#7hell

[yishuns]

“settle down, yūta.” despite the words of admonishment, there’s an amused quirk to kazuna’s lips, small and private but there nonetheless. yūta’s enthusiasm was catching — it was near impossible to remain stoic in the face of it. (that is, so long as you weren’t a member of thrive. for better or worse, those guys seemed inured to yūta’s antics.) even so, kazuna couldn’t afford to be distracted, especially since he was currently at the wheel.

a glance at the gps on the car’s console left him with no relief: their destination was a few hours away yet. there was no other option, then… kazuna scrabbled around for the aux cord, waving it triumphantly at yūta when he managed to untangle it from the rest of the cables they kept in the car. he was getting tired of the radio himself, in any case. if he had to offer a spontaneous karaoke session for a measure of sanity, he’d resort to that easily. “here, you can connect your phone to the car speakers, so please… will you stay in your seat?”

@7hell, for yūta. call.

[kauterized]

i'm obviously coming with you . / mako!

sometimes, makoto reminded megumi of shiroko — hungry for companionship, a second shadow of loyalty. it always eluded megumi why makoto attached himself to him of all people — reclusive by nature, carrying a hand-habit of not so gentle things. for the first two months, the boy had only grumbled and offered one-worded answers to makoto’s unending chirp, but by the end of it all, makoto had only smiled and continued buying megumi jasmine tea after grabbing himself a pack of maruta. wrapped a scarf around him when he entered the classroom pale and peach-nosed, even. when megumi returned it the next day, a chocolate bar hid quietly in its folds. makoto’s been around ever since — not that he’d ever left in the first place.

and tonight was no exception. megumi was only running an errand — a quick trip to naoki’s to exchange their monthly new read — and though it had always been a brisk routine, megumi was quite sure that tonight will end in an impromptu dinner, the apartment door swinging open before flustering old stories glean over rice bowls. all at megumi’s expense, of course.

still, more out of habit than anything, megumi huffed, retrieved his dog-eared copy of insect literature as he waited for the familiar weight of makoto’s footsteps. he laced on his shoes, double knotted them both, and looked at a book-filled corner in the space of the room. “ naoki-san isn’t expecting any visitors, and it’s pretty late in the evening. i’m not sure if he’s comfortable with company. ” a white lie.

megumi opened the door and stepped into damp september air. the black strays were indulging in the catnip he’d left for them, and an elderly couple passed by with a friendly wave in their hands.

a pause ensued for its own sake. then, almost viscerally, megumi looked back, glanced at makoto with an easy gaze. his voice came tucked in indifference, though maybe there was something sweet lying underneath it.

“ remember to close the door behind you. ” (they both knew it was an invitation.)

[doeble]

johnkoto :(

[viscaera]

hidari shotaru had always been kind, giving the whole of his heart unhesitantly once finally earned. yukari was one of the firsts to receive it. she could recall the moment as if it were yesterday — a cluster of boys torturing a black, luckless cat, and yukari, with all her five year-old fury, not having yet unlearned her less than charming stuttering, had marched up to them anyways with a stammering “s-stop!” the choir of laughter that ensued must’ve been disparaging from even two blocks away, for shotaru had splintered in as quick as a haunt, chasing — most effortlessly — the perpetrators away in an ant-like scatter. he stood miraculously tall, even then, and when he’d turned around to face the girl with a fist still slightly clenched, his eyes, paradoxically, were lined with something so gentle that it had stuttered yukari breathless.

don’t worry, yuka-chan, they won’t mess with you when i’m around! his voice had taken on the flighting edge of a winded cape, sliding into the breeze like bird’s treasured wing. he’d held her gaze before tending to the cat, scratching its head as if an attempt to swathe his own itch of injustice. then, to the stray as much as herself, yukari had been quite sure of it, he had promised, boyishly, i’ll make them count their sins! i swear it!

these days, yukari doesn’t stutter anymore, but shotaru’s eyes and voice are still the same.

even now — when there’s files upon files connected to the seven syllables of her name, fated by thumbtacks and red string on the dreary boards back at his office — hidari shotaru’s dripping red with love, shaping his mouth around her name so tenderly that one could not possibly miss it. “ i’m doing this because i care for you, yuka-chan. i always have, ” @7hell says, tone breaking in devotion. yukari’s kitchen light catches him as they always do, familiar and faithful, even when he’s speaking in blanketed accusation. “ i want you to feel safe telling me… so i’ll stay with you until you’re ready. ”

the metronomic ticks of the witnessing clock cuts like a siren in the thick pause that follows. yukari wonders, small and secretive, when shotaru’s sincerity had stopped being enough, feels, not for the first time, an old version of herself shedding its doll-skin as it climbs quietly into the dark corners of an attic.

a piece of her breaks — a piece of her breaks, and for a moment, the slight shuffling sound ringing about feels as if her shedding were physically realized — but then she remembers that it’s just naoki, her naoki, only two rooms away, polishing a cluster of whetted knives before dressing in his best whites. the image alone heals any pressing fracture, though yukari can’t help the instinctive twitch of her hands beneath the table.

she does, however, borrow a lamb’s face in only the matter of a millisecond, eyes wide and hurt as if unhinging the facade of her butcher.

“ sho-kun… w-what are you — why—? don’t you believe me? how could y-you think i— ” yukari’s tongue remembers its old, stuttering dance with stunning relief. she rises the tops of her shoulders in a display of self protection, eyes darting downwards in plastic disbelief. “ i can’t stand the sight of b-blood — you know that — that time when we were thi—rd years? you had to take me h-home after that — that gym incident..! i had tre-tremors for days! ” she’s grasping at toothpicks, if not straws, but the voice that escapes her is coated in turbulence, wearing such a vulnerability that, surely, it can be overlooked. “ i thought… i thought you tru—st me, sho-kun, i thought you knew me — but if my words aren’t en-enough anymore, naoki-kun’s right here.. ” a pause, an interval, and then her golden ticket: “ i… i can get him for you, if you like. ”

[4doji]

7hell asked: 26 (kinu <3) / image based prompt.

"I wonder how Kotetsu is doing."

When his observation earns him a look of confusion, he shakes his head in apology, realizing context was absolutely needed. He gestures towards the feline situated in someone's windowsill observing the foot traffic below, his features soften.

"Ah... I got myself roped into helping a guy running a cat cafe. He ran into an issue... he didn't have any cats." A key factor in cat cafes, as one would imagine. Kinu found this incredibly amusing, and almost looked disbelieving.

"I'm serious. I found about nine cats for him. Took a few tries to win their trust, too. I remember Kotetsu responded well when I gave him bonito flake cat food. Some of the cats were really particular for the cat food that was nearly ten thousand yen..."

The cat, upon realization that they were being watched, immediately jumped off the sill and out of sight, eliciting a gentle, rumbling laugh from under Kiryu's breath.

"Heh. You know, you remind me of a cat, Miss Kinu." Oh, he knew for sure she would demand he elaborate-- he could feel her sharpened gaze fixed on him, as though daring him to explain what he means. Or perhaps, based off her eager features, she just wanted an excuse to trade blows...

"You're graceful like one. Bold. Confident. Pretty damn assertive, and particular of who you're comfortable with."

A lengthy and deliberate pause, followed with a long drag of his cig. "And if I were to try and scratch under your chin, you'd probably rip my throat out."

[shecharm]

SHE MOVES QUIETLY. All that is needed to make her existence known is the gentle tap of a small cardboard box against the table. A little cake was seen inside the box through a thin plastic cover. White, cloud-like frosting is placed on top. She gives an inviting smile before cocking her head. "Would you like to share?"

━━━━━━ * / ( @7hell ) ♥ *

[hehosts-moved]

❛ Tell me it's worth it. Tell me you know the risk and I'll be there with you. I'll back you up. Just tell me. ❜ / from haiyan <3

the fall of the house of usher sentence starters. accepting. // * @7hell !!

—— breath catches in hollow throat — ah, it's him. how long has it been? ren has to ask himself: how long has it been? long days make for longer nights, yet they all come to pass in a familiar, singular blur. haiyan has come to see the hare in his most comfortable playhouse — shining!.

tucked away in a back corner, they speak quietly, almost gravely, of the matters at hand. for ren, the matter is where haiyan has been, what this means for them — for haiyan, it is about that man, about them (the three of them, an uncomfortable crowd).

a consensus has to be reached, of course. haiyan says he's been gone for ren's good will and fortune — to keep ill will at bay for as long as possible. and, perhaps, it was just too close — ren was (is?) getting too close.

haiyan gives ren what feels like an ultimatum, and while haiyan is not begging, something is breaking.

tell me it's worth it. tell me you know the risk and i'll be there with you. i'll back you up. just tell me.

— but ren has been drinking, several glasses before haiyan / several after, and he's ready to croon anything to get haiyan to stay.

i love you. ❝ i know the risk, ❞ says the little rabbit, lashes heavy as they fall against pallid cheeks. with haiyan's promise to "back him up," how could he not feel at least a little powerful? no, not powerful, but something like it. ren smiles. ❝ haven't you heard? i take a lot of them. you do too, right? being here is one ... being seen with me is another. because of that man. hm. [ ... ] i've been involved with him long enough to know better. i should know better. ah, so, yes. i know the risk — risks — but if you'll be there, like you say you will, then they're risks worth taking. ❞

[iedolon]

" miss me? hope you weren't waiting around for me too long. "

    「 @7hell  ❤ ‘d    for a starter. 」  

[eatsyou-a]

kinu BITE‼️‼️‼️

" ma, ma, kinu - chan! " there, it's akin to the way he picks her up like the scruff of a kitten who's had too much milk. caution is thrown to the wind if the flesh is ripped off in the process. it doesn't hurt, not even feeling a single thing. he smiles so sinister, eyes are bright in color but dull in life.

" you're a curious thing, aren't you? you don't need to bite to get my attention. " a momentary pause with a quiet murmur to match like the words spoken are only for their ears. it's hard to miss those eyes sparkle with less than pure intentions. " it's always on you, isn't it? " in more things than one but some things are better left unsaid.

" it makes me quite happy that you've missed me because i always miss you, my dear. "

[kauterized]

okay , we have got to pull you together . / haiyan <3

in a brilliant silence, megumi sat suspended. the medical textbook he was currently leafing through held his gaze for a few more seconds; haiyan’s voice fractured his scrutiny evenly. megumi hadn’t realized how the augmenting number of texts cluttered about reeked so heavily of desperation, and though it was offensive to be seen vulnerable, the ring of haiyan’s voice — slightly exasperated yet oceanic calm all the same — flinched the red walls of his heart so viscerally that megumi could only swallow the debris. it’s unknowingly lonesome, truthfully, for grief to break into obsession.

with a forced cool, megumi shifted his regard to haiyan. the yellow ceiling light overhead catched like a halo behind him — or perhaps it was that same desperation veiling megumi’s vision. either way, the boy had no inclination for anger. only tightened his grip on the dated textbook, the press of his fingernails glowing white. it’s not coincidental that haiyan’s concern flew over his head.

“ i haven’t found anything yet, ” — a confession that bloomed wound-like — “ and gojo-sensei, shoko-san — they don’t know either. i’m— ” starting to think she’s— “ i want to save her, haiyan. tell me what to do. ”

[traghoul]

‘don’t run away anymore.’ naoki never really noticed how small seiji’s hands were until they were held fastly in his. his hold remains gentle, but solid, as if to lock her within his company. maybe it was selfish of him to ask this, maybe it was a proposal…. or maybe a wish. ‘… stay with me forever.’

before he took her hands ,   she couldn’t feel a thing.    she had trudged along   -   tattered.     a marionette with her strings unraveling.   it was cold.    naoki’s touch revives her.      seiji feels everything.     sticky blood,   fuzzy wrists,  warm hands.     (   she realizes she’s lost her kuma somewhere along the shore.   )     

        naoki’s hands are warm.   they’re strong.    they’ve locked her there.  

seiji blinks.    blinks again.    blinks.       & then her face crumbles.      she doesn’t know what to do anymore.      she hadn’t realized naoki was eye - level with her.           ❛     ━━ sorry.        ❜          when her legs give out and she’s buried in him,  she doesn’t stop apologising.       she’s still crying.

          ❛     ━━ i didn’t know what else to do.       ❜    

[viscaera]

❝ i’m also worried about me, but i somehow seem to be worried about you more. ❞ mako :(

his sincerity wears the same silver as a blade, sharp and sheen and so indubitable in its presence that yukari feels guilt bubbling in her stomach. it’s an odd, deformed face of guilt: it stems not from the things she’s done, but the things she’s yet to do. to inhabit a pocket of innocence that makoto has been exiled from is one thing; to hear makoto defensive of her remaining there is another.

“ i’m doing fine, ” she assures, though the thought of naoki— sweet, beloved, almost blindingly devoted naoki— rings haphazardly behind the white screen of her eyes. she’d be lying if she said she didn’t want more of him, bloody and all. does that make her more or less human? “ naoki’s still here and i’m doing fine. there’s nothing to worry about. ” but the look she throws makoto is one of a desperate, secret curiosity; a question watering the iris: is there? is there? tell me i am right—

[4doji]

❛ㅤdon't ask why i'm behind the counter, @7hell. the old man's back is acting up so i'm filling in for him. how firm do you want your noodlesㅤ?ㅤ❜

[eisbyl]

❝ you’ve been a good friend to me. that means something. ❞ bylinu omg…

she’d imagine this scenario as a child too young, reading personal records of often nameless men, abandoned, found in sagging, war-worn houses, abandoned the same. the pictures these journals painted were always vivid, lifelike, even when their authors lacked the words to convey the entirety of their souls, and she pondered how special these friendships must be to manage a feat no magic she’d ever heard of could. jeralt never bemoaned her this, never turned away from the hundreds of questions she had about life and togetherness and their tie, and she wonders if it’s because he once feared a future in which she was alone; alienated like he was for being the blade breaker and more than a man.

he needn’t have worried, she thinks, now assessing this love in her heart. she wishes she still had the opportunity to tell him that.

“ i’ll think of you, every day. ” the skies are clear, the forest and its trees endlessly green. the air smells of summer to come. if she finds the time, she’d like to write about it one of these days. “ until we meet again. ”

[iedolon]

@7hell sent a letter : her lips curl into a soft smile, sauntering forwards towards the captain… scarred hands laced in beidou’s, lips brushing against hers. a few glasses of wine have gotten the best of kinu. ‘let me pour you another glass, dear…’ ( unprompted. )

beidou is soft to the temptations of alcohol, a clouding mist of a woman at the hands of a few messy cheers. enticed by the prospect of a drink with such alluring company, it's easily that she finds herself back on the alcor with kinu. time moves slowly in her hazy mind, warm tugs of cotton in her eyes and ears, though a few glasses have yet to dull her senses. the captain is but a bull of war, firm as her boot heel digs into the sodden dirt like heavy hooves: her blade the piercing horns ripping through the flesh of those who crow power, brawn, valor. yes, beidou is a leveler of mountains, the very beginnings of the tide in oceans. to trample man's ego is as trivial as a mere afterthought.

but kinu boasts a different sort of confidence: the raw charm of womanhood, and beidou finds herself rather entranced. it's with a hypnotized gaze that she watches her out of a single blood red eye. the way that she takes her hand and sways closer in one swift motion, entangling the two in a dance of push and pull. and perhaps it's the liquor, perhaps it's the wine, perhaps it's the poison of her smile━ this vixen is dangerous. kinu's actions are purposeful, the curl of her smile painted by a master craftsman at work, and beidou laps at the attention like a starved dog. really, she's so very dangerous.

" pour me another? i've already had four. " ━━━ thunder rumbles low and quiet in her chest, crackling with every bark of laughter that follows; the queen of the crux fleet is a storm full of warring tides and the sharp whip of lightning. few are able to stir the clouds like kinu can, wrapping in a cyclone around her finger. a marred hand comes to drag slowly, knuckles gliding along the soft curve of the writer's shoulder to fall agonizingly slow until they settle at her waist. she handles company like this like the hilt of her claymore: her grip is firm and certain, driven by clear decisions and an even clearer mind. well, aside from the alcohol.

the captain is by no means a shy creature and when offered such sweetness, she can't help but take and take. it's almost cruel how tightly she holds kinu close, pressed flush to her front as her free hand braces against the solid wood of her desk. beidou's lips chase hers in a drunken desire, panting and insistent where she meets her kiss. as ravenous a beast as myths paint her visage, she is a gentle lover, dulling her fangs when they bite possessively into kinu's bottom lip: a lick follows after as if in an appeasing apology. it's better to ask for forgiveness than permission, after all, and the captain plans to ask for plenty of forgiveness today. her voice comes in a thick cloud of smoke past her lips, fanning heavy yet fleeting when her gaze grows fiery hot.

" will you stay until i've had my fill? "

[hachimutsu]

'hey. heyyyy... i'm talking to you, so you should listen to me. what's on your mind, huuh?' worsties

there's a vague sound of displeasure at her lips, she doesn't really like his tone. " hmm . . . juien - san, muu doesn't really wanna listen to you if you're going to be so mean. " she says almost playfully. there's the slightest hint of amusement in her voice despite her complaints. it feels nice to have someone looking for her attention, rudeness aside. like the joy the sensation of wriggling insects must bring to a venus fly.

" it's okay though. muu will give you another chance. hehe, aren't i so nice ? "