#He chose to abandon the sorcerer life for his family

[gotharchaeolgst]

now jjk officially ended, I want to thank Gege for giving Noritoshi the ending he deserves. Back with his family where he belongs to ❤️

[blitzyn]

prospect

toji fushiguro x m!reader

request: none

a/n -> sighs and explodes i need this man injected in my blood right NOW. nobody will be able to convince me that this man doesn’t have a breeding kink. sometimes i forget im writing for real people on a real platform and it jump scares me when people comment on my work. but in a good way ofc i love seeing people’s thoughts on my stuff. ANYWAYS. REQS.

wc -> 4.7k words of filth LMAO

cw -> anal fingering, anal sex, spit as lube, throat fucking, using “pussy” and “cunt” as a synonym, mild impact play, breeding kink, mirror sex, finger hooking, bondage, begging, brief gun play, when i say “little” i mean that in a condescending sorta way and not bc the reader is described to be petite and tiny, not beta read obv

"You're a tricky one, I'll give you that," is the first thing the man before you said. It'd been quite a while since the first time the two of you met in a dingy bar hidden in the sketchier parts of town. He hadn't been trying to kill you then - he was but a fellow patron eager to ruin his liver. Originally, he had a strange gut feeling about you. Like a pretty thing like you wasn't all it seemed, but he shrugged it off after a well-placed look from you offering to buy a couple more rounds.

So when he's given another job, the first thing he does is laugh. He didn't really mean it at first, but really, the irony was hilarious. The guy he nearly got to fuck was his current target: [Name] [L.Name], a rising Jujutsu Sorcerer. He obviously wasn't as strong as the esteemed Gojo Satoru or Geto Suguru, but he was advancing a little faster than many would've liked.

"Thanks. I tried," you replied, seeming much too relaxed for a man about to be assassinated. You were currently stuck on the floor with your arms tied behind your back and your legs bound together by plain, old, ordinary rope. You were a little embarrassed, truthfully, to have been caught by such a mundane trap like this.

You struggled against your restraints a bit, sighing in defeat when you only served to remind yourself just how stuck you were. "These are pretty secure," you started, giving the man before you a laidback smirk. "You experienced?"

Toji gave you a quizzical look for a moment before breaking out in an amused grin, resting his handgun against his shoulder. He definitely wasn't expecting his target to start flirting with him instead of pleading for his life like he was used to. But he'll entertain you for a while. "You could say that."

You huffed through your nose, your eyes lazily flitting around the room. You were making your way back inside the abandoned building you chose to hide in when you suddenly found yourself tied up. It took you a moment to realize you couldn't move when he appeared in front of you, but even less to recognize him as the man you almost got to sleep with. "I would've loved to have you tie me up back then, but this wasn't really what I was thinking about."

"Your phone's a real cockblock, huh?" He chuckled lightly, in an almost mocking manner from what you managed to detect in his voice. "Can't even begin to imagine how long you've had to go without gettin' laid."

You rolled your eyes like he wasn't only there to kill you and get his money. "Don't get me started. There's always something new I have to kill every fuckin' second. My boss thinks it's great training to go out whenever I can."

Right. Technically, you weren't a fully-fledged Sorcerer. You had more of a vigilante-esque vibe to you. You hadn't attended either Jujutsu High School in Tokyo or Kyoto as well, only taught by your family and experiences. Not that that really mattered anyway. You fought, you got strong, and now someone put a hit on you.

You sighed, shifting your body to a more comfortable position before tilting your head back against the wall. “This is the part where I beg for my life, right?” You questioned rhetorically, with an almost bored expression on your face before your eyes lit up with an idea. “I’m not too good at that, but I am good at begging for something else.”

Toji raised an eyebrow in intrigue, unable to fight off the grin at the obvious implication. He didn’t stop you from shamelessly checking him out, but he cut your ogle session short regardless.

“Yeah? Care to elaborate?” He made his way closer, crouching in front of you to get a better view of your face. He knew what you were asking for. He just wanted to know if you’d follow through with it.

Maybe it was the adrenaline making you bold, knowing that he could easily kill you with the pull of a trigger—or maybe it was just because he was really fucking hot. With a quick, obvious glance to his crotch (you could see the imprint of his dick through his sweatpants), you spoke clearly. “I want you to fuck me.”

He liked how forward you were, how unafraid you were to say what you wanted. He swiped his tongue over his lips and nearly laughed at how your eyes darted downwards to watch it. “You call that beggin’?” He taunted, raising his arm to press the tip of his gun against your chin to tilt your head up. “Do it right.”

A shudder ran through your body at his demand, leaving a trail of heat that settled right into your groin. You felt hyper aware of everything—of the cool metal on your skin, of the faint gunpowder scent emanating from the barrel, of your heartbeat thrumming so hard you briefly wondered if he could hear it.

“Oh, please, Mr. Fushiguro,” you whined, staring up at him through your lashes pleadingly. You tried to squeeze your thighs together as you squirmed, attempting to provide your hardening dick friction. “Please fuck me. I’ve been thinking about this whole time. I need it so much.”

“Well, aren’t you a confident little thing,” he remarked with a thoughtful hum, carefully inspecting your reactions. “But what makes you think I won’t just kill you and get my money?”

“Because you haven’t yet,” you replied with a smug undertone in your voice, like you figured him all out. Although, when he dragged his gun up towards your lips, a brief wave of fear washed down your body, settling deep in your chest.

“Really? That’s all you’re going off of?” He tilted his head, watching you through the dark curtain of hair that fell over his piercing eyes. “That’s cute.” He held his finger over the trigger, teasingly flexing it before relaxing just as fast. He found it funny how your confident facade slipped away the moment you remembered that you weren’t talking to a casual friend—that the Sorcerer Killer himself was staring you down the barrel of his gun. But, apparently, that’s what got you all hot and bothered.

“I didn’t think you’d be this desperate.” His scarred lips curled upwards in a predatory grin as he nudged the tip of his gun against your mouth, prying it open. You fought the urge to squirm when he pushed it further, jaw straining, but you tried your best to comply. “You seemed all mysterious ‘n’ unassuming back at the bar. What happened to that? Got me feelin’ like I got the wrong person with the way you’re actin’.”

You tried to shake your head while a garbled noise left your throat, but he kept you firmly in place as he pushed it as far as he could go. Even as you squinted, it was hard not to practically eyefuck him where you sat. Your watery irises trailed over the length of his arm, tracing the bulging veins that patterned over his forearm, dipping back underneath his skin before reappearing in his thick bicep. His shirt did little to hide his chest, squeezing in just the right places to render any woman jealous.

You couldn’t stop your gaze from wandering down, down towards his legs, zeroing in on the dick print he so obviously flaunted like a trophy. Your mouth watered, suddenly finding it hard to swallow. You slid your tongue over the rough metal, imagining that it was his cock stretching your eager throat wide open; imagining the salty taste of his precum, of the scent of his musk, of—

“My eyes’re up here, pretty boy,” he interrupted, pressing the gun up against your palate to snap you out of your stupor and avert your gaze. “If you’re gonna deny bein’ a slut, at least act like it.”

He pulled it out of your drooling mouth, wiping the string of saliva off on your cheek before setting it on the floor with a dull thud. Your face was messy, chest heaving up and down as you panted, expectantly waiting for him to continue like a lost puppy.

“You’re so damn easy,” he commented teasingly, reaching down to palm his cock through his pants. It throbbed under his touch, leaking precum and straining against the fabric. “If I’da known all it took for you to get all nice ‘n’ compliant f’me was a dick down your throat, I’d have my money by now.” There was a hint of honesty to his voice that you couldn’t even find in yourself to protest.

“Please…” you breathlessly whined, trying to writhe out of your binds, but it was tied too tightly around your body to free yourself. “I want it. Stop messing with me.”

“I know.” He reached down to shift you onto your knees, steadying you with a firm hand on the back of your neck. You watched him slide his free hand under his pants to pull his thick cock out, eyes fixated on the leaking tip. He wrapped it around the shaft and leisurely jerked himself off, the wet sounds of his precum sliding along the shaft mixing in with your labored breaths and his quiet groans.

Finally, after what felt like decades, he shuffled forward just enough to press himself against your lips, finding little need to nudge his way inside when you so eagerly parted them for him. You let out a pleased noise at the taste of his precum, beginning to squint and fight the urge to gag when he refused to stop until your nose was buried in his pubes. He held you there for a moment, enjoying the sight of your throat bulging to accommodate his cock.

“You’re takin’ me in so easily,” he purred, sighing in satisfaction at the feeling of your tongue tracing over a prominent vein, making him twitch in your mouth. “Is this what you do? Use your body to live a little longer? 'Cause I gotta say, whatever you're doin' is really payin' off."

You visibly preened at his praise, feeling your dick strain against the fabric of your pants. He let you move at your own pace, watching you hollow your cheeks and slide and bob your head up and down. He was thick and long and made your jaw ache in the best way, utterly infatuated with his scent, with his taste, with the way he let you go at your own pace—but you knew better. You knew that he could easily take that control away from you and fuck your face.

You kind of wished he did, honestly.

With a bit of effort, you pulled away from his cock, breathing heavily. Your voice was shaky but it was firm, determined to get what you wanted. “Fuck my throat,” you demanded, staring up at him through your lashes. He gave you an intrigued smile, clearly pleased with your eagerness to be used like a toy.

“You sure? ‘Cause I’m not stoppin’ til I cum,” he warned. He hardly gave you enough time to reply before he held the base of his cock, gently tapping the tip against your slick lips to get you to open up wide again, obviously unconcerned with your response. “But if you really insist, then who am I to say no to a pretty thing like you?”

He adjusted his stance, towering over you with both his hands atop your head. He allowed you to take a deep breath before pulling you to him just as he shoved his cock back down your throat. You were still unused to him, nearly choking at the sudden movement, feeling tears pool along your lashes. You could’ve sworn his musk was an actual aphrodisiac. It was all you could smell, filling up your nostrils to render your mind a pathetically fuzzy mess.

“Thaaaat’s it,” he drawled out, staring you down with enough heat in his eyes to practically glue you to the floor. You weren’t even sure if you’d get up and leave if he gave you the chance to. Probably not, frankly. Not with the way his strong hands so easily kept you in place, nor with how he strained your jaw—infatuated with every inch and vein and his salty precum. “Take it all, baby.”

He chuckled to himself, not bothering to hide the condescension in his voice. “But I didn’t need to tell you that, huh? Is this muscle memory takin’ over?” Despite his words, his brows were furrowed, focused on thrusting his hips, stoking the rising fire in his abdomen. His rhythmic groans were music to your ears, mixing in with your wet gags and the faint sound of his balls slapping your chin.

“Fuck,” he panted, taking one hand off to wipe your hair off of your forehead and get a look at your watery, unfocused eyes. It sent a heat down his spine that made his cock jolt at the sight of your blissed out face. “You’re so damn tight… gonna make me cum.”

“Is that what you want?” He grunted, digging his fingertips into your skin. “Y’think it’s what you deserve?” For a moment, you were worried he was going to stop. But he didn’t really, instead he kept you still, holding you at a distance to make sure you didn’t accidentally pass out. “I wanna hear you beg for it.”

You blinked your tears away and looked up at him, squinting, confused when he hadn’t let you go yet. It took you a second to piece together what he wanted of you, and felt the burn of embarrassment trickle down your spine and settle into your chest when you did. He wanted you to beg with his cock in your mouth. You were quiet, unsure how to respond without choking and coughing into next week.

“C’mon,” he persisted, his scarred lips lifting in a grin. “I know a little slut like you can do it.”

With a deep breath, you attempted to get your words out through muffled sounds that very vaguely sounded like sentences. It was humiliating—letting him use you to entertain himself like this, but it was an exhilarating feeling that made your cock twitch and throb, aching to be touched.

“Sorry, what was that?” He questioned mockingly, expression laced with faux concern. “Do you mind repeating that?”

You paused, staring up at him pleadingly, but when that didn’t seem to work, you tried again. Drool seeped out the corners of your lips, trailing down your chin. It was hard to breathe and form coherent thoughts. Your cock throbbed and ached to be touched, finding your pants to be uncomfortably suffocating.

“Was that so hard?” He questioned rhetorically as he tugged your face close again, savoring the feeling of your throat squeezing around his dick before beginning to fuck it. He groaned when he felt you run your tongue over the veins, the vibrations of your voice sending heat through his body that he eagerly chased.

He swore under his breath, panting, focused on the tightening coil in his abdomen. “Shit—I’m about to—fuck—cum.”

You moaned when you felt him still, pressing your face into his pelvis to make sure every drop of his cum went down your throat. It was difficult to swallow, letting your eyes flutter shut until he was finished. Your vision was a bit blurry when he finally decided to pull away, leaving you gasping and panting.

“I want—I need you to fuck me,” you slurred, desire flashing brightly in your eyes. Your voice was raw and hoarse and raspy, but there was no hiding your desperation. “Please. I need it so bad it fucking hurts. Please, Fushiguro.”

“I just got done cumming down your throat and you’re already askin’ for more?” He chuckled condescendingly, reaching out to swipe the pad of his thumb along your chin to gather the mix of saliva cum. He brought it to your lips, watching you wrap them around his finger and suck the fluids off his skin. “You needy whore. You’re lucky I’m not in any rush right now.”

With a swift hand, he untied the rope holding your legs together to lead you to a different spot, confident that you wouldn’t make a break for it. Not that you could nor wanted to, anyways.

The mirror before you was dusty and cracked, but it still served its purpose well. He kicked your legs apart and brought you back down to your knees, lowering himself behind you with a firm grip on the back of your neck. You nearly came on the spot when he squeezed your aching cock, hips jerking needily, but he let go in the blink of an eye to unzip your pants and bring them down far enough to expose your ass. He brought two fingers to your lips and dipped them inside your mouth with his other hand, coating them with your saliva rather haphazardly.

He swiftly brought them back down, running them over your balls and perineum teasingly, grinning at your sharp intake of breath. He slid the pads of them over your hole, just barely pushing them through to feel the resistance give way before pulling them back out.

“I swear to god, I’ll—“ you tried to threaten, only to be cut off by a whorish moan that Toji managed to tear from your lips when he shoved his fingers inside you. They pressed against your prostate, firm and unrelenting, rubbing it just the slightest bit to keep you reeling. The sudden stretch fucking burned as you clamped down on him like a vice, wincing and groaning.

“You’ll what?” He urged, eyes fixated on your face, watching every single muscle twitch, noticing the way your cock spurt a fresh stream of precum down the throbbing shaft. “C’mon, don’t get all shy on me now. What were you saying?”

He thrust his fingers in and out slowly, emphasizing the wet squelching sounds of your asshole. You could feel his breaths brushing against your heated skin, sending shivers up and down your spine that ended in your fingertips. Your knees ached and your arms were growing numb from being tied back for so long but you figured you could ignore it for a little while longer if it meant you’d get what you wanted. His dick, namely.

“I’ll—agh, fuck—I’ll…” you trailed off, hardly able to form a coherent sentence with the way he massaged your prostate so perfectly. “Just… just shut up,” you muttered finally, breathless and unfocused as you stared at the spot you connected from the reflection in the old mirror. A subtle feeling of embarrassment settled in your heaving chest when you heard the raspy sound of his chuckle.

“Is that it?” He taunted, locking eyes with you. His free hand slid upwards, teasing your nipples through your shirt to watch you squirm. “I thought you’d put up more of a fight. I’m startin’ to question whether or not you’re really some hotshot Sorcerer.”

It was hard to refute him when you looked the way you did—all messy and disheveled and desperate, hard for the man supposed to kill you. You were completely unlike yourself hardly half an hour ago, but you barely gave a shit. How could you when the hottest man you’ve ever seen was behind you, fingerfucking your eager hole? Chances like these don’t come often to you, that’s for sure.

You shivered and moaned, leaning back against his chest. Your hips practically moved on their own accord, thighs flexing to keep yourself upright as you tried to fuck yourself on his thick digits. Toji could see the way your eyes unfocused and glossed over with understimulated tears, frustrated and horribly pent-up.

He gave your prostate a quick jab, firm enough to intensify the heated coil in your belly, but too fast to savor. He wasn’t planning on giving in to you so easily as he avoided your sensitive spot, instead moving his fingers in a scissoring motion to stretch you out.

“God—stop doing that,” you pleaded. You felt like an open book, unable to stop yourself from furrowing your eyebrows in annoyance or conceal the painstakingly obvious glint of hunger in your pupil-blown irises.

“Quit whinin’ and maybe I’ll consider it,” he murmured gruffly, enraptured by the way you writhed and squirmed and looked just downright pathetic. You both knew he wouldn’t, not when all the others he’s fucked couldn’t hold a candle to your pliant little body. You knew why he was there in the first place, but still, you remained there on your knees even when he untied them.

You nearly let out a sob when he curled his fingers again, offering you the barest of touches to your prostate that sent liquid fire coursing through your veins.

“Fuck, please,” you begged, yet again. You didn’t know much of this you could take or how long it’d be until he caved. God, was it so much to ask for a man to fuck you stupid?!

“I want your cock inside me so bad, fucking me fast ‘n’ hard ‘n’ deep,” you slurred, hardly able to maintain even the barest shred of dignity. You looked into his deep, green eyes through the mirror’s reflection, hoping he’d relent.

“Yeah? Y’want me in this slutty pussy?” He purred, sliding his slick fingers out of your twitching hole to give it a sharp slap. You jolted just as a spurt of precum slid down your hard cock, leaking onto your clothed, heaving abdomen. He chuckled breathlessly as he leisurely rubbed your puffy rim with the pad of a finger. “You should’ve just said so.”

He wiped his fingers off on the back of your shirt, offering you an oblivious shrug when you glared at him through the mirror. Your knees ached when he had you lean forward a little, placing your more of your weight on the poor joints as he reached down to quickly jerk himself off before tapping the tip of his dick on your asshole one, two, three quick times.

It felt like he was splitting you apart when he finally decided to push through after spitting on your hole, groaning at the way you squeezed around him tighter than a damn virgin. It hurt like a bitch. Of course it did—you made him rush and he was using less than ideal lube, but, God, you’d be lying if you said that it didn’t feel so fucking good.

You watched him lean back a little and hold you by the ropes binding your arms together, rolling his hips experimentally, only to grind his cockhead into your prostate so deliciously you saw stars. A searing heat enveloped your body, blinding you with white that took you far too long to come down from. Opening your eyes (you didn’t even realize you closed them), you instantly spotted your twitching cock drooling cum onto the floor. Fuck. He didn’t even start and you came.

“That was so damn fast.” He couldn’t be bothered to stop the hint of a laugh from leaving his throat. With his free hand, he reached down and gave your throbbing dick a squeeze, stroking it with a tight grip to milk out the rest of your cum.

You shuddered and trembled, biting your lip to stifle your moans. He let go to stuff two of his slick fingers in your mouth, careless with how deep he forced them in. Not that you really minded as you swirled your tongue around his skin, readily cleaning it off. You locked eyes, keeping your expression firm in a weak attempt to regain even a sliver of composure when he suddenly moved, giving you a quick, harsh thrust that nearly knocked the air out of your lungs.

He shifted his fingers, curling them as they pulled on your cheek, tugging at the flesh until he forces your mouth wide open. You couldn’t stop your tongue from lolling out, jaw slack as you drooled and whined and cried every time he rammed his thick cock into your eager fuckhole. He was relentless—pounding into you fast and hard and deep, just like you begged for so prettily.

“Fuuuck,” he groaned, digging his fingertips into the flesh of your hip hard enough to leave bruises, arms flexing to yank you back as soon as he pulled out. “Your pussy’s so damn tight,” he panted, brows furrowed in focus, relishing in the sound of his hips slapping your ass and your whorish moans. “M’gonna make sure your messy little cunt remembers my cock by the time I’m finished with you.”

“Uh-huh, mhm,” you nodded, hands itching to grab onto his biceps, his back, something to ground yourself while he churned your insides to mush. It was nigh impossible to think or breathe or speak, but it felt so fucking good.

“Awh, look at yourself,” he cooed, his voice slightly jumpy as he let go of your mouth to roughly pat your cheek, forcing you out of your stupor to make you stare at your reflection. “Are you out of it already? Should I stop?” He questioned, his raspy voice laced with faux concern.

“No! N-No,” you stammered, finding it difficult to comprehend what he was saying until moments later, alerted by the word “stop”. “Don’t stop! Ohh, oh god, please don’t stop!”

You’re so, so sensitive and so full, and you can feel him losing his rhythm. His cock is heavy in your stomach and you swear through your addled brain it’s weighing you down as a trail of precum connects your heated bodies together, frothing between your thighs and his balls.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he grunted, gritting his teeth. He could feel the burning coil in his abdomen intensify with each passing second, and suddenly he’s speeding up, pistoning into you with loud and sloppy thrusts. His green eyes are locked on your swollen and puffy hole sucking him in with a vice grip, watching his cock slide in and out, in and out, over and over again until you’re cumming hard, shaking and convulsing.

“That’s it,” he growls, the sound low and deep. It went straight into your stomach, sparks lighting up under your skin as your hips jerk, unsure whether you want to endure the building overstimulation or move away. “M’gonna cum so deep inside your pretty little pussy I’ll knock you up,” he murmured in your ear, dragging a canine down your neck to clamp his teeth down on the flesh. “Y’want that? To be my breeding bitch?”

You sobbed, unable to answer, but he didn’t need one. Not when your body spoke for you.

He fucked the air out of your lungs one, two, three more times, feeling his balls tighten until he finally came, spilling his cum so deep inside you, you were sure it’d stay there for weeks. You moaned, savoring the warmth that spread through your body with each spurt of his cum that coated your velvety insides, trying to catch your breath before you had to move.

Toji sighed in satisfaction, pulling out after a few moments. He watched your fucked-out hole clench around nothing as it leaked with his seed, spreading one of your asscheeks to get a better view before giving it a final pat.

You didn’t realize he cut the ropes holding your arms behind your back until you nearly fell face-first onto the floor, catching yourself with your numb hands.

“Ow… fuck,” you cursed at the sharp stinging sensation that ran up your arms, shaking them uselessly in an attempt to restore the blood flow faster.

“You were better than I thought you’d be,” he hummed, getting up to fix his clothes. He grabbed his handgun from off the ground, holding it against his shoulder as he stared you down. “But you have three days. Make ‘em count.”

You weren’t oblivious to know that he was giving you a three-day recovery period before he began hunting you again. Even then, you couldn’t stop the shiver of excitement from running through your spine at the prospect of seeing him again.

You grinned, breathless and shaky but confident nonetheless. It was unlikely he’d fuck you once he found you, but a man could dream. "I will."

cross-posted on ao3

[thequeenofsarcaasm]

What do you think are Geto and Gojo’s greatest personality strengths and weaknesses? Why? What do you love about their dynamic?

I’ll try to make it short. (And probably fail so I apologize in advance)

1-What I adore about Gojo is how terribly human he is despite everything. That might also be his greatest weakness but only because he never truly embraced all that humanity. In a way, he denied himself the chance to be “weak” after Toji almost killed him and it only got worse after Geto (the one person who truly saw him for who he truly was) abandoned him. He “thrived” in individualism but where did that get him? Also, another weakness might be how tightly woven he is with that damn Jujutsu system . He says he wants change (and I wholeheartedly believe him) but he is the embodiment of that very system and its values.

RIP Princess. You shall be missed.

2-Now Geto! My man has many weaknesses. Whew. He lost his goddamn mind to fear and hatred, but despite that he is full of love (in a twisted way). He had that black and white vision of life that transpired in the way he interacted with others and yet he remains in a sort of grey area since he’s so complexe. The immense love he held for his family and friends was only matched by his hatred for regular folks. Remember in JJK0 when he started to tear up during his fight with Panda and Inumaki? 😭 Also, he disliked the idea of having to attack Yuuta, and yet so many other sorcerers (the people he supposedly wanted to protect) had to be sacrificed on that day. A reasonable sacrifice perhaps? Or a desire to sieve the popular further? I want to slap him (affectionate).

That man was the perfect embodiment of “my grandpa was racist as hell but he was kind to me and everyone in our circle so he will be missed.” and it makes him super compelling imo.

I’d also want to add that Geto had a sort of convoluted “selflessness” that wasn’t compatible with his job but remained a big part of his personality post defection. In reality, it was just a coping mechanism mingled with a saviour complexe. He needed an ideology to back his actions and lifestyle (contrary to Haibara or Gojo for ex) . The “protect weak people” bs made the job not only bearable but also ego stroking. Which means that once he stopped feeling good about being a hero FOR the weak (since he deemed them unworthy), he decided to become one for sorcerers and AGAINST the weak. That “us against the world” mentality was born from trauma and fear but also from arrogance and an unhealthy tendency to dichotomise(Gege cooked fr. Call Gordon Ramsey pls). I get it though. After killing the village there was no going back so I probably would’ve convinced myself it was a good idea to keep going until someone killed me or something (a task he “delegated” to his beloved). Had that massacre never happened, I’m convinced someone would have been able to slap some sense into him.

(I wish we knew more about his upbringing tho cause he was a master manipulator and a fucking hypocrite. I want to know where he acquired that skill lol.)

Btw, his greatest strength is that he was hot as f (I’m joking. Or am I?)

Final words on him: Beware of dogmatism y’all. Great men have been lost to it.

3-Now, I love the brat-brat tamer aspect of their duo sooooo much. Gojo was insufferable as a teenager (still is) but Geto was the only person he actually listened to, the person he chose to guide him. It’s funny that in Season 2 EP 1, Geto has to explain to him why Rico wants to spend some time with her friends before the merger but that two episodes later Gojo willfully extended the mission just because she pouted when it was time to go home. He clearly had a good influence on him. Moreover, I love how protective they are of each other. I’m positive Geto wanted to massacre the cult members but turned down Gojo’s suggestion because he knew Gojo would later regret killing them. Now, the thing that really makes my heart throb is how Geto always saw Gojo. While most people see him as a superhuman, a machine even (remember when Nanami said he should take on all the missions), Geto showed a level of care that was so strong that it changed him as a person. I will never not obsess over the glance Gojo threw at him when he asked him if he wasn’t too exhausted to continue the mission. That’s why he never got over that man. I mean, how could he?

It’s not exactly brief but I tried. It definitely could have been worse 😭 I deleted a few paragraphs.

Thank you for giving me the chance to ramble about my beloved wives. It’s a proof of love and I assure you that I love you too.

🫶🏾

[yatorihell]

Noragami Reread Volume 22-27

I've finally reached the end of my reread. I am reading the final chapter tonight, and I haven't seen a single spoiler for the cover nor ending. This is going to be crisp.

Vol 22

84

Nora trying to keep up with Father walking away knowing she's being abandoned

Yato realising he abandoned Yukine like yes the mommy issues are now here

Yukine partying and living it up like he did when he first got named, but now he's more self aware

Remember when Yukine started become an ayakashi and then

'Your god is not your dad' Nora projecting the abandonment but yh she's right

Nora with the 'please say my name' I hate this

Takemika is ripped fuck damn bitch

Kofuku figured out Yato's plan to kill Father

Ojkjbj Takemika spins Ebisu to divine the Sorcerer's location

Oh the seahorse he buried is called Takemika how cute

Adult Yukine vision like we didn't need the reminder he won't grow up

I WANTED TO GROW UP

Hagusa is born and its a bad time for like a year

85

Oh Father's so evil (he is hugging Yukine) and he's going to the house

Yato can't believe Yukine is stray bitch same

Nora seems to have turned a corner with Father leaving her (this lasts like 10 chapters)

'Can I even be normal again' (as of right now I have read the chapter nor been spoiled so idk!!!!)

Hiyori doesn't want to be stuck this way which is good

Nora mumbling to herself about Hiyori

Nora played pretend family because she's a good girl

Foreshadowing of Nora asking why it's easy for girls to come into the world because she never made it

Shinigami protecting Hiyori from Nora and it turns out its actually her grandpa

Grandma Iki's death and her telling Hiyori to go to the person she loves

'If you wait until he's gone it'll be too late' I hate this manga

86

Seeing grief affecting the family reminds Hiyori she has to come back

Plot to hide Nora's names revealed

God it was all a ploy to befriend yukine

Hiyori and Nora the unlikely friendship

Ebisu trying to throw salt on Kofuku to protect the economy nsnd

Old Ebisu talking to himself is so cute and sad when we know what he's been through

Oh we've reached the refrigerator I'm so sad Adachitoka you make me so sad

87

Oh they're at the old house I hate this

Yukine's been dead 35 years which was a surprise

Hiyori laying flowers on the fridge and praying

Oh he's learning who he was and the barber wouldve been his friend I'm so sad they forgot about him right when they were talking

Yukine's dad was handing out fliers to search for murdered son this plot is dastardly and I don't believe we'll get resolution because that's how the world is

Sobbing they knew there were problems and thought Yukine chose to stay

Yukine finding out his life wasn't all sunshine and not wanting to know more mood

Vol 23

88

Oh it's Yukine's grave and sister's house I'm so sad

'Even you've got one or two assholes you don't want to probe'

Yato thinking Yukine would want to kill his family

Yukine wanted the dogs to eat him that killed Suzuha hate!!!

Living Yukine encouraging his sister to live and run towards the future he wouldn't see

Father goading Yukine into finding his family and talking about giving him a proper burial I've had enough of this dude

Gunna throw up there's a beer can in the fridge

'Even now my father is still killing me'

Yukine's had his reverse Kaneki phase

Fuck offf with the flower Father you heartless bitch

Oh Yukine's gone baby boy he's Hagusa nke

Yato's face that Yukine is changed and the ending saying unprecedented agony fucking mood

89

Yukine's mother is dead reveal

'He's my hafuri'

Yato apologising and explaining immediately why he did it

Yato's hesitation to draw his sword against Yukine

We've got a catboy on our hands

Sorcerer was human and has a grave finally a plot to kill him for good

Yukine seeing his dad in Yato

Yato protecting the tree and cutting Yukine's hand because he chose that spot for Yuka to think of her brother and he's actually there

Yato laying absolutely fucked up on the grave of the boy who just did it to him

BISHAMON AWAKE

90

Oh Yukine doesn't even realise it was Yato he thought he hurt his dad

Hiyori's got a letter for Yuka oh we were dying to know what it said for ages

'You'll die you idiot' and Hiyori's face like I didn't believe it would happen

Hiyori death foreshadowing tracker: 7

Hiyori and Nora holding hands when they meet Yuka

Oh I'm so sad Yuka thinks Haruki is alive and had children Adachitoka you make me so sad

Yato not wanting to draw on Yukine because of his dad

Remember when we got that panel of Yuka and it had showed up in chapter 3 like 1p years ago the foreshadowing is insane

Yukine's possession of people is a good thing tbh but it goes too extreme

Once again the art is insane rip Adachitoka

91

Yuka has the letter ndnd

Yuka forced the divorce and the were forced to rock paper scissors to decide who would stay behind

Bishamon is kinda up I wish she did more in the final

Throwing up screaming thank you Okuninushi for blessing Yatori's plaques I can't wait to see what the effect of that is in the final chapter

Oh the return box of letters all torn up I hate this

Yukine's power just shows the good of humanity but its still flawed like humans

Ooharai begins and lasts like 25 chapters

Volume 24

92

Yato's back in the trashcan

Nora doesn't hate heaven but Yukine does because he cut it accidentally trying to save Yato logic

Father laughing about taking Yukine to the fridge he is the worst man

OK so Rekki can't cut the word interesting

'Daddy's just gunna have to take another one away from you' and trying to name Kazuma

Shocked pikachu face that Yato sold him out to Heaven

93

The expressions are really popping off

Father mentioning Yukine's dead in front if Kazuma hhfn

Yukine let Yato get away <3

'Mind full of nothing but viina just like normal'

Takemika and Ebisu the unlikely friendship to go lookinf for the grave

94

Yukine on a rager about finding his dad and Father hitting him here we gooo

'You're not allowed to have desires and wishes because that's what a god is'

Father back on his breaking Kazuma bullshit

'Kazuma's love is unphantomable like a bog'

Father neck cut tracker: 2

Adachitoka really got us with the earplugs for Kazuma a bit of common sense finally

'Yukine is mine, Hiyori will die someday, so why bother running from me'

Nora backstory

It's strange how an ayakashi could latch onto Nora before she was born

'I wanted someone who knows neither good nor evil'

Baby Yato and his ear necklace ft Sakura's tree??

Father is the delulu king he thinks Yato's putting on an act to save him

Oh the image of baby Yaboku fighting father sjbdbd

Father was this close to getting killed and then nothing

95

Takemika and Ebisu did a room of requirement finding the island tbh

Amaterasu feeling the net

'Heaven has missed things so we have to find someone to punish' logic

How did we go from Father's pinned down to back fighting

How dare Yato betray him after getting food water shelter

Oh Yukine can't look when he's told to attack Yato I hate it here

Gods are getting stuck in the net

Saving Yukine is priority over killing Father <3

Kazuma gets called Kazune and makes up a sweat song ldndb

We're so close to saving Yukine and then it gets worse

Volume 25

96

Oh the letter Yuka never got his letters and he's asking why she won't wrote back I'm so fucking miserable

AND IT LED TO HIS DEATH oh I'm so sad Adachitoka you make me so sad

Kazuma trying to fly to Yukine with Rekkis scarf sjdb

Oh yes we're getting Okuninushi fucking it up like I wished

Nora be like I'm not stupid he's trying to use me and then....

Ah now the gods are calling the shinki when they shouldn't

Oh Nora why did you have to go to him

97

Nora's just so happy to be useful again

Damn the town's really just burning

'Someone like me who's ever called her Nora doesn't have the power to call her back' hopefully Nora gets/choses a name for herself irrespective of shinkihood

Likening having a name to being given life

Fathers lost it he doesn't even want to do what he wanted he's just angry and wants to kill Amaterasu now and Nora's like no

Grave has been found and the gravekeeper family was a surprise

The Sorcerer killed someone who escaped justice and saved the gravekeeper

Lol remember when we got Father's backstory and people were trying to argue that he didn't kill the monk

I wonder if he stole the clothes off his body they're awfully similar

Nora is absolutely fucking them up go girl

98

Father used Heaven's systems to his advantage to name Nora, control ayakashi and create Yato

Father calling himself a necessary evil and Amaterasu clapping back that Yato is the necessary one

Amaterasu starts taking Nora's names

Father flashback to Yomi and Kaya revealed

Yukine stopping Amaterasu as she tries to release Chiki

Oh all the vents opening

Amaterasu can't take names made with the word

Yato's back in the fight let's gooo

99

Father does have a bit of a point to be like why do gods do this to the world

Father's finally been shot

We never really get Amaterasus story, was she reincarnated to keep young and manageable, is that just how old she grows

The living live and the dead die

Yukine's finally realised what he's done to the world

'To death do we part and in death we shall meet again' oh I'm so sad that's such a Yatori thing Adachitoka you make me so sad

Yukine's gone to Yuka oh he sees her as a young girl I'm so sad adachitoka you make me so sad

Oh this is the last time Yukine sees Hiyori before That happens I'm so sad this is awful

Their mother was absolutely spinless she just have the letters back to him and gave him money and she never heard from her son again

Oh Yukine's realised he's dead and he sees the truth and Yuka I'm so sad

Oh I'm so fucking miserable Yukine's memories and the burial and he's at the postbox and he's got the protection charm Yato and Hiyori gave him and Yato's hand reaching out and he's called him name and he's gone back to blond I'm actually so miserable this is awful

LIKE SNOW FALLING INTO YATO'S ARMS!!!!

Oh he knows he's dead I'm so fucking miserable this is the worst chapter in my opinion (so far)

Vol 26

100

Oh Hiyori can smell Yato now I'm

DID YOU BURY ME YATO

Oh I'm actually so sad this is the worst manga in the world

Kazuma still blissfully ignorant of death <3

Father's lost it again he's so mad

Bishamon shown up

Bishamon wondering where Kazuma is and that she won't forgive herself if something happened to him hsdbdb

Yat about to finish the job and Nora has to go break Kazuma

101

Oh Bishamon can feel Kazuma fading

Nora was holding back all that time hdhd

Kazuma believes he and Nora are even

It's been quite a day yeah it started with Hiyori and Nora meeting Yuka and it ends with That

Back to Father's backstory

Father saved the village from a boulder and was enshrined by the villagers who keep his grave

Takemika is just ready to destroy the grave

Oh Yuka says about visiting Haru's grave if she knows where will Hiyori even get the chance I hate this

Father I'm begging you just die Yato isn't coming back to you this wasn't a little prank

Oh Hiyori no go home

'Because I love my father'

Oh Hiyori's tail is hanging by a THREAD

Hiyori death foreshadowing tracker: 7?

102

Nora healing Hiyori's blight and sorting her body before leaving she is a good girl really

Remember when we found Hiyori couldn't go back to her body shdhf

'You're gunna be fine' my mantra until That happened in 108

Quickly flashback of baby Yato foreshadowing what's about to happen

Ebisu figuring out the gravekeeper does soul calls

Remember when we thought they were gunna kill that whole family jdbdb

Father is the queen of gaslighting himself

Father neck cut tracker: 3

The reveal that the gravekeepers family were ghosts was so good

Ebisu promising to keep going but I know that his name will never be revealed not even to us for that fourth wall content

Love how the gravekeeper just died like immediately thank you king

'I'm going to go on with them living in a world without you' please please please final chapter they get to live together (they can't <3)

Oh Yato's hand is small in Yukine's he's ready to reincarnate

103

Oh Kazuma is remembering

Oh we were so pressed that he said he could go home and he vanished but its because he's gone back to Bishamon I'm so sad

DISAPPEARING WITHOUT A TRACE WOULD BE A FITTING END FOR ME this is the worst I'm so sad this is awful I hate foreshadowing

It's just endless isn't it Father with 5000 lifelines

Back to Father's backstory ie how he got killed over rice and then rejected dkndn

Oh he made a mask that looked like her

Father likening Kaya to paradise in death

Oh I'm so fucking miserable Kazuma returns to Bishamon and asks if he's in Heaven this is peak romance

'Can you just shut up and die already' fucking mood

Father with the two lifelines like just die

Vol 27

104

We are shook that Father's original form has appeared

Poor Fujisaki's gunna feel so hungover been possessed by that musty bitch for like 16 years(?)

Oh he called Nora a dumpster baby now its personal

Oh Yomi powers we've got the final form and new nation

Shiiho calling Arahabaki dad <3

Oh Okuninushi and the reincarnated gods I'm so sad

Hiyori is in the nation and the Sakura tree is there I hate this I wanna stop

Oh he's put Yato and Nora in their weakest forms I hate him die die die

Oh Nora has completely given up same

And now it's world domination some men just need therapy tbh

It's interesting that all the sacrifices of the real world are apparently in the new nation and Father really thought he'd find Kaya alive in there djbdbd

People say he's a good dad and I agree <3 (he is attempting deicide)

This is the worst manga in the world the fridge is full of sakura blossoms and Yukine is coming to save Yato and now he's a fucking ayakashi dog he's fully evolved into a furry

105

If you told me this was the final boss fight when I joined this manga I'd be like how the hell did we get here

Now we've got the human possession

I wonder if the people who were killed will come back or if the gods just had to kill them for real

The gods telling their shinki they have to kill and like this is a fucked up situation but it needs to be controlled ig

Nora beginning to question Father and what he does and realising she's scared of him and she's been a pawn

So Sekki is able to break the barrier

106

Oh Hiyori you're looking rough

Oh Yukine is disintegrating help

It's strange how we never get an inkling he's looking for Kaya and this new nation, it was about culls and removing the gods not finding her

Amaterasu really doesn't interfere she just watches or sometimes gets involved

How is it that the shinki can be seen by the near shore now its still the true world

Father be like I've returned from the dead and I scare you why don't you love me you were crying

Someone says divine punishment and immediately Father is like the gods did this specifically like he didn't play a part in her death

Father bitches that forgiveness is for the weak but thinks Kaya would forgive him

Father says he couldn't do anything but the belief system back then meant that he could be recalled after death did he even try?

Daikoku refusing to kill that child like a normal person

'He's been seeking something his whole life just like me' and there's the shrine and Yukine

We fr thought we'd found Kaya lol I mean I guess we did but Father thought she'd be normal and not like the others he called sacrifices

Oh he's so sad it's giving Pedro Pascal (I think I said that when it came out and I was shot)

Screaming throwing up Yato knows Hiyori is here

Oh I'm so fucking miserable 'we shall meet again those words have come full circle' I gate this life

For a brief shining moment I thought it was a trick and the real Hiyori was elsewhere but then SOMEONE had to go and do THAT

LET'S GO HOME

Oh I'm actually so fucking sad Yato's voiceover saying its his fault he wouldn't fix her problem with the flashbacks and then Sakura's words about you can never see them again when they die Adachitoka you're the worst

Kiun seeing sense and letting the young lesd because times have changed

Kofuku calling Daikoku's actions irrational like he's just not only locked him in a phone box for a bit instead of killing him

I wonder who summoned all the shinki though because how are Kuzuha and Kuruha helping with containment, Bishamon's not around

Takemika saying that Amaterasu may never change

'Why would you do that to her' because he's a bitch!!!!!!!

Oh I hate this manga Father's trying to name Hiyori and he pulls her head back and the light is gone fron her eyes and there's a tear and I'm ending it after tbe final chapter

Oh he's naming her I hate my life Yukine's nearly gone too

All this time all the warnings we never believed we'd get this

Oh its all her memories and one page is just Yato and he's thanking her for the shrine I'm so sad Adachitoka you make me so sad why did you do this

Oh the shattered image if Hiyori like reflections of my life

FINAL FATHER NECK CUT TRACKER: 4

OK so theory is that because Hiyori was a shinki made within the nation of the word, she was able to destroy it?

Also if the brush is gone then Chiki and Yuuki should be gone

108

Yukine's back oh I'm so sad

Oh I'm so fucking miserable Hiyori looks so innocent and Yukine nearly says her name but Nora stops him and then Yato nearly says her name and then he realises he can't and then he screams and so do I

Father die challenge?????? Stfu

Yukine furry form is here to stay ig I wish he mauled Father a bit but he found her body!!!!!

Yato saying be can't handle a world without Hiyori but he can't destroy it like his dad would

Oh I'm so sad 'this world she protected is the grave where she sleeps' worst manga ever

'You can make miracles happens can't you'

DON'T GIVE UP YET

Remember when we thought Yato was looking up to Amaterasu for help lol

Kazubisha having a quick catch up

Now is not the time but Yato looks good jdhdb

Hiyori just not got a clue whats happening

Father's still being a little bitch

The fact he has no lifelines like when did Yato cuts Fujisaki's ties???

Nora finally standing up to Father

Father has drowned, ignored by his children <3<3<3<3<3<3<3 my heart is so full

Oh I'm so sad they've been there so long there's snow on their heads and Yukine is crying and I hate it

But that also means they keep Hiyori clear of snow to keep her warm I hate it here!!!

Yato disappearing because everyone who knew him was dead and he breathed Hiyori back to life and saved her (and himself I'm maifesting)

Oh now they're both crying for Yato and Yukine's hugging him this is the worst day ever

I'LL GIVE YOU ALL THAT I AM

Oh this really is the worst day ever the final kiss of life and HIS TEAR IS ON HER FACE WHEN SHE WAKES UP

Oh she nearly says his name I'm so sad how is this going to end there is so much to unpack in this manga

[tmntkiseki]

Hiii can you pretty please tell me about your tmnt OC's? I absolutely love hearing about people's OC's and a little birdie told me you have some.

fjsfdfjghjgfdhg ask and you shall receive

So I wanna say I actually have quite a few TMNT OCs? But at this point, I've only got three "main" OCs that exist properly within some of the various universes I've conjured up for 2003 (the main differences between them being whether the Ninja Tribunal season as well as Turtles Forever are treated as canon or not)

First OC is my dear Iseult Lanigera, who probably needs the least amount of introduction just because I already talk about her so much. She's a member of a dying species of aliens known as the Iorans whose homeworld, Andemon, was destroyed by Sh'Okanabo; she was lucky enough to escape thanks to the sacrifice of her older brother, and she was ultimately taken in by the leader of the Inuwashi Gunjin, Shouma, who raised her like a daughter and has given her extensive combat training (the Gunjin have been reminagined as a nomadic species of alien collectively known as the Washi, with the Inuwashi Gunjin being only one of many clans that travel the known universe.) She was originally involved in the mercenary business like her adoptive family, but after an unfortunate encounter with Torbin Zixx that led to her becoming stranded on Earth and meeting the turtles, she's instead chosen to focus on her a certain gardening project of hers that she hasn't had the time for until now.

Personality-wise, Iseult is easily described as serious, independent, selfless, intelligent, and painfully stubborn. While she tends to behave in a very guarded, almost aloof manner around strangers, close friends agree that's she's genuinely a sweet, kind, and empathetic young woman who unfortunately struggles with a lot of personal issues (namely a strong fear of abandonment and difficulty trusting others.) She loves studying botany and is quick to accumulate a vast knowledge of Earth's plant life, and she is also known to dabble in singing and songwriting. Of the four turtles, she ends up becoming closest with Donatello and later develops romantic feelings for him, although they initially encounter some hiccups in their relationship due to Iseult's personal issues and, well, * gestures at all the traumatizing crap the turtles deal with on a regular basis * Her weapon in combat is a pair of strength-enhancing gauntlets and she is the definition of a glass cannon; she hits fast and she hits hard, but is easily thrown around due to her small stature, so much of her battle style revolves around hit-and-run tactics.

Second on the list is Imai Primavera. In the official "Starverse" lore (I'm not sure what else to call my collection of related TMNT 2003 universes), Venus and Primavera were once a pair of newly orphaned human sisters who were kidnapped by members of a Japanese cult of sorcerers known as the Order of the New Moon. The intent was to turn them into mindless demons completely subservient to the Order's will; however, something happened during the ritual and instead of becoming monstrous demons, they were turned into benevolent turtle yokai. The Ancient One rescued the two girls, but after what happened with Yoshi, Tang Shen, and Mashimi, he couldn't bring himself to raise any more children, so he chose to leave them in the care of his friend, Imai Jun; as his day job, Jun is the head priest of a shrine found deep in a forest in Japan's Gifu Prefecture, but he was a former pupil of Kon of the Ninja Tribunal and is a ninja in his own right. Venus and Primavera spent the next ten years living in near-total solitude until the day came where the shrine was destroyed, Jun was killed, and Primavera was kidnapped by the attackers. Venus subsequently traveled all the way to New York to find her; after the turtles help Venus locate her and rescue her from her captors, the two sisters ultimately end up living with them and are welcomed into Clan Hamato by Splinter.

Age-wise, Primavera is significantly younger than her sister and the other turtles (about four years, so she'd be 13 post-Season 5 if we assume the turtles are 17 by that point.) When compared to the others, she tends to be even quieter than Don and can come off as shy, although that more has to do with her lack of confidence speaking English. (She knows more than she's comfortable using in a conversation, if that makes sense.) When she does speak, though? She's known to have an exceptionally sharp tongue and delivers legendary roasts on a regular basis. It's revealed over time that a lot of Primavera's blunt mannerisms stem from insecurities over her perceived ineptitude at ninjutsu, as well as the belief that she's worthless to the team in a fight. She does start to mellow out with time and becomes a lot sweeter and affectionate with all of the turtles, a change that is especially noteworthy in the case of Michelangelo, as she was initially outright hostile towards him due to jealousy over his natural talent at martial arts. (She even takes to calling him "nii-san," which she initially only reserved for Raph.) As a wielder of the yumi, she specializes in long-range fighting and is noted to be physically the weakest of the turtles due to her smaller size and young age.

And last but not least, we've got the newest addition to my roster of OCs, P1K4. The entire concept for this little guy is "a robot who will die if it does receive affection," which is sad because look at her! She's adorable!

Anyway, P1K4 is an advanced AI created by an extinct species of alien known as the Sagittans, who were unfortunately wiped out when their own robotic creations went rogue and turned against them. Poor P1K4 was one of the only robots who didn't turn against the Sagittans, as she was specifically created in an effort to avert the predicted singularity event by giving her a need that no other robot on her world had--a need for socialization. P1K4's oval-shaped body contains a micro-generator that activates only when she detects heat signatures from organic beings that she is in physical contact with; energy generation is further amplified when she receives positive acts of affection such as pets and cuddles. Giving her these design features was in the hope that she would develop an empathy for organic beings, which she did, but it ultimately proved too little too late for the Sagittans.

After her creator was killed during the Sagittan Singularity War, P1K4 escaped the Sagittan homeworld via a Triceraton scouting ship that came to survey the situation (good thing too, as the Triceratons proceeded to blow up the planet due to the danger the Sagittan AIs posed.) P1K4 spent the next fifty Earth years hiding among the Triceraton asteroid colonies until she ended up on Earth during the Triceraton invasion, her battery slowly draining because... Well, Triceratons are not all that cuddly and most other species show little to no empathy for robots. She fell into the sewers and spent several months wandering the tunnels until she was finally forced to stop, as she had nearly depleted what remained of her energy stores. Just as she was about to shut down for good, she was found by Donatello and Michelangelo while they were exploring the tunnels. They took her back to the lair, Donatello fixed her up, and she ultimately becomes something of a beloved pet to him the same way Klunk is to Mikey.

Knowing all this, it goes without saying that P1K4's is an incredibly affectionate and social little thing, and is noted to have an almost child-like curiosity of the world around her. Under normal circumstances, she is only able to communicate using a combination of beeps, chirps, and whistles (kinda like R2-D2), although when connected to something like Donatello's laptop, she is able to communicate her thoughts in clear, concise English. It's in these moments that she reveals herself to be a very thoughtful, concerned individual, and admits that she often wonders whether she even has a "soul" as a non-organic being.

Small note: Although P1K4 technically does not have a gender, she does prefer being referred to by feminine pronouns, as her personality was based on her creator's deceased daughter.

[astrowaffles]

toji to me is a very downtrodden character and thats the base of like aaalll my analysis of him. i think its a good idea to keep in mind that they're all living in a Secret Society with like negative morals and seemingly a core principle of might makes right. its not Just a lack of therapists, here, right, its an actively hostile environment. and then you have the zen'in upbringing which kicks that up a notch. i dont think toji is actually all that convinced of his power, bc he grew up being told he was worthless without cursed energy. he Never gets revenge on the zen'ins. why? his trauma response to this (get OUTTTTT) is different than maki's (spite them & eventually overcome them-- for approval ? hm.). shes intimidated by them sure but shes got that rebel spirit! girlboss. anyway back to the point bc i have one -> toji never escaped the zen'ins. he Wants to affirm that he's strong without cursed energy despite all the evidence that he actually is (and look how that final attempt went!). id like to propose a theory: he didnt think he could hide a child with The Zen'in Power Of All Time from the zen'ins. i dont think he could either tbh. ok actually are you caught up on the manga 🤨

Hello again! I really love this view of Toji's character, and it will surprise you to learn that I agree with you. I actually do. When I've been replying to your asks before, I've been talking from the perspective of his parenting decisions. But you're right, to take this any further we need to look at his actual personality/character.

Reasons to be sympathetic to Toji (a.k.a extend him the poor little meow meow factor):

abusive ex-family

no support

no therapy

dead wife

poor

gambling addiction

Toji was abused and was brought up in an environment where he literally meant nothing. He was useless. His reaction to this (get out, cut all ties, get stronger) is a response I'm actually proud of him for. So many people are probably still rolling around inside the Zen'in clan, having never got the balls to get out. Toji even chooses to change his name.

Being a cycle breaker is hard. For many people, it's impossible. For Toji - it was impossible. I extend sympathy and empathy to him here because it's DIFFICULT to let go of your upbringing and do it differently, do better. Toji can't bring him self to leave the jujutsu world. Nanami did it, and could have left forever if he so chose - but Toji can't. He's not a sorcerer but he can't let go of that being part of him, he can't stop his Zeni'in upbringing from shaping him. Neither can Maki, but Maki chooses to actively confront the clan and make physical changes to her life.

Toji just drowns in his spite - again, another thing we can hand him a poor little meow meow card for. He doesn't have the tools to heal or make better decisions. We feel bad for him. We sympathise. We want to still see him as a basically good person (and, to be honest, he probably is) who's just been scarred by the world.

So, to go back to what you said: you're right. He doesn't escape the Zeni'ns and I'm not convinced he wants to. He wants to show them he's better but he also can't bring himself to directly call attention to himself.

So let's bring this full circle and talk about what the original post was about: Toji's parenting. You said you still don't think he's a good parent. You're right, he isn't. He never will be. No Toji stan will ever be able to convince me that any of Toji's parenting choices were the right ones. But let's be sympathetic again, let's see how we can cut him some slack for those terrible decisions.

Does Toji even know how to be a parent?

We don't know a whole lot about Toji's parents. We know he hates them, if he ever truly knew them. We can infer he doesn't want to be like them. We're sure he never actively abuses Megumi, only passively, through abandonment. Perhaps he feels this is better than getting directly involved with a small child. He's described by the wiki as a cold person, specifically since his wife died and he 'reverted to his old self'. It's highly possible that Toji chose to abandon Megumi since he thought it was genuinely the best possible path. Toji can be cold, violent, and calculating, and he maybe felt he was in no position to be doing any parenting. We can sympathise with this!

(But he's still a bad father).

Did Toji sell Megumi to the Zen'ins so the kid could train to be a sorcerer?

It's definitely possible. I think this is what @honestlyyoungtyphoon was trying to tell me. Toji can't help a sorcerer kid, but he knows that Megumi needs training and he knows the Zen'ins would love to give it. And, yeah, maybe he's had this plan ever since he realised Megumi's technique, because he knew the Zen'ins would find out somehow.

Reasons this is still a bad parenting decision: the Zen'ins, while they treat their sorcerers well materially and are much kinder to them than they are to non-sorcerers, are still power hungry little bitches. Everyone knows this. While Toji would have no way to create a better plan, he knew himself it was bad. You ever wonder why Gojo went to see Megumi straight away? Because was Gojo was raised how the Zen'ins would treat Megumi. Gojo was living the life that Megumi would live in the future. And Gojo knew that it wasn't a life fit for anyone.

Toji knows that Gojos knows this. Toji knows Gojo could help Megumi. Toji passed the baton. And honestly, this is probably a reveal of part of Toji's true personality. He willingly sent a guy, his own personal enemy, to Megumi because he knew it was good for Megumi. Toji has a lot of pride and it must have taken a lot to ask that. THIS is probably what the aggressive Toji stans mean when they tell me Toji was a good parent.

So, overall: Toji is a damaged person who never received any kind of help and support from anyone except his (now dead) wife. There are many factors that help shape his decisions and parenting choices. Toji is probably a basically good person who is simply hurt by his circumstances, and even his truly awful decisions such as abandoning Megumi could have their roots in a belief that it was truly for the best. However: a good person does not make a good parent.

Toji was a shit dad and we love him <3

[cursestitched]

Viewer discretion advised, themes of death and violence lay ahead. I'm more or less copying and pasting this, as I'll reference these bullet points to further sharpen the full profile of Satoru Jiro

- Satoru was 16 years old when he was framed for the murder of his adoptive parents. His sisters were placed into foster care and relocated outside of Kyoto (where they all lived originally) media leaks revealed that Satoru didn't share the same biological DNA with these adults (he wasn't aware of being adopted) and the media dragged their names (and religious group they worked for) through the mud with the allegations of being kidnappers where as other people stayed strong to them being good people that helped their community.

- While I still need to delve into this part, I'm still debating on if Satoru actually is a mutant who doubles as a being a curse user or jujutsu sorcerer (if you aren't familiar with JJK, don't feel overwhelmed I'm happy to clear up any terminology) a person that can see and exorcise cursed spirits birthed from negative human emotions. These qualities are exclusive only to the people of Japan with some rare exceptions of small groups in Africa and India. Satoru's cursed technique is curse spirit manipulation.

- If Satoru is a mutant, he's the first mutant / sorcerer hybrid that could potentially evolve himself into more or a curse being like many people in JJK such as Lord Tengen and Sukuna and Kenjaku due to being around the ages of 1,000 to 2,000 years old.

- Back to his story, Satoru was sentenced to eight years in prison only to get out early with a four year sentence after being found innocent. Making him 20 years old. Ostracized by the public ( a parallel to how he was ostracized in school into his preteen years because he could see curses spirits and no one else could, ultimately pushing him in highschool to be more popular and cool instead of being associated with the words "weird" and "strange") and inevitably abandoned by his friends. He ended up getting involved with the yakuza crime syndicated, targeted and indoctrinated into their way of life as he tried to find the person or people responsible for ruining his life.

- after "getting rid" of the people responsible, he did what he could to put his life back together. A family neighbor sent him some books and journals and much more knowledge or jujutsu sorcerer and cursed spirits, ( the person was a witness to him encountering and exorcising one) so while he didn't join Jujutsu High, he did his own thing, exorcising and obtaining curses for himself -- despite the disgusting taste. He may have also had knowledge about curses from stories from his parents or even their religious teachings but just didn't believe in those things until he saw one for the first time.

Eventually he got custody of his sisters after tracking them down (I might change this part around because it could tie back to the whole kidnapping allegations his parents were accused of) . They were living peacefully for a year before Satoru was approached by Nick Fury. By that point Satoru had small arsenal of about 200 curses inside of him. Fury had been watching him for a while now and gave him an offer he couldn't refuse. Relocate to America with his only family and work with the avengers for a fresh start and a second chance or remain branded as a monster in a city he can no longer call home. He chose the first option.

So, timeline wise, Satoru is a rookie on the team about six months after the events of Age Of Ultron, but definitely a little while before the events of Civil War.

Focusing on Wanda Maximoff here, I imagine that he would eventually have a kind of unrequited love for Wanda while understanding she's interested in vision. I imagine that during the events of civil war, he does try to console Wanda clearly able to relate to people seeing you as a monster for your actions and the powers that you have but never wanted despite your good intentions. That and the shared loss or parents despite the different circumstances. After Civil War, Satoru does side with Tony but like Natasha he would stand as neutral to a certain extent and be on Cap's side deep down. So he at least tries to give them Intel whenever he can through burner phones. Particularly checking up on Wanda and Vision.

[xoteajays]

superhero shows/movies

the umbrella academy

name: jasmine lin / the mosaic ship: diego hargreeves faceclaim: stephanie hsu powers: glass manipulation, mirror travel, minor sound manipulation summary: As one of 43 surprise births in 1989, Jasmine was a surprise to her parents. They kept her only for a few months before she was abandoned outside of an orphanage. Her strange powers caused her to be left in isolation. Never adopted, the hyalokinetic leaves the orphanage in her past after being kicked out at 18. In her 20s, she separately meets Diego and Klaus Hargreeves. Her life plateus as she opens up her own cafe and settles comfortable into routine - then Five Hargreeves throws her life a curve ball.

marvel

name: ava booker / sundrian ship: sam wilson x bucky barnes faceclaim: kim go eun species: mutant powers: advanted telekinesis, radar detection, temporary telekinetic enhancements. summary: Between S.H.I.E.L.D and lock-up, Ava Booker chose the lesser of two evils. Neither were ideal, but at least at S.H.I.E.L.D she could pretend she was doing some good. After seemingly pushing her academy supervisor to the edge, he offers a challenge to her so-called ‘skills’: get into the avengers building and back out, with one of their S.H.I.E.L.D security cards in hand. It’s almost too easy for her. However, the glory doesn’t last when Fury pits her training the Avengers; since, quoting her, they were ‘completely unequipped to deal with mutants’.

name: farrah swyft / parhelion ship: joaquin torres faceclaim: hannah van der westhuysen species: mutant powers: absolute light manipulation + generation, glowing, night vision, blindness inducement. summary: Farrah Swyft came from money. The Swyfts were up there with the Worthingtons and the Osborns, rubbing elbows with the wealthy in whatever city they were living in at the time; or, at least, her parents did while their twin daughters, Farrah and Delilah, were shipped off to an Australian boarding school. That was the past now though, Farrah had long since left that ‘life of luxury’ behind, ever since her family discovered she was a mutant. At eighteen, she pulled out just enough money to get her to Westchester, particularly the aptly named ‘school for the gifted’. Parhelion would never pass Jean Grey, but she was happy to be Xavier’s ‘second best’, even if she never truly took on that ‘X-Man’ title for herself.

name: ilena strophalos ship: wanda maximoff faceclaim: melissanthi mahut species: demigod, daughter of hecate powers: fear illusion, canine transformation, moonlight empowerment, ghost-speaking, levitation, minor umbrakinesis, teleportation via summoning. summary: She cares nothing of heroes, that is what is to be said of Ilena Strophalos. She was no hero herself but she carried names upon her shoulders, as all the infamous do. She was the moonstone, the crossroad’s queen, hecate’s child. She cares nothing of heroes, but witchcraft is her mother’s right and Ilena stands with the sorcerers and witch and mages. When chaos magic comes to life in their realm, Ilena finds its essence in the ruins of Sokovia. Hecate and Ilena are no strangers to Chthon, and the wielder of his magics must be protected lest they unleash him upon the world. So Ilena is tasked with a mission: to search the mystic locals and find chaos’ host, and if she must deal with heroes to do so, then so be it.

name: marie-ange ‘mar’ carnahan / maverick ship: natasha romanoff faceclaim: alycia debnam-carey species: human, supersoldier (s.h.i.e.l.d. serum) powers: artificially enhanced physiology, enhanced strength/durability/reflexes, mildly enhanded speed/stamina/agility, regenerative healing. summary: Marie-Ange Carnahan’s life changed at 16 when her father died. A military man and the only person Mar would ever consider her parent. His death upended Mar’s life and witnessing it destroyed her older sister, Aurore. The sisters spiralled; after years, Mar finally pulls her head in. She manages to graduate high school and turns her gaze to S.H.I.E.L.D, her father had once spoken highly of the agency. She trains extensively and graduates almost top of her class at the operations academy. She was on a good path, until her diagnosis: a brain tumour, quickly discovered to be inoperable. Mar wouldn’t go down without a fight. Stubbornness lead her to a follow the quiet whisperings to S.H.I.E.L.D’s labs, to a supersoldier experiment that was just getting legs. She’d be their guinea pig, she’d sign any paper so long as her sister would be cared for in the case of her death. Experimentation comes with difficulty, but Mar prevails. ‘Liberty’, she becomes, though she hates the name. It’s just something of a ‘shame’ that Steve Rogers is un-iced before she ever debutes.

name: salōte ‘sasha’ esau / arcane ship: valkyrie faceclaim: luciane buchanan species: human, trained in mystic arts powers: eldrich magic, tao mandalas, kamar-taj mystic tools summary: Sālote Esau, or ‘Sasha‘ as she preferred, had once had little care in the world. She didn’t have much vision towards her future, she was happy to glide by through life, allowing herself whatever pleasures. Then the other foot drops. Out of nowhere, a heart attack hits her, something to do with a defect from birth that her parents had never told her about. Surgery goes well, but Sasha is shaken, her mind doesn’t heal as quickly as her body does. She’s a recluse, until she discovers Kamar-taj. Determined that she could be helped there, she heads off. It takes years, successes and failures, but eventually she becomes 'Arcane of the mystic arts'. If she could’ve ever figured out working her sling ring properly, maybe she wouldn’t have ended up flung across space, ending up on some trash-hole planet called ‘Sakaar’.

name: dr leta ‘letty’ shivers ship: steve rogers faceclaim: kirby howell species: human(?) powers: clairaudient summary: Doctor Leta ‘Letty’ Shivers was normal. Really, she was! Okay, she had an odd surname that sounded ‘perfectly villainous’ when coupled with her doctorate; and maybe sometimes she heard things that weren’t actually there. But she was normal! Maybe. Hopefully. At least she didn’t have to mention it when she interviewed for her S.H.I.E.L.D position. She likes her job, she likes a lot of her fellow agents, she even gets close with renowned geneticist Helen Cho! It’s a shame that working with S.H.I.E.L.D is exactly what gets her sucked into the Avengers’ business and standing in a Wakanda lab in 2018 with an ominous snapping in her ear as aliens, once again, descend onto earth.

[ mcu recast ]

dc

name: cosima clayborne / patchwork ship: bruce wayne / batman faceclaim: alaqua cox summary: Cosima Clayborne never intended to become some vigilante type, but living in a city like Gotham, it was almost fated. She gets lucky in the form of befriending Selina Kyle, working alongside her to pay her bills that were quickly stacking up. It’s a shame her assistant job didn’t fully pay the bills, but it at least gets her introduced to Bruce Wayne during an art show. Patchwork, at most, is an irritant more than any real dastardly criminal problem in Gotham. To give credit to her skills where it’s due though, her colour-shifting, borderline invisible suit is a masterwork. The Batman is sure he can lure her to the heroic side, but she seems more interested in him than any of that.

[the-valiant-valkyrie]

ok i pull up w incomprehensible content

ok so uhm umm. maxy waxy has a very similar presence in a worship verse than he does in a regular verse. was your standard boring guy before he accidentally stumbled across a fucked up grimoire and came to learn about the existence of a god of insanity. as a disciple of said god he's learned numerous tricks, some of the more prevalent ones being the ability to contort his body (usually his arms) into coiling writhing masses to use as weapons in combat. another interesting thing abt the world of worship is that insanity has the ability to mutate your physical form so. based off of that information you could expect that hes a little bit deranged. but its ok hes coping with it

wendy and wigfrid are actually in the same cult, but discovered it in different ways. shortly after the death of abigail, wendy grew furious at the concept that any loving god wouldn't save her dying sister's life, and sought for answers on what religion even was or meant, or if it were all a façade. in doing so, she learned of the apostle of deliverance- a god who believes the death of all humans to be a mercy, and life to be suffering. wendy, already sort of believing that already, fell easily under the allure of this mentality, and abandoned her family and their perceived 'foolish' religion to gain a closer connection to her sister and bring about the end of all

wigfrid on the other hand, spent a lot of time wondering why most 'justice' in that time (read: 1700s or whatever) amounted to burning pagans or practitioners of magic at the stake, torturing them for acts that were arbitrarily seen as sinful. while seeking answers on what true justice is, she too stumbled across the apostle of deliverance, and heeded his message in a different way. if all of humanity- including herself- were sinful, of course they needed to be razed from this earth… she devoted herself to the cause at once, and rose swiftly through the ranks with her immense talent. she is known amongst her peers as 'the high sacrifice'- in reference to her eventual destiny in the name of her god- and she wears the title like a badge of honor, completely unfazed by the concept of her fate

willow has by far the least personal connection to religion. as a young girl she was homeless, wandering around the streets of her village. but when they were attacked by a crusade, a counter-ambush of fire wielding cultists had been the only thing saving her and all others from potential slaughter. she grew an endearment to their weapon of choice rather quickly, and- being devoid of a home anyway- chose to join them and learn their dark arts. the only ritual she's ever partaken in (scalding her hands beyond recognition (incredibly painful)) was exclusively to be able to wield fire in the same way they did. beyond that, she couldn't care much for their religion- even if their god is a fire one. she pretends she does, to keep a home and food, but thinks they're kind of insane aside from that

wilson also isn't very much of a cultist honestly… he was nothing more than the same ol scientist he usually is- practicing science and medicine. but the thing about the 1700s is that science and medicine is usually seen as witchcraft. forced to flee his home or else risk death for being labeled a sorcerer, he reluctantly turned to a group of cultists who worshiped a supposed 'mother of the coven', a figure who was said to have protected wayward practitioners of any sort, science, medicine, or true magic. it took him a while to come to terms with the fact gods (including this one) were real, and he still wasn't entirely content believing in and serving one… but in a (admittedly stupid) act of curiosity, he granted one of his eyes to the god for her to use in her and her subject's practices. in turn, he's free to use their resources in experiments

webber is entirely unaffiliated with a god he's just kind of hanging out honestly. he was just wandering out in the woods one day when he came across a mutant nightmare horror evil beast. and um. since when you go insane you mutate. and when you see mutant nightmare horror evil beasts you tend to go insane. he sort of went insane a little bit. midway through the attack from the mutant nightmare horror evil beasts (bc their favorite thing to do is eat little boys), their bodies accidentally merged together. its the same webber deal they share the same brain but the boy takes most of the control and the Creature is sort of just in the background. still there though.

thuh urge to draw crossover dst/worship stuff vs the fact that worship isnt real. yet

[archived-kin]

solomon deserves a husband so i'm giving him one (it's you)

note from kin: i don’t know HOW i’ve managed to get this out so soon after my last piece but i do know that it is a miracle (now watch me disappear for like a month lmao)

anyway there’s a severe lack of content for the boys in this fandom and therefore i am here to try to mitigate that!!

(as a heads up, this is sort of an au version of obey me’s story?? there’s no exchange program, and the general human world doesn’t know about the devildom or celestial realm, apart from sorcerers and similar special cases. solomon and simeon both still visit the devildom, though - solomon because he has a sort of job at the r.a.d., and simeon as an ambassador sort of thing for the celestial realm. the r.a.d.’s also less of a school and more of an organisation?? i haven’t really fleshed it out haha)

fandom: obey me!

character(s): male! reader, solomon, mammon (briefly), simeon (briefly)

pairing(s): solomon/reader

warning(s): blasphemy??? solomon disses god really briefly and that’s about it

genre: fluff!!!!!!!!!

As a general rule of thumb, Solomon doesn’t believe in destiny.

He’s lived long enough to know that, no matter what he does, the universe does not care about him, much less have some sort of plan for his future. The course that the world takes isn’t affected by some grand puppet master pulling the strings; one has to force the so-called path of fate in the direction they want it to take if they want something. Solomon knows this better than anyone.

It’s as much a downfall as it is a strength - as much as power as he’s amassed over the countless years, his constant need to challenge the universe’s power has lead him down a path far from humanity. There had been a time when he was like every other human on the Earth, when he was still young, full of hope and determination and promise, believing earnestly in some God high in the sky who would guide him through his life.

He shudders to think what sort of insufferable fool he’d been back then. An almighty God? Don’t make him laugh. The ruler of the Celestial Realm is incompetent at best, and a downright childish brat at worst. He doesn’t know how the angels put up with him - though he supposes his realm-smiting power is part of it. Why the universe chose to place such power on such a being’s shoulders will always be beyond him.

Long as it has been since he had been so naive, Solomon has learnt his lesson, to say the least. He’s seen people come and go, witnessed kings and queens reign and fall, watched on as friends and family live and die. It’s a truth that he’s been forced to learn across the years of his long, long life, a curse that he brought upon himself the moment he gave up the purity of his soul in pursuit of magical arts. 

He supposes he’s always had an insatiable thirst for the unknown - to play all his cards out front, to tempt fate’s hand, to jump into the void and hope to find ground beneath his feet when he lands. It’s that sort of reckless abandon and hunt for knowledge that has led him so far down this path, through so many years, across so many sleepless nights. The world continues to swirl around him, always changing, but Solomon refuses to be swept away. Because, even in the tumultuous movement of the universe, there has always been one constant that keeps him anchored - you.

The night he'd first met you isn’t as clear in his mind as he would have liked. He wants to be able to remember everything - the way the soft blue light of the will-o’-whisps had lit up your eyes in the dark of the night, the way that your hand had felt in his as you greeted him with a handshake, the way that you had said his name for the first time - in sharp detail, but Solomon knows better than to hope to recall something so long ago so perfectly.

He’d still been relatively new to a sorcerer’s life at the time - excited and determined and a little too full of himself. You… well, he doesn’t remember exactly, but he does remember thinking that you must be the most handsome being to exist. The you of today would probably shake your head and dismiss the past you as an obnoxious high hoper, but Solomon has loved you for so many years that he’s never been able to think of you as anything less than perfect.

There are times when he wondered how he managed to stumble upon such luck. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that Solomon has has had truly insufferable periods over the years he’s known you, and he’s always considered it a miracle that you still chose to stay. Even through all the restless nights and the exhausting trips, even after all of the clashes and vexation, you have refused to give up on him.

He had asked you once, in the aftermath of an argument spurred by his inability to confide in you and your own frustration with his refusal to communicate. He remembers that night so vividly that it might well have happened just yesterday - the frustrated shouts, the shattering of glass, the warmth of your arms around his shoulders as he finally collapsed on himself. He doesn’t know what your face had looked like as he stuttered the question out in stuttering breaths, head buried in your shoulder in an effort to conceal his tears, but he imagines that it had been soft.

“I’m not going to leave you to yourself,” You had told him matter-of-factly, stroking his hair with such fondness  that it still sometimes brings a tear to his eye when he remembers it on particularly long nights. “And I’m not giving up on you, either - not now, not ever.”

Solomon had been unable to speak, too choked up by his feelings and the sudden, overwhelming love spreading through his entire body to reply. He’d only sunk deeper into your embrace, wishing that the moment could last forever.

I wonder if he still remembers that…?

“...lomon! Anyone home?!”

He jolts up from the table he’s sitting at so abruptly that he nearly knocks his head right into Mammon’s chin. The Avater of Greed, however, reacts quickly, and hops back before Solomon can break his jawbone.

“Jeez, you’re off on a different planet today,” He comments, setting his hands on his hips as Solomon shoots him the sort of look that tells him that he’s not particularly enthused about his presence at the moment. “What’s up with ya?”

Solomon isn’t quite sure how to answer. Sorry, I got distracted thinking about how perfect and lovely my husband is and how I’m the luckiest man in the entire world - nay, the universe - to have him. He nearly physically shudders at the thought of how much teasing he’d receive if he answered like that.

Instead, he chooses a much safer and still technically true option. “Just thinking about going home today.”

Mammon nods in understanding, pulling up a seat next to him and throwing himself down into it without much grace. “I feel ya. S’ been a long day.”

“You’ve barely done anything today,” Solomon quips flatly, not particularly impressed by the demon’s attempt at… empathy? Relatability? Either way, it isn’t working. “I doubt it’s been that hard.”

“Now, now, Solomon, let’s not be rude,” interjects a soft voice from behind them. Simeon is still dressed in his fancy envoy cloak - the one so long and heavy that it trails along behind him like a bridal train, decorated with a number of elaborate golden charms that jingle as he moves.

Solomon attempts to shoot him a slightly annoyed look, but it’s kind of hard to stay irritated by one of the literal embodiments of holiness and light, even if he wakes you up at very unholy hours of the morning to help him figure out how to answer an email. Solomon isn’t ungrateful for the new age of technology descending on humanity, but he’d like it a lot better if it hadn’t somehow reached the angels as well. The amount of times he’s had to tell Simeon that he needs to actually turn his D.D.D. on before he starts calling someone is… embarrassing, to say the least.

“You’re back in the Devildom, I see,” He observes as the angel pulls up a seat and sits beside him. “Did Michael send you down again?”

Simeon nods with a smile. “There were some arrangements that needed to be made with Lord Diavolo. Naturally, I volunteered.”

“Naturally,” Solomon echoes, raising a brow at his friend. “I don’t suppose your biases had anything to do with your decision?”

“Well, they may have had some effect,” Simeon answers with a shameless smile and shrug, beginning to undo the tassels of his heavy cloak and draping it on the back of chair he’s sitting on. He’s still wearing all of his regular clothes underneath it - including the other, much smaller cloak. Solomon wonders how he hasn’t somehow melted in the heat.

“When’re you gonna start heading home, anyway?” Mammon asks, beginning to pick at a loose thread on his jacket sleeve. “It’s gettin’ late.”

Solomon blinks and looks up at the clock. “...ah, you’re right. In that case, I'll get going now.”

Mammon shoots him an odd look as he pushes himself up from the table and reaches for his bag, managing to hoist it onto his shoulder with some effort. He’s never been particularly good at heavy lifting - you’re usually the one helping him carry everything around the house.

“Oi, oi, what’s the rush?” the demon asks as Solomon adjusts the weight of his bag and starts heading for the door. “You on a timer or something?”

“I promised [Name] I’d be home earlier tonight,” is Solomon’s slightly absent-minded reply as he fiddles about in his pocket to find his transportation charm, nearly losing his balance and dropping his bag in the process. “I’ll see you both tomorrow.”

Mammon watches him in clear confusion for a moment as he pats down his pockets, mumbling a quiet curse under his breath as he realises that he’s left his charm at home again. How many times this month does that make it now...? He supposes that he could always perform a teleportation spell, but knowing his luck with those, he’ll probably end up somewhere in Morocco again.

“Oi, Simeon,” Mammon hisses to the angel, who cocks his head slightly to the side and leans over so as to hear him more clearly. “Who’s this ‘[Name]’ Solomon’s talkin’ about?”

“You don’t know?” Simeon blinks at him in blatant perplexion - as if he can’t even fathom the idea that Mammon might not know who Solomon’s talking about. “He’s talking about his husband.”

There’s a long moment of silence. Then—

“Solomon has a HUSBAND!?” Mammon practically shrieks, completely flabbergasted. “I thought he was totally, like, the forever alone type!”

“Don’t tell me you’ve never noticed?” is Simeon’s bewildered response. “Who do you think Solomon is always talking about buying groceries for?”

“I thought he was just buyin’ them for himself!” Mammon fires back, looking far more ruffled and shocked than he probably should be. He whips around to look at Solomon, who’s flicking through the little packet of blank charms he keeps on him at all times in an effort to find the right one to create a temporary transportation charm. He’s had to do it so many times this month that he’s already beginning to run out. “You’re married?!”

“Of course,” Solomon answers vaguely, briefly raising his left hand, allowing Mammon to spot the soft glint of a ring around his fourth finger. “You’re not?”

“Wh— ‘course I’m not!” Mammon exclaims, positively scandalised by the very concept. “Why would I get married, huh?! It’s a waste of time and a waste of money!”

“Think whatever you like,” Solomon dismisses him easily, which only seems to irritate Mammon further.

Finally having found the right blank charm, he plucks it out and begins carefully tracing patterns onto it with a single glowing finger. He’s dimly aware of Mammon furiously whispering to Simeon in the background, with the angel responding in kind, most likely sharing some exaggerated story from back when the three of you had worked together - when Solomon had accepted a job from the Celestial Realm. The details of the whole thing are a little fuzzy to him now, long as it has been, but he’s almost completely sure that Simeon somehow still remembers the whole thing flawlessly.

“How old even is he?!” He hears Mammon hiss.

“I’m not so sure myself,” Simeon replies, placing his chin in a thoughtful hand. “Let’s see… their two millennial anniversary’s coming up in about two years, and I remember Solomon saying that they got married when he was around two hundred or so… which means he’s about twenty-one hundred years old.”

“Holy shit,” Mammon mutters in disbelief, turning glance at the sorcerer as he starts folding down the corners of his charm into the right shape. “Humans aren’t supposed to live that long. How’s his husband still alive, then?”

“That isn’t really a question for me to answer,” Simeon shakes his head slightly. “I suppose you can always ask him yourself if Solomon ever brings him to work with him.”

“I doubt it,” Solomon speaks up for the first time since announcing his departure. “He’s usually busy during the day. Besides, transportation charms make him queasy, and I’m not making him walk all the way down here.”

“Aren’t you a wizard?” Mammon asks, scratching his head. “Just do one of ya fancy teleportation spells. Why d’you need a charm?”

Solomon sighs. He hates to admit it, but he can’t be bothered to make up some other reason to cover up for himself. “I’m afraid that teleportation spells aren’t actually particularly accurate. We could end up somewhere in the Pacific if I’m not careful.”

Mammon looks thunderstruck. “Then what about all those times you’ve teleported us?! Don’t tell me we coulda ended up in, like, the Archaic Pit or something?!”

“Well, it was always a possibility,” Solomon shrugs in reply, finishing the charm with a deft flick of his hand. “You’re a demon, I sure you could have handled yourself.”

“But…!” Mammon crosses his arms and turns away like a grumpy child. “Hmph…”

“Do say hello to [Name] for me, will you?” Simeon requests as Solomon turns to open the door, ignoring the sulking demon sitting beside him. “We haven’t been able to talk for a while.”

“You text him every day, don’t you?” Solomon asks, shooting him an unimpressed look. “I’d say that’s conversation enough.”

“Now, now, there’s no need to be stingy,” Simeon countered with a smile, tilting his head slightly to the side and leaning forward. “Besides, one misses the presence of an actual person after a while of nothing but electronic communication... especially texting is so difficult. Tell him he’s always welcome to come around for some tea - Luke would be happy to see him.”

Solomon shakes his head, but makes a sound of affirmation nevertheless. You had mentioned that you’ve missed seeing Simeon since he’d started the whole negotiator businesss, and he isn’t the sort of person to deny you the company of a friend. “I’ll let him know. Anyway, I should really be going now…”

“Have a safe journey!” Simeon calls after him as he swings the door open and sweeps out. Solomon waves a hand over his shoulder in response, then disappears down the corridor, most likely to a quiet spot in the courtyard to use his charm. He’s been banned from using them indoors ever since he accidentally shattered one of the fancy artifacts in the assembly hall and sent hundreds of shards flying everywhere. Apparently Barbatos is still finding tiny pieces of glass in the crevices of the floor.

“Why didn’t Solomon ever say anythin’?” Mammon asks Simeon after a moment of quietude. “Seems like the sorta thing you’d mention.”

“Solomon’s a private man,” Simeon says with a shrug. “Besides, he and [Name] have made plenty of enemies over the years, and you’d be shocked by how quickly names and locations can spread…”

“Does he mind us knowin’ about it, then?”

“Well, personally, I’ve known for a while,” Simeon answers, “And I’m sure the others will have worked it out by now - Solomon’s always finding ways to mention [Name] in passing. But no, I’m sure he doesn’t mind. He’d say something if he did.”

Mammon nods and goes silent for a little while. Then he asks, “What’s this [Name] like, then? Must be some guy if Solomon liked him enough to put a ring on him and keep him for that long.”

“Well, let’s see…” Simeon drums his fingers thoughtfully against the tabletop. “He has quite the penchant for raising deadly plants, he hasn’t gone more than a full month without exploding something or another for about five centuries, he takes clocks apart in his spare time, he likes his coffee with a touch of vanilla, he collects cursed books, he makes a lovely butterscotch-cinnamon pie, and he works as a curse breaker for hire.”

It takes a moment for Mammon to process all of the information that’s just been dumped on him. “...sounds like the kinda guy Satan would get along with.”

“I thought so as well,” Simeon agrees. “Their house even reminds me of Satan’s room, in a way… [Name] is quite the avid reader.”

“What, you’ve been?”

“Only once,” Simeon’s eyes flutter closed for a moment as he reminisces. “Quite a long time ago now. I wouldn’t know where to find it even if I wanted to go again, though - it’s always moving.”

“Do they move house a lot, then?”

Simeon shakes his head. “Oh, no, no. They’ve lived in the same house for centuries - it’s the house that moves itself.”

Mammon pauses. “...what?”

“The building,” Simeon clarifies. “They’ve got an enchantment on the whole thing that makes it change locations every couple of weeks or so.”

“But… why?”

Simeon shrugs. “[Name] doesn’t like staying in one place for too long.”

“Still, isn’t that a bit much…?” Mammon pulls a face. “They could always just travel, ya know…”

“As Solomon said, transportation talismans make [Name] feel queasy,” Simeon explains. “And he prefers not to use teleportation spells when it comes to him, just in case they end up somewhere dangerous.”

“And he doesn’t care about the rest of us ending up somewhere dangerous?” Mammon huffs and collapses forwards onto the table.

“Well, you can’t really compare the two,” Simeon says patiently as the demon continues to mutter indignantly under his breath. “He’s his husband, and we’re essentially just his friends from work.”

Mammon opens his mouth to make a rebuttal, then thinks about it for a moment and changes his mind. After a moment, he comments, a little less resentfully, “Well, you’d think he’d at least introduce us.”

“He’s been planning to for a while, actually,” Simeon tells him. “Give him some time and he’ll probably bring it up on his own.”

Mammon nods. “He’d better!”

“I’m home.”

You look up from the book you’re reading and hop down from your seat on the roof just in time to see Solomon emerge from the back garden, looking noticeably dishevelled, with leaves decorating his head like some sort of fancy accessory.

“Welcome back!” You greet him happily, setting the book aside and moving forward to start picking the leaves from his hair. Solomon smiles softly at you as you take his bag in one hand and start pulling him to the front door with the other. “You forgot your talisman again, by the way.”

“I noticed,” He laughs, gently removing your hand from his upper arm and wrapping his fingers around it instead. “Why else do you think I ended up in the hedges again?”

“It’s a wonder that you’ve had to make these temporary talismans so many times and you still haven’t gotten one right yet,” You tease in reply, nudging him in the shoulder. “How many points is that on the tally now, then?”

“Ten for the basement, seven for the roof, and eleven for the hedges now,” He answers with a small pout as you laugh. “Honestly, you’d think I would have learnt my lesson...”

“You never do, love.” 

The door creaks as you and your husband enter the house, only to immediately be greeted by a bundle of scales hitting you head-on. You manage to keep your footing and steady yourself on the doorway; Solomon isn’t so lucky, and ends up laying spread-eagled on the floor with about two hundred kilograms of excited adolescent dragon purring on his chest.

“Looks like Triton missed you,” You comment with a bright smile, setting Solomon’s bag down beside the umbrella rack and leaning over to give the dragon a scratch behind his left horn, just the way he likes it. He rumbles happily and jingles the little bell around his neck at you. “Isn’t he getting big?”

“I saw him this morning, [Name],” Solomon wheezes from his position on the floor, somehow managing to reach up and tickle Triton’s chin with one hand despite the dragon’s weight. “He can’t have grown that much in ten hours.”

“You never know!” You tell him, reaching up and wrapping your arms around Triton’s neck. He coos in a delighted fashion and raises his head, setting it heavily on your shoulder. Solomon uses the brief lightening of the weight on him to take in a deep breath as you allow your dragon to nuzzle furiously into your neck. “Dragons are unpredictable, you know.”

“Believe me, I do,” He sighs tiredly as Triton blows out a pleased puff of hot air and knocks the clock off the wall again. “Now, if you wouldn’t mind, Triton, I’d quite like to get back up again.”

The dragon blinks and raises his head from your shoulder, glancing down at the sorcerer that he’s crushing under his weight. Then he huffs and turns away again.

“Oh, you—!” Solomon curses as the dragon seems to press even harder into him. Your laughter rings out across the hall, and while he’d normally take a moment to admire the sound, he’s a little preoccupied. “[Name], stop laughing and help me!”

“He’s like a rebellious teenager!” You splutter helplessly in reply, voice still trembling slightly out of mirth. Triton makes a happy noise as you reach up and rub his scaly cheeks, his ears fluttering slightly. “Awww, you’re really growing up, aren’t you, baby? Your poor dads are really going to have their work cut out for them, huh?”

“Hey,” Solomon calls reproachfully from beneath Triton’s enormous chest. “Your husband’s still being crushed down here.”

“Oh, right!” You click your tongue and give Triton a meaningful look. He grumbles but obeys nevertheless, hopping off of Solomon (though not without knocking all the air out of him by using his chest as a launchpad) and scampering off, most likely to go play with the salamanders that have set up shop in the storage room again.

“I’ll never understand how you manage him so well,” Solomon sighs as you bend down to pull him to his feet, rubbing at the sore spot on his chest. “He never listens to me.”

“Aw, he loves you, really,” You reassure him, taking his hand and pressing a comforting kiss to his knuckles. “He just likes roughhousing with you.”

Solomon shakes his head, wanting to complain further about the big lizard that the two of you had adopted six months ago after the last one grew up and flew the nest, but then he sees the smile on your face, and he feels the flicker of irritation in his chest die down almost immediately. It’s at times like this that he’s really reminded of how absolutely worth it all of the nonsense he has to put up with at work is - because, at the end of the day, you are here, with your warm eyes and your lovely smile, with your comforting hands and your warm embrace, and there is no road too long to walk if you are waiting for him at the end of it.

“I know,” He sighs, tugging off his shoes and stepping into his favourite pair of slippers - the ones with the little cat faces printed on them that you’ve charmed to always maintain a perfect temperature for his feet. He glances at your own feet and notes that you’re wearing your matching pair as well.

The two of you have long since set up a routine for this sort of occasion, and you both fall into it with unconscious ease. Solomon changes into something more comfortable while you put the kettle on in the kitchen, and the two of you inevitably spend so long snuggled up together on the largest armchair in the living room, unwilling to leave the warmth of each other’s presence, that the water cools down, and you end up having to put it back on again. Then you sit together at the table, you with a coffee with a dash of vanilla and him with his favourite chrysanthemum tea that you always brew just the way he likes it. Sometimes you’ll sit side by side, shoulders pressed up against each other as you show him the specifics of your latest curse-breaking commission, and sometimes you’ll sit across from each other, holding hands across the tabletop as he tells you about his day.

Today it is the former, but Solomon can’t help but zone a little out of the detailed deep-dive you’re giving him about the intricacies of the spell that’s cursed this teapot to shoot its contents at anyone who attempts to fill it. It isn’t that your explanation is boring - quite the contrary, in fact; Solomon could probably listen to you describing the most mundane or trivial of things on loop for the rest of his life and be perfectly content with it. No, it’s more to do with the fact that this is the first time he’s been home before dark in a long while, and he can’t help but revel in the fact that he can spend time with you like this again. Of course, there’s something wonderful in coming home to be able to collapse into bed beside you and bury his face in the crook of your neck, drifting to sleep as you burrow closer to him even in your sleep, but Solomon can’t run off of that forever - he needs to see you with your eyes open as well, after all. 

“You’re not listening to a word I say, are you?” You ask as you note the far-off look on your husband’s face. You’re not offended in the slightest by the way he starts at the directed question, evidently guilty, but you are a little puzzled. “Is there something wrong?”

Solomon’s mouth falls open slightly, then shuts again. There’s something about the way you’re looking at him so earnestly that makes his heart stutter like nothing else. Honestly, you’d think he’d be used to this after nearly two thousand years, but it seems that he’s still as weak for you as he was on the very first day of your marriage. “...I suppose I’ve just got a lot on my mind.”

“You always have a lot on your mind,” You counter softly, giving his hand a brief squeeze. “Come on, you can tell me.”

He laughs quietly, bringing your linked hands up to his face and gently holding yours to the side of his face; you, in turn, unfurl your fingers from around his and rub his cheek affectionately. After a moment, a fond smile pulling at his lips, Solomon replies, “I’ve… missed you a lot this week.”

You pause in mild surprise, but it quickly turns to endearment as Solomon presses his body even closer to yours. The hand that you’re using to hold your mug of coffee moves to settle on his shoulder as you pull him closer. “Really now? What a coincidence. I’ve missed you lots as well, love.”

He chuckles a little bashfully, his cheeks flushing. It seems that your ability to fluster him hasn’t declined even a bit over the years. He’s still well and truly besotted.

You can’t help but find it rather amusing that, despite already having spent a good hour and a half or so in the living room, bundled so close together in the blankets that you could feel his breath on your skin, the two of you are still nestling so close together now. You suppose it’s the effects of a week with much less contact than usual.

You lean forward and press a kiss to his jaw before pulling back again, reaching for your coffee and taking a sip. Solomon exhales softly, pulling his own drink towards him and draining the last of the tea in a single mouthful.

“You know,” He says, setting his empty cup down on the table. “One of my coworkers was asking about you earlier.”

“‘Coworkers’,” You snort at his choice of language, earning a reproachful poke in the side as punishment. “Come on, just admit that they’re your friends.”

“Fine,” He sighs. “One of my friends, then - Mammon, the one that Lucifer’s stringing up all the time.”

“The one with white hair?” You recall, thinking back to the group photo that Simeon had sent you a while back. “He’s the Avatar of Greed, right?”

“That’s the one,” Solomon nods. “Apparently he never noticed that I was married.”

“Well, you can’t really blame him,” You say, giving him a playful nudge. “Honestly, the way you keep your mouth shut, you’d think I was some shameful secret or something.”

Solomon looks scandalised by the very idea - it had only been a little joke, but his eyes flash with such affront that it’s almost as if someone has genuinely called you such a thing. “Of course not! I’d never—”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, I was joking,” You cut him off before he can get more riled up. Solomon calms down quickly once you set a comforting hand on his knee, though he still looks a little indignant. “I know why you don’t like talking about us much, but really, it’s okay. They’re your friends, aren't they?”

He hesitates, then nods, releasing another deep sigh soon afterwards. “I suppose. There isn’t much I can really do about it at this point anyway… according to Simeon, most of them have somehow figured it out already.”

“They’re probably a lot smarter than you give them credit for, Sol,” You hum, reaching up and brushing a stray lock of hair out of his eyes for him. “They’re demons, after all. They’ve lived even longer than us.”

“Believe me, they really aren’t.” Solomon shakes his head, a frown pinching at his brow at the very memory of the amount of things that his coworkers have done recently - some of the most notable being Diavolo setting an entire flock of geese free in the courtyard for an ‘experiment’, Levi quite literally throwing himself out of a window just to win a bet against Mammon about who could get down the stairs faster, Asmo causing a stampede in the main hall by dropping and shattering a bottle full of a powerful aphrodisiac potion that became even more powerful once released into the air, and Lucifer accidentally breaking one of Solomon’s favourite cauldrons when he’d transformed into his demon form and inadvertently smacked halfway across the room it with one of his upper wings.

“I’d really love to meet them some day,” You sigh, swirling the contents of your mug around. “They sound like fun.”

“Trust me, the trouble isn’t worth it—” Solomon attempts to reason with you, but he gives up laughably quickly as you pout at him in protest. “Oh, fine. But don’t blame me if you get sick because of the charm again.”

“We don’t have to use the charm,” You shake your head. “Just do a teleportation spell!”

“You know that that’s risky,” Solomon sighs, chucking you under the chin and leaning forward to kiss the tip of your nose. You laugh as he draws back again, a pleased smile rising on his face at your reaction. “We could end up anywhere.”

“You’ve teleported them a bunch of times, though, haven’t you? And you haven’t ended up in Texas or the Sahara Desert any of those times!”

The resemblance to his earlier conversation with Mammon and Simeon is almost uncanny. “That’s different. I was still teleporting them within the Devildom, not across an entire realm barrier… and besides, I can afford the risk with them. You’re a different story.”

You pout again, shoulders dropping in defeat, though it doesn’t escape Solomon’s notice that his sentiment seems to have appeased you at least a little. “...guess we’ll just have to use a transportation talisman, huh…?”

“That’s your only option if you really want to visit, yes.”

You go quiet for a moment or two, nose wrinkling and face scrunching as you think it over. Solomon doesn’t mind the lack of conversation - he entertains himself by studying your features, wondering for perhaps the millionth time how he managed to find someone like you.

Finally, a determined look rising on your face, you nod and proclaim, “Then I’ll do it!”

Solomon cocks his head slightly to the side. He can’t say he’s surprised by your eagerness, but he had expected it to take you longer to make up your mind. He opens his mouth to say something, but tou answer his question before he’s even asked it, a skill that you’d managed to pick up within the first year or so of knowing him.

“I really wanna see what you actually get up to when you work,” You explain, looking a little sheepish. “You’ve had a job there for nearly two years and I’ve never even said a word to the people you work with.”

Solomon laughs. “It isn’t usually a requirement in the workplace. Wear appropriate uniform, bring any equipment you need, introduce your husband to your coworkers within the decade…”

“Still, I’d feel bad if I didn’t at least meet them,” You say. “Besides, I want to see Simeon as well. You said he’s working down in the Devildom for a bit as well, didn’t you?”

“Why are you so eager to see him, huh?” Solomon’s tone is light and teasing, so you know not to take him seriously as he puts on an hurt expression. “I’m offended. Your dear husband’s right here and you’re thinking about some angel.”

“Oh, stop it, you,” You shake your head in slightly exasperated amusement as he runs a finger down his cheek in lieu of a tear. “You know it’s not like that.”

“Isn’t it?” He pulls an exaggeratedly petulant face and pretends to turn away like an upset child. “Sometimes I feel like you love him more than me.”

“Simeon’s a lovely guy, but you’re still the only guy for me, you doof,” You tell him, tapping fondly at the cheek he’s turned to you with your free hand. Solomon obligingly turns back around to look at you, a grin pulling at his mouth. “Why would I marry you and then stay here for two thousand years if you weren't?”

“I guess I always assumed it was out of pity or something,” He jokes in response, leaning forward and briefly brushing his nose against yours. “And, just so you know, you’re the only guy for me as well.”

“I’d better be,” is your lighthearted reply as he pulls away. After a moment, looking at him expectantly, you begin tentatively, “So…?”

He sighs, but gives you a smile nevertheless. “I’ll ask Diavolo. He probably wouldn’t mind if I brought you without asking first, but Lucifer definitely would.”

“What’ll we do if they hate me?” You ask. “Do demons actually eat humans?”

“They wouldn’t dare,” He replies firmly. “Not if I have anything to say about it. Besides, they won’t hate you. I doubt anyone could.”

You laugh and drop your head to rest on his chest. “You’re too nice to me, love.”

Solomon turns to wrap both his arms around your shoulders, setting his chin on the crown of your head. You smile into his jumper, looping your own arms around his waist and pushing yourself closer to him.

“I’m not just being nice. Honestly, [Name], you’re kind of the most perfect man in the universe.”

[scarabbai]

Okay okay so what exactly makes Kalim go Overblot in rr au? Did Jamil do it say sth hurtful to him?

On Scarabia’s final day of peace, dawn begins as usual.

Jamil wakes to featherlight touches on his arm and a ghostly voice reassuring his ears, his own mouth wide open in a yawn as he opens his eyes and sees Kalim facing away from him, already at work fetching his dorm clothes. Drowsy from the clinging remains of his dreams, he changes out of his sleepwear before sitting still and waiting for Kalim to apply his makeup. As always, his hands are steady, his movements delicate yet precise. Beautiful. Jamil tries very hard not to melt when Kalim moves on to threading his fingers through his hair, carefully working through it with a gentle tenderness that could only come from his devotion. His loyalty. His...

Love?

But that can’t be.

So Jamil ignores it, ignores the painfully small distance between them, and asks for Kalim’s night patrol report instead.

Kalim’s hands stop right where they are in his hair. He removes them, leans in closer, and wraps his arms around him. Resting his chin on Jamil’s shoulder, their illusion is complete. It’s a typical tactic of theirs: information exchange disguised as intimacy, using their closeness as a means of warding off any who might interrupt. At the same time, it acts as an unspoken sign of important news, a signal to listen closely. With his lips almost touching Jamil’s ear, Kalim hesitates. He hovers there, breaths warm yet laced with uncertainty, before muttering an apology and whispering a word that has Jamil’s eyes widening:

Traitors.

The mere idea is enough to send him spiraling.

His blood runs cold. His breathing unsteadies. His hands tremble. A wave of overwhelming nausea crashes over him, forcing him to cover his mouth as he gags. Kalim holds him, tries to soothe him, but it’s too late. An acrid taste comes to life on his tongue as the memory of poison burns his insides. His eyes sting with tears as old scars flare with pain, the long healed wounds recalling the cold metal of assassins’ blades pressing against his skin, remembering the times his body wept red, the times he wondered if help would arrive too late as he laid abandoned in a pool of his own blood. He does everything he can to keep himself together, to focus on Kalim’s touch instead of the way his heart aches knowing even the people who had a hand in raising him didn’t hesitate when they turned on him, knowing there’s not a person in the world he can trust aside from Kalim.

Traitors can’t be trusted. People who hate him can’t be trusted. They’ll grow bolder if he lets them run wild. They’ll come for him if he can’t prove he has the power to put them in their place.

His dorm members’ betrayal sinks in, and Jamil burns red hot with rage.

The ice in his veins boils away, and the peaceful morning quiet is shattered in an instant.

All of Scarabia is summoned to the common room.

With his magical pen held high as a threat, he barks orders and snaps at anyone showing even a hint of potential disobedience. Lining each and every dorm member up like lambs to slaughter, he stands before them all as the voice of ultimate authority, Kalim faithfully by his side. He looks down upon their tense, uneasy forms with eyes consumed by the flames of his fury. Discomfort hangs heavy in the air.

“We had a few escapees last night.”

Stalking down the rows with a gaze as sharp as a blade, hands folded neatly behind him, he scrutinizes each and every one of the filthy traitors before him. Some have the audacity to look afraid, bodies rigid with fear as if they aren’t all guilty of this crime—by involvement or association, it doesn’t matter. None can be forgiven. All betrayals, no matter how small, eventually escalate into a hand at his throat, his blood on the floor.

He’s going to smother the sparks before they set something alight and snuff out the flames of rebellion before they even have the chance to burn. This ends here and now. It has to.

With a slow, methodical pace, he passes a trembling first year. “Someone here did it.”

“One of you—maybe more than one of you—helped them escape.” He stops in front of a very tense second year. “Some of you have betrayed me.”

His tone shifts from anger to mock hurt, his voice deceptively calm. “Here I thought you all trusted me.” A pause. “I thought you all had faith in your dorm leader. The dorm leader that, may I remind everyone, you all chose.”

“Now, I’ve been very reasonable.” He leaves no room for negotiation. “I’m only trying to restore our dorm to its former glory, to prove us better than the others.” And make the Sorcerer of Sands, his family, proud. “Is that really so bad? So hard?” He doesn’t get it. “Why are you all being difficult on purpose? You’re in this dorm. I know you have the potential. You all can be great, so why aren’t you trying?” He doesn’t understand them at all. “You’re better than this.”

“But clearly,” he punctuates this with the slam of Scarabia’s snake staff against tile, “that isn’t the case.”

He whirls upon them, fury once again alive in his eyes.

“I’m going to find out who this weaselly little mongoose is.” It’s not a question. It’s a declaration of war, an extermination order for the traitorous ant carrying poison back to the nest. “I am going to know exactly who it is, even if I have to WRING THE TRUTH OUT OF EACH AND EVERY ONE OF YOU!”

No one dares to speak or move. The dorm is dead silent.

But then he hears it.

The faintest murmur, coming from his left, reaches his ears. It sounds deafening in the room’s absence of sound.

“Asim-senpai wouldn’t treat us like this.”

And then all Jamil sees is red.

[weakforarwen]

The Labyrinth of Gedref

This was a very good episode; one of those episodes were Arthur wasn’t just a bumbling idiot, though his refusal to take Anhora seriously in the light of a series of inexplicable events hurting Camelot was a bit puzzling. 

Arthur refused to believe Camelot was cursed just because he slayed a unicorn. Gaius told Arthur whoever killed a unicorn would be cursed, and not even a day later the crops died and the water turned to sand, yet Arthur still denied the truth. Why couldn’t he believe Anhora’s words when everything he said came true? “Wizards lie, Merlin”, said Arthur. 

Well, why would Anhora lie? Because Anhora was really the one who cursed Camelot but wanted Arthur to believe it was all his fault, so he could trick Arthur into doing his bidding (aka, the “tests”)? Sounds unreasonable, but maybe that’s because we know Anhora was honest and honorable; Arthur didn’t. I understand why Arthur would doubt the words of a stranger who called himself the Keeper of Unicorns and told him he was cursed and would be put through a series of tests to figure out whether the curse should be lifted. 

Still, experience had shown Arthur such things were very much possible in the realm of magic, and Arthur could hardly kill someone who wasn’t even corporeal. So, wasn’t it easier to just believe the man’s words instead of trying to kill a ghost? At least, that way, Arthur knew there was something he could do to save his people. But he would rather hold on to his pride, and his innocence.

Everything that’s bad about Arthur is Uther’s fault and this episode highlighted that very well. Arthur failed one of his tests because he killed a man who hurt his “honor”. Arthur had been willing to ignore the man’s taunts, but as soon as he took advantage of Arthur’s biggest weakness, Uther, Arthur forgot he was meant to be saving Camelot and not fight a man to the death. But the other man used Arthur’s fear of disappointing his father and not being fit to lead Camelot against him too well. Even Arthur slaying the unicorn was mostly to please his father. 

But Arthur will always stand up to his father and swallow his pride if it means protecting Camelot. He didn’t execute a looter because he couldn’t kill a man who only wanted to feed his family, and he couldn’t give the orders to stop distributing food knowing people would die. Eventually, Arthur could no longer listen to his pride and had to submit to the test. Merlin actually helped Arthur get a final chance to prove himself because he told Anhora he believed in Arthur with his life - as he should, because, for all of Arthur’s faults, he loved Camelot more than anything and would die for it. 

I admire Arthur a lot this episode. It was hard for him to listen to sorcerers who he could not comprehend and was taught to hate. Of course he’d rather believe he had a handle on the situation than accept he had caused it but could not control it. Arthur took an awful amount of time to accept reality, but, unlike his father, he eventually abandoned his pride. Uther refused to ask others kingdoms for help because it would make him look weak, but Arthur refused to let his pride get his people killed. I loved that scene between Arthur and Uther a lot, as I do all scenes where Arthur confidently and openly disobeys his father. He always wants to please Uther unless there are lives at stake. 

Arthur passed his first test because he has a good heart, but failed the second because of his father; that’s really how it always goes with Arthur. But he passed the third test because he chose not to make his father’s mistakes (and because of Merlin). That’s a truly accurate description of Arthur and the series in general. 

Merlin cleverly figured out how to ensure only one person drank the poison, but Arthur was the one who immediately did it. That scene was very touching, with Arthur and Merlin arguing about who would die and Arthur bravely drinking the poison. I really like Bradley’s acting when Arthur’s scared. This scene reminded me of when Arthur was going to sacrifice himself in The Darkest Hour. He looked heartbreakingly scared both times, but brave. There’s just something so innocent and sweet about Arthur’s fear. He wears it proudly. There’s no ego in the face of death, especially not when doing so will save his people. Episodes like these show how great Arthur truly is and the potential he had to become a great King.

It took so much strength for Arthur to ignore his fears and pride and put his life in the hands of someone he didn’t trust, praying doing so would help his people. He was willing to die in the hopes that Camelot would be saved, because hope was all he had. Unlike Merlin, Arthur didn’t truly believe, beyond a doubt, that Anhora was speaking the truth. I’m very prideful myself, so I’m always very impressed when Arthur buries his pride for the love of Camelot. My mom always says there’s no pride in love. Arthur’s proof of that - not only in this episode, but when he lost a match against Uther to protect his father’s pride, or when he chose to marry Gwen after she “cheated” on him. Arthur’s truly good and strong. His compassion knows no bounds.

Despite the fact that Arthur killed a harmless creature just to impress his father and for the bragging rights (and would’ve killed a man for attacking his honor), in the end, Arthur did prove he was pure of heart. He even gave the unicorn a funeral! The curse of slaying a unicorn was nonsense, tbh, but I like the idea that the unicorn could live again if the person who had killed it proved to be good. It sounds hopeful. Good people do bad things but deserve a second chance. 

I wanted to say how beautiful it was when Arthur escaped the labyrinth to end up on a beach. The location was so beautiful. I loved the image of Arthur and Merlin sitting at a table surrounded by nothing but sand and water, vulnerable and exposed like their house had flow away but they remained. You could hear the sound of the waves; the scene was so serene and beautiful.

I was reminded of the lake scene in With All My Heart. The Arwen scenes at the lake were beautiful as well. Both episodes made good use of silence - no music played when Arthur and Merlin took the test or when Arthur convinced Gwen to walk into the lake - no sound at all save for the actors’ voices and the sounds of the waves crashing against the shore or the stillness of the lake. 

Speaking of Arwen, there are Arwen crumbs in this episode! Gwen didn’t seem too worried in the early stages of the curse because, as she told Merlin, she was sure Arthur would “figure something out”. Gwen has always believed in Arthur.  

Also speaking of Gwen, her and Morgana did their best to provide food for the people of Camelot, who were starving. I found that very cool. It’s almost weird seeing how good Morgana used to be... And speaking of food, Arthur eating rat stew was quite possibly the most disgusting scene in all of Merlin, worse than the maggots and overall yuckiness of The Beauty and The Beast. 

Lastly, I know Merthur shippers must love this episode. I could hear their voices saying “Merlin is in Arthur’s heart” after Arthur drank the poison in leu of Merlin and Anhora decided he finally knew what was in Arthur’s heart, lmao. 

[hage-potato-hog]

Mereoleona Vermillion x f.reader (with some NSFW)

@vermillionflames (insert a ton of needless information on why I suck) If you get bored of reading the non nsfw part, scroll down to the highlighted zone , lower it is the a bit more mature content. As I have mentioned before, sorry, Becca! Also, it’s like 3 a.m for me now, I haven’t edited a single thing, I am not even sure it’s written in English, lol. Goodnight! __________________

"I am afraid!" 

"There is nothing to be afraid of, you are a proud lion, aren't you?"

Mereoleona looked down at a young man laying his head on her lap, a profound puddle of red liquid seeping into her clothes. Another handful of blood and he won't be able to recover. For most of her life, the proud lioness lived alone, had to fend for her life in the wilderness where only the fittest survive and back when she still lived in the capital, her family, friends, other royal knights, all of them seemed at least decent enough not to get killed in a battle. Today though, she was facing a different type of reality. For the first time, she felt lonely and desperate amidst the cruelty of this world. 

"You shall not die," a low growl vibrated in her throat. "MEDICS, WHERE THE HELL ARE THEY?!" 

Her shouts were wasted. A couple of Crimson Lion knights standing beside her had neither healing powers nor the mental capacity to comprehend that their teammate is surely dying right in front of them. 

There was nothing anyone could do. Only wait. Observe the skin turning paler until they cannot make out another plea of help through the blood spilling into lungs, throat... Reality hurts. 

"I am useless," whispered the ginger female slightly shaking. 

A droplet fell. Then another one and another. Suddenly, the scene was engulfed in a rainy mist. And so, the tragic end came. 

Interposed in the thunder, puddles began echoing. The next instance Mereoleona was pushed to the side with a "move it" said in a calm demeanor. A young woman looked the bleeding man up and down and after a brief evaluation began moving her hands through the injuries. Several strands of unruly hair fell onto her focused eyes, sticking to long black eyelashes. 

"I am sorry to be asking this of you," she began without unnecessarily moving a muscle. "could you please wipe the hair out of my eyes? It feels irritating, but I cannot move." 

Mereoleona reached out her hand. A bloody trace of two fingers was left on the woman's forehead, but she simply smiled and thanked.

Usually, when every second counts and minutes can determine whether a person lives or dies, the time passes slowly. This time though everything was over in a wink. Triumphantly, the mysterious lady leaned back. Her face gentle and smiling. The man won't die.

Dense rainfall wouldn't stop, seemingly unable to read the lightened mood, it kept on falling to mourn a loss. 

"TAKE HIM AND HURRY," the substitute captain roared gaining her sanity back. The party came upon an abandoned shack in the middle of the fields and decided to take shelter there, the woman from before still tagging along. 

A nicely burning fire and a roof above their heads, they have decided to stay here for the night. Having finished the roasted boar Mere caught for dinner, they now where sound asleep. Still feeling restless, the ginger-haired woman decided to go out and take a breath outside on the porch, her, now clean, hands reached out towards the everlasting stream of sky water. She could still see blood on her skin, feel how sticky and different this blood was from that of her foes. 

"Some things are inevitable," a voice said from behind her. Wrapped in a blanket sat the woman from before. She felt uneasy to stay in the same room with unfamiliar men and chose to come out onto the porch. "Even if you do everything in your power, there comes a time when it's not enough," she came closer and put the blanket over the taller female which earned her an eyebrow raise. Voice as soft as a prayer for the peace in the world whispered "sometimes... you just have to see them off with a smile." 

"I reject this kind of logic." 

"Eh? Miracles do not happen!" the girl protested. 

"You say that as you popped out like one yourself. Although yes, I agree with you, miracles do not happen, but you can prevent mistakes from happening." 

"Eventually you will break. The future is set in stone." 

The ginger-haired woman turned around with a huge grin, "I will break the stone it is set in," she bolstered flaring up her mana making the blanket burn off in cinders. 

Her companion simply stood there admiring the ashes fly off. The one in front of her was certainly not your everyday person, something was captivating about her, to the point you get intrigued to see them in any state of mind. "I want to be there," she said.

"Hm? You want to be where?" 

"When you lose the battle against fate or... when you run to set the heavens ablaze, I wish to be there and see you, you are fascinating!"

Mereoleona blinked for a moment but the very next second got back her confidence retorting, "If you want to be there, then you must reach my level first." 

"Mmm. I will, do not worry. As a fact, I am traveling to the capital right now," she took out her grimoire and proudly tossed it up a few times into the air. 

"Oho? What for?" Mere felt a sadistic intent rise deep within. 

"I plan to join the magic knights. You people are magic knights, right? You must have heard of the Crimson Lion King, the squad led by the famous Vermillion family? Aaah, I have been admiring them for so long and I finally get the chance to see them." 

"What's so good about them?" 

"How can you be a mage and not understand it?! They don't base their judgment on your status or your wealth even the current level you are on isn't as much of a factor as the potential and your determination. And the new captain, Mereoleona Vermillion, I have heard so many fantastic stories about her, though everyone is saying she is terrifying. I wish to feel what it is like to be under her guidance one day." 

As the girl kept on ranting about the idolized female sorcerer, her partner couldn't contain her laughter anymore. What an interesting creature she found along the path. One moment she is consoling her, acting superior, next she's ranting about her beloved Mereoleona without knowing who she is talking to in the first place.

"Ah, I like you, girl!" she looked back thrilled. 

"I am very pleased to have met you too... Um... did we exchange names?" 

"Mereoleona Vermillion. Welcome to the squad, from today on, you are a member of the Crimson Lion King and soon enough you will feel the pleasure of burning under my guidance!"

*** *** ***

"Hm, it seems we have five days off starting tomorrow," a female chimed walking down the street. 

"Perfect for some vigorous training," another one responded to her. 

The first woman stopped and looked back with dead-bored eyes, then gazed away and kept on walking without saying a word. The atmosphere turned cold instantly followed by silence stinging painfully. 

It has been over 2 years since the fateful day when Mereoleona met a strange yet charismatic woman out on a mission. 2 long years filled with hard work to prove herself and years of Mere's admiration growing until it finally blossomed in love. They now were dating, but even though their love vows have been said after getting to know each other in and out, incidents like this still kept on occurring between them. Someone as bright as the ginger-haired female's lover doesn't go silent unless they are genuinely hurt. For Mereoleona, other people's feelings were a mystery. Even though normally she wouldn't feel even the slightest bit bothered, when it comes to her most important person, she couldn't stand seeing the smile vanish from her face. 

"Ahaha, yea, you are right, I still have a long way to go," the girl laughed and turned around to face her lover with a huge grin. Which was fake. 

"Tell me straight... I am not as good as you with humans and their emotions," this time, Mereoleona's voice indicated pain. 

"Ah, I did not mean that, I am sorry," with a quick motion she stepped in front of Mere and took her hand lifting it to her lips, gently planting a kiss and then putting it against her own cheek. "I want to spend more time with you," she smiled with an honest sparkle in her eyes. "I was thinking that the two of us could run somewhere, anywhere really, as long as it is you and me." 

Both of them stood there blushing. The hand pressed against the woman's cheek turned around holding her face still. Then, two lips met in a soft kiss that seemed to be too sweet for the girl to handle. Right before her knees could give out, they parted. 

"Leave it to me," the eldest Vermillion said leaving her girlfriend still in shock. 

It did not take long for them to reach the approximate location of their 5 days long logging, but before getting the privilege to rest in a warm bed embracing each other, they had to go through a forest that even thieves pass in a circle. By the time their hands landed on the doorknob of a hut in the middle of a plain, surrounded by thick bushes, it was already a dark orange evening with sun way bellow the horizon. Tired, dirty, and sweaty the woman overlooked the energetic one with jealousy. 

"A challange, how else," she chuckled to herself dropping the bags down.

"Are you disappointed?" Mereoleona studied the girl's face. 

"No. It wouldn't be you if these things weren't included and I couldn't love you any other way. Though, I must insist that from now on, no more special-monster-challange-deluxes, okay, love?" her voice took up a threatening note. 

"Yes, I know. Don't worry. From now on, there's only rest. Do you want to go take a dip in the the hot stream?" 

"There is one?" the woman asked turning around excited. 

"Of course, did you expect we will be enjoying a freezing lake?" 

"... I mean, even a freezing lake can turn into a volcano with you..." she said recalling various instances.

Mereoleona yanked a towel off a wooden rack by the door and turned back to her girlfriend "I will be going first, don't stay here too long. Do not forget, I will be waiting." Her step did not lack the usual confidence nor seemed tired even the tiniest bit. Far from it. She seemed to be standing straighter with her shoulders and neck tense as if a beast ready to jump its prey.

It certainly was warm inside the cabin but the temperature magically rose higher as Mereoleona closed the doors as she walked through. The young woman, now left alone, began touching her blazing cheeks, then fanning at them. In her mind, the moment she walked out the door, any layer hiding her bruised skin will be ripped off and even more skin will be broken from Mereoleona's overbearing kisses. Even as she was thinking that, her hands dug deeper into the bags searching for the negligee she bought exclusively for this occasion. Various garter belts flew on the bed with dark, white and burgundy laced panties, some nightgowns, meant to be used during summer and as such more revealing, scattered all around the floor, yet, nothing seemed good enough until her attention was caught by the second white towel hanging on the wall. Sometimes, the simpler way is the right way, she thought snatching it with more force than her beloved minutes ago.

"Hey! Don't tell me you cannot move anymore! Should I make you?” a roar resounded from the outdoor bath.

Flustered and in a hurry, she threw off the clothes, wrapping the piece of cloth around her. This sweet type of anxiety made the woman's hand tremble as it pushed the door open. 

The nightly breeze swiped past the heated body standing in the doorway cooling it down a mere bit. Mereoleona was in the water, facing towards the door, but her eyes wandered through the shape and texture of a sake bottle which she held high towards the sky. There was no way she did not hear the door opening, nevertheless, the melancholic sight of her did not change into the usual rowdy one.

Taking a shy step forward, the other female looked around admiring the untouched nature while breathing the aroma of the vespertine flora surrounding them deep into her lungs. “How gorgeous,” a whisper passed her lips making the ginger set the bottle aside and look back. They both were looking directly into each other's eyes.

“Are you going to join me?” an extended hand offered a cup to the girl on the shore. 

As if on a cue, the moment the towel dropped down to the floor, Mereoleona turned her attention to the side gulping down her own cup.

//////////////// THE RED ZONE ////////////////

They sat shoulder to shoulder in water, facing the crescent moon, enjoying each other and the sake. Or so it seemed. Previous teases from the lioness made her partner assume that they will be embracing one another immediately after their bodies came close enough. Unlike her, the ginger was leisurely sipping on sake, talking about things that entirely passed past her ears even if all the concentration was solely on her. The way her lips move, how they touch together, and then part again giving a glimpse of the tongue which should be on her. Her eyes ran through the peaceful silhouette of her lover, going down her collarbone with water droplets racing to the plump chest which seemed as soft as ever, then to the side, muscular arms resting on top of the rocks, long slender fingers tapping on them. She could almost feel them provoking a moan out of her lips as they play with her nipples indulging the idea of seeing her squirm underneath. Mereoleona must have had no clue what was going in her girlfriend's mind. As she has mentioned before, she's bad with human emotions and sometimes, even the great lioness needs to be shown the way.

First a single digit, then a whole palm touched to Mereoleona's cheek and gently cupped it capturing her attention. Just as slowly, keeping her eyes low, she moved onto her Mereoleona's lap and impatiently clung to her neck locking their gazes again.

“Is something the matter?” the ginger's voice void of any distinct emotions questioned. 

“Mere...” 

A puff of air, hotter than the steam from the hot spring flied out into the air. One of the woman's hands clung to Mereoleona's shoulder when the other was pulling towards her by the neck, then relaxing and letting her slide back down the lioness's legs in a motion which made her tingle with further excitement.

“Could it be that you are having certain cravings right now?” 

“Mhm,” was all the girl was able to mutter.

Mereoleona cast her eyes downwards. The clear water allowed her to see the repetitive motion which has not ceased on her lap. Going up, the curves of the younger woman's torso swayed hypnotically, asking to be held. Prominent breasts kept on making contact with hers, both pairs so earnestly excited. Finally, eyes brimming in lust, hunger, passion and most importantly – love. She moved her hand to the girl's lips, traced them gently, “I don't think you want me hard enough,” her eyes creased as she smiled uncovering her white canines. “Prove that you want me, tell me what I could do to stop this growing frustration in you.”

“Your hands... Mere, you know...”

“Show me, what you want them to do, my damsel in distress,” her eyes shimmered and the woman took Mereoleona's hands and slowly made them travel up her tights towards her bottom. “Huh, that's all?”

“Squeeze it.”

Doing as she was told, she squeezed it but seizing the opportunity, also pulled her even closer. The woman's chest and neck were in her reach. “Should I kiss you on the neck?” she chuckled nuzzling her nose closer.

“Bite it.” 

“Ha, usually you are annoyed saying I bite too much. But if it pleases you...”

She gripped at the curves she was admiring before as she lovingly left bite marks on her neck and areas around, coming back to leave a more serious mark on each. Every time her lips made contact with the heated skin, she'd peek at the girl gripping her shoulder and now somehow her hair as well. “What if I did this?” her fingers slid across the most sensitive area which was surely wet from more than the water and taking their time, kept a steady pace stroking it. 

“Did I prove it to you?” the woman asked catching her breath.

“I am merely giving you a small free-by, you will have to work more to prove yourself.” Mereoleona took back her fingers and licked them. “I can barely taste you, everything washes off. We should go to bed. You walk first.”

Mereoleona sat back waiting, letting the girl rise from her lap quivering. Walking, she stopped to look back only to see two blue irises appraising her backside. When she made it past the door and stood in front of the bed, she could feel the other female behind her leaning forward though eagerly waiting. Mereoleona's hand caught her chin forcing it to the side just a bit more. Their lips joined for a rough kiss which was more becoming for the lioness than the gentle teases out in the pool. One of her hands slid to the front and once again began working its way around the woman's sensitive lower abdomen. Hungrily she pushed her forwards making the two of them topple onto the bed. She inserted one of her fingers inside the woman making her arch her back, pushing her ass up. There was a great deal of frustration involved making this experience more ecstatic than usual. And when she began feeling her premature orgasm coming by shouting Mereoleona's name into the duvet beneath her, the woman took her fingers out. Both of them were panting heavily.

“Didn't we come here so I could taste you properly?” she said grabbing one of the garter belts that flew on the bed earlier. Mereoleona helped her lie on her back after tying her wrists together. “A good knight always sticks to their word,” she smiled again lowering her face to her lover's dripping sweetness. Like a feline, she licked gently, tasting it at first, then again, and again, until her lips were sucking and tugging as her hands held tightly on the woman's hips constantly pulling her sensitively bolting body back.

The cabin drowned in screams of pleasure not even stopping once she orgasmed. Satisfied, Mereoleona pulled back, coming next to her girlfriend and untying her bound arms. The woman had some tears rolling down, “Was it too much?” the lioness asked with a hint of unrest.

“No, you were amazing.” She pulled Mereoleona closer. They kissed not rushing anywhere. Parting, coming back just like the wind passing nocturnal meadows; gently and in waves. “I never knew you were such a great actor,” the two of them laughed.

“It certainly was hard not eating you out then and there. Still... You certainly seem ready for this trip,” she picked a pair of thongs from the pillow. “I would like to see a little show now, would you mind?” Mereoleona extended the garter from before along with the panties. “I am still as hungry as I was moments ago."

[chaoswillfallrpg]

CARADOC DEARBORN is TWENTY-TWO YEARS OLD an AUROR in THE DEPARTMENT OF MAGICAL LAW ENFORCEMENT at THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC. He looks remarkably like BOOBOO STEWART and considers himself aligned with THE ORDER OF THE PHOENIX. He is currently OPEN.

→ OVERVIEW:

Brave and courageous with a lion heart, Caradoc Dearborn is every inch a true Gryffindor and a beloved friend by all due to his honesty and integrity. Born in Scotland, Caradoc was raised in the wizarding village of Portee on the picturesque Isle of Skye where his parents chose to settle into a quieter life after a lifetime of dangerous quests which took them across the globe. Bravery runs in the blood of both the Dearborn and Li families of which Caradoc is proudly related to, each with their own intense and brilliant family histories which are rooted deep within the wizarding world. SARA LI, his mother was a brilliant witch who had worked for the Japanese Ministry of Magic for a great many years before moving to London to aid in the protection of Japanese Magical Creatures. Travelling to Rome, Paris and onto London, Sara attempted to share her studies on the Oni, a deeply misunderstood creature she knew to have been featured in travelling circuses across Europe. An endangered creature due to the price on it’s horns, she ruthlessly pursued circus owners who kept them, joining a travelling circus herself to attempt to uncover the trade of the creature. While posing as an Oni keeper for a travelling circus in Paris she met Caradoc’s father, ADAHY DEARBORN an auror with a mysterious past who posed as a wizard dazzling crowds with windless magic of which he was an expert.

Undercover they began their love affair, travelling around the world attempting to rescue and save magical creatures from extinction. His mother and father’s love story was one that captured Caradoc’s imagination and he grew up with a taste of adventure and a love of magical creatures which his parents kept on their remote property just outside of Portee. It was a solitary upbringing but a beautiful one, surrounded by trees and the roar of the sea, Caradoc’s childhood was spent with his best friends. His parents who dazzled him with their escapades and their creatures who he lied beside dreaming up adventures that would take him across the world. Although his mother was very vocal about her family and her life in Japan before she came to London, his father spoke little of his life in Massachusetts. It hadn’t really occurred to Caradoc to inquire very much into it until it became apparent he shared the same magical abilities of his parents. Although Caradoc had always seen his mother use a wand, his father had never needed one. Adahy was extremely capable of very difficult magic with a simple spell or a wave of his hand and or a spell that his mother required a wand for. As most children in Britain obtain wands when they are eleven and are thus capable of wandless magic, Caradoc was unbothered by his magic rearing its head when he was angry or sad as it had with his mother and father.

But Caradoc wasn’t like most young wizards, the magic which occurred in strange spurts for most children he was able to control because of his father. Adahy began teaching him to control his magic while he was young. Chores became easy as a twirl of his hand engineered a sponge scrubbing a plate or bags of food flew outside to the garden to feed their firebirds. His ability was astounding and unlike anything many of the children in Portee were able to manage as they awaited their wands and their letters to Hogwarts. Caradoc too awaited his letter to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and when he was eleven years old it arrived. Hogwarts was everything Caradoc had imagined it would be, a beautiful castle with spralling green hills and a mysterious dark lake and forest which they were forbidden from venturing into. Someone who wasn’t very good at following the rules and had an immense appetite for danger, Caradoc rarely followed the rules and quickly befriended fellow trouble makers POPPY HOOKUM, DEMETRIUS MCLAGGEN and GWENOG JONES. Other people often found the pair high energy quite off putting, but Caradoc found them interesting and gleefully enjoyed exploring the outer edges of the school together and preaching the rights of all magical beings when they weren’t serving detention. Caradoc experienced his fair share of detentions whilst at Hogwarts and was a regular thorn in the side of PROFESSOR MCGONAGALL. But whilst like Poppy and Demetrius he got in trouble for taking down purists, he also had a habit for walking around after hours.

Exploring Hogwarts was simply due to Caradoc’s love of adventure, but his regular trips to the library and the restricted section were to do with another form of curiosity. Caradoc loved his life at Hogwarts but he longed to know more about his abilities. Wandless magic was not taught at Hogwarts and whilst Caradoc was comfortable with a wand he wondered why his classmates, like his mother, had needed the wands to control their magic. It was many nights getting caught wandering the halls and serving detentions for carrying books he shouldn’t be in the possession of that finally led I’m into the office of PROFESSOR DUMBLEDORE who finally gave him a book which provided him some answers. Wandless magic was not taught at Hogwarts but it was taught in a few magical schools, Uagadou School of Magic and The Greylock School of Magic. Both schools had amazing history, but it was Greylock that peaked his interest. Founded by the Dearborn family, QALETAQA and his wife TALA DEARBORN built the school to teach their children and the children of their village who lived at the foot of Mount Greylock to control their magic. It was a small school at first, though over the years it grew to take on more teachers and greater numbers of students before becoming the most sought after school in The United States and the leading school to teach only wandless magic. The Dearborn family were firmly at the helm with the current headmaster TAIMA DEARBORN, a direct descendant of Qaletaqa and Talana of a similar age to Caradoc’s aging father Adahy.

Armed with his research he put it to his father the summer after he finished Hogwarts. Caradoc knew they were connected to Greylock in some way, but he wasn’t quite sure how. From a draw in his story his study Adahy produced a letter from Tala to Caradoc detailing his acceptance to Greylock when he was seven years old, based on his legacy status. Tala was his uncle and had been estranged from him after his father had abandoned his headmaster position at the school to chase a dream of becoming an auror. Caradoc was shocked and deeply hurt that his father would keep such an important part of his history from him. They had family in America, Caradoc had never met and a whole school had been open to him; he'd never gotten the chance to explore. Livid, Caradoc packed his belongings and moved out, renting a room in London with his best friend Poppy who was equally as irritated by their family as Caradoc was with his own. The pair had big dreams and only needed one another to make them a reality. Although Caradoc was curious about his legacy in America, a wider problem had captured his attention in Britain that was becoming worse as the years went by. Purist ideology was on the uptake and although the problem had been bad at Hogwarts it was becoming worse as they entered the wider world. Caradoc and Poppy had been firm members of CHARITY BURBAGE and BENJY FENWICK’s Sorcerers for Equality movement since Hogwarts, but knew they could be doing more.

Enrolling in the Auror programme, Caradoc studied hard to achieve his dream and quickly became a valued member of the department catching the eye of senior Auror KINGSLEY SHACKLEBOLT. Kingsley offered to mentor Caradoc after a few incidents at work had him flagged up on ALASTOR MOODY’s radar. Despite his talent, Caradoc had a bit of a tendency to put himself in dangerous positions in order to help or protect others, taking the law into his own hands and investigating cases without any help. It was his passion for justice, magical ability and desire to keep a close eye on him that prompted Kingsley to introduce Caradoc into The Order of The Phoenix, a secret group formed by Professor Dumbledore to keep Wizarding London safe from potential threat. Caradoc takes his role within the team very seriously, constantly working around the clock to look at cases from an angle which might be beneficial to the Order and berating Kingsley with his findings. Oftentimes, his accusations appear somewhat wild and under researched as Caradoc tries desperately to root out the death eaters amongst them. Presently, Caradoc has his eyes on KEIRA GREY, a Muggle-Born working at the coroner’s office whom the department frequently have worked with. Although Kingsley isn’t ready to hear it, Caradoc had no reason to suspect Keira until the passing of BOOKER BAGNOLD, but with fresh doubts now cast on the nature of his death Caradoc is admen Keira might have had a hand in covering it up and is determined to prove it.

ADDITIONAL INFORMATION:

Blood Status → Pure-Blood

Pronouns → He/Him 

Identification → Cis Male

Sexuality  → Up to Roleplayer 

Relationship Status → Single

Previous Education →  Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (Gryffindor)

Societies → Sorcerers for Equality 

Family → Dakota Dearborn (unknown cousin)

Connections  → Poppy Hookum (best friend), Demetrius McLaggen (best friend), Gwenog Jones (best friend), Maren Linwood (close friend), Aurora Sinistra (close friend), Cressida Abercrombie (close friend), Amira MacNair (close friend), Dorcas Meadowes (close friend/colleague), James Potter (friend/colleague), Remus Lupin (friend/colleague), Kingsley Shacklebolt (friend/colleague/mentor), Emilia Grey (friend), Charity Burbage (idol), Benjy Fenwick (idol), Alastor Moody (boss), Keira Grey (person of interest)

Future Information → N/A

CARADOC DEARBORN IS A LEVEL 8 WIZARD.

[jakattax]

I was a lucky kid growing up, my family were largely bohemian and didn’t really pressure me at all to fall into a particular crowd or scene. For the most part I was left to decide my own hobbies and interests, which I feel as a working class northerner is an oddity. I was largely uninterested with anything considered the norm, I found the perception of normality to be terribly boring. I lived in my own mind, fuelled by my still present wild and colourful imagination, and nothing fuelled my imagination more than the idea of magic. Films like the ‘Wizard of Oz’ and ‘Excalibur’ were Bible to me, any media with witches, wizards and sorcerers utterly enamoured thing. I believe this fundamental obsession revolves around the concept of power, that these mystical men and women could achieve the impossible and bend reality by possessing a power that no hero-knight or any other could possess. The wizard or witch was a solitary creature, usually ostracised or eccentric, both qualities I possessed as a child. And so it was a common pastime for me to find the best stick that would act as my staff and to jump around the woods pretending to be Gandalf. I knew that magic could only ever exist in my own imagination and I stuck to this falsehood for many years. After a trip to the goth haven of Whitby with my grandparents, I realised that magic was very much real and was not limited to book, screen or my own closed mind. I bought a hazel wand (inscribed with ‘Blessed Be’ in futhark) from a Wicca supply shop and my first book of magic. This book of shadows was my prized object, with only the media portrayal of magic at my disposal I knew that every enchanter possessed their own book of spells, while mine wasn’t bound in human skin and written in odd runes, it was magic, real magic. Another very vivid memory was that a bought a handsome besom from the same shop, a gorgeous birch broomstick wrapped in colour silk, and so on our trip to the north York moors I placed the broom between my legs and jumped up and down over the heather. Alas I did not fly. Only in my mind.

Wicca was truly my gateway into my magical studies, even though I was very young I had absolute conviction that magic was very much real and tangible, I even recall having a particular fondness for a rain spell which seemed to work without fail. Naturally my new obsession with real magic just pushed me further from the grain of normality, thank God. Yet the older I got I started to become disenchanted. Like all teenagers I went through a period of abandoning childhood fantasies to focus on my image or popularity. Who I socialised with and how I looked over-rided any past passions. It is something I feel remarkably ashamed over, yet adolescence is a period in life in which one wears many masks for the sake of an easy time, even though I was bullied none the less for my bookish and overall weak disposition. But no-one could know I use to dress up in a pointy hat and make it rain. I killed that part of my childhood. This abandonment of magic continued until I was 16.

I was now in college and was the worst sycophant to a particular friend who I followed blindly. He was the coolest kid in college, a Casanova, I was discovering my own sexuality and realised too that I was deeply in love with him. Again I was sacrificing my core personality, but not for long. I was a theatre kid, and bloody good at it too, our first year assessment was based on the performance of a classical monologue. Know I don’t know exactly how I decided on it, or how I even knew of it, but I settled on Marlowe’s ‘Doctor Faustus’ to perform. I was a committed and serious young actor, finally in s subject that I cared for and excelled in so I conducted research into how i wanted to stage the piece. In my mind I wanted the stage littered in books and scraps of paper all bearing occult symbols, yet I didn’t know any. I didn’t want to cheapen the performance by having blank scraps of paper, they needed to be Faustus’ magical and alchemical work, so I used the library computer to find some.

And the gates opened.

Like a child again I was reading about magic, real magic again but this time I found a new mindset. In my research looking up Occult symbols to litter my set with, I came across a name, a name steeped in controversy to this day, the wickedest man in the world; Aleister Crowley. Reading up on Crowley and MacGregor Mathers brought me to a new and dangerous form of magic, the magic of the ceremonial magician. While indeed Wiccans and witches take their art and practise very seriously, there was something about the strict Methodology and science like nature of ceremonial magic that appealed to me more. Changing the weather was great and all but demon conjuration? Intricate magic circles and glyphs? Spirit evocation? Yes please, this was the magic that I wanted. And so I purchased my first Grimoire of ceremonial magic, the Ars Goetia.

This was a book I carried with pride, it was a conversation starter, I was the kid who studied demons. My image had changed after my then best friend moved to university, gone was the preppy and popular false Jack, now was the time for a brooding, dark clothed Jack who read Shelley, Byron and books of demon summoning in his spare time. To be frank it’s not a phase I’ve quite broken yet either.

As enamoured as I was by the Ars Goetia, I was no fool, I knew that in terms of practicality it was something I could not attempt, yet. The magic was complex, the tools seemed impossible to acquire and so I sat on my grand schemes of being a conjured per excellence, yet the flames in my mind were raging.

Three years later I moved to Nottingham for my university education, wonderful city. for the first time in my life I was with strangers who had no preconceived notions about me. I could wear a new mask. Yet I chose the hard path, I was at university so one should act as a university don should, I bought tweed suits from charity shops, wore a bow tie and started to smoke a pipe. I found rebellion by not being normal, fuck normality, the new Jack would never bow down to popularity again. I call my university years some of the darkest of my life, not only because of the daily cocktails of alcohol, drugs and severe bouts of depression but because these were the years in which I honed my craft as a goete.

I had the good fortune of renting flats with basements and because my flatmates were dull football types brainwashed by heteronormative coding, they were naturally scared of it and didn’t go down there. And as horribly cliched and Hollywood as it is, I began conjuring demons in the basement. Even though I had been studying the Goetia for a few years now, I still lacked pretty much everything needed, other than my own conviction. I used chalk for my circle and triangle of art, candles for mood lighting and some sticks of incense and began conversing to the shadows. The crazy thing is, the shadows spoke back. I knew that I had the crossed a threshold in which there was no return, while I had achieved magic with fairly simple effects, now I had truly pierced the veil and was openly seeing, speaking and listening to demons. The glass of reality had cracked, I was in a new world in which magic was the only truth. I had demon spirits perform many many tasks for me, some failed, some excelled. I tried to hone in my skills, realise mistakes and amend them. Then I started branching out, with my knowledge increasing I came into contact with more books, more new information and magic to discover; the Verum, the Cyprian texts, Agrippa, Abra-Melin etc. Etc.

Yet this was closeted. While I was unashamedly eccentric, I had too much against me as a gay man and an oddity. I suffered extreme bullying again and thanks to my depression made a suicide attempt, if anyone knew I was in the basement ordering demons to attack those who wronged me, it would be fatal to me. Or so I thought. The layman perceives magic as nonsense, Harry Potter glitter Magic that simply isn’t real and if you believe in it you either have too many cats or are just delusional. They do not understand that magic and only magic is the highest form of science there is, the microscope or telescope can see hidden things that the eye cannot yet so can a scrying ball. For all the wonders that science can perform and demonstrate, it cannot lift the eyelids on the falsehoods of reality, only through magic can we truly see between the lines and realise that the mundane world is shrouded in mysteries that only magic can answer. And so due to this fear of being stigmatised, I kept my magic a secret.

For the best part of a decade I studied and practised Ceremonial magic in private. Whenever my parents or housemates we’re out I’d grab my tools and begin my work. My library was growing, my collection of magical tools too, I was growing and flowering into a proficient 21st century Magus. Then two years ago I decided fuck it. I was tired of keeping a fundamental part of my spiritual beliefs and occult practises silent and so I outed myself as a ceremonial magician. Not to much fanfare however, everyone seemed largely indifferent, probably just another one of jack’s eccentricities. But no, magic is no hobby, no idle pastime or frivolity to me, magic is in my Veins and every breath, it is my true calling in life to study, explore and understand my place in this world through the Occult sciences. I am a magician who can charm you or tear you to pieces just as easily, I live in a demimonde of illusion, I achieve the impossible.

When you sit before the scrying glass and see a spirit looking into your eyes, you must reject all notions of a normal reality and accept wholeheartedly that magic is real.

[fangirlshrewt97]

Geralt Whump Week Submission Day 5

TITLE: I Walk a Lonely Road

SHIPS: Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier|Dandelion (Platonic or Pre-Slash)

PROMPT: Loneliness

MEDIUM (Netflix, Books, Games, Hexer): Netflix

WARNINGS: NA

SUMMARY:  Excerpt:

And yet, Jaskier had followed him. Jaskier followed him despite his grouchy demeanor, his taciturn nature, his ostracism at the hands of the general pubic. And not only did Jaskier follow him, he befriended him. In his long life, Geralt had come across the whole swath of humanity, from the saints to the scum of the earth, but very few had had the courage to be able to look him in the eye for more than a few minutes at a time. And even less had thought him to be someone worth knowing. Jaskier was the first, and only, human brave enough to ask to be - no not ask, declare himself to be Geralt’s friend.

Alternate title: Geralt misses Jaskier and ponders on having a friend.

WORD COUNT: 1483 words

AUTHOR’S NOTES:  Additional Tags include Geralt Whump Week, Loneliness, Introspection, Friendship, Angst with a happy ending, Geralt deserves better, Geralt has abandonment issues, Geralt has trust issues

AUTHOR: Fangirlshrewt97

CHARACTERS: Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier

LINK TO AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25089355

                                                         ///

It was odd, how unsettling the silence was the first time Geralt and Jaskier parted for the season after they started to travel with each other for the majority of the year. Geralt heading towards Kaer Morhen, and Jaskier back towards Oxenfurt.

The world seemed to be amplifying the specific absence of nonstop chatter and mindless strumming, so that even the existing chirping of birds, the rustle of leaves against the wind, the rush of the stream down the hill, all of it seemed to be background noise to the silence.

Geralt urged Roach into a light trot instead of the sedate pace she was currently on. Maybe distance would lower the volume of the silence.

Jaskier was closer to Oxenfurt than Geralt had been to Kaer Morhen, so Geralt had led them towards Redania after they finished their business in Temeria. It was simply because Geralt did not want to cause the bard further difficulties as he made his way back to his winter roost. It was challenging to travel during winter even for a Witcher, it would be even worse for Jaskier.

Roach started to slow down after nearly two hours of trotting, so Geralt decided to make camp, dismounting from Roach and leading her by the reins as he scanned the area for a good campsite. Finding a small clearing a little ways from the road, Geralt tied Roach to a tree and settled down saddle bags. He removed a small dagger and went in search of food.

After a quick hunt and a large rabbit that had had the unfortunate luck of crossing his path, Geralt gathered firewood and created his fire for the evening with Igni. He went through the motions of cleaning the rabbit and cooking it, eating mechanically.

It was difficult to believe so now, having travelled alone on the Path for nearly seven decades now, but three years with Jaskier were all that Geralt had needed to become used to him. There were some days when the bard was too much, too loud, too colourful, too much frenetic energy. But other days, he was the one bright spot of sunshine that reminded Geralt that while most humanity hated him for his existence, his duty was done for people like Jaskier, people who made life worth living.

Who brought some joy into a world of cruelty and death, a breath of fresh air through the stink of decay and destitution. Who was brave, and smart, and courageous. But who also was not afraid to fight for what he believed in, or who. Geralt had lost count of the number of fights he had stopped Jaskier from getting into over himself, but the surprise of someone fighting for him was there every time.

If Jaskier had been here, he would have been complaining over the blandness of the rabbit, and prattling about buying spices at their next stop at a town so it did not feel so much like they were eating barely-cooked meat.

Geralt felt his lips twitch upward at the thought. Even without being beside him, the bard had wound his way into Geralt’s head and life. It had not actually been too difficult, Geralt had never had to properly set up walls to protect himself beyond the insults hurled at Witchers. Why bother, what human would ever want to be around a monster like him? And sorcerers? Please, they were so stuck up with their inflated senses of selves, Geralt found it incredible some of them did not simply fly away with egos. Other Witchers were so few that he crossed paths with. And his brothers? Well they had always had a place there.

So. Geralt had skin thicker than the hide of his armor, but his walls crumbled at the slightest show of affection, or understanding, or kindness. Or even just being treated as a person and a not a killing machine.

And yet.

And yet.

And yet, Jaskier had followed him.

Jaskier followed him despite his grouchy demeanor, his taciturn nature, his ostracism at the hands of the general pubic. And not only did Jaskier follow him, he befriended him.

In his long life, Geralt had come across the whole swath of humanity, from the saints to the scum of the earth, but very few had had the courage to be able to look him in the eye for more than a few minutes at a time. And even less had thought him to be someone worth knowing. Jaskier was the first, and only, human brave enough to ask to be - no not ask, declare himself to be Geralt’s friend.

Geralt did not know how to react to this, he had been brought up being told that Witchers travelled alone, their duty was one observed alone, their lives a sacrifice for the greater good, not their own.

His earliest memory, well, second earliest was of his mother abandoning him on the trail that lead to Kaer Morhen. It was calling out for her and stumbling down the path until nightfall, disoriented, hungry, and scared. It was being terrified of being eaten by the hulking figure with golden-yellow cat eyes that glowed in the dark until that figure revealed itself to be a Witcher.

Among his fellow trainees, his brothers to be, Geralt felt the first sense of family. He felt like he was part of a cause, like the hero of the stories people were going to write. And then they went through the trials. He watched, as one by one, most of the boys he considered to be his brothers died painfully, screams echoing through stone halls. He remembers very little of his own trial, knows it was just as scream-filled, but it is their voices that haunt him on the nights when he is most isolated. He also recalls the first time he left to venture on the Path, the beginning of the rest of his life, saying goodbye to the few constants in his life. Returning the next winter, weathered and worn by a world that had shown itself not to be kind. Returning to a hall where, of the handful of brothers he had stepped into the Path with, only Eskel returned. He learned then more than ever the true meaning of the words of his teachers. Friends were a liability, connections were distractions, and distractions got you killed. Help those in need, help your comrades, but above all, make sure you go into a situation with a clear head.

Geralt shook his head from his musings and cleaned up the remains of his dinner. After putting everything away, he took out his sword cleaning kit and settled by a rock next to his fire pit, using the whetstone to sharpen his blades before running over the swords with oil. He polished the blade to perfection as he had been taught, and placed the two swords back in their scabbards in Roach’s saddle.

He stretched for a bit, still feeling a little restless, but feeling too filled with energy to meditate. The cracks from days of laying on hard floors and riding make themselves known, and the stretching leaves him feeling pleasantly sore and limp. He makes his way to his bedroll, dropping gracelessly onto the mat and rolling onto his back. The clearing he had chose was well hidden from the road, and the circle of trees were tall enough to provide further cover. But straight upward? There was a large opening unobstructed by plants that allowed for a view of the starry sky.

The moon’s beams were at the edge of the circle of trees, lighting up the sky to give him a view that reminded him just how small he was in the larger scale of their world.

One of the lessons that was drilled into Witchers during training was to learn the night sky, and use it as a compass to orient themselves anywhere on the Continent. Geralt had not been the quickest at identifying them, but had enjoyed the lessons nonetheless. They were one of the few that taught the trainees the beauty of their world, rather than the violence and horror of it.

Geralt stayed staring up at the night sky until his eyelids grew heavy and he fell asleep to the sound of the woods, the rustling of the trees, the distant calls of owls, the scampering of small wildlife out on a hunt.

He had lived for the majority of his life believing himself destined for a life of loneliness. But he had found himself a bard - no, a friend. Someone who was voluntarily spending time with him because he enjoyed to do so.

The thought brought a smile to Geralt’s face, and he fell asleep underneath the canvas of the night sky like that.

Full of happiness and pride, humming a familiar song that had been written about him.