#( crack. )┊silly fun can turn into vulnerable chaos.

[belovedblossoms-m]

Ignore, just reposting some tags since tumblr freaking ate a good chunk of them...

[belovedblossoms-m]

"...Okay, NOW I am concerned about you. You haven't taken or eaten anything bad lately, right? Who told you something like this?"

you guys have teeth down there too ? ! ? !

[wh6res]

one more time | markhyuck

"if i'm going to teach you how to fuck her right, you’re gonna need the best seat in the house, markie!" — lhc 

warnings. dubious content, swearing, bondage, voyeurism, masturbation, exhibitionism, mentions of stalking, fingering, oral (f receiving), degradation, there’s a knife (but no knifeplay), a threesome, implied kidnapping 

disclaimer. i dont condone anything. this isnt a normal relationship. this aint love.

note. prolly going to hell for this but who cares. markhyuck for @nakamotocore​ i wuv ya ie please get better soon! TT and dom hyuck for my napaka kalat na mami @donghyukcore​

against all rational thinking, haechan is getting bored from seeing the pathetic five feet distance between you and mark when he comes home. he tries to understand the other male in the relationship. truly, he does, even if he highly doubts that celibate little mark lee can pleasure you the way he can but everything's practically past that line now. donghyuck just wants to have some fun with you two, is that too much to ask for? at this point, he's blatantly ignoring the fact that you and mark don't even like each other.

but haechan cares for mark just as much as he cares about you and he won't just let his best friend miss out on all the fun things he can do to their little doll, right? what kind of a friend would he be? once haechan shoves him into a world of temptation and sin and pleasure, mark would kiss his self-induced celibacy goodbye.

plus, you've been awfully naughty these days.

talks about wanting to come home or getting at least a few rights to have gadgets were the only thing you said whenever you see him. it went as far as practically growling and running away from haechan when he tries to initiate something with you, screeching your lungs out and saying, "don't fucking touch me, you creepy little psycho!"

deflowering mark.

punishing you.

he'd be killing two birds with one stone.

he's fucked your stubborn little self into submission once, but all that overprivileged tv sessions might've put silly little ideas into your dumb little head again. alas, no worries, he'll just have to do it one more time. and maybe, now with the aid of his good 'ol buddy mark, they'll both be able to screw you up so good you'll never want to leave their clutches.

"gumdrop, can you come here for a second?"

haechan isn't deaf to the exaggerated groan you let out from the living room and it grates on his nerves how utterly brave you are for being passive aggressive. you reminded him of a little girl in a temper tantrum because they weren't given any candy - and when you show up in the master bedroom clad in your little pink dress, eyes upturned and sharp, a pathetic little girl was all he can think of when he saw you.

only now did he notice that you had even detangled your hair from the intricate braids haechan spent at least twenty minutes doing earlier this morning. where was mark all this time? why wasn’t he there to stop you? geez, you both are so going to get it, this time!

"what do you want?"

"can you give me a hug? i felt awfully stressed at work today. i need my little gumdrop."

this was obviously a test. don't get him wrong, he'll still punish you but if just this one time you learned to swallow that bitchy attitude and come crawling to him as the perfect lover should, maybe he won't be too harsh.

but he gave you too much credit, he thinks. of course his dumb cockwhore doesn't know shit. of fucking course, you wouldn't know it was a test. not when you scoffed, rolled your eyes at him, and spun in your heels to walk back to the living room.

"beat your meat with your own hands, creep."

haechan's reaction is immediate, his long legs allowing no delay in crossing the room to mercilessly fist your hair. he had pulled your hair so bad you thought it was going to rip right at the roots, all of his pent up anger due to your poor behavior channeling into that one grip.

you feel his scoff of disbelief against the curve of your neck as haechan pulls you flush against his body. "what the fuck did you just say to me?" he laughs patronizingly. "beat my meat with my own hands – aw, baby! that has got to be the best one yet!"

it truly was, though. he's not going to lie. out of every vicious snarl and hate-induced words you said to him, that particular offhand comment takes the cake. seriously, sometimes haechan thinks you're deliberately trying to make him furious – gumdrop, if you wanted to be fucked silly, all you had to do was ask.

he hurls you to the mattress, breath knocking right out of your lungs. before you can even sit back up and crawl away from haechan, he's already crawling over your body to sit directly on your stomach, fiddling with something on the headboard. you nearly scream in frustration, no matter what you do, you just can't throw him off of you!

"i don't know why the fuck you're behaving this way but it's gone too far. one more time. do i need to fuck some respect into you, one more time?”

a new wave of motivation surges through you when you hear the familiar click clacking of metal. your eyes widened just a fraction, the only thing that gave away the unease quickly seeping under your skin. if not for haechan's perceptive eyes, he would have missed it.

he merely used one hand to grip both your wrists in a vice. "no!" you squirmed, tossing and turning and trying with all your might to get him off of you. "no! i don't want that – not the cuffs!"

he loops the respective bands around your wrists with practiced ease. the last handcuffs he used had torn and marked your skin, something haechan wasn't fond of. only he can paint your bare skin with colors.

thus, he bought newer ones. the bands were a bright shade of red, connected to each other using a medium sized chain that loops around one of the steel wires of the bed, and the little bells attached to the bands ring with your every movement.

haechan knows the bells drove you crazy. its incessant ringing driving you up the wall as you couldn't keep your hands still whenever he fucked you to oblivion – he knew how much you loathed the sound of the bells, all the more reason for him to enjoy.

and mark, too. speaking of which…

you stubbornly pull at your bounded hands, glaring at the man before you as he studies your state. the corners of his lips curl up at the sight of you struggling. "you always look so good in red, gumdrop."

before you were given a chance to reply, he stormed out of the room with a sense of purpose bounding his steps. "lee donghyuck!" you screamed. "fucking come back and get me out of these, you pervert!"

he can hear you thrashing in your chains and yelling profanities from a room away. where was the demure girl he turned you into after only a week living in the apartment? though funny enough, the blood in haechan's sadistic side rushes in excitement at the prospect of wiping that glare off your face. it wasn't the fear, nor your submission that gets him off. it was the idea that he can and he will break you down no matter how many times you try to build yourself back up again.

he's not too sure whether he's going to eliminate that dirty mouth you've developed, though. because you did make him snort in the most unattractive way when you told him he can fucking jack himself off when he had been merely asking for a hug. this aggressive side you developed is… nice. he can work with it.

"can you ask your play thing to keep it down?" mark hisses, flinching and making an offkey sound with his guitar when a certain screech from you caught him off-guard.

haechan smiles.

"why don't you shut her up?"

it took a good few minutes trying to talk mark into stepping into the bedroom where he's got you chained to the headboard, but alas, haechan can be persuasive if he wants to be.

frankly, the younger man is sick and tired of hearing both of you bicker – it's no wonder you've developed a sharp tongue! it's all mark's fault and yet it's haechan that has to do the dirty work of setting you straight all over again. you're a tough cookie to crack, someone hauntingly immune to the violence and chaos.

and yet…

"you don't – don't seriously plan on doing this, do you?" your eyes go back and forth between the two males, primarily addressing the younger, devil-spawned male. haechan, ever observant, picks up the light tremor in your voice.

haechan had uttered a playful "if i'm going to teach you how to fuck her right, you're gonna need the best seat in the house, markie!" before forcing the older boy to sit by your side, mark's thighs grazing the temples of your head as your eyes awkwardly flutter up to the spectator.

mark couldn't deny he was intrigued by the emotion reflecting in your orbs. when your eyes met, it was a silent plea, he just knew it was. and unlike vulnerable and helpless you, mark, to some extent, still had at least some sense of freedom to him. he can choose to walk away, to stop haechan from trying to get him laid, maybe even talk the other boy into postponing your punishment.

but he'll do no such thing.

not because he has a moral compass (he doesn't, really) but because mark knew firsthand, there's no stopping haechan once he sets his mind into something – and right now, if that boy wants to punish you and use mark to fulfil his exhibitionistic fantasies then that's what'll happen.

your bottoms were the first to go, haechan's blunt nails digging into your skin as he pulled it down slowly, patronizingly, while watching bemused at your squirming. "this is how you know she needs a reminder," he says, addressing mark. "a good princess should take whatever's given to her like a good girl but if she's being an ungrateful brat –"

you flinch when he harshly smacks your thigh.

"– she gets what’s coming for her, right?"

there's a second's delay with mark's reply. haechan didn't mean for the question to be rhetorical, he wanted an answer from the other boy.

"right, mark?"

"r – right…"

haechan laughs, flipping the skirt of your dress up. "what, are you that excited for pussy that you're stuttering? that's cute."

you hear mark intake a sharp breath when haechan dives in to give you feathery kisses in your inner thigh. he always starts off this way, after figuring out this gets you wet way faster than simply kissing you.

as haechan starts talking, lips lazily grazing over your skin, you fight hard not to utter a single sound as you pull on your chains. "listen carefully, markie. do you hear those whimpers? she likes it," you feel the prickles of his sharp stare. "she's just too much of a fucking brat to admit it. go on gumdrop, your fighting spirit makes this all the more interesting."

you hate the patronizing tone he used as his hands trail higher, and higher until it's pinching at the bud of your clit. and against your whole being trying to keep your lips sealed, alas, it parts and creates a soft whimper that has mark stiffening next to you.

haechan lays his tongue flat against your folds. you weren't in the least bit wet yet to accommodate his size, but that's easy. he merely circles the bud with the tip of his tongue before pushing two fingers in. months of standing in the shadows outside your window had made him memorize the movement of your fingers whenever you pleasured yourself.

he felt the jolts of the bed as you shook your head side to side, trying with everything you can to hold your moans in. a corner of his lips can’t help but curl up. "what, gumdrop? too shy to lose yourself because we have an audience? don't worry our celibate little friend over here seems to like it. go on, give him a show."

too lost in the ministrations of his lips and fingers, you don't see haechan meeting eyes with mark, nodding at an object lying on the bed side table. you can only shudder when the cool tip of a knife presses against the base of your throat, hooking under the collar of your dress as mark slowly rips it off.

but haechan doesn't have the patience. "dude, give that to me. at your phase you'll get her naked tomorrow. let the tip cut her skin, the bitch deserves it anyway."

you scream when he drags it unceremoniously down your front, narrowly missed tearing at your navel. there are a few pricks of pain here and there for when the knife accidentally nicked your skin. he sure was ruthless as can be. why did you even bother acting like a brat, cursed him out, when it gave you no benefits whatsoever? did he unknowingly transform you into this sick little masochist that thrived on his sadism?

"no."

it was a defeated whisper. the last of your resolve turning into dust as the breath escapes your lungs. why did losing feel so heavy in your chest? you don't notice your arms slumping, nor your head nodding off to one side, the weight of your horrible reality sinking into you once again as if you had only been kidnapped yesterday.

but it had not been yesterday. it's been days. weeks. months. and the last time you sneakily got ahold of mark's phone and searched for your name, the last news clip or article published about your disappearance had been three months ago. that only meant one thing.

they weren't looking for you anymore.

just like that the world continued, other people's lives continued. all the while you're stuck here, rotting in the arms of your captors.

haechan's face emerged in front of you. he smiles and you would've believed he felt an ounce of guilt if not for that wicked stare in his eyes. "you've always been most beautiful like this, gumdrop. the hope disappearing in your eyes upon the realization that no one's coming for you anymore – i love it. i love you, my pretty girl."

he placed a chaste kiss on your forehead but he might as well have shot you straight in the heart.

there was no warning, nothing to ready you for the sudden intrusion happening on your bottom half and it was so bad, that it made you shut your eyes, hands wrapping around the chains as tears started falling across your cheeks.

rough fingers reached out and wiped them away.

something felt off.

the fingers were too calloused, opposed to the softness of haechan's nimble fingers. and while the aforementioned male had more length than girth, the person who's thrusting himself inside you is the complete opposite. he's stretching you out too much, not even bothering to give you time to adjust when he's already bucking his hips like an animal.

"shh, it's okay. i'll take care of you…"

this wasn't haechan.

and when you fluttered your eyes open to see mark's boyish little face, you can't help that look of betrayal painting your features. at least you only had to deal with one obsessive, sex-deprived freak. now, you're not so sure if you can handle both of them.

how foolish of you to think that mark's self-induced celibacy stretched far and wide when in reality, he was also just a boy with his own needs. a slave to his own temptations.

how cruel. so, so cruel.

in the back of your mind, you were thankful haechan cared enough to properly get you in the mood or else you would've been staining the bed sheets red by how deep and frantic mark’s thrusts were. it felt like he wanted to tear you in half.

"if i didn't know better i'd say you're experienced, markie! i wouldn't fucking know you're a virgin by how much you're humping her like a dog.”

curse him and his dirty mouth. his constant degradation is making it easier for mark to slide in and out of you, and a proof for that is the lewd slick sounds echoing in the room partnered with the older male's deep grunts – a complete opposite of the pitched, whiny sounds haechan makes.

'gumdrop, come on! be noisy with our first-timer here just how you're always noisy with me, yeah? don't be such a killjoy." the pout in his voice is evident, coming from the side of your ear.

you wish you had never turned your head, otherwise you wouldn't have to see him pumping his own dick in his hands right in front of you. the glare you shot probably looked pathetic, what with all the tears streaming down your face and your little theory proves true when you see his mouth quirk up to the side.

"i fucking hate you."

"mark, fuck her harder, wouldja? until she learns her fucking lesson."

the disturbed stare you gave him does not slip his notice, his hand's pace turning erratic, spurred by the slick sound of your walls, skin clapping, and mark's broken whines.

make him stop, your eyes said. please.

but haechan only shoots you an innocent smile before shaking his head. "didn't you tell me to beat my meat with my own hands?"

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jenoluck (c) all rights reserved

[yanderenightmare]

You made me fall in love with fear, it's all just fascinating. The way you write is an aesthetic in itself! It's so beautiful and thought-provoking. If your requests are open, I would love to see your volume one Yanderes with a clumsy s/o. Like, she is accident prone, always injuring herself, etc. I wonder how they would react with such fragility? Thanks! Have a wonderful day! :D

yandere ! BNHA headcannons

TIP-JAR

goodiebag WARNINGS: yandere, dumbification, abuse, manipulation, ableism, anxiety, death, murder, drugs, drugging, kidnapping

BAKUGO KATSUKI - KACHAN

He knew fragile things existed in the world.

And he knows that the world was designed to chew such powerless things up then spit them out again.

And he knows he isn’t one of those frail things.

As a child he thought it was fair for the strong to conquer the weak.

And hell… he still thinks it’s fair.

Her brittle nature provides him with such a great excuse too, such a perfect explanation for him to justify taking her.

To justify keeping her in soft frilly clothes, locked inside a room devoid of walls where they have been replaced by cushions and pillows and blankets and furs and stuffed-animals and all things soft, soft, soft against the bruises and scrapes on her knees and ankles and elbows and chin. Keeping her all cozy and clumsy where she’s unable to keep her footing on the plushie asylum floor, reduced to vertigo, especially with that fluffy pink ankle-cuff chaining her down.

Sometimes she’ll hide when hearing Bakugo’s footsteps coming thundering from behind her door. She’ll wrap herself up in all those soft things she’s grown to hate, pray under the covers only to hear the cracking predatory humor of Bakugo’s laugh once he spots where the chain trails to.

He'll drag her out of hiding like a puppy on a leash, all for him to punish, all with that splitting frenzied grin on his face, the one that makes her head dizzy on the sight of seeing how sharp those canines of his are, knowing how they’re going to find her neck as though she’s some chew-toy.

He’ll always make it sound as though that’s what she wanted, that punishment is what her weakness begged him for, as though weakness is synonymous with wanting pain or needing pain.

He’ll sleep there with her most of the time, in the room he’s made so painstakingly clear was her home. She’s coming more and more gradually to the understanding that nothing in reality is hers anymore. Not the room, not the clothes, not her body.

She’s too weak to be allowed to be in charge of anything, better for her to just find comfort in knowing how she has no responsibilities, better for her to just be grateful Bakugo wanted her as his pet rather than his prey. Better for her to listen and believe him when he tells her that she’s safe, instead of thinking of all those crippling reasons as to why she is far from being safe.

TODOROKI SHOTO

Clumsy prey is a sport Shoto always believed to be too mediocre and boring, given how easily the dexterity of the predator can win the chase.

He didn't think he could achieve stimulation without a challenge.

But, he’s now finding that chasing someone who’s barely able to keep her own footing is a game he rather enjoys quite salaciously. Understanding now that it’s less about the quest, less about actually catching his prize, and more about the experience, those funny little moments leading up to it.

The amount of hungry pleasure he derives from seeing her stagger away from him is bottomless.

He doesn’t know why, but it’s the outmost endearing and lovable and precious and cute thing he can think of.

Seeing her stumble and fall, all in the product of mixing her clumsiness with her wild manic fear. Watching those beautiful swivel-eyes spiral as she looks up at him through the thick darkness of the poorly lit hallways, hearing nothing but Shoto’s inhumanly sadistic snickering and her own heavy panting as she tries desperately to drag herself further away. Yet, knowing and awaiting his massive biting cold hand to grip around her ankle to drag her across the marble-floor back into her dungeon, back into the soft bed, so that they can do everything again.

Most chases end up with her hurting herself and eventually aiding her own capture.

She’ll always wake up with bruises she has no recollection of when or how she got, yet looking at them she can tell that they’re way too mellow to be something given to her by Shoto.

It's funny, where he hurts her, he actually ends up saving her more times than most. Where her sporadic escape has almost led her to go tumbling down the stairwell, where were it not for Shoto catching her in her fall, things could have gotten really ugly.

He wouldn’t want her to actually break her legs after all, no matter how many times he might tease and threaten her with the thought. Broken legs would mean no more games, and Shoto doesn’t want that to end any time soon.

But, there are softer aspects to her silliness too.

She can be just as dopey and awkward with her rambling thoughts as him, where her inelegance with her mobility seeps into her skillfulness with words too.

If she’s proper blissed-out she can talk up storms of complete and utter nonsense, rambling on about her dreams and what animal the shape of Shoto’s scars resemble and how pretty his eyes are and how much her body is tingling in the aftershocks of what fun Shoto exercised on her skin.

MIDORIYA IZUKU - DEKU

Naivety really is bliss, isn’t it?

Not just for herself, but for him too.

To watch her, in all her clumsy glory, fall on her face, time and time again, never learning her lesson.

That’s the definition of insanity, you know?

Doing the same thing over and over again expecting things to go differently.

But, no matter how many times she tries to escape, no matter how many times she runs, or screams or cries or swears she hates him until her lungs burn, she’ll always end up right where she started off, right where she belongs, right in his arms, under his thumb, under him.

He doesn’t even have to put any effort in to prevent it.

He just needs to sit back and enjoy the show as she fails so spectacularly all by her very own, then pick her up off the floor and coo and hush and shush and tsk at her to calm down or else she might end up hurting herself all over again.

How has such fickle featherbrained maladroit messes managed to survive? How hasn’t evolution wiped them from existence yet?

Perhaps because other more evolved creatures found them to be such a perfect source for blowing off steam. Entertainment is important after all. Small little escapes through the day where you can forget what nasty troubles you’ll eventually have to deal with and simply just play with your silly little pet.

He saves the world every now and again, the world can allow him this much, to have his very own swivel-eyed toy. He deserves it. 

Besides, she needs him. If he hadn’t stepped in and helped her, saved her from her own mistakes, evolution would have done its job and she’d be dead already.

But, he doesn’t expect her bumbling brainless little head to understand that, she’d just get a headache from thinking about it too hard.

No, better for her to focus on other things… like how to entertain him before he decides to show her just how small a foolish little thing she is.

He’ll often play with her, make her turn all shades of hopeless because she’s too forgetful and too soft-natured to comprehend what’s happened.

He’ll give her things, small little trinkets as presents for her good behavior, mostly accessories such as hair-bows, necklaces, anything he can easily slip off her without her noticing, then pretend to be disappointed, scolding her as though she’s some child who’s unable to take care of her things, punish her and kiss her on that scared foolish little face as she splutters out her apologies, having not a single clue she’s right where he wants her, completely clueless to the fact that she’s perfect in every which way imaginable.

DABI - TODOROKI TOUYA

It feels so unexplainably good to hold something infinitely helpless and vulnerable and dainty in his destructive hands without it shattering like glass.

It feels so insurmountably meaningful and purposeful and godsend to save someone for once, even if it’s from themselves.

It’s nice being in the presence of true chaos, the true absence of order, a great real heap of a total clusterfuck. It makes him believe that even life requires a little death to scare them into safety, that even light requires darkness, that even love needs darkness, that even love desires darkness.

He used to think small things such as her were made up of cotton and all things soft like dandelion-fluff, but now he knows they’re made of breakable brittle things such as autumn-leaves, in desperate need of being wrapped up, suffocated, drowned in safety. He’s the one who needs to be soft like cotton, he’s the one who needs to be gentle and soft so she not crumble like the sweet pastry she is.

It’s cute. She’s cute. Unbelievably so too sometimes.

He feels like half the time he spends with her he’s teaching her how to walk properly, catching her when she falls or helping her up from the ground, dusting her off, wiping tears away from her face, patching up small scrapes and gashes, kissing her forehead, letting her know how it’s all okay, making sure she knows she’s no such thing as a burden, though not letting her in on the fact that he loves seeing her fail only for him to save the day.

He’ll take her outside more because of her ditzy nature, knowing how she’s far too dopey to ever manage an escape without pulling out a near miss unintentional suicide attempt, where which after a number of rescues from him she forgets why she was even running in the first place, now too caught up with being close to him instead, with feeling safe, feeling protected.

He’ll save her from wandering off into traffic, protect her when she says the wrong idiotic thing to the wrong batch of people, fight for her when her cuteness lures and pulls and ensnares other predators.

It’s symbiosis, if he thinks about it, if he tries justifying it.

She needs him and he needs to feel needed. She needs to be taken care of, he wants to take care of her, she needs protection from herself, he wants her dependence, he wants the safety of knowing how she cannot survive without him.

SHIGARAKI TOMURA

It’s hilarious.

She’ll break her own legs for him at this rate.

He wonders how many braincells could possibly be left in that thick skull of hers, with how much she trips and walks into walls and rolls out of bed, bumping her head on every possible thing, he can’t count how many times she’s head-butted him, whether it’s been on purpose or not. 

He wonders if she might just be blind.

If maybe she needs glasses…

Well… that’s too bad if that’s the case, no chance he’s giving up watching her agonize over every misstep that leads to her falling on the floor by his feet, her head tipping to look up at him with that ridiculous expression, that dumbfounded adorable confusion.

It probably doesn’t help that he keeps the room so dark.

It probably doesn’t help that he leaves things on the floor in hopes of her foot catching on them.

But, can you blame him for wanting to see her all cute and flushed? Watching her frustrate over herself, too caught up in being mad with her own inadequacy to bother being mad at him. So preciously hopeless as she tries to pick herself up off the floor, her hair always in a mess and bruises and scrapes littering her otherwise soft skin.

Pretty and stupid isn’t usually the type he fawns over, in fact: pretty and stupid is usually the type that disgust him, pretty stupid bitches that never spare him a second glance, pretty stupid bitches that are only worth one fuck before he dusts them.

But pretty stupid and sweet? 

That’s the perfect cocktail.

So stupid and sweet she doesn’t even know how pretty she is. So stupid and sweet that she’s surprised he gave her a second glance.

He wonders if he as well would be this careless and reckless if he hadn’t been gifted with that destructive quirk of his.

He wonders if she had been born with a heart made less up of honeycombs and more daggers like his, if she would also second-guess touching things as opposed to making it her mission to bump into every single thing in her path.

If she would be less trusting and more cynical like him.

He’s grateful she wasn’t.

He’s grateful that the only type of death she’ll ever get the chance to taste is him, that as far as she’s concerned… he is death.

TAKAMI KEIGO - HAWKS

Most of the time it’s cute.

Most of the time he loves watching her fall prey to her own absentmindedness. Watch her trip on nothing but her own poor footing.

After all, he does love catching her before she hits the ground. He loves being her hero, seeing that shocked expression on her face, that cute blush of embarrassment as he smirks down upon her jumpy skittish person.

Then of course there’s the less salvageable moments, yet still no less cute, where she’ll drop dinner plates or her glass or the wine bottle or the remote-controller, where she’ll get so frustrated with herself and her stubby fingers, her feet always needing bandaging where she always manages to step in her own mess of glass-shards.

Those times where she fucks up and fears Keigo’s temperance so much she’ll turn into a timid little ball of apologies and gratitude, where she’ll fear that any more screw ups will cost her his understanding attitude and awake something livid inside him.

She’ll be so sweet with fear as opposed to when she’ll jerk away from his touch.

So yeah, most of the time it’s cute, most of the time it’s beneficial.

But that habit she has of not thinking before speaking or acting gets her into a whole lot of trouble too.

Especially when she pushes him away or calls him something unsavory. When she acts like a brat, forgetting who’s in charge.

Keigo feels the need to teach her a thing or two about being a bit more careful and a little less brainless. 

He’ll pose her in the middle of the living room, with only red lace adorning her tiny frame, looking cold but not so much to be the reason to her shivers, he knows better as he can smell the fear laced in the air.

On top of her head he’ll put a perfect plump red apple and tell her to stand as still and picture-perfect as possible.

She’s pretty good at it too, at being still and quiet and pretty, speaking only when spoken to, at least until he starts sending knife-sharp feathers in her directions, creating her silhouette in the wall as the feathers fly just short of nicking her skin, where if she moves only a slight mere inch, the crimson edges will slice open her skin.

And if the apple should fall, well… if she can be sweet and apologize and show him just how sorry she is, he’ll think about making the punishment enjoyable.

SHINSO HITOSHI

Hitoshi can’t manifest how much awe he has for that ditzy nature of hers.

So forgetful, so clueless, so cute.

She’s like a little girl, a child, a baby in a cradle, yet with the ability to get lost, wandering off at every slight distraction.

He’s tempted to put a bell around her neck if only to be alerted off when her curiosity has taken her out of his eyesight. She would look adorable with a little golden jingle bell around her throat, hanging on a velvet choker.

But then again… he wouldn’t have the joy of finding her all tousled and knotted up in her newest little fuck up.

Little Miss Forgetful forgetting all her lessons, all those rules Hitoshi’s taught her, forgetting her manners, forgetting her chores, forgetting how to be his good little girl or else suffer the consequences of being punished and becoming Master’s little puppet on strings.

Little Miss Messy making a total clutter in the kitchen when trying her best to get her hand on a knife, but only managing to bump into everything, shards of glass painting the crime scene with the culprit displayed and trapped all perfectly in the middle of her own mess, all for Hitoshi to come and catch red-handed.

Little Miss Bump with new bruises and scratches as she’s fallen yet again on the floor in the midst of her newest escape attempt.

He could go on all day about his sweet little Miss Silly, his little Miss Scatterbrain, his little Miss Stupid, who’s always getting into trouble, constantly needing Hitoshi to come to her rescue.

But, when he’s not home, he can get anxious.

Scared that she might actually hurt herself just a bit too much and he’ll arrive just a bit too late.

It should take a lifetime to die, yet she’s on the verge of death nearly every day, it only takes an instant and it’s over.

He’ll check in on her at home more times than he probably should throughout the day, praying before he unlocks the door and steps inside the quiet stillness of their house, picturing her having cracked her skull open when slipping or accidently managing to hang herself off of something or drowning in the tub after having fallen asleep, there’s no end to what horrors he can picture.

His anxiety only satiated when finding her still asleep on the bed, soft untroubled snores hanging off the walls. 

It makes sense with how much melatonin he slipped in her drink before she dozed off…

Just a little safety measure.

CHISAKI KAI - OVERHAUL

It manages to surprise him each and every time… just how much danger such a little thing is able to wrap herself up in.

It’s as though she chases the trouble, as though she wants the punishment that follows.

He doubts she ever really thinks anything thoroughly through.

She’s reckless, ruthless in her disregard for safety. Hare-brained and untrustworthy and in desperate need of his protection and his correction, or else she might just accidentally kill herself one day or worse… end up in the wrong set of hands.

It’s come to the point where he’s stopped gifting her with jewelry, because he gets so hysterically uneasy whenever she’s gotten her hands on anything sharp.

Before he’d get angry when she threatened him, wrathful, raging because she doesn’t listen, her foolish little brain unable to follow the simplest of directions. 

Now though, he gets scared because she’s unable to understand what’s best for her, because the only thing she'll ever manage to hurt with those sharp trinkets is herself.

And if she hurts herself, if she risks getting bacteria in her bloodstream, infections in her wounds, scarring and marring that beautiful body, he’ll have no choice, he’ll see no other option but to make sure she can never manage such a thing ever again.

He often humors the idea of simply tying her to the bed and feeding her with a silver spoon, only liquids so she not choke when she forgets how to chew properly.

He’ll act as though she’s a nuisance, but it will be a lie most of the time, while actually finding an inane amount of reassurance and relief in her whimsy, in her gracelessness. Where yes, she is a danger, but she’s far from deadly.

And besides, it’s nice getting a little break from all formalities, someone he can finally be a little rough around the edges with, someone he can let himself enjoy soft pleasures with, someone he can smile or even laugh with when the occasion calls for it. 

Sometimes he’ll place her in high-heels, only to watch her stumble around awkwardly like a little deer skating on ice.

She’s so determined too, determined to prove she isn’t a klutz, how she too can be elegant enough for a dance fit for the ballroom.

He’ll humor that fantasy, but she’ll always throw her heels off in favor of standing on top of his surgically white sneakers and letting herself get floated and swayed with how swiftly and precisely Kai has the established proper poise to enact.

He’ll smile then, when those flirty bubbling giggles erupt from her as she holds onto him, telling how him wonderful flying feels like.

TIP-JAR

[belovedblossoms-m]

Okay, that one was pretty simple yet it made Yukari stifle a laugh. She knew how dorky these kind of puns were yet she couldn't help but to join and send in one of her own. Although...she has a feeling that maybe she unleashed something from Minato considering she didn't quite approve of Junpei's own ridiculous puns and jokes. "Hm, I guess I'm feline good today. Although it could be better nyaa know? Um..." She froze in surprise--oh God...they're both brushing off on her now.

@belovedblossoms replied:

"Those who can't handle cat puns just take things too purrsonally."

[{ 🦋 }] - " That's a very good point."

Minato was pleasantly surprised to hear Yukari join in, he never expected her to like puns, given from her reactions whenever Junpei would crack a joke. As surprising as it was, the more the merrier, Minato didn't hesitate to continue.

[{ 🦋 }] - "Hey Yukari-Chan, Meow you doing?"

[theveryinsignificantpotato]

Hi! I was hoping I could request an Alastor x reader, where the reader is an overlord and one of his top competitors? I’m a huge sucker for a good rival to lovers trope, and I thought it might be interesting with him!

I did love writing this, I got a little stuck on parts so I apologise for the wait, but here it is!

My Sworn Enemy

If you told me before that I would end up here I'd probably have killed you on the spot, laughing loudly while I did. Alastor has always irritated me, and from the moment I saw him trekking through my territory, leaving breathtaking carnage in his wake, we had become enemies. Neither of us would have had it any other way, either.

Numerous arguments and all out battles come to mind when I try to devise what led me here, decades and decades of hatred continuously reminding me of why exactly I should be literally anywhere else, but I'm not, and somehow I ended up wrapped up in his arms with his kiss on my lips.

He was annoying and stubborn and cruel, and I have every right to push him away and slap him and cuss him out, but I don't.

Why not?

He wasn't placing hands on me, or being creepy or gross like one would expect from most overlords, but his kiss was chaste and innocent. Only one of his hands only barely came in contact with my cheek, as if worried for how I was going to react, and his eyes remained closed.

It was strange, when the person who once held so much hatred in your heart is now willingly showing you a more vulnerable side, there isn't quite a proper way to react.

Should I kiss him back?

We were enemies, yes, but our fights ended quite a while ago, naturally we each got caught up in other business and only regarded the other as someone to be careful around, maybe even sneer at in the streets, after so long. Fighting with Alastor was tremendous fun back in the day, but with all these new overlords to worry about, there wasn't really time on anyone's schedule to deal with a mortal enemy.

It was rather silly the manner in which the anger left, the fighting died out over the course of ten or so years, then we stopped. Another decade later, lucifer himself invites a bunch of overlords to a party (just to see the chaos that ensues, of course), and of course, Alastor was there.

I may never understand what compelled him to interact with me, but he did, we talked idly, it was pretty awkward at first, but he was polite, and after he cracked a couple jokes we were chatting like old friends. It was as if someone flipped a switch, and after years of hatred we became somewhat of friends.

From then on when we saw each other in the streets we'd smile rather than sneer, occasionally engaging in light conversation and banter in the light of a coffee shop or while bloodying the pavement on the streets. He was shockingly pleasant to be around, and was consistent in drawing out my laughter with his dumb jokes.

There is a garden just behind the Cannibal Cafe in the west end of the fifth circle, it is quite lovely considering the location, and due to its region, most of the visiting demons were of a type that Alastor was familiar with, and often scared others away (you can't die here, being eaten is not a pleasant experience), so it was pretty peaceful when he led me there. We were just talking, like always, joking about the dumb things we used to fight about, or reminiscing about the carnage we had left behind decades ago. Once he even lifted a flower from a bush and tucked it into my hair, and I couldn't hide my blush even as it died in his hand.

"How did I ever hate you?" I said with a soft laugh after tucking a flower from the very same bush into his fluffy hair so it rested between his ear and his horns, effectively making him the most adorable being in hell.

His smile seemed to soften when I did that, and he looked almost as though he was under a spell when he leaned down and pressed his lips to mine.

Oh right, here we are.

My moment of hesitation seems to last ages, my own mind fighting this long battle over whether or not I should push him away or kiss him back, or just plain not react at all! It's all so confusing, I find myself stressed and exhausted just by thinking, while Alastor is so warm and sweet and inviting, and briefly I wonder if he could help me silence those pesky thoughts of mine.

Then something snaps in my mind and I find myself pulling him closer by the nape of his neck and finally returning his affection, bringing my free hand up to hold his to my cheek where it had once only hovered anxiously.

He reacts almost instantly, bringing an arm around my waist while he traces my features with the pad of his thumb. He seems almost excited at this development, and has a bright genuine grin spread across his face when he pulls away from me.

What the fuck do I do now?

My mind is racing and my face is hot, but I don't look away from Alastor's eyes, red and glittering with delight, they're so mesmerizing I can't bring myself to take my eyes off them. Then his hand is removed from my cheek, only for me to take it in both of mine, holding onto it like a lifeline while I attempt to put together some sort of response to this turn of events.

"Sweetheart,"

His voice seems to dissolve the turmoil that had manifested in my mind, and I catch myself staring at him,

"I seem to have broken you," he chuckles, "do return sometime, I enjoy our talks." He hums, leaning down to press a kiss to my head

"Wh-" I blink once, twice, forcing myself from my daze, "was that real?" I ask finally, keeping my grip on his hand

He laughs softly "Which part, my darling?" He asks, tilting his head to the side while he traces his thumb gently over my knuckles.

"Uhm the part where you kissed me" I said, suddenly overcome by this giddy anxiety that followed today's events.

He hums "Yes indeed, about as real as when you returned my affection." His free hand raises to cup my own over his occupied one, and I take a brief moment to marvel over how warm this man was

"Can… can I do it again…?" I ask, a goofy smile taking over my features

He laughs heartily, "perhaps you may, if I am granted the honor of becoming your lover," He hums with an excited look in his eyes

"My sworn enemy asking to be my boyfriend?" I quirk an eyebrow, unable to hide the small giggle that emerged from my chest, "how can I refuse?"

He grins, releasing one of my hands so he can spin me into another sweet kiss, pressing a hand into the small of my back in order to pull me close while the other keeps its hold on mine.

This time I react immediately, wrapping my free arm around his neck kissing him back with an electrifying excitement. My fingers flexed against his and I could feel his content hum radiate through his chest.

When he pulls away I rest my forehead against his and we share a bright grin.

This should be an interesting new chapter.

[ohsweetflips]

For the fluff/angst prompt thing, 85 and/or 40 for fargo? 🥺🥺

A/N: anon thank you for my life these prompts are a gift and i would lay down my life for you……………… i’m still playing around with ship dynamics and grad characterization but this was a lot of fun!!!! and also this feels a lot more pre-fargo still in that “what are we” stage

post-writing note: i ended up not being able to fit #40 in, but i still hope you enjoy!!! ....... might try to find another fic to work that prompt into

(also just thought i’d say to the general public that, while im doing a lot of taz grad shipping w/ fitzroy/rainer and fitzroy/argo, i am not looking to force anyone to ship anything nor am i looking to start any “””ship wars””” omg, this is all just for fun!!!!)

(so anyways!!!!)

——————————–

85) “Don’t lie to me.”

——————————–

Sir Fitzroy Maplecourt, Knight in whatever-the-fuck in the Realm of It-Doesn’t-Fucking-Matter-Right-Now was an idiot. A fucking idiot. Only he would get himself stabbed on a mission miles away from the school. Only he would run into the fray of chaos to stop it. 

Sir Fitzroy Maplecourt was an idiot and a bad villain.

But Argo wasn’t panicking. Not panicking at all. 

He was just near dragging Fitzroy down a dark, damp alley as blood seeped through his robes and into Argo’s own tunic. Which would be a bitch to get out. Blood always was. But it was okay. Fine, even! Because Bud had been able to heal Fitzroy… kind of. Not much, because spell slots were an issue, but, hey! It was probably enough to keep Fitzroy from bleeding out within the hour! 

And, yeah, they were supposed to be trying to work out a deal with two rivaling guilds and not getting ambushed by a group of bandits larger than the party they came with, but it was all good! And, sure, Rolandus, Rainer, and Bud might have had to run distraction while Leon and Buckminster try to get in contact with the school’s emergency hotline, and Argo might just be getting more and more lost as he pulled Fitzroy’s semi-conscious body through streets that he already didn’t know, but it was fine!

Completely, and totally, and absolutely, and… and…

Fuck, why did he have to get hurt?

“Argo,” Fitzroy, voice strained, managed out. He was barely walking already but, even so, his feet stumbled over each other and Argo had to secure him tighter. “Wait… hold on…”

Argo wanted to deny him, wanted to say that they needed to keep moving, needed to get somewhere they knew, but he looked down at Fitzroy’s grimace and the sweat on his brow, and found that he couldn’t.

“Okay, okay,” Argo said quickly, his eyes darting around for anything that could support Fitzroy, though the sentiment was short-lived as Fitzroy began to become dead-weight in his arms. “Okay, wait, wait, wait-” And, as carefully as he could (and trying to still his shaking hands), he helped lower Fitzroy down onto the cobblestones and watched him wince as he leaned back against the wall “-I, uh, are you- where does it hurt?”

Fitzroy, as Argo kneeled down in front of him, shot him a tired, pained grin. “What d’ya mean? I’m doing just fine.”

“Don’t lie to me,” Argo hissed, flashing his eyes from Fitzroy’s face to the ever-growing dark patch on his shirt. He ghosted his hand over it, wanting to see the damage but too scared to face it. “Not-” He cleared his throat, shaking his head “-not here.”

Fitzroy watched his face and, after a moment, let his head fall back against the brick wall as his eyes slipped shut. “Everywhere.” He swallowed thickly. “But maybe I’m just dramatic.”

“We already know that,” Argo murmured, hands moving to the buttons at Fitzroy’s collar and then freezing. It was silly, almost: Fitzroy was wounded and bleeding before him, yet Argo froze to unbutton his shirt, but-

“It won’t be a pretty sight,” Fitzroy said.

“Is this okay?” Argo asked, quietly.

Fitzroy nodded.

Argo was careful. He had to be; tact was integral in his line of work before the school, both in stealing and in patching up his own wounds, but now he found himself praying that his hands were defter, gentler.

Leave it to fucking Fitzroy Maplecourt to turn him gentle.

He had been right, though: it wasn’t a pretty sight.

The biggest problem was the actual stab wound in the left side of his stomach. Not particularly large and, wracking his brain, Argo couldn’t think of any organs that the wound would’ve hit (plus, Bud’s healing probably helped in that aspect), but, nonetheless, the wound was still bleeding much more than probably wanted. The rest of his stomach and chest, though, was marked with slash wounds, all varied in length and depth, and even some bruising already beginning to purple along his side.

“Shit,” Argo whispered.

Fitzroy was caught somewhere between a smirk and a grimace. “So, what’s the verdict, doc?”

“That you’re an idiot,” Argo said, though he was already tearing off parts of his own tunic for make-shift bandages. “Fucking villain rushing in to de-escalate a situation. That’ll show up in your report card, don’t you think?”

“Good to know that you care, Argo.” Fitzroy hissed as Argo pressed a bandage to the deepest wound, and Argo tried to not think about it too much.

Of course I do, Argo said, except it came out as, “Well, first time for everything.”

His relationship with Fitzroy was complicated, as most things involving Fitzroy were. The two cared for each other more than either would admit, not necessarily out of pride, but out of the rocky road it took to get them there. Working through their rivalry and stubborness had taken time, taken work, but, before long, Argo found himself willing to do what it takes to help Fitzroy, and, well…

Fitzroy threw himself into the bandits after one barely missed Argo with a throwing knife.

It was a devotion that the school almost expected of them: kicks and henches throwing themselves forward in defense, heroes and villains throwing them into the midst of it all for some big showdown. And, in practice, it was fun. The three of them laughed when Bud used his imposing form to simply block the two of them when Rattles rushed them with a dulled rapier. Argo found joy in sneaking around corners to catch Rainer and Fitzroy off guard in practice scrimmages, only for them both to laugh as Fitzroy charged him and missed at the last moment.

Practice was always fun.

It was when it was real, when there were no do-overs, that Argo realized it wasn’t always such. Maybe Fitzroy did, too. Maybe they realized, too, that the two of them—three of them—were stronger fighting together instead of letting one take the brunt of the damage.

Hell, Argo didn’t want Fitzroy to get hurt while rushing in for some final showdown.

Maybe Fitzroy didn’t want Argo sacrificing himself to take the damage, either.

As Argo’s hands finished tying a secure knot in the make-shift bandage, Fitzroy watched his movements. Even though blood still seeped through, he hoped that it was enough to slow it. All he could do was hope.

“It’s a knight thing,” Fitzroy said, tired, and Argo eyed him, confused. "Rushing into battle. I’m trained to protect people, so... that’s what I did.”

“That’s some pretty sidekick thinking for a villain.”

Fitzroy laughed slightly before quickly, painfully, catching himself. “Well, maybe those stupid human shield games stuck.”

Argo, barely managing a smile, shook his head. “You… you didn’t have to do that. You’re hurt now and… you’re gonna be fine, we’ll find the others, but… you’re hurt.”

“I know,” Fitzroy said. “But…” He released a breath and let his head fall back again. “I just couldn’t hold myself back. They attacked first, attacked you first, and I just…”

Argo wanted to say that he could handle himself, but he knew that wasn’t the point Fitzroy was making.

“Well, thanks,” Argo said. “But next time you’re about to go rushing in, at least give us a warning? A codeword, perhaps?”

“Come up with a cool pirate one and we’ll be golden.”

Argo nodded and, worrying his bottom lip, studied Fitzroy quickly. He was still looking a little pale, and his eyes were scrunched up tight, but his breathing was decently okay, and-

“I can feel you staring,” Fitzroy murmured. “My half-elf senses are tingling.”

“That makes no sense,” Argo mumbled, but didn’t deny it.

Fitzroy cracked an eye open. “Thank you, though, Argo,” he said. “For… helping me.”

Complicated or not, whatever their relationship was, first and foremost, Fitzroy was one of his two closest friends at Wiggenstaff’s, and the last thing he wanted was for his friends to be hurt.

Argo flashed a smirk. “Is that a proper honoring from Sir Fitzroy Maplecourt?”

“Think of it as me, Fitzroy, your roommate, your-” Their eyes, for just a second, caught each other “-friend, appreciating what you’ve done for me.”

Seeing Fitzroy pained like this, vulnerable like this, made Argo realize that he wanted two things: something more, and to never see Fitzroy hurt again.

Argo felt his face heat up, and was almost thankful of the darkness for hiding his flushed face before remembering that Fitzroy had darkvision.

“Well, of course, Fitzroy,” Argo said. “I would never leave you.” He swallowed, his eyes quickly darting around the alley. “Not to bleed out, that is. Or be stabbed by a bunch of sneaky bandits.”

Fitzroy cracked a smile and opened his mouth to say something before he was interrupted by a voice calling out, “Argo! Fitzroy!” which was followed by another saying, quieter, “Where the fuck could they have gone?”

Argo, nearly unable to measure how relieved he was, called back to Buck and Rolandus, “We’re over here!”

“Oh thank god,” Fitzroy breathed out and, at the thought of being able to return to the school, he seemed to sag further against the wall, almost as if he had been trying to hold himself together up until this point.

“You’re hurting, aren’t you?” Argo asked, quietly.

“Terribly so,” Fitzroy whispered. Footsteps, not too far away, could be heard hitting the pavement.

“We should probably get you up, though,” Argo said, feeling ready to hoist Fitzroy over his shoulder and walk back to campus if it was needed. “We… we have to get moving.”

Fitzroy sighed but, upon Argo standing, accepted his outstretched hand, and let himself be helped.

[bearingwater]

July Forecast for Aquarius

Surrender to change, Aquarius—it’s coming whether you like it or not. July is a month of many expressions from above, including two alchemical eclipses, a rare double-header of new moons bookending the month and (eek!) communication planet Mercury spinning retrograde from July 7 to 31. There won’t be a dull moment on deck, Aquarius—so brace yourself for an active month that could transform you in crucial ways.

Against the backdrop of the Sun in Cancer and your sixth house of health, fitness and organization (until July 22), a July 2 total solar (new moon) eclipse lands in Cancer, jolting you into action. Is it time to go full KonMari on your clutter? Or maybe change your habits around eating and exercise? You may get doctor’s orders to do so, or the urge might come from a desire to reconnect to your body. The way you’ve structured your life could have pieces falling through the cracks, and this cosmic event is your unsubtle prompt to shift your systems, stat! At the July 2 Cancer solar eclipse, a powerful new six-month cycle of vitality opens up.

This is the midway point in a series of eclipses falling on the Cancer/Capricorn axis between July 2018 and July 2020, activating your analytical sixth house (ruled by Cancer) and your twelfth house of spirituality and release (ruled by Capricorn). For the past year, you’ve been transforming the balance between mind and spirit, control and surrender. There have been moments that awakened you to a need to be more alert and attentive or to more deeply connect to the earth. (We have THREE Aquarius friends who have turned their land into small organic farms in the past year!)

The second eclipse might require you to keep a few friends on standby for emotional support. On July 16, a Capricorn lunar (full moon) eclipse will land in your twelfth house of closure, healing and transitions. A chapter of your life may come to an abrupt end, and all the attendant emotions can surge up just as suddenly. If you haven’t dealt with grief or mourned a loss, this could be one of those long-awaited “ugly cry” days that helps you heal. With alchemical Pluto riding close to this full moon, the intensity is multiplied.

This eclipse might also bring a spiritual awakening, a soulmate encounter or a moment of profound epiphanies. You may see someone’s true colors—and the palette could be shocking. This eclipse may expose a secret or bring hidden information to light. Look back to January 6, 2019, when a corresponding Capricorn solar eclipse set events into motion. Since astrology is cyclical, endings clear the way for beginnings. Trust that if you have to release anything, it’s for the highest good—even if whatever’s “next” doesn’t immediately show up. In fact, breathing through the unknown instead of anxiously trying to micromanage events will be your biggest—and most rewarding—spiritual challenge.

In between, there could be a couple moments that starkly expose the “control freak” that we all have within us. Control is an outcropping of fear, after all. And you’ll get a front-row seat to some of your own untended anxieties when the Cancer Sun forms its annual oppositions to Saturn (July 9) and Pluto (July 14) in Capricorn and your illusion-fueled twelfth house.

Your mission: To uncover where more boundaries are needed in your life. Have you fallen into a role of codependent enabling and sacrifice? As the Sun opposes boundary-hound Saturn and power-player Pluto, you may need to cut some of those cords in no uncertain terms. Or, if you’ve put up TOO many barriers, you’ll see where to let go and open yourself up to receiving support. You may have to trade some ego or a sense of control—but it will be a small price to pay for feeling like others have your back!

Adding to the fun, Mercury will be retrograde from July 7 to 31. It will split its time between Leo and your partnership zone (until July 19) and Cancer, ruler of your health and organization zone, from July 19 to 31. Shore up your defenses around travel, technology and communication, all areas that can be affected by chaos when Mercury goes rogue. Triple-check reservations, back up data and practice extreme patience!

During the Leo leg, take extra precautions in your closest relationships. Explain yourself with explicit clarity and check to make sure the other person REALLY heard you. Try the mirroring technique, silly as it may feel, where one person says something and the other answers to the tune of, “What I hear you saying is…” then adjust as needed. Contracts fall under the seventh house AND Mercury’s domain, so tread lightly (if at all) around signing any paperwork. If people seem to misunderstand you at every turn, take a deep breath and try again! Be sure to extend the same courtesy to others as well.

With argumentative Mars in Leo and your partnership house all month, it will be extra challenging to get on the same page. And when Mars plows into a fiery square to your co-ruler, volatile Uranus, on July 11, you could reach a breaking point. A family member or living-situation stress might be the straw that breaks the camel’s back if you’re not careful.

Really watch those stress levels when Mercury backs into Cancer and your wellness zone from July 19 to 31. Avoid multitasking or taking on too much, especially since you’ll be susceptible to a late-summer cold or flu. Wash your hands regularly and avoid anyone who’s sniffling or hacking!

Camaraderie could light the way starting July 22, when the Sun swings into Leo and your partnership zone for a month. While you may feel a bit low-power now, you’ll have people to lean on coming through. Cut back on all the extraneous social engagements and focus on the folks who truly have your back. One of them could rise up as an incredible friend and champion on July 25, when Mars in Leo forms a flowing trine to effusive Jupiter in your camaraderie zone. And who knows…maybe there’s something beyond just friendship in the cards for you, whether that’s a romantic relationship or a business alliance. With these two excitable planets aligning, it’s a perfect day to explore possibilities! You don’t have to commit to anything…just enjoy that blue-sky dreaming.

The first moment to even CONSIDER making it official doesn’t come until July 31, when Mercury ends its retrograde (amen!) and a rare second new moon lands in Leo, cutting a six-month trail into your zone of committed relationships. Between now and next February, something beautiful could unfold if you play your cards right. Follow the synergies and see what happens. Or, if you’re ready to take it official, this new moon could prompt talks of getting serious.

Love & Romance

With impassioned Mars roaring through Leo and your dynamic-duos zone from July 1 to August 18, all kinds of partnerships heat up, from romantic to professional to creative. Couples might find themselves arguing a lot—perhaps over the pettiest of problems—yet at the same time feel ever more attracted to each other. Lusty Mars can crank up the sexual chemistry AND the combativeness, so be prepared for both.

One thing to stay aware of: Expressive Mercury is going retrograde this month, and from July 7 to 19 the reversal happens in Leo. During this cycle, miscommunications can abound with your romantic partner and close connections. Anticipate this by being extra clear about what you’re conveying and don’t make assumptions. If you must get something off your chest, be sure to do it when both parties are able to really hear each other. Springing a “we need to talk” on someone out of the blue will NOT get you the response you hope for.

July 16 features the year’s only Capricorn full moon—also a potent lunar eclipse—in your twelfth house of release, fantasy and healing. If you’re in a solid relationship (or have one in development), surrender to soulmate-style love. If you’re barely hanging on in a union that’s passed its expiration date, this lunar push could be the thing that helps you cut bait. Single? Be vulnerable and willing to stretch beyond “the usual.” That’s when the magic can happen!

Should any misunderstandings arise between July 3 and 27—which is kind of inevitable when Mercury is retrograde—tactful Venus in soothing Cancer will support you in talking things through diplomatically. And since Venus is in your analytical sixth house, you’ll be able to keep enough emotional perspective to not get defensive or be inappropriately giving (read: codependent).

Wherever you land at the end of the month, a bold and loving Leo new moon on July 31 extends an olive branch and helps you make any kind of fresh start you desire. Start over, go deeper, reinvent the whole relationship: The world is your amorous oyster!

Key Dates

July 17: Venus-Saturn Opposition You may not be in the kindest, gentlest mood today, as “by the book” Saturn faces off with sensitive Venus in your nitpicking sixth house. Your instinct might be to lash out at someone or get defensive if anyone so much as suggests you try to do something a little differently. Ouch! Deal with the real issues, but anything that might be more in the “molehill” category, leave it alone for now.

Money & Career

Back to reality, Aquarius? July’s financial stars are delivered without any window dressing as the Sun travels through Cancer and your practical, analytical sixth house. This zodiac realm also rules wellness—and your “fiscal fitness” could be put to the test by the first of two groundbreaking eclipses. On July 2, a Cancer total solar (new moon) eclipse could catapult you into a new line of work, perhaps one that involves sustainability, health or data. Check in on your stress levels while you’re at it. Today’s world is a pressure cooker, and that can take a toll on your physical state. With Mercury retrograde from July 7 to 31 (in Cancer from July 19 on), you’ll want to seriously filter the information you take in. If it leaves you feeling upset and fearful, it’s okay to change the channel—or walk away from that screen.

A second eclipse on July 16 could bring a major turning point. Is it time to say “enough already!” and wave the white flag? Because this lunar (full moon) eclipse is in Capricorn and your twelfth house of endings and transitions, a part of your life that no longer serves you could be “eclipsed” away. No more hanging on by your teeth, Aquarius. Make space for new relationships instead of staying mired in struggle. Remember: Suffering is optional! When you quit trying to force an outcome and surrender to a bigger plan, miracles can and will arise. And they’ll come through the NEW people you allow into your life. As the Sun enters Leo and your partnership house on July 22, prepare to make contact with some fascinating folks who can help you on your path! On July 31, the day of the Leo new moon (and the end of Mercury retrograde), someone’s promises could materialize. You’ll know who’s solidly on Team Aquarius soon enough!

Key Dates

July 9: Sun-Saturn Opposition Guard the perimeter! You’d love to let the whole world into your inner circle, but until someone has proved their trustworthiness, keep private info under wraps around them. It’s not being paranoid—in this age of rampant identify theft, an Aquarian can’t be too safe!

Love Days: 28, 4 Money Days: 11, 20 Luck Days: 9, 18 Off Days: 2, 7, 16

[journeysintowebcomics]

Homestuck Liveblog #183

UPDATE 183: Narrative Takeover

Last time everything went wrong for so many characters. John’s fight with Caliborn went awry, Jane’s plan to seduce Jake didn’t work because he kept thinking of Dirk, and Dave and Karkaroni’s political strategy meeting got derailed by Jade deciding it was a good time for romantic overtures. So now let’s continue.

So, now that they have been dumped in middle of the chaos that’s destroying all the known existence and reality, John checks the situation. Lord English is up there, in front of the black hole, seemingly impervious to its strong absorbing effect.

Unlike his younger form, his eyes aren’t flickering wildly. They’re locked in place, an eight ball in each socket.

If I remember correctly from the booklet about pool I read like six years ago when I started playing pool for fun, the eighth ball is the last one you must sink, so I’d say it indicates it’s endgame. I think it also had happened in Arc 7. Symbolism!

Tavros is over there, leading an army, Vriska is nowhere to be seen and presumably is very dead, and Meenah was supposed to be going away, I think? Anyway, it’s fight time! Everyone already has their weapons at the ready – all the weapons that are supposed to hit Lord English pretty hard – and Rose tries to remind them what exactly their plan is. She barely gets a single word out before she’s dead.

But Rose doesn’t get to finish what she was trying to say. Lord English’s mouth roars open and a wave of energy blasts through your group. Rose is the only one caught in it. She dissolves in slow motion. You can see the outline of her body in shadow. One arm thrown up over her eyes, shoulders pulled up defensively, cape billowing out behind her. She leaves an afterimage of shimmering light in her wake and then dissipates, drifting apart like a handful of salt tossed out to sea. You can almost hear the cosmic clock counting down, tick tock, and a chime to accompany her fate: Heroic.

This fight lasted like three seconds before it all looked grim as heck for John and friends. This is going to wreck everyone’s morale and ruin whatever effective plan they had, as I really doubt Rose was supposed to stand aside and let everybody else act. They’re so doomed.

As if to underscore how screwed they are, Jade tries to use her powers and finds out the black hole up there is where the green sun used to be. It made Lord English vulnerable, but she’s powerless now too. Whooops. Kind of a big oversight. How didn’t John or Future Rose foresee that detail? It’s kind of important!

With that, two of the four are now dead and they haven’t gotten started for real. Dave is trying to cut Lord English with the cueball sword, John is...standing around, I suppose, until he snaps out of it and surrounds Lord English with wind, capturing him until he tries to smash his skull with the hammer. Lord English eats the hammer. I’m...okay, I didn’t see that coming. I appreciate the move a lot. John can’t do much else because his glasses are broken, so he can’t see well at all. Good thing Meenah is around now! What a lifesaver!

Time to assess the situation and check how badly things have turned in...like a minute or so. As I always say: a minute is quite a long time in a fight!

Ghostly Tavros and another one of John’s hammers join the list of casualties, Meenah deciding to go in for the kill. Not unless you turn into Dave, gal! Not that Dave is faring much better, he’s trying to harm Lord English but he’s way too fast, even for Dave, who is no slouch in the agility department. That’s incredibly quick, and he’s not fueled by the green sun right now. Everything is awful for the heroes here!

Meenah is launched away and I can only guess she’s dead, because in this scenario being thrown away is kind of fatal due to the huge black hole up there. Dave is under Lord English’s foot, John barely saves him by throwing more hammer at Lord English for him to eat, and tries to set up a hammer barrier to prepare that silly thing he made with the legendary Zillyhoo and Vriska’s dice. If they need a lucky hit they sure need it now!

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < waaaaaaaaaaaait

...oooooooh no. I had completely forgotten this existed. Hey, what’s new? Will you be able to defeat Lord English? At least Dave is reacting with horror, which is the right reaction when you see a copy of yourself that was merged with a cat. Davepetasprite is being inspirational, trying to psyche up Dave, and it works!

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < i know it looks pawful right now but we can do it

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < in fact were literally the only ones who can do it

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < after all

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < it is our destiny B33

You also are the last three people left here, so I don’t think it’s much about destiny at this point.

Somehow, between the three of them they manage to do real damage on this monster. John’s hitting him with hammers even if Lord English keeps eating them, Dave slashes and actually gets blood, and Davepeta scratches with the claws. The cycle continues, Lord English almost eats John’s favorite hammer, just that this time he almost gets John himself. Well then. This story is truly something.

Apparently John got injured with Lord English’s teeth or something, because he’s bleeding heavily. I swear, if John dies because he got bitten by Lord English I’m going to be astonished, because that was never a cause of death I imagine would ever happen.

You lift your chin and see it: Lord English’s gold tooth cracked off at the base and embedded in your chest. It must be stuck between two of your ribs, you think, because it hurts like a bitch when you try to breathe.

Oof, you’re in big trouble! When you have something embedded into you you really shouldn’t take it out unless you’re in a professional’s hands, so it’s pretty likely John will have that tooth embedded into him for quite a while. Dave isn’t doing too badly, managing to stab Lord English with the cueball sword up the hilt, unfortunately leaving him vulnerable to Lord English’s maw. Oh god, he has tasted human blood, everyone run! Too late for Dave, though, he gets his head bitten off.

Won’t lie, that’s pretty brutal as far as deaths go. Damn!

Obviously this enrages Davepeta, who grabs Lord English and flies up to the black hole, dragging him along. That was an option? Maybe it’d have been great to have done that much earlier, before Dave died. Really would have been nice.

The black hole—the gaping, implacable, cosmic embodiment of the dead cherub, his long-departed sister—finally welcomes Lord English home.

English and Davepeta are sucked in with a subatomic whimper. The reunion sends shock waves across the pitiful remains of Paradox Space. And then everything is wholly, utterly, and categorically silent. It’s over. Lord English is dead.

Ding dong, the witch is dead. Somehow it’s done! Excellent! Now, here comes opinions about this whole sequence.

To be perfectly honest, this left a lot to be desired. The least of my complaints is the length – for a climactic fight it’s a little bit short. Which isn’t really a problem here, given this isn’t Homestuck anymore, it’s the epilogue. The fight not getting focus is fine and dandy, honestly. I’m actually surprised we got a fight at all.

What I will complain about, though, is that for something that pretty much only Davepeta got to do something worthwhile. It feels like pretty much everyone else who intervened, both alive and dead, were there just to die. It’s pretty disappointing, really. I think I’d have been okay with that if they at least had managed to do something before dying.

Curiously enough, if this had been incorporated into the story, characters dying so fast would have been less bad. I’d say this being part of epilogues is what makes this be treated differently to how it’d be otherwise. But yeah, Lord English is dead, and there’s plenty of epilogue left. I suppose that means the political stuff is what’ll fill the rest of the epilogue in this route, no?

You collapse against whatever is passing for the floor at this moment of utterly null corporeal conditions surrounding you. It doesn’t feel possible. You’re not sure you can even trust your perception well enough to believe it. But it seems to be over. You’ve convinced yourself of this truth well enough to allow yourself to exhale. Enough to allow yourself to suddenly acknowledge the agony coursing through your body, emanating from the gold tooth lodged in your chest. Enough to allow yourself to succumb to the overwhelming urge to sleep.

He’s so dead. And so, all the Wonderkids are dead, total party kill. They tried and they succeeded, mostly thanks to a timely intervention by what turned out to be the best sprite just for killing Lord English, and now they’re all dead. I’m pretty sure by now this makes Homestuck qualify as a Greek tragedy.

Ah, there’s the conversation Rose and Dirk are going to have. She starts by talking about that novel she wrote in her diaries, the ones about wizards. She feels the story as written by the adult Rose Dirk knew from his original world didn’t have as much passion as she did when she wrote the original draft in her journals. Maybe! When you write something for a widespread public, you have to kill a liiiiittle of your own passion to tailor it for a wider audience. It’s a cynical thought, I admit, but I believe I’m right.

ROSE: Anyway, my point is that I’ve long suspected my story was a pre-manifestation of my Seer of Light powers. I was seeing beyond my universe into another.

Doesn’t sound farfetched to me, I must say. It’s possible that, from her early ages, she was unconsciously starting to tap onto the many powers and abilities that come with her title and role. I mean, Mom Lalonde was there, and I believe in her own way she’d help pave the way for the kids to achieve what was needed to triumph. She may have done something, inadvertently or not, that led to Rose writing her novel in a fit of inspiration. Who knows. Certainly not me, and it’s such a minuscule point in the vast net of Homestuck I doubt it’ll be ever touched.

I hadn’t noticed until now that in the end a total of twelve players had crossed the door into the new universe. Fun number for that. Also, Terezi’s name is among them, so she did get to the new universe after all. What happened to her?

All these numbers may or may not have significance. Hah! Well it depends on what kind of author writes the story. Given it’s Hussie, well, I’m inclined towards thinking there’s some significance. Whether the reader will find out about it is an entirely different manner, of course.

Of course Dirk has given his current situation a lot of thought, he even has theories about what’s it. I’m listening, pal, enlighten me about this new plotline.  

DIRK: I mean, some of us have stopped using our powers completely. Not a whole lot of need for emergency resurrections or complex timeline manipulation on a planet that’s never had a conflict more serious than a sportsball riot or a rumpled hat shortage.

DIRK: But even aside from how often they’re used...

DIRK: Some powers don’t lend themselves to the infinite expansion of one’s mind, the way ours do.

ROSE: I see.

ROSE: So what you’re saying is, it’s more a matter of one’s aspect than it is whether one’s powers are practiced further, or allowed to atrophy.

DIRK: Yep.

So it all depends on the power. It’s not like everyone’s going to start suffering this too, it seems to be limited to what aspect it is. Perhaps Jade and Dave would go through this too? Other than them, I’m not sure anyone else would.

ROSE: In that case, perhaps Terezi had the right idea.

ROSE: Getting away from this place, I mean.

ROSE: Maybe I was a fool for imagining I could settle down here.

Ah, so that’s what happened to Terezi. She left. Maybe she had a feeling things wouldn’t go well, it does make sense she’d be feeling the awfulness Dirk and Rose feel right now. With her Mind aspect, it does make sense she would. Where’d she go, though? Is she a nomad around the world or something?

Dirk’s taking this easier than most would because he’s used to multitasking. Ah, right, he did have his dreamself and his realself, dealing with both must have given him some practice. Still, two is nowhere close to the infinity of everything, so I’m skeptic it’s as good of a training as he says it was.

ROSE: I’m caught in the liminal space between reality and reverie, where people once believed demons dwelled. But the only reason the demon is still sitting on my chest is because I refuse to banish it. All it would take is looking directly at it.

ROSE: I’m forcing myself to stumble through my life as a sleepwalker. All this pain and sorrow could go away if I would just allow myself to wake up.

DIRK: Then why don’t you?

ROSE: Because I’m not sure that the person opening her eyes will be me.

Brings to mind that about us being someone’s dream and, when that someone wakes up, it’s all over. It’s the kind of thing that brings existential crisis when you think about it too hard, isn’t it? So, if Rose here’s experiencing something similar, she’s not going to have a good time because she’s the kind of person who thinks a lot. Nobody should be jealous of these two, that’s awful.

Dirk, in what’s unusually close to sympathy, crouches and takes off his sunglasses, looking straight at Rose’s eyes. He admits he’s a very flawed person and shouldn’t be always right, and that he knows all about his own flaws.

Rose’s eyes have grown distant, almost mirrorlike. Dirk can see himself reflected in her vacant stare.

ROSE: All the pieces in their place.

ROSE: The mechanisms all running smoothly.

She says this in a hollow tone. It’s the disarming voice a puppeteer ventriloquizes for a marionette.

...okaaaay, something happened. If I’m understanding this and the next few sentences correctly, Dirk pretty much took over Rose. I don’t know why, he just did. Althoooough...hm. It’s still early. Maybe the reasons will be revealed later. But hey, you can’t say this was predicted! Also, if I had to guess, the moment Rose was taken over was when he took off his sunglasses. It just makes sense, really.

Whyyyy is the text turning orange. Dirk, are you taking over the narration?

Yup, he did, and he’s addressing the reader. He sounds pretty bitter there are readers, and brags about he can make the reader’s perspective change and turn into a character’s perspective. No complaints from me for you doing that, really, be my guest.

But I haven’t revealed myself to you just to boast about the abilities arising from the gradual obliteration of the constraints on my consciousness. I’ve only taken a moment to answer a few questions. Not ones I heard you ask—because again, you are nonspecific and therefore do not matter—but ones I imagined you asking. And by imagining these questions, they became less fake, and as such, demanded similarly non-fake answers. No, in truth, the time has come to make my presence known in order to start bringing my plans to fruition. It’s time to get down to fucking business.

Eh. Sounds to me like Dirk wants to ramble and wants an excuse to do so, even if he has to make that excuse himself. Golly, pal, you have free control of the narrative. Ramble all you want, go ahead.

To continue the narrative, John has to wake up and does so. I suppose he being sleepy and exhausted after the fight was just he being sleepy and exhausted instead of being borderline dead because of blood loss. Dirk forces the narrative to make John apologize to no one for everything that happened in the battle, and it’s all so heavy-handed even John notices something’s going on with his head. Dirk, you’re not doing a very good job at being subtle.

Suddenly you remember: Lord English’s tooth is still embedded in your chest. You panic, wrap your hands around the base, and give it a little tug. It’s excruciating. The tooth makes an awful grating sound as it grinds along one of your ribs. You gasp and lose your grip, biting the inside of your mouth so hard that you taste blood.

Can’t blame you for trying, but I wouldn’t do that if I were you. Without someone to administer proper medical care, you’ll bleed to death pretty much instantly.

Yeah, exactly! Not that there’s anyone to administer proper medical care in the middle of literal nowhere, so he’ll have to transport himself somewhere else before he touches that tooth any further. Where’s John, anyway? Is he still lying around underneath the black hole? Did he zap himself somewhere else?

On the other hand, the tooth is poisoned. So you’re pretty much fucked either way, and that’s really all there is to say on the matter.

Oh. That’s a thing now? Well then, guess you’re screwed, John. Thanks for everything, have a nice death. I suppose it would count as a heroic death because he received that fatal wound fighting someone who was obliterating reality, so being revived isn’t an option, I suppose.

John wanders around for a very long time, depressed and feeling pretty awful, until he sees Dad Egbert’s wallet. It’s a coincidence to find it anywhere in the infinite expanse of reality! John opens the wallet, aaaaand...end page! Quick, make a distraction and go check some other place. It’s the usual Homestuck style, so that’s what happens.

Jade’s explaining Dave and Karkaroni’s political ambitions to Roxy and Calliope, once again using the terms ‘neoliberal austerity measures’. I’m still unsure what that’s supposed to mean, but whatever it is makes Roxy groan, no doubt because she has heard about said measures too much already. They’re bad, and Karkaroni’s underdog populism is the counter to those, she argues. Give him a chance! Unfortunately for Elect-a-Troll 20xx, it doesn’t seem like Calliope and Roxy are very interested in getting involved in this at all.

ROXY: i just dont rly

ROXY: care about politics that much i guess

I suppose this means she’s not going to support Jane either. Hey, better for her to not be interested than for her to be on the opposite side. This is a victory of some sort.

She’s reticent to supporting anyone not only because she’s not interested in politics, but also because it’s a fight between her friends and she sure isn’t eager to going against a friend. She also knows this is something Jane has been planning for a long time, so she’s not into ruining Jane’s plans – even though she won’t really go out and say she supports Jane. I really disagree Jane is fragile, though. She’s anything but fragile.

In the spirit of full disclosure, Roxy’s the only one left I haven’t been able to crack. Her mind remains a total enigma to me, just like it always has. If I had to guess, it’s her Void powers that make her invisible, even to increasingly omniscient parties such as myself. For all intents and purposes, it’s like her thoughts don’t exist. She’s the same person, as far as I can tell. She still wears her heart on her sleeve. But the bottom line remains: Roxy Lalonde is still utterly fucking inscrutable.

Which is a very good thing for her. I wonder if this means Dirk would be unable to do anything with the narration involving Roxy, if she’s invisible for even the increasingly omniscient parties. In that case, she’s the luckiest person in this entire canon. Good thing, too, given how Dirk is a fervent supporter of Jane, so he can’t manipulate her into doing anything.

Roxy’s staying out, but what about Calliope? She doesn’t want any of this either, because it’d be stressful as all hell and that’s a very valid reason to not want to get involved in politics, especially if it’s between competing friends. At least Jade understands well enough and doesn’t insist.

Apparently Roxy asking Jade to call both Calliope and her by ‘them’ throws Dirk off to the point he has to hastily say aloud he doesn’t care and that he’s very okay with this, you guys, it’s totally okay. I don’t know, when this kind of thing is written or said like he did I can only think that person is indeed not okay with it. Dirk really should stop his rambling for once before he shoves his feet deeper into his mouth.

For a person that’s starting to be omniscient and spent an entire page mocking the reader and being vainglorious he sure is pretty concerned with keeping up the appearances.

ROXY: i mean what am i gonna do

ROXY: get married and pop out 100 bbs?

I mean, with ectobiology that’s far easier and simpler than you make it sound. You don’t even have to get married for that.

I choose to believe Dirk has gotten so flustered by the conversation about Roxy and Calliope being non-binary he chose to make Jade be unconscious. He had to stop the conversation somehow, so he made her do astral plane stuff. Smooth, Dirk, smooth as a brick.

I may as well stop here for the time being.

Next update: next time

[otomeonfleek]

Request: Stick Around-Eisuke Ichinomiya

Request:

bat-yo-us  asked:

Hello there! Can you write about eisuke having an argument with mc and the arguments didn't end well. Suddenly someone approach eisuke and tries to shoot/stab him but mc managed to shield him and takes the blow instead. I'll leave the ending to you. Can you make this angsty please ^_^ (I'm really am an angst freak)

I hope ya’ll enjoy this request-especially @bat-yo-us ! Sorry if it’s a bit long, but I enjoy setting the tone ahah. If this satisfies your angsty cravings on some level, I’m glad lol. 

If there are any other requests/suggestions for some more Voltage-related writings, please feel free to lmk!

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

You were at your breaking point. If it was not one thing, it was another. Life, as of late, seemed to be working against you. Even moreso for someone who was sold at a blackmarket auction after breaking an incredibly expensive art piece. 

You had been late to work several times (ie. sudden thunderstorm with no umbrella, broken alarm), there had been a gaping hole in your uniform skirt that you didn’t notice until mid-shift, and a guest nearly had been taken to the ER because you forgot their severe allergy to the customary flower arrangement Tres Spades typically displayed (damn you, lillies). 

On top of the stern lectures from your superiors and pitying glances from concerned coworkers, you failed a certification exam necessary for your promotion request. In between the daily chaos of catering to the bidders and your general full-time work, you sacrificed so many sleep hours to study. It seemed all for naught when you saw your score. 

You were a fairly positive person and prided yourself on your work, and so the recent trend of incidents struck a nerve. It felt like your efforts were meaningless and that you could nothing right. 

Furthermore, Eisuke was far too preoccupied with business to even acknowledge you. During the rare exchanges you had, he was especially brusque.

With your own insecurities and frustrations bubbling inside, you felt yourself growing irritated with him. As your significant other, you expected some emotionally awkward display of hidden kindness from him. Yet here you were at your favorite Italian restaurant on a long-planned date with your dear boyfriend and still silently fuming.  

Your appetite was poor as you shot a nasty glare at him in the thick of the silence which was mainly his doing with him focused solely on his smartphone. The earlier attempts of conversation had died when you noted how he merely grunted in response. 

He had to have finally noticed the atmosphere as he barked, “What’s with you?”

Outraged, you slammed your palms against the ornate dining table and briefly thanked how his ridiculously impressive standing earned you a rather private seating area. The harsh rattling sound of cutlery and delicate China would have made you flinch had you not been so furious. 

You then nearly screeched, “What’s with me?? I should be the one asking you that! This entire month has been horrible for me and you couldn’t care less!” 

He huffed and placed his device flat on the table before leaning back in his seat. Shooting you a rather haughty look, he asked, "What do you want me to do? Hold your hand? Tell you that nothing's your fault and the world's just mean?" With a sarcastic smile on his thin lips, he chuckled humorously before reaching to take a sip from his glass.

After placing it down, he continued, "What good would any of that do? You’re an adult and that’s just life. If you want pity, you're asking the wrong person." His low baritone stung as he talked down to you, making you feel more inferior.

"How dare you! I don’t want your pity, I just want to know that you care. This entire night, you didn’t even bother to put your phone down for one minute and pay attention. 

I’m not asking for the world. I just wanted one moment with you where you don’t act like some heartless asshole who could care less.” Your throat was raw with emotion. 

On top of making you feel lesser in implying your need for pity, his cynical view and lack of empathy made your blood boil. Yes, he was the Eisuke Ichinomiya, but you needed some level of compassion from him as your partner. 

With cruel and piercing sepia eyes, he cooly mused, “If that’s what you really think of me then I wonder why you stick around.” 

You scowled at him, feeling the sting of fresh tears pooling at your eyes. Not wanting to further your humiliation, you stood up and hauled your evening purse over your shoulder, “Have a nice life, Eisuke.” 

In your exit, there was a brief satisfaction at how suddenly stunned he was. With your relationship, there had been an almost unspoken rule that walking away without resolving the argument was forbidden. The flicker of panic in his typically unimpressed stare made you both pleased and devastated of how the night was ending. 

You were crossing the street when his low voice cut through the symphony of passing cars and chattering pedestrians around. “(Y/N)! Come back here now!! We’re not finished!” At his impossibly authoritarian tone, you wanted to flip him the bird. 

Glancing behind, you watched as his tall frame shoved through the crowd with his eyebrows furrowed in anger. In knowing him well, you picked up the slight desperation in the very way he was trying to reach you. 

“No, I’m not talking to you!” You shouted over your shoulder, nimbly working through a sea of Japanese commonwealth intent on enjoying their weekend. 

The chase continued before you impulsively turned to check on him again. You felt your heart jolt when you noticed an unfamiliar man trailing Eisuke. Every alarm and fiber of your being was blaring-something was wrong. 

Confused, you stopped mid-step and watched. The young hotel magnate let an exasperated sigh as he was finally within near reach of you. “Now you stop! Are you finally done acting like a child so we can talk?” 

His biting words with their slight of relief fell on deaf ears as you locked on the approaching man. With more concern than anything, Eisuke reached his arms out to grasp your shoulders and proceeded to chide you.

When the stranger stopped to reach into his coat pocket, his beady and seething orbs glued to the back of your partner’s head, time slowed. 

You felt bile rise in your throat at the sight of a firearm aimed at Eisuke’s unknowing figure which was focused solely on you. Your limbs felt heavy, nearly paralyzed in fear. 

It was then a bystander noticed the man and screamed out “GUN!!!” and the person’s fingers flexed at the trigger. 

A glimmer of realization flicked in Eisuke’s eyes as he put together what was happening with the crowds turning manic. His large and comforting frame was moving to protect you, but you felt yourself take charge and rush to step in front of him. 

It was pure fear in your partner’s eyes that let you make the connection to the piercing crack in the air and why your side was throbbing. You felt disoriented at how you were resting on the floor with your lover resting your head on his lap and desperately pressing down at your bleeding side. 

Faint sirens were blaring in the distance and confused clamoring could be heard. Still focused on keeping Eisuke safe, your vision scanned around to thankfully note the attacker being wrestled to the ground by a group of concerned samaritans. 

There was an inexplicable pressure on your chest as it pulsed with hurried breaths. At the searing pain in your side, you reflexively reached for it. Your much smaller hand rested atop of his that was working to apply pressure to the wound, and you could only think of how pleasantly warm his hand was. It was comforting. 

You were unsure if it was from the fatigue or the sudden blood loss, however your vision was blurry. Squinting, you invested your remaining strength to focus on his mouth. 

“(Y-Y/N)!! (Y/N), an ambulance is on its way and I promise you’re going to be fine. Are you listening? I’ll make this simple for you. I’m your boss and I’m basically ordering you to be okay. If you don’t...” His lips trembled as he glanced away, unfeeling eyes now consumed with pain. 

When he forced himself to turn back, the empty and lithe digits of his other hand gently circled around yours. With a bittersweet and helpless expression, he started again, “If you don’t listen to me, I’ll be mad at you. You won’t get to retake your exam and you won’t get promoted. The guys will be sad with no one to make fun of. No one will make me coffee...” His voice trailed off. 

At how small and vulnerable he now was, you felt your heart breaking. The argument and all of the resentment earlier seemed so silly now.

“You are such an idiot. Who jumps in front of a gun like that?” Unable to process the recent events and his inner turmoil, he softly cursed at you. 

With your forehead stained with sweat and your cheeks paling with tears, you croaked out, “E-Eisuke...I’m sorry I got angry.” 

Sucking at his teeth, he exhaled, “I don’t want to hear it. We can talk about this later- after you get help.” He purposely worded it such to emphasize how sure he was that you would be alright. 

At this knowledge, your free hand trembled and covered your face as you suddenly sobbed. He was in pain because of you. It was almost ironic how he seemed to be hurting more than you in spite of how you took the bullet. 

“...Stick around and I’ll show you that I’m not some heartless asshole...Okay? Promise me that you’ll stick around.” The aging and wrinkled lines of his face suddenly were clear along with the frantic edge in his voice. 

With the sight of the most prideful man in Japan pleading that you live, you felt your stomach curl in guilt. The gushing bullet hole at your waist almost felt more tolerable in favor of seeing him so helpless because of you. 

You dug your nails into your face as the sobs continued to tear through your chest. 

The fear of dying paled in comparison with your concerns of how Eisuke would live after. Sans any narcism, you realistically knew your loss would haunt him and whatever kindness that thawed his heart from your meeting would vanish. You imagined him building walls and working tirelessly to shut everyone out. 

What sort of life would that be? No, he deserved to live freely with less horrid views of humanity and without constantly being on guard. 

If you were gone, he would throw away whatever progress from his cynicism he attained. Eisuke Ichinomiya needed you to remind him that the world was not all bad. He needed you to make him disgustingly sweet coffee at odd hours in the day. The man needed you to ground him. He needed you to prove to himself that he was not a monster or a broken thing beyond repair. 

With that, you gritted your teeth against the physical agony and forced yourself to smile and stare warmly into the familiar sepia you adored, “I-I promise that I’ll...stick around.” 

[belovedblossoms-m]

//A STUPID but hilarious thought came to mind, since James Mars.den played as Prince Edward, I wonder how S.onic and the others would feel knowing their own dad was that awkward, extravagant and bold knightly prince on that xD

[belovedblossoms-m]

General Tags List

( MEMES. )┊your journey begins here. ( WISHLIST. )┊plans to make them come true. ( IC. )┊communication is the key to success. ( DASH COMM. )┊time to put these two cents in. ( OOC. )┊pursuing my true self.  ( SAVED. )┊memories to reserve. ( STARTER CALL. ) ┊ to form new bonds. ( OPEN STARTERS. )┊newfound connections.  ( HC. )┊secured & crafted by the heart. ( VISAGE. )┊reflections of destinies and self worth. ( MUSINGS. )┊reach into the mind of the beholder. ( WARDROBE. )┊style with a touch of character. ( AESTHETICS. )┊shaping beauty how it meets the eye. ( ANSWERED. )┊heed the call to new beginnings. ( ASKS. )┊inquisitive requests. ( CRACK. )┊silly fun can turn into vulnerable chaos. ( DASH GAMES. )┊something to pass the time with. ( MUSIC. ) ┊melodies that flow to the heart.

( SELF PROMO. )┊welcome to my vast collection. ( PROMO. )┊spread the love. ( RESOURCES. )┊helpful hands to lift you up. ( PROMPTS. )┊pick and choose your path.  ( PSA. ) ┊do the next right thing. ( SHIPS. ) ┊so many ships so little time. ( NSFW. ) ┊intense fervor enriches soul and body. ( DESIRES. ) ┊the heart wants what it wants. ( QUEUE. ) ┊good things come to those who wait.