#like he was so dedicated to saving her and thought putting his life on line was NOTHING to protect her pls😭

[yioh]

THEY R DATING THAT IS MY VERDICT

[curvykittyyssmutfics]

House Husbands ft SatoSugu

househubby!Sato is overjoyed with his decision to shift his focus solely on taking care his overworked little wife. He feels worthless in his own line of work because regardless of his efforts, nothing ever changes. Being at your beck and call, making you happy.. It's all Satoru needs outta life and he's never felt more fulfilled.

househubby!Sugu is absolutely exhausted dealing with the internal war rampaging his thoughts, distorting his morality into a demon he can't recognize. But the unyielding love and support of his nonsorcerer wife is enough to suffocate his uncertainty. And Suguru's proud that with your help, he's able to shed all the toxic doubt and decides to dedicate his life to the woman that saved him.

househubbies!SatoSugu refuse to acknowledge the absolutely ridiculous qualms that they're putting their wants and needs on the back burner to take care of you. They constantly remind you that you're everything they'll ever desire in life; that they could only continue to witness curses bring the world to its knees long as they could always be there to keep you safe.

househubby!Sato is on pins and needles waiting for you to come home every single day. Bouncing on the tips of his toes like an anxious child, tense as fuck while pacing like a madman. "Relax, Toru. She gets in the same time every evening. Rilin yourself up for no reason." Suguru chuckles from the stove, finishing up dinner. "But she's been gone for hours and I miss heeer." Satoru whines like a brat, wholeheartedly feeling like his partners calm demeanor was nothing more than pure utter cap. "Quit actin like you don't want her home too. Listened to you fuckin your fist to that video of her in the bathroom earlier." Electric blue eyes narrowed, slender finger pointed accusingly in a sputtering Suguru's direction. "Will you just finish settin the damn table before y/n gets home!" He hisses back, shame licking warmth across his cheeks. "Fuckin creep Toru, I swear.."

househubby!Sugu consistently rescues you from a needy Satoru's overbearing 'welcome home' after each grueling work shift. Heroically puts himself in-between the world's strongest sorcerer and woman of their shared affections; effectively untangling you from the bone crushing embrace and ambush of kisses. "Seriously gonna smother her one of these days, idiot. Actin like she's gonna disappear or somethin." Suguru chastised, scooping you up in his own snug embrace and pecking your lips in adoration. Only a second in the kiss turns way too passionate for Satorus liking and he immediately despises the soft mouth moving slowly against your own, so damn sensually. "Lies! You just want y/n all to yourself." Satoru pouts listening to your tiny hums of pleasure as he stomps off to pour his tired little wife a glass of wine.

househubbies!SatoSugu make it a daily routine to lay you out after work and massage the accumulated tension outta every inch of your depleted frame while askin bout your day; coppin a feel as they simultaneously knead your stressed ridden muscles till you lay limp and aroused on the bed. "Fuuuck, y/nnn. Look so good spread out like this for us. Wanna continue to make our girl feel good.. Gonna let us play in that pussy for a lil bit?" Satoru speaks low at your ear, leaving sweet kisses down your neck and your shoulders when you nod. "Lemme and Sugu relax our perfect lil wife even more. Know you want this pipe, baby. Let us make you cum, deserve that and so much more. Can we, princess, hm? Work so goddamn hard every. fuckin. day." Print of his mouth leaving goosebumps over your sensitive skin while grippin on your love handles, lips trailing lower and lower as Suguru takes his place at your ear. "'S all up to you, babygirl. Tables set; blunts rolled.. Can go smoke and eat, maybe come lay back down after.. Rub ya pretty feet till you pass out inste-," "mmmfuuuck, Toru.. Oh! Yeees, right there.. Oh, oh- tongues so deep, Daddy." You interrupt, breathless moans loud and airy as Satoru spreads your doughy chocolate cheeks and digs inside you further. Pulling back to lap at your slick like a kitten does milk. Suguru chuckles when you shamelessly groan your pleasure all up in his face. "Play in that pussy it is then, babygirl."

househubby!Sato slipped into domestic bliss quite effortlessly. He's proud to admit his biggest worry these days is how mad Suguru gets when he forgets to separate the whites from the colors. "Dammit Gojo!" Satoru flinches from the spot between your legs, head snapping away from his video game to the rapid footsteps barging his direction from the bedroom. You continue to card your fingers through his soft hair, chuckling when a furious Suguru appears clad only inna pair of tight white briefs splotched with pink, holding a pair of your panties. "How many fuckin times have I told you not to mix colors with whites?! I gotta whole basket full of pink boxers cause you never pay attention to what the fuck your doin!" But Satoru only gives him the saddest puppy dog eyes he can muster while trying to ignore his Fallout character getting absolutely slaughtered by a Deathclaw. "I'm sorry! Just wanted to help with the chores. You know it wasn't on purpose, Big Daddy." His taunting and dramatic fluttering lashes have you both clutching your tummies in serious efforts to hold in your guts from the raucous laughter. But Suguru is less than impressed. He seethes in silence for a few moments before growling out through clenched teeth. "Both of you shut the fuck up.. Know what? Get over here and hurry up. Now.. On your fuckin knees." It was interesting start to your day off to say the least..

househubby!Sugu! likes to the play the role and has no problem keeping his brats in place. He's good at being the perfect Daddy with only one demand: utter compliance. And he doesn't tolerate disobedience. "I know that- ah ah ah. Slow, baby. Slow.. All the way down. Mmmmm.. Jus like that." Suguru tightens his grip on the soft locks, using them as leverage to control the pace of him dipping his cock in and out of his lovers throat. "I know it's confusing baby, sooo confusing to my girl hmm? He's your Daddy too. Aint that right? Oooh shit, suck it harder.. Mmm, ohhh yeaah- oh fuuuck!" Suguru huffs hoarsely, head fallin back in pleasure before he looks down and stares into your eyes heatedly, your gaze making his nut creep closer. "But I'm his Daddy, sweetheart. And it's time I- fuuuuck, 'm close! T-time to teach you both a lesson. Ready Toru?" Suguru slides a hand into your kinky y/h/c hair, yanking you closer to his hips and buss heavily into Satoru's waiting mouth. "Mmmmph!" Your poor husband struggles and chokes around the first gush, gagging harshly when Suguru slides his dick in deeper. "So bad at t-takin dick, Toru." He teases, wide tip knockin into glaring Satoru's abused throat; spurting twice more and flooding it with thick pearly cream. "Fuckin hell, Toruuuu! Oh God, Saaatoruuu!" Suguru moans filthily, snatching his cock and aiming at your pretty face. "Ah, ah- mmmnnh! Take it, take the rest of Daddy's nut, mama." Suguru's cum blankets your cheeks and lips in three milky streams. "G-good boy.. Ohhhh, my good giiirl, y/n." He praises when you and Satoru gently suck and lick at the oozing head of his throbbing cock, prolonging the intense pleasure.

househubbies!SatoSugu! try not to ravish you too often because of your hectic schedule but there's nothing to save you from their fiendish antics when you take your mini vacations. Time off with your husbands is nothing short of more work for you. At the very least, it's a very thorough and strenuous workout. They very consistently keep you stuffed: with happiness, love, and of course dick. "Toru- ah f-fuck.. Don't do this to me, Daddy pleeease!" You cry for your husband to give your puffy overused coochie reprieve but he's consistent with his denial. "Shhh, princess, shhhh. You're okay, you can take it. Gotta be quiet though. Me and Sugu both worked so damn hard to fuck this pretty chocolate lil pussy so good.. Don't wanna wake him up after all his hard work do you, baby?" He sucks and nibbles on your folds incessantly, grinning when the pressure of his thumb at your overstimulated clit makes you shriek and gasp for air. "Bullshit, Toru. Got her screamin her fuckin head off." Suguru exhales tiredly with closed eyes, scooping your trembling body closer into his side as you writhe from the intense sensation swirling between your legs; head thrashing from side to side on his broad chest. "Daddy, please! A-already came three t-times tonight. Ahhhnm, oh oh- needa a break, pleeease!" Your increasingly desperate cries raising in volume have Suguru's half hard dick filling full as he peeks down between your thick brown thighs, making direct eye contact with a sadistic Satoru. Who ofcourse gives a naughty wink, mouthing 'watch this' to an intrigued Suguru and latches on to your throbbing nub to nurse on you hungrily; pulling off repeatedly with acute bursts of suction that have you wordlessly keening as you squirt impressively allover Satoru's swollen pink lips inna messy glaze. You cum so fuckin hard, hands shooting to anchor themselves in Suguru's dark roots; plushy frame jerking erratically in attempt to twist away from the suffocating pleasure. "Fuuuck, Look at that.. Got her raining cum all over your pretty face, Toru. Gotta be the hardest our lil wife's eva came." Suguru admits, putting his ego aside. Too preoccupied with wetting up Satoru's face to notice how your husbands stare into each other's eyes, dicks pulsing and raging between their legs.

househubby!Sato despises Suguru's all work no play attitude. After an entire week of repetitive chores and errands in addition to no sex, Satoru's dying to get home so one of his spouses can drain his fat sack dry. "..need a warm tight hole to slide into. Been so fuckin pent up.. Babygirl is gone entirely way too much lately." He complains as Suguru drives them back to the house. "Well you know y/n's been workin hard as hell towards that big promotion, Toru. Left for work at like 5 this morning.. She'll probably need some rest and jus wanna cuddle after work." Suguru reminds him. Satoru manspreads with a huff, head slamming back into the headrest and groans in agreement. Well if not y/n then.. "What bout you? Been a minute since my handsome husband had a good nut. Don't you.. Need some relief?" Satoru asks, voice low and deep. Fingers slinking into his husbands hair scratching at his scalp lightly, his other hand caressing up and down his muscled thigh. Suguru gulps audibly, adam apple bobbing as he concentrates with all his might to keep his eyes on the road. "Uhhh.." Satoru's clear invitation instantly has him rock hard and remembering that last time he had the strongest man in the world on his back while you were at work. Filth spewing from his mouth that eventually went quiet and slack when Suguru held down his wrists and grinded in deep as fuck over and over. Damn, the slutty way Satoru kept rolling his narrow hips.. Effectively fuckin himself on Suguru's dick with the prettiest flush on his chest, strands of snowy locks plastered to his damp creased forehead, stiff untouched cock twitching and smearing precum between them. "Sugu? Still with me?" Satoru asks, cheeky smirk alluding to knowing exactly what's on his husbands mind. Suguru clears his throat and nods, mouth dry and parched; immediately in dire need of a drink of the tall glass of water sitting next to him. "Well? You gonna fuck me before y/n gets home or nah?" Another curt nod from Suguru has Satoru grinning like he just one the lottery, greedily groping his spouses bulge the rest of the ride home.

househubby!Sugu feels like he can only indulge his husbands despicable fantasies when all duties have either been prepped or taken care of. Therefore he feels absolutely guiltless when he's halfway to heaven and his cell rings, your parents number popping up on the screen. Satoru stares at Suguru in disbelief as he pulls away and gets outta bed. Mouth running a mile per minute to your dad while he hops around the room trying to get his leg into his pants. ".. Alright, bet.. Love you too pops.. Bye." He ends the call and turns to a disheveled frowning Satoru, reaching up to swoop his long hair up inna bun. "The fuck, Suguru-," Satoru starts but his protests are swiftly dismissed. "Don't start. They just need one small lil favor. Plus, Moms said she missed you cause you didn't come by with us last time y/n and I visited." Satoru sighs in acknowledgement and quickly chucks on his clothes, features softening considerably. "I do miss Mama y/l/n. Wanted to run a few things by her for y/n's birthday surprise anyway." He shrugs, slipping into his black nike slides. "Alright, sounds like a plan- oh! She said to tell you she's got your favorite mochi wai- Gojo, WHAT THE FUCK!" Suguru sentence abruptly cutting off, consumed in horror that Satoru just teleported them into your parents kitchen clad only in a pair of black jeans. "Christ almighty!" Your mom jumps at their sudden appearance and Suguru's exclamation, holding her pounding heart and sternly eyeing your husbands up and down. "Sup Mom, where is it?" Satoru gets straight to the point, kissing your mom's cheek and skipping off to the garage freezer when she points. "Hell is wrong with that boy?" Your mom asks the sanest of the two, already heading to grab Suguru a shirt and some socks. "So many things, Ma. How much time you got?"

househubbies!SatoSugu are both pleasantly surprised when you pull up to your parents spot after work and tell them there's something that's been on your mind for the past few weeks. "Spill the beans, princess. Can't believe you waited this long to tell us." Satoru gives his signature pout as he pulls you down to sit on the couch in-between them. "Yeah, sweetheart. You know we don't keep secrets. Tell us what's been on your mind." So you take a deep breath before you launch into your mini speech. "I love you both so much, never ever dreamed I'd be lucky enough to marry my soul mates. And I know we've talked about kids but my job has always made that impossible but today I got the promotion." Your husbands are ready to click their heels in excitement at your news but you hush sweet words with a finger to their lips. "But that's not all. I- uh. I make my own schedule now and haveso much more time on my hands that I think- um.." You stall a bit, nervous as fuck. "Y/n spit out already. Got us on the edges of our seat here." Satoru groans at your reluctance. "Honey, what's goin on?" Suguru questions with concern. "I stopped taking birth control so we can have a baby!" Your hands pop over your mouth at the outburst but your men already have that look in their eye and quickly close in on your tense frame. "That's all? So anxious just to tell us you wanna get bred tonight?" Satoru teases, gripping your hips and kissing your cheek. "That right, sweet wife?" Suguru sneers, loving how your breath speeds as they feel you up. "You want us both to put a baby in that needy lil pussy tonight?" You're only able to nod and moan as Satoru takes that moment to slip his tongue into your mouth and grope your tit roughly. Suguru watches with a sly smile as your other husbands assault evolves into finger fuckin you while inhaling your soft pretty cries. "Time to say bye bye, princess. Your Daddies need time alone with our perfect lil wife now." Suguru finally says after watching for a couple minutes, pulling you from a distraught Satoru and ushering you towards your parents. "And we're leaving your car. Tell em I'll pick it up tomorrow." Satoru demands as he sucks your slick from his fingers. You do as they say like always. And since you so sweetly asked for a baby, your generous husbands happily give you two tonight.

[wiltedflowerpetals]

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John Price is a lot of things. A soldier. A leader. The captain of Task Force 141. And, of course, (Y/N) Price's husband. They are so much in love, in fact, that after a year of dating, John asked her to marry him. But even lovers have secrets... Because John's lovely wife wasn't just a sweet wife with a boring office job. No. She was a killer. A hitman. One of the best...

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It's my first cod fic... I hope it's good. Thank you for reading and I wish you all a great day! x3

Words: 2259

Warning: fluff, a bit angsty

Part 1: (you are reading it) | Part 2: Wife On A Mission | Part 3: Wife In Danger | Part 4: Husband Saves Wife | Part 5: Husband And Wife

You wiped a bead of sweat from your brow as you entered the quiet sanctuary of your home. You placed your weapons carefully in your hidden compartment beneath the floorboards of the closet, where John would never think to look. It was almost laughable, really. Your husband, John Price, a man who had dedicated his life to fighting criminals, had no idea that his wife was one of those killers.

You closed the closet door and took a deep breath. This was your life, your choice, long before you even met John. He didn't need to know about your job. All he needed to know was that you were here, waiting for him, just like you always were. You took another deep breath and needed to switch gears, to become the version of yourself that he knew and loved.

After you took a shower and put on some comfy clothes, you decided to cook your husband’s favorite food. You moved around the kitchen, preparing it as the aroma of simmering stew filled the air.

Your phone buzzed on the kitchen counter. A text from Kate Laswell. A good friend of yours.

You smiled before swiping the screen to answer the call.

“(Y/N).” Kate greeted you. She sounded professional, as always, but with a bit of warmth.

“Kate.” You replied. “How did it go?”

“Smoothly. The target is dead, and our friend is safe for now. You did a good job out there.”

“Thanks.” You said, leaning against the counter, watching the stew. “What’s next?”

“Next?” You heard her chuckle. “Next, I’m coming over.”

You raised your eyebrow, stirring the pot. “You're sure about this, Kate?”

“What, afraid to see me in broad daylight?” You rolled your eyes at her. “Yes, John invited me. He’s been telling me for ages about how good your cooking is. How could I refuse?”

You sighed. “I’m a great cook… But, Kate, you know how important it is that John doesn’t find out about… you know.”

“I know.” Kate reassured you. “I won’t say a word. He has no idea we know each other, and it’ll stay that way.” Silence filled the conversation. “But he’s bound to find out. You have to talk to him one day.”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “I know and I will do it… One day. It’s just… I don’t want him getting involved in my shit. If he knew what I really do…”

“I understand…” Kate said softly. “And I promise, your secret’s safe with me.”

“Alright. I’ll see you tomorrow then.” You sighed and rolled your eyes as the line went dead before you could say more. You placed the phone back on the counter.

“You could have said bye, Kate.”

It wasn’t that you didn’t trust your husband; it was that you couldn’t bear the thought of him being in danger. You’d lied to him for years, all to protect him. And so far, it had worked.

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

The front door opened. John was home. You turned, wiping your hands on a towel as he entered the kitchen, his face lighting up when he saw you.

“Hey, love.” He greeted, his voice gruff but full of affection.

“John.” You smiled, walking over to him. He pulled you into a tight embrace, burying his face in your hair. The scent of sweat, gunpowder, cigars and earth clung to him, a reminder of the world he lived in, the world you knew perfectly well…

“Missed you.” He murmured against your neck.

“I missed you too.” You replied, your voice soft. You kind of did. Can you miss someone that you see so often? Even when your husband went on missions, you were there, watching his back and saving his life more times than you could count.

You always went there to safe him. For Kate and for yourself.

You pulled back, giving him a soft kiss on his dry lips. He was safe. That was all that mattered.

“You’re just in time for dinner.”

John watched you with a smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “You spoil me, you know that?”

“Someone has to.” You teased, setting the plates on the table. “Sit down. I’ll get everything.”

He obeyed. You placed a steaming plate in front of him and joined him at the table. You two ate in comfortable silence.

John leaned back in his chair, looking at you with a satisfied grin. "You’ve outdone yourself, love."

“I’m glad you liked it.” You replied, gathering the dishes. He grabbed your hand, stopping you.

“Leave it.” He said. “I’ll do it later.”

You smiled, but shook your head. “Let me help then.” John offered, but you shook your head again.

“No, you go take a shower. I’ve got this.”

He didn’t need much convincing. “Alright, but only because you insist.”

He pressed a kiss to your temple, before you watched him head towards the bathroom.

The next day arrived too quickly…

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

You woke up early and ready to prepare breakfast. John was still asleep, his arm draped over your side of the bed, the peaceful expression on his face making your heart ache with affection.

You moved quietly, not wanting to wake him just yet. He needed his rest, especially after the mission he’d just returned from. You poured yourself a cup of coffee and sipped it slowly, savoring the moment.

As you finished up, John stumbled into the kitchen, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

“Morning, love.” He mumbled, reaching for you. You stepped into his embrace, pressing a kiss to his chest.

“Morning.” You replied, your voice soft. “Breakfast is almost ready.”

“Smells amazing.” he said, pulling back to look at you.

You two sat on the table, eating your delicious food as John intertwined his fingers with yours.

“Soo…” John started, as you finished your food.

“Soo?” You glanced at him, squeezing his hand.

“A friend of mine wanted to visit us. You, know the friend I’ve mentioned a couple of times? Kate?” You nod your head, feeling a slight twinge of anxiety in your stomach. “Yeah, she will come… Is it okay? Or should I call her back and-“

You shook your head. “No, no, honey. It’s okay. She can come.” Despite her promise, there was still a small part of your that worried, that he will find out about your job.

John smiled at your, happy that you were fine with it and finally could meet his friend.

And due to your nervosity, you start to cook early on for dinner. For the time Kate will come into your home. You prayed and hoped that everything will work out…

John noticed your nervosity, of course. He always did. “You’re fussing too much.” He teased as he leaned against the kitchen counter, watching you.

“I’m not fussing.” You rolled your eyes, but could hear the tension in your own voice. “I just want everything to be perfect…”

“It will be.” John assured you, moving to wrap his arms around you from behind. “Kate’s going to love you. She’s always been curious about the woman who managed to snag me.”

You laughed, though the sound was a bit strained. John kissed the side of your neck, his beard scratching gently against your skin. “Don’t worry, love.”

The doorbell rang and you felt your heart leap into your throat. This was it…

John released you, heading for the door. “That’ll be Kate.” He said.

You quickly wiped your hands on a towel, trying to steady your breathing as you followed him. When the door swung open, there stood Kate Laswell, dressed casually but with her usual air of quiet authority.

“Kate, good to see you.” John greeted warmly.

“Good to see you too, John.” Kate replied with a smile, glancing over his shoulder at you.

You stepped forward, a perfectly practiced look of curiosity and friendliness on her face. It was time to act. Something that you always had to do during your missions. Acting or more likely… lying…

“You must be Kate. I’ve heard so much about you.”

“And you must be (Y/N).” Kate responded. “John wasn’t exaggerating when he said you’re beautiful.”

You rolled your eyes at the false pleasantries, but at least your friend had some fun. This was the game you two had to play after all. “Thank you. Come in, please.”

As Kate stepped inside, John closed the door behind her, looking pleased. He had no idea that the two women had known each other for a long time already.

They moved to the dining room, where you had already set the table. The conversation flowed easily, John and Kate reminiscing about old missions, with you chiming in here and there, careful to keep up the facade of being just a supportive wife with no real connection to their deadly world.

As they ate, John kept looking between the two women. “It’s funny.” He remarked. “I’ve always thought you two would get along great. Glad to see I was right.”

You forced a smile, hoping it didn’t look as strained as it felt. “Well, Kate’s easy to get along with.” You said, but kept your eyes rather on John than on her.

Kate returned the smile, her expression giving nothing away. “And I can see why John speaks so highly of you, (Y/N). You’ve got a real knack for this - hosting, cooking… you’re a natural.”

“… Thank you.” You replied, you were counting down the minutes until this tense dinner was over.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of small talk and laughter, with John completely oblivious to the undercurrent of tension between the two women. As far as he knew, it was just a pleasant evening with his wife and a close friend.

When it was finally time for Kate to leave, John walked her to the door, thanking her again for coming. You followed, staying a step behind, happy that the day has finally ended.

“Thanks for having me.” Kate said warmly, giving you a meaningful look as she shook your hand. “I hope we can do this again sometime.”

“I would love to.” You replied, your voice steady despite of all the emotions you were feeling right now. “It was lovely meeting you.”

With that, Kate left, and you closed the door, leaning against it for a moment, eyes closed as you let out a slow breath.

John came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. “See? Told you it’d be fine.”

You leaned into his embrace. “You were right.” You admitted, turning in his arms to face him. “It was nice and went better than I thought.”

John smiled down at you. “You did great, love. I knew Kate would like you. But then again, what's not to like?”

You chuckled. “You give me too much credit. But I’m glad she came over. It was… good to finally meet her.”

He kissed your forehead, his lips lingering for a moment. “You know, I think she’ll become a good friend of yours. She’s got a lot of interesting stories, and I’m sure you two have more in common than you think.”

You swallowed hard, forcing a smile on your lips. “Yeah… maybe.”

John’s smile softened as he looked at you. “Are you alright? You seem… distracted.”

You hesitated, your heart skipping a beat. He was always so perceptive. But you couldn’t tell him the truth… Not now, not ever. So, you did what you had done countless times before. You lied… Again.

“Just tired.” You said, resting your head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. “It’s been a long day.”

He held you close, his hand gently stroking your back. “I understand. It’s been a lot. Why don’t we call it a night? You need your rest.”

You nodded, feeling now tired from this day. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

You locked up the house and headed upstairs. As you got ready for bed, you couldn’t help but glance at John, wondering what would happen if he ever found out the truth. How would he react? Would he be angry, hurt, betrayed?

Once you two were in bed, John pulled you close, his arm wrapped protectively over you. He kissed your temple, whispering a soft “Goodnight, love.” before closing his eyes.

You lay there in the darkness, your eyes wide open as you stared at the ceiling. The evening had gone as well as it could have, but the anxiety was still there. Kate’s visit had been a stark reminder of your real life. Your real job.

You turned slightly to watch John sleep; his face peaceful in the light. He had no idea how many times you’d been there, watching over him from the shadows during his missions, making sure he and his team got out alive. You were always just out of sight, never letting anyone know where you were. It was your way of protecting him.

You weren’t sure how long you could keep this up.

But for now, John was safe. He was home, with you, and that was all that mattered.

You reached out, brushing a hand over his cheek, feeling the rough stubble under your fingers. He stirred slightly, but didn’t wake, just leaned into her touch.

“I love you.” You whispered.

It was both a vow and a plea. A promise to keep him safe, and a silent wish that he’d never have to find out the lengths you’d gone to do so.

Eventually, you fell asleep in the arms of your husband.

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[waiting-for-a-sunny-day]

If Geto and Gojo were so close, why didn't Geto try to convince Gojo to defect with him?

Because Geto knew that Gojo’s support would guarantee his success, but that success would come at the cost of hurting Gojo.

I believe that Geto cared more about protecting Gojo than he cared about building a better world.

..

Let me explain…

First, let’s talk about why it would’ve made sense for Geto to ask Gojo to join him:

(1) Gojo would’ve been Geto’s most important / most powerful ally

By the time of Geto’s defection, Gojo is already the strongest sorcerer in existence. He and Geto are two of only three special grade sorcerers. Having them both on the same side is essentially an automatic win.

(2) Gojo should’ve been (relatively) easy to persuade

Gojo had already told Geto that he didn't like having to save the weak and didn't care about the moral justifications for it…

…Geto has also seen that Gojo doesn’t always value / protect human life. He was ready to massacre the Time Vessel Association without reason, but ultimately he didn't, because he deferred to Geto's judgement…

…and, most importantly, they are best friends on a DEEP, unparalleled level. Geto is Gojo’s “one and only” best friend.

If Geto was truly dedicated to changing the world order, Gojo should’ve been the first and most important person that he tried to recruit to his insurgency / cult / mission.

BUT

Not only does Geto make zero effort to reach out to / recruit Gojo, he actively avoids him and pushes him away...

- - - - - Keep reading cut - - - - -

After he kills the 112 non-sorcerers, Geto runs into Shoko in Shinjuku. He happily approaches her and willingly answers her questions.

Look at his smiling face in their interactions:

But, when Shoko calls Gojo, Geto leaves before Gojo shows up. Gojo tracks him down anyway and demands an explanation. Geto still doesn’t want to talk about it (“You already heard it.”)

It's strange, right? Geto loves talking about his vision of a better world with everyone else.

Then, there is this confusing progression of dialog:

Geto is hurt/annoyed that Gojo doesn’t believe in him, so he points out that Gojo’s argument against his plan is invalid. The plan is possible (“You could do it”), therefore (according to Gojo’s own logic) it’s not “pointless.”

In a way, Geto is admitting that he knows it would make the most sense for Gojo to join him.

But before Gojo can respond, Geto pivots to saying something extremely hurtful. He's questioning who Gojo is / would be if he wasn't the strongest. Is there really anything more to him? (See more detail in my post here).

Then, in the very next panel Geto turns and starts walking away.

In summary: (1) Geto avoids Gojo, (2) Geto only argues in favor of his plan when Gojo forces/baits him, (3) Upon invalidating Gojo’s opposition to his plan, Geto immediately puts emotional distance between them, (4) Geto then puts physical distance between them.

Why is Geto trying so hard to make sure that Gojo won’t follow him?

Is he just being prideful about doing this on his own? Is he so angry at Gojo's arrogance that he'd jeopardize the success of his life's mission over it?

These arguments aren't in line with Geto's characterization / known motivations (see the end of this post, if you're interested in more on that.)

Geto's main motivation is (a twisted form of) compassion. He wants to end the suffering of sorcerers.

He is a thoughtful, contemplative person, and would've thought about the ramifications of recruiting Gojo.

What are the ramifications?

If Gojo joins the cause, Geto’s plan would succeed, but Gojo would suffer for it.

Like anyone who joins Geto's cult, Gojo would become a pariah / fugitive from Jujutsu society. He’d kill people. He’d kill other sorcerers.

But because Gojo has the singular level of strength/ability to kill non-sorcerers en masse, he would commit the vast majority (or all) of the murder / destruction. The legal, social, and mental impacts would be most severe on Gojo.

(Also, at this point, I think Geto may still question whether he’s made the right choice. It’s difficult to go from a hardline stance on protecting non-sorcerers to wanting to gen0c1de them, within the span of a year, without any lingering ethical qualms. So he may be worried about moral costs to Gojo as well.)

Let’s remember that Geto (canonically) deeply loves Gojo. Gojo is his one and only best friend. Geto worries about Gojo when he overworks himself protecting Riko. Geto is shocked when Toji kills Riko in front of him, but he only flies into a rage when he thinks Toji has killed Gojo. (Again, see my post here for more on how much Geto loves Gojo).

So, it makes sense that Geto is ready to make sacrifices to create a better world, but it’s a cost he’s willing to put on his own head. Not Gojo's.

Ultimately, Geto cares more about Gojo than he cares about achieving the mission he has dedicated his life to.

The last thing Geto says to him is this:

What he's really asking Gojo is: "Have you stopped loving me, now that I've committed myself to this dark path? Would you kill me to save them?"

If Gojo hates Geto enough that he’d kill him, then Geto never had a chance of recruiting Gojo in the first place.

Of course, Gojo can’t make himself hurt Geto. He still loves Geto too much.

Geto protected Gojo by pushing him away.

___

Addendum:

I'll also argue against two other possible explanations for Geto's behavior.

(1) Geto is jealous / prideful /wants to build his own legacy without Gojo stealing the spotlight

Geto has clear motivations for his goals and they’re not egotistical. He wants to end the suffering of sorcerers caused by non-sorcerers’ existence (e.g., Riko’s death, Mimiko & Nanako’s abuse).

Geto’s pride isn’t hurt when Gojo becomes the strongest. The only thing that bothers Geto is that they’re getting sent on separate missions.

After Gojo becomes stronger that him, Geto still has overt affection for Gojo (e.g., he asks Haibara to bring back sweets from his mission so he can share with Gojo).

Although Geto does believe in his superiority over non-sorcerers, he doesn't feel superior over other sorcerers and doesn't struggle with his 'inferiority' to Gojo.

Does Gojo’s lack of faith in Geto’s ability (calling his goal “impossible”), spur Geto to want to prove himself? Yes, probably. But Geto had already been avoiding Gojo before he said that. And I don’t believe that wanting to prove himself to Gojo would overshadow his stronger motivation to build a better world for sorcerers.

(2) He thinks Gojo actually is too moral to join him

After Geto kills the 112 non-sorcerers, Gojo is shocked and upset by what’s happened, but not once does he insult Geto or imply that Geto has done something unforgivable. In fact, he’s practically begging Geto to explain himself because he wants to be able to justify his actions. And, again, Gojo’s argument against Geto’s plan is NOT that “it’s wrong,” it’s that “it’s impossible.”

[kteezy997]

Hi! Could you do one with female reader and Timmy are dating for a while, then he ends up taking her virginity but he’s sooo sweet about it?

Feel free to play with the story line as you wish!

Thanks!! ☺️

the first time, part one//t.c.

Warnings: fluff, virgin reader (obvi), smut, female receiving oral sex, mention of cum, unprotected sex

This is a long one, js.

The last few months of dating Timothée were the happiest you had ever been. You’d fallen so hard for him; he was sweet and gentlemanly, but never corny. He was everything you wanted in a partner, and even more: kind, smart, funny, and dedicated to his work. Even when he had a million things going on in his mind, he still made you feel like the only woman in the world. You were so proud to be his.

He had been away for a couple of weeks as he had begun filming his long-awaited Bob Dylan biopic. You were so happy for him as he had been preparing for the role for literally years, and you knew he was absolutely in his element on that set.

As proud of him as you were, you couldn’t wait for him to return to you, even if it was only for a short weekend. You had a special plan to show him how serious about him that you were, and how in love you were with him. You were going to give your virginity to him.

Timmy didn’t know that you were a virgin. No one else in your life really knew it either. It wasn’t something you talked about, or really thought much about. You weren’t saving it for any particular reason. It just hadn’t happened. You had never gotten to that place with someone. And you weren’t the ‘one night stand’ type.

You knew that maybe some people would make fun or judge you for being a virgin in your 20s, but you knew Timmy wasn’t like that. He had always been loving and respectful, never putting any pressure on you.

Now you were ready. You wanted this so badly with him. You began to wonder if you had unwittingly been waiting all these years for Timmy specifically. You really felt like he could be the person you’d spend the rest of your life with.

……

That evening, he texted you that he was in an Uber from the airport on the way to your place. You had your lingerie on underneath your cute-yet-comfy clothes. You knew he’d be tired from work and travel, but you hoped he wouldn’t be too tired.

You were sat on the couch, waiting for Timmy and watching a movie. You tried not to think too much about how the night would go. You knew you had no reason to be nervous. Timmy cared about you. He hadn't said the words yet, but he always made you feel loved and desirable, and you were certain that this night would be no different.

The knock on the door finally came, and you hurried to open it up for Timmy.

He looked so cute and cozy in his sweats and ball cap that had a fight on its hands trying to contain his wild, fluffy hair. "Hey, I've missed you." he said, his eyes were sleepy, but he smiled widely. He set his bags down on the floor and threw his long arms around you.

"I missed you too." you cooed, squeezing him back, feeling instant comfort, and you giggled as he lifted you off your feet. His warm lips pressed a kiss to your neck.

Once he set you back down on the floor, your eyes met, and it was electric. You felt butterflies looking into his hazel-green eyes many times before, but this time was a little different. It was much more sensual.

He grinned at you before giving you a sweet, soft kiss in your lips.

You were a little lost in the moment and you forgot your manners, so you offered, “Do you need a drink or anything?”

Timmy shook his head ‘no’ politely, “I’m okay for now.” He looked over to the couch briefly, sighed, “I’m so tired, babe.” He took your hand to lead you to the couch.

You sat with him, and he rested his head on your shoulder. There was no space between the two of you and your hormones were raging with him so close.

“What’re you watching?” he asked, and a small yawn fell from his mouth.

…….

Cuddling and watching the movie was nice, Timmy gradually snuggled his way into your lap. You found yourself caressing his messy curls, running your fingertips idly over the sharp lines of his face.

You really didn’t want him to sleep, but you could tell how exhausted he was. His breathing slowed, he fidgeted less and less. He was like putty in your lap. You looked down and his lashes closed up. He hummed lightly in his sleep.

Defeated, you picked another movie to watch as your boyfriend slept on you.

……..

Timmy stirred after about a thirty-minute nap. Your legs were numbed by the weight of him, but you didn’t mind. He was so cute when he was sleeping.

He turned, eyes opened, and looked up at you, “Hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t wanna fall asleep on you.” His sleepy voice was so sexy, it made you weak.

“It’s okay. You’ve been really busy lately, I get it.” you gently ran your fingers through his tousled hair.

He sat up, “I know but, it’s our time to be together. I feel bad.”

“Don’t feel bad. You’re awake now. You weren’t out very long.” Now was your chance. You leaned in and caught his lips in a tender kiss. You rested your hand on his neck and moaned ever so lightly into the kiss.

Timmy opened his mouth, inviting your tongue in.

You swiped your tongue into his warm, wet mouth. His arms slid around your body, and he pulled you onto his lap. His hands went to your hips, and he squeezed your flesh there as you straddled him.

You deepened the kiss and held his face in your hands. Your fingers wove into the soft locks behind his ears.

"Mm," Timmy moaned against your lips, pulled away and said, "when you kiss me like that, my dick gets hard."

You grinned, then took his hat off of his head, letting his curls fall free. "I want you, Timmy." you cooed, kissing him again. You felt his hand on your cheek, and he caressed your face. You placed your hands on his chest, letting them roam down the front of his body. His lean figure was firm to the touch.

As you made out with him and shifted in his lap, you could feel that he definitely wasn't lying. You pulled away from his kiss, but he kept you close to kiss and nibble on your neck. You looked down and there was a tent in his sweatpants.

After seeing how strained he was, how ready he was to fuck you, it all became super real. You weren't going to be a virgin after this night. You had to tell him it was your first time.

"Timmy," you began, your hand holding the back of his head as he sucked on your throat.

"Yeah?" he mumbled against your skin. His breath tickled your neck.

"Um, I have to tell you something. It's a little awkward."

"Y/n," he took his mouth off your neck, and leaned back to look at your face, "what do you mean? What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong, I just wanted to tell you that...I'm a virgin."

"Oh, is that all?" his eyes widened a little, but his expression remained unbothered. "There's nothing awkward about that, baby." he held your face in his hand and kissed your cheek. "Are you scared?" his eyes had become a darker, more serious shade of green.

You shook your head, saying, "No. I'm just ready to be with you."

He smiled and leaned in to touch his forehead delicately to yours. "I'm ready too." He kissed you tenderly, slowly getting on top of you.

You laid down underneath your man and watched him take his shirt off. After, he slid his fingers under the waistband of your pants and pulled them down your legs. He caressed your buttery smooth skin and left little kisses up the way of your legs. He stopped then moved up further, his hands on your hips. He started to kiss your lower tummy, along the line of your panties.

You felt yourself getting wet, and unable to stay perfectly still. You took your shirt off, wanting to feel his warm lips all over your body. As if he could read your mind, he trailed his kisses over your stomach. Your breathing became uneven, his little chin hairs tickled your ribs. His fingers splayed over the narrowest part of your waist; you could feel the callouses on them from his guitar lessons. It was a stark contrast the softness of your skin.

Then, his handsome face was nestled between your breasts, kissing and nibbling your exposed cleavage. He brought his hands up to cup them through your bra.

You moaned, feeling your nipples harden. Your pussy was hot and slick at this point. You locked your legs around Timmy, just needing him as close as possible.

He tugged the sides of your panties down, then tossed them onto the floor. He settled down in between your legs, looked up at you as his mouth met your folds. He slid his tongue between them, such a foreign, but thrilling feeling. Only you had ever touched yourself there.

You threw your head back as he lapped up your arousal. He flicked his tongue over your clit, flattened his tongue over your most sensitive area, suckled at it with his lips. You cried out his name, and put your hand in his hair in an effort to keep him from leaving your pussy.

Timmy held your thighs firmly, and moaned against your folds, creating blissful vibrations. You knew he would have skills, but this was unimaginable. He then quickened the pace of his talented tongue, flicking your clit over and over. It was too much, you could feel your heartbeat in your core, your body shook as you came.

"Fuck," he huffed as he removed his face from between your legs, "that was hot, baby girl. Your cum tastes so good." His lips and chin were glossy, because of you. He then pulled his pants off and his boxers.

You caught glimpse of his hard cock, impressive in length and pink at the tip. Your pussy throbbed at the sight.

“Is it okay if I put in you?” Timmy asked, taking his dick in his hand, ready.

You nodded eagerly, “Yes, please.”

He placed his thick tip at your hole, then slowly started to slide in. Your wetness made him glide easily, but he was tight fit inside you. He nestled his lower body between your legs and held your hips in his hands.

You gasped as his cock filled you up. The stretch was painful, but as he thrusted in and out more, it became bearable, then after about a minute, it felt really good.

“How’s it feel, love?” he asked you, looking down at you as he pumped his hips a little faster.

You put your hands on his back, “Mm, it’s so good.”

Timmy then kissed your face, your neck, your lips. “I’ve dreamt of your tight pussy on my cock.” he said, his voice low, and so sensual.

“Yeah? You wanted to fuck my little pussy?” you purred, then squeezed his body with your legs. You then remembered your vagina has muscles, so you squeezed around his cock too.

“Ah, fuck!” he cried, then bucked his hips faster.

There was more friction inside you now, and more pleasure. “Oh my god!” you whimpered.

He stopped after a couple of minutes, pushed your legs apart so he could move out of their grip. He turned you over, smacking your ass along the way.

You giggled, not knowing until then how much you liked being spanked.

Timmy grabbed you by the hips, pulling your ass back toward him. Then you felt his fingers at the clasp of your bra, and your breasts were free in a matter of seconds. He teased your wet entrance with the tip of his cock, he circled your clit with it, making you tremble with need.

A/N: sorry to end it there, but this chapter was getting too long, i think. part two coming soon!

@gatoenlaciudad @thebetawolfgirl @musicandbooksaremyhappyplace @softhecreator @tchalamss @bitchyunknownuser @lixzey @ducktapebar @aoi-targaryen @yukideadinside @mel-vaz @thatoneweirdgirl17 @iwishchalamet @jindongdongie @elloise0 @rennyd26 @briefkittenearthquake @that-one-fangirl69

[atopvisenyashill]

i was thinking more about characters Performing Gender, but not necessarily Transgressing Gender. I wound up focusing on Ned and Sansa bc I feel like I understand them the most but-

Sansa as a hostage is imo the most obvious (bc it’s so well done) moment of someone clearly Performing Gender but not being transgressive in that performance. Which isn’t to say it’s not a complicated performance; it’s a fine line Sansa walks between weaponizing her gender to protect herself without seeming too fake. She’s trying to placate the Lannisters by playing the perfect, dedicated, air headed betrothed because it’s the only defense she has - if she outwardly rebels, she will be punished in a likely violent and/or sexual way (which isn’t even conjecture - when she says “or maybe he’ll give me yours” Joffrey has her struck with an armored hand). She’s not quite successful in being convincing but that’s because it’s a rather extreme situation; despite no one believing her, she does make herself seem meek and stupid enough that no one suspects she’s plotting to escape with Dontos until she’s well away from KL. The fact that she even has Dontos to confide in is because of Sansa’s relationship with gender! When she saves him, she covers her rebellious slip by playing up Joffrey’s intelligence & his role as King; she reaches for “tools” of her gender AND of ~proper manhood~ to save a life and herself from another beating. Her retreats into the godswood and silence are very much Sansa attempting to recharge from these draining interactions, the same way a knight would need to stop and eat and rest after a fight. She is fighting, constantly, by forcing herself to stay within the narrow confines of a specific type of gender performance as a way of shielding herself from harm.

Ned yelling at Cat is another big one, and I’ve seen the scene referred to as Ned using his patriarchal power to scare Cat, which is a great description. It feels like a Performance because Ned is putting on this terrifying Lord Stark mask in an attempt to get Catelyn to stop asking about Jon (and Lyanna). This is not how he usually acts with those he loves! When Ned is with His People, he is welcoming of questions, curiosity, emotion, even transgressive thought (to a point! the idea that Ned is a feminist because he lets Arya learn to fight is Not accurate but you can’t deny he allows significantly more flexibility wrt gender expression than most of the fathers we meet in this series. the bar is in hell tho). Yet when Cat asks him about Jon’s mother, Ned scares her so well she stops asking & still remembers the moment bitterly over a decade later. And if that snippet we see through Bran’s eyes of Ned praying that Cat will forgive him does come after she asks (like it’s suspected), it’s clear not only that this is a performance he’s putting on & weaponizing against Cat, it’s one he does not like using as a weapon against someone he is close to. After using the power his gender gives him to cause harm, he retreats to the godswood and silence to pray and rest, much like Sansa. A spiritual cleanse, the way a soldier may pray after battle, to reset and reconnect Being A Proper Man to Being A Kind Man.

I think there’s something interesting in that two of the characters most widely defined by how well they adhere to Westerosi gender norms both dislike feeling like they had to weaponize their gender. They are exhausted by the performance, because it’s a performance. This isn’t Sansa getting excited over tourneys, or Ned teaching his sons to fight; it’s toxic masculinity, it’s structural misogyny. It’s something they’re good at, excel at, and connected to something they enjoy but when it’s paired with violence, whether done by Ned or done to Sansa, it crosses over in their minds from an innate part of themselves (The Gender) to a performance necessary due to survival (The Gender Role). And that after these performances, both retreat to nature & god as a way of resting and cleansing from the experience.

[kismet-cat]

Something I’ve been thinking about a lot is how Jowd and Yomiel are parallel to each other. They’re both so stuck in worldviews that are blatantly wrong- Jowd thinking everything is his fault, and Yomiel thinking everything is the fault of everyone BUT him. To an outside observer, both these views are totally stupid, but the two of them feel like they HAVE to believe it or else everything they’re doing will be for nothing. If jowd is wrong, that means kamila did it, and he can’t let himself believe his kid could do that, it would destroy him. He’s so willing to take on the guilt because he feels responsible for not stopping the tragedy- even when it was literally impossible for him to foresee or stop. If Yomiel is wrong, then it means that literally everything he’s been doing since dying is useless and he’s the one responsible for the deaths of both Sissels, and he can’t believe that or he’ll sink even further down. So the two of them both push on, warping the truth until it suits their narratives, both of which are steeped in self-hatred. It’s a good thing they never met up before their respective character developments- like Yomiel said, Jowd would have loved to be executed by his own daughter. Sorry for talking so much I just think they’re fascinating!!! I love ghost trick!!!

No need to apologize, I love hearing other people's Ghost Trick takes/analysis! Especially along these lines!

This specific parallel is def one I've thought about too, and you put it very well! For me, it all comes back to the set of questions I posed in this post as being at the core of Ghost Trick's story:

1. When something terrible happens to you, what do you do with that trauma? 2. When you do something terrible, when you make a terrible mistake, what do you do with that guilt?

Like you said, Jowd is a person who, in response to both questions, internalizes all the blame; whereas Yomiel, in response to both (pre Chapter 17), externalizes all his hatred. And yes, from an outside perspective they're kind of ridiculous — just look at how many chatters in the secret sleepover society streams (and other lps I've watched) have been reacting to Jowd as a character.

But one of the things fiction arguably exists for is to present characters that take such ideas to such extremes for the sake of exploring those questions and making a greater point; it's the premise "What if there was guy who ___? Wouldn't that be fucked up or what?". And for me (and a lot of people, clearly) Ghost Trick succeeds in getting you to take those characters seriously, because they and the people around them take their own stakes seriously, while ultimately making it clear that their responses were irrational.

...And hey, while I'm here:

Cabanela's answer to the second question is to bury all evidence of it, to Not Think About It, to become (or at least project the image of) a person who would never make that kind of mistake. Meanwhile, his answer to the first question, if we say the terrible thing in question is his best friend confessing to killing his wife and asking to be executed, is to dedicate himself to trying to undo it, to set things right, everything else in his life be damned.

These answers are "better" than Jowd's and Yomiel's — they certainly cause less extreme collateral damage — but they still aren't ideal. After all, Ghost Trick is a game that highly values the forging/maintaining of bonds with others and being honest/open with them as the key to both parties' success. It's what saves the day in the end. Without Sissel, all Cabanela's efforts to save Jowd and protect Lynne would have amounted to nothing.

No, the person with the "correct" answer is Lynne. She doesn't really have to grapple with the second question (which is maybe my personal biggest disappointment with her character), but her answer to the first question is clear: Become the kind of person who prevents such things from happening to others, or who can be the one to help them when it does. Always believe in people, and in the ability of things to turn out right.

Now, it must be said: the reason she comes to this answer is not because she was born a perfect idealist. It's because, in that worst moment of her life, someone was there to save and then reassure her; to inspire her. Jowd.

It's her truth, but it's not, say, Yomiel's.

But. It's a truth that inspires the rest of the cast (Sissel and Jowd primarily). And, because of her insistence in it, they're able to go back, defy fate, and make it The Truth of the narrative.

(Sissel similarly only has to really deal with the first question because Reasons, and his answer evolves over the course of the game, from "focus on the wrong that was done to you and what you can do to make yourself feel better about it above everything and everyone else" (doesn't that sound familiar?) to be more aligned with Lynne: "use what you learned/gained from that unfortunate occurrence to help others". And Missile is basically on the "right" wavelength the whole time, which is why everyone agrees he's the Bestest Boy.)

[kurithedweeb]

Okay SO, I think it was @al-ld who made the post about feeling like Xavier was retconned into being Esmund because the Jury of Nine is under O'khasis control if not directly under a Ro'Meave who are regarded as Esmund's bloodline, but I had the thought of what if they were both Ro'Meaves and then it turned into rewrite canon so I'm inflicting it on y'all too.

What if Esmund and Xavier were brothers, what if they were twins? They did everything together, they were close as could be. They became guards together and planned that if either of them ever ended up having to become Lord in the event their older sibling the heir died, they would do that together too. And then Irene came into the picture.

They both loved her. And Esmund was chosen as a Divine Warrior, and Xavier who had served at Irene's side as her personal guard, maybe even her head guard, was somehow left behind. 

The distance gave Xavier clarity. He loved her, yes, but he could see the way she was around Shad and quickly came to realize that she would never feel towards him what he felt towards her, and even if she did she would long outlive him on account of her seeming immortality, but maybe he could still protect her the way he once had after death. He went home to O'khasis, instituted the first guard academy there and the Jury of Nine, which he led and which followed the Divine Warriors on their later adventures as they went on their quest to save the world. Maybe he and Esmund get back to how they once were. During the separation, he became known as the Admirer because he admired both Irene and his brother from afar. 

In the meantime, Esmund followed in Irene's footsteps. He only looked back when he realized his brother was far behind, no longer following where Esmund led the way he always had before, and this spurs doubts about his position in the Divine Warriors. Did he do the right thing getting so close? Is it worth it when the one person who has been at his side his entire life, who he had always planned spending the rest of his life alongside, was gone? He followed Irene because he loved her, but it takes a lot longer for him to realize what Xavier had, and once he does the realization makes him feel like he had left his brother behind for nothing despite his work as the Protector, because she didn't love him either and even if she did he knew he couldn't make himself admit his feelings for her. So he sat and stewed in all these feelings, wondering whether he should leave for home, if they would be able to complete the mission they had set out to complete without him, and the guilt eats him up inside. 

Then Xavier shows back up with the Jury in tow. Esmund realizes that his brother has had an entire life without him while he was away. 

He made an institution that would outlive them all, he moved on, he's married with a kid on the way and Esmund was so far out of reach that this is the first he's hearing of it. They catch up, they talk about everything they should have years ago, and Xavier has to leave before the final battle when news reaches them that the heir of O'khasis, their older sister’s only child, is dead. Someone has to be the heir, someone has to put the Lord back together again, and Esmund is too important to the mission. 

This is when he realizes that this entire time, Xavier was the one leaving him behind and now he will never catch up. But he can protect Irene, something Xavier dedicated a massive chunk of his life to, and so he became Irene's guard in his brother's stead and remained so until the so-called betrayal' of Shad, a man he had come to think of as a brother too, and afterwards he went home to O'khasis to be with Xavier again. 

Further down the line, Esmund returns to Divine Warriors business but helps run the guard academy and Jury of Nine, and when their older sister dies the twins rule O'khasis as the only duo of Lords in known history. Esmund never married, his heart belonging solely to Irene, and so never had any children and when Xavier died his children became the heirs, beginning the modern Ro'Meave line. Esmund rules alone for a number of years, taking care of Xavier's family, the guard academy, the Jury, and holds O'khasis to the ideals of the woman he once loved, which turns O'khasis into the religious powerhouse it is today. When Esmund dies, his relic gets passed down to Xavier's children, eventually making it all the way down to Garroth and Zane, which makes anyone not in the know about Xavier believe that the Ro'Meaves are Esmund's direct descendants.

[kurgy]

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Casey Sziska is a struggling musician finally cashing in on what he hopes is his big break by moving to a new city and signing a contract. His struggles come to a head when he meets and falls for the strange friend of his manager, Josh. The further Casey falls the more he uncovers about Josh's life that compels him to have to choose between his life, friends, and career, or saving him.

_

Casey was getting ready backstage in a small brick room with old concrete floors; fluorescents beaming overhead and giving him just the slightest of headaches when coupled with the bright bulbs lining his dressing room mirror. An electric buzz of noise sounded just beyond the door that separated him from the rest of the packed club. 

He was tired, wanted to sleep, but the previous night's attempt hadn't done him any favors in that regard either.

Looking over his appearance, turning his face from side to side and examining his shoddy work, he figured what he had going on was good enough.

His hair's thick and messy, sticking out all over like he'd just gotten out of bed (not entirely false, he supposed). He learned early on that keeping it shorter was easiest, though wrestling it into styled submission not so much; so brushing out any tangles and just letting the wild mop of black be what it was suited him just fine.

He peered at his reflection in the mirror, scribbling some last touches of messy eyeliner around his eyes, hand pulling lightly at peach skin to make drawing the lines easier, even if it didn't.

His own green eyes stared back at him, a bright green that contrasts the black that surrounds them. He studied the various silver piercings decorating his face as he penciled heavy black lines around his eyes.

He was fond of piercings; had a labret below his lip, a bridge across his nose, nostril piercings on both sides, and matching brow piercings to boot. His ears held their own matching sets of black piercings.

He gave his reflection a solid glare, then wiggled his eyebrows with a grin before letting his face fall back to neutral.

Eh, good enough.

His eyes flickered to the left, the upper corner of the mirror reflecting Julie's back to him as she put up her pale blonde hair into a low messy bun facing the mirror just opposite his.

Julie's his friend, his best friend even, his sister, and their band's bassist, and the band was the whole reason they were here.

A few years ago Casey started a small band with his childhood friends, Julie and Devin.

He'd known Julie since kindergarten, she was practically family. She was thin and stockily built, long blonde hair always kept tied, and a few piercings of her own. She and Casey had more history than could be covered in such a short time, but Julie always had his back.

Devin was a high school friend. Taller than Julie, though still not quite as tall as Casey. Warm brown skin and styled curled hair. He joined their little group freshman year and settled in seamlessly. He took Casey to his first concert, played his first song, and practically leapt at the chance to be their drummer.

Their band name "Nowhere" didn't really have meaning, it was more of a placeholder than a real name, later on a running joke about how their little band was going "nowhere."

Casey had always been a singer, and had dedicated himself to being a guitarist as well, and once each of their preferred roles were filled, the three have been inseparable ever since.

Starting a band was one of the first things they did as teenagers, even if they didn't do anything, and didn't seriously pursue it until later. They didn't get serious about actually releasing music until their first paid gig, a local rock festival, and the thrill of the whole experience is what made the three of them truly want this.

After a while it just stuck.

A sharp knock on the dressing room door startled Casey out of his thoughts before it opened, not waiting for an answer as an assistant he recognized from their new managers payroll waltzed in, not looking up from their clipboard before saying;

"Hey, Nowhere! It's time to go, you're on."

And walking out of the room.

Casey sighed, placing his head in his hands before running them loosely through his hair, the eyeliner smudging a bit around his eyes. It looked better that way.

"You ready?" She asked, the bags under her eyes noticeable even under her makeup.

A smaller hand patted him on the back, it was Julie.

He shrugged, standing and stretching his arms above his head in a more exaggerated move than needed, towering over the girl as he reached for his guitar, all the signal the other two needed to follow his lead.

They waltzed out the door in no real hurry, Julie chewing lazily on a piece of gum that had long since lost its flavor, scrolling on her phone as she followed behind Casey.

Devin seemed largely uninterested in the whole thing, the same dark circles under his eyes, and curled hair somewhat frazzled as he followed behind Julie, staring blankly at the passing overhead lights lining the cement hallway leading to the stage.

Casey leading the way looked no better.

In truth they'd just moved to the city a little over a month ago, and Casey's apartment deal had immediately fallen through upon their arrival. He'd been crashing on Julie and Devin’s couch for 4 weeks before he found another apartment for rent in his price range.

None of them seemed entirely up for this last minute performance. It, after all, being none of their ideas. No, their new manager Evan had scheduled this show, despite the band's exhausted objections.

For a while he wondered if he were stupid for not electing to join them for a 3 bedroom, and instead his friends settled on a 2 bedroom once Casey had declined them. He really preferred his privacy, and he found he appreciated that comfort even in the tiny studio he hauled his belongings into just 2 weeks ago. But with the leaky pipes and draft and more expenses pilling up, in-between work meetings and recording sessions, he'd found little time for rest.

So here they were, mere feet away from stepping in front of a crowd in some exclusive live music club they'd never get into otherwise, exhausted.

His back ached from moving boxes and sleeping on a couch much smaller than him much longer than he'd wanted. The only thing he's eaten in two days is a couple stale slices of pizza.

But he smiled, stepping hurriedly on stage with a flare and the screech of his guitar while a half attentive crowd turned. He played an improvised solo before Julie was screaming an enthusiastic greeting while their audience cheered.

Casey was nothing if not an excellent performer, he knew how to work a crowd. Charisma and flare were as easy as breathing on stage. He could barely see beyond the lights, blurring his vision of the faces staring at him, and here he could be as free as he wanted.

Yeah, good enough.

He announced a song, strumming a chord as Devin tapped his drumsticks, music starting strong before they were playing with more energy than they actually had to a delighted audience.

_____

They had a 3 song set, and although their follow-up act seemed to fit the vibe of a nightclub better than they had, the crowd wasn't as invested, which was a definite pickup in his mood.

He doubts any of these people would really remember their little punk band or the drinks in their hands by tomorrow morning.

He didn't mind, even exhausted he had fun playing, at least, and they enjoyed it enough for the whole thing not to go tits up. The sizable paycheck helped when rent was going to be due.

His voice was a bit hoarse and he was tired, but work was done and he was getting paid, so really it was a win.

He didn't have the luck of just leaving however. His manager decided an impromptu meet and greet was in order, and he didn't have the privilege of saying no.

His new manager was a man named Evan Danse, a real clean cut looking guy, kind of looks like he just stepped off a yacht party at any given moment, and his sweater and coiffed hair didn't really give him the "I manage a punk band" vibe you might expect.

Still, he wanted to manage them, and had done more for their actual careers in a short time than they had ever managed to do themselves in several, and they owed him. So, here Casey was, towering over the man as he walked him down a line of people waiting to meet him, all pleasant smiles and dainty handshakes with no real clue or care for who he was, which was fine; they shared the sentiment.

Casey was a big guy, always has been, and measuring at a steady 6’6” gave him a tendency to stand out. His build he'd worked for, he enjoyed the stability a workout gave him, and though he wouldn't describe himself this way, he had on occasion been told his stature and style were a bit intimidating.

He thought of that as Evan introduced him one by one to a variety of coworkers, colleagues, and all sorts of Evan's work related relationships that weren't expecting his latest work project to look quite like Casey.

People dispersed as they went along; introduction, smile, handshake, leave; rinse and repeat. The line tapered off in a mix of confusion and surprise until Evan presented him with the last, different from the others in Evan's presentation; a guy who caught Casey's eye with just how plainly he didn't seem to give a shit at what was happening.

He was shorter than Casey, not uncommon. Still, the guy was a good head shorter than him; skinny looking under too big clothes that only made him look smaller.

Casey's eyes met a head full of unruly hair, sandy blond and messily cropped, almost reaching the guy's shoulders. Hair was brushed to cover his face, like he were using it all like a curtain.

"Casey, I'd like to introduce you to a personal friend of mine." Evan said cheerfully, gesturing to the guy as he went to stand beside him, patting a hand against the guys back playfully. "This is Joshua."

Casey smiled even when Joshua failed to react, instead keeping a pleasant air about him as his sort-of boss introduced him to the weird little dude who wouldn't look at them; holding out his hand for the typical smile, handshake, leave, but Joshua didn't take it. He didn't look at Casey at all actually, his eyes downcast to stare at the phone he held in his hand. The screen illuminated what little of his face wasn't hidden under his hair, the shadows giving his blank stare an eerie sort of vibe.

Something felt off.

Casey was enamored with it all.

Joshua was thin, wearing oversized clothes; a big winter coat, a loose fitting shirt, and dark jeans, the cuffs were rolled up, whether for style or comfort he wasn't really sure, but it was a nice look on him.

He was pale, dark tiredness under his eyes like bruises, pink lips, sharp chin, face expressionless as he typed away furiously on his phone, still keeping his head down as the other two men stared expectantly.

Casey thought he was cute. Fluffy hair, long eyelashes, slender face..

He gave his best smile.

Evan was saying something about Joshua, apologizing for his attitude, but Casey stopped listening.

When it came to focusing his attention between his semi-annoying overly familiar ‘boss’ and the cute if a little standoffish stranger, there was really no competition.

He leaned forward ever so slightly, raising his hand close enough to Joshua for him to notice, but not so close to violate any boundaries, holding his hand at Joshua's rye level, certain it was visible.

Casey casually waved his hand, effectively gaining the smaller guy's attention.

His eyes shot up, seemingly put off by the action and ready to argue, gaze instantly locking with Casey's who kept the smile bright on his face.

His glare faltered a bit at that, cheeks growing slightly pink and looking away with a frown.

"Hey there." Casey said, voice smooth as he once again offered his hand. "I'm Casey."

Joshua nodded his head, carefully reaching out and taking Casey's hand in his.

" 'm Joshua." He muttered in response.

His voice was a little deeper than Casey expected, kind of raw, harsh; he liked it.

Evan watched the exchange with a curious, almost suspicious look, but he didn't speak up as Casey gave the smaller guy's hand a short, firm shake. Joshua's hand was small, bony, and cold.

"Joshua." Casey repeated, testing the sound on his tongue. "Josh?"

Joshua flustered a bit at the suggested nickname, face dusted pink as he shrugged, giving him a vague Okay.

Casey grinned as Josh continued on his phone, if a bit clumsier.

Casey liked being direct, especially when he liked someone, and he liked Josh. He was cute. If they clicked, tonight could end on a really high note.

"So, uh," Evan said suddenly, loudly, an unplaceable emotion behind his voice before clearing his throat purely to gain the two's attention. "Like I was saying Joshua is a friend of mine, it's sort of tradition to bring him along to performances from my artists, especially new ones."

"Yeah?" Casey cut him off almost immediately to turn back to Josh with a smile. "You saw us play?"

It sounded like a fun pastime, honestly. All sorts of music and venues for free? He knew at least he'd be down.

Josh started fidgeting awkwardly at Casey's question, a semi-sour expression on his face as he pulled his phone a little closer to his face, muttering; "Not…exactly, no."

Casey faltered for a fraction of a second, but that's fine. Sure, not the response he was expecting, but he can work with this.

"Hey, that's okay." He grinned. "Means next time I can really put my all in for you."

Josh was actually blushing now, his reactions to Casey's casual flirting was something to behold.

Evan cleared his throat at the two again, Casey suppressing a groan and just wanting him to go away, but the two looked to him regardless as he began boasting Casey's band and accomplishments like he were making some kind of sales pitch. It was directed more at Josh than him, obviously, but hearing someone else talk him up like this was just weird, and brought the building atmosphere to a screeching halt.

The surprise interruption from one of Evan's assistants was a definite blessing in disguise that had Casey sighing in relief, the woman walking up and whispering something in Evan's ear that caused him to give a dramatic roll of his eyes before shooing her away.

"Sorry, technical stuff." He said, turning to Josh. "Why don't you have a seat Joshua? Order some drinks, it's on me."

And with that he walked away, disappearing into the crowd and leaving Casey and Josh alone.

They stood in silence for a moment, music playing loud as bodies were crowded everywhere, some moving and swaying along on the dance floor, others grouped together with drinks and conversation while Casey on the other hand contemplated.

None of this really seemed Josh's speed at all, if the fact that he'd been squirreling away in a corner all night was any indication, and Casey was more than happy to chat it up somewhere the guy was more comfortable, if he wanted to; so he maneuvered to Josh's side, leaning in a little closer to speak low.

"There are some tables over there." He said, pointing a little ways towards the bar. "Wanna sit for a bit?"

Josh was less fidgety, and although the red returned to his face at the suggestion, he gave a casual shrug of confirmation anyway. Casey happily leads him towards the bar and chooses a table that leads into a larger lounge, a small couch on either side of their small table with a few chairs scattered here and there.

They both sat on the far left couch, side by side. Josh relaxed back, stretching his legs slightly with his eyes still fixed on his phone as he kept typing, Casey sitting beside him and stretching his arms a bit before relaxing back into the sofa as well.

They sat in silence for another moment. Josh was quiet, caught up in his phone, and Casey awkwardly rubbed at his neck while he tried to think of something to talk about, regain their previously derailed energy.

He peeked over Josh's shoulder, curious what was keeping him so focused on his phone.

He wasn't typing, he was playing one of those clicker app games. He wondered how something so repetitively boring could keep the guy's attention so thoroughly, then again who was he to judge? He seemed to enjoy it enough.

If Josh noticed him, he didn't seem to care, so he kept watching.

Casey didn't play these things personally, he wasn't into app games and didn't really know a lot about how these ones worked, but if it were possible to be good at it Josh certainly was. It was kind of fun to watch actually, better than zoning out in a loud club.

It was some kind of photography game, taking pictures was the goal, different targets popping up on screen as Josh quickly tapped each for a photo.

He sort of just watched Josh for a bit. Tapping and clicking his phone as pop-ups and scores flashed on screen.

Josh had an odd air about him, Casey couldn't exactly place it.

He's pretty, his features were so striking in Casey's eyes he wondered how the man went completely unnoticed; his fluttering sandy hair with bright strands catching in the light, slender face and soft lips a complimented contrast to his pale skin and dark eyes, heavily lidded with long pretty lashes. Together with the lights glowing off his skin, the tiredness under his eyes and just how still he was other than the movement of his fingers, the near emptiness illuminated in his eyes from the screens harsh glow, the way he could just barely tell he was breathing, it all felt so odd.

So interesting.

"You're pretty good at that." Casey smiled, a hint more of flirtation to his tone than before.

Josh stopped for a moment, eyes glancing at Casey before shifting back to the screen unfazed.

"Thanks." He murmured. “It's just tapping really fast I guess, passes the time though."

Josh prompting the conversation further had Casey delighted.

"You say that like you don't like it that much." He chuckled, Josh did too.

"Eh, it's so-so." He said. "This keeps my hands busy when I'm bored, but it's not exactly thrilling, just something to do."

"Well what do you like to do?"

Josh lowered his phone at the question, looking at him with a raised brow and his full attention.

"Stuff." He answered tentatively, only continuing when Casey's eager grin waited for elaboration. "Uh, games? Books? I like…coding.”

To his surprise Josh started talking about computer programming and code.

Casey sat almost dumbfounded while Josh spoke about programming far more eloquently than he'd believed he would, or could.

He wondered if Josh studied this kind of stuff, where his interest started, what he does for a living…the longer he talked the more Casey was interested in the guy.

"What about you? You're a musician, aren't you? You said you play. What do you play?" Josh asked suddenly.

Then Casey was grinning like an idiot.

"Well," he began. "I play guitar, mainly. Sometimes I play some backing instruments, like keyboard, drums, and I played piano when I was younger, but…"

Josh perked up a bit, looking curious and expectant as Casey eyed him with a smile.

Casey was most comfortable with a guitar, but he had a fondness for the piano. Telling Josh about his first time ever touching an instrument, being encouraged to listen and watch the church pianist play while he mimicked, catching on quickly and playing frequently at school, Josh looked at him in a sort of wonder like it were the most meaningful story he'd ever heard.

Josh was leaning closer to listen while Casey spoke, Casey did too until their shoulders were touching, neither minded much at all.

"Hey, stop me if I'm overstepping okay?” He said. “But as fun as talking with you is, this whole club scene doesn't really feel like your thing."

Josh chuckled awkwardly. "Yeah, I guess that's pretty obvious huh?"

Casey smiled, and took the next step.

"Wanna go somewhere?"

Josh looked at him a little confused, Casey kept talking.

"We could get something to eat, late night burger? I don't know the area that well but I'm pretty sure there's an arcade a few blocks away."

Josh's eyes widened a bit with realization, Casey couldn't tell if this was going good or bad, but he'd be damned if he backed out now.

"Or we could go to my place if you're cool with it, I don't have much, but I do have a ps5 and some movies, if you want."

"Sure."

The answer came faster and more steadfast than he thought it might, honestly, but Josh looked almost determined, his face more expressive than it had been before; his heavily lidded eyes and the pink blush of his cheeks gave him the feeling they were on the same wavelength here.

Casey smiled, leaning even closer, heart skipping when Josh leaned a bit as well. "You should shoot Evan a text, so he's not worried."

Josh nodded while they both stood up, he didn't seem to mind Casey keeping a bit closer while they head for the door.

_

[onechicagolife]

ABSENTIA | JAY HALSTEAD

Detective Jay Halstead is a senior member of the Intelligence Unit, where he is partnered with Detective Hailey Upton after his former partner went missing undercover. While he never wanted to give up hope, the CPD assumed her dead and he was resigned to accept it. Now, two years later, Jay gets a sudden phone call with news that changes his life forever. Avery Clarke is alive. want to be tagged? link in bio <3

Chapter 11

She couldn't get it out of her head. The image of Cam, staring into her eyes as the life left his own. Avery tried convincing herself that it wasn't real—that it was something her mind made up to fill in the gaps. But that night, she saw it clearly as she slept, and she knew that it was a memory. She killed him, she knows she did. She just doesn't know why. Or how. How could she do something like that? Was it while she was undercover? Before, when she was trying to prove her loyalty? Did she really decide that saving herself was more important than everything she dedicated her life to—helping people? She needed answers and had no idea how to get them.

But this is a start. Avery smiles at the officer as she signs into the evidence room before making her way through the shelves. She barely slept after coming home from work, she and Adam having spent hours gathering any information they could about Jose Santiago before calling it a night. Now, her eyes scan the case numbers in search of the one she has long since memorized.

Finally, she finds the bag she is looking for and breaks the seal for the dozenth time. When the feds took the Volkov case back, they released her belongings back to her, concluding that there was no more information to gain from it. Avery didn't want her things back, though. Even though she was wearing those clothes when they found her, they don't feel like hers. And some part of her thought that maybe keeping them logged as evidence meant that eventually, she would find something that they had missed before.

Grabbing the smaller plastic bag, Avery opens it and dumps its contents onto the table. A driver's license for Talia Peters, lipstick, a twenty-dollar bill, and a key chain. She had been hopeful about the keys, but it was a dead end. The apartment was cleared out by the DEA, she learned, and so was the car. Frustrated, she throws everything back into the back before focusing on her clothing. She ghosts over the crimson stain, fingering the hole in the fabric from the knife that stabbed her. Without really thinking about it, her other hand comes up to her side where the matching wound is etched in her skin.

Her breath hitches and she blinks, quickly folding the shirt back up. When she starts putting the clothes back in the bag, she accidentally knocks the jacket off the table. Avery bends to pick it up, brows furrowing when the way it fell allows her to notice a small bump in the lining she hadn't seen before. She runs her fingers over it, trying to smooth it out, before realizing that there's something there. Inside the fabric. Standing with the jacket in hand, she feels around for a seam that she can rip. She reaches for her keys, switching open the pocket knife and slicing open the fabric. Reaching inside, Avery feels around until her fingers graze something small and metal. It's a key. She studies it, waiting for recognition to wash over her, but nothing comes. It is oddly shaped, too small to be a house or car key. It almost looks like a mailbox key. She turns it over and notices a number etched into the metal. 271071004.

A voice calling her name almost makes her drop the key. "There you are," Hank comes around the corner.

"Sorry," Avery quickly pockets the key and glances over her shoulder, "What's up?"

The older man eyes her suspiciously, recognizing the clothes as she puts them back into the evidence bag, "What are you doing?"

"Nothing, just," she re-tapes the bag and stows it back on the shelf. Turning to face him fully, she does her best to seem nonchalant, "Nothing."

Clearly, he doesn't believe her whatsoever, but he pushes it aside for now. When he tried to talk to her about what happened the other day, she stone-walled him and insisted she was fine. As if she hadn't just had a panic attack while on the job. Hank has seen this all before, but he still doesn't know the best way to approach it without having her completely shut down. "Whatever it is, we'll talk about it later. But we got a case, so let's get back to work, okay?"

She nods, forcing a smile, "Right behind you."

Avery sits at her desk, her gaze fixed on the surveillance footage playing on her screen. She tries to focus, scanning the blocks surrounding their crime scene, but her thoughts keep drifting to what she found earlier. Her fingers falter on the keyboard when she hears Hailey’s voice.

“Hey, have you guys heard from Jay?” the blonde’s tone is casual, but there’s an edge to it as she walks into the bullpen followed by Kim.

Burgess shakes her head with a slight frown, “No.”

“We were supposed to get beers last night,” Adam chimes in, “but he never texted me back.” He glances over at his partner, meeting her concerned eyes.

Avery stands, her stomach tightening. She steps closer to the group, unease simmering beneath her skin. Then their desk sergeant’s voice cuts through the growing tension.

“Hey,” Trudy calls as she strides up the stairs, her gaze landing on Voight. “Is Halstead on a UC run?”

“Not that I know about,” Voight answers gruffly, his expression hardening.

That clearly isn’t the answer that Trudy was hoping for given the thinly veiled worry on her face. She explains with arched brows, “State's Attorney is all over me. He's supposed to be in court right now.”

Avery’s fingers tighten around her phone as she pulls it from her pocket, quickly bringing up Jay’s contact. She presses the call button, raising the phone to her ear. It rings once. Twice. Three times. No answer.

“Hailey, you know anything?” Voight asks, glancing at her.

She shakes her head, “No. I called him a few times, but—"

“—I did too,” Platt interrupts, her tone sharp. “No answer. So, I ran the GPS on his truck. It's parked on a street in Englewood.”

Englewood? That’s the same neighborhood as their crime scene. But he left before anyone else did. “How long has it been there?” Avery can’t stop herself from asking, nerves bubbling in her stomach.

“All night,” the older woman says grimly. “I ran the in-service calls to that block. There were two calls of suspicious persons at a house on that street.”

Her stomach twists in knots. Her eyes lock with Hailey’s, both of them reflecting the same sinking dread. Voight’s gaze flickers between the two women before he barks out, “Check it out.”

The team mobilizes, racing toward the address Platt sent as fast as possible. Avery stays silent in the car, ignoring the worried glances Atwater sends her way. She doesn’t want to talk about it. She doesn’t even want to think about it. It’s just a misunderstanding. It has to be.

But as she climbs out of the car and takes in the scene, her last shred of hope crumbles.

“He left his badge and gun,” Rojas calls out.

Avery’s chest tightens as she pulls out her weapon, falling in step behind Hailey, who raises her gun and heads for the door. Avery glances back at Adam and Kim as they circle around the house, then focuses forward.

“Chicago PD! Anyone inside?” Hailey shouts, failing to stop her voice from shaking.

They move methodically through the house, clearing it room by room. The silence is suffocating, broken only by the sound of their footsteps and the pounding of her heart.

When they reach the kitchen, Avery freezes. Her breath catches in her throat, her weapon lowering slightly as her eyes lock onto the floor.

Blood.

Avery glances over her shoulder, watching as Darius Walker approaches her and Kevin. He eyes them, lingering on her longer than she is comfortable with. She bites her tongue, knowing that they need him to find Jay. The chances of them finding him alive are dwindling with each passing second, minute, hour not knowing where he is. It’s an eerily familiar feeling—bargaining for Jay’s freedom. She’s done this once before, with Derek Keyes, and she got him back. She can do it again.

“So, where were you locked up?” Darius looks to Kevin, sizing him up.

Atwater shakes his head, “You don’t got to test me, bro. I’m obviously good at this.”

“Really?” the older man scoffs. “You were supposed to come alone.” He was, but no one was going to stop Avery from coming along. When she doesn’t respond to the obvious goading, just crosses her arms, Darius continues. “Pedro’s solid, so—”

“Let’s not talk about how solid he is,” Kevin cuts in, his jaw tight. “He’s got one of ours.” They stare each other down for a few moments until Avery sees Silva approaching and she nudges Kevin with her elbow. She glances to her right, subtly signaling Adam and Kim stationed about fifty yards away.

They watch as Darius greets Silva, shaking his hand like old friends. “Keyshawn,” Darius introduces with an arm out towards the pair.

Kevin reaches out a hand, “This is my girl, Mariah. Pedro, we appreciate you.” The way the man looks her up and down makes Avery sick. Knowing that this man has Jay is has her fighting back the urge to beat him to a pulp. Instead, she manages a polite nod of her head. Feeling the tension radiating off his friend, Kevin continues, “Let’s get right to it. My boy Jimmy and Angela violated. He got involved with some stuff he had no business getting involved in. I just wanna make peace with you.”

“It’s going to take a lot to make peace,” Silva grits out, his voice cold. “My cousin got killed in that house.”

“I hate to hear that, and I’m sorry,” Kevin inclines his head. “That’s exactly why I’m here to make it right.”

“How are you gonna do that, Keyshawn?”

Kevin doesn’t hesitate, “First thing I’m gonna do is give you back everything that’s yours. Jim and Angela had no idea what they were doing, who they were doing it to. They got played by a punk-ass wannabe gangster, Carlos.”

“Yeah, I know,” Silva says darkly, “I’m looking for him.”

Kevin meets his stare evenly, “I know. Already took care of him for you. He in the ground.”

“How do you know that?”

Avery pulls out her phone, her voice calm but firm, “Because that’s where we put him.” Silva eyes her with what almost seems like approval. She thumbs to the next photo.

“That looks like your product, right?” Kevin asks. “Not a gram missing. Allow us to give it back to you. I’ll throw in an extra 50k. That’s out of respect for your loss. All I need you to do is hand over Jim and Angela.”

Silva pauses for a moment, his expression unreadable, “I’ll think about it.”

He turns to walk away, and she knows that she is supposed to be the silent girlfriend just along for the ride, but she can’t help herself. This man knows where Jay is, and this is a waste of her goddamn time. Avery takes a threatening step forward, “Hey!”

The only thing holding her back is Kevin’s hand, his other reaching out to stop Silva, “Come on now. You can’t just leave like that.”

“Excuse me?” he spits out, his glare cutting between them.

“I need you to tell me that my people are good.”

“You don’t tell me what to do,” the threat in his voice hangs in the air.

Kevin isn’t buying it, though, and gets in his face, “If you don’t give me proof that they’re good, then there’s no deal.”

Darius can feel things slipping out of control and steps in, his hands raised in a placating gesture, “Okay, let’s take it down. Let’s take it down. Pedro, listen, the man’s got a point. He just wants to make sure his people are good.”

Silva considers it for a beat before holding up a hand and slowly reaching into his jacket, pulling out a phone and dialing. When someone answers, he snaps, “Put him on the phone.”

Kevin takes the phone from the man’s outstretched hand, holding it so that Avery can hear. She waits with bated breath as static crackles, followed by scuffling noises and muttered voices. And then she hears his voice.

“You got Jim.”

Relief crashes over Avery like a wave, her eyes closing with a stuttered sigh. Jay. He’s alive. Hurt, maybe, but alive.

“Jim, what the hell did I tell you about grabbing what’s not yours?” Kevin keeps up the ruse.

“I messed up, man,” Jay’s voice comes through, raspy and weak, “I’m sorry.”

“Damn right you did. But we’re gonna get the drugs back, then we’re gonna get you back.”

Swallowing, Avery can’t stop herself, “Just hang in there, okay?”

Before Jay can respond, Silva snatches the phone back, his lip curling. “Okay, good?” he arches a brow, as if they’re somehow being the unreasonable ones.

Kevin glances at Darius before nodding, “Yeah. Yeah, we’re good.”

Those five words—Just hang in there, okay?—echo through Jay’s head, bringing him his first shred of hope all day. He can still hear Avery’s voice, her worry and determination cutting through the haze of pain.

“That looks like it’s getting worse,” the man taunts, yanking him from his thoughts.

Jay watches the man squat in front of Angela, “It is. She needs a hospital.”

“You want a doctor? Is that what you want, sweetheart? How about I give you a kiss? That'll make you feel better.”

“Just leave her alone,” he huffs out, hanging his head. Hearing approaching footsteps, he looks up with one eye closed, the open wound above his eyebrow throbbing.

Quickly, the man punches Jay square in the nose, “Shut up, bitch!”

“What was that call about?” Angela asks after the man leaves the room, interrupting his groans of pain.

Jay exhales slowly, trying to steady himself. He contemplates the best way to respond while keeping his identity a secret. “My friend has their drugs. He’s gonna bring ‘em to them, and they’re gonna let us go.”

Her brows furrow as she tries to put the pieces together, “Okay, what? How did your people know where to find the dope—or Carlos?”

“Don’t worry about it,” he assures. Or tries to, at least. He can tell she isn’t fully buying it, and he doesn’t blame her. Jay sighs, “That woman you heard? She's—" My partner. He bites back the words and continues, "She's not going to stop until she finds me—us. I can promise you that.” He has never meant anything more than those words. If he knows anything in this world, it’s that Avery will find him. And when she does, hell is coming with her.

Avery stands with her hands shoved into her pockets, scanning the warehouse. Her eyes find Adam where he is crouched behind a stack of pallets, his face grim but steady as he sends a quick nod of reassurance. Her chest tightens. They are here for Jay, and every second that passes feels like sand slipping through an hourglass she has no control over. The silence stretches, interrupted only by the faint hum of distant machinery. After a few minutes, Voight’s voice crackles in her ear telling them that Silva is here.

Kevin straightens from where he’s been leaning against the car, his body tense with a readiness Avery recognizes all too well. He casts her a brief glance, his jaw tight, before turning his attention to the approaching van. It rolls to a stop and Silva steps out, his posture casual but his sharp eyes scanning the scene. Another man follows him, flanking his boss while the driver stays put.

“About damn time,” Kevin quips, his tone edged with impatience as he steps forward. The words hang in the air, unanswered. Neither of them misses the way Silva’s man glances around. Kevin narrows his eyes, “Where the hell is Jim and Angela?”

“They’re in the van,” Silva replies coolly. “They’re nice and comfy, and they’re gonna stay there until I see my product.”

Avery grits her teeth and clenches her fists inside her pockets, her nails digging into her palms. Every fiber of her being screams to demand they release them now, but she forces herself to stay still. To do her job. Thankfully, Kevin voices it for her—in a more tactful way. “Let me take a look at how comfortable they are to make sure that you’re all good.”

He takes a deliberate step toward the van, but Silva’s sharp tone halts him, “You’ll see them after I see my product.”

The two men lock eyes in a silent standoff until Kevin relents, tilting his head toward Avery. She forces her hands to steady as she moves to the car, unlatching the trunk and retrieving the black duffel bag.

When Silva’s man takes a step closer, Kevin raises a hand, voice sharp, “You stay right there, home boy.” Avery unzips the bag, and he pulls out a white brick. “This is it. It’s all there.” Silva’s eyes flick over the product, his expression unreadable. He nods, but his feet remain planted, unmoving.

“It’s all you, man,” Kevin says, tossing the brick back into the bag before Avery stows it back in the trunk. “Okay? Now it’s your turn.”

The other man turns toward Silva, and they stare at each other, the silence thick with unspoken tension. Something about the interaction feels off. Avery’s instincts scream at her, her eyes narrowing as she takes in their subtle shifts.

“Kev,” she mutters in alarm.

The word barely leaves her lips before Silva’s man whips around, a glint of steel flashing as he pulls out his weapon.

“Gun!” Adam’s voice tears through the warehouse and chaos erupts.

Kevin moves in a blur, diving behind the car and taking Avery down with him. Her shoulder slams into the concrete, pain jolting through her body as the impact knocks the wind out of her. Bullets tear through the air above them, shattering the car’s windows and raining glass atop them. Her heart hammers against her ribs as Kevin shields her with his body, unable to return fire from his position on the concrete.

The sharp crack of a rifle echoes through the warehouse, Kim taking out Silva’s man from her vantage point above. Silva keeps shooting, not giving anyone a chance to return fire before he turns. The gunfire finally falters and Rojas sprints after Silva as he disappears.

“Got one offender down! Silva’s fleeing on foot—headed right for you, Sarge!” Adam barks into his radio, his weapon trained on the driver.

Kevin is already back on his feet, gun leveled, “Step out! Step out before I light your ass up!”

Taking another second to regain her bearings, Avery finally manages to drag herself upright as adrenaline dulls the ache reverberating through her body. She circles around the car and towards the van, her heart pounding.

Her partner gets there first, yanking the doors open. “No, no, no,” Adam says, his voice rising with each word.

The panic in his tone makes Avery’s stomach twist, realization slowly washing over her. She rushes to look inside, only to be met with… nothing. The van is empty. No Jay. No Angela.

“This can’t be happening,” she whispers, her pulse roaring in her ears.

“Jay and Angela are not in the car. Repeat, we do not have Jay,” Adam calls into the radio.

Avery stumbles back, her hands flying to her head as her fingers twist into her hair. “No,” she gasps, her voice cracking as she blinks back tears. “No.”

“Ave,” Adam calls, stepping toward her cautiously. The raw despair in his partner’s eyes cuts through him. He’s seen it before, just days ago, when he found her covered in blood, shaking with a panic attack. “Avery, it’s okay.”

She shakes her head violently, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps. “Where the hell is he?!” Her voice rises, trembling with a mix of fear and fury. She spins away, needing space, air, anything to keep herself from spiraling. Leaning on the hood of the car, she sucks in shallow breaths, willing herself to focus. But the weight of it all crushes her. Her hands start to shake, her vision tunnels. She can’t breathe. Not again. Her fists clench, and before she can stop herself, she slams them onto the hood with a roar. “Fuck!”

“Yo!” Kevin’s voice cuts through her haze, grounding her. She turns, chest heaving, to see him jogging toward her, urgency etched across his face. “They got Silva.”

Avery stands rigid, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, her eyes fixed on the cage where Voight delivers blow after blow to Silva. Each punch lands with a sickening thud, sending blood spraying across the cracked concrete floor. Voight grabs Silva by the hair, yanking his head back sharply.

“Huh, you done?” Silva sneers, blood trickling from his split lip as he spits crimson onto the floor.

Voight tightens his grip on Silva’s hair like a vice and asks, “Are you talking?”

“Only to my lawyer,” he quips, though his voice wavers, betraying the pain etched into every breath.

Voight arches a brow, unimpressed. “Yeah?” he says, his tone almost conversational.

“He’s on standby,” Silva continues, trying to summon bravado but failing to mask the desperation creeping in. “He’s gonna be making calls, gonna want to see his client.”

Voight’s shrug is almost lazy, detached. “Well,” he says coldly, “maybe his client resisted arrest. Maybe his client reached for my gun, so I had to shoot him in the face.” Without warning, he drives his boot into the bullet wound on Silva’s leg and the man cries out in pain. Voight presses harder before he finally relents, letting Silva’s head fall limp. He slams his fist into Silva’s jaw, the crack echoing in the room. “You are gonna tell me what I need to know,” Voight growls, his voice dropping to a menacing rasp. “Do you understand?”

“Kiss my brown ass,” Silva spits out defiantly, blood dribbling down his chin.

Voight snarls, his arm cocking back for another blow. Before he can strike, Hailey’s voice cuts through the tension.

“Sarge, take a break.”

He hesitates, his hand hovering mid-air. With a grunt of frustration, he holsters his weapon and steps back, his heavy boots echoing on the concrete as he follows Hailey out of the cage. Silva groans, his body slumping against the wall.

From the sidelines, Avery watches the scene unfold, her chest tightening with every second wasted. Why are they stopping? They can’t afford to ease up on Silva—not when time is running out to find Jay alive. Uncrossing her arms, she strides forward, her movements sharp and deliberate.

Silva flinches at the sound of her approaching footsteps. His head lifts just enough to meet her eyes, and a smirk curls across his bloodied lips. “What’s this?” he taunts, his voice rough but laced with mockery as his eyes trace over her form. “You here to play good cop?”

Without responding, her fist snaps forward with brutal precision and connects with his jaw. Silva’s head snaps to the side, a sickening crack reverberating through the room. Before he can recover, Avery leans in, grabbing his face roughly and yanking his head toward her. “Where is he?” she snarls, her voice low and venomous. Her grip tightens with each word, her knuckles whitening.

Silva chuckles through gritted teeth, the sound wet and rasping. “You’re never going to find him,” he growls, his boldness sparking her rage like gasoline on a fire.

Avery doesn’t hesitate. In one fluid motion, she draws her gun and shoves the barrel into Silva’s mouth. The metallic click of the safety disengaging fills the air, and Silva’s wide eyes betray the first real hint of fear. “You don’t know me very well,” she hisses, her tone razor-sharp. The weight of her finger rests against the trigger. All she can hear besides the pounding in her head is Jay’s voice, weak and hurt on the other end of the phone.

Behind her, voices call her name, distant but persistent. Avery ignores them, her focus locked on Silva. Her breath comes fast and shallow as she leans in closer, “I’m not going to ask you again.”

“Avery!” Hank’s voice finally breaks through the haze, sharp and commanding.

Her jaw clenches as she tilts her head, barely glancing over her shoulder. The silent authority in her sergeant’s stance is undeniable, but every fiber of her being resists. After a moment, she exhales sharply, her nostrils flaring as she yanks the gun out of Silva’s mouth. He collapses forward, coughing and sputtering as she re-holsters her weapon with deliberate force. Without another glance at Silva, Avery storms toward Hank, her movements rigid with barely contained fury. His eyes meet hers, concern etched into his weathered features. To her left, Hailey stands stiff, her gaze a mix of judgment and understanding that grates against her raw nerves.

“What?” Avery snaps through gritted teeth.

Hank’s tone is firm but careful, “We have a plan, okay?”

“So do I,” she fires back, her voice trembling with restrained emotion.

Hailey steps in, “I want to find Jay too, but we can’t torture it out of him.” Her eyes bore into Avery, her own pain simmering beneath the surface. She is just as scared, just as angry, but she is trying to be rational. “It’s not going to work.”

“We can try,” Avery bites out, her voice low and dangerous. The air hums with tension as the two women stare at each other, waiting for the other to break while neither bend.

Clearing his throat, Hank steps between them. “We’re running out of time. Hailey’s right—we need leverage. This is the best plan we’ve got.”

Avery’s glare doesn’t falter for a long moment. Her fists clench at her sides, the rage coursing through her veins screaming for release. Finally, she nods, the movement small and reluctant. Without another word, she spins on her heel and stalks up the stairs, her footsteps pounding in her wake.

She doesn’t think about where she’s going. Her legs move on autopilot, carrying her through the district until she finds herself in the gym. The faint scent of sweat and leather fills the air, grounding her, and it’s exactly where she needs to be. The rage simmering in her chest is suffocating, threatening to crack her open, and she needs somewhere to put it.

Her gaze lands on one of the heavy bags swaying slightly from its chain. Without hesitation, Avery walks toward it, shrugging off her jacket and letting it fall to the floor before placing her gun on the bench. She doesn’t bother taping her hands. There’s no time for that, no patience. Truthfully, all she wants right now is a stiff drink. Instead, she plants her feet, winds back her arm, and throws her fist into the bag. The sound of impact reverberates in the empty gym.

I just need to learn how to breathe again, and right now... I can't do that with you in my life.

Her own voice echoes in her head, the memory slicing through her like a blade. Tears sting her eyes as she recalls the look on Jay’s face that day—hurt and dejected, before settling into resigned acceptance. She throws another punch, harder this time. The bag jerks under the force, the motion fueling her.

She told herself pushing him away was the right thing to do. Necessary, for her own sanity. After two years of being gone, it was impossible to fall back into the life she’d left behind—the life she now knows she chose to leave behind. The life she was building with Jay. He moved on, and that was what she needed to do too.

The past pulls at her, unbidden and relentless.

“Hi, I’m looking for Sergeant Voight.”

The voice was firm but polite, confident with just the slightest question. Avery glanced up from the file in her hand, following the sound toward the stairs. Her eyes landed on the man who just spoke, with his black leather jacket and duffle bag slung over his shoulder. She straightened, moving around the desk and taking a few steps toward him, “He’s not here. Can I help you with something?”

“Maybe.” His lips curled into a half-smile, his green eyes sparking with a quiet curiosity as he took her in, “Detective Jay Halstead.”

Punch.

“Ah,” she clicked her tongue, recognition dawning. There was something magnetic about him—an ease in the way he carried himself, like he was meant to be here. A little cocky, but still charming. “You’re Antonio’s golden boy.”

He chuckled, a deep sound that sent a surprising warmth through her chest, “I am?”

“Mhm,” she replied, her lips quirking into a teasing smile. “Undercover for Organized Crime, took out a major player, and took a bullet for his little sister. Pretty impressive résumé you’ve got there.”

Punch. Harder this time.

“Y’know,” Jay raised an eyebrow, biting back a grin, “I’m really feeling a power imbalance here. You know my entire life story, and I don’t even know your name.”

“Well, it really is your lucky day, Halstead,” she quipped, extending her hand. “Avery Clarke. Your new partner.”

Punch. Again.

I can’t do that with you in my life.

The memory burns. Tears flow freely now, streaking her flushed face. Her fists keep swinging, driving into the bag over and over again until the dull thud of impact is accompanied by the sharp sting of her skin splitting open. Blood smears across the leather, but she doesn’t stop.

She remembers the way they fell into rhythm as partners so easily, like they’d been meant to find each other. She remembers when it became more, the moment she realized that he wasn’t just her partner. She remembers when she was drowning after Nadia died, and it took him being taken for her to let him save her from herself. She remembers every single second spent with him.

Avery throws another punch, then another. The bag rocks wildly on its chain, her movements becoming more erratic with each strike. Her shoulders heave with ragged breaths as her anger spills out in sharp bursts, but it’s not enough. Nothing is enough.

Her knuckles throb, blood dripping onto the gym floor, but the pain barely registers. Her vision blurs, her heart pounding in her ears. Her breath hitches as she slams her fists into the bag one last time, collapsing against it as her strength gives out. Her forehead presses against the torn leather, her body trembling with exhaustion. She lets out a broken whisper of his name, almost inaudible in the stillness of the room.

She closes her eyes and all she can hear is his voice, see his face. His crooked smile, the way he used to look at her like she was the only person in the world. It feels impossibly far away now, like a dream she’ll never get back. He has Hailey now. Hailey has a plan. He doesn’t need her.

But even as she tells herself that, her heart screams something else entirely. She loves him. No matter how hard she's tried, she hasn’t stopped, and she’s afraid she never will.

Avery thought she lost him before. But if she loses him now, really loses him, she won’t survive it.

prev . . . next

[detectivekirigirislays]

absence makes the heart grow fonder - la brava, gentle criminal: correlations to bkdk

was gonna post a thread ab this on twt but i dont get much interaction there so i'll post here😭 (excuse my inactivity from posting)

here's why i think this line of la brava and gentle criminal (LB & GC) fit the current relationship of BKDK, and other parallels of both couples ---> an analysis !!

"Absence makes the heart grow fonder"

this is a line both simultaneously said by a canon couple in the series, LB and GC. the line is spoken when the flashback talks about how GC's first wish is to see LB after all the time they've been separated from one another, whilst on LB's end, this line refers to her desire of being by GC's side and how the idea alone already makes her happier than ever.

LB's quirk gives GC a power boost simply out of all her pure love and admiration for him, and in return, he utilizes this power and gains his strength all thanks to LB being by his side.

now, how does the line correlate to bkdk, esp bkg, exactly? well for one: izuku's absence made bkg continuously yearn and await his arrival, even putting his life out on the line if it meant izuku would come back to save them and fulfill his part.

-- it isn't that he is only awaiting for izuku simply for their assigned missions, but because he yearns for him so much that he's willing to put his life out on the line for him, that his last thoughts are all about him and his last words are dedicated to him, that the idea of izuku being by his side was a comforting idea for him, similar to how LB was already content with just being by GC's side no matter what. later on, bkg even somewhat confirms his yearning for competing and being by izuku's side in ch424, where he reveals he had a thought of being by his heels for the rest of their lives.

when bkg revives, he comes back searching for the first person he's been long awaiting to reunite with: izuku. when they lay eyes on each other, they are both finally relieved, content, thankful that they get to be by each other's side in the war. they're in sync, with bkg getting a crazy power boost and izuku understanding him even without any words being spoken as they execute their plan flawlessly.

LB and GC's reunion after so long ended with tears, and bkg and izuku's reunion post-war in the hospital also ended in tears.

"Absence makes the heart grow fonder" --> bkg's personality shift from losing his life for the first time and the possibility of losing the chance to be with izuku, his concern for izuku as he always rushes to him despite his concerning health conditions, dedicating 6-7 yrs of his life leading a proj to bring izuku back as a hero, why? because izuku's absence makes his heart grow fonder for him, it makes the heart yearn deeply for him to return, because just like izuku's devastation losing katsuki, katsuki is just as devastated losing someone so important by his side, as after all, he held onto the idealization that they'd be competing for the rest of their lives, right?

Congrats to bakugo katsuki and la brava for being the ultimate yearners of the show: my hero academia! 😻

[batboopp]

Batman: I Am Suicide- a comic breakdown (how trauma can shape your life)

huge cw for suicidal ideation and self harm! i seriously mean it it’s not even subtle 😭

another heads up, this essay really only talks about one issue, as that’s the only one that really goes into what i want to talk about! maybe i could do a full comic breakdown in the future. <3

(most of this is written whenever i have some of free time, so please ignore if any sentences/paragraphs are incoherent or run on for awhile 😭😭 i hope you like my batman drabbles :D)

It’s common knowledge that both Bruce Wayne and his Batman persona are very emotionally tortured, usually refusing any help or healthy way of processing his thoughts, emotions, and actions. He’s deadset that nothing but Batman, muscles, and pure determination will save Gotham city-therefore saving any child from having anyone taken from them so brutally, the way his parents were taken from him. You don’t have to be a psychiatrist to know that this black-and-white way of thinking is not a healthy way to process trauma, and some may argue that it borders along the line of insanity or mental illness. Although I’m not here to specifically talk about those parts of his psyche, I DO want to talk about how this extreme way of thinking affects-and even shapes-his entire life and personality.

“A kid and a vow. The ears and the belt and the batarangs and the Batmobile and the gargoyle and the roof and the leather and the armor.”

“How sad. How stupid. How immature.”

“How hilarious. How hilarious all of it is. I want to laugh, too. Do you know how much I want to laugh?”

Starting off strong, we can already see that Bruce has SO much self doubt about himself and a sort of awareness of just how absurd his whole mission is, something I personally see a lot of, but I always appreciate when it’s brought up. A thing about Bruce is that if he has a plan or a mission, he WILL get it done no matter how insane it is, and it’s nice that part of his obsessive personality is displayed here. However, even though he puts his whole soul into his Batman mission, he expresses that he can’t help but feel almost desperately hopeless about it. This might be me reaching, but it seems he wants Batman to be this thing he can sort of lessen by laughing it off. This may be surprising to some, but Batman laughing off and joking about his situation isn’t uncommon. In many comics, he makes jokes about horrible things he’s gone through, he cracks puns at his villains and rouges while he’s getting the shit kicked out of him, and most importantly, he laughs a lot at himself. Bruce wants it to just be-less. It’s almost depressingly ironic that he wants (whether subconsciously or not) this symbol of raw hope, justice, and pure dedication he built with so much effort to be less than it actually is. It’s a lot, so much that Batman himself can barely take it.

“After the alley and the gun. And the pearls. What use was I? After the blood on her hand, what use was a little rich kid who’s mommy and daddy got shot?”

“I was pain. That’s all I was. Everything else, every chance given to me, every promise I’d ever made, all of it was pain. And what use is pain? What use is being all pain? It’s not dignified. It’s not kind. And if it’s not dignified and not kind, then maybe it’s not worth anything.”

“Maybe it’s better off as nothing. Gone. Dead.”

Here, we can see that Bruce thinks he’s worthless, to the point he thinks he’d be better off dead. Not only that, you can argue that he sees his own pain as a weakness, and yet he uses it to shape his life. “I was pain, that’s all I was. Everything else, every change given to me, every promise I’d ever made, all of it was pain. And what use is being all pain?” He goes on to say “It’s not dignified and it’s not kind,” which you can infer he’s talking about himself here, with his ‘I am pain’ analogy. He thinks he’s inherently violent and undignified and worthless because of this pain, even though we KNOW he does not see other’s pain as a weakness. In fact, he is normally comforting of people going through hardships, especially to children or those close to him. This is a very common form of self-deprecating behavior, thinking that whatever you’re going through is automatically less important than the well-being of others.

“I was 10. I got one of my father’s razor blades, and I got down on my knees. I put the metal on my wrist. The edge scratching cold. The blood on my hand. And I looked up. To Mother and Father. I told them I was sorry. I was so sorry.”

“I was on my knees in Gotham. And I was praying, pushing my hands together now, the blood and the blade warm between them.”

“I prayed. And no one-

no one answered.

No one answered.

No one answered.”

“I was alone. Like everyone else. Like everyone in Gotham. I saw everyone in Gotham, all of us. We’re all on our knees, our hands together, the blade and the blood warm between them. We pray. And no one answers.”

“I saw. And I understood. Finally. Kindness. Dignity. I let the razor fall, and I understood, it was done. I’d done it. I’d surrendered, my life was no longer my life, and I whispered-

‘I swear by the spirits of my parents to avenge their deaths by spending the rest of my life warring on all criminals.’”

We have a lot to talk about on this panel. To follow up on my third paragraph, I’ll start talking about his absurd amount of empathy, as I feel like it pairs with when I stated Batman cares about the well-being of others more than his own. This extreme sense of empathy and understanding is developed when Bruce describes self-harming over (presumably) his parent’s graves. “I was alone. Like everyone else. Like everyone in Gotham. I saw everyone in Gotham, all of us. We’re all on our knees, our hands together, the blade and the blood warm between them. We pray. And no one answers.” He describes how he ‘saw everyone’ in Gotham. How all of them are going through hardships. How all of them are alone. And that’s when he understood kindness, love, dignity. And, more importantly, when he decided to give up any chance at a normal life and pursue his crusade, his destiny, of becoming the Batman. He says he swore on his parents dying souls, but he knows he swore on his own, too. 

We can also gather that this is the death of his belief in religion, ‘I prayed, and no one answered.’ The correlation with religion and a sense of innocence or fear in Batman comics isn’t unheard of, and I like to think that’s what the writer is getting at here. Batman is a known atheist, and states this multiple times in many different comics. It’s nice to know the exact time his belief in religion died, and that was when he prayed.

In conclusion, I really like this panel because you can just feel the resignation coming from Bruce. He will give up every part of himself if it means another person doesn’t have to suffer, and I think if you want to make the most accurate Batman possible, it’s important to remember that.

“So that’s what it is. The ears. The belt. The gargoyle. It’s not funny. It’s the choice of a boy that chose to die.”

“I am Batman. I am suicide.”

To wrap this up, Bruce states that he is very aware that being Batman would consume his life, would destroy any chance he had at a healthy future, and would obliterate any healthy way of healing from his trauma. He lets this pain, he lets the Batman, build him and his life and he will never let go. It literally fuels him, as you can see him pummel so many soldiers to the ground without breaking a sweat. Pain drives him. The will to be Batman drives him.

hope you enjoyed my shitty essay! please let me know any thoughts, opinions, critiques, or disagreements you might have, i’d love to hear them 

[karinadele]

Object Permanence

pharma x reader, yandere x yandere

music: depeche mode corrupt, judas.

this is a mess from 2nd pov to 3rd and its all my brain vomiting at 2am, maybe i'll flesh it out properly for ao3 eventually

-----

"Leave Tarn."

He tilts his helm slightly. it can't be seen, but he's got a smile on him. He wanted to see more of this tiny creature. Something so small that can be crushed under one pede. Yet it dares threaten him? Intriguing. He takes a step forward.

"Don't you dare. One more step and I'll blow this joint sky high. You decide. Play with a fleshling and lose your lifetime supply of t-cogs, or take your leave and continue what you do."

The pistol was practically half her size, but it didn't matter. She's got both of her tiny arms wrapped around the trigger, her legs bent and spread out to give her leverage. She was not joking, pointed at the clinic's main energon supply line, one shot and all of them- including the patients will go up in flames.

------

desire? obsession? limerance?

it doesn't matter. you respected him enough to let him do his job. but that's because you *let* him. You have no problem sharing him. Only if you allow it. Are these thoughts right? Logically, you know it's not. Therapy? only a crutch. You won't hurt anyone, just him.

And he knows. Takes one insane idiot to know another. He's no different than you. Working away on a patient's energon line, you sit on the console watching him. Both of you wanted each other. But the real game is who will *consume* the other. And you know you'll win.

mc worked with pharma on delphi, it was an encounter like no other. Humans stepping foot on Messatine? unheard of. but you? you're special. Growing up in the hospitals and being a guinea pig for the labs, you're body (allows you to function without oxygen.)

pharma never wanted to work with organics either. he never even expected to see one.

(lore of mc stumbling into delphi when tarn was collecting cogs, and mc threatened the shit out of tarn.)

it was just impulse. you love life too much. specifically, *playing* with it. and theres no better playground than delphi. they were fascinating. giant alien robots that live and breath? truly a work of art. and pharma? living to serve his kind? yet secretly working with the enemy just to save their asses? thats dedication. dedication you want to take.

pharma was facinated by the human. despite a fraction of their size, with quick thinking, managed to go against tarn. and came out without a scratch. he knew that this human was special. one of a kind.

she wanted his wings. to snip them and ground him with her forever. but that would be too easy. he can rebuild it anyways. or maybe *she* can rebuild it. again and again. have him come to her so he can gain his ability to fly again.

she can take his cog, after watching him remove hundreds of cogs, she can permanently take away his transformation ability.

or she can posess him with a simple line of code. a little phrase that will have him forever obey him. sent straight to his neuronet.

but she didnt want any of these. she wanted him to *crawl* to her. to want her. to be obsessed about her as much as she is. his processors were too precious to be tampered. why physically change it when she can twirl him around her finger because he wants her?

she's worked at delphi for months now. always maintained a professional relationship. but pharma knows. he can see the hunger in her eyes. and he's absolutely enamoured. never had a creature taken so much interest in him. everyone respected his work, but never has never taken interest in his *spark*. to the point she's willing to gamble with tarn for him?

but he's also scared. shivers run down his neuro circuits from both excitement and fear. to give himself to such a small creature? Ludacris. his ego won't let it. After all, he's the cmo. *his* delphi. he's the best medic out there. no one is capable of his feats. and no one will control him.

she in the end does put a virus in him, slowly corrupting him to think nothing but her.

unbeknownst to her, he's been poisoning her with a deliriant, so that she'll stay forever in a trance.

[serialsunset]

All the time I wonder why I want so badly for there to be something redemptive in Isaac, some sort of way for him to get a happy ending, something that would make him even deserving of that in the first place.

It goes beyond just appreciating a camp villain who’s evil and doesn’t care (though I also have fun with that). I just want him to be okay and I don’t know why.

Okay the following is just going to be a biblical yap session so I’m putting a cut here

There’s Julia of course, I mean who doesn’t love an evil guy with a soft spot for family. But in all (3) of their canon interactions he’s at best dismissive and at worst abusive towards her. Sure there’s implied stuff, like how he forgave her for running from the castle but wouldn’t do the same for Hector; how he stopped the fight in Cordova town and recalled Abel the second she showed up; the fact that she’s lived in the shadow of the castle for years and has been left alone. But that’s all conjecture, and in the text the only one who seems to care at all about the other is Julia.

There’s also his self-destructive nature. Isaac isn’t kind to himself, he self harms and he hangs naked and vulnerable around the wreckage of his old home. He insists on fighting Hector only when Hector is as powerful as possible, he goes head to head with Trevor and barely scrapes a drop of blood out of him, before deciding later to get as close as possible to him to steal his dagger instead of just killing him from a safe distance. He just clearly doesn’t care that much about his life, and my instinct is to feel bad for him. But, then what? He hurts himself as well as hurting the people around him? Do I feel sorry for him just because he was reckless when going for the kill shot on another extremely beloved character? And again, most of this is just me placing my readings on his actions. If anything, the manga portrays Isaac’s self harm as him just being insane. He’s sitting in the ruined castle, naked, and spying on Hector while he cuts himself, it’s not exactly a sympathetic portrayal of mental illness.

The only thing left I can think of, and kind of the most obvious answer, is that the game exonerates him of his actions pretty blatantly. He’s cursed, there’s a curse that gives you raging vindictive asshole disease and Isaac’s been hanging around ground zero for three years straight. How convenient! Now, it’s mainly Julia championing this point, so you can argue that she’s just biased, but the game seems to treat it like she’s right and even Hector remarks on it at the end, so I’m going to treat it as canon. Isaac got the Evil Curse that makes you Evil and became Evil. So I got what I wanted! Isaac is just a morally neutral guy who became evil against his own will from outside sources, and all he needs is the cure to the Evil disease and he can be redeemed! A perfect sympathetic villain.

But the problem is I really really fucking hate that.

I hate even the implication from the game that the curse is responsible for Isaac’s wrongdoings. I’m fine with Julia coming to that conclusion but it shouldn’t be canon. Taking away any character’s agency in their actions is bad storytelling and if that’s the sole reason Isaac becomes sympathetic I don’t want it, I’d rather he be straight up irredeemably evil of his own accord.

So my main two reasons for wanting to Save Isaac are purely me projecting, and the one that could possibly make sense in the story is one that I reject completely. So why do I still love him and why is he just a poor little baby who needs a hug.

Well, straight up text isn’t the only way to read a story. If that was the case then there wouldn’t be a legion of dorks like me dedicating every waking thought to the stories and the characters of these games. Reading between the lines is how you form a better understanding of the characters. Sure, aside from a few lines saying that it’s not his fault he got Magic Evil Disease the game doesn’t hold your hand and say this boy is good and you should root for him, but you don’t need that. you just need to obsess over things and analyze every single twitch of the mocap actors body until Isaac fits your desired characterization, then you can do all KINDS of stuff with him, like make him a good brother, or force him to work at Walmart (stay tuned).

Also, I identify with Isaac in a lot of ways. He is an other, deemed to be so by society. he can’t help the way that he is and rather than repress it, he goes off to find a place where he can embrace it and better understand it. He presents himself in an extreme way, rejects normalcy and molds himself to look how he wants to, regardless of how anybody will perceive him. And yet despite all of his he struggles with identity, struggles to find a place in the world after the thing he depended on so much is taken from him. He’s also super hot and sexy and cool, just a total knockout, but not like he’s trying to impress anyone or anything, he’s just like that.

So many relatable traits, he is at once someone I aspire towards and someone who reflects the parts of me I wish I could change. I want him to succeed, to get out of his toxic grief cycle and flourish. partly because I want myself to succeed, and overcome the just as important and harrowing obstacles of my own life.

I love Isaac, as a character, as an antagonist, as a little doll that I can dress up and put into different scenarios. And you know what maybe that’s all I really need. I love him and want him to be happy, because I love him and that’s what I want for him. Okay post cancelled I figured it out, only took me 10 paragraphs oh my god.

Sorry this was literal eons long, this is literally just me working through my thoughts in real time

[vickyvicarious]

Like The Dawn by The Oh Hellos is about Adam and Eve but ...Jonathan hospitalized in Hungary with brain fever and mad, seeing Mina, and marrying her

And like the dawn you broke the dark and my whole earth shook

I was sleeping in the garden when I saw you

And like the dawn you woke the world inside of me

You were the brightest shade of sun when I saw you

At last, at last

Bones of my bones and flesh of my flesh, at last

And you will surely be the death of me

But how could I have known?

I wanted to get to this ask on their wedding day, but I'm a bit late. Alas, I wanted that so I didn't have to tag spoilers on this but I'm gonna do it anyway because parts remind me of scenes from later in the book.

This is such a sweet song. Jonathan thinking of Mina as the dawn, the sunlight... I love it. Even before they reunite, the thought of her kept him going. But when they meet again...

You didn't mention the first two lines but I think they work really well: "I was sleeping in the garden when I saw you first / he'd put me deep, deep under so that he could work / and like the dawn you broke the dark and my whole earth shook" Like, "the garden" is a place to grow and heal, it's the hospital! And yet his sleeping wasn't good in this context, he was lost/unaware. Dracula putting Jonathan deep deep under so he could work is quite a twist on how I'm sure that line is meant to be read but I think it works super well. Dracula's work is of course his plans for his trip. Jonathan being deep under referring both to his torment and despair, the attempt at damning him to become a vampire too (his fate if he'd remained in the castle), and finally in the same sense that he is 'asleep'. He's buried in pain and madness and trauma. But then Mina comes in, and she breaks the dark, and his world changes around him to something better.

In the next verse, the line "bones of my bones and flesh of my flesh, at last" is of course a specific reference to Adam and Eve but I think is also a quote used to show how closely linked two people can be? In any case it works excellently for their marriage, for them joining together... The 'at last' is his profound relief and joy at finally returning to her, at marrying her. (It also works so well for the line right before, when seeing her gets two "at last, at last"). This line also works so well in contrast to Dracula's perversion of a 'wedding vow' in his wine-press speech where he says Mina will be "flesh of my flesh; blood of my blood; kin of my kin;" in a moment of horrible triumph. But she's already bones of Jonathan's bones, flesh of his flesh; as she later tells Jonathan their souls "are knit into one, for all life and all time".

So she wakes the world inside of him, she was the brightest shade of sun.... and then after the musical interlude, we get the lines: "at last / and you will surely be the death of me / but how could I have known?" These lines, if anything, take us from their wedding to Jonathan's vow. There's a kind of sad tone to this part which works better there. The lingering 'at last'... If she dies, then she'll be the death of him too because he'll be joining her. The line about 'how could I have known' doesn't actually sound regretful in any way and the song begins to build back up with repetitions of the memory of her being the brightest shade of sun, of her saving him. I think that part works well for his devotion and dedication to follow her even if that sun sets.

[mirroredmemoriez]

Amanda and Cecilia think thonks (THIS IS NOW GENERAL RANDOM SAW THOUGHTS)

“I grifted off his name. Shitting on his legacy was just a bonus I’ll admit that.” - Cecilia on her fathers work/legacy

“It is I who will carry on John’s work after he dies.” - Amanda on John, who basically is her father and his work/legacy.

Don’t know why these lines intrigue me, however I’ve kinda stated before how I find the comparisons between these two interesting. I don’t believe they are perfect mirrors but there are some similarities to look at, alongside their major differences as well. Cecilia uses her fathers name to benefit herself, she takes advantage of it and others to get what she wants. She is aware that what she is doing is wrong and if found out, would tarnish the Pederson name. Whereas if we turn to Amanda, she heavily dedicates herself to continuing John's work and the Jigsaw legacy. However, obviously throughout the Saw franchise, she begins to question his methods and goes against them. One takes advantage, the other is taken advantage of.

“I rob, I steal and I cheat.” - Cecilia

“I’m a murderer. He took my life from me, so I just returned the fucking favour.” - Amanda

They both admit what they're doing isn't correct to a degree. However, neither has or likely will stop what they're doing. Cecilia scams and Amanda rigs her traps to be impossible, in a way her own form of scamming? What I mean by that is, the whole point of the traps is to be a lesson- It's supposed to be escapable, any survivor of it will tell you that... Obviously, there are some places to question the tests/traps even outside of Amanda, but we're not looking at that right now. Anyway! She basically scams people out of a chance of surviving due to her own past experiences. Lynn Denlon in Saw 3 being a perfect example of this really? She died due to the shotgun collar going off yes, but she likely would have anyway due to Amanda shooting her- Which Lynn had already PASSED her test by that point really.

(Honorary Angel Trap mention) I don't think I have to go too in depth about how Cecilia scams people, but she doesn't just take their money. She also in her own way takes their lives- They leave thinking the treatment will help them, spending savings and such when really it's fake. We’ve also got the fact that Cecilia outright murdered Gabriela. This comparison of their characters and the reception to them by the fandom/audience is something I find fun! Yes, people dislike Cecilia for being a scammer, but the main cause of people's hatred that I've seen isn't even what she did to John? At least here on Tumblr, it's the fact that she killed Gabriela.... The reason I find this ''fun'' is because well, Amanda was the one who put Gabriela in that scenario in the first place and yes of course- We have to acknowledge that Gabriela was part of the scamming which is why she was tested alongside her being a drug addict, however at the end of the day I think it's agreed upon that base level, she isn't a terrible person. She did what she did to survive. So I wonder, if Gabriela had just died in her trap, whether there would be uproar about her death? Would people be angry at John and Amanda the same way they are at Cecilia? And to answer my own question, I don't actually think so. I believe this because of the circumstances of death, reactions and the reason why. Cecilia didn't just kill Gabriela whilst she was in her trap, she did it afterwards. She effectively stole her ''second chance'' because of how money hungry she was. Cecilia also showed no remorse for doing such. Then we have Amanda's reaction.

It goes without saying she was likely rooting for Gabriela the entire time, she reminds Amanda of herself for one and she's also distraught because Gabriela did WIN. I see this as a catalyst to Amanda's future behaviour alongside deaths such as when she ''mercy'' killed Adam and then Laura from Saw 2.

I'm also going to drop this link to a previous post I made, which I think fits in to what I'm saying here and possibly adds to other points. (I have a tendency to repeat myself or ramble)

Almost nobody in the Saw franchise is either fully ''good'' or ''bad.'' That's what I like about it, they are people with faults- Some characters have more redeeming qualities/traits, others not so much. The most beloved characters are likely the Jigsaw apprentices (And Adam). At least the MAIN three ones. Which, let's go over their crimes!

Fun fact! These kinds of crimes are the type that would land you in PRISON. It goes without saying that the moral compasses of all 3 of these characters are basically broken or spinning constantly. Yet, as I stated before- Amanda, Mark and Lawrence are some of the fan favourites of the Saw franchise.... And don't get me wrong, I'm an Amanda fan myself for example! However, it's so interesting the reception these guys get compared to other characters in media and generally in the Saw universe. If we go black and white/narrow our views, they are actually the villains at some points. The crimes speak for themselves and generally whilst watching the movies, you're supposed to be rooting for the people to get out of their traps- Not always mind you, but a good percentage of the time. So many people justify their actions due to their backstories, a common thing for villains and or ''bad guys''. It's understandable, because the shit all of them have gone through would definitely leave anybody unhinged... At the end of the day though, that doesn't mean they should be excused. I think I'll end this here because I've gotten so sidetracked? As I always say at the end of something like this, these are all just my thoughts and opinions- Not fact or concrete either, I'm open to discussions with people who disagree with me for example! IF YOU'VE GOTTEN THIS FAR DOWN! THANKS FOR READING, ANYBODY WHO LIKES AND REBLOGS MY RAMBLINGS DO MAKE MY DAY. -MAL OUT