#that good old sixth year power | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

perictione00 · 7 months

Text

She's a Man-eater

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x reader

Warnings: MDNI, sub! gojo satoru, dom! reader, smut, degradation, heavy edging and overstimulation, cock stepping, choking, age difference(7-years, reader is older), oral sex, sounding, riding, unprotected sex.

Jujutsu Kaisen Masterlist

"Hngh...please...I need you", his desperation was so satisfying. He looked so beautiful crawling towards you, naked, with a collar on his neck with your name engraved on it.

"But we had a deal, no? You cum five times and I'll treat you", you coo. Breaking someone's body has become your new favorite hobby. To get them so high that normal never works for them. That they come crawling back to you.

"Haah...ngh...mmf...I can't anymore, please." You understand now why men like to oppress women. Power is a fucking drug, and controlling someone stimulates it.

"Then I'm afraid I can't help you, Satoru", you said, sounding disappointed, causing him to start stroking his already twitching cock. With his head thrown back, sweat beads covered his flushed face as he continued jerking himself off, moaning wildly, until he came for the fifth time in the same night.

What a sight. So strong yet so fragile—such a complaint one. Easy to mold and easy to manipulate. Watery blue eyes stared at you with hope. He was such a good pet. He deserved a reward for his hard work. So you took off your very wet panties and threw them to the other side of the room.

"Good boy, now go fetch."

Without wasting a second, Satoru fetched your panties on all fours. Sniffing it, he lapped on it and drooled at your taste. You watched him as he buried his face in your panties and continued groaning loudly. His hips bucked up instinctively, fucking into nothingness to seek any sort of friction to calm his now-hardening dick.

"More...I want more", Satoru begged as he moved towards your lap.

"Yeah? Tell me, will you do anything for me?", you questioned affectionately as you slid your hands and ruffled his disheveled hair.

"Ya...yes, anything. I can d-do any and everything for you", he answered, sounding breathless.

Yanking him back by the hair, you opened your legs and forced his face into your pussy. While he sucked on your clit, you noticed how he kept glancing at your moaning form. It was obvious that he wanted to feel validated by pleasing you. The poor thing was in love with you; the least you could do was grind on his face and use him. So you used his nose to gain some roughness and pulled on his hair as his tongue slurped on your wetness. Getting suffocated by your thighs drove Satoru to the brink, and his sensitive cock leaked for the sixth time. But he was so drunk on you. So much so that he couldn't stop and kept fucking your hole till you came.

"If you do it right, I'll reward you with a truffle cake", you declared to a ten-year-old who was being more annoying than usual. Gojo Satoru was the new big thing in the Jujutsu world, and although he was just a child, he was already much better than most of the second-grade sorcerers. And since he was destined to be the strongest, a majority of his time was consumed in practicing, and that too with well-versed sorcerers like yourself.

"Liar. You said that the last time too and didn't bring me any", the lil guy yelled as he continued pouting.

"That was because you literally announced it to the whole house. You think anyone here would lemme feed you, a child, a whole cake?", you retorted, closing the distance between you.

"I'm not a child. I defeated two of your classmates, remember", he scoffed.

"God, I don't have time for this. Listen, Satoru, if you don't do this, forget the cake; I'm never bringing anything for you, and then you can have a great time practicing with Daddy too", you were sure this threat was enough to keep him in check. It was your favorite weapon against him. And when you saw his frowning form turning back to practice, you knew it had hit the right mark.

Gojo had developed a sweet tooth early on because of your constant rewards after practice sessions. It was easier. Satoru already knew well that he was stronger than an average person; hence, with all his sass, he avoided training, even with you. If it was up to him, he would only play with you. So you introduced him to the world of sweets, and the rest is history. Growing up with Satoru, you knew your ways with him. To you, rather than a little brother that you never asked for, he was more like an asset who was the key to your goal. It worked out well. He became the ace up your sleeve, and you became his favorite company.

Coming from a non-sorcerer family, at the age of 6, you immediately piqued the interests of many families with your unexpectedly strong cursed technique, one of them being the Gojo clan. Initially, people thought it was for the sake of marrying you off to someone within the clan, but it surprised everyone when the head of the clan announced his goal of sponsoring your education until you were an adult. What seemed like a random play turned out to be a well-thought-out scheme to have stronger allies. For several hundred years, no one in the Gojo family had inherited both the six eyes and the limitless techniques, portraying the clan as weaker among the Big three families, so it was better to have an active margin to keep the center intact. That was the reason why you grew up learning from the best of the best and became a first-grade sorcerer by the age of 14. Which was why you ended up training the future of the clan. Or maybe the real deal was that the insolent brat wouldn't practice with anyone other than you.

Before his birth, you were the apple of everyone's eye, including all the servants and his father. It all changed, though—after his birth, that is. From the moment Gojo Satoru was born, his mere existence was celebrated; he was treated like a king, but you, on the other hand, were neglected. Oh, how the mighty had fallen. You were a child. With all the attention that you desperately craved, snatched away so suddenly, you couldn't help but feel jealous and envy the blue-eyed devil who had hypnotized every sane adult in the clan. You were there first, then why were you not as loved as he was? He was such a burden, a crybaby who couldn't fend for himself and had to be under surveillance at all times. You were forced to be by his side to keep track of his needs, which made you more hostile towards him. Fortunately, you warmed up to him as time went on. The hostility melted into care as you looked after the little demon who was always following you, crawling on all fours, when he always cried in your absence, and when instead of gibberish, his first words turned out to be your name.

The jujutsu world is cruel, and it's worse if you're a woman. The pathetic mentality of a few old geezers was enough to drive out women from this field. With the misconduct of power, the status of women was intentionally devalued through a sequence of meaningless regulations. For something so basic, women had to prove themselves worth it in order to be given the same treatment and respect as any other man. Women were associated with childrearing and bearing. And if they somehow turned out to be more than what was expected of them, the scope of their development is reduced. You learned it a little too late.

"Don't be greedy now. Grade 1 is as far as you go. I'm sure the clan backing you up wouldn't like that either. You're 15, right? A looker that's for sure. Ripe age. About time you start getting marriage offers, no?"

"If only you didn't have a mouth on you. Well, I'm sure I can fuck it out of you."

"Special grade!? Even if all of us in the room used you, there's no chance you're ever getting there."

"Give up on that impossible dream of yours. Isn't it too much for you to carry on as a grade 1 anyways?"

"Don't make me laugh."

"All I see is a hole inviting me to fuck. Come on, lemme help you discover all you're good for."

"Grade 1? Who did you fuck to get there? The clan head? Are the rumors true? I've heard he has a thing for young girls. I can see why he would give in to you, though."

That's how it was and will always be. In a world dominated by men, you will never be able to achieve what your heart longs for. You will never be the strongest. You will have to act according to their will and listen to the crap that comes out of their mouths. It was not fair. You were dragged into this world without consent, and now that you finally accept reality and try to be something more, they tell you that it was never possible. Hypocrites. You were not a slave. If you were being objectified by a bunch of old men, you might as well use them to get what you want. You can give them a sense of control and suck them dry of their powers. Use them until they serve your desires, and throw them away the moment you're done. It is okay if you can't be the strongest; you can always be with the strongest.

Gojo Satoru was the strongest sorcerer. He could have anything he wished for, yet he couldn't have you. On his 7th birthday, he declared in front of all the maids that he'd marry you and have about a hundred kids with you. His confession was met with a few chuckles and pity, but he was sure of his resolve. On the same day, you skipped practice sessions to meet with some dirt from your class and wished him a happy birthday minutes before his birthday ended. Let's just say that an angry Satoru melted from your apology, which consisted of a customized Digimon watch, his favorite pastries, and a peck to his cheek.

To him, you were the prettiest girl. And age was just a number. He just needed to grow up faster and be taller to be with you. You were the only one who treated him like a normal human. And the only one who genuinely wished the best for him and cared for him without any malicious or hidden intention. However, nothing had prepared him for your exit from the household on your eighteenth birthday. He was dumbfounded when you told him the same. He remembers crying and begging you to stay with him—not that it changed your decision, but you did promise to meet him every week, which was not enough for him.

Time went by, and Gojo Satoru realized that he wanted you all for himself. You were famous not only for your capabilities and beauty but also for your infamous relationships. He recalls how one of the Zenin clan men fell head over heels for you and took his own life because he couldn't have you. He also recalls how a senior representative of the Kamo clan went crazy after you left him and the stories of countless men who were doomed to the same fate. You were magical, and those low lives weren't your equals. Of course, you wouldn't settle for them; you were way too good for them. That's why he wants to become strong and be of any worth to you.

You came back to the house once, after 5 years, when you were accused of assassinating a higher-up, and somehow, after just two hours in his father's room, you were announced to be not guilty a day later. On that very day, you hugged him for the first time while comforting him about the incident with the sorcerer killer as he smelled his father's cologne on you. If he wasn't bound by relationships, he was sure that he would have killed his own father in a heartbeat.

Later that year, he confessed his love for you on your 23rd birthday, and you shot him down instantly. Calling him a child and whatnot. He wasn't immature; he was just a bit overly enthusiastic but not impulsive. Maybe it was just about his age. That's what he told himself until you rejected him again and again and again. For the first time, he saw the distance between you both. How you were climbing up the status ladder in the Jujutsu hierarchy and how the number of your lovers was increasing with every passing month. Something snapped inside him as realization hit him, and at the young age of 16, he lost his virginity to a housemaid his age.

You had successfully infiltrated all the major clans except for the Gojo clan. You were not going to infiltrate that clan; you had decided to own it. Although latent, your influence was more than a lot of high-ups combined. But of course you wouldn't rub it on everyone's faces; you didn't need to hurt their egos to feel your worth anymore. You just needed to act submissive and poised; that would do the trick. Nobody needed to know that all the cards were in your favor and that you were the real puppeteer.

When it came to the Gojo clan, you heard here and there that your little prince had learned to fuck around. It was about time he was tamed. So on his 19th birthday, you rewarded him with a gift of a lifetime.

"No...shit... please-aahh...it won't fit, please", Satoru mumbled as tears streamed down his flushed face.

"It will. You will make it fit for me, right?", you whispered and resumed kissing him down his neck, stopping only to abuse his hard nipples. He was a moaning mess, trembling with every movement, cringing at the sharp but pleasurable pain as you continued inserting a sounding rod in his penis.

You stood up to admire your artwork once you were done. No man has ever looked so beautiful. Gojo Satoru was kneeling in front of you, twitching like an insect, crying, and losing himself to you. He was so submissive, so perfect. You were going to take your sweet time devouring him.

You dragged your foot over to his cock and asked him, "What do you say, Satoru? Should I step on it?"

He was barely able to make a coherent sentence as you toyed with his cock while the pressure of the inserted rod edged him to the highest degree. Just when he thought it couldn't get any better, you took off your panties and stuffed them in his mouth. You were left with nothing but your bra; however, you unhooked them the moment an idea popped up in your mind. Tying them around Satoru's neck, you pulled on em, making him choke. Suddenly, he looked like every man who had wronged you, underestimated you, and molested you. He looked heavenly as he struggled to breathe, and Gojo would be lying if he said that he didn't enjoy life slipping out of him just a bit. When he was expecting you to finally take the rod out, you laid him down and positioned yourself on his dick.

You teased yourself with the cold metal end of the rod and slowly sank down Satoru's length. You looked down only to see him blabbering and moaning uncontrollably. His teary blue eyes and instant desperation to rut into you were painted all over his face. He tried thrusting into you, only to feel overwhelmed by the rod. You started bouncing on his cock and playing with your nipples. It would be an understatement to say that Satoru was hypnotized by you. He was enamoured by you. In this moment, you looked like an absolute goddess, and he was ready to lose himself in you. Your walls were gripping onto his length so tightly that he felt lightheaded. You continued grinding on his cock as you reached your orgasm. Getting off immediately to take his cock in your mouth and tease him a bit more.

"Are you my whore, Satoru?", you asked as you squeezed his balls. Had you broken him? Because it looked like he was too far gone. Did he stop working?

"Yes, I'm ya-your wh...whore".

You smirked. It was done. It's easy to break them when they're young, just like they broke you. You bobbed your head on his dick, sucking on his prominent veins and slurping some globs of his semen. Then, all of a sudden, you harshly took out the sounding rod, and with that, Satoru reached his orgasm with a high-pitched moan. But you didn't stop, not yet. You continued sucking on his member, taking in all of his jizz. Without a second thought, you sealed the deal as you spat his cum into his mouth and kissed him deeply. He was yours now, and so was his clan.

"I love you."

As if you didn't know that already. It's okay, though you'll entertain him.

"Yeah, let's do it again. This time, I'll let you breed me."

Part 2

519 notes · View notes

indigovigilance · 8 months

Text

Maggie is Possessed

This is my second meta! My first one is here.

I’m not the first fan to be suspicious of Maggie but I’m going to argue why she might be possessed (and I hypothesize that specifically she is possessed by an angel), rather than being eldritch herself, and will propose some reasons why the hitchhiker might be doing this.

First, a quick list of her early observable behaviors:

She cannot spell urgency

She signs “very faithfully yours”

She refuses to drink alcohol

Golden angel-wing earrings, anyone?

Have you seen those clothes?

All of those things are angelic, but why possession, specifically? Evidence is presented in order of chronology and not necessarily how strong it is, below the cut:

First: The timeline is weird. She’s eight months behind on rent, and suddenly decides she needs to speak to Mr. Fell “on a matter of some ugrency” and insists she can be out by next week. It’s inconsistent behavior that could indicate that a new decision-maker has taken over. First-point-five, she calls Aziraphale an angel: does she know?

Second: re-watch the first coffee shop scene, S2E1 at 13:20. Yes yes, it reads like a cute lesbian flirtation scene. That’s the cowrie shell. Pick it up. There’s a caraway seed underneath. When she arrives at the coffee shop for the first time, Maggie’s confused “ah, yes, coffee” might not be the flustered redirect you thought it was, but rather indicating that whoever is riding around in that body doesn’t actually know how a coffee shop works. But Nina (to Hitchhiker!Maggie’s relief) remembers her order. So Human!Maggie has been here before, in fact, Nina calls her a regular, to which Hitchhiker!Maggie says “oh right, yes, I’m that.” Not sus at all, sister.

Third: During the “herbal tea” exchange, Maggie says to Nina that “I didn’t go to parties” and she was “not that sort of teenager.” On it’s face it reads like she was a goody-two-shoes human teenager, but consider for a moment that whoever is speaking right now was never human; the statement isn’t a lie, but its very misleading. Who else do we know that does that?

Fourth: During the lock-in, Maggie tells the story of how her great grandmother’s store was in a corner of Mr. Fell’s bookshop, so he lets them stay on for old time’s sake. One possible interpretation of this phrasing is that Hitchhiker!Maggie knows that Aziraphale has owned that shop continuously for at least 100 years. Nina is the one that suggests that it was actually Aziraphale’s grandfather, and Maggie nods along.

Fifth: Maggie says it’s a “coincidence” that the power goes in and out when Crowley passes by; could read as a deliberate redirect from someone who actually knows that Crowley is a demon? But more on that later.

Sixth: I’m skipping a lot of intervening content BUT at the ball, during the dance, she says “this is just what we do, isn’t it?” to which Nina emphatically replies that no, it isn’t. So even though Nina has been effected by an emotion-suppressing aura, she hasn’t lost her memory of how society generally works in 2023, but somehow Maggie isn’t up to date. This is parallel to Point #2, not knowing how to order coffee.

Seventh: Aziraphale’s attempted miracle memory wipe doesn’t work on her. I’ve seen others suggest that it’s due to a miracle blocker but all of his other miracles work, so…

Eighth: Nina calls her “angel.” You thought it was cute. It’s not. It’s a double-bluff. She’s actually an angel.

Ninth: She tells Crowley that “we’re real people.” Okay, human police officer Inspector Constable, whatever you say.

The rest of this is wild speculation. Abandon hope all ye who read below the fold.

So of course this raises the question: why are is the hitchhiker here, and what was Human!Maggie’s motivation to give them permission to hitchhike?

I’ll start with Human!Maggie’s motivation. I believe that she is not just pretendy-good but a properly good person who feels a lot of anguish about her failing business, one that’s been in the family for 100 years, and guilt for not paying her rent. I think she prayed for help, and a “guardian angel” answered her prayers, and she gave that angel permission to possess her and fix the problem.

As for why the angel answered her prayers, I propose that the Metatron sent them to fuck around with Aziraphale. My evidence is that Maggie frequently meddles to Aziraphale’s detriment. In chronological order:

She puts him in a moral choice position: if he evicts her, he’s the bad guy. If he forgives her rent, he’s done something good. Both of these can be leveraged by the Metatron. Notably, after he forgives the rent, Maggie calls him an angel, perhaps to remind him whose side he’s really on *wink wink nudge nudge.*

She confides in her landlord about her crush on the business owner across the street, who’s already in a relationship?! How ridiculously inappropriate?? Maggie??!! But she does, and plants the idea in his head about love, which ultimately becomes the runaway train that makes him extremely vulnerable later.

She refuses to leave the shop during the attack (S2E5), I propose is for purposes of fucking over Aziraphale, as evidenced by…

For this part, I need you to go back and watch it. S2E6 at 3:28. During the pissing contest at the threshold, Maggie turns her head away, there is a sound effect, and that’s when she turns back to Shax and invites the demons in. Hitchhiker!Maggie has taken over and rolled out the carpet for the enemy invasion.

Maggie is the instigator of the “you have to talk about your feelings” conversation, dragging Nina from behind the counter across the street while she has a shop full of customers. Considering that the Metatron is at that very moment at the French restaurant next door, making a job offer to Aziraphale, the timing choice seems very suspect. Almost as if they coordinated to talk to each husband while they were separated.

So, it is possible that Hitchhiker!Maggie was sent by the Metatron as a spy and a saboteur to meddle with Aziraphale. To what end, specifically? Probably to get him to break up with Crowley and/or get him to return to Heaven, but ultimately, I just don’t know. I will admit that I don’t have a very strong conviction that this will become canon, but it was fun to write and I hope that it was fun to read! Leave a note if you enjoyed it!

edit: a link to another meta about why this was such an effective strategy against the husbands

#good omens #good omens 2 #good omens meta #maggie #ivoc

532 notes · View notes

sweet-s0rr0w · 7 months

Text

Vintage Drarry Fics

Thought I'd put together a list of some of the old Drarry 'classics' of my teenage years, for anyone interested. All posted between 2001-2006, compiled using my (bad) memory, a lot of googling, fanlore.org and numerous different LJ rec accounts (including the incredible @capiturecs). I checked as best I could, but if anyone knows of any fics that their author doesn't want to be shared, please let me know and I will of course remove.

Please also note that these fics are of their era, when attitudes may have been different, and they may not all be grammatically perfect. I haven't reread all, as my own tastes have changed, but most importantly do note that they may not be tagged - don't blame me when, for example, Harry dies tragically on a rooftop at sunrise...

Hogwarts Era (mostly 5th-7th year)

A Thousand Beautiful Things by Duinn Fionn/geoviki (M, 105k)

Draco Malfoy struggles with changed fortunes, shifted alliances, an ugly war, and an unusual spell, with the help of a concerned professor, an insightful house-elf, and an unexpected Gryffindor friend.

All Bets Are Off by Allegra (R, 53k)

I am SICK of Good-little-innocent!Harry...Enter Playboy!Harry and his Overinflated Ego, a challenge, a bet, a couple of Really Cunning Plans - and there you have it, "Forty days and forty nights", Hogwarts style. Mayhem ensues!

Angels and Devils by beren (E, 52k)

Harry defeated Voldemort and his act of heroism is famous throughout the wizarding world. He's trying to finish his final year at Hogwarts in peace, but, thanks to the method he chose to destroy The Dark Lord, something peculiar is happening to him, something he never would have expected. It's all rather embarrassing and making his life very complicated.

Artful Facade by Sky Sorceress (T, 66k)

Sometimes you fly too close to the sun and lose your wings. With sixth year approaching, the danger Harry seeks can be found only in the form of Draco Malfoy. What follows is a twist in the line between hatred, love, and need.

Beautiful World by Cinnamon/Lissadiane (M, 70k)

Harry finds out he's going to die on his 16th birthday. He embarks on a journey of self-destructive behaviour and drags Draco along for the ride.

Beneath You by Cinnamon/Lissadiane (M, 113k)

Draco had no idea that the repercussions of stealing Potter's journal and shoving it down the back of his trousers would be so extreme.

Bond by AnnaFugazzi (M, 173k)

It seems 95% of H/D writers feel compelled to write a "Harry And Draco Are Forced To Be Together By Something Beyond Their Control And Then Unlikely Stuff Happens That Leads To Twoo Wuv" story. Count me among the 95% ;)

Checkmate by Naadi Moonfeather (T, 245k)

Draco has the perfect plan to get Harry Potter and challenges him to a game of Dare Chess. But is it love, or betrayal, he has in mind?

The Cicatrix Cycle by Ivy Blossom (NC-17, long!)

Three parts: Origins, Haven, Belong

Draco In Darkness by Plumeria (T, 41k)

Following an accident in his seventh year, Draco loses his eyesight. After Harry elbows his way into Draco's dark world, both boys find themselves in a strange new friendship, and they each learn new ways to see each other … and themselves.

Eclipse by PhoenixSong/Mijan (T, 287k)

"You're dead, Potter... I'm going to make you pay..." Draco swore his revenge on Harry for Lucius's imprisonment, and Harry all but laughed at him. But Draco is planning more than schoolyard pranks this time. The old rivalry turns deadly when Draco abducts Harry for Voldemort. It's the perfect plan, guaranteeing revenge, power, and prestige, all in one blow. But, when Draco's world turns upside down, the fight to save himself and Harry begins, and the battle will take them both through hell and back. If they come back.

Friend Like Me by Lady Vader (M, 11k)

Draco's rendition of the love story that never was.

How Harry Potter Got His Groove Back by Durendal/Eleveninches (R, 12k)

Snape tries to hang himself, Draco enters an alternate reality, and Harry Gets a Clue. Humor, SLASH, naughty language, and other Evil Things. Harry/Draco, Snape/James/Lucius.

Irresistible Poison by Rhysenn (PG-13, 124k)

Under the influence of a love potion, Draco learns that poison doesn't always bring death -- there are other ways to suffer and live. Chemical emotion runs feverish as Harry and Draco discover the intoxication of love.

Lettered by pir8fancier (M, 7.8k)

Harry has a secret penpal, whose identity is as plain as the nose on his face. Except he's not wearing his glasses.

Love Under Will by Aja (R, 116k)

In their 5th year, Harry and Draco choose to be with one another; but the story--and the battle-- is just beginning...

playing the game, living the lie by Abaddon (R, 159k)

Set in Sixth Year, both the wizarding and Muggle worlds are threatened as Voldemort plans a final revenge. Past, present and future collide as all must consider where their loyalties lie; who they are, and who they want to be. Amidst it all, Harry and Draco begin a dangerous journey of understanding. Is it possible to leave everything you thought you were behind?

Resolution by Frances Potter (R, 322k)

When you've spent six years fighting evil, all you really want is a quiet time. But when your name is Harry Potter the chances of that are very slim. A series of vignettes chronicling Harry's final six months at Hogwarts. Exams, friends, lovers, Quidditch, the war and Draco all conspire to make the year end seem a very long way away.

Seamus is Seamus and You are Yourself by Ari Munami (PG-13, 31k)

Harry goes through some er... changes in his Sixth Year and everyone, including Draco Malfoy, sits up and takes notice.

Snakes and Lions by GatewayGirl (M, 139k)

When Ron and Hermione get together, they notice only each other. A nightmare prompts Harry to return alone to the empty Chamber of Secrets, and leads to a new look at an old enemy. Harry enjoys the company, but with Bellatrix Lestrange actively hunting him, how far can he trust a Death Eater's son?

Something Impossible by epicylical/Cassandra Claire (PG, 6.4k)

As punishment for an act of vandalism, Draco is forced to perform three tasks to win Harry's forgiveness - only they don't turn out to be exactly the kind of tasks he'd been expecting. With wet shirtless Draco, paint-covered Harry, and Proust-reading Goyle.

Transformation by amalin (E, 98k)

In Harry's sixth year at Hogwarts, he must face the consequences of the attack on the Department of Mysteries and the effects of Voldemort's return. And in doing so, he finds that even your enemies can teach you valuable lessons—about the world, and about yourself.

Walking the Line by SilentAuror (E, 179k)

Sixth year is over and Draco Malfoy is on the run. The war is on and an unwanted assignment is forced upon him by the only people he trusts - and a one-time arch-enemy just may be out to kill him.

Post-Hogwarts

Adagio in G Minor by furiosity (NC-17, 18k)

Seven years after Hogwarts and the war, life continues in the wizarding world. Draco Malfoy is rich, bored, and slightly jaded. Harry Potter is famous, busy, and somewhat disillusioned. They've not seen each other since school ended. What would happen if they were to cross paths again? What if it involved music?

Big Dick, Come Quick [PDF] by Calanthe (NC-17, 204k)

Draco’s got a theory. About sex. And after much searching for the right candidate, it appears that only Harry Potter, his life long enemy, can help him test it out.

Draco's Escort Service by Cheryl Dyson/dysonrules (15, 12k)

Draco's job is to escort travelers through the dangerous, war-torn countryside. Harry Potter is forced to hire him, but his destination isn't quite what Draco expected.

Left My Heart by Emma Grant (E, 85k)

Auror Draco Malfoy has disappeared, and Harry Potter has been sent to San Francisco to find him.

Malfoy, P.I. by Nancy (R, 60k)

"I'm Draco Malfoy, private investigator. I've seen a lot--I mean a lot, and I'm like sweet seventeen a lot. I thought I'd seen it all, until a pair of green eyes stepped into my office." A noir AU set in L.A. where passion and magic collide. Slashy and sexy.

Queen of Hearts by scoradh (E, 65k)

A spectre is haunting Harry - the responsibility of his destiny. It looms over his future and, more importantly, over the future of his friends. Harry is determined to exorcise this spectre for the greater good, but on the way, he enters into a few unholy alliances.

Tissue of Silver by fearlessdiva (R, 76k)

A love story concerning possessed furniture, black silk pyjamas, courtroom drama, premonitions of doom, assassination attempts, Death Eater yoga, absinthe, bare feet and a sensible werewolf.

Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow by November Snowflake (M, 58k)

When the long-missing Draco Malfoy turns up at a Ministry field hospital with amnesia, bitter Auror Harry Potter must confront the shadows of their shared past to shed light on a potentially deadly mystery.

Transfigurations by Resonant (E, 71k)

Five years after Voldemort's defeat, Harry returns to England to help re-open Hogwarts.

#drarry #fic recs #vintage drarry fics #loved putting this together #blast from the past

510 notes · View notes

lonely-cowboy · 4 months

Text

future of us

pairing: connor (rk800) x f!reader

summary: after finding a box of home videos, you're overwhelmed with thoughts of the future. only connor can ease your worries.

word count: 2k

warnings: panic attack sorta, good ol' daddy issues, a 6yo (and a however old you are)yo having an existential crisis about death, i actually don't know what this is i just felt like writing it, rushed ending

author's note: yes i was complaining about my angsty gameplay in my last post and yes i am posting angst after saying i needed more fluff to feel happy. what about it. i like the angst, it makes me feel smth.

masterlist ⟡ requests

The television flickered in the dim living room, the shadows shifting like otherworldly creatures. The heavy rain pounded against the windows combined with the quiet whistle of the winds. You would think that with such advanced technology nowadays the intense weather wouldn’t affect the power. Apparently, that hadn’t been a priority during this era of technological breakthroughs. But you didn’t mind. The flickering screen and hissing static were comforting, reminding you of the days Hank still had his old-fashioned television.

In the peaceful hours of the early morning (or late night depending on who you asked), you sat huddled on the couch with your eyes glued to the television. Wearing one of Hank’s old sweatshirts that was far too long for you, you hugged your knees tightly.

You watched the screen as a little girl sat bashfully at the head of a long dining table, kicking her feet giddily as a birthday cake with six blazing candles was placed in front of her. She was surrounded by loved ones who looked at her fondly, singing in unison with enthusiastic, booming voices. One voice– the cameraman's– overpowered them all, his voice uncharacteristically jaunty and cheerful. As the singing reached its end and the little girl blew out her candles with a big breath (and a lot of spit), the cameraman squished himself into the frame with a wide grin.

And there was Hank Anderson. A younger, much happier Hank, but Hank nonetheless. He grinned at the camera, calling the little girl’s attention. They both smiled brightly into the camera, ignoring that it was a video and not a picture. Hank and his goddaughter. Hank and you.

You were honestly surprised when you found the box of old VHS tapes. Yes, VHS tapes. No, you weren’t that old, far from it actually. Hank was just always old-fashioned; he never had a knack for technology. So any videos from your childhood were found on VHS tapes that Hank had kept for all these years.

You found them when you were organizing his garage. The entire day, you had been cleaning around his house with Connor’s help because his drunk ass could never do it. You hoped that maybe by giving him a clean environment he might be able to clean up his act. You weren’t too sure about that, but the thought was there.

When you found the tapes, it was already well into the night. Hank had passed out hours ago, and you released Connor to recharge not long ago. That’s when you decided you were deserving of a much-needed break, dragging the hefty box of VHS tapes into the living room for your viewing pleasure.

Only you hadn’t realized the experience would be the exact opposite of pleasurable. The more videos you watched, the more your misery grew.

You couldn’t exactly explain why you were so upset. All you knew was that your chest was heavy with dread, your eyes forlorn as you watched video after video.

You were so distracted by the video of your sixth birthday (Hank was now interrogating you about the differences between being five and six, ever the detective) that you hadn’t heard Connor’s light footfalls. Though you probably wouldn’t have heard them anyway. Androids were scarily sneaky like that. You didn’t realize Connor was even in the room until he was standing right beside you, his figure nothing but a shadow in your peripheral vision. You had almost forgotten he was here, simply resting (or whatever it was androids did) in Hank’s spare room.

Your attention snapped to him, fumbling for the remote to pause the video. With only the light of the television to guide you, you struggled to find the pause button. By the time you finally found it, your cheeks were unbearably warm with embarrassment.

Watching videos of your childhood self to remember the good times with Hank before he practically cut you off completely, dried tear stains on your cheeks and fresh tears welling in your eyes? Pathetic.

With your face buried in the baggy sleeves of Hank’s sweatshirt, you tried to casually wipe away your tears, but you knew it was too late. Connor had already seen them. And even if he hadn’t seen them, you were sure he could guess by the shaky tone of your voice.

“Hi, Connor,” you greeted weakly.

Connor was silent for a moment as his eyes trailed over your figure, surely analyzing you. His LED circled yellow for a long time. Even when he sat down beside you, it continued to show yellow.

“Are you alright?” Connor asked softly, reaching a hand forward to rest on your knee and giving it a loving squeeze.

You were so surprised that he didn’t offer some kind of thorough analysis of your current mental state that a guttural laugh escaped your lips. The sound confused even Connor, his eyebrows furrowing at your impromptu reaction. You covered your mouth sheepishly, flashing Connor a look that said “I’m-sorry-I-don’t-know-what-that-was-either-kindly-ignore-that.”

Connor was silent again as he considered what to say. His eyes flitted to the television screen that had paused on a frame of you shoving your face into the camera with a toothy smile. You were missing two of your bottom teeth.

“Is that you?” Connor inquired. He was only being polite. You both knew that with a simple facial scan he had already determined that it was, in fact, you.

“Yeah,” you answered lamely. “My sixth birthday.”

Connor’s hand that was resting on your knee moved to your hand, slowly pulling the remote out of your grip. He unpaused the video and sat stiffly, his eyes darting from you to the screen like he didn’t know which to watch. The television showed you as you flaunted your missing teeth before pulling back to answer another one of Hank’s questions.

“Alright, last question, kiddo,” Hank said off-screen, his tone teasingly serious. “We gotta hear the final verdict… d’you like being six?”

Your little self squinted her eyes in consideration, lips pursed into an extreme pout. For added effect, you put a finger to your chin and tapped it thoughtfully.

“Hmm…,” you thought loudly. “No!”

“No?” Hank repeated with a hearty laugh. “Why not?”

“I don’t wanna get old,” you admitted innocently as if it was the easiest answer in the world. “Getting old means I’ll die.”

You snatched the remote from Connor’s hand and hurriedly paused the video again. All of a sudden, your breaths were coming out in sharp pants as your body was filled to the brim with an inexplicable panic. You needed a distraction, you didn’t want to think about any of this.

Connor was calling your name calmly, his voice a steady, grounding force. Your wide eyes snapped to meet his, hands moving to clutch both of his. As you latched onto his warm gaze, you felt an odd imbalance. You couldn’t tell if you were comforted or stressed by his presence.

“How can I help you?” Connor murmured, allowing you to grip his hands as tightly as possible.

“I don’t know… I don’t know,” you stammered. “I’m scared, Connor.”

“What are you scared of?”

“I don’t know.”

“Okay… okay,” Connor whispered soothingly.

Freeing one of his hands from your grasp, Connor’s hand snaked to the back of your head and pulled you forward until your forehead was resting against his lips. He pressed light kisses against your skin, murmuring comforting words as tears started to silently spill from the corners of your eyes. You collapsed forward until your face was buried in the crook of Connor’s neck. His lips moved to your head, kissing along the top of your head.

Why were you crying? Why were you crying? Why were you crying?

You didn’t understand why you were so overwhelmed, you just knew that you were. You had felt it so suddenly that there hadn’t been time to ask why.

“Are you scared of… losing Hank?” Connor questioned.

No, that wasn’t it. Well, yes, you were. But that wasn’t the cause of your unexpected anxiousness.

“Are you scared of… dying?”

Yes. Yes, that was it. That was it. Sort of, at least.

Too broken to speak, you simply nodded against Connor’s body.

“Can you tell me what scares you about it?”

Could you? You thought about it, blinking furiously to slow the tears. Why were you scared? Sure, death was scary in general, but there was something else. There had to be something else because your heart was still pounding furiously.

“I… don’t know,” you croaked.

“Okay,” Connor said patiently. “That’s alright. You don’t need to know.”

With his hands still on you, Connor carefully pulled away from you to meet your gaze. The corners of his lips were raised in a loving smile as he studied you, his thumb absentmindedly running along your knuckles.

“I want you to know that you’re safe with me,” he continued.

You matched Connor’s smile hesitantly, feeling your heartbeat slow to a resting state. Your attention was drawn to Connor’s spiraling LED as it returned to its usual blue.

That was it.

Your smile vanished quicker than it appeared. Your eyes were now fixated on the LED at Connor’s temple, a constant reminder that he was an android. And you were only human.

“I’m going to lose you,” you whispered hoarsely.

A puzzled look crossed Connor’s features, the crease between his brows returning. His LED blinked yellow again as he realized you were still in distress.

“You won’t lose me,” Connor promised, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. “You can’t lose me.”

“That’s the problem, Connor,” you sniffled. “Someday, I’ll die. And you’ll keep living.”

The tension in Connor’s face eased as he realized the root of your sadness, though he didn’t look at ease himself. His LED quickly turned to a solid red. He looked so… sad. As if it hadn’t occurred to him until now the inevitable future of the two of you.

The look on his face made you want to apologize profusely. You were sorry for ever putting that thought in his head. But you didn’t have the words to speak. You were frozen, just as he was.

Connor broke your suspended state by inhaling slowly, nodding his head as he thought to himself. You noticed that his grip on your hand was tighter as if he was afraid to let go. His other hand had moved to rest on your upper arm, rubbing it soothingly. It seemed to be a calming gesture for both you and him.

“Maybe that is how it will be,” Connor muttered, his eyes finding yours again. “Or maybe there’s another way we don’t know of. But that… that’s far in the future. That’s not something we need to concern ourselves with right now. Right now… is right now.”

Your tears had stopped falling long ago once there were no more left to cry. You resorted to chewing your lip worriedly, ignoring the bead of blood that infested your tastebuds. Connor’s hand moved to caress your jaw, running a thumb across your lips to stop you from hurting yourself.

“Right now… I’m holding you. On this couch. Because I care about you,” Connor continued, though his voice was still slightly frazzled. “And that’s all we need to worry about.”

Either way, his words did do something to calm you. You nodded along as he spoke, leaning into the warmth of his smooth palm. Your fear wasn’t gone, not completely anyway. But it was certainly less than it was before.

You moved quickly into Connor’s arms, pushing him back so that he was lying on the couch. Your head curled against his chest, holding the front of his shirt tightly. You never wanted him to leave. His arms naturally fell around you and lightly rubbed your back.

It wasn’t necessary for Connor to breathe, but you could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest. You knew he was doing it for your sake. You followed the pattern of his breathing until you finally felt a sense of peace for the first time that night.

“Will you keep holding me like this?” you mumbled.

“I’ll hold you like this, right now and forever.”

#detroit become human #connor x reader #dbh connor x reader #rk800 x reader #dbh connor #connor rk800

175 notes · View notes

sunlightmurdock · 6 months

Text

Operation Apollo | 2.8 | Jake Seresin x Reader (18+)

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Masterlist

Synopsis: After a threat is made against her life, the President’s grown up daughter gets her security tripled. Ex-Navy and current Secret Service, Jake Seresin is devoted to being the best at everything he does. He isn’t going to let a bratty little girl cost him this job.

Warning: age gap, power imbalance, enemies to lovers, danger and angst, manipulation, sucky parents, grief and manipulation, lying, distressing themes throughout but especially towards the end of the chapter. Graphic violence, dangerous situations, revenge, wc: 3.5k

For as long as you can remember, you had known that your father was going to be president. It was always discussed as a given. It was the coup de grace; he had been working towards it much longer than you had even been alive.

Those fourteen hour work days, and sleepless nights. The hard decisions and the time away from his family. All along, Matthew had sworn that it would be worth it. It would, one day, be enough.

Then, the first set of polls came in after those primary debates the summer before his first election run and with it, intel that Matthew plunged a sixth of his savings in to. Politics and bribery go hand in hand across most of the world; this wasn’t even the first step off of the beaten path.

The intel was clear as day; It wasn’t enough. It wouldn’t be enough. All of that time, and work, and desperation that he poured into his career, it wasn’t going to be enough to win him the presidency. The guarantee was next to nil.

But there was still time.

He remembers one evening, in particular, sitting with his advisors in his home office, and just sobbing. Every birthday he had missed, every milestone — it was all going to be for nothing.

“Look, Matt,” Arnie had said, stubbing his thin rolled cigarette out into a crystal ashtray and sitting back in the leather arm chair, sinking into it like the lazy waste of space that he was. He was a good friend of the family back then. “There’s still time. We’ve got options, buddy. Plenty of ‘em.”

Matthew had rolled his neck back slowly — he still remembers the stress-induced stiffness those days had caused him — and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Yeah, Arnie? — And what options are those?” It was a biting remark, untrusting and downright hateful by that point. Arnie had promised many things already, and rarely had delivered. On the times that Matthew thinks back to his twenty year friendship with Arnold Paulson, he finds himself glad that that asshole now resides six feet under.

The older guy had just shrugged, letting that snide little smile creep across his face. “I know a guy. I think he might be able to, uh… help you out. For a fee, if you get where I’m coming from.”

Ellis Armstrong. After three days, and more phone calls than you care to remember, you have a name. He’s a business-man, and a rather successful one at that. Works in corporate development — he’s not hidden from the public eye like you would expect a guy like this to be.

No, he’s got thirteen offices spanning three continents and a portfolio that would put the Forbes list to shame. Once upon a time, he had been a friend of the family. It’s easy to piece together the headshot of him sitting at the wide, mahogany desk in his new office and the fuzzy memories of the tall man in your father’s office late at night.

You remember him distinctly. The sound your bare feet had made, tiptoeing down that long, curving staircase in the old house. Far past your bedtime, your princess nightgown grazing your ankles. The halls dark, illuminated by lights pouring out from under doors. The house was never really empty back then. Pushing open the heavy pocket doors that separated your father’s office from the parlour.

The gaunt, tall blond man sitting in the armchair. His sunken eyes that had seemed so dark in the dimly lit room. His thin lips and hollow cheeks. The long, straight nose and the deep lines between his brows. Skeletal and still, he had looked like a monster. Something that belongs in the dark, lurking in wait.

“What are you doing up, princess?” Matthew had scooped you off of your feet and suddenly you were looking at him instead, in all of the warmth and glory and familiarity of a man adored by his little girl.

“I couldn’t sleep.” You remember, but it’s hazy now. You don’t remember the softer, higher pitch of your voice or really what had made the man in the chair quite so scary looking, or what had driven you out of the safety of your bed that night.

There’s a fondness to his smile in those hazy memories, a softness to his touch that feels so far away now. The stars and unicorns on your bedsheets, and the stuffie he had tucked under your chin. The safety of your childhood bedroom, with the warm pink glow of your nightlight and the embrace of your stuffed animal. How far away the fear of that man in the chair had felt once your father had kissed the top of your head and closed your door.

It doesn’t just feel far away, it is far away — everything about it. Your parents no longer own that house, you’ve long outgrown that bed and that stuffed animal ended up in the donate pile after one of your big moves. You’re no longer hiding from the scary man sitting in the armchair; you’re looking for him.

“I don’t understand,” You do, but showing your cards has never been part of your strategy. The woman opposite you forces her creasing mouth into a deeper frown as she pulls her coffee cup protectively closer. “Tell me, exactly, what you remember about your time working for my father.”

If Allen knew where you were, he would skin you alive. If Manny knew, he would be right here with you. If Jake knew, you wouldn’t be here at all. He would have locked you in a hallway closet before he let you set something like this up.

The woman sitting opposite you is a timid little redhead with big brown eyes and a disposition that brings new clarity to the term ‘afraid of her own shadow’. She’s jumpy, and looking over her shoulder constantly. You, are considerably cooler for a person more alone than they have been in more than a decade.

Her name is Ida — she was your father’s personal assistant the year before his first election, and it cost you to even get her to this cafe in Pasadena. You remember the long skirts and the narrow glasses, but you don’t remember Ida being quite so… afraid.

“He wasn’t— he isn’t a bad man, darling. That’s what you have to understand, it’s just that—“

“Ida, slow down.” You bite, growing tired of this. You don’t have long before someone notices that you’re gone, if they haven’t already. The sky outside is grey, and sullen, the cafe is almost empty for now but the lunch rush is approaching. “This isn’t about whether he’s a good guy or not. Tell me where Ellis Armstrong comes into this.”

Sitting opposite you, the mouse-like woman’s eyes turn wide like saucers as she shrinks down further into her seat, wringing her hands into the checked fabric of her skirt.

“He wasn’t going to win the election by himself. There was intel out there that… painted him in a bad light.”

“Details, Ida.” You click the pen and stare across at her impatiently. She swallows softly and checks around her again.

“Your father had an affair. It was all going to come out — it would have tanked any kind of campaign he could have put together, and you remember what times were like then… the kind of money it would have taken to make that go away…” The coffee mug in front of her scalds her trembling hands as she finally lifts her chin enough for you to look her in the eye. Raindrops start to beat into the sidewalk outside. A silence sets across the coffee shop as the soft indie playlist stops between tracks.

If you were still little, padding barefoot along the hall in your princess nightdress, this would have hurt so badly. The warm smile and his gentle disposition — and he was already betraying you, even then. You’re not little now. It doesn’t hurt like it would have then. You scrawl messily across the page.

“What was her name, who did she work for?”

Ida pauses briefly, blinking. Truthfully, she hadn’t been expecting this calculated coldness from you. She’s seen the videos of the frightened girl clinging to her bodyguard. She wonders how far he might be from you today.

“Suzy Blake. She was a political analyst for the New York Times back then.” Ida tells you, turning her head and checking through the rain-dotted front windows of the shop. You scribe the information and look back up to her, unsatisfied.

“All I’ve got on this is your word?” You prompt her.

“And her daughter — Matt never took a paternity test, but Suzy was always so sure.” This, Ida can see it worm its way under your skin, writhing under those years of collected conditioning. She blinks across at you and taps her nails against the coffee cup, glancing down at the milky liquid.

You have never heard of Suzy; couldn’t even begin to picture what she looks like. Her daughter would be nine, at least, maybe older. She could look like you, maybe. You press your lips together and grind the tip of the pen into the lined page, threatening to leave indentations of your anger through the rest of the book at once.

“So, Ellis paid for her to disappear?” You confirm, looking back up at Ida with an iciness that gives her a glimpse of her former boss.

“Ellis paid for a lot of things.” Ida answers you suddenly faster than she has in the entire hour that you’ve been sitting here. She doesn’t look at you as she says it, lifting the mug from the saucer and taking a long drink of her latte. The liquid shivers in the cup, disturbed by her trembling fingers.

“Ida.” You sigh, growing frustrated. She turns her head and looks towards the window again, craning her neck slightly. Frightened of her own shadow, you condemn her cowardice. “Details.”

Her eyes follow two raindrops as the grey droplets race along the windowpane. “He bought the presidency for your father.”

Your father is a proud man. He has told you the story plenty of times, of how your grandfather had tried to give your parents the down payment for a house, how your father chose to spend his first year of marriage in a studio apartment rather than taking it. Back then, you wouldn’t have believed he could do such a thing.

Now, you aren’t sure where to draw the line on where your beliefs lie.

“Extra campaign funding, promotions, big names,” Ida’s cup jingles as she sets it rockily back down onto the saucer. She turns her head back to the table, but avoids your gaze nonetheless. “Votes. Ellis made it all happen. He saved your father’s career.”

Your gaze flicks up from the scrawled information on the page, and lands on her hands. She picks restlessly at her cuticles, her attention shifting to every corner of the room but you. Your brows draw together seriously, taking a moment to check the empty space around you before you focus on her.

“And what did my father do to him?”

Such a clever little girl — that’s what Ida remembers most of you. So inquisitive, and engaged. So interested. It’s such a shame that no one had time for you, you really deserved someone who would have answered those wonderful questions you came up with.

She swallows softly, unsure of exactly how much information is encompassed by the umbrella of ‘everything’. In her industry, you never let go of all of your secrets at once. That’s just bad business.

“He ran for re-election,” Ida says calmly, her voice more confident sounding, even in its soft tone. She exhales slowly. “And, after the successes in his first term, it became clear that he could win the presidency again. Without Mr. Armstrong.”

Across the table, you set the pen down on the edge of the notebook and check the time on your watch. You should be getting back before Allen has time to deploy a whole search party.

“Again, Ida… I’ve just got your word on this.” You remind her. A jaded assistant from nine years ago isn’t exactly the concrete evidence that you broke out of your house for. The fear in her eyes is all the proof you need, but that won’t stand up in court.

You’ve been thinking about that a lot recently, as your research has deepened into your father’s past. You came across a picture yesterday, where he was your age, and smiling in the foreground of a Greenpeace conference. It struck you to consider if that young man would hate the man he was going to become as much as you have grown too — if maybe the two of you would have gotten along once, if things were different.

If you would be able to stand up in court and send the smiling young man, with the purest of intentions, to prison.

“You’re right,” She starts to shake her head and her chair scrapes across the floor. The loudest sound that has come from her all day. She twists in her seat and grabs her jacket and her bag from the back of her chair. “You’re right, I can’t prove this. This was a bad idea…”

Your eyes go wide as she scrambles for her things. “No, Ida, wait—“

She pauses, briefly, to look you in the eye. “I’m sorry.” She turns swiftly, and heads for the door, dinging the bell above it and slipping out into the sheets of grey rain outside the door. You slam your notebook shut and fumble to slip it into your back, all thumbs and no fingers, stuck in the struggle as she disappears from the view of the front window.

“Shit…” You mutter, slinging the bag onto your shoulder, forgetting your coat completely as you head after her. She’s much faster than she is loud. Rain chills your cheeks and dampens your hair before the bell above the door is even done ringing. Your shoes slap against the pavement, splashing fresh rainwater onto your jeans. You round the corner and squint through the grey ahead of you in search of her.

Her plaid skirt dips behind a car up ahead as she crosses to the driver’s side.

“Ida! Wait!” You call out for her, securing a hand around your bag as you jog to keep up, rushing for the blue sedan as she ducks into it. It doesn’t take you long, her hands are shaking too much to get the keys into the ignition. You slow, but don’t make it to a complete stop, reaching out to knock hard against the passenger window, as something cold, sharp-edged and hard slams into your right eye socket.

Your elbow hits the ground first, then your knee, then your left temple, before your body collapses to the wet pavement all together. Thrown off balance and reeling, your years of conditioning haven’t ever prepared you for this. Your skull aches, throbbing like you’re being hit with that first impact over and over, before you even feel the fingers curling around your arms and hoisting you off of the ground.

The car door clicks open. Blood rushes to the right side of your face, swelling in circles to form the deep bruise that will be left behind. Slow, blinking, your eyes drag themselves open and blink as you realize that it wasn’t the door of the car that opened. A second impact comes, but this one isn’t stone — it’s all skin. You can feel the warmth of the hand, and the ridges of each knuckle, as it drives forwards into your face.

After that, you can only imagine how easy you make for them to get you in that trunk. It hurts too much to open your eyes. Maybe that’s a pathetic thing to think, as you start to think of what they’ll do to you next — what pain is yet to come. But, it’s dark anyway, and in here, at least you’re alone. Your phone is in the bag. Maybe that’s still on th pavement, or maybe it’s in the car. But it isn’t with you.

Each turn sends you forwards or back, your body rolling over the thinly carpeted trunk, slamming into the back of the seats or the metal of the hatch. You can feel your face swelling, the heat from it stings like a burn.

Jake’s going to be so angry with you, for doing this to yourself.

Maybe it’s just a short ride, or maybe you black out a little on the way, there’s no way of knowing for sure. But, when your eyes feel open, they’re trying to focus to the new bright light after ages of dark. When they’re closed, it doesn’t look much different.

It’s cold, and the echo of the voices around you tells you that the space you’re in is wide open and empty. A warehouse, most likely. The perfect spot for an execution.

You’re held up by a hand on each of your arms, and your feet drag, scrambling for leverage against the ground as they tug you forwards. There’s some fight left in you after all. If it lasts long enough for someone to figure out where you are, that’s another story. You should have told Manny. Or left a note. Something.

The country is going to put your father on a pedestal when he’s grieving the loss of his beloved daughter.

Abruptly, you’re thrown down into a chair and your arms are torn backwards, making you cry out. Rope. Heavy, and fraying, rough against your wrists as you’re bound to the metal backing of a wooden chair. Fingers dig abruptly into either side of your cheeks, pressing the flesh of your mouth into your teeth until you’ve got no choice but to open up in complaint.

The second that your lips part, something is forced between them. A dry rag. It’s tied tight at the back of your head, digging into your cheeks, muffling your sounds of struggle.

Muffled and restrained, there’s no way to defend yourself when another blow comes. It hits the centre of your face hard, another fist, this one harder than the first. Not pulling the punch in the slightest. Instantly, liquid streams from your nostrils and the taste of copper floods your tastebuds.

Your screw your eyes shut and force yourself to blink, you force your eyes to adjust. You refuse to surrender your last sense. Gradually, the room steadies and your vision focuses. It’s grey and industrial, illuminated by a singular lightbulb dangling from the ceiling. Empty, almost, bar a few storage crates, and a scary man sitting in front of you.

He smiles softly as your gaze settles on him and burns with rage.

“I know, I know,” Ellis offers with a small smile. He gives a small shake of his head. “This is none of your fault, darling. I know that. I’m sorry, really I am.”

You’re silent opposite him, your heartbeat thudding in your ears, sickened by the fact he has the satisfaction of watching you bleed. Turning your head slightly, you catch sight of the two men in your peripheral. Security, you guess, in case you do something.

This time, when you turn your head, you aren’t scared. The man in front of you is afraid of little, old you — so much so, that he needs backup.

“But Matt has a debt that I’m… not willing to forgive.” Ellis is wearing a green crewneck and black jeans, not like the suits in his pictures. This must be a casual kind of affair for him. His thin lips twitch, hinting at a smile as your gaze remains, unwavering, on him.

Saliva pools in your mouth, copper-tasting as your nose continues to stream with blood. It saturates the makeshift gag, spilling down your chin, your jaw aching and numb at the same time, pins and needles stinging through your hands as the restraints bruise your wrists.

“You understand, don’t you? — Smart girl like you, you get why we had to go after you, I mean.” Ellis sits opposite you with his long legs stretched in front of him, his palms braced on the cargo box that he is perched on. Maybe it’s because he’s closer now than he ever was before, or maybe it’s just because you aren’t a little girl anymore — but you look into those dark, hollow eyes and there’s not a fibre of your being that needs your father to rescue you from him.

“Fuck you.” You spit. It’s easy enough to pretend that the damp rag secured around your mouth doesn’t cut into the corners of your mouth when you speak. You’re stronger than that.

Ellis presses his lips together and sits forwards, his gaunt face leering closer to you as he twitches towards a smile. He lifts one of those bony, skeletal hands and reaches for his phone, angling it towards your bruised face. “Don’t worry, darlin’ — we’ll get you back to your boyfriend soon enough. Just smile for the camera.”

tags: @alanadetigy @thedroneranger @momc95 @basicchelsea @perpetuelledaydreaming @cherrycola27 @eviesaurusrex @xoxabs88xox@desert-fern @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @khaylin27 @cowboybarbie @marchingicenotes7 @marantha @lgg5989 @herladyshipxx @chaoticweirdogeek @mak-32 @obiwankenobis-lap @diamond-3 @wolvesofthewinter@shawnsblue@itsmytimetoodream

301 notes · View notes

zhounauts · 2 months

Text

SYNOPSIS kim minji was privileged. and she was your best friend. born to the top percent, she was born to go to decelis academy, a school built by and for the elite. yet she wasn't. you were instead. and you were attending as her. GENRE mystery, rich kids au!, slight romance, angst FEATURING YN LN, MEMBERS of NEW JEANS, MEMBERS of ENHYPEN, MEMBERS of IVE, AND MORE WC 3.45k WARNINGS cursing, lying , mentions of food, death A/N VERY VERY VERY VERY VERY experimental fic, lmk how it is

THE BEGINNING OF IT ALL —

elite.

that was what decelis academy was. an academy built by and for only the most privileged and elite in the entire world. money, power, and status ran deep in the school, evident in its gold embellishments on the wall, crystal chandeliers and the tall, high ceilings.

decelis was known world-wide, a prestigious school for academics, sports, art, and everything else you could think of.

and it was where you were now enrolled, taking the place of your best friend kim minji who had run away.

decelis was a school meant for only the elite and privileged. that was rule number 1, and you had already broken it.

july had always been hot and humid, the sun blaring down onto you, not faltering. but this year, it seemed even hotter than before. it felt like the entire world was on fire, it felt like your life was at a boiling point, reading to overflow, and bubble over.

and on july sixth, it did.

“i don’t want to go to decelis,” minji whispers, “i don’t want to leave everything behind,”

“minji. . .” you trail off, “listen, i get it. you��ve been here your whole life, but it’ll be okay, it’s just a new, fresh start,”

“i can’t stand it,” she says quietly, “i can’t handle all of that pressure yn. i’m not insanely smart, insanely athletic, or anything like that. i can’t live up to those standards. those kids are going to eat **me alive,”

“minji—”

“i wish i was like you. you’re smart without having to study, you’re athletic you’re*. . .”* she stops “you’re everything decelis wants.”

“oh come on, don’t dismiss your own achievements. minji, listen i get it’ll be hard for you to adjust—”

“it won’t have to be,” she suddenly says, excited. “yn, you are everything decelis wants!”

“so?”

“swap with me,” she begs, “you are everything they want,” and in the scorching heat of early july, the boiling point of your life, your world boiled over. you were going to decelis. you were kim minji.

maybe you should’ve thought out this idea a little more before committing to it, because now that you were sitting in the front of minji’s car, acting as her chauffer, you can only shift nervously. the two of you constantly send glances at one another in the rear mirror, unable to say anything with both her parents in the car.

you’re ready to dip, yet you know you can’t betray your best friend like that. you knew how minji was. she was kind, sometimes too kind, and you knew a school like decelis was definitely not for her. but it also wasn’t a school for you. you weren’t rich. you weren’t elite. sure you had the skills, but when it came to background? you’d be eaten alive if you were found out.

yet, this was also a good opportunity for you. in fact, this would let you take classes from some of the top professors and teachers in the world, and you’d have access to opportunities many others could only dream of. the plan was simple, as a ‘chauffer’ you’d help minji unload her bags, escort her in, rush into the bathroom, swap outfits and be on your merry ways.

minji had told you that she’d be leaving for a flight promptly as soon as she got home, planning to go to America and meet up with an old friend to pursue her dreams of being a dancer. you knew how much minji loved dance, and while her parents supported her in it as an extracurricular, a hobby, they absolutely refused for her to go professional. you’d heard it one too many times, from all the times you’d hung out with her.

“it’s an unstable job, there will always be someone younger, someone better than you,”

“dancing will not make you successful in life,”

“you aren’t good enough anyways to be like the pros,”

ouch, you think to yourself, recalling the insults they had thrown at her. her parents were harsh. they were stereotypical as well: strict, stubborn, unmoving, unloving. in comparison, you didn’t have parents. they had passed long ago, and you had been passed on to your mother’s then twenty-two year old sister.

she knew about the plan, you had fought with her over it. yet, you didn’t back down and the day before you left she wished you good luck, pulling you into a tight hug, whispering to you things you could not understand.

“stay safe, stay low, don’t step out of line, don’t be like ahra,”

the mere gate of the school leaves you in awe, it’s incredibly large, with the decelis enbelm in the center of it all. your heart races. you watch as the two men in front of you open the gates, revealing a long pathway, nestled in a large amount of trees.

driving up the driveway only makes you more and more nervous, making you gulp in fear. you check on minji in the rear mirror, and you can see how scared she is as well. she doesn’t look at you, but by the way her eyes goggle at the school, you can tell she’s intimidated. you’re not sure, how long you drive up the winding path for, but the school is even more amazing.

it’s sat on top of the hill, so incredibly large, practically a castle, and you can see even taller buildings behind this main one. you pull in slowly into porte cochere, a ton of other fancy cars pulling in as well. you watch the students who step out, all of them dressed in the same uniform, only with different patches and symbols marking your year. they’re all chattering and smiling with one another. you gulp.

“chauffer?” mister kim calls out.

“right, sorry! miss minji, let me get your bags for you,” you quickly hop out of the front of the car, adjusting your cap and wig, and heading to the back. you watch as minji approaches you, scanning the school around her. she would only be going to decelis her final year of high school. her grades had always been average, and because of that her parents were always too ashamed to send her to develop. yet after one more try at the entrance exam, which you had actually done for her, they finally sent her, or well, you.

belift academy was not a bad school, ranked top fifty in the world still, yet her parents wanted her to reach new levels, to meet other kids in her circle. you pull out her luggage, setting them onto the ground, scanning the school yourself behind your sunglasses. you watch as minji’s parents approach her, talking to her. you can only watch them from the side. they don’t hug her, they only lecture her.

“mister and missus, i’ll help miss minji take her bags in, and i’ll be straight out,” the two of them nod at you, only staring at minji. you grab ahold of her two luggage, trying to pretend they aren’t heavy. as soon as the two of you enter the school, you search for a secluded place and dash to it. the two of you had practiced this earlier today, and you quickly slip on her uniform, the blazer, skirt, socks, and clunky shoes. you stare at minji, you can barely tell its her, with the stupid sunglasses and goofy wig.

you bring her into a hug.

“thank you so so so much yn,” she whispers, “i don’t know how i can ever repay you,”

“just be happy, and achieve your dreams,” you smile, “you can repay me that way,”. you pull away from the hug, and the two of you stare at each other one last time. you grin. “i’ll be fine minji, update me as much as you can,”

“of course,”

the school is huge and despite being in your final year of high school, you’re still a new student, so you head to the orientation, sitting in the new students section. you analyze everything, your eyes scanning the crowd to see someone you could talk to.

“are you a third year?” you whip your head around quickly, staring at three girls who stand behind you. they’re dripping in luxury, shimmery jewlery, polished hair, and glossy lips. if it were not for minji giving you her things, you would’ve looked incredibly out of place.

“yeah, i just transferred here,”

“i’m kim chaewon,” she starts, “my parents own kim food corporation,”

“danielle marsh,” the other girl says, “my parents own hyundai, plus i’m from australia”

“and i’m hwang yeji!” the third girl says, “my parents own TOI media,”

okay. holy fucking shit. you think to yourself. “nice to meet you!” you exclaim, putting on a smile, “i’m. . .kim minji. my parents own WQ group,”

“ooo!” chaewon chirps, she smiles, “your third year of high school, but first year here?’ she asks. and despite the kind smile on her face, you know she’s analyzing you.

“Yeah, I guess it is kinda weird,” you shrug, “but i’m here now and that’s all that matters,”. the three girls stare at you, and nod. yeji claps her hands together and smiles.

“find us after the orientation! we’ll be outside waiting for you,”

you watch as the three girls skip away together, and as nice as they seem you know that deeper down they’re judging you. they’re assessing you, seeing if you live up to the standards first, then if you’re worth keeping around. you grit your teeth. you had been here for less than twenty minutes, yet you knew you’d have to play it safe, keep a low profile. and most importantly, keep that smile on your face and act like you were just like them.

you meet the three of time as soon as the orientation ends, and as promised they’re standing outside the large auditorium. danielle gives you a smile, “so, where’s your dorm room?”

“uhm. . .” you mutter, taking out your sheet of information, “it says i’m in summa hall,” the three of them whistle.

“you must’ve scored high on the entrance exam,” you nod, sweating at the memory.

“you never told me that i’d have to take their entrance exam minji!” you hiss.

“you’re academics are better than me! and plus you’re the one going really,”

“aughhh!” you exclaim.

“what does summa mean?”

“it’s latin, summa cum laude, with highest honor. and then theres magna cum laude, which is with great honor. then there’s what we just call cum laude, with distinction. then at the bottom is Infimus, which just means the lowest,” she explains, “and you, minji, are in summa meaning you’re one of the top in school,”

“impressive,” chaewon whistles, “most kids enter their first year way lower, and work their way up. it’s amazing you did it in one try,”

“that entrance exam was hard though. . .” you mutter.

“guess not hard enough,” yeji laughs, “all three of us are in summa,”

“right, yeji’s rank 7, chaewon 6, and danielles 5,”

“the ranks are based on the entrance exams everyone takes before school starts, they can change after ever marking period though, based on popularity, and extracurriculars” yeji groans, “it’s hard to maintain, but the benefits are endless. plus! the summa dorms are the nicest, so enjoy it!”

yeji was right, the summa dorms were top tier. you never knew another bed could be even comfier than your own back at home, and the fluffy pillows were to die for. summa dorms only had twenty rooms, ten for the top girls, and ten for the top boys. you were still unsure where you were in this whole caste like hierarchy, you didn’t really care, the bed was enough to keep your mind off things.

you wake up at the ass crack of dawn, five thirty in the morning, to get ready. you knew impressions were everything at this school, and even walking by those of the lower ranks, they were dressed up as well. you sigh, looking at your closet, filled with minji’s things. you sigh. this was going to be a long first few weeks.

by the time you’re done with your makeup, hair, accessories, and all, it’s already seven forty, meaning breakfast would be served at eight. you grab minji’s backpack, shuffling out of your room, your shoes halfway on.

“you new?” you hear suddenly. you whip around, to see a second-year boy, standing in front of a dorm that’s six doors down. you jump.

“uhm, yeah?” you analyze him, head to toe. he’s decked out in expensive jewelry as well, and you gulp underneath his stare.

“and you dethroned leeseo ,” he grins.

“what? who?”

“well her name’s actually lee hyunseo, she was the number one girl, but now you took her place,”

“i’m. . .what?”

“danielle i’m number one?”

“you didn’t know that??” she asks, staring at you wide eyed, “what do you think the numbers on the dorms meant!?”

“w-what the!? i thought they meant just your room number! like suite one or something!” you exclaim, “i didn’t know! and now who the hell is lee uhm lee hunsoo???”

“you mean lee hyunseo??” danielle says, fake shuddering, “she’s a bitch. she’s been number one ever since first year, she’s been in that room for years,”

“shit,” you mutter, “i don’t want enemies!”

”oh please, don’t worry,” danielle says.

“i am worrying. . .” you murmur, but danielle ignores this, only dragging you faster to the dining hall. you can’t help but think have the worst feeling in your gut that this lee hyunseo, leeseo, girl wouldn’t let you take her spot so easily.

“ooo! fresh build-your-own omelettes! minji hurry up!”

being a summa means essentially all your classes, except for electives, are seperate from everyone else. you have the better classes, better teachers, and overall better programs, and it makes you feel absolutely gross.

despite having yeji, danielle, and chaewon now you still didn’t trust them. sure they were nice to you, but that was only after they knew who your supposed parents were, after you had revealed you were a summa to. you trail behind them, danielle by your side chattering to you about some trip she had taken to aruba a couple months back. and while you could care less, you nod and give short responses, letting her chatter on.

all the summa classes are in the north building, in apollo hall. you can feel the difference in atmosphere as soon as you set foot in the hall. it’s much quieter in comparison to the rest of the school, it’s decorations even more intricate, and the school’s motto is engraved into the ceiling.

Sapientia Potentia Est.

wisdom is power. . . you gulp. danielle pulls you slightly, nudging you to hurry up. you want to laugh at how untruthful the school’s motto seems, sure wisdom was power, yet in decelis that wasn’t the case. wisdom wasn’t power.

money was power in this school, and while wisdom would get you somewhere, in the end it all boiled down to your background. you look at the motto once again, engraved in the door above your classroom. you scoff.

the classroom is suffocating. despite the friendly chatter going on around the classroom, you can feel the difference almost immediately. as friendly as these kids were acting, behind their smiles, their laughs, they were all watching one another carefully.

and all eyes are on you, the new student, kim minji, who placed first in the entrance exam, and was now ranked number one in the entire school. this was not the lowkey life you had originally planned for yourself, and you realized that because of this you were going to be noticed. you would be under a spotlight.

fuck. . . you think to yourself, sighing. you bury your head into your arms at the classroom’s seats.

“kim minji?” you look up only to meet eyes with a girl you’ve never seen before. she’s pretty, really pretty. her hair is glossy, her lips and cheeks are rosy, her lashes are long, and she’s also decked out in dainty, yet glimmering, expensive jewlery. you look at her, discreetly looking at her nametag. lee hyunseo.

“yes?” you answer sweetly, smiling, “you’re, leeseo right? sorry i’m still new,”

“yes, that’s right,” she smiles a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes, “i’m lee hyunseo, but you can just call me leeseo. congratulations on your entrance exam score,”

“thank you,” you tell her, “it was a really difficult test,”. you put that stupid, sickly sweet smile on your face again, not showing any emotion. you’ve gotten used to reading others. you were a scholarship kid at belift high, the only one in fact, and ostracized. you weren’t rich enough to afford anything at belift, and because of that you were judged. it got even more intense when you became friends with minji, who was well known in the school. you knew leeseo’s facade, what she truly implied. she was feeling you out, establishing you as her competition.

“it is,” she says, “i hope you enjoy your stay in the number one dorm, it really is as nice as others say, amirite?”

“yeji told me about it and i didn’t believe her,” you answer promptly, “i was truly surprised,” she nods.

“don’t get too comfortable,” she laughs and then she walks away. that was a threat. enjoy your stay, but you’re going down

“man. . .she’s intense,” chaewon mutters, “making her move already,”

shit. you think to yourself. leeseo had said little, but the meaning behind it said so, so much.

your original had been simple. stay low profile, make a couple friends in the lower ranks, pass classes, join a sport, and live your life here.

it was simple.

but fate had other plans for you. you were now the new girl who had scored the top grade in the entrance exam, shoved into the spotlight of the entire school alongside with other elites of the school. as much as you wanted to keep it lowkey, it was all too late now.

you weren’t going to back down now, especially since leeseo was high-tailing your ass. even if she didn’t directly say it, you knew what she meant. it meant more than just getting her rank back, she was going to bring you down as far as she could. she was threatend.

for some reason, the thought makes you laugh. you were poor, if she knew where you really were from she’d laugh at you, and step all over you. the fact that some girl who had it a thousand times better than you was threatened and jealous of your presence made you happy.

“kim minji?” you turn around, to see the boy you had talked to earlier in the morning. you recognized him from some of your classes as well. he smiles at you.

“yes. . .?’

“i’m kim sunoo,” he smiles at you, “i’m a second year,”

“ah, nice to meet you. i’m minji,”

“right. . .i’d like to be straightforward with you,” he says, and you stare at the boy. he has an oval face, fox-like features and his hair’s styled down. he has a friendly face, but his eyes say otherwise. he wants something. “i don’t like leeseo,”

“. . pardon?” you blink.

“you heard me,” he sighs, “i don’t like her,”

“and. . .?”

”you’ve taken her spot,” he smirks, “i can help you keep it,”

the offer hangs in the air, it’s unexpected, strange, suspicious even. you find yourself caught off guard by his proposition, and you can only stand there, unsure of what you should do. his straightforwardness startles you, and the way his eyes gaze at you makes you nervous.

“keep her spot?” you repeat, trying to remain nonchalant, “what do you mean by that?”

sunoo laughs “you know exactly what i mean, kim minji,”

“right. . .”

“i know how she operates,” he says, “she’s not as innocent as she seems. she's ruthless. to other’s she’s just another stuck-up girl, but now that someone’s really dethroned her, she’s scared now. she’s going to do something,”

“and why are you helping me? what do you gain from all of this?”

“i have my own reasons, kim minji,” he says. there it was again. kim minji. it rolled off his tongue in a way that irked you, and the way he constantly repeated it made you fidget. it made you think he knew something, yet you couldn't be sure. “don’t wonder about me too much. i’m helping you, giving you a warning,” you narrow your eyes at him.

“who ever said i wanted to keep that spot?”

“why wouldn’t you want to?” he asks, you watch as he looks around, scanning your surroundings. he leans in close next to you, his mouth right next to your ear. you gulp.

“hey what—”

“and plus, it was your mother’s spot,” he whispers.

DECELIS BOYS TOP 10 —

??? 6. ???

??? 7. ???

??? 8. ???

KIM SUNOO 9. ???

??? 10. ???

DECELIS GIRLS TOP 10 —

KIM MINJI 6. KIM CHAEWON

LEE HYUNSEO 7. HWANG YEJI

??? 8. ???

??? 9. ???

MARSH DANIELLE 10. ???

a/n spring break = no school = time to write = clear head to write new ideas and stuff = no writers block

literally grinded this all day without stop cause i had nothing else to do, ngl i'm proud of it, but at the same time idk what i want to do with it so like. . .??? + like i said in first a/n this is a very experimental fic and i prob won't continue it, but anyways PLEASE share thoughts on this

networks @a-dream-bookmark

#k labels #k films #enhypen x female reader #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen au #enhypen #enhypen sunoo #enhypen fic #enhypen x reader #enhypen heeseung #enha #enha x reader #kpop fanfic

76 notes · View notes

tobiasdrake · 4 days

Note

Man, every time you post from Dragonball Meta I go "Man, that makes so much sense! Now I wanna see their take on this" On that note: How would you describe Gohan and Krillin's dynamic

It takes a village to raise a child. Goku, Chi-Chi, and Piccolo's contributions to Gohan's upbringing are often brought up, but it's often overlooked that he was Krillin's ward for a time too.

During their time on Namek, Krillin and Gohan have a pretty neat dynamic. As a hybrid Saiyan given some instruction in ki manipulation and martial arts by Piccolo, Gohan has a great deal of raw ability. But he's also five years old.

He's got a lot of power and some technical prowess but he doesn't have the sharp instincts or experience of a martial artist. He has the temperament of a child in need of guidance. Because. Like. That's what he literally is.

His ki sensing tends to be more finely tuned than Krillin's.

Gohan is a fantastic radar. I think learning to sense ki at such an early age probably made it second nature for him, like having a sixth sense. But that's my speculation.

In any case, Gohan's got a lot of ability but what he lacks is maturity, experience, and some of the more esoteric techniques picked up from a lifetime of martial arts study. That's where Krillin comes in. Krillin calls the shots during their time on Namek.

As an aside, I love this moment because it conveys the difference in technique between the two. Gohan and Krillin are both about to absolutely murder these guys in one hit each, but the way they're about to do it is totally different.

Gohan fights like a brawler, and so he's just going in for a hard right hook. Krillin, meanwhile, is preparing to twirl himself around with Bukujutsu in order to create momentum for a spinning kick.

Brute force on the one hand and finely honed martial arts on the other. Akira Toriyama's greatest talent as an artist was conveying character through action.

That is their dynamic on Namek. (Dynamek?) Gohan is powerful beyond measure while Krillin makes choices about where and how to apply that power. And when Gohan's impulsiveness gets them into trouble (in a way that will pay out massive dividends for years to come):

It's Krillin's technical knowledge, experience, and knack for subterfuge that gets them out of it.

This victory was brought to you by everybody cannibalizing Tenshinhan's techniques because they're so good. Dude needs to start filing patents.

Bunch of fucking thieves, Kame-senryu.

This sort of teamwork is the relationship they develop. Krillin is experienced and tactical, but also pragmatic. He didn't want to save Dende; He was totally willing to let Dende die to avoid exposing him and Gohan. But he rolls with it and adapts.

When he next sets out into a situation where they might have to leave the Namekians to die, he doesn't say he's not taking Gohan to avoid a similar predicament... but he does bench Gohan without giving any reason for it.

It's certainly an interesting choice, to be sure.

And a mistake he'll spend the next six days trying to un-make.

Oof. Would have been a great idea to have brought Gohan along in the first place, huh?

He does it again much later, when he's once again flying into a situation where he might have to choose between exposing himself to Frieza or letting the Namekians die.

Again, no explanation offered. Gohan volunteers to join and Krillin tells him, "Nope." Gohan has implicitly been fired from ever doing spy ops with Krillin again. Nonetheless, he continues to follow Krillin's lead unquestioningly, all the way up to the end.

For his part, Gohan is impulsive and follows his heart. He leans on Krillin for guidance and mentorship, but also follows his heart.

But together they effectively fight as a single unit. That... psychic mind training thing they were doing on the spaceship wasn't just sparring; They were also forming battle strategies and making plans for fighting an enemy together.

The coordination and teamwork between Gohan and Krillin is some of the best in the series, because they had both time and will to practice and train themselves as battle partners. Guldo can freeze time and he's still on the backfoot from how fast they flow from one attack to another, and how well Gohan's learned to read Krillin's moves and follow along without a word between them.

Oh, and the ki sensing.

I love the way Krillin and Gohan dominate this fight. Guldo's telekinesis almost pulls this out for him right at the end, but 90% of this fight is Guldo narrowly avoiding being brutally murdered by virtue of his time manipulation.

This is, once again, the Planet Trade Organization in the nutshell. Their raw abilities are incredible, while the Earthlings are better fighters. This tends to put the Earthlings on the backfoot, but the Earthlings have the tools to at least navigate the situation - For a time, at least.

When they can find an answer, they excel. When they can't, the raw ability of the PTO wins out. One of my favorite moments for Gohan and Krillin is right here, when they intervene during Vegeta's fight with Recoome.

This is a desperation move. There was no plan here. "We're fucked; GET 'IM!" was the only idea exchanged before they rush in.

So, lacking a coordinated strategy like the ones they used against Guldo, you can see their different values manifest in how they move. Krillin, the underhanded pragmatist, goes straight for a critical shot. Hitting Recoome with a well-placed knee drop to slam his jaw shut on the ultra-powerful Eraser Gun he's firing from his mouth.

Krillin's sneak attack fucks up Recoome about as hard as the preceding battle with Vegeta did.

But where Krillin sees an opening for a powerful hit, Gohan sees a life in danger. So he moves to save Vegeta instead of following Krillin's attack. Even Vegeta's startled by this decision.

Vegeta's pissed that Gohan didn't let him die. Vegeta would have let Vegeta die.

This is who Gohan is: A kindhearted boy who doesn't want to be in these violent situations but will do whatever he has to do in order to protect the lives of others.

Gohan is the most unambiguously heroic character in the cast. There is no poison in his heart. He's not here to fight. He doesn't care about martial arts. He has no enjoyment and no love of violence. He has Goku's best quality: He doesn't like it when people are being hurt, and he's bold enough to get involved if he can. But it's distilled in Gohan, untouched by Goku's poison.

Which is both a strength and a weakness, in different ways. And remains so throughout the rest of his life.

#dragon ball #dragon ball z #krillin #son gohan

49 notes · View notes

unknownhomosapien · 2 months

Text

Wanna add some more context to reverse!au for better understanding

(Added more sickness to his face cus I still like trickstarbrave's art teehee)

Basically all canon events till "foul murder" is...canon. It wasn't his will to become a god, but Nerevar's mind got corrupted in some ways because of heart of lorkhan, so he ready to use god powers to reach his goals. His ways to deal with tribunal are much more sinister, so he as well as madman.

Somehow even Almsivi thinks that it was Dagoth Ur who has got awakened (very tough awakening though). Nerevar using this legend as profit. Everyone seems to believe that Nerevarine prophecy is true, even ashlanders. Wonder how he deceived them.

If Dagoth Ur using the magic to fight, Mora Ind using his strength. Don't be fooled by his exhausting look, this man is able to cut a massive rock with trueflame in the first try as well as crush your head with one hand.

He is using the magic, still. Prostetics looks advanced, but has bad mobility, plus constant pain, so, he learnt how to levitate and use it effectively in the attacks. Also, Nerevar somehow developed resistance to magic, and its not easy to beat him only with the spells.

His god voice echoes, but can change depending on mood. Main difference that in moments of anger it echoing in higher tone, almost cutting the ears.

Mora Ind has his own followers, despite having sixth house as source to threaten people. He is not fully controlling them though. Despite being blind and using raw magic, Nerevar is able to "see" through eyes on his hands, and through his followers. This is part of the deal: they're serve him with no hesitation, him is protecting them from corprus (except sixth house sleepers), saving their will, but has right to take control whenever he wants. And he has much more influence on dissident priests. But only few loyal knows who is truly sitting in the red mountain.

Godryn is quite weak, despite being tall, so he is highly counting on his charisma, magic abilities and alchemy skills. He is suffering from rosacea, migraines and epilepsy, thought last one comes from migraines and happens in the moments of high stress, and has uncontrollable and incurable magic origin. Blessing and a curse in the same time.

This man loves to be good looking and morning routines are his best friends. Only when being alone, he allows himself to look sloppy.

He is not a Nerevarine. How do you think he'll become one if Nerevar is alive? But Godryn surely gonna doubt tribunal much and make his own investigation because of curiosity. Will meet Almsivi eventually.

Anarenen gonna have main part in his story and will become some kind of love interest before meeting Nerevar? Anyways, they both slay queens in boring Ald'ruhn with dumbass Redoran around.

He gonna be suspicious and paranoid in the first chapters. Godryn is not a reckless one, and tryin to make decisions with thinking twice.

Godryn is 24 years old and born in 3E 403. He is an adult, but very unexpirience in live, so, there are gonna be some dumb choices. Recognising himself as Voryn will help in some ways, but dunmer is not gonna BE Voryn. He doesnt wanna be "someone" except himself. He tired of that.

#reverse au #indoril nerevar #mora ind #godryn ovatur #well im not sure it will help to understand fic but you free to ask questions #my brain has own cockroaches that needs to be systemized teehee #free to ask uwu. i def forgot to say something #not sure what exactly so im gonna be happy to answer questions cus his au now is my brainrot

74 notes · View notes

pluckyredhead · 3 months

Note

Did I just read your Super Sons primer from 2020 at 3 am on a Monday morning because I'm having a real normal one? Maybe?! I'm wondering how you feel about how they and their relationship has developed since then. IMO it's... Pretty bleak. 😩

I HAVE A LOT OF FEELINGS ABOUT IT. (Also here's the primer for anyone who missed it.)

So I will say that 95% of everything Jon has been in since he got aged up has been hot garbage, but I do think the exception is when Damian is around. But let's take it from the top!

First of all, I don't necessarily think they should de-age him again. Generally speaking I think it's better storytelling to focus on fixing things moving forward, rather than undoing things moving back. Sure, if DC came up with some big cosmic event that reset Jon to 11, I certainly wouldn't complain, but I'd rather see them, uh...do literally anything with Teen Jon that doesn't suck.

But yeah, aging Jon up to begin with still makes me livid because:

I want my baby to have had a childhood.

It's fully character assassination for Lois and Clark. They would NEVER let their 11-year-old go to outer space with a supervillain. Lois would NEVER just abandon him out there, and Clark would NEVER respond with "Well, I'm sure he's fine, wanna have marathon sex?" I honestly have no idea what Bendis or his editor were thinking.

They have not done a single interesting with him since!!!

Putting this behind a cut because it got LONG. Also spoilers for Beast World in there.

I've said this before, but I have to assume that Bendis wanted to age Jon up because he wanted to write a Legion book. But he also in his wisdom decided to bring Kon back into continuity at exactly the same time, which means we have two nearly identical Superboys that DC didn't and still doesn't know what to do with. Kon clearly couldn't have joined the LOSH because he already had a team, but you know what Super teen was available, and not 11, and who has a history with the Legion that goes back almost as long as Clark's? KARA. But I will save that rant for another day.

And honestly, Kara dodged a bullet, because that Legion book was unreadable. Bendis at his most Bendis-y wall of text interrupt-y conversations and no plot. If I give Tom Taylor any credit it's that the second he got his hands on Jon, he torpedoed Jon/Imra as a ship. GOOD.

And when the LOSH book finally went out with a whimper (that JLA/LOSH miniseries! what was that!!!), we entered the Taylor Era. Taylor's quirks are less stylistic and more narrative than Bendis's. You can spot Bendisian dialogue at twenty paces, but a Taylor comic tips its hand when it sets up a really interesting premise or a really high stakes threat and then immediately undercuts it with a little wet fart noise of nothing. To wit:

Jon's starting college! This will be an interesting challenge for him to readjust to normal life after six years in a torture-volcano and an indeterminate amount of time in the future, and also considering he never graduated from sixth grade. I wonder what will - oh no he dropped out after three pages. (He has done NOTHING in his civilian identity since, btw. I guess he's too busy hovering just behind Dick at all times to work on his GED or whatever.)

Jon is going to confront Ultraman! Finally the comics will have to engage with all the trauma he must have - oh no Ultraman's dead.

Jon is trapped in the Injustice Universe! This is a really dangerous universe that might make him question everything he knows about - oh he just lectured everyone and flounced off home.

Beast World is a perfect example. Taylor seems to think that having a hero effortlessly solve a problem makes them look badass, but it's actually the effort that makes them look badass. So like, we spent five months keeping the Kryptonians and other A-class heroes away from the spores because the spores are attracted to power and if a Super got spore'd everyone would be in big trouble...but then in the last issue, they just have Jon fly up to everyone with a spore in them, wait for the spore to jump at him, and catch it? That doesn't make the Titans look smart or Jon look tough. It makes all of them look like idiots because it it was that easy, why didn't they do that in the first place?

On top of that, Taylor doesn't ever really earn relationships. Jon and Jay is the obvious one. Jay has no personality. There's no chemistry between the two characters. Jon might as well be dating a cardboard cutout labeled "Proof of Queerness." (Or "Bernard." Ahem.) But we're supposed to be like, yes, give Tom Taylor a GLAAD award for using queer characters as props, when he's going to turn around and kiss Chuck Dixon's ass on social for being homophobic about Jon? UGH.

Honestly worse for me though is the Jon and Dick relationship. Because Taylor is writing both characters, we're supposed to believe that there's this close mentor-mentee bond there? I don't think they EVER interacted before the Taylor era. (And don't even look at me with that retconned-in scene of Dick finding lost baby Jon. You're telling me that Superman, with his X-ray and telescopic vision, needs to call Bruce and Dick for help finding his own son? Fuck off.)

Anyway it all combines to make basically every Jon appearance for the past three years profoundly unsatisfying. Even the stuff that isn't by Taylor never goes anywhere. Remember when he was jealous of the Super Twins for two panels? And then everyone forgot about it forever? SIGH.

HOWEVER.

However.

If there is one thing that Bendis and Taylor and every other writer got right, it's that Jon is crazy bonkers in love with Damian always and forever. Jon has been written like shit since 2019, but he has also not wavered in his devotion for even one single solitary second.

THE EVIDENCE:

This is the first thing Jon does when he gets back to Earth:

He then tells Damian he's contemplating not joining the Legion because he'll have to leave Damian behind. Damian tells him to go and then come get him if it's cool.

Turns out the Legion is cool. Jon comes and gets Damian. The Legion isn't happy about it and Jon threatens to leave if Damian can't stay, while gazing adoringly at Damian's unconscious body cradled in his arms:

Eventually LOSH is canceled and Jon comes home and starts following Damian around by listening for his heartbeat. LIKE PALS DO!

Then Damian gives him a pep talk!

Then there's this ABSOLUTE CUDDLE:

The way Damian nuzzles into Jon's shoulder! Can you even stand it!

And then there's this:

The climax of Son of Kal-El, btw, is one of the several times Jon is saved by Damian and confides in Damian and turns to Damian for comfort or advice...and Jay is just sort of standing there off to the side. I am fully aware I have ship goggles on but the degree of emotional investment Jon has in these relationships is not the same.

Then they had a special issue teamup:

Then we got Dark Crisis, and I actually love this interaction between them, because they are very different people with very different upbringings and this feels extremely in character to me for how they would both handle the loss of their fathers:

But even when they disagree, they still instantly support each other. Jon comes back with information? Damian makes a plan:

Also, we got the 2022 Pride issue where Jon, Jay, and Damian go to Pride together. I know that story is...contentious...but leave me here with Damian sulking while Jon and Jay kiss, okay?

Then we get Adventures of Superman, which is objectively awful, but Jon does spend his whole time in the Injustice universe thinking about Damian like the seagulls in Finding Nemo saying "Mine? Mine? Mine?"

This whole arc is truly hilarious. Jon finds out that Damian accidentally killed Dick and his response is to a) go find Batman and yell at him for not supporting Damian enough for accidentally killing Dick, and then b) go find Damian to be like "Wow, that must have been really hard for you (accidentally killing Dick)." There's being ride or die for your BFF, and then there's whatever the fuck Jon has going on.

(Meanwhile there's an incredibly uncomfortable scene with him and Injustice Jay where Jay "tests" him by trying to get Jon to cheat on regular Jay. So. That happens.)

And then just this past month we got Nightwing #110, where we learn that Jon is still listening to Damian's heart:

He completely freaks out watching Damian in danger, and immediately intervenes when it looks like Damian is about to kill someone because he knows what matters the most to Damian. Also, this happens:

YOU WIN THIS ONE, TAYLOR.

AND THEN THEY BICKER I LOVE IT WHEN THEY BICKER:

AND THEN DAMIAN LETS HIMSELF BE VULNERABLE BY ASKING JON IF HE HURT ANYONE WHILE HE WAS A KITTY, AND JON GIVES YET ANOTHER SPEECH ABOUT HOW DAMIAN HAS NEVER DONE ANYTHING WRONG EVER, IN HIS LIFE, AND DAMIAN STAGGERS OFF, LEANING ON JON.

This isn't even getting into the Trinity backup stories in Wonder Woman, which, like...Tom King is not valid but Jon and Damian are such an old married couple in them? It's truly incredible?

It took me like 45 minutes to parse Jon's line here as the general 'you" and not specifically Jon saying Damian wasn't straight. But like..."That's for straight people, which has nothing to do with us" is a hell of a thing to say, Jonathan.

I ALSO haven't even talked about DCeased because it's a different universe, but! Jon sitting with Damian while he dies??? MY HEART.

IN CONCLUSION:

Yes, they should never have aged up Jon.

Yes, most of his appearances since have been terrible and bland.

But OH BOY, do he and Damian remain in love.

#jon kent #superboy #damian wayne #robin #meta

85 notes · View notes

octopiys · 4 months

Note

Please please elaborate on the 141 x OldGuardau!reader

Oh my God hello OK I got u

The Old Guard is a Netflix movie about a group of people who are essentially born in different parts of time, and can die but get resurrected and stuff like that like the original post said, except the movie has more than one person. All of these people are born around historical events (dawn of time, witch trials, reign of terror) and are drawn to find each other and work as a team to not get caught by scientists or governments or anything like that, all while doing what they believe is best to protect the world.

Now for Reader, it's no small feat. If it's only themselves as an Immortal on this team (there's so much red tape around these operations including them) then it's okay. Reader is an asset to the military, and a powerful one at that.

Or maybe the reader is a newer immortal. Maybe they don't know they're immortal until an op goes bad, and they've been shot, bleeding out into an alleyway, their blood mingling with the water. Maybe their Lieutenant is aside them, doing everything within his power to keep them from bleeding out, but the wound is too bad. And in the rain, maybe they even die.

But with a gasp, they're awake again, and the young Lieutenant John Price is shocked. Baffled. No, there's not even a word for how he feels. His sergeant's wounds are knitting together after they died, and he knew they died because he witnessed it himself. He felt their pulse give out.

Now both Reader and Price are terrified. If Reader can't die, what'll happen then? He wants to radio it in to their captain, or the general, but Reader begs him not to.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the world, a war is brewing. Most top governments have heard whispers about a man called Kingfish, one who was so battle worn, so ruthless, so victorious, that he could topple governments by just stepping foot into their building. Rumors spread of no bullet able to pierce his flesh, like he was the Roman God of War himself.

Now, the United States doesn't believe in rumors until they've witnessed it firsthand. Little do they know, they already have.

Kate Laswell may only be a Station Chief, but she's damn good at her job. She knows her kind when she hears it, and recently there's been a shift. Like a sixth sense, she calls John.

And just like that, she knows. The next immortal is here, and with them, comes war.

Years pass, and tensions are rising between the East and the West. Price has even become captain, and scored himself a team and an odd one at that.

Of course, there's Reader. They've always been there first. A little more frazzled as time goes on, but still good. Yeah, still good.

Then joins Simon Riley. They call him the Ghost. This is reader's best bet for another immortal. Laswell has a few arguments against it, but has never outright denied the claim. But how metal is it that he clawed his way out of his own grave? That's immortal material if I've ever heard of it.

Then Kyle Garrick. They call him Gaz. Don't ask why. He's a bright thing, and a wicked sense of humor. He used to be on another force, but after an event, Price handpicked him to be on the task force. He's one of Reader's best friends. They wish he was immortal too.

Finally, came John MacTavish. He was younger than Gaz by at least a few months, making him the youngest on the 141, and Reader always held it over him. He had a fancy for pyrotechnics too, and a hell of a swear to him.

Maybe a few missions go by. Maybe more than that. They still can't get used to seeing Reader lifeless with a bullet in between their eyes, or a knife to the gut, or a grenade blown too close. Wounds heal quicker, but not if they're lethal. Yet the scars never show on their skin by the time the boys are able to pull them out of there. Reckless, maybe, but Reader's saved their asses more times than they could count.

The war rages on.

Kingfish's power grows in the East, and the task force grows wary. Even with Laswell's advice, there was still a guarantee that they'd be sent out to the front when it got bad enough, take out the threat. But the rumors have grown.

Kingfish cannot die.

And Laswell knows.

Kingfish has gone by many names throughout the centuries. His first, Emperor Nero, causing the fall of the entire Roman empire. After he faked his death, he worked from the sidelines. He slayed the last Byzantinian Emperor, he broke through the walls of Constaninople. The Reign of Terror: an advisor, and a trusted one at that. Now, the urge had resurfaced, and he took on a new name once more.

Vladimir Makarov. Kingfish.

Or, the entire team is immortal. Laswell knows about all of them. Ghost knows enough. Reader knows... Somewhat. But nobody else does. Frankly, nobody's given a thought to dying to find out. And until that tunnel, no one had even tried.

The scream is tearing out of reader's throat before Soap even hits the ground, Price still incapacitated, concussed. Reader does not care about the bomb. Ghost doesn't either. They're both there, checking for vitals as they panic, blood spilling out of his wound, as Gaz hoists Price to his feet and they go to disarm the bomb.

They find nothing within Soap. Absolutely nothing. Reader feels cold washing over the room, like they can't breathe. Like a numbness that consumed everything. Soap- If Soap went now... then it could be Gaz, or Price next. Ghost, Reader couldn't even think about. It seemed impossible. And it occurred to Reader that they didn't sign up for this. No dying, compared to anyone and everyone around you perishing in the blink of an eye. They used to be okay with it. And Soap was gone in an instant.

They're dragging him out in a hurry, and the faintest sound is pulled from his lips. It seems Laswell knew more about them all than she let on.

They get caught up in other enemies as Soap peels himself off the floor. They weren't gonna just let Makarov escape, they couldn't. They knew what he could do.

Price told Reader not to go after him. Not alone.

But Reader can't risk losing any more friends. Even if Soap did end up being okay. If something happened to Price or Gaz, they wouldn't be able to live with it.

But they would have to.

So Reader runs. They tear after him like a bat out of hell, taking bullet after bullet, felling each person who fired one. They reach the top of the stairs and launch themself at him, before a gun goes off.

Reader felt it go straight through their side in a searing hot blaze, knowing that this time, something was different. Something was wrong.

The comm was yanked out of their ear and smashed beneath a boot.

The wound they sustained wasn't that bad, in the grand scheme of things. Their vision darkens at the edges, like it does when these things happen, and before reader can close their eyes, a face fills their vision.

"Not as strong now, are you, little one?" The thick curl of Makarov's Russian lilt finds its way into their ears, as the sharp pounding fire in their side grows worse. Despite the woozy fight they put up, Reader is restrained, unable to call for help. The van comes into view as Price bursts out of a window behind them, barreling towards the group, Ghost in high pursuit.

They disappear behind the van's doors as they close, and as Reader's vision dampens more, they wonder why their bullet wound hasn't healed yet.

im so down to completely info dump on this, whether it be more details towards the story, or individual characters like reader or ghost or laswell or anything like that I fucking love the old guard

105 notes · View notes

mollymagician · 1 year

Text

Dreamling Week Day 2: stuck in an elevator

Hi guys!! *shows up three days late with a Starbucks, two immortals and an old lady stuck in an elevator*

It was June 7th. Not THE June 7th, not the big one, they’re a few years off from that yet, but a random rainy 7th of June, and Hob was off doing errands. He’d have been a lot more disgruntled about slogging half way around the city in a pelting downpour if he hadn’t known that Dream would pop up somewhere, he always somehow managed it on this specific date.

But it’s still a surprise when he suddenly comes into being just as Hob is about to hop onto the lift at stop #2 on his to-do list.

Hob shoots him a grin. “Fancy seeing you out and about on such a miserable day.”

Dream replied with the small smile that seemed to be his grin-equivalent. “I thought you could use…assistance holding your umbrella?”

There was a ding as the doors slid open, and then began to close behind them as they stepped inside. Suddenly, Dream’s arm shot out, inhumanly quick and totally lacking the primal human fear of getting one’s fingers squished.

The doors sprang back open, revealing a stooped and wrinkled figure shuffling along behind a walker. Her gray hair was bundled into a messy bun, and gray eyes were magnified enormously by the thickest glasses Hob had ever seen.

Her name was Gladys, they would soon come to find out.

She didn’t seem to notice that Dream somehow knew what floor to push for her without asking, just crackled, “Oh, thank you kindly, dearie!” and Hob stifled a snicker. Dearie.

The lift began to rise. They made it to the sixth floor before the power went out.

Gladys sighed and pronounced with feeling, “Oh bugger!”

Gladys was eighty-two years old, never trusted elevators, but was delighted to be stuck in one with “two such handsome young men!”

“Er…I’m sure the power will be back up in a tick,” Hob said. Gladys settled comfortably on the seat of her walker, seemingly very content with her lot.

“So romantic, eh boys? Just like those little stories my granddaughter likes to write!” She gave Hob a wink. Dream’s head tilted and he took on the far-away look he got whenever he was accessing his mental metaphysical Google, or whatever it was he did. Hob could tell when he finally found what he was looking for, because his eyebrows shot up so high they nearly cleared the top of his head.

Fifteen minutes later:

“Well lads, thank the good Lord I had a piddle before I came or we’d be in dire straights right about now!”

Standing behind Gladys, Dream reached into his coat and produced his pouch of sand, giving Hob a look that he could only translate as is it really necessary for us all to be stuck in this box?

Hob wasn’t sure how to telegraph we cannot throw sand at a little old woman and teleport her out of a lift because she will have a STROKE with nothing but expressive eyebrows so he just shook his head and shot Dream his sternest look. It worked on his students…usually. Dream signed and put the sand away obediently.

Another fifteen minutes:

They had heard about Gladys’ late husband, her three grandchildren and how lovely the cardiologist was that she’d been on her way to visit before her morning got derailed. She rummaged around in her purse. “Like a mint, dears?”

Hob swore under his breath at his phone. “Connection is wretched in here. I can’t get through to anyone.” Dream patted him awkwardly on the shoulder. Hob could FEEL him restraining himself from pulling his sand out and dangling it in Hob’s face.

“I’m sure everything will be fine, lovie. I think I have a deck of cards about, somewhere…” More purse-rummaging. “Oh, and a sandwich! Bless, I forgot that was there.”

Ten more minutes:

“So,” Gladys said, “How long have you two been together, eh? I’d have been celebrating fifty years with my Bert this July.”

Silence. Distantly, Hob could hear the rain pounding against the building, echoing down the elevator shaft.

“Er…” he began, eloquently.

“That is…” he continued.

“Oh go on, it’s all right,” Gladys chirped. “My grandson, the one at university, he’s got himself a nice boyfriend. I said to myself, I said, Gladys, you can tell when two lads are sweet on one another, so don’t go challenging anyone to strip poker.” She pulled the deck of cards out of her purse and winked. “Yet.”

“Um,” Hob said.

“Sometimes it feels like six hundred years,” Dream intoned.

Gladys cackled and bopped the Immortal Endless King of Dreams and Nightmares on the arm with her purse. “Oh, listen to this one here!”

“It is…our anniversary,” Dream added.

He reached over to nudge Hob’s jaw shut with a little click, and then tugged Hob into his side like…like it was just something they did. And yes, that was definitely a smirk.

The power chose that moment to come back on.

“Oh…bugger,” Hob said.

——————————————-

They made it back down to the lobby with little incident. Gladys shuffled off to call her daughter, she said, since her doctors appointment was a bust. But first, she gave Hob a surprisingly crushing handshake and thumped Dream on the shoulder and said, loudly, “Well, thank you for the LOVELY time, boys. Let’s hope that the next time you’re stuck in a lift on your anniversary it’s not with an old bird like me hanging around, eh?” She executed a frankly indecent eyebrow wiggle, and shuffled away, humming to herself.

Hob stood for a moment watching her go, and realized he didn’t have the patience for any more of that day’s to-do list. He was to-do’ed out, as it were. Except for one thing. He glanced up at Dream and tried hard to control the idiot grin attempting to take over his face.

“We need to talk,” Hob said.

“That was partially my intent when I came to visit you today,” Dream said, still smirking, the bastard.

“Partially?”

“I must admit, I’d hoped that talking wouldn’t be our only activity.”

Hob sighed. “Right. I’m not hiking back to the tube in this weather. Get back in the lift, dearie. This time you can sand us all you like.”

Dream said, “I thought you’d never ask.”

#dreamling #DreamlingWeek2023 #stuck in an elevator #I like to think that a few years later Death pops in on the guys as they’re celebrating yet another anniversary #to tell them Gladys says hello #the sandman netflix #dream of the endless #hob gadling

195 notes · View notes

amywritesthings · 5 months

Text

meet me on christmas. / an eddie munson holiday ficlet

pairing: eddie munson x f!reader ( stranger things ) word count: 1.2k / rated mature summary: It's the Christmas of '87. You and boyfriend, Eddie Munson, cruise Hawkins for your annual town lights crawl. tags: post s4, eddie munson lives, explicit language, holiday lights, christmas fluff, childhood friends, established relationship credit: dividers by @saradika / header by @nicostiel

welcome to the sixth day of the twelve days of amymas 2023 !!

“The rich assholes always have the good stuff.”

“Just because they’re rich doesn’t mean their decorations aren’t tacky,” you argue back, ripping a Twizzler at the center of the rope with your teeth.

"Can't argue with that," Eddie Munson quips in return, holding out a hand for the Twizzler pack.

You hand it to him — if he wasn't idle in the driver's seat of his beat-up van, then you would have tossed it.

Since the battle of the Upside Down, you could argue his reflexes have gotten much better.

Eddie likens it to Spiderman-esque rabies powers from those nasty vampire bats.

(You're just happy he's here.)

“That’s way too many reindeer on that lawn — look."

You lean over the passenger seat to point out of the windshield towards a bloated, light-infused lawn.

"The Weston's put up a ton of them, but that's inaccurate. Santa did not have twenty reindeer.”

“Damn, did Mr. Weston feel bad about the team rejects?” Eddie comments with a feigned sigh of sympathy, tone melodic. “Gave the bench reindeer the gift of playing in the big leagues for Christmas of ‘87.”

“Imagine wanting to do your job.”

“Couldn’t fuckin’ be me, that’s for sure.”

You’re lucky Eddie even agreed to do this with you.

Then again, you’re pretty certain you could have asked him to watch A Christmas Story fifteen times in a row, and he would still enthusiastically say yes.

Whatever made you happy — when most boys said it, they never meant it.

Not Eddie.

Now that you're home for the holidays from college, you're happy to close the distance with your best friend — your boyfriend — and rekindle old traditions.

Cruising around the better-off parts of Hawkins in his beat-up van was a staple ever since Uncle Wayne taught Eddie how to drive.

Thirteen years old and all too eager.

(A little too young, but hey, 'tis the damn season.)

Truth be told, hiding here with Eddie felt more in line with the Christmas spirit than anything your family had planned for the holidays.

All of the incessant inter-connected drama...

The non-stop questions about college...

The inevitable judgment when you talk about the future they don’t wholly approve of...

None of that mattered here.

Eddie cranked Dio really loud to make sure of that.

(He loves to argue that Dio could put out a killer Christmas album, same as the Carpenters, but they’re too busy churning out the sickest tunes of the decade.)

“I think their neighbors gave up on decorating this year,” you judge, holding out your hand to get the Twizzler pack back. “Look: only a stupid wreath on the door. Remember when the Thomas family used to do that crazy display with the boombox and stuff?”

Eddie keeps one hand on the wheel as he holds out the pack to you, plucking out two final red ropes for himself.

“Apparently Mrs. Thomas divorced Mr. Thomas," he explains, "so they don’t exactly have the budget to be Hawkins’ beacon this year.”

You gasp, jaw dropping.

“No.”

Eddie smirks, chewing on the candy.

“You missed way more than real-life Dungeons and Dragons in Hawkins, Indiana in your pursuit of higher education, Miss Thing.”

He isn’t wrong — you caught the tail end of this town almost getting swallowed by a Mindflayer.

Apparently what few months you had spent away from this small town gave the evils below plenty of time to rip the fabric of reality in half.

Then there was that one time Eddie almost died from a flock full of vampire bats.

Neither of you really talk about that day.

No one involved in that mess does.

It’s for the best.

“Oh — shit, do you see that one?” you ask out of the blue, leaning over the dashboard to point at an upcoming house littered with string lights.

“What?”

“That!” you exclaim, smudging his windshield as you press against the glass.

A two-story house is decorated from roof to foundation full of sparkling white lights, changing its pattern every few seconds.

In truth, it’s a little disorienting.

Still rad, though.

Eddie slows the car down to a near stall, squinting ahead under his heavy, curly bangs.

“It’s all white. That’s so lame.”

“Lame?” you ask, turning your chin towards him.

He turns to you, too, then a smug smirk crawls over his lips.

The boy leans over, pecking a kiss to your pursed lips.

“You’re cute when you pout. But yeah, fuck white. Multicolored all the way.”

“I didn’t think you had opinions on string lights, Munson,” you tease, smiling wider from the tiny kiss.

You want to pull him into a deeper kiss, but safety first: you have to convince him to park the car first.

“Well, my sweet Christmas angel, that’s where you’re wrong. I am very opinionated.”

“You didn’t even decorate the trailer this year,” you remind him, flopping back down to the passenger seat. “Which, by the way — I noticed. Talk about being disappointed when I rolled up this afternoon to see a totally blank canvas.”

His brows knit together in playful confusion.

“What, did you seriously think I was going to do the lights this year without you?”

The statement surprises you.

Sure, you helped the Munson duo decorate — it’s almost as much of a tradition at this point as the holiday lights crawl.

Ever since you and Eddie became best friends, you’d spend hours meticulously turning a two-person man cave into something warm and cozy, with fake buffalo snow and tiny string lights.

According to Uncle Wayne, something about your touch on the place was warranted for the holidays.

Yet you had assumed they would have started without you this year on the principle that you’d be coming home for the holidays later than anticipated.

(That, and the near death of Eddie had taken a large toll on Uncle Wayne altogether.)

But neither were the real case:

They waited for you.

Your heart swells with the realization.

Before you can turn the moment sappy, Eddie winks and turns left at a corner.

“Let me show you a real house. C’mon, it’s down the block from here. I scoped this shit out when you were busy with finals.”

You stay in your seat, too busy staring at the curly-haired boy as he navigates the streets of Hawkins to find a perfect house.

Suddenly the town isn’t so interesting.

Truth be told, it never was.

If it wasn’t for Eddie, then you’d never come back to Hawkins.

You imagine he feels the same way about his Uncle Wayne.

He can't leave, so you'll stay.

“Why don’t we go home?” you suggest.

The boy frowns as he pulls over.

“Home? You don’t wanna look at other lights?”

He gestures to the grand outdoors.

“You love this shit.”

“I love decorating with you and Uncle Wayne way more,” you tell him.

Finally, Eddie takes a pause.

The boy studies you for a moment, considering, before a smile starts to grow so wide that he has to bite his lip to keep it at bay.

“Yeah?”

“Hell yeah,” you promise.

You raise your boot, poking it at a hole in the calf of his ripped jeans.

“C’mon. Fuck the rich assholes. We can outdo them by miles.”

It takes another pause to pass, but Eddie finally grins like a Cheshire cat.

“What my lady wants, my lady gets.”

He switches the van in reverse to ready a three-point turn.

“Christmas with the Munsons, it is.”

#stranger things fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson fics #stranger things fluff #stranger things fanfic #holiday fanfic #twelve days of amymas #fic: meet me on christmas

79 notes · View notes

terrence-silver · 4 months

Note

Old man Terry slipping lactation pills in beloved's drinks and food and relishing in the way her body changes and her breasts become heavier, fuller, sore, bigger. I think he would do it as a means to control beloved and to obviously drink from it daily, believing it has benefits or something. When she lactates for the first time and is so confused, he feigns concern and gives her pills that he makes her believe it's for her health but it's to keep her producing milk. His good little calf.

---

Of course it has benefits; mother's milk is the fountain of youth. Didn't you hear?

If Cleopatra could bathe in it, Terry Silver can drink it.

If it's good for a newborn, it's even better for an aging, power hungry Billionaire hellbent on quite literally latching unto and sucking dry whatever controlled and highly vetted source of health, longevity and strength he can like a vampire, and what a more fitting place for it to stem from than his very own beloved? Milk. It does a body good. A famous commercial from the 80's and 90's might come to Terry's mind as the idea occurs to him and of course the maintenance of a physique like his well into his sixth decade being alive doesn't come cheap (cheap, and not in the material sense, because Terry's more than willing to dish out cash) in fact, utilizing basic logic, it would be more and more complicated with each passing year; constant training, dedication, therapy, steam baths, devotion to the sport, very specific dietary choices. Yesterday, it was vegan screws and salads, but he so happens to find beloved's milk infinitely more appetizing, inviting and decadent to the degree he can and would induce their lactation through specific pills. Crushed in meals, crushed in beverages, crushed in a fine wine as they toast together over an intimate, romantic fine dinner for two. How very unassuming --- but he's here with an agenda. Terry Silver not only seeks rejuvenation because youth is the only thing money cant buy according to his own words, but he wants to consume in the general sense of the word. Consume beloved until they flow through his bloodstream, his organism, infused with his very bones; the things he breaks stone slabs with with such ease. The things he fights with. When he's in the midst of combat, it's like beloved's right there, alive and infused inside of his knuckles. You are what you eat, after all.

And of course, being Californian upper crust, he'd hear and see things.

He'd hear and see things for decades --- no doubt having participated too.

Celebrities eating their baby's placenta, Gwyneth Paltrow's beauty regimen that includes bee stings, Sandra Bullock's Hemorrhoid Eye Cream, Cate Blanchett's Foreskin Facials and Demi Moore's Leech Therapy. Hollywood's right next door. It would make Terry Silver's propensity for the strange and unusual almost seem commonplace; him drinking beloved's breast milk? Just another Wednesday in The Valley.

But, he cares. Of course he cares with every fiber of his being and his big, black heart. He tracks every change, every reaction, every sore and every bit of swelling surrounding beloved's body, perfectionist, control freak that he is. Their every complaint. Every bit of fluctuating transformation. Every bit of pain. Hell, he'd even bring in (a bribed off) doctor or ten to regularly check on beloved and quell any fears they might have by assuring them this is totally normal. It happens when someone's young and fertile; it is simply their concern he isn't truly surprised by because everything is going according to his plan and if he feigns anything, it's mostly innocence. But, Terry's far from innocent. This is him desiring to be one with beloved in every sense, consuming them, dominating them, wishing to take whatever he can from their youth and in equal measure, no doubt in mind it's a fetish too because the exchange simply turns him on. He is a dirty old man and he deliberately plays into it and just how very dirty and debauched he can be and that all by itself serves as a gleeful kink precisely because it's total filth. Total filth that totally amuses him. Perhaps even more so that he can expertly get beloved to actually allow him to drink from their breasts of their own volition to alleviate their pressure and pain they're feeling and have them thank him no less once it actually helps, perhaps utilizing a few well-learned massage moves of his as a gateway to everything that comes later. Oh, Terry the kindhearted saint, truly! What's best, beloved consented to everything of their own free will. Well, with some conditioning, white lies (in Terry's opinion) and slightly omitted details involved in the process, of course.

But, the ends justify the means.

Sooner or later, he'll sell the story to them in its entirety and have them agree to it regardless.

His good, perfect little calf indeed.

Not entirely out of the question he wont bottle samples and save them up behind a locked glass veneer in a specially refrigerated portion of his private wine cellar only he can drink from.

#terry silver #kk3 #cobra kai #old man terry #tw; age differences #tw; youth kink #tw; lactation kink #tw; manipulation #tw; generational gap #tw; vampirism #tw; drugging #lactation #terry silver x reader #terry silver x beloved #tw; breast play

59 notes · View notes

spaceyaceface · 11 months

Note

Hello! Rumor is you want some Ominis ideas lol

Idk if this is any good, but I've had this idea where after Sebastian killed Solomon, Anne moved to London in with the reader. The reader hears all about the trios adventures together before Anne was cursed and loves hearing about it. When Anne is ready to reconnect with Sebastian, the reader goes with her and chemistry begins to boil there maybe as Sebastian and Anne want privacy to talk, and the reader hounds Ominis for more stories.

Just an idea, you're free to do what you want with it lol

I'd love to see a fem!reader tho 😊

Hope you have a great day!

Oh this is very good!! I loved this idea, hopefully this turned out at least a bit like how you pictured it! I really wish we had gotten to see Anne, Sebastian, and Ominis interact in the game---it would have been so much fun!

Warnings: none, pure fluff

Word Count: 1.6k

As Anne paced the floor of their London flat, Y/N was reminded how similar she and her twin truly were. She had seen Sebastian pace in the Undercroft many times during her fifth year--now, as the summer before her sixth year drew to a close, she could hardly count the amount of times Anne had done the same.

"Anne, you're going to wear yourself out before they even arrive," Y/N said imploringly. "Come on, sit down."

The brunette sighed, but continued pacing. "I can't help it. Am I sure I'm ready for this?"

"Will you ever be?"

Anne chuckled. "Probably not. I... I have missed them, rather terribly."

Y/N gave a small smile. She had missed her friends, too. Perhaps one especially... but she would see him soon enough. Anne had told her countless tales of their old adventures from before she had been cursed. It had seemed to comfort her to reminisce on the good times---and Y/N, by her part, was absolutely enthralled in the stories she shared.

It was through these stories she learned that Anne had a real knack for picking pockets---"Never to steal or keep anything for my own," Anne had been quick to clarify. "Just to mess with people." And mess with people she had---hiding wands and pocket watches to drive others mad, while she and her companions watched on in amusement. The targets always deserved it, she assured Y/N. Common ones included Leander or Imelda; they'd even managed to hide her broom once, levitating it high above the Quidditch pitch so she had to use one of the rickety school brooms to retrieve it. She'd complained the whole way up and down, threatening every person she saw that if they had any idea who had messed with her broom, they'd better tell her or they'd get a wand up their arse. Somehow, they'd never been found out.

Sebastian, as she had more or less expected, had always pushed the limits. He'd been familiar with the restricted section since his first year, determined to learn every outlawed hex he could get his hands on. When occasion called for it, he'd use them, mostly on older Slytherin students who got on his nerves. He'd usually get away with it, too; that was the power of having an ally like Ominis on their side.

And Ominis---well, Y/N would be lying if she didn't admit that it was any tale involving him that intrigued her the most. Compared to Sebastian, her friendship with the Gaunt boy was slower coming. Because of this, she savored every opportunity to get to know him better, even if just through stories. The image of him slyly breaking rules made her all the more curious about him---of course she knew he was a trouble maker; he just seemed to do it in a sort of style neither Anne nor Sebastian could achieve. Apparently he had a way with nonverbal spells the others hadn't yet ben able to master. With his blindness, he was the image of innocence, able to cast spells left and right without anyone suspecting him. It had led to plenty of lovely stories that Y/N could only dream to witness.

There was one other fact about the boy that she couldn't wait to question him about.

The thought that he would be there soon sent a flutter through her stomach. If she was honest with herself--which she tended to avoid when it came to this topic--she was a bit more fond of Ominis than she probably should have been. There was something different about him, something she didn't feel when Sebastian was around. It frightened her, but excited her all the same. The more she thought about his beautiful eyes, his well-kept hair, his lovely lips---well, maybe she should join Anne in her anxious pacing.

She didn't get the chance. There was a knock on the door, causing Anne to freeze on the spot. Y/N stood from her seat at the kitchen table, moving to answer it. When she opened it, there they stood---Sebastian and Ominis. They were clearly nervous. Sebastian's jaw was clenched hard, and his eyes darted around the room behind her.

Y/N smiled at them, trying to calm them. She opened the door wider, then reached forward to take Sebastian into a hug. "It's so good to see you," she said. The letters she had sent to both the boys had been brief and far in between. She could hardly believe they were here standing before her now. Sebastian returned the hug. She could feel him relax a bit at the warm welcome. Y/N pulled away, then turned to Ominis.

She had to hug him now, didn't she? Not that she didn't want to---quite the opposite, in fact---but they had never---

She forced herself not to think of it and pulled him into a hug. He was stiff for a moment before returning the gesture. He was warm and smelled of fancy soap.

When they pulled away from each other, she found herself missing the contact. But she had other matters to attend. She ushered them both in, closing the door. Sebastian and Anne stared at each other, each unsure of what to do. Then, in a synchronized movement only twins could have, they moved forward to embrace one another. Y/N smiled---that was a good start.

The group shared pleasantries for a moment, but it was clear that the siblings needed to discuss things on their own. Anne lead Sebastian to her bedroom, shooting Y/N a nervous glance. She gave her a reassuring smile in return.

This left Y/N and Ominis alone. Ominis took in a deep breath beside her. "I suppose all we can do now is wait," he said.

"I'm just going to assume it's going well until I hear explosions," Y/N said. Ominis chuckled.

"Sounds fair enough."

She took them over to the kitchen table, both of them taking a seat.

"How's your summer been?" Y/N asked.

"Admittedly, not wonderful," he said. "Sebastian's been... in a bit of state, as I'm sure you can imagine."

Y/N pressed her lips together. "I can. I got as much from his letters. He's lucky to have had you by his side to get through it. Any more mentions of Dark Magic?"

"Thankfully, no. He seems thoroughly dissuaded from that path, having had time to process the results." Y/N was glad to hear it---she had worried about her friend. Ominis continued. "What about you? How has your summer been with Anne?"

"Difficult, at times," she said. "Obviously, she's been grieving, not only her Uncle but Sebastian as well... it's only been recently she's decided that he can't be completely lost." She smiled a bit. "However, I have had my fun in hearing her stories about you three before her curse."

Ominis chuckled. "I hope you don't think any less of us."

"As if I didn't do worse my first year there," Y/N said, grinning. "I actually found most of them very fun--I wish I could have been there. How come you never told me you were so good at nonverbal spells?"

Ominis shrugged. "You never asked."

"Well, you're going to have to teach me," she said. "Oh! And there was one more thing Anne mentioned I wanted to ask you about."

He smiled, intrigued. "And what would that be?"

"Is your puffskein impression as good as she says it is?"

Ominis's face flushed bright red. The reaction made her laugh---it also made her heart beat faster. His cheeks looked rather pretty dusted that shade of pink.

"You---she told you that?" he spluttered, obviously mortified.

"She did, with the utmost respect, too. Said you've probably shortened Duncan Hobhouse's lifespan by a few years from all the frights you gave him," she said through her laughter. "Of all your exploits, that is what I longed to see the most."

"In fairness, Duncan is absolutley dreadful. And a coward," Ominis said.

"So you're confirming it, then? You purr just like a puffskein?"

"I--" He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers. "I suppose I am. But only to torture that good for nothing cowardly prick."

She grinned. "Whatever excuse helps you keep your dignity."

"You know, I didn't come here to find out Anne had given you material to blackmail me."

"I won't use it to blackmail you," she said. "Just to rile you up a bit. You look cute when you're flustered."

Her mouth closed quickly as Ominis lifted his head, smirk appearing on his face.

"Oh, do I?" he said, tone teasing. His face was still flushed, making it even harder for her to come up with a proper response.

"You---um... I---"

"I'll have you know, you sound rather cute when you're flustered," he said quietly, leaning a bit closer to her.

She couldn't have guessed what would have happened next, though she very much would have wanted to know. Unfortunately, the door to Anne's bedroom opened, and Ominis sat straight up in his chair. She couldn't imagine the pair of them looked like anything less than a couple of kids caught doing something they weren't supposed to do. That thought was confirmed when Sebastian narrowed his eyes, looking at them both.

"Are you both alright? You seem a bit flustered," Sebastian said. Ominis let out a small laugh while Y/N buried her face in her hands beside him.

#ominis gaunt x reader #ominis gaunt #ominis gaunt imagine #ominis x reader #ominis x mc #ominis gaunt x mc #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fanfic

208 notes · View notes

honey-minded-hivemind · 3 months

Note

Platonic Yandere duo rouge and Gambit and child that's from the future reader who's their future child

Ooooooo! Thank you, @surpiseadoption ! Okay, now that's a gold nugget! Let's see what I can do:

As members of the X-Men, strange was as normal to them as the sky being blue or Magneto showing up and causing trouble. Still, some things happened to surprise them, just... nothing like this before-

"Mama! Papa! You look younger! Oh! Hi Uncle Wolvie!" shouts a child, no older than six, who waves at them with the brightest smile and bright pink eyes. And suddenly their world became a lot weirder.

It turns out that this child is from the future. Their future. And is their child. It's shocking, not just because Rogue hasn't hasn't able to touch people due to her powers. How... how did she and the swamp rat get together? For Gambit, well... this petit is quite cute, and is a sure sign he and Rogue were made for each other. They both know (in a sixth sense sort of way) that they like each other. That they want to give it a try. But the fact they had a kid...

They didn't exactly think that far yet.

The child is sweet, running up to everyone and hugging their legs, asking to tag along with them (and following following anyways even if they said no), just doing their best to stay by them, talking about the smallest things to the gossip they overheard from the others and pulling them into games when they can... Yet it's kinda weird having a kid who insists they're married and in love-

"Sugah, why are ya tryin' ta give Gambit a kiss?"

"Cause you said if we gave him kisses, he'd turn into a prince, instead of a frog thief."

"... Uh-huh..."

"It's like that frog from the movie!"

"Well, he certainly IS as slimy as one..."

It's kinda cute, having a little tot trailing them. It's less funny when they set their clothes on fire with their powers.

"Petit, how'd ya daw this taw yaself?!"

"I got your splosions! 'M likea fireworwk!"

"Gambit's gonna be likea a dead man if he don't put ya out... Wait, get back here, bébé!"

Some of their teammates find it endearing, having a tyke running around. Wolverine and Storm especially like them, as they keep getting them involved in their schemes. Those schemes being to get the two of them together.

"Why'd ya say ya needed me in the kitchen, honey?"

"Cause I'm hungry, and yous make good food."

"Then why's he here?"

"He makes good food, too!"

"Just make the kid something ta eat, or they'll start to pickpocket everyone until they find something," Logan snorts, but pats Reader on the head before leaving.

"...Ya taught 'em ta pickpocket?"

"Yaw didn't?"

"No, I learned-ed it from Uncle Toawd!"

"...We need ta get ya better friends, sugah..."

"... Gambit agrees..."

They end up keeping Reader with one of them at all times, once they realize they don't have the best control of their power. Making explosions of light and energy isn't good if you're a six-year-old who falls every five minutes. They've lost count of how many times they've had to pick them up from the floor or grab them so so don't fall down the stairs. How did they ever manage to keep their- this child alive?!

Their problem comes when they disappear one day.

They woke up, hoping to find Reader sleeping with one of them, only to find their beds empty, with no giggling child waiting to hug them good morning. Their worry only grew as their friends and team couldn't find the kid, even the Professor using Cerebro and Wolverine using his senses couldn't find the kid... Their kid...

And when did it get to that? That that was THEIR kid? It hurts, that they're gone, likely back to their time...

But they DID do something...

They brought the two of them together.

And in a few years... maybe they'll be able to bring their kid into the world.... And this time... They aren't going to lose them. Their kid brought them together, and once they've gotten their bebe, they're going going be the best parents they can. That's their mon petit bébé, and they'll be d*mned if anything gets in the way of them coming back.

#honeycomb thoughts #platonic yandere marvel #yandere platonic marvel #platonic yandere xmen #yandere x-men #platonic yandere #platonic yandere x reader #platonic yandere marvel x reader #platonic yandere xmen evolution #platonic yandere xmcu #platonic yandere xmen: the animated series #platonic yandere gambit #platonic yandere rogue

45 notes · View notes