#like there's being a free spirit and there's being a danger to all the other grade schoolers

[thesmokinpossum]

I feel like both the book and the show wants me to dislike/despise John’s girlfriend Ashley but I honestly think she’s one of the least unhealthy character and one of the few I could imagine having a somehow healthy life later so....

[baldudiable]

the strongest astrological placements to have

there are some placements that seem to have a stronger influence on a birth chart. sometimes, the energy of these placements is so big that it overshadows other energies present in the chart.

here are some of them:

virgo venus : this one considerably weakens venusian energy in the chart. people who have this placement are less likely to be interested in having romantic relationships because they are always thinking about their responsibilities or their work. venus is all about socializing, making relationships work and our sense of self-worth. while virgo is all about what needs to be done, how it can be useful, and how things can be improved. virgo is very demanding, both with itself and others. it's focused the negative, which makes this energy difficult to satisfy. this energy makes one humble and self-effacing in order to serve something bigger than itself. even the light of a leo sun — which is the most powerful, is dampened when venus is in virgo.

pisces venus : venus' energy is at its peak when it's in pisces. which is logical since it is the sign of its exaltation. that means that venus' qualities such as love, charm, orc apacity for compromise are expressed with more freedom. this placement can even make strong, independent types such as aries or aquarius susceptible to toxicity or abuse. pisces has a boundless compassion. it sees only the good in people and can sacrifice itself for long before realizing it's being taken advantage of.

leo moon / mercury / venus : the self-expression of an individual with this placement is without limits. this makes one extremely open, even when they shouldn't be. they consider their opinions, thoughts or emotions as extremely valuable. even withdrawn types such as cancer or virgo — who tend to open up only to people they are close to, become open books to complete strangers. leo is all about pride. so when you have this placement, you wouldn't want to hide the things that make you you for anything.

scorpio placements : having scorpio placement makes one extremely secretive. when in foreign territory, scorpio placements become quiet and start observing. they are evasive when asked about their experience. this is a defense mechanism; scorpio placements have been victims to the hands of people they trusted in the past, which has led them to become very suspicious. trust is hardly given for a scorpio. they even keep things away from those closest to them because the person they trust the most with their secrets is themselves. their secretiveness makes them very mysterious and magnetic. they're like a secret you want to bring to light. one thing that is also worth noting is that scorpio energy makes you really obsessive with the object of your desires. you can't rest until you have obtained that thing or person you want, which can become quite dangerous and unhealthy.

capricorn mars : this is mars' exaltation. this makes even the most lighthearted and free-spirited person extremely ambitious and confident in their capacity to reach their goals. mars is about action & capricorn — which is ruled by saturn, is about time and endurance. this person can achieve great heights because they know that to become great, you have to put in the time and effort. their accomplishments and the recognition that they get from them are the things that matter most to a capricorn mars.

leo rising : people this placement is always catching attention and admiration to them without meaning to. which is understandable as they are followed by the sun. they always have something unique about them. maybe it's their elaborate style, their laughter, their dignified air, or the warmth that they exude that makes them stand out. whatever it is, it's always out for everyone to see. it's a placement that has fought very hard to build themselves and their confidence, which has also made them super proud and uncompromising. by almost never letting their guards down, they might lose chances at love and friendship. leo rising is supposed to choose themselves in this lifetime anyway — and they will, even if the rest of the chart says otherwise.

aquarius sun / moon : these ones are so easy to spot. they seem to be from a distant world that no one knows about. there's just this unusual and disconnected vibe to them. wherever they appear, they act differently. their style, manner of speech, or opinions are always opposite to those of the majority. you never know what to expect from these placements, as they are very unpredictable.

aries placements : people with aries placement are assertive and usually don't beat around the bush. they are not scared of causing drama — they actually like it. aries is the first sign of the zodiac which makes these placements kinda childish and impatient. like children, they don't hesitate to express their most random thoughts, even if they aren't appropriate. you can count on them to always tell you the hard truth, because they value honesty above all. these placements can make you active and impatient which makes it difficult to wait for things. but the good thing is that it pushes you to go after their desires instead of waiting for them to magically appear onto your lap.

gemini/sagittarius sun/moon : these people talk a lot. and i mean a looot. it's honesly tiring sometimes. but they usually know what they are talking about as they have taken the time to actually learn it. their curiosity is endless, and so is their desire to spread that knowledge with everyone they encounter. they are always learning about a new skill or subject and trying to become better at practicing or teaching it. you can spot one of these placements when a quiet person finally opens up you, and endlessly talks about their interests with passion & excitement.

capricorn moon : this can placement can dampen someone's self-expression. capricorn moons were forced to grow up quickly and lock away their inner child. they don't express their emotions easily — except for anger, as it's the only one that allows them to feel safe. they weren't really allowed to be vulnerable as children & instead were forced to work and make themselves useful. today they feel this high level of pressure — which is mostly self-inflicted, and that pushes them to use themselves and produce until they are completely and depressed and burnt out. it's hard for these people to let go and actually enjoy life.

[vintagecandy]

Now for the 1920s reimagining of Jonathan Crane ! sorry this explanation is even longer lmao

As everyone's been saying, I should do the rest of the Dork Squad to match 1920s Jervis, and so here is my Jonathan! Easily the hardest to draw out of the three-- but I must say! Despite being outside my expertise, I'm a little surprised how much it looks exactly like I was imagining! Even if it took me ages but that's just procrastination lmao.

Anyways! What is his deal? Well, for one, design wise I did go a more drastically different direction from his usual look by doing a literal scareCROW. He's much more bird like, with a plague doctor mask being common imagery in steampunk, but he's still very southern themed with his messy broken overall strap and patchwork coat. Even his wings are rustic. ( he can't fly just glide btw lol ) Also! I leaned hard into the color orange instead of his usual green gas because it..... bugs me that both Crane and Nygma have a bright green in their color palette. I just want them to have distinct colors if they're going to be a trio. And look how vintage halloweeny he looks !!

So why is he so well dressed out of costume? Well! This Jonathan Crane is not a psychologist at all, here he is the very successful grandfather of horror movies in the silent film era. ( An illustrious origin, i hope canon Crane would be proud lmao ). This is referenced in how his face looks, he's wearing white powder and black makeup that's usually meant to emphasize key features on blurry film like his upper lip and around his eyes. And yes, he just keeps his makeup on during most events, and people just accept he's a little on the... eccentric side.

To me, the archetype of the mad artist fits Jonathan's vibe perfectly. When it comes to striking fear, he's a perfectionist, a trait that drove him to learn every single skill necessary himself, from costume design to props to making his own cameras to mechanical engineering, to.... a "fear gas" that was supposed to gently encourage immersion in the audience but ended up becoming a dangerous chemical weapon.

For his origin crime I am thinking !! Full blown Scooby Doo style monster mystery!! With some nuance! Crane, as a first impression, gives off an immediate air of pompous, aggressively impatient, pretentious director type. His presence is big and dramatic, but its distinctly not southern-- in fact, he seems to play up something between a hollywood accent and a thespian one. But this is all to cover for his farm hick background that he was once very ashamed of.

As a child of a failing farmhand during an infamously dry and dusty era, Jonathan developed an extreme resentment for his country existence from both the bullying of other children for all his strange quirks and the severe verbal and physical abuse of his father, driven to alcoholism by the stress of poverty and the loss of his wife. Originally offering his artistic ideas as a means to help them, he grows sick of their closed mindedness and berating and runs away to learn about the emerging potential of film in Gotham City.

Its been many years, Jonathan now in his early 30s, he finds himself surrounded by the shallow, champagne aristocrats that reflect his childhood bullies. Feeling wrong in his own skin, he develops a sightly unhealthy obsession with the escapism he finds in performing as the monsters in his movies.

But upon discovering that the corrupt rich of Gotham plan to push legislation that would negatively effect farmers like his own history, and that they expected him to be amongst those who support it, his irritation with the shallowness of society reaches its limits. In day, he would feign support for their behavior to cover his tracks, but at night he would don the mask of the Scarecrow, rumored to be the vengeful spirit of a farmer who was hanged, and who he believes to be a more freeing expression of himself than his true face, targeting not just the rich but striking fear in their laborers to scare them off land. And it works. So, he tries bending the will of society more.

Is he doing this out of any moral conviction or just spite and a love for the role? It's... hard to say.

As the Scarecrow, his methods are so effective he's near uncatchable, even by Batman. Its only by solving the mystery of who is under the mask are they able to catch him. They surprise him during one of his screenings, jump him in the dark, and prove his subtle use of fear gas in the theater to the police once he's cornered. Instead of being angry, he goes to the mad house applauding Batman's performance.

What an interesting character they play. He's very inspired.

[diejager]

Ok but like what about Wendigo reader? Maybe the team knows she's not exactly human but maybe in her file it just marked n/a and leaves it at that so they just assume that their sweet little medic is just a helpful spirit of some kind. Humans tend to give her a very wide birth since they seem to notice her as something they should leave the fuck alone, the boys just assume it's because of them always being near her and leave it at that. Till they're all on a mission and it all goes to shit, they're pinned down and then one of them ends up taking a bullet and reader just straight up fuckin losses it and next thing they know their is a 10 ft tall fuckin deer monster shredding bitches like their made of PAPER MACHE and EATING THEM, once the dust settles it moves towards them and slowly it shifts into their sweet medic but she is covered in blood and she just casually starts treating their wounds and the team is just like "Well mark me down as scared and horny" (if this makes no sense feel free to ignore)

Stag

Pairing: Monster 141 + Horangi & König x Wendigo!reader

Cw: cannibalism, human eating, greed, blood, canon-typical violence, tell me if I missed any. Wc: 2k (A/N): I felt a bit burnt out so I’m sorry if it’s bad, I reread it just in case, but it still feels bad.

They say that human greed is the source of evil, the all-consuming hunger for more —more than they need. Hunger drives humans to do the unspeakable, to break the line humanity had drawn and commit the taboo. Despite it being carved so deeply into the human psyche, passed down from generation to generation and the propaganda of humanism and equality, it doesn’t take much to make someone tip over, cross the edge nobody dared to and perform the unspeakable. Possession causes needs and needs cause greed.

That’s why people called to him for help, to carry out a clandestine mission to do their dirty work, his duty was to stop whatever men in power started, whatever men in power lost control —he was the one sent when they were scared. Fear was as coercive as power was. That was the reason Task Force 141 was first founded, to stop dangerous men like Hassan (Gaz remembered hearing from Soap that Ghost shot Hassan through the head, straight through him before he slumped down.) and Makarov, a man they were still searching for while signing a liaison contract with KorTac. Price, with Laswell’s help, managed to put the best of the best together: a wraith, a werewolf, a dragon, a harpy, a nagual and a cadejos vessel, all decorated with various medals for their work, and then there was you.

You were a mystery, even to Price who usually had clearance for anyone who joined them. Gaz knew, from a single glance, that you were far from human, you were a monster like Ghost was, turned after an occasion, or a hybrid like him. Surprisingly, Ghost seemed to welcome you warmly, albeit standoffish, having worked with you in the past, seeing that you both preferred working alone. Gaz wanted to show you the same heartwarming welcome as Ghost had, but there was something about you, an uneasiness he felt when he was around you. The others felt it as well, the innate need to keep their distance from you and the instinctual fear that had the hairs on their arms raised. Gaz could feel your eyes whenever you stared at him, like the eyes of a predator stalking its prey —it made him feel perturbed.   

You seemed so human, yet so inhuman-like, your dull, thousand-yard stare, your inability to feel temperature (either cold or warm, you always wore the same clothes), your odd habits and your unusual calmness in every situation. Gaz had caught you staring at a private for much longer than what people considered normal, eyes glazed over and dilated as if you were seeing something else, daydreaming while being aware of your surroundings. Those were your moments, you were usually bubbly, always smiling at him whenever his eyes met yours or treating him with gentleness and always eager to help him. You had a softness to your being despite the eerie feel to you and your unique tendencies, you didn’t discriminate, nor did you show an ounce of hate towards hybrids and humans, treating everyone fairly. 

Although you tried to fit in as best as you could, there were things that Gaz and the others just couldn’t shake off without questioning things. There was the lingering scent of blood on you, a metallic tang that stuck on his tongue after you walked by. König and Soap had confessed that they had a feeling that blood was a part of your scent, unwashable and impossible to hide, it clung to you like a second skin. They chalked it up to you being the Task Force’s medic, having brought people back from the brink of death and stitching men back together, you were practically bathed in the smell of blood and death every day. 

Another thought was that they never saw you in the Mess hall for food, perhaps a cup of tea or a hot mug of coffee to boost you through a long shift in the infirmary as the base’s main medic if you weren’t deployed with them. Gaz never saw you eat, not once had he seen you hold a plate or bowl with substance for yourself. You would bring either of them a plate, caring for them whenever they were under your watch, giving them soup or anything that they could easily digest. 

Gaz, Soap, Rudy and Horangi would chatter about you, throwing speculations on your breed, to see what hybrid or monster fit all your characteristics. You couldn’t be a wraith, your hands weren’t painted with death, a dark miasma that clung to you. You weren’t a werewolf, Soap would know, wolves were able to smell and recognize each other, it was an instinctual aspect of him. You weren’t any shifting hybrid either, there would be signs, little cues if you were one, and your classification wouldn’t be classified, painted over with a red line. 

All they could was wonder and amble around with curiosity dripping from their tongues. Gaz was sure that he’d find out soon enough, whether it was an accident or your choice.

This wasn’t what Gaz meant by eventually, he didn’t mean being set up by Konni, a trap planted for them in the small Belgium town. It was the best set to box them in, a broken and ransacked ghost town that people fled from, walls greyed and cracked, the paint peeling off street lights and rusted metal poles, lost, forgotten and open. There didn’t have any cover, even if they ran and hid behind the crumbling walls, Konni had them surrounded on every end, concealed behind concrete walls and using the shadows to hide from sight. 

It was chaotic, Konni had pushed them into an open area of the town, the centrepiece of it with a dilapidated, Greek fountain, chipped on the sides and green with mould, Gaz would’ve admired the architecture and the beauty it must’ve been in the past when it was still being cared for. They were backed up in a corner, Gaz couldn’t even stretch his wings out with how tightly they were packed together, the uncomfortable pull of his trapezius and the strain in his limbs kept him grounded. The tension was thick, palpable, Gaz could taste it in the air as much as anyone could, their shoulders tense, fingers tapping the trigger of their rifles. All they could do was wait for Konni to act first, to see where they would appear from and work their way out of this open area from there. 

He had his back towards you, he couldn’t see you but he could feel you shake. It might’ve been from the adrenaline pumping through your veins or the nerve of being lied to, of falling into a trap when Ghost had voiced his suspicions about the lack of clearer intel. They were paying for their amateurism. He felt you shudder, breath stuttering, near panting with exhaustion. Gaz wanted to turn to you, words soothing your nerves and twitchy appearance, he acted letting drown in your mind, whatever it was, he hated it. His finger twitched on the trigger, jolting at the sudden crack of bones, an ugly and painful sound that made him wince. It shocked everyone, even the ever so silent and stoic Ghost who had a hard time hearing these cracks coming from you.

Damn this mission; damn the trap; damn this situation, Gaz needed to look at you, to see why your bones were breaking and limbs rattling. Instinctively, his wings shifted to cover you, the ends widening to cover your sides to protect you from whatever pained you, yet you didn’t let out a single squeak, no moan of pain or the grunt of suffering, you were silent. A part of his mind nagged at him to move, he could fly and try to outrun Konni mercenaries to find a way out, but then he’d leave your back open. He cursed lowly, teeth sinking into his lower lip in frustration, he was-

A loud screech thundered through the air, and screams and squelches followed it. You were missing. 

You were shaking just a second ago, body wracked with some unknown ailment and the next, you were missing, your sack, attire, rifle and helmet were scattered on the ground, with a bony creature tearing through Konni ranks. The hair on his neck rose, an uneasy feeling overtaking him as he watched the creature rip men in half, tines stabbing through their torso like a buck fighting another, head lowered and antlers pointed forward. He watched the tall and thin monster move around, its face was one of a deer’s skull, eaten clean of skin and flesh, any muscle or fibre gone with whatever transformation it took. A crown of antler adorned its head, tall and imposing, as pale as its skull, a coat of black fur was wrapped around the neck, draping down the back like a ridge of fur. 

“Fuck,” Gaz hissed, his body moving along the chaos the being created and your disappearance, he aimed his rifle and shot at the Russians who ran out of their hiding, fearful of the monster’s sudden arrival behind their ranks. “Captain! Is that-?”

“Don’t know anymore!” Price seemed to be as lost as Gaz was, reining in his confusion to focus on taking Konni out. “Keep your head in the game, Gaz; ask questions later.”

Gaz knew Price was right, the town was brimming with Russian ultranationalists, hiding and waiting for their time to jump at them. The situation was still chaotic, but it was better than being without cover. Gaz followed Horangi behind a wall, watching his back while they worked through the humans.

Somehow, Konni either retreated or were all dead, swallowed down by the beast that stood before them. Now that Gaz was standing so close to it - to you, after a few minutes of talking back and forth, they concluded that this was you from the pants that hung from your slim hips - he could see that the deer skull was just a mask covering your face, black and unidentifiable with those bright, gleaming eyes that stared down at him. Despite your curved back, bent to look at them, you towered over everyone, even König seemed small beside you, limbs almost as long as you, fingers tipped with blood that you were still licking off, a long tongue wrapped around your digit to clean yourself from blood, muscle and guts. 

You were casually cleaning yourself up like a cat washing, even in the aircraft, you were gorging on the body of a man you picked up, jaw opening to show them the dozen of teeth before you clamped down on the forearm, tearing into the muscle with famished intent. None of them could take their eyes off you, their sweet, smiley medic who sometimes had their moments, devouring a man without batting an eye, obliviously uncaring of their staring. Gaz wasn’t sure if he knew how he felt, a warmth building up in his chest, a heat that seared into the fibres of his beings like an infectious thing. All they did was watch you eat, no one speaking until you finished your meal.

“Mind tell us what happened, Hunter?” 

You perked up, blinking at Price owlishly, tongue lolling out to lick up the stray drop of blood that stuck on your skull’s teeth. Your chest rumbled, a soft growl rolling off your body while you tilted your head, you acted so much like a feline, grooming, reacting and moving like a curious cat, dangerous, yet so appealing. 

“Wendigo,” you rasped, voice breathy and weak, you spoke in broken English, unable to speak fluently after turning, “Curse, eat human.”

Your little mannerism, the small tilt of your head and your fumbling hands, seemingly embarrassed or ashamed after your show of ruthless hunger and savagery was… eye-opening. Something stewed inside him, your being creating a ripple in his heart, pulling at the hunger in the depth of his gut. He was torn by the fear of having you as the potential enemy and the arousal of seeing you break men in half, painting the ground in crimson and guts, and satiating your hunger - craving - with human and monster flesh. 

Gaz was fucked, both in the head and the situation. 

Taglist: @craxy-person @crowbird @dead-cipher @iwannabealocalcryptid @iizx7y @mxtokko @yeetusspagheetus @capricorn-anon @perfectus-in-morte @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @tallmanlover @distracteddragoness @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @konigsblog @havoc973 @angelcakes-22 @cassiecasluciluce @ramadiiiisme @ramblingsofachaoticthinker @ki-cant-spel @im-making-an-effort @love-dove-noora @jinxxangel13 @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @mul-pi @danielle143 @virginalsacrifice

[lightyaoigami]

☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ how to resume ⋆｡ﾟ☾｡⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎ ﾟ

after 10 years & 6 jobs in corporate america, i would like to share how to game the system. we all want the biggest payoff for the least amount of work, right?

know thine enemy: beating the robots

i see a lot of misinformation about how AI is used to scrape resumes. i can't speak for every company but most corporations use what is called applicant tracking software (ATS).

no respectable company is using chatgpt to sort applications. i don't know how you'd even write the prompt to get a consumer-facing product to do this. i guarantee that target, walmart, bank of america, whatever, they are all using B2B SaaS enterprise solutions. there is not one hiring manager plinking away at at a large language model.

ATS scans your resume in comparison to the job posting, parses which resumes contain key words, and presents the recruiter and/or hiring manager with resumes with a high "score." the goal of writing your resume is to get your "score" as high as possible.

but tumblr user lightyaoigami, how do i beat the robots?

great question, y/n. you will want to seek out an ATS resume checker. i have personally found success with jobscan, which is not free, but works extremely well. there is a free trial period, and other ATS scanners are in fact free. some of these tools are so sophisticated that they can actually help build your resume from scratch with your input. i wrote my own resume and used jobscan to compare it to the applications i was finishing.

do not use chatgpt to write your resume or cover letter. it is painfully obvious. here is a tutorial on how to use jobscan. for the zillionth time i do not work for jobscan nor am i a #jobscanpartner i am just a person who used this tool to land a job at a challenging time.

the resume checkers will tell you what words and/or phrases you need to shoehorn into your bullet points - i.e., if you are applying for a job that requires you to be a strong collaborator, the resume checker might suggest you include the phrase "cross-functional teams." you can easily re-word your bullets to include this with a little noodling.

don't i need a cover letter?

it depends on the job. after you have about 5 years of experience, i would say that they are largely unnecessary. while i was laid off, i applied to about 100 jobs in a three-month period (#blessed to have been hired quickly). i did not submit a cover letter for any of them, and i had a solid rate of phone screens/interviews after submission despite not having a cover letter. if you are absolutely required to write one, do not have chatgpt do it for you. use a guide from a human being who knows what they are talking about, like ask a manager or betterup.

but i don't even know where to start!

i know it's hard, but you have to have a bit of entrepreneurial spirit here. google duckduckgo is your friend. don't pull any bean soup what-about-me-isms. if you truly don't know where to start, look for an ATS-optimized resume template.

a word about neurodivergence and job applications

i, like many of you, am autistic. i am intimately familiar with how painful it is to expend limited energy on this demoralizing task only to have your "reward" be an equally, if not more so, demoralizing work experience. i don't have a lot of advice for this beyond craft your worksona like you're making a d&d character (or a fursona or a sim or an OC or whatever made up blorbo generator you personally enjoy).

and, remember, while a lot of office work is really uncomfortable and involves stuff like "talking in meetings" and "answering the phone," these things are not an inherent risk. discomfort is not tantamount to danger, and we all have to do uncomfortable things in order to thrive. there are a lot of ways to do this and there is no one-size-fits-all answer. not everyone can mask for extended periods, so be your own judge of what you can or can't do.

i like to think of work as a drag show where i perform this other personality in exchange for money. it is much easier to do this than to fight tooth and nail to be unmasked at work, which can be a risk to your livelihood and peace of mind. i don't think it's a good thing that we have to mask at work, but it's an important survival skill.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ good luck ⋆｡ﾟ☾｡⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎ ﾟ｡⋆

[zelmyna-dragonheart]

I don't normally scream about other people's rottmnt au on here, but @somerandomdudelmao 's Cass Apocalypse Au is driving me up the wall, and I have words!!

Everyone who is reading the series knows it is currently in the process of Casey Jr. resurrecting his uncle/dad's.

Theory Time!

First off, let's go into why Casey can do this.

Yes, Cass has confirmed that the memory spell that was used was mixed with a time travel one. Thus, using one's memory's as a gateway to not only traverse time but dimensions.

However, Casey Jr. is able to see spirits when he does this but also remains physically in the present - which leads me to think that he is being astroprojected across time and space as a literal spirit. Hence why he can visit his memories and the past without altering the events on a physical level. As a spirit, Casey Jr. can see and engage with other spirits in existence at that time.

In the powers of spirit to spirit interaction, he is the only person alive who can literally pull other spirits through dimensions. With his body anchored in one time branch and his memories anchored in the other one, Casey Jr. Is the literal bridge for spirits to cross from one to the other.

No matter the condition of the spirit.

Theory #2

Cass has shown us F.Mikey communing with his ancestors when Donnie originally pasted on. It also was largely suspected the krangg could destroy ninpo and spirits.

With the Hamatos, spirits and ninpo are consister linked if not one. So, of course, when Casey Jr. travels back to his past in his time branch and is able to intact and unintentionally pull Donnie's disintegrating spirit into and out of time with him; Casey Jr. effectively saved Donnie's ninpo. Immediately after his recuse, Donnie admits that his NINPO is in shambles and that he is doing everything in his power to hold it together.

With this confirmation in mind, let's have a look at the conditions surrounding the other turtles' ninpos and spirits.

First off, Raph

Raph's spirit and ninpo were perfectly healed and intact with in the robot body Donnie created for him. The only thing is that Raph's 'body' could be turned activated or shut down. Like a Fullmetal Alchemist parallel, Raph's soul, spirit, and ninpo are housed within a metal container. In episode two or three, when Casey Jr. found the robot, Raph was reactivated after an emergency shutdown that lasted YEARS.

His ninpo and spirit woke up. Know that, shutting himself down again to allow his generator to be redirected as a power source would not kill Raph but rather put him to sleep. He would never die but remain suspended for all time, trapped in his metal shell until someone reactivated him.

This made Raph not only be the easiest but most accessible spirit for Casey Jr. to rescue. Raphs' spirit would have remained there, in perfect condition, for however long it took for Casey to get to him.

Now, let's look at Mikey.

This old mystic warrior was the most in tune and most powerfully adept with his abilities. Drained he may have been, Mikey said that opening a time gateway would use whatever he had left. His mystic powers and ninpo are linked. Opening the time gateway was a strain on his spirit, his ninpo. He was literally splintering apart as he opened the portal. In Mikey’s moment of death, he pushed the last of his ninpo in the portal. His ninpo burst like a firework.

At this point of this written theory, Mikey's has not been rescued.

This leads me to speculate the condition and difficulty of said rescue for one Casey Jr. Mikey's soul is untrained by Krangg's chemical warfare, so it is not in danger of disintegrating but nor is his soul bound to a metal shell, his spirit is actually free to reform and rejoin his Hamato clan.

This leaves Casey Jr. vary little time to connect with Mikey's spirit. There is the option that he will witness Mikey's ninpo shattering into a million pieces. However, he may also be witness to Mikey's ninpo, in stark contrast to Donnie rapidly decaying ninpo spirit, pull back together. In glorious younger self. All golden and whole.

All that training and usage of his ninpo would have given his spirit and ninpo the ability to reform faster than one that was infected with a ninpo-distorying illness. This moment, where Mikey spirit lingers before ascending or choosing to join with his ancestors, Casey would have to approach.

Then again... Mikey could also rather stick around and wait for Leo to join him.

Option 2 is that when Mikey explodes, Casey Jr. would have to act fast to catch the ninpo pieces upon explosion. I like option number one a lot better.

Regardless, Mikey could be a time sensitive rescue. Mikey is quite literally a wild card in this realm.

This brings us to Leo.

Can you see where I'm going with this?

It's not a secret that Casey has related to Younger Leo about how his future self was a shield for Mikey's ninpo.

F.Leo is shown to have sacrificed the use of his ninpo, or lack there of, to draw the Kranggs apparently one-time-use ability to lock or damage ninpo/magic on to himself to free Mikey to mystically blast Kranggs to oblivion. In contrast to Mikey's fully intact Hamato ninpo, Leo's utterly demolished ninpo is in full view for us to see .

How it got way we can only speculate - but it may have been sacrificed to help Mikey originally and never fully recovered. F.Leo even claimed once, after using his ninja skills of speed to confuse and irritate Krangg into using that ninpo destroying sonic wave they have, that he had no magic or anything for them to destroy.

So here is the thing. If a Hamato spirit and ninpo are one in the same... where does this leave Leo's spirit? His soul? His ninpo? It's all in pieces, broken, destroyed. Claimed to no longer exist. But the pieces remain.

They are pieces in a container. Like how Raph's spirit and ninpo were contained in metal, Leo's broken ones were still collected together within his living body.

So what happens when Leo's body is incinerated by that krangg's beam death? Like his twin, Leo’s spirit has been affected by the krangg and was unable to heal. There is no holding himself together here. He is most likely already like clear glass like pieces on the breeze or scattering in the wake of the after math. Destined to fade from existence.

He's the most likely to join his Hamato ancestors immediately, but without the ability to pull his ninpo together on his own, Leo would take time to reform with the Hamoto Clans help.

If Casey is to save Leo's ninpo and spirit at all, he would have to find away to collect the pieces of Leo's shattered ninpo once the beam hits.

Another problem, if Kraggs technology has the effect of destroying one's spirit, Casey's astroprojected spirit could be in danger if that death beam gets too close. He wouldn't be able to save his sensai and himself if that is in the way and active.

Saving Leonardo's shattered spirit and ninpo would not only be near impossible, but a definite risk to Casey Jr.'s own spirit. Astroprojecting his spirit still puts put's his life in clear physical danger of coming in contact with spirit damaging tech. Saving any remnant of his sensai's spirit and ninpo is going to acquire a plan. Or dumb luck.

That being said... Donnie is our evidence that even in pieces, Leo could be saved. Casey Jr. would have to get dangerously close to the death beam. That or stand among the lingering pieces of Leo's soul as they float for a moment in the aftermath. In any instance, all Casey Jr. would need to do is come in contact with any of these spirit partials, and they would all be sucked up in to him.

Unfortunately, I'm not sure Leo's broken spirit would be overly responsive to any of Casey' Jr. 's concerned shouts, if at all. But Casey would be able to feel him.

On returning to the present, we know from Donnie that krangg effects are left behind. This would result in two ways of Leo being resurrected.

1. On returning to the present, Casey would scramble for the cloning tube and instantly deposit the ninpo fragments. Leo would return with a new body shell for his broken bits. In this case, Leo would probably be comatose for a good long while until his pieces, now cleansed from anything krangg, reform and heal in safty.

2. Leo's ninpo is too weak to transfer into his clone and takes refuge in Casey instead until his cleansed ninpo pieces find a way to pull together. Maybe with help from Mikey?

Also, could Casey house two Hamato souls at once? Since Mikey and Leo practically died at the same time.

Because to wrap horribly long theory thread, I would almost expect a spirit Mikey to tell Casey's to grab Leo first then come back for him as Mikey's spirit is safe in the aftermather of the death beam. If Casey housed two Hamato spirits at once (headache just thinking about it), then Mikey mystic warrior aspect could collect and even help mend Leo's shattered ninpo.

But in conclusion, F. Leo is the most at risk and dangerous Hamato spirit to rescue. Logic states that there would be a possibility that F.Leo may never get rescued and be a lonely turtle spirit with his ancestors after. However, this is Cass's Au and Donnie of all people is defying logic. So I predict that some kind of Dumb Luck option from above will be Leo's saving grace. I just feel Casey Jr. is going to have a few singe marks on his soul to tell about when all this is said and done.

TL:DR - Raph was the easiest turtle to rescue as his spirit was stuck in a tin can. Mikey is a wild card in terms of spirit condition, but saveable on a time limit. Leo is the most riskiest and dangerous to save with a broken ninpo.

Casey Jr. and Donnie have no fear.

Live on future turtles!

[mrs-gauche]

On a more serious note regarding the "Solas is like the devil on your shoulder constantly trying to make you make bad decisions".. I think @corseque made a good point, in that Fen'Harel in Dalish legends is known for giving cunning advice that, in true trickster fashion, may lead to a helpful outcome, but always at a cost or in a twisted way. We talked about how Solas might try to prevent Rook from trusting their companions because of his own issues/experiences with betrayal or that he might try to use Rook as a piece on his own "chess board".

But I think this also goes back to the mage origin in DAO and you being tested by Mouse, a pride demon, and how the greatest danger of the Fade is, after all, careless trust. I'm also thinking back to this banter between Solas and Vivienne, in which she literally said that he "sounds like a pride demon" trying to tempt you to "leave the path". Or Cullen saying that no demon will ever possess him because he is "too much like they are". Given that Solas literally translates to Pride and the Dread Wolf itself being described as a pride demon, this "devil on our shoulder" might end up being like one big test for us to pass throughout the story, much like the Harrowing in Origins. And building on that, there's also still this crucial piece of dialogue from Solas himself, talking about the perception of spirits and demons:

"The Fade reflects the minds of the living. If you expect a spirit of wisdom to be a pride demon, it will adapt. And if your mind is free of corrupting influences, if you understand the nature of the spirit, they can be fast friends."

In DAI, Solas was already a reflection of how you treat him. If it's true that, what the devs seem to be hinting at, we actually get to learn and see what happened in the ancient past and who Solas was before he "called himself Pride" (keeping in mind that Rook doesn't know anything about Solas as a person at the start of DA4), and we come to "understand his true nature"/original purpose/true name, then the above quote might be an analogy for how the relationship between Rook and Solas can develop and how we can influence Solas' character arc (on top of the relationship between him and the Inquisitor already having a huge impact on him?).

And if you think about it, it's so brilliant how they seem to put a spin on the whole thing now, by having the "pride demon" be the one who needs to trust the one who dreams. Or rather, expecting the pride demon to be a spirit of wisdom, and not the other way around.

The idea that Rook challenging/rivaling Solas by going against his "devil on our shoulder" advice/proving him wrong/"pass the test" and not expecting him to be that pride demon after Rook comes to understand his true nature/original purpose, could lead to him being more likely to "adapt", open up and learn how to trust again is so beautiful to me, but that could also mean a challenge for us Solas fans if we have to (at least in the beginning) bump heads with him in order to see that development. 🥲😂 Either way, Solas is truly in for the most intense kind of therapy session.

[gor3-hound]

ETERNITY — SUGURU GETO

a/n: hiii !! first geto fic on this account maybe?? shocker bcs i love him so bad... commission for @nexysworld !! love her so bad, pls check her out <3

cw: 18+ content, father-daughter incest, possessive behaviour, sheltered reader, mildly dubious consent, yandere-ish themes, very teeny tiny amount of religious themes, too. p in v, creampie, brief choking

Suguru Geto is not a man you would consider to be unkind, but there was very little affection within his actions. Your father was often patient with you - strict, but forgiving. When he touched you, it was always cold and clinical; always born out of necessity. 

Your mother had always been irrelevant to him, nothing more than a means to an end. That just so happened to be you, his daughter, and one and only heir. He had sensed the cursed energy within you the moment you were born, and he took you in to raise you on his own. He had no need for that woman anymore - she had served her purpose and bestowed him with a gift greater than any other.

Your life was free of troubles. Perhaps you did not get to play with the village children, but that was alright. You were allowed to play with the others within the compound. His followers were always kind to you, if not somewhat on edge in your presence. You did not understand it then, but now you realised the apprehension they held did not stem from your actions, but from fear of upsetting your father. You had been sheltered, yes, but you found you did not crave much else. You were well-fed, well looked after… It was hard to feel caged when the compound was all you had known.

Your youthful naivety could not last forever, and Suguru knew this. He dreaded your growth with each passing year, waiting for the questions that would come. He could keep you from the outside world, but he could not keep the outside world from you. He had many visitors, people looking to be cured of their ailments. He could keep you from watching these interactions, but he could see the way your curious eyes shone as you watched them come and go.

You asked him about the outside world only once, shortly after he had ‘cured’ a young child. You had been excited to see someone closer to your age, but his words quickly shut you down.

“The child has been plagued with demons,” He had told you simply, eyes cold as he glanced down at you. “I can keep them at bay, yes. But it would not do you well to socialise with others such as him. They will corrupt you.”

It had not convinced you entirely, and he could see that in your eyes. With a small frown, he kneeled before you, tilting his head to the side. “I extracted one from him. Would you like to see it?”

You nodded, as expected. Hopeful curiosity glimmering in your eyes, the idea of being shown something new and dangerous exciting to you. He sighs, allowing the cursed spirit he had absorbed free. He had no worry - he knew it was safely under his control. But he could see the fear in your eyes as it stalked towards you, the way you instinctively backed up, glancing at your father for protection.

“Daddy-” 

He lets its maw open inches from your body, the acrid stench of its breath filling the room as it goes to attack. He watches, unblinking, as you tremble and beg for his help, tears streaming down your face. Even still, he waits a few more seconds before driving his cursed tool through the spirit, exorcising it with ease.

“Do you see now why I cannot let you outside? It is far too dangerous for you.” You nod, clinging to him as you sob into the fabric of his robes. He lets you, holding you close to him. “I do not wish to see you hurt. Promise me you won’t ask to leave the compound again.”

“I promise.”

The years pass, and you do not dare mention leaving the compound again. Even as you reach adulthood, the memory of the demon you faced as a child keeps you biting back any requests of more freedom.

Something in your father has changed - you’re not sure what it is, but it leaves you with a lingering sense of unease whenever you cross his path. His gaze has become sharper, watching your every movement like he’s waiting for something. What it is, you’re unsure of. Your pulse is constantly racing when you’re forced to be in his proximity for more than a few seconds, but your brain can’t register what it is about him that’s making you so tense.

Your realisation comes to you slowly. You’ve seen that look before in some of them men that have wandered around the compound. Not directed at you, but you’re able to identify it all the same. 

Hunger.

Your realisation doesn’t come with any changes in his actions, but you can see in the subtle curve of his lips that he knows. He can sense that you act differently around him. Geto is an intelligent man, and it’s clear he planned for you to find out from the start. Months pass by without any changes in routine. You rarely see your father unless he deems it necessary to address you, his followers often being the ones responsible for ensuring you attend meals and stay within the compound.

Then, suddenly, he comes to you.

It’s the middle of the night when he wakes you with a gentle caress on your cheek. It’s one of the most affectionate touches he’s given you since you were a little girl, fingertips gently brushing over your cheekbones. When you meet his eyes, your heart stops beating for a moment.

His gaze is anything but kind. His jaw is set tight, and in that moment you realised how naive you were to think ignoring his glances would be enough to keep him at bay. Seeing your eyes widen with fear is enough for a sharp grin to spread across his face, his hand shifting to grasp at your hair, tilting your head back harshly.

“You're looking so beautiful these days, sweetheart.” Suguru murmurs, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck, free hand grasping at your hip. “I thought about resisting my impulses, but it’s as if you were made to tempt me. Pure, kind, beautiful. Forbidden fruit is always said to be the sweetest, but I had never thought temptation would come to me in the form of my very own daughter.”

You stiffen under him, hands pushing at his chest. He tuts disapprovingly, his fingers slackening as he pulls his hand from your hair. Suguru slides his fingers down the side of your neck, delicately wrapping around your throat before he squeezes.

“Shh, calm down. It’s only me, bunny.” He purrs the nickname, one he has not used in years in an attempt to soften you, It works, momentarily, but your muscles still feel fraught with tension. He leans down, fingers tightening around your neck in a warning as he presses his lips to yours.

His mouth is hot against yours as he kisses you. He keeps the pace leisurely, almost teasing as he presses his chapped lips against yours, tongue coaxing your lips open. The hand on your hip slides under your shirt in a way that makes you jolt, immediately breaking the kiss.

“Daddy, wait-”

Suguru scoffs, raising a brow at you. “That makes you sound so childish. You're a big girl now, aren't you?”

“D-Dad?” You correct, feeling yourself squirm under his harsh gaze.

“Better.” He breathes out, lowering his head once more to lathe his tongue along the flesh of your throat, licking hotly at your quickening pulse beneath the skin. The hand on your bare slides higher, dragging the fabric of your shirt up until he’s cupping your breast, thumb brushing gently over your nipple. You gasp softly at the pleasure it brings, something that brings an unfamiliar heat searing through your veins as wetness pools in the gusset of your panties.

He grins at the gasp he draws from your lips, teeth gently nipping at your skin as he releases your throat. His thumb flicks over your nipple once more as he drags his other hand down, moving to feel the wetness seeping through your underwear.

“I promised I’d protect you, bunny, and I meant it.” He murmurs, tracing a finger down the middle of the dampened fabric. He feels you tremble as he brushes over your clit, so he presses down gently to hear you whimper.

“I meant it,” he repeats, “I won’t hurt you, I just want you to feel good. You trust me, don’t you?

It’s a question, but it sounds more like a threat. You felt that familiar sense of unease in the back of your mind. You hadn’t experienced these things before, but you weren’t clueless.  You knew this was wrong, that he shouldn’t be touching you like this, but as his thumb replaces his finger so he could gently rub circles into your clit, your apprehension melts.

“Good girl.” He praises, words smooth and sweet. His fingers hook in the waistband of your panties, and he slowly slides them down your legs. His eyes hone in on your cunt, slick with arousal that he caused. “Look at you.”

Shame burns your face as you close your thighs, attempting to hide yourself from his view. Suguru grabs your knees, prying your thighs away before sliding his body between them to keep them from closing again.

“What’s wrong? You said you trusted me, bunny. Why are you trying to hide from me?”

“I wasn’t, I… I’m sorry.” You reply, gaze dropping nervously. Your heart pounds almost painfully in your chest, feeling more ashamed for disappointing your father.

“I don’t want to punish you, darling. Don’t you want to be good for me?” He says quietly, his tone almost condescending. He doesn’t wait for a reply before he sinks a finger into your tight cunt, a groan rumbling his chest as he feels you squeezing the digit. “Such an innocent little thing. So tight and wet.”

Suguru pulls back briefly only to remove his clothing, settling between your legs once more. His thumb presses down the base of his cock, allowing himself to align the tip with your dripping hole. “This may hurt at first, but you need to relax for me. Can you be a good girl?”

“Yeah,” you breathe out, voice soft and nervous. Suguru presses forward, sliding himself inch by inch inside of your tight heat until his cock is pressed to your cervix. Tears prick at your eyes from the sudden burn, your chest heaving with heavy breaths as he pauses to allow you to adjust to his size.

“Shh, shh. You’ll be alright, bunny. Your body was made for me, after all. It will feel good soon.” He promises, gently rocking his hips. “My sweet girl. I’d never have another have you like this. No, it has to be me. I won’t ever let anyone hurt you.”

He tries to be gentle with you - he has no intention to hurt his sweet little girl - but the way you squeeze around him feels divine. He’s sure he’s never felt anything so perfect before, feeling as though he’s being driven mad as your slick walls cling to his cock, sucking him greedily every time he starts to pull out. Suguru is not one to lose control, but he can’t find it within himself to hold back as he starts to fuck into you with earnest, pounding you into the mattress until you’re crying out with every thrust.

His hand falls to rest on your pelvis, thumb brushing your clit in a way that makes you mewl, arching into his touch. He grunts as you squeeze tighter around his cock, his hips stuttering as he rubs circles into the sensitive bundle of nerves. Your hips buck, and he slams into you harder, bruising your cervix each time his hips snap forward. You’re so tight and warm and perfect around him, and he’s not sure how much longer he’s going to last inside of you.

He watches through hooded, lust-glazed eyes as your body coils up tight, the prettiest moans and whimpers spilling from your hips as you come undone around his length. His teeth clench at the feeling of your walls fluttering around him, the grip on your hip turning bruising as he fucks into you erratically, chasing his own release. His hips stutter before he stills, spilling deep inside of you with a low groan. His eyes squeeze shut, hand falling away from your clit to grip the sheets as he floods you with his cum.

“There we go, bunny.” He murmurs softly as he returns to himself, slowly pulling out of you. He sighs shakily, brushing some hair from your face. “You’re mine forever, darling. I’m never letting you stray from my side.” 

His tone alone assures you his words are a promise.

[szkunas]

WANNA BET? ౨ৎㅤ suguru geto.

synopsis / premise ♱ㅤ when a lustful spirit comes across suguru geto’s path, the curse user must sacrifice his pride and dignity for a chance to obtain its power. but you won’t make it easy for him, will you?

featuring ♱ㅤ cursed spirit!FEM!reader X suguru geto (2017 / jjk 0 ver.)

warnings ♱ㅤ NSFW ♡︎ ㅤ spectrophilia ! monsterfucking (?) ! DEATH (not on any of them) + BLOOD ! EATING HUMAN FLESH (not cannibalism!) ! dub-con (both consent, but it involves a dangerous bet, so just to stay safe) ! sub and dom dynamics constantly changing (both switchers) but reader is usually domming ! unprotected sex + unrealistic portraits of sex ! creampie ! power dynamics ! rough sex / “hate” sex ! degradation + praise ! WORD COUNT: 4990.

author’s note ♱ㅤthank you for everyone who's enjoying and supporting my work! i love you all and i hope you like this piece as well. this is inspired by the poll i made a long while ago. the people asked, and they shall have it! despite it not being yandere character, be sure the next fics will fix that! <3

p.s — i write smut very rarely. i feel it's a little bland and ill probably avoid writing it for a little while lol. despite that, i hope you enjoy it nonetheless

BETTING WITH CURSES is always a dangerous ── not to say stupid ── idea. their conceptions are more violent and sadistic than those of humans, and they have little (or no) notion of mortality. they revel in the gushing blood, the failure, and the deadly despair that initially gave rise to them. therefore, it is uncommon for even the most experienced curse users to engage in this type of activity. but geto doesn’t know the meaning of fear. it became unfamiliar to him, like he always wished. curses are just the accumulated filth of non-sorcerers. and a god fears neither the insects beneath him nor the remains they produce.

the cult provides a good amount of spirits, with that rotten taste that is impossible to disguise. no matter how much spice or food is eaten afterward, it is always terrible, but today it goes down his throat much more easily. as much as it’s a good facade, gathering followers and getting a good reserve of curses to form the night parade of a hundred demons, it’s not enough.

all the spirits he consumes recently are mediocre grade 4s. sometimes a grade 3, or if he is extremely lucky, a grade 2. but it has become a rare occasion, and the spirits of non-sorcerers are as weak as their mediocre progenitors.

he doesn’t have enough, and if things go this way, he will have more of an amalgamation of weak and useless spirits than spirits strong enough to distract the sorcerers and help him fight his true goal. therefore, his free days, when not spent with his daughters and his fixation on crêpes, are used to hunt cursed spirits. usually, his followers help with this. the loyal sorcerers see each other as family, and are willing to work for the new world as much as he does. it doesn’t matter how much blood or sweat it takes, it doesn’t matter if he’s not alive to see it all, after all. no more being oppressed by insects. the true species must rise, and the time is coming.

patience, he tells himself. but haste is a curse of its own that affects every man at some point in his existence, making him lose himself in his tasks and concentrations. as he reclines on himself in what could be called the throne room, suguru watches as some of his fellow sorcerer help one of their own. he quickly approaches the confusion.

a woman with a flushed face and heavy breathing, one hand on her chest as if she was about to have a heart attack. sweat pours off her in a rush, as if her body is burning from the inside out. it’s rare that they don’t come back with even one spirit (as mediocre as it is, a curse is a curse, and he can’t afford to be selective at this point). then, suguru frowns. part of him genuinely cares, in a way he never could, if this woman didn’t have a technique.

“what’s the matter? i thought you were going after the spirit near shinjuku.”

“we were.” one of them answers. “but that thing is a beast. you can’t get close without feeling completely lost and attracted. it’s like a fog that enters your nose and mouth and consumes you from the inside. we nearly died. we can’t handle that, master geto. we apologize.”

he sighs, looking over at the poor woman. there’s something visibly wrong with her right now. her heart seems shaken by a powerful force, and this makes geto think that he shouldn’t underestimate this curse in question.

she looks around and practically latches onto any man she can see — even kissing a guy’s neck while he blushes and gently pulls her away. is it some kind of spirit that manipulates attraction? this is particularly dangerous for him. even though he is, well, him, suguru is still a man. the flesh is weak, and perhaps this curse will become a huge headache to deal with.

however, it could become one of his best weapons.

if a spirit like this keeps causing problems in kyoto, he will have more time to do what needs to be done in tokyo. he can already think about it — whatever form this spirit has, having sorcerers under their thumb. crushing their heads and buying him precious seconds to take care of his business. he can only imagine how the poor sorcerers will react, attracted to a beast.

“don’t worry about that anymore.” he assures the cult members, which turn their heads to him. their leader, their god. the one who’s going to make them rise to a new world. his voice is filled with the grace and confidence he usually has on his tone. but also something else.

determination. raw and pure.

“i will deal with the cursed spirit in shinjuku myself. please watch over mimiko and nanako while i’m gone. i will need just a few hours.”

while humans are extremely annoying, they have their uses. somehow. spirits like you, of thunderous strength, also have thunderous desires. technically, curses don’t need to eat, sleep, or reproduce like humans do. your existence and body made of pure cursed energy coursing through your veins transcends the need for these chores. but like everything that is unnecessary, it is not necessarily impossible. that’s why, as a curse, you know how to use what you have to attract victims. legends about women who attract men with their beauty and turn on them like vipers are very common. the idea of comfort turning to horror ── resting in the arms of a beautiful goddess only to discover that she is a beast shaped like a beauty ── is something that has generated many curses. just like you.

your long tongue curls around your fingertips, trying to absorb the blood that rests there. the body of the last unlucky person who came to try to get you rests at the foot of the motel room bed. it’s not difficult to blend in with humans, and sorcerers come to you like bees looking for honey. while sucking the blood from your fingers, your eyes look up to the dim lamp in the room. the moths accumulate, beating against the light and surrounding it desperately. your body stands up and walks out of the room while arranging your kimono sloppily over your shoulders. if you turn off a light, the moths are lost, without hope. their lives are all about chasing dangerous things. they are attracted to the light of a flame, following this wonderful source of illumination without knowing that it will lead to their death. just as mortal men (and women) allow you to do.

the body stays behind, not that it’s important. the others can’t see you, which means all they know is that a man walked into a room alone, and died inside. eviscerated and devoured as if destroyed by a modern movie zombie. your steps guide you away from cheap construction, and that’s a relief. the reception smells like mold, and the employee is more focused on playing solitaire than looking at whoever enters. the cold night air hitting you would be a problem if your stomach wasn’t full and well refreshed with warm blood. and, at the entrance to the parking lot, a man approaches. so he can see you. it wouldn’t be the first time a young guy approached you, hungry for some. you try to hide the blood in your hands.

you devour the hearts of humans, just as they would like to devour you (in other senses). however, he looks… different from the usual men you see around. high energy levels, as well as clearly being a sorcerer. he doesn’t look very old, maybe in his late twenties. this means that he doesn’t have as much experience as older men, but he is no amateur at sorcery. just as you fill yourself with meat, he also consumes something. you can’t tell just by looking, and it’s as disturbing as it is interesting.

okay, you’re full. but there’s always room for another one. especially a looker like this.

“mm, hey, handsome.” you purr, smiling cutely as you rest your hand on your waist.

“spare me. i know what you are capable of and what you really want. i’m not going to be your next meal, curse.” he smirks, circling around you.

well, that’s a fascinating twist. it reminds you of how many sorcerers have said the exact same thing, and in the end it ended up just becoming your dinner. however, this man seems less— consumable than the rest, but no less attractive.

the idea of eating him saddens you, because then you would lose him forever. not being able to see that pretty face after you eat it out of spite… it would be tragic. but maybe there’s a way of having fun, while still getting something out of him.

you lick your lips at the thought.

okay, this could be the opportunity you’ve been waiting for. a tall, handsome man with a large amount of cursed energy? he’s the kind of guy you don’t let get away. after so many snacks, a careful look always captures a good and complete meal. but perhaps you can do much more than devour him. it’s the kind of chance every girl dreams of ── in your own twisted and sadistic way, of course.

“can i get your name, handsome? or do i have to keep on the petname basis?” you tease, smirking softly.

he walks around you like a shark circles tasty prey. this cat and mouse game would scare away any other curse, this sorcerer doesn’t seem like the kind of guy to play with, which makes the interest you have in him doubled. your eyes follow his every movement.

“and while we’re questioning each other, what do you want? a fight?”

“i’m suguru geto. and what i want is very simple.” he steps closer, but you don’t budge, instead raising your chin despite the attitude. that makes his eyes widen softly and suguru scoffs. was he expecting you to be intimidated? “you.”

okay, that answer itself is not unusual for you ── many others have said the same thing to answer the very same question ──, but the new dynamic and opportunity this man presents is. an idea blooms in your mind like a poisonous flower: beautiful, but lethal if touched. it doesn’t look dangerous, it looks attractive and vibrant, but it is. and you are about to apply this in the most intense way you can imagine. a new thing, a new idea.

and like every creature beyond mortality, routine is boring and boring is despising for you. new things are exciting, captivating. he’s interesting.

“why don’t we make a small bet, hm? geto.”

he raises one eyebrow, interested. “i’m listening. and, please. call me suguru.”

the motel isn’t a very suitable destination — apparently, it’s not proper to go to a place where a corpse is —, but an empty apartment that a cult sponsor bought for him will do. suguru and you walk around while pulling up casual conversation and flirtation. everything seems surprisingly chill. maybe in another life, you two could be friends. maybe even with benefits? or— perhaps something else.

he doesn’t think your personality is bad, per see, but again. you seduce and eat mortals easily. maybe you’re just tricking him into lowering his guard. maybe in another life, you’re a pretty little thing who hugs his arm and allows him to take you home with genuine, good intentions. maybe in another life, you could like him genuinely. and he could like you back.

but you two don’t live another life — only this one. so, he’ll settle.

you’re barely past the door and he feels your lips on his. he smirks, grabbing you by the hair to pull you closer. it’s supposed to be an easy tatic — seducing you. he can absorb curses of grades that are at least two lower than his, or… any curse that surrenders.

as your tongue swirls around his, suguru feels a shiver run down his spine. you taste so— unbelievably sweet. nothing like any other one he’s every tasted. the sound of kissing takes over the apartment as you stumble over your feet to the bed.

this might be harder than he initially thought.

the bet is simple, somewhat. you will compete in something, your choice. whoever wins has complete control of the loser. which means — he wins, you’ll become one of his curses. you win? he’s yours. forever. whatever that means, you made that clear. you both explained your expectations and what you wanted from the other, deciding for a biding vow.

the competition you chose was sex. basically, whoever cums first loses.

and for some reason, suguru feels like he shouldn’t lose. he’s not sure what you’ll do with him once “he’s yours”, but he feels like it wouldn’t be a very opportune time for him.

you move to kiss his cheek, jawline, and neck. suguru sighs while throwing his head back. “you’re— eager.” he murmurs with a soft hiss. “i’ve never been with something like you, so, forgive me if i’m shy.”

he can feel the way you smirk against his skin, before you start sucking down and biting. he grabs you by the hair to pull you away, relishing in your flushed expression and how your voice sounds when you yelp.

“no hickeys, no bites. i’m not yours to mark, curse.” his fingers wrap themselves around your hair tightly to get the message across. your tongue slips out, long and eagerly licking your lips as you watch him. like a lion watching a zebra, about to feast.

“yet.”

your answer just sets him off. and the way you smirk, that damned, arrogant smile that he intends to rip off your face as soon as you get into bed — adamant on being a goddamn brat. oh, you’re going to be a handful.

in a way, he likes it (although suguru prefers to bite down his tongue, rip it off and swallowing it before admitting anything to you). there are those who say that victory without effort is just a poorly deserved achievement.

dragging you by the hair, geto’s eyes are following your every movement as you stumble on your feet. you’re having fun with this, he can tell. something twitches on his chest, and — he can’t decide on anger or attraction as he gets rid of his clothes. why is his body so hot? you haven’t even done anything yet.

“keep your word if you lose, curse.” suguru mumurs, looking down at you while pushing you to bed and moving to be on top of you.

“could say the same, suguru. and don’t call me that.” you spread your legs slowly, smirking as he helps you undress. “i have a name, you know.”

the fun thing about men for you is how predictable they are. they keep denying it over and over — i don’t love you, i’m not a bad guy for cheating on my girlfriend, you’re nothing special — while they’re devouring you with their eyes. someone once said the eyes are the window to the soul. you believe that to be true — after all, no one has interest in a meal they cannot see first.

his desire is palpable in the way suguru’s hands rush, pushing away layers of fabric that’s keeping him from actually seeing you. it looks like he wants to rip the clothes off your body and see what’s underneath, because his heart needs to he. he needs it, he needs you.

the words rushing through his mind make him stop for a moment. what is this thought? he needs you… ? he breathes heavily as you grab his wrist and guide it to your chest. suguru can feel it under his fingers and palm.

the soft feeling of your skin is truly inhuman. it sparks something inside of him — he can’t remember a day where he wanted someone this much.

“you’re staring, suguru.” you tease.

“shut up.” he grits his teeth, moving down to cup your breasts, his thumbs caressing your nipples.

“you like this, don’t you? dirty whore.” geto murmurs, his hands snaking down and grabbing your hips harshly while leaning down, latching his lips to your nipple. his other hand massages your breast and pinches it, and the vibrations of his soft moans make your skin shiver.

he shouldn’t like this so much, he knows that. but the way you taste — it’s not fair. he’s rock-hard after some kissing, pinching, teasing. mere foreplay is making his cock twitch on his pants. the way you moan is divine, and your hand comes down to play with his hair as he sucks on your chest.

your legs wrap themselves around his waist, and he presses you down against the bed, hovering above you eagerly. the stupid buddhist robes he uses as a disguise are falling off his body, and all he wants to do is rip the fabric off and set it on fire because it prevents skin-to-skin contact. he bites down your nipple, and you moan, moving your hands to tug off his clothing.

“do you have condoms on you?” he asks, and you snort.

“no. i can’t be affected by mortal diseases. i don’t need those.”

suguru murmurs something against your skin, feeling himself grow addicted already. a small piece of his brain is already wishing you were his, but not to send you to battle — to get you sat on his lap all day, as he kisses and sucks on your chest. you tug at his hair, watching the black strands falling down his back gracefully as he moves to kiss down your underbust, then stomach. lower belly. his purple eyes look up at your face as his lips part. the cult leader’s hands caress your body as if yearning to memorize the flesh with each touch. here or there, he gently squeezes or pinches to see you squirm. they pass through his arms, shoulders, down his sides and finally meet under his thighs, guiding them to rest on his shoulders.

the first contact of his mouth with your pussy is messy. a bit lewd. generally, younger men like this like to act slow, a bit torturing, to be certain of what they’re doing (and mostly, they’re not). but suguru dives in as if your cunt is the last meal he’ll ever put his mouth on. his attention is mostly driven to your clit, and you gasp, playing with his hair and squeezing his head between your thighs with a smile.

he’s good. you’ve experienced sex mostly using it as a weapon — men in particular are more susceptible because they’re not expecting it, but women also don’t expect to be eviscerated while they’re pleasuring you. but sometimes, when you do enjoy sex for fun, you gained experience enough to tell this man between your legs knows what he’s doing. his hands move to grab your waist and keep you from running away as he kisses your clit. suguru’s tongue draw out and he moves is head up and down slowly, teasingly.

you enjoy the sensations, shiver trailing up your spine and the pleasure already pooling on your lower belly. your body relaxes slowly against the pillows, and you chuckle.

“mm, enjoying yourself down there?”

he doesn’t respond, instead humming against your cunt. the feeling causes your body to tingle, and your fingers curl around his strands (which tells suguru he’s doing something right). he’s finding out how heaven tastes.

you’re more determined than ever that he’s yours, and he can see it in your eyes. the fire in your eyes rivals the fire in both of your bodies.

the flavor is indescribable. geto is no amateur at sex, although he feels like one now. exposed, naked and excited, he feels about to lose the bet that will define his destiny. a lot of people have passed by his bed, and he’s already received a lot of compliments about what he can do with his mouth, but the feeling of all those people feels like a weak breeze compared to what he feels with your taste on his tongue. it is divine.

he’s never experienced anything like it, and the idea that sex could be this good makes him feel like he could do it for hours, every day, all day. it’s almost invigorating, energizing, when he experiences you. his hips move here and there, thrusting softly every now and then. the flushed tip of his cock oozes with pre, and he believes he never got so turned on before.

it’s like he’s a college kid, a desperate virgin trying out pussy for the first time. his arms move, hooking them around your thighs, trying to spread your legs as he sucks on your clit.

you tug at his hair again, hissing.

“not fair, jerk. we need to compete in a way both of us can lose. quit it.”

he would deny it, but denying it would make it obvious geto could cum untouched just from eating you out. he complies, leaning back, your juices making his lips and chin glisten under the room’s lights. “alright, curse.” you tug at his hair again, and he groans. “stop that.”

“you need to get used to it. i’ll do it all the time once you’re mine. i'm going to make you eat me out everyday, like the good boy i know you are.”

he moves up, kissing your stomach and between your breasts while looking up. “don’t claim victory before it’s time.” his voice murmurs, pressing his lips against yours and hugging your waist. “lay back.”

you smirk. “no.”

you grab his shoulders, using your unnatural strength to surprise suguru. changing the positions, you get him to be under you, throwing each of your legs to the sides of his body. his hands move to grab your waist, and his eyes narrow as he frowns.

such a handsome, tall man — even when he frowns. once he’s yours, you promise yourself, you have a lot of fun.

“what are you doing?” he hisses, moving to sit up. your palm lays against his chest, pushing him down again as you raise your hips to rub your wet cunt against him. “fuck, fuck— you slut, what are you doing?”

both of you moan softly at the contact, and you lift your body with spread legs and a smirk that tells him: you’re going all in to win this bet. this is worrying.

once you sink, slowly and surely, he throws his head back with his eyes narrowing. a groan escapes his lips, and his muscles clench. geto’s fingers curl around your waist, sinking his nails to your skin desperately, leaving small, red half-moon marks that heal immediately.

if heaven exists, this is what it feels like — his mind is sure of that. your pussy clenching around him, the pure warmth and tightness from your hole, it drives him insane, speechless. his eyes almost fill with water, and the urge to explode is immediate.

he gasps, holding you down and trying to breathe properly. the sew attempt proves futile, deadly and failed. it’s like the air can’t reach his lungs properly, and for a second he thinks he’s going to die in this pure bliss and smiles to himself. but the charm disappears when he remembers the bet. it was a very, very close call that he didn’t came as soon as he felt you around him.

the want awaken in his body is primal. dirty and impure, there’s no other word for it besides carnal. he wants to grab you and pin you down, thrust into you and cum inside until he dies from exhaustion. this power is — dangerous. it scares him and pleases him in equal measure, being under such a powerful spirit. suguru’s concentration is split, divided, and growing weaker as you speak again.

“what’s wrong, suguru? i can feel you twitch.” you giggle softly, leaning in over him.

your next move throws him off guard. the sadism and fire in your gaze makes him raise an eyebrow, and before he can react, his hips move. down and then up, just to slam back down. it knocks the air off his lungs, and he moans loudly.

“oh, god.”

“no, baby, it’s just me.” you chuckle, staring to set a pace as you lean back. “mmm, sugu. you feel really good, you know? so hard and nice to ride. and so good for me.”

instead of resting against his chest, your hands grab his knees. your stunning, divine body that makes his insides curl and melt is leaned back, exposed in all your glory, and he forgets you’re a curse for a moment. convinced you’re an angel, he grabs your hips to help you ride, thrusting up against your movements.

suguru smiles softly to himself as he hears your soft moans. the sounds is delicious, drowning every worry out of him. he only remembers you’re a curse two minutes seconds later, when your tongue slips out your mouth to lick your lips, as if you’re enjoying a meal.

he feels like an animal, capable of thinking about only one thing: copulating. having sex and reproduce and if he fails in the latter, have sex again until every drop of semen is squeezed out of his body.

he tenses up, groaning. god be kind, he has no idea how he managed to hold on for so long.

“what’s your deal?” another moan quickly scratches his throat, and the heat is almost becoming unbearable. pooling in his lower belly, making his abs and muscles clench as he grinds against you, desperate.

“what are you talking about?” you chuckle, leaning in again and moving your hands up to play with your nipples. slowly — both to tease him and to avoid you cum too early and lose. softly.

“stop— smirking like that. it pisses me off.”

you lean in, playing with a strand of his hair and tugging on it gently. suguru tries to sit up, but you throw him back down, not willing to guv up your advantage. he’s close. you can feel it, see it, you can enjoy the way the head of his cock hits your g-spot sweetly.

the only surprise you feel is when a hand that’s not your creeps and settles between your legs. his thumb moves in small, fast circles against your clit, earning a moan out of you and making your chest inflate as you breathe in heavily.

there was a chance you might lose. if you weren’t you, you might’ve lost.

you pick up your pace, and his heavy breathing mix to yours. it’s fun, you think, you only breathe as heavily as mortals when you’re engaging on sex. it’s cute, it makes them think you’re like them. human. weak-willed, like the man twitching inside of you, urging for release.

but you can’t blame him. his touch drives you insane, you light up like a keg of gunpowder being ignited by flames. he needs to explode. he needs to. you’re settled by that.

suguru starts grunting, his thrusts into your warm, inviting cunt growing more eager and erratic. he thumbs at your clit, looking up at your expression. you smile, moaning his name lewdly.

“suguru.”

and— he feels it. rising so quickly his body has no reaction against it. his orgasm is hard, harder than he ever had it with any warm body or his desperate hand, alone on a corner. he sighs, pausing in between breaths to groan and moan. his eyes close, and his browns furrow up as he stares at the ceiling, gasping softly. his abs clench, he grunts

perhaps this is the true feeling of nirvana, of ascending. suguru believed he and the other sorcerers were true gods walking among earth. that sorcery was the only and true path to the ascension of humanity as a species and as individuals. but this? the feeling of thrusting his cum into your warm, wet velvety walls is the closest he ever felt to a god.

he breathes heavily, scratching your hips as reaction to pain — the overstimulation is hitting him as hard as a truck when you don’t stop moving your hips, eager for your own orgasm as you notice your victory. he grunts again, watching you fall apart on his cock as your turn finally arrives.

riding off your high, you enjoy yourself using him as a toy and personal dildo, you stop slowly to get off him. some of his cum spills out your cunt, fat drops falling to his abdomen.

suguru’s breathing calms down slowly, but his eyes widen in realization. he uses his elbows to prop himself and sit up, murmuring — his voice weakened and a bit desperate. a hint of fear creeps into his tone.

“wait. no, wait.”

you grab him by the neck, and he hesitates, looking up at you. his skin burns and a sinister chill runs through his body while his arms seem to be on fire, next to his neck. stunned by the intensity of his orgasm and what it means, he doesn’t even act while you help him rest his head against your chest. suguru stares at himself, shaking as he notices new marks on his forearms.

black, strong and serpentine, these marks against the skin form quickly, marking him now and forever. like tattoos he can never remove. he looks up, and you twirl a strand of his black hair around your index finger.

“you lost, suguru.” your voice coos sweetly, as if you pity him. but you don’t. you don’t have that mercy on you. “and you know what that means?”

you giggle, and he shivers again as he feels your lips gluing to his ear. you murmur lovingly, as if you’re not deciding his fate.

“you’re mine.”

thank you for reading <3

[girlfriendstan]

Hii, so I was thinking about enemies to lovers with gyuvin, where you just don't like each other and are always bickering. But one time it turns a bit sexual because he said you wouldn't be able to take him. So you decide to prove him wrong, but it backfires because you can't handle him and he just makes fun of you (a lot of dirtytalk). Thank you, I really liked your gyuvin fics so far! They are really good!

you expect a lot of things when you end up at kim gyuvin’s house for a school project: a huge headache, at least 3 arguments on how to execute a project, and zero work done.

what you don’t expect, though? his tongue running through your folds, and your mind running away from the mere possibility that deep down, a sick part of you is enjoying being at his disposal.

“told you you couldn’t take this,” he briefly lifts his head away from the center of your thighs to show off a grin you wish you could wipe off. you wince at the sight of his lips coated in your juices and crucify yourself for being even a bit aroused by someone you consider an utter bastard.

“i haven’t come yet. don’t get ahead of yourself,” you manage to retort, deliberately avoiding eye contact. after all, you’re a hater, not a liar, and it would be a lie to say that his mid-oral sex visuals don’t make you feel things.

as soon as you finish that sentence, he buries his impossibly tiny head into your core with a new sense of hunger. you thank your lucky stars that he had the decency to keep your call on mute, because the sounds he makes while eating your pussy feel intentional, but you still can’t help but feel like you’re both at the risk of being found out.

if you hate the mere thought of that, gyuvin seems to love it as he goes down harder on you. refusing to make any more sounds and give him that satisfaction, you react in the form of tugging at his hair instead whenever he hits the right spots.

gyuvin lets his index finger graze your clit, while his nose is all but buried in your folds. “why can’t you run your mouth now, huh?” he taunts you again, putting a halt to his devouring. you think you’re free, that you put up a good fight that you’ve won since he did all that and still didn’t get an orgasm out of you, but he pulls out his throbbing hard-on from the grey sweatpants you’ve always been wanting off, and you wish you could melt into his bed and disappear.

“why the long face, babe? you said you could take anything i’d give you,” gyuvin says, stroking experimentally at his cock, signaling what you should be anticipating next. “aren’t you obsessed with winning against me? you can’t exactly do that when you’re scared,” a significantly obnoxious thrust into his hand “of this.”

when gyuvin’s balls deep inside you, all you can do is throw an arm to cover your face and act like you’re not having the best sex of your life. every thrust is harder than the last one, and he’s just so, so big there’s no inch inside you that doesn’t feel his length and girth. save for a couple of accidental moans he’s definitely taking note of, you stay quiet as he fucks you. you act like it’s a form of refusal to his cockiness, when all you do is comply and take what he gives you almost pathetically.

“you win,” gyuvin says as he places his cock in your mouth just in time for him to come inside it. “i didn’t know you could be such a good girl, though, just taking anything i’d give you like a pliant slut.” more drops of cum find their way on your lips. “there’s always more i can make you take, though.” gyuvin’s hands all over you feel like a dangerous sign, and you can feel him start to prop you up in the spirit of simply taking more from him, but at least you don’t need to put up a fight anymore.

[long-live-astronerd-ghost-king]

Ectoberhaunt 2023. Day 5. Hunt and Haunt.

~Well, here we go again, good old Ghost Hunger AU~

Description: The Ghost Zone is inherently a violent place. You can hunt or be hunted, there is no other options. However, for some reason the Halfa does not understand what is happening. And no one rushes to explain it. NB! ghost cannibalism is mentioned.

Prompt after memes

Suppose there’s a conventional division among ghosts. Some of them are potential predators capable of hunting their own kind, while others are only able to absorb the surrounding energy and therefore build up power more slowly than hunters.

So, predation is used as a method of survival in poor ectoplasm areas of the Ghost Zone, less often as a means of gaining power. Even less often hunters are created.

It is obvious that the appearance of a hunter who is the son of human ghost hunters in a haunting place without stable sources of ectolasm has caused panic in the society of the dead ones. For the newly formed ghost to have ectoblasts, fangs or ghost sense is a rarity and great luck. So the newcomer had everything and more to be a serious threat. An awful danger for the surrounding spirits…Right?

But Danny doesn’t know the specifics of his new biology ectology!

Even though he’s a hunter, he’s never had a ghost hunger. Probably because thanks to his parents he has an amazing ectoplasm concentrator in the basement. Soon everyone understands that the boy does not attack first. Those who return through the portal never report any losses at all. He does not bite or attempt to capture cores of other spirits. At first, the ghosts think it's a trap. Smart enough for a beginner. Not everyone has the tenacity to pretend to be an idiot to get close to them. But the Phantom never feeds on them. He’s…safe?

What’s more, Danny seems to think they’re a threat to the city. Which is fun and weird. Normally, there is no competition for feeding using human emotion. But the owner of the lair did not like the smell of fear in the air. Is this ghost broken?

When the ghosts who visit Amity realize that the halfa does not know that he can hunt them, rather than just guard his territory...Well, it explains a lot. Everyone agrees not to explain the situation to the boy so that the city behind the portal remains a relatively safe haven during the during a "hunting season" and other troubles in the Infinite Realms.

~~~~~

The problem arises when Phantom begins exploring the Ghost Zone. What if the other hunters make the boy stop being a freak?

In addition, more experienced ghosts may well attack the careless halfa. And Amity Park under the control of a more predatory spirit would be a terrible outcome. Most dead ones near the portal are used to the fact that the area before Wisconsin is open to travel and migration without the threat of being eaten.

All rational ghosts try to avoid the territory of hunters. If you can’t defend yourself, there’s too much risk of being a free meal. It’s much safer to settle down with spirits with similar energy levels at door clusters. If the hunter does not purposefully show up at your lair, you will have a much better chance of keeping the afterlife.

Those of the Ancients who have won their position and those of them who were created for it have become accustomed to isolation. Although all the Ancients have lost the need to eat 'cause they have absorbed enough energy, legends about their past are still be nightmares for all spirits. Just because they don’t need to eat other ones doesn’t mean they won’t. It is clear that a weaker hunter can also be hunted. No reason to risk.

Therefore, how freely and fearlessly Phantom communicates with Frostbite, Clockwork or Pandora is puzzling. Does he feel threatened at all? The Ancients find this experience refreshing. Lil communication without fear makes them feel sympathy for this youngling. Danny is always glad of their company. And the boy is not afraid to express his opinion. It is strange but...pleasant?

Their minions from time to time complain that they teach a potential enemy but it is very difficult to see a possible rival in Phantom. Danny is always in trouble. The youngster is silly and careless. Like a wet kitten that can’t even make a threatening hiss. So Ancients, to their own surprise, don't mind helping him. Why isn’t his naivety annoying?

For example, Frostbite’s trying to teach Danny hunting and tracking techniques because he thinks the little cub doesn’t know how to be what he supposed to be. Meanwhile Danny sees his attempts as a course of self-defense that he can use against ghosts who try to infiltrate his city.

~~~~~Bonus~~~~~

Some insufficiently powerful ghosts mimic predators to scare away dangerous spirits and protect themselves. Skulker is quite pleased that he managed to deceive halfa:

[opal-owl-flight]

I absolutely adore your agent lore SO MUCH it feels really canon to me, just in a darker and realistic way!!

I am kind of wondering what your thoughts are on octavio, especially in this verse- if you have any of course LMAO 👍 so fair if you don't he just lives in my braincells rent free.

"You. Were not so different, you and I."

"|Shut. Up. Dont compare yourself to me. I did everything for this fragile world. A world you yourself almost destroyed twice.|"

"Aah, so did I, young squid. So did I."

3 rounds on the imprisoned geezer. Some thanks he got, after saving the world. The Captain was almost as bad as their old superior.

He only crosses his arms tighter as they clacked their beak.

"|The destruction of my world does not justify yours' survival.|"

Theres a dry chuckle from within the glass globe.

"Which world has the zapfishes. Which world is close to the sky? Which world allows everyone to...act the way you do. That annoyingly fresh attitude that just rubs in our face how much better you have it."

3s looking more unsure now, their hands clasping tight on their arms whenever theyre not signing. Thats a surprise.

"Mm. Do you understand, agent?"

The hesitance disappears, and their eyes and spots glint threateningly. "|Im the Captain now, and I will prefer to be referred to as such.|"

The king rolls his eyes. Mocks a salute.

"Stuffy kid. Damn. Alright, Captain.

Let me illuminate it a little more clearly for you.

You train your agents to keep my people underground. Sometimes, to the point of breaking their spirit. Because you want to keep them safe -- from me, from my troops, from anything the rough seas can throw at em. Right?"

"|I dont do it like you do. Hypnosis? Mind control? Eight ran away because of that!|"

"Who told you I used that on my entire nation? Damn old fool, that Craig.

As for your "Agent Eight"...

that one...

...had her reasons.

I hold no ill will towards her, or the others, for running.

In fact, I dont blame them one bit."

3 squints.

"They wanted a life that I cannot provide.

Its hard, underground. Constant energy crisis. Constant food shortage. Constant resource depletion. Who would stay? Except those who want to make it a better world to live in?

And you, Captain. What would you do in my place?"

And they stay quiet...

Before their voice rasps through a low hiss.

"Act...in a way... you wont."

"Hoh! So you can speak! Impressive.

But you know youd do similar. Ive heard how much Agent 4 hates your guts. Its not as easy being a leader, isnt it."

3 hisses louder, balling their fists.

"I...am not...you."*

"Yes. You. Are." The king presses his tentacles on the glass. "I did all I did for my fragile world. I continue to run my nation the way I do so everyone stays safe from the danger YOU bring. You and the REST of your nation. My troops are family. My troops are all Ive got."

He casts a glance at 4 (pre-Captain my Captain), who was approaching for her training.

"Even if they end up hating me."*

3 catches 4s gaze.

"Even if they end up deserting."

4 turns her gaze away, to look directly at Octavio.

"Do you understand?"

Now its 3 who looks, understanding dawning in their eyes.

Hes right.

"I must do what I need to, even if it hurts me. Id risk my life, my honor, my everything, for my people.

If I dont, who else will?"

3 thinks of the times theyd swooped in to save the newly returned 4 from hazards in the newer missions. The verbal and physical abuse from her beak and fists. The way they had to give her easier missions despite saying that it was tougher, just so shed have a more gradual growth. Have higher chances of surviving. Even if...underhanded.

4 herself breaks the silence, and their train of thought.

"Talking to the damn geezer again, Captain?"

"|He spoke first.

...but he makes good points.|"

"You cant seriously- hey. HEY! CAPTAIN! WHAT ARE YOU DOING!!!"

theres a loud crash.

"|I dont think it fair to keep him here after he helped us save the world.|"

"Hohohoh! You are not so bad, Captain."

"GRAMPS IS GOING TO KILL YOU."

"Hah! No he wont. I know your old man. And for once in his life, he actually made a good call.

Captain.

Agent Three."

The mention of their old number, to refer to them, almost made tears spring to their eyes.

Almost.

After all, this was the reason they were dragged into this mess. But can they really keep blaming him for all this, after all this time?

Octavio shows...a hint of a smile.

"You make a fine protege for the man I used to know.

Keep it up."

3 holds 4 back from rushing the Octarian leader. "Go...back. Take care...of your people."

"Aye aye. Heheh. So long, suckers!!!"

And he was gone.

[cocogum]

I feel like every single primordial eliatrope has a curse they have to deal with whether they realize it or not.

It was obvious with Qilby’s case, but with the other primordials, not so much. Maybe it’s because Qilby’s curse outshines them all which is why we don’t really realize what the others might be dealing with.

Glip’s gift: Gifted with the will and dedication to teaching the history of the eliatropes to the next generation.

Glip’s curse: His copious source of knowledge for the Eliatrope children has to be studied and memorized and repeated over and over again so he can transfer it again and again, essentially teaching the same thing for eternity.

Mina’s gift: Gifted with the wisdom to solve all the quarrels that could divide their people.

Mina’s curse: Has to constantly solve the problems of others no matter how small it may be in her eyes.

Yugo’s gift: Gifted with the heroic passion to adventure, travel, and protect his people.

Yugo’s curse: Constantly lives in danger. He can never rest from it all because his warrior spirit cannot allow it.

Nora’s gift: Gifted with innocence and being free-spirited. To preserve these feelings and spread them to the people.

Nora’s curse: Innocence easily gets ruined.

Chibi’s gift: Gifted with the brilliant mind to invent.

Chibi’s curse: All inventions made for his people rest on his shoulders. One fatal mistake and everything crumbles. He has to be careful if the invention properly works.

[ab121500]

I tagged this as spoilers, but its really not. Theres no mention of anything that happens in veilguard but just in case lol

This is such a stupid idea, but it keeps making me making me go "👀👀 wait actually-"

The idea of my mage elf rook (her name is Aylewin) also being an abomination, but being possessed by a spirit of Righteousness and unlike Spite she's pretty chill but she fucking hates, and i mean HATES, Spite with a passion.

So while Rook and Lucanis end up having their wholesome slow burn romance, the two extra passengers are doing an enemies to lovers romance. But heres the thing, Spite likes Rook and Righteousness likes Lucanis, so its literally a miraculous ladybug love square, except its actually 4 people they just share bodies.

Anyway i made a visual for it to show my (extremely tired of my shit) friend if anyone else would like to see it.

I'm sorry my handwriting is awful

ideas I thought up involving this:

Aylewin did not summon Righteousness.

Righteousness was originally a Rage demon, but she changed upon seeing the lengths Aylewin went to in order to do the morally right thing (I.E. sacrificing herself by stabbing herself so that she killed the demon at the cost of her own life.)

No one knows of Righteousness' existence until Spite, living up to his fucking name, exposes her. And even then, no one believes him until Taash/Emmrich mentions the other spirit.

Righteousness calls Spite "Little Demon" this angers him deeply.

Spite tries to find a nickname that pisses Righteousness off as much as Little Demon does him. He doesn't succeed.

Righteousness knows that her name is long and not easy to spit out in danger, so she insists on being called Ria by friends (so all the veilguard except Spite.)

Much like how Spite is essentially Lucanis but purple, Righteousness is Aylewin but orange-y red.

Righteousness is more powerful than Spite, mainly due to Aylewin being a mage and also due to her having easier access to her body.

In terms of characters, Aylewin's possession is most like Wynne's, except she didn’t actually die. She did get mortally wounded, and Righteousness joining her saved her life.

Righteousness lives up to her namesake and is extremely soapbox-y at times, like every single time Aylewin helps the Crows.

Righteousness and Spite get into arguments all the time. It is especially weird to Aylewin/Lucanis because they only hear one half of the argument.

I just needed to yell this into the void, feel free to ignore lmaooo.

[starcurtain]

Hello! Wanted to say that I’ve really enjoyed your analysis on Aventurine’s theming - and yea big agree that part of the charm of the guy is that he’s a weird paradox (he got everything one should technically want, and he also lost absolutely everything he cares about) - and also I like your comment that he is, as a character, actually pretty obnoxious (it’s an odd character charm point to me)

Also your post on the way he interacts with the ladies in the cast kinda reminded me - I know folks tend to focus in Ratio’s note but I ended up zoning in on his convo with Acheron more than anything else - because a lot of Penacony is Aven butting heads with other aeon-touched people (Acheron, Sunday) - but Acheron seems like a fun foil because she also has a pretty double-edged metaphysical blessing that is associated with losing everything she loved, but she ironically hasn’t given in to full meaninglessness.

I think one of Aventurine's defining character traits is that he "tests" everyone he encounters to judge whether they are trustworthy or whether they are a danger to him (I guarantee you, he has some kind of mental ranking scale for how likely people are to dislike or mistreat him), and I think his being obnoxious is actually a direct offshoot of this.

Kakavasha clearly was raised with manners; he knows how to be polite and to tone down his responses to social situations as appropriate, which means that, in every other scenario, he is actively choosing to be obnoxious, even in situations where it seemingly won't benefit him (like talking back to the slave master or being too forward when first meeting Sunday, for example) because it allows him to gauge exactly how others feel about him and exactly how much they will let him get away with.

People who play along are potential allies (Robin, the Trailblazer) and people who act grumpy but actually tolerate the obnoxiousness are safe (Ratio, Sparkle, most of the rest of the Express Crew), while people who respond poorly (Sunday, basically everyone else Aventurine dealt with in the past, etc.) are forced into showing their true colors. If minor obnoxious behaviors can provoke them, then it means their core response to Aventurine is likely to be one of dislike and disrespect. He's just forcing that response from them out into the light sooner, rather than later, by being obnoxious from the get-go.

(And, to a certain extent, I think he also just finds it fun to be a bit obnoxious. Like, he's free to say and do whatever he wants now--who is going to stop him from being a brat if that's what he feels like doing?)

But on to Acheron... Yes, I do think there are a lot of parallels between Acheron and Aventurine (came from a doomed people, lost everyone, both determined to hold out against nihility and live just for the sake of living, "blessed" by aeons), but I think narratively speaking, the story puts Acheron in a different position when her tale entangles with Aventurine's: the surrogate big sister role.

Acheron's a very good parallel to Aventurine's sister in numerous ways: First, she essentially sacrificed herself to defeat the evil threatening her people, but is ultimately unsuccessful, resulting in the permanent loss of all she knew.

This loss also resulted in Aventurine's sister actually dying, while Raiden Mei experienced a symbolic death, taking on the name "Acheron" to evoke the Underworld, getting a ghostly, bleached white form, and prowling the river of nihility like a wandering spirit of the dead.

Second, the philosophy Acheron espouses is nearly identical to Aventurine's sister. When even as a child Kakavasha was doubting the value and meaning of life, his sister was the one constantly reaffirming that life has meaning, despite its hardships, and that continuing to exist is the way to honor those who have sacrificed for you. Just as Aventurine's sister expresses that people must hold on to faith, Acheron reminds everyone she encounters to cling to the last bit of color and light in their lives.

This ends up being echoed by the role of guidance that she plays for Aventurine, with him both directly relying on her for his continued survival:

And turning to her in his moment of greatest emotional need:

(Sound familiar? It should. This is the exact same question Kakavasha once asked his sister.)

But there's also a very, very nice visual parallel that goes on with Acheron and Aventurine's sister: the dusk rain that accompanies her.

For Aventurine, the rain has complicated emotional connotations. For the Avgin, it was desperately needed, life-giving water, and thus was considered a direct blessing from Gaiathra. Rain on Aventurine's birthday was the sign of his being favored by the aeon, and yet it also rained on the day he lost everything and had to flee from the only home he had ever known (conveniently also his birthday, dude this guy's life sucks).

Meanwhile, the rain for Acheron is equally complex--rain can bring life, the renewal of barren, lifeless lands... But we also see the rain accompany Acheron through her worst loss, the final collapse of her planet:

It also is said to rain constantly within the shadow of nihility, a lightless gray that washes away all that people wish to cling to.

For both Acheron and Aventurine's sister, the rain accompanies the end of their "lives," the backdrop to their ultimate sacrifices.

Yet it is also in the rain that they both send Aventurine onward, escaping from the cage of his destiny into a "better" life. From beneath the shadow of the storm, they both bid him to go and not turn back, freeing him and permanently changing the course of his life.

The rain that took everything from both Aventurine's sister and Acheron is ultimately what saves him.

It's all a very tidy and well-written parallel.

[ohtobeleah]

Secret Sacrifices // Jake Seresin

Chapter Three: [The Grocery Affirmation]

Summary: When Sunday rolls around, Jake is chuffed to run into a ‘Damsel’ on his running route.

Warnings: Mentions of death, mentions of depression, anxiety, panic attacks. Mild romance. Angst/Whump.

Word Count: 3.3k

Author Note: EEPPPP I’m back queens!! The serotonin is doing the lords work. Really want to try and stick to a regular posting scene if I can get the routine in place. Been thinking about this one for a while now.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

There’s a saying that goes around hospitals that reads a little something like this. Pain is inevitable, but suffering is optional. But there’s understandable doubt that the person who coined the saying ever went through a major surgery or trauma. 

Or maybe they didn’t mean physical pain. Perhaps they meant the other kind, the worst kind. Maybe they meant the kind of searing, seething, boiling pain that tells you you’re a failure as a mother and a fraud of a wife. 

Suffering is optional……That person didn’t know what the fuck they were talking about. It's all-consuming. The day-to-day struggle of living through hell all the while those who you loved unconditionally, were taken away in such horrific and volatile circumstances. The ever-burning pressure of survivor's guilt, the searing pain of grief, and the utter turmoil of failure all adds up. 

Pain is inevitable, but suffering is optional. Yeah right. Suffering isn't optional, it was forced upon you in a split-second that changed the course of your life as you knew it…..and wanted it to be. 

Your deep and meaningful with Bob sat heavily inside your chest. Could you trust him? Was it fair to burden him with such a huge secret? Did you put him in danger by letting him in? Would he tell anyone? But as you opened the boot of your car and sighed at the haphazardly thrown-in grocery bags, a small sense of normality took the space of the pressing questions inside your mind. 

The groceries were heavier than normal, either you were getting weaker or you had just decided to purchase more impulse buys than normal. The paper bag handles were surely going to cut off the circulation in your arms as you were adamant to one trip this. From the undercover carport, up the three flights of stairs, down the hall and to the right, that's where your hideaway was. You'd say home, but home is where the heart is. Your heart was ripped from your chest when you watched your son’s life drain from his eyes. Your heart was shattered into a million pieces when you watched helplessly as your husband bled out in your arms. 

So no, no this wasn't a home for you, but it would have to do. 

Unbeknownst to you, Jake Seresin was en route, enjoying a rather peaceful run. Golden tan skin covered with a thin shine of sweat. The perfect combination for any workout. At a pace that matched A Man To Make Me Sweat, Jake made his way down the footpath that ran the expanse of the side street he knew your apartment complex to be on. 

Was the particular route Jake decided to take this morning one intertwined with the hope he would run into you? That's a question for another time. But when you came into view? Jake smiled to himself knowing that the other route passed Bradley’s condo wouldn't have been as eventful. Nor would it have such a beautiful view. 

The sight of you wrestling with a million groceries and effortlessly trying to convince yourself that you were fine, was a sight Jake could watch all morning. His stride started to slow but his heart rate kept rising. The thought of you, the sight of you, the idea of you being his and only his. Jake had never been the kind to want to settle down. He’d never been the man who committed to one person or one relationship. He was a free-floating spirit that enjoyed the company of others. But when he first saw you, first spoke to you, heard that laugh of yours, saw that beautiful smile, listened to your hypnotic voice, he knew he was fucked from the get-go.

On approach, Jake slowed right down to a walk. His eyes never left your silhouette as he reached into his pocket for his phone. Deciding to pause his music rather than just turn it down. Jake could have stayed like this forever, he could have watched you all day. But when he watched as the bottom of one of the paper bags blew out, sending groceries of all kinds across the drive and pathway, he knew he had to make himself known. 

“You need a hand?” Jake had never seen you look so scared in the time he’d known you as you turned around with wide eyes and a look of intense panic plastered across your face. He swore the tone he’d used had been one laced with a lighthearted approach. “Woah, didn’t mean to scare you half to death Brewer.” Jake followed up as he approached with caution, holding his hands up by his head to show surrender and peace.

“Jesus, you scared the hell out of me Seresin,” The adrenal glands, also known as suprarenal glands, are small, triangular-shaped glands located on top of both kidneys. Adrenal glands produce hormones that help regulate your metabolism, immune system, blood pressure, response to stress and in this particular instance, respond to one Jake ‘Hangman’ Sererin scaring whatever soul you had left from your being. 

In your fright, you had let go of more of the grocery bags you had been trying to gather up. Groceries were strewn across the driveway and subsequent footpath. Cans of chickpeas and packets of beef jerky littered the concrete as you held your left hand over your heart to make sure it wasn’t about to leap out of your chest. 

“Fucking idiot, don’t scare people like that, you nearly gave me a heart attack.” 

Jake chuckled to himself as a grin stretched itself across his smug face. Only you could call him an idiot in a scathing rage of fear and his mind would wander to marriage and children and dying together after a long and happy life together. Only you could provoke those once thought unattainable desires. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to give you a coronary,” Jake replied softly as he reached down to collect a few of your lost items. “Just saw you struggling a little and thought I’d stop and help a damsel in distress.” 

“Jake, have I ever given off damsel in distress vibes to you before?” It wasn't the fact that you weren't a damsel. Hell if someone, if anyone had been around when you and your family were being hunted, you would have run into the arms of the nearest bystander. But it was the fact you couldn't get close to Jake. You knew his intentions, you knew his feelings towards you were something more than just platonic. And the worst part of it all was you knew your feelings were also more than something you could pretend didn't exist. Right person, wrong time. 

“Not exactly, no,” Jake replied as he handed you a rogue can of chickpeas. 

“So why on God's green earth do you constantly feel the need to play my saving grace?” The proximity in which you and Jake stood was something bordering a breach of personal space. He stood so close that you could see the small beads of sweat dripping down his chest. Slowing as they caught on the fine chest hairs that littered the expanse of his tanned and muscular self. “And clearly you need more shirts if you feel like running around the neighbourhood topless is appropriate.” 

Jake chuckled at the unimpressed nature of his attire, but he knew deep down, deep deep down, you were looking. 

“One, I have plenty of shirts, and two, any excuse to talk to you is a good enough excuse for me, Brewer.” The very thought of Jake going about his day finding any excuse under the sun to talk to you nearly had you forgetting how to breathe. But it was a fleeting thought, you couldn’t go there. He didn't even know your real name. He wasn't your dead husband. Maybe all these mixed feelings were purely birthed from a desire to not feel so alone. 

As you took the can of chickpeas from Jake's hand, you shut him down with a kind-natured jab. “Flattery will get you nowhere.”

“Don't I know it.” Jake replied with a wink and a smile that could light up the entire night's sky on its darkest of nights before bending over to collect more rouge groceries. Your eyebrow raised in question and concern. What the hell was he doing? 

“What are you doing?” The question was out before you knew what you were saying. It was probably pretty self-explanatory. But your brain wasn't computing Jake's actions. 

“What does it look like I'm doing?” Jake answered with a chuckle. “I'm helping you with your groceries.” You stood there in silence as you watched Jake collect the groceries, wondering what you did to deserve such kindness. 

“I said I didn't need help.” You reminded Jake of the conversation you just had. It had seemed to slip his mind. In one ear and out the other. Attention deficit disorder. 

“No,” Jake stood tall, still sweating from his run. Glistening in the mid-morning sun. “You said you weren't a damsel, that didn’t imply I wasn't a gentleman raised by a woman who’d kick my ass if I didn't stay to help you.” 

“You’re a gentleman?” You had never known another version of Jake Seresin than what he had shown you. To everyone else, he was an arrogant, self-obsessed, egomaniacal who didn’t play well with other aviators who cared more about his abs than he did his friends. He was Hangman. 

But to you? He was simply Jake. Bagman. 

“Only for you.” Jake pressed his lips together in a fine line as he smiled. Your eyes caught Jakes in the morning light, golden and warm as dew drops disappeared from blades of grass and birds sang. The way he looked at you, the way Jake paid way too much attention, the way his eyes trailed down from your eyes to your lips as your fingers touched his. You saw him leaning in, you saw the distance getting smaller and smaller. For a split second, for a small fragment of time, you weren’t going to stop him. 

The silence that lingered wasn’t awkward, but it was intense. The unintentional sexual tension got the better of you as you stepped back and let out a rather large sigh. You had to break the moment, you couldn’t let Jake kiss you. If he kissed you now, you wouldn’t be able to keep a friendly distance. It broke the enchantment as Jake cleared his throat and stepped away. 

“Thanks–” 

“Anytime.” Jake, forever the gentleman, continued to help you collect your groceries and followed you back to your apartment in passive silence. Neither awkward or volatile. It was just peaceful, enjoying the company of one another. 

“You know when I asked what we were doing today I didn’t have unpacking groceries in mind.” Jake teased as he looked around your home, still holding as many broken bags of groceries as he could. “Nice place you’ve got here Brewer.” Jake, for as many times as he’d gotten to the front door of your humble abode, from all the times he’d taken you home or picked you up, he’d never crossed the threshold until this very moment. 

“I told you that I was doing a Sunday reset.” You raised your brow at him as you placed some bags down on the kitchen island, letting out a dramatic sigh. “I didn’t finish till early this morning, Bob actually stayed back and helped me get the last of the stragglers out.” You explained as Jake looked around your home from where he stood across from you at the kitchen bench. 

“Do you uh–” Jake asked softly as he caught the sight of a single photograph hanging by the hallway. A little boy sitting on your lap, dark hair, darkish skin, deep brown eyes, smiling ear to ear. It looked like you were tickling his side to get the very reaction captured in the image. “Need any help today?” Who was that little boy? Did you have a son? A nephew? 

You could tell by Jake's tone that he had seen something he wasn't technically supposed to see, but you weren't sure what it had been. 

“I should be good, not that I don’t enjoy your company, it's just I need some alone time,” You saw the questions swirling in Jake's eyes, but before he could ask any of them you followed up. “You know, because I spend so much of my time at the Hard Deck if I don’t take this time to focus on me, I can’t focus on you guys.” 

“Right, well I best be getting back to it then.” Jake pressed his lips together as he thought about what his next move was going to be. He had one of two options here. The first being he could walk away right this second without embarrassing himself. He could say goodbye and try to forget about to picture he’d seen of you with the small smiling child. The second and probably the most erratic choice was to lean in and kiss the lips that Jake had thought about late at night and first daylight for the last few months. He could hold your cheeks between his palms and rub the heat across your cheeks with the pads of his thumbs. He could feel your tongue dance with his in the moment where time would stand completely still–allowing Jake to feel for once in his life, fulfilled. 

“Yeah–” You replied as you moved a little closer to where Jake stood, moving to usher him back to the front door. “I’m sorry that my attempt to one trip it from the car interrupted–- “ What you weren’t expecting in the middle of your apology was to feel Jake’s lips on yours. The feeling took your breath away. For a fleeting moment, you gave into temptation and closed your eyes. You melted into the physical sensation of another human’s lips on yours. You craved this feeling, one of complete silence in the echoing caves of grief. You allowed yourself to feel the tender touch of Jake’s gentle lips melting with yours as you deepened the kiss. Moving along as Jake pressed your back into the cupboard behind you. His hand fell to your waist as you cupped at his cheeks. Desperately trying to feel every inch of Jake that you could before your mind was to overthrow your heart’s deepest desire for love and admiration. 

“Brewer–” Jake sighed into your mouth as his tongue danced with yours. His hands squeezed at your hips, adoring every curve. Jake could stay in this moment forever if you let him. But as you began to trail your hands down the expanse of Jake’s exposed torso, your brain broke from its restraints with a rude awakening. 

“This is what you get for being a noise fucking bitch!” 

The flash was blinding as the image of the smallest man who ever lived yelled out as he was being placed in the back of the police car. The man who killed your family. 

“Stop!” You gasped as you pushed at Jake’s chest. The look of uncertainty immediately plastered itself across his flushed face. His heartbrokenly beautifully forbidden face. 

“You alright?” Jake questioned with concern as his wide eyes scanned your face for signs of anything wrong. “Did I do something?” He was worried he’d crossed the line, you’d told him so many times you weren't interested. That he was reading into whatever this was, wrong. But he never really listened. He thought the chase was a part of whatever the two of you were becoming. 

“No,” You reassured Jake as you tried to contain the panic rising in your chest. “No it's not that you did anything,” You tried to explain as Jake's eyes softened. “It’s just, I’m–I’m not ready for this.” 

“Is there even a ‘this?” Jake asked as he stepped forward once again. Pushing the boundaries almost immediately. “Just spell it out to me simply, yes or no Brewer.” 

The silence as Jake tucked some of your hair behind your ear was deafening and all-consuming. Your eyes never left his as you tried to find the right answer. The moral answer. The safest and clearly the right choice. No, the answer was no. Nothing was going on between you, you weren't ready for whatever came next. You weren't ready to move on. You weren't ready to expose someone, let alone Jake, to what could possibly be death for just the idea of knowing you. It was a hard no with a capital N and a full stop. One word. Just one. 

“Yes–” *Fuck* “But I just need time, I'm not ready for–” You were trying so hard to find the right words as small tears welled in your water line. “I need to sort a few things out before I can do this, if you don't mind just going real slow, like slower than this?” 

You saw the cogs turning in Jake's mind as a smile ear to ear took over his face. 

“I'll do whatever you want me to, just say the words.” Knowing that you really just wanted the day to yourself, Jake tried his best to effortlessly and as seamlessly as possible, tiptoe his way back to the first choice he had. “I uh–I hope you have a good reset.” 

You could tell Jake really wanted to stay, you could tell he was hanging out for you to change your mind. But you weren't about to, if anything you needed Jake out of your home before he saw anything else he wasn't supposed to see or do anything else you knew you weren't supposed to be doing. No matter how good it felt. 

“I hope the run doesn’t involve any more damsels,” You chuckled softly as you nudged Jake with your shoulder. “Guess you finally did earn the nickname ‘Bagman’ after all,” You chuckled again as Jake did too, nodding along in agreement. “Thanks again for helping me with my groceries, Seresin, I really appreciate it.” 

“Anytime–” Jake cooed as he smiled, heading back towards the front door with you. “See you for beer o’clock tomorrow?” 

“Oh, I'll be there.” You replied as you held the front door open for Jake. watching as he headed on down the hall and out of site. As soon as Jake was gone you shut the door tight, making sure it was locked but the three separate safety measures you had in place, before turning and sliding your back down the door until you hit the ground. “Oh my–” 

You couldn’t stop yourself from panicking as you curled your knees tight into your chest. Jake seresin, in your fucking house. KISSING YOU. What the fuck were you doing? You couldn't let your feelings get the better of you. You had a son to avenge, a husband to get justice for. It was bad enough that you'd slipped up and let Bob in on your situation, but you were clearly allowing Jake to get too close. 

As you tried to calm yourself down from the panic, your phone rang softly in the distance. Back up on the kitchen bench, your phone displayed a name you never liked hearing from. It was mandatory though, the check-ins, the updates, the constant “We’re making progress but can't tell you anything more than that.” 

As you peeled yourself from the floor you saw the name. The dreaded contact that made your heart drop every single time. With every call the memories that haunted you grew more and more real. The veil between reality and memory blurs to the point you aren’t sure what’s real and what’s the past. It all hurts the same though, internal suffering. The name that kept bringing it all back, time and time again. Year after year. Never allowing old wounds to heal. 

Roger. 

Suffering is optional……That person didn’t know what the fuck they were talking about.

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***

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