#囁 : 𝐮𝐞𝐧𝐨 𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐣𝐢. / interactions.

[hellsdogs]

"I don't believe in therapy. I mean, sure, people have told me I need one, but how would that even go? 'Ueno-san, why do you have this desire to retreat into your mother's womb—could it be sexual?' Like, what? As if I'm some kind of mad man. And then I'd have to explain it's not like that; it's just that the world turned out to be a bit more boring than I expected. I'll probably walk out of there with depression meds I don't even need—I'm just a nihilist, and these aren't even the fun kind of pills. Pass." Right, probably not the best thing to say on a date but how could he possibly not be himself right. "Your dessert looks better than mine. Are you gonna eat all that?"

               open starter.

to: anyone / f. if romantic. idea: friendly date at the restaurant after a long day/ first tinder date for your muse and him - your muse finds him either.. fun and charming or weird, you decide / or it's been a few dates and well he's always like this .

[hellsdogs]

"I made a joke, saying if Death was coming for us, you'd still find a way to reschedule Death just to finish your work. But... yeah, never mind." Junji scoffs, realizing Kimi isn’t in the mood for his dark humor—she’s practically falling asleep at her desk. His office is just across the street from hers, and if they both stood by their windows at the same time, they could see each other. She works in data, while he’s at the Daily Japan, the journal. They bonded over coffee breaks outside and, more often, late-night work sessions—he, buried under a pile of pointless articles his higher-ups dump on him, and she, staying late to cover for her colleagues. They have similar days and nights. "I swung by the 7/11 and picked up those onigiris you like. I know you haven't eaten yet," he says, settling into a chair in her office, placing the paper bag down. He grabs a folder from her towering pile, understanding immediately that it’s extra work passed off by the slackers around her. "You know, you can tell Watanabe to go screw himself sometimes." But they both know she can't—just like he can't tell his bosses to stop wasting his talent. "You sure you don’t want to call it a night? You look exhausted Kim. We can still catch the last train."

[hellsdogs]

"Are you seriously making fun of my hair right now? Yeah, i style it now—getting a job does that to a man,” he says with a smirk, brushing a hand through it. There’s a pause, his tone softening as he adds, “I wasn’t expecting you to be back in town. But… it’s good to see you.”

               open starter.

to: f. idea: jun and your muse are exes/have history/perhaps even lived together. maybe they split ways to achieve their goals and dreams but none of them is succeeding in that or only one of them is.

[hellsdogs]

"Welcome, welcome. I'm Ueno Junji, and apparently, it's my job to give you the grand tour, so let's dive into the rabbit hole, shall we?" He says this while strolling through the open office space, making sure the other is following him. "Over here, we've got the boss's office—never knock on that door unless you're called in to get your ass handed to you. And over here we have the seniors, enjoying the best seats by the windows, naturally. The coffee machine is over there, and oh, would you look at that—your cubicle is right next to mine. Lucky you. From where we sit, you'll have the perfect spot to hear people talk shit about your hair while they’re getting their caffeine fix. A blast. Any questions?"

               open starter.

to: anyone. idea: junji works as a journalist at the Daily. your muse is a new hire or a new intern there, he has to take care of them.

[hellsdogs]

The blade hovers just above her skin, the metal cold against her throat. Her back is pinned to the unforgiving wall, and the tension between them is electric, charged with fear and anticipation. His eyes are wide, unblinking, fixed on her like a predator assessing his prey. The silence is thick, suffocating, as if the air itself has frozen around them. Somewhere in the basement, a man lies bound in a cage—the first piece of Junji's game, a game that has gripped the nation in a frenzy of headlines and speculation. Junji prides himself on his intellect, his genius, the way he's played the police and the press like puppets on strings. He craves the spotlight, the adoration of the masses, though they don’t know his face, his name, only the trail of riddles and taunting letters he leaves behind. Junji’s first demand was a ransom of 5 billion yen, a sum delivered in a suitcase to a desolate gas station. But, of course, Junji never intended to collect it—he’s not in this for the money. The ransom drop was nothing more than a prelude to his true purpose: proving his power, his ability to bring a nation to its knees with nothing but words on a page. When the ransom failed to satisfy his need for control, he upped the ante with a new terror—a bomb threat at Shibuya station. The authorities scrambled, the city’s pace quickened, but when they found the device, it was a toy. Harmless. Yet, the station remained closed for seven days. And then, another twist in his sadistic game: a threat of poison. Junji’s letter promised that at noon on Sunday, deadly toxins would be released into the air around that CEO’s company. Panic followed, the area closed, employees sent home, and the company’s operations drowning. He has the nation dancing to his tune, a master of chaos, a star. He’s written about his own crimes, relishing the praise in the pages of the Daily Japan where he works at, feeding his own ego in the most perverse of ways. But madness, he wonders, has it taken root in his mind? Has the line between reality and the twisted world he’s created begun to blur? And now, this woman ( @robotae ) . How did she find him? In this abandoned house that’s been his sanctuary. She doesn’t look like a cop, nor a mindless fan obsessed with his work (he has a lot of these online, he loves them). He presses closer, his body a barrier, his eyes scanning every inch of her face, searching for answers. He doesn’t want to kill, not yet. But she might be a threat, and threats must be neutralized. His voice, when it comes, is disturbingly calm, devoid of the panic one might expect. “Who are you, and how did you find me?” His head tilts, curiosity lacing his words with a dangerous edge. “You’ve got 30 seconds to convince me not to slit your throat. Because as you can see, you caught me in quite a mmm, compromising position here.” His tone is almost mocking, laced with dark amusement, the amusement of a mad man, but his grip on the knife remains steady. “Speak.”

[hellsdogs]

"What if I am not what you believe me to be?" From Melinoe

"None of us are exactly who we think we are. We're always changing—evolving, growing, becoming someone new. And discovering you, piece by piece, even when I thought I already knew all of you... I loved that." He pauses. The question hadn’t come from nowhere though—there’s something more beneath it. "But that's not answer you were looking for, maybe?" His voice softens as he meets her eyes. "What's on your mind Love?"

[hellsdogs]

Smash or Pass + Melinoe

"I remember every time I touched her. God, I didn’t just make love to her—I worshiped her. Took her so deep, devoured every part of her, like I was starved. Oh and we fucked. But it wasn’t that careless, mindless kind of fucking when I use the word you know. No, I just couldn’t get enough of her—round after round, again and again, just losing myself in her. In bed, on the backseat of our old car, under the stars in the meadow. She was the angel, the star of my desires, I was addicted to her."

[hellsdogs]

🍳 — for junji & mai!

The light in the kitchen is dim, casting soft shadows on the countertops. The space is open to the living room, allowing the entire room to embrace them in what feels like a cozy night. A cozy night—that's right. It’s been weeks since Mai found him, weeks since he pressed a knife to her throat, and since she calmly said she would walk by his side. Madness, recognizing itself in madness. Together, they have brought new life to his dark social experiment, ideas that have ignited his art in ways he never imagined. The man they kidnapped remains locked in the house, cameras constantly watching him, a twisted reality show they monitor from screens wherever they go. Sometimes they laugh, sometimes they brainstorm new ways to push their "art" further. But tonight, it's different. Tonight, they are behind the kitchen counter, sharing their first homemade meal. They’ve been to restaurants before, but never had the freedom to speak openly like they do here, in the dim light of his apartment. He’s working on the udon, stirring the noodles with slow precision while she chops vegetables at the counter, the soft light falling over her shoulders. The air is warm, filled with the sweet hum of simmering water, a rare moment of calm. "Alright, the noodles are almost ready. I haven’t had homemade udon in a while. Just the smell of it—I’m already impatient." Impatient, yet there’s something soothing about the process. The quiet rhythm of the kitchen. The simple ritual of cooking. He glances over head, as he watches her work, captivated. Her movements, her thoughts, the ways she concentrates—quite often, she fascinates him. In her, he’s found an evil genius that mirrors his own, a partner in the madness. A match. Trust? Perhaps, perhaps not. He is convinced she could expose or kill him if she wanted to. He hates the thought as he likes what they have but but he enjoys the fact of her being capable of it, it's exciting. He grabs a piece of the carrot she’s chopping, quickly biting into it, savoring the crunch. "What’s your recipe? Do you preheat the veggies, or do you like them raw in your udon?" He passes her the larger knife for the leeks, watching as her hand wraps around the blade. But just as her fingers curl around it, his hand stays on top of hers, keeping the knife in place. "Hold on, hold on..." His lips curl into a smirk. "You’re not going to stab me, are you?"His smile widens, manic but pleased. "Not that I wouldn’t be into it," he adds with a dark snicker. He would be madly into it. "But I’m too famous to die now. Well, we are." They are. The press talks about them constantly and he even gets a higher raise, a higher position a the Daily Japan as he writes most of these articles himself.

send 🍳 to cook with my muse // accepting.

[hellsdogs]

If Junji were a scientist, he’d definitely want to study whatever goo seems to be sloshing around in her brain. It’s strange—sometimes she has these freakishly good instincts, which probably explains how she got the job in the first place and how she managed to get them into the Inagawa Kai club. But other times… she’s just plain weird. Rubbing his hand down his face, Junji watches the couple making out nearby. Why? He sighs, exasperated. “I know. But ducks only get dirty like that when they’re under pressure, just like humans. Look, I might have to come back from the dead and eat you myself—after my boss chews me and spits me out for coming into the office tomorrow with no damn story.” He takes a long sip of his drink, glancing around the room. “Something better happen here tonight, or I’m stuck writing that stupid panty-stealer article. Who are we keeping our eyes on?”

[hellsdogs]

It’s early morning, and Junji is on the subway heading to Yonsei University. He’s still engrossed in K.K.’s ( @terragro ) work, reading it during his ride, despite the fact that the astrophysics topics are outside his usual realm. The existing media pieces around K.K.’s breakthroughs has given Junji enough insight to appreciate the significance of these discoveries. Even if he doesn’t fully grasp the science, Junji is still a man of knowledge himself, grand minds speak to him. Plus, as a journalist, his job isn't to be able to demonstrate quarks spinning on themselves but to bring light the man who can. This is his first chance to profile someone truly remarkable, a welcome change from the mundane assignments of interviewing market vendors about the price of vegetables during the economic downturn. Have tomatoes prices ruin the citizens lives? Junji works for The Daily, a major publication with a broad range of sections. So big that to get the chance to write in the right sections, it takes time and dedication. He has already made portraits before, one of a rising artist no later than three months ago, and before that, of local shop owners. Today’s assignment is a high-profile compared to the rest then : a portrait of a young genius and professor with numerous achievements. This might be his chance to show his true potential. The journalist originally assigned to the piece is on sick leave, that's how Junji stepped in to replace the guy, hoping to catch his boss’s attention and wishing his sick colleague to never recover. Upon arriving at the university, Junji navigates his way to the physics department. He’d visited last week to discuss the project with the professor and other important members of the faculty. For this portrait, Junji plans to spend several days shadowing K.K., capturing more than just the formal interview of Q&A. The accompanying photographer will snap candid shots to add a natural, engaging element to the article. Finally reaching the meeting spot—a cozy coffee room at the faculty—Junji steps in and greets K.K. with a smile. “Hey,” he says. Casual. “Every time I see you, I keep expecting some old man, but then it hits me again, we're the same age.” Junji speaks, rather amused. He believes to set a relaxed tone for their time together is better, as he wants to for the portrait to unfold naturally, like an ongoing conversation between K.K and him, rather than something stiff and overly formal. He wants to capture more than just this man'd PR persona, something not so staged, that's what the readers are looking for in this time and day. “I’m here, 8 a.m. as planned,” he continues. “The photographer should be joining us soon I believe a little later down." Junji speaks, taking his jacket off, a natural smile on his lips. "So, ready for me to follow you all day like your own shadow, Professor?”

[hellsdogs]

❝ be careful. demons are everywhere and they fear nothing. ❞ from Melinoe

Demons do exist. Junji has always felt their presence, shadowing him, haunting him. They’re there, just out of sight—taunting, tugging at him, whispering their dark desires into his mind. He never considered himself special; he assumed they whispered to everyone, sowing seeds of chaos wherever they could. But when she was by his side, back in the days when they were together, it got better. Her presence seemed to weaken their hold on him, pushing them back just enough for him to find some semblance of peace. At night, when he’d wake up in the middle of it, she’d be there beside him, her warmth grounding him. Often, her eyes would open right after his, as if she could sense his turmoil even in sleep. She would whisper, asking if he was alright, and he would tell her to go back to sleep. He’d hold her close, breathing in her scent, and the demons would retreat, chased awat by her magic. He never told her about the demons. How could he? It wasn’t something he could put into words. It was something only he could only bury in the scent of her hair and her skin. Losing her meant losing that shield. Now, when he wakes in the dead of night, there’s only silence—no one to pull him back from the brink, no one to keep hell from gnawing at his soul. He wonders if she can see it all, if she knows how much of him they’ve taken in her absence. Her words suggest she might. A faint, almost bitter smile touches his lips as he looks at her. "Do they... fear nothing? No one?" he asks softly, the weight of the night pressing down on him. It's late, and only the dim light of the room witnesses their conversation. "Can you see them? The demons? Do they talk to you too?" His voice is quiet.

[hellsdogs]

"CONTRARY TO POPULAR BELIEF, VIOLENCE SOLVES A LOT." with jade nguyen,

Jade understands. Of all the people who could have found him in this state, it feels almost like a blessing that it’s her. He wasn’t always like this—violent, unstable. Was he? He doesn’t think so. No, before the years wore him down, before his mind was consumed by something darker that now defines him. Yet, even back then, violent thoughts sometimes flickered across his mind—insane scenarios dancing through his head in moments of rage and frustration. On the outside, though, he always appeared calm, completely in control. Now, his hands are still covered in blood, fists clenched as if the adrenaline from the altercation is still pulsing through him. His eyes have changed too, clouded with something dark, almost manic, a twitch just beneath the surface. "I feel at peace," he tells her. And to this, she responds violence solves a lot. His eyes lock onto hers, searching for something beyond words, searching for this unconditional understanding he needs right now. Maybe she’s the only one who might not turn away. He’s seen her hands stained with blood in the past too. He remembers that and quietly asks, "Jade... would you think I’m mad if I said I don’t regret any of it?" A silence follows, thick with contemplation. "Is it more than just violence," he continues, "if I wanted to kill that man—if I almost did? Would you think I’m mad if I said... I wouldn’t have felt anything if I had?"

[hellsdogs]

❛ and that's why you don't dance with the devil. ❜ for one of your new boys :3

"Well observed. They won't last two weeks in Ikebukuro. They made themselves a little too comfortable in hell, the entire archdemon squad will come for their throats. Or whatever the metaphor is." Their eyes are resting on what seemed to be members of a raising gang in the neighborhood : cocky, loud who made a deal big enough that gave them territory and well, overly confidence. Jun doesn't want to invest time in them individually but focuses on who gave them the land to begin with, that's where it gets juicy . Only the three big names matter these days : Yamaguchi, Inagawa, Yamazaki. To even try and dare go against the law of the concrete jungle is suicide but some, sometimes, try. "Look at them. Animals." He takes a sip from his beer, his chopsticks grabbing a piece of edamame. In this izakaya, Jun always takes a seat behind the counter by himself after work. It's the second time he and the korean man chat, a man who seems to have a keen eye when it comes to the dynamics in the area. "So. What's the story, what brings you in the most exotic area in the city?" Sarcasm, to Jun, Ikebukuro is a dump but a great source of entertainment. "You're into criminals? I wouldn't judge. I know I am." Oh he is. "I'm Jun by the way."

[hellsdogs]

junji, are you mad?

[hellsdogs]

“   Don’t care, didn’t ask, plus my psychic visions have predicted the outcome of this encounter. ” from Minerva

"Offensive," Junji speaks with a smirk and a raised brow, lacing his words with just enough sarcasm. "You promised you'd do the interview for me, yeah? It’s not like I’ve got much else to work with here." He sighs. Working for the Daily, he’s supposed to be digging into real life stories, but instead, he’s been stuck interviewing old ladies at the market, Minerva is supposed to be his key out of this pathetic venture. Sure, the grannies adore him, showering him with compliments like 'handsome'—a title he’s okay with—but it’s not exactly the hard-hitting journalism he signed up for. "Mind you, I’d much rather be writing about dead bodies but unless you’re gonna help me kill someone, it's not gonna happen anytime soon." Homicides, what he would love to cover but all these cases go to the seniors. "I’m joking... kind of." Standing up, he heads toward the kitchen, intent on making coffee for the two of them. "What did your psychic visions say though? When am I gonna be rich and famous huh?"

[hellsdogs]

“   Oh, I slept miserably because I was tormented by terrible visions all night. I hope none of them were prophetic! ” ( usagi 2 jun )

Spending so much time together should be illegal, Junji thinks. It started with work—he relies on her to get the most intriguing details for his articles. But as the days go by, they find themselves grabbing udon by the train station more often. Junji wouldn’t say he’s lonely; he has friends, a few girls in his life, enough going on. But his obsessions, his hyperfixations, often pull him into being by himself. And her? She’s just as socially awkward as she seems. Does she have friends? A boyfriend? Anything beyond the job that defines her? "You do realize that believing in prophetic dreams is for the desperate and the delusional, right?" Junji says, his tone of mockery and well, he's an ass. "It’s like something gets stuck in your subconscious, and suddenly you’re not just dreaming about it—you’re letting it steer your life and actions, without even realizing it. Nothing magical, just psychological." Well, even though he makes fun, he still sees her as smart, someone he can discuss subconscious and its subtleties with, he's an intellectual too, they have in common, sometimes. "What was it this time? Cats taking over the world? Or maybe you finally stabbing that creepy old man you always talk about?"