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beloveds-embrace · 17 days ago

Note

Omg the dukedom sick reader was amazing. I'm so addicted I just love the thought that they are now realizing how far the relationship with the reader has gone. Will the reader recover? If they do, will the wound (is it on the leg?) be a constant reminder (if its something noticeable, like limp when they walk?) to the guys of what they did.

I really like the fact you put Kyle's perspective in there, how do you think the rest of the guys will react to the reader. Idk I just image a pale, malnourished person. Their face having dark circles around the eyes and just a somewhat sunken in face because of the fact they weren't eating.

How do you think the guys will try and make it up to the reader? I feel as if after that experience of being left in their room to rot, basically, they would want to be outside more, not in the manor. I see John having like a HUGE conservatory or greenhouse of plants that he used to visit just not anymore and just has his workers take care of all that with a courtyard.

I'm sorry for putting a lot

- 🐸

@nes-kopi Thanks to all of you!! I combined the answer to these all together because they are pretty much in the same wavelength, i hope no one mind 😔 linking still doesn’t work otherwise i would be linking the masterlist ueueueueue dukedom masterlist au first part

The manor was eerily quiet, but not the kind of quiet that soothed. It was oppressive, heavy, pressing against you like a weight you can’t shake. The warmth of the fire in your chambers, the softness of the freshly laundered sheets, the smell of fresh flowers arranged by the maids who now came by regularly- it all felt like a mockery. A sharp contrast to the months of cold, desolate silence that had left you here: numb, broken, and hollow.

The room was silent, save for the faint creak of wood under your weight as you shifted on the bed. The prosthetic, heavy and foreign, rested against the edge, and you stared at it with a detached sort of hatred. It wasn’t the prosthetic itself; it was what it symbolized- what you had lost, what they had taken from you without even trying.

Your body ached constantly, even after so long spent under the doctors’ care.

Your heart ached more.

The warmth of the room now- the fire, the clean sheets, the gentle glow of the afternoon sun streaming through the newly opened curtains- did nothing to thaw the frost that has made itself a home in your chest.

They were trying now. Oh, they were trying. Even if they couldn’t bring themselves to look at you in the eye anymore, though you weren’t surprised; you look… horrific. You’ve been avoiding the mirror on purpose for a good while now.

You aren’t sure what is worse; the way they ignored you before or the way they hover now.

Every step you took was a struggle. The prosthetic leg strapped to your stump was heavy and awkward, the chafing unbearable at times. Its mere existence, its mere need, alone was enough to make you balk more often than not.

But you refused their help.

When Simon silently appeared at your side during your attempts to navigate the stairs, you waved him off. When Johnny offered his arm to steady you as you crossed the garden, you shook your head. When Kyle insisted on helping you carry things, you snapped at him to leave you be. You were trying to not rot away again, yet they were making it incredibly bothersome.

And John… John lingered the most, his piercing gaze trailing after you like a shadow. His voice was softer than you’d ever heard it, his every word laced with regret. A tone never, in your entire life, aimed at you.

You wondered if he was sincere. You wondered if it even mattered if he was.

“Let me help you, Duchess.” he said one morning, watching as you struggled to tighten the straps of your prosthetic. You have not called for any help from the maids or anyone even if they lingered, and you weren’t about to ask help from him of all people.

König would’ve helped-

“I don’t need your help.” you bit out sharply, your fingers trembling as they worked against the stubborn leather. You refuse to depend on him, especially for this. Why would you trust him, or any of them, after everything?

His jaw tightened, and he knelt before you, his large hands carefully prying yours away. “Please,” he said, his voice cracking. For once, he wasn’t a presence larger than life. “Let me. Just this once.”

Your instinct was to pull away, to snarl that it was too little, too late. But the exhaustion won. You sat back in the chair, your arms limp at your sides, and let him finish securing the straps. You wished you could feel anything except for the numbness and misery that has been clouding you for so long, but you couldn’t.

His hands were gentle, his fingers brushing against your skin with a reverence that made your chest ache.

Why did it take this much for them to care?-

They tried, in their own ways, to make amends.

Johnny started bringing meals directly to you, ones that catered to your preferences. He’d sit quietly at the edge of the room, cracking jokes or humming soft tunes, never leaving until you’d taken at least a few bites. The plates are always so well-decorated, the food so well cooked, not a single spot burnt or undercooked.

Kyle began organizing the staff, ensuring your chambers were kept warm and your belongings were arranged just how you liked them. He even replaced the stiff linens with softer ones and left books on your bedside table that he thought you might enjoy. You touched none of them.

Simon never said much, but his presence was almost constant. He became your silent sentinel, appearing whenever you struggled, watching over you from a distance. He didn’t speak often, but his eyes held a kind of quiet guilt that spoke louder than words but you decided that just this once, you’ll defean your ears.

And John…

John was everywhere. He lingered outside your door at night, the faint creak of the floorboards betraying his pacing. He watched you with an intensity that made your skin crawl, not out of fear but because you couldn’t reconcile this man with the one who had left you to rot. You had nothing to say to him. You barely had the strength to refuse his help attempts already.

The days blurred together, each one a series of numb moments punctuated by pain. The servants were more attentive now even without Kyle, but you couldn’t bear their pitying looks. The maids still whispered, though the words had changed:

Poor thing. How awful.

You avoided them all.

The manor felt smaller somehow, its walls closing in no matter where you went. You found solace in the gardens- when the weather allowed and you had the strength to navigate the terrain. The cold didn’t bother you anymore; it was the one constant, a reminder that you were still alive, still breathing. Unfortunately.

They watched from the windows sometimes, their gazes following as you limped across the grounds. You didn’t acknowledge them.

Something in you broke when the doctor told you you had to stop those trips for now, for your own health. Like the miserable thing you are, he didn’t even say it to you- but to John. Told him not to let you dilly dally around.

That very same night, after you’d spent hours pushing yourself to the brink- trying to walk farther, faster, to prove you could, even as the prosthetic left your stump raw and aching anew- you collapsed into bed, trembling with exhaustion.

You thought you were alone.

The tears came before you could stop them, hot and bitter as they slid down your cheeks. Pain radiated through your leg, your shoulders, your back. But worse was the weight in your chest- the overwhelming suffocation of it all.

You buried your face in your pillow, trying to muffle the sobs that wracked your body. You didn’t hear the door creak open, didn’t see John standing there, frozen in the doorway.

He stayed there, his fists clenched at his sides, listening to your muffled weeping. His chest ached with the knowledge that this was his doing; that every single tear, every shuddering breath, was because of him and the others.

When your cries finally quieted, exhaustion lulling you to a peace-less sleep, he stepped back, closing the door as silently as he’d opened it.

Several days later, he personally led you outside.

You didn’t ask where you were going; you didn’t have the energy. When the massive glass conservatory came into view, you stopped, your breath catching in your throat. Were those… your favorite flower as well?

“I had this built for you,” John said, his voice low, hesitant. “I thought… after everything, you might want a place of your own. Somewhere to breathe.” Somewhere you can stay and walk around in.

The conservatory was beautiful, filled with lush greenery, colorful flowers, and a gentle bubbling fountain at its center. The glass walls let in streams of sunlight, and the air inside was warm and fragrant. This must’ve been in the process for a while now.

You stepped inside, your prosthetic clinking softly against the stone floor, yet you didn’t hear it. The beauty of the place was overwhelming, almost unbearably so.

“This doesn’t fix anything,” you said, your voice trembling. It didn’t, truthfully. It didn’t bring your leg back, it didn’t wash away the dark cloud clinging to you. It didn’t wash away the pain.

“I know,” John murmured, his gaze fixed on the ground. His shoulders were slumped. “But it’s a start. You deserve something… beautiful. Better. The gardens brought you peace, and I can hope that this does the same.”

You turned to find Johnny, Simon, and Kyle standing behind him, their expressions a mixture of hope and guilt.

“We’ll keep trying,” Kyle added softly.

You stared at them, your chest tight, the weight of your pain and exhaustion threatening to crush you.

“I don’t know if I can forgive you.” you whispered.

“We don’t expect you to,” Simon’s voice was quiet. “But we’re not going anywhere. We’ll be here for you regardless.”

“…don’t expect this to change anything.”

John’s voice was so painfully soft, but you didn’t notice. You were limping towards the flowers, gait uneven but determined. “I don’t.”

That night, as you lay in bed staring at the ceiling, the memory of the conservatory lingered. It was a reminder of what could have been—of what you might have had if they had tried sooner.

You still didn’t trust them.

But part of you, the part that still remembered what hope felt like, wanted to.

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dandylovesturtles · 8 months ago

Note

Using a random number generator for the angst prompts: 20 Starved + 30 Dangerous Temperatures

... and Leo, of course.

OH GOD OK

uh so. I had an idea. and I decided to write it for this ask I got forever ago. And then, uh.

it really

really got out of hand.

This is a pretty dark fic (even for me) and at the current moment in time it is hurt/no comfort. I do intend to write a part 2, probably tomorrow, but as of the time I'm typing this author's note I've been writing for around 5+ hours straight and I need to take a break! So please, if you don't want to read all this without the comfort included, feel free to wait for the next part before reading! I'll link it and the end once it's posted.

Content warnings: Kidnapping, confinement, psychological torture, nonconsensual voyeurism (I guess this is the best way to put this; Leo isn't doing anything sexual but it's still violating), mild violence, HEAVY ANGST, Leo just having the shittiest time possible.

I HOPE?? YOU ENJOY??? hahahaha....

btw this is set between S2 and the movie (though tbh its canon compliance is... /waves hand)

-----

When Leo imagined himself getting captured by some kind of shady, quasi-governmental agency intent on imprisoning mutants, it was never anything like this.

When he let his mind go there, he always pictured that he would be strapped to a table. Maybe muzzled. That scientists would stand over him, scalpels and drills in hand, and start to take him apart. That they'd examine him piece by piece, and wouldn't give him any anesthesia while they did it.

But there is no table, no muzzle, no restraints at all. He's just in a room.

Well, a cell, technically - the steel door is locked, and there are no windows, no furniture but a bare cot in one corner and a lone toilet in another. But it doesn't really look like a cell. It looks like a room.

A very, very white room. White walls. White ceiling. White tiles (with white grout, even). The toilet is white, a roll of white toilet paper on the floor next to it. The only things that aren't white are the cot and the door and Leo himself.

They took his gear and his weapons, because of course they did. Since the door is steel, he already knows he's not breaking it down; he gives it a half-hearted slam anyway, just to say he tried. He should be able to just portal out, except he hasn't learned how to use his portals without his swords to channel his ninpo through, and there's nothing in here with him that he can use to make new ones.

So he's stuck. He's going to have to wait until someone opens that door for some reason. Or, of course, until his family swings by to pick him up. Though, if possible, he'd like to escape before that happens. The image in his mind, of sitting outside his cell and grinning at them as they arrive to rescue him, is too cool to pass up.

He's not sure how long it's been already. He knows that they knocked him out after ambushing him, and he doesn't know how long he was unconscious. The heavy molasses feel of his head and arms when he woke up suggests that he was drugged. It's wearing off now, though, which means he has a clear head to take in the all of nothing that's in the room with him.

He sits on the cot he woke up on and waits for something to happen.

There's no way for him to tell time, but he thinks it's an hour or so later when there's a sudden beep, and then the sound of a metal panel sliding up. It's a slot near the door that has just opened - inside the revealed alcove is a bottle of water.

He comes to it curiously, taking a long look around the bottle. The slot doesn't open straight through, and even if it did, it's not big enough for anything more than his arm or a foot to fit through. He thinks it must function like an airlock, or maybe they slid the bottle down from somewhere above - he feels around just in case, and finds that the slot is enclosed on all sides but his. Probably his airlock theory, then.

As soon as he removes the bottle, the panel slams shut again.

"You're really determined to keep me in here, huh?" he says to whatever hidden cameras are watching him. He carries the water bottle back to his cot, but doesn't open it, instead setting it down on the floor by the wall. The paranoid part of his brain, the one that doesn't miss a trick, is reminding him that drinking the water is probably a bad idea. Who knows what they might have put in it?

He sits on the cot for awhile longer. Still, nothing happens.

"I'm getting pretty bored in here," he says for the audience that must be somewhere. "Come on, you have a one of a kind turtle in here, and you don't even want to talk to me?"

Time passes, slow and quiet. Leo goes through periods where his anxiety spikes and he starts to wonder if he's been abandoned by whoever brought him here, before the boredom eventually numbs the anxiety back out. Another bottle of water is eventually delivered, and this one he keeps in his hands after retrieving it. It's completely unlabeled, not even a "Use by" date printed on the bottle itself, so it doesn't provide much mental stimulation. He spins the bottle to make little whirlpools inside, because it's something to do.

He's trying to make the fastest whirlpool he can when he hears a sudden click, different from the beep of the water bottle hole, and he looks up just in time to see a large section of the wall in front of him turn black, and then light up to show the room beyond his cell.

He jolts, setting the bottle aside. He knew they must be watching him, but somehow he didn't catch that part of the wall was a whole window.

His audience isn't very large - five people, unless there are others he can't see. Two wear lab coats, two wear fatigues... but the one who comes to stand directly in front of the window is wearing a black suit, with steel rimmed glasses. He leans forward, and speaks into a small microphone.

"Inmate 24365," says the suited man. "I am Agent Bishop, of the Earth Protection Force. My subordinates tell me that you can speak and understand the English language. Is this correct?"

"Qué?" Leo asks.

Bishop does not look amused. "Inmate 24365," he says, "you have two options. You can cooperate with me, answer my questions, and we will make your stay here more comfortable. Do not cooperate, and we will make your stay uncomfortable. Do you understand?"

Leo pretends to hem and haw over this. "How comfortable are we talkin'?"

"I'm sure you would like some dinner."

"You know, I'm not really hungry." He says it to be difficult, but it's actually true - the uncertainty of the situation has put his stomach in too many knots to want to eat anything. "Maybe if you offer me some comic books? Or a TV?

To Bishop's credit, his face doesn't so much as twitch. He keeps his steely eyes locked on Leo. "Answer our questions, and you will receive food. Do you understand?"

Leo stays noncommittal. "What are the questions?"

He's expecting Bishop to ask about his family. He's not expecting what comes next.

"How many gateways are there between New York City and the hidden yokai enclave?" he asks. "How are these gateways accessed? What kind of defensive capabilities do the yokai have?"

Leo keeps the surprise off his face. Bishop thinks he's a yokai.

This is, overall, a good development. Bishop might not know about Leo's family, then, or at least not know that they live on the surface. This means the Earth Protection Force likely isn't pursuing his brothers, which means they will be safe until they can help Leo get out of here.

He doesn't let the relief show through, either. Bishop doesn't know anything, and now Leo just has to ride out the next few hours until the calvary arrives.

"You know," he says, "I think I'm good with my current levels of comfort."

If Bishop is mad or frustrated or dismayed by this choice, he doesn't show it. His expression stays stony as he stares in at Leo, sizing him up.

"Very well," he says after a few more seconds. "I will see you tomorrow, then."

The window goes dark, and then turns stark white to match the walls. Leo wants to go over and tap at it, see if it feels different when he touches it, but knowing that Bishop is surely still there, watching him, keeps him rooted to the cot.

He goes back to making whirlpools with the bottle. If they aren't going to entertain him, he isn't going to entertain them, either.

-----

Another water bottle comes some time after his talk with Bishop. He finally opens this one and takes a cautious sip. Nothing tastes off or strange, so he drinks more. They don't want to feed him, but they're fine keeping him hydrated. No reason to stay thirsty, then.

He wishes the water calmed the anxiety still roiling in his stomach, but if anything it just makes him feel even more energized. He bounces his foot and surveys his room again, looking for any weak spots or access points. He can't see anything, though, other than the areas where he knows the water bottle hole and window are; even the vents that relentlessly blow cold air into the room are well hidden.

Knowing that there are people standing just outside his cell watching him, like some kind of zoo animal, puts him on edge. The window is so big that he's pretty sure the only blind spots are either directly underneath it or right by the door on the same wall. After debating it, he leaves his cot and sits on the floor underneath the window, surveying the room from a different angle now and still coming up empty. At least they're going to have a harder time staring at him.

His eyes catch on the toilet in the corner, directly across from the window. It's not in the blind spot, and realizing this makes his insides lurch uncomfortably - hopefully he has a chance to bust out before using it becomes necessary.

Though, he's not sure when that chance is going to come. If they have a slot to pass him water, they could use that to pass him food, too, so it's unlikely that anyone is going to open the door unless they need to take him out.

So maybe his fantasy of being outside when his brothers arrive isn't going to happen. Well, that's okay; he'll just be sure to make some other part of their escape totally rad. That will make up for the embarrassment of getting kidnapped a block from Run of the Mill.

(Seriously, some kind of ninja he is, to let a bunch of human soldiers sneak up on him.)

He drains the water bottle, then starts to roll it back and forth across the floor, like a cat batting at a toy. Leo's not sure what's worse right now: the worry or the boredom. There's nothing to look at and no one to talk to, just an empty room with him and his water bottles.

He's too keyed up to sleep, and the fluorescent lights are still on, anyway. He has no way of telling what time it is, so maybe it just isn't that late yet. And even sitting here, in the blind spot, the idea of closing his eyes while people are watching makes unease crawl up his spine. Staying awake is the easy choice. He'll sleep after he's out of here.

So he sits under the window and rolls his bottle back and forth, back and forth, with only the sound of plastic on tile to keep his thoughts company.

-----

The first three water bottles came pretty regularly, but now there is a very long stretch where nothing is delivered. Leo is starting to think maybe it really is night now. They don't turn off the lights in his cell, though, and he has no controls to do it himself. At least it helps with the whole "staying awake" thing.

Just in case they've decided to suspend his water privileges along with the food, he holds off drinking any more for now.

Speaking of food, his appetite has finally decided to return. His stomach starts to growl at him after several hours (he thinks) of sitting in the floor, an annoying emptiness in his stomach. Knowing there's no food accessible just makes the hunger sharper, but he puts it out of his mind the best he can with nothing else to focus on. He can eat once he's free.

Which should be soon. Seriously, his brothers have to be on their way by now, right?

He's pretty sure it's been the better part of a day, if not a whole day, since he was kidnapped. And, okay, he's willing to give them some leeway; it's understandable if they got a late start. He did storm out of the lair after his latest fight with Raph, and no one ever came to check on him when he did that. Understandably, he thinks, because who wants to be around Bad Mood Leo? Not even Leo wants to be around Bad Mood Leo!

But he'd already turned back into Good Mood Leo by the time he left Hueso's, so surely they knew it had been more than enough time. They would have noticed when he didn't come home. They would have realized something happened. They would be looking for him.

And if they're looking for him, they'll find him! Obviously.

His stomach growls again, and Leo leans his head back against the wall behind him. Maybe he shouldn't think of being at Hueso's. Now he just wants pizza. Pepperoni and mushroom, maybe, or Hawaiian. Mix it up a little with the barbeque chicken.

Another growl. He groans out loud.

He stays awake, twisting and crinkling the empty bottle in his hands, until another full one finally arrives.

-----

No chance to escape comes before using the toilet is necessary.

He tried to hold out, he really did, but he ended up drinking more water to stave off the growing hunger, and it's lowkey cold in here, which doesn't help. Still, the issue of the window sends an uneasy shiver up his spine, doubting that any people outside will feel the need to turn away and give him some privacy. Maybe he should have gone while he suspected it was nighttime.

(Maybe he shouldn't assume they ever aren't watching him.)

He stands up and walks over to the cot, giving it a light nudge with his foot. In a stroke of luck, it isn't bolted to the floor, and it's light enough that he can lift it. The black mesh it's made of is tightly woven, enough that not much is visible through it. It will have to do.

He picks it up and drags it over in front of the toilet, propping it up on its legs so it makes a small wall between himself and the window. It's hardly ideal, but the semblance of privacy makes him relax somewhat.

(He can't think about how there are surely cameras in the room watching him from all angles, making his attempt at a barrier moot. He knows better than anyone that sometimes pleasant lies are necessary.)

After he does his business, he leaves the cot propped where it is; it's not like he's sleeping on it. There's no sink for him to wash his hands, but he's never been the strictest about it, anyway (much to Donnie's disgust). He returns to his spot under the window, squeezing the water bottle to the rhythm of the first song that comes to mind.

Only two verses and a bridge later, the window above his head turns black, then goes clear. Thinking that Bishop might have been watching him just now makes a cold, slimy feeling roll down his spine. Creepy!

"Inmate 24365," comes Bishop's voice through the unseen speaker. "Stand."

Leo doesn't. He stays right where he is, under the window.

Bishop waits only a few seconds. Then Leo hears him say, "Temperature down two degrees."

He gets up at that, turning and leaning his arm against the window. It strangely doesn't feel like glass, even though it must be. "It's already cold enough in here," he says. He wonders how they can hear him, when he doesn't see a microphone on his side.

"You were told your conditions would only be made comfortable after you answer our questions," Bishop informs him. "The same as before: how many gateways are there between New York City and the hidden yokai enclave? How are these gateways-"

"How about you answer my questions first," Leo interjects. "You keep calling me "inmate," but I haven't been charged with anything. Pretty sure you can't detain me without cause."

"The EPF is authorized to detain non-human inmates for as long as deemed necessary for the security of the United States," says Bishop smoothly. "Probable cause doctrine does not apply in this case."

"That's gotta be unconstitutional."

"The constitution does not recognize the rights of yokai. You have no right to counsel, no right to a speedy trial, and no right to protections from cruel and unusual punishments." Bishop's stare is colder than the temperature in the room. "But I am not an unfair man. Answer my questions, and I will provide you with food and clothing."

Leo tosses a glance over his shoulder. "How about a private bathroom?"

Bishop's expression stays ever in place, unimpressed and stoic. "Food and clothing," he repeats.

Leo gives his head a shake. "Then nope," he says, popping the "p". "I plead the fifth."

"As I have already explained, the Bill of Rights does not apply to you."

"That's such crap." Leo bangs his fist on the window. "You can't just keep me here forever for no reason!"

"I do have reasons." Bishop leans closer to the window, his eyes narrowing. "Let's try a different question. What is your relation to Baron Draxum?"

The surprise is fast and sharp, but Leo just manages to keep it from showing on his face. "Who?" he asks innocently, even as the panic sets into his chest. If they know about Draxum, what else do they know?

"We know you are acquainted with him," says Bishop. "What is the nature of your relationship?"

Leo knows they aren't bluffing - why would they bring up that very specific name otherwise? There's no lie he can tell that won't reveal something.

So he doesn't say anything. Instead, he turns his back to the window and sits down, staring resolutely at the opposite wall.

Bishop clicks his tongue. "Very well," he says. "I am a patient man. I can wait." Then, more muffled, like he's facing away from the microphone, Leo hears him say, "Temperature down two degrees."

The window goes dark, then turns back to white. Leo doesn't move for a long time.

-----

The third water bottle arrives, so he guesses that's the end of day two.

He's shaking as he gets up to retrieve it, adding it to his growing water bottle hoard. He's gone through three and a half by now, but he's trying not to drink them too fast.

As promised, no food is delivered, and his stomach growls and rumbles in protest. The water helps, but only slightly. He needs to eat.

He also needs to sleep.

The panicked adrenaline spikes that have kept him awake this long are starting to die down, with more and more long stretches of exhaustion between them. The shaking is near constant, bringing with it the weird jittery feeling he gets when his insomnia gets particularly bad.

The window is still unnerving him. The idea of sleeping while they're watching him feels staggeringly unsafe.

But he doesn't think he can hold out now until his family gets here. Sure, they're probably getting close (they have to be getting close), but they're sure taking their sweet time. And he's just so tired.

After a long internal debate, he lays down on the cold tile floor. It's not at all comfortable, but somehow he doubts the cot would be any better. Besides, even if he moves the cot under the window, he thinks it would be easier to see him if he uses it. So on the floor it is.

He presses as close to the wall as he can, curling up into a ball for warmth. He wishes he had a blanket.

He wishes he was home.

He squeezes his eyes shut tight and forces back the sudden wave of overwhelming homesickness. There's no reason to feel this way. It's only been two days! What is he, a baby?

It's fine. It's all fine. They're definitely on his trail now. Raph is leading the team. Donnie is using some kind of invention to blah blah blah nerd stuff. Mikey is razzing his tazz. April is using her investigative journalism skills to find clues.

They're on their way. He just has to hold out a little longer. He can do this.

He sleeps, and in his dreams, something grabs him tight and drags him down and down and down where he can't escape.

-----

The same routine plays out over the next two days.

Leo gets two water bottles delivered, spaced, if he had to guess, about five hours apart. Bishop comes to visit him some time after the second bottle. Leo refuses to answer his questions. Bishop turns the temperature down and then leaves. A few hours later his last water bottle comes. Then nothing for the whole night.

They still don't turn off his lights, but exhaustion is starting to win over the brightness.

More than a few times, Leo tries to summon a portal on his own, without his swords. If his family is going to take their sweet time in coming, he might as well try to help them out. He tries to summon his ninpo (without glowing), tries to feel the tug inside of him that he always does when he teleports, tries to envision the place he wants to go and tunnel through space to get there.

Nothing. Always nothing.

(Donnie can make his constructs independent of his bo staff. Raph can send his projections away from his sai. Mikey's learning to use mystic powers without his nunchucks. So why does Leo need his katana? Why is he the only one this useless?)

It probably doesn't help that he's so damn hungry. It's a constant companion now, a low and hollow ache that chooses inconvenient times to turn into white hot stabs of urgency, into seizing cramps that steal his breath. The water only helps so much - it keeps him alive but doesn't satisfy, doesn't soothe. In some ways it just makes the feeling worse.

And he's always shaking, too, but he doesn't know if that's the hunger or the cold.

Maybe the cold wouldn't bother him so much if it were at least still. But the vents blow fresh air inside relentlessly, and no matter where he goes he can't seem to get out of the direct stream. The cold wind batters his tired body, and there's places his skin is starting to turn dry and flaky. His nose won't stop running, and he's allowed himself a small section of his one roll of toilet paper to blow it, already stiff and congealed and disgusting.

It's miserable.

And there's still nothing to do.

He stacks a pyramid out of his empty water bottles, knocks it down, then stacks it up again. He tries to come up with some new and exciting ways to demolish it, but it's only new and exciting for so long.

He spends a few hours of day three singing karaoke as obnoxiously as possible. He hopes everyone outside enjoys the performance.

He recounts every issue of Jupiter Jim he knows to himself, then the plot of every movie. Then he goes through Lou Jitsu films, then anything else he can think of. That eats up a good chunk of day four.

By the time he gets his first water bottle of day five, he's out of ideas to entertain himself. He's never been good at this. He doesn't know how introverts like Donnie can go multiple days without talking to someone.

But when Bishop comes back with his daily offer of conversation, Leo once again impolitely declines.

-----

Something new happens on night five.

It's been a long time since the last water bottle. Leo has been trying to sleep, but it's not coming easy; he's exhausted, but the floor is so cold and he's so sore from staying on it night after night. Not to mention, his nightmares have been getting worse, and he isn't eager to return to them.

Add on the hunger, and sleep is elusive.

Suddenly, there's the telltale shadow of the window above him turning dark - this time, though, it doesn't light up as much as normal. Confused and curious, Leo sits up and takes a peek.

The room beyond is dim, only the glow of a green EXIT sign and a small desk lamp lighting the space. But it's enough for Leo to see a man standing there, looking inside. It's not Bishop - in fact, he doesn't recognize this person at all. They're wearing fatigues, but it's not anyone he's seen in the room during Bishop's normal interrogations.

The man catches sight of Leo, and the grinning leer on his face makes Leo regret looking.

He beckons for Leo to stand up. Warily, Leo does, unable to help but keep his arms folded tight over his chest. Not for the first time, he wishes he had some clothes - his gear, at the very least. Anything to not feel quite so exposed.

The man reaches down and picks something up, holding it aloft for Leo's inspection. "Want a sandwich?" he asks into the microphone.

The sandwich looks like white bread and bologna. No cheese, no other toppings that Leo can spot. Maybe some mustard, if anything. Overall, the most boring possible sandwich he could have been offered.

Leo's mouth is watering.

He has to swallow hard before answering. He doesn't trust this. Even if his stomach is slamming up and down at the promise of food, food, food.

"I'm not hungry," he lies.

The man laughs. It's not a kind sound. "Sure you ain't," he says. "You spend every night curled up on the floor like the dumb animal you are. Can you even eat this?" He waves the sandwich for emphasis.

Leo doesn't answer. He takes a step back from the window, like that will put any kind of distance between them. Like that will save him.

The man watches him with a sleezy grin. He waves the sandwich again.

"You want this," he says.

Leo shakes his head.

"You really sure?"

Leo shudders. Stands tall. Nods.

The man watches him for a long, long moment. Leo fights the urge to hide.

Finally, with a shrug, the man says, "Suit yourself."

Then he starts eating the sandwich. Right where Leo can watch.

Leo's stomach growls, loud and angry in his ears, and he has to physically hold himself back from crumpling.

After several bites, the man suddenly reaches out and taps the window, indicating the cot stood up in front of the toilet.

"That," he says, giving another tap for emphasis, "doesn't do shit."

Leo wants to crawl out of his own skin.

The need to hide is suddenly too great. He rushes to the cot, grabbing it and dragging it back to the blind spot under the window. He sets it down on all four legs, so it's as close to the floor as possible.

Then he lies down on his belly and wriggles underneath. It's a tight squeeze, and the cot ends up pushed up by his shell, suspended in the air, but he doesn't care.

He curls up in his pleasant lie of privacy and bites his hand to keep from screaming himself hoarse.

After an eternity, the window above him turns white again. It doesn't matter. Leo knows he's still there. Still watching.

-----

"You look tired," Bishop greets him. Leo answers with a dead-eyed stare.

"I keep telling you, if you want your conditions to improve, all you have to do is answer my questions."

Leo says nothing. He just stares, arms wrapped tight around himself to try and keep his body heat in.

"How many gateways are there between New York City and the hidden yokai enclave? How are these gateways accessed?"

For a moment, Leo considers just... telling him.

His family doesn't live in the Hidden City. The yokai have never exactly greeted them with open arms. What does he care if these military guys go after them? At least then, maybe he can finally eat something.

That's not what a hero does, Leo! echoes Mind Raph disapprovingly. Innocent people will get hurt!

Right. He's a hero. And heroes don't give into the demands of shitty guys like Bishop.

Leo swallows hard. "No comment."

Bishop's face changes ever so slightly: his brow creases. Leo wonders if that's good or bad for him.

"You understand that Baron Draxum is a known threat, don't you?" he asks. "We are aware of his plans to commit mass murder on the human population. We also know that he has been dormant for some time, and we need information on what he is planning."

Leo thinks of Barry's ambitions to be recognized as the best lunchperson in all of America and can't help but laugh. It comes out cracked and wheezing.

Bishop's furrow gets deeper. "Do you think this is funny?"

"Little bit," says Leo.

Bishop has a chasm to rival Raph's now. Leo knows he shouldn't, but he grins. It's his one moment of triumph - only he can be this aggravating.

And then Bishop says, "Temperature down seven degrees," and that wipes the smile right off Leo's face.

-----

The plastic of the water bottles is soft and pliable and feels weirdly good under Leo's teeth.

He chews the top of the bottle, gnawing at it until it's completely flattened out, pockmarked with little tiny indents from his incisors. It's not eating - it won't fill his belly or ease the persistent hunger pains. But something about the motion is soothing. The place-bo effect.

Pla-ce-bo, corrects Donnie's voice in his mind, sounding testy.

Where are you? Leo thinks back.

There's no answer.

He's gnawed his way through four water bottles. There's eighteen in total now, two and a half still full of water. He thought about using one to wash up a bit, but decided against it in the end. He knows he stinks, but the last thing he wants right now is to be wet. Not when he's starting to see his breath.

Oh well. It's not like he has anywhere to be.

He turns his attentions to the lids next. These are harder and thus tougher to chew. Still, if Leo uses his molars, he can eventually crack the lip, and then bend the plastic in and in, chewing until he ends up with a flat disc.

It's just small enough that Leo could swallow it, if he wanted to.

He thinks he remembers watching some kind of wildlife documentary. Or maybe he didn't watch it himself, but Mikey told him about it. Or maybe April? He doesn't know. His thoughts swim in and out and get lost on the way.

Point is. Sea turtles in the wild die all the time because of plastic in the water. They cut open their stomachs and find trash inside.

Well, Leo is a turtle in captivity. Maybe that means he's immune. Maybe he could swallow this plastic lid, and then he'd finally feel full and the pain pain pain of his empty stomach would go away.

He does not swallow the plastic lid. But it's more tempting than he'd like to admit.

It's going to be okay. When his family gets him out of here, they'll have a big pizza to celebrate. Maybe he can even talk them into letting him have the last slice.

It has to be any moment now, right? It's been a week. They have to be closing in. Any moment now, the door will open, and there they'll be to take him home.

The air conditioning blows relentlessly against his skin. He sneezes, then rubs the snot on his arm. He's given up on the tissue paper.

It'll be over soon. It has to be. Just hang in there, Leon, just a little longer.

He picks up another bottle and starts chewing.

-----

He's playing a mindless little game with his flattened bottle lids the next time Bishop comes.

"I'm surprised you still have any energy at all," says Bishop, and Leo wants to punch him.

(Really, he wants to do more than that. But those kinds of thoughts always make him feel weird and bad, so he pushes them away.)

"You should have learned by now," he says, pushing to his feet and trying not to show how badly he's trembling, "you can't keep me down."

"This is all unnecessary," says Bishop. "I'll feed you as soon as you answer my questions."

Leo barks out a laugh. "Sure you will."

"I will," says Bishop. He turns and says over his shoulder, "Bring it here."

One of the men in fatigues steps forward and hands a tray with a covered plate over to Bishop. Bishop uncovers the tray and holds it where Leo can see.

Baked chicken, broccoli with cheese, mashed potatoes.

Leo's stomach twists and cramps so painfully he has to bend at the hips and clutch his midriff.

"This is yours, as soon as you answer my questions."

Leo pointedly keeps from looking at the food. He shakes his head. He can't. He can't.

"Such persistence." Bishop's voice is scolding now. "You understand that you are a known accomplice to a terrorist, don't you? But if you become a cooperating witness, you will be granted some leniency."

Leo barks a laugh, lifting his eyes to look at Bishop's face, and pointedly not the food. "What's the point?" he asks. "If I'm not... protected by the constitution, or whatever. Are you going to let me go?"

"No," says Bishop. "But as I have told you, your conditions will become more comfortable." He waves the tray of food.

Leo stares at him, before a manic smile splits his face.

"You... stupid bastard. I can't even answer your questions." He slams a shaking hand against his plastron. "I'm not even a yokai! Do you get that? I'm not a yokai!"

Bishop looks skeptical. "Obviously you are."

"I'm not!" Leo rages. "I'm a mutant! I'm from New York! I don't even live in the Hidden City!"

Bishop's eyes flash. "I see," he says, "so you do know of it."

Leo falters, his body going slack.

What an obvious, stupid mistake.

(Some face-man he is.)

It takes Leo a long moment to answer. Bishop stays right where he is, holding the food so tantalizingly close and yet still out of reach.

"...I don't know about the gateways," he says finally. "I don't know about their defensive capabilities. I don't know what Baron Draxum is planning."

"Your lies are obvious," says Bishop. "You really don't want this? It's your last chance today."

Leo stares at the food. His mouth is watering so hard it might start to drip. Would it really be so bad to answer? They don't live in the Hidden City. And Draxum dropped him off a roof.

Draxum is trying to change, says Mind Raph. You see what these guys are like. You can't turn the yokai over to them. They'll hurt them!

What about me? he asks. Is it okay if I get hurt?

You're a hero, Leo, says Mind Raph. You can deal with it for a little longer. It's just a room. Just a little cold. Just some hunger.

He's a hero. He can deal with it. He can. He can.

He'll make them proud. Show them they can trust him.

It takes everything he has, but he shakes his head.

Bishop tuts. Then he throws the entire plate in the trash.

"Tomorrow, then," he says. Then the window is gone.

Leo collapses on his cot and tries not to cry.

-----

After his third water bottle on day eight, one of the fluorescent lights over his head flickers and then dies out.

It's not surprising, since they keep them running twenty-four seven. The blessedly dimmed lighting is actually nice, for once. Leo thinks maybe he could get some sleep, if the gnawing hunger and the constant shivers don't keep him awake.

He's just closed his eyes and snuggled up under his cot when it occurs to him: they may come in to fix it. If keeping the lights on day and night is part of their plan to torture him, to keep him exhausted and anxious and on edge, then they have to.

Which means his chance is finally here.

He has to be careful about this. He has to be ready to move, but he can't let them know he's ready to move. He has to let them think he's too weak, too exhausted, to make an escape attempt.

(He can't let himself think that, though. He can't give up before he tries.)

So he stays under his cot, but subtly shifts it so it won't restrict his movement. He has to be ready to burst out as soon as he gets a chance. Get past whoever comes in, then get out the door. It's after the last water bottle, so it's nighttime. There will be fewer people. He can do this. He can do this.

Find his swords. Make a portal. Get out.

Just as he was thinking, after a long time has passed, there is a loud warning beep, different from the water bottle beep. An automated voice says from somewhere unseen, "Inmates clear the door. Security personnel entering. Stay still and you will not be harmed."

Then the door slides open, and someone comes in.

It's a man wearing fatigues. Leo thinks this is the one who "offered" him a sandwich the other day. He's holding some kind of gun with a long barrel. He does a sweep of the room with his eyes, coming to rest on Leo under his cot. He gives Leo the same leering grin, and waves the barrel of the gun in his direction.

"Now you behave, and we'll get along just fine," he says.

He steps to the side, and another man enters, this one wearing the kind of jumpsuit Leo sees janitors in on TV. He's carrying a stepladder in one hand and a long tube in the other. Is that what fluorescent lights look like? Leo didn't know.

The man walks to the middle of the room and sets up his stepladder. Then he walks up and pulls off the light casing. When he unhooks the old bulb, it causes the other bulb to flicker, just for a few moments.

Leo explodes out from under the cot, grabbing the man in fatigues by the legs and yanking as hard as he can. The man yelps in surprise, and Leo hears the sound of the gun going off in a random direction. The janitor shouts and drops the light bulb - the sound of shattering glass joins the cacophony.

Leo jumps to his feet and runs out the door they had been too stupid to close, sprinting toward the EXIT sign. He's exhausted and shaky but he's coursing with adrenaline, and he leans on it hard to keep him moving. Don't stop, don't stop, get out of here. He'll figure out what to do next once he's free.

Past the exit sign there's a large open room with desks and computer monitors. Most of them are off, but one lingering woman in a lab coat, seated at her desk, screams when she sees Leo dash through the middle of the office space.

"Security!" she screams into a device on her chest. "Inmate is escaping! Inmate is escaping!"

Leo doesn't have time to shut her up, he just keeps moving. He pushes through the next door and arrives in a hallway; he only has time to glance one way and then the other before scrambling to the left, hoping it was a good choice.

He rounds a corner and sees another green EXIT sign up ahead. It's not where he meant to go - he meant to find where they're keeping his swords first. But he hears shouting behind him and doesn't stop. Fine, so no portals - he'll figure out something else once he's away from here.

He throws himself forward into the exit door, which leads him into yet another hallway. Another long sprint, with shouting and slamming doors at his heels, and then finally, finally, a third EXIT sign, and he crashes outside.

Where there's snow on the ground, snow on the trees.

It steals his breath away. There shouldn't be snow. It's May.

Where is he?

He takes a breath of air so cold it seizes his lungs, then takes a step forward. He'll worry about that-

BANG!

A piercing pain in his shoulder nearly sends him toppling over. Leo shouts, grasping for the wound and feeling something sticking out of his skin. He grabs it and yanks, pulling it free.

It's a dart.

Damn it, he thinks, before his vision goes woozy, and he collapses into the snow.

-----

"Are you proud of your little escape attempt?" comes Bishop's voice.

Leo looks up from his cot. Bishop has to get so close to the window to see him that his nose is pressed flat against it. It should be hilarious, but Leo doesn't really have the energy to laugh. Or to do much of anything.

He's hungry. He's tired. He's cold. He's still sluggish from the drugs.

And they threw away all his water bottles. Fuckers.

Leo rolls over on the cot and covers his ears.

"What a childish response," says Bishop, and that's funny, too, because Leo literally is a child. Or a teenager, anyway. He doesn't feel like it will help him much to point that out, though.

"All you have to do is answer my questions, and all this will be fixed."

That's the funniest thing of all. The idea that he spills his guts and Bishop treats him to a five course meal to make up for all the pain up till now. Hilarious.

He says nothing.

Bishop sighs.

"You are likely still affected by the tranquilizing agent. I'll return tomorrow."

Before he leaves, he says, "Temperature down five degrees."

-----

The same man is back that night. He opens the window and looks down at Leo with the same leering smile. Leo can't even take satisfaction in the bandage on the side of his head.

"Neat little trick you had yesterday," he says. "Almost got me fired."

Leo wishes it had gotten him fired. But he clearly has no luck in this situation.

"You know, I respect the attempt. And you probably would have gotten farther with a little food in your belly." The man reaches down, then retrieves a sandwich, as mouth-wateringly unappetizing as the last time. "You sure you don't want this?"

And Leo knows he shouldn't trust this guy. Leo knows he should say no.

But he's just...

so...

hungry.

So he gets up. And he turns to the window. On shaking limbs that can barely hold him upright anymore. With a body that is laced with pain and aches and cramps.

And he nods.

The man's smile gets wider. "What do you say?" he asks, in the sing-song tone of a parent scolding a child.

It makes a sick nausea rise in Leo's throat. But he wants the sandwich.

"Please," he gasps out.

"Mmm... not good enough." The man waves the sandwich. "You want this? You beg for it."

Leo stares, eyes wide. But the sandwich... the sandwich...

He gets down on his knees. Feels a searing flush of humiliation. His stomach is rolling and gurgling and cramping with pain, a hollow, empty chasm inside him desperate to be filled.

He lowers his head.

"Please," he says. "I... I want the sandwich. I'm... begging you, please."

The man laughs, loud and long. When Leo finally finds it in him to raise his eyes, the sandwich is already half eaten.

"Hey, good job," says the man, licking a bit of mustard off his thumb. "That was real convincin'."

And then he takes another bite.

Just like that, Leo forgets about the pain, the aches, the cold, the hunger. All that's left is pure, white hot, screaming rage.

Leo lunges at the window and slams his fist into it so hard it cracks. Not enough to break the glass. Not enough to free him. But enough that the man startles and steps back.

And Leo starts to laugh. High and manic and unhinged even to his own ears.

"I'll kill you," he says, and his voice sounds almost joking, and yet- "I'll kill you. You're dead. You're dead, as soon as I get out of here, you're dead, I'll kill you, I'LL KILL YOU!"

The man has dropped the rest of his sandwich. He fumbles for his gun, left somewhere on a table to the side. For one satisfying moment, Leo sees a flash of genuine fear on the man's face.

"Shit," he says, his voice far away the further he gets from the microphone. "Pretty scary, frogboy."

Then he slams a button, and the window goes black, and Leo gets a glimpse of his own reflection.

His face is gaunt and drawn. His eyes are ringed by deep circles, so dark they look like bruises. His body is shaking like a leaf.

And his stripes...

His stripes are lit up like when he uses his ninpo, but they aren't their usual Neon Leon bright.

They're almost black.

Leo gasps and stumbles back just as the window goes white. The full body quakes he feels now aren't from the cold or the hunger or the exhaustion.

He turns and sinks onto the cot. Puts his face in his hands and tries to breathe. Tries to will his ninpo to stop rolling and snapping and to go back to normal.

This isn't what he wants. This isn't him.

This place is breaking him. He's letting it break him.

He pulls his legs up onto the cot and buries his face in his knees. Wraps his arms around them and rocks gently, the way Donnie used to do when things got overwhelming. Maybe he understands that better, now.

This isn't him. He's Leonardo, Neon Leon, the face-man, the jokester! The one who's always ready with a quip and a laugh. The one who can do anything!

Except portal out of his room. Except escape from this building. Except resist begging for a sandwich like he's a dog.

Leo's breath hitches, and for once he doesn't stop himself. He knows the guy outside is probably watching. He knows there are cameras recording this. He hates giving them the satisfaction.

But he's tired, and hungry, and he...

He wants to go home.

He cries, silently, until he's completely rung out.

-----

Maybe they aren't coming.

That's the thought that pops into his head, just a bit after the first water bottle of the day.

He knew they would have gotten a late start, because he stormed out. And he knew it would take them awhile to figure out who took him - he hadn't heard of the EPF before, so why would they? And he knew it would take them time to figure out where he had been taken, which must have been pretty far out if it's snowing outside. But the EPF got him here within a night, he's pretty sure, so unless they have a super fast jet, he must still be on the continent somewhere.

So... so surely they must have figured it out by now, right? Raph is leading the team. Donnie is doing science things. Mikey is razzing his tazz. April is using her investigative skills.

Unless they aren't coming.

Maybe... maybe it's true. Why would they want him back, after all? Leo took Raph's leader position, and since then all he'd managed to do was piss Raph off. Mikey and Donnie hadn't been happy about it, either, and he'd noticed that they'd been avoiding him more and more. April claimed she wasn't taking sides, but she always seemed to be on Raph's anyway. And Dad... well, he was probably disappointed that he made Leo leader only for him to do nothing and then get himself kidnapped.

He doesn't bring anything to the team. He doesn't bring anything to the family. And no one likes his jokes.

So. Maybe they just... aren't looking. Maybe they aren't going to come.

Maybe he's held out this long for no reason. Maybe he's been cold and starving for no reason at all.

Maybe it's time to give up.

---

Don't give up, says a new voice in his head.

You are not alone.

-----

He has no energy left to stand when Bishop comes. The man looks down at him, lips pressed into a thin line.

"You don't look well," he observes.

No shit, Leo wants to say.

"This has gone on long enough. Answer my questions, and we will provide you with food, clothing, and medical care."

The list is getting longer. Leo's fuzzy eyes stare up at Bishop. Medical care. Does he need that?

"You already know what I want to know." Bishop has a furrow between his eyebrows now. "Will you talk to me?"

He could. He could do it. He could finally have some relief from all the pain. All the hunger. All the cold.

But they might hurt the yokai in the Hidden City.

They might hurt Draxum.

They might hurt his family.

And maybe, if nothing else... if Leo could just keep his mouth shut, just this once...

Maybe that would finally make Raph, Dad, and everyone proud of him.

Maybe they'd finally trust him.

Maybe, at least, he can have that much.

Leo shakes his head.

Bishop scowls.

"Temperature down ten degrees."

-----

Leo isn't shivering anymore. That's probably a bad sign.

He can still see his breath, each time he exhales. It rises like smoke, before disappearing into the air.

He doesn't have any energy left, not even to chew on his new water bottles. He hasn't even collected the last two, and they sit crowded together in the slot, untouched.

He kind of wishes they had just dissected him from the beginning. It would have been faster. Freezing to death, he's decided, is a real zero out of ten. Starving to death isn't any better. No stars.

Even though the damn lights are still on, he feels extremely sleepy. It's probably the cold. He wonders what will happen if he brumates. He's never done it before, not like his little cousins, and he has no idea if it's even safe.

Probably not, given he has no calorie reserves left. All it means is he won't be drinking water, either.

But he's so sleepy.

It's going to be time soon for Bishop to come back. Leo doesn't know what the point is anymore. Maybe he'll just sleep through it. Yeah, that would really make him mad. And making Bishop mad is all he has at this point.

And he'll get to sleep. It's a win-win.

So thinking, Leo rolls himself over onto his belly. Then, one by one, he pulls his limbs into his shell.

He doesn't do this much anymore, not since he started growing. His body just doesn't seem to fit his shell like it should - a side effect of the mutation, probably. It's not really comfortable to be inside for long.

But Leo is sleepy. And his shell feels like the best place to be.

So he pulls in his legs, then his arms, and then, finally, his head.

It's not any warmer in here. But at least it's dark.

At least he's not shivering.

Leo sighs, content, and closes his eyes, and drifts to sleep.

-----

(Outside his cell, there's a bang, and shouting, and a gunshot.

The sound is muffled, and Leo sleeps on.)

-----

Part 1 (here) | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 Part A |

#rottmnt #rise leo #agent bishop #cw: psychological torture #dandy fanfiction #I want it to be clear that any time Leo is hearing “Mind Raph”#that's just his own inner voice manifesting #please don't be mad at Raph himself lol

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m-ilkiee · 7 months ago

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E-boys Ruined my Life: Toxic! Megumi Fushiguro x Fem Reader

“Coke on his nose, blade on my thigh, man I think this guy’s trying to plan my demise.”

Pairing: toxic! Megumi Fushiguro x female reader

series summary: You had a crush on Megumi for so long, you hoped you would meet him again. But now, as you stand before him, you realize that Fushiguro Megumi is not the same kid as he was at fifteen- he was taller, broader and far more handsome than ever.

And a whole lot more meaner to you.

(Based off a fic I wrote in 2021 for Megumi on my older writing blog. Honestly this theme is best viewed in dark mode but hey, what do I know 🤷🏽‍♀️)

[series warning] college/non-sorcerer AU, Dark content, nfsw, smut, 18+, aged up Megumi, fem!bodied reader, toxicity - toxic megumi, childhood crush to "lovers", situationships, heavy angst with "happy ending", smut, coercion, dubcon, noncon, mean dom! Megumi, sub!reader, misogyny, slut-shaming, depraved Megumi, mutual pining (is it really? is it??), manipulation, alcohol and drug use, gaslighting, drugging, implied baby trapping, semi-accurate potrayals of fraternities, classism

[main masterlist] [taglist link] [spotify playlist]

Chapter 1: Love at First Sight

synopsis: Being friends with the IT GIRLS as a first year has a lot of perks; new friends, a popularity boost and crossing paths constantly with your high school crush after many years apart, Megumi Fushiguro

cw: DARK CONTENT, NSFW, aged up characters (18-21 and above), classism - elitism, sexism/misogyny, unhealthy body image, physical and verbal violence, mentions of bullying and suicidal thoughts, slut shaming, objectification of the female body, parasocial relationships, gaslighting, manipulation, sex between character x character (NOT A SHIP), vague, brief mention of teenagers fooling around etc

wc: 13.5k

Chapter 2: Party Hard, F*ck Harder

synopsis: Heartbroken that Megumi hates you, you decide to attend the freshman party to get over him. And end up needing his help after getting drugged… in more ways than one.

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Chapter 3: Pattern Recognition

Synopsis: Nobara notices two things; One, you’re in love with Megumi and two, Megumi’s budding obssession with your affection.

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Chapter 4: I Don’t Do Drugs

Synopsis: Megumi realizes you would do anything for him, and decides to utilize this information to his advantage, much to Yuuji’s disappointment.

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Chapter 5: Sugar Rush

Synopsis: it’s evident you can’t live without Megumi, and so you cave in to his demands against all advice to stay away from him

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Chapter 6: S♡x Addict

Synopsis: Your grades begin to suffer due to Megumi’s insatiable urges and his inability to keep his hands to himself.

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Chapter 7: Whirlwind Situationship

Synopsis: Eventually, Megumi grows tired of you and breaks off everything, devastating you completely.

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Chapter 8: Revelation

Synopsis: You’re finally getting your life back together and start doing well in school again. Meanwhile, Megumi realizes he can’t function without you.

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Chapter 9: Relapse

Synopsis: You return his sweater to get closure But Megumi himself isn’t ready to let his own feelings for you, as twisted as they are, go

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Chapter 10: I’m not the Right one

Synopsis: Left alone to spend your fifth marriage anniversary for another year, you finally gain the courage to get divorce papers. Megumi, however, reminds you that he owns you. Permanently.

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author's note: i missed writing for fushiguro! please comments, reblogs, likes and asks are welcomed. if you are a minor, please refrain from interacting with this fic.

taglist (please turn on your mentions in 'settings' before filling the form.): @officiallyjaehyuns @haikyuusboringassmanager @ilybbg @cockonoi @Rindou24689 @short-cxke @kokoch4n3l @GenAwi @getonite @reiners-milkbiddies @gh0stgirl333 @raven-nevra @megumisdivinedogs @fushiqruo @kawaiikoalagarden @raven-nevra @ilovetwodmen @straightfromheaven @manchie55 @matchamilktea-05 @tenjikusstuff4 @Lovelyartistz @lik0

#jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen masterlist #megumi fushiguro #fushiguro megumi smut #megumi x reader smut #fushiguro megumi x reader smut #fushiguro megumi x reader #tw. dark content #divider by cafekitsune #jjk x reader

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80s-noelle · 10 months ago

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lsdln cast x porn visuals part 1 🍒

💌: hello!! you may have already seen this post but in portuguese, so i finally translated it because google/safari translators are completely shit, so i had to make a few changes ... ENJOY!

kisses, noelle 😽🫶

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

fran romero

the idea of watching a movie with your boyfriend obviously went down the drain, having you on his lap while he plays and rubs your swollen clit, your hips making involuntary movements in search of pleasure and a curious hand playing with your hard nipples. gripping fran's shoulder tightly your pussy gets wetter and wetter, you feel his heavy breathing on your neck and the hardness of his cock on your back.

link ୨♡୧: https://x.com/daddyyrough/status/1755573141139595365?s=46

agustin pardella

oh, valentine's day! what a great day to spend it with your sweetheart, doing cute things that every couple does... eating strawberries with chocolate, watching a romcom cuddled up on the sofa and all the other couple stuff. what you didn't expect was for your sweet, romantic, soft agustin to just throw you on the bed and thrust hard into your pussy. suddenly the room that was filled with laughter, was replaced by moans and the wet sound of your cunt. at the end of it all, all you could hear was the sound of skin against skin.

link ୨♡୧: https://x.com/daddyyrough/status/1757720276844855738?s=46

enzo vogrincic

how did this happen? you really don't know, maybe it was the charm that every latina has... the same charm that captured enzo in the club you were dancing. sweaty bodies, hips swaying and the horny look on your face made you end up in the situation you're in now. on the floor of a motel, spread legs, the inside of your thighs soaked while enzo's thick fingers quickly fuck your pussy, making it so wet to the point where you can hear the wetness every time the palm of his hand meets your clit.

link ୨♡୧: https://x.com/daddyyrough/status/1760187551187362144?s=46

matias recalt

you and your boyfriend have a mutual agreement, to record him fucking you so that when he's travelling around filming his movies he won't miss your warm walls squeezing around his cock so much. putting the phone on the other side of the bed, you waste no time before jumping onto his lap, bouncing on his cock while matias' hips move up to meet your movements, hands squeezing your waist, he thrusts hard while biting your lip... he knew he had to enjoy it, who knows how long he'd be away without feeling the warmth of your cunt.

link ୨♡୧: https://x.com/daddyyrough/status/1759855449950523768?s=46

esteban kukuriczka

every time the two of you had sex, esteban had the "strange" habit of gently, with his fingers, opening the swollen lips of your pussy and watching its walls contract with pleasure as his cum leaked out, every time he sees the scene his cock twitches... the image of you all silly, full of his cum makes him hard and horny.

link ୨♡୧: https://x.com/daddyyrough/status/1760179918866919468?s=46

link 2 ୨♡୧: https://x.com/iucywl/status/1723013685075935730?s=46

alfonsina carrocio

you suddenly wake up with the little wet kisses that sina gives you on your neck, you knew exactly what your beloved was doing. with a sly little voice, sina lightly squeezes one of your breasts. trailing her fingers over your sensitive nipples, she moves on to your thin underwear that you were wearing as pyjamas. with a little whisper of appreciation, she feels the dampness of your pussy through it, lightly slipping her middle finger between the seam of your lips. you, already horny and breathing heavily, arch your back and throw your ass against sina, who just takes off her clothes while sucking your lips hungrily. getting on top of you, she starts rubbing her swollen little clit against your wet pussy. holding sina's waist tightly, you moan until the orgasm comes. opening your eyes, you see her satisfied and mischievous smile...

link ୨♡୧: https://x.com/iucywl/status/1745756142406381957?s=46

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omg i hate it, my english is terrible.. my apologies!!

there’s part 2, but don't worry, i'll translate it and post it here 🤭

#francisco romero #francisco romero x reader #agustin pardella #agustin pardella x reader #enzo vogrincic #enzo vogrincic x reader #matias recalt #matias recalt x reader #esteban kukuriczka #esteban kukuriczka x reader #alfonsina carrocio #society of the snow #lsdln cast

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takes1 · 7 months ago

Note

HI I LOVE UR WRITING

can i req a fic for iwa :000 maybe reader comes w him to the gym and he can clearly see her blushing at him workin out n his body 😔 the rest can be up to u :))

iwaizumi hajime x reader mutual gym thirst

hi!!! thank you so much!! really liked this idea :) i used his timeskip interest to help with some structure here, but i hope i got enough right!

warnings. sfw-ish, thirsty info. iwa's hot bod / charged staring / mutual crushing / questionable touching / will-they-won't-they kinda vibe / oikawa being a nuisance / oikawa moving things along / athletic!reader / injured!reader / 1.4k words haikyuu collection. more here! more links. my ao3. masterlist. requests open!

You never once thought of what your school gym's layout could really do for you before this afternoon.

There was absolutely no reason to, until a certain tall, dark, and handsome brute took a liking to the power rack in front of the treadmill you were tied to for the next half-hour.

Part of your training plan required 40 monotonous minutes of incline walking- so a longer variation of the tried-and-true 12-3-30 became your new ritual after your team's practice. Shin splits weren't going to go away on their own, after all.

So, you and your defective shins were already married to this spot. When he walked his beefy ass to a spot so ideal for watching, you couldn't help but feel a little creepy.

This light dusting of shame didn't stop your eyes from wandering, though. You were too tired from a long practice and longer physical therapy to truly keep your gaze glued to the numbers on the screen.

That near-pornographic muscle-tee he wore at least twice a week was in rotation today.

It was soaked through; light blue now dark, from the cardio that he just finished outside with his partner and current spotter.

"Come ooon, you can get that up," Oikawa smirked, knowing damn well he needed to help Iwa get the bar racked.

He laughed at his friend's shaky struggle, himself even surprised when the bar slammed against the metal holds.

"Fucking prick," Iwa grumbled with very little air in his lungs.

The dark tone on his tongue raised your brow. You looked at the ceiling with a big exhale to get the thoughts out of your head.

This crush was much more manageable when it was confined to passing glances in the hall.

He was panting as he sat up. You looked back down just in time to watch him remove his useless, sticky shirt.

Sure, the hip-deep slits down the sides didn't leave so much to the imagination, but this was still so much better.

You bit the inside of your cheek and squeezed your eyes shut to keep from making any ridiculous faces, but the image of his bouncy chest and twitchy, heavy biceps were burned into your eyelids.

They had to switch out the weight between turns, so when he took the side of the rack closest to you, you were able to stare at his working back muscles without any repercussions. It was akin to crashing ocean waves between his shoulder blades. He set a plate gently onto the floor.

His skin glistened in the moody lighting. The veins in forearms were plump with effort.

"You feeling okay, (Y/n)?"

Oikawa gave an all-too-knowing grin at you when you locked eyes with him.

Heat crept up your neck- as if you needed to feel any hotter- and horribly embarrassed, you couldn't craft a response to his smartass comment.

Thankfully, Iwa glanced back at your downcast expression and scoffed at his friend.

"They're out on injury right now. Chill out, dude," Iwa came to your rescue, thankfully mistaken to the nature of his remark.

Oikawa looked frustrated that his jab didn't land the way he wanted it to.

You stuck your tongue out at him when Iwa wasn't looking and got one right back.

Now that you were under suspicion, you had more motivation to not stare at him anymore. It just wasn't worth getting found out.

This aversion to looking in their direction allowed the more lively of the two to whisper something with a smirk without you catching him.

Only five minutes remained on your screen when Oikawa climbed up onto the treadmill next to yours, despite the four empty ones further away.

An eye roll. You swiped the sweat off of your face and flicked it at him.

He didn't even get the chance to say anything snarky before Iwa noticed his absence.

"Stop being an ass," He grumbled.

"I didn't say anything!"

He wiped down of the rest of the bench, grabbed his shirt, and stood between the two treadmills. He motioned between you.

"You're being obnoxious," Iwa asserted, "Go somewhere else."

He sure as Hell wasn't happy about it, but he gave in to his friend's wishes. This would be interesting enough without him needing to interfere-- he kept a watchful, cheeky eye on both of you from across the gym.

"So, they got you doin' this," He put his hand on the side of the machine, brow furrowed in concern, "God, isn't that a bit much?"

There was no way you could speak to him without ending this. You pressed stop on your workout, thankful to be done with a good enough excuse.

You set your hands on your hips and tried to get your breathing back to normal. Your shins were burning.

"I hope not," You shrugged and wiped the sweat off of your face with the collar of your shirt.

He rested the side of his face on his slick forearm and looked you up and down.

You tensed at the motion and looked to the side.

"Can I take a look?"

A strong twitch of embarrassed confusion on your face forced him to clarify immediately:

"Your legs- I mean," He laughed.

You knew he would assist the head PT every other day for injured student athletes that came through the training room. It was a way for him to get some experience in before he went for a degree.

It just so happened that it never aligned with your schedule, so even though he knew you had become a regular, he never got to assess you.

You tried not to limp on the way across the gym.

"Jesus..." He muttered as you sat your leg onto his lap, "Yeah, that's... fucked."

The little stretching corner was otherwise unoccupied, but you couldn't help but feel like your proximity was too much. Your head was craned around to make sure there were no teachers or staff around to yell at you- but flipped back around with small yelp at his hand.

You laughed and flinched away at his cold fingers, "Thanks."

He didn't react to you.

"I mean, like..."

Iwa was completely taken by how swollen your lower legs had gotten, he wasn't even finishing his sentences. His concentration was super cute. A little concerning, but cute.

He walked you through some new stretches that the head PT didn't care to show you; the more he informed you about the nature of your pain, the less you were trusting the old fellow that you had been seeing.

He supported you as you attempted a tough stretch and quickly reassured you to not push it. You let up as he suggested, hands trembling against his forearms.

"Juuust like that, yeah," He said gently next to your head.

Your face lit up and stopped, too embarrassed to keep this going. Maybe you did prefer that old, crusty, trained professional over him.

Concerned, he ducked to look at your expression, but you quickly evaded.

"Did that hurt too bad?" He asked.

You deliberated on lying but decided against it.

When you glanced back up at him and shook your head, he had a smile on his face that you couldn't quite rationalize.

The focus on 'strengthening' your shins seemed to Iwa like it was just making the issue worse. He recommended resting as much as possible.

His touch and his attentive gaze helped you manage the discomfort you felt going through the motions. He was always waiting for your reaction, gauging how he needed to shift you based on your facial expressions.

"Let me get you some ice," He snapped a couple times, deep in thought, "I wanna try that new wrap, too--,"

He jogged off into the clinic's room and flipped on the light.

In the mirror-wall you caught a glimpse of Oikawa at the free weights. He started blowing kisses in your direction and only stopped when Iwa hurried back out.

"Y'know, I can always make some extra time to check on this after practice."

Your expression softened.

Iwa knelt down next to you. He scanned the damage carefully before sitting, and took one leg into his lap again.

"I couldn't let you do that," You sighed and seethed at the contact.

There wasn't much more room to be gentle, so you just had to endure.

He layered everything slowly, firmly but not too tight, and would take the time to fix the stretchy tape if it got twisted. The actual therapist never spent this much time on you like this.

"Well," Iwa prodded at his finished work, "You can just... give me your number, and we can work something out?"

It may have been the ice, but the chills that ran up your spine were difficult to hide.

"Sure," You smiled.

It felt like you were agreeing to something a little less medical in nature.

He helped you to a stand and supported you for a few seconds too long.

"Sweet," Brushed off his lips in a consumed sigh.

masterlist.

requests/submissions: open

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monosanimegenericzone · 2 months ago

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Hunter x Hunter: Conspiracy theory

this is a big leap and a reach and feeds my narrative satisfaction.

and it involves HEAVY troupe copium and apologist things of that nature.

you've been warned. proceed with a grain of salt.

(also gonna. put it under a break bcs this got long as hell XD)

I think the troupe was not solely responsible for the kurtan massacre and are on the Black Whale 1 to show the one responsible that they aren't going to continue to protect his clean record.

allow me to explain, starting with yorknew.

so i have had this theory knocking around in my head that the yorknew auction was meant to be a sort of finale or huge thing. because that was a big deal right, that's the world mafia they're pissing off.

AND it was weird bcs chrollo wanted everything at the auction. the troupe calls him out on that. and since we all know chrollo is a theatrical bastard, there is a meaning behind everything so this is no different.

so why does he want to declare war on the world mafia.

here's what we know.

meteor city was selling their own people to the mafia for a guarantee of safety from the black market. we don't know if these people went willingly or not but it was why the mafia didn't want to continue to pursue the troupe. the connection between meteor city and the world mafia was very important.

we know a few things changed between the troupe flashback and present day.

a) the troupe gained a reputation. until yorknew, apparently no one knew they were from meteor city.

b) the elders learned how to use nen. at the very least, we know of one counteractive nen ability that was used to protect the city's citizens from unfair indictment. there were probably more but we dont know for sure.

c) the mafia had gotten really comfortable with their connection with meteor city, now relying more on the city than the city relied on it.

chrollo was the one who most likely set up this relationship. it was his promise to set up the city as a hub for criminals so that he could personally witness and sift through the absolute scum of the earth to find sarasa's killers.

so based on all of this:

Yorknew City was meant to be the start of chrollo's grand finale to tear down the criminal infrastructure in meteor city.

but, things happened. and he got his ass beat.

POINT IS: Chrollo organizes his attacks with purpose.

.... SO WHY THE FUCK IS THIS DUMBASS TRYING TO ATTACK THE KAKIN FUCKING EMPIRE.

"attack" being an exaggeration but cmon. stealing from is the same thing as coming over and spitting in their food.

here's where the conspiracy theory comes in.

what if the kurta massacre wasn't exclusively done the troupe.

yes this is the part with the troupe apologist bullshit but hear me out. i have something interesting to share.

so at this point we know the troupe doesn't do petty theft anymore. this isn't just a "hey the kakin empire is rich. lets rob them :D" job. chrollo on a mission.

i saw this on twitter and a single post led down this downward spiral. (images are linked to the post)

so these pages stood out to me. the troupe never starts fights? that sounds stupid. sound goofy even.

but it's true.

or, phrased correctly, the troupe doesn't start fights they don't know how to finish. since chrollo is the head, they all function as his limbs, meaning they share his mentality when approaching combat: he will not take fights he can't guarantee he will win.

that being said, as shown in the pages above, they will ALWAYS pick up the gauntlet. if someone picks a fight with THEM, the entire gang will spin the block. aint no one surviving.

in the succession war arc, they were framed for the murder of a char-r member because luini was a toxic fan.

so here's the hypothetical: what if the troupe was framed for the kurta massacre?

we know their hands aren't clean. uvo, chrollo, phinks and pakunoda all recall the killing, so that's evidence they were there for it.

here's some things I don't understand about the event though.

a) the kurta were supposedly super well hidden, to the point that when kurapika was shown in vol 0/the phantom rouge, there were tribe traditions that forbade anyone that couldn't hide their eyes properly from going outside of the village. this was like. i think 1 year or so before the massacre.

b) when exactly did the eyes become relevant to body part collection? if it is believed that the troupe attacked the clan for the money that the eyes sell for, that means there must have been some already on the market. we dont get confirmation of this

c) how was a process for preserving magic eyes conceived at this time? im flabbergasted.

leaning mostly on point b, the kurta clan must have had previous victims of their scarlet eyed members getting got. which leads to point a, heightened protection of the kurtans with scarlet eyes.

but, as is anything in the hxh world, if there is something rare, there will always be a market for it.

now keep in mind what i said before: the troupe never picks up fights unless they know they can win and unless there's an ulterior motive. money doesn't matter to them, neither does infamy. at this point they're grade A bounties so yeah, neither of those things mean jack shit.

so i raise the idea that was in that twitter post: what if someone framed the spiders for the massacre and they took it in stride. that's free street cred, of course they claim ownership.

but let's go back and analyze, because who in their right mind would pick these randoms.

the kakin empire would. or someone associated with a high seat of power that can't afford to be tainted with something like genocide.

let's look at fourth prince tserreidnich.

im not saying he specifically pointed the finger at the spiders, but he was most likely the benefactor that wanted the scarlet eyes in the first place. he would stop at no means and he lets his people handle the dirty work.

he even has a damn head that is probably also kurtan.

so let's go out on a limb and say that tserreidnich ordered a party of mercenaries to track down the kurta clan so he could expand his collection. but, obviously, the group can't take the blame, so they pin it on the troupe or claim to be the troupe.

and because the troupe was wronged all of those years ago, chrollo is now aiming a full frontal assault against the kakin empire. hisoka is just a side quest. chrollo *remembers* how he was wronged.

so to recap. here's how the theory says the story goes.

the phantom troupe is in lukso province for whatever reason. probably to target the large movement of body part collectors to the region or something completely unrelated.

the 4th prince's team moves into the kurta village and starts taking the eyes. the kurtans successfully fight back and demand to know who they are. they answer, "we're the spiders"

and the kurtans, now hell bent on revenge for their fallen, seek out the troupe and pick a fight. and the troupe being the troupe, pick up the gauntlet no questions asked.

(alt. the kurtans seek out a powerful ally in the troupe to fight back against what we assume are trained human hunters and when they fail, beg to be killed as well)

chrollo at the time doesn't question the interaction. it was a gang of violent vagabonds trying to right a wrong that the troupe didn't even participate in.

it bothers him, just a little bit, that someone would try to frame the troupe for an atrocity that they didn't do. sure, it fit their narrative and added to their reputation, but it bothers him that someone out there had used their name.

but come yorknew, he's confronted with a surviving kurta. and the problem resurfaces.

he has his hands full trying to reroute the course of the yorknew heist and has to cut a lot of his plans short. he still completed his goal and started the process of severing ties between the mafia and meteor city.

but now the kurta are a problem in his life again and once he gets that damn chain out of his chest, he has two things to focus on:

a) getting away from hisoka to gather abilities

b) figuring out how to deal with kurapika

he remembers the kurta and is totally okay with shouldering the blame for their elimination. but that means that he's clearing the name of someone else for free.

and he doesn't do shit for free.

since he doesn't have to worry about meteor city immediately (the 10 dons are dead and the world mafia is in shambles), he can move onto bigger fish.

right now, his goal is to figure out the truth behind the kurtan massacre. and his search leads him to 4th prince tserriednich. a man in possession of eyes that the troupe didn't sell and way more than the 36 total that *should* be on the market.

THAT is why chrollo is picking a fight with the kakin empire. THAT is why he is on the black whale one. he's here to settle a 7 year old score, and if he can take hisoka down at the same time? good for him.

anyway thats my crazy conspiracy theory. there are some wrinkles in here that may be defied by canon reveals later in the story.

but damn would this make sense for why chrollo is on that damn boat. bcs i know he isn't stupid enough to send the ENTIRE TROUPE on a suicide mission just for hisoka.

so unless we get a reveal of something else substantial, this is what i'm working with.

#hxh #insane yap #deranged behavior #hxh conspiracy theory #phantom troupe #succession war #chrollo #idk what else to tag but i cannot stress enough that this is 70% delusion #if you read that whole thing #how are you still sane #and also thank you for listening to my yap

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felassan · 6 months ago

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Game Informer:

"A Deep Dive Into Dragon Age: The Veilguard’s Combat, Abilities, Skill Tree, And More by Wesley LeBlanc on Jun 18, 2024 at 02:10 PM If you're at all familiar with the Dragon Age series, you likely already know BioWare has experimented quite a lot with its gameplay. From Dragon Age: Origins' real-time strategy RPG approach to Dragon Age II's mostly-set-within-one-city action experience to Dragon Age: Inquisition's strategy-action mix, BioWare hasn't quite defined the franchise's combat. However, a through-line is apparent from Origins to Inquisition: BioWare seemingly wants this franchise to be action but has attempted to shift to that without abandoning its longtime fans. With Dragon Age: The Veilguard, BioWare has completed its transition from strategy to real-time action, but thanks to an optional tactical pause-and-play combat wheel that harkens back to the series' origins, I feel it's found a great (battle)ground for Dragon Age combat. Of course, it's hard to tell how Veilguard's action will hold up over what is sure to be a dozens-of-hours-long RPG, but if what I've seen so far is any indication, the studio is on to something. A Shift In Strategy"

""I think the first thing to keep in mind is that combat [...] in the franchise has been an evolution," game director Corinne Busche tells me within BioWare's Edmonton office. "Every single entry reimagines what combat is like and I would say our goal was to make sure we had a system that allowed players to feel like they actually were able to step into the world of Thedas. They're not a player observing from afar – they are inside of this world. Being this authentic world that's brought to life, the combat system needs to support that, so you are in control of every single action, every block, every dodge, every swing of your sword." Busche says players complete every swing in real-time, with particular attention paid to animation swing-through and canceling. On the topic of canceling, I watch Busche "bookmark" combos with a quick dash. With this mechanic, players can pause a combo's status with a dash to safety and continue the combo where they left off afterward. Alongside the dash, there's a parry for some classes, the ability to charge moves, and a revamped healing system that allows players to quickly use potions by pressing right on the d-pad. Busche says each character will play the same in a way, regardless of class, in that you execute light and heavy attacks with the same buttons, use abilities with the same buttons, and interact with the combo wheel in the same way. During my demo at one point, we use a sword-and-shield Warrior Qunari that hip-fires and aims their shield to throw it like Captain America while hammering down big damage with a sword. Pressing the same buttons as a mage might throw out magical ranged attacks instead of a shield. [embedded link to DA:TV gameplay reveal video] Abilities, like a Spartan-like kick from a Warrior or a Mage's firewall that deals continuous damage, add to the player's repertoire of combat options. Warriors can parry incoming attacks, staggering enemies in the process. Rogues have a larger parry window, and Mages can't parry at all but instead throw up a shield that blocks all incoming damage so long as they have the mana to sustain the shield. "That is just the baseline that allows us to get that level of immersion of, 'I'm actually in this world; I'm a part of it,'" Busche says. "But again, the abilities, the strategy, linking my companions' abilities together to perform devastating combos, that is really where the depth and the complexity comes into play." Abilities And The Skill Tree"

"[caption for image above] Warrior Rook Skill Tree This extends to companions, who, at your choosing, bring three abilities (of their five total) into combat, executed either with quick select buttons or the pause-and-play combat wheel. Every time you rank up a companion's Relationship Level, you unlock a skill point to spend specifically on that companion – this is how you unlock new combat abilities. Though companion skill trees pale in comparison to Rook's expansive tree, which features passive abilities, combat abilities, and more, as well as paths to three unique class specializations, there's still some customization here. You can find the skill tree for Rook and companions within Veilguard's start or pause menu. This menu contains pages for Veilguard's map, journal, character sheets, and a library for lore information, too. Here, you can cross-compare equipment and equip new gear for Rook and companions, build weapon loadouts, and customize your abilities and builds via the aforementioned skill tree, which looks relatively easy to understand."

"- Large circle: Class - Diamonds: Abilities - Medium circle: Major Passives and Ability Upgrades - Small hexagon: Traits - Small circle: Minor Passives and Stat Boosts You won't find minutiae here, "just real numbers," Busche says. In other words, a new unlocked trait might increase damage by 25% against armor, but that's as in-depth as the numbers get. Passive abilities unlock jump attacks and guarantee critical hit opportunities, while abilities add moves like firewall and spartan kicks to your arsenal. As you spec out this skill tree, which is 100% bespoke to each class, you'll work closer to unlocking a specialization (which doesn't take reaching the max level of 50). Every class has three specializations, each with a unique ultimate ability. Busche says BioWare's philosophy with the skill tree is "about changing the way you play, not the statistical minutiae." Companions In Combat"

"If you completely ignore companions in combat, they will attack targets, use abilities, and defeat enemies all on their own. "[Companions] are their own people, "Busche says. "They have their own behaviors, they have their own autonomy on the battlefield, they'll pick their own targets. As their plots progress, they'll learn how to use their abilities more competently, and it really feels like you're fighting alongside these realized characters in battle." Speaking to companion synergy, Busche adds, "I see all the abilities Harding has, and I see everything that Bellara is capable of. And sometimes, I'm using vulnerabilities synergistically. Maybe I'm pausing or slowing time with Bellara so that I can unleash devastating attacks with Harding, knocking down the enemy, and then me, as Rook, I'm rushing in and capitalizing on this setup they've created for me. It is a game about creating this organic sense of teamwork." Busche says there are more explicit synergies, with intentional combos where specific companions can play off each other, and you can queue up their abilities to do just that. That’s what the pause-and-play combat wheel is for in Veilguard. In this screen, which pauses the camera and pulls up a flashy combat wheel that highlights you and your companions' skills, you can choose abilities, queue them up, and strategize with synergies and combos the game recognizes, all while targeting specific enemies. Select what you want and release the wheel to watch your selections play out. Putting It All Together"

During a mission within Arlathan Forest after Veilguard's prologue, Busche utilizes Veilguard's dual-loadout mechanic. As Rook, you can create two weapon loadouts for quick switch-ups mid-combat. As a mage Rook, she uses magical attacks to add three stacks of arcane build-up to make an Arcane Bomb on a Sentinel, a mechanical set of armor possessed by a demon. If you hit the Sentinel's Arcane Bomb with a heavy attack, the enemy will take devastating damage. Once the Sentinel has an Arcane Bomb on it, Busche begins charging a heavy attack on her magical staff, then switches to magical daggers in Rook's second loadout, accessed with a quick tap of down on the d-pad to unleash some quick light attacks, then back to the staff to finish charging its attack. She then unleashes the heavy attack, and the Arcane Bomb explodes in a liquidy whirl of green magic. "I've seen [Veilguard's combat] refined over time [and] I love it," BioWare general manager Gary McKay tells me. "I love that balance of real-time fluid action, but also the ability to have the depth in the RPG, not just in terms of pause-and-play, but the depth in terms of how you bring your companions into the battlefield. What are you going to do with their skill points? What's the loadout you're going to use? Everything is about bringing Rook to the center of the battlefield, and I love it." Former Dragon Age executive producer and Veilguard consultant Mark Darrah feels Veilguard is the first game where the combat is legitimately fun. "What I see in Veilguard is a game that finally bridges the gap," he says. "Uncharitably, previous Dragon Age games got to the realm of 'combat wasn't too bad.' In this game, the combat's actually fun, but it does keep that thread that's always been there. You have the focus on Rook, on your character, but still have that control and character coming into the combat experience from the other people in your party." I get the sense from watching Busche play several hours of Veilguard that BioWare has designed a combat system that relies heavily on players extracting what they want out of it. If you want to button mash and use abilities freely when their cooldowns expire, you can probably progress fine (although on the game's easier difficulties). But if you want to strategize your combos, take advantage of elemental vulnerabilities, and min-max companions and Rook loadouts, you can do that, too, and I think you'll find Veilguard rewards that with a more enriching experience. For more about the game, including exclusive details, interviews, video features, and more, click the Dragon Age: The Veilguard hub button below."

[source]

#dragon age: the veilguard #dragon age: dreadwolf #dragon age 4 #the dread wolf rises #da4 #dragon age #bioware #video games #long post #longpost

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ms--lobotomy · 27 days ago

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@men-want-me-fish-fear-me gave me Lucius brainworms. Melt it

Summary: A hunt for a pet doesn't go as expected. Word Count: 762 Content Warnings: Smut, Pred/Prey, Lucius the Eternal, body horror, in my mind this is all consensual but I didn't specify in this fic so dubcon i guess, masc reader, public? Emperor's Children that are even worse than him. Also SMUT and potentially into DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT territory Image Credit: @squishyowl

The link in the chain snapped with a pop, and you knew it was time to run. You tripped over batteries and other such things he considered snacks, leaving marks and gashes in your bare feet. Fuck. You adjusted the small loincloth over your privates as you got back up. He was not only a Space Marine, but a gelatinous abomination and and affront to all gods but Slaanesh. You knew he knew you were free.

You opened the door, paying no mind to how loud it was. There were faces in the wall of Lucius's quarters, shrieking and yowling in pain.

"Run," one of them said.

"I'm fucking trying," you huffed under your breath as you left his quarters.

The ship was empty, eerily so. You felt the fleshy floor under your feet, and groaned as you started walking forwards. There weren't many full faces in here, thank goodness, but you felt a tooth every once in a while.

It wasn't long before you heard familiar, heavy steps. Slaaneshi mutations affected everyone in different ways; it gave Lucius fleshy hooves and made his tongue long and sandpaper-y. You shivered as you fumbled for another door, opening it with even more force than the last one.

There were the Emperor's Children, far away, but a flank was headed in your direction. You shrunk yourself back to avoid notice by them. The only thing more dangerous than Lucius was one of his brothers; in particular, any that didn't particularly like him.

You heard them picking up their pace. Shit. You looked for anything to hide in, hide behind. There was a tentacle sticking up from the floor, but in a cruel act of Slaanesh, it slipped back into the ground.

"What's over there?" one of the Emperor's Children asked.

You froze. You tried to stay still, but they bolted towards you with ungodly weapons in hand. Your eyes widened, and before you knew it, one of them grabbed you by the neck. You tensed up while he lifted you up to his face. His eyeholes glowed slightly, lighting up more as he spoke.

"Hmm..." he said, running a finger along your jaw. "Baseline."

Another one laughed. "Don't see those too often!" His helmet lit up just like his brother's.

The third one nodded. "Might be someone's pet. Be careful."

You were about to sigh with relief before the first removed his helmet. There was a horrid speaker where his mouth was supposed to be, and his eyes were two small black dots right where the bridge of his nose was supposed to be. You felt his breath? Noise? Upon your face. You shut your eyes, prepared for the worst, until a voice broke the silence.

"Hey! That's mine!"

You breathed a sigh of relief as Lucius came after you. His footsteps were rather squishy sounding, even more so than anyone's would be on this floor.

The Emperor's Children dropped you, scurrying away as he brandished his blade at them. His tongue was out, swaying behind him like a stray tentacle. He really did look like the galaxy's ugliest dog.

You tried to get back up onto your feet, but you stumbled on the fleshy ground of the ship. You felt him get closer to you, picking you up by your armpits. He looked you up and down, unhooking one hand to thumb at the bruise the first Emperor's Child left.

"I will deal with this..." he said, and you thought he was going to put you down for a second before he opened his mouth again.

"Later."

You nodded, going limp in his grasp. His green eyes surveyed you further, looking over every inch of exposed skin. He flicked the bruises and cuts on your feet, and you let out a yelp. His skin felt gelatinous on yours. It seemed he was melting as he touched you.

All of a sudden, he dropped you. You looked back at him, inching away. He chuckled.

"Go on. Are you going to run?"

You felt a lump manifest in your throat as your arms and legs failed you. You landed on a tooth near the surface of the floor as you went limp. That was going to bruise later. He let out a full on belly laugh, looming over you. He blocked out what little light there was in the hallway. He leaned down and licked your cheek with that sandpaper-y tongue.

"I'm going to fill you up with more cum than you have organs," he said, grabbing your ankle as you struggled under him.

"Pet."

Taglist: @bispecsual @justeverythingnothingelse @bleedingichorhearts @nekotaetae @historitor-bookshelf

#lucius the eternal x reader #lucius the eternal #warhammer 40k x reader #space marine x reader #emperor's children x reader #reader insert #warhammer lobotomy

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neverpathia · 12 days ago

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I'm just assigning weapons to the voices and vessels because I am a fantasy nerd like that. [WARNING: LONG ASS POST]

(alternative title: watch nevvey lose his mind over random blades and not-blades, and lie about being esoteric for who-knows-how-long minutes straight. gets exponentially both longer and worse the more you read.)

(@/phospolipid-bilayer influenced too many of these things by accident thanks to their lobotomy corporation series thing going on)

(this is also mainly for my AU, I guess)

-- -- -- -- --

Hero - basic ass yee yee sword

Hunted - a kinda primitive cross between a mace and a spear? but it's really more like claws and teeth grafted to a sharpened stick. lord of the flies core and all.

okay i can also see him using a crossbow and bolts, or perhaps tribal darts. i don't really think he'd want to approach a potential threat up close. he'd prefer to shoot from beneath the concealments of foliage instead. singular fangs attached to splintered branches, whittled to straight implements of death, of defense. i kinda like this one more to be honest.

Beast/Den - no shit sherlock she already has pre-ordered weapons. claws. fangs. hack and slash and gore and tear.

Opportunist - switchblade. one that's small and easily concealed up his sleeve. the hilt is gilded with gold and embedded with emeralds because he's flashy like that. the thing's probably also soaked with some sort of venom for added inconvenience, though the blade is probably too small and thin by itself to actually be majorly dangerous.

(someone on discord suggested that he'd use a stiletto or cinquadea hidden up his boot instead and that's a pretty valid take, fuck that's cool as shit you brilliant brilliant fella, but i'm still kinda attached to my own take lol.)

Witch/Thorn - I mean she does canonically use her claws but I feel like I wanna lean more into the magic-user aspect of her. probably a sort of wand, that's also small and easily concealed up her sleeve like oppy's knife. greatest affinity with trees and roots and grass and the like. also easily smacked in someone's face and shoved down their throat or nose if needed. probably bladed at one end too, even if it does cut her a little when she's hiding it.

side note: she's definitely going to be amazing with poisons. would be able to pinpoint every single one of them, and she knows more specimens and symptoms than even the resident para(noid)medic. why? no reason. she's just a witch.

Wild - do I even need to. nerve root strangulation???

Skeptic - I mean he's a detective, so honestly?

OH. okay. good cop, I see you. cold harsh logic in the absence of the supernatural, I see you. LET HIM HAVE GUNS. specifically, revolvers, because I wanna stay loyal to the high fantasy aesthetics we have going on. he dual wields (something about covering every eventuality, blah blah).

(sigh now i'm getting an idea for a scene with stubborn, cheated, contrarian and broken playing russian roulette with skeptic's revolvers while the peepaw detective remains oblivious and wonders where the shit his guns went.)

Prisoner/Cage - GARROTE. GARROTE WIRE. YEAHHHHH BABY, ASPHYXIATION FOR THE WIN. like. she'd be a natural with the thing, she already strangles you with chains anyway. perhaps the thing is made of thin yet heavy chain-links with hooks at the ends, kinda like the chains in cage? a bit like a surujin, perhaps? maybe spiked? at this point i'm letting rule of cool drive all this.

although to be honest i'm also slightly enjoying the image of her using clinical instruments like a scalpel. she can share that with paranoid as a side thing, i guess.

or i can also see her using a weighted flail, because prisoner. god too many options

Drowned Grey - dunks you with water balloons and a super soaker. nah I'm just kidding, but I can see her using a sort of harpoon, perhaps?

at this point my brain is veering into Off Topic Land and proposing the headcanon that prisoner goes fishing. great. no thanks.

Smitten - for all his knight in shining armour rambling and shambling and garbling and warbling, fine. sword and shield. specifically, a grand broadsword and shield, both carved with very elaborate depictions of flowers and maidens and chivalry and the like. don't ask me how he's carrying both at the same time, each with one hand. he's probably freakishly strong, he's smitten after all.

Damsel/HEA - as damsel she's probably going to rely on smitten to protect her, but i like to think she picks something up after HEA. perhaps she gets a little rapier hidden up her skirts. plain and undecorated, unlike her opulent garments. sharp despite its small size. honestly i don't even think it'd be practical to get it out of there but i might also decide to redesign post-ending HEA for the sake of this thing. i do plan on redesigning the vessels anyway.

(also it took me this long to realise that technically she does have a weapon, and not a weapon, the weapon, the dinky little knife itself resting beneath her neck- nah. fuck it.)

I also love the idea of damsel with one of those crude little fairy godmother cartoon wands that's pretty much just a rod with a star on top. the one that's in all those transparent pngs and kindergarten textbooks. would be funny. wonder if she'd know how to actually cast with it, though? well, if it makes you happy.

Burned Grey - look, i absolutely adore the image of her just throwing around a flamethrower like there's no tomorrow. but i'm staying loyal to the high fantasy aesthetic so we sure as fuck can't have that. allow me to propose... yeah actually? i have no fucking idea. i'm going to google.

and one train of research and distractions later, i have been led to the handgonne which is pretty much a medieval flamethrower-esque kinda thingy. seems a little impractical. but hey, what with burning down both LQ and herself, which is sure to cause a LOT of inconvenience, the burned grey is all about impractical.

Stubborn - fists. do i even need to explain

Adversary - fists. do i even need to explain

okay but we do know that advy sort of has claws, but we don't really see her use them, though. and i like to think that stubborn attaches blades to his knuckles for maximum impact.

but in all fairness, when they don't use their fists, i like to think that they have matching sledgehammers. big and messy and violent. heavy. bloody. they love it.

Eye of the Needle - this is another one has who pre-ordered weapons free with her hands. claws. I'm not gonna bother. she probably retains the sledgehammer from advy though. or perhaps a gigantic battleaxe? don't know. probably has an entire arsenal because of how dang bloodthirsty she is.

Broken - would smack you upside the head with a bible while wailing and weeping. not funny, nevvey.

okay, he's probably the least combat-oriented of all the voices and I kinda see him as a sort of cleric? he's likely gonna be another magic-user like witch/thorn and paranoid. I can sorta see him wielding a staff like DnD-

WAIT. ALTAR KNIFE. ALTAR KNIFE. A FUCKING ATHAME. the thing's not even intended for genuine cutting, it's just there for ritual and channeling purposes. broken, I'm looking at you. PERFECT. and it's probably set in ivory and cracking porcelain and there's a bit of gold thread wrapping around it oh fuck yeah

Tower/Apotheosis - she would tell you that she doesn't need one, because her compelling voice is already enough. however, she is a girlfailure and you should never take her word for it.

I can low-key see her using a sort of scepter. something simple yet elegant carved from ceramic, radiating divine energy. yeah that's it. I don't really know. and she wouldn't stoop so low as to use a close-range bladed weapon, or anything that really uses a lot of physical effort at all. apothy's gonna need a HUGE one though

Fury - she can literally reduce you to subatomic particles. what need does she even have for a weapon? although I am SERIOUSLY digging the idea of her using a brutal bloody terrifying spiked club. way too large and way too many spines, perhaps ivory or bone. a bit of grisly membrane coating the material; a few fleshy tendrils travelling down its length. yeah. glances warily at body horror demon lady. would.

actually i can also see her using a meat cleaver because that would be kinda cute

Paranoid - FUCK YEAH I WAS WAITING FOR THIS ONE. staff. he wields a mage's quarterstaff. no question.

he definitely uses it for a ton of healing. the 'heart lungs liver nerves' mantra as a sorcerous incantation, fuck yeah. but paranoid is also really powerful and can probably use the same staff for minor transformative or conjuring spells.

now this one's probably been engraved all over with protective runes and symbols, to the point that you can barely even tell where one stroke ends and another begins. otherwise it's quite plain, but there's an orb at the top for better channelling. sometimes he uses it in conjunction with a grimoire.

it's also really handy for whacking annoyances upside the head as required.

side note: he uses a scalpel too. but he hates close-range, if he even needs to fight at all. he prefers to let hero or cold handle it while he plays support.

Nightmare/MOC - organ failure. why would i even need to elaborate.

well apparently i felt like elaborating anyway so i think she'd use...god, actually, this one is pretty hard.

OH, HOLD ON. Nightmare with oversized scissors/shears like a horror movie doll, all guro-lolita core. huh. that might be interesting. bonus points if the scissors are comically sharp. the handles are bone porcelain, smooth yet chipped, and painted with black-and-white patterns like her mask (so that I don't stray too far from the fantasy motif, because if i do, that would just completely break the rule of cool.)

Cold - well. phospo's (absolutely amazing beautiful splendid divine) cold wields a scythe and i am very extremely tempted to steal that concept from them. however, that would be plagiarism. and i am trying to avert plagiarism.

my original idea was always for cold to have a series of throwing knives and daggers like an assassin. i kinda see cold as someone who operates on stealth, shrouding himself in the shadows just as he shrouds his emotions. so he's just. throwing these things at you from out of fucking nowhere with deadly intent and precision. and he has excellent aim.

then again, this is probably really unoriginal but fuck cares

Spectre/PatD - does. a ghost. even need. a weapon?? how would a ghost even wield a weapon????

i'm gonna steal the flail from pris because she already has her nice little garotte and give it to spectre because it seems fitting enough. plus, i'm running out of ideas. sorry spectre.

although i like to think that patd gets a few avian features like talons and feathers in her hair, thanks to the switcheroo. so she can use those talons too, i suppose.

Wraith - OH. NOW THIS ONE. SPOOKY LITTLE SCYTHE, LIKE THE GRIM REAPER. no question. no question at all.

Cheated - so i apologise in advance because i am DEFINITELY committing plagiarism here. phospo, if you don't like me using your cheated-with-a-bayonet idea then i utter my sincerest regrets but. cheated. would use a bayonet.

i won't even talk about the fact that it's cool. but he'd also get it for the sake of maximizing his chances and for its versatility and, well, the fact that it is cool...and razor would still skewer him. not to mention it's not easy to use. so he'd probably attempt, and fumble, and attempt again, and just rage quit and smash the damn thing everywhere in combat like a berserker.

and it's probably just as fucked up and rusted and tattered as he is, but he still keeps it close, out of spite more than anything.

Razor - what are you talking about, she definitely isn't going to need a weapon, it's not like she's going to stab anyone anyway, it's definitely not like she's the weapon

discord said she'd use one of those disappearing trick knives. funny. nah, i think i'm giving that to...

Contrarian - you get the disappearing trick knife. and a nice rubber mallet. and a goose.

okay jokes aside i think he'd probably dual-wield as well, with weapons that have been specifically designed to be a pain in the ass for opponents.

personally i would give him a scimitar or khopesh because 1. i am OUT of ideas and 2. he's gonna have a lot of fun deflecting with the curved blades and using them to hook the opponents' weapons, then disarm them, then throw their blades out the window. then again, giving him a blade's a pretty bad idea. he'd throw it out the window himself-

wait. it's more like him to use a weapon that's not even designed to be a weapon. but that could be literally anything.

okay nevermind, contrarian is too hard to decide for. hell, he's a literal contrarian. fuck it, i won't be giving him a fixed weapon. he'd probably swap them out every two seconds and throw them out the window when he's done.

Stranger - oh shit. all five of her identities gotta have different weapons. this is the part where i'm getting lazy so i'll just steal from minecraft and go:

nondescript - bow

gentle - pickaxe

harsh - sword

evil - axe

depressed - spade

there we go. i suppose you can say she's multi-armed.

-- -- -- -- --

man this took way longer than i thought it would. what the fuck induced me to do this for like every single voice and vessel-? oh well it was worth it, especially now that i've given myself even more drawing and writing ideas especially for adventuring and fight scenes. yay.

#slay the princess #stp #stp princess #stp voices #too many people to tag so i'll just leave it here and hope this gains traction

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heleentje · 2 years ago

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So there's a take that crops up every so often in the Breath of the Wild fandom, and it goes something like this:

Windblight Ganon is such a piece of cake! If Revali were as talented as he claimed to be, he wouldn't have been defeated by it, so clearly he's just an arrogant blowhard.

I disagree. Because while Windblight might have been relatively easy for the player to defeat, circumstances conspired against Revali in every possible way.

Strike 1: The Blight Ganons were tailor-made to defeat the Champions

While it's not stated outright, the Blights seem to be custom-made to put their respective opponents at the worst possible disadvantage. So while Link can avoid the whirlwinds on the ground, they would be very disruptive to Revali's Gale (something he's only been able to do consistently for a short while). Arrows, too, can easily get blown off course by the wind even when using a heavy bow (so can a Rito, who is presumably lighter than a Hylian).

If, on top of that, it was raining (implied by memories #16 and #17), then Revali's favoured bomb arrows would have been useless. Not a great recipe for a fight.

Strike 2: Rito don't see well in the dark

Botw is a game that doesn't tell you a lot upfront, but you can find a wealth of information in every little corner. Case in point, in Gerudo Town there's a Rito named Frita. And she has a very interesting tidbit to share if you talk to her at night.

[Image ID: A Rito named Frita in Gerudo Town says: "Us Rito... We haven't got the best night vision, to be honest."]

When the Calamity emerged, an unnatural darkness blanketed the land. A darkness that persists from its appearance all the way through Link and Zelda fleeing and their final stand at Fort Hateno, up until Zelda temporarily sealed the Calamity (memories #15, #16 and #17).

That’s without even mentioning the laser show Windblight Ganon puts on. Ever encountered a car with LED lights on a dark road? Now imagine how Revali felt.

Strike 3: Revali had to fly non-stop for hours to get to Medoh

After sinking some hours into playing botw, you probably get used to warping all across the map via the shrines. Going from Lurelin to Rito Village is a matter of seconds. And if the Sheikah had been able to unlock the Sheikah Slate fully in the past, that would have been a massive boon to the war effort.

Unfortunately, they didn't. Which means that, when Calamity Ganon emerged, all the Champions had to take the long road to their Divine Beasts.

Now what does that mean for Revali? We can hazard a pretty good guess, but we don't have to, because the art book tells us: Revali flew straight from Lanayru East Gate to Rito Village. It's hard to tell exactly how long that would have taken him, but I'm estimating that would be about 8-10 hours flying non-stop.

[Image ID: A map of Hyrule showing the presumed routes the Champions took to get to their Divine Beasts. Revali's is a straight line across Hyrule.]

Which means Revali (like the other Champions) was probably already exhausted by the time he got to Medoh.

Aaaaaand that's three strikes, he's out!

But if that's not enough for you yet, here's one more thing. Admittedly, this is less solidly canon than the previous parts, but it's conjecture that, in my opinion, is backed up by the Champions' Ballad DLC.

Strike 4: Revali lacked his best weapon and may have been injured

The artbook shows us another salient tidbit. Revali could have detoured if he wanted to, but he didn't: he flew in the straightest possible line across Hyrule Field.

Hyrule Field, better known as the center of the chaos at the time.

Can we really expect a Champion, especially a Champion who's so eager to prove himself, to not stop and at least try to help? And while trying to help, what might have happened to him?

When you fight the Blights in the illusory realm, you gain a set amount of equipment, implied to be what the Champions carried with them at the time. And with Revali, something's missing.

[Image ID: The bow inventory during the DLC fight against Windblight Ganon. It includes a Falcon Bow, Duplex Bow and Phrenic Bow.]

Where's the Great Eagle Bow?

Would Rito Champion Revali, greatest archer in known Rito history, really not be carrying his signature bow, when every other Champion carried their favoured weapon?

This, combined with his route straight across Hyrule Field, makes me suspect that he did engage the Guardians, lost his bow, and may even have gotten injured in the process.

So there you have it. Just about everything was against Revali in that fight. And while Link, and by extension the player, may have had an easy time of it, they went into it at full health and with all the advantages of the Sheikah Slate.

Meanwhile, Revali arrived at Vah Medoh after a frantic hours-long flight only to be thrown into a fight he didn't expect against an opponent tailor-made to counter his every move, while he was unable to see properly and lacked his best weapon. And he still managed to put up one hell of a fight.

#botw #revali #meta #look I didn't write my first botw fic about this very thing just to have this nonsense persist #Revali is exactly as good as he claimed to be #and the Champions were thrown into a fight that had them at a massive disadvantage #(sidenote: Urbosa doesn't have the Thunder Helm either even though it probably could have saved her)#(Presumably she didn't want to detour when they were so pressed for time and she didn't expect a fight on Vah Naboris)

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marisol-000 · 4 months ago

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Clipped Birds Don't Fly

I've decided to not take ao3 going down as a sign and post this anyways ❤

Magpie Au by @dyad-tmesis! Jekyll and Hyde are separate in this one. Everyone knows about Hyde’s wings, but very few know about Jekyll’s.

It was a day like any other when Jasper walked into Doctor Jekyll -Henry's office. Birds were singing, flowers were blooming, and Sinnet blew something up for the second time that day.

The were-boy had been hanging out in Rachel’s kitchen, dangling his legs and trying to look interested in what the day-manager was saying.

“-and that's the last time I let those two ‘help out’! I mean honestly you’d think they were children but I’d think even children would know not to use the same gloves for dishes you use to carry hazardous materials around!” she huffed, chopping some veggies with a bit too much force.

Jasper wasn't quite as sure but knew better than to disagree with someone holding a large knife.

“And on top of all the new dishes we need to buy I still need Doctor Jay to approve this week's meal plan, in case that wretch Frankenstein has any dietary restrictions, Ooh if I could get my hands on her-”

At this Jasper straightened up, his ears perking. “I could ask him if you need!”

It wasn't that he didn't like Rachel, or her stories, but it always felt awkward to be in a room with someone and not be working. Especially when they were. If she wouldn't let him help cook then he could certainly run a small errand or two! And admittedly he wouldn't mind an escape from her tirades…he still liked her though! (Not like-like, well, yes like-like but not not like-like)

She looked back, blinking. “Oh? If you're sure. You don't have to if you're tired, I know I couldn't sleep in the same room as all those creatures of yours.”

“Ha, I grew up on a farm miss Rachel, at this point I doubt I could sleep without them. And just one list won’t take long!” he begged.

She considered it for a moment, looking a bit put-out. “Hrmm. Fine, I can't say no to those puppy-dog-eyes. But you need to repeat exactly what I say, got it?”

Jasper grinned and nodded rapidly.

He walked in without knocking. A stupid mistake in hindsight. He knew better than most how important privacy could be to a person, but while juggling the list of ingredients Rachel told him and their expected costs it just slipped his mind.

To say he was startled would be an understatement.

Jasper pushed open the heavy wood door to see Edward Hyde. He'd heard all about the man from Rachel and the other lodgers. A wild and intense party guy who didn't fit well with the society's image, leading many to speculate on why Jekyll hired him in the first place.

Some speculations were a bit more… scandalous than others, while some claimed they absolutely hated each other. He didn't really believe them all, nor did he want to think about his boss that way thank-you-very-much, but it did make him curious to meet the so-called ‘spirit of London at night’.

True to the stories he had bushy straw hair and bright green eyes, and of course a small pair of golden wings sprouting from his back. Bird-like and alive.

And Henry Jekyll stood over them with the largest pair of scissors Jasper had ever seen.

For a moment time seemed to slow down, Jekyll lowered the scissors, big things made of heavy metal, to the base of one of Hyde's wings.

Jasper had never seen the wings before, (a warbler maybe? Or some kind of parrot? he felt numb), as he'd never met the man they were attached to, but he'd seen feathers lying around the society. Even been shown some Rachel had secretly held on to. And the fluffy gold feathers matched the wings before him.

But all he could see was red.

Without a thought he lunged forward snarling with a force he hadn't known he was capable of. Eyes locked on the man who saved him from being arrested, he could practically feel his fur emerging, begging his nails to grow into claws.

Nothing happened as Jekyll snapped his eyes up at the growl, just now realizing he was there. The were-boy pushed forward regardless, he was stronger than the doctor. With or without a transformation.

A shout, his vision was cut off by a blur of yellow. Real claws in the form of dark talons swiped at his face.

He clashed with the man-bird-guy. Feeling a bit bad about it, he shoved him to the side to get to Jekyll. Or tried to. Edward Hyde held onto his arm like a lifeline, kicking what he could and even swiping at the boy's hair.

Jasper held off the black talons, and a gold wing that smacked him repeatedly on the head. The assistant was surprisingly strong for being so small. His hat went flying and his shaggy hair danced in his eyes in the small gusts.

Panicked arms cast out for something to grab onto. As bad as it felt to do Jasper grabbed Hyde’s other wing and pulled. The cryptozoologist knew birds’ wings were often stronger than they looked, and was experiencing it firsthand. He muttered something adjacent to an apology as he swung both himself and the avian around. Wincing at his cry of pain and cussing.

Once more throwing the man off he darts forward and lunges at the frozen doctor. Talons pull him back by his sweater to start the fight anew.

After some more tousling Jasper is pulled from the opposite direction, the were-boy yanked by his shirt collar. Away from Hyde who simply hisses and raises a wing in warning instead of following.

Jasper realized he couldn't see Jekyll behind Hyde anymore, and chanced a glance away to look behind himself. Of course, there was only one person it could be.

“How could you?!?” he howled, struggling in his grasp. He could barely believe this was happening, even if Henry didn't like Hyde, like the lodgers said, he wouldn't do something like this would he? What could the man possibly have done to deserve his wings being taken away?

“How could- what?! Mr. Kaylock I demand to know why you felt the need to attack my assistant!”

Hyde hopped back and landed in a crouch on the large desk behind him. “Yeah, I haven't even threatened you with the shovel talk yet!”

“You were trying to cut his wings off, I saw you!”

Jekyll's eyes went wide and brows creased with concern. The hand holding him fumbled and loosened. “What? I would never!”

As the boy whipped around, he paused, “Wait… you weren't?”

“Of course not! Goodness is that what you were so worked up about?” Jekyll sighed, running a hand through his brown (auburn?) locks. “Edward’s wing was snared. I was trying to untangle it.”

Jasper blinked, “You were?” For the first time he looked closely at Hyde's wing, the one that hadn't extended properly the whole fight, the one that wasn't currently being held up in a defensive position with the other.

There, wrapped tightly around the feathered appendage, was a thin wire. Jumbled up and twisted around like a cat stuck in yarn. He watched in shock for a moment as the wing twitched against the cord, pushing uncomfortably against the metal web.

The man himself looked equally as uncomfortable, and maybe a bit embarrassed.

“You see, Mr. Hyde got himself tangled in a clothing wire during his excursion, god knows how, and I was simply removing it from his wing.”

“Did not! It was a fight I tell you! With some very bad guys!” Hyde cried, waving his arms around. His free wing puffing up in protest.

Jekyll rolled his eyes, “Ah yes, a fight, my apologies.”

Jasper felt himself calming down, heart still racing but slower now. “Oh…I, yeah that makes more sense, ha… But-but wait, the scissors?”

It seemed to be Jekyll’s turn to look sheepish, “Well, I figured there was no pressing need to return it. I tried to undo it myself but it’s quite stuck on there. Not to mention Edward’s notorious for not sitting still.”

Jasper thinks about this, slowly relaxing his stance. Hyde watches him skeptically, lowering his wing in turn.

Suddenly Jasper’s shoulders slumped as low as they can, a sigh of air exiting with a whoosh. “Thank goodness. I don't know what I’d do if that were me. If I had wings and had to lose them like that. It’d be like cutting off my tail.”

Hyde snickered, “Didn’t know you cared so much about little ol’ me.”

He looked up immediately, “Of course! I mean, not you specifically, but, no one should have to lose parts of themself like that. Even if you don't like it, it's still part of you. It still IS you. And cutting it out or hiding it is like hiding part of yourself. If you got rid of your wings you wouldn't be the same you anymore.”

Something in Henry’s eyes softened.

“I must say Jasper I’m quite impressed with your resolve, it’s nice to know you wouldn't hesitate to stop someone you thought was causing harm. Even if it happened to be me!” Henry smiled, something almost like pride in his eyes.

“Ha, um, well,” Jasper blushed at the praise, rubbing the back of his head. “It’s nothing really, I…I…” Jasper froze dead, eyes wide as he realized what just happened. “I JUST TRIED TO ATTACK YOU OH MY GOSH I'M SO SORRY!!!!!!”

Later on Jasper has to embarrassedly explain what happened to Rachel, then, even more embarrassingly go back and give Henry the list XD

---

You're out of your mind if you think Rachel wouldn't throw hands with Frankenstein. Unlike the others she didn't grow up reading about and looking up to her; and if you think she's gonna stand for some ungrateful house guest punching her friend unprovoked you've got another thing coming. That being said, she wouldn't want to trigger any allergies on accident or go against any religion-related food preferences. Though mostly it’s in case it interferes w her medicine.

Fun fact the scissors Jekyll’s holding here are the ones in the sketch where he's cutting Edward's hair. They're just so big why did he use those ToT

The sketch I did that inspired all this!

#NOT angst lol #tgs #the glass scientists #the glass scientists au #tgs magpie au #magpie au #tgs jasper #tgs jekyll #tgs hyde #my art #art #my fic

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vagabond-umlaut · 2 years ago

Text

⁙ tv taught me how to feel; now real life has no appeal

jjk boys and men as k-drama boyfriend archetypes, ft. yuuji, suguru, megumi, kento, satoru and sukuna.

▸ seperate character x gn! reader headcanons and/or scenarios; 4.3k wc; use of gn! nicknames; fluff [the tooth-rotting, butterfly-inducing kind]; implied smut in case of suguru & sukuna; implied war in case of satoru.

▸ my shoulders are hurting from typing for so long, ow, ow, ow!!!! got the inspiration for this from so many posts floating on my dash and 'for you' page; though i'm pretty sure this kind of post has never been done before. ▸ also, the author [blehhh, that's me!] knows very little to almost nothing on the k-dramas quoted in the link used for reference [this], apart from what info's on the wiki page. so this piece of writing might bear similarities to the original k-drama plot; it might bear differences to it. please don't be mad or upset with me! 🥰 ▸ anyways, the title's from the song 'oh no!' by marina. neither the characters nor the image nor the divider used are mine. [the divider is by @benkeibear.] please don't plagiarize or translate or repost this. enjoy reading! ❤️

itadori yuuji as 'the above-average country guy'

[c'mon, are you really surprised?]

the day you leave the city life for the tiny town your grandpa lives in, because your mom loses her job, you think that's exactly when everything good in your life reaches its end.

the school is far and you've got to walk to it; the students are weird and kind of old-fashioned; the town is sooo boring... ugh.

or was, before you meet the grandson of one of your grandpa's old friends. itadori yuuji - or yuuji-kun, as the boy insists you call him.

studying in the same year as you, your new friend acquaintance is nothing less than an angel, a pure beam of sunshine.

from greeting everyone - even you, the titled snob of the school - with a grin so wide, it dimples his cheeks;

to assisting those needing help - be it getting your cat off the tree or sharing the pretty heavy load of notebooks you are originally tasked to carry back to the class [while ignoring your protests the entire duration];

to accompanying you to the school and back home after one off-handed remark of yours of you missing travelling with your friends...

you're more than a little surprised, why's the supposed golden boy of the town being kind and friendly with a grump like you?

however... what's more surprising than his cordial manner with you is... as you spend more time in his company, you find the way you perceive the world changing, bit by bit.

the walk to school is no longer strenuous and dreaded, thanks to yuuji's constant chatter and not-so-funny-as-silly jokes.

your classmates too seem to be more open and welcoming of you, and you find yourself smiling more and more with them and slowly getting involved in many of their shenanigans. [gosh! who the hell ever said village people are boring? they're so freaking fun!]

and guess what? even the town slowly grows brighter in your eyes.

thanks to your best friend [yes, now you accept him as so] showing you so many 'awesome' places in the town!!

the ice cream shop which supposedly sells the best ice cream in the world [the claim isn't really wrong, you guess];

the scariest haunted mansion on the far end of the town [it isn't scary; but you don't tell him that. you act scared just so yuuji'll hold your hand throughout the tour];

the tallest tree in the woods nearby, perched on a branch of which, you can get a clear view of your idyllic little town below and of the tiny twinkling stars above [you fall in love with the spot the second you experience the sheer beauty of the sights from it].

[you reckon, your feelings for your companion too solidify into 'something more' the second you tear your eyes away from the visual feast before, to the boy beside, only to find his gaze not on the scenery but on you, a soft smile in place of his usual boisterous grin — yet you don't say anything.]

[not 'cause you feel insecure or worried, he might not return your affection; but 'cause you realize yuuji does. the look on his face tells you enough... that, and the way he silently asks for permission, shy gaze darting between your eyes and lips – a permission you're all too eager to grant with a nod and a meek smile of your own.]

geto suguru as 'the k-pop star'

attractiveness = 100. singing skills = 100. attitude = 0.

[or, maybe, 10. the group's visual - wtf is his name? oh, yes, sukuna. that guy's getting get a solid zero in this.] [anyways–]

the first time you meet geto is when you're accompanying your elder brother, satoru to the auditions.

you're simply standing there, trying to cheer your brother up before his number is called [he might appear to be unafraid but you know your nii-chan better than that], when a smooth voice interrupts you followed by a sharp angular face appearing with even sharper eyes, glancing at you for a beat before falling on satoru.

that's the first time you meet him and that's the last time you view him in a light which isn't tinted with hatred.

you reckon it begins the evening of the party celebrating satoru's selection into the band. [it isn't a big matter; kind of small, in fact, given it's just you, your brother, your best friend shoko and satoru's new teammates - bubbly haibara, serious nanami, irritating sukuna and fucking bastard geto.]

to be more precise, it begins the moment satoru dozes off after his fifth glass of beer [you wonder, how, being your brother, he is such a lightweight] and sukuna, sensing the sliver of opportunity, starts flirting with you — a situation, annoying, yes, but one you're more than capable of handling — if only not for that long-haired bastard 'new best friend' of your brother.

the said asshole strolls in with a condenscending smirk, saying how one must never go for someone like you, so plain and boring.

now, generally, you don't let other's opinions of you get to yourself, but when it's from a guy you might've got a mild crush on... it's so infuriating, you can really feel your blood boiling within your veins.

and to your greatest chagrin, you find your blood boiling so many more times in the future, you think it's a miracle you haven't turned into a pressure cooker yet.

from an informal get-together to a launch party to an award show, geto never fails to get under your skin. sometimes, it's a concealed smirk; sometimes, a fleeting touch; sometimes, a lilting whisper - and you're left, fuming and flustered.

yet, just like everything good and bad, this hatred of yours towards the leader of your brother's band too reaches an end — yet not the way you might have expected it to be – with an apology [certainly not by you, but to you] and a clinking of two wine glasses.

it reaches an end with the two of you in a dimly-lit corridor, away from the crowd of the party, your hands grabbing on geto's coat lapels for dear life while his hands roam over your back, leaving a scorching feeling in their wake.

a thought rushes to the forefront of your mind and you break the kiss, panting. geto's brows furrow a tad from behind his mussed up hair; silencing the voice calling him cute, you ask, "so what's next? hate sex?"

a bright blush floods into his cheeks, you observe, as he opens his mouth to answer, then falters. "hate sex?" he gapes at you, "why on earth would it be hate sex?"

"'cause you and i hate each other...?" the answer leaves you, less as a statement and more as a question; you watch geto take a second to let it sink in before a chuckle erupts from him. "oh, sweetheart," he croons, placing a warm palm on your cheek, "i don't hate you. i never have. what made you-"

"you once told sukuna i'm plain and boring, and that no one should date me," you cut him off, feeling irritated again. [what the hell? is he gaslighting you??]

a short beat passes, wherein you glare up at him while he simply peers down at you, before a contrite smile flits onto his lips. voice dropping to a mere whisper, he says, "i'm sorry i made you feel that way, but i swear, that wasn't my intention. i was simply lying to get sukuna off your back. i was scared he might get you to fall in love with him, before i ever got a chance. i'm so very sorry."

this time, a long beat passes and ultimately, a loud whoosh of air leaves you.

you don't know whether it's the glimmer of sincerity in his feline eyes or your feelings for him which you've filed away for so long, which prompts you; whatever it is, you find yourself saying, "hmph, okay. that's stupid in a twisted way, but still, okay. however..."

you narrow your eyes at him.

geto blinks back at you, attentive and patient.

you let the anger melt away a bit from your expression. "don't expect me to forgive you after a couple of sorry's. i need a lot more than them to forgive you entirely."

"and a lot more, i promise to give you, oh divine being from above," geto responds with a cheeky smile and a kiss to your knuckles, "starting with some real nice loving tonight."

you beam back at him - not upset but kind of happy, for the very first time in your life, with the flutters in your chest elicited by that your smooth bastard.

fushiguro megumi as 'the supportive co-worker'

[you might've seen a grumpy x sunshine couple; but have you ever seen a grumpy-and-sunshine person? no?? well, continue reading!]

first impression: rude.

the only response the boy gives you, when you greet your cute new co-worker at the coffee shop you just joined, is a nod. no name, no 'welcome', not even a single 'hi'. just. a. small. nod. [huh?]

second impression: quiet.

you strike out your 1st impression of fushiguro megumi [thank god, name tags exist; anyways-] with your 2nd impression of him.

a week or two after you join, yuuta and maki call you into the break room after your shift ends and ask if you can decorate the room, since it's toge's birthday today. they explain they want to help you, but with the sudden rush of the customers, it's nearly impossible to leave the counter.

being the polite person you're, you obviously say yes, without even considering for a beat, just how much you might have to decorate.

and this is where you form your second impression of megumi.

ten minutes might have passed since you started working, before the boy strolls into the room, the ever-present frown on his face, gives the room one long look and joins in decorating, wordlessly.

you're astonished, to say the least; yet you don't breathe a word in return.

some help is better than no help, and if we're being honest here, you're more than a bit pissed at the boy.

thus, this is the way the two of you continue working, silently, and before long, you find your work done, the room prettily decorated.

a smile on your face, you twist – to find megumi hurrying out the room, soon followed by your other two co-workers entering it, confusion etched on their faces.

"megumi didn't leave for his baseball practice yet?" yuuta inquires, gaze darting from the door to you. your brows furrow. "baseball?"

"yeah," maki hums, "the kid's got some important match tomorrow morning, because of which we did not even consider asking him for help. plus, with how reluctant he always is in these matters..."

"the boy always makes an excuse to worm his way out of these parties and stuff," finsihing for her with a chuckle, yuuta throws you a curious look. "did you ask him for help?"

"nope!" comes the instant reply from you. the two colleagues share a knowing smile between them, you observe - however, before you get a second to process it, both of them sling an arm around your shoulders and thanking you for your efforts, drag you to the front of the now-empty coffee shop, where you see nobara and yuuji enter, carrying a large rectangular box.

a call of your name breaks your focus on the bickering duo and you turn to find yuuta smiling down at you. "megumi is actually a sweet boy, deep inside. give him a chance, please."

"more like a sweet coward," maki pipes in from the other side with a grin, "but, yeah, giving him a chance won't hurt you."

at that point of time, you wonder why the fuck your two seniors are blabbering this nonsense to you — yet now...

after weeks during which you silently watch the boy open up to you, first with a smile to you greeting him [you initially don't want to talk to him, but something the other two said leaves a mark and you find yourself treating him the same way you treat others]...

... which slowly grows into a smile and a question on your day, which grows into a smile, a question and lessons for the bumbling newbie you, on the ins-and-outs of working in a café, often paired with a pretty long, refreshing conversation...

... which slowly but steadily furthers beyond the confines of the coffee shop and your shared working hours...

..into now, the present moment, where you find megumi dressed to a tee, a shy smile on his lips and a lovely bouquet of roses in his hands, waiting to take you out on your first date—

yeah, now you realize why they were 'blabbering' to you that day, something you'll always be thankful to yuuta and maki for.

nanami kento as 'the hardworking entrepreneur'

your ken-chan has always been the best in your eyes.

the best in studies, the best in sports, the best neighbour, the best friend to you – one you're desperate to stay in touch with when you shift abroad for your higher studies.

time, however, is unforgiving and despite your wish, the weekly-thrice phone calls and emails dwindle down to weekly-once, then monthly-once, then to customary e-mails on special occasions like birthdays.

so, imagine your surprise [and joy, obviously] when one morning - a good eight years since you left for the states and a good month since you returned home - you open your laptop to find an e-mail from a nanami kento waiting in your inbox, the subject being 'let's meet up? :)'.

meet him, you do – except for the fact your ken-chan is no longer your ken-chan, yet is so much your ken-chan. [confusing, isn't it? you too feel really confused on meeting him after ages.]

the cute boy you knew has grown into a fine man - more than fine, if you're speaking the truth, given the way his facial features are sharper, shoulders broader, voice deeper – but with the same old personality as in high school.

frowning, solemn, no-nonsense – just, this time, your friend isn't discussing the science project but an idea to start a new company.

with him. the two of you. right from scratch.

you reckon you've never said 'yes' faster in your life!

and how can you not actually?

your ken-chan's genius has always awed you... and now that you're getting an opportunity to view it in all its glory, again, after so many years - how on earth can you not agree in an instant?

within a pretty short time [wow, efficient!], your company is set up and good to go; and you begin to witness a... not-really-new but... let's say, a better side of your friend.

kento has always been extremely sincere and hard-working since your school days together; yet now, as you watch him do overtime, day after day after day – inspite of his claimed vehement hatred for it – you realize the intensity of his dedication towards his work.

then, add to that, his communication skills.

utterly flawless.

you've worked with many amazing companies before and you're being unbiased here [no joke] but this man's got some insane skills in communication.

be it securing a deal with the clients or addressing a problem with the employees, there's nothing kento can't handle in perfect poise.

however, what steals the show for you, is neither of these but your ken-chan's golden heart.

the company goes through more than its fair share of troubles – yet, you don't see him, not even once, compromise with any ideals or ethics of his. be it with the clients, or with the employees, or with you - his company's co-founder whom he agrees to give a respectable exit, with a decent pay, when the company is passing a particularly rough patch – he never deviates an inch from his moral code.

needless to say, you deny his request firmly in an instant.

a decision you know you'll always be proud of – not for the fact the company is now one of the largest in the country and making huge profits regularly; it was a given the company will be successful with kento at it's head [the man says you deserve the equal amount of credit as him, but being who you are, you're wont to shush him; anyways-]

– but because you will never have forgiven yourself for abandoning an angel-like person like him in his time of need; something you deem kento never deserves after years of being a wonderful friend to you.

though... now, as you watch him approach you with a tiny smile and two bags of take-out for a late dinner [meetings, ugh]... you can't help but hope he'll become a friend plus someone else to you in the future...

'cause, after all, your ken-chan has always been the best in your eyes.

the best in studies, the best in sports, the best neighbour, the best friend, the best colleague - and the best person ever, you know you can entrust your heart to.

gojo satoru as 'the brave soldier'

[*sigh* where should i even begin...]

the first meeting the two of you have is less than ideal.

it's less of a meeting and more of a crash, to be honest — and i ain't even being metaphorical here.

you're on your morning jog for the day, smiling and listening to the song you're currently obsessed with, when out of thin air, a bicycle appears and comes careening down the slope you're at the base of, right into you — not giving you the time to react, or at the very least, process what the fuck just happened.

the deities above must have been pleased with you that day, you guess, 'cause you're discharged from the hospital with merely a wrist sprain and a few scratches on your arms and legs.

though... you reckon they must have been harbouring a grudge on you too... for if they aren't, why is the cause behind your injury such an annoying, obstinate, dumb manchild, hm?

a sigh leaves you, the umpteenth time in the last hour, as you limp back to your home. the whining from the broken bicycle beside you doesn't stop one bit.

"c'mon, sweetheart-" "don't call me that-" "fine, c'mon, babe-" "ew, don't call me that either-" "ooh, playing hard to get, are-" "fuck off!"

reaching an abrupt stop, you whirl on your feet, face contorted in a furious scowl. the stranger takes a step back from you, shrinking; you know you must school your features a bit, this is a public place for heaven's sake—

utterly uncaring, you begin, "listen, mister. i've been telling you for a good half an hour, from the hospital till now, that i don't wanna go on an apology date with you. it was an accident for fuck's sake," your voice grows louder with wilder hand gestures.

the man keeps staring at you in response, rooted to the spot. you don't even stop to breathe, "just say sorry for it and get on with your goddamn life. why the hell you ain't leaving me alone, man? don't you understand the meaning of 'no'? single word – n, o?"

a long beat passes in silence after your tirade, post which the man recedes, shrugging, with a mumbled apology and nothing more, leaving you confused and a little contrite(??).

whatever!

with time and tide and the woes and worries of your daily life, that odd little encounter slips to the back of your mind before it resurfaces, two years later, while you're posted in a foreign country.

"sweetheart!" the endearment rings through the military camp. the cameraman beside you stifles a shocked gasp; sharing a confused look with him, you send your interviewee a small smile before turning your gaze in search of the source of the noise.

the same white-haired goggles-wearing man from long before rushes tumbling down the dirt track, you watch, appalled, bringing unpleasant flashbacks to your mind, then stops, a good distance from you.

brows a tad pinched, you see him brush his bangs away from his forehead and open his mouth to speak; but another person beats him to it. you twist back to face your interviewee.

geto gives you a harmless grin. "aha! so you're the mystery person gojo here fell in love with, huh?" a series of indignant sputters and coughs sound from behind you, accompanied by giggles from next to you. you seriously consider elbowing yuuji.

the black-haired man, meanwhile, continues with a request, "hey, can you please rethink your decision of not wanting go on a date with him? please- it's just one date," he adds in a hurry when you open your mouth with a glare, his grin falling to a helpless look. you close your mouth, willing your glare to go away and return a neutral expression.

"satoru's my best friend and brother-in-arms but at times, at night especially, when he starts lamenting over how he scared you off... y'know, at those times, i just wanna kill him, frankly speaking," the man pleads guilty.

a sigh escapes you as you cast a glance at gojo, noting the poorly hidden apprehension in his eyes. yet another sigh escapes you-

"of course," yuuji's energetic voice pipes in.

you stamp his foot pretty hard; that idiot, undeterred, proceeds to rattle, "this person here too wouldn't shut up after that incident. on how one should be more polite, more considerate, more tolerant, more forgiving. even going as far as to say that one date would've been fine; it was just a date that, that poor man asked for— isn't it so?"

"really?" gojo's voice wafts over to your ears; you squeeze your eyes shut and open them, cheeks feeling awfully warm.

"yes," you grit out, pinning your alleged admirer down with a glare, which softens when you catch the spark of happiness in his eyes. you decide to relent.

"if the two of us survive this, let's go to that patisserie you were speaking of that day. how does this sound to you?"

said man rewards you a dazzling beam with a thumbs-up. "sounds like the perfect way to waltz into my heart, sweetness."

ryomen sukuna as 'the cold chaebol'

[c'mon, are you really surprised?]

utterly cold, utterly ruthless, utterly a monster – is what one might- nope! one 'will' call sukuna.

and they aren't really wrong, you muse as you watch the man in question talk business with two executives from another company, the latter looking one step away from fainting.

you muffle your expression beneath the guise of a cough, earning you two startled looks and a frown. a polite smile flits onto your lips as a soft apology leaves them, and you return to your silence–

which lasts till the second you step out of the room, accompanying the pair of men and one of them turns to you, sheer terror in his eyes.

"take this," he mumbles, pressing something into your palm; you look down to find it's a business card. forehead creasing into lines, you look back up at him.

the other man sighs. "listen, kid, that man sukuna ain't good news. before anything wrong happens, just quit this job and come to our company. we'll pay you well... okay, maybe not as well as they pay you here, but at the very least, an axe won't be hanging over your neck every minute of your working hours there."

you blink, then press the button to the elevator.

gratitude floods your expression. "thank you. i'll keep your words in mind," you say, bidding them goodbye.

the men give you a smile, then with one last petrified look at the closed doors of the ceo's room, file into the elevator and shut it in an instant, too scared to spend even a millisecond more here than what's required of them.

your secretarial smile burns away into a majestic scowl.

"again?"

you click your tongue, closing the doors you opened behind you and go and plop on the sofa. a sigh sounds from next to you, soon followed by the weight of a heavy head on your shoulder. "what do we do?"

"you're the boss here. you tell me."

sukuna makes a noise of disapproval in his throat before nestling a little closer to you. you open your arms a bit, oddly reminded of an overgrown kitten, then bite back your words. the teasing can be for later.

an annoyed grunt reaches you in response. "as the boss, i'm asking you. c'mon, tell me. what do we do?"

the answer arrives from your end within a fraction of an instant.

"we cut our ties with them, obviously," you say. "anyone who can be so insolent as to think they can steal me away from you can do just almost anything. too bold for my liking," you tsk.

"oh, you don't like someone bold, kitten?" a crimson eye opens at you, mischief shining in its depths. your nose wrinkles in distaste.

you shove him away. "firstly- ew, never call me kitten; secondly- careful, mr. ceo or people might think we're fucking."

a deep chuckle with an 'okay' are the only response sukuna gives you as he drags you close to himself and you let him; letting your thoughts too to drown you in them.

yeah, sukuna is the utterly cold, utterly ruthless, utterly monstrous person everyone makes him to be.

yet, what they overlook is that the man's got a leash, one held by the demure personal assistant always at his side–

the assistant being none other than 'you'.

the fearsome businessman's other half in every sense of the term except the fact the two of you have never shared a bed.

[though... you think... if you decide to listen to uraume's advice to get your shit together and make a move on their master – one whose gaze, you note, has been fixed on your lips for a duration too long now to be decent – you reckon the unfulfilled criterion will be fulfilled way before tomorrow.]

▸ masterlist

▸ taglist: @afortoru, @guccirosegold, @heresan, @luckimoon, @megu-meow, @nanamikentoseyebags, @pupkashi, @ritsatoru, @softsatoru, @sweetdreamssatoru, @nkogneatho, @sugies, @poe-daydreams, @sukustar. :))

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bucketsofmonsters · 5 months ago

Text

Where the Light Enters - Part 1

cw: unreliable narrator, hurt/comfort, slow burn, eventual sex, enemies to lovers, past childhood sexual assault, past sex trafficking, referenced noncon, offscreen dubcon, happy ending, the tags look scary but this is mainly a story about recovery

Cole/Female Inquisitor

word count: 4k

ao3 link

Masterlist

She’d chosen the templars.

It seemed the better option. Or at least the less vulnerable one.

Frankly, she'd barely understood what a templar was a few weeks ago. The mages seemed upset about them, but surely there were more important things than that in a war. Besides, she'd rather hide herself behind a trained militant force than these rogue witches.

She still didn’t really understand them if she was being honest. She knew enough to see that people were afraid. No matter how evil the templars may be, at least they were stable. Maybe that was enough.

She had hoped, assumed even, that Cullen would be doing this part. That she’d point at the templars on the map and he’d set off with his less than stellar army to collect them. That the man who’d been advocating to bring his old comrades into the fold would do the legwork and return with the mage killers and she’d be just that much safer.

But no. She’d pointed at the map and then been sent off. They hadn’t even given her time to complain.

Not that she would’ve. It would have ruined her perfectly crafted image of the sweet doe-eyed girl that ensured they wouldn’t throw her to the wolves. The one that changed her from a tool to a manipulable, scared girl.

She was fine with being manipulated. So long as they thought she was weak-willed, there was no reason to hurt her. She just had to ensure that whatever was best for her was the path of least resistance for them.

Besides, it wasn’t like she wasn’t returning the favor. The little notebook buried deep under her floorboards ran through the easiest way to get to all of them. Not to endear her to them, just to make her safe. She’d foster pity, camaraderie, desire, whatever would keep her in their good graces for the longest.

She was always harmless. That was the one thing she had to be. Harmless above all else. Any sign of competency turned to threat under anything but the softest light.

And yet they’d sent her fragile, bumbling self off to the templars to secure themselves some allies. Josephine had insisted she wouldn’t have to do anything, that she just had to show up while the actual soldiers being sent alongside her would do the heavy lifting.

Iron Bull had promised much the same, posturing as he normally did. She almost always took him with her these days. He was a beast of a man who threw his weight around like it was nothing, more than happy to take blows for her. And even more importantly, he was growing incredibly fond of her, the kind of ally she needed.

Their actual leader, the one who made the real decisions, was Cassandra. Cassandra was disinterested in coddling her, more focused on gathering troops than on the strange girl who’d inexplicably been shoved towards leadership because of an ability she’d been given by some higher power.

Solas, the mage she’d been forced to take with her, was too busy huffing and puffing about prioritizing templars over mages. She thought about snapping at the elf, at insisting that maybe the mages should have been an organized militaristic force if they wanted to be prioritized in this fight.

Instead, she rolled over like she always did, playing afraid until he stormed off, clearly uncomfortable with the tremor in her voice as she swore she was just trying to get the strongest possible troops so no one else would get hurt.

Good. Let him be uncomfortable. She had never liked him much anyways.

But even so, when they arrived at the templar camp she kept herself wedged firmly between Solas and Iron Bull, as far away from the leader of the templars, the Lord Seeker she was pretty sure he was called, as she could.

She still didn’t fully understand who he was, couldn’t make sense of what he was doing here or why she was meant to care about him. In her defense, she hadn’t expected to be forced to come along.

Despite her disinterest in him, despite her safe position, despite the way Bull attempted to lead the conflict, when something snapped in the Lord Seeker and he lunged forwards, he lunged at her.

The world lurched under her feet and it felt like it had the last time, when she'd been pulled through the fade to this awful place and given the strange power that stuck her heading an army. It made her reel in her skin, her muscles and sinews feeling like they were being tugged along faster than she could keep up with, her mind stretching impossibly thin as it did.

And then she was alone. Her warriors and mages were gone, no Bull or Cassandra or Solas to keep her safe.

Then this Lord Seeker appeared once more, and she suspected that even if she had listened when they’d told her all about the templars and their plight, she would have no better of an idea who this Lord Seeker was.

This idea was only reinforced when the Lord Seeker began to morph, turning into eerie, hollow puppets of her now absent companions, cycling through her advisors as well.

She allowed herself the freedom to not perform innocence for these poor mockeries of her cohorts. It seemed probable that this ‘Lord Seeker�� was a demon and as such, unlikely to respond to her usual fawning.

So instead she got on with things, turning away from the creature that had just decided to morph itself into the face that she tried to avoid seeing in the mirror, and began moving forwards in this strange new space.

The exploration was slow, the terrain littered with traps. The demon seemed frustrated with her persistent refusal to listen to it menace her.

The rooms revealed little. Some had puppetted versions of the members of the Inquisition, acting out some situation or another. She decided not to devote her attention to it. It seemed to be intended to display what might happen should she die here and to be frank, she couldn’t care less. She would be dead after all. If Cullen ended up in a jail cell after she died, so be it. It would serve him right for forcing her to come here anyway.

She explored another room, empty and strange, not sure what she was looking for. It wasn’t like she could just find a way out, she knew she was somewhere incorporeal and beyond things like exit doors. Maybe it was the fade, maybe she was in her own mind, maybe it was this demon’s territory. She didn’t much care, unless figuring it out led her to an exit any faster.

And then, as she drowned herself in hopelessness and melancholy, a voice sounded from behind her.

“You.”

The voice didn’t sound harsh nor antagonistic, a far cry from what she’d heard from the demon’s many faces. It was soft, almost curious in its tone.

She turned around with wide eyes, forcing her face back into the soft façade she’d been free of whilst only under the scrutiny of the demon.

“Thank god I found someone,” she gasped out, hoping she wasn’t laying it on too thick. “I thought I was all alone in here.”

A young man stood before her. She tried to take him in but it was difficult to due to the frankly absurd hat he was wearing. It covered most of his face, obscuring him from her, the shaggy ends of blonde hair and a stern looking mouth barely peeking out from under it.

He also, fairly notably, was hanging from the ceiling, which did not help with the matter of the oversized brim of his well-worn hat blocking her view.

He spoke once more, in that same gentle, inquisitive tone. It was off putting in a way it shouldn’t have been, its softness not quite managing to shield it from that. “It's not the same. Soft words, hard thoughts. You hate me. People do that but you think I’m human and you hate me anyway. Besides it, because of it. It’s hard to see, hard to understand, covered more and more, shying away from the light. The light brings eyes and the eyes bring hurt.”

“Are you inside my head?” Her tone was laced with a spite she rarely allowed to see the light of day.

He looked around. “We’re both inside your head. You’ve guessed that already.”

She shook her head. “Not here, not this place. You, what you’re saying, those are my thoughts. You’re stealing them from me.”

“Not stealing. Just seeing. Hearing.” He paused for a moment, and then said with a decisiveness she’d yet to hear from him. “You’re a bad person.”

“What are you doing in here?” she asked, brushing right past his statements, desperately searching for a way out of this. As much as she hated it, this weird creature that she’d found lingering in her mind was probably her best chance of escape. At least he didn’t seem intent on killing her.

“I grabbed onto you, when you were pulled through the fade. I wanted to go help, but getting out is hard. You made it easy but part of me is stuck up here now. You could help. If you go back I can follow you then too.”

Great, so she’d picked up some sort of mind-reading monster in the fade. She was tempted for a second to take her chances with the demon but she wasn’t stupid. She couldn’t get out on her own, and he clearly knew something.

“What are you?” she asked, at least wanting to know what she was dealing with before she threw her life into his hands.

“I’m Cole. What are you?”

That earned a ghost of a laugh from her, the short huff of air barely noticeable. Not that it mattered, Cole could probably feel it as she did. “I’m Rosemary.”

“You’re wrong,” he said, suddenly behind her, standing on the same floor she was on.

“About what? My name?”

“Wandering, alone, unnamed, searching for something soft on the tongue. Rosemary made people see the ghost, not the person. Rosemary earned gentle hands. What are you?”

This was spiraling out of control faster than she could figure out how to manage it. “Can we focus on getting out of here?” she asked. “Can’t you interrogate me when there’s no imminent threat on our lives?”

Then he breathed a word out like he couldn’t decide if it was a prayer or a curse, like it was a horrible truth that had just occurred to him. “Britches.”

Her head snapped towards him, a tension she’d long since trained out of herself rearing its ugly head. “Where did you hear that?”

“You told me. It echoes in your head, the closest thing to you that there is. It’s so far, fleeting, fading. But it’s almost you.”

“We need to leave,” she practically pleaded with him. “Can we please just get out of here?”

“I’ve never heard someone who wasn’t a who before. Where did it go?”

“I promise I’ll answer all your questions when we get out. Please, we need to go.” She wasn’t above begging. There was very little she was above, in all honesty.

His head tilted once more, as if considering asking about that thought, before deciding the promise of honesty in the future was worth more.

“It wants your face,” he declared. “It would hurt more than you ever could, claw the people apart instead of just holding. You want to leave. I can help.”

“You can get me out of here?”

He didn’t even bother to nod, just continued speaking in his strange little riddles. “You need to make it more. Right now it’s just a few. The further you go, the further it stretches.”

“Why would I want to make it bigger?”

“The smaller it is, the closer together the power. You have to stretch it thin.”

Right, so she just needed to keep moving and eventually something in this seemingly endless demon would snap.

She didn’t need him for that, she could travel on her own.

His head tilted as the thought passed through her head. “We’re in you already. If you leave me behind, I stay. You want me to go so you can’t leave me.”

He was right. As much as she didn’t want to travel with this weird creature, leaving him festering inside her head seemed infinitely worse.

“Alright then Cole, we’d better start walking.”

He nodded but did not move. “We will need to fight.”

“You will need to fight. There’s not much I can do.”

“No. You don’t fight, you move softer. Sneaking, slipping, stealing. You only have to roll over if you get caught.”

“I wish you’d stop doing that,” she said, and her voice was instinctually softer. He paid her no regard.

“I can be quiet. We can move softly together.”

She hoped the creature actually understood what it was saying, that it could be as stealthy as it promised. Or at least hoped that it could fight.

He still didn’t move and she wondered if he was waiting for her to go first.

She turned and took a few steps out the door, hearing no footsteps sound behind her.

When she turned, Cole was nowhere to be found.

A voice came from right behind her, outside of the doorway. “Should we not leave?”

She whipped around and glared at him. He didn’t seem to react to the look at all.

To be fair, she wasn’t very intimidating. She had little practice at being menacing and she most certainly was not a natural.

Emboldened by the fact that he did not seem to need to move to follow her, she set out, walking out the door, blowing right past him.

A scream sounded from her left and Cole said, “Keep going straight. It wants you to wind around and around and around so it doesn’t have to stretch.”

His voice echoed and she wasn’t sure if it was an audible noise or not. She turned to where it felt like it had come from and there he was, walking alongside her.

The sound of her footsteps remained the only ones in the hall as the two of them walked.

“We should move quietly,” she said.

He looked around as he moved. “Envy can’t hear me. It doesn't know I’m here. You wouldn’t have either.”

“If not for safety then maybe you should be quiet for my own sanity.”

“You’re not going insane,” he declared. “You are frustrated.”

“You don’t seem to mind.”

“No,” he said. “You can be frustrated if you’d like.”

“No,” she informed him, although she imagined he knew already. “I would not like.”

She turned to look at him and saw a glimpse of his eyes under his hat, a little wrinkle formed between them. “Then you should stop.”

“You first,” she huffed.

“The Iron Bull is out there,” he said, undeterred by her clear irritation. “He isn’t bad but he brings hurt anyway.”

She decided to try a more direct approach. “Can you shut up?”

“If you let them bite, then it doesn’t count. It only hurts if they take it, if you allow it it's still yours.”

She stopped with a jolt, whipping around to scold him. “If you can see everything in my head, why do you keep talking? You know what’s up there and I know what's up there so what exactly are we achieving?”

“I have thoughts too,” he said, almost wistfully.

“Really? I have yet to hear them. You instead seem intent on airing every thought I’ve ever had as obtusely as you can.”

“It’s hard. Your thoughts are so loud. You’re very angry.”

She huffed as she stormed onwards. “Wouldn’t you be?”

“I don’t know. I think the hurt would make me help. It just makes you want to dig your claws in and hold.”

“Fucking irritating little creature, that’s what you are. I’ll be glad when I get out of this and I never have to see you again. Then you can stew on my rotten thoughts as long as you’d like.”

His head cocked to the side. “You’re not convinced we’re inside you. You still hope this could be the fade. You think I may belong here, that I might stay.”

“Frankly, I don’t care where you go. I know you’re not staying with me though.”

“We’re tethered.”

She rolled her eyes. “Whatever. You can see in my head, right? Do you really think they’re going to believe a demon over me? You’ll be killed in a heartbeat. Which is fine by me, no skin off my back.”

“A bad person,” he muttered to himself, hands flexing and unflexing slowly, rhythmically as he spoke. She wasn’t sure if he even knew he was doing it.

He went silent as they heard the shouting of troops. Cole faded away and she took to the shadows.

If this really was her mind, which she was not ready to wholeheartedly believe on the word of some creature, then she had no idea how stealth worked here. Was it really as simple as being quiet and hiding away? Surely in this space that the demon allegedly created, it could sense where she was.

And yet she watched soldiers run in front of her, looking desperately for someone to fight as she slunk further into the artificial landscape.

Cole made himself scarce from there on out, occasionally warning her with that strange, disembodied voice to turn now or to avoid the room ahead, although never in such clear terms.

Eventually, she realized where she’d ended up. She was where she’d begun, where the Lord Seeker, or perhaps the envy demon, had lunged at her past her several bodyguards, most of which were standing protectively in front of her.

It wanted her. She wasn’t sure why. Maybe because of her perceived position of power. Maybe because of whatever this ability was that the fade had given her seemingly at random when she’d been pulled here.

It didn’t really matter, at the end of the day. She just needed to get out.

And at the top of all those staircases was a dead end where she had been attacked.

She looked around as the sound of battle-ready troops got louder.

“Cole,” she hissed. “Where do I go?”

His voice sounded from above and she looked up to find him in the palm of a massive statue.

“You remember it wrong. The statues don’t have faces here. You didn’t care to look.”

“I still don’t. We have more important things to be worrying about than what some weird statues look like.”

“It should end where it began. You must escape in the center.”

She made the mistake of turning her head, of looking nervously towards the false templars that resided down the stairs.

When she looked back up, she was alone again.

Or at least she hoped she was, looking around nervously, checking for any signs of an aggressor.

But demons didn’t play fair.

Before she could so much as catch sight of it, the faux Lord Seeker was slamming her back into the wall, hands tight around her throat.

The face looking back at hers was the half-familiar one from the mirror once more, one she tried to avoid looking at at all costs.

It was typically unfair, she supposed. To be forced to look at an imitation of herself as she died.

She kicked and flailed, trying to break from his grasp, to get away by any means possible, but she knew it was a losing fight. She could feel the strength in its hands that far exceeded hers.

Cole’s voice sounded from right beside her. “He is afraid of you.”

She could see no sign of him out of the corner of her eye as she thrashed in the demon's hold, but she could hear him perfectly.

The fight began to drain out of her, sinking into herself as her kicks lost all their power.

And then the hands around her throat went stiff and the world folded in on itself.

She collapsed to the ground the second she saw Iron Bull in front of her, pulling the Lord Seeker away from her. She heaved in air where she sat, clutching her chest as she did, eyes beginning to water.

It wasn’t her best performance, a bit overdone. She honestly could have just reacted as she would naturally but the sudden appearance of her companions had thrown her. In her defense, it was a sudden shift and she’d been preoccupied with other things.

The strange creature with the stupid hat was nowhere to be seen. She wasn’t sure if she hoped he was still trapped back wherever they had been or not. She certainly didn’t want him lingering in her head but having a mind-reading creature roaming around would prove an ever greater problem.

Bull carried her inside as the other two talked about a demon and some transformation she hadn’t been privy to, instead caught up in her own dramatics.

He tucked her away on a chair in the corner as Solas said something, probably whining about her. Cassandra gave her a firm order to stay put and they left her inside, amidst the templars.

She stayed tucked in her corner, choking down any panic that might want to arise.

She didn’t like being alone with groups of men, let alone groups of men that she didn’t know and hadn’t built any repertoire with.

The fight was over fast. She stayed dutifully in her corner, not one to disobey orders. When it was over, Cassandra and Bull returned for her, Solas presumably off worrying about more important things than her.

Cassandra did not let Bull carry her any longer, insisting she was fine without giving her the chance to speak. She rose to her feet, despite her plan to feign weakness a little longer. She didn’t want to upset Cassandra.

Cassandra dragged her back to their control room to debrief about the mission, where she would inevitably try to pull something approximating leadership out of her once more.

It wouldn’t work. She knew any attempt to lead would upset more people than it would please.

It was safer to be weak.

Cullen was upset about something, which didn’t make sense to her considering she’d helped his precious templars first. Josephine was upset too, not that she’d ever admit it. But a liar recognizes a liar and that calm voice was as put on as it could be. Leliana was endlessly practical, so presumably she was telling her something important. She barely listened to any of it, instead focusing on clutching her uninjured stomach in faux pain, hoping that the hands that had been around her neck left bruises, despite having been in that world between worlds.

And then their typical, predictable chatter turned to something more panicked and she looked up to find Cole sitting on their table.

Her eyes shifted from an impression of someone trying to be brave about their pain to a very real panic, lurching away from him before she could think.

Swords were being drawn in the blink of an eye and she did her best to position herself behind Cullen. He was already the fastest to the draw and Cole was too dangerous to her. Hopefully, if he felt he had something to protect he would be even more likely to end this creature now, before Cole could become a problem.

“You left,” Cole said, looking straight at her, the weapons pointing at him not seeming to concern him at all.

All heads turned to her. “Rosemary?” asked Josephine hesitantly, waiting for an explanation.

“He helped me against the demon,” she said reluctantly. “But I don’t think we can trust him.”

Cole’s head cocked to the side. “Fleeting, fearful, frantic. You need me to be gone, they can’t see what I know. We both will stay.”

She prayed the others didn’t understand that as the threat it was.

Leliana glanced between the two of them and asked, “A spirit helped you?”

A spirit. It made sense, she’d apparently picked him up in the fade and he hadn’t done anything truly menacing so it was unlikely he was a demon. At least not yet. She wasn’t sure how Leliana had deduced this but she stored the information away.

She nodded. “He did. And maybe I was unfair. He was nothing but kind to me, and he saved my life. We could give him a chance.”

Cullen scoffed. “Trust him? He’s a demon and you just said we shouldn’t trust him! Now you want to set him free in the camp?”

“Wasn’t it you who said I could stand to be a little braver, Commander Cullen?” she said, sitting up a little straighter. She needed to do this, if Cole was inside her head he could get her killed. “He saved me, and I say we give him a chance.”

Cole was gone before she finished defending him, disappearing with hints of fade green in the air where he’d sat.

Josephine looked nervous but she seemed the most content with their situation, saying, “He could be a useful resource-”

Before she could so much as finish her sentence, Rosemary bolted out the door to go find the ticking bomb that had invited itself into her army.

#dai cole #cole dai #cole dragon age #dragon age cole #dragon age inquisition #dai #colemance #For my lovely loyal readers who don't play dragon age this is as beginner friendly as I can make it lol #I adore this thing I'm so excited to share it with yall #where the light enters

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