#difference between Peak Level and True Peak
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For I Have Sinned
“Let no one say when he is tempted, ‘I am being tempted by God’ For God cannot be tempted by evil.” James 1:13.
But Father Geto can be.
Newly appointed Chaplain of the Noble Court, Suguru is a reformed sinner. Sanctity, discipline and celibacy are commandments of his choosing. A devout servant of the Lord. Armored with the Breastplate of Righteousness, the Shield of Faith.
This should be sufficient enough to withstand temptation.
Right?
Pairing: Geto x Female reader
C/W: Religious themes, dark romance, eventual filth. 18+. MDNI.
A/N: Holy hell. Anon, you sick, twisted genius. You, the puppeteer. Me, the puppet who writes. This one — this story might be the one. Frothing at the mouth to know what you guys think. Going on AO3 for sure. I haven’t decided if I will keep this long fic series here, but since it was an anon ask its only right to honor them with the first chapter.
Art credit: @ potchi_jpg on X
Music: Garden Kisses x Giveon (this was on a manic repeat for at least an hour. It wrote the chapter. I implore you to listen and levitate like I did).
CHAPTER I. Hello, Duchess.
Andesite. Dacite. Schist.
Gorgeous.
Suguru takes a mental note of the rock formations whizzing by just before he spears the Aegean Sea. Tailwind force trailing his feet in an elegant whirl.
Eh, mediocre landing. He’s out of practice.
It’s true. Seminary did not allow for too much idle time in between biblical studies. Devil’s playground, and such.
And it’s not in his nature to half-ass any life endeavor, whatever it may be.
Suguru deftly levels out in the welcoming waves. Loose-limbed and fluid. Choosing to hover below her surface for a few moments longer. The tail end of his thick, singular French braid undulating behind him.
His body flows in tandem with the current. Swimming deep enough to scatter a pool of Fagri. He instinctively captures one in his large hand — not quite as out-of-touch as he thought.
‘Make it to shore! If Poseidon calls, don’t answer Him, son!’
The gentle fisherman called out each time Suguru dove off their vessel. Still two or three, sometimes up to five miles from the coast, he’d plunge into the waters. Regardless of her mood, Suguru craved to be surrounded by her embrace.
To be baptized by her tide.
Showered with her salt of the earth.
A dampened smile blooms across Suguru’s terse lips. Oxygen bubbles float about, from the muffled chuckle escaping him.
His father’s voice rings between his ears. A little less clearly, nowadays.
He always dove deeper than his fellow seafarers. Without the restraints of gear or protective equipment. Unnaturally comfortable in an element more labile than human nature.
Suguru’s father mused about his Stormborn boy’s true lineage.
‘Everyday, I prayed for you. Begged for you. And the God of the Ocean delivered a precious gift. Don’t return to His storms too soon.’
Fond memories, a little yellowed now. Callouses from those days have faded.
Suguru is a different man. Born again. In a new country. With a new home, a new purpose.
Even still, it’s comforting to know the world is 70% water, 30% land. And the Great Majority has always welcomed him with open arms.
No matter the iteration of his life, he’ll always find a home at Sea.
“Father Geto!”
What?
Suguru begins his ascent. He is still by the cliff edge. Not nearly far enough for the Sirens to beckon.
“Chaplain! Are you out there?”
Not even the saltwater penetrates his ears like this melody.
An ethereal crescendo. With all the grace and beauty of a summer swan. Light enough to lull stoic men to a peaceful, permanent, slumber.
More alluring. More disorienting than the songs at sea he’s heard and resisted. Potent enough to drown a warship.
Who is calling for him?
Suguru chases the lethal sound. Careful pauses at each depth-level. To avoid returning to Poseidon’s storms too soon, as his father would say.
“Father Geto!”
Ahh, a voice he recognizes. His alter boy, Noel, at the peak.
Helios is kind, today. Because the Sun kisses Suguru as he breaks the surface. If the Ocean is his home, the Sun is certainly his lover.
“What is it, Noel?” He calls in between strides to the volcanic edge.
“You have a visitor!” A tremble to Noel’s tone. Suguru cant help the low chuckle that leaves him.
Adolescents are always so anxious. Nervous about the most inconsequential, meaningless things. He was once the same.
Who could be visiting? His schedule is supposed to be cleared today.
Suguru laments leaving his clothing at the peak of the cliffside. Tossing a glance over his left shoulder - memories of his past life tattooed in various symbols. His back, covered in a sprawling trident.
A permanent stain from the life he lived before this. It’s unbecoming of a priest to be seen this way.
Latching onto the unforgiving rocky edges, Suguru scales the steep terrain in long steps and short holds. Serrated earth digs into his damp palms with each grasp.
He savors the pain. It’s familiar. An indication that he’s spent some time in the only other place he finds unfettered peace.
“Noel, my schedule was cleared. Who could be—“
“Pardon my intrusion, Father Geto.” You seep into Suguru’s sentence, effectively answering his question.
Music.
Suguru nearly falls backward off the ledge he just set foot on.
Rumors about your beauty pollenated the compound for weeks. Anxiously anticipating your arrival. Hushed voices between maidens. Whispers within the walls of parlors. Bellowing gossip between court officials.
All the words, all the speculations roll around Suguru’s skull. Louder than glass shattering in an empty room.
They were wrong.
Liars.
Not even a tenth of the truth can be found in the frivolous ‘she’s a beauty’, ‘what a pretty face’ and comments of the like taking root in the compound.
No, no.
You were sculpted by every single Deity Suguru has ever studied.
Because the One he has chosen to worship couldn’t have possibly crafted you alone.
The good Lord is simply without the means.
Suguru will have to repent for that blasphemous thought later.
…but God granted him eyesight, no?
Eyes that can see underwater with the same clarity as a cloudless day. He trusts his eyes more than any part of his body.
And they aren’t deceiving him.
Flushed and turned away, Suguru takes a moment to soak you in, while patting himself dry. Maybe taking a little extra time to step into his khaki slacks and white button up.
His wind pipe threatens to spasm with each sip of you he takes.
Exquisite woman.
You could convert a non believer in an instant.
The gentle slope of your nose, those warmed soft, high cheeks deserve to be cherished in a museum.
That dress.
The tailor must’ve sewn it to your body in real time. Rolling hills and dips of your feminine curves. So quick to surrender to the ride your frame is taking him on.
Suguru could fall to his knees and praise the Gods right here and now for their attention to detail.
“Duchess? I’m embarrassed. Forgive my attire, I wasn’t expecting visitors today.”
Still damp but fully clothed, Suguru walks forward with a steady hand outstretched. Intentionally skipping eye contact with Noel, who would’ve interpreted the glance as anger. The boy is practically vibrating in his periphery.
Concerned about possibly making a mistake, sure. But if Suguru were still a betting man, he’d bet your presence is driving Noel’s rattled nerves.
“I’m the one who should be asking for forgiveness!” Unveiling your face to him with a gorgeous smile, you offer a delicate hand that drowns in his.
Well.
To call it just a gorgeous smile makes him no better than the rumor mill and its grave underestimation.
The air around him is sliced to a fraction of what it was. Suddenly gossamer thin and inadequate.
You are breathtaking.
“Please.” A deceptively even tone and casual wave of his hand. You wouldn’t know that words taste like sandpaper.
“How can I serve you, Duchess?”
“You do not have to address me as such, Father. I’m not wed, yet!”
Bunny lines along your nose deepen when you laugh. Heat scorches Suguru’s ears and you both are presently under shade.
Do. Not. Covet.
“It’s all the same.” With a restrained smile, Suguru peels his eyes away from yours.
Resting them on his rectory in the distance. He gestures his hands forward. Noel scrambles ahead of you two, undoubtedly to go tidy the chapel (that is already spotless).
“You’re quite the swimmer.”
You could assassinate him, you know.
With that voice of yours. The way it stuns his senses. Far more dangerous now that it isn’t dampened by unrelenting waves.
Suguru is a strong swimmer. He knows it. Noel knows it. The whole court knows it. Great Whites know it.
So why is his spine unraveling at its seams when you say it?
Why is his heart knocking against his sternum like it’s on the run from something?
From someone, rather.
“Mmm.” Suguru hums through closed lips.
Unable to acknowledge the compliment with decorum. He opts for diversion instead.
“Duchess, if I may. What prompted your visit to the chapel? How can I serve you?”
The two of you take lazy strides along the cobblestone path. You ogle at a white rose bush that Suguru is particularly fond of.
“I was touring the compound and noticed the garden surrounding the Church.”
A distracted response, while nestling your nose in a pretty bloom. Sun rays fanning your face as if to showcase that you’re God’s favorite. A biblical example of how flowers should be enjoyed.
Is it just the roses? Or are you this beautiful no matter the plant?
“Ahh. Come, then.”
You’re being indulgent, Suguru.
Maybe so. But the Chapel Grounds are his domain. The greenery lives and breathes under his fingertips. He adamantly refused a groundskeeper for the garden. Taking pride in nurturing its needy existence.
Second only to his eyes, Suguru trusts his hands fully. They’re intelligent. Fast. Expansive.
Definitive. Firm when the situation calls for it, yet gentle. Quick to learn.
Attentive.
He’s never gotten a shortage of compliments on his hands—
“Wisteria!” You torpedo through Suguru’s rapidly disintegrating spiral. And he couldn’t be more grateful.
Regaining a shred of control, he leads you under the oak archway. Draped in curtains of Wisteria. The billowing lilac petals sway romantically in the sea breeze.
Your lips hang open in a pretty, shocked ‘Oh.’ Eyes wide, gazing up at him in wonder. Adoration woven into those beautiful features slams hot and heavy into his lower abdomen. Remnant embers warming below his belt line.
Suguru coughs to reset his over-sensitive senses. A futile gesture because you knock him right back down to his knees.
“Oh, Father…..please?” A soft plea rolls through the slit in your lips. Pulling his eyes down to your pout.
Fuck.
The rock formation Suguru took note of earlier suddenly materializes in his throat. You coated his honorific in a new tone. Breathy and desperate. As if he is the only person who could satisfy your needs.
His skin is half a degree away from melting clear off his skeleton under those big, warm eyes of yours.
“Specify your request, Duchess.”
Both hands jam into his pockets so he can dig his nails into his thighs unnoticed. The searing pain tethering him to this dimension.
A deep rose blooms over your cheeks. Realizing you hadn’t actually asked him a question before begging.
So, prettily.
“May I please tend to your garden? It’s…I’m far from home and gardening brings me so much joy. Please, Father Geto—“
“Yes.”
His agreement comes well before Suguru is ready. Or, thought it through.
Should a noble woman be seen doing tasks as menial as gardening?
Should you be seen without your fiancée on his grounds?
What will you look like?
Kneeling over a bed of sunflowers?
Kneading the soil with your delicate, small hands—
“How can I thank you?” Your lips curl into an intoxicating smile. And Suguru no longer has the capacity to be in your presence.
“No need, stay as long as you like. I have to take my leave.”
Suguru offers a curt wave and terse smile before spinning on his heel. Leaving you, a work of art, beneath the masterpiece that is his arc of wisteria.
He barrels down the Chapel corridors at light speed. The pews, confessional, meeting rooms whirl by his periphery in a drunken haze.
Cold water. Cold water.
The wooden bathroom door creaks and wails beneath his harsh touch. Suguru fumbles with the two-level lock.
He nearly strips down naked. The fire incinerating him from within is unbearable. If there were scissors within grasp he would’ve cut his braid completely off. Because even the familiar sway of his waist length mane along his back is too much.
You are too much.
Suguru’s fingers unravel his braid and reposition his locks into a tight bun. Off the damp skin along his neck.
‘Father….please?’
Your voice echoes from Suguru’s incapacitated brain down to his drooling cock. Icy water splashes against face.
Suguru’s length has been weeping since you first revealed your face to him. Twitching and thrashing with every single word that came out of that pretty, sinful mouth. He’s never been so grateful that today he chose to swim with compression gear, rather than his usual bared skin.
Are you doing this on purpose?
Wide eyed and demure. But with a voice more beautiful than any siren that has tried to lure him to his watery grave.
Is this a test?
Suguru’s fingers desperately grasp the golden cross around his neck. Digging the symbol into his palm.
“Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners…” He starts. Ignited, smoldering violet eyes staring back at him are unrecognizable.
They are not of God.
They are dark.
Lust filled.
“Now. And…and at the hour of our death.” Words slip through his gritted teeth. His other hand grips the sink edge.
‘May I please tend to your Garden?’
“God. Please.” Suguru is the one pleading. To anyone above.
For self-control. For reprieve from the shape of your lips when you beg. His cock bucks against his inner thigh. Demanding attention to the ache between his legs.
Are you Eve?
Have you come to destroy his Eden?
Your delectable mounds barely hidden beneath that fucking dress as the Apple?
“Holy…Holy Mary, Mother of God…pray for us sinners.” His vice grip around the cross tightens. Babbling words he hopes can provide him with some restraint, some clarity.
They don’t.
Because his other hand now hovers over the pulsating bulge in his slacks. His manhood starved. Especially having been deprived of touch. Of warmth for longer than Suguru remembers.
“Holy…Mary…fuck.” Blasphemy rolling off his tongue.
Scorching heat radiating from his hovering palm pierces his clothing. Encasing his cock like a warmed blanket. Enticing him like the soft sex of a woman. Every single muscle is under wire tension. Forcing space between his need and his hand.
His hands. Don’t forsake him now. He trusts his hands.
“Father Geto? Are you alright?” Noel’s call from the other side of the door startles Suguru still.
“I’m—“ Suguru clears his dry throat “I’m alright, Noel. What do you need?”
“I saw you run in here and—“
“I’m okay.” Suguru replies, more softly this time. The boy is almost too tender-hearted for his own good.
He doesn’t miss the small sigh of relief.
“I left your updated schedule on your desk.”
“And what would I do without you?”
Suguru can almost hear Noel smiling across the barrier. Gleefully padding away. Completely unaware that his presence was the saving grace from disgracing himself.
Another splash of cold water on his face and multiple deep breaths later, Suguru finally gains enough composure to emerge.
Curious about the updates to his schedule, he strides to his office. A leather folder awaits with his itinerary.
Saturday: 0800 - 1000- Youth lecture
Saturday: 1800 - 2000 - Evening mass
Sunday: 0700 - 0900 - Morning mass
Sunday: 1300 - 1400 - Pre-Marital Counseling [CONFIDENTIAL]
“High court, then.” Suguru muses to himself. Pulling out the envelope with a matching demarcation. Meant for his eyes only. Should the seal be broken en route to the recipient the offender could be sentenced to death for treason.
And at this moment, Suguru finds that fate less painful than the spear currently piercing his lungs.
His eyes burn into the names written at the bottom of the page.
The Duke Ahriman & The Duchess-to-Be.
Chapter II
E/N: Hello from [redacted]. I am literally losing my shite. I’m already in love with the plot before it has even fully materialized. And prince-of-the-sea-Suguru? This headcannon has me in a chokehold I fear. Thank you for reading 💋
#jjk fanfic#jjk x reader smut#jjk smut#geto x reader#geto x you#suguru geto smut#geto smut#suguru smut#jjk suguru#geto suguru#suguru fluff#jujutsu suguru#jjk x reader#jjk headcanons#jjk angst#priest kink#priest smut#jjk geto#jjk x y/n#jjk x you#jjk fluff#jjk#jjk gojo#jjk fanart#getou suguru x reader#jujutsu kaisen suguru#geto suguru x reader#jjk fic#geto angst#suguru geto
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fushiguro toji x gn!reader · nsfw · wc: 2.3k
the flowers of the morning glory unfurl when first rays of sunlight peak over the horizon. so does your pleasure. so, too, does toji's hole— though you're sure toji would have words to protest his hole being likened to a flower, even if both the flower and his hole are among the most beautiful sights you've ever seen.
contents: soft!toji, morning sex, penetrative anal sex w/a strap-on (giving), praise (receiving), light/affectionate degradation and objectification (receiving), rimming (giving), multiple orgasms, light dumbification, blink-and-you-miss it cum eating, toji calls himself daddy one (1) time, established safewords (stoplight system)
reader details: reader acts as a service submissive and top (penetrates their partner), but is implied to be vers. reader is on the whinier / needier side (lol). reader has a hole between their legs and feels pleasure when grinding against the base of a strap-on (the body part that is grinding is not specified). reader is referred to as "baby", "sweetheart", "honey", "thing", and "toy". reader is called "pretty". reader's strap is referred to as "your cock". no pronouns besides "you" are used to describe reader.
you wake up needy, face nuzzling into toji's chest, underwear already damp with the evidence of your desperation.
"morning, baby," toji chuckles, no doubt amused by the seemingly instinctive grind of your hips against his thigh. he sneaks an arm under you, cupping your ass and pulling you even closer.
he's so hot. the increased friction melts you brain a little, sending your whole world tilting on its axis.
"what's got you all worked up, hmm? did you dream of something nice?" his voice dips, all dark and smooth like melted chocolate, and it coats your whole body in warmth.
"may i please fuck you?" the words spill from you even as wetness surges in between your legs. "please, please, please?"
"so needy, and you're barely awake." a brief pause. the sheets rustle. "i'm still sore from last night. any chance you could give me a break?"
you whine, a loud, pitiful thing, and bury your face in his chest. he indulges your dramatics, as he always does, with a lazy grin and a few generous caresses over your back. with the way you're positioned, the pressure of his hardening bulge is unavoidable. that hypocrite wants it just as bad as you do.
"you're being mean," you level a little frown at him. toji has always told you that it's more endearing than intimidating, but either way, the end result is the same, so you can't complain.
"sorry, sweetheart," he says, sounding distinctly unapologetic. "here, i'll make it up to you. where's your cock? i'll help you put it on."
your reticence wars with desire, and as always, the throbbing heat between your legs wins out. you grab your strap and harness from where they were tossed aside. toji had been the one to tear it off in his frenzy to give as good as he'd gotten last night. you hand the whole apparatus to him and shuffle forward on your knees.
"thank you, sweet thing," he says, "always so perfect for me."
every bone in your body melts, reeling from the praise, as he drags gentle hands over your hips, your thighs, your ass. his palms are wide, littered with callouses that make your skin tingle and crave for more. he takes his time, adjusting the straps to make sure they won't chafe. a different kind of heat floods your heart— tenderness.
"my perfect toy," he says, admiring his work. your cock juts out from the intricate web of straps that fastens it to your hips. "a perfect toy with a perfect cock."
you shuffle back, kneeling primly between his thick thighs. he spreads his legs, and your mind goes blank. you'd never considered assholes as something that could be pretty before toji started letting you fuck him, but it's true— he's pretty. you reach out as if in a trance. his rim pouts you, still not quite recovered from its gape last night, and you press two fingers into him. as promised, he's still soft and pliant, and he pulses around you as the tips of your fingers find that rough patch of tissue that never fails to drive toji wild.
"i'm ready, sweet thing," he tries for that sultry, silky smooth voice that makes you putty in his hands, but you can hear the tremble of arousal that weakens him. "i'm all stretched out already— can't you feel it? i don't need your fingers. just give me your cock."
"lemme say hi, first." you can't tear your gaze away. before you can even think to control yourself, your lips press against his hole, and you lick at his puffy rim. his cock flops over your face, dribbling pre-cum over your cheek. you look up at him through your lashes as the taste of lube and something distinctly toji fills your senses.
"fuck, you're a dirty little thing," he groans. "okay, baby. give me a kiss hello."
well, you're determined to give him much more than just a little kiss. your eyes flutter closed as you lavish his hole with attention, dipping the tip of your tongue past his rim and relishing in every shudder and groan you pull from his heaving chest.
toji says something, but you miss it through the rush of blood in your ears. you whine high in the back of your throat, nuzzling your nose against his taint. nothing could be as important as the tender, swollen rim against your lips, the heady taste of sweat and musk on your tongue.
"enough." toji gently pulls your head up, away from his thoroughly ravished hole. you just blink at him, dazed.
his puffy rim catches your attention again. you could do better, you think— you could get him wetter, hotter, looser, fuck him open with your tongue and nothing else, and make him cum all over your face until he's empty and aching.
"i was about to cum," he says, interrupting your train of thought. you nod in agreement, prepared to dive right back in and finish the job. you want him to cum. you need him to cum. you— "you wanted to fuck me, didn't you?"
"mmmnngh," you whine, frustrated, feeling for all the world like starving pup brought to heel in the face of a slab of raw meat. heat pricks at the corners of your eyes. you've never felt quite so wretched as when toji tightens his leash around your throat, keeping you from giving him the endless pleasure he deserves. to your dismay, your tears well up and overflow— a shameful display of your desire.
"don't be like that, baby." toji all but coos at you, stifling in his overbearing condescension. his hands run over your cheeks, your shoulders, wiping your tears away with the precision of a butcher's knife. "you'll get what you want, you spoiled thing. haven't you learned that i always give you the best of me?"
you can't respond. embarrassment flushes your cheeks warm, and you can't quite hold back your little sniffles and sobs.
"oh, come here, sweetheart. don't cry," he's still using that horrible, patronizing tone, the one that always has you easing deeper into hazy submission. he reaches down and lines your cock up with his entrance. "see? look how easy i am for you."
the tip of your cock kisses his hole, and you press forward, entranced by the way he sucks you in. it's a slow, easy slide all the way to the base— he yields to you, welcomes you in. desire is written in every flutter of his rim, every throb of his cock. your gaze finds its way to his face, and your heart skips a beat.
toji wears pleasure with the divine grace of a god. his eyelids flutter under knit brows, long lashes revealing unfocused, slightly crossed eyes. his mouth hangs open, soft groans escaping the little 'o' of his pretty lips. his abs ripple, miles of smooth skin and ridged muscle dancing under your covetous gaze.
his expression shifts when he notices you staring, but his normal sly grin is still softened by pleasure. "you're so perfect, baby. come on. give me what i deserve."
your first thrusts are rabbit-quick— shallow, jerky little things— as you try desperately to regain control of yourself. they earn you a few punched-out gasps, but you know toji. he likes it deep.
you pull back, making sure he can feel every inch of your cock rubbing up against his sensitive walls, then thrust all the way back in, finishing off with a filthy grind of your hips. toji makes a choked noise. "fuck, baby. fuck. just like that, yeah, do that again, perfect thing—"
your brain shuts off, yielding to toji's desires, toji's whims, toji's pleasure. your hips move on their own, thrusting and grinding, thrusting and grinding. the straps around your hips shift ever so slightly. the base of your cock rubs against you, just the way you like it. you pause, eyes wild. you know that when you thrust back in, it'll feel good. too good. the delicious anticipation has your breath catching in your chest.
"what is it, baby?" toji's voice is strained, hoarse— he was about to cum, you think— but there's a clear thread of concern in the gentle brush of his palms over your skin. "color?"
"toji. toji." you're lost for words. how can you even begin to verbalize the overwhelming pleasure that awaits you? how do you tell him that you're scared of it— scared of how good he feels, scared of drowning in the warmth that floods through your nerves? how do you tell him you want it? in the end, there's only one response. "green."
"then what—" toji's grin slices across his face, sharp as a knife. he's put the pieces together. "oh, i understand now. feels too good, doesn't it, honey?"
your jaw hangs slack. your chest heaves. it's all you can do to nod.
"poor baby," he croons. "all that pleasure, and nowhere to hide. are you scared?"
you nod again. your hips tremble, twitching minutely. every movement sends a shock up your spine, frying your brain a little more.
"i— i feel good." your hole clenches around nothing. "toji, toji, i—"
toji's thighs wrap around your hips in one fluid motion and pull, forcing you back inside.
it shatters you.
the friction is even better than you could've imagined, sending you spiralling into a hazy place where toji reigns over your endless ecstasy. your arms go weak, and you collapse against toji's chest. there's no reprieve— not when the shift in position only intensifies the pressure. your hips move instinctively, chasing that pleasure, and your pathetic little whines fall in hot puffs of breath against the shell of toji's ear.
"there you are," toji says, tucking your face into the crook of his neck. you latch on gratefully, suckling at the thick column of his throat. "my pretty, mindless baby— better than a fucking machine, yeah, yeah, just like that— fucking me so good, getting me all hot, so fucking hot—"
wet heat bursts between you, but you barely notice, too focused on the delicious, grinding pressure.
"baby—" toji's voice filters into your ears as if from a great distance. "baby, fuck, i can't think, you're fucking me stupid— ooh—"
another burst of heat, more tantalizing wetness. you whimper, burying your face in his neck and grinding harder. you're so close— so close— you can practically taste it.
"fuck!" if you were any more lucid, you'd describe toji's outburst as a sob. "'s sensitive, baby, hitting my prostate just right, god— god, so good, so good, my perfect baby—"
he's feeling good, you realize, the observation creeping up on you slowly through the fog in your brain. satisfaction curls in your stomach. your tongue feels thick in your mouth. "i— i'm good?"
"yeah, yeah—" the desperation in his voice is devastating. "just a little more, a little more, fuck me—"
you fuck back in, intent on making him cum, intent on hearing more of that thick, cloying desperation, but— but—
the base of your cock rubs against you just right, sparking a familiar, overwhelming storm of sensation. "no. no. not yet, please, not yet—"
"it's okay, baby. go ahead. cum for me."
it's useless to resist. your hips rut mindlessly, chasing your orgasm. you fall over the edge, sobbing, vision going white, as toji shakes and moans against you.
ecstasy runs rampant in your veins, sending you sky high. every nerve is a livewire, every muscle a bowstring drawn taut. you could stay here forever, frozen in bliss— throbbing, trembling, feeling so, so good with toji— for toji.
lucidity comes back to you in warm, grounding strokes. wide palms sweep over your back, gentle, gentle.
"welcome back." toji's voice, too, is warm, gentle. you soak it up, a happy plant in sunlight. "that was a good one, wasn't it?"
"so good," you sigh, nuzzling against his chest. "what about...?"
your heart drops in your chest as more memories come trickling in. he'd been just about to cum, too, and— and you had just gone off by yourself.
"what about what, honey?"
"you didn't cum?" you blink at him, a fresh wave of tears welling up in your lash line. "did i— did i cum without you?"
"huh?" he tilts his head— an unfairly endearing look for a man so big. a huff of laughter. "oh, you were out of it, huh? i came, sweetheart," he soothes. "a few times, actually. i think you just might not have noticed."
you blink at him again, perplexed. how could you not have noticed?
to your shock, white spatters across his tummy, smearing over your skin where you were pressed together. thick, creamy drops collect in his treasure trail. entranced, you drag a finger through the evidence of his pleasure and lift it to your mouth, letting out a happy little hum at the taste. your lips purse as you struggle to keep your thoughts from floating away into the haze that has re-settled around you. how could you convince him to let you suck his cock?
"nuh uh. i know that look." faster than you can blink, you're flipped over onto your back, strap undone and tossed to the side. your legs rest over his shoulders, leaving you spread open and exposed to his hot, intense gaze. "give me some time to recover. i'll play with you for a bit, then i can cum again when i'm inside of you. does that sound good?"
mind still floating in that soft, happy place, you find yourself nodding. there's a word you could say to end all of this—'yellow' would earn you his cock in your mouth one last time before a long night of clean-up and cuddling, but you'd rather die than end the night without his cum stuffed deep inside. "mhm. love you, toji."
he softens, almost imperceptibly.
"i love you, too. let me reward you, baby," he murmurs, turning his head to let his lips brush over your ankle. "i'll show you just how much daddy liked getting fucked."
tags: @enchantedforest-network @yutaleks @stellamancer @izvmimi @mydiluc @dearbraus
#fushiguro toji x reader#fushiguro toji x you#fushiguro toji smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x you#jujutsu kaisen smut#jjk x reader#jjk x you#jjk smut#writemin!#+toji
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“You’ve seriously never thought about us kissing?” The superhero crooked an eyebrow. “We’ve been marinating in sexual tension for three years now.”
prompt by @gingerly-writing :> <333
—
“You’ve seriously never thought about us kissing?” The superhero crooked an eyebrow. “We’ve been marinating in sexual tension for three years now.”
The villain choked. Went to hide their blushing face.
When they cracked two fingers apart to peak, the superhero was still staring at them through their cell's reinforced bars.
"No," they said. "You're a bit too terrifying."
That was not entirely true. The superhero was terrifying, yes. Loved by the masses. Feared by the criminal underbelly of the city. But the villain was enamoured, hopelessly, by that. The contrast between their charming, friendly persona that was reserved for the masses and their true cold, calculating, dangerous demeanor left the villain hopelessly pining after them. They were incredible, truly. Perfection.
They ran their hands down their heated face and looked up.
The superhero's perfect face stared down at them. The villain looked down at their crossed legs instead. "I thought you were just toying," they mumbled. "With the flirting."
Silence, again. The villain glanced up at the superhero through their lashes.
The superhero tilted their head in observation. The villain pressed their lips into a thin line and crossed their arms, hunching their shoulders.
The superhero crouched down to meet their level. The villain tucked their chin in and leaned back, refusing to make eye contact. They heard the rustle of the superhero's gloves slipping off of their fingers. They dropped to the floor, right in front of the bars. The villain could've reached out and taken them.
"It doesn't change my offer," said the superhero. "I get you out of this cell in exchange for a kiss."
Had it not been for their dark skin, the villain was sure they would've lit up red. But they couldn't accept the offer, surely. They imagined even a brush of their fingers would leave the villain dizzy and swaying on their feet.
They recalled, once, they'd thrown a stun bomb at the superhero and had them incapacitated for almost ten minutes. The superhero had risen up, suit torn (because they had it remade every day, since it was not completely reinforced so that the public could get glimpses of their skin—and that always, always left the villain faint).
They'd had them up against the wall, smiled down, body radiating heat, and said, "well, aren't you incredible?"
The villain's knees had turned to jelly instantly.
"I can get out of here on my own," they mumbled, biting their tongue right after they spoke so their mind wouldn't conjure up more memories.
"Is that so?" The superhero feigned a curious tone. "A little birdie told me you've bruised your whole body trying to break these bars."
The villain winced. They properly glanced up at the superhero, then, and saw they had their cheek resting on their fist. Their eyes were lazily hooded. Their other hand rose to trail fingers down their neck, to the side of their collarbone.
The villain's hand rose, automatically, to their own collarbone, to the bruise there that was exposed by the loose neckline of their shirt. They pulled it close. Their cheeks flushed for a different reason, then; they hated this cell and the way it suppressed their powers. It felt like one of their limbs had been cut off. They hated the Scientist—the villain that had trapped them here—for finding a way to suppress their powers even more.
They straightened their back. "Liar. This cell's shut down my powers. Maybe it's done that to you, too." They glanced back at the number of fortified doors the superhero had sauntered through when they first entered. They could've broken through those doors with ease.
Once more, the superhero crooked an eyebrow. They lifted their cheek from their fist and closed their fingers around one of the steel bars. The villain watched as it corroded beneath their skin.
They blinked. "Oh."
The superhero spread their hand in a voila gesture, raising their brow. "Oh."
Dumbly, the villain pursed their lips. They seriously considered the offer, then. Glanced, traitorously, at the superhero's lips. Thought of how it would feel to have their mouth pressed against that lovely pair.
Their lips buzzed with sensation. Oh, they felt dizzy right then.
"I'm not an idiot, in case you weren't paying attention," said the superhero. They tilted their head and raked their eyes down the villain—intoxicating. "I can hear your heart thumping like a bunny on caffeine. I always have."
The villain squeaked and put a hand over their heart, as if that would do any good. "You—you make me nervous."
The superhero smiled, then, all sly. "I know I do."
The villain's flush heightened, impossibly so. They didn't even know they could get this flustered. "This is unfair. You knew."
"I'm a very unfair person."
"I'm bad."
The superhero shrugged. "I'm terrible."
The villain clenched their fists. Everything felt very, very hot.
The superhero leaned in. They caught the villain's chin through the bars, bare, callused fingers rough and warm on their skin. "You're good," they said. "You're very good. You're exceptional, able to outsmart even me, and you just keep your talents on the down low so that no one targets you."
Again, the villain pursed their lips into a line. Wobbly. Burning with the phantom sensation of the superhero's mouth on theirs. They had nothing to protest with, then, just the heat curling all around their body, fingers going shaky. "You'll take me out."
"Mm." The superhero tilted the villan's chin as much as the bars allowed them. Ran their fingers around the underside of their jaw. Skated up to touch one burning cheek. "To dinner. Or lunch." The corner of their mouth quirked up, devastatingly sharp and evil. "Or a nice little rooftop if you kiss me." They scraped their thumb along the curve of the villain's bottom lip.
The villain's lips parted automatically. They took in a quivering, nervous breath. "You'll get me out."
"Of course."
"How long have you liked me back?"
The superhero looked pleased. That smile, god, that smile. It wasn't made for the cameras. It was evil, mean, smug. It made the villain's heart flip hopelessly. "I might let you know if you kiss me."
The villain clutched the bars and leaned close. The steel brushed cold against their cheeks. They had to know. Was it after they first drew the superhero's blood? Or from that time one of their inventions sent the superhero flying through ten walls? Or one of the times when they had the villain blushing, pressed flush to a wall?
The superhero chuckled to themselves, gently tipped the villain's chin up, and kissed them.
The villain sighed and pulled them close and the superhero pulled them closer. Their hands snaked beneath their shirt and ran over their back, their sides, teased the edges of their waistband. It stung just slightly from the bruises, but the heat that their hands left in their wake left the villain too brainless to think of anything else but them.
The superhero leaned back first. The villain would've followed their lips mindlessly if it hadn't been for the bars. But instead they stayed there, breathless, lips burning, cheeks still pressed to the steel bars. They tapped the corroded edge of the bar the superhero had touched in urgency.
The superhero ran their hands around the bars in a huge circle, and they snapped right off. The villain barely had time to get to their feet before the superhero had scooped them up into another kiss. This one was hungrier, eager for a proper taste, and the villain had to tiptoe to properly kiss them. They leaned back for air.
"Since the stun bomb," said the superhero. "I've wanted a smart, pretty thing like you since."
"O—oh." The villain wasn't sure how to properly respond to that. They were already afraid they'd been misjudged on the smart part, maybe the superhero had kissed them dumb. But they found that they didn't need to respond, because the superhero was kissing them again.
They walked out hand in hand. The superhero dropped them off on a nice little rooftop, cheeks still burning, lips still buzzing and swollen.
The villain touched a hand to their cheek, feeling the heat there.
Oh, they were head over heels.
#hero x villain#villain x hero#heroes and villains#villains and heros#villain x superhero#kyles.writing#heroes#superhero x villain#villains#superheroes#kissing#me putting 'prompt by gingerly writing :> <3' to hide the fact that i think this is the worst piece ive ever written#the superhero . is not evil enough . imo#but i am too lazy to edit#(false i will probs edit this once ive posted it)#writeblr#writers on tumblr
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Okay, after that mini-date between q!Tina and q!Bagi, I have some gripes to settle regarding how some people have been reacting.
First and foremost, cc!Tina. Miss ma’am, I know you’ll probably never read this, but let me tell you, if I hear you one more time saying you’re not good at roleplay I will SCREAM! You are SO passionate and in the moment, so immersed, and you immediately level yourself with how into it the people you’re interacting with are. You’re not afraid to make your character show vulnerability, fear and sadness. This is PEAK roleplaying skills, and it’s so enjoyable to watch! Please never feel invalidated just because you don’t have a 60 pages Word document about your character. You’re SO talented, and your monologues from the mini-date are incredibly poignant.
Secondly, I wanna touch upon the notion that q!Tina is easily swayed. This has some truth to it, and it did show with q!Bagi most of all. Many times she changed an answer about a question or a topic because q!Bagi had a different one. However, those were all about menial things. “But what about her opinion about the Federation?” I hear you ask. Well, it’s true that the people she’s been hanging out the most with (q!Foolish, q!Jaiden and q!Ironmouse) are either pro or neutral towards the Federation. However, because they are still keeping her at arm’s length, they don’t go into too much details as to the why and how. q!Foolish and q!Jaiden especially have a mutual trust and share secrets that they’d never tell q!Tina, at least not now. As such, while at first simmering in a relatively Federation-friendly climate, it wasn’t such a big focus point, especially since she was so new. Like she said, she lived in blissful ignorance, and the people surrounding her didn’t really do anything to change that.
Then comes q!Bagi. Slowly but surely, they both develop a crush on each other, and as such, q!Tina wants to impress. She grasps at a small excuse to flip her view of the Federation as a way to do that, but again, in that moment, it’s not a big deal. And because they are very shy with each other and clumsily flirt, the seriousness of the topic is still somewhat behind a curtain, even though q!Bagi has been knee deep into the dark side of the island. The terrible truths and secrets, the violence, torture, betrayals, she’s seen it all already, but when around q!Tina, she puts on a brave face and acts all sweet, because it’s clear she likes her a lot! However, she does sometimes let a smidge of truth slip out, which q!Tina unconsciously hears and stores in her memory for safekeeping without thinking too much of it.
Finally comes the turning point. q!Bagi discovers q!Cellbit is her long lost brother, and he reacts badly to it, leaving her profoundly sad. q!Tina is present enough to start to see how complex her crush’s life is, through multiple days. After a setback, q!Bagi decides to invite q!Tina on the mini-date and fully opens up to her. Despite building up to it, this wave of information comes crashing down. q!Tina is hit with everything. But most importantly, she is confronted with how blissful her ignorance was, and she is SCARED, leading to her AMAZING monologue about it. However, this fully awakens her critical thinking, and she actually starts to reflect on the situation! Seriously, I don’t know how people didn’t see that! Multiple times through the mini-date, she not only expresses her honest opinion, but even does so when it CHALLENGES q!Bagi’s. She defends q!Foolish, q!Jaiden and q!Forever, she tells her that one of the Cucuruchos is nice, she questions the idea of leaving the island, the Federation’s desire to harm, and so on. At that moment, she’s not trying to impress anymore, she wants to understand, and suggesting otherwise is highly disingenuous, reductive even.
By the end, there isn’t even a real agreement reached on any of those questions! However, what becomes clear is that q!Bagi did something nobody has truly done yet for q!Tina: she opened her heart, and decided to be completely honest. For a while now, q!Tina had become jaded about who to trust, noticing how much the others were keeping secrets, even her close friends. It upset her, and made her act irrational. Yet q!Bagi, without any second thought, chose to trust her. Not to manipulate her, not to test her, but because she truly wanted q!Tina to know who she was. She did that out of respect, to give her all the keys to make the most informed decision about their relationship. Through some more heart-to-heart, they realize they both feel the same way about the others keeping secrets, and now they know they have each-other, at least for the time being.
This leads me to the third misconception: q!Foolish. Doozers, I love you guys. The past months, you’ve fought tooth and nail to make sure q!Foolish wasn’t mischaracterized by the fandom, and I fully support you for it. However, there is something you need to realize: the other cubitos are NOT the fandom. They shouldn’t know, CANNOT know his POV, or q!Jaiden’s. As a result, the hard truth is that due to q!Foolish’s chaotic nature and seemingly wavering loyalty, NOBODY apart from q!Jaiden actually trusts him with regards to Federation matters. He’s often filibusting, joking around, and deviating when it comes to these matters, he has shown to be ready to arrest people. He CHOOSES to act like that, and since others don’t know his endgame, you cannot in good conscience blame any of them when he does not appear trustworthy. Even q!BBH with whom q!Foolish has somewhat of an unspoken bond, doesn’t tell him everything. I know you all want q!Bagi to have a conversation with him to understand him, but it’s going to take way more than that for any islander (again, other than q!Jaiden) to see him the way you do, much less q!Bagi.
This includes q!Tina by the way. As she said during the date, he’s been keeping her at arm’s length, so she’s started doing the same. He may have good reasons to do so but she can’t know them. Now, as she also mentioned, this has become kind of a mutual understanding of what they’re willing to share, and while it remains so, their friendship is almost certainly not endangered. That being said, if it WERE to come to blows, you cannot fault her if she ends up siding with q!Bagi, who’s shown willingness to cross bridges he hasn’t. Again, this is the worst case scenario. She’s still defending him so it’s suuuuuper unlikely to happen.
So yeah, that’s about it! TL;DR
q!Tina might sometimes be easily swayed, but keep in mind that when things get serious, she does have a good head on her shoulders and is capable of critical thinking.
While it’s important for the fandom to understand q!Foolish, it’s equally crucial to realize he does not appear trustworthy to almost all islanders because they don’t have the information the viewers have.
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MCYT Eras Concept
For a long time, I've thought of MCYT as divided into different eras. I've finally decided to refine the idea and write it out. I feel it's a good way to define things, rather than just "old school" and "modern", as the bar for each of those have shifted drastically over time. Please do note that a lot of how I describe these eras is mostly from my own perspective, but I do think the overall divisions work well for MCYT as a whole!
Era 1 - The "OG" Era (2009 - 2011)
The beginning of Minecraft and MCYT. Much content at this point was traditional lets plays, simple tutorials and showing off early innovations in redstone.
Era 2 - The "Classic" Era (2012 - 2014)
This era encompasses what is often considered the peak of many iconic "old school" groups and series. Team Crafted, Mindcrack, the various Yogscast Tekkit series, and many, many more.
It's difficult to describe everything that made up the classic era in a succinct manner. It was the true rise of SMPs, Adventure Maps, Minecraft Animations, Parodies, Mod Reviews, MCRP, and so, so much more. Minecraft was unavoidable on YouTube back then.
Era 3 - The "Gap" Era (2015 - 2017)
The "gap" era is named for the lull in MCYT's popularity. In this period of time, it was seen more as a niche, compared to the massive popularity it saw before and after.
This era saw the "death", or at least massive dips in popularity to many formerly wildly popular groups and ccs, as viewers interests changed and moved onto other things.
Many series came and went during this era, but weren't properly appreciated until after their time.
Era 4 - The "Revival" Era (2018 - 2019)
This era, due to a combination of many factors, was MCYT's return to mainstream. Many people returned to both singleplayer series and servers. Episodic SMPs old and new such as Hermitcraft and Truly Bedrock, began experimenting more with the lines between gameplay, story and improv.
This era also saw the rise of streaming based series, such as SMPLive, SMPEarth, and Minecraft Monday.
Era 5 - The "Lockdown" Era (2020 - 2022)
Much of this era is defined by the new heights reached during covid lockdowns. This era kicked dozens if not hundreds of the careers of those who grew up watching MCYT during the OG and Classic eras.
This era is admittedly very defined by the DSMP, rocketing MCYT and specifically MCRP into a level of popularity unseen before. Second, and as just as important to this era is MCC, bringing together so many personalities from all over the MCYT sphere who otherwise would likely have never interacted on a monthly basis.
A massive innovation in this era was also the introduction of the Simple Voice Chat mod to many servers, now a staple of most multiplayer content.
Era 6 - The Current Era (2023 - Present)
Unnamed as of yet, as it is still ongoing, the current era of MCYT has so far been defined by not only the continued rise of many smaller, younger MCYTs. But largely, and undoubtedly, by the QSMP.
Not only has it redefined what an SMP can be through its gameplay. It has brought the international MCYT community is closer together now than ever, crossing language and cultural barriers previously rarely touched.
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This concept of mine isn't fully solidified, and is up to be more refined. I would love to hear y'all's thoughts and feedback about these divisions and the idea overall!
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hi wasn't sure if i notice this to ur yan chrollo fics, but do u think chrollo is the type of guy who says i love u to his darling?
i actually have a weird philosophy when it comes to having characters say "i love you" in fics, it's something i include very rarely as a personal preference. please excuse me for how corny this sounds but i kinda like going for a more evocative declaration of love that's unique to the character, if that makes sense HTJKMER i promise i'm not trying to be pretentious, i just consider it a personal challenge to myself. there are times where thematically 'i love you' fits beautifully and hits me emotionally like a train, but nine times out of ten it doesn't get me in the way i want to be gut punched.
my favorite example of what i try aiming for (although i don't think my silly fics will ever reach this Peak Fiction level, it's more of a goal to strive for), is waymond's line from everything everywhere all at once,
"In another life, I would have really liked just doing laundry and taxes with you."
it had me in shambles. i los t my mind. never got it back btw.
ALRIGHT now that that preface is out of the way, i'll dive into my thoughts on chrollo saying i love you:
there isn't much (if anything) chrollo holds sacred, but that phrase somewhat makes the cut. he'll readily profess his admiration of your looks and personality, tell you that he considers you a treasure worth holding onto for as long as blood pumps through his veins, etc... but the classic declaration of love is noticeably missing from his romantic era style of flirting. he can handle your insults, disobedience, and overall contemptuous attitude, yet he doesn't want to experience your rejection of what is a deeply vulnerable statement. so much of him is a fabrication. a tapestry woven from different cloths he cut from others. he barely has any sense of self. he poured his everything into the spider, leaving him empty, a true husk of a man.
you stoked what little kindling remains of the identity he discarded the day sarasa was found dead. it terrifies and confounds him. this humanity he thought he purged from his being is forcefully drawn out by your presence. he wants to say it with what scraps remain of anything resembling a person. to do so would certainly earn your protest and that hypothetical makes him... uncomfortable.
chrollo is far more likely to whisper it once while you're in deep sleep, considering it a secret between him and the night.
#i have. very complicated thoughts on this HJTEKG#yandere chrollo x reader#chrollo brainrot#answered#Anonymous
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NaNoWriMo Day #16
[masterlist] [part one] [part three] [part four]
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Bruce sat in the bat cave, long after he'd sent his kids to bed. In his hands were the batarangs Phantom had gifted him. They were unnaturally cold in his hands, but the chill never became painful. In fact, it was strangely almost comforting.
Thinking back on Phantom, Bruce wasn't sure what to make of their meeting. The kid seemed to be a few years younger than Tim, and had all but told them he was being hunted. Phantom had come to them seeking protection from someone, or multiple someones, for himself and four others, most of which were kids. On one hand, it made his heart ache, knowing these kids had to run from their previous homes, their "haunt". On the other hand, Phantom's genuine belief that they were something beyond human was obvious and more than a bit unsettling (he ignored the part of him that reveled in that belief, the part that had him on edge before an Arkham breakout, the part that saw Phantom and whispered "other, different, like me".)
His kids had held similar reservations, though they'd all agreed Phantom wasn't a threat. His gifts, though obviously magical and not human in nature, had felt benign and were reasonably well thought out, and though the level of research each gift had symbolized was slightly worrying, Babs had assured them she'd closed all the holes in their internet security those gifts had exposed. In the end, they'd all agreed to honor Phantom's request for refuge. The kid's relief was profound and practically soul deep, which reassured Bruce they'd made the right choice.
As Bruce fiddled with his new batarangs, which held a very faint green sheen at the edges, he remembered the moment his "feeling" had reached its peak. Something had changed, something big, when he'd accepted Phantom's gifts. He still didn't know what, exactly, had happened, but he'd felt some sort of shift in the energy Gotham exuded, in his children, in him. He had felt the sense of connection between him and his children grow ever so slightly stronger, and he knew they'd felt it, too.
Bruce flipped the batarang in his dominant hand and caught it with ease, returning it to the holster with a sigh. Whatever Phantom was, whoever he was running from, whatever his presence meant for his family, and Gotham as a whole, Bruce had a feeling they'd be crossing paths with him again soon.
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Danny phased invisibly into his and Jazz's apartment, turning human as he sat at the table with a thoughtful frown on his face. Jazz looked over at him from the stove, a questioning look on her face, though she didn't pry, which he was thankful for. He needed to gather his thoughts before he explained what had happened tonight.
When Jazz placed a bowl of spaghetti in front of him, Danny took a deep breath. "You owe Sam ten bucks," he started, smiling at Jazz's soft curse. "Condor is definitely connected to death, but they're equally connected to life, and the only being or creature we know of that is perfectly balanced between life and death, that isn't a halfa, is a phoenix. They also don't have that slimy, necromantic feel liches are supposed to."
Jazz hummed as she swallowed her mouthful. "What about the others? How close were we on our guesses of them?"
"Well, Batman is definitely a guardian deity, and Gotham is definitely his territory. Ibis, who I actually interacted with, was also spot on, definitely a kitsune. You should have seen them move, Jazz, it was almost ethereal how gracefully they moved. Oh, and Starling? Definitely at least related to banshees. I don't think they're a true banshee, because that connection to death wasn't there, but they're at least related to banshees." Danny paused to take a few bites before continuing. "I think Signal is a Will-o'-the-wisp, actually. You know how I thought they'd be a vengeful spirit? Having been in their presence, I gotta say, not very vengeful. Very mischievous, somewhat malicious, but mostly protective, strangely enough. Same with Raven, they practically ooze protective vibes, along with some very pointed trickster energy. I think Raven might be some sort of protection based deity, under Batman's authority, with strong trickster leanings, which is an interesting mix in my opinion. Oh, and Robin is definitely fae, they've got a very ethereal look to them, paired with their grace and general mischievousness, there's no doubt. BlackBat is more difficult to say. I think they're either a shape changing shadow wolf or otherwise just living shadows. Even when they were illuminated by my glowy self, I could barely see them. It was trippy, I'll tell you that much right now."
They continued eating in silence for a bit before Jazz asked, "So am I signing the full lease tomorrow, or are we moving on?"
Danny grinned. "Oh no, we're good. Batman actually told me to get the others here as soon as possible." His grin mellowed to a small, warm smile. "I think he's worried about them, Jazz. When I mentioned only two of us were currently in Gotham because the others weren't able to come with us when we left, he asked if we needed help getting them here. He seemed to relax when I told him we had a plan and that they were just waiting for the go-ahead from our end."
"Are you going to call them after we finish dinner, then?" Jazz asked, taking another bite.
Danny nodded. "Yeah, Ellie will grab them in the middle of the night. They'll wait until morning with Frostbite before portaling in so we can get the lease signed." He paused, stirring his spaghetti absentmindedly as he thought. "I think," he started haltingly. "I think the bat clan aren't actually aware they're not human."
Jazz paused, spaghetti falling off her fork and back into her bowl as she stared at him in shock. "What do you mean, how could they not know their own natures? You guys pegged them as eldritch beings as soon as you discovered them, they have to know!"
"I don't know, they just. They didn't seem to understand why I was giving them gifts or behaving the way I was. They also looked very confused at a few of my gifts, like they weren't sure why I'd chosen that specific thing for them, even though it makes sense for what kind of being they are!" Danny huffed. Then he sighed. "If they don't actually know what they are, then someone needs to explain it to them. They deserve to know what they are, especially because some of their species have very specific instincts that could be very confusing, even terrifying, for someone who thinks they're human. I... Should I offer to teach them more about themselves next time I see them?"
Jazz looked at him with a small smile. "If you think they'd be receptive to it, I think that'd be for the best, especially if you're right about them thinking they're human. I highly doubt we'll be the only Fright to seek asylum here, after all."
Danny nodded. "Then tomorrow night, I'll make the offer. If we get kicked out because I offend them, then at least we'll all be together."
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This would have been longer, or at least done sooner, if I hadn't had an ocular migraine come out of nowhere earlier today (´-﹏-`；) but after a two hour nap, I could actually see again, so I was finally able to get to work on this ficlet! ✧\(>o<)ﾉ✧ I had a lot of fun coming up with what the members of the Batfam had managed to become due to the entire city believing them to not be human (◡ ω ◡) Jason was fun, cuz I hadn't really thought about what exactly liches were before, so when I realized that Voldemort from Harry Potter was basically a textbook lich, I knew I had to change my initial plan for Jason (^～^;)ゞ but hey, now he gets super strength and the ability to heal himself from anything, including death! Much better than being able to create essentially undead thralls lol (◠‿◕)
I'm seriously hoping to continue this into at least one more part, with the Bats coming to terms with and learning more about their new supernatural status, possibly even the Justice League initiating contact with the distinctly not human protectors of Gotham, but we'll have to see what prompts I find (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧
OH! ALSO! I'm so close to reaching 200 followers! When I do, I'm thinking of celebrating somehow, but I'm not sure what to do. If any of you have any ideas, please, let me know! I might take your suggestion to heart (◠‿・)—☆ also, if I get to 260 by the 26th of this month, I'll do another celebration lol
Y'all are awesome, thank you so much! I've got some more people who asked to be tagged in this continuation, so here's hoping I get them all again! @airis-hunter, @little-pondhead, @stealingyourbones, @crystallicedart, @summerfox1988, @minnesota-fats, @edgemcjee, @fire-glass, @f4nd0m-fun, I think you all asked to be tagged (or at least heavily implied it) if I continued my fake cryptids real ghosts au, so here ya go!
Have a good morning/day/night!
#danny phantom#batman#dc x dp#dp x dc#fanfic#dp crossover#dp au#fanfiction#nanowrimo 2022#NaNoWriMo Day 16#dp/dc week 2022#i have so many thoughts#guys duke is now a Will-o'-the-wisp#and Bruce is a freaking god now#so is Dick#honestly Dick almost was a tengu from Japanese mythology but i thought#because he's been Batman's companion the longest#he should also get to be a deity#so boom dick is Gotham's god of mischief and childhood protection#Tim is actually also in the process of ascending to deity-hood#he's still a kitsune at the moment but once Ibis is better established he'll ascend lol#Damian is a mix of different fae beings and it's all because he became Robin right before Gotham's belief hit critical mass#if Tim had still been Robin at that time then he'd be a fae instead of a kitsune but nope it's Damian lol#and because the Bats don't kill Steph isn't actually a banshee#she's technically something new that is related to banshees#she's basically a banshee if a banshee's call didn't predict death but defeat via a punch to the face#and yes Babs is an actual Oracle lol Bruce is the god that gave her her power she's literally Batman's Oracle#no seriously do a quick Google search this actually checks out she's actually a real oracle in this au lol#Cass is living shadows confirmed#i couldn't resist she's just too good at blending in with her surroundings
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Do you know why everyone and their mother keeps saying that Sheb Qingqiu's secluded cultivation lasts for a year or 3??? Last I checked, wasn't he only in the cave for several months??
...I haven't seen a fic use that timeframe in quite a while - am I the delusional one??
Having intensively cultivated for several months, he could freely
control his spiritual energy and had risen one level above his original
cultivation base.
... nope, still as I remembered from the official book, page 85 in my copy. Even my old Exiled Rebels translation puts it as, "several months." Last I checked, 12 (or 36) months is far too many to simply be considered "several", so what am I missing? It just- throws off the timeline so badly and greatly increases the amount of time poor Binghe is stuck in the woodshed, for what?
Okay, so the 3 years thing comes from the donghua, no need to look further. It's one of those things that directly go against canon but have stuck in people's minds, similar to 'the washerwoman was the one to pull baby Binghe out of the river' and 'Shen Qingqiu fainted dramatically several times early on in his transmigration'.
Then, I don't believe I have seen 1 year myself, but if I had to guess, it may come from the fact that Binghe is 14yo prior to SQQ entering seclusion and 15 once he leaves. That said, an entire year makes zero sense considering what we know of the timeline.
Which is where I confess that I tore out some hair over the length of SQQ's seclusion when constructing the timeline for Transmigrator Time Traveler, because for me 'several' months means 3 to 5, but given all the facts, SQQ's seclusion had to last somewhere between 6 and 10 instead. (I went with 9 in the end, for the fic, cause I've read that 9 is a significant number for spiritual practices cultivation is based on? the source was a little vague so i don't know how true that is, but I needed a number.)
Nevermind, to the aforementioned facts. MXTX confirmed the date of the first chapter publication - Sept.21 - to be the date of SQQ's transmigration. (Small note: I'll be using modern months, even though SV's world uses lunar calendar, because it's easier to gauge weather and stuff. For characters in the novel, they might see those as different months/seasons, but that doesn't really affect our purpose here.) Luo Binghe’s 15th birthday - which Shen Qingqiu missed in seclusion - is in winter ('coldest day' which I after some research came to hc as jan6, though that's not particularly relevant, because...) Demon invasion happened on a 'hot day' (SQQ mentions it in relation to how SHL is dressed) - which puts it in May at the earliest, August at the latest. So these are the 'borders' we are working with.
Now, to my actual calculations. We know SQQ spent some time on the Peak after transmigration, before the Skinner mission that led to him going to seclusion. So I'm gonna say that happened in October at the earliest, December if you stretch it (though I feel like his tatas would freeze off if the Skinner left him half-undressed in December...) - but definitely not later, cause Binghe’s birthday has to happen off-screen. So if we take the longest possible time frame, October to August, we get 10 months. The slimmest possible window - December to May - gives us 5 months, but between the aforementioned boob hypothermia issue and the fact that May is a bit of a stretch for the 'hot day', I think that 6 months is the shortest you can go.
Which, again, doesn't align with my understanding of what should be described as 'several' months, but what can you do... tbh, im not sure MXTX thought all that hard about the timeline, which is understandable as a writer - but as a fan, frustrating
So yeah - definitely less than a year (and absolutely not 3, donghua), though the math gets fuzzier after that.
#that said im pretty sure that donghua's 3 years is to save on Binghe models... he def has different ones pre and post seclusion#but im pretty sure that demon invasion and IAC binghes have at the very least the same head. not sure about if the clothes are a recolor too#still... feel like they couldve handled it more gracefully. like for example not mentioning the time frame at all 🙄#svsss#shen qingqiu#luo binghe#svsss meta
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Dream a Little Dream of Me - XLVI
Celestia had a cruel sense of humor. He knew this, even before his days as a student.
But to be given a soulmate? Now, when he openly blasphemed against the cursed island in the sky? He would outlive you and the dreadful fated bond that haunted your shared dreams. There was little point in this. He could at least put a Vision to good use.
People were nothing but disappointments. He had no use for you.
Until you pulled the bow across your instrument and awoke a part of him long buried by self-hatred and arrogance.
Soulmate AU; Il Dottore/Female reader w/ established personality and backstory. Slow burn. Lore and world speculation and interpretation within; follows canon story where possible.
Rated Mature. Rating subject to change. Mind the tags.
On AO3 here.
A week was a generous window of time; in fact, it was an overestimation for a zealous designer hired to do interior work for a Fatui Harbinger. They arrived within a few days, during which you played before bed and Zandik taught you the difference between coffee brewed in Sumeru and Fontaine. He much preferred the later; your nation's palette ran far too sweet, even for him.
Zandik's obscured gaze lingered during the initial introductions in much the same way it had on you back in the House of Daena. Luckily, or unluckily, the designer's nerves were made of stronger stuff, and it was clear they spent their time dealing with precise and demanding clients. They were unbothered, both by Zandik's stare and about the fact they were speaking to a Fatui Harbinger and their presumed life-partner.
A certain level of discretion was respectable. However, you knew precisely what being in their position meant. The right things to say, not revealing too much on one’s face, timing everything just so. No one was ever certain of your true personage and everyone was happier for the work done. Information that spread from both parties as a result was a given.
The hair on the back of your neck stood up a little at the designer's passing remark about Lord Pantalone's generosity on their retainer.
"Pantalone knows who is worth the time and mora. I trust you’ll find a way to meet the needs outlined,” Zandik remarked. “Lest you disappoint him.”
The designer’s smile was stiffer but otherwise professional, even when Zandik parted and left you in the sudden silence of your shared apartments.
The space you slept in reminded you of the tiny graveyards dotting the Fontaine countryside. Pretty, in only the way a romantic notion of death allowed, time and effort and money spent on a space never seen by those who occupied it. In another life, you might have been offended that Zandik cared so little for where he slept. It was evident he valued your comfort though and what better expertise was there when Zandik held no opinion on the matter?
You led the designer through the biggest changes, namely the bedroom, right down to the thread count on the sheets and the arrangement of the furniture. New textures, patterns, wallpaper. Such a practice was common in Fontaine, especially in second or even third marriages. You didn’t care if the designer thought your initial focus on the most intimate space was strange; even if they said nothing to allude to such thoughts, their stiffness did not melt. Perhaps they held the idea that the Second Harbinger was more machine than man, a rumor that circulated less now that you were seen with him.
If your memories were fixed, changing the bedroom wouldn't matter anyway, but you would always carry the contrary knowledge, as would the walls. Spaces held memories, too.
The sitting area was next. You needed a workspace, at least a private one, and a spot by the windows afforded not only the best light but the best view of the mountains and beyond. The peaks here were nothing like the peaks in Fontaine. These were eternally snow-capped and jagged, like the teeth of a dragon, it's maw wide open with the Palace and surrounding town in the center, waiting to be swallowed.
A tale for children, Zandik had said without explanation when you first came to the land; now you knew how true that statement really was.
As you spoke, the designer suggested, and with a few quick sketches, you understood immediately why Lord Pantalone chose them specifically. From their sketch, you could only surmise that they intended to re-arrange the sitting area in the center of the room. Even back in the dreamscape, that space always seemed so insular. You could imagine Zandik with multiple Segments sitting, all being able to face one another and look over plans, never letting anyone else into the fold.
Cold and off-putting.
Exactly what you didn't want for either of you.
"A sofa this way, across from the fireplace and a table in front of it, creates a cozy space that separates itself without being too closed off. Right now, it's more of a conversation pit but there's no warmth. Might be able to flank the coffee table with armchairs if that's a must…but what to do with…"
You were shown swatches of fabric and examples of wood finishes but visualizing space was not your forte, you admitted.
Apparently, that was the best thing to say because they were immediate in rearranging the pre-existing furniture with gusto. Soon enough, you found yourself sitting on one of the sofas, maintained but worn, the low table in front of you, staring at the grate in front of the vacant fireplace.
The idea was tempting. You could imagine Zandik sprawled out in front of the fire, his head in your lap, as it had been once upon a time. That had felt so real back then. You could only wonder how such an arrangement might feel now, tangible and warm. The familiar yearning ache flared in your chest, radiating outward into your arms and down to your feet.
Somehow, parts of this were worse now that you were near one another, and yet your mind was all the clearer for it.
You turned your head towards the awaiting designer as you said, "It's perfect."
Through sheer proximity and time together, small intimate details showed themselves to both of you, as natural as breathing.
That was not to say that everything was perfect.
You overheard the way he spoke harshly to subordinates and threw daggers (proverbial and otherwise) at anyone who wasted his time. It set you on edge and scratched at the parts of your mind you wished Omega had touched. You withdrew just as Zandik caught himself, the damage done, your body present but your mind back in Fontaine. You set your mind free again with the familiar weight of your cello bow in your hands and the notes reverberated through your very being until you felt grounded again.
As of late, you had yet to hear him do more than sigh harshly through his nose. Instead, he asked about a particular detail in your composition from a previous night to distract himself from others' failures.
And Zandik, despite the freedom from his hivemind, thought himself into circles to the point where he wound himself so tight, he couldn't even sit. You caught him on occasion checking his pulse at his wrist and frowning, annoyed at the lack of control. Despite all of his own work, he couldn't discern whether he enjoyed the way you smiled because he was meant to or because you were, in fact, such a fascinating spark in his life.
It only took a few strokes of his hair to melt the unease away just long enough to get him to bed. He didn't have to sleep, you told him, but it wouldn't kill him to rest.
Enough common ground existed that you always came back into orbit of one another.
It would never be perfect.
Soulmates were never intended to be. Some had it easier than others but even then, every relationship needed work.
And neither of you were strangers to dedicating yourself to work.
You trekked down in the depths of the Palace some days after the designer's first meeting, intent on using some of the space to practice your claymore techniques using the baton with little fear of damaging anything irreplaceable. The large and open chamber that housed a half-assembled Ruin machine would do just fine; the high ceiling and open space allowed you to test the range of your motions.
Soon enough, not even the laboratories would be a sanctuary for you, not without additional precautions. Zandik's other assistants, the ones that worked beneath the Segments, had not yet returned to their assignments; that would change within the next few days. Progress had halted long enough. Plans were in motion and the remaining parts needed to be ready.
You were reminded of it as soon as you stepped foot into the workspace. Prototypes mid-construction were spread out, their blueprints on a nearby board with various notes to pinned to the main schematic. These were projects in a pipeline, years in the making and finally being brought out of theory and into trial. It was impossible to misconstrue their purpose.
And Natlan was as unstable as ever.
Retreating to a workspace far away from any current project, you called the baton and your claymore with ease, both appearing like loyal hounds at a whistle while the Meks shuddered to life at your presence. A touch of home that Zandik programmed for you. You could feel the Arkhe energy pulsing faintly, not unlike the way air tasted before a thunderstorm.
With enough practice, the weighty and unwieldy sensation was gone and you learned to control the force with minute changes in both the speed and distance you waved the receiver. Now it was a matter of hand-eye coordination to hit your targets continuously when you were no longer up close and personal in combat.
To your surprise, the diamond blades created by your Vision appeared without much prompting other than a call on your Geo resonance. They worked with the motion of the baton, crashing down like the sword dangling over a courier in an old fable who traded places with his king for a single day.
The release of Geo energy did wonders for your mood and your mind as much as playing did as of late. You still could not dream but you were far from being as disconnected as you once felt.
That counted for something.
You slammed your claymore down with a flourish, crushing the last of the Meks, Pneuma and Ousia energy cores sputtering and failing.
With the weapon in your hands, such a fight would have left you winded and struggling to retain your grip on the weapon, muscles and tendons screaming. You still exerted yourself but without the weight and momentum of the claymore to contend with, it was easier to focus on finding patterns to exploit.
"Better," Zandik called from behind you. "Much better control. How do your hands feel?"
You turned and vanished the baton with a flick of your wrist, smiling and wiggling your fingers in response.
"Nothing's locked up so far. We'll see after a longer rehearsal, though."
A slight frown tugged at his lips, gone before you could inquire further. He was, for a rare change of pace, dressed in gray slacks, with a white shirt open at the collar with a gray waistcoat to match. If you were attending a spring wedding in the hills of your homeland, he wouldn't look too out of place. Without the metallic bird on his shoulder, he seemed to hold himself even taller, if such a thing were possible.
"I might have to increase their aggression if you're going to wipe them out so quickly," Zandik teased with a smirk. "Considering you couldn't even summon your weapon not that long ago. If you're finished, I wish to discuss something with you concerning your memories. I believe I have a solution."
A solution? As you walked with him back to the office you once wandered through, you wracked your brain, your heart still pounding and breathing heavy from the fight. The last you spoke of such a thing was the first night in Snezhnaya. Reversing the tangles that Omega created was an eventual goal, you assumed, based on that conversation. One that might be obtainable when Zandik found his feet again as a single consciousness and returned to his station properly.
Part of you hoped you never had to undergo such an experience again.
Safely in the confines of the office, your eyes fell on a jar of an organ, its label illegible, before you looked at Zandik through your face covering. His mask remained in place, his hands occupying themselves with the various piles of notes and trinkets on the desk. He paused, finding what he was looking for and tucked it into his pocket before rounding the furniture to lean against it, facing you, hands on either side of him for a moment.
"I thought we agreed to give it time," you said, tone mild. "That everything might sort itself out."
Zandik dipped his head in a gesture you knew as slight agreement before he turned a point on its head and spun it like a top for a new angle. He tucked his hands into his pockets and continued.
"Time was allotted with minimal results. Your nightmares are indicative that, to some degree, your mind understands the falsehoods but cannot repress them entirely nor bring itself to let them go so the proper ones can surface."
"It's not as if we've tried to actively stimulate my real memories, Zandik. Not truly."
It came out a little harsher than you intended and carried the weight of the last couple of months since the discussion on the terraces of the Divine Tree. You watched as Zandik's lips grew into a thin line and the muscle in his jaw twitched as he clenched his teeth.
Arms crossed, you pulled your gaze away from him and took in the way the pyro lamps burned and danced to a pattern of their own making. They were bright enough to work by but never contained the true brightness of the sun.
That you weren't able to rearrange the webs and put everything back together naturally, without interference, wasn't your fault but it wasn't his, either. Going back to Fontaine wasn’t an option, or at least not one that didn’t come with more problems than it was worth.
Tackling this earlier was an impossibility when he was still processing his own death, metaphorical though it was.
"Of all people, I know how difficult it is to let go when you don't have the means nor the bandwidth."
If you were anyone else, he would have spat the sentiment with venom; instead, he sounded tired, bored even, as if the words were a given you should know by now.
"That wasn't fair, I'm sorry," you conceded, setting aside your mask and opening your arms again. "The time we've had needed to be used on more pressing issues and who's to say if we did try to provoke my memories that it would have worked?"
"Music is a powerful catalyst in driving unconscious memories forward, after all." He shook his head and then waved his hand causally. "You cannot tell me you've been able to bring anything to your waking mind from playing as of late. You do not likely have a proper reference point to try to match and so you cannot know what to play to try and awaken those memories. All you have are whatever untruths Omega painted like an artist reusing canvas, and if I offer alternatives to what you could have been doing, I am imposing a bias."
You inhaled slowly and took one hand in another, rubbing your usual sore spots to soothe your own frustrations. It was all you could do. Anything else required too much attention and you wanted to know what he had to say.
Instead of speaking, Zandik unclipped his face cover, set it on the desk behind him, and pulled what appeared to be a red star from his pocket.
A Segment's Ruin core, permanently marred with the data and memories of its owner.
He destroyed all them though, hadn't he?
Your heart sank slightly as you schooled your expression. He had reasoning, he always did. Even if it didn't necessarily aligned with your view.
His demeanor fell when recognition crossed your face but he held out his hand anyway, the core resting in his palm. You crossed the room and took it. Turning it over in your hand, you immediately noticed the symbol that marked the Segment. How could he possibly have kept…
"Omega was the only one in the entire network who held extensive knowledge of the memory grafting. I reviewed what's left on the Core—long before you shook me from my stupor—and I believe there's a way to reverse engineer the process," Zandik began.
Hands cupped yours and traced your returning callouses the way one traced a pen mark they admired or a soothing fabric.
"Your memories are the last remnant of my Segments. You carry your own version of events, ones that didn't happen, that Omega saw fit to weave. I spent many, many years using any and all means to get to desirable results; I won't bore you with such details. Regret doesn't come into the equation but as I said back in Sumeru, and as I reminded you, I needed the knowledge first. Now I have it."
"Reverse engineering would require me to undergo the same process, would it not?" you asked, flicking your gaze up to meet his eyes. "Attach me to an Akasha network, push me into my own mind?"
"More than likely. Omega was thorough in his notes on the Samsara Cycle and it was easy enough to navigate the machines and network when I found you the first time. I believe this course of action is for the best. For both of us. You should be able to dream again and the remnants of my past will cease to haunt."
After a beat, you asked "Worst case scenario?"
If you went into this idea know how bad it could possibly get, you could at least be prepared. Before, such a thought never would have crossed your mind; it certainly didn't when you were asked if you wanted to seek private patronage nor when you walked with Omega under the impression the Segment was Zandik. Foolish, really, considering what you learned about those in power in need of more.
"Omega couldn't sever our connection, although he tried," he said at last. "He wasn't your proper soulmate. It is unclear if…pruning the memories and their branches will affect more than just those memories. If removing part of myself will remove the whole. He simply laid himself on top of pre-existing memories…this may have far more ramifications."
Zandik was quiet but his hands never left yours. For a moment, you were back to damp grass and bright stars, investigative touches trying to understand what instrument you played.
"If I am to be done with my past selves, I must remove these lies from your mind," Zandik said evenly. "I believe the risk is worth it."
Risk. Such a tiny word for the gravity with which it pulled on your heart. The very thing Omega set up to complete was still a possibility despite the Segment being nothing more than ash (or mostly ash). He just never took the next step, a step that was simply pulling at a loose thread to unravel the whole.
You were about to pull your hands away and return the Core to him when Zandik's fingers tightened around yours, silently begging you to stay. He looked down at your joined hands as he sighed, squeezed yours lightly, and then looked at you again.
His eyes almost burned as he looked at you, expressive in ways that only the finest minute movements allowed; before you, he stood resolute, determined, and you could understand how even the most desperate souls clinging to their last moments of life might believe he had the answer. It was easy to mistake it for charisma, for arrogance, and easier still for it to have twisted into such things.
"I do not promise anything when it comes to my work; they're nothing more than lies wrapped up with a bow and I deal only in truths," Zandik whispered. "Should that happen, it changes nothing."
It changed everything, you wanted to scream. He would finally be able to get what he wanted, free himself from one Celestial shackle, done with the circular logic of trying to make predestination make sense amid all his own work.
Omega would win.
And you would be left hollow. Again. Left with nothing but memories of what used to be possible, of the connections ripped from you, choice truly taken from you. Either way, you lost and you didn't work for close to two decades only to…
"How would it not—" you started, the words stuck in your throat like thick porridge.
"Nothing, rooh 'albi. And no one will take that choice from me. No one."
Even from across the frozen training ground, weeks later that now marked your stay in Snezhnaya at two months, you could still feel the adamant resolution in subtle waves. Your foe this time was no Mek but a suit of corroded armor brought back from the depths of a rift in the ice further north, beyond the Cryo Dragon's resting ground. The bitter cold bit through your lined pants and warm coat, your cloak held in the crook of Zandik's arm as you pressed the soldier harder.
Sunlight reflected off the snow and made everything brighter; you were thankful your mask cut down on the glare.
You pinned the joints of the armor down with two diamond blades, Geo energy pulsing in waves as you sent a third through the seam between the body and the helmet. With a gesture for releasing a note, you waved the baton in a small circle while pinching your forefinger and thumb of your other hand together, following the motion in perfect sync. Your claymore gave a final whistling note as it cut through the air and stabbed through metal and corroded flesh.
It protested still, determined to get back on its feet despite your attempts to subdue.
Over your shoulder, you heard a familiar high-pitched whine before a glowing Cryo needle whizzed past your ear and hit its target. The soldier in starlight armor fell still, finally, its weapon turning dark as the remnants of life faded.
"One day, I'll be good enough to face you properly," you said with a smile when you approached Zandik as he finished up his notes.
Before you could retrieve your cloak, Zandik draped the thick fabric around your shoulders with practiced ease. He was either uncaring or oblivious regarding onlookers and that suited you just fine. People would talk; avoiding it would only cause more suspicion and both of you were growing tired of hiding like schoolchildren.
He opened his mouth as he smoothed out your cloak's lining and you nearly jumped when you heard another voice in his stead.
"Be careful, maestra. Our Doctor never turns down a challenge and he seldom loses."
Both of you turned your heads to find Lord Pantalone standing just at the bottom of the footpath, an accompanying Agent several steps behind, bowing low at the waist. Zandik's hand grazed your jaw as he pulled away and warm air puffed out in a cloud from his nose at the interruption. You were, for once, thankful for the cold and the fight; both burned your cheeks and hid any flush across your skin.
At least it was Pantalone, you tried to rationalize, but even the most well-behaved dogs still had teeth.
"What brings you down from your lofty office, Regrator?" Zandik drawled, tilting his head slightly.
"I take it then the Tsaritsa's couriers had as much trouble finding you as I did." Pantalone replied, his tone light.
The other Harbinger's cloak was open just enough to allow him the freedom to use his hands. He steepled his fingers together but pointed them in Zandik's general direction as he smiled, golden eyes hidden, his expression congenial.
"The Knave and Marionette returned successful from Fontaine; the Jester sends his orders for an audience with the Tsaritsa."
Zandik pulled his shoulders back, his back already straight.
"And he sent you to fetch me?"
"I thought it prudent to save him the trouble."
"You think it prudent to save the Tsaritsa an entire vault of mora but he has yet to determine if you're worthy of a higher seat. Perhaps it's time to change your strategy, Regrator."
Zandik pushed a breath through his nose, another puff of warm air escaping him the way smoke lingered in taverns in the lower reaches of the Court of Fontaine. He pulled in his arms into his cloak and made to walk ahead of the other Harbinger, his strides murderous as his cloak's hem whispered against the snow.
Pantalone turned and then stopped as you stepped to follow, at least up to the Palace. You watched as his smile grew wider and you caught a hint of gold as he looked at you. Mora was never an apt comparison you realized; his gaze was as threatening as the glimpse of a bullet in a chamber, a Duelist's final weapon ready to be drawn.
"No. Not you, maestra," Pantalone's tone was sickeningly sweet, patronizing, and your stomach burned.
He nodded to the Agent, who stepped forward and bowed to you, standing only when his Harbinger gestured to do so. The distinct unspoken air of disdain you were keenly familiar reared its head as you debated, for a moment, playing into it. You hadn't missed this nonsense, toeing the line and watching both tone and words, wondering just what step led to the path of least resistance.
"I wish to have a word with my colleague. You can take the scenic route back to the Palace. Anatoly here is quite competent in providing additional security in the Doctor's absence."
You turned your gaze up to Zandik, who had since stopped and turned back, mouth set into a frown. Other than the initial meeting in his lab, you hadn't told him about Pantalone's visit while he was disassembling the Segments. That was your battle to fight first; after all, you couldn't always rely on him.
But here, he was the one with the most authority. And the Ninth knew that, too.
"Whatever you have to say can be said openly, Pantalone."
The Ninth never looked back at Zandik, his sharp gaze trained on you. "No, I don't believe it can. Do you think me such a poor friend that I would discuss private matters as one discusses the weather?"
You smiled politely and even deigned to cross one leg behind another and give the closest gesture to a curtsy you could in a heavy cloak and pants.
"I do not wish to come between you. And your work is imperative; the Tsaritsa's Will must come first." You turned your obscured gaze to Zandik and said, "Send word if you will be further delayed but otherwise you know where I'll be, my Lord Harbinger."
Not like you went anywhere else other than the Tsaritsa's music room or your quarters anyway. The latter was probably a safer option, stifling though the notion felt.
Zandik inclined his head slightly but said nothing, instead turning around and continuing up the hill. Pantalone's smile faltered for a split second, an expression between disgust and admiration dancing across his face before he, too, turned and made his way back to the Palace.
You sought another path back up to the Palace, the Agent's footsteps never far behind as a bud of dread bloomed in your chest, invading all it could.
#dottore#il dottore#il dottore x reader#dottore x reader#dottore/female reader#il dottore/female reader#dottore x female reader#il dottore x female reader#genshin impact reader insert#soulmate au
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fight or flight
"you know what they say about stress responses, right? fight or flight reaction, and all that?" "knowing you, it's fight, flight, or fuck." "you're not too far off."
this will be a multi-part fic, all based in the stranger things universe! my writing style may make some of the characters be a bit... off, but i promise you, i'm trying my best for this!
as always, the only thing i claim to own in this planned series of works is the writing itself. i do not own any of the characers!
consider this basically a prologue, an intro for the whole shebang.
hawkins sounded like a bad idea from the get-go. obviously, she never wanted to leave her home in the first place, but she'd reckoned that leaving with her family would make things feel a bit more palatable. if her family didn't consist of her dad, her step-mom, her brother, and maxine, maybe that would've been true.
her and billy only had a year apart between the two of them, meaning that she's always been close to william hargrove, but they couldn't be any different. billy's been masking his anger with their dad with parties, popularity, and endless drinking and smokes. herself? she drowned out the sounds of shouting and anger with heavy drums, intense guitar solos, and gravelly-voiced singers who screech out prose.
in california, they were called 'bonnie and clyde' as siblings. now, though? she wanted nothing to do with him. the only things they have in common, in her opinion, are their last name, and their drive to drown their daddy issues in tail. on the drive to hawkins high this morning, all she wants to do is open the car door and jump out.
max and billy are bickering– at least max got the family temper, it keeps her on the same level as her and billy– and she's just trying to touch-up her mascara in the side mirror, making sure she looks somewhat presentable.
"keepin' your eyes glued to yourself that long, might as well figure out how you can marry yourself," billy snarks over, looking at his sister who merely glares at him. the boy gives a cheeky grin, knowing his sister like the back of his hand, as if he hadn't just parroted what she'd said to him much earlier before leaving the house, when he had been styling his hair properly.
"oh, please, billy boy," she sighs, scrunching her curled hair to maintain the boisterous volume that she had given it. "you would marry yourself, if you could. you'd need a good divorce lawyer, though, with how much you sleep around." she can feel her brother's glare burning holes in the side of her head, but she knows he won't do anything. it's one of the benefits of looking so much like their mom; pour on the honey-sweet tone, dial up the niceities and he'll be unable to do anything but grumble to himself.
billy, in fact, opens his mouth, ready to retort and snap back at his sister, but they pull up to hawkins high before he can even say a single word. it's already a lot, really; she can close her eyes and picture being back in california, walking into school, hearing the airheaded blondes and the sophomore year-peaking boys who think they're nothing less than gods.
as strange as it is, she misses home. misses the bright warmth and the sun, misses the malls and busy streets. anything to get away from the smell of cow shit, empty plains, and the fall chill that she's definitely needing to adjust to.
before she gets out of her brothers car– max has already slammed the car door, huffing and barking back at billy for telling her to come straight to the car afterschool– she puts on a new layer of her bright red lipgloss, the kind that used to have boys melt and bend at the knee, and would occasionally end up smeared on their cheeks and necks, if they were the lucky ones.
slinging her bag over her shoulder, she finally gets out of the car. she can feel all the envious eyes of girls standing against their boyfriends vehicles already looking at her brother like a piece of meat. it irritates her, even if she knows the men are doing the same, and billy no doubt has the same anger bubbling up inside him.
"keep that skirt on and no hands sneaking under it," her brother grumbles, right before giving the ladies his signature grin, the one that she had always referred to as his 'lure' grin. the one he'll give a girl to drag her home, rock her world, then never talk to her again. the one that leaves a trail of broken hearts and dropped panties in its wake.
"keep your pants on and your fly up, then," she snaps back, already making her way forwards and into the school. she can hear all the wolf-whistles and all the endless chatter from the boys about how short that skirt of hers is, how she'll freeze to death if she doesn't 'huddle up' with them, not to mention how many are already talking about how easy it'd be to creep their way closer to her.
sure, sex is great and all, but something about being trivialized as some trophy is... sickening. so, obviously the girl is keeping her wits about her, ignoring all the comments for now, even if each pair of eyes should be ripped form their heads for looking at her so lowly. she knows her own value; she's been called a goddess in bed before, and that was by some half-drunk loser in california, but it rung true. she is that worthy of praise, worship, devotion.
one set of eyes, however, doesn't go down to her skirt and stay on her legs. it doesn't even stray past the leather jacket on her shoulders– her brothers, she admits, but she'd never been one to even acknowledge her brother being able to have things for himself– and she finds it.. oddly satisfying. rewarding, almost, like there's at least one person in hawkins high not ogling her.
it's an entirely new kind of attention, to be quite honest, and she has no idea how to really react to it. whether she's meant to lash out, cry against the world for being oh, so cruel to her angry, warped soul to have someone eye her with something other than envy or pure want– or if she's meant to fawn, to gravitate towards the only person treating her like a human being, and to get herself involved in some hallmark whirlwind highschool romance.
either way, she sees who the gaze is connected to, and she'd be lying if she said she expected the person to be. he's one of the pretty boy types, she deduces; popular, on some kind of school sports team most definitely the captain, the air-headed kind to ignore between classes and pray she'd never be paired with for an assignment.
though, the soft, big, doe-eyes that seem fixated on her are quite the sight, and the strong jaw, defined nose, the smattering of birth and beauty marks across his face seem to give him this uncharacteristically human trait, compared to the very stereotype she's predicted.
she narrows her brows, giving a cold, hardened gaze; she aims to show she's not socialized, so to speak, that the black and red composition of her outfit reeks of femme fatale, a black widow type, engage at your own risk. but there's no such luck, as the fluffy haired tom cruise type makes his way towards her, confident and quick in his gait, even if there's a lack of spcial awareness reeking of a clumsy demure.
"hey there, little lady," the boy hums, gaze staying on her face, almost as if calculating how she's reacting to him, but he quite obviously doesn't know that she's well-versed from the years of torment and anguish at home to keep her emotions to herself, off of her face. "you're new here, so welcome to hawkins high. you need a tour guide, you just look around for steve harrington, i'll show you all around."
so he can't take a hint.
"mm," is all she responds with, very openly and shamelessly eyeing the man up and down, as if sizing him up to intimidate him. the man shifts from one foot to the other, hip cocked and head quirked; he's not picking up on the fact that she's trying to dismiss him.
"saw you with that guy in the camaro and the red-head, you guys look like quite the family," he continues to talk, prying, to see if she'll do more than just vocalize around her. alas, she just rolls her eyes at him, and he still doesn't seem offended, taken aback, or even remotely disinterested. so, she relents.
"i'll find you if i need you, harrington. name fits that crown of yours," she tells him. the way his brows raise is subtle. he's surprised, but not off-put. another comment about the hair, water off a duck's back, it seems. "i'll be fine figuring it out myself for now."
trained to follow subtle hints in body language from years of cowering, blocking out the sounds of her older brother being treated like no better than a dog, she notes the slight drop in his shoulders. not entirely, a momentary defeat for him, but he still holds out hope.
"yeah, alright," he responds, hands removing themselves from his hips, posture straightening, eyes going over her shoulder to look around, looking for his friends no doubt. "i'll be around–" the pause, an expectant gaze.
ah, right. names, such a fickle things, things she would prefer to not share, like pleasantries, pillowtalk, and whatever cheap shit booze she can sneak from her dad.
"you can stick with hargrove for now." she tells him, and god forbid the smile that graces his face. so that's what he is– a classic soft, popular guy. layers of issues, no doubt, but far too many to point out in particular, at least for now.
with a quirk at his lips into a somewhat playful smirk and a flick of the single coif of hair dropping into his face, he decides to push once more for now. "cherry it is, then. cherry hargrove."
a twinge of anger, at least that's what she can place it as. this man has no idea what he's getting into.
#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington#billy hargrove#stranger things#steve harrington x reader slowburn#steve harrington x reader smut#stranger things s2#steve harrington x reader prologue#andromeda st#andromeda st fic#andromeda series#archers 18+ emporium
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“Does Shiv love Tom” is such a tired question but on the same kind of topic, how attracted to Tom do we think Shiv is?
Well that's the hundred-million-dollar question, isn't it? Even more so than "does shiv love tom", which is sort of interesting in the sense that it forces you to consider different experiences and expressions of love, and then stops being interesting as soon as you encounter the people who answer it with a definitive and misguided 'no' (or worse - 'she's an emotional abuser').
Obviously I have to acknowledge the lesbian shiv truthers out there. I'm not one of them, and we'll get to why in a second, but I absolutely understand that school of thought and I think it's very valid; while I don't think it's the intended interpretation I think there's enough in canon to make it plausible. And if you're part of the 'repressed lesbian shiv' school of thought, then the obvious answer is 'no, but this doesn't mean she doesn't love him'.
Personally, I think Shiv was intentionally written as being attracted to men, mainly because I think there's a pretty clear attraction between her and Nate. At the beginning of season 1, Shiv and Tom aren't regularly having sex (hence why he tells her pussy that he misses it - aside from being a peak cringe moment that's actually giving us some critical information about the state of the relationship). Obviously, a lot of things could be responsible for this - they could just be too busy (which looks like it's partially true), or Shiv could just have a low sex drive.
However - there is obvious chemistry between her and Nate that doesn't seem to exist between her and Tom. I'm saying this as someone who loathes Nate with every fibre of my being. I do not like him. I do not ship shivn*te. In fact, it's maybe the only succession ship that actively makes my skin crawl. But. Both 1.06 and 1.07 actively juxtapose Shiv's interactions with Tom and Nate against each other, and I think those juxtapositions make it clear that Shiv has a lot more sexual desire for Nate than she does for Tom.
I think this is especially highlighted in the fact that all of the scenes where she and Tom start to have sex are either a) moments of very intense emotion (like the wedding night) or b) Shiv has upset Tom in some way and this is how she's trying to reach out to him and fix it. We don't see her initiating sex just for the sake of it, and we do see her do that with Nate. Sure, it could theoretically be happening offscreen, but I think its absence is pretty intentional.
(There's also the actor she sleeps with in 1.03, who I'd probably put somewhere between Nate and Tom on the scale of "how sexually attracted is Shiv to him". She doesn't have the same level of chemistry she does with Nate, but there is chemistry, and I think more attraction than she has with Tom.)
On the other hand, she clearly doesn't feel safe with Nate in the same way she does with Tom. (Which is probably a good call on her part). And I think this highlights the fundamental dichotomy in how Shiv relates to men: the men that she is attracted to are not the ones she feels safe with, and vice versa. (I'm saying men specifically because I don't think she has the same problem with women, although the show hasn't explored Shiv's possible attraction to women enough for that to be definitive.)
And I think this is largely Logan's fault. Beyond just the general insecurity and lack of trust resulting from his emotional abuse - I think Shiv is attracted to men who are like Logan in some way, but she absolutely doesn't feel safe with them, much like she doesn't feel safe with Logan. Logan's right when he points out that she's with Tom because she's afraid of being betrayed; what he misses is that he's the one who's instilled that fear in her. Sure, it's probably been reinforced by other relationships, but that's only because (I would bet) she's been dating people who are vaguely logan-esque.
Part of the irony of her relationship with Tom is that I do think there are logan-like qualities to him, but they're largely suppressed during the first two seasons of the show. And while this might not be entirely conscious on Tom's part, I think it's at least somewhat intentional; he does sometimes repress the kinds of tendencies that would make Logan respect him because he's aware of the fact that those tendencies are going to harm his relationship with Shiv. I don't think he's fully thought through why, I think he just knows that certain things trigger bad reactions, or create distance. I think Tom does have the potential to be the kind of man Shiv would be attracted to, but has opted instead (in the first two seasons) to be someone she would feel safe with.
Which highlights one of the tragic and somewhat infuriating aspects of her relationship with Logan - he's not going to respect anyone who loves Shiv enough to prioritize her over their own ambitions or, more to the point, him. The kind of 'killer'-type personality he would respect would also be willing to throw Shiv under the bus if need be. This is fundamentally why Tom isn't able to please both Shiv and Logan, although he doesn't realize how extreme that dichotomy is until... well, honestly I don't think he fully realizes it until the end of season 3. But my broader point is that it isn't a coincidence that by becoming someone Shiv can't feel safe with he's also become someone Logan can respect.
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I've never done a fic rec list before but A Meal to Remember seemed like a good opportunity to start. In no particular order.
One of our reportes is missing by angstosaur. IWTV crossover with The Newsreader. Rated M. Louis/Lestat/Armand, Helen/Dale, Dale/Tim, Helen&Tim.
Louis sees Dale Jennings on the News and travels all the way to Australia to figure out what the hell Lestat is up to now. Obviously the logical way to go about this is break into the guys appartment and kidnap him.
This is just the best thing I've read in ages. The epic clash of firmly rooted in reality Newsreader and 'consequences aren't real if you're immortal' vampire world should not work as well as it does and it's a real joy to read. I particularly loved how beutifully the relationship between Tim and Helen was handled, as well as Louis getting to know Dale and seeing a lot of similarities between them I didn't expect to be there vs the chaos thrupple at peak insanity being generally horny and incompetent. It also has one of the greatest entrances of a character I've come across in a long time.
Renaissance by siahatha. Post canon. Rated M; Louis/Lestat
Louis and Lestat trying to make their relationship work in the modern day after Lestat spend a few decades in therapy. Louis still has some ways to go in that regard.
Deals a lot with Lestat's mania and Louis eating disorder. Also involves some genderfuckery.
Something about this one just really grabbed me. There are a lot of really cute moments that just show really well why Loustat are so great when they work and the heavy moments scatch that itch of 'why can't they just talk to each other' by putting them in a place where they can do that while still being true to their characters.
Practical Ethics by @prouvaireafterdark. Human AU. Rated E; Armand/Daniel, Louis/Lestat.
The famous Ethics Professor Louis fic. I tend to think of it as the Philosophy Student Armand fic but, eh, semantics.
So much fun to read and such a great set up. Strikes the perfect balance of keeping the characters who they are, especially with regards to Armand and his trauma, while toning the insanity to levels that wouldn't get them institutionalised in the real world.
And what I thought was gone by @nalyra-dreaming. Reunion fic. Rated E; Louis/Lestat.
Basically the part of TVL between Lestat putting out Rock videos and Louis coming to him from Louis perspective, set the amc universe. And then the reunion.
Nalyra has such a great way of getting into these character's heads. The journey from Louis thinking Lestat is still dead to realising he isn't to getting his hands on the videos and the book to finding him to them talking things out is so beautiful and emotional.
The Human Perspective by @bandedbulbussnarfblat. Part 1 of The Human Condition series. Rated T; Daniel/Armand.
Armand talks to Daniel about a mortal he once loved, whose memories he had to take so he could live a life.
Another one that hit me right in the feels. The longing! The dramatic irony! Having Daniel comment as an outsider on his own relationship is such a clever thing to do and very well executed.
Reformation by verseau.
Human AU. Rated E. Louis/Lestat.
Just Louis and Lestat being Louis and Lestat really. And Claudia. But make it human.
That is really the best compliment I can give: If those two were modern day humans this is what their relationship would be like: chaotic, toxic, destructive, co-dependent, full of issues, hang ups, addictions and love bordering on insanity. And brilliantly done, too. Pretty much all the trauma is acounted for and makes sense (in a human context), we get differnt POVs all perfectly in character and each giving interesting insights into their family and the different issues they run into over the course of their relationship.
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A Surprising Duo appears!!!!
Well. Admittedly I wasn't too sure about announcing these two. However me and @pyropsychiccollector have been in the workshop the past two days and I'm ready to share with you a new duo. Well technically trio since the two mentioned have an older brother :P
Danganronpa did a collaboration with Oshiro project. Basically Azur lane except replace ship girls with building girls. In this case the two you see above are Hope's Peak Academy (White and Black) and Despair Peak Academy (Black and red). Ergo HPA before the tragedy and during it.
HOWEVER.
Me and @pyropsychiccollector decided to retool these characters into well....
Direct Kamakura Descendants.
So let me properly introduce these two. And yes @pyropsychiccollector made these perfect backstories. I promise the next release of characters I'll handle it since I feel he already does so much work when he doesn't have to XDDDD
Hikari Kamukura - Ultimate Accountant, Musician, Environmental Scientist, Astronomist, Oceanographist, Multilinguist and Martial Artist
One of the three children of the current Kamukura main family. The Kamukura’s have a long, distinguished history that goes back even beyond the last century. This is because with each generation of their lineage, each member of the main family is supposed to add to the family’s wealth, prosperity, and reputation of magnificence. … Yet this is not as simple as it seems. Because each child is expected to train and be adept in multiple fields of study and industry; if the children cannot meet expectations by the time they reach 15 years of age – mastery in AT LEAST five major areas – they are shuffled off to the branch families in the sticks, where they must live a paltry existence and die in obscurity.
Saiko, the oldest sibling, has mastered a total of ten major areas by the age of 15 because of his ruthless ambition. His younger sisters, however… Well. They found a workaround for the hardships they faced early on in life. … Because here’s the thing. Kamukura’s… do not fail. They… do not settle for mediocrity. They… DO NOT back out of something part way through. If they struggle in science, they are to find ways to cheat the system so that they uphold the Kamukura level of excellence. Same for math, history, language studies, electives… Once they start down a path, there is NO backing out. They have access to the best tutors. Are allowed to attend government meetings and briefings; they have access to the meetings between leaders of the world (the TRUE leaders, by the way; not the figureheads that most commoners know about).
Anything that will aid these children in becoming true Kamukura heirs and truly test their abilities. Hikari and Yuutsu found their workaround for early hurdles because they are twins. They can stand in for each other and no one will know the difference until it is far too late. If Hikari started down the path of archaeology, and Yuutsu “gets it” more than she does, boom. If Yuutsu started dabbling in new age music, and Hikari is better at the creation and development of music, boom. Easy fixes.
But what, exactly, is Hikari specializing in? For one, she’s the number cruncher. Not only does she understand math even just after a few glances, her management of money is legendary. She knows how to manipulate the stock market in her favor, knows how to maximize profit in companies. Give Hikari a loan, and she will make it grow tenfold, paying back everything, interest and all, in one payment. But that’s not all. While they both went into music, Hikari is the performer of the twins. Concerts, public performances in general, just give her a few weeks to practice an instrument, and she’ll successfully put on a stellar show. Because of this frequent showboating, she’s great with large crowds. Her specialties lie in the instruments, however, and not so much her singing voice.
In terms of the sciences, Hikari has delved into the studies of deep sea, space, and environmental sciences. Her public motto is: There’s no use furthering yourself if there’s no world under your feet… so let’s protect this little blue dot. This has, of course, earned her widespread support and adoration for her humane attitude… though, honestly, Hikari has made under-the-table deals that are not so altruistic or helpful to the environment… However, these deals have expanded the Kamukura coffers, so the family turns a blind eye to anything Hikari arranges off the books.
Hikari is also multilingual – at her young age, she’s comfortable with eight of the most common languages in the world – Japanese, English, Spanish, Chinese, French, etc. And she’s begun to look into more obscure languages, because another of her mottos is… “Communication is key.” The more people from around the world she can communicate with, the more deals she can make for the Kamukura family to prosper.
Finally, her fifth major area is that she is skilled in physical combat – mainly self-defense, but she has dabbled in karate, and other refined fighting styles that most common thugs won’t even want to touch. She took up this area for her own and Yuutsu’s protection, because the Kamukura family has made far too many enemies over the years… And it pays to be prepared for physical conflicts. … Not to mention, sometimes people need “motivation” to agree to something, and nothing quite motivates like a little physical punishment~ Mongrels may call it brutality. Hikari calls it efficiency. (人◕ω◕)
Yuutsu Kamukura - Ultimate Leader, Singer, Producer, Speaker, Programmer, Chemist, Nurse, Lawyer, and Engineer
One of the three children of the current Kamukura main family. The Kamukura’s have a long, distinguished history that goes back even beyond the last century. This is because with each generation of their lineage, each member of the main family is supposed to add to the family’s wealth, prosperity, and reputation of magnificence. … Yet this is not as simple as it seems. Because each child is expected to train and be adept in multiple fields of study and industry; if the children cannot meet expectations by the time they reach 15 years of age – mastery in AT LEAST five major areas – they are shuffled off to the branch families in the sticks, where they must live a paltry existence and die in obscurity.
Saiko, the oldest sibling, has mastered a total of ten major areas by the age of 15 because of his ruthless ambition. His younger sisters, however… Well. They found a workaround for the hardships they faced early on in life. … Because here’s the thing. Kamukura’s… do not fail. They… do not settle for mediocrity. They… DO NOT back out of something part way through. If they struggle in science, they are to find ways to cheat the system so that they uphold the Kamukura level of excellence. Same for math, history, language studies, electives… Once they start down a path, there is NO backing out. They have access to the best tutors. Are allowed to attend government meetings and briefings; they have access to the meetings between leaders of the world (the TRUE leaders, by the way; not the figureheads that most commoners know about).
Anything that will aid these children in becoming true Kamukura heirs and truly test their abilities. Hikari and Yuutsu found their workaround for early hurdles because they are twins. They can stand in for each other and no one will know the difference until it is far too late. If Hikari started down the path of archaeology, and Yuutsu “gets it” more than she does, boom. If Yuutsu started dabbling in new age music, and Hikari is better at the creation and development of music, boom. Easy fixes.
But what, exactly, is Yuutsu specializing in? For one, Yuutsu is the “leader” of the twins. She first started leading classroom discussions, sports teams, and then eventually Student Councils. … And then she outgrew that “lowly leadership” phase. She became the stand-in CEO for a few companies that incurred large debts to the Kamukura’s; she turned their companies around so that they wouldn’t go bankrupt and die out completely. Yuutsu is VERY good at motivating workers, managers, whoever… to do their very best, or she WILL replace them. She’s also the more confrontational one between the twins; rival companies beware, Yuutsu Kamukura does not lose. Period.
If Hikari is the performer, the crowd pleaser, then Yuutsu is the singer. She also deals in the recording of music – both online and hard copies – and dabbles in electronic music. But Yuutsu is also the one that goes on TV and does the talkshows and makes press conference statements. Yuutsu is so adept at working computers, she’s the technological one of the twins. In the sciences, she’s well-versed in chemistry and medical sciences. … More specifically, Yuutsu is familiar with various human conditions, how they die, how they extend life… She was assigned to oversee a few hospitals that had questionable reputations; and she turned them around by replacing the staff that knew what they were doing, or weren’t outright crooks posing as doctors… With the Kamukura family resources, she then proceeded to give them access to better equipment to treat patients, and overall made healthcare more affordable in these districts (albeit, this part was largely handled by Hikari… but shhh).
Yuutsu developed a fascination with law… mainly because she was part of the upper echelon, and thus she possessed the power to shape and bend the laws as she saw fit. Naturally, criminals should be brought to justice~… However! If the crooks are guilty of embezzling money from their companies, and are open to donating that money to a “worthy cause”, for example… Or if they’re murderers that are open to new employment (of COURSE not the Kamukura’s~… That’s just crazy~!)… Well. There’s nothing illegal about jailbreaks or falsified executions. Nope. Yuutsu knows the laws backwards and forwards, so Yuutsu knows best~… Right~?
Finally, Yuutsu is also well-versed in… trap-making. Her skill with technology is excellent enough that she can hack into security systems, know shortcuts around things that aren’t hack-able, tricks to open various doors (even ironclad safes)… But it’s because she knows how to get around stuff that she knows the best way to protect what’s valuable to her… and (to an extent) Hikari. Beware of stepping into Yuutsu’s property; if you weren’t invited, you’ll be sorryyy~… And if you were invited, well… Be careful anyways. Sometimes, Yuutsu likes to mess with you. Especially if you’re behind on debts to the Kamukura’s. (❋•‿•❋) These are the Hope- *coughs* The Kamukura Sisters. (❋•‿•❋)(❋•‿•❋)(❋•‿•❋)
Now yes. Some of you may have noticed there are overlapping talents. ;;;;;;;;;(❋•‿•❋) Yes....well given who their family is, of course, they are allowed to attend and are indeed stepping on the toes of uhhh....similar talent people. ;;;;;;;;;;;(人◕ω◕) They will be put into Class 78-B. Replacing Shuji and Takumi who will be put into the reserve course. (人◕ω◕) This doesn't affect canon of the hope universe since those two were placeholders, to begin with.
Ahem but anyways without further ado, welcome these very uhhh....interesting duo. ;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;(人◕ω◕) (God knows they'll need it)
#danganronpa#makoto naegi#danganronpa au#hope universe#oc#oc danganronpa#hope's peak academy#kamukura twins#oshiro project#danganronpa collab#oc tag#twins#gijinka
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what is something you wish civilians understood about dance
woaag so many things come to mind. i'm about to say too much:
most people will acknowledge that dancers are athletic and "work hard," but do not fathom just how true this is. i've never really been able to properly convey the intensity and pressure of high-level classes, especially if done at a professional frequency (~30-40hrs/wk).
i've also found that audiences are wowed by easy, flashy moves, and often don't even notice the more difficult, impressive executions. flashy moves are, as a result, increasingly popular, along with the competition scene that encourages them. but it's very important to distinguish between what is essentially rhythmic gymnastics and "dance" as an art form. both are valuable, but for different reasons. when you see a truly great dancer moving "simply," you understand.
a good dancer has a conscious relationship with hundreds of individual muscles, capable of expressing emotion through them as with an instrument. a good dancer must also be keenly aware of time and silence, and love music. this consciousness is the key to breathtaking dance, not enthusiasm or athleticism. of course, when your body is your instrument, to optimally express you must be in peak "tune." as such, high athleticism is emergent from conscious connection to the body for the purpose of expression, and this purpose must always be primary. if not, the value of dance is lost and replaced with pure showmanship.
so yes, dancers are athletes and tumblers and acrobats, and yet this should not be at the fore of what it means to be a dancer. uncontroversial perhaps, but you'd be surprised at how many don't grasp it.
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sorry for the long ask coming up!
disclaimer i'm fairly new to rhett & link/GMM + adjacent and i definitely haven't caught up on all the past GMMs or everything else they've done, but i've noticed a lot of things about randl so...
i wanted to bring up link's weird contradictory mentions of his sexuality, honestly. i remember seeing the video where they talk about gay dating apps and link refuses to call himself a straight man ("as a... as me in this world") + the ear biscuits where they talk about how they've gotten more comfortable acting gay "for comedy" + link talking about not caring about labels BUT then i feel like link puts a weird emphasis on being straight and monogamous in some videos too. what i wanna know is if there is at least a vague timeline here you can put these attitudes on because i get the impression he goes back and forth but idk if he's holding these attitudes concurrently or if there's a pattern, maybe? again, i'm a relatively new fan so i feel like it's because i haven't really experienced the timeline of all this myself.
Hello, welcome to the fandom! Sorry for the late reply, I am sort of having very low energy these days.
What I have concluded is that they do back and forths all the time. Sometimes I get the impression they give out mixed signals on purpose but I cannot fully rationalise it.
I have a timeline but it is about my general observation of their interactions and behaviours, through which conclusions about Link’s exploration of sexuality topics could be drawn.
When they started back in 2012, Link was way more reserved. True, he has always been silly and doing impulsive things, but he made sure to not say inappropriate stuff. At the time, GMM was also resolutely a family friendly show. Things such as mentioning sexuality and labels were entirely out of the question. Link had impulsive moments of getting touchy, sensitive or saying something compromising about how intimate (not sexually but more than your guy friend typical) they get in private but those were quickly blocked by a very uptight Rhett.
Around 2014-15, there is a shift in the way they interact with each other. They are more cutesy, more flustered, make more heart eyes. Rhett has loosened up compared to the previous years, enough that he sometimes makes inappropriate jokes, such that Link often has to cut him off or control him.
2016, Link changes haircut. Rhett loosens up even more. 2016-2017, Rhett at times seems uncontainable. Link is more assured in himself, his silliness and his openness but nothing extremely different.
2018-2019, ups and downs in their dynamics but Link goes ballistic. He starts being way more daring in the way he talks and acts, at times bewildering even us. Rhett fluctuates between being flustered all the time or shutting down. At times Link becomes too obvious in his actions. He starts dressing differently, his posture changes a little, he starts provoking Rhett consciously. Other times he seems to be in a low, pensive mood. There are still no talks on sexuality except in a humorous context in LTAT.
2020, spiritual deconstruction (Link’s is brave and heavily insinuating stuff) + creative house. Then COVID quarantine stops them in their tracks. According to what they said, they both were genuinely very cautious during the peak of the pandemic and stayed at home without meeting for quite some time. Link seemed to become more reserved at the time, somewhat going back to his previous self, he is pensive, melancholic and too concerned with Christy’s health problems to bother much with not seeing Rhett enough. On the contrary, Rhett climbs the walls in his house. He becomes uncharacteristically needy and open.
2021-2022, Mythical becomes more verbal and open about its support to LGBT people and Rhett and Link follow along. However, after the pandemic Link has not reached his 2018-2019 levels of boldness. Rhett is a hard mix to define, he is mostly contained and more reserved than the previous years but he has his outbursts too. GME helps Link let loose whereas it takes years off from Rhett’s life. In every Sextember that follows they describe their very straight sexual lives. From the second half of 2022, Link starts to make vague implications.
2023, Link starts the year with big statements such as that he is now living his best life. He starts talking a lot about the exploration of oneself and identity and is more clear in his conversations regarding labels and sexuality. Rhett is not having a good time, he becomes more closed off and appears frequently to be anxious or irritated, which he also addresses in some podcasts. Link’s outbursts sometimes involve provoking Rhett, but unlike in 2018-2019, they now mostly involve speaking more openly about himself. While this is an ongoing situation there are frequent breaks of stated straightness in between. Especially after the summer Link’s intentions have become a rollercoaster, with constant risks and immediate overcorrection. Their scripted videos are steadily bolder than they are.
That’s my recollection, there may be some inaccuracies regarding the precise years mentioned but I think it is mostly correct. Link’s attempts to open up about himself and his journey of exploration is a fairly new situation. The official start is his spiritual deconstruction but it did not become a regular effort on his part before 2022.
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Let's Talk: Dragons
Dragons are like the bad boy/jocks of the Imperfect World.
To most other species, especially human, they are perceived as "aggressive" creatures, yet this couldn't be further from the truth. They really take the term "Gentle Giants" to a whole new level. This misconception is related solely to the drastic size difference and more animalistic behaviors of Dragons compared to other species, especially humans.
Dragons are Reptilians
Dragons are scaly, cold-blooded creatures with more traits in common with reptilians than anything else. Even when in their "human" form, Dragons are still cold-blooded and incredibly susceptible to cold temperatures and dramatic temperature changes than other species.
Often found wrestling or engaging in very violent-appearing behaviors to produce warmth. Think of litters of puppies playing. Lots of teeth, growling, tackling, and pinning each other but just massive reptilian creatures with wings that roar and growl and can shake the ground. Also engage in massive dogpiles to conserve warmth and energy. Just picture a mountain of multicolored dragons all curled around each other and using each others' wings as blankets and their tails as pillows. Any buildings designed for their "human" forms have massive windows, very open spaces designed to let in light.
They have nostrils, like lizards and snakes do, but use their forked tongues in similar fashion to smell. Surprisingly poor sense of smell, but make up for it in vision. You cannot hide from a dragon. They will see you. Adapted with heat-seeking "abilities" (basically thermal detection). Depending on where they're from within the dragon realm, they're surprisingly good swimmers. Can hold their breath for long periods of time (big lungs equal big breaths), and have hollow bones, meaning if they wanted they can float just a bit.
Primary diet components are cattle like animals found in their realm, a variety of seafood found on earth as well (crab is peak evolutionary form), unicorn, and sea-vegetation. Yes, they have unicorns in their realm and yes they are prey creatures. And yes, Dragons eat them.
Might be large and powerful, but surprisingly lazy creatures. They're known to not want to make short travels because it simply requires too much effort. This definitely has to do with their cold-blooded nature, as they often want to preserve energy for times where it might be a bit cooler than is comfortable to function.
Dragons: A History
They have a legend/true story that serves as the basis for their "government".
It's the story of the first monarchs. Prior to their ruling, the lands of their world were divided between the Stone fields, the Meadows, the Basalt Pits, and the Northern Forest (forest is a loose term for it, more like the only place that has trees. Think of like massive Californian Redwoods type trees here). There wasn't necessarily any aggression between these places, but they were all closed off from each other, typically due to just basic geography preventing easy access to other areas (such as Northern Forest dragons are a far distance from each other in dragon terms so they had little to no contact with each other prior to the first monarchs).
The first King, a Meadows dragon had spent a long time travelling between the different regions and had learned so many things. He knew it'd benefit their kind to be united in a way that allowed for better trade/communication. Besides, he had this burning love for a dragon from the Basalt Pits. So he worked on getting all the leaders/elders/officials of each region together and they formed a monarchy. He, surprisingly, didn't want to be the one to rule. He didn't like the idea of being the one in charge, but the others reminded him he was the most versed in all the regions out of them. They even called him "Son of All Dragons" because he had lost many practices/traits that are iconic to a Meadows dragon.
He was able to wed the Basalt Pits dragon he had fallen in love with. The Basalt Pits dragons are the most hostile out of all, they're still not aggressive nor dangerous to other dragons, but they, to this day, still prefer to keep to themselves.
Alpharion thus became the first king, an absolutely massive multi-colored dragon that earned respect from all the regions. His beloved wife, Sapphirona, was an equally large dragon, nearly his size. Their massive size is the reason the monarch must be the biggest, rather than there being an actual lineage to the throne: the "Dragon of all Dragons" so to speak gets to rule.
They had a buttload of children. Not uncommon for dragons, actually. Dragons are born from eggs, often in clutches of 3-5, and remain as dragons until roughly 18-20 years of age. Dragons can live for long ass times, so this is like, comparatively to humans, only like 18-20 weeks of development. And they get big fast.
Their first clutch was 4: A gold dragon boy named Alverick, a bronze girl named Mayatina, a silver boy named Tobias, and another boy of grey coloring named Timotep. These four grew up to be the largest of all their siblings, and Alverick even grew to be larger than his father.
Their second clutch was 3: a dragon girl with cocoa brown coloring named Caris, a black dragon boy named Wilmack, and another girl with the most brilliant white scales named Yundara. Yundara ended up being the biggest of this clutch, roughly the same size as many of her older siblings.
Their third clutch was 4: a girl of pinkish coloring (like a sunset almost) named Roschlin, a boy of iridescent scales named Indizi, a gorgeous forest green girl named Emteria, and a dark yellow boy named Flamiatus.
But what Sapphirona and Alpharion hadn't expected was a single egg to be laid nearly a month later. It wasn't uncommon for some eggs to be delayed, or premature, but these types of eggs typically held still-born offspring. This egg, however, hatched rather quickly, and out popped the most beautiful little red dragon Sapphirona and Alpharion had ever seen. His headdress was gorgeous, matching his mother's extremely complex crown of spines, horns, and a matching pair of massive sea-shell like ears.
HIs name? Atendarajo, meaning "Precious".
Alverick and his siblings quickly grew very jealous of their mother's favoritism, especially considering how ridiculously small this dragon was. They tried to find ways to get their mother's affection to waver, yet it never did.
So Alverick took matters into his own hands. With the help of the Royal Guard, he captured his mother and baby brother. She was chained in her dragon form by her own son, as he was the only dragon present bigger than her.
She watched in horror as they killed her precious baby.
To this day, in the dungeons of the castle, built by Alpharion, lies a massive chamber known as "Sapphirona's Death". Inside the chamber is a pool filled with water. The water has remained the same the entire time, and many believe the water to be the very tears Sapphirona shed for both her sons; the eldest so overwhelmed with jealous it had driven him mad, and her precious, no more than a babe and as innocent as can be.
Alpharion casted himself and Alverick out, and there are rumors that on a distant island, they still fight to this day. Sapphirona, unfortunately, passed from what they call "heartbreak" not long after the incident.
But the dragons know something she never had a chance to learn: the dragon murdered that night wasn't her own. He has yet to be found ;)
This is part of why dragons, to this day, still discriminate against small dragons: the lasting jealous of Alverick's surviving siblings permeated the political realm, and has yet to be reversed.
Regions of Dragons
As I mentioned before, there are different regions within the dragons' realm.
The Stone fields: a large portion of exposed stone on the main island. These dragons are typically shorter, yet longer, with slimmer shapes. They're designed for mining the plethora of raw materials found within the stone base of the mainland. They had specialized claws, no horns/headdresses, and nose flaps/second eyelids to protect from dirt/dust. Very well-adapted to seeing in the dark, especially opposed to Meadow dragons. The social butterflies of the dragon realm. They share most of what they find, as they prefer the drab stone and basic rocks found, so they trade many of the precious gems/metals.
The Meadows: Typically the biggest of the dragons, with minimal extra qualities like spines/headdresses. Probably what you think of when you think dragon, just without the flair, in terms of shape. Proportional limbs and good, thick bois all around. Probably the laziest of the dragons, as well. Their biggest trade item is the cattle creatures they shepherd, as well as unicorn. The most common of dragons/have the largest population. Follow in Alpharion's footsteps and travel the most, making them desirable in official trade businesses.
The Northern Forest: These are the dragons that have longer hind legs than front ones. Devon is a Northern Forest dragon. The shorter front limbs are designed to assist them in foraging in the trees, which can often be taller than the average Northern Forest dragon (Devon is an exception, he has a bit of Meadow heritage from his father hence why he's hecking large). Lumber is their biggest trade item, and are known as the "nerds" of the dragon world because they do a lot more reading/writing than the others do. This makes them desirable for working within the castle/government.
The Basalt Pits: These are the introverts of the dragon world. Where Stone Fields dragons are extroverts, these guys don't like company/visitors. They're the rivalling for largest dragons (on average) but also the fanciest of dragons. Known for having complex crests/crowns of horns, spikes, spines, etc. around their heads. Have really reflective/almost naturally sparkly scales. Have the best metal workers and create the best weapons/metal creations. Cranky, not very desirable for government roles because of their tempers. (Yes, this is what Aten is)
And that's our talk on Dragons! Any questions, compliments, or just ideas you've had after reading this? Please don't shy away from asking!
#snootles's ocs#snootles's let's talk series#snootles's let's talk dragons!#dragon ocs#dragon lore for original work#dragons#imperfect canons by snootles#snootles's imperfect world#snootles's original work#original work#original story#original fiction#fantasy writing#worldbuilding
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