#in a job that requires me to be on my feet constantly

[just-your-average-tangerine]

The thing that really sucks about this whole getting an apartment here situation (aside from the everything about it) is that nearly everything I own is still in a storage unit in Phoenix. I did that for 2 reasons 1) I was planning on going back, so it made more sense to leave it there. 2) there are no climate controlled or indoor storage units here so stuff was going to get damaged if I brought it and put it in a unit here (my guitars for example would not do well with the cold or heat). And when I was planning on going back, I could arrange for there to be a few days in between leaving my job here and starting my job there so I would have time to move.

But now, since I'm staying here, I can't take time off work to go back to Phoenix and get my stuff. I don't have any vacation time left, and they're not allowing people on my shift to use sick leave at the moment (or rather, you can use it but you'll get written up or suspended for it). So now I'll be moving into and living in an empty apartment until at least April. That's the absolute earliest I'll be able to take time off to go to Phoenix and get my stuff. And even that's only if the weather is good. If it's not, I'll have to wait until late may or even June.

[subsequentibis]

got home from work walked in the door looked at my phone and watched four email notifications pop in at once. turned off notifications

[itsalwaysdark]

i want to watch the things on my watchkist but i also never do its rly tragic

[gyuuberryy]

love potions (but make it legal)!

pairing: tutor!jungwon x reader

summary: you had not been too excited about these tutoring sessions your potions professor had dropped on you. but, after meeting your tutor you couldn’t hope but think you both were brewing more than just potions, perhaps even love?

genre: hogwarts au, jungwon is a loser for the reader, initially slightly one sided pining, fluff, angst

warnings: some hogwarts lore references, mentions of failing a class, jealousy, angst, magic stuff, kissing, suggestive(ish)

note: they don’t actually make love potions in this but i liked the sound of it so i used it in the title hehe. i hope you guys enjoy this fic as you had given so much love to the heeseung one.

word count: 4.3kish

if you liked it please reblog or comment to give me your feedback! <3

to the anon who requested a jungwon hogwarts au im sososoo sorry for publishing this like six months later. i had a terrible writer’s block with this one. i’m terribly sorry, this constantly ran through my mind but i couldn’t bring myself to begin. i hope you like this!

you were so screwed.

you felt like a deflated balloon looking at your mock NEWT results. you were literally failing your potions class. with all the time spent in balancing out your classes, quidditch and sessions at the room of requirement as a part of dumbledore’s army, you had not practised well enough for your classes that were practical based. 

seeing your grades drop from exemplary results to having mediocre grades and failing a class was depressing. so, your potions teacher had made you stay back to have a word with you which is why you stood off to the side. your head hung low in disappointment with yourself. if this continued, it would be hard to apply for an auror’s job, which was your dream. 

you were broken out of your thoughts by the sound of your professor clearing his throat. your head shot up and you looked around to see the room was now empty save for you both. he gestured to the seat next to his table, so you shuffled over.

he looked over the rim of his glasses as he scanned over your report card. you hated the pitiful look that crossed over his face, you were not used to this.

“you are one of my best students, i really wasn’t expecting this from you..”

you grimaced at his words, feeling worse about your situation. great, you were not the only one disappointed by yourself.

your professor must have noticed because his tone immediately became gentle as he gave you a comforting smile. 

“see, the only reason i asked you to stay back was because i know you can do better”, he shuffled through a register seemingly looking for something. “i’m sure you have your reasons as to why your performance went down. i know you can improve again.”

you nodded at his words, already starting to feel better, “yes professor i-”

“which is why i think you should get tutored”, he cut you off.

you froze. tutoring? this was so embarrassing, usually you were the one to provide tutoring to others, and now you have to be the one to receive it? no thank you.

you let out a small chuckle, “i understand professor, but i think i can handle it by myself.”

his brows creased at your words, “i don’t think you have enough time for that, the exams are nearing and you have managed to mess up even the basic things in the exam.”

you sighed at his words, silently accepting your fate because he wasn’t wrong. maybe you should swallow your ego and just get tutored, it was for your own good anyway.

taking a deep breath you put on a fake smile and gritted out, “okay.”

the rush of your mary jane clad feet filled the hallways of hogwarts with clopping sounds. your feet skidded to a stop in front of the library doors and you placed your hand over your chest, trying to catch your breath from the ten minute long run. you were late for your first tutoring session because your evening nap went a little longer than expected. 

brushing out stray hair strands from your face you opened the doors and stepped in, looking around for your tutor. the only person other than you was a boy with raven hair, sitting on a bench completely surrounded by bookshelves. 

you approached him, assuming he was your tutor. 

“uh hey!”, you called out in an unsure manner. “are you my assigned tutor for po-”

“yes”, he cut you off curtly, not even bothering to spare you a glance. “take a seat.”

you frowned in confusion at his cold behaviour and pulled out a chair to sit next to him. he seemed to be shuffling through some papers and organising them. a few seconds went by with him failing to acknowledge your presence. you cleared your throat awkwardly and introduced yourself, trying to get his attention. 

his head immediately shot up as soon as he heard your name, his eyes widening in what you could tell was surprise. confused at his reaction, you just gave him a small smile. he was silent for a while, giving you enough time to take in his features.

bangs fell over the smooth skin of his forehead and he looked at you through glasses which fit perfectly on his face, adding on to his handsome features. you had seen him around a few times as you shared a few classes with him. he was one of the smartest students, loved by all his teachers.

“uh i’m jungwon”, his voice broke through the awkward silence.

you nodded, “hey. i’ve seen you around.”

his lips pulled up into a smile at that as he let out a small laugh nervously. you raised your eyebrows at his sudden shift in demeanour. just a moment ago he didn’t care about your presence and now he was smiling? whatever.

“professor told me you had been facing some problems with potions”, he looked down and tapped his quill on the table. “what can i help you with?”

you explained how you messed up the practical test for your mocks. he listened intently, never breaking eye contact with you which made you a bit nervous. 

you came to an end of your rant but jungwon still maintained eye contact with you, his chin resting on his hand now. 

you cleared your throat, “so..?”

he still seemed to be staring at you, his eyes out of focus as he dreamily smiled at you.

frowning at his odd behaviour, you waved your hand in front of his face which broke him out of his thoughts. his eyes widened momentarily as he shook his head, a small blush spreading across his cheeks.

“are you sick?”

he chuckled nervously, “no no i was just planning out how i could help you”

he picked up a quill and started writing a plan for you in neat handwriting. once he was done, he passed the sheet over to you.

“we’ll follow this for the next two weeks. meet me in the potions class at four tomorrow.”

you gave a once over at what he had written and smiled at him. “will do, thanks jungwon!”

he nodded and started packing up his things. when he was done he looked at you expectantly, “it’s time for dinner, let’s go to the great hall together.”

you smiled and gathered your things as well.

it was the first day of your tutoring and you were early today.

or you thought so.

glancing around the potions classroom, you spotted jungwon already there. he was perched on a stool, arranging vials and flasks on the tables. unlike his usual composed demeanour in class, he seemed flustered, his bangs falling over his forehead as he fumbled with a particularly stubborn stopper.

he looked up as he heard you shuffle in, a relieved smile splitting his face.

"ah, there you are! i was starting to think you'd gotten lost."

"lost?" you repeated, a laugh escaping your lips. "in the potions classroom? hardly."

he chuckled, a nervous undertone to it. "right, of course. so, are you ready to tackle some invisibility potion today?"

you straightened your robes, a determined glint in your eyes. "ready as i'll ever be. though," you added, an unsure lilt in your voice, "considering my track record, maybe 'invisible' isn't the best thing to start off with."

jungwon's hummed, his cheeks flushing. "well, that's why we're practising, isn't it? to avoid another...disappearing act?"

you snorted. "exactly. though, to be fair, the professor did say my failed polyjuice potion was rather impressive in its...uniqueness."

he winced. "right. let's just focus on not achieving sentience with our cauldron this time, alright?"

the rest of the afternoon was a whirlwind of chopping netslime and muttering incantations. jungwon was a patient tutor, though his explanations sometimes devolved into nervous rambling when your eyes met. 

by the end of the session, your potion shimmered a faint, almost-invisible blue. not perfect, but a far cry from your previous disasters. jungwon beamed, his earlier awkwardness replaced by genuine pride.

"see? you're a natural! with a little more practice, you'll be brewing like snape in no time."

you laughed. "snape? now that's a terrifying image."

he chuckled, then cleared his throat, his gaze flickering away. "well, i should probably get going. i have herbology first thing tomorrow."

you nodded, gathering your things. "alright, see you then. and jungwon?"

he stopped at the door, his eyes questioning.

"thanks a lot for doing this. i already feel more confident.”

he smiled at that, making you do the same unconsciously.

the next two weeks flew by in a flurry of potion-making and stolen glances in your sessions, and outside of it whenever you both crossed paths. you had made a new friend and you were grateful for his help. you found yourself approaching the cauldron with newfound determination. your brews were improving steadily, and the playful banter during your sessions only added to the enjoyment.

one particularly chilly evening, you hurried down to the room of requirement, the usual meeting place for your secret DA practice sessions. you entered to find the familiar sight of your fellow students practising disarming spells and dodging jinxes. but amidst the chaos, you spotted an unexpected face – jungwon.

he was facing away from you, expertly deflecting a curse with a flick of his wand. you blinked, momentarily speechless. you never knew jungwon was a part of this! a warmth bloomed in your chest, a mixture of surprise and a strange sense of pride.

"nice one, jungwon!" , you called out, a wide grin on your face. jungwon turned, his eyes meeting yours. a flicker of surprise crossed his features before he broke into a wide grin.

"hey there," he said casually, striding over to you. "didn't expect to see you here."

"me neither," you admitted, a smile playing on your lips. "i guess you're not just a potions prodigy, huh?"

he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "turns out i have a few other hidden talents."

the rest of the evening flew by in a whirlwind of practice. seeing jungwon in this new light – confident, skilled, and fighting for a cause you both believed in – made your heart flutter. he was everything you admired and more.

admire? since when did that happen?

shaking your head to rid yourself of such thoughts, you got back to practising your charm. although, over the duration of the practise, your mind couldn’t help but wander towards jungwon’s recent behaviour. he had been sweet to you since the beginning, always ready to help out. and the way he blushed around you and quipped with you, you couldn’t help but think that maybe he also felt something? 

as the group started dispersing, you lingered near the room's entrance, feigning the need to adjust your cloak.

"hey," jungwon's voice startled you. he was packing his bag, a casual smile playing on his lips. "didn't head out yet?"

"actually," you began, fiddling with the strap of your bag, "there was something i wanted to ask you about."

his smile widened in invitation. "shoot."

you took a deep breath. "it's about dumbledore's army. we've been working on patronus charms lately, and well, i'm struggling a bit." shame tinged your cheeks. you weren't used to needing help with spells.

jungwon's expression softened with understanding. "a patronus charm, huh? tricky business, that. but hey, i might be able to offer some pointers."

relief washed over you. "really? that would be amazing!"

he gestured towards a secluded corner of the room. "come on, then. let's see what you're working with."

you settled onto the dusty floor, explaining your struggles. you could conjure a faint wisp of silvery light, but it was far from the actual form you needed. jungwon listened intently, occasionally asking clarifying questions.

"okay," he said once you finished, "it seems you've got the basic idea down. the key is focusing on a strong, happy memory. something that evokes a feeling of pure joy and warmth."

he saw your hesitant expression and chuckled. "don't worry, it's not a competition to see who has the most embarrassing childhood memory."

you forced a smile. "no, of course not." but your mind struggled to find that perfect memory.

jungwon seemed to sense your frustration. "close your eyes," he instructed gently. 

"take a deep breath and try to visualise a place that makes you feel truly happy. maybe a familiar place from your childhood, a special time with a friend, anything that brings a smile to your face."

you closed your eyes, following his guidance. images flickered through your mind – family picnics, winning a quidditch match, late-night talks with your best friend. but none of them seemed to spark the necessary warmth.

just as you were about to give up, a memory surfaced. a smile bloomed on your face. you opened your eyes and met jungwon's gaze. "i think i have it," you whispered.

he nodded encouragingly. "focus on that feeling. the warmth, the happiness, let it flow through you and into your wand."

you closed your eyes again, picturing the memory that brought you happiness. it was a little hazy as you tried to focus on the touch and sounds from that memory. with a deep breath, you pointed your wand forward and muttered the incantation.

a wisp of silvery light erupted from your wand, growing and solidifying into a shape. it wasn't perfect – the outline of a cat was more suggestion than a form – but it was a patronus. you had finally done it.

a cheer escaped your lips as you realised you had finally done it. you looked at jungwon, your heart brimming with gratitude. "i did it!"

he beamed, genuine pride radiating from him. "see? you're a natural. you just needed a little nudge in the right direction."

his words held a hint of something more, something that sent a shiver down your spine. you wanted to thank him properly, to express just how much his help meant to you. 

"thank you, jungwon," you murmured, your voice barely a whisper. you wished, however, that your patronus could solidify into something more impressive, something that truly reflected the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you.

as if sensing your unspoken desire, jungwon stepped closer. his movements were subtle, almost hesitant. but before you could question it, he reached behind you, his hand gently wrapping around yours, enclosing both your hands and your wand within his hold.

a jolt of electricity shot through you at his touch. the air in the room crackled with a tension you hadn't noticed before. your focus on the patronus wavered momentarily, replaced by a hyper awareness of jungwon's warm torso pressed against your back, his fingers brushing against yours.

his warm breath fanned over your ear as he whispered even though there was no one around to hear you both, “now completely focus on that memory.”

the room seemed to shrink, the air growing thick with unspoken tension. you focused on the memory, it acting as a soothing anchor in the storm brewing inside you. but this time, something was different. the wispy light from your wand pulsed, growing brighter, solidifying. the faint outline of a cat sharpened, taking on a more defined form.

in the heightened focus, you were oblivious to everything except the memory and the warmth radiating from jungwon's hand on yours. the familiar nostalgia from the memory echoed in your mind, a beacon of happiness. with a burst of energy, a fully formed silver cat patronus materialised, leaping and frolicking around the room.

you gasped in awe, forgetting everything else. "it's perfect! it's actually a perfect patronus!" 

you jumped, unknowingly pushing yourself more into jungwon, making him wrap his hands loosely around you as he chuckled lowly. you spun around to share your joy with him.

but as you turned, your breath hitched. you were impossibly close to him, his hand still wrapped around yours, his face mere inches away. his eyes were dark and intense, a mirror of the emotions swirling within you. the air crackled with unspoken desire.

you leaned in, heart pounding a frantic rhythm against your ribs. he tilted his head ever so slightly, his lips hovering a whisper away from yours. his breath hitched ever so slightly, as you both leaned in, the space between your lips closing with each passing second.

just as your lips were about to meet, jungwon pulled back abruptly. 

he cleared his throat, his hand falling away from yours. "that's... that's amazing," he stammered, his eyes flickering away from yours. "a perfect patronus. you really are something else."

his words held a strange distance, and a knot of unease tightened in your stomach. the electric tension that had thrummed in the air moments ago had dissipated, replaced by an awkward silence. you weren't sure what had happened, but embarrassment washed over you in suffocating waves. the joy of your achievement felt strangely hollow now.

your patronus immediately vanished into thin air, leaving a trail of sparkles behind.

the tension in the room receded as quickly as it had risen, leaving a bewildered silence in its wake. you blinked, confused and slightly disappointed. why did he stop?

"i, uh," he stammered, looking at his shoes, "i think it's getting late. maybe we should call it a night?"

did he regret the near kiss? or was there something else at play? 

you opened your mouth to ask, but the words wouldn't come. the magic of the patronus lingered, a bittersweet reminder of what could have been.

"yeah," you finally managed, your voice barely a whisper. "it's getting late."

jungwon offered a small smile that didn't quite reach his eyes before gathering his things and hurrying towards the exit. you watched him go, a myriad of emotions swirling within you.

disappointment gnawed at you like a dementor during your potions class the next day. your potions professor, inspecting your bubbling concoction with a delighted smile, declared it "exactly by the book."

he beamed, announcing, "it appears the extra sessions have paid off! perhaps we can consider them concluded, wouldn't you agree?"

a lump formed in your throat. you glanced at jungwon, expecting a playful jab or a celebratory nod. but he simply shrugged, a noncommittal, ‘sounds good to me,’ escaping his lips.

the professor's words should have filled you with relief. you were back on track, independent once more. yet, as the class ended, all you felt was a hollow emptiness. you caught jungwon's eye for a fleeting moment, hoping for a familiar spark or a shared grin. instead, he averted his gaze, muttering a hurried goodbye and hurried out of the classroom.

this became a pattern over the next few days. in the hallways, where you once exchanged playful jibes, jungwon now seemed to melt into the background whenever you approached. shared classes were endured in a tense silence, his friendly demeanour replaced by a distant politeness. 

you replayed the scene in the room of requirement over and over in your head, desperately trying to pinpoint where you'd gone wrong. 

had you misread the tension? had you moved too fast, startled him with your sudden boldness?

one evening, you found yourself lingering outside the room of requirement, the usual meeting place for dumbledore's army. you weren't sure why you were there, perhaps a desperate hope that jungwon would appear. the door creaked open, and your best friend peeked out.

"lost something?" she asked, her brow quirked in concern.

you shook your head, the words refusing to form.

"everything alright?" she pressed gently, her perceptive eyes searching yours.

you sighed, finally blurting out, "it's jungwon. did i…did i do something wrong?"

her knowing smile softened the blow. "ah," she said, pulling you into a hug. "sometimes, the most powerful potions are brewed in silence, simmering with unspoken emotions."

her words offered little comfort, but they planted a seed in your mind. maybe rushing something as delicate as what you felt for jungwon wasn't the way. maybe patience, like the perfect potion, required time and the right balance of ingredients. you resolved to let things cool, to focus on mastering your spells and potions, hoping that maybe, one day, the right opportunity would present itself, and the spark you shared with jungwon wouldn't need words to reignite.

screw whatever you thought before. you couldn't wait for that ‘one day’ to come as you watched your classmate, a girl with hair like spun sunshine, practically cling to jungwon's arm in herbology. they were bent over, giggling like pixies at a particularly stubborn gillyweed.

fury replaced the embers of hope your friend had ignited. who was this girl? had he moved on that quickly? 

jealousy bubbled in your stomach as you stalked away from the window, hurt settling in your chest. but you were determined to make things right, even if it meant making your friendship(?) with him awkward, you needed to know what went wrong. 

the bell signalling the end of class was your cue. you bolted out, weaving through students, your eyes locked on jungwon. he noticed you coming, a flicker of surprise crossing his face, but before he could react, you were upon him.

he was walking with the sunshine-haired girl, lost in their own conversation, until a breathless, "jungwon!" ripped him from it. he turned, eyes widening further when he saw your determined, (slightly crazed) expression.

"uh, hi?" he stammered, glancing between you and the girl who stood blinking at you both, confused.

"excuse me," you said politely through gritted teeth to the girl, who, thankfully, scurried off with a mumbled ‘see you later, jungwon.’

now, alone with the reason of your anger and surging jealousy, you grabbed his arm and steered him away from the castle grounds. you marched him past the greenhouses until you reached a secluded clearing near the black lake. there, with a flourish that would have earned you points in charms class, you pinned him against a sturdy oak tree.

he stared at you, bewildered, as your chest heaved. "okay," he started cautiously, "what's going on?"

"what's going on?" you sputtered, finally finding your voice. "what's going on is, i thought we had...something!" you gestured wildly towards the castle, where you could still see a flicker of sunshine hair disappear around a corner.

jungwon blinked, then a slow blush crept up his neck. "we...we do! we had potions tutoring sessions, remember?"

you threw your hands up in exasperation. "ugh, not tutoring! this…this unspoken thing we have!"

his blush deepened, and he mumbled something inaudible under his breath.

"what?" you demanded.

he took a deep breath. "look, about that night in the room of requirement..."

"yes?" you leaned in, heart pounding.

he cleared his throat. "maybe i… i overreacted. i wasn't sure what you were feeling, and…"

he trailed off, his gaze dropping to the ground. you gaped at him, realising the truth. you hadn't scared him off, he'd scared himself off! 

but there was more. a flicker of insecurity crossed his eyes. "and to be honest," he admitted sheepishly, "the real reason i've been avoiding you… well, it's because i was trying to figure out how to tell you something...something big."

you blinked. here you were, fuming about a nonexistent threat, while jungwon had been battling his own insecurities. the situation was hilarious, almost. but mostly, it was endearing.

a slow smile spread across your face. "well, spill it, jungwon. don't leave me in suspense."

he fumbled with his words, cheeks burning a fiery red. "it's about...well, ever since the beginning of this year, i’ve looked at you…in a different light."

your heart thrummed erratically now, hoping he was getting to where you wanted him to.

"...and, well, you're not just funny and smart, you're kind and brave, and the way you laugh at my stupid jokes, it just makes me..." his voice trailed off, his eyes pleading with yours. 

his rambling was adorable, but the knot of frustration in your stomach tightened with every nervous stammer. you couldn't take it anymore.

grabbing him by the collar, you silenced him with a kiss. it started desperate, fueled by the need to know his true feelings, but as his lips met yours, it melted into something sweeter. you poured your unspoken emotions into that kiss, the frustration, the longing, the dawning hope. 

suddenly, jungwon spun you around, switching your positions so that you were pushed against the tree now. your breath hitched in surprise at his sudden show of confidence. he dove back into the kiss, his soft lips moving against yours in fervour. the intensity of your kiss increased along with your pulse and you were pretty sure jungwon could feel it with the way he was pressed up against you

when he finally pulled back, breathless and dizzy, a different kind of silence hung in the air.

jungwon stared at you as your cheeks flushed a brilliant crimson, mirroring the sunset bleeding across the lake. finally, a smile bloomed on his face, genuine and relieved. 

"see," he breathed, voice husky, "that was much easier than all that."

you laughed, a genuine sound that echoed through the clearing. relief washed over you, warm and tingly. "i should be the one saying that" you teased.

“yeah well i chickened out”, he scratched his head in embarrassment, “i wanted my confession to be perfect.”

you smirked, “yeah well what you pulled right now was very romantic. i didn’t know you had that in you.”

he rolled his eyes playfully and grabbed your hand, lacing his fingers with yours. “you liked it though. let’s head back now, it’s almost time for dinner.”

you smiled as you walked in step with him, swinging your intertwined hands back and forth. he squeezed your hand with a cheeky grin on his face.  you returned the squeeze looking up at him in question, when his next words had a blush blooming on your face.

“i hope you’re going to pay me back for those lessons with more of such kisses.”

𝗰𝗼𝗽𝘆𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 ©𝗴𝘆𝘂𝘂𝗯𝗲𝗿𝗿𝘆𝘆 on Tumblr

˚ · .𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗲𝗱

[pia-nor481]

I can do it better

Max verstappen x reader smut 18+

3.6k words

She was sat on their-her bedroom floor trying to recollect herself when a loud knock to the front door broke her out of the state she was in. Her eyes were red and cheeks painted with tears. Hoping that the knocking would stop she continued to stare at herself in the full length mirror opposite her hunched over body. Evidently, it didn't stop, she practically shouted the person behind the door to wait a minute. In the mean time, she stumbled up, pulling a shirt over her body and rushing to the bathroom, in hope of cold water freshening her face up; Although it was hard to look presentable at this given time. She could barely stay up her two feet while walking towards the front door. She didn't know where her things were, phone definitely blowing up with her friends asking how her night went, even if they got a hold of her, she wouldn't answer, they'd had enough of her complaints of her love life.

Once she reached the door handle, she opened it a crack, trying to avoid her body being seen. "Sorry to just turn up but my flight leaves tomorrow and you weren't answering, and need some of my stuff before I go." Max was a pretty observant person, he had to be; so nothing slipped past him. "You open the door like this for all the men who knock?" He joked lightly, knowing she often took what he said in jest. He looked back up to her face when there was no further comment. "No, what's up? I can tell something is wrong." He said letting himself into her flat, placing his keys and phone on the counter next to hers, he saw the ample amount of WhatsApp notifications. "Come on, you can tell me what happened." It was so obvious that max still cared for her. Their relationship was always messy. They fought constantly, it started as little things; the floors not being cleaned properly or a few things left in awkward or annoying places. Both of their friends said it was good that they were fighting about things like that, claiming it was healthy to have small bits of conflict that could be quickly resolved. But it soon became a big problem when carer got involved, he was always traveling whether it be for the actual race, England to help with development of the car, or visiting his home to see his parents or even Monaco to be with his friends, but her job required her to be in one place. They tried hard to make it work, she book flights to come and see some of his races or he would stay until Wednesday night of the race week just to spend time with her, but it just wasn't enough.

There had been a few times were Max had heard her on the phone with her friends trying to convince her to break up with him, but every time she would shut them own. "He's toxic, leave him before it gets worse. There can't be anything that makes it worth the stress and disappointment." She would shake her head before remembering that they couldn't see her that's one thing Max really enjoyed, her tendency to show rather than speak. "If he's toxic, I'll wear a hazmat. You don't get it, I love him." Hearing her say things like that always made him smile. He loved her just as much, if not more. Every time he'd come back he would spend all his time awake comforting her, making her feel secure. She wasn't overly talkative when being asked questions, preferring to just shake her head or even pretend she didn't hear it; but not with max. He tried to make sure she would communicate with him, even when they fought, he'd let her scream and shout at him, he wanted to hear everything she had to say, so he knew how she felt, so he could help, He didn't get the luxury of expression when he was younger and that caused many problems. He learnt from this, he learned how to be better, he learned how to love. Max loved, no, loves her so much; it was hard for him to put it into words sometimes, she knew this, and was okay with him showing his love physically. That may have been a part of the problem, they were never close enough for him to show her how much he loved her. Although he is not the only one to blame, she was stubborn, overly so. She hated being wrong and so did he. So Max tried his hardest to not condescend her when she was wrong, but that wasn't often.

"Come on." He had to bite back the pet names he gave her in the years they spent together. "You can tell me what happened." She also hated voicing her concerns with him. She never worried about cheating, Max would never. It was like she felt neglected, but she couldn't say that, it was selfish, she was the one who said they could make the distance work. As max looked around the room he noticed how empty it was. With all of his things gone it didn't feel like home to her anymore. His house in Monaco didn't feel like home either, not without her. She looked up from her feet to meet his eyes. "It's embarrassing." His shoulders dropped, she was stupid sometimes, she didn't realised how silly that sounded to him. "And I've known you for how long?" He paused walking back towards her, resisting the urge to hold her close, to pull her into his chest and cradle her head. "At least it wasn't someone else's fault." he said slightly relieved, her eyes were still a cause for concern, even now he was prepared to fix any problem she had. The silence was loud, his anger pooled at his fists. "Right?" His eyes scanned over her whole body, making sure she wasn't hurt. "Its stupid, and I'm fine by the way. Can't you just grab your stuff and go?" she asked, almost pleading for him to leave. He was not going to leave her alone, not when she was like this.

Max went against his better judgement and hugged her, she needed it, no matter how many times she wanted to be left completely alone. "Tell me. You always feel better when you say what you're thinking, not just shouting at the mirror." She was almost reduced to tears, not only because of his words, but because she was so embarrassed. "Promise you wont laugh." She whispered through teary eyes. "Promise." He pulled his chest away, so he could look her in the eyes as she spoke. He wanted her to feel listened to, cared for. "So my friends set me up with his guy called Matthew, right." Any remaining anger turned into jealousy. He was fuming that his girl was going on a date with some guy. He pushed his feelings aside briefly, wanting to hear the rest of her story. "Well, we went out to this pretty nice place and it was going well, at least I thought so. Anyway, we came back here and he started kiss me, and you feel me up and stuff." She really didn't want to give her ex-boyfriend the details of her hook up. She paused still embarrassed. "Was he blonde and foreign as well?" Her face became warm as he let out a chuckle, this actually comforted him a bit, to see her go out with guys that reminded her of him. "Glad to see you have a type." She gave him a pointed look as an initial response. "Sorry, go on." Shifting her feet to avoid the shame. Max gave her sweet look, enticing her to speak. "When we, um, went to bed it was, uh, fine to start with but you know, he couldn't make me cum, it didn't seem like he was even trying." Her voice was shaky, her nerves were sky high, but she continued because, for once, Max was right. "So I may or may not have sent him out of the flat." She says with as sigh, looking up at her and grasping his arm for a bit of support ,not physical, but emotional, he was comforting to touch. "I am so glad I was your boyfriend and knew how to actually please you or I don't think we would have lasted as long as we did." He spoke with a crooked smile, ready of a light slap to his chest. "It's not funny Max." defeated, her shoulders slumped slightly as she tried to pull out of his tight grasp. "It is a little bit, oh no, please don't give me that look. I'm sorry I swear."

"So let me get this straight, you wanted to hook up with this guy, Matthew, and he was being a selfish prick, and now you are all desperate and pent up. That I can defiantly work with." Confusion covered her face as Max picked her up by her waist and began walking them towards the bedroom. She hooked her legs around his hips during his venture. She would often scold him for doing things without warning or saying things that he shouldn't. She began to kiss his neck, wanting his attention back on her. She knew it wasn't a good idea, but she would worry about the consequences later. One of his hands slid down her back, giving her ass a nice squeeze, he knew she liked it, not that she'd say so, he had to figure that out for himself.

Once his knees touched the edge of the bed, he placed her on it, immediately pushing her shirt up, "No underwear as well, you really do treat the guys at your door well." He let out with a smirk, before pushing her thighs apart further so he could slot between them. The ghost of his breath had her shuddering, she moaned when his lips finally touched her cunt, tongue licking a long stripe over her slit. Max looked up, not even being able to see her face as her head was thrown back at the slightest amount of pleasure. She really needed to feel him. He began to suck on her clit lightly, not wanting to rush into it and run the risk of ruining her orgasm, it hurt him to make her wait any longer, knowing she had spent so much time dissatisfied. Max shook his head side to side sending waves of bliss through her whole body.

Max got good at eating pussy from practicing on her. There were times where he spent more time between her legs than not. Her moans got louder as max put more pressure on her clit, heightening the sensation. "Could he not do this to you? No? That's what I thought." He breathed against her cunt, making her hips shift towards him. Max pulled her knees over his shoulders as he went back in, the noises that filled the room were quickly becoming pornographic. He could feel her twitching and clenching as he ate her out, Max moaned at the feeling, knowing it would tip her over the edge. "Yes, Max. Please, it feels so good." She barely got out, lungs burning. As she began gasping for air, Max could feel her ankles cross behind his back, squishing his head between her thighs. She came hard, harder than she'd done since the last time they were together. No matter who she slept with, no matter how many times she made herself cum it was never the same. "Did that feel good? Was that better than Matthew? Yeah, I know it is."

She pushed Max back slightly so she could slip off the bed and on to her knees. She undid his belt as quick as her shaky hands would allow her.  She squeezed him lightly and ran her hand over his cock a few times before actually pulling it out, she licked a long stripe along the underside, right along the thick vein of his length. Max let out a breathy groan as she took his entire cock in her mouth, reaching down her throat. His hands quickly found her hair and made pace in tangling them. He guided her up and down his cock watching from above with a pleased look on his face. She pulled off with a loud pop, then she tongued the space between the head and shaft, he let out a guttural moan at the feeling, urging  her to take him back in her mouth, it felt phenomenal. Once she hollowed her cheeks again it all became too much for max, she made him cum so hard he started to feel almost lightheaded, seeing stars, hunching over at the feeling. "Fuck, you feel so go baby. Always making me feel so good." He praised, not one lie leaving his lips, although he got to cum every time he had sex, it didn't feel as euphoric as it did with her. 

"Get up here." he said, pulling her up to her tip toes for a kiss. He slipped his tongue practically down her throat, tasting himself in her mouth. Max never understood how other guys could possibly complain about their girlfriend wanting a kiss after blowing him. If she had no problem kissing him after eating her out, what was the difference? The mix was divine, it sent blood rushing to his cock almost immediately as their lips touched. He let his hands run wild over her body, missing the warm of her skin against his. He missed being able to touch every divot of her body. He missed the control he had over her, and the trust she had in him. He was almost as pent up as she was. Max made a point of picking her up again, just to throw her back down on the bed. He noticed the framed painting was put back up above the bed. When they were together, it was almost exclusively on the floor as they got lazy hunting for it behind the headboard, He was disappointed that it was placed back to its home. Max caged her head between her arms as he kissed his way down her abdomen before he gave her cunt one final kiss. He slid his cock over her clit just to tease, he got the same reaction buy only pushing the head in and out a few times before slowly slipping his whole cock in inch by inch. She was swimming in pleasure with max slowly marking her, her neck covered in bites, a few bleeding slightly, her chest was covered in red marks, he needed to mark her as his again, no one was allowed to touch what was his. Not anymore. "Fuck." Max strained, sounding breathless and choked as he continued to pound into her, just how she always liked. He was too hot not to moan over, so she did, and he indulged her, usually he'd have to cover her mouth with his hand or push her face into the pillows to avoid noise complaints, but tonight he'd let her do anything, all he wanted was her back in his arms. He continued to abuse her walls while she gripped the bedsheets tightly, her knuckles becoming white with the new found strength. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head while the remainder of her make up began to smudge and run. Max was fucking her so well her face was painted with tears of joy, and it was just so hot. Max became impossibly harder seeing her fucked out face. He stared to fuck her deeper, hitting that spot that made her go blind with pleasure. "Oh yes Max, always make me feel so good." Her inability to articulate proper sentences was a tell tale sign she was close. Max learned how to read her like a book and it was so beneficial in times like this. 

He quickened his pace, feeling quite close himself. He could she some of this hook up guy's stuff still in her room and it just fuelled the fire. "Matthew didn't make you feel nearly this good did he, sweetheart. You can be honest because I already know." He was interrupted by a thud against the floor. "That's it, good fucking girl for me." he praised her, knowing she would melt from his words, his voice was something she admitted masturbating to when he was gone. She claimed it was mostly because of his accent, but also the tone and the pitch, it just got her so hot and bothered. "Think you can hold on just a little longer?" He asked, feeling her clench around his cock, it made it hard for him to resist. "Only for you, Max." she moaned aware it would edge him on further, fucking her felt exclusive, she was a rare and only he could have her. Perhaps he was a bit possessive, but that didn't matter now that he was with her. One of his hands slid up to her throat, pressing lightly on the sides to only slow the blood flow to her head; his other made way to her clit, rubbing fast circles with just enough pressure to really make it feel good. "Please, just.. just like tha..that." She managed to slur out before her words were cut off by a whine. Her orgasm hit so hard that her head was pushing deep in the mattress and her legs began to spasm and shake. Max only now allowed him self to cum, while she was coming down. He pulled out, shooting plenty of long, thick ropes of cum all over her torso, mainly her perfect tits that her just couldn't resist. They both sighed quietly with small laugh. 

Max gave her a chaste kiss before walking leisurely to the bathroom and picking up a towel to clean her up a bit. On his way back he turned the AC on, anticipating that she would ask him to stay; if he was he want to be touching her the entire time, in order to keep her close he needed the room cold. He brushed the towel over she skin as gently as possible, although it still pulled a moan from her. "I know, but I have to, Darling." He threw the towel to the corner of the room, knowing she'd complain about it later. "Were are my clothes?" He asked quietly, looking back at her on the bed with a grin plastered to her face. "Where you left them before moving out." still in the wardrobe would have been an easier answer but she wanted him to know she didn't want him gone. She anticipated him coming back and wanting to stay, as usual she was right. He put his classic black t-shirt on before climbing in bed with her. "I'm not putting that frame back up." was the first thing she said after coming out of her orgasmic haze. He pulled her practically on top of his body and held her close, as if someone was going to take her from him. "I know." was all he said, trying to think of the right words to convey his feelings. "I never stopped loving you." Was all he could say so he coupled it with a tight squeeze. "I know." It was her turn to give a dry reply and kiss his neck sweetly. "This is great pillow talk." Max laughed out quietly and he could feel her smile against his chest. "I'm so sorry, I should have tried harder. I shouldn't have blamed you as much as I did, I'm just as responsible. And I most definitely should not have told you to leave and never come back. I regretted it immediately, you know. As soon as I heard the door shut I lost it. I don't deserve you Max, but I need you so much." His heart ached hearing her confession, feeling her tears wet his shirt slightly. "I shouldn't have walked out. I know what you're like when you get angry. As soon I closed that door I couldn't bring myself to leave. I slept outside that door, your neighbour asked what happened and I started crying to her. I kept in touch with your friends, or at least I tried to. I needed to make sure you were okay, but it doesn't seem like they like me much. So don't say you don't deserve me, you do. We will make it to the end, I promise you. I wont lose you again. I love you too much for that." She wiped her now joyful tears as she kissed his lips again. 

There was a loud repeated knock on her door, they tried to ignore it, assuming it was their neighbours complaining about the noise, they normally gave up after a few knocks. But this one persisted. "You stay here and keep warm alright, I'll se who it is." Max got out of the bed a recovered her body in blankets while walking with unnecessary pace towards the door. He swung it open aggressively. "Look I'm sorry about that but can I just get the rest of my clothes and leave, there's no need to-" The guy, who max assumed to me Matthew, stopped upon seeing Max. "Sorry man, but that's not happening. Not while I'm here. I don't think you even deserve it, especially if you can't make such a desperate woman come. Only took me three minutes . So fuck off now will you." Max said before slamming the door, feeling relieved as he reached her again. "I love you so much Max."

[toto-the-cactus]

Primarchs + Daughters (2)

Finally finished the damn part two. Been kinda busy here and there with my new job but lo and behold, the one yall asked for. Soon enough, yall find out why it took me a while writing this one for the two main guys I had to add here.

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

Konrad Curze

A’right, I’ll open this one with the fact we all know that this man shouldn’t even be legally allowed to have children. I’m gonna be real for a hot second and admit that I stared at the screen for HOURS not knowing what to write because any poor little girl that is born from this guy will have the dubious privilege of being the most sheltered and hidden secret the Primarch ever kept close. With all those visions of death and inevitable doom mixed with the sudden power rush that fatherhood gave him, it left in its wake a perfect storm for this lunatic to develop a paranoid and obsessive need (NEED) to keep his daughter safe; something hard to achieve when he already knows the essence of his Legion. His fatalistic nature regarding his own future would suddenly clash violently with the Primarch’s new found protective stance concerning his child. It's almost sad to consider that this poor man GENUINELY wished to avoid becoming the monster his visions showed, but knowing that he’ll be balancing in the thin line of one day hurting his precious girl (or worse than that) it'll put him in the hard decision of having to let go of her eventually. He is no Perturabo, for that matter. In the rare and far away moments of lucidity, I can see Konrad choosing to protect the innocence and life of his child by trusting in the last person ANYONE might expect the Night Hunter would seek help: Vulkan. Honestly this is just plain sad, man.

Sanguinius

This is it! The golden boy, yall! We all know the kind of person Sanguinius is, but add a precious little daughter in the equation and all you get is the perfect example of textbook girl dad. No matter how busy this man is, somehow he’ll squish some playtime with his baby and enjoy every bit of it. Seriously, this guy acting like a dedicated father is worth being in a stockphoto image. His baby girl asks him to play tea party? Some astartes will find their Primarch hunched over, awkwardly holding a comically small cup between his thumb and index while his precious princess pretends to pour more tea for herself. The daughter of Sanguinius doesn't go a single day without knowing that her papa loves her a lot and when the man isn’t around, the Blood Angels Legion are close to keep her company to the point that even she calls them ‘big brothers’. No one is safe when she wants to play dress-up. The single problem I see with Sanguinius when raising his little girl is that he sins of being completely oblivious to the more mortal side of his daughter’s needs. He easily gets so wrapped up in his role of The Perfect Angel that he doesn’t realize his tiny princess has boundaries that are being constantly crossed, but since she feels the need to prove that she can be like her father, endures all those problems and refuses to seek help about anything. It becomes a kind of toxic mix considering how much Sanguinius is loved and adored by others, to the point that his daughter becomes like a coveted gem too by relation, making her need to prove her own ‘perfection’ an unconscious action the older she grows. I’m not even gonna touch with a ten feet pole the “fun fact” called the Red Thirst on this one because, let's be fair, that would require for me to write more than 3 pages with ONLY Sanguinius and his daughter in the spotlight and that’s only assuming his baby girl didn’t inherit it. I specialized in visual arts and marketing, not psychology jfc.

Ferrus Manus

It took me a while but after some investigating and more reading I can safely put this man in between the Papa-tier and ‘tough love’ guys. His practical mentality and belief of the strongest are (oddly enough) healthily separated from his parenting skills. This is one of the few Primarch that can see their daughter as an individual of their own and makes sure to be as present as possible in her life but the loyalty of this man to the Emperor is his own flaw. Not in the case that he’ll choose the Imperium before his little girl, but because it’ll put him in the dreading and guilty notion that he’ll always prioritize his daughter despite his oath to serve for the Great Crusade. Most of his brothers (except maybe Jaghatai and Konrad) just assume or don’t even think about the long term future of their daughters or simply presume that they will become a great part of the Imperium’s well oiled structure. Not exactly their fault since they never grew up with anything resembling normal. On the brighter and wholesome side (whiplash change!), this is a man who finds handmade gifts more meaningful and always makes sure to explain the reason behind them mostly out of the enjoyment of watching his little princess look so amazed at her papa’s skills. More often than not, Ferrus’ belief of the strongest would falter a little as he perceives the true fragile nature of his daughter and, even if she share the resilient blood of a Primarch, that isn’t enough to convince him that she isn’t vulnerable but instead of letting the worry fester, he’ll try to teach the girl the art of fighting. That’s where the ‘tough love’ kind of guy I mentioned comes out to light. He will not spare kind words during those moments of teaching, as he wishes for his princess to prevail any difficulty but he’ll make sure to always end any sort of training with “I love you so much that the idea of one day not being there to protect you, pains me beyond any form” to make sure that his harsh actions have a reason behind. Honestly, it's the kind of father-daughter relationship that possesses so many shades that makes its own drama novel. Good thing that uncle Fulgrim is always there to smooth the hard edges that may come in the future and makes up for the lack of spoiling the little girl deserves. Ferrus is not amused by it. Forgot to mention that the Primarch will be even more motivated to take off the metal of his hands, for he has yet to truly feel the warm and soft flesh of his baby’s hand. It's the one feeling he keeps missing and craves so much.

Angron

Oh man, another of the hard ones. Okay, if I managed with Konrad, I can tackle this bitch too. You need to comprehend that we are talking about a guy that has been so intimate with the meaning of pain that it's amazing he’ll be capable of ranging through other emotions that don’t involve fury into that combo too. That being said, this whole shitshow of being the father of a young girl can only be described as sad AND tragic. First off, Angron’s daughter wouldn’t even be allowed to leave her chambers at The Conqueror for obvious safety reasons and having her stay on Terra can’t be an option too, as Angron would rather be death than leave in a silver plate this one single pittance of good he helped to create under the light of the Emperor. That being said, any little girl born from Angron would be terribly isolated and one can’t even blame the Primarch for that as he, despite his disposition, finds his daughter as a genuine reflection of what he could never ever dream to have or be. That sometimes results in him feeling short and spontaneous moments of anger from the impotence of not being able to be close to his daughter, let alone console her with anything resembling compassion. This is a man that is horribly aware that he’s away from one sharp stab of the Nails to his brain to end up killing his little girl in one single swat of his hand. The moments of anything resembling fatherly love are few and very tense, for Angron has to constantly be focused on not letting the pain control his actions and that always looks as if he’s dismissing his child’s love language or actions. What else can I say that most people don’t know already? This is just a sad story waiting to end in tragedy and had it not been for how Sanguinius ended during the heresy, I can see The Great Angel taking Angron’s daughter under his care as the only consolation and promise to his corrupted brother before his demise. After becoming a Daemon Prince, Angron’s only genuine and foggy memory of his little girl is her crying while calling him with heavy despair. Goddamn I almost tear up with this one.

Roboute Guilliman

Look at my big nerd! One of the few guys that actually is humble enough to feel more human than any of his brothers… sometimes. I gotta say it, Roboute has the vibe of what happens when someone incredibly autistic suddenly becomes a parent; expect lots of books to try and be prepared for what entails to take care of a mortal baby. He’ll have a wholeass strict routine of activities and diets that you AND the baby must follow to ensure both of your health along with “fun facts” regarding a toddler’s development that half of the time lack the keyword ‘fun’ in there. Honestly, Euten will be a BLESSING sent, for she’ll be the one railing back the most extreme attempts of her adoptive son to try and raise his little princess like she was just another task of paperwork. Over all his quirks, the Primarch of the Ultramarines is absolutely trying his hardest to be a good father just as the one that raised him, but this is a man that half of the time ends up clumsily trying to spend time with his little girl only for it to backfire as he simply doesn’t understand how to entertain his daughter. Good thing the child will simply be happy to spend time with her papa despite his weird personality. More often than not, some of the astartes will see the young lady at her father’s chambers in a little booster chair beside him, doodling on some papers to pretend that she’s a big girl helping her papa with his very important job. It's probably the most adorable sight anyone can ever get the chance to see. Just like most of his brothers, Roboute isn’t that good at expressing his love towards his daughter with words, so he simply let his little princess be on his lap and hug her as if it will be the last time.

Mortarion

I’ve written enough of this man being a father that you all can get a wild idea of how he will be when confronted with parenthood. Even if he believes himself to be undeserving of anything resembling happiness thanks to his perception of being nothing but a tool of the Emperor, this guy will only need to see his precious little flower and feel like everything in the world can be forgotten, including his ever festering negative emotions. His daughter is the single light of love that he selfilish believes is his right after such torturous upbringing although that mentality rarely affects his princess, as he simply shows nothing but care and tenderness towards her. He may be a nervous trainwreck, fully aware that his Legion and himself aren’t exactly safe-hazardous, but that never has stopped him from doing his utmost best to protect the little girl from anything that may hurt her. Like most of his traitorous brothers, Mortarion would not hesitate to bring entire worlds into devastation if it meant that his family can be safe, even if that’ll end up making a terrible gap to grow between him and those he loves. It's quite terrible and sad to know that, unlike Fulgrim or Angron, Mortarion was the closest to his daughter and showered her with as much genuine love as he could in an attempt to avoid being anything like his supposed father (adopted or creator equally), so when he turned into a Daemon Prince, the festering and rotting resentment that consumes him sometimes simmers down when he remembers the laugh of joy his little princess often released when he would carry her up in his arms. Oh yes, some good ol’ gut-wrenching emotional damage, teehee.

I will not apologize for being a mean bitch by writing sad shit. XOXO

[icarusredwings]

Can't stop thinking about the scene where Wade takes Weasel to the strip club, and he's like, "How do you know she's here?"

Wade just says, "Cause i'm CONSTANTLY stalking that FOX," like damn, bro was NOT letting that kittycat get away from him that easily.

This leads me to also believe that he's so good at his job that he scopes out spots BEFORE the date of the mission.

That he would be a GREAT spy in the sense that not only can he hide his true emotions extremlt well so he wouldn't be amazing at devils advocate but this fucker is light on his feet. He's 6 foot 2 and still blends into the background when needed, and in the spotlight when he wants to be.

We all know that he couldn't sneak up on Logan since Logan has a wicked sense of smell, but I feel like if Wade ever had to give up Merc work (A COUGH COUGH COUGH like loosing his powers for what ever reason totally not foreshadowing COUGH COUGH COUGH damn I really gotta stop sucking dick so much-) he would be EXCELLENT at Narc work.

The only thing is he SUUUCCCKKKSS (literally and physically) at working for authority figures, so he would probably take up personal private detective cases. Snap pictures of people cheating, get a guy to confess to a crime on recording for a lawsuit, Track down missing persons probably.

But he would be bored. He would be incredibly bored. And a bored Wade is not a happy one. Infact a bored Wade is a DANGEROUS one. He NEEDS a job. A physical job. One that has strict end and strict beginings in which he can do quickly to get that rush of dopamine.

Stake outs that take 2 weeks is not a thrill.

Going to Japan and taking out the entire Yukuza IS infact a thrill. Job? Kill all of them. Done. Compelte.

He would need one that doesn't require blurred lines of completion. He thought that cars salesmen would be easy. You sell a car. You get paid. You go home. Boom. But no. Its more bullshit about being good at talking to civillians. Something he's not good at.

So- my question is.

What is a good job for Wade if he was forced out of merc work? Perhaps one he could do with Logan?

[clockwayswrites]

A Broken Sort of Normal Part 2

WC: 757 CW: Canon-Typical Violence, Self-Doubt, Jack and Maddie Fenton's A+ Parenting Masterpost

Worse than— no, not worse than. Nothing was worse than being constantly forgotten by everyone he cared about. Nothing was worse than knowing he was only worth knowing when he’d died. An issue was that Danny still had the same need to protect people even without the ghosts attacks. Day in and day out Danny felt an aching hurt in his chest at not doing anything to help. Working as a receptionist at a slightly rundown construction firm wasn’t the worst job, but it felt like it was slowly killing him. It felt like his core was shriveling up.

Danny knew he needed to make a change. At a loss of what to do and short on options, Danny had enrolled in the paramedic course at the local community college. He excelled at it.

It turned out all those years of patching up his own wounds gave him a pretty good head start on his classmate. So good, in fact, that his instructor recommended him for a job in Central City when he graduated with honors. It was bittersweet to know that when he wasn’t constantly harnessed by ghosts, he could actually do really well at school.

His parents missed his graduation.

His move to the city was done alone (his rented u-haul filled with what he could cram into it) and with a white knuckled grip on the steering wheel. It felt like a second death leaving the only home he had ever known behind.

It felt like relief.

(He didn’t know which was worse.)

Central City was better and worse than he expected. The constant noise rattled him until he got used to ways to combat it: earphones, white noise machines, a cheesy little indoor fountain. The anonymity soothed him— no one paid attention to him in the city. Slowly he carved out his place.

He was part of the city’s emergency response team. Their primary job was working to secure the city and her people during villain attacks. Secondary to that they did follow up with victims, held community events to spread awareness about everything from emergency prep to smoke detectors, and helped with rebuilding efforts.

It was rewarding work and Danny’s core sang for it.

It was a little exhausting to have to run right into a villain attack on his day off though. Good thing he always kept a mini kit in his bag. What sort of emergency response team member would he be if he didn’t listen to their own advice? It was a really nice little kit too— ultra compact but it contained gloves, pipettes of water, disinfectant, a range bandages, a suture kit, a snap light, and even a shock blanket. Danny added a few extra gloves to it too.

As he ran towards the sounds of disaster, Danny felt a brisk wind breeze past him— and then blow back again— as the Flash (one of them, Danny hadn’t been around long enough to tell them apart) backtracked.

“Kid—” Oh, it was the older one then. “—you should be heading the other way. Lummox is up ahead—”

“I know,” Danny snapped, not stopping moving. “I’m a field medic. I’m on my way to help, and you’re not going to stop me.”

The Flash seemed at a loss for what to say for half a beat. “Okay. Sure. Want a lift?”

“What?”

“I can get you in a second— literally— but I’m leaving you on the edge of it all.”

It would be convenient. And it’s not like he couldn’t trust Flash. Danny slowed to a stop and shrugged. “Sure, onward, Seabiscuit.”

“Who?”

“Famous race horse? Cause you’re going to carry me? Never mind. Just pick me up, dude.”

Danny ignored the look he got from the Flash and clung on for dear half-life. Fuck the Speed Force felt weird. He was pretty sure it was less than a second to get there, and Danny didn’t quite stick the landing, but he got his feet under him fast enough to rush in to help.

Eventually Danny required an extra vest from the team that came in and just blended into the background of other medics. It wasn’t a bad day— no lives lost and all the injuries were relatively minor. (He even got some overtime payment, which he wasn’t going to sneeze at). Danny figured it was just part of being in the city, occasionally running into villains and heroes even off the clock.

He didn’t expect it to really happen again.

(He should have known to never have expectations.)

-----

AN: Still moving along with this odd little thing! It's been fun to write a Danny in a very different place than my other fics- mentally and physically! Just to be clear btw- Danny is in a bad place at the start of this fic which is putting a negative light on how he's seeing things. Sam and Tucker just... moved on with their lives. Those sort of high school friends you liked a lot but drift away from. Without the history of ghost stuff to bind them, it was just part of life to them. Danny just has a different memory history so it hits harder for him/feels harsher.

Stay delightful, darlings!

Due to the new post editor and shadow banning, I'm no longer tagging people! To be notified, subscribe to this post:

[sirfrogsworth]

The Decision

Taking care of my dad has been challenging but probably the most rewarding thing I've ever done. In the past year I've had to push myself beyond my limits, beyond my illness, and do everything I could to make sure my dad was comfortable as his body slowly failed him.

I hadn't driven in over a decade, but he needed to get to dialysis so I took the entire driving test like a teenager in order to get my license again. I had to move out of my cozy basement command center and upstairs into the light. I hate the light. Much too bright. Since then we have been spending almost every second of every day together. This causes us to get on each others' nerves on occasion. But most of the time we are happy to have each others' company.

My job is mostly supervision and problem solving. I watch him to make sure he doesn't fall. But if he did fall, I needed a way to get him back up. So I found an electric chair lift. I just scoot his butt on and raise him back up. If he had a medical problem, I would figure out which doctor could help him. If his feet were cold, I would find battery-powered heated slippers to keep his toes toasty. Our house is filled with little solutions I found to make him as comfortable and safe as possible.

If he needs help with anything I am always right there to assist. It's usually little things, but for him, sometimes little things can be impossible things.

I was proud to do this and I believe it brought us closer than we have ever been.

Wednesday morning the surgery team came to visit my dad and look at his foot. They told me they cannot save the foot. My dad would need a below-the-knee amputation. This would require two months of grueling, painful rehab. Then another month or two for him to adjust to a prosthetic leg. Which he may not be able to tolerate with his balance issues.

Then the lung doctor came in. He said my dad's breathing could improve, but probably not to a comfortable degree. He explained with my dad's congestive heart failure getting worse, he is probably looking at another six months to a year of life, but only if everything with the amputation goes well.

I asked the lung doctor if this was all worth it. Four months of painful recovery from amputation just to live another two months? He said a reasonable person could decide it is worth it. That some people want to squeeze every second out of life. But another reasonable person might decide that quality of life is more important than length of life.

My dad has been unhappy with his health struggles for a while now. Dialysis is just awful. He sits in a chair for four hours, three times per week, and comes home absolutely wiped out. He sleeps for two to three hours and then feels miserable the rest of the night. Sometimes he will recover from the dialysis and then it is time to get more dialysis. Sundays were his only real day of rest because he had an extra day of recovery time.

He has breathing difficulties and they are getting worse. He can't take deep breaths so his lungs keep filling with CO2. The CO2 exacerbates his delirium and confusion. He has to wear an uncomfortable BiPAP breathing mask for hours to get rid of the CO2. Once the CO2 is blown off, he switches to high flow oxygen in his nose. The CO2 builds up again... back to the BiPAP. It has become a vicious cycle.

He is constantly trying to right his balance when he walks. He has arthritis pain that never stops. And because his circulation is so bad, his extremities are always either tingling or stinging him with neuropathy pain. Those heated slippers were his only refuge.

His depression is obvious. He curses at every little inconvenience. Every dropped pill due to his hands not working. Every time he bumps into the wall with his walker. Every time he fails to stand up, having to try multiple times. Everything frustrates him.

He hates being tethered to oxygen. He feels trapped in a 50 foot radius. He constantly wishes for nothing more than to go outside and take his riding mower for a spin.

I try to entertain him with new movies and TV shows, but he has trouble concentrating on new things. Sometimes he prefers just to watch his NCIS shows that he has seen many times. That way he won't get frustrated if he falls asleep and misses the ending.

And... he lost his wife.

He has had to exist without her for a year now and he sometimes forgets she is gone. He'll call out to her and she won't respond. He'll think she is still lying next to him in bed only to discover it is the pillow supporting his back. I think when she died a part of himself died as well. He lost a huge reason to keep fighting.

And since he has been back in the hospital, his delirium and confusion have returned. He is more lucid in the mornings after sleeping. But the exhaustion from not getting enough sleep, dialysis, his foot infection and pain, the drugs, the constant in-and-out of people checking on him... it's just too much. His brain cannot function without restful sleep. So he ends up hallucinating and losing the ability to communicate.

There just does not seem to be a path forward where he could have a comfortable quality of life.

In the height of his foot pain he has exclaimed many times "I WANT TO DIE." And while I know part of that was due to his misery and frustration and pain in that moment... I think that exclamation contained his unfiltered wishes.

He was lucid Wednesday morning and we had a good conversation. He did not want to endure months of recovery and rehab. He did not want the pain of losing a leg. He did not want to fight for every breath. He did not want to lose access to clear thoughts on a regular basis. And he did not want to continue on without the love of his life.

There is this selfish part of me that wanted to convince him to keep fighting. He is my best friend. He is the greatest father I could ask for. Taking care of him this past year has given me great purpose. It has been an honor to help take care of him--as he had done for me all of my life.

Lately, he has had trouble getting into bed and covering himself up. So I have been tucking him in every night just like he did for me when I was little. First I have to arrange his pillows just right. One between his legs and one for him to hug. I put on his toasty slippers to keep his feet warm. I pull the covers up, give him a hug, tell him I love him, and say goodnight. Then I ask his Alexa speaker to play Billy Joel for him to fall asleep to. And I love doing that for him. I feel happy that we got through another day.

Whenever I am alone in our house, I miss him. I have never been in an empty house. It just feels wrong. And I'm not sure I am ready to adjust to that reality.

I want to watch another season of Cardinal's baseball with him. He loves The Mandalorian so much and I want to watch the new episodes with him. I downloaded every John Wayne movie, and even though I don't always care for those films, I like seeing him smile as he watches The Duke get into trouble.

I don't want to lose both of my parents in the span of a year.

And, well, I also don't want to lose the house. I don't want to live on my own. I don't want to worry about not having enough money to live. These are just things I can't help worrying about. And I feel guilty for worrying about myself during this time.

I have all of these reasons to want him to continue on. And I bet if I asked him to keep trying, he would do that for me. He would continue suffering and struggling for me. Because there has never been a time in his life that he would not do *anything* for his sons.

That's just who he is.

But I know I have to filter those feelings and reasons out. I know I can't ask my father to endure any more pain and misery because I fear being alone. He has always done what is best for me, and now I need to return the favor.

He has lived a long life. He had a wife that he loved. He had two sons that he raised and instilled his values in. He has a beautiful legacy that will live on in us.

He has nothing left to accomplish in this world.

He told me he wanted an out but he didn't know how to go about it. But I did. And I had to fight the urge to keep it to myself. I did not want to tell my father how to end his life. And telling him almost felt like I was personally killing him.

Thursday morning his favorite doctor is going to come speak to us. She is his kidney doctor. She is going to explain the process of stopping dialysis. With palliative care, it can be a relatively painless exit. Over a few weeks his kidneys will fail to filter out toxins. They will build up in his system. And eventually he will fade to black.

My mother had a horrible, painful, lonely death. Her final words were over a telephone because of COVID restrictions. The last time I saw her was across the ICU through a glass window.

Thankfully, my dad will be able to go out on his own terms.

He will be comfortable and surrounded by loved ones.

[kivaember]

looks you dead in the eye. yes. i wrote viv621 AC... groping... idek what this is. it's late and i should sleep but my brain was like WRITE THIS WRITE THIS so here you have AC petting. Enjoy(?).

When Raven had floated the idea to him initially, Rusty had thought it'd been nothing more than a strange joke.

It'd been on the tail end of a sortie, a quick and dirty job of crushing a Balam raiding party that had been harassing Arquebus supply lines a little too much. It'd been just MTs, but one had managed to get a lucky shot on STEEL HAZE, a wayward round lodging into the joint of the AC's left shoulder. It hadn't been enough to limit his range of movement, but it squatted in juuuust the right spot to constantly trigger his pressure sensors around there, a phantom sensation that twinged and jolted like minute electrical shocks down his arm - a pinched nerve.

It was a big drawback to being an augmented human, in Rusty's opinion. True, their high levels of synchronisation with their ACs meant they could move it as fluidly as their own body, respond as quickly as their synapses could fire without that deadly split-second processing pause that unaugmented pilots suffered from, but the big drawback was that this required their ACs to have delicate pressure sensors for their proprioception to fully translate.

Rusty had heard all the 'funny stories' of the early Gens accidentally having their ACs smack themselves in the face with their hands or tripping their own feet, complaints of feeling utterly numb and not knowing what their "body" (AC) was doing or where their limbs were. Pressure sensors were the answer, the AC's own nervous system, and through that their brains could translate sensations and signals in the only way it knew how: pain and pleasure.

That trapped bullet in STEEL HAZE's shoulder was definitely pinging pain, over and over, though. Enough to make him grit his teeth and his voice come out a little strained, and to have Raven inquire about his health.

"Ah, well, one of the Balams got a lucky hit in, is all," he said breezily, trying to brush the whole thing off. "I think a round is stuck in my left shoulder."

«Let me look,» Raven offered, and Rusty didn't know why he agreed to it but he did, standing perfectly still while Raven's AC, STALKER, carefully probed the joint of STEEL HAZE's left shoulder, sending pulses of sensations ghosting along Rusty's corresponding shoulder.

It was a mingle of pain and something indefinable. Despite the friendly and approachable personality he presented, Rusty was unused to being touched. The only time he had 'contact' was when someone managed to get a glancing blow on STEEL HAZE, an echo of pain thrumming through him - encouragement not to let that happen again. Every touch made him tense, half-expecting pain to follow, and this presented itself as minute twitches and flinches as STALKER prodded and teased its mechanical fingers into the soft, delicate writing inside his shoulder.

«Does it hurt?» Raven asked.

"Just sensitive," Rusty said, his voice strangely taut to his own ears.

Raven said nothing more, and only minutes after that he found the trapped round and extracted it, that nervy, stinging pain immediately vanishing. Rusty rolled his shoulder, thanked him for the help, and turned to go, oddly flustered and feeling the need for space when-

«It can feel good too.»

Rusty didn't know what to say in response to that. He stared at him, and Raven stared back, the round pinched between STALKER's fingers. It was slightly flattened at the tip.

«I can show you sometime,» Raven continued, and flicked the round away.

"Um, sure, sometime," Rusty stammered, thrown by the offer, and tossed in his goodbyes before quickly leaving the scene.

Afterwards, when lying in his cot and rubbing his shoulder, still feeling the odd twinge, he dismissed the whole thing as Raven's strange sense of humour rearing its head at an inappropriate time. He hadn't meant it like that, obviously. It had probably been a comment on how field repairs weren't normally that painful or uncomfortable.

So he put the whole thing out of mind.

-

Actually, that was a lie. The whole thing lived in his mind rent free for days afterwards.

The memory of that ghostly sensation of Raven's fingers inside his shoulder joint haunted him, something so viscerally intimate yet alien that his mind simply didn't know how to compartmentalise it. He ignored it instead, throwing himself onto sorties despite the monotony of it all. He'd almost convinced himself he'd forgotten entirely about it until his path once more crossed with Raven's.

Another job. They were going to reclaim an oil refinery from Balam which was guarded by nothing but MTs. The Redguns being so few in number and overstretched meant that whenever they overextended their lines, their men were sitting ducks for the far more numerous Vespers and their deep pockets to pay for Raven's services.

It'd been overkill using both Rusty and Raven, but Rusty suspected Snail just wanted him out of the base. He'd been getting particularly surly as of late.

There'd been no lucky shots from desperate MTs, but a stray shot had detonated an oil tanker. Chunks of shrapnel had been thrown across the battlefield, and while STEEL HAZE's armour had deflected most of it, one particularly large chunk had somehow managed to wedge itself in the hydraulics of STEEL HAZE's neck. He couldn't turn his head in either direction without experiencing an incredibly unpleasant, choking sensation lancing right down his throat. It made even talking a bit of a breathless affair.

Again, Raven asked if he was okay.

"Uh, yeah, just... think some shrapnel's stuck in my neck," Rusty muttered, knowing he was holding STEEL HAZE too stiffly. He was fighting the base, animal urge to scrabble at his neck, but STEEL HAZE's frame wasn't built to accomodate that. He was likely to accidentally cause damage than do any real help.

«Let me see.»

Rusty stayed still as STALKER crowded into his personal space, unable to look at anything but STALKER's asymmetrical head right in front of him. STEEL HAZE's pressure sensors detected STALKER's fingers very gently probing at his throat, a phantom touch that made Rusty instinctively swallow.

In the bottom right hand corner of his HUD, where his vitals were monitored visually, he saw his pulse spike.

«There is shrapnel lodged in there. It's jamming the left-front neck hydraulic.»

"Mn," Rusty responded, and felt a tremor wrack up his spine when he felt STALKER's fingers dig into his- STEEL HAZE's throat. It had his breaths stuttering in his lungs, nerves firing with a sensation that was too intense to call merely pain or pleasure.

The shrapnel felt like it was being scraped through his windpipe, STALKER's fingers gently weaving through his vocal chords to reach it. Rusty found himself blinking rapidly, his gaze fixed on the bottom right corner, seeing his pulse spike higher, higher, his body unsure on what to make of such a visceral touch.

STALKER's questing fingers finally pinched against the edge of the shrapnel, and began to tease it out. Some sort of- noise left Rusty, feeling like Raven was running the sharp edge of a knife gently along his nerves. It was a dizzying relief when he finally yanked the shrapnel free, Rusty gulping in a deep, shuddering breath.

«Sensitive?»

"Wh- wha- huh?" Rusty coughed, trying to recall his pulse from the stratosphere.

Raven didn't repeat himself. STALKER flicked away the piece of shrapnel, but didn't move out of his personal space.

«You have some more shrapnel in your waist. I'll extract that too.»

"Oh... okay," Rusty mumbled, only half-listening. Adrenaline still fizzled through him, almost making him jump out of his skin when he felt STALKER's hand brush along the side of STEEL HAZE's Core, a metallic scraping noise as it trailed along the lip of its armour.

Raven paused, as if waiting for a protest, before it slipped its hand underneath the Core, where STEEL HAZE's waist joined with the Core block underneath the lightweight armour. It was a place that was rarely, if ever touched - by enemy fire or a melee strikes. Rusty genuinely thought there was no sensation there, but-

He felt it, a sensation like a hand was sliding into his guts and partway up to cup his heart against a palm. He went rigid in his seat, and something in STEEL HAZE's posture must've betrayed him, because STALKER immediately withdrew its hand.

«Sensitive?»

It took Rusty a few tries to remember how to talk. "Y-Yeah. One... one word for... for that."

Raven was quiet, the crimson light of STALKER's ocular feeds regarding him. Slowly, STALKER reached out again, but it didn't slip its hand back underneath the vulnerable spot beneath STEEL HAZE's Core block. The tips of its fingers gently caressed the very edge of it, pressing against where soft wires nestled beneath the overhanging armour of the Nachtreiher Core.

Rusty's body didn't know how to translate that sensation. He felt like Raven's fingers were idly stroking along his diaphragm - almost ticklish, stealing the air out of his lungs, not painful, but not pleasure, but some other intense third thing that had his fingernails leaving grooves in the arms of his cockpit chair.

«Does it hurt?»

If he said yes, Raven would stop immediately, he knew this instinctively. If he said yes, Raven would back off, likely apologise, and then they'd never discuss this strange, heady moment ever again. It was on the tip of Rusty's tongue, to say yes, but it didn't leave him. He sat there, quivering with an indescribable emotion, feeling STALKER gently stroke exposed circuits and Raven touch the very core of him, and mumbled some sort of half-garbled: "Nno- no, it's- sensitive."

«Bad sensitive?»

Rusty made an ambigious noise.

«Bad sensitive?» Raven repeated.

"No," Rusty breathed out, and bit the inside of his cheek when Raven pushed his hand higher - deeper - into him, until that 'palm-cupping-his-heart' sensation returned. His pulse spiked again. He watched the numbers shoot up, dizzy, and heard/felt the slight scratch of STALKER's finger stroking along the underside of his Core block.

It was- indescribable. The intense third thing again. Rusty's brain didn't know how to handle the feeling of a hand so tenderly, gently, cradling his insides - shrapnel inside his waist his ass how was any of this his waist - his pulse shot higher, beepbeepbeepbeep, a light blinked in the corner, yet Raven didn't back off and Rusty didn't tell him to stop.

He was so conscious, so conscious, of Raven's hand inside of him, of STALKER's hand below him, the slight vibration of that finger scratching along the bottom of the Core block, reverbing through military grade metal and making the cockpit quiver, of feeling Raven's finger gently stroke along the underside of his pounding heart, making weird little lights sort of flicker in his vision and the pulse numbers on his HUD go all funny and weird. Oxygen levels were coming back low. That was odd.

And as Rusty felt himself teeter towards something horribly intense yet amazingly new, STALKER's hand dropped away and Raven's hand left his insides. STEEL HAZE swayed dangerously.

«Very sensitive,» Raven said, resting a hand against STEEL HAZE's shoulder to steady him. «We should probably start small.»

"Wha." Rusty mumbled deliriously.

STALKER patted his shoulder in what could arguably be called affection. «Take a moment.»

Rusty did take a moment. Actually he took several moments, but once his wits returned from whatever zonked out plane of existence they had flown to, he felt nothing but self-conscious embarrassment.

"Uh, really sorry about that..." he mumbled as they returned to the rendevouz point, leaving the smoking oil refinery behind them. "I'm not quite sure what happened there."

«It's okay. It's intense the first few times,» Raven reassured him. «We'll just build it up. We can start with holding hands and going from there.»

"Um." Holding hands was... "That's really... tame...?"

«We'll see.»

-

It turned out holding hands was a little more intense than he thought it'd be.

[polarisbibliotheque]

Devil May Halloween - The Samhain Ritual

Devil May Halloween 2023 - The Samhain Ritual, Prologue (Reader and the crew on Halloween's eve)

Pairing: During the Prologue, none. You can pair the reader with anyone you want ;)

Summary: It's finally Halloween and, even if the demons are a lot more active this time of the year, that doesn't stop you from going on hunts - the partying can be done later. Or... At least that was what you thought. Maybe Nero had pretty good reasons to worry about that job after all.

Author's Notes: YEEEEES 'TIS TIME!!!! Ok, a little bit earlier, but I just finished writing the Prologue - if everything goes as planned, I'll write and post Dante's and Vergil's parts on Halloween day/night.

And yes, I know the summary is a little foggy on the theme this year but... I'm really counting on the plot twist at the end, so bear with me please HAHAHAHA

It's based on an ask sent by the amazing @furyeclipse with an awesome idea that I was thinking about for a while and figured it would be a good Halloween theme. I'll answer the ask as soon as I post the two parts on the 31st as not to spoil the fun :3 but thanks so much dear! It sparkled my writing again and I'll be always grateful for that ^^

Happy Halloween, demons, devil hunters and lil' critters!!

Prologue

Contrary to what everyone at the Devil May Cry would believe, it took a lot to get on the Sparda twins’ nerves.

One would never say Dante and Vergil were particularly patient – but, after living with them for a while, they did seem to have an above the average tolerance regarding many matters. Maybe it was because of all the things they had lived, or maybe just because actually sitting and listening to what demons had to say in order to have a smart clap back required an insurmountable amount of patience: no one would ever be able to pinpoint why, but the Sparda twins were able to put up with a lot.

 When the last strands of that patience grew thin and finally torn apart, though, it was usually followed by all hells breaking lose. In that department, Dante and Vergil had very different ways to react: while the red devil burnt in an explosion of controlled fiery anger, the blue devil lost control under his usually carefully measured icy rage.

Two sides of the same coin, as you would say.

That day, it took a lot of time before they started getting annoyed by Nero constantly tapping his feet on the ground at the shop.

Dante was lazily thrown at his desk, sitting on his big chair and trying to enjoy some random magazine from years prior that he never seemed to fully end reading. Vergil was immobile, a little too stiff on the couch, having one of his many obscure poetry books in one hand while the other lightly rested over Yamato – always at arm’s length. Nero sat on the very same couch, with enough distance between him and his father, slouching while looking at different points in the shop and tapping his feet on the ground as if he was the drummer of a metal band.

Incessantly.

That had been going for hours. At first, it wasn’t annoying – both twins thought the kid would eventually calm down and stop. But after a while, Nero didn’t stop… And it only seemed to get worse.

Of course, neither Dante nor Vergil would notice both of them lightly frowning at the same time when the tapping noise started to get on their nerves. Still absorbed by their reads, the Spardas didn’t move their signature blue eyes from the pages, but the annoyed expression was the very same.

Indeed, twins. Even if they would die before admitting they were more similar than they realized.

A good half hour passed before they started getting really annoyed – probably around the same time Nero started using his hands to lightly tap on his thighs, using the same rhythm of his feet.

That exasperation started to bubble inside their chests, like a volcano that would soon explode in harsh feelings – and Dante was the first one to actually do something about it.

“Hey, kid.” He moved his sky-blue eyes towards Nero, making his nephew immediately look back at him. Without halting the tapping. “Everything alright? You’re gonna start a one-man band soon enough.”

“Yeah, yeah. I have restless leg syndrome, ya know?” Nero answered in his nonchalant tone as always – the very same punk Dante met at Fortuna. Years could go by, but that big-mouthed angry kid he met in that stuck-up cult city would never change in his eyes.

Something Dante was very fond of, if he had to be honest.

Not a single second passed before the sheath of the Yamato lightly – but sternly – hit Nero’s thighs; with enough pressure to hold them down, almost with no effort from the man wielding it.

“Enough.” Vergil’s words were crowned by the side look from his frozen silver eyes, moving just the muscles he needed to make his son stop that madness.

“C’mon…” Nero let out a huff, rolling his eyes and throwing his head back at the same time, finally stopping the tapping. It was enough to make Vergil put the Yamato back on its place and go back to his reading. “Am I supposed to just stay here waitin’ with ya the whole day?”

“They’re gonna be alright, kid.” Dante closed his magazine, tossing it on the desk and moving his feet down to the floor. Leaning towards the couch, he rested one of his elbows on his knee. “Y/n is one hell of a hunter and your lil’ angel is more than great at helpin’. They’ll be back in no time.”

“Yeah, but what if somethin’ goes wrong? What if Kyrie gets hurt?” Nero got up and started using his accumulated energy to walk around the shop while tapping on his thighs. He had to move.

“Don’t you trust your own training…?” Vergil once again raised his silvery eyes from the book, staring at his son fumbling around and not knowing what to do with himself – the very opposite of his immovable force.

Nero stared back at his own father, aquamarine eyes burning with anger. Dante had to smile and stifle a laugh: he knew his brother quite well to know Vergil wasn’t saying that just to be insufferable, he was actually playfully teasing his own son. Just like he used to do with Dante whenever their never-ending bantering started.

It was good to see Vergil was finally getting comfortable with his own kid to allow himself that kind of behavior. Dante saw that as a good sign.

“Well, last time Kyrie got caught up in the middle of somethin’, crazy-ass Sanctus and Nico’s dad kidnapped her to be slurped into a huge semi-organic-marble statue of world’s greatest grandpa Sparda while your ass was crumblin’ in Hell.” Now Nero was as red as a bell pepper, making Dante raise his eyebrows and side-eye his twin brother. Sometimes, Vergil deserved the burn. “Had to use Yamato to beat that old creep to pieces to get my girl back, so excuse me if I’m worried about lettin’ her go on a mission without me on Halloween of all days!”

Feeling Dante’s not-at-all discreet stare, Vergil’s eyes turned back to his brother right after.

“Kid’s got a point.” That’s all the red devil would say, crowned by a shrug. He loved to see Vergil being more comfortable around his son to allow more of his personality to show through – but he also had to admit Vergil needed a scolding from time to time after all the things he had done.

And his list of sins was actually huge, so there would be a lot of scolding.

“Kyrie is a very competent healer.” Vergil sighed and decided it was time to close his book and rest it on his legs – it was not like he would be able to go back to read anyway. “And y/n is a remarkable hunter. You taught Kyrie how to handle guns and swords. Even if things turn out not like they are expecting, demons would require a remarkable force to subdue them.” His silvery eyes had nothing but calculated calm, making Nero finally stop on his tracks and actually listen. “When you think about things logically, you realize the chance of them coming back safely is greater than whatever worry stirring in your heart.”

Nero rested his hands on his hips, his mouth pursed in a slit while his aquamarine eyes narrowed in their mission of glaring his father. He didn’t want to admit, but that was one hell of an advice. Vergil’s strength relied on his mind seeing things logically and counting all odds without his heart interfering in the matter – which probably was the reason why he survived so long in Hell.

Nero hated when Vergil was right – and specially when his advices were so sound. It reminded him of the father he never had, of the advices he never got to receive to help his life be a little bit less miserable – and it reminded him that even if he was mad Vergil was never there for him, it was because his father was locked in Hell as a puppet in Mundus’ hands, not even knowing he had a son, suffering innumerous tortures until Dante rid him of all that by killing his own brother… Only to survive somehow and drag himself out of all that shit.

It would be easier for Nero to hate Vergil if he only had left in pursue of power and never cared if he had a child. It would be a lot easier for Nero to deal with his feelings if that was the case.

“Verge’s right, kid. I’m not one to respond logically to things…” Dante raised his hands as if he was being held at gunpoint as soon as those fuming aquamarine eyes stared at him. “But hey, you gotta have some sense sometimes. They’re good at what they do. It wasn’t such a difficult job and your lil’ angel has an opportunity to take care of the people who were injured. It’s gonna be fine.”

Differently from Vergil, Dante wasn’t being held hostage while Nero had to learn to survive on his own – at least not like his twin brother in Hell. Even if Nero wanted to say Dante could have done something, could have been a blood bond he so desperately needed, the man in front of him could hide under so many masks but couldn’t stop his sky-blue eyes of showing all the sadness he carried inside.

Vergil could have been locked down in Hell, but Dante was being held hostage in his own mind. Carrying the grief of being the only survivor on that fateful night, and then the heart-wrenching sorrow of killing his own twin brother in order to rid him of the suffering he had been forced to endure during all that time in Hell. The guilt Dante carried in his soul weighted in his eyes and showed in how much he didn’t care about himself. He didn’t even know Nero existed until he saw him for the first time.

How could any of them care for Nero when all of them were lost in the first place?

“Kyrie’s gonna be so happy being able to help other people…” Nero finally sighed and murmured to himself, closing his eyes as if to remind himself why you both left for a job on your own in the first place. “She can handle herself. Y/n can protect them if they need it. I don’t need to stalk ‘em like a vulture all the time.”

“That’s the spirit, kid.” Dante smiled, resting his heavy boots on his desk once again. “They’ll be back soon and we’ll even have time for a lil’ Halloween party.”

“Hmmm. I refuse to wear those ridiculous clothes.” Vergil left his book on the couch, getting up to warm some water. The day was coming to an end and they could use some tea – specially Nero.

“Ooooh, c’mon, Verge! It’s the twins from The Shining! We have to make that happen someday!” Dante looked so offended Nero couldn’t help himself but to smile – even if a little bit. “It’s perfect!”

“You would never find a dress that fits you.” Vergil’s answer was but a murmur, but all of them could hear it very well.

“Ya know…” Nero sighed, finally giving in his family antics. They would never be much normal… And it made no sense for Nero to cry over the suffering Mundus had doomed all his family to just because his grandfather decided to stand by the side of the ones that needed him. In the end, Sparda did the right thing and his blood was paying for it – could Nero really be mad at him about it…? “Vergil would make a great Wednesday Addams.”

Both men stared at him: Vergil with only frozen death in his silvery eyes, dark aura already starting to loom around him, while Dante had the brightest stars in his sky-blue stare, mouth slightly open.

“You’re a genius, kid.”

Chaos would’ve ensued if Trish and Lady hadn’t opened the doors of the Devil May Cry at that very same moment.

“Hey, what’s up, babes? Nero’s got the best idea for Halloween this year…!”

“Well, those ideas will have to wait. We got a bit of a… Problem.” And something was wrong in Trish’s voice: she usually carried that nonchalant, devilish honey tone in every word she said, always with a ghost of a smile on her perfectly crafted reddish lips – but not this time. Her lilac blue eyes were fidgeting, a tinge of distraught in her voice. Dante immediately furrowed his brows and took his feet of the desk.

“Y/n and Kyrie need our help.” Lady announced with a nervous tremble in her tone, closing the heavy door behind her.

The Devil May Cry fell in silence – the eyes of the blood of Sparda locked on Lady and Trish. They had now their undivided attention.

**

“I’m really impressed we’re not finding any of them stalking us at the corner of our eyes every now and then.” You had your arms crossed, leaning to a building while Kyrie stabilized a man who was caught by a demon earlier – his family waiting anxiously around you, ready to run to safety while you both only promised to go deeper and deeper into the root of all the problem. “I thought they’d be looming around us like vultures.”

“Oh, Nero is probably worried sick.” Kyrie answered in a giggle, carefully wrapping the man’s arm with a clean set of bandages she packed before leaving with you. “But I think they trust us enough to do our job.”

“Hmmm. Nevertheless, I lost the bet.” You smiled in return, slightly sighing. “Guess you got me for an entire day to help you at the orphanage when we’re back.”

“Any help is always welcome.” She was quickly done, smiling at you while the family approached to carry the man to safety. “Go straight to a hospital. We’ll keep on working on this.”

“Thank you! May the gods bless you!”

As the family ran out of the building with the injured man, Kyrie couldn’t help but smile. For years she had unwavering faith in the Order of the Sword, and she thought after all that happened in Fortuna – specially regarding Credo – she would turn bitter towards all religion. But it had the opposite effect: it only made her happier when people blessed her with their faith, knowing it was one of the best things they could offer as a thankful gesture.

Her church might have been destroyed, her beliefs turned to dust – but her faith in something good would never be broken.

“Ok, my dear Cleric, onwards we go.” You got your sword back in your hands, pointing the way so Kyrie could get ready. “It’s quite impressive that a few demons were able to make such a mess in so little time actually. If they hadn’t evacuated the factory as soon as the first bodies appeared, we would probably be here with the whole crew.”

“Hmmm… It’s very interesting really…” Kyrie furrowed her brows, reloading the Blue Rose. Nero wanted her to use it on that hunt – as if having a piece of him with her could ward away any evil. He was always very bitter and rebellious towards any faith, but Kyrie always smiled whenever she saw the little superstitions Nero carried with him. “You said we’re dealing with three demons, right?”

“Could be more.”

“Oh, I believe it’s three. If I’m a Cleric, then you’re a Ranger. And a very good one.” Kyrie let out a quiet laugh alongside yours. “Three demons attacking a factory in town at random, causing so many deaths and such mayhem in less than an hour… It’s really… Hmmm…”

“Weird…?” You tried and she agreed, even if both of you didn’t really agree that was the right word to describe it. Since you first stepped inside that old building, it seemed something wasn’t right – but neither of you could quite point out what it was. “Yeah, I have to agree with you… If it was just a bunch of bloodthirsty demons, they would be spreading out to the city already and there would be so much more than just three.”

“And if there were more, the body count would be higher.” Her answer was somber: Kyrie never enjoyed thinking about human casualties, and that’s why her job was always to heal and help the injured. “So…”

“What gives?” You complimented her phrase, making Kyrie agree with her head – slowly, still thinking about it. “Also, we have many hunters in our party. Dante is one hell of a tracker as well, even if he tries to pretend he’s always winging it.”

“Oh, but Dante would definitely be a hunter Bard.” She laughed in response, making you snort right after. You could see that. Dante was a depressed Bard, hunting demons and going into fire fueled demon rage, but a Bard nonetheless. “And Vergil would be our very own Necromancer.”

“Scaring everyone who came in contact with us, be with his eyes or the spirit of the dead.” You answered as if you were narrating an advertisement of Necromancers on the TV – Kyrie giggled more than she thought she would. “It’s very fitting though. And Nero…”

You both exchanged looks, as if you could read each other’s minds – already laughing upon knowing what the answer would be.

“Rebel Paladin.” As you said in unison, your laughs echoed slightly through the factory. Imagining what each one of you would be in a Dungeons and Dragons game was something you and Kyrie would discuss quite often since you found out she was interested in it, but never really had the chance to play it. You wanted to start a campaign together, but whenever she had time, you were out on a hunt, and whenever you had time, she was busy with the orphanage.

Suddenly, you raised your hand so your laughs would come to a halt. Kyrie paid attention to your surroundings, only to hear what it seemed to be distorted voices coming from the patio outside the factory. Taking one of your fingers to your lips, you signaled her to be silent as you slowly walked towards the noise.

Reaching one of the big windows inside the building, you had a good view of the patio. Three humanoid demons – but still a lot taller than normal people, with leathery skin, distorted proportions, horned heads and sharp teeth – licked the blood from their fingers, tossing dismembered human bodies in the distance. You and Kyrie remained silent, crouching by the window, only the very top of your heads visible: enough so you could see what was going on.

“Master will probably have to wait for another Samhain.” One of them scoffed the words, voice drenching in disdain.

“We have our orders. They will show up.” The tallest demon, a little different and more menacing, had only anger in his tone. That discussion probably had been going for some time. “And when they do, our job is over.”

“Perhaps we didn’t kill enough…” The third demon had a wide smile on its hundred rows of sharp teeth. “Perhaps if we spill more blood, they will be here quicker.”

“You fool.” The leader of the group almost growled in response. “Humans aren’t summoned by spells and blood like us. They are weak little creatures that take forever to do at least one thing.”

“Then why Master needs them so much?! Two even!” The first demon rolled its eerily white eyes, clearly bored with the waiting stage of their mission. “They are meek things, the only thing they are good for is food.”

“Because those are different.” The leader now let a roar tear trough its words. “And they are exactly what Master needs for the ritual. No more, no less.”

“If Mundus wasn’t so stupid, he would have succeeded in it.” The second demon scoffed once again, shaking its head. You and Kyrie exchanged quick looks. “But he always wanted to bite more than he could chew.”

“He thought he could bend the rules.” The leader crossed its deformed arms, spiky skin scratching against each other. “No one can. Not even the strongest of us. He ignored the rituals that could’ve made him stronger before trying to subdue all into his rule.”

“He underestimated the blood of Sparda. That was the reason for his demise.” You walked into the patio, silver sword bright in your hand. You had heard enough – and maybe Dante or probably Vergil would know what kind of Samhain ritual they were talking about. It was time to send them back to Hell; Kyrie could watch it safely from inside the factory.

“Oh… A hunter.” The leader smiled devilishly, receiving an approving look from the other two. That already made your heart a little suspicious: it wasn’t a normal reaction. “And a Sparda defender, nonetheless.”

“I defend the ones who carry his legacy. Your power could never get even close to what they carry.” You raised your head with pride, a ghost of a smile coloring your lips. “And neither did Mundus.”

“My, my, so you know the blood of Sparda…?” The third demon approached with its hundred rows of sharp fangs dripping blood, ready to attack. You tried not to react to its phrase, even if you wanted to furrow your brows in confusion. Why did that matter…? “It’s true, then? That they fell for human whores like that filthy traitor before them?”

“You know, I wouldn’t mind you talking about me like that…” You sighed, crossing your arms, trying to retain a little control over the conversation – even if something inside you screamed the odds were not in your favor. “But no one refers to my Cleric with such dirty words.”

She didn’t want to, but Kyrie had to muffle a little giggle. She would always be impressed how all of you hunters – including Lady and Trish, not only Nero’s family and you – could banter and give demons smart answers, seemingly fearlessly.

“You have someone else with you, then…? A non-hunter…?” The first demon approached slowly, spreading its claws in the same rhythm as its steps.

That was almost like a red light appearing inside your mind. They didn’t know. They saw you – and only you – but they didn’t know about Kyrie. And now, it seemed like they were even more interested on the fact you were there together.

Two humans for their Master. They could have taken anyone in that factory, but they were waiting. At first, you and Kyrie thought they were waiting for anyone in the crew outside Trish, but now… You had your doubts. Many doubts.

Without words, you plunged in a surprise attack that managed to cut the side of the third demon’s mouth, making it even wider while it screeched in pain. That was enough to put an end to that conversation – and, as soon as you could, you would turn around to Kyrie and signal her to run.

As she watched you from inside the building, Kyrie tried to think what to do. She knew you were more than capable of killing those three demons in a moderately quick fight, but that conversation was enough to spark restlessness in her heart.

And before she could do anything and you could tell her to go, Kyrie felt a leathery clawed hand tightly covering her mouth, squeezing her soft skin until it hurt.

“Don’t even try to run, or we will gut you and your friend right here, right now.”

Her hazelnut eyes turned to the patio in despair, trying to find yours while you viciously fought to slay all those demons.

As soon as you saw her being carried towards the patio by another menacing demon, you immediately did what they commanded you to do: stop resisting and drop your weapons or else they would drop Kyrie’s blood.

She closed her eyes in regret as she heard the metallic sound of your silver sword hitting the floor.

**

“When the people in town told us they were there, we figured to drop by and say hello.” Lady had her hands resting on her waist, standing in front of the shop’s desk while the Spardas surrounded her and Trish. “Our job was fast and easy, and it would be nice seeing how Kyrie was holding up… But when we got to the factory, we knew something was wrong.”

“What happened?! Just say it already!” And if Nero was a pile of nerves before, now he was beyond any logic.

“I got up on the roofs, Lady crossed the factory inside. There was nothing.” Trish took over, crossing her arms and having her slim eyebrows furrowed in worry. “I got to the patio where I was hearing some voices. There were four demons: one was a leader of three lesser demons, but they weren’t doing anything. I saw Lady hiding inside the factory and watching things from the windows, but everything was… Weirdly calm.”

“Kyrie and y/n were being held hostages. Kyrie tried to fight and let go, but y/n… Nothing.” Lady noticed how Dante and Vergil immediately frowned upon hearing that. It wasn’t like you to be allowed to be taken by demons without a fight. “Their weapons were on the floor. One of them said if y/n even tried to move, they would cut Kyrie’s throat.”

“Fuck…! I knew I should’ve gone with them!” Nero almost threw his arms up in exasperation, starting to roam around the room once again. This was killing him. He wanted to give Kyrie all the space she needed, but after Fortuna… He couldn’t bear the thought of losing her. “What about y/n?!”

“That’s why they didn’t move.” Trish’s cold lilac blue eyes immediately turned to Nero. “Head held high as always, but not a single move.”

“And then? Did ya try to do somethin’?” Dante was on the brink on understanding Nero on a soul level – he himself was almost getting up from his big chair to prance around the room and blow off some steam.

“We tried…” Lady’s voice carried a regret he only heard when they were teens and met for the first time, so many years ago. Back then, she had a lot more bitterness rather than pure rage. “We tried to signal some things and plan something, but…”

“Hell Generals.” Trish cut Lady’s words, making Vergil immediately stiffen up, frozen eyes staring her with a sharp edge. “Two Hell Generals. I don’t know how, but they managed to get to the human world. One of them was their ‘master’ while the other must have had some sort of deal with the first.

“Which Generals…?”

“You think you know them?” Lady had to admit she was a little shocked. Trish was usually the encyclopedia of famous demons in Hell, given the fact she was literally born there. She knew the Generals, but not all of them.

“I spent enough time in Hell to know most of its worst.” And to say his eyes could cut was an understatement. “Everyone wanted the chance to torture the son of the 'filthy traitor Sparda'.”

The Devil May Cry fell in silence for a couple of seconds. Everyone knew Vergil hadn’t had it easy during his time in Hell, but he rarely talked about it – and when he did, it was usually followed by chills down their spines.

“Erlach and Orcus.” Trish finally raised her voice among that silence, making Vergil close his eyes. “Erlach was the lesser demons’ master, Orcus was the one who had an arrangement with him.”

“Indeed… Two of the worst.” Vergil opened his eyes once more, carrying even more rage than before.

“And what did they want?” Dante shook his head, sighing quickly. He thought they would be able to have a peaceful Halloween. “They were holdin’ them, so they must’ve wanted somethin’.”

“Yes, they talked about a ritual. The ‘Samhain ritual’ as far as I could hear, but I have no idea what that is.” Lady turned her bicolored eyes to Trish – after all, she must’ve known what they meant by that.

“The Samhain ritual is written in books in Hell but no one knows if it really is true. No demon ever tried it, apart from the ones of legend.” The demon rested her hands on her waist, sighing right after. “It’s a ritual to gain power, said to elevate a demon’s status. If it was made by a General, they would easily rise to Mundus’ status.”

“Ok, so not good at all, that’s what you mean.” Nero placed his hands on Dante’s desk, leaning on it and finally stopping his roaming around. “Why do they need Kyrie and y/n? Their blood? Their souls? Why didn’t you interrupt them?!”

“Well, when I heard what they said before completely disappearing I took some time to make sure I wasn’t hearing things, kid!” Lady now looked as furious as Nero, trying to get him to respect her again as he always did. “I thought I heard it wrong and then they were gone! It happened too fast!”

“What did they say?!” The three Spardas talked at the very same time; different voice tones, but indeed, a family.

“To get the wedding ready.”

Trish’s words fell among them like a ton of bricks. Nero had disgust and confusion written all over his face, seemingly trying to make sense of it – just like Lady when she heard it for the first time, making sure they didn’t get it wrong. Dante had his eyebrows furrowed and mouth slightly open, but eyes filled with rage and shock. Vergil looked like he had swallowed an entire book and it was now stuck in his throat, unable to go up or down, while his face tried to maintain some dignity.

Until the three managed to blurt out the exact same phrase.

“What the fuck?!”

That was going to be one hell of a Halloween.

To Be Continued....

[tenebrius-excellium]

Guys so I visited a medieval smithy the other day (ca. 1300s) and it reminded me a lot of Gobber's workshop... it was easy to imagine that I had just literally stepped into Berk's smithy with my own two feet... and to be honest, seeing this stuff in real life made the whole deal of Hiccup apprenticing in one of these infinitely funnier and Stoick's decision to put him there weirdly...understandable???

Let me elaborate: So you're in approx. 900 AD, you live on a tiny island under rough conditions, EVERYONE, and I mean EVERYONE WITHOUT A SINGLE EXCEPTION is a craftsman of some kind who has to work manually, and you've got a noodle of a son.

Also you're the Chief, no less than that. Let me tell you that this makes the whole thing just so much worse.

Looking at all those solid iron tools - mighty bellows operated by a beam larger than me, forging tongs that would have been half of Hiccup's size and exactly as heavy as this shot implies,

...swords with hilts longer than a cucumber and crude, brutal design, plus all the firewood that constantly needed to be chopped and carried around... even if Hiccup had turned out to be completely untalented at smithwork, that would have built him some muscles.

You don't understand. Hiccup having no muscles was a death sentence. The environment that he was surrounded by, which I was reminded of in that irl smithy, could - at that time! - only be overcome by hard manual labor, aided by the most basic mechanics. Even if he had become a breadmaker, that still would've built him some muscles. All the kneading, the weightlifting of flour and wood and water, the carrying, would have done the same job. Forget Snotlout bragging about working out in his parents' basement. EVERYONE on Berk was burly not because 'they were vikings' training for war or whatever for funsies every day, but because it literally was a requirement of everyday life to be able to carry something heavy from A to B, and be it only a single sack of grain.

So it's really funny to me how Stoick intentionally put this skinny rat of a son of his into the most merciless and dangerous job that probably existed on the island, just to put him to some use. Poor Hiccup. He's like a wet kitten under the command of a bloodhound. But at the same time, it makes so much sense?? Stoick didn't just put him into a job to gain some weight, he put him into a job that would teach him all about tools and weapons, how to defend himself and about the irreversible price of violence. I imagine a blacksmith would have to know how to use a sword to know what makes a good one, so Hiccup would've naturally learned swordfighting on the side. It was an important skill not just against dragons. We see the gang fight all kinds of human enemies in later years as well.

So what Stoick was basically doing was to prepare him for life. The need for abs back then is comparable to today's education about taxes and insurances. Hiccup needed some brawns to survive Berkian conditions, and not just for fighting dragons. Even though Hiccup had the brilliance to invent mechanical devices that could make life on the island easier, he didn't have electricity and he couldn't just press a button anytime he wanted the laundry done or needed some newly tanned leather. He had to work with his own two hands anyway. No dragon, once tamed, could assist the villagers in ways that an ox or buffalo hadn't done before. Despite his marvelous innovations, there's no changing that Hiccup would remain a craftsman and a warrior throughout his life.

So now there's the fact that Hiccup was a noodle. Having established that with Berk's living conditions in mind, you would basically have to avoid working any daily task ON PURPOSE to NOT develop muscles from early childhood, there are exactly two interpretations as to how Hiccup remained this scrawny for so long: a) he was disabled in some way that prevented him from doing chores, or b) he was spoiled and lazy beyond common sense.

Stoick spoiling someone is unthinkable, and Hiccup doesn't appear disabled. He could be struggling with anything from a muscle-degenerative disease to a fast metabolism to mental issues. But it's not implied in the movies. So how did Hiccup avoid manual labor And what kind of message did that send to the rest of the villagers???

Look, if they thought that he was lazy, or perhaps not quite right in the head, they were probably absolutely right. It would have been maniacal for the Chief to spoil his son to the point where he couldn't fend for himself and expected Berk to serve him and supply him with food. Stoick wanted his son to be Chief, so he would have to school him in some trade that enabled him for economics and warfare. As neither was the case though, it didn't put Stoick in a great light to have a son as Hiccup. How could this have happened - a noodle on Berk? It would have made both father and son the laughingstock.

The only reason that I can think of is neglect. Stoick may have been so grief-stricken about Valka's death that he went easy on Hiccup for a while, and then, when he got possessed by running dragon nest campaigns, he may have simply forgotten that he still had a child at home. And then, once Hiccup became old enough to get into trouble, Stoick may have remembered him because he got complaints from his villagers, and so he hurriedly stuck him with Gobber. Lol.

So that's how a skinny noodle rat with no survival skills whatsoever ended up in the weapon forge of Berk. Gobber has a point being sarcastic about it: "Oh, perfect. And while I'm busy, Hiccup can cover the stall. Molten steel, razor-sharp blades, lots of time to himself - what could possibly go wrong?"

And wrong it goes. I love it. WHAT WERE THEY EXPECTING?? XD

[el-yon]

Personal Bleach Positivity time for a good week.

So here I am, struggling with being a mentor/supervisor to late teens/early twenties while still figuring stuff for myself (not a real adult! i'm six kids in a trenchcoat!), and I am appreciating Bleach themes again -- this time, this is about mentorship.

I related so hard to the damaged Lieutenants ensemble in my school and workplace life, dealing with various awful situations, and now I find myself constantly wondering: "ok I am not an Aizen, but geez, how does one not screw this up?!". How do you build trust with someone who depends on you without overstepping? how do you know when to step in, when to step back?

And wow, I am loving Shinji and Momo more than ever

Because you know, Shinji's initial approach to Ichigo was bad - he was also hiding stuff from him, pushing for him to join them and manipulating Ichigo's doubts and struggles to get him to where Shinji (and the Vizards) wanted him to be. But that changes as he realizes Ichigo's not part of them, and Shinji's not going to make up for the damaged Captain-Lieutenant relationship with Aizen by training this new superpowerful kid.

Shinji gets a second chance with Momo and OH do they get it right! I have this feeling that were it not for Momo, Shinji might have not re-joined the Gotei, and were it not for Shinji, maybe Momo wouldn't have been able to fully get back either - Kubo did a wonderful job here. Aizen damaged Shinji, his Captain, and Momo, his Lieutenant: in a cascading and ripple effect that reached most of the Divisions, his betrail severed the very bonds that make the Gotei work, which is the emotional trust (not just hierarchy/discipline) between mentor/mentee, chief and subordinate. Aizen never let himself be mentored (by anyone, I'm assuming), and never mentored. Shinji meets Momo in the worst of the circunstances and he sees the damage in her that mirrors his own, and he chooses to re-builds that bond that has been severed.

We don't know how long it took, but Shinji read Momo, her hardworking self, her talent, her kind and helpful nature, and figured out how to bring the best in her - he was finally mentoring someone. On the other side there is Momo, displaying one of the most phenomenal example of strenght of heart in all worlds, who found it in herself the will to get back on her feet, back to work, and most of all, to trust again, let herself be mentored, and would you look at how amazing it is when it is done right.

Same goes for the healing and rebuilding processes of Rose and Izuru, Kensei and Shuuhei (even though Kensei takes a cof cof different approach), other cases such as Byakuya and Renji, or Yoruichi and Soi Fon, and even Rukia -- who was stripped of the mentee position from Kaien, pushed into a mentor position with Ichigo. But Ichigo is not her subordinate, and she re-teaches herself how to be a supportive friend to both him and Orihime (Rukia stepping up to train her is very important to me so it goes here).

Mentorship is a relationship, is a bond, and even if it has a time frame, it requires equal levels of respect, empathy, dedication, ethic, and trust from both sides -- and I'm talking from the toxic-filled environment of Academia but this goes for all mentor/mentees bondings out there.

[jasgirl-creations]

How about a smartified Transgirl uses her galaxy brain to become the perfect Bloated Breeding Sow Gamer GF for her man.

This involves getting hella fucking fat, being constantly pregnant whenever possible and birthing litter after litter of her man's babies (possibly out of her fat drooling transgirl cock), and staying in bed or on the couch stuffing her fat face and playing video games. (Also fucking her Man whenever he wants it, using by letting him use her fat drooling transgirl cock as a pocket pussy while she keeps eating and/or gaming)

A perfect GPA. First in my class. A dozen scholarship opportunities to the best schools. My teachers said I was a genius and could go to any school I liked, but I didn't want any of it. As soon as I graduated from high school I announced I was transitioning and moving in with my boyfriend. The first part didn't really surprise anyone. I had been telling everyone I was a trans girl for at least a year and planning my transition the whole time. Everyone knew that once I graduated I was starting my life as a girl. The second part surprised pretty much everyone who expected me to go to one of the very the best universities. Especially my boyfriend, who had a tiny studio apartment. He was even more surprised when I told him I didn't plan to get a job. "Well what are you going to do? Sit on your ass and game all day?" I nodded. Gaming was pretty much all I cared about and all I wanted to do. Well, gaming and sex. I loved masturbating and loved getting fucked by my boyfriend even more. We both had some very specific fetishes and my plan was to use my genius so we could live out our ultimate sexual fantasy. The first step was drugs. The medications my doctor had assigned for my transition were already having effects on my body, but of course they were slow. I was a greedy bitch and didn't want to wait. I tore myself away from gaming to research drugs, and using fake credentials I worked online with specialists from around the world to quickly developed an experimental drug treatment that would hyperboost my transition. The pills were printed in a South American lab and shipped directly to my boyfriend's apartment. Within just a few months I was unrecognizable. My body had transformed from an awkward teen boy to a sexy woman with long smooth legs, wide hips, silky hair (that I kept in pigtails so it wouldn't interfere in my gaming) and fat breasts. My boyfriend was astounded, but I was even happier. I finally had the body I wanted. At least for the first phase of my plan. 6 months after graduating I started step 2 of my transition. More drugs, this time a hyper weight gain formula and appetite stimulant. My boyfriend and I had first bonded in high school over our love of fat chicks, and now I was going to be one! The drug gave me an insatiable appetite. I could eat for hours at a time. Since all I did was lay around our tiny apartment playing games, eating and fucking the pounds quickly piled on. Over the next 6 months I got very fat, and my plan was to keep gaining while I worked on step 3.

Step 3 was a two part plan. I put every bit of my genius into developing a drug that would allow me to become pregnant. My boyfriend was desperate to knock me up and I wanted to be his fat breeding sow! After a year of development my drug was ready to test. It would allow me to give birth, passing the baby through my cock, which required a substantial size increase in my genitals! Fortunately I had been working with a separate research team to develop a cock growth drug, and the tests had been spectacular. My dick had swelled to nearly three feet long and over a foot in girth. It was a drooling stinking log of trans girl fuck meat, constantly erect. I spent most of the time I wasn't eating with my cock head lodged in my mouth, sucking myself to orgasm over and over as I gamed. I was pregnant by the time I was 20, and again before I was 21. By that time I was morbidly obese, my fat ass fully filling the couch that took up nearly half of our studio apartment. I loved it! Now that my research was done I spent all my time gaming, and when I didn't have my cock in my mouth I was sucking on a feeding tube, constantly swallowing a mixture of gainer shake and aphrodisiac that kept e horny and constantly gaining. My plan was to me immobile within the year. My boyfriend kept me pregnant and used my mouth, ass and cock several times a day. He didn't mind working and taking care of the babies as long as he could keep knocking up his perfect bloated breeding sow trans girl gamer girlfriend!

[obsidiancreates]

Out Of The Shadows and Into The Neon (Part 8)

"Uncle Casey?"

"Yes, Donnie?" Casey holds the bo staff by the little turtle, then shakes his head and rummages through the pile of similar yet varied in size staffs.

"Do you have a battle cry?"

"Battle cry?"

"Mikey says all good ninjas have battle cries, but I said not all of them, because you don't."

Casey tears up so quickly that Donnie shoots to his feet and wraps him in a tight hug. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to make you upset!"

"You didn't," Casey assured, choked up as he hugs his sorta-nephew back. "I'm just honored that you hold me to such a standard."

"Duh!" Donnie pulls back, frowning at his uncle now. "You're just as awesome as our dads! And you're not even a mutant, you're way more easy to injure but you fight anyway, that's extra awesome and brave!"

Casey blinks, and more tears spill out. How does he even begin to explain to the ten year old how much this means to him? To be admired the same way he used to admire his own Senseies? To be thought of as a warrior just as incredible as the leaders of rebellions, saviors of the world, preservers of a future worth living in?

"... Stop it." Donnie puts his oversized hand on Casey's face. "Stop crying! That doesn't even make sense, you're happy! Why do people cry when they're happy?!"

"Sorry, Donnie," Casey says with a wet laugh. He moves the hand off of his face and wipes his own eyes. "I just... that means a lot to me."

"You didn't know how awesome you are? After everything you've done?"

"I knew. It's different hearing it. Everyone appreciates hearing it from others sometimes, even when they know it themselves."

"Oh." Donnie's frown deepens. "Even when they say it a lot? Like... all the time, constantly?"

"Even when they say it a lot. Sometimes people say it out loud just to try and make others agree, because they don't believe it but don't know how to ask." Like Sensei Leona- like Leon. Boy, was that a family therapy session to remember, when that came to light.

Donnie nods, expression extremely serious. "I'll tell everyone every time I think they're awesome, then. "

"That's a great goal." Casey rummages through the staffs some more, and holds another one next to Donnie. "There! This one seems about right for your size."

"Whoo!" Donnie grabs it and instantly go into spinning it around himself.

"Whoa, buddy! That's to power up for a strong attack, too much spinning in combat will render your attacks pretty ineffective!"

"But spinning it is the best part! I know how to use my own weapon, and my style is lots of spinning." Donnie spins it again, and then points the end at Casey. He frowns. "Hmm... I feel like it needs something extra..."

"Your dad said No Techbos until you can build your own, remember?"

"Yeah. ... I'll think of something."

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

"Auntie Cass?" Raph dangles his feet as his aunt digs through a bin of different size and weight sais. "Why do we need to use Brownie Clan weapons?"

"Your fathers didn't plan on taking you out on a real patrol this soon. AHA! Hold these ones!"

She shoves them into Raph's hands. He holds them for a second, and then-

Tries to spin them.

"Bleh! Nope!" He hands them back.

"Sai aren't traditionally a 'spinny' weapon. ... I ADMIRE YOUR ADDITION TO THE ART OF COMBAT!" Cass pats him on the head with a wide grin. "We'll find the perfect pair for you to practice that trick with!"

Raph kicks his legs more as she goes back to digging. "So what's patrol like?"

"I've only gone on patrol with your fathers a few times over the years, and Foot Clan patrol was much different. BUT! Both require focus, intensity, and PLENTY OF SNACK BREAKS!"

"What was working for The Foot like?"

"Not very different from a regular assistant job! Except for the world domination, ancient evils, and fighting turtles."

"Did they ever use robots?"

"Robots?"

"I had a dream where they used robots, but really crappy robots. Donnie could beat them with his stick."

"His bo. And no, we never used robots... why didn't we use robots? We could've hired that strange small child before he went on the lam..."

"Strange small child? ... Donnie?"

Cass lets out a loud, sharp laugh. "An excellent burn! But no, I believe his name was Blaster... Stossbid. Something like that."

Raph laughs. "Bastard Stinkboy."

"Where did you learn language like that?"

"Pop-Pop. He swears in Japanese now because Dad scolded him." Raph smirks. "But we taught ourselves Japanese, so we know them all anyway."

"You- how?"

"Donnie." Raph grins. "He knows everything. And if he doesn't know it, he knows how to find it for us. But then he makes it lame by talking about all kinds of stuff none of us get."

"It's not lame to be knowledgeable. How about these?"

"... Nope. And that's not lame, but the way he talks about it is lame."

"Does your brother call it 'lame' when you talk about art to him?"

"No."

"Does Donnie understand or have an interest in art the way you do?"

"No."

"So you've betrayed him, and treated him as less than equal!" Cass puts her hands on her hips and narrows her eyes at Raph. "He's your clan and kin, and yet you DISMISS HIS SKILLS AND INSULT HIS ATTEMPTS TO SHARE THEM!"

Raph blinks, eyes wide. "But I didn't mean to betray him! I'd do anything for my brothers! I-I'd fight the world's biggest cockroach, and I hate cockroaches!"

"I believe you!" Cass hands him another pair of sai. "But do your brothers know this?"

"They should!" Raph stands up on the bench he'd been sitting on. "Why do I gotta tell them for them to know?! I show them!"

"How?"

"I-! I... um..." Raph plonks back down onto his tiny turtle tush. "Um... well, well I show them a lot in dreams!"

"Dreams?"

"Yeah! And so I'm gonna do the same tonight." Raph spins the sais, and this time his eyes light up. He jumps down from the bench and spins them again, striking a pose. "If any of them get into any trouble, I'm jumping in to protect them!"

"Admirable bravery! But also, very foolish." Cass kneels down. "A team that protects each other is just a team that knows how to function in combat. You're also a family! So tell your brothers you love them and when they do cool things! Casey Jr tells me how incredible I am often, and it makes me feel the MOST DELIGHTFUL SWELL OF WARMTH AND LOVE EVERY SINGLE TIME!"

Raph blinks at her, and wipes a little spit off of his face. "And Leo says I yell a lot."

"We yell because a normal volume can't contain the sheer intensity of our emotions! Come, young nephew, and together we shall SHOW OFF YOUR INCREDIBLE TRICK TO YOUR BROTHERS AND COMPLIMENT ANY THEY HAVE TO SHARE BACK WITH YOU!"

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

"And then-" Mikey says, running around as April tried to find some non-spiked nunchucks for him, "-and then Leatherhead goes RAHHHHHHHH!" He holds his hands up to his mouth and opens them. "And then snaps his teeth around the zombie dog and drags him way down, and the zombie dog lives down there forever and never bothers anyone again!"

"And you came up with that all by yourself? I'd totally read that comic, little man!"

"I saw it in a dream," Mikey says proudly, "And I knew Leatherhead would be the awesomest comic hero ever!" He raches into the back of his shell and pulls out a piece of paper. He starts to run towards April, and then freezes.

"What're you- WHOA!"

April scrambles out of the way as Mikey suddenly launches into a frontflip, and then right into a backflip! But instead of falling over or even stumbling, he lands perfectly on his pancake feet and holds the drawing up to her.

"Um, Mikey? When'd you learn that?" He's not usually that sure-footed in training-

Mieky blushes and looks away. "Dad said I shouldn't try it without mats, but mats are too lumpy. ... Don't tell Dad."

"You've been practicing flips alone?! Oh, no way I'm not telling your dad, if you snap your neck-"

"I won't!" Mikey puts his hands together and widens his eyes, somehow getting them to water instantly. "Please! Pleaseeee! I wanna surprise him tonight by showing off! It's really easy for me, like- like how DNA and stuff is easy for Donnie!"

"You're asking me to lie to my best friends, little man! I-I can't just let you guys-"

"Please!"

"No way!" April goes back to rummaging. "Why are you four always tryin' stuff in secret, anyway? You can just tell your dad the mats mess you up! He'll understand."

"But he's so worried!" Mikey sits down and then flops over to lay dramatically on the floor. "All he does it make sure we're not gonna get hurt!"

"Uh, Mikey, newsflash. He's your dad. That's what a good parent does!"

"But he does it too much!" Mikey does a backflip to get back up. "He caught Donnie doing a handstand on my shoulders while we were skateboarding the other day and totally flipped! But we do that like, every time, and we don't go on the ramps or anything!"

"You WHAT?!"

"Donnie like to walk around on his hands, and I like moving around while he's talking to me! So we mixed 'em!"

"Mikey, that's way more dangerous than just backflips!"

"But we're really good at it!" Mikey frowns and tenses, his head lowering into his shell from the sheer rage in his muscles. "Why does everyone treat me like a baby?! Do you know how tough nunchucks are to use as a good weapon? REALLY TOUGH!"

"Whoa, whoa, hey." April puts her hands up. "Where's that coming from?"

Mikey crosses his arms. "Raph and I were wrestling the other day, and our dads made us stop because he's 'bigger than me'. He's only bigger by a little bit! And I'm just as strong as him, maybe stronger! My dad's the strongest and he's the smallest too, why am I any different?!" He grabs a pair of nunchucks out of the bin himself. "Look!"

"Wait-!"

But he spins his weapons perfectly, does a flip, and lands without bonking himself even once. He kicks and follows it with what would be a truly devastating hit to the rib area in a real fight, and then finishes his little demonstration with a solid punch to what would, presumably, be the jaw.

April's own jaw is dropped. "You- that was-" She shakes her head. "And we thought you weren't paying attention in training, dang kid!"

"Training is way different." Mikey pouts as he hooks the little nunchucks to his little belt. "Everyone else takes it so seriously, but it's not real!"

"... Hun..." April crouches and puts a hand on Mikey's shoulder. "They take it seriously because it is serious. And you goofing off makes them take it even more seriously, because they think you aren't paying attention."

"So?"

"Uh, so, they think you're gonna get your butt whooped out there and that they'll have to protect you! Obviously they won't, but they don't know that! ... Tell you what, when you're out with your dads tonight, show them they can mix fun with serious. Your Uncle Leon makes puns during fights all the time, goad him into it! I've seen Leo have pun-offs with his dad, it'll work like a charm."

"... Really?"

"That's an April O'Neil promise."

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

"Pop-Pop?"

"Hmm? Yes, Little Blue?"

"Can my swords have red on the handles instead of black?"

"I don't see why not." Splinter shudders as he opens the cabinet. "All of these little girls running around with deadly weapons... this is why we live in a sewer, away from Girl Scouts."

"I thought we live in the sewer because humans don't like mutants?"

"At first. But no-one really cares anymore." Splinter pulls out a pair of katanas, and then shakes his head and tosses them aside. "Ooooh, this one has something engraved in it... eugh!" Splinter's tail stick straight out as he reads it.

Leo walks closer and reads it aloud-

"NO!" Splinter puts his hand over Leo's mouth. "How do you know what that says?!"

"Donnie found Japanese lessons for us online."

"Never repeat those words around your fathers! Purple donates to the Algebra channel just to keep it running for when he's mad at me."

"Donnie can fix that for you."

"Little Purple? Since when?"

"He built a new TV out of trash his dad didn't want anymore." Leo grins. "We stayed up all night watching your old movies the other day. You're the coolest grandpa ever."

Splinter's eyes water, and he pulls Leo into a hug. "I know this is so I won't tell on you," he sniffles, "But I don't care!"

"What? No it's not. You're just awesome. I wanna be just like you and Dad. You're both great ninjas, great teachers, and great heros!"

Splinter's hug grip falters a bit. "I... do not know if I deserve such praise."

"Why?"

"... I was not a great teacher for much of your father's life. ... I was not even a decent father."

Leo leans out of the hug. "What? But our dads love you so much!"

"Yes, because my boys are very forgiving. ... But I am ashamed to say that I... I failed them. I did not prepare them in time for many things, and I often failed them in smaller ways. Which is why I try so hard with you boys." Splints pats Leo's head. "So I do not make the same mistakes twice."

Leo shakes his head. "No. You're so wise, and-and Dad always talks about how cool you are in a fight."

"This is a heavy subject, Little Blue." Splints looks up at the armoire of swords (knowing Leon would make a pun about it somehow).

"... How do I avoid those mistakes?"

"What?"

"If you made any mistakes, I'll avoid them." Leo kneels down, sitting on his knees and putting his hands in his lap. Splints doesn't even know where he learned to sit like that, if he knows how much it reminds Splints of his early childhood before he and his grandfather moved to America.

"Oh, you won't have to worry about my kind of mistakes for a long time." Splints pats his head again and wipes his own eyes with the other hand. "You're a good person, Little Blue. But you're rushing to grow up too fast! Let yourself have a little fun! Your father has fun all of the time!"

"At home."

"Not just at home." Splints pulls out another pair of swords, one having a longer handle than the other in this pair. "Have I ever told you about the time your father outsmarted Big Mama?"

"Dad told me he tricked her and you two had the most epic father-son battle ever."

"Hah! We did! But, he also was plenty silly for it. He had them make us matching costumes, and did not even tell me his plan the whole time! I thought he was going to get us killed!"

"Why wouldn't he tell you his plan?"

"Because he is a smarta- um, forget you heard that."

"Raph says the F word."

"Yeesh. He is like a teapot. All his anger in too small a space."

"Ha!"

"Do not tell him I said that."

"I won't. ... Mikey would laugh at it too. And Donnie."

"Which is why you will not tell them either! I've seen you boys, you trade insults like normal kids trade playing cards!"

"Hey, Donnie and Raph do it way more than Mikey and I do!"

"Still. You are all smart-mouths, just like your fathers."

"You just told me to be less serious."

"By that I mean to do fun things! Make terrible puns in battle! insult your enemies and not your brothers! Embarrass your enemies in front of their partners!"

"... How will I be a good leader if I'm busy doing that?"

"Who said anything about being a leader?" Splints hands Leo the swords. "Your father did not become the leader until years after your Uncle Red was. And even then, he needed time to grow into it! You are only ten, do not worry about that kind of thing yet."

Leo tests out the swords, running through a basic attack. "But what if we need a leader?"

"That will work itself out. You're not going into battle without your fathers anytime soon! Let yourselves find your rhythm before you try to force things." Forcing things results in sons kidnapped, teapots given as ransom payment, demons unleashed-

Leo nods. "Okay, Pop-Pop. I'll loosen up." He sheathes his swords behind his back in one shockingly fluid motion. "... You really think we'll see a fight tonight?"

"Oh, no, not tonight. I'm sure it will be villain-free!"

[mushroomwillow]

Me venting about not finding a job, having the money to sell my art, etc etc

Something about not finding a job yet, constantly being told how hard it is to sell my art so completely avoiding it, getting overwhelmed and stuck and unable to do anything because of it just.

I feel like shit. I feel guilty like it’s my fault that the same company fucked me over twice right before hiring me. I feel stupid. I feel stupid that I quit a solid job expecting that one to work.

And now like, I’ve applied to so many that I’m getting emails back saying “you’ve already applied to this position”.

And the only interviews I’ve had haven’t worked out. Shit the last one said I’d have to travel out of state for training, I have a kid, I can’t do that.

Everything requires some sort of certification I can’t afford to get. Idk how to ask for help paying for it. I don’t even know if having any of them would even get me a job anyway.

And I adore my mother inlaw, I know she’s trying to help. But she does not understand my limitations. She doesn’t understand why I can’t just go work for fast food, and be on my feet all day. Chronic illness makes no sense to her. But she pushes and pushes for me to just accept anything even if I know it’d make me even more sick

Everything I see about “I quit my job to do full time art” everyone has a base support system in place, the money to start, and the time to get going, along with a following already for their art. I’ve got none of that. I’ve not posted my art in years because I’ve had no time too. I don’t have barely any following on social media.

I feel defeated. Idk what to do. I’m fighting not to give up because I have a kid and my husband and we just cannot afford for me to give up.

/maybe/ i can scrounge up a little money from some loved ones for a printer. Or to get some kind of printing service to print some things for cheap. /maybe/. But it wouldn’t be a lot, because the only people I feel comfortable asking or even talking too have very little to begin with. And the ones that have a lot have paid for get us into a house, for our wedding, and covered so much for us already.

Idk what to do.