#I know the emotion is there but I can't actually feel it

[strwberri-milk]

Oooh could you give reactions of the LaDS guys when MC rescues them?? I can imagine their stunned faces followed by intense worry for MC

Zayne didn't think that disaster would strike the hospital but here he is using his Evol to try and help patients and their families escape. Anybody who had an offensive Evol was part of this shoddily thrown together front lines, desperately trying to buy time until the authorities arrived.

He thinks he's about to be closed in as the roof comes down, doing his best to try and lessen the damage when he sees you come to the rescue. Somehow you manage to push him out of the way, rolling the two of you to safety as you get up to continue your path. He immediately grabs you by the wrist, wordlessly asking if you're okay. You offer him a quick nod before running off to continue, both of you understanding that time is of the essence.

When he finds you again later he's giving you a full physical, wanting to make sure that you're okay despite the accident. He can only rest once you're safe, holding you close.

If you sustained a life threatening injury he's there the entire time. He's making sure that you're okay, monitoring your progress as much as the doctors will allow him to. They don't want him getting in the way, knowing that he's especially emotional because it's you despite never having seen him like this before. He knows he shouldn't be interfering but honestly, he can't help it. He's worried and he's going to blame himself for the rest of his life if you don't get better.

Xavier lost his mind when he lost sight of you, trying his best to fight while also looking for you everywhere. When he finally sees you after you took out a Wanderer he pulls you into his chest, hugging you tightly as he asks you if you're alright. He does his best to appraise your current condition, doing whatever he can to mitigate any pain you feel and trying to convince you to rest before things get worse.

The attack doesn't seem to be letting up at all and you know that the two of you have to split up to continue no matter how much he hates it. He decides fuck the orders and follows you anyway, knowing that he won't be able to focus if you're not there with him.

He hears the Wanderer too late - turning around and drawing his sword half a second later than he should when he hears your guns going off. The Wanderer immediately turns to you, giving him an opening to strike back. It's faster than either of you thought it was, the scream he hears from you shutting him down.

He's glad you saved him but not at the cost of your life and he wastes the creature, knowing his body will suffer the consequences from how powerful his attack was but that doesn't matter if it means it saved you. He immediately takes you to get help, refusing to leave your side until you're actually 100%. He promised himself he'd protect you and he's going to be even more protective of you from now on.

Rafayel didn't think that his studio would be ambushed like this but he was more than capable of handling it - or so he thought. He was close to burning down his whole studio if he needed to in order to escape the assailants, surprised when they suddenly start collapsing without him doing anything.

When you emerge with your weapon drawn he's happy to see you but immediately worries about how you got through the other people they said they brought with them. You were able to take them down thankfully but he's not convinced you're alright, securing his studio with you to ensure that the two of you have nothing else to worry about.

If you sustain a life threatening injury he's immediately calling for help but also takes care of you right then and there. He doesn't want to lose any time to waiting for medical staff to arrive or your fellow hunters - he knows how to take care of you and his fire Evol is thankfully good at cauterising wounds despite how awful he feels about you trying to be brave as he burns your skin. The scars that linger upset him deeply because to him, they represent a time he failed you but in spite of them he doesn't let it drag him down. He knows it'd just make you more upset to know that's how he feels so he just focuses on making sure his skills stay sharp enough to protect you.

Sylus doesn't normally get attacked when he goes out on a job but this was a first. He was a little underprepared, thinking he'd have a quiet evening but the fight wasn't too rough, thankfully. He turns, preparing to leave without realising that there was another figure hidden in the shadows, ready to strike him down when he hears someone fall behind him. You stand over their unconscious body, a little worse for wear but nothing some TLC couldn't solve.

Sylus insists on taking you home, knowing that while you look fine there was always a slight chance that something was being overlooked and he did not want to be negligent in your care. He doesn't like the fact that you got attacked most likely because of your association with him, telling you that you need to be more careful to avoid things like that happening.

When you do get attacked because of your connection with him he has no reservations killing the person who had the audacity to hurt you. He takes you back home, patching you up and making sure you're okay in the comfort of his house. You have round the clock care and you think that Sylus isn't too shaken about your near death experience until you realise his sleep is even lighter one night. He can't sleep properly and probably won't for a while. He'll always be even more alert, constantly having either Mephisto or himself on your trail to ensure that nothing like that happens again.

[juletheghoul]

too close

a/n: Yeah. The trailer got me again. I can't help myself!!! Also - I didn't actually want to write feelings for these two but I have no say anymore. They have feelings, they are obsessed with each other and I can't just ignore it lol. Not beta’d and barely proofread- any mistakes or errors are my own. Hopefully you enjoy! (PS I did a little research on fruits in Roman times- they had no word for orange, so any shade of orange was just called red)

Warnings; 18+ no minors, vague but big-legal age gap, piv sex, dirty talk, Marcus eats pussy and I don't CARE, giving him that gluckgluck3000, creampie, Marcus gets hurt (hurt comfort), hand stuff from him because he's my precious man and he likes to give his girl pleasure, master / slave dynamic (power imbalance) he’s still pretty possessive, Marcus calls reader Girl, reader calls Marcus Dominus (for now?👀), **FEELINGS** let me know if I missed any!

This is the fic I referenced in this preview

Pairing: Marcus Acaciusx F!Reader

word count: 5.1k (whoops!)

reblogs are appreciated

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You frowned, despite your station, the confusion and slight worry breaking through the years of training your face to remain neutral. For a moment, you forgot your place.

“But-“ he turned, head tilted in curiosity instead of anger, thankfully, “I am to stay here? You do not wish me to accompany you Dominus? To pour and serve…?” You could not keep the slight hurt from your voice, much to your dismay. 

“No Girl, you will stay here, at the villa.” He saw the confusion, the unabashed anguish on your face and his expression softened, “peace Girl, it is not a matter of not desiring your presence or your service.” You listened to him with a lump in your throat, a wild fear seizing your heart that he might have grown tired of you. 

“I will not have the luxury of a tent, the rebellion is small enough that I can squash it and be back in less than a moon’s turn.” He came close, close enough to have your face tilt up to stare into his eyes. “I would not have you waiting for me in such a meagre camp, I would not have you sleeping in the dirt.” His hand settled on your arm, a soft offering, a reassurance but it did nothing to calm you. You have grown so accustomed to having him close, to ending up in his bed of a night more often than not before heading to your own, naked and pleasantly sore; to falling asleep with his seed trickling out of your puffy little cunt.

“I am comfortable wherever you are Dominus, I could still be of use, to light your fires-“ 

“I would have you here, and safe. That is my decision, and no amount of temptation will sway me from it.” He lifted your hand, pressing his lips to your fingers in silent, but firm apology. You knew there was nothing to be said, you had already pushed the matter far more than would be allowed on a normal day. 

“Your will, Dominus.” You bowed your head, despite the hurt and worry swirling around in your belly. “I will pray to the Gods for your swift victory, and safe return home.” 

He nodded, leaving shortly after. 

Time passed, and a feeling of restlessness took firm root in your being. The house felt empty, despite the attendants and sentinels left to guard them as well as the property. The days found you listless, moving through the motions of your chores and daily duties practically numb. The days were marks on the wall of your mind, praying to the Gods to send him back to you. 

Whispers travelled swiftly through the city, through the market stalls and through the villa itself, most of them rumours and it was difficult to keep your emotions in check. 

He has advanced

He has killed the leaders of the rebellion

He is victorious, already on his way home

He has been hurt

He is dead

He is victorious - Rome's favoured son has triumphed once more

The moon turned, once, and then twice, finally a third time before he was home. The all encompassing relief was short lived however, that wash of relief turned to ashes in your mouth at the sight of him. One of the rumours had been true after all. A sword wound to the side had laid him low late into the battle, it hadn’t killed him, thank the Gods, but it had slowed him down and made his journey home nothing short of agony. 

Your heart raced to see him weakened, every fibre of your being itched to run to him, to press your lips to skin but you refrained. You stood aside, dutifully, letting his trusted soldiers practically carry him to his bed. The older women got to work, bringing fortified wine with all manner of powders and potions to aid in his recovery while you stood next to him, the little half-moon marks in your palms from your nails barely felt like anything compared to the ache in the back of your throat. 

Your eyes would not leave his face. 

He looked so tired, mud and grime still marring his skin as he lay prone on his bed. To forfend the ugly thoughts swirling around in your mind, you focused on the tasks at hand. 

He needs to be cleansed, after he eats something I will boil some water and move gently, leave him to gather his strength. An offering must be made so the Gods will hasten his healing-

“Girl.” His voice was soft, and instantly you rushed to his side. 

“Yes Dominus, I am here.” You took his hand tentatively, your heart soared to feel him squeeze it. 

“Fetch me some broth, and help me to sit up–a few pillows behind me. I would sit upright.” 

You rushed to comply, happy to focus on his instructions. With soft touch, you did your best to prop him up, biting your lip to stop your eyes from welling up when he winced. Once satisfied, you set about fetching hot water and linens, as well as his broth. He sighed at the sight of it, and drank almost all of it within a few heartbeats. 

“Shall I help you cleanse now Dominus?” You brought the basin closer, showing him the steaming water and he nodded. 

Tentatively, you removed the soiled clothes he wore, ears pricked up for any sign of discomfort. He beared it with good grace, keeping the twinges of pain to himself, you imagined for your benefit, and you were grateful. It took time, but finally, you had divested him of everything, and he half sat, half laid on his bed, not an ounce of shame for his nakedness. It was secondary, to see him bare, more alarming was the soiled linens with the dark bloom of dried blood staining it on his side like some grotesque flower. 

He was pale, weak, his injury robbing him of his normal, ruddy health. He watched you, his expression somewhere between exhaustion, and a calm content. 

With gentle hands, you dipped the clean linen into the steaming water of the basin, and methodically cleaned the dirt, and dried blood from his skin. Eventually his eyes closed, soft sighs filled the air with every pass of the warm cloth across his shoulders, down the firm muscles of his thighs, his hands, until you reached the contours of his face. The lines were more defined, this battle had taken a toll on him. 

Your thumbs smoothed over his brows, wiping dust and worry away with a bone deep gratitude that he had come back. He melted into your touch, and you tried and failed to suppress the smile. 

“I must clean the wound, Dominus.” You reached for more clean dressings, giving him a chance to steel himself but he kept his eyes closed. You thought he might have fallen asleep, but he nodded, and so you did what needed to be done. 

To his great credit, he didn’t make a sound. Even as you cleaned at the angry, but healing edges of the wound. He said nothing when you packed it with the poultice one of the women had brought, when you covered it in a clean dressing, even as he drank down the no doubt foul tasting potion to help him sleep. Instead he settled back, and sighed, his eyelashes fluttering against his skin. 

You gathered all of the soiled clothing and discarded bandages, and moved to leave him to rest but his hand snatched at your wrist. 

“Wait, Girl, stay. Stay with me–” His words were almost slurred, and he didn’t finish his thought, his hand loosened around your wrist but you stayed, taking great care to lie beside him on his bed, and watched him sleep. Your heart raced with something you couldn’t–wouldn't name, something that threaded through your ribcage like smoke, wreathing its way around your lungs and taking root in your heart. You pressed the back of your hand to his brow, thankful that no fever lurked there and once satisfied that he was indeed resting, you rested your head next to his. 

Sleep took you, swiftly and without warning. 

The world outside was dark when your eyes opened, and it took a moment for you to get your bearings. His warm skin pressed to your arm and you jolted with the memory of his injury. 

“Peace, girl, I am well.” His voice was quiet, but stronger than before, “You did well in changing my dressings.” His praise squeezed at something in your belly, robbing you of any words you might have had. “You must be hungry, go and fetch something to eat and bring it here, I will share the meal with you.” The concern in his voice brought a smile to your lips, his thoughts on you, despite the pain he must have been in. 

“Yes Dominus, shall I fetch more of the potion as well? You should rest-” He raised his hand softly to forestall you. 

“I have rested enough, I would have my wits about me just now. Go on, you may fetch whatever else you need, I would have you sleeping in my bed.” 

His words rung in your ears as you moved throughout the silent house. They shone through your eyes as you piled a serving tray with olives and cheese, with bread and ripe fruits. They camped in your belly as it rolled with something when they repeated over and over like a prayer in your mind as you filled a serving jug with the wine he favoured, they strengthened your grip as you carried it with the utmost care down the moonlit halls of the house, almost sharpening your eyesight to bring you swiftly back to him. 

You set it down between you on his bed, careful not to spill anything or jostle him too much and just in time too, the hunger rung out from your empty belly loud as thunder but you ignored it, your priority was to help him sit up.

“Eat Girl, you are starving. I will pick at my leisure.” He frowned, gesturing to the food and you were grateful beyond words. It was a quiet meal, but comfortable. He usually ate by himself, most of the time while in his study and with you, it was after chores and duties had been completed. Despite all of your trysts and time spent together, it was the first meal you’d ever shared. 

“You do not favour the olives.” He said it without judgement. You shook your head shyly, covering your mouth to speak through bites of bread and cheese. 

“My desire for them is unpredictable.” He tilted his head, “Sometimes, they are all I want. Other times, I cannot stand the sight of them.” You wrinkled your nose, confirming that this time, the latter statement was true.

He smiled, huffing out an amused laugh through his nose.

“What else do you like? I see you favour the fruit, which one do you like most of all?” It was strange to be asked about yourself, no one in your life had ever wondered about what you might of preferred, for anything.

“Figs, I think. Pomegranates too, although peeling them takes a lifetime.” He huffed again, wincing slightly, “Are you in pain? Shall I fetch–” He raised a hand. 

“I am well, continue. Why do you favour them if they are so troublesome to eat?” He shifted a tiny bit, with great effort, turning to face you better. The room was dark, save for the few candles burning and the moon shining in through his window, casting stark shadows across his lovely face. 

“They are worth the effort.” 

He smiled, and finally reaches over to help himself to the food. Something about the darkness, about the quiet seclusion made you bolder.

“What about you Dominus? Is there a fruit you favour?” Your heart raced, fear that you might have overstepped grabbing hold of you but it was for naught, he merely frowned in thought. 

“I prefer plums.” He said after a moment, “I like figs as well.” It was both exhilarating and strange to speak with him like that, in the quiet dark, almost comfortable. “Although–in my younger days we fought in Spain, and there I tasted a fruit I have never seen again, I do not know the name of it but I enjoyed it very much.” 

“What was it like?”

“It was round, a strange shade of red with a thick peel but underneath it had segments like a lemon.” He continued eating, and you were content to sit with him, only moving the tray once he had eaten his fill.

“It is good to be home.” The words came out as a sigh, “I missed it while I was away, more than any other time I must admit.” He shifted slightly and winced again, “Help me lay flat, my back aches from sitting.” He held out his hand and you rushed to oblige, moving pillows and positioning him flat on his back. “That is better, gratitude girl, let us blow out the candles and settle in.” 

“Yes Dominus.”

“Have you something to sleep in? What is most comfortable for you?” 

“I am content in this, Dominus.” You gestured to your tunic as you made your way around the room, snuffing out the candlelight.

“That is not what I asked you.” There was no bite in his words, but the expectation of truth was plain as day. 

“Most nights I sleep in the nude, it is what is most comfortable for me.” You made your way back to the bed but he did not let you get in. 

“Please, make yourself comfortable, there is no expectation from me, much as I have missed the pleasures of your body. I would have you sleep how you are accustomed.” You nodded once, undressing down to your skin before slipping into bed with him. In the dark, in the quiet, it was peaceful and the sound of his steady breathing worked it spell on you quicker than you would have thought. 

“Gratitude Girl.” He said it soft, and with a full belly and heavy lids, you questioned him. 

“For what Dominus?” The words were almost slurred, as the heavy press of sleep pushed you into the deep pool of blackness. You thought you heard him say everything, but you could not be sure, sleep had claimed you. 

-

You woke with the sun, the first few rays sliding across your skin like water and it was hard to move from your place. In the night, your body had brought you close to him, seeking out the warmth of him. He was still asleep, but his legs had tangled up with yours and it was strange to lay with him like this, both of you nude as the day you were born, yet incredibly comforting. 

You took the time to check over his wound, and were pleased to find it looking much better. The edges of it stitching together, thankfully without corruption. 

“It does not hurt as much as it did before.” His voice was sleepy, “I will be back on my feet soon enough.”

“Let me dress Dominus, and I will fetch you something to break your fast.” 

“Not just yet.” He shifted, and although you helped him, he didn’t struggle quite as much. “Come, lie with me.” He held out his arm, and you went to him, trembling like a leaf to rest your head on his shoulder. “Gods, I missed you, Girl.” He buried his nose into the mess of your hair and something inside you grew and swelled, was fed and made strong by his words and by his skin. 

“I missed you, Dominus.” Truer words had never been spoken by you, the ache for him had been unbearable.

“Did you?” There was something underneath, something desperate and had it not been so early, so peaceful, he might not have asked.

“Desperately Dominus, I feared you had abandoned me, I feared you no longer desired me.” You pressed your face into his neck, breathing him in, his scent, his warmth, him- sustenance

“Come now, Girl, you know of my desire for you, it is like a thirst I cannot quench. A hunger I cannot satisfy, despite my dark moods, despite my sour face, you are a source of joy and pleasure I have not known in some time.” His hand brought your face up, his gaze burned into yours and his words affected you so that tears welled in your eyes. He wiped them away, and the tenderness was too much, a sob clawed its way out from your throat. All of the worry, all of the fear that he might have left you alone in the world, to be sold to another bubbled up and he held you as you cried.

“Do you wish to be free of me? Is that why you cry?” Something in his voice broke your heart.

“No Dominus, no-“ you wiped at your eyes, moving to look him in the eye and the expression you saw in them was almost too much to bear. “I have never been so happy in all my life, I have never felt about anyone, the way I feel for you.” You pressed your lips to his, petal-soft. 

“Sometimes, the things I feel for you are almost too big for my body, I want to be with you always, I want to feel you always. I feared so much while you were gone that I could barely eat, barely sleep-” Your words were frantic, so many things to get out that you could barely speak and he pulled you close, shushing you softly. 

“My heart swells to hear you speak this way.” He reached down, sliding his hand towards the hinge in your knee, to pull it over his thigh. “Peace, let us just enjoy the silence.” You nodded into his neck, letting go of a great breath in your lungs. 

“If I was myself, and whole, I would be pulling every ounce of pleasure from you now.” 

You laughed at the annoyance in his tone.

“Soon enough Dominus, I would have you healthy and healed.” Your hand slid up the smooth expanse of his chest, threading through the curls at the base of his skull. “Once your wound has healed, you may have me any way you please.” 

“Any way?” His tone darkened, and your body responded, thighs clenching, heart racing, nipples hardening. “Any way I please? And what if I want you for a day and a night? What if I want you wet and spread for me in this bed until you’re so full of my gift it spills all over my linens?” The hand that had been softly stroking your back moved down and grabbed at your backside, pulling until the lips of your sex spread open. 

A moan slipped out at the feel of his hands, and he all but growled. 

“Do not make those noises Girl, not when I cannot fuck you how I wish to.” He pulled your face up, licking into your mouth with a hunger you could not satisfy, not in his current state. 

“Dominus, I beg of you not to taunt me, not when we cannot indulge.” You kissed him again, despite your words and finally he pulled away, the tremble of frustration in his grip. You shifted, and felt his manhood press against your thigh, the sight of him, leaking and hard against his belly made you sigh. 

“Do not concern yourself with that, I am ravenous for you, but my body cannot fulfill the wishes of my cock. Go and fetch something to break our fast. I will need you to change my dressing as well, if you could.” He sent you off with a kiss, and with desire dripping onto your thighs. 

“Yes Dominus.” You smiled, and rushed off to do what needed to be done. 

-

Weeks passed, and he healed beautifully. His wound knit together cleanly and with that, his strength came back. More often than not he stood and cleansed without your help, he left the safety of his bed and his chambers and sported a genuine smile as he made his rounds through his house.

You trailed behind him, your own smile in place to see him coming back into himself. 

Things were different. He was different. 

He spoke more, that was for one. Before he would keep his own council, his words were curt and his thoughts would be kept close to his chest. Some nights he reverted to his silence, but it had grown into something peaceful, something comfortable.

The biggest change though, was his attitude towards you. 

For one, he refused to sleep alone. The darkness of night found you tending to his needs and after the candles had been snuffed- he pulled your tunic off and pulled you into his bed, into his arms. 

At first, you thought it was his injury, a fear that he might suffer some setback in his sleep, but as the days passed on and he was well past the point of danger, he still refused to let you go. 

His desire had come back too, much quicker than his body could handle. Mornings would find you in the cage of his arms, with his lust pressed hard and hot at the cleft of your ass. You would pull away so as not to tease him, and he would let you at first, but as his body caught up to him, he stopped letting you pull away. 

Most mornings, he’d whisper how much he missed burying himself inside you, how he couldn’t wait to gift you with his seed while slipping his fingers between your legs and swirling them around your clit, only stopping after you’d fluttered around his fingers. Then he’d send you off to fetch food with a smile on your face and an ever-growing ache between your thighs. 

A part of you fretted as to why he hadn’t taken you yet, as the days passed it was clear that he was well enough to indulge. Another part, a hopeful, possibly quite foolish part of you thought maybe he was waiting for you to ask him. That couldn’t be, could it? You ruminated on your previous encounters, yes–he’d called you forth to warm his bed, but with every recalled memory it was clear that in his own way, he'd let you decide whether to push things or not. A luxury you knew was rare. It was an intoxicating thought though, to think that you could decide when and what you wanted him to do.

So many possibilities. 

When night came, you brought him his meal, and his wine and tried to keep the tremble of excitement out of your hands. You watched him move about his chambers, his strength back to normal as he dipped his hands into the fresh water in his basin. His hair had grown out a little, dark with silver mixed through and that thought struck you again, that he was some beautiful marble statue come to life. An emperor of old, standing before you in all his glory. 

“Dominus-” You called to him, unable to hold back any longer. His eyes raised, finding you as he dried his hands. 

“Before you take your meal, I would ask something of you.” Your voice shook, never had you openly asked him for anything before. He raised his eyebrows, more surprised than anything.

“What would you have of me Girl?” He moved towards you, eyes curious. 

“I would have you–” You stopped him, guiding him to sit on his bed, “I would have you sit here, and accept my mouth.” 

You kneeled before him, staring up at him with your lip caught between your teeth. Your hands landed on his knees, sliding up to pull his tunic up to expose his manhood. For a moment, he stared at you with wide, surprised eyes. 

“I have missed our times together, I have missed you filling me of a night and as much as I treasure your fingers in the morning, I would have you feel pleasure at my hand–or, my mouth.” He did not stop you from exposing him and heat flooded your body to see how quickly his cock responded to your words, to the soft exploration of your hand. 

“You would do this?” His palm landed on your shoulder, sliding up to cup your cheek. “You have no obligation, I would not command you to do this should you not want to.” You spit onto your palm and grasped him in hand and despite his words, he shudderred to feel the way you stroked him. 

“I dream about this Dominus, I desire you so deeply that I ache for you–” You opened your mouth and took the blunt tip of him into your mouth. He moaned, slack-jawed at the sight of you. You placed open mouthed kisses at the tip, and the sensitive underside, stroking at the base of him. His thighs spread, making room for you and you relished the warm strength of them under your arms. 

He tasted like the ocean. 

“God’s above Girl-” You pulled away, smiling as you continued to stroke him, he barely fit in the palm of your hand and with his passion dribbling out and your spit the sounds were loud and slick. Your own arousal unspooled between your legs, the ache intensifying as he tensed underneath you, hissing when you pressed soft kisses to the scar at his side, to the softness of his belly, to the firm golden thighs bracketing you to his hips. 

“Open your mouth.” His confidence resurfaced, and then his hand wrapped around yours, guiding you to stroke him the way he liked. He guided the reddened tip into your mouth. “Look at me when you take me in your mouth, open wide, I want to touch your throat.” You moaned around him, taking him deeper, breathing through your nose in an attempt to stay calm. 

“That’s it Girl, Gods be damned-” His tone was filthy as he held you there, eyes watering until you pulled away, sputtering and messy. 

“If you continue, I will spill in your mouth.” he guided your hand still, slowly stroking himself against your lips, smearing your spit and his salty arousal onto your lips. Never in your life have you felt that powerful, that beautiful, with tears spilling down your face and slick dripping down your thighs. He held himself suspended in his pleasure, awaiting your word. 

“Would you like to spill in my mouth Dominus? Or would you like to fill my cunt?” You held out your tongue, letting him rub the tip of himself against it while he decided. Your heart soared to see the conflict on his face. 

“I would fill your cunt, I have missed it terribly.” You smiled and rose with a final kiss to his cock and once you did, he ripped the tunic off your body. The loud tear of it made you squeal with a mix of shock and excitement. 

“I promise you, I will not last.” He all but tossed you onto his bed, spreading your legs wide for his gaze. “Greedy little cunt, so wet for me.” He spoke in a daze, staring at the place that ached at the mere thought of him. He slipped down and it’s with a shock that you watched him dip down to spear into you with his tongue. Never had anyone used their mouth on you and the sight of it was almost too much to bear.

It’s with a greedy, filthy groan that his lips dragged up to latch around the pert little pearl of you, his tongue stroking, stroking, stroking while his mouth suctioned around it. Your body was a taut string, legs shaking under the strong grip of his hands, holding you to him tight enough to hurt. Your breathing came in pants, the climax was already there, balancing on a knife's edge, so close you could almost taste it.

His hands moved, sliding up to pinch at your nipples and the wave crested. Your hands gripped into his curls, both holding him close, and desperately pushing him away while you fluttered into his mouth. 

You felt the strong muscle of his tongue slide down, drinking you from the source. 

He made his way back up, your slick shining on his face and on his whiskers. You’re almost too shocked, and too shy to look into his eyes. 

“I confess, I have wanted to do that for a long time.” He pulled his tunic up and off as you lay under him, boneless. “I know it’s not something commonly done, but I enjoy it. Did you enjoy it? I felt you flutter.” He raised your leg, wrapping it around his hip while his cock slipped inside you without any resistance. You let out a relieved sigh, finally, he was home. 

“Yes Dominus–” You almost whispered, half-shy as he dropped down, his arms holding himself up on either side of your skull. “No one has ever–Oh–” He snapped his hips hard, unable to hold himself back and already, the need built in your core, robbing you of any coherent thoughts. 

“No one but me ever will.” He kissed you, making you taste yourself and it was so perverse, so exhilarating you held him close, wrapping your arms and legs around him to feel as much of him as you could. His cock pushed and pulled, hitting that special place he owned and with a handful of thrusts, and a punched out groan he filled you with his gift. Finally. 

He watched himself pull out of the mess he'd made, watched in silence as his gift dripped out and onto his linens. 

Things felt different this time, there’s a vulnerability, an intimacy that is almost overwhelming. You pulled his face up, and pressed your lips to his softly, praying that you conveyed the feelings swirling in your chest. He kissed you back, his hand gliding up to wrap around your neck. When you opened your eyes, his brow was furrowed, the same feelings shining back at you through his dark eyes. 

Seconds passed, and the feeling did not disperse. Before he would have sent you away, but he held you close. Wordlessly he pressed his lips to yours over and over, he stroked at your skin, your shoulder and your thigh high on his ribs, your breast, your lips. He moved off, and went about dampening a cloth to clean himself off of you. Once he was done, he brought the food you’d served him and fed you from his own hand. 

You accepted the food, smiling shyly as he watched you, something like affection, like love shining out through his eyes. 

“Thank you Dominus–” He shook his head, a small frown at your words. 

“Call me Marcus.”

– Tag list: @frannyzooey @greeneyedblondie44 @lola4pedro @221bshrlocked @artsymaddie @supernaturalgirl20 @sleep-tight1 @sherala007 @cannedsoupsucks @thirstworldproblemss @ilikechocolatemilkh @freeshavocadoooo @hrk-fic-recs @maxwell--lord @the-feckless-wonder @kirsteng42 @thisshipwillsail316 @feministfanboi  @stevie75 @readsalot73 @pedrostories @tobealostwanderer @mandocrasis @elegantduckturtle @diogodxlot @alczysz17 @evyiione @absurdthirst @beskarboobs @andruxx @littlemissoblivious @1800-fight-me @maievdenoir @gracie7209 @omlwhatamidoinghere @magikfanatic @frankiecatfish @pedritoispunk @studythoreauly @missswriter @pintsizemama @mswarriorbabe80 @a-trial-run-on-paper @la-le-lu @chickadee-djarin @dobbyjen @rosiefridayrogersunday @ajeff855 @johnsrevelation @the-witty-pen-name @zombiesnips-blog @sarahjkl82-blog @fan-of-encouragement @queenofthecloudss @deadhumourist @felicisimor @toomanystoriessolittletime @what-iwish-you-knew @pedrostories @athalien @bi-thewayy @literallydontlook @pedrosbrat @gamingaquarius @luxmundee @iamafadedmoon @nakhudanyx @littlemisspascal @grogusmum @recklessworry @heyitmelexie @killyspinacoladas @gothicxbarbie @evildxad @dragonslarimar @spideysimpossiblegirl @chemtrail-mix @breezythesimp @altarsw @artooies-scream @staygolddindjarin @softsweetedbeauty @littlemisspascal @yuiopiklmn @squidwell @just-blogging-around @bbyanarchist @girlofchaos @maddiedrmr @frasmotic @acourtofsnakes @buckybarneshairpullingkink @astoryisaloveaffair @harriedandharassed  @shirks-all-responsibilities @androah @alwaysachorusgirl @dindjarinsmut @captain-jebi @gallowsjoker @tusk89 @dadbodfanatic-x @naiomiwinchester @blazedprince @avidreader73 @mr-underhills-things @avengersfan25 @tastygoldentaters @nyotamalfoy @mymindfuckery @its-nebuleuse @missladym1981 @inept-the-magnificent @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @ladyofmidlo72 @greenvita @honey-on-your-tongue

[rosenclaws]

hello!! do you have any thoughts on what Eddie Alden is like in bed?

also you're my favorite author on tumblr 😁

omg thank you anon!! AND YES FINALLY I CAN TALK ABOUT EDDIEEEE

warnings: MINORS DNI!!!, afab!reader, fingering, riding, Eddie is flirtyy

Sex with Eddie Alden headcanons

Okay Eddie is a little slutty and you know what that is okay. I mean god he’s so hot in that movie i’m actually obsessed with him.

He’s a total fucking flirt oh my god. Flirty words and very flirty touches. He’s the kind of guy to put his hand next to your head and lean in close and smile with his stupid perfect teeth.

Even though he’s insanely cocky he can really back it up in bed. I mean first he’s insanely hot like god 2001 Hugh Jackman is insane.

He starts out with a make out session. His hands slipping under your clothes, touching and squeezing every bit of skin he can get.

When I say cocky I mean really fucking cocky.

“Making all those sounds for me baby?”

That man is relentless. He guides you back against every damn surface of his place. The kitchen counter, the wall, the door, and finally his bed. He 100% sticks his hand into your pants btw. Like unbuttons your pants with skill and sticks his hand in your panties.

His fingers are fucking magic. They’re thick and long and fuck he knows how to use them. He goes slow at first to tease you. He 100% makes you beg for it.

“You need what? Use your words.”

After he makes you come on his fingers and makes you scream his name he gets undressed and fuck is he HOT. I’m sorry I just can’t get enough of Eddie.

I think he likes a variety of positions. Doggy, missionary, prone bone, against the wall. I mean you name it.

He also has a praise kink but it’s more you praising him. He lives for how much he can make you scream.

He’s rougher for sure but can also give it nice and slow. Mostly to be a tease. I think he’s a big ass guy. Like checking out your ass every time you walk by him. So I think he likes positions where you're on your stomach mostly.

Okay low key I don't think he's big on kissing in bed at first because it's almost too intimate for him. Like yeah he just made out with you but looking you in your eyes and kissing while he's balls deep is a little too much connection for him.

He's scared of getting attached and that's why he has so many one night stands.

He's also a massive talker. Like he cannot shut up once he's inside of you holy. Won't stop telling you how good you feel and taunting you too. Asking if you feel good, asking if its too much and if he's too big.

He can also go for multiple rounds too. Like just give him a cigarette and 10 minutes and he's back watching you ride him.

OH FUCK RIDING EDDIE WHILE HE SMOKES. Jesus that sounds so fucking hot.

He'd thrust up roughly at random times too just to keep you on your toes. Smirk when you whine at him to quit it (you absolutely don't want him to stop).

He can't stop watching where your cunt just sucks up his dick over and over again. He also lets you steal a couple drags of his cigarette.

After a while I think he'd get impatient and switch positions so he could rail the living daylights out of you.

He may not be ready for emotional connection but he'll be dammed if he doesn't give some good after care. There's a reason people keep ending up in his bed alright.

I want this man so badly it's insane.

[dakotalun]

What Now? | Eddie Munson

pairing: Eddie Munson X Fem Reader

summary: You just got broken up with and you can only think of one place to go.

warnings: none, just some fluffy Eddie moments :)

word count: 1k

a/n: Shit it's been a while. Anyways back to it!

*******NOT MY GIF, CREDIT TO OWNERS*******

Everything was going okay recently, not many nightmares and the ones I did have weren’t too bad. Until…

“What?” The confusion is evident on my face and in my voice.

“I just don’t think we’ll work out. I’m sorry,” Jamie’s head is down and their eyes are looking everywhere but at me.

“What did I do?”

“Nothing! Nothing at all, it’s me.”

I scoff, “Pfft. Okay sure,” I roll my eyes at their words, “Like every other time people say that line.”

“I’m being serious, love. I love you, I really do but there’s shit that I need to figure out-”

“Then we figure it out together! That’s what it means to be in a committed relationship!”

“I just- I feel like having a partner right now is not helping,” Their voice is distant and soft now.

“I get it. I’m too much, too clingy, too needy, too…everything,” The words sting my throat and tongue as they leave but it’s the truth, it’s what they all mean when they break it off with me.

“Not at all! You’re perfect, in every way, shape, and form. Seriously, it's me. I’m going through shit that I feel like would break us if I kept lying about it to you.”

“So this has been going on for a while?” I see their face change for a second then go back to sadness.

“Yeah, it has. But I thought it was nothing-”

“How long?”

“What?” Now it’s their turn to be confused.

“How long have you known and been going through this?” My face is steel and I show no emotion.

“Since Lolla.”

Lollapalooza was in August, it’s November. They’ve known this and not said anything for 3 months! Lying to me about everything for so long and I had no idea. I don’t even know how to feel right now. I begin to grab my bag and stuff my shit in it before getting up off their bed.

"Y/N," They reach for my hand to stop me from leaving.

I pull away before they can touch me, "Don't. I- I need space," I leave their room and head for the front door, looking back at the fuzzy orange cat lying on the back of the chair as he always does for the last time. 

"Bye Cheerio," I twist the knob and walk out of the apartment I had felt so welcome in before. 

I can hear the thunder once in the elevator, realizing that I can't return home because I promised Robin the apartment, assuming I'd be with Jamie all night. I try to think of who else I could stay with tonight.

Chrissy maybe? No, she’s at Jason’s place for the weekend. Oh, Nancy should be free right? I reach for my phone to text Nancy but see a Google Calendar notification on the screen.

Nancy Double Date with Johnathan and Roomie! Damn, I guess she’s out too. Maybe Robin would understand me coming home tonight, if I told them what happened? 

As I think about what to do and where to go, rain starts to pour down, soaking through the loose shirt I had put on. 

Why does this keep happening to me? How do I always end up in the rain with no place to go? I think back to last summer when Kris, Sophia, and I got into it and my brother’s friend had to come rescue me from myself and the rain. I laugh at the thought that this is just going to be my normal from now on.

As I walk, my feet autonomously begin to head to the only other person whom I trust and who might be able to help. I don’t even realize where I’m going until I’m standing in front of the building, not under the protection of the awning even though it’s only 3 feet in front of me.

I take a deep breath before stepping forward and deciding this really is the only option I have left. I’m thankful for the covering once I’m actually under it. I dial apartment 203 and wait for the voice of my best friend to spread through the old speaker.

"Hello?" His voice is low and gravelly; he must have just woken up.

"Eddie, It’s Y/N. Can I come up? I-" I sniffle and before I can continue I hear the lock moving and the door unlock so I can enter. I didn’t even realize I had been crying until then.

I quickly open the door and make my way through the small maze to get to his place on the second floor. I can feel my wet socks and the weight of my bag has risen tremendously since I left Jamie’s. I'm gonna need to check and make sure my computer is okay once I get inside his place.

Soon I reach his door and he's standing there against the frame, in a tshirt and sweats, his signature look. The expression on his face is one of concern and fear. Something I’m all too familiar with.

"Hey," My voice is weak and not at all how he normally hears it. I’ve never cried in front of him and we’ve been friends for over a year now, strange.

"Shit, Y/N you're soaked! Get the fuck in here," He moves out the way and closes the door behind me as I walk into his living room, making sure to take off my shoes before going onto the carpet.

He comes back with a towel and wraps it around me after taking my bag and setting it at my feet. I mumble a thank you before taking a seat at the edge of his couch, completely on the other side from where he normally sits.

To my surprise he sits next to me and rubs my back, comforting me and drying me at the same time. We sit there in silence for a few minutes. I'm tired and not in the mood to fully explain what happened yet, so neither of us speak until I realize I should probably tell him why I came to his place so late and without warning.

Taglist: @ali-r3n @dixontardis @witchwolflea @micheledawn1975 @daydreaming-mood @idfwfeelings @adaydreamaway08 @preciousbumplingbee @rustboxstarr @plk-18 @teary-eyed-egg @needylilgal022 @exploding-bonbon @gagasbee @eddiemunsonsguitarpic @aol19 @thatwitchyoucouldntburn @meanlilbean @sonnyahngel @corrodedcass @pigwidgeonxo @marsmunson86 @lottie-90 @figmentofquinn @sareim123122 @eddies-puppet @gvf23 @kennedy-brooke @rocklees-wife @emma77645 @cherris-n-peaches @breehumbles @joequinn-love @anyoddthoughts @aysheashea @eddiesskittle @uncxmfxrtablex @cherrymedicine13 @mrsjellymunson @shotgunhallelujah @bambipowerblueaddition @hexqueensupreme @josephquinnsfreckles @harrysgothicbitch @paleidiot @smurfflynn @lilyungpeanut @selena-rocker27

[devinox-art]

My MC!Detective I've made for the @sanguinesky-if , Darcy Rowe. Her first outfit is definitely more of a "what she really wants to wear". Her second outfit is what she usually wears (jewlery, shirt styled in some way). The third outfit is how she ends up dressing during the events of the story (no jewlery, less styled, more stressed). Her hair is usually up while she's at work, I just couldn't resist drawing it down. A couple things:

- Yes she has black wavy hair + micro bangs, and black eyes.

- Her twin's name is Lorelei and not only is her hair longer, but she has light brown eyes and curtain bangs.

- Yes she has chronic closed-eyes-always-smiling anime trope syndrome.

- Yes this means Kyle managed to bag a goth baddie (and is fumbling her so, so hard).

- She fancies herself as a composed person who can not only handle her own emotions and emergencies, but other people's emotions and emergencies as well (which is why I always have fun pairing her with the hotheads). This has yet to be challenged.

- I like to headcannon that the rest of the precinct finds her to be cold hearted since she's continuing to act as if her mentor and father figure hasn't just died.

- (As if little things are starting to slip out behind closed doors, like how she fought against the feds taking over her case).

- Klemmens is just the dad from Full Metal Alchemist.

- If she can't hold someone at gun point and look hot doing so then what is the point™️

- If looks could cut...

Personality wise:

She's blunt, reserved, and distant except with her sister and Lexie (these scenes mess up her stats so I don't regard anything in the stat page as "canon"). Her sense of her humor can be dry and usually taunting, often leaving people who don't know her well to question if she's even joking in the first place.

Her relationships currently:

Lexie: Her good friend and someone whom she absolutely adores (but is completely friend-zoned; Darcy might be bi, but I was never really fond of the friends-to-lovers trope).

Kyle: The guy she hates to love. He's more than proven himself to be capable and reliable. In certain situations she even finds his temperamental nature enduring. But the way he seems to be satisfied with leading her on is leaving quite the bitter taste in her mouth. More than once she has concidered outright rejecting him and putting an end to what she keeps thinking is mutual attraction, but something always has her hesitating to do so...

Morgan: They call her by her title. They work well together, but not knowing them outside of work has always left a divide between the two. Their relationship is mostly professional, but after learning their actually a CID agent she is left her unsure on how to handle their relationship going forward.

CID: Initial encounter aside, she's chosen to be dismissive of them. She doesn't feel the need to respond to them unless it directly involves work. (She actively ignores R and has taken more of an action speaks louder than words approach).

Side Note: Kyle is her cannon route but I've been exploring the CID's routes with her with a "Kyle won't fucking do anything but the new arrivals seem to be interested" mindset, which is really fun. They are all so interesting ✨️

S: She keeps at a distance but can't help but to want know what he knows... as long as it's during office hours.

Definitely drawing more for this IF eventually!

[lady-phasma]

I want to write a lestat fic so bad I’m practically foaming at the mouth!! I want to do his character justice though. Would you spare some lestat characterization tips mayhaps?

Hi anon! I am so unbelievably flattered that you came to me. I'm sorry that it has taken me so long to reply. Would you like ✏️ anon if you come back?

I hope I answer this well. He is my oldest, dearest blorbo so I'm going to answer with series and book (head)canon, so there are some pretty hefty spoilers below the cut.

Characterization tips....

When in doubt, go bigger and more French! Do you doubt something you're writing for him is believable? You're probably wrong. This guy found Atlantis in canon. He has flown into the sun, switched bodies with a human, and met the literal, actual Devil.

Would he realistically flirt in your scenario? Yes. But what if...? Yes. He will always flirt. Always.

But on a more serious note, Lestat is very vain because he is incredibly powerful yet insecure. He can cause a lot of damage and is his own worst enemy. The embodiment of chaos.

Anne didn't christen him The Brat Prince for no reason at all. He not only pouts when he doesn't get what he wants, he often pouts when he gets exactly what he wants. He is rarely satisfied and once a mystery is solved or an objective obtained he's ready to move on.

Something that makes him particularly appealing to me has always been his contrasts, how he can be so self-centered and horrible, but love so openly and deeply. If he loves someone he would die for them, as long as he looked good doing it. He can hate and love the same person in the same moment and still give them everything he has. But, he will always try to be a step ahead to have his own safety net because trust isn't his thing.

Lestat has such an odd mix of confidence and insecurity. He never once questioned why the Queen of the vampires would be enamored with him. Of course she would be. But even during all of his drama with Akasha he pined for Louis. Many of his exploits are to get the attention of someone who isn't giving him enough at the moment.

I'm going to do a deep TVL dive real quick because this is the foundation of who he is for me. The Wolfkiller. He was embarrassed at being "poor" aristocracy and the one warm coat he had was the one the villagers made for him from the wolf pelt. He wasn't proud of that event, but that coat meant more to him than they could possibly imagine.

Also, he loves dogs. Seriously, if you need to write him having a pet dog, go for it. Especially mastiffs and boucherons (book and series canon).

I don't particularly like the word "flamboyant" for him, but he is. He is performative. Rarely does he do anything that isn't thoroughly thought through if someone is watching. He is equally impetuous if it looks good.

Lastly, some emotional characterization. He hates to appear vulnerable, but is constantly vulnerable. It's almost as if he doesn't know how to mask that part of him. His desperation to be part of the Italian acting troupe was obvious almost to the point of being a pathetic fanboy. He can't help but be incredibly earnest. Even if it causes him pain or embarrassment.

The Father of Lies, the Brat Prince, Wolfkiller, Lelio... Lestat is all of these things. That's what has always made him such a rich character. He can be serious, but Anne's description of him through Armand might be my favorite: he must make a gutter theatrical out of stubbing his toe.

God forbid no one was around to witness the pain and suffering he endured from such a tragic event. affectionately

I didn't go into anything romance or shipped based on purpose so feel free to let me know it that's what you meant and I missed the mark.

[witchofsparkles]

Medusa Ghost & Siren Soap. This was the first Ghoap fic i wrote... It has mcd, so be warned. I still like this one, if you love a little sadness too. I'm posting the full fic, putting the ao3 link for you if you like to leave kudos or comments.

Ghost was walking down a hill with a blindfold, blood dripping from a cut on his temple and wetting the black cloth on his eyes. He was trained for situations like this, but the blunt force trauma he got on his head was taking the ground off under his feet. With a stagger, his leg buckled after his last step and he found himself lying on his back on the grass. His breathing was uneven and he most likely had other injuries he couldn't feel because of the adrenaline.

Ghost closed his eyes for a moment, as if his vision wasn't dark before. The next time he opened them, Ghost realized he wasn't on the ground anymore and he had a nice blanket on him. When he noticed he could see properly, Ghost slammed his eyes shut and covered his face with his hand, just to be sure.

Ghost's eyes could literally kill a human. Turn them into stone, into statues. Ghost took the blanket off with his one hand and found his way out touching the walls. He was in a cave, Ghost was sure. The sound of his footsteps were echoing inside and the walls were curvy. And he was alone in there, but knowing there was someone strong enough to carry him, Ghost couldn't take a chance to lie motionless. And he didn't want to turn whoever the helping hand was into stone before at least nod a thank you in their way.

It took Ghost some time to adjust his eyes to the sun but the gentle breeze made him feel better. Then he heard a hum. A song. Ghost felt his muscles tense. The tiny voice in his head that told him to stop was silenced in a second, and Ghost found himself walking towards the source of the humming. He wasn't exactly aware of anything happening, like his logic was prisoned behind bars made of emotions. Sadness. Lust. Submission.

When Ghost came to it again and his mind was let free, he was sitting across someone with forest green wings and the same color, shimmering fish-tail. A siren.

Ghost's eyes were wide open, he knew creatures were real, myths were true and he was a walking proof of it being a Medusa. But it was his first time seeing one. The rumors has it that the sirens would lure the poor men into the sea to drown and eat them, and not one of it told that the sirens were actually beautiful. Ghost was so taken aback that he didn't realize his eyes were uncovered.

"You might wanna close them quick cause I can't sit here like a statue so long with my eyes closed. No pun intended."

Ghost squeezed his eyes shut without thinking. The siren's voice was powerful even though he was only talking. It made Ghost do what he wanted, Ghost knew it was a dangerous thing.

"Stop talking. Answer briefly." Ghost spoke with poison. And the siren answered back just as sweetly. "Yes, sir."

"Why did you take me?"

"Injured."

"Name?"

"Soap."

Ghost scoffed. "Seriously?"

Ghost couldn't see it but he felt Soap rolling his eyes. "What's yours?"

"Ghost." Ghost cuss at himself for answering. He heard Soap returning the mock. "Seriously?"

Ghost didn't back down."Your real name."

"Would you tell your real name to some stranger?"

Ghost talked with certainty. "Simon Riley." Shit. Shit. Shit.

"I didn't expect that. John MacTavish."

Ghost didn't expect that either. His whole life, he answered back to his superiors. No second thoughts. Even if he did have them, he did the questioning part to himself in silence. And now it was ruining his life. "Tell this to anyone and I'm slitting your throat."

Ghost waited for a minute to hear something back from Soap but it was all silence. He peeked behind his fingers to see if he was still there. Soap's head was turned to the sun and his eyes were closed as if he was there to sunbathe. "Still here. No talking."

Ghost was stunned. "Why? Shortly."

He heard Soap sigh. "I don't want to give orders unknowingly. It makes people uncomfortable."

Ghost checked in his brain and found no pressing feeling to give an answer. It made him feel sympathetic towards the siren. He was the one who turned people into stones without warning. He was the one who had to put a blindfold and learn to fight in darkness just so he could use his powers to kill his enemies and not his fellow soldiers when he wasn't paying attention. Ghost understood him. And to his surprise, Ghost didn't gut Soap out for manipulating him and instead he just thanked the man. He heard Soap sighed. "You have a nasty stab wound on your right side. Be careful sleeping." And Ghost knew that he was gonna be. And he knew he was gonna actually sleep, against his will. "Stop this. You're manipulating me."

"I don't want to." Soap's voice was sad and Ghost hated to be that person but Soap was making him do things he didn't want to. "I don't care. Stop talking."

𝘚𝘵𝘰𝘱 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘚𝘵𝘰𝘱 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘊𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴.

Ghost went back to the cave and left Soap sitting on a rock and looking like he was out from an old painting of sirens. It was an unreal sight. The setting sun reflecting from the scales of his tail and broad wings casting shadows down the ground.

Dangerous. Ethereal.

He lied down on his left side and closed his eyes again. The stab wound was throbbing with pain but he was a soldier, it wasn't his first time getting injured on a mission. But against this, he slept through the night for the first time in his life.

Soap stayed at the top of the rock the whole night. He would be making a mess with his voice again if he had any anger or fright in him. A curse he got from his father, a curse he didn't deserve. He was born like this, and Soap was sure he didn't ask God to make him this way before his soul was sent down to the earth.

Bound to water. Bound to die alone.

Bound to be killed by someone with an earplug, whose relative he drowned when he was younger. Maybe with a knife to his heart or a gun to his head. Because he was aware of his sins, against his late mother's "it's not a sin if you didn't know you committed" sayings. Soap carried deaths on his shoulders when he didn't leave shore which no one came. His voice carried the bullet to the wast oceans.

A sniper.

Soap didn't talk again. And Ghost didn't open his eyes but neither of them leave. It would be easier if Ghost left. Ghost knew it. But he didn't. He couldn't, for some unknown reason. And Soap knew he could enchant Ghost to go away. To go back. But with an unspoken joint decision, they stayed. Soap would tap on Ghost's shoulder to indicate something, instead of using his voice. And with a blindfold, Ghost would touch to feel. Mostly the objects, sometimes Soap's fingers when he was handing the object. They went like that for some time. Ghost wasn't talking too much too, he wasnt a man of many words to start with but sometimes he felt the need to fill the silence. He told stories of his battles. The war he was fighting. He fought. His family. His dad and even a hint of what he done. The Roba, very briefly, just with a name. His wounds. His eyes.

Soap was always listening. Even though Ghost never saw it. But when Ghost was sleeping and nightmares came to haunt him, Soap would ease his worries with a whisper. And when Soap was sleeping, Ghost would watch him silently. He saw a face with half open lips to snore lightly, and closed eyes. But he assumed Soap's eyes were blue. He was a sea creature, of course his eyes were blue. And he wanted to see them up close. Ghost didn't really consider his own eyes as curse, never really hated them because it was how he managed to escape his dad. His old house was like a Britih museum when he left. But now, not be able to look at Soap's eyes was eating him alive.

"What color are your eyes?" Ghost heard his voice as a whisper but knew Soap heard and was looking at him. He didn't have an answer. Or rather, didn't answer.

"You can talk." Soap took a sharp breath. He wasn't talking for so long, his voice was hoarse and his throat hurt when spoke. "Blue."

Ghost knew it. He couldn't hold himself back from a tiny smile. A little tug of the corner of his lip. Soap saw it but didn't comment on it.

"What's yours?"

"Guess."

Soap didn't make a sound. Ghost found it odd first but then relaxed instantly. Happily, to his surprise. "I didn’t reply right away."

Ghost heard Soap's footsteps approaching. "Put some authority in your voice. Order me something."

Ghost didn't see it but Soap was biting on his lip. "Give me that knife on your west."

"In your dreams."

"Shit."

"Is that possible?"

Soap's voice was still hoarse but Ghost suspected it was because he was holding back tears. There was something broken behind it. "Mom always told me if I spend enough time with someone, my voice would lose its effect. I never stayed with someone. I didn't know."

Ghost didn't know whether to cry or laugh.

"Two fish in a tank..." Soap cut him with a frown. "What?"

"Well, if you tell me to shut up after this and I won't, we can be sure."

Soap burst in laugh at that and Ghost swore he was enchanted. It was Ghost's first time to make someone laugh. Soap saw the change on Ghost's face. "What?"

"I usually make people scream in fright and make them sob. This is new."

"And this is dark. I'm happy that I can finally talk and laugh without worrying if someone dropped dead."

"This is not dark?"

"Let's say we're colorblind."

Ghost smiled at that. He loved to hear Soap's laugh. Maybe it was the final stage of siren-manipulation before death and he woke up on the otherside after Soap gnawed him to his bones but he didn't care. Ghost was happy there. With or without talking or seeing. He was actually happy.

But it didn't take long. It never took long.

The relationship between them was different now. Ghost loved to hear Soap's laugh so he was making jokes sometimes. And he didn't know, but Soap was watching his face's every move to catch every little detail. Tugging of his lip because of an old and healed cut, nose scrunch.

Soap adored the nose scrunch.

But it all shattered down when heavy footsteps fall on the ground, yellings coming from the top of the hills. The hills Ghost came from.

His past caught up to him once again. Ghost screamed at Soap to get into water. It was the safest for him. And for Ghost. He knew he couldn't fight when his mind was on Soap and if he was dead or alive. Soap obeyed and disappeared under water. Ghost squatted behind the entry of the cave with his old weapon. A voice he didn't recognize called to him.

"Ghost! I know you're here. Come with us if you want to live." They didn't threaten him with Soap. Most likely they didn't know about him. Good. "Identify yourself!" Ghost's gun was ready, the safety was off.

"You don't know your owner? You don't know who made you?" It made Ghost froze on the spot. His last mission was against Roba's remnants. But he made sure every one of them was dead before leaving there.

"There's always someone left of us, Ghost. You're one of us." Ghost turned his head to the water. He didn't see but he could feel Soap's presence. Ghost turned back and unfold the fabric from his eyes. That shore was gonna turn into a garden gnome store soon.

After that it was all about blood and stone. If his knife and gun couldn't reach, his eyes could. Ghost left a bloody mess behind, but the owners of the blood on the ground were nowhere to be seen. If you didn't count the statues that can't bleed. Who was gonna say otherwise?

Ghost walked to the sea with closed eyes. He heard a splatter. Soap's head was above water and he could see the ground. He took a look at the mess and turned to Ghost. "You okay?" Ghost nodded. He was fine. It wasn't a different day. If anything, his time with Soap was different from the usual. The calm was not for him. He got used to it in his time at there. But now, when everything was unusually calm, panic squeezed his heart. Everything went silent for a second and Ghost instantly knew something was wrong.

"Soap?" Then he heard wings and felt the wind coming from them. Before he could say anything, he heard Soap's scream.

The next thing Ghost knew, he was on his back like the first day Soap found him but half of his body was under water now. Ghost got up and ran back to the ground with his eyes closed. Soap's scream was cut in half after a shooting sound with a grunt. Ghost knew what he was gonna see.

"Soap!" Ghost's hands found the one Roba that hadn't die yet and snapped his neck like a stick. His hands found Soap next. He knew blood. He was born in it. Bathe in it. Ghost knew what blood felt like under his hands, tip of his fingers, on his palms.

"Soap?" Nothing. Soap's heart was beating like a bird's wings under his hand.

"Johnny!"

"What a lovely way to wake up." Ghost heard him whisper. He found the wound. Soap was shot on the chest. Ghost's hands were shaking so much that he couldn't press on the wound.

"Just breath. Breath and I will wake you up like that for the rest of your life."

Ghost lifted his head and looked around frantically. He had to find a way to stop the bleeding. He could feel Soap's heart slowing down. He wanted to rip the world open with his bare hands. To punch a hole on the ground and strangle The Demon. To shot down The Angels. To kill God.

Ghost shut his eyes again. "Johnny..."

Soap didn't let him finish. He put his hand on Ghost's. They both knew it wasn't going to happen.

"Ghost. Look at me."

Ghost refused to do so. He wasn't going to.

"Simon."

Simon fought against it with everything.

"Si. Open your eyes. I want them to be the last thing I saw."

A gut wrenching sound escaped Simon's lips. He fought back. God knew he fought back. But Johnny used his last strength to made Simon do what he wanted.

Simon obeyed.

With tears streaming down his face, Simon opened his eyes and Johnny welcomed him with ocean blue eyes. His body started to turn into stone but there was a smile on Johnny's lips. He cupped Simon's face with his hand.

"Oh, I wouldn't guess. Two colors. Pretty. I will never forget them for the rest of my life."

With a last, sad giggle, Johnny turned into stone with a smile. Simon sat on the ground with a smiling and crying statue on his legs. He held the hands of it and touched the face. Tried to wipe the tears away, tried to kiss the lips. Wanted to cover the wound on its chest.

Couldn't do any.

He cried. He wept. He wailed. He bargained with God. Told him to take him instead. Wasn't he the one that was the sinner? The murderer? The killer? Didn't he take the lifes of innocents because his superiors wanted him to? Wasn't he the one that didn't deserve to live?

Then he got up. He took Johnny off the ground. Carried him to the rock Johnny would sit normally. When he was still breathing. A siren who would lure people with his voice.

He put him under the sun and over the ocean. Johnny loved these two, and Simon made sure he could watch them. Then went back to the cave. It was theirs. There wasn't anything to deny. It was his, and their, home. He didn't think about leaving. Simon made it a routine to wake up and sit with Johnny like always.

He knew he didn't deserve to live with all the blood on his hands. Not after Johnny died trying to save him.

He was eager to be punished. If his punishment was to left behind, to be left abandoned with a wish he couldn't dare to make.

He was eager to be punished.

So every morning, Simon sat next to Johnny and he protected Simon from the sun and wind under his wings. He spoke to him, talked about anything and everything he couldn't.

Simon didn't need him to answer.

Just listen.

[bonezonejpg]

୨୧ : INTRODUCING MY INK VARIANT INX

Based off of my personal experiences. A year ago I was in a pretty bad headspace and had created him to help cope with my situation. Came upon him again and decided to make a ref+ revamp !! Anyways !! Some info about him <3 Inx deals with Chronic anxiety and Derealization. Despite the fact that knows the world around him is real, he struggles to fight with those irrational thoughts that its in fact not real. He feels like he's in a dream while existing which causes him to panic, and will get intrusive thoughts about him or others around him not being real. These intrusive thoughts can trigger panic attacks which happen to him frequently. Instead of using close range attacks, he specifically sticks with using long range attack as much as possible. Getting close to his targets causes him to panic, and most of the time he's not in a calm enough headspace to react on time and make strategic battle decisions. He tries his best to support Dream and Blue from the sidelines. He shrunk from stress.. LOL Dream is one of his comfort people. The two of them now live together and he spends most if not all of his time with Dream. When not around the other he can panic or go into spirals which take a very severe toll on his mental health. Because of this Dream makes sure to stay close to him and tries his best to accommodate him. He does have medication he uses sometimes, but he only uses it when having severe panic attacks. The viles are extremely hard to continuously manufacture so he has instead developed coping skills to deal with his issues best he can instead of taking his "medication" 24/7. The viles basically help him calm down and sort of reset his magic nervous system or whatever it would be so his panicking starts to cease. It doesn't last forever, but its a really good feeling when he takes it and it reminds him of how he used to be before dealing with all of this. These issues completely popped out of nowhere and the root cause is unknown by him and others around him. He had a thought that the world "wasn't real" and then got triggered into his first panic attack which then spread out into the issues he now has. [Literally exactly what happened to me except I'm okay now! Well sort of, not the same but def a LOT better :3] His eye will flash a bunch of different colors when he's about to have a panic attack or having one. This is a telltale sign that his stress has pretty much reached his limit and he's at his breaking point. He will leak and spill Ink from his mouth when trying to express the thoughts going on in his mind or his emotions. This is because his anxiety causes him to assume others will think he is annoying or attention seeking so he literally becomes choked up on his own words. Inx deals with constant paranoia that no one likes him and everyone finds him to be a burden. Despite others and himself trying to reassure himself, the sinking feeling that no one truly loves him also resides deep inside his bones. He doesn't get a lot of his sleep because of his derealization and anxiety. Constantly being in a state of panic makes it quite hard for him to rest because his body can't calm down enough to actually relax so he can fall asleep. He usually can only rest when with another person with some TV playing, or when he is so exhausted he literally cannot stay awake anymore.

Inx still enjoys to draw and visit AUs, it just has become quite difficult now because of the amount of stress he deals with. Obviously this has caused him to become pretty depressed so he has a really hard time picking up his hobbies, but he still attempts to use them as coping mechanisms even if he can't really make anything detailed anymore. Inx will constantly think about how he used to be before all of this and will wish that he could go back in time and just be normal again because he's so exhausted from everything.

Alrighty... For now thats all I can really think about!! I probably will look back at this and be like "awh dang why didn't I add this.." So expect me to most likely edit this little post at some point !! Also, all of these facts are 100% based off of experiences that I have went through. If you have any questions then feel free to send me an ask and I'll totally answer !! Plus some old art from when I first made him in 2023 when I was having that EP

Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy reading all this despite it being super long... heh.. I'LL SEE U LATUR !!

[just-a-itty-bitty-kitty]

Thinking about how the Narrator doesn't really know if the world stays saved when we die, and yet in some cases He tries to reassure/console us during our 'last moments'.

"You've paid a terrible price, but you've saved us all." He doesn't know that. Maybe He's just trying to describe it into existence, hoping that if you die with the thought, it'll become true? But in other times, He's sure that our death means doom for whatever world we've left behind. "The world doesn't stay saved if you die." Then why tell us that we've saved it?

I also think it's interesting how emotional Narrator gets by the end of each chapter 1. He treats us differently based on our actions and how we approach the situation.

If we try and save the Princess, he purposely makes our death as long and painful as he possibly can, presumably, out of pure spite. "It is agony. But you aren't dead yet." "She sinks the blade into your chest again, and again, and again... and you feel every inch of burning pain that slices itself into your body."

If we resist his instructions at first, but give in later, he seems genuinely apologetic. "This can't actually be how everything ends..!" "I'm sorry, but it is." or "As much as I'd preferred for things to have gone differently, I can't deny the reality of what has happened." He wants this to work, and he wants us to come out happy and content by the end of it.

He seems caught off guard in the Spectre route if we try to kill her while she's in our body. "Slay her would slay you. Are you sure you're willing to do that?" One would expect Him to immedietly be on board with whatever plan gets rid of Her, but the "heroic"(in His eyes) gesture immedietly makes Narrator develop a soft spot and start to worry for our well being. He doesn't like the idea of the hero being denied their happy ending.

He genuinely believes the Princess to be a manifestation of everything evil in the world and constantly denies her any personhood. It's not an active choice either, as Narrator is an Echo with a set amount of beliefs that cannot be changed. He never changes His mind about anything and one of His core beliefs is that He is right. He has to be, otherwise everything he'd done, everything he went through, it would all be for nothing.

That which was once a defensive thought, shaped by his own hurt and unwillingness to see another perspective, becomes a universal truth.

[mithrifer]

My thoughts on Flipside

Class of 09 Flipside was hilarious, but I don't think it approaches the original or reup in quality.

I don't think it's because the main character is Jecka, or anything. Honestly, Jecka is the best part of the game, she's consistently good whether it be in jokes or likeability. The side characters just don't... live up to her though. Aside from her it's just Nicole, Jeffery, her dad and Kelly. I don't think Nicole is very good in this game, Jeffery and her dad are rather one note as expected and Kelly... unfortunately stars in the weakest route by far and does not much even there. Barely any Emily and Ari, no Kylar, no Karen. No Kyle. Jecka's great and carries herself quite well throughout the game, but she feels really alone narratively. This could be a conscious choice, as she goes through most of her troubles as a lonely girl without anyone to rely on, but I think they could've made that point without sacrificing the interest that comes with everyone surrounding her. Most of her interactions either use the other characters as jokes or to elevate her story, which wasn't how 09 or reup felt. Nicole got to try out new things thanks to all the weirdos she was surrounded with giving her new ways to have fun, whereas Jecka only really has Jeffery and her dad in that way, and she feels trapped no matter what she does. She didn't seem that way in the first twk games, but I suppose you could say those were not about her. I think the fact that you can't see her mom even on the school routes speaks volumes though.

Every ending is there just to shock you, and I'm not saying this because there's no happy endings or anything, the first two barely had those. It's more like... the endings feel like they barely have anything to do with the routes they come from? Why does the foot route end with... that? It's just out of nowhere. Not to mention the deal with the whole FYE route. I don't think there's anything redeeming about that one, it doesn't even feel like it belongs to the same world. And the way the game cheapens one of the best endings in the original by just, inserting Jecka. Which is something people have wanted for a while now, but I don't think the idea was done justice. It feels like a cheap "here you go" moment to me. It's really upsetting because I feel like the game could have gone in a ton of great places, but there's barely any choices or routes and the abrupt, weird endings just feel like a slap on the face even to the ones that were given. I think the best route was the one about drinking because it felt honest to Jecka's character and the ending was something I could've actually foreseen in one of the earlier games. After that it's the one with Jeffery, but I'm kind of iffy on that because I don't think Nicole would do that. Not for any moral reasons but more due overall disgust. Feels inconsistent with her presently given character.

The writing feels overall different imo. It's hard to put a finger on it, because it definitely relies on the same formula it had in the previous entries, but nothing in Flipside packs the same emotional punch. The humor is fairly good, but it's not spectacular like the first two games were for me. I still laughed out a few times though, since this is right up my alley.

I'm still happy I saw it, because it was quite fun... But it wasn't really more than that. It just felt like a humor piece. I don't know what spoke out to me in the first two VN's, but I don't think Flipside has it. And honestly, considering it true to these two (canon, ig?) lessens their value for me due to the shift in the thematics and I guess writing, so I think I'll ignore it when I think about the series in general. Which is such a shame, because I want to love it, it's just... not there.

It's definitely worth the time to check it out either way though. Again, pretty funny. This is what I felt about it, and I wanted to get my thoughts out. Since it's so early in its release, I've tried to avoid putting any spoilers in the post. Maybe someone will read it and appreciate, idk. Drunk driving rules.

[eshieslovemaze]

what we left behind... | jungkook

summary: nothing lasts forever. everything comes to an end. so does your relationship with him.

pairing: jungkook × reader

genre: angst, hurt-no-comfort

word count: 2.2k+

warnings/includes: arguments, a relationship falling apart, eventual breakup, crying, mentions of depression

❤️‍🩹🍂

jungkook and you have been each other's everything for years. your relationship began to bloom in the late years of high school, and blossomed into something truly beautiful by your mid-twenties. your love story was one that your friends both appreciated and envied — two souls who found their way to one another through events aligned by the universe. but life has a way of changing things, and somewhere along the path, you started to drift apart.

it started subtly. you would come home late from your work, too exhausted with your new responsibilities as a high ranked professional to spend your time together. jungkook, overwhelmed with his own workload, would bury himself in his tasks to avoid the palpitating tension at home that only seemed to grow. conversations that used to flow effortlessly between you two became stilted, awkward, and i dare say, suffocating. the little things you once loved and adored about each other became sources of irritation and arguments.

one night, the tension finally boiled over. you fought about something very trivial —who forgot to buy milk, or who left the lights on, and it had escalated into something much darker and irreversible.

"jungkook, why do you always do this? you just shut down, and i feel like i'm talking to a wall! it's like you don't even want to talk with me anymore!" you snapped, your voice shaking with frustration, mind weighed down and haywire from the turn of events between you two.

jungkook's jaw clenched as he tried to keep his temper in check. "and you think i enjoy this? i can’t even remember the last time we had a conversation that didn’t end in a fight!"

"maybe if you actually listened—" you start, but he doesn't let you finish.

"i do listen! but all i hear is how i'm never good enough for you anymore," his voice rose, sharp and cold like a dagger.

you froze, the weight of his words seeping in like water through a sponge. the anger that had fueled you suddenly turned into something else — pain, guilt, and a deep sadness that you didn’t know how to express. "jungkook, you know... that’s not what i mean. i just—"

"just what, y/n? just wish you were with someone else? someone who didn’t disappoint you all the time? someone who isn't me?" his words seemed to bring out every negative emotion within you, his own chest heaved with each laboured breath, struggling to keep his temper in check.

"that’s not fair!" you cried out, your voice breaking. tears welled up in your eyes, but you blinked them back, telling yourself it's not the time, refusing to let them fall. "i never said that, i would never say that!"

"you didn’t have to," jungkook's voice was cold, distant. the warmth that once filled his eyes when he looked at you was all gone, replaced by a dull resignation, something that you tried to ignore to not break down. "maybe… maybe we’re just fooling ourselves, thinking we can keep doing this, when we both know we can't." he ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the roots in frustration.

you stared at him, your heart pounding in your chest. "what are you saying? y-you don't mean it, right?" your nostrils flared, eyes blazing with a mixture of rage, guilt, and most importantly, hurt.

jungkook looked away, unable to meet your gaze. "i don’t know what i’m saying. i just— i don’t know how to fix, or do this," he points his index to you and then himself, "anymore."

the room fell into a heavy silence, the weight of your unspoken words pressing down. you felt a tear slip down your cheek, and you quickly wiped it away. "maybe we just need some time, some space," you whispered, though you weren't sure if you were trying to convince him or yourself.

"yeah," jungkook simply replied, his voice devoid of any emotion as he looked away from your eyes. "maybe."

you didn’t speak again that night, both retreating into your own corners of the house like strangers living under the same roof. as the days turned into weeks, the once-familiar spaces felt increasingly empty. awkwardly polite exchanges, forced smiles, and a palpable tension hung heavy in the air, a constant reminder of the distance that had grown between you in an unalterable way.

then came the afternoon that would be the turning point of everything. you had suggested that you both go to the café where you had your first date, desparately hoping that a walk down memory lane would rekindle the spark you two have misplaced, and take things back to where they were. jungkook agreed, though he wasn’t really sure if he believed it would help.

the café was just as you remembered from your high school days —warm, cozy, with the same old jukebox in the corner playing soft tunes. you sat at your usual table, the one by the window, but the atmosphere was different now. the once comforting familiarity of the place only highlighted how much had changed between the two of you, igniting the tension instead of bringing back the lost warmth.

both of you forced a small talk, urging yourselves to pretend things were just fine when in all reality, they weren't. The tautness between you was palpable and growing, the uncomfortable silence between your words louder than ever.

you finally broke, your voice trembling as you spoke, "jungkook… do you remember how we used to dream about the future? about us together forever? how we talked about travelling, starting a family, growing old together?" you gulped, supressing the trembling emotions in your throat.

jungkook nodded, his throat tightening, "of course, i do. i remember."

"what happened to us?" your voice finally cracked, your eyes searching his for answers that neither of you had. "when did we stop being… us? when did things change from what they were?"

he looked at you, his own heart aching at the sight of your pain. "i don’t know, really," he admitted, his eyes dimming. "i don’t know when we lost each other. to the point that we let the rough patches take control of everything to the point of no return."

your eyes brimmed with tears, and this time, you couldn’t find it in you to hold them back. "i don’t want to lose you, jungkook. i love you. that... that never changed."

"i love you too, y/n. i know it," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, choked with bitter feelings from the situation you both are in. "but maybe… maybe love isn’t enough for us anymore. neither of us are happy..." he weakly trails off.

you felt your heart shatter to dust at his words. you wanted to argue, to deny, to fight for the both of you. but deep down, you knew he was right. you both had been trying to hold on to something that was already gone, lost forever.

you finished your beverages in silence, buying time as both your minds wheeled to weigh the situation. when the twilight pink of the sky darkens with clouds, mirroring your thoughts, you two decide to leave. you two walk to the car, the rain that had started moments ago now falling steadily around you.

you drove back to your shared apartment in silence, neither of you knowing what to say. as you two entered the confinements of your shared home — if it even was a home anymore, you spoke up after finding your voice. "what now, jungkook?"

jungkook glanced at you for a moment before looking away, his chest tight with heavy, bitter feelings. "it's time. we will keep hurting ourselves if this goes on. we need to break up."

you looked up at him, your eyes full of pain, sadness, and regret, "i'll always love you, kook."

"and i'll always love you too, y/n," he replied, his eyes softening with melancholy as he gulped. "but… it’s time to let go."

you nodded, tears streaming down your cheeks as you closed your eyes. you couldn't stop yourself as you leaned in and gave him a final, lingering kiss — a goodbye wrapped in the echo of what you both left behind. he pulled you close, deepening the kiss as you both tasted the saltiness of your tears through the kiss.

as you parted, he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, a final farewell. your heart ached with every item he placed into his suitcase, each one a piece of your shared life. the rain outside fell in sync with your tears, and you could only stand there, rooted to the spot. he gave you one last, lingering look before walking out the door, out of the world that you both dreamt of growing old in together, leaving it behind forever.

in the next few months, you went through the pits of regret and depression, wheeling your mind to replay every event during your togetherness and calculate what went wrong, when it went all downhill. you cried for days, mourning for what you two left behind. you made yourself a workaholic to stop yourself from spiralling, cooping yourself at your workplace till odd hours to avoid the memories that would rush back when you would step in your once shared home.

but you knew you couldn't grieve forever; you had to move on. slowly, you began having proper meals and taking care of yourself, gradually starting to change the decor of the apartment — as if to bury all the memories. with a heavy heart, you took down all the frames with pictures of two of you, safely placing them in a box and tucking it away in a corner under the bed. it was hard to let go of all those years of memories, but you did it for your own sake, knowing it would have been worse if you two stayed together. when the one-year mark of the break up hit, you believed that you had moved on, no longer caught up in the past. yes, you felt nostalgic at times, but you finally moved on.

you walked into the upscale downtown gallery, eyes sweeping across the room filled with art lovers and collectors. you weren’t here for the art, though; you had arrived tonight to support a friend who was showcasing her paintings for the first time. as you navigated through the crowd while admiring the art pieces on display, your steps faltered, your breath catching in your throat.

there, across the room, was jungkook.

he looked different — slightly older, more polished in a tailored suit, his hair a little longer than you had remembered, his jawline looking slightly angular. your eyes then fell to the woman beside him, laughing at something he said, her hand resting easily on his arm. she looked stunning, so much that a pang of envy shot through you; for now occupying the place you once had.

your heart tightened at the sight. it had been a year since that rainy night, a year since you had gone your separate ways, but seeing him now stirred that all-too-familiar ache in your chest. he looked happy — content in a way you hadn’t seen far too long.

for a moment, you considered turning around, slipping out before he could notice you. but before you could decide, jungkook's eyes caught yours across the room.

at that moment, everything else faded away. the crowd, the noise, the art — all of it blurred into the background as your eyes locked. but the once fiery connection between you was all gone, leaving only a cold, distant recognition in its place.

jungkook's smile slowly dropped, his expression unreadable. you felt a wave of emotions crash over you — nostalgia, regret, a tinge of longing — but most of all, you felt the cold sting of reality. you were no longer the jungkook and you who had shared dreams and whispered secrets in the dark; now you were just two people who had once been in love, but not anymore.

the woman beside jungkook nudged him, drawing his attention back to her. he offered her a small smile and leaned in to whisper something in her ear. a pang of jealousy flared up inside you, but you quickly pushed it down, reminding yourself that you were no longer a part of each other’s lives.

taking a deep breath, you turned away, forcing yourself to walk in the opposite direction. you mingled with the other guests, engaging in polite conversations, but your mind was miles away. the image of jungkook lingered in your mind, and you couldn’t stop replaying the way he had looked at you — like a stranger from a vague memory.

the evening passed in a blur, and as you left the gallery, you couldn’t resist glancing over your shoulder one last time. jungkook was still there, smiling with the woman who now held his attention, his form turned away from you — both literally and figuratively.

as you stepped out into the cool night air, you realized that the chapter of your life with jungkook had truly closed. you had become what you never thought you could — strangers passing by in the night, each on separate paths, separate lives.

with each step away, you finally allowed yourself to let go of the last remnants of what you left behind, embracing the unknown future ahead, no longer haunted by the ghost of your past love.

— copyright: © @eshieslovemaze 0924.

[hi-sierra]

Tortoise Storytime!

For most of his life, the scale burger lived in an enclosure that was about 7.5 square feet (~0.7 square meters). This is usually way too small- but he lived in a facility that always had someone on staff, letting him roam the floors while they worked on something nearby.

During covid, I worked at this reptile facility to replace workers who were higher risk and staying home. And I feel deeply in love with this lil bean of a tortoise. He was incredibly vibrant and friendly, was so habituated to humans that he didn't even have an instinct to retract into his shell, and was just flat out adorable.

A year after moving away for my PhD, my old boss reached out to me and asked if I could provide a good home to any of the animals. I instantly asked for this guy.

Unfortunately, I absolutely felt like I made a mistake for a while. I quickly realized that, as busy grad student that worked during the day, I couldn't be letting him roam outside of his small enclosure all the time. For the past year, I've been doing the best I can, experimenting with small enclosures, outdoor time, and floor time to best address his needs. But it always felt temporary and subpar.

As a Russian Tortoise, he has a partial hibernation cycle. For some weird reason, his is inverted with the actual seasons. So when he settled down in the late spring and started pseudohibernation, I could breathe easy for a bit. I left him with some caretakers over the summer, who didn't have much trouble with a sleeping tortoise, and went around having my adventures.

But I knew I wanted something nice waiting for him when he started being active again.

Introducing: the tortoise palace

I had several things in mind for a new enclosure. I wanted it to maximize space in my apartment, maximize my space in my apartment, and have somewhat easy teardown in case I have to move. So, I lifted my bed to be about 4 feet off the ground, and made the enclosure under it. The entire setup is in latched-together pieces that can easily be taken apart and set up again.

I've added climbing enrichment in the form of garden bricks, rocks, and multiple forms of substrate (orchid bark as the main, reptibark, coco coir, and rabbit pellets in deeper dig boxes) but I'll be adding more as time goes on. He's been loving climbing around and I can't wait to see what he'll do with other stuff.

It's an ongoing project, and there's a lot of "temporary solutions that are kinda-permanent" in here, but I'll be fixing those over time. Notably, the walls are pretty low- he can't get out, but I have to be cognizant of putting things he can climb on near the edges. If anyone has any suggestions, I'm all ears! But for now, here's the beast, his unfathomable power just barely contained.

Tiny bit of emotion under the cut.

I know this is dumb. But finishing this genuinely made me cry a little.

I've felt so bad about keeping this guy in what I know is a subpar environment for so long, and doing the best I could to keep him happy and healthy within it. But it was always barely keeping my head above the water.

And now, I finally feel like I have a good, permanent solution to it. This design, by definition, will fit in the space of a full sized bed in any place I live in the future. I feel like I finally provided something good for him. I know he's just a tortoise, but I really do love him, and I love seeing him happy and safe.

Idk. It's all rambles. But thanks for loving and appreciating the wonderful critter he is <3

[jazeswhbhaven]

With the whole Leviathan thing. I think is just his archetype is really popular with Japan.

Seeing another game that has a similar to what Leviathan is, and seeing the popularity of that characters type. It seems like, hard wall that has been build up and it takes time to get their walls to broke.

Plus, there's this unknown factor where you think that they are being an Asshole, but they actually have a reason behind their action.

One example I know is with the Character from Ikemen Prince, Chevalier is describe as (this is from the wiki)

True to his title, Chevalier is as ruthless and merciless as a cruel beast and is quick to cut down his enemies no matter who they are. He is indifferent to to almost everyone and doesn't spend much time interacting with people, and usually prefers to be alone. However, in his route after meeting the MC he somehow changes and began to get use to feeling certain emotions such as love, which he views as something unnecessary in the past.

Reading his route, you would imagine that people would not like him, however

2nd voting

Most of the voting, Chevalier always take 1st place.

Often times it just culture differences and people/majority have a preferences. We really can't do anything about it.

For me, often I like least popular characters or the most popular character cause I'm drawn to what I like, and with Chevalier and Leviathan they scratched a certain type I love.

And with MC, its a porn game. MC will be written as a blank slate with the motivation of being horny cause no reasonable person would act like this if you were surrounded with horny and feral devils that speak their mind with no filter or no restrained of their urges.

Like, if we put real life logic with some of the behavior, some of them will be questionable. But this is fictional game with their own logic. The game will do some kinky stuff that people like in their fiction.

Anyway, I wanted to share my 2 cent on Leviathan. I've have my problem with his character. And that fine, if he was just all nice with MC after the contract, that would have been too ooc for him.

Honestly, I like how his dynamic with MC in the main story now (ie. Chapter 6)

I'm glad you put this into words/visuals, because a lot of things I tend to say are usually said better by others. I recognize the character you mentioned because I did play a little bit of Ikemen Prince myself! When it comes to types, I can for sure agree that for myself, anyone with his or Levi's type is not my first pick. I also agree this could very well be cultural differences that come into play as well.

Though I do understand the why for Levi. Childhood robbed from him, experiments, other screwy things. I'd have walls too. In the comics though I see the other side of him that isn't so combative and that's why it's that love/hate thing I've got going on for him as a whole.

I'm unsure if anything I said may indicate that I'm taking his personality to heart, I'd like to clarify that I do not take it deeply that he's this way, it's more of empty rants lol he's nothing more than pixels with a smart mouth.

The way they have MC/Levi's dynamic for Chapter 6 has me satisfied too, I will not be bothered if they keep that up for the future chapters we get.

[runabout-river]

No matter what Gege does with Gojo, I don’t think it will be satisfying for me

I considered every option for what could possibly happen with Gojo, regardless of how likely I think they are, and I genuinely can't find myself considering any of them a satisfying conclusion.

**1. He is dead and no one will mention him in the last chapter.**

Hate this. So much. Random civilians in Shibuya were shown respect by Yuji in the middle of chaos and panic, but nobody has ANYTHING nice to say about Gojo?? Since the fight ended, we got Kusakabe saying he is at fault for not killing Yuji and Shoko calling him an idiot (endearingly) for not destroying Geto's body. Lovely.

**2. He is dead and somebody will say something or we will be shown a grave.**

Better but still bad. I feel like the ship has sailed at this point. They had a chance while reflecting on the fight and we got nothing. Megumi and Shoko were at Tsumiki's grave and... we got nothing. I think it's pretty safe to say no one will be mourning him in the last chapter, they're already going on missions after all. And a simple mention feels incredibly cold and empty.

**3. He is dead but will come back to life due to his soul still not departing and sacrificing one of the Six Eyes in a binding vow.**

I won't comment on how possible or not this is because Yuta managed to return to his body simply by being in proximity of Rika. If Gege wants to write it, he can. However, we are talking about the last chapter of the manga and this would absolutely take away the spotlight from Yuji. Not to mention that this route needs groundwork that I don't think 19 pages can provide for. ALSO, this still doesn't explain why nobody is sad or willing to acknowledge him because, to them, he is dead.

**4. He is actually alive and that's why nobody has been shown to be sad about him.**

Would make sense in terms of characters like Yuji and Yuta not showing any emotion towards him. But this isn't like Nobara's situation. Like I said, it needs build up. A character like Gojo should be shown making his choice, not just appearing out of nowhere. It would add absolutely nothing to his arc and would honestly be pure fanservice.

**5. The dream theory.**

I don’t know how much you've heard about this but there is a theory going around that these last chapters or more have all been a dream. I won't do any analysis on the validity of it because this isn't important to my point. "Who's dream?" is the actual question here.

**a) It is Yuji's dream.**

You want to tell me somebody as kind and compassionate as Yuji has no place for his teacher in his dream of a happier tomorrow? Get out of here.

**b) It is a collective dreamlike state, a product of Sukuna's activation of the Merger despite the rules imposed on it.**

Again, nobody, not a single soul, has it in their heart to include Gojo in their dream? In any way other than criticizing him? It would go against all the care Yuji and Yuta have shown for him and be a genuinely awful characterization. It would show he was actually not loved at all, something we know isn't true.

**c) It is Gojo's dream.**

So, Gojo is dreaming of a world where his body is used as a weapon, his students don't care enough to even mention his name and life goes on as if he never existed? He can imagine himself being blamed but not having a place in his ideal future? Do you want me to kill myself?

I would really like to hear opinions or other options if you have any. Right now, this is all just sad.

*Cracks Knuckles*

First of all, I have read the dream theory and I believe it's possible but for now we take the last chapters at face value.

Yes, the lack of any mourning for Gojo (and Choso) is sad and a sour note at the end of the manga. We already had this lack of regard for his death during the Shinjuku fights. There I could understand though how the characters pushed all their feelings to the side once Gojo had been defeated.

They needed to act fast and steadfast, so we got most of their concern and other emotions while Gojo was still fighting.

Now though there is no excuse anymore. JJK had alwasy been a little loose when it came to the slower and reflective moments but Gege had the space the previous chapter to fill it with somehting meaningful. Instead we got an unnecessary explanation of the New Shadow Style school system that's just plain unimportant three chapters before the end.

So in that regard, yes, Gege fumbled it. Even in the driest part of Gojo's death, there still should've been an earth-shattering shake up of the status quo the same way his birth had changed the jujutsu world. But that was also lacking because chapter 270 basically erased all conflict in the story.

So what will happen now?

Your option 1) hate it, too :D

Option 2) nothing to add. Perfectly said how Gojo should've already been talked about instead of letting it go to the last chapter where he most likely won't get centre stage.

Now to Option 3/4) First, the last chapter will be longer than 19 pages. It was either double or tripple the length of a normal chapter so there is more time to flesh the last things out. Second, I have my own theory on how Yuta using Kenjaku's CT on Gojo's body and then getting ejected from it, might've have permanently revived Gojo.

I don't like Gojo being just alive though because that would be anticlimatic and detrimental to the high stakes and emotions that came before. It would be just one more thing in this super happy ending everyone got (except Choso). What could work though is Gojo's body being alive but in a vegetatitve state. Then it would be open ended how his story would go on.

Now the thing about the dream theory is: Yuji only imagines the good things. That's why characters where their death was ambiguous are all alive and only those who had been 100% confirmed dead are dead. With Yuji doing the dreaming, he would push negative feelings about death away and mourning is one such feeling and he had done exactly that previously as well.

If this theory comes true, Yuji would be mourning way more than just Gojo's death at the end. He would also be mourning the good end he envisioned for everyone. And that's sad but also... what I would prefer in contrast with this sugar cloud of a happy ending.

[snakes-and-fluff]

Contemplating when blood is explictly shown in Milgram MVs and for what purpose. (Plenty of shots of blood and bloodied people below the cut)

Both of Muu's songs show a pretty clear-cut image of the murder, blood and all.

But it's interesting to note that, while Muu does show realistic blood in both MVs, in After Pain it's only for a single shot: most of the shots of Rei's body have her covered in a neon green liquid instead - the same liquid inside the hourglass. But in It's Not My Fault, while the hourglass does return, it's not used as a stand-in for blood this time, only showing realistic shots of blood at the scene.

Realistic blood is again shown in The Purge March and although this whole scene is metaphorical, it is highly likely that this is what the state of the actual weapon would have been.

Some of the blood in MeMe appears to be representative of real events (though the circumstances around the murder are still so vague I can't say for sure), but some of it is clearly over-exaggerated for dramatic effect and not a representation what literally happened.

Sometimes blood is purely symbolic, like in Cat (in addition it is coloured pitch-black, even on Hinako's face when the lighting should make it appear brighter).

Similar to the above, the blood in Bring It On is symbolic of Fuuta's guilt, but is portrayed with more realistic colouration.

Then you have Haruka's weird midground, where he has blood in both his MVs, and both are heavily stylized (albeit in different ways). If the shot at the end of All-Knowing and All-Agony is any indication, he strangled his victim which should have been a bloodless death, but he has engaged in literal bloody activity before (killing pets), so his blood appears to be both metaphorical and literal.

At the end of Deep Cover, Kotoko stands covered in neon pink blood, chess pieces representing the other prisoners scattered about her feet. But the only pieces that are shown are those voted Innocent in T1 - those she has not yet attacked. So the blood here is not representative of any particular event, but rather her intentions.

But if that's the case, what does that say for Double, which portrays John standing in a train, dripping with blood the wrong colour as he attacks mannequins? Is this merely a mental block he has because he cannot clearly remember the events? Or, like Kotoko's similar theming above, is it purely metaphorical, indicating his emotions rather than his actions?

Then we get to Milgram Enigma Number 1, Mahiru. I Love You undoubtedly shows realistic blood, but whether it is literal or not is left very unclear. If the only bloodstain present was the one on his torso I'd be more inclined to believe it was truly all a metaphor; a betrayed or bleeding heart. But that doesn't explain the stain on the sleeve. And of course, it begs the question: if it is metaphorical, what is it representing? Fuuta showed guilt by recoiling at the blood on his hands, and Kazui showed remorse and how he feels like a monster by tearing a dove apart. But we don't see Mahiru cause this wound, nor does she react to it. As of right now I don't understand enough about Mahiru to form a concrete conclusion but if the trend in the other MVs is anything to go by, I'm afraid that these bloodstains might be more literal than I want to believe.

Interesting to note that Fuuta is the only character to show blood in his T1 MV but not the second, and both Yuno and Shidou show no blood in either MV (ironically enough for Shidou, as things like rotting fruit have to take the place of organs and blood instead)

[pygmi-says-hi]

I love your writing. It's amazing! If you haven't done so already, I'd like to hear your advice or tips on sentence flow and how to transition between character thoughts and whatnot (just flow in general) because I feel like that's what I struggle with when it comes to writing for me.

I am assuming that you mean transitioning from dialogue/commentary to exposition paragraphs? that's what I'll go with pls tell me if I'm wrong!!!

lemme write an example:

'she'd never seen such a magnificent flower before - the petals were a silvery velvet that glistened in the dawn sunlight. It reminded her of her mother's skirts. A sense of warm nostalgia swept over her at the memory of the flowing fabric that swayed around Mother's ankles.

the rest of the field contained similarly beautiful flora, varying in size from thimble to elephant ear.'

-

The pink is a character opinion/thought, and the white is the exposition and objective description. when a paragraph is narrated by a character, it reads best to mix them together. When you chunk it like this:

'she'd never seen such a magnificent flower before. It reminded her of her mother's skirts. A sense of warm nostalgia swept over her at the memory of the flowing fabric that swayed around Mother's ankles.

the petals were a silvery velvet that glistened in the dawn sunlight. the rest of the field contained similarly beautiful flora, varying in size from thimble to elephant ear.'

and the expo/narration are kept separate, it's harder to visualize the connection between observation and the reactive thought.

tip 1: keep similar sentences together.

In the above example, I grouped the character's observation of the flower together with the actual description of it.

After, I grouped the memory of the mother's skirts with the emotion.

Finally, the next paragraph was still describing the foliage (aka tying in the initial description), though removed from the narration and still progresses throughout the scene.

does that make sense?

no?

lemme try again guys I got this.

When you transition from 'thought' to 'sight', it might look a little daunting. you'd think "gee I just spent an entire page describing an intense traumatic mental spiral. how do I transition to writing about the room they're in?"

Pick the similar attributes. The middle of the Venn diagram. Okay, character is having a panic attack. It's intense, it's descriptive, there's a lot of inner dialogue. Now, we have to describe the aftermath in relation to the state of the bedroom.

pull them out slowly. If a character is deep in reverie, describe the room how it feels to them. This is a slow transition out of 'me my mine everything about my opinion' description, to 'this is how it is cold turkey' description (plot development).

Example:

(panic attack, oh my god we're dying the world is ending I can't breathe help aahhh)

he shivered. The floorboards had grown cold since the episode started. A cool breeze slithered through the room, chilling him further. leftover adrenaline raised gooseflesh on his arms.

This is entirely objective. no opinion was inserted, but there was the stimulus and physical reaction to the surroundings. this still draws in the character-focused analysis without getting stuck in his head.

2. great sentences think alike. I sometimes feel that my transitions are chunky and not very smooth. Pick common themes to tie them together. "Oh okay, her skirt is blue, it's blue like cornflowers, cornflowers were anna's favorite, now i'm thinking of anna, she'd love it here. where is here? here is in a farmhouse kitchen with...." boom. I made a domino effect from the starting description (blue skirt) to the final destination/scene progression (farmhouse desc).

3. know when you've beat the dead horse. If you've been circling the drain over one thought or milked all the setting adjectives possible for one area, move on. when a scene/dialogue is sufficiently described, the readers are ready for a break.

does that help a little bit?

there was a second part to the request, right? sentence flow? cool beans.

Sentence flow is actually a really cool concept that if you master, you can add so much depth to your writing (i'll def make a part 2 post, stay tuned!).

If you structure a sentence really long and fast without the punctuation and it's just going and going and going oh no-

you start to feel anxious, right? when's it gonna end? what's the kicker? the tension is building and building....

Sentences are short. thin, staccato. not a lot of meat. no meat, maybe. just. bare. bones.

punching, intense, hard thoughts. a shocking discovery, your character doesn't have the processing capacity to think eloquently.

maybe they disobey grammar rules. fuck grammar rules. don't actually tho because you guys lowkey suck at grammar and i'm angry. no don't point out my bad punctuation i'm the teacher here.

point is, the flow of the sentence dictates the reaction. Shakespeare uses this with meter. when the meter is disrupted, it means something bad has happened. In Romeo and Juliet, every time a lie is told, the meter shifts out of iambic pentameter. it's like a 'heads up, something's wrong' to the audience.

USE THIS!!

also - read your story out loud. writers have a tendency to write how they talk. I am a comma fiend because I go off on so many anecdotes I pause all the time while I talk. When I read it out loud and take the necessary pauses though, I want to vomit.

If it's smut I can see how this might be hard for you, but another good idea is to hit hard the grammar rules. If there's a bunch of commas - read the sentence and enunciate the commas. that's how it will read to your audience.

common problems with sentence flow.

feeling long and heavy. if you're describing the action and you feel like you're being swamped in adverbs, take a look at your passive and active voice. passive: "The ball was kicked by Anna." active: "Anna kicked the ball." if your sentences are long and dragged down with adverbs, you're probably really passive.

too much information, not enough words. Thesaurus!! if you've been puzzling over a paragraph and it turns out all you needed were some synonyms, pull out a thesaurus! and a dictionary because remember: similar is not the same. just because a word has similar meanings doesn't mean there aren't special addendums to each.

lost in the sauce. where are we? what's happening? who are you? i'm hungry. too many succulent words! your sentences so big backed they out-backed Outback. long, frivolous words and ten-mile high stacks of adjectives only work sometimes and infrequently. otherwise you spend so much time describing the thing, we forget what the thing actually is.

losing the motivator. why are you writing this sentence/paragraph? what purpose is it supposed to be serving? keep that in mind so you don't lose track and if you do, it'll be easier to get back on it.

repetitive meter. the sentences follow the same pattern, like this one. almost like they're in a loop, circling forever. there's no escaping, you'll like read this till you die.

did you see the pattern? it starts to make you dizzy after a while, doesn't it? This is a common problem and fairly easy to break out of. Just chop up the sentences and glue them together.

*ahem* like so:

The sentences follow the same pattern, like this one. Almost like they're circling in a loop forever. There's no escaping. You'll read like this till you die.

same words, with some added/subtracted punctuation. If that doesn't work, rearrange the order, add in some new verbs or adjectives, maybe add a few filler sentences to space the pattern out.

that's all folks, i hope that answered your question, if not feel free to say so! I'm not offended.

xox keep writing!