time we have missed out on so far, let me be the man you need."

You looked up at him, your eyes sore from crying and nose running. Slowly, you nodded. His warm embrace was welcoming, the first hug you have had in at least 5 years.

"Okay...... but you have to take ms out on a date first." A small goggle escaped your lips as you expected a disgusted face to scrunch his features.

But instead...

"Sure, but we're heading over to the LOV hide out right now sweetheart."

Surprise filled your features as be smiled again, his smile just like his old self.

....

Maybe the new Touya wasn't that bad... maybe the old Touya never left...

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

Never wrote for Dabi before so I hope this is good enough!!! Sorry if it took a while to write, I've had a few mental health things pop up within the last 2 days but I'm going to be okay <33. Let me know if this is what you wanted 💞💞

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notchesandbullets · 3 years

Text

Saving Her (Ojiro Mashirao x Wolf!Reader)

A/N: dedicated to the anon who wanted me to write a oneshot about ojiro giving the reader a gift, this fanfic is for you 💖💖 this is incredibly self-indulgent and ive been working on it for over a month now. its almost done but i’ll post what i have so far, i hope you like it!!

Contains reluctant Aizawa to soft Dadzawa, annoying brother Shinsou, pure Eri-chan, bakugou's notorious cursing, sweet and innocent fluff between reader-chan and Ojiro. First friend Ojiro to best friend and then lover. Featuring the rest of Class 1-A and them acting like hooligans.

Part 1: Crashing into Ojiro, Room Competition, meeting Class 1-A and Aizawa, who has some bad news for you when you’re discovered.

Word Count: 7k

The sun was setting, casting a golden glow over the busy city of Musutafu.

Ojiro had planned on taking Tokoyami with him, but his friend was still in the middle of unpacking as he was leaving.

He was on the way back to the dorms from the grocery store with a bag of ingredients and sweets as per Sato's request. It was a bit longer of a walking distance since he was so used to coming from his house and would take some getting used to, now that Heights Alliance was his home.

The streets weren't any busier than usual, but when he saw something flicker out of the corner of his eyes off to the side, he couldn't help but feel as though something was wrong.

Maybe it was his hero blood or something stronger but he didn't waste any time diving into action.

As he rounded the corner, his eyes widened as someone crashed into him, nearly toppling him over. He caught his balance just in time, steadying the person that had collided into his chest but not before he saw it.

Blood matting down your hair had his heart dropping in horror. You were trembling in his arms, positively terrified and it didn't take long to figure out what the cause of your stress was when two more figures slinked out of the shadows.

Ojiro acted quickly, using his tail to whisk the two of you higher until you were out of sight. He curled his arms tightly but carefully around your waist, making sure that you wouldn't fall.

Thanks to Ectoplasm's guidance, he had refined his skills and learned how to be unpredictable.

It wasn't until you two were safely on top of the nearest roof did he loosen his grip. Leaning over the edge cautiously, he watched the strangers bolt off in opposite directions, presumably to look for you. He was pretty sure they didn't see him take you away but he wasn't completely certain. Pulling back, he released you from his hold. But he didn't take any offense to the way you practically flew from his touch.

He could see it in your eyes. Fear as deep as yours shouldn't ever be allowed to get that far, for anyone.

You hugged your trembling body with your arms, desperately willing the anxiety to die down so that you could think straight. All you could think about was running. Far, far away where no one could get to you.

"Ah... sorry to take you away so suddenly like that, but it looked like you seemed to be in trouble." Ojiro apologized.

His sheepish tone made you finally break out of your thoughts and for a moment, the two of you didn't say anything, both of you enamored with the other as you got a proper look.

He didn't think he had ever seen anyone as beautiful as you before. Round orbs blinking up at him curiously, your fuzzy ears perched on top of your head perked up as you met his gaze, bushy tail twitching behind you.

As for you, your mouth dried at the sight of your savior. His golden hair and kind smile made your heart skip a beat for reasons unknown to you. You couldn't stop your tail from thumping excitedly against the rooftop when you saw his tail.

It was much bigger and looked much stronger than yours was and you couldn't stop from bounding over to it eagerly, stretching out a tentative hand to touch it.

But you halted at the last second and recoiled, expecting to be punished for your behavior.

Ojiro frowned, taking notice of your trepidation and offered you an encouraging smile. "It's okay, you can touch it if you'd like."

He lifted his tail slightly, inviting your curiosity forth and a bit nervously, you reached out your hand once again. A wide smile split your features as you felt the soft, short fur underneath, your other hand going up to pet your ears, as if to compare the softness.

Ojiro couldn't help but match your smile at that, finding it adorable. Tucking his legs underneath him so that you could still play with his tail, he breached the topic sensitively.

"What's your name?" He asked quietly. "Who were those guys that were after you?"

At first, you seized up and for a minute there, he was worried he went about asking you the wrong way. But a deep sigh left your lungs and testing the waters, you timidly introduced yourself and began to explain in a concise way, your current situation.

You honestly weren't entirely sure how you got there.

But one bad thing after another landed you in a pretty rough neighborhood notorious for Quirk Traffickers. They looked for people with unique abilities that would sell well on the black market. People paid a lot of money to own those they deemed exotic, particularly kids and teens with quirks that had an effect on their physical appearance.

You were no exception, having been cursed with an extremely rare wolf quirk. All it ever brought you was trouble.

You had heard that quirks were hereditary but yours definitely wasn't. You don't know which ancestor it came from when it appeared out of the blue.

Tiny fangs, fluffy ears and a tail emerged one day. But your excitement of discovering it was short-lived when you were abandoned by your parents the very next day. They had found it disgusting.

Young and innocent, you wandered the streets, not sure what you were supposed to do. That's when they caught you.

You bounced from one owner to another, never staying in one place for very long. You had been brought back to their base of operations in Japan, your last master less than satisfied with you since all you did was hide out of fear of everyone, lashing out when he tried to approach you.

You may or may not have bitten a guest when they tried to touch your ears.

Back in your homeland, that's when you saw your opening.

You didn't know what propelled your legs to start running from the men but pretty soon you were out of breath and out of options. Alone in the alleyway, but not for long, you frantically scanned for an escape route.

And that's when you crashed into him.

A shadow fell over Ojiro's face as he heard you explain your past, hands balling into fists at his sides. He wouldn't stand behind while someone was tormenting you. No hero would allow something like this to continue.

Coming to his decision instantly, he stood up, extending a hand out to you.

"Y/N, will you come with me?" He asked, gaze unwavering. "I think I know where you'll be safe, at least for now."

You paused, skeptical. "I-I... I don't know."

He squatted down beside you, patting your head gently. If there was more time, he would've been more patient but he couldn't help but feel uneasy the longer you guys stayed out in the open. Even if you were out of sight, a rooftop wasn't a permanent place for you to hide out in.

Your eyes went wide but you didn't shrink away. You didn't know why. Anytime someone reached for your head, they always had this glint in their eyes, but this time, he looked desperate.

Desperate for you to believe him.

"You must have a hard time trusting people after all you've been through." Ojiro empathized before urgency seeped into his tone. "I really don't want to leave you alone. My sensei might be able to help you but only if you come with me."

You still didn't look entirely convinced but he didn't blame you.

"If you don't like what he says, then you don't have to listen." Ojiro reassured you easily. "No one's going to force you to do anything. You can make your own choice but let me at least give you more options."

That was what finally made you drop your guard, still wary but choosing to trust him for now. After all, he did save you earlier.

You put your hand in his, cheeks warming as he squeezed it slightly.

"Okay."

The two of you traveled to Heights Alliance, the dormitory for Class 1-A of UA High School. He immediately found his teacher, Aizawa, and told him of your circumstances. The man's rough and rugged appearance caused fear to flash through you but only for an instant.

He concealed it well but he seemed kind. Not outwardly like Ojiro, but it was enough to reassure you for now.

All throughout Ojiro's explanation, you hid behind his broad back, shivering at the way his tail curled around your waist to keep you close to him.

It was weird. It didn't feel restricting like you expected it to, it almost felt protective. You kind of liked it. You giggled as the furry tip of his tail tickled your nose playfully and you batted at it, eyes shining as you momentarily forgot where you were.

Aizawa was silent as his student finished explaining why he had a wolf girl attached to his side, scratching the back of his neck as he racked his brain to come up with a solution that wouldn't land you back in that same place again but also without compromising the safety of his students.

Since you were an orphan and a minor, the police would most likely take you to an orphanage, in which case the people looking for you would certainly find you. Aizawa called Principal Nezu and got permission from him to house you at the dorms until the threat hanging over your head was dealt with by the authorities.

You blinked when he asked you if you wanted to stay with them for the time being while they ironed out all the details and see what could be done for a more permanent residence but accepted his offer with a shy and grateful smile.

Then was the matter of actually carrying it out.

The two wanted to settle you in a room of your own but your ears flattened against your head in distress at the suggestion so they quickly dropped that idea.

Aizawa ran a hand tiredly through his hair, unsure of how to resolve this when you clearly were in danger but didn't want to be left alone. The less people that knew of your whereabouts the better and even though he knew Yaoyorozu would probably do a good job looking after you, you clung to Ojiro's side like glue.

You seemed the most comfortable with him and he figured they could use that for now.

Needless to say, Ojiro was surprised when Aizawa suggested he take care of you until the man could figure out a way to accommodate you without you having an anxiety attack but he readily agreed with a slight blush on his face.

He just wanted you to be safe and happy and he was stunned that his sensei trusted him enough to be responsible for you.

Aizawa promptly handed him a small first-aid kit to take care of the blood smeared on your forehead after ensuring that it wasn't anything serious. It was just a slight nick, shallow enough not to need any stitches since it would heal relatively quickly. He told him to clean it before it got infected and his student nodded seriously.

"You can count on me, Aizawa-sensei!!" Ojiro said, bowing respectfully to thank him for all he had done before leaving.

With Ojiro guiding the way, the two of you snuck through the back door and up into his room for you to get settled in. The other students in his class were bustling around the common floor, moving all their things into their respective rooms, hoping to get it done before dark.

It was loud and chaotic, or maybe that was just your sensitive ears picking up on it more. Curiosity peaked, you peeked around the corner after you ensured you were out of their sight, gaze falling on the activity going on below from the second floor.

Ojiro softly pointed each one of them out, telling you their names as they talked over each other.

"I can't believe we get to live together!!" Ashido exclaimed happily, doing a little dance in front of Hagakure and Uraraka. "This is so exciting!!"

"I can't believe my parents agreed to it!!" The invisible girl commented, undoubtedly puffing out her cheeks.

The red-haired and yellow-haired boys who were wrestling in the corner paused for a second to join in on the girls' conversation.

"Did you have a hard time convincing them?" Kirishima asked, only to be smacked upside the head by Kaminari. "Ow, what the heck man?!"

"Why are you asking such a dumb question?" The electric boy retorted, kicking up his feet and smirking. "She could've always just snuck out of the house if they said no. You know, invisibility quirk and all."

He leaped up with a yelp as something shocked him from behind, whirling around to glare at Jirou, who was twirling her earphone jack around a finger nonchalantly.

She sighed, retracting the other one from where she had send an electric pulse through him. "What an idiot."

Kaminari gripped his hair, nearly tearing it out in frustration. "That's what I'm saying!!"

Sero, who was passing by with a box full of his things, stopped and raised an eyebrow. "You know she's talking about you, right?"

"That's not true!!" Kaminari shouted incredulously.

"It's true." Jirou retorted flatly.

The others in the vicinity burst into laughter and you couldn't help but giggle a bit along with them, muffling the sound behind your hand in fear that they would catch you spying on them.

Ojiro's tail twined around your waist gently, steering you towards the elevators. "C'mon, this way."

That contraption alone was the most nerve-wracking thing you've experienced so far. Luckily, the ride wasn't long but that was the only upside. Your tail swished nervously behind you and you didn't relax until the door to his room on the third floor softly clicked closed behind you.

Ojiro breathed a sigh of relief, glancing up at you. You had made it without being spotted by anyone. Thankfully.

He didn't have many things, so moving in wasn't a problem for him and it didn't take too long. He was one of the first ones to finish, along with Shoji, and helped Sato unpack his things until his friend noticed he needed some more ingredients for the cake he wanted to make later on.

The plastic bag crinkled as he took out the snacks he had found while he was getting Sato more flour and sugar. Your nose twitched cutely and he had to refrain from poking your cheek, lest he scare you off.

Your tail was less frazzled now and he took it as a sign that you were getting accustomed to your surroundings.

His eyes softened as you took in his room, pawing at the neat collection of books on his desk before your attention flitted up to the high shelving above your head.

This time, Ojiro couldn't contain his fond smile as he reached over you to grab what you were longingly looking at.

Your eyes went wide as his chest pressed against your back, he easily reached it since he was taller than you. A small giraffe plushie landed in your hands not long after.

He tilted his head, eyes crinkling at the edges as he smiled at you. "Cute, right?"

His little sister, Holly, gave it to him as a going-away present when he moved into the dorms. He missed her so much already but the presence of this little stuffed giraffe soothed his heart.

You held it so gently, as if you were scared you would destroy it.

"Yeah..." You trailed off quietly and he beamed.

It was his first time hearing your voice so unrestrained and free from the fear that gripped you earlier but nothing could have prepared him for how pure and precious it was. He ruffled your hair gently, being mindful of your fluffy ears and looking out for any signs you were uncomfortable with the affectionate gesture.

But his heart skipped a beat when you closed your eyes at his touch, clearly enjoying it and even going so far as to butt your head against his hand in a silent plea for more pets.

You flushed when he chuckled, obliging you for a minute longer until you were like putty in his hands.

The both of you jumped when a loud crash came from downstairs, accompanied by a flurry of enraged shouting and colorful insults even through the many floors. Ojiro casted a worried glance at you but all his concern melted away when a little giggle left your lips.

Relieved that you didn't seem to be too shaken by the noise, he offered the snacks he bought earlier, taking the package and ripping it open for you when you fumbled with it.

Thanking him quietly, you nibbled on the food gratefully. The flavors exploded in your mouth and you positively beamed, radiating the same pure energy you emitted earlier when you had spoken to him.

Ojiro maneuvered around you, finding what he was looking for pretty quickly.

You looked up curiously when he came back, shifting your weight on your knees, unsure of why he was holding a water bottle in your field of vision.

"I need to treat your cut, is that okay?" He asked, unscrewing the cap and pouring a little bit on the cloth he got from the first-aid kit. He didn't want to startle you, so he narrated what he was doing.

You nodded, setting down your half-eaten cookie carefully and brushed back your tangled hair as much as you could so that it wasn't in the way.

Your breath caught in your throat when he moved closer to you. He angled your chin up, gazing into your eyes as he wiped the blood away first to assess the damage done.

"It's going to sting a little bit." He murmured, preparing the antibiotic.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you gripped onto the lapels of his blazer, practically ripping it as your claws came out when he dabbed the cut. You whimpered in pain, tears leaking out of the corner of your eyes at how much it hurt.

Ojiro faltered, your whimper sending a spike straight through his heart and he hastened, not wanting you to be in pain any longer. But he was thorough, well aware that if he didn't do a good job now, there was a chance you would have to endure it again. As soon as he disinfected it, he applied a couple butterfly closures to aid the healing process.

It wasn't bleeding anymore and he sighed in relief.

You panted heavily when he was finally done. Rubbing your eyes furiously, you blinked through your blurry vision, frantically scanning the room as his warmth suddenly disappeared.

"Y/N-chan?"

The voice was close by but not close enough. Your breathing started to pick up, hands clammy and tail fluffed out. An obvious sign you were stressed.

"Y/N-chan!!"

This time, it was a lot closer and you sank back, relieved beyond belief as the familiar sensation of his tail encircling your waist returned.

You stammered out his name, blindly reaching for him.

"Where did you go?" Your whispered, fingers trembling uncontrollably as he pulled you into his chest.

"Just had to put away the bandages." He reassured you, concerned with how quickly you were to losing it. "Are you okay?"

Your ears flopped back and forth at how vigorously you nodded, as if you needed to convince him like your life depended on it and his mouth twisted into a small frown.

"You don't have to do that." He said, going to pet you once more, smiling in relief as your tail finally stopped lashing behind you.

"... 'm sorry." You mumbled sadly, clutching onto the front of his jacket.

"It's okay." Ojiro replied, stroking your hair to calm you down. "You didn't do anything wrong."

Just how much pain had you endured?

This time when he stood up, you were okay. Somehow comforted that he wasn't going to go anywhere anytime soon, you polished off your snack as he got something else from the closet.

"Here."

You perked up at the sight of the blue hoodie in his outstretched hand.

Ojiro laughed at your expression of awe as you accepted it and ran your fingers over the material. "You seemed cold so how about you hang onto this for now?"

It was one of his lounging hoodies that he didn't wear too often but it was rather warm and would hopefully stop you from shivering. That tattered dress you were wearing looked like it was about to go any second. He didn't want to know how weak your immune system was to be freezing cold in the middle of August.

You beamed happily, bowing repeatedly. "Thank you, Ojiro-san!!"

It had gotten stuck over your head when you tried to pull it down though and with a muffled squeak that gained his attention, he tugged down the hem, smiling when your ears and flushed face popped through.

Just when I thought she couldn't get any cuter... He thought to himself as you began to run around the room, climbing on anything and everything once he told you that he didn't mind.

His clothes swallowed your smaller frame and he found it incredibly endearing with the way you would flap your arms around, claiming you had sweater paws. It fell just above your knees, keeping it modest.

He steered you away from the balcony for now, wanting you to stay where he could keep an eye on you.

After a few more hours of you getting adjusted, you had tuckered yourself out and curled up into a ball on the floor at the foot of his bed.

Ojiro frowned once he noticed you taking a nap on the hard surface, abandoning his studying at his desk to take you in his arms and placing you in his bed.

You stirred, heavy eyelids struggling to open as you croaked out, "W-What? Ojiro-san, what's going on??"

"You can't sleep on the floor, Y/N-chan." He chided lightly. "It's not good for your back."

Sleepy haze diminishing, you bolted upright, nearly smacking him in the face when you realized where he had put you.

"I can't sleep in your bed!!" You burst out incredulously.

Ojiro hushed you, worriedly glancing at the door as if his friends would come barging in without any warning but luckily they didn't. He didn't put it past them but this was one time where he didn't want them to do that.

He tried to ease you back down but you wouldn't obey.

"Don't worry, the sheets are new." He reassured.

His eyebrow furrowed when you shook your head violently from side to side, wondering what you were so worked up about. You tried to climb out and he let you but didn't let you go too far.

"What's wrong?" He asked quickly, the possibility that he had offended you coming to light. "I didn't mean to—"

"I'm not allowed to!!" You suddenly blurted out.

He did a double take and you looked over his shoulder, your eyes darting everywhere else besides him.

Crouching down to your level, he soothed you gently. "Hey, it's okay. What do you mean you're not allowed to?"

You absentmindedly picked at the wound closures on your forehead, swallowing thickly when he took your hand in his to prevent you from messing with the bandages.

"Y/N-chan?" He prompted.

Your mutter was so quiet he had to strain himself to hear you right and when he did, he asked you to repeat it because by All Might was his blood boiling if he heard you correctly.

You gulped, intimidated by the brazen anger in his eyes, fiddling with the hem of his hoodie.

"They said we're animals and called us dirty. We're not supposed to sleep where humans do." With each word, you got quieter until his face was right in front of yours. "They were right... weren't they?"

Squeaking as you got engulfed in a hug, you tensed up and he broke it, apologizing profusely.

"I'm sorry, I just," He ran a hand through his hair, conflicted. "They couldn't be more wrong."

He didn't touch you but he didn't need to for you to feel his warm presence extending out towards you and covering you in the most love you've experienced since your parents left.

"You might have an animal quirk but you're human just like the rest of us and don't deserve to be treated any less than that by anyone." He emphasized, then pounded a fist to his chest. "From now on, I'll look out for you and show you what it's like to be treated like an equal, as a friend, if you'll let me."

Ojiro held out his hand. "Deal?"

You sniffled, unbelievably moved by his kindness after only knowing you for less than a day. "Deal."

You sealed it with a handshake and he gestured to the rumpled bed behind him.

Waving his hand grandly, he proclaimed, "Your napping space awaits."

He internally winced at how corny that sounded but hearing your laughter ring in the air more than made up for it. As he helped you settle beneath the covers, he reassured you constantly but patiently that you really were allowed to sleep in a bed and no, you weren't bothering him or being a burden.

After that, you couldn't fall asleep right away and he really didn't want to study anymore so the two of you talked.

He told you about his family, how he got into UA, stuttering nervously a couple of times only to shoot you a grateful smile when you didn't judge or make fun of him. He told you about his little sister, a cute, precious little girl who was growing up faster than he liked to admit. Retelling and entertaining you with stories of his classmates and their adventures, his tail flicked up excitedly when you started to chime in with experiences of your own.

Things you could remember from your past. Foods you liked, hobbies you had, friends you liked to play with, and he listened attentively through it all. When you started to drift off, you sleepily mumbled offhandedly how you liked it when he patted your head or rubbed your ears.

And you especially liked it when he would hug you with his tail.

Ojiro just smiled softly, tucking the blanket around you before brushing the hair away from your face. You looked so peaceful. He got to his feet and stretched his arms over his head, jaw dropping in surprise when his gaze landed on the bag discarded on the floor. He had completely forgotten about that.

Shaking your shoulder to rouse you from your tranquil state, he whispered apologies when you finally opened your eyes.

"I'm so sorry I woke you up but I have to go to Sato-kun's room really quick to give him the flour and sugar I bought earlier, okay?" He rushed out, tripping over his words to get it out faster so that you could go back to sleep.

"Can't I go with you?" You mumbled, still half asleep.

Ojiro shook his head, remembering what Aizawa said about exposure. Sure, he trusted his classmates but there was a big difference between what he wanted and what was logical. Your chances were better off with the less that people knew you of your whereabouts so he refused, even though it nearly broke his heart when you trained your wide orbs on him.

Pushing out your bottom lip slightly, tears collected at the corner of your eyes. "You don't want me there?"

He was quick to kneel down by your side, unable to stop himself from pressing his forehead to your temple in a desperate attempt to make the sadness in your voice fade away.

"No, no, princess, it's not that at all." The pet name slipped out faster than he could stop it but he didn't even stop. "You're safer here for right now. And I'll only be gone for a minute."

He rubbed the back of your hand with his thumb. "Okay?"

You mustered up a wobbly smile for him. "Okay..."

He wanted to text Sato to come to his room to pick it up so that he wouldn't have to leave you but that would stir up questions, especially since he wouldn't allow his friend inside and that would undoubtedly create a mayhem within his peers at what he was hiding. For aspiring heroes, they were still teenagers after all. And they loved to bug each other like it, too.

Ojiro sighed as he forced himself to detach from you, tucking the blanket securely around you before he stepped quietly out the door.

For once in his life, he kind of wished he wasn't living with his classmates.

After he left, you tried to quell the anxiety and insecurities. Twisting and turning, your mind raced, spiraling out of control. He didn't abandon you, he was just returning something to his friend. He would be back soon. He promised you.

But as the minutes ticked by, it felt like hours and you couldn't wait any longer. Throwing off the covers, your legs shook as you stepped towards the door. However, you froze in place and your ears twitched, picking up the sounds faster than the average human which normally would've given you an advantage but you couldn't move in time.

The door flew open with a bang, slamming into the wall and making you jump nearly five feet into the air. On the other side stood the girl with pink hair and skin that you had seen earlier, along with the electric boy and a few others you didn't recognize.

You shrunk back as the group exploded into chaos, directing questions towards you faster than you could process or fend off on your own. Your panic rose as they flooded in, clutching your hands tightly to your chest at the overwhelming amount of people in the cramped space.

Then, your eyes widened as someone shouted frantically for them to move, shouldering his way through until he came to you. You willed your feet to move but they wouldn't obey no matter how hard you tried, your body still frozen in fear. It didn't matter though because he reached you within seconds.

"Guys, seriously, back off!!" Ojiro shouted above the clamor, his tail pulling you close and tucked you under his arm. "You're scaring her!!"

At the strain in his usually light tone, his friends started to quiet down one by one and he turned his full attention on you.

"You okay?" He murmured, cradling your jaw and inspecting your face for any hint that you might've been hurt.

You didn't say anything, just threw your arms around him and brushed your nose against the crook of his neck, scenting him. His warm scent eased you and brought you back down bit by bit until your feet were planted firmly on the ground.

Even though he had no clue what you were doing, it was making the tension wound in your body disappear fast so he didn't have any issues with it. But his breath hitched as a soft rumble emitted from the back of your throat in contentment, squeezing you once before letting you go. He didn't detach his tail from you though, using it as a wall to keep his overeager friends from coming too close.

Ojiro let you do what you needed in that moment and in the minutes that followed, his friends began peppering you with questions. He let you keep your face nuzzled into his chest as you shyly answered them but he answered for you whenever you hesitated so that you wouldn't be put in an uncomfortable position of refusing them.

He had already seen what you were like when something that was normal for them went against what was ingrained into you and his arms curled around you tighter in an effort to protect you.

You were thankful for him taking most of the pressure off of you, timidly straying from his side when he encouraged you to talk to the girls a little bit more. You warmed up to them much faster than the rest, your eyes brightening up excitedly when they told you there was a girl among their friend group who had a frog quirk.

He sighed as Yaoyorozu and Ashido led you away from the boys with the rest of the girls in tow to go to a space where the environment would be better for you. Feeling bad that the secret had gotten out already, he winced as he thought of the penalty he would face once he told Aizawa.

Kaminari smirked, leaning against the doorframe after you exited. "Man, where have you been hiding her?"

Ojiro shot him a look that told him to keep quiet, not in the mood for playing around. "That's not funny."

"C'mon man, we're just teasing." Kirishima added on, not picking up on the tense energy of the room. "You could've at least told us you had a girlfriend, she's really cute."

"If not a little shy." Sero grinned, elbowing him in the ribs teasingly. "Don't worry, it's not like we're going to steal her away or anything."

"You should not have a girl in your room, Ojiro!!" Iida declared, chopping his hands in the air to emphasize his point despite the inconsiderate snickering occurring on the other side of the room by the three of them. "It is not appropriate!!"

Shoji, Sato and Koda all elected to remain silent, studying their friend's shadowed expression as their other classmates relentlessly teased him.

Forehead creasing in annoyance at the continuous jabs, Ojiro blurted out, "Guys, stop!! It's not something to joke about!!"

He sank to the floor, head in his hands and for the first time since they burst in, the guys finally took notice of the way his shoulders shook and how anxiety seemed to roll off of him in waves.

"She's in real danger." Ojiro told them quietly. "There are bad people looking for her so you guys can't talk about her, alright?"

"Please." He begged, not caring how desperate he sounded.

All he wanted was for you to be safe. All he wanted was for you to live the life you had been robbed of without having to look over your shoulder to see if someone was following you or not.

Shoji uncrossed his duplicate arms, stance broadening. "We won't."

"Yeah," Kirishima inserted, rubbing the back of his neck, ashamed of his behavior earlier. "Sorry man, had no idea."

Scattered apologies followed his and reluctantly, Ojiro raised his head, mouth set in a determined line. He didn't answer too many questions about your situation, wanting to keep as much of it as he could private until he knew how you felt about telling them and stood up. Now that damage control had been dealt with, all that was left was to tell Aizawa.

Piece of cake.

Back with the girls, you were dragged back to the elevators to get to the girls' side. Since Jirou's was the closest, you guys went there. Your expression filled with awe at the many instruments that hung on the walls, wanting to touch them but you didn't want to get in trouble so you kept your hands stiffly by your sides.

Ashido enthusiastically led you to the plushiest spot on the floor and for a second, you were reminded of the little stuffed giraffe Ojiro let you play with when he caught you looking at it. A smile tugged at the corner of your lips and you jumped when the girls squealed.

"Who are you thinking about?" Ashido pried, eyes glimmering with mischief. "It's Ojiro-kun, isn't it?!"

Your mouth opened and closed, unable to form a response to that. You covered your ears when she shrieked excitedly, taking your silence as your answer and dancing around the room.

"Mina-chan, calm down, you're a little too loud." Yaoyorozu told her gently before reaching over to pat your shoulder. "Where did you come from?"

Mouth parting in shock at how blatant she was being, you twiddled with the strings of Ojiro's hoodie. "Um, well, they told me that my breed is mixed so I don't sell as well as a purebred but I'm fast and—"

"Oh goodness no!!" Ashido interrupted, eyes widened in horror and if you looked around you would've seen all the other girls wearing that exact same expression. "That's not what she meant!!"

Tilting your head to the side clueless, you frowned. "It's not?"

"No!!" Yaoyorozu exclaimed, horrified by what you had to have been through to respond like that on instinct. "I meant how did you get in the dormitory, in Ojiro-san's room nonetheless!!"

"Ah, well... that, um... I—" You cut off your stammering with a frustrated sigh. "I'm not sure how much I'm allowed to tell you."

"That's okay." Uraraka reassured you easily.

Her energy reminded you of Ojiro.

"Is it true that you're in danger?" Jirou spoke up for the first time since the gang of girls invaded her room.

Your jaw dropped in shock but your expression cleared when she waved her earjacks around pointedly. That must've been how she could hear and judging by the timing of her question, you concluded that Ojiro must have been the one talking about your circumstances. And since you didn't feel like he would knowingly put you into danger, you told them what you told him.

Their expressions crumbled before you, losing all semblance of their happy-go-lucky personalities as disbelief took over.

Yaoyorozu's eyes filled with tears. "You had to endure all of that alone?"

"That's horrible!!" Ashido cried out.

"I'm so sorry!!" Uraraka and Hagakure shouted simultaneously.

"I can't imagine what that must've been like." Jirou said, her eyes sad. "You're here now though, so Aizawa-sensei must've given you permission."

You nodded, knees tucked under you as you gripped the hem of the blue sweatshirt. "Yes, but it was only supposed to be a temporary solution and no one else was supposed to find out."

Hesitating, you gulped. "If... If this gets out, I—"

"Don't worry, Y/N-chan!!" Ashido exclaimed, shooting to her feet and pumping her fist in the air. "We'll definitely protect you."

Jirou nodded, fueled by her friend. "Yeah!!"

"You can count on us!!" Hagakure jumped up beside her.

"They won't be able to touch you anymore now that you've got us!!" Yaoyorozu declared determinedly.

"Let's go!!" Uraraka cheered. "Plus Ultra!!"

You burst into sobs at their overwhelming support despite only having just met them and the girls crowded around you in the best group hug you've ever received.

After that emotional roller coaster, they were going to bring you back to Ojiro's room since that's where you wanted to stay for the night but they heard your stomach growling and collectively decided to feed you with whatever they could find in the kitchen.

Yaoyorozu was pretty sure there was some leftover pizza that the guys had bought earlier that day.

Your protests fell on deaf ears as Ashido and Uraraka dragged you all the way there, Jirou trailing behind as Yaoyorozu and Hagakure ran ahead.

"You don't want your own room?" Jirou questioned when they finally released you.

You shook your head. "I... I don't really like being alone and Ojiro-san is my first friend I've had in a long time, so I... I trust him."

She nodded understandingly. "I get it."

"That is soooo cute!!" Hagakure swooned, balancing several boxes of various packaged Japanese snacks in her arms.

You blushed beet red, flushing further when the girls cooed at how cute you were. Pulling the collar of the hoodie up to hide your smile, you pleaded for them to stop embarrassing you. Tea kettle whistling on the stove as Yaoyorozu prepared some jasmine tea, Uraraka brought out the pizza box she had just found from the industrial-sized fridge, handing it to you after heating it up.

"Isn't this someone's food?" You questioned, not touching it. You didn't want to eat it if it belonged to someone.

Jirou pushed it towards you encouragingly with her earphone jack, smirking. "Trust me, Kaminari won't miss it."

You decided to take her word for it.

You had barely finished half a slice when the front door opened and the chilly night air blew inside. Turning around, you hopped off of the stool you were perched on and ran to Ojiro, who had an extremely exhausted Aizawa in tow.

Ojiro caught you easily, wrapping his tail around you out of instinct. It was getting to be a habit by now.

"Are you okay?" He asked as he checked you over.

You giggled, prying his hands away from their dutiful inspection. "I'm okay."

He breathed a sigh of relief but the two of you stiffened when Aizawa cleared his throat from behind him.

"As much as I don't want to interrupt whatever that is," He droned monotonously. "This has gotten a lot more serious."

You shared a worried look with Ojiro and gasped when his tail tightened around your waist ever so slightly.

"You can't stay here." Aizawa told you, fixating his eyes on the students who moved to object, more flooding in as their sensei's voice carried clearly. "You need to come with me, I'll find you a place to stay for the night."

Taglist: @katsukis-sad-angel��

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warrioreowynofrohan · 3 years

Text

The Leithian Reread - Canto XXII (The Arrival at Angband)

I’ve had some trouble thinking of what to say about this one.

It starts out with an epic account of the Duel of Fingolfin and Morgoth. One of the great things about the poetic Leithian is that, because of the way Tolkien ties the story together with other related events, it gives us a pietic version of quite a bit of the other parts of The Silmarillion: we have the meeting of Thingol and Melian (Canto III), the Oath (Canto VI), Fingon’s rescue of Maedhros (Canto VI), The Battle of Sudden Flame (Cantos VI and XI), Barahir and his men’s rescue of Finrod (Canto VI) and, here in Canto XXI, the Duel of Fingolfin and Morgoth.

In overmastering wrath and hate

desperate he smote upon that gate,

the Gnomish king, there standing lone,

while endless fortresses of stone

engulfed the thin clear ringing keen

of silver horn on baldric green.

His hopeless challenge dauntless cried

Fingolfin there: “Come, open wide,

dark king, your ghastly brazen doors!

Come forth, whom earth and heaven abhors!

Come forth, O monstrous craven lord,

and fight with thine own hand and sword,

thou wielder of hosts of banded thralls,

thou tyrant leagured with strong walls,

thou foe of Gods and Elvish race!

I wait thee here. Come! Show thy face!”

This is what I love about epic poetry - while the sequence in The Silmarillion is excellent, it’s just so much more evocative and powerful here, with the cadence and the use of repeated sounds (there’s something about “thin clear ringing keen” that strikes me as a particularly good combination of words,), and expanded beyond its length in the prose version. (One piece of trivia is the statement that Thorondor’s wingspan is thirty fathoms wide - with a fathom being 6 feet, that comes to a 180-foot wingspan.)

I can’t quote the entire thing here, but it’s very, very good. And it’s very appropriate to include here in the Lay, not just because Beren and Lúthien are at the same place where the battle occurred, but because Fingolfin and Lúthien are the only elves to directly take on Morgoth. Fingolfin, though he loses, is the only elf to deal Morgoth lasting physical harm; Lúthien is the only elf to defeat Morgoth. And there’s also a direct and, I think, intentional contrast in what drives them; Fingolfin, as quoted above, is driven by “wrath and hate”; his deed is greatly impressive, but it does not have any direct benefit to others. Lúthien is driven by love of Beren; Morgoth himself is an obstacle, but very much secondary to her goals. And the Silmaril that she and Beren obtain is what ultimately leads to Eärendil’s journey and Morgoth’s final defeat, and endures as a symbol of hope down through the ages.

The next part of the canto, regarding Carcharoth, does not make a lot of chronological sense in my opinion. In the Silmarillion, it makes more sense because the timeline is left more vague: “Morgoth recalled the doom of Huan” and put power into an existing werewolf. But the Leithian has this happening only after Lúthien and Huan’s defeat of Sauron at Tol-in-Gaurhoth, which is only a matter of months - a very short time to become the largest and deadliest wolf of all time. But Carcharoth is supernatural, so he doesn’t need to follow usual growth patterns. (Incidentally, we have another few lines here on the nature of werewolves that supports the idea of them being minor Maiar inhabiting wolf-bodies: Fierce hunger-haunted packs he had / that in wolvish form and flesh were clad, / but demon spirits dire did hold.)

Beren and Lúthien arrive at the gate, and their disguise is immediately unsuccessful: news of Draugluin’s death has long since reached Angband (and on top of that, apparently werewolves and vampires don’t get along any better in Tolkien than in any other media). And at this moment, ahen they seem discovered, Lúthien confronts Carcharoth, and the way she does so is striking, and exemplifies much of what is so unique about her story, her character, and the Leithian as a whole.

Carcharoth is a terrible and horrific monster; he has grown so large, larger than any other wold, in eating the corpses of elves and men. Yet he is also a tormented creature; the strength that Morgoth has put in him is described as the anguish and the power of hell. And Lúthien perceieved this and fells him not with - or out of - anger or rage or fear, but pity: “Sleep, O unhappy, tortured thrall! Thou woebegotten, fail and fall down, down from anguish, hatred, pain, from lust, from hunger, bond and chain, to that oblivion, dark and deep, the well, the lightless pit of sleep! For one brief hour escape the net, the dreadful doom of life forget!” The Silmarillion expresses the same idea more briefly: “O woe-begotten spirit, fall now into dark oblivion, and forget for a while the dreadful doom of life!” Even at the gates of Angband, even facing one of Morgoth’s most powerful servants, Lúthien’s response is compassion rather than hatred or horror. And I think it is this impulse, this attitude, that makes the Leithian the most central of the tales within the Silmarillion and the one that lives on as an inspiration in later Ages.

#tolkien #the silmarillion #the lay of leithian #leithian reread #beren #beren and luthien #lúthien #fingolfin

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minettestan · 3 years

Note

Do you have a tag for games you recommend? I'm always looking for new games and my experience with point and click or 90s computer games is sorely lacking.

💕My favorite question💕 I took one of my old posts and updated it, so here!

💕 Personal Favorite

💀 Scary Content

👧 Female Protagonist

✨ Important to the genre’s history

📚 Tricky for new players, look up controls or a walkthrough to get started

❕ Difficult

👿 Potential insensitive content

The Colonel’s Bequest (1989) $5.99 💕✨👧💀❕📚

“It is the year 1925, and the roaring '20s are well underway. As Laura Bow, young college student, you've been invited to visit the Colonel's isolated estate. Watch as the Colonel announces his intention to bequeath his millions to all present!”

The classic Sierra murder mystery game, developed by the mother of the genre Roberta Williams. Laura Bow is a sorely overlooked female protagonist. The game works by navigating Laura and typing in commands, kinda of tricky at first. Tons of game overs are a hallmark of a Sierra adventure game so save often! If you play the GOG.com version you get the benefit of autosaves. This game runs a timer, the events of the night will unfold with or without you so stay on your toes and keep moving! The game can be found for free here, but imo the $5.99 is worth it for the easy of access.

The Dagger of Amon-Ra (1992) $5.99 👧✨❕📚👿💀

“Laura Bow, intrepid heroine of The Colonel's Bequest, is back! This time she's trapped in a huge, imposing museum in the dead of night, surrounded by socialites, miscreants, thieves...and a cold, relentless murderer.“

Roberta Williams is back! Iconic game, iconic heroine. It’s still a Sierra game so like TCB there are tons of (iconic) game overs, so save often. Solving puzzles in this one gives me a great serotonin rush. Unfortunately, this game has some racism issues, particularly with the characters Lo Fat and Ramses. While an important game in the genre take it with a huge grain of salt and maybe turn of the (kind of awful) voice acting and enable text-only mode and you’ll avoid some awful accents.

Sam & Max: Hit the Road (1993) $5.99 💕✨

“Sam (a canine shamus) and Max (a hyperkinetic rabbity thing) are hot on the trail of a runaway carnival bigfoot across America’s quirky underbelly in this deranged animated adventure!“

Sam & Max are truly my favorite characters in all of fiction. I have the box art to this game as my phone case. I have Sam & Max action figures, a plush Max on my bed, a print edition of Sam & Max Freeland Police Special #1 framed on my wall. From comics, to games, to cartoons I love these guys. Sam & Max: Hit the Road is a classic of the Lucasarts adventure games. That being said, it’s the least user-friendly of the Sam & Max adventure games and the slowest. I still love it to bits and it’s important to the genre’s history imo.

Gabriel Knight: Sins of the Fathers (1993) $5.99 💕💀👿

“The adventure of Gabriel Knight starts with gathering materials for his new book, and ends up becoming a fight for his very soul. He must now face countless dangers in New Orleans, Africa and Germany, each bringing him ever closer to unraveling the mystery behind suspicious voodoo murders. Haunted by nightmares, he won't give up until he reveals the truth. “

Another Sierra game directed by a woman, Jane Jenson. Gabriel Knight, voiced by Tim Curry, is one of my favorite adventure game protagonists of all time. This game is scary and gory so enter at your own risk! I love the gameplay in this one, I love the narrator, I love the puzzles. But it seems Sierra games have some problems with the representation of minorities. The game is set in New Orleans and focuses on a voodoo cult. Which means consequently the game's major antagonists are all black. Unlike the Dagger of Amon Ra, Sins of the Fathers actually employed black actors to play black characters. There’s a lot to be said about the ways in which white media demonizes voodoo and those who practice it. If you play this one, remain critical. And for the love of god, don’t play the 20th anniversary version.

Day of the Tentacle: Remastered (1993/2016) $14.99 ✨👧❕

“Originally released by LucasArts in 1993 as a sequel to Ron Gilbert’s ground breaking Maniac Mansion, Day of the Tentacle is a mind-bending, time travel, cartoon puzzle adventure game in which three unlikely friends work together to prevent an evil mutated purple tentacle from taking over the world!“

Another classic LucasArts game! This was the first game co-headed by Tim Schaffer who would go on to make the outstanding Grim Fandango! This one is exceedingly wacky and the remastered version has made it more user-friendly than ever.

Toonstruck (1996) $9.99 💕

“Drew Blanc is a cartoon animator and the original creator of the Fluffy Fluffy Bun Bun Show.. Drew's boss, Sam Schmaltz, sets him the task of designing more bunnies to co-star in the Fluffy Fluffy Bun Bun Show by the next morning. However, the depressed animator soon nods off, suffering from acute artist's block. He wakes early the next morning to inexplicably find his television switched on, announcing the Fluffy Fluffy Bun Bun Show. Suddenly, Drew is mysteriously drawn into the television screen and transported to an idyllic two-dimensional cartoon world populated by his own creations, among many other cartoon characters.“

If you’re a fan of Who Framed Roger Rabbit? you’ll love this. Christopher Lloyd is Drew Blanc (ha) trying to save a cartoon world through inventory item puzzles. Truly wacky, zany, and ani-mainy. I played Toontown as a kid so I’m predisposed to like this one. This is also the only game with Full Motion Video I’m putting on the list because FMV games can be an acquired taste.

Grim Fandango (1996/2015) $14.99 💕✨

“Something's rotten in the land of the dead, and you're being played for a sucker. Meet Manny Calavera, travel agent at the Department of Death. He sells luxury packages to souls on their four-year journey to eternal rest. But there's trouble in paradise. Help Manny untangle himself from a conspiracy that threatens his very salvation.“

Yesssssssss! I LOVE Grim Fandango! The iconic game directed by Tim Schaffer has received the best remaster I’ve seen a point n’ click receive. I cannot recommend Grim Fandango enough! Stick with it through the forest section, trust me.

The Last Express (1997) $5.99 ❕ 📚

“Paris, 1914. The world is on the brink of war and this train could push it over the edge. You are Robert Cath, a young American urgently summoned by your old friend Tyler Whitney to join him aboard the Paris-Constantinople express, departing from the Gare de l'Est on July 24th. Arriving late, you discover something has gone terribly wrong. Now you must untangle a complex web of political intrigue, suspense, romance, and betrayal. Every move you make could bring you closer to the truth or your own demise. Bon voyage! “

Ooooh I love a murder on a train! This game features rotoscope animation, which I love. Like The Colonel’s Bequest this game runs in real time, meaning the events of the game will unfold with or without you, depending on where you are at what time you’ll receive different information or see/miss different events. Very replayable with several different outcomes.

Sam & Max Save the World (Remastered) $19.99 💕

“ Sam is a six-foot canine detective with a love of justice. Max is a hyperkinetic rabbity-thing with a taste for mayhem. Together, they're the Freelance Police. And they're about to save the world.”

Sam & Max Save the World, originally released in episodes from 2006-2008 has been remastered and looks AMAZING! After LucasArts was shut down their game devs formed Tell Tale Games and produced three seasons of Sam & Max sequel games, all of which are great. But TellTale was shut down (and screwed over their employees) in 2018. Since then some of their devs have formed Skunkape Games and are currently remastering all of Tell Tale’s Sam & Max series (I’m thrilled). They’ve also adjusted some aspects of the game to make the game more inclusive and less **offensive. So imo it’s worth it to wait for the release of the other seasons to experience Sam & Max in pristine condition. Save the World is the only season out now, but you can get the non-remastered versions of Beyond Time and Space, and In The Devil’s Playhouse, here and here.

**I should note the “offensive” material in the original is not as egregious as say, The Dagger of Amon-Ra, but it’s just a nice change to see especially in a game I hold dear.

Emerald City Confidential (2009) $9.99 👧

“Explore the underbelly of Oz as Emerald City's most cunning detective! As Petra, you'll be lured deep into mysteries involving new foes and familiar faces; Scarecrow, Lion, and Toto included! This is Oz as you've never seen it before! Solve the mystery and unravel a conspiracy of magic and intrigue! Follow a case through five chapters full of puzzles, witnesses, suspects, and allies in this twist on a timeless classic! “

We’re moving out of the 1990s now. Emerald City Confidential is the Wizard of Oz meets film noir. I played this as 13 year old and have revisited it as an adult and I still eat it up. Wadjet Eye makes consistently good adventure games so check this one out!

The Blackwell Series (2006) $14.99 💕👧

“Meet Rosangela Blackwell, an embittered writer who just found out that she is a medium and that it’s her mission, whether she likes it or not, to assist tormented spirits and investigate other supernatural goings-on. She is assisted by the sardonic Joey Mallone, a ghost from the 1930s.”

Another Wadjet Eye game! I’ve seen these games recommended amoungst the Clue Crew before and I’ll just throw my own endorsement on the pile. Yeah I’m in love with Joey Mallone. What about it?

The Charnel House Trilogy (2015) $5.99 👧💀

“Witness The Charnel House Trilogy, the chronicle of one fateful night aboard a train bound for Augur Peak. Three thrilling, horrifying adventure games in one, from the depths of the Sepulchre.”

Plays like Blackwell, has a Blackwell reference at the beginning, okay you got me. This is a good, if kinda short, game. It’s very creepy, involves murder and has some gore/violence so watch out! I’m still waiting on the sequel Owl Cave!

Thimbleweed Park (2017) $19.99 👧

“A haunted hotel, an abandoned circus, a burnt-out pillow factory, a dead body pixelating under the bridge, toilets that run on vacuum tubes... you’ve never visited a place like this before.“

Made by Ron Gilbert and Gary Winnick the creators of the classic games Maniac Mansion and Monkey Island Thimbleweed Park is a love letter to the classics of the point and click adventure genre. Features 5 different playable characters, ala Maniac Mansion, who and how many you play is up to you! This one also has stand alone DLCs!

Unavowed (2018) $14.99 👧

“ A demon possessed you one year ago. Since that day, you unwillingly tore a trail of bloodshed through New York City. Your salvation comes in the form of the Unavowed – an ancient society dedicated to stopping evil.”

Okay I haven’t actually played this one, but I want to. Its a Wadjet Eye so you know it’s good. From the reviews I’ve seen this is the Blackwell Series meets Dragon Age. A point and click that incorporates RPG elements, I love that.

I also have a love of the more, strange, and unusual adventure games that I can't necessarily recommend with good conscience. So if you want bizarre 90s and early 2000s games of dubious quality hit me up.

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inevitably-johnlocked · 4 years

Note

Hi Steph! How you’re doing? First of all, I wanna say that I love your lists. So, I was wondering, do you have some long Johnlock fics? Like, with a bunch of chapters and all that. Thank you!

Hey Nonny!!

I absolutely do! And you know what?? I’m gonna be selfish: No one has ever EVER asked me for my shorter long fics, so I’m going to take this opportunity to finally release this list, because it’s been sitting in my drafts for YEARS lol. BUT you can check the list below for the links to all my longer-fics lists! Happy reading!!

NOVELLA LENGTH FICS: 20-25K

See also:

Novella Length Fics: 25 to 50K (Aug. 2019)

Novel Length Fics: 50 to 100K (Nov. 2018)

Novel Length Fics: 50 to 100K Pt 2 (May 2020)

Novel Length Fics: 100K+ w. (May 2019)

Novel Length Fics: 100K+ w. Pt 2 (Aug 2020)

Through the Clouds by Mazarin221b (E, 20,004 w., 6 Ch. || Retirement, Home Improvement, First Time, Romance) – Sherlock takes a remarkably early retirement at 47, and convinces John that a change of pace would do them both good. They buy an old cottage on the South Downs, and exchange their nonstop life in Baker Street for quiet contemplation, bee studies, and book writing. They might go completely insane, but sometimes it takes stepping outside of the life you're living to find the life you want. Part 1 of Through The Clouds

A Life Well-Lived by Kate_Lear (E, 20,121 w., 1 Ch. || Original Male Character, Sherlock Woos John, Jealous Sherlock, Reluctant Bi-John, Past Abuse, Insecure John, Reassuring / Caring Sherlock, Protective Sherlock, Understanding Sherlock) – John got scared off men by an abusive past relationship. Sherlock has to try and woo him while not scaring him off with protective possessive rage.

The White Lotuses by SilentAuror (E, 20,340 w., 1 Ch. || Slow Burn, Domestic, Romance) – One day John realises that he just isn't where he belongs, which is back at Baker Street with Sherlock. So he goes back and Sherlock, in his own way, courts him. Romance.

Out of the Woods by SilentAuror (E, 20,471 w., 1 Ch. || Post S4, Romance, Slow Burn, Flirting, Drunk Sex, Practical Jokes, POV Sherlock, Bottomlock, Possessive John, Pining Sherlock, Frustrated Wanking, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, First Kiss/Time, Virgin Sherlock, Love Confessions, Soft Sherlock, Dancing, Bum Appreciation, Hanging out with the Yard) – Sherlock is fairly certain that John has taken to flirting with him of late, but can't be entirely certain of it. At least, not until a case takes them into a forest, along with Lestrade's team and something happens that will change everything about their lives...

You're On the Air by prettysailorsoldier (M, 20,616 w., 1 Ch. || Unilock, Matchmaking, Radio, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Sherlock POV, Pining Sherlock, Flirting, Bisexual John) – The Consulting Detective and The Woman dominate the airwaves of their university radio station, doling out advice on everything from meeting the parents to sexual positions. When their ratings start to dip before the holidays, however, manager Mike thinks it's time for some fresh blood, and who better to fill in the gaps than rugby captain--and notorious flirt--John Watson? Part 1 of 25 Days of Johnlock

whiskies neat by Ellipsical (E, 20,660 w., 15 Ch. || Alternate First Meeting, POV Second Person Sherlock, Slow Burn, One Night Stand, Rimming, Blow Jobs, Anal, Soldier John, Crying, Emotional Lovemaking, Switchlock) – Home and hearth and whiskies neat, or, alternatively, Sherlock Holmes falls in love.

Achieving the Together-Coloured Instant by teahigh (E, 20,776 w., 1 Ch. || Est. Rel, PTSD, Codependency, Fluff & Angst, H/C, Smut, Demisexual Sherlock, Experiments) – John wonders if this is how it’s going to be: A life speaking in code, because they’re both too stupid to figure out how to say, “I love you.”

Winter's Delights by Kate_Lear (E, 21,173 w., 1 Ch. || Holmes Family, Christmas, Fake Relationship, Friends to Lovers, Bed Sharing, Domestics) – Sherlock takes John home for Christmas to meet the extended Holmes family. Part 1 of Winter's Delights

Once More, With Feeling by cellard00rs (T, 21,178 w., 7 Ch. || John’s Family, Fake Relationship, Romance, Fluff, Humour) – To put off his meddlesome, matchmaking mother, John convinces Sherlock to play the role of his significant other. Unparalleled awkwardness ensues.

Love Is by SilentAuror (E, 21,508 w., 1 Ch. || Angst, UST / URT, Post HLV, Romance) – At Mrs Hudson's urging, Sherlock finally decides to tell John how he feels about him. Part 1 of Love Is

echoes through time by chellefic (E, 21,619 w. || First Time, Romance, ACD & BBC, Epistolary) – Mummy sends a trunk from the Holmes cottage in Sussex to 221B. Its contents alter the way John and Sherlock see themselves and one another.

The Real Meaning of Idioms by feverishsea (T, 21,691 w., 1 Ch. || Texting, Humour, Post S2) - After two weeks away, John finally texts Sherlock. He doesn’t expect Sherlock to respond. He doesn’t expect Sherlock to keep texting him. And he really doesn’t expect things to spiral out of control so rapidly.

5 Times John Got the Girl (and lost her) and 1 Time John Got the Guy (and kept him) by LiviKate (M, 21,695 w., 6 Ch. || 5 and Ones, Kissing, Oblivious / Awkward Sherlock, BAMF / Sexy / Stud John, Embarassed John, John’s Scar, Hurt/Comfort, Jealous Sherlock) – John has always had good luck with the ladies. He's charming, friendly and funny, not to mention great in bed. However, his usual skill with the opposite sex is constantly being thwarted by Sherlock and his outbursts. How will John ever get a leg over when Sherlock is always cockblocking him?

Brief Conversations with the Woman by May_Shepard (E, 21,906 w., 20 Ch. || Pining, Love Fairy Irene, Filler Fic, UST/URT, Drug Use, Clueless Sherlock, Relationship Advice, Angst w/ Happy Ending) – Sherlock has a puzzle to solve, and his name is John Watson.

When to Let Go by KendylGirl (M, 22,109 w., 8 Ch. || Friends to Lovers, Reverse Reichenbach, Sacrifice, Forgiveness, Angst, Love, Implied Drug Use) – What if it were John who had to die to thwart Moriarty's plans? John's supposed death shatters Sherlock, and when he returns, it will challenge the pair to forge a path of forgiveness, to peace, and to find a way back to each other. Part 1 of When to Let Go

A Shipless Ocean by myswordfishmind (M, 22,135 w. 4 Ch. || Post-TRF, John has a Kid) – Ten years after the fall Sherlock goes back to London to find that John no longer lives there. Instead, he resides in a seaside town, a widower, and the father of a seven year old son. Now, Sherlock must struggle with the fact that there may no longer be a place for him in this new world.

Ghost Stories by SwissMiss (M, 22,256 w., 1 Ch. || Pining, Holmes Family, Christmas, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Bed Sharing, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, First Time) – Sherlock's parents think he and John are a couple. They might be onto something.

The One With the Proposal by kim47 (E, 22,375 w., 3 Ch. || Fluff, Romance, Marriage Proposal) – Proposing shouldn't be this difficult.

Sonatina in G Minor by SilentAuror (E, 22,574 w., 1 Ch. || Case Fic, POV Sherlock, Angst, UST, Sherlock’s Violin, Post-S3, Romance) – John has come back to Baker Street, but Sherlock doesn't understand the strange tension between them, even after he begins teaching John to play the violin at John's request.

Dear John by wendymarlowe (E, 23,031 w., 64 Ch. || Post-TRF, Online Dating, Pining, Epistolary, Cybersex, Long Distance Romance) – With Sherlock dead, John eventually (under duress) makes a profile on an online dating site. And falls into a long-distance relationship with an enigmatic partner who reminds him of Sherlock in all the right ways. (Hint: it turns out to be Sherlock.) Part 1 of Dear John

Knotted by naughtyspirit (E, 23,166 w., 4 Ch. || UST/URT, Cuddling, Sharing Body Heat, Confessions, Kissing, Mastrubation, Frustration, BAMF!John) – John has to cancel a date because of Sherlock's case, which leads them to be tied up in a basement from which they have to escape. They get wet, get tied up close and John has to step up and save them. Because he's pretty. And hot. And just a little bit of a BAMF.

You Can Imagine the Christmas Dinners by ardenteurophile (T, 23,584 w., 9 Ch. || Pre-Slash, Drama, Fluff & Angst, Humour, Romance) – Sherlock takes John along for Christmas dinner with Mycroft and Mummy (And "Anthea", too). Over the course of the evening, John realises that everyone in the room - apart from him - seems to think that he and Sherlock are a couple. Part 2 of Xmas Dinners Verse

Once Upon a Beast Becoming by antietamfalls (T, 24,042 w., 6 Ch. || Beauty and the Beast AU || Magical Realism, Folklore, Celtic Mythology) – An act of pride, a druid’s curse, an enchanted leaf; Sherlock’s torment has lasted an age. Hope arrives in the form of one John Watson, a man uniquely suited to break the spell. But with a single night to win his affections, Sherlock finds his carefully laid plans disrupted by a monstrous killer whose sights are set on the only thing he has left to lose: John.

The Kepler Problem by kinklock (E, 24,270 w., 1 Ch. || Sci-Fi AU, Alien Sherlock, Space Repairman John, Alien Biology, Horny John) – Working in uncharted space exploration was not as exciting as John had hoped, especially when it turned out to be mostly bot maintenance on uninhabited planets. However, the mystery of the repeated, unexplained malfunctions on planet BAK 2212 might turn out to be exactly the kind of adventure he'd been craving.

Maintaining A Personal Life by Gingerhermit (E, 24,284 w., 6 Ch. || Alternating POV’s, Bisexuality, BAMF!John, Jealous Sherlock, Romance / Drama, Sort-of Case Fic, Peril & Angst, Love Confessions, Toplock, Soft Idiots in Love, Post S3) – Sherlock and John discover some interesting revelations about each other’s sexuality, which lead them both to question the assumptions they've made about one another for years. In the midst of their mutual discoveries, a dangerous psychopath looms on the side-lines who threatens to destroy their new beginning.

The Sexual Awakening of Sherlock Holmes and Dr. John Watson by suitesamba (M, 24,579 w., 10 Ch. || Post-TRF, Case Fic, H/C, First Kiss/Time) – Sherlock owes Mycroft a favor. Mycroft calls in that favor by offering Sherlock's consulting services in a charity auction. Sherlock and John soon find themselves at the country manor of Mrs. Ives-Patton Smarmington III - not very coincidentally a long-time friend of Sherlock's mother - where they are reluctant participants in her Murder Mystery Weekend. It's a play within a play for Sherlock and John, and their roles for the weekend event bleed over into their real lives, waking the sleeping dragons within.

Tomorrow's Song by agirlsname (M, 24,645 w., 5 Ch. || Post-TRF, POV Sherlock, Angst with a Happy Ending, Virgin / Repressed Sherlock, Love Confessions, Slow Burn, Pining, Jealous Sherlock) – How can he think a relationship with me would be a good idea? I am the sort of person to take a break from my life and when I come back after two years, I expect to find it exactly as I left it. In reality I find it shattered to pieces. (I actually equate you with my life. When did I start doing that?)

State of Flux by Atiki (E, 24,655 w., 4 Ch. || Sherlock POV, Slow Burn, First Kiss/Time, Friends to Lovers, Frottage, Cuddles and Snuggles, Awkwardness, Insecure/Virgin Sherlock, Romance) – John’s marriage is over and he is finally back home (i.e. at Baker Street, where he belongs). Sherlock is awfully insecure and John is awfully hesitant, and they're both awkward idiots, of course, but they figure it out. Many First Times happen.

#steph replies #johnlock fic recs #my fic recs #20 to 25k #long fics #Anonymous

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lcdrarry · 4 years

Photo

LCDrarry 2020 Master List

Dear lovely Participants, Creators, Alpha and Beta Readers, Commentors, Cheerleaders, Readers and Fans of our fest,

Our 2nd installment of LCDrarry is coming to an end, and we'd like to thank you all for taking part in our little fest, for creating so many amazing new Drarry works for us all to enjoy, for commenting on your favourite creations, for sharing and recommending the LCDrarry gems with your friends and blog followers, and for making this fest another amazing experience for us mods.

We hope we could bring you some joy and diversion in these trying times and send you lots of love, strength and perseverance wherever you are :*

Under the cut, you can find out who created what ;D The works are listed in the order they posted during the fest.

Happy reading & squeeing & don’t forget to follow your favourite creators!

~Your LCDrarry Mods Tami @celilasart and Suzi @erin-riwen

PS: Reblogs are very much appreciated <3

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Love, Actually, is All Around

Prompt: #180 | "Love, Actually" - 2003 - Richard Curtis Author: punk_rock_yuppie Word Count: 9,975 words Rating: Teen and Up Warnings: Wizarding Politics, Discriminiation, Slight power imbalance

Summary: It's Christmastime, and Harry has just started as the new Minister of Magic. It just so happens that Draco happens to work in his office as well, a holdover from Kingsley's tenure. Naturally, love is in the air.

Read "Love, Actually, is All Around" now on AO3.

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Drarry on Ice

Prompt: #150 | '"Yuuri!!! On Ice" - 2016 - Series Artist: RunningOutsideTheLines Art Medium: Traditional Art Rating: General Warnings: none

Summary: Harry and Draco find love on the ice. I love Yuuri on Ice and Harry and Draco seem like such a perfect fit for Victor and Yuuri. I'll leave it up to your imagination as far as which is which. This image is from the final scene when the two of them do a exhibition skate together.

View "Drarry on Ice" now on AO3.

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Boats, but Not the Ocean

Prompt: #203 | "Groundhog Day" - 1993 - Harold Ramis Author: p1013 Word Count: 15,551 words Rating: Explicit Warnings: Very minor mention of suicide, some mild horror

Summary: If Draco ever gets his hands on this Bill Murray character, he's going to kill him.

Read "Boats, but Not the Ocean" now on AO3.

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When I Put My Eyes On You

Prompt: #193 | "The Way He Looks" - 2014 - Daniel Ribeiro Author: Zzzara Word Count: 31,155 words Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Summary: When a hero defeats a villain, there's supposed to be a happily-ever-after... but when did anything ever happen to Harry Potter the way it was supposed to? Having sacrificed himself to the greater good, Harry is left alone in the darkness, blindly groping for the shreds of the life he knew. When the enemies meet, how is the story supposed to go, once they learn there's more to it than the eye can see? A story of pain, hope and things we discover, once we stop looking for them with our eyes.

Read "When I Put My Eyes On You" now on AO3.

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Spellbound

Prompt: #113 | "Overboard" - 1987 - Garry Marshall Author: mortenavida Word Count: 15,878 words Rating: Teen and up Warnings: Amnesiac Draco Malfoy, Widowed Harry Potter, past Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Dub-Con due to Amnesia (Only Kissing)

Summary: It’s been years since Harry left with Ginny to get away from the bad memories of war. The small town of Elk Cove, Oregon, had been a perfect place to raise their children. Now widowed, Harry works hard to make sure his children never want for anything. When an old rival steps into his life, everything changes and Harry finds the perfect opportunity to get back at Malfoy for everything the Slytherin did to him -- if he doesn’t regret falling for him first.

Read "Spellbound" now on AO3.

***

Of Labcoats and Animagi

Prompt: #97 | "Queer Eye" - 2017 - Series Author: meandminniemcg Word Count: 10,868 words Rating: Mature Warnings: mention of past abuse, panic attack (tw at beginning of chapter, can be skipped)

Summary: Fashion icon Draco? That's long past. After the war, he never bought any new clothes and lives in his labcoats. When he doesn't feel confident enough to meet his pen friend Prongs in real life, Luna decides to stage an intervention with a little help from the Fab Five.

Read "Of Labcoats and Animagi" now on AO3.

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Title of Their Sex Tape

Prompt: #112 | "Brooklyn Nine Nine" - 2013 - Series Author: Cibee Word Count: 12,428 words Rating: Teen and up Warnings: None

Summary: What are the Wizarding world's most elite law enforcers doing when they aren't catching criminals? It seems Auror Malfoy is often caught throwing food into Auror Potter's mouth when he's mid-yawn. This story isn't about Draco throwing food at Harry. What it does have is: Undercover! Heists! Draco pining for Harry! Harry being oblivious, but also can't help noticing how good Draco smells! Banters and jokes! That's about it.

Read "Title of Their Sex Tape" now on AO3.

***

Harry Potter and the Beast

Prompt: #204 | "Beauty and the Beast" - 1991 - Gary Trousdale Author/Artist: Miakagrewup Word Count/Art Medium: 5,655 words/31 illustrated pages Rating: General Warnings: None

Summary: Arrogant prince Draco is cursed to live as a terrifying beast until he finds true love. This fairy tale consists of 31 fully illustrated pages.

Read "Harry Potter and the Beast" now on AO3.

***

So Open Up My Eyes, Tell Me I'm Alive

Prompt: #191 | "Secret Garden" - 1993 - Agnieszka Holland Author: mycucumbereyes Word Count: 12,865 words Rating: Teen and up Warnings: trauma, canon typical violence, homophobia, use of f-g/f----t, mention of suicidal thoughts, character with a disability

Summary: When Draco Malfoy comes to live at Godric’s Hollow, he finds it full of secrets. One night he hears the sound of crying…

Read "So Open Up My Eyes, Tell Me I'm Alive" now on AO3.

***

i demand to dig my own grave

Prompt: #10 | "Psych" - 2006 - Series Author: M0stlyVoid Word Count: 20,836 words Rating: Mature Warnings: None

Summary: Draco finds himself in hot water with the Aurors, and in a burst of panicked inspiration manages to wiggle out of it by claiming to be a Seer. There's just one little problem– Senior Auror Harry Potter, the Prat Who Lived, who's known him for a decade, knows full well Draco doesn't have a single psychic bone in his body and seems determined to pull him up for it. Now, the Department is demanding he help them solve cases, Potter's looming over his shoulder at every turn, and worst of all, he hasn't had a shag in weeks because of all this bother. What's a pseudo-Seer to do?

Read "i demand to dig my own grave" now on AO3.

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As You Wish

Prompt: #37 | "The Princess Bride" - 1987 - Rob Reiner Author: Pineau_noir Word Count: 21,917 words Rating: Teen and up Warnings: Canon-typical (Harry Potter and The Princess Bride) violence, mention of suicide, canon-typical character death

Summary: Draco was raised on a farm in the small country of Witshire; his favourite pastimes were flying on his broom and tormenting the hired farm boy. Though his name was Harry, Draco never called him that. On Harry's forehead there was a scar shaped like a lightning bolt, so Draco called him Scarhead. Nothing gave Draco as much pleasure as ordering Harry around.

Or a story about fencing, fighting, torture, revenge, giants, monsters, chases, escapes, True Love, and miracles.

Read "As You Wish" now on AO3.

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Queer Eye for the Drarry Guys

Prompt: #97 | "Queer Eye"- 2017 - Series Author: blowfish_diaries Word Count: 18,201 words Rating: Teen and up Warnings: none

Summary: Teddy's dads are great! Really! They just need a little push from five *fabulous* gays to get them to see what's right in front of them.

Read "Queer Eye for the Drarry Guys" now on AO3.

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Casecation

Prompt: #112 | "Brooklyn Nine Nine" - 2013 - Series Author: Mfingenius Word Count: 4,293 words Rating: Teen and up Warnings: AU, canon-typical discussion of heavy topics, discussion of mpreg

Summary: "Draco Malfoy, I swear to God-” Hermione snaps under her breath, causing Draco to laugh lowly as he ducks under a hanging plant pot. “Draco Potter, ‘Mione,” Harry murmurs with a helpless grin; they’re not really supposed to be speaking – they're walking through the halls of Antonin Dolohov’s beach house, on their way to arrest him – but Harry can’t help marking the difference, even a year after they got married. “Be quiet,” Ginny says, rolling her eyes. “If he hears us and escapes-” Draco signals at them, and they all steel themselves for when he throws the door of the bedroom open. “Shit!”

Read "Casecation" now on AO3.

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Don't Blink!

Prompt: #179 | "Dr Who" - 2007 - Series Author/Artist: Gnarf Art Medium: Digital art Rating: General Warnings: None

Summary: Harry had always had exceptionally bad timing. It's not different this time.

Read "Don't Blink!" now on AO3.

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A Demon and an Angel Visit the Ritz

Prompt: #167 | “Good Omens” - 2019 - Series Artist: ravenclawkward Art Medium: Digital Oil Painting Rating: General Warnings: None

Summary: Harry the demon and Draco the angel just finished saving the world. They've earned their celebration, wouldn't you say?

Read "A Demon and an Angel Visit the Ritz" now on AO3.

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Change on the Horizon

Prompt: #57 | "Shameless (US)" - 2011 - Series Author: static_abyss Word Count: 118,645 words Rating: Explicit Warnings: Character with depression, mentions of not wanting to exist and lethargy, though no actual suicide or mentions of suicide. Unhealthy coping mechanisms, specifically not taking prescribed medication for depression. Internalized homophobia, and general homophobia from parental figures, though there is a happy ending. Casual relationships.

Summary: A canon AU drarry fic based on the relationship between Mickey and Ian from Shameless. A story about the aftereffects of the Second Wizarding War and how Draco and Harry come together and break apart over and over. How maybe, somewhere along the way, they find a way to live with themselves.

Read "Change on the Horizon" now on AO3.

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The Thrill of the Chase Moves in Mysterious Ways

Prompt: #192 | "Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries" - 2012 - Series Author: VeelaWings Word Count: 32,569 words Rating: Explicit Warnings: Heavy Drinking, Smoking Cigars, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Minor Character Death, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Kidnapping, Non-Graphic Violence, Gun Violence, Poisoning

Summary:

“Do you have a personal interest in this case, Malfoy?” Harry asked, arms crossed and blocking the view of the body behind him.

“Not at all.” Draco smiled sweetly, cuddled into the side of tonight’s date. “Although I did briefly own that painting until it proved to be stolen.” He helpfully pointed to the Renaissance portrait a few metres to their left.

“Why is it always so complicated with you?”

+++++

Some people might argue that Draco didn’t have very good ideas. That was a lie. Draco had fantastic ideas, however, due to mankind having free will, the planning and execution of those ideas didn’t always pan out in his favor.

(Or — Draco solves crimes that don’t technically belong to him and Harry tries not to fall in love. Co-Starring: Hermione, High Heels, and Hiccups along the way. #dat 1920s lyfe)

Read "The Thrill of the Chase Moves in Mysterious Ways” now on AO3.

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Burn Your Life Down (but look back to me)

Prompt: #202 | Casablanca - 1942 - Michael Curtiz Author: Triggerlil Word Count: 35,910 words Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Warnings: Alternate Universe - World War II, Film Noir, Self-Medication, Alcohol, Infidelity (not between Harry and Draco), Smoking, Mention of Slavery and Human Trafficking

Summary:

It's been years since destiny walked into an apartment on Rue Azais, and Harry is over it. Really, he is. He has Blaise, he has his work, and if necessary, he still has his memories. But with the onset of WWII, the foundations of his life are crumbling, and suddenly a certain blond man is walking back into his life, asking Harry to make important, and dangerous, choices.

Read “Burn Your Life Down (but look back to me)” now on AO3.

***

Super Rich Kids

Prompt: #24 | "The Bling Ring" - 2013 - Sofia Coppola Author: Thusspoketrish Word Count: 81,000 words Rating: Explicit Warnings: Thriller, Murder, Dark Humour, Angst, Depression, Nihilism, Existenialism, Jealousy, Hurt/Comfort, Gaslighting, Very Brief Instance of Suicidal Ideation, Immorality, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence (not between Harry and Draco), Abusive Drug Use, Manipulative Behaviour, Heterosexual Sex, Threesomes, Candaulism, Possible Infidelity Due to Unclear Relationship Status (please read the tags on AO3 carefully, this list is not exhaustive)

Summary:

Draco Malfoy has become disillusioned by the glitz and glamour of the scandalous lives of the Post-Second Wizarding War Pureblood Elite. Enter: one existential crisis, one group of cynical friends, and several terrible, terrible decisions.

Read “Super Rich Kids” now on AO3.

***

We Built This Right

Prompt: #48 | "Yuri on ice" - 2016 - Series Author: remy_writes5 Word Count: 15,344 words Rating: Explicit Warnings: Homophobic Language, Anxiety, Strained Relationship with Parents

Summary:

At last year's Grand Prix Final, Harry had an accident that left him with a lightning scar on his forehead, a concussion and a twisted ankle. Now everyone is waiting to see if his career is over - including former rival, Draco Malfoy.

Read "We Built This Right” now on AO3.

***

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thatpoppinat · 3 years

Text

👸🏻More Than A Nickname👸🏻

In this story, the miraculous lore is the same and so is the time period

but, instead of the French monarchy being beheaded in the French Revolution, the government is a constitutional/democratic monarchy

-Lives are Changed-

Marinette is the only daughter of Their Royal Highnesses Melody Cheng (commoner, Asian) of China and Maxim Louis Bourbon (royalty, European) of France, making her Princess Marinette Coccinelle Bourbon Cheng of France, making her the heir to the throne

and she doesn't even know it at first

an assassination attempt on an unborn baby Mari ended up killing her mother, she had been taken out via c- section and was labelled as 'dead' to the public

Marinette was taken in by one of Melody's distant relatives Sabine to live in Paris, because the King feared the for only child of him and his no deceased wife's safety

A fake certificate was made in order to keep her safe and for her to have a couple of years with a normal life

(So, yes. This is basically a "Princess Diaries" kind of story. I love those kinds of stories. Deal with it.)

This changes when she becomes Ladybug, however

To summarize the whole affair, Maxim discovers that Marinette is Ladybug and escorts her (read: forces her) back to the Versailles Palace in order to keep her safe, but due to Marinette's passion for her job she is very against this

She is also reeling from the fact that she had been lied to for practically her entire life up to this point

Oh, and the fact that her birthmother had been murdered and there were people out there who wanted her dead.

No biggie.

-Schools are Switched-

Earlier, Marinette had been switched to online schooling due to bullying (Lila and her lackeys).

She was sent by Maxim to the Beauvoir Boarding School for Wealthy and Artistic Young Women; it's a part of the Versailles palace, near the public gardens (so it's technically not a boarding school for her, seeing as though she doesn't technically leave her "house")

She is given her own (gorgeous) room and has to get used to the luxury that surrounds her, all the while trying to hide her secrets from her new school friends: Anastasia, Elodie, Brielle, Rosamie, and Catalina

There is this one girl named Emma that absolutely hates her for -insert reason- and is rude to her (she'll regret that later on)

Also, she ruins the name Emma for Marinette; don't want to name your child after someone who torments you, after all

Thought I guess children in general are tormentors, idk, pick your poison

Her identity is hidden from the public, but after another attempt on her life, leaks of her existence spread, and the news was suddenly blasting this one question

"Is our Princess alive?"

The king eventually announces that, yes, his daughter did survive that attack, and tells the world her middle name, Coccinelle.

Everyone wants to know who the Princess is and it's all over the news, nobles insist on meeting her, etc.

Crack theorists connect 'Coccinelle' to 'Ladybug' and there are now conspiracy theories on how the missing princess was Paris' heroine Ladybug; however, many people thought that was stupid (how little did the know lol)

and, of course, Lila claims to have met Coccinelle before (technically, yes) and that she was friends with her (absolutely not)

Marinette was given a pet poodle as an apology from her father for drastically changing her life, and because ~French~

-Insight is Made-

After the tension kinda fades away, she starts to hang out with her father in his private gardens so she can learn more about him and her mom, "I've always had a passion for gardening, Sabine told me it was one of your hobbies." "Your mother was incredibly sassy, so defiant."

Marinette noticed that his usual stone cold face seemed to soften when he talked about her, and she began to admire her birthmother

Tom and Sabine will always be held dear in her heart, however. They raised her and loved her after all.

She learns her father had met her mother when they were in their teenage years.

Maxim had disguised himself as a 'commoner' and snuck out of the palace. He had snuck onto a tourist ferry going through the Seine River.

On the ferry, he had seen someone painting a portrait of his future wife. He thought she was pretty and started talking to her

Hence how Marinette got her name:

French for "Rider of the seas" or 'little marine'" :P

(Yes, a river is not a sea, but bear with me)

She eventually convinces Maxim that being Ladybug was her duty and that she could defend Paris and herself with her partner

However, in her spare time when she's not doing schoolwork and defending Paris, she trains to be a Guardian from the Miraculous Temples and have private tutoring on economics, the royal family tree, etc..

Also, I want there to be some white supremacists who didn't like the fact that the past Queen of France was a non- royal Chinese woman; to be raging that a future ruler is going to be biracial. I believe that this has happened to some European royalty that were minorities, and I want Marinette to deal with that and to grow from that

Race doesn't equal nationality; and Marinette knows France, she was raised in France, I feel like this needs to be included

So, basically, I want her to be swamped with physical, emotional, and mental exhaustion - but not forever though, don't worry-

- Announcements are Released-

Her new friends find out she's Ladybug. Marinette de-transforms right in front of them because she was exhausted and wasn't paying attention.

They then proceeded to topple her.

The world learns the Princess is Marinette during an announcement at a Ball her father threw for her; her old class explodes into chaos

Her new friends topple her, again. Her old classmates want to be friends with her again. And her bullies back off. Big time.

Marinette is then approached by Gabriel Agreste to start a clothing line with him inspired by royalty, and while she's tempted to, she doesn't want to associate herself with Adrien

She tells him about how when she was being bullied by one of his models, Lila, Adrien knew she was lying and did nothing when Marinette was isolated from the class. Lila was immediately fired after the talk. Gabriel then has a talk with his son about how his poor behavior had taken away an amazing opportunity from his company, and prays the public never hears about this

Later on, however, they eventually do

Much later on it is leaked that Princess Marinette is Ladybug after footage from an akuma attack

Alya nearly faints. Again.

The 'Crack Theorists' laugh in Smart™, and the world explodes once again

Marinette is definitely popular now.

Adrien freaks out: "OMG, I was flirting with the Princess!" "I ignored my partner when she needed my help!" "She's too good for me!" etc. He can't face her during akuma attacks anymore, and Marinette assumes that because of her status, he's intimidated by her. Chat Noir eventually reveals that he's Adrien and it takes her a while to forgive him, but in time, she does.

In time.

After attacks, reporters start to swarm her for answers and interviews. To get the reporters off her she creates an Instagram and a YouTube channel. Why? Cause I said so.

She's called Princess Coccinelle and gets millions of followers in like, hours after putting herself on the websites. She makes videos of her having fun with her friends, akuma safety tips, answers questions asked about her life, so on and so forth.

'Coccinelle' eventually talks about how she doesn't use Alya's blog because she doesn't fact check their recourses

She doesn't mention how she originally started giving Alya interviews because she used to be her friend

"It took me while to realize that I didn't deserve the mean texts I had gotten from my old classmates, or the ruined sketchbooks; which, as an artist, broke my heart. Anyone can be bullied, be it a princess, or a superhero. The important thing is to know that you are worth it and shouldn't be treated that way regardless of your status or your looks. If the people who are rude to you come to apologize later on, you have the right to be upset and not forgive them initially."

Gabriel questions if targeting Ladybug, the Princess and symbol of the whole freaking country was a good idea

All the while, Marinette trains to be a good guardian, the future 'ruler' of France, and a better hero.

She hardly ever gets homework, but the girls at Beauvoir think it's fair

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I really wish that someone who is a better writer than me and has a lot of free time would write this into a story and not a summary. I might write it later, later on but I have a lot going on rn and I don't feel like my current writing skills could do the story I have envisioned in my head justice. I guess you never know till you try it right?

I’m still on the fence of whether or not it was a good idea to add in Marinette’s secret identity as Ladybug being exposed, but idk.

Anyways, I'd like to hear what you'd guys think about this AU? Should I change something? Do you have ideas and headcanons you'd like to add? A new villain? I'd like to read your comments and suggestions! (ヾ*≧∇≦)ﾉ

Have a nice day, ThatPoppinAT

#ml au #princess marinette #miraculous royalty #minor salt

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lady-divine-writes · 4 years

Text

Good Omens - I Was Given Four Rules to Follow ... I Broke Every One: Chapter 1/3 (Rated PG13)

Summary: When Warlock Dowling is summoned to the old South Downs cottage of Aziraphale and Crowley to help clean out their attic, presumably after their deaths, he is given four rules to follow.

... He breaks every single one.

Notes: For @silver-colour

Written for the @tricketyboo2020 prompt "Creepypasta format story (like a found footage or witness statement kind of thing)" by silver-colour. It is a mild reworking of an older fanfic of mine, but that goes tongue in cheek with the ending of this story sort of. XD I would put this between Spooky Level 2 and 3, with 3 being "major and minor character death, disturbing images or concepts, major dark themes, major violence, etc." But there's only minor mentions of blood/body horror. But the whole undead thing is a trigger for some people and I lean into that imagery a bit. I wanted this to be a sort of leveled up Goosebumps tale. Tl;dr proceed with caution <3

Chapter 1

I am going to die.

I’m going to die, I’m going to die, I’m going to die.

I have to keep repeating it because I have to come to grips with it.

I am going to die.

Not in sixty years.

More like sixty minutes.

Oh, Amanda. I am sorry.

If you ever hear this … I never meant for this to happen.

My name is Warlock Dowling and I am 34 years-old. Devoted son and husband, I’ve spent over a decade working towards achieving my dream of following in my father’s footsteps and entering politics one day.

It’s a dream I don’t think I’ll be seeing through to the end.

I am telling you this because after reading what I’ve just read … and hearing what I’ve just heard … I am not certain I’m going to make it through the night.

I broke the rules.

There were four. Only four. And I broke them.

I didn’t break them by accident. I absolutely did it on purpose. I’m not suicidal or anything, but you only live once - am I right?

For the record, I don’t regret a single thing.

…

That’s not entirely true.

I’ll regret dying before morning if that’s the way things play out.

Today happens to be October 31st - Halloween night. I’d been tasked with clearing out the attic above a cottage in The South Downs which once belonged to a pair of old family friends. Technically, they were ex-employees of my parents from back when I was young, but I thought of them as surrogates. They practically raised me, educated me, taught me everything I know about coping in this cruel, pathetic world.

I held them in the highest regard.

They were the only people in my life who treated me as if I could become more than what I had been born into, that fate had something else in store for me. Because of them, I met the best friends a boy could ever have.

I will forever be grateful for that.

Cleaning out this attic was the least I could do to repay them, but to be honest, I don’t know who summoned me here. I assumed it was the executor of their estate, but now I’m not so sure. Looking over the letter in my hands, there is no legible signature. And the gold embossed emblem at the top that I took for granted as belonging to some upscale legal firm is, on closer inspection, gibberish - a mess of fleur-de-lis underscored by Latin words that roughly translate to “the cows shall rise”.

Ludicrous, right?

How did I miss that?

But more ludicrous - and confusing - are the rules.

I had been given rules about cleaning this attic.

The first rule on the list was to touch only what I could see. Under no circumstances was I to open any of the boxes or chests.

So, naturally, I opened every single one.

The second rule was not to put anything on. Fine by me. The only clothes up here are old lady outfits and a pair of white satin shoes.

But …

There was an awesome vintage leather jacket hanging on a dressmaker’s dummy in the corner and … well … it had my name written all over it! I had to try it on, see if it fit.

And it does.

Rule number three - keep to my torch. Don’t light any candles.

Nuh-uh! It’s Halloween! And torches are lame. So on the candles went. Jeez, there are a lot of them. Enough to burn down the whole place if I’m not careful. It actually seems like they’ve multiplied since I’ve been up here.

I won’t lie - it’s unsettling.

But according to the list, rule number four is the most important:

Don’t read any books I find. And definitely not out loud.

The first thing I saw when I entered the attic was a stack of leather-bound books. I scoffed at the sight of them, piled up to my chin, right inside the entryway. Isn’t that a bit like putting a huge bowl of candy front and center on your dining room table in the middle of dinner with a huge sign saying, “Do not eat?” If the most important rule about going into the attic is, “Don’t read anything!” why not put all the books on a high shelf?

Or the moon?

I’m not a book lover. I read hundreds of pages a day for work. I definitely don’t do it for fun. So this shouldn’t have been a hard one for me to follow.

But they looked like diaries.

And diaries hold secrets.

That made them a different matter all together.

I couldn’t resist.

But once I opened the top one, I knew I’d made a mistake.

These weren’t just any diaries.

They were the diaries of my two friends - Aziraphale and Crowley.

There had always been something odd about those two. I didn’t believe for a second that they were a proper nanny or gardener, not even when I was a young, impressionable child. But they were funny - a distraction from the dull as dishwater life of an attache’s son.

Yes, I was a spoiled little rich kid with everything I could ever ask for handed to me and, on top of that, diplomatic immunity.

Woe was me.

I realize how much of a douche whining about that makes me sound.

My life was still dull.

I was still lonely.

I never knew for sure what happened to them after they left us. I made assumptions - erroneous assumptions. I thought they lived happily ever after at least.

Now I know … that wasn’t the case.

I’m recording this in the hopes that someone will find it, so that you might know the true story of what happened to them …

… and why you might not be hearing from me again.

***

The Diary of Aziraphale Fell - Reluctant Widower

January 14th-

“Please, sir,” the decrepit woman hissed, but not unkindly. She came about her speech impediment by a mixture of symptoms - her thick accent coupled with her indeterminable old age caused her to talk that way. “Please, reconsider this decision.”

I glared at her regardless. I knew my eyes were bloodshot; my hair a mass of tangled, wayward strands; my lips quivered from constant, unrelenting crying.

“You said you had it!” I screamed, bypassing her arguments. “You said you would sell it to me! Wh---why else would I come here!?”

“You need to understand,” the woman implored, opening her hands in a pleading gesture. She fixed me with one clear blue eye, the other eye clouded – a useless, milky white lump of tissue bulging inside its socket, “what you ask for … it is unnatural.”

“But your granddaughter said it was a done deal!” I persisted, shooting a steely glare at the simpering young woman who ducked behind her grandmother to hide from my volatile stare. I wasn’t about to leave without the item I came for. At this point, I was willing to tear the place apart and everything inside - including the two of them - to get it.

They must have sensed that.

Even as the woman continued to defy me, she looked slightly more afraid than she had a minute ago.

“My granddaughter is foolish!” The woman directed the comment over her shoulder to the girl cowering there. “But she means well. We need the money. She was thinking with her head and not her heart.”

“I can pay you twice what you’re asking!” I reached into my back pocket for my wallet. “Three times! I’ll give you whatever you want!”

The girl, intrigued by my proposal, peeked over her grandmother’s shoulder, but the woman turned and barked sharply at her in a language I could not understand.

That was when I began to think I might be in danger.

I’d spent my entire life studying languages, so hearing one I didn’t comprehend, not even an inch, sent a shiver down my spine.

“Mr. Fell …” The old woman reached out, I presumed to comfort me, and took my shaking hand in hers “… your husband is dead. And I am more sorry than I can ever express at your loss. You carry your love for him like a beacon. I see it in your eyes. It shines from every part of you. With him gone, it is up to you to carry it. It will never fade as long as you remember him.”

Those were, without a doubt, the kindest words anyone had said to me since my husband passed. I crumbled, new tears falling hot down my cheeks. But regardless of her sympathy, sincere though it might be, I refused to relent.

I refused!

“I don’t want to remember him!” I whimpered, my anger renewed at the sound of my voice fracturing. “I want him here with me! I need you to help me bring him back!”

The woman sighed in pity but shook her head.

“The effects of life are varied, Mr. Fell. Our fate … it changes every day, with every choice that we make. But the effects of death should remain permanent.”

I flinched at that word as if she’d struck me across the face.

Permanent.

Crowley dead … my husband gone … and nothing for me to look forward to in life but emptiness. We’d had every moment of our lives planned together.

One arsehole drunk driver later and now I was alone.

I literally had no one.

I had lost contact with my mum early in life, never knew my father, didn’t have children of my own. My boss and mentor was an abusive prick who tormented me throughout the span of my career until I found a way out from under his thumb.

Until Crowley helped me discover a life where I didn’t need the man’s guidance or control.

But now I was going to lose him!? The only one who had stuck by me, who defended me, loved me through thick and thin!?

No! That was beyond cruel! And I wasn’t going to roll over and accept it!

I let the sorrow within me curdle, turn sour as I yanked my hand out of the old woman’s grasp.

“Your granddaughter said there are other methods of getting what I want!” I snarled. “Dangerous methods. Methods that might require payment in sacrifice … even blood. And not necessarily my blood. Innocent blood, if you catch my meaning.”

Both women gasped.

Despite the conversation at hand, I smiled.

Good, I thought. We were finally all on the same page.

Up until a few days ago, I never considered violence to be the answer to anything. But I had since come to a crossroads where an exception had made itself clear.

I was prepared to annihilate my humanity to get my husband back.

The old woman snapped her head over her shoulder, scolding her granddaughter in a harsh, guttural voice. The girl, who had started to brave coming out of hiding, shrank down once again.

“Be reasonable,” the woman begged, “please, and think about what you are saying. What you are willing to do.”

“No,” I said, my calm more potent than my anger … or so my husband used to say. “The time for me being reasonable is over. I will get what I want, no matter what the cost. The question is whether or not you will be the one to give it to me.”

The woman looked down at her gnarled hands and sighed a long, exhausted sigh. “Alright, Mr. Fell. I will sell the potion to you at the promised price.”

I stared at her for a moment in shock. I was relieved, of course. I hadn’t thought I would get this far. It frightened me how much I had begun looking forward to throttling her with my bare hands, imagined her neck snapping within my grasp, effortlessly like a twig.

That couldn’t be me though. I wasn’t that kind of person. It was this place - this shop and all of its trinkets, their age and professed magical abilities amplifying my grief, turning every rational thought I had into rage.

I had to get out of here and fast before I did something I might regret.

I opened my wallet with the onset of happier tears and thumbed through the bills, pulling out extra for the joy of getting what I wanted. I handed the money over, but the woman refused to touch it. She waved it away, her granddaughter popping up long enough to grab the money and then scurry off again. The woman reached into the folds of her skirts and retrieved a leather pouch that hung from a thin belt around her waist. From it she fished out a tiny blue bottle with a cork stopper sealing the mouth. She gave it a long, troubled look, then handed it to me.

For the first time, her hand trembled.

“Pour the contents of this bottle into your husband’s mouth, Mr. Fell,” she instructed, “and your husband will return.”

I held the bottle up to the dim candlelight of the musty Soho shop. The blue glass glimmered, a thick liquid inside swaying back and forth, shimmering like sun-tossed sparkles across a dark, foreboding sea.

“There are some rules that go along with that potion,” the woman said, her voice weeding into my head, summoning me back from my momentary trance, “and a few warnings you must heed as well.”

I sighed. I had hoped it would be a simple matter of giving my husband the liquid and living happily ever after, but I knew in my heart that nothing was ever that simple.

“Okay,” I said, slipping the bottle carefully into my pocket and patting over it twice to ensure its safety. “Tell me. What are the rules?”

“First of all, you will give that to your husband, but what will come back …” she paused, swallowed hard “… will not entirely be your husband.”

I nodded. I had expected her to say something along those lines, like a scene straight from an old time-y horror movie.

The woman locked both eyes, one clear and one clouded, on my face as I waited for her to finish her speech, eager to go back home and get on with my life. She realized, with regret, that I had every intention of going through with this, and took on the heavy burden of allowing this to continue.

“Be there to look into his eyes when he wakes,” she said.

I hadn’t dreamed of leaving his side, but since the woman made such a point of it, I asked, “Why?”

“He is being reborn, in a sense. And like other simple-minded creatures, he will imprint on the first person he sees.” She took my hands and squeezed them. “That person needs to be you!”

My gulp was audible, the weight of her words and of my plan suddenly settling within me. They pressed in on me, like that moment when the police came to my door. Their words – “Mr. Fell? I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this, but … it’s about your husband …” had turned me inside out, left my heart out in the cold.

I felt that cold now.

“Once the potion absorbs into his tissues, it will restart his heart,” she continued. “Then the potion will replicate. It will begin to take the place of his blood. It will make him calm, easier for you to control.”

I nodded again. I wanted to say something, assure the woman that I understood, but she didn’t pause long enough for me to speak. It wouldn’t have mattered. I saw the trepidation in her one, clear eye. I had no clue what to say to make this better.

“It will be a slow process, and you must learn to be a patient man!” She raised her voice, letting go of one hand to waggle an emphatic finger in front of my face. “You will be teaching him, raising him as you would a child. Remember, even if only a small portion of his soul returns, that soul belongs to your husband, and you must love him or this will not work!”

The woman stepped back, out of breath from her outburst, and her granddaughter (whom I had forgotten about) returned, pushing forward an ornate but dusty antique chair to catch her in. I held the woman’s arms gently and helped her into it, feeling strangely protective. The woman sat and waved us both off, not wanting us to make a fuss when she still had more to say.

“But most importantly,” she labored on, barely missing a beat in her speech, “do not let him taste blood.” I knelt down so that she didn’t feel the need to yell for her words to reach me. “He cannot eat meat, but most of all, don’t let him bite you or lick your wounds. Or anyone else’s – human or animal.”

“Will … will I become a zombie? If he does bite me?”

I’m not quite sure why the word ‘zombie’ leapt to my mind. In every interaction I had had with the woman’s granddaughter before tonight, she had been so careful not to use that term. She used other, more romantic euphemisms such as ‘bring back to the land of the living’, ‘re-associate with life’, and the most used - ‘rebirth’. But that’s what he would be, right? When we moved past the flowery vernacular and got right down to it? This potion I had pocketed would turn my husband into the walking dead, - a simple-minded creature that was once deposed from this Earth.

And that meant ‘zombie’.

As if I had nothing more pressing at hand, I suddenly recalled the Walking Dead marathon Crowley had convinced me to watch (against my better judgement). Crowley thought the show was hilarious, but I could barely make it to the middle of the first season. I had started watching with my hands over my eyes, then with my arm locked around Crowley’s, anxiously smacking his shoulder, and finally with most of my body lying over his lap and my face buried in his shirt.

It wasn’t just the gore in the show that skewered me, made me nauseous, unable to breathe. It was the fear and the pain those characters felt, being chased by a relentless enemy that needed no rest, constantly running into people they couldn’t trust, people who were so out for themselves they no longer believed in the sanctity of life, with nowhere to hide, nowhere safe at all, even behind thick, concrete and metal walls.

Watching your loved ones get turned into soulless monsters - still there, but everything about them that you had once loved out of reach.

And this ‘illness’ or whatever these people had - it spared no one. Even children had become zombies. And in the game that was survival for the remaining uninfected, children had become pawns.

Everything about it seemed so horrendous.

And while I suffered through my existential crisis, Crowley laughed at my antics.

I fought not to smile at the sound of his teasing voice.

“Uh … a little squeamish there, are you, angel?”

Angel.

From the first day we met, that’s what he called me.

Oh, what I wouldn’t give to hear him call me that again!

The old woman chuckled, bringing me reluctantly back from my daydream. “No. Not in this case. That’s not the nature of this spell. No, blood will give him back his memories.”

I looked at the woman, bug-eyed, and shook my head. “I … I don’t …”

“It will ignite his brain. He will begin to feel. In many ways, he will become more the man you married than in any other.”

“Wha---?“ I stuttered, baffled as to how that could be a bad thing. If drinking blood could make Crowley more Crowley, I’d set up an IV drip the minute I got home! I would serve him cups of blood with every meal! I’d make donating blood a requirement for entrance into my bookshop! (That one would definitely kill two birds with one stone. In fact, I might consider doing that anyhow.) “And why wouldn’t I want that again?” I asked, trying not to sound like turning my husband into a blood-sipping fiend was the greatest idea in known history.

The old woman smiled, but it wasn’t fond. It was shrewd, as if she could read every one of my thoughts.

And she didn’t approve.

“Once he has his memories back, he will start to crave it. Soon, drinking blood won’t be enough for him. It won’t work as well. It won’t keep the memories as fresh. He will have to go further, do more. He will become a killer.”

My face must have gone as green as I felt because the woman laughed again, this time with a touch of wickedness. A killer? My Crowley? My sweet, kind, compassionate Crowley?

Okay, maybe I was going too far with the endearments. He’d been a bit of a bastard, after all. Which was why I could picture Crowley becoming a full-fledged bad boy. With that leather jacket he wore like a second skin and his gleaming classic car, he’d been well on his way.

But a killer? No.

Then again, I was willing to become one myself a second ago, so maybe I wasn’t in the best position to judge.

“You are playing with the laws of nature, Mr. Fell,” she said, patting me on the cheek. “You are responsible not only for your own life, but for the lives of those around you.” The woman leaned in close, those eyes – one alive, one dead - more menacing than when I had walked into the shop; her face no longer that of a frail old woman but of a powerful witch.

This time, it was my turn to feel afraid.

“So don’t fuck it up.”

#good omens #good omens fanfiction #ineffable husbands #tricketyboo2020 #crowley x aziraphale #aziraphale x crowley #aziraphale #Crowley

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mhafiction · 4 years

Text

Out & About (Pt. 2)

Read Pt. 1 Pt 3 Pt. 4

Pairing: Bakugo x Reader

Fluff/ Friends to Lovers (?), lots of pining and !!some swearing!!

Synopsis: Reader is very close friends with the Bakusquad, except for the aloof and mysterious Bakugo. He still intrigues them however, and a night out with the group might actually be the the push they need to really get the ball rolling on transitioning their awkward comradery into something a little- more.

Note:Whhhhewww. Let’s get into it, I’m sorry that the dialogues’ very stilted -K (and again, I apologize for formatting)

XSero had scouted out a charming little restaurant in the heart of the city. Small, cozy, and family owned, the ambiance was perfect and the food was even better. You kept your eyes down for the most part, trying not to glance at Bakugo, but you couldn’t help but notice his order. An extra spicy dish that didn’t seem to affect him in the slightest. You wished you had that sort of tolerance and picked at your food, trying to calm your nerves. The interaction on the train still lingered in your mind. He was so, so close. Absentmindedly, you went to shovel a large helping of noodles into your mouth, instead feeling a caulloused hand brush against your cheek. You look up, eyes meeting Bakugo, looking just as surprised as you. Tugging his hand away, he glared back down at his food, pouting in his aloof manner. A thick silence hung between the two of you. Bakugo finally broke it, refusing to look up at all. “Tie back your hair or something. You looked like you were gonna swallow some strands with your food, idiot,” he mumbled, begrudgingly. You thanked the gods above that the others were occupied with their own dishes, because if they saw that interaction and they way you reacted, you’d never hear the end of it.

Wait. Could Bakugo like you back? You gave him a subtle side eye. No. Not possible with how he’s acting. Even if he did have some feelings for you, and this was all some tsundere situation, he clearly didn’t want to like you. And maybe that was for the best. Bakugo wanted to focus on being the number one hero, and so did you. A relationship would get in the way.

A relationship?!? Why were you thinking about that? You blushed deeply, sinking into yourself at the thought of dating Bakugo. Holding his hand, cuddling with him, kissing hi- “Hey Y/N, you alright?” You peered up at Kiri, who was sitting across from you. His voracious appetite was almost impressive, but even more so was the fact that he had managed to tear himself away from his fifth bowl of katsudon. “H-huh?? I’m fine, yep. 100% a-okay!!” You cringed. That came off as WAY too emphatic. Kirishima pushed aside his stack of empty bowls to see you. “Are you sure? You’re really red. Are you feeling okay?”

“I-“

“Wow, Y/N, you’re burning up!” Mina had appeared seemingly out of nowhere and had placed her hand on your forehead. She wiped a bit of rice away from her cheek and let loose a ferocious burp. You smacked away her hand, mostly out of suprise. “Mina!”

“What? I’m just worried about you. You’re the color of Kiri’s hair.”

Sero laughed. “Y/N, if you’re not feeling well, we should head back.” For once, you wished your friends were less doting.

“I’m fine! Just a little warm, haha.” None of them seemed very convinced. Even Denki gave you a skeptical glance. He smirked. “We’re you imagining something hot? I mean that waiter was pretty attr-” Sero flicked him, scolding. “Y/N’s not gross like you, Denki.” He turned to you, concerned. “But seriously Y/N, you’re up for tonight?”

“Yep! I’m okay.” You tried to grin, but it felt forced and false. The others were still skeptical, but decided to shrug it off. No point in wasting a perfectly good evening, and they were pretty sure you were responsible enough to know your limits. Mina wrapped an arm around you. “Alright!!! Let’s get shitfaced-“

“No Mina, we’re minors.”

Your group opted to walk around the city to see if they’d discover anything new. The moon hung high in the night sky and it was colder than usual- late fall was leading into winter. The neon signs filled you with contentment as you chatted with your friends, cocoas in hand. You lagged behind them for a bit when crossing a bridge, trying to take everything in. Everything but the...well, the Bakugo issue. Everything was fine then he had to smile at you and fuck everything up. “Y/N?” You snapped out of your stupor, looking at Kiri. “Yeah?” Kiri looked ahead at the group, oddly wary. You knew Kiri to be a trusting and kindhearted sort of guy- the embodiment of a paragon hero. Cheerful and humorous, and always willing to have some fun. But he could be serious when he needed to be. “Is something wrong, Eij?” Kiri laughed softly. “No, no it’s nothing serious!” He looked at you, cocking his head to the side. “I just want to make sure they’re not listening,” he pointed at the cacophonous trio dashing ahead, and you giggle as the three idiots directed their attention towards annoying Bakugo.

“Why’s that?”

Kiri rubbed the back of his neck. “I have a bit of a personal question and I don’t want you to be embarrassed.”

“Ha! Like I could be embarrassed in front of them. Shoot.”

Kiri hesitated. “Well, I’m hoping this doesn’t make you uncomfortable or weird or anything, I don’t to be rude or assum-“

“Eij just spit it out!”

“Do you like Bakugo?” He asked it earnestly, eyes shining with a quiet anticipation. You choked on air.

“Wh-what makes you think that?”

Kiri leaned back, crossing his arms against his chest and looking up to think. “Well, at dinner, your eyes kept darting back to Bakugo, and I thought that maybe that’s why you were so red! And when we went to get cocoa, when he went to grab the drink tray from you, you flinched at his touch. And also that one time in class when you guys were sparring and you looked super flustered when he pinned you even though you weren’t really going all in! Or when he taught you how to cut produce at camp and you got so nervous that you cut yourself! And-“

“Okay, I get it Kiri!” You covered your mouth, trying to hide your blushing face. You felt like you were about to hurl. “Am I really that transparent?” Kiri let out an quiet squee of excitement. “Oh my god I was right?? Really? Oh my god, my best friend is in love with my other best friend!! Ahhhhh!”

You sighed. “Well, you were half right, Eij. I only started liking Bakugo today.” Kirishima paused. “Wait really? Huh.”

“Wha- What do you mean by ‘Huh’??”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. It just seems like you’ve always been this way around him.”

You’re quiet, trying to chew on that. Always? Looking back, you thought that the nervousness was fueled by the intimidation factor Bakugo had.

But the truth was, you weren’t afraid of Bakugo. You never were.

You were in love with him.

You tried to shake that thought from your head: No! Back then, Bakugo was just someone you respected! Not a crush, just a colleague you thought was intelligent, brave, talented, fiery, attractive-

“Oh shit.” Kiri nodded.

“But why are you acting like this is a bad thing, Y/N? Love is great! And the fact you like Bakugo is even better! I mean-“

“He doesn’t like me back, Kiri.”

“What?”

“He doesn’t like me back.” You clenched your fists. “It’s that, or he doesn’t want to like me.”

“Why would you think that, Y/N?” Kiri said softly.

“He’s Bakugo, Kiri! Even if he did like me, it’s not as if he’d want a relationship. His ambition wouldn’t allow it, and you know that, you’re his best friend!” You hissed through your teeth with bitterness. Kirishima only looked sad.

“YO! Eij!!! C’mere, win this crane game for meeeee,” Denki whined. His pockets were turned inside out, and he clung pathetically to the machine. Kirishima turned to you. “I think he likes you, Y/N. Bakugo is the type of guy who stubborn and would never admit it, but I think he does.” He pats your shoulder. “And don’t give up on him.” Kiri winks, then goes to join Denki at the game. Sero and Mina dispersed on their own arcade escapade, but you decided to stay outside in the brisk autumn air. You didn’t have the appetite for games after that conversation. You sighed, rubbing your shoulders. It was cold. If only you brought a coat with you. You watched the night crowd going about their evening, looking at bright storefronts and multicolored signs, all with a serenity you couldn’t quite place. But it was lonely, to be sitting there on the curb with nobody to enjoy this with. Lonely and cold. You try to shrink yourself, burying your head into your knees. Were you lonely? Yes. But this was still a nice little scene , and you’d hate to squander it on self pity. As you’re about to lift yourself up, something soft and warm comes down on your head. An article of clothing that smells faintly of caramel.

You find a way out from under the expanse of cloth, and look up at Bakugo’s face. He quickly whipped his head away, watching the moon instead. In his hand was some hot beverage from a vending machine. He must have gone off on his own, just to escape Mina, Denki, and Sero. You lazily drape his jacket over your shoulders fixing your eyes on him. Just what is he thinking right now? If only you knew. You felt a quiet distaste for him in the pit of your stomach when recalling the train ride. It sickened you how attractive he was there and even now, when the moonlight hit him at a truly beautiful angle. “You shouldn’t have forgotten your coat. Did you even check the weather? You could have gotten a cold or something.” Bakugo only said things when it was too late, huh? You were reminded of the 5 o’clock rush hour crowd that you had been tormented by. Would have been real handy if he spoke up about that, escpecially since he seemed to be fully aware of it. You looked down at your feet. “Sorry,” you whispered in a half-there voice laced with a hint of resentment. It came off crueler than you intended.

Bakugo, a little taken aback , cast you an odd glance. “What?” You were always so cheerful. Always so peppy and excitable, especially with your friends. On a night like this, you should be celebrating and laughing with everyone else. Not apologizing. Not to him. What could have brought this on?

“I’m sorry, okay Bakugo?! I know-“ you choked back tears. Why were you crying?! Why did you have to care so much?! “I know I’m not as smart as you, or as talented.” You looked him in they eyes, anger clouding your face. Why did it have to be him, of all people. Why couldn’t it have been a nice boy like Midoriya or Kirishima? Why did it have to be the boy who demeaned you or refused to help you until after the fact. Why did it have to be a boy you’d never be good enough for, even if he liked you back? A boy you’d never be an equal to, in talent or looks or intelligence.

“But couldn’t you stand to be a little more considerate?!” You rise, throwing his jacket back at him. You’re screaming now, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “You could have bothered to tell me about the fact that we left too close to rush hour. Or that I should have worn a coat before we went out.” Bakugo was silent. His jaw hung slightly open, uncertainty in his eyes. “But of course, you’re not going to say anything.” You cross your arms, turning to leave.

“Wait.”

He grabs your shoulder, turning you towards him. You expect a scathing comeback or some sort of equally rude outburst.

But instead, he envelops you in a hug.

He rubs your head, whispering to you in a low, pained voice. “You shouldn’t be the one apologizing. It’s me.” He releases you, hands still on your shoulders and eyes scanning you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear into thin air. “I-“ he grits his teeth, as if holding back words. “I think you’re okay, all right? And I don’t have the heart to tell you anything when you seem so happy. But, I guess that backfired. ” He seems to retreat within his shell again, shoving his hands into his pockets. “So. I’m sorry. I don’t really have an excuse other than that.” He attempts to avert his gaze, but it’s hard when you’re staring him down like that. It starts to snow.

“Well?! Are you gonna say something?!” He finally yells. It’s a little bit weaker than usual. His voice shakes and his hands tremble and he feels scared thinking about all the things you could possibly say. But he tries and tries not to show it. He’s Bakugo Katsuki; he’s not supposed to worry about anyone else. So why was he so hung up on you?

You’re heart skips a beat. He’s still attractive, even yelling like mad and frothing at the mouth. You debated whether or not to tell him the truth.

You began. Tentatively, cautiously proceeding with your words. “Bakugo, I-“ you froze. What if you were misreading him and he didn’t have feelings like that? What would happen to being friends? And furthermore, your friend group? What if you held him back from his dreams? What if...

You weren’t good enough, you weren’t good enough, you weren’t good enough-

You smile, all with a trace of melancholy. “I forgive you Bakugo. But next time, please tell me when I’m being ridiculous.”

Bakugo sneered, but you caught a glimpse of relief in his eye. You might have a long way to go to see that same soft-hearted boy on the train car, but it was nice to know he was still in there. You give him another grin, and he turns to hide his face behind the back of his hand. Odd behavior. You laugh. And after a bit of suprise, he does, too. It died quickly though, dissolving into an awkward silence.

Bakugo hesitated, fiddling with his spiky hair. His words come out in barks. “You too, Y/N. Let me know when I’m being dumb. Not telling you stuff.” He turned away, but not before tossing you his jacket. “Wear it.”

And you obliged.

Little did you know, seeing you in his jacket almost made him explode. It was too much for him, and as you two scanned the arcade for your friends he screamed at himself internally every time he inadvertently sneaked a glimpse at you. Before you spotted Denki crying over some rhythm game you offhandedly commented to him with one of your bright beams:

“It smells like caramel!”

And he died on the spot. Full catatonic shock, and it took him around 15 full minutes to fully recover.

Once Kirishima had been found, he watched Bakugo usher you away from some creep that’d been eyeing you. He smiled. Something had changed between the two of you, and he couldn’t quite place it, but he knew it was a change for the better. But still, he sighed with exasperation.

“Those two really are clueless, aren’t they??”

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masked-buffoon · 3 years

Text

Chapter 6: A colourless world (Part 3)

Warnings: minors drinking, alcohol

Author notes: this really comes out so late, I am so sorry... Tumblr is being horrible to me and I can't make posts on my computer anymore, that's why there won't be a "keep reading" limit... I'll fix it up, I promise...! I hope you enjoy that heartbreaking chapter still!

I enjoyed the crystalline tinting of the ice in my glass when the bartender set it onto the counter in front of me. This was whiskey on the rocks. With a finger, I traced the edge of the glass, admiring its features and the way light reflected onto the warm coloured alcohol. There was no doubt its taste would warm me up as well.

"Have we not come a bit too early...?" I questioned Dazai, who was also lost in his thoughts next to me.

"What?" He chuckled "Do you not like my company?"

"I-I didn't say that...!" I hurriedly protested.

If anything, I was happy to be with him only; a shameful thought I dared not tell him about.

"Then why do you ask? You're annoying, Ogawa...~"

"I'm sorry, Dazai..." I lowered my head "I did not mean to... Be a bother..."

"Stop that...! Always apologising..."

"... Is it a bother...?"

The ice cube started melting and hit the glass, creating another tinting sound.

"A bother... Is not the word. What I mean is, I don't need you to always be sorry... I prefer when you're confident, when you answer me frankly..." He smiled at his glass "When your eyes are not clouded by fear because of me... We've talked about it, haven't we?"

"Dazai..."

"Anyway..." He gulped down his whiskey, emptying his glass in one go "Another one, bartender...~!"

It was hard to know when he was serious or not, but at the moment, I wanted to believe he truly meant the words he had told me. I wanted to believe he did care about me, even the slightest. I did not want to doubt him, but sometimes, it was hard to do otherwise, regarding how he sought death. How could he befriend me if he was meant to leave me behind...? I did not want to think about it. He was everything I had in this life, everything I wanted to protect in this world; although my feelings were not shared, knowing he could be concerned was enough to soothe my heart.

"... Thank you..." I smiled, sincerely, looking away from him.

"I have done nothing that deserves you being grateful. But —"

The door opened before he could finish his sentence, and Dazai's eyes darted toward the intruder, who was none other than his friend, Oda-san. His face lit up, as always when this man entered his field of view, and he waved at him like a kid.

"Yo, Odasaku...!" He grinned, cheerful.

"Good evening, Dazai. Ogawa." He nodded at me.

"Good evening, Oda-san." I answered, more calmly than my superior "Have you had a good day?"

"More respectful words..." He seemed annoyed as he sat down "You may be the only one addressing me this way, Ogawa..."

"That's because you are older than me..." I stated "That's all..."

"Then stop it...!" He smiled at me "I already know you don't even add '-san' to Dazai's name when in private."

"How would you —" I cut myself, noting how my superior grinned at his drink "Eh... Fine then, but it'll take some time..."

"That's good." He hummed "So, what is the reason for those new bandages, Dazai?"

"That...! It's a funny story...!" He answered, chuckling "We were in the middle of an ambush, you see, but all of a sudden, I fell in a gutter...! And you know the best? This morning, I was reading a book about preventing accidental injuries...!"

I had to do my best not to let my eyes widen and my jaw fall open. What on Earth was he saying...? He did not own any book about accidental injuries — rather, a book about suicide methods — and those new wounds and bruises had only been created by me pushing him to the ground... Or could it be he had been shot and I had not noticed...? Either way, why was he lying to put on the facade of a funny man...?

"I see..." Oda — as he wanted me to call him — simply answered "Funny story indeed."

"What about you, Odasaku~? Had a nice day?"

"Well... I defused a bomb and took care of thugs in the back alley. Nothing int —"

Dazai's eyes lit up greatly, like a child discovering his gifts on a Christmas morning. However... I could perceive there was no sincerity whatsoever. He was acting. I believed his friend knew so as well, but played along not to tense up the mood. It was better this way...

"I want to defuse a bomb too...! I'd do it so poorly that I would just explode with it...~!"

"I thought you didn't like pain..." I whispered, more to myself than to him.

"Odasaku-san, you always give him weird ideas..." Someone entered the bar, interrupting the seemingly joyful conversation.

"Hey there, Ango...! You look well...!"

"Well...?" His face scrunched up "I had a trip to Tokyo for some business... Finally, it turned out it wasn't interesting... Such a waste... Oh, hello Ogawa-kun."

"Hello, Sakaguchi-san." I answered the intelligence agent of the Port Mafia.

"Well, it can't be helped~" Dazai dramatically waved his hand "At least, you get to have a drink with us."

"At least..." He let himself fall onto a stool, next to my superior.

I had been careful enough to sit further from him, so his friends could take place by both his sides. I was not delusional; I could easily tell it was better this way. I sipped the last drops of my whiskey then placed the glass back on the counter, without making much noise. The three men were conversing together, exchanging happily about diverse things which were not even related to the Port Mafia. I had not been there often, but I believed it was the first time I felt so... Out, in a way. It had been months we had strived to get closer to a friendly relationship, yet, I felt slightly jealous, seeing how Oda and Sakaguchi-san could behave around Dazai, whereas I still had troubles knowing what was wrong or right to say or to do. How could I just be natural with him...?

" — Can you, Ogawa?"

I looked up, bewildered. I had not paid attention to what they were saying, lost in my own thoughts, and I was oblivious about what they could want me to do. I cleared my throat in discomfort, nodding slightly.

"Of course, Dazai..." My voice trailed off, showing my nervousness.

"Then~"

He put a camera into my hands. This was not his. This was not Oda's either. The only person who could have needed it was Sakaguchi-san. But what — oh, I understood. They wanted me to take a picture of the three of them.

"A trace of us... Such ominous words again..." I heard Oda's thoughts by accident.

It was always awkward to have me in a room full of secrets, for I could, even if not on purpose, get a glimpse of any hidden truth, and people had no guarantee I would remain quiet. However, this annoying ability which threatened to take my life could sometimes prove itself to be helpful, as it was now. What could he have meant...?

"Ogawa...?"

"I-I'm sorry, I was lost in thoughts..." I stuttered, taking a look at the camera "How do I turn this on..."

"Were you...?" He cracked a smile, surprising me "Don't do so too often... You look as though you're going to be gone forever..."

"Of course, I'll always come back for you..." I assured.

Months ago, during the Boss' birthday party, I had been introduced to the strange boy named Q, who had quite a troublesome ability. Despite remaining rather sane thanks to The Sweet Appeals, I had experienced a terrifying nightmare and had not been able to wake up from it, lost in the tormented illusion created by Q-kun. Unconsciously, my ability had activated itself and I had almost died, again, if not for the nurse. However, despite Dazai's protests and outrageous report, I had never received a single apology from Mori-san for putting me through such danger. I had loathed him ever since.

I handed the camera to Sakaguchi-san after taking a quick look at it.

"My apologies... I have never used one before..."

"I'll explain to you." He chuckled.

"I did pick you in the slums, but I can't believe you've never seen a camera, Ogawa." Dazai grinned, a tad mockingly.

"I have never seen the outside before getting thrown out of the mansion..." I confessed, embarrassed "I spent most of my time reading..."

"Is that so...?" He stared at me oddly "I understand better why you were so determined to shoot them yourself... Did you not use a camera to gather information about the place you would rob, with the thieves?"

"They did, but I was never part of the information gathering." I explained "But don't remind me... You practically killed me when we robbed the jewellery..."

"You looked like a poor lost bunny." He laughed, taking the last sip of his drink "It was amusing, seeing you run as fast as possible from me~"

"That's creepy, Dazai..." Sakaguchi-san made a comment "Will you be alright, Ogawa-kun?"

"Yes, thanks to your explanations." I smiled "Whatever, I'm glad you gave up on chasing me..."

"I don't think Dazai would have killed you, back then." Oda-san suddenly stated, casually sipping the alcohol from his glass.

"How would you know~?" My superior waddled on his stool.

"I know."

"So many secrets~ Will you ever tell me~?"

"I wonder. Perhaps in the future." He remained quiet about this matter.

"Anyway...!" I interrupted their talk "What about those pictures...?"

"Ah right...! Can you take the three of us~?" Dazai grinned "It'll be a souvenir of this evening~"

"Yes, Dazai." I smiled, walking further from the counter "Now..."

I pressed the button as they raised their glasses to "the stray dog".

#bsd #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #bsd oc #bsd fanfic #bsd dazai #bungou stray dogs oc #bsd imagines #dazai osamu

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duhragonball · 4 years

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Field Guide to the Rock Humans

I wrote this earlier today and Tumblr ate the post. I've noticed that ever since Tumblr last changed the dashboard, this will happen. I don't think it saves drafts like it should, and if you zoom in on the screen too much it closes the post editior window. So I'm doing what I used to do on Livejournal and writing this out on Notepad before I commit to posting. So Tumblr's regressed to 2005 standards.

Anyway, what I want to do here is go over all the Rock Humans in JoJolion. While reading Part 8, I kept getting frustrated that there seemed to be an endless supply of Rock Humans running around, and every time Josuke turns around, there's another one waiting for him.

But as it turns out, there really aren't that many of these guys. The JoJo Wiki lists 13 characters, and three of them are Rock Animals who may not even have Stands. Two of them are the A. Phex brothers, who are only a threat when they work together, so really, you're only dealing with nine Stand Battles, which seems like a pretty reasonable number when you put it that way. Even so, I want to write all this out, because it helped me make better sense of the plot.

What I'm going to do here is list each character, with their Stand's name in [Brackets], followed by the span of their first appearance to when they were last active. Let's get the Rock Animals out of the way first, since they're fairly minor characters.

A. Iwasuke, JJL #22-Present

Iwasuke is either a stray dog who wandered onto the Higashikata estate, or he was purposely sent there by Yotsuyu Yagiyama to get Tsurugi's attention. I just assumed Iwasuke was a normal dog who somehow got strange rock characteristics from all the weird stuff going on with the Wall Eyes and the Higashikata land and whatever else, but the JoJo Wiki calls him a Rock Animal, so okay. Whatever his ties to Yotsuyu, Tsurugi adopted the dog after Yotsuyu's death, and gave him the name Iwasuke. I don't think he's appeared since Chapter 77, but as far as I know he's still alive.

B. Doremifasolati Do, JJL #65-70

Unlike Iwasuke, Doremi is unmistakably a Rock Animal because he looks absolutely nothing like any real-world animal. He burrows underground, and his master, Urban Guerrilla, can ride inside him like a tank. They died together while fighting Josuke Higashikata, Rai Mamezuku, and Yasuho Hirose.

C. "Hair Clip Rock Animal", JJL #71

This creature lived and died in 2005, several years before JoJolion takes place. A 13-year-old Yasuho purchased a hair clip, not realizing it was actually a Rock Animal. For some reason it inflicted various misfortunes upon her, including a dandruff-like skin condition, and making her see a simulation of her father telling her that he would never visit her again. Yasuho nearly committed suicide because of the Rock Animal's machinations, but Dr. Holly Kira saved her. While in the hospital, her son Yoshikage Kira stepped on the hair clip, never realizing that it had been alive.

I never quite understood the point of this flashback, except to illustrate the depth of the connection between Yasuho and Josuke, and to show that the Rock Humans must be inherently evil, since even Rock Animals appear to delight in cruelty and suffering for some reason.

And now the Rock Humans.

1. Yotsuyu Yagiyama, [I Am A Rock], JJL #26-32

Yagiyama was the first Rock Human in the series. He claimed to have killed Yoshikage Kira, but in the flashback shown in Chapters 50-53, that's not actually how it went down. Like all Rock Humans, he had no name until he stole the identity of some unsuspecting human. Yotsuyu became an architect, building the Higashikata House, as well as renovating the Morioh baseball stadium. But he was also part of the Locacaca Organization, a group of Rock Humans who smuggle Locacaca fruit into Morioh to sell to humans and for research at the TG University Hospital. Yotsusu was with the smuggling wing of the group.

Pre-JoJolion, Yoshikage Kira and Josefumi Kujo stole a branch from one of their imports, and Yotsuyu and his boss Tamaki Damo ambushed them and interrogated them to get it back. Later, he discovered Josuke at the Higashikata house, and manipulated Tsurugi into helping him trap Josuke. His plan ultimately failed, and he died when Josuke submerged him in the sea to interrogate him. When his body collapsed into rubble, Josuke and Norisuke Higashikata realized that they were dealing with a group of inhuman enemies.

"I Am A Rock" has the power to cause specific objects of Yotusuyu's choosing to fly toward his target. He has to touch a target to activate the ability, and then the objects will be attracted to the victim and eventually push throug the victim's flesh to reach his very center.

2. Aisho Dainenjiyama, [Doobie Wah!], JJL #38-42

Aisho was apparently the sales and delivery guy for the Locacaca smuggling ring. Pre-Jojolion, Kira and Kujo stole a Locacaca Branch from him while he was transporting it through town.

Following Yotsuyu's death, Yasuho Hirose discovered his connection with Aisho, who worked as a security guard at the baseball stadium Yotsuyu renovated. She and Tsurugi tried to spy on him, only to run afoul of his Stand. During the battle, it was revealed that Aisho knew Jobin Higashikata, but he was killed before anyone could find out the extent of that relationship.

Doobie Wah! is an automatic pursuer Stand. When activated, it chases after the victim, producing miniature tornadoes from the victim's own breath. These tornadoes will attack the victim relentlessly, and the only real defense is to stop breathing or attack Aisho directly.

3. A. Phex the Elder [Schott Key No. 1] JJL #44-46 4. A. Phex the Younger [Schott Key No.2] JJL #44-46

These two guys were the assassins for the Locacaca Organization. Pre-Jojolion, they were tasked with pursuing Kira and Kujo after they escaped from Damo and Yotsuyu. Then they were sent to kill Karera Saknami, due to her connection with Kira, and followed her for trail for six months.

Their chase led them back to Morioh, where Josuke saved Karera from their attack. She then returned the favor, setting the brothers on fire while they were attacking Josuke.

Their Stands are somewhat limited in power. Schott Key No. 1 merely teleports objects from the left hand to the right. Schott Key No. 2 emits toxic gas at all times, so the user has to keep it inside a soccer ball most of the time, as even he is not immune to the gas. Working together, the brothers can combine their abilities to be more formidable.

5. Tamaki Damo [Vitamin C] JJL #47-55

Damo ran the "Damo Kan" Cleaning Service as a front for his smuggling ring. When his four subordinates all perished, he seduced Hato Higashikata so that she would bring him home to meet her family. Once inside, he used his Stand to incapacitate them all, hoping to interrogate them for answers. But Josuke appeared and managed to free Hato, enabling her to fight back against Damo with her own Stand. Before dying, he offered to help Josuke get Locacaca fruit for his mother, but Josuke killed him instead.

Vitamin C liquefies its victims, reducing them to malleable fluids that Damo can torment with ease. The ability is triggered once the target touches Damo's fingerprints, so his strategy is to enter a room without being suspected and then touching lots of things so that his victim will touch the same objects without realizing the danger they're in.

6. Dolomite, aka Masaji Dorokoma [Blue Hawaii] JJL #59-63

This guy was never part of the Locacaca gang, and had no interest in the Locacaca fruit, because he lost his limbs and most of his teeth in an accident, and figured the fruit's equivalent exchange powers would do him no good, since he was missing too many body parts already.

But somehow, Dolomite knew Jobin Higashikata, who sought his help in obtaining the "new" Locacaca fruit that would come from the stolen branch that was hidden somewhere in the Higashikata Estate by Yoshikage Kira and Josefumi Kujo. Jobin suggested that this new breed of fruit might even be able to heal Dolomite, so he agreed to make a go for it. Instead, he was defeated by Yasuho Hirose before he could kill Josuke and tell Jobin what he had learned from him.

Notably, Dolomite is the one Rock Human that the good guys haven't killed. Josuke decided that he's no longer a threat, and he doesn't really know anything.

Blue Hawaii can control the mind of a victim once they touch something that was connected to the user, like a tooth. The victim will attack and pursue Dolomite's target, and the mind control can be transferred to another victim on contact. Blue Hawaii seems to only be able to control one person at a time, but the power is very difficult to escape, so the only real defense is to attack the user.

7. Urban Guerrilla aka Dr. Ryo Shimosato, [Brain Storm] JJL #65-70

The other side of the Locacaca Organization was a group of four Rock Human doctors based out of the TG University Hospital. Dr. Ryo Shimosato, operating under the guise of "Urban Guerrilla" was sent to intercept Josuke and the "Plant Appraiser", Rai Mamezuku, before they can locate the New Locacaca branch on the Higashikata estate. He was defeated, along with his Rock Animal, Doremifasolati Do. Unlike Damo's group of smugglers, who were only out to recover their stolen property and protect their secrets, the four doctors seem to view the New Locacaca branch to be a breakthrough discovery, and they want to take possession of it for their own research.

Brain Storm is perhaps one of the bullshittiest Stands of them all, in that it's not only incredibly overpowered, but also fails to actually do what's it's supposed to do whenever it's inconvenient for the plot. Supposedly, it dissolves flesh, and when it comes into contact with flesh, it drives "feelers" even deeper into the victim, which supposedly causes even more damage from the inside, and it "multiplies exponentially". So you'd think this would destroy a person within minutes, but instead the good guys just seem to shrug this effect off, because no one has any healing abilities in this part, and no one wants to see the main characters with gaping holes all over their faces.

8. Poor Tom [Ozone Baby] JJL #70-76

This is the second of the four doctors, although we never got a real name for the guy. Does everyone in the obstetrics ward call him "Doctor Poor Tom?" Following Urban Guerilla's defeat, Poor Tom contacted Jobin Higashikata and offers to stop Josuke from finding the branch. You'd think that by now Jobin would know better than to trust the Rock Humans, but whatever.

Jobin buried Poor Tom's Stand, Ozone Baby in the Higashikata Orchard, believing it would prevent Josuke and Rai from entering the property. Instead, it nearly killed everyone in a 100 meter radius, including Jobin himself. Tom's real plan was to search the orchard for the branch once everyone was safely dead. So Jobin set fire to the orchard and called Tom to tell him it was on fire, just so Tom would have to come to the orchard in person and cancel his Stand's attack in order to keep the branch from burning up. Soon after, he was defeated by Josuke, but he managed to secure a branch and get it to a waiting ambulance, only to die from a gunshot fired by... someone. But Tom died in vain, as his allies received the branch, only to find that it was not the right one, and Jobin had managed to hide it in his house.

Ozone Baby alters the atmospheric pressure of its surroundings. The pressure increases greatly outdoors, but even in an enclosed space, it slowly increases, so that there is no real escape from the effect.

9. Dr. Wu Tomoki [Dr. Wu], JJL #76-82

The third doctor of the Rock Human cabal at TGU Hospital. I'm not quite clear on how this got started, but somehow Jobin's wife Mitsuba paid Dr. Wu 200 million yen for medical treatment, and he just kept giving her doses of Locacaca, which would heal one body part only to inflict a new ailment on a different part. So Mitsuba kept coming back for more treatments. I'm not sure if Wu was doing this to use Mitsuba as a test subject for his experiements, or if he was just bilking her for money, or if he was using her to get information about the Higashikata household. Maybe all three. When Yasuho tracked Poor Tom to the hospital, she discovered Dr. Wu's scheme, and she and Mitsuba fought against him. Josuke finally killed Wu by drowning him in medical cement.

Wu's eponymous Stand allows him to transform his body in a cloud of fine particles, which drifts along air currents. Upon contact with a victim's body, he can penetrate the body and trigger allergic reactions, or fuse with the victim's tissues to control them like a puppet.

10. Dr. Afeku Satoru [Unidentified Stand], JJL #76-Present.

Presumably the final boss of JoJolion, and the sole survivor of the Locacaca Organization, unless Dolomite wants to join.

Satoru acts as the Head Doctor of the TGU Hospital, a largely ceremonial role. His Stand apparenly causes objects to collide with anyone who attempts to follow him or get a look at his face. The Stand's exact abilities are not yet clear, although it seems reasonable to assume that something has to trigger this ability, since it only seems to work on Satoru's enemies. He gave a lecture announcing a new Locacaca-based medicine, and his audience was able to see him just fine.

Satoru appears to show up in multiple places at once, leading Rai Mamezuku to speculate that the image of the elderly doctor is actually the Stand, meaning that the user must be someone else, somewhere else. Whatever the case, he's been roaming the Higashikata estate, searching for the Locacaca Branch, and in Chapter 96 he entered the house, since that's where Jobin's been keeping it.

One wonders why he doesn't just strike some kind of deal with Jobin and Josuke. They only want the fruit to lift the Higashikata Curse and save Holly Kira, and he only seems to want to push the boundaries of modern medicine. You'd think everyone could get what they want, but Satoru seems to think he's invincible, so maybe he sees no need to bargain.

More to the point, Holly Kira probably got sick in the first place because she was involved in his Locacaca research to some extent. She helped set up the lab they used for the research, and when she started asking too many questions, she would up bedridden. So maybe Satoru doesn't want Holly to recover for fear of the secrets she might reveal, but this begs the question of why he doesn't just have her killed.

As for Josuke, he seems to have shifted tactics. Instead of pursuing Satoru at all costs, he's taking Holly's advice and concentrating on a different goal. If it puts him in Satoru's path, so be it. On the other hand, Jobin seems to be determined to fight him head-on, which is probably the worst possible move...

#jojo's bizarre adventure #jojolion #spoilers #jojolion spoilers #part 8 spoilers #rock humans

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