#I was friends with a guy who got aggressive (not violent) when he had a good emotion

[stardustedknuckles]

Blah blah blah healing and recovery but it's annoying that my reaction to someone actively choosing to do something kind for me irl has me running the gamut of embarrassment at being treated any kind of special way to anger at the fact that kindness should feel so foreign, with very little ability to actually feel pleased and thankful for the kindness itself. Like this weird grumpiness IS the thankfulness in a weird way but we can't have a real feeling instead of a deflection because that's not safe. Bullshit.

[my-thoughts-and-junk]

'yandere sebastian' 'yandere abigail' 'yandere wizard' give me yandere clint 🖐✊🖐✊

[lordprettyflackotara]

snakelike || mattheo riddle

smut. 18+. minors dni. hate fucking. enemies to lovers trope. that’s it. it’s just that. bahaha enjoy ;)

Gryffindor.

Known for bravery, courage, and loyalty. These were supposed to be the core traits. Maybe they were for most Gryffindors. But the most defining trait Mattheo saw in you was something more. If it weren’t so defiant he would’ve questioned your house placement. You were known for your fucking nerve. You had the nerve to terrorize anyone who crossed you or stood in your way.

Mattheo knew this first hand, being your number one competitor. The two of you went head to head in quidditch, a permanent scowl stitched across your face everytime a green uniform stepped onto the field. To your displeasure they had won this year’s championship, winning the house cup along with the final quidditch match. Mattheo felt like he was making history, whilst being able to shove his victory in your face at the same time.

Oh, was it so bittersweet. The satisfaction of seeing your unscathed rage and envy. The downside? The subtle fear that lingered in the back of his mind. The fear that somehow someway, he knew you’d get him back.

In celebration of winning it all the Slytherins decided to throw a party. Exclusively Slytherins only, obviously. Usually they’d extend their invitation to other houses, a flirty Blaise Zabini a major advocate for ‘meeting new people.’ But tonight? All of the house members were buzzing with excitement, the ability to fully let loose creating quite a stir. Of course winning quidditch wasn’t the old fashioned way, playing fair and all. He honestly figured Madam Hooch would catch on. But she didn’t and Mattheo got away with whispering a few jinxes.

The smell of muggle grass and booze laced the air, violating the nostrils of every attendee. Mattheo silently thanked himself for choosing Blaise as the designated DJ, cringing at the memory of Lorenzo playing classical music at their last get together. His eyes glanced across the crowd of swaying bodies, searching for Theo or Draco. He was in the mood for a shot, but opted to be waiting so he could celebrate the houses victory with his best friends.

Mattheo thought he was getting intoxicated from the air when a flash of red walked by him. He narrowed his eyes, blinking a few times and trying to settle his vision through the flashes of blinding lights. A firm hand grabbed his shoulder, causing him to grab the strangers wrist and twist it. “Holy fuck dude, what the fuck?” Theo hissed. Mattheo instantly dropped his wrist, his green eyed friend raising his eyebrows at him. “Who pissed in your cheerios?” He seethed, rubbing his wrist. Mattheo awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck, clearing his throat.

“Sorry, thought I saw a flash of red in here,” Mattheo explained. Theo chuckled, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. “No lions will be wondering into the snake den tonight Riddle,” He replied, extending the pack to him. Logically he was right, the appearance of a Gryffindor one even you wouldn’t be as bold to make. Mattheo took a cigarette from Theo’s pack, the two taking a brief moment to light the heads.

“Malfoy’s over by pool table. I think he’s trying to show Greengrass his skills,” Theo said, rolling his eyes. The two walked side by side, crowds departing to give them room to walk. Mattheo Riddle was well known and respected, whether anyone wanted to admit it or not. If it wasn’t enough being the dark lords son, his aggressive and violent nature built a reputation by itself. Mattheo was finally able to relax as the tobacco swirled around his lungs, creating comfort as he exhaled through his nostrils.

The pool table was a muggle sport, one Pansy insisted the group give a shot after spending an evening playing it with Hermione Granger. After managing to get one in the Slytherin common room, it became a regular spot for Mattheo and his friends. Before the duo could arrive, a frantic Pansy stood before them. “Hey guys I think we should go do shots! Why don’t we go do shots?” She suggested, smiling nervously. Mattheo glanced at Theo, the two communicating telepathically.

“Pans, what’s wrong?” Theo questioned. The short girl laughed awkwardly, placing her hands on both boys chest. “Nothing! Seriously though let’s go this way,” Pansy encouraged, trying to guide the boys in the opposite direction. That’s when Mattheo heard it, the sound of your beautiful laughter. His ears twitched, his eyes flickering upwards towards the pool table. “Son of a bitch,” He muttered, pushing past Pansy.

Theo and Pansy trailed behind him, recognizing the shit storm that was about to occur. You were bent over the side of the pool table, a red dress complimenting your curves. Your lips were painted the same shade of red, curled up in a smile as a familiar face guided you with the pool stick. Lorenzo stood behind you, your body’s connected as his hands sat over yours. Your eyes flickered up to Mattheo’s, soaking in his facial expression of rage.

“Hi Riddle,” You greeted, hitting one of the pool balls into the pocket with ease. Lorenzo grinned, leaning back and grabbing the pool stick from your hand. “See? I told you that you’d be a pro in no time,” He said encouragingly. Mattheo looked between the two of you, racking his brain for an explanation. “A lion cub wondering into a snake den wasn’t the wisest decision, don’t you think?” Mattheo spat, lacing his words carefully. The only conclusion he could draw, based on the goofy grin on Lorenzo’s face, was that his friend was oblivious, naive, and an idiot.

“I’d be careful disrespecting a pride’s leader Riddle. Wouldn’t want anyone to get hurt,” You purred, batting your eyelashes mockingly. Pansy and Theo exchanged glances, attempting to anticipate Mattheo’s next move. He was boiling was rage, your stupid red dress only igniting the flame further. “Can’t we all just have a good time guys? After all, it’s a celebration isn’t it?” Lorenzo suggested, sipping his red solo cup. Mattheo inhaled more of his cigarette, flicking away the ashes onto the dreaded pool table. The table that, at this current moment, was the bane of his existence.

Lorenzo frowned at the sight of the ashes. “Hey you’re going to ruin the game, you’ve got to give up cigarettes,” He said, handing the pool stick back to you. Mattheo took one last deep inhale, a naive Lorenzo placing his red solo cup on the edge of the table. “Alright, i’ll start now,” He agreed, shoving the bud of his cigarette in his red solo cup. The sizzle of the flame was music to Mattheo’s ears, his lips curling up in a devilish grin. Lorenzo’s face twisted in disgust, going to take a step towards Mattheo.

Mattheo was never one to shy away from a fight, even if it was one of his moron friends. You quickly stepped in between them. “Enough of this petty shit. Get out of here Riddle,” You spat, glaring up at the tall Slytherin. For a brief moment, when you weren’t running that mouth of yours, Mattheo consciously thought to himself you were quite pretty. “I’ll leave, but you’re coming with me little cub. Otherwise the next time I put out my cigarette it’ll be on his forehead,” Mattheo snarled, glaring at the man behind you.

You gritted your teeth, grabbing Mattheo’s wrist harshly. “You wanna play? Fine. Let’s play,” You grumbled, digging your nails into his skin. You dragged him through the crowd, a Gryffindor dragging Mattheo around an impossible sight. You dragged him over to the closest room, tossing him inside. Mattheo didn’t know the owner of this dorm room, but he was pleased to see it was empty.

“You’ve lost your fucking mind coming here,” Mattheo growled. You audibly scoffed, folding your arms. “Guess i’m joining you then, considering you lost yours when you decided to jinx my fucking broom!” You argued. Mattheo’s hardened gaze temporarily fell, shock briefly washing over his features before he swiped it away. “I may not be a Ravenclaw but i’m not stupid. You’re just lucky I found out long after the game,” You huffed. Mattheo hadn’t anticipated this outcome, your intelligence a trait he had underestimated.

“Why didn’t you snitch to madam hooch?” Mattheo questioned. He eyed you carefully, your small figure much more intimidating than before. “I figured riding your best friends face would work far more sufficient,” You quipped, grinning mischievously. Mattheo was on you in a flash, shoving you against the closest wall. His hands pinned you against the dark wood, his face inches from yours. “You fucking slut,” He growled. You glared up at him, your eyes briefly flickering down to his soft lips.

You couldn’t deny how attractive he was, the smell of cigarettes and cologne flooding your nostrils. You could faintly smell his conditioner from his head full of curls, his hair having grown a bit longer than the last time you had seen it. “Fuck you Riddle,” You spat weakly, your heart beginning to race. Tensions were rising quickly, the close proximity filling your stomach with butterflies. “Dont fuck with me princess, i’ll reach in that pretty little chest of yours and pull your heart out,” Mattheo huffed. He could feel adrenaline running through his veins, an odd mixture of rage and lust falling over him.

Your eyes, usually so fierce and viscous, seemed to be softening. Your pupils were blown, a familiar gaze of lust having fallen over your features. A silent war took place, one where neither of you wanted to make the first move. Heavy breathing ensured, fast heart beats, and intense eye contact were the only things stopping you from ripping each other apart.

You grabbed handfuls of his shirt, yanking his lips to yours. A rough clashing of teeth and tongues ensued, Mattheo’s hands quick to find your waist. He yanked you towards him, the taste of cigarettes and mint lacing your tongue as you both fought for dominance. You couldn’t give in to him. You couldn’t let him think he was in control. You pushed him towards the bed, struggling to reach your back zipper. “Having trouble princess?” Mattheo asked mockingly, smirking down at you. You tried to reach the zipper, straining your arm to do so.

“Shut it Riddle,” You snapped, face growing red with embarrassment. Fuck were you adorable. He reached around you, slowly pulling your zipper down. You could feel heat surging through your cheeks as your dress fell, leaving you almost fully exposed. You were a sight for sore eyes, Mattheo’s refusing to stray from you. “And to think you were hiding all of this under quidditch gear,” He mumbled, soaking in your figure. You rolled your eyes, fiddling with the buttons on his shirt.

“If you keep up all of this talking i’m going to change my mind. I’m not here for your witty comments Riddle,” You spat, your attention focused on undoing his button. He grabbed your wrist firmly, bringing you a mere inch away from his face. “You and that fucking mouth. If you want me to make you cum you’re going to get on your knees and put that mouth to good use,” Mattheo growled. You couldn’t help but feel your stomach flip at the sound of his words. You controlled every aspect of your life, even if you didn’t want to.

Someone so toxic, someone you despised, calling the shots turned you on beyond belief. You sank to your knees, undoing Mattheo’s belt. “There we go, that’s a good girl,” He praised. You pulled down his slacks, yanking down his boxers with them. His cock was bigger than you expected, your eyes widening in visible shock. “Weasley’s can’t compete with me, can they?” Mattheo asked mockingly. His taunting words snapped you out of your trance, your eyes shooting daggers up at him. You licked the underside of his shaft, purposefully dragging your tongue painfully slow.

Mattheo tried to conceal a groan, his hand automatically flying to your hair. He bit his bottom lip as you took him into your mouth, swirling your tongue around his slit. “Fucking shit,” He huffed. He pushed you down further onto his cock, your thighs tightening at the sensation. The feeling of being used was enticing enough. The feeling of being used by your arch rival, the same one you insult on the quidditch field, was euphoric.

You forced your jaw to go slack, encouraging him to face fuck you. Mattheo looked down at you with proud eyes, admiring his cock in your mouth. “You are so pretty like this, fuck,” Mattheo groaned. He bucked his hips inside of your mouth, gripping a handful of your hair. His cock abused your throat, saliva dripping down the sides of your mouth and pooling onto the floor. You finally gagged, the sound music to Mattheo’s ears. He smirked down at you, finally pulling out of your mouth to give you air.

“You’re so pathetic, on your knees for me like a whore,” He snickered. Tears were flooding your waterline, your doe eyes admiring Mattheo from below. You quickly rose to your feet, pushing him back against the bed. “You and that fucking tongue,” You muttered. You quickly stripped yourself of your bra and panties, both of you rushing to take off Mattheo’s shirt. Your eyes briefly studied the scars that stained his chest, different than the ones that covered his face.

For a brief moment Mattheo could see empathy flicker across your face, before your eyes went up to his. “This tongue has gotten me more places than yours ever could,” He bickered weakly, your exposed breast and cunt making his mouth water. Electricity was buzzing between the two of you, your hips straddling him. You rubbed your folds up and down his shaft, earning a moan from the brunette below. “You didn’t think i’d let you fuck me without putting that tongue to good use, right?” You asked mockingly.

You quickly repositioned yourself hovering over Mattheo’s face. His large hands cupped your ass, bringing you closer to his mouth. You let out a string of curses as his tongue began lapping at your cunt, teasing your hole and swirling around your clit. “Fucking shit, fuck Mattheo,” You whined, gripping and pulling at his chocolate curls. Mattheo gripped your ass harder, purposefully squeezing the flesh as rough as you were pulling his hair. In a swift motion he flipped you around, your back hitting the mattress below as Mattheo made himself comfortable between his legs.

He brought two fingers to your dripping entrance. “Interesting how wet this tongue has made you, isn’t it?” Mattheo asked, smirking as your walls eagerly accepted his digits. You groaned in response, your hips bucking upwards as his fingers curled inside of you. You bit your bottom lip, attempting to hide any of the sinful noises that threatened to escape your lips if you broke composure. Mattheo noticed, his fingers stopping right as they brushed against your g spot.

“You better start moaning my name or i’ll stop. Wanna hear those pretty sounds,” He threatened. You whined as you grinded pathetically against his fingers, his digits finally curling again. “Please please please,” You pleaded, a knot tightening in your stomach with each pump. Mattheo sucked at the skin in between your thighs harshly, creating small hickies on the sensitive skin. “Thats it, keep begging for me,” He chuckled, relishing in the sight of you pleading for him. You were at his mercy, his will for once. And fuck was it a satisfying position to be in.

Mattheo began drawing sloppy circles around your clit with his thumb, your fingers entangling themselves deeper into his curls. “Matty i’m gonna cum-” You warned, an unholy moan escaping your throat as you released on his fingers. That nick name. That fucking nick name. Mattheo finger fucked you through your high, the feeling of you cumming for him and moaning that nick name made his heart thump harder. Slowly he pulled his fingers out of you, repositioning himself above you. You looked dazed, your vision settling as his brown eyes stared down at you.

“Still think you can handle me princess? You look pretty fucked out to me,” Mattheo asked, playing with a strand of your hair. You blinked a few times, your vision settling on a cocky Mattheo. “You wouldn’t last a minute fucking me Riddle, don’t get too cocky,” You replied. Mattheo’s smirk fell, his hands quick to roughly reposition you. You arched your back as soon as you registered you were on all fours, your ass high in the air for Mattheo’s viewing. He bit his bottom lip as he gripped the flesh, bringing his tip to your aching cunt.

He rubbed his shaft up and down your folds, collecting your slick as you whimpered beneath him. He quickly shoved himself inside of you, not bothering to take things slow. You wanted rough? He’d show you fucking rough. “Dont pussy out on me, you can take it can’t you princess?” Mattheo purred. The pain began mixing with pleasure as he jerked his hips into yours, brushing against your g spot. “Fuck you Riddle,” You spat, trying to hold on to some sense of dignity. Mattheo leaned over, his voice assertive, “Oh I will.”

His time of being nice was over, his hips rutting into yours like a wild animal. You couldn’t control your moans as he fucked you, his cock mercilessly abusing your cunt to Mattheo’s liking. “Feels so so g-good Matty,” You whined. His large hand flew down to your hair, grabbing a handful and yanking it towards him. “Lorenzo couldn’t fuck you like this, could he?” Mattheo asked roughly. You responded with incoherent babbles and curses, his cock continuing to slam inside of you.

A sharp slap landed on your ass, causing you to snap out of your haze. “I asked you a question slut,” He huffed. You were so fucking pretty like this, begging for more underneath him. If he had known you were this tight, this addicting, he would’ve done this a long time ago. “No he couldn’t, only you,” You babbled, whimpering as he released your hair. Your mind went blank as he fucked you, any feelings of resentment and hatred fading away with each thrust.

He may have ruined your chances at winning the house cup, but fuck did he make you feel good. Mattheo was pounding you into the bed, strings of curses with mixtures of your name leaving his lips as he harshly gripped your waist. You could feel yourself getting closer to the edge, your walls squeezing him tighter. “Awe are you gonna cum before me? Really? That’s quite pathetic,” Mattheo huffed, sensing your oncoming orgasm. Warnings of your impending release were made, Mattheo’s thrust becoming impossibly faster.

“Fucking hold it, wanna cum with you, cum with me,” He panted, his cock twitching just in time. You grabbed handfuls of the sheets as you came on his cock, milking him dry for every last drop of his seed. You could feel his warm cum painting your cunt, his cock still buried inside of you. Mattheo didn’t want to leave your cunt, his heart feeling like it was going to burst inside of his chest. Slowly he pulled out of you, readjusting you gently. It felt odd, Mattheo’s fingertips grazing your skin as if you were fragile.

You rolled over onto your back, Mattheo laying beside you. “That wasn’t half bad Riddle,” You say, halfway attempting at a compliment. Mattheo smirked down at you, wrapping his arm around you. He brought you closer, pretending he didn’t notice your cheeks flush red. “Call me Matty,” He replied. A peaceful silence filled the room for a moment, the only audible sound being both of your breathing. It wasn’t in Mattheo’s nature to stay quiet for long, his next words leaving his lips without a second thought:

“That was pretty snakelike what you did, sneaking in here just to spite me. You sure you weren’t placed in the wrong house?”

“Shut it Matty.”

[absolutelynotsanebaby]

I was talking to my mutual about Cole when I had a surge of Thoughts so per usual you all have to hear them now. I was considering a couple things, namely his development and place as the "strong guy" on the team and his masculinity (and how it presents in the show vs in fanon).

Cole's pretty often typecast as the gruff strong guy in a lot of fan-media (from fanfics to fanart etc) which isn't wrong because he was like that, especially within the early seasons. The way he spoke, the way he acted, his place as a sort of leading force. In season three you even see him in that stupid lumberjack fit (said affectionately), it's all very traditionally masculine. Which fits his whole Strong and Big guy of the team role (the five man band archetypes etc etc). However, it's interesting to say because at his core, he's very emotional and very driven by a strong sense of internal compassion (with a canonical affinity to children). Which obviously none of that is opposed to masculinity but these traits begin to show more as the gruffness pulls back. The first real example of that I think is in ToE with his fight with Jay. I don't read him as being invested in their fighting the same way Jay was. Jay was fueled by insecurity and a very strong sense of jealousy and possessiveness. Cole? I think he was just reacting to Jay's aggression, which didn't put Nya in a better position but it is a difference. 

So when their match rolls around, he's the first one to realize what they're doing is stupid and give in. He reaches out emotionally to Jay. However, Jays still is a friend so that is easy to write off as a symptom of friendship. And then following ToE we have possession and DOTD which I think are where he really begins to develop, and have the strongest examples of what I'm getting at. I'm going out on a limb and saying that I really see his prior gruffness as a sort of armor, to be good enough for the team (insert that one Wu note of him staying up late before missions) and also there his whole rebellious streak against his father trying to force him to be someone he's not. (Note: I wouldn't be surprised if how Lou raised him really had a impact on all this) Then, we get to Possession and both his self worth and self image are shook badly by literally dying. He outright says he's not a ninja anymore, which I think he based a lot of who he was on (<- which is why struggling with it hit so hard).

Finally DOTD comes up and I think we see the strongest example of where his compassion really become a core trait. It's his fight with Yang. He had no reason to reach out to him, to be honest he had the right not to, but he did and it worked! He didn't get out of DOTD in the end with brute force, he got out of it with emotional support (his team showing up), a stubborn adherence to his moral code, and reaching out to Yang with empathy. From that point on, I think he's softer and more prone to being emotional, it's like there was a very real shift. To circle back to Jay, because I think he makes for a good comparison, he does not develop like that post ToE. Actually, the issues carying from s3 (though, they do exist prior just not as starkly) all the way to Skybound where it gets violently (literally) addressed. Jay fans can probably say it better than me but the season is about his insecurity and treatment of Nya and there's a reason both Nadakhan and Cliff are like that (read: they're parallels). It's just interesting because both Cole and Jay have issues with self worth and image but they present and develop very differently. 

There's also the fanon aspect with those two that's really funny. I think everyone's aware of the infamous fanon-bruise, the 2010s-yaoification. Uwu Jay, Big Strong Man Cole, and how weirdly racist it is. It's just funny to note because the issues projected onto Cole in fanon are ones Jay has, like, in the show. Cole's the more emotional and compassionate one of the two, but because of the strong guy role, it gets flipped around in fanon. Going by the 'traditional' (read: toxic) masculine standards, in terms of personality and character, I think Jay more closely aligns. It reminds me of this post I saw once, it was of Hunted where Jay was making the plane (?) and Cole was with baby Wu. It called Jay the 'mom' and Cole the 'dad' which I find kind of funny because if you look at it through that hetero-normative lense, it really should be the other way around. Cole's the one caring for the baby pretty consistently, Jay's the one making a machine and Working. Did Jay just get called the 'mom' there because people think of him as smaller and weaker and therefore more feminine? Did Cole get called the dad just because he's strong and considered bigger? It's interesting. Fanon does Cole really dirty sometimes.

To get back on topic of Cole's narrative development, then we get to MOTM (like a bajillion years later which no I'm not complaining except I am). Cole's characterization in MOTM is so fucking good. MOTM does a fantastic job at tying together several of his strings. It ties in Lilly, his self esteem, his staunch morality, affinity towards leadership, and compassion into one, pretty bow. MOTM puts Cole back into a leading role, and it gives him several groups to reach out to (Vania, the munce and geckle, the uppily). It draws back the insecurity present in him, letting it show again to be addressed. It even ties in his relationship to Wu in a really lovely way to me. MOTM is the season where Cole finds who he is, his identity and his place as his mothers son.

Speaking of that, I have a very strong love for male characters who exemplify who their mothers were and what they taught them. The scenes with Lilly really put his entire character into a different perspective. At the start he was this tough kid fresh off grief and pressurized so strongly by his dad and himself and he goes through loops and hurdles of strength and identity and by the end he finds himself exactly where he needs to be. Where he's the strongest and it's in his mothers footsteps, as someone both emotional and strong. It's a really lovely character arc to take him on, and though I haven't watched DR, I've heard they continue that on. 

Anyways, consider it positive masculinity, consider it anything else. I just had a lot of thoughts to share and hope I don't sound too 'reading-too-deep' about it. Bye bye Kar ramble over.

[pretty-blkgirl]

Soul’s Desire [Ch. 29]

- Masterlist -

A/N: Contains a written part. There is a TW for this chapter. Scenes of physical assault are present, it’s also a very heavy chapter in general. Please be mindful and don’t read anything that may upset you!!!

~~~~|~~~~

“This is a cute place,” Your mom remarked when you three stepped into the house. Hyunjin was standing close to you, already a little put off by your mother, considering she asked him what business he had been doing at your apartment less than three minutes prior.

When he explained he was a “friend” of yours, your mom rolled her eyes and told him you couldn’t have possibly had so many friends.

Hyunjin was done with her after that, but you still allowed her in the dorm despite his looks of disapproval.

“Thank you,” You said, “Yumi and Hana decorated it for the most part. They have an eye for-”

“You have no pictures of me and you” Your mom frowned as she looked at the photo wall you and the girls had.

To be fair, there were no pictures of any of you guys’ families. The wall was only meant for pictures of you and the group.

“I have a picture of us in my room” You revealed, “I’ll show it to you”

“I want a picture of us out here though.”

“Let’s go see the picture,” Hyunjin smiled. To your mom, he looked polite, to you, he looked beyond pissed.

You set the food down and took them to your room. After setting your purse down, you pointed in the direction of your bedside table. As you said, there was a picture of you and your mom. It was an older picture, you were maybe one or two years old, but it was a picture nonetheless.

“That’s nice” She mumbled

You took your guests back to the dining room to finally eat lunch. You wanted your mom to leave quickly, you could tell her mood had soured for whatever reason and you didn’t want to deal with that.

As you three ate, she started to get a little antsy, which made you nervous.

“Mom, are you okay?”

“Yeah I’m fine baby” She grinned, but her leg shook violently and she kept looking back towards the hallway.

“You sure?”

“Well” She sighed, “Can I use the restroom?”

“Of course” You nodded, “Do you remember the way to my room? The bathroom is right across from it”

She nodded and stood up, excusing herself and leaving you and Hyunjin alone.

Once he was sure he heard a door close, Hyunjin gave you a look

“I know that’s your mother, and I’d never disrespect her, but… I don’t like her!” He whispered, “I don’t know baby, she just gives off this….vibe. It’s a bad vibe, she seems so spiteful”

You crossed your arms, taking in Hyunjin’s words as you replayed the last couple of days in your mind.

Her whole demeanor just didn’t sit right with you. Either she was too sweet or very passive-aggressive. A few times she swore at you, and you could tell she hadn’t really changed.

At least, she didn’t change enough for you.

“She’s supposed to leave in a couple of days. I think I’m gonna do low contact. I don’t think she grew as a person. It’s like she’s trying to appease me”

You two continued to talk. Five minutes went by. Then ten. Then twenty.

“Why isn’t she out yet?” you asked your boyfriend, who looked just as concerned as you

“Let’s go check on her”

You got up with Hyunjin following close behind. As you walked up to the bathroom, you noticed the door was slightly ajar and the light was off.

You peeked in and didn’t see anyone there.

Then, you noticed your bedroom door was closed. You knew you left it open when you three walked out earlier.

A bad feeling settled in your stomach as you barged into your room.

The first thing you saw was your clothes all over the floor. Your shirts, pants, shorts, and even underwear were scattered everywhere.

Naturally, your drawers were opened, some even fully emptied. Your closet was ransacked and you saw a pile of coats and purses on the floor.

Pieces of paper were crumpled up in a pile, and a dark blue journal was close by, so you immediately knew your diary had been destroyed.

All your posters had been ripped down. All the pictures Hyunjin drew for you were torn apart.

Every love song Han wrote for you that you taped up, destroyed.

Every Polaroid you took with I.N., was destroyed.

The pictures of Soonie, Doognie, and Dori that Lee Know gave to you that featured little words of encouragement on them, were destroyed.

Love poems from Seungmin

Sticky notes with reminders to “keep being cute” or “keep doing well” from Changbin

Origami boats from Felix

And every single flower Chan had ever gotten for you.

He knew you loved roses, and he insisted on getting you real ones even though you couldn’t take care of them.

They were dead and fragile, but you still kept them in a vase just for memory's sake.

Now they lay on the floor. Crushed.

The very last thing you saw was your mother, sitting on your bed, with your wallet in one hand and your debit cards and cash in the other.

“Wow” is all you said

Hyunjin felt your rage build up. The symbol was practically burning a hole through his palm. He knew the other boys could feel it, and they were probably calling and texting you both non-stop.

Your phones were in the other room though, and honestly, you couldn’t give a damn about answering a phone at that moment.

All you felt was pure anger.

All of a sudden you were fifteen years old again, watching your mom demolish your room after she found out you kissed a boy at a school dance.

Then you were twenty, right before you left for Korea, watching her smash every plate, vase, and picture frame she could get her hands on after she learned that you’d be “abandoning her”

You don’t know what set her off this time. You didn’t want to know.

“How could I be so damn stupid?” You wondered aloud, “Why didn’t I tell you to go fuck yourself the moment I found out you showed up at my fucking place of work?”

“Watch your mouth, girl” Your mother snapped, still holding your things in her hands.

“Nah, FUCK THAT. I allowed you to waltz your ass back into my life and this is how you repay me? Wrecking my room? Ruining everything I cherish most?”

You walked further into the room, slowly getting closer to your mother.

Hyunjin knew you were about to do something drastic, so he sprung into action, grabbing your arm before you had a chance to raise it.

Your mom seemingly took this as a challenge. She threw your money and cards down, standing up and getting in your face.

“I read your little diary. I saw all the things you said about me. You think I’m a failure as a mother? You think I don’t give a fuck about you, huh? You called me a narcissistic bitch. I’ll show you a bitch alright”

Her hand raised and she slapped you.

It was so quick, you could barely process what had happened. Hyunjin, though, moved you behind him.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” He fumed, “Don’t you ever put your fucking hands on her again”

“Please move Hyunjin” You trembled, hands visibly shaking as he continued to yell profanities at your mother.

“No! I’m gonna call the fucking police, you think you’re gonna get away with hitting her? Are you fucking dumb?”

“Hyunjin leave the room please”

“Y/n she HIT YOU! I’M NOT LEAVING YOU ALONE WITH HER”

“Please leave and call Rose. Tell her I need an NDA and my mom on the next flight back home”

He was about to argue more, but you gave him a look so desperate he wouldn’t dare to talk back. Hyunjin begrudgingly left, but made sure to leave the door wide open just in case he needed to rush back in.

When he was gone, you faced your mother.

You loved her.

You loved her so much.

Despite how much she mistreated and hurt you, all you wanted was for her to love you back.

You needed her approval, you craved her attention. But the moment she had the nerve -the audacity- to hit you, any hope for reconciliation was out the window.

“My manager will be here any second. You are going to sign an NDA because I don’t trust you won’t try to make money off this situation. Once you sign it, you will get the fuck out of my house. Someone will drive you to your Airbnb, you will get your shit, and you will go back home. As soon as you’re out my eyesight I’m getting rid of any and every trace of you. After today, you will not be able to get a hold of me again. And I swear to God, if you ever find yourself thinking you’re gonna try and ruin my life any more than you already have, I’ll get a lawyer and sue your ass so quickly that you won’t even have a pot to piss in by the time I’m through with you.”

As if on cue, Hyunjin walks back in with Rose.

“Y/nnie? What happened? I got here as quick as I could- what happened to your room? Is your face bruised up?”

“Do you have the NDA, Rose?”

“Yes, I mean I have a regular one? What did you want one for specifically?”

“What are the guidelines in that one?”

She quickly skimmed through the papers, “The person who signs it can’t reveal any details about any situation that could harm the artist’s reputation or image in any way, with certain stipulations of course”

“Let’s say my mom destroyed my room, hit, and planned to rob me. If she signed those documents, would she be able to talk about it in exchange for money or even…exposure?”

Rose was quiet for a few seconds, finally understanding the gravity of the situation

“No” She finally said, “Not unless she wanted to get a couple of lawsuits”

“What if she made up a story to try and harm my reputation?”

“That wouldn’t be a very smart thing to do, especially if she planned on living a peaceful life”

You wordlessly took the papers and grabbed a pen off your desk, giving both the items to your mom. With a look of disbelief mixed with hatred, she signed the papers and threw them on the floor.

“You were a mistake” She sneered, “I hate you”

You thought your heart would break, you thought you would crumble at her words, but you simply nodded.

“Goodbye Mom”

Rose escorted her out, and you finally started to feel the warm sensation on your cheek.

Your legs were wobbly, and they gave out after a few seconds. Hyunjin was at your side instantly, holding you as you started to sob violently.

~~~~|~~~~

Taglist: @chuuyaobsessed @h0rnyp0t @prttyxbby @yukichan67 @hanniemylovelyquokka @xxeiraxx @loveforlee444 @whatdoyouwanttocallmefor @cunninglibrarian @holly-here @galaxy4489 @hyunmikim @yougottobekittenme @hyeon-yi @katsukis1wife @multi-fandom-nightmare @staybabblingbaby @kozumesphone @fuck-you-im-gae @thatonedarkskinnedsiren @just-a-blackthorn-cookie @champagneconfetti

[chosopie]

TAMING SESSION - NAOYA ZENIN

cw: dub-con, pegging, spanking, orgasm denial, spitting

A pretty boy like Naoya needs to learn to shut his mouth most of the time.

You were sent by your group to recruit Naoya Zenin in hopes to have him help with your plans to save Gojo amidst the Culling Games.

Your cursed technique? Bondage. It often came in handy, making it easier to get a hold of curses and quickly finish them off which lead to you being overworked. Every mission, you just had to be there to accompany someone.

For your current mission, they sent you alone. This meant you had room to use your own means to get Naoya on board with you guys.

“You dirty whore! Let go of me,” Naoya spat at you. He was lying on his back, with a humiliated and enraged face that amused you. His face burned red with anger, while his body struggled to move around the tight ribbons that glowed with energy.

“I told you, you need to cooperate,” you clicked your tongue.

“Like hell I’d ever listen to a lowly girl like you.”

“Lowly? I’m not the one on the ground all tied up,” you giggled and crossed your arms. “I think I get to make the conditions here.”

You approached him, pulling on his collar to bring his face close to yours. “I need you to help us.”

“You need me that bad?” He grinned, his face swelled with pride and smugness.

“Well… you were our last option.”

“When I get out of this, I’m gonna beat the shit out of you and leave you in a gnarly state. No man would ever want you after that. Girls like you deserve to be locked away in their homes,” Naoya threatened, his eyes glistened with with but beneath that facade, all you saw was a childish and insecure brat who was scared of having his ego shattered by a woman.

He truly was an annoying bitch.

Those were his last words before you discarded his pants to ride his leaking cock.

“If you hate women like me that much, then why are you so hard, Naoya,” you flashed him a smile, your face was flushed red from the pleasure of his dick hitting a particular spot in your walls over and over again as you bounced on him.

“Get off. You don’t deserve this cock,” he panted, his chest heaving as his cock continued to violently twitch inside you.

You moaned, your hands exploring his body as you continued to grind and move up and down, his slippery dick occasionally sliding out and rubbing your labia.

“Hah— let me go!” Naoya pathetically whined, his face evidently flustered. At this point, he couldn’t control himself any longer. He was full-on bucking his eager cock into you.

“Enjoying this?” He shook his head.

The way his dick reacted to your clenching pussy and how it quivered was enough to tell you about how close he was. His face contorted when you sped up, his restrained body shook with pleasure and denial. His stubborn mind knew he shouldn't be enjoying this but his body said otherwise.

Just when Naoya was about to cum, you got off him in an instant, leaving him and his cock frustrated and needy. His swollen cock was covered in your slick and his pre-cum, a white glaze all over his red tip.

"You're fucking evil," he groaned.

"You wanted to cum that bad?"

He didn't reply, whatever remained of his dignity keeping his mouth shut tight.

"Oh, I'll make you cum in another way."

You whipped out your strap and his eyes widened in shock and terror. His jaw hung open as he struggled to find the words to react to what he had just saw.

“Well, that finally got you to shut up,” you chuckled.

You fucked Naoya's tight little hole so hard, he started moaning so loud it started coming off as screams. His eyes were fully rolled back while his dick angrily twitched from the newfound pleasure. Seeing this, you couldn’t resist grabbing a hold of it. You started aggressively stroking his dick while stimulating his g-spot. There were tiny beads of cum leaking out together with his pre. He was getting close again, but you weren’t going to make him cum until you hear him agree to help your friends.

"Fuck, fuck!" He groaned and whimpered.

You spanked him, leaving his ass cheeks red and bruised.

"Please, I'm so fucking close!"

"Need to hear you say the words," you whispered to his ear while thrusting into him even harder, pushing the silicone dick further into his ass.

"What?" He panted.

How cute. You had already fucked him dumb, making him forget what the whole thing was even about.

You pulled out, "forgot already?"

Naoya whined, "Just hurry up and make me finish already."

"Say it."

"Please! I'll help you."

"Agh-" his body suddenly jolted when you pushed the silicone back in. He backed up on you, pressing his ass onto your hips until every inch of the dick complete disappears into his hole.

"You needy bitch," you spat onto his back.

You fully exerted yourself, thrusting harder and faster while your hand pumped his dick. Naoya was a moaning mess. There was drool running down his chin and his back was fully arched. He got even more louder, his dick furiously leaking onto your hand.

"Fuck, I'm gonna cum! Cumming, ahhh-" Naoya mewled.

"That's it," you smirked, knowing your mission was successful.

[idontliekmondays]

excerpts from a daily mail article released shortly after her arrest

When members of the Geneva High School role playing club asked 16-year-old Lindsay Souvannarath to choose a character they were expecting an elf, a sorceress or perhaps a female warrior.

But the shy, clean-cut teenager opted for a rather more unsettling choice, presenting them with a detailed pencil drawing of her chosen persona - the 'Nightmare Nazi'.

The trench coat, jackboots and gas mask were unmistakably those of an SS soldier; the skeletal hands clutching a vast dagger more akin to dark fantasy art.

Former classmates at Geneva High recall Lindsay Souvannarath as a shy, withdrawn youngster, who had few friends and instead sought out after-school groups and writing clubs to express her creative side.

But she was also prone to bouts of anger and violence - allegedly stabbing another student with a pencil in one outburst and occasionally letting slip an alarming infatuation with the Third Reich.

'On first impressions I didn't think there was anything too strange about her,' he told Daily Mail Online.

'She could be funny and intelligent but most of the time she was quiet and not very warm or outgoing.

'One year her character was a sort of Wonder Woman-type heroine, then all of sudden she tells the group she wants to be a Nazi ghost.

'You choose your species and come up with a back story. Hers was that her character was a guest from a crazy, dark Nazi universe.

'It's supposed to be a game in a medieval, fantasy setting but she would just argue if she didn't get her way.

'So we went on our quest with a robot, a couple of elves, wizards and this weird Nazi.

'Aside from the character's background he didn't do anything racist or too alarming. We didn't know about her interests at that time so we just got on with it.

Ms Szigeti recalled how Souvannarath began to idolize black-death metal bands in her mid-teens.

She became particularly infatuated with Varg Vikernes, a white supremacist musician convicted in 1994 of killing a rival guitarist and burning down three churches in Norway, describing him as 'cute' and writing essays about him.

'Her work was always dark and full of violence, there were soldiers and Nazis and all this weird stuff,' Sabrina said.

'She acted normal on the surface. She was never physically violent but she would get aggressive and upset if you criticized her.

'Everyone was uncomfortable but we just avoided trying to start a fight with her. 'If you asked her straight up 'are you a Nazi?' she would argue that she wasn't.

As far back as 2007 - when she was just 15 - she allegedly wrote 'free speech is dead' in one forum, adding: 'That's why we need people like David Duke to bring it to life again.'

In another warped entry, writing that same year under the pseudonym Snoopyfemme she wrote: 'They use sex in commercials all the time to sell products. Why don't they ever use violence?

'Wouldn't you love to see a bunch of guys tearing each other apart with machine guns to get a bowl of Cheerios?

'Sure, it might traumatize our children, but in my opinion, children aren't being traumatized enough.

'The only reason for Americans to breed is to create more soldiers to fight for freedom. We need to weed out the weaklings early on. Survival of the fittest, man.'

'She was very odd to the point among a lot of our classmates that no-one was surprised by her arrest.

'She was a very lonely person - but she isolated herself. 'From what I remember she was even suspended for stabbing someone with a pencil in middle school.'

'She was known for putting spells on people. She would do it by saying weird things and then putting on a curse - obviously we did not take her seriously.

'She would break out into laughter in the middle of class for absolutely no reason.

'When we saw that Lindsay did something like this, nobody was surprised. She was the one most likely.'

source

[mikimakiboo]

I was wondering if you were doing anything for/with the apple incident. Since it would be like, a clarifying moment for the guys in the tt gang. Like that’s why he’s jumpy and scared all the time. That’s why he was so rude and scared. That’s why he stopped talking to them, he thought they would be aggressive and violent. The servants could think he was cursed by the devil, or a witch or smth. Till it reached a high note, then him and Dream slowly reconciled and reconnect. Then night just starts pouring his soul out with him bc he’s so lonely and scared.

My time to shine and ramblllleeeeeee

Btw since you asked something about my AU just assume I'm in love with you, okay ? I'm your wife now /jk

As you can imagine the answer will contain spoilers regarding Nightmare's backstory SO I'm putting it under the cut :D

So regarding the apple incident, whenever I make AUs including Nightmare he is always corrupted, however the tree of feelings doesn't always fit the narrative, like in Time Travelers AU where Nightmare was born and lives as a noble in the 17th century and not 500 years ago as a guardian

So since there isn't any tree of feelings there isn't any apples either so there technically can't be an apple incident

So that's when the second scenario comes in handy: magic overdose :D

Basically at the age of six Nightmare's magic starts to grow a little too much, he would often choke on a black goop that would form in his soul and go in his throat for him to throw up, and it's a long and painful transformation, I'm talking about years here, from his six years old to his ten years old his magic would slowly overwhelm his soul more and more, come out of the joints, mouth, nose, eyesockets, he would choke and develop quite severe chronic pains until he's eventually covered in goop just like his original corrupted self

One good thing with that scenario is that it allows me to give him a softer personality as he wasn't exactly corrupted, his magic just got messed up, but he's still the same person as his passive self

Now, as Nightmare is living in a very religious time, everyone thought that his messed up magic and black goop was due to some demon possession or that he was cursed by either God, Satan, or any other divine force, and so Nightmare had to go through a lot of exorcisms, lots of different covens but of course none of it worked

He was always insulted and looked down upon as he was seen like a curse by himself: his father died young (when Dream and him were babies), his mother died young too (when they were young adult) and everyone blamed him and his mere existence for it and every other bad thing that happened to other people he ever talked to or looked their way

His own mother, Nim, was part of the people insulting him, by telling him that he was her biggest failure and she should have left him in a coven if only Dream didn't insist so much to keep him

So yeah Nightmare doesn't really think very high of himself and is fully focused on being as good as he can so hopefully people won't see him as a curse anymore

Dream was actually the only one to never turn his back on him, even when they were in different covens/schools (nobles were placed in special schools from 10yo to 18yo, very strict, they had to speak Latin too so that's why Nightmare is fluent) he would always send him letters, so their relationship never got too bad, Nightmare did have a period when he didn't respond to the letters but he never felt resentment or anything toward his twin because he was actually his only friend, so when they were back home together when they got out at 18 they actually became even closer because Dream was really the only one who would listen to him and genuinely love him

So yeah the two brothers are inseparable and rely very much on each other, Nightmare tells everything to Dream and Dream also talks about anything and everything with Nightmare

Now regarding the tt gang, when they learnt about the backstory they did assemble some pieces regarding Nightmare's behavior

Because his obsession with being perfect and not mixing with them, hardly talking to them and keeping his perfect noble image is actually trauma response after years of being talked down and seen as God's mistake, so now he has to appear perfect at all time so he won't have troubles anymore without realizing that this image hurts him too as he bottles up everything he feels and do not act like himself AT ALL

So yeah the backtory do make them understand his behavior better and they do feel very bad for him because obviously it wasn't his fault, he was only a child who should have gone to the doctor to have some magic drained out instead of being exorcized every two days and treated like shit

They'll eventually work through the trauma together

Hope that answers your question :D

[mamaclownhunter]

You have to understand this fic series added YEARS to my life @jezebel_rising (it is spicy M)

I been consuming drunk fics recently and I think I reached my personal new joy and headcanon that SQQ is an angry punchy but overly affectionate to his people drunk. Tsundere to the max.

There are like 2 fics that blessed me with punchy violent drunk SQQ and two that gave me him being a goober with SQH.

Give me both with zero filters. I want violent SQQ and his “bro we shouldn’t/bro bro we GOTTA” SQH toggles on enabler and responsible drunk for me.

But also learned and adopted that SQH is the type of drunk that will rebuild a car blasted. He makes the wildest contraptions and goes through strange tinker builder plans black out drunk. He is competent and efficient and wakes up hungry over wondering when the fuck he learned quantum physics. Like he is a “I got this”

I want them to be the others enablers. I want SQH to be ride or die if cucumber bro starts a bar fight he is there at his side sighing drunk and lazy but kicking ass. (Thank you Jezebel)

I want SQH to stare at a wall and go “I wanna invent a Xianxia version of a plane” and SQQ to go “that is fucking dumb let’s do it” (thaaank you Jezebel)

I want them to be each other’s friend. I want them to kinda sit there hung over… and kinda just weirdly happy they have a friend that gets them in this life. That they have a friend who is the bane of their existence but can have fun drunk shenanigans neither really got to have in their first life.

Mobei and Binghe not knowing what to do with them. They both are clingy drunks but one is spitting curses and aggressively snuggling like a cat high on catnip- and the other is singing praises and compliments while trying to bury himself in his husband’s robes.

But THIS FIC SERIES really had me rolling bc like- 2 twenty first century guys who are use to shorts and tee shirts forgetting after the third drink that- it is not 100% proper. They are aware enough to be these future boys behind closed doors- but to them hitting each other with paint in shorts is just guys being guys. To their royal husbands and everyone else in this ancient world????

Also SQQ in gym shorts and a tee shirt is my new favorite thing. This is the cutest I have drawn SQH- I had fun

[circe69]

����𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐈𝐧 𝐇𝐢𝐦 - Simon Riley x Fem!Reader

narrative: you get kidnapped by graves, and ghost rescues you (in a very aggressive/sweet manner) warnings: violent, blood, injuries, kidnapping, manhandling tags: cleaning wounds, soft ghost, solving mysteries, being babied honestly, touching, sweet things amidst gore. a/n: as always, lmk if this is something you'd like a part two for! love you guys! part 2

A set of strong hands grabbed your two biceps and threw you to the ground, your body slamming against the wet pavement. You groaned in agony, blood soaking your ripped shirt around your sleeves, whilst your ears rang, and vision blurred. Someone leaned down, you weren't sure who, and pulled you up by your hair.

You screamed, "G- ugh, Get off of me!" Graves let a chuckle escape, making your stomach churn. "You tell whoever is unfortunate enough to pick up your rotting body that it was me who was merciful, letting you leave alive when you deserve nothing but a coffin too small for your corpse.”

He dropped your hair, making your head strike the ground.

"Let's go, boys. Oh, she'll be fine, grow a pair!" You heard his eager voice fade out and heavy boots walk away, followed by a metal door closing shut, the rust falling on the doormat.

All the sudden, you heard a flashlight click. It was quiet enough to almost be unheard, but your senses had been heightened, you were aware of everything.

"Who's there?" You whispered, not trying to. You tried to be as loud as you possibly could, but it wasn't until this moment you realized how scared you were of being caught.

"Who's there?" You whispered, not trying to. You tried to be as loud as you possibly could, but it wasn't until this moment you realized how scared you were of being caught.

No one answered, but you could feel someone's presence. You stumbled to your feet, bracing yourself on the side of an empty tank before standing up straight. "I know someone's there!" Nothing.

Sighing, you took a few more steps towards where you heard the click, almost hoping that someone was there listening to you. Your hand slid against the wet metal of the tank, and the other trying to locate where you were hurt the most and holding pressure to where you guessed.

A gun cocked. Your head turned in every direction, trying to see everything at once. I'm about to die, you thought. This was the end. There was nothing else for you to do but accept that you would never see any of your family again, none of your friends.

You walked a little more, almost giving yourself up to whoever it was, and you almost turned back around to hide in the unused tank before wet arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you back into a wall of a body.

Your screams filled the air, harsh groans were coming from the person behind you in response to your thrashing. "Put. Me. Down!" Kicking your legs in any way you could, but it didn't do anything. "Calm down, woman, I'm not gonna hurt you." The body turned around and started jogging towards a running vehicle. There was a man in the front, one you didn't recognize, but before you could scream anything else, you were thrown into the back of the car, and a huge man followed you. Your body hit a leather seat, and he was positioned in front of you, buckling your seatbelt as if you were a helpless child.

"Got her, Johnny. Move out," the man trapping you in a seat said. He said the terrifying sentence with gauze between his teeth, ripping a few long pieces off of a large roll and setting it back in the console. The driver wasted no time in throwing the gear in reverse at his command, and the dog tags on the rearview mirror jangled against themselves as he slammed on the gas.

You couldn't breathe, your head was spinning, and you weren't sure if it was from the loss of blood or sudden fear that you were going to die.

The man sitting in front of you was wearing a few things you deemed as strange: a cream skull-face mask on top of a black linen face covering. His vests and gear were anything but simple, you feared if he'd move the wrong way, he'd set off a bomb somewhere.

His hand reached up to turn on the dinky car light as the driver took a harsh turn. "Could you drive a little slower, mate?" His voice was aggressive, too deep for his own good. It was a weapon in and of itself. Orders that he made were automatically wishes that had to come true.

"Ghost," he said while opening up a few bandages and uncapping a tube of disinfectant, not even looking up at you. "Crazy man in the front is Soap."

You felt tears brew in your eyes as he talked to you in such a casual manner. There was no underlying threat in his words, even as scary as he was. A few heavy droplets slipped and audibly landed on your seatbelt, causing Ghost to look up at you.

Once he saw you crying, he sighed, not out of exhaustion or annoyance, but of something else. You weren’t sure what he was feeling, or why he did things he did. You weren’t sure anyone ever knew. He reached his gloved hand up and turned off the light, continuing to work in the dark. He'd be cursed for the rest of his life if he had to watch you cry.

A woman he'd never met, never even known existed, until that very afternoon.

"Sit down, men." Price said from the corner of the room, uncrossing his arms and walking away from his stance against the wall. "We've got places to be, people to save, Graves to fill." A few young newbies snickered at his joke; the rest stayed quiet. The captain circled the large table, passing out beige files and black masks to everyone sitting down. "Kate, the TV, please." Laswell clicked a black remote, pointing it at a flat screen and waited for a picture to pop up.

A young women appeared, maybe early 20's. Mid-length hair with eyes that could kill. Her license picture, as intimidating as you'd think it be to look into the eyes of a missing woman, it wasn't at all.

Her smile was beautiful, completely clueless at what the terrible world had to offer. What the terrible world had become. She was nothing but happy, just happy to be wherever. No one said anything, but they were all lost in the picture, not sure if what they were feeling was frustration or admiration.

"This is Y/N L/N." Price cleared his throat before continuing, "I used to work with her father, he's a good man. I owe him my life; I'd give him anything."

He made his way to the head of the round table, "Y/N's missing. He's given us the substantial responsibility of finding her."

Gaz spoke up after raising his hand for a few seconds, "Do we know where she is?"

"Well, where do we always find ourselves treading off to when we get any sort of call?" Price said in a sarcastic tone, leaning back in his chair and putting his hands behind his head.

"Graves." Ghost and Soap spoke in unison, the man in the ghost mask cleaning his knife off with a dirty rag, and the one in with the mohawk stirring some sugar into a mug of tea.

Laswell and Price nodded in agreement to their guess, and everyone else sighed audibly, some out of relief and others in annoyance. Graves was never the best option, but lately it's been seeming like the only option. Soap stood up from his seat, groaning as he scooted his seat in. "Well? Let's get on it."

"You'll be fine, luv. Swear it." Ghost said to you as he trailed his fingers along your head gash, feeling for the cut before using his other hand to pour isopropyl on a cotton round. He suddenly remembered the picture from earlier, the innocent face that's now bloody and bruised thanks to one of the men he's spent years trying to destroy.

"It'll sting," he whispered, and Soap in the front seat breathed through his teeth sharp. "Ooh, I know that smell. That's the smell of pain." You felt your mouth upturn slightly, inhaling the rubbing alcohol as well and leaning into the childhood memories that rushed into your brain. Ones of you falling down on the playground, scraping your elbow on the asphalt and running towards the nearest teacher.

"You okay?" Ghost checked in as he stuck a bandage on your head, and you hummed in response, taking a deep breath in as you leaned back on your head rest. "There she is," Soap said while looking in the rearview mirror.

Arriving back at the base, you felt your eyes droop open and closed, feeling comforted at the feeling of Ghost's thumb rubbing against the side of your jeans, trying to nurse you back to health to the best of his ability. Soap parked the car, slowly pressing on the brake to appease Ghost's previous request.

"You got her, Simon?" Soap asked as he took the key out of the ignition and quietly grabbing his backpack from the front seat. Ghost grunted in approval, and waited till Soap got out of car and shut the door before figuring out what to do with your tired body.

"Should I carry you?" He whispered, bracing himself on the armrest of your seat and bringing the other hand up to the side of your face, balancing your head on his palm as you tried not to fall asleep. You whined in response, not truly being conscious enough to reply properly. "Right then," Ghost said, looking around for things to clean up before heading up to the base.

He got out of the car first, jumping down onto the gravel and reaching across your lap to unbuckle your seatbelt. "Let's go, Y/N."

"You know my name?" You said sleepily as he picked you up with an arm underneath your legs and the other wrapped around your waist, squeezing gently to signal you jump into his arms.

"Course I do, you've been the talk of the town lately."

"Wow." Rubbing your eyes sleepily, it caused Ghost to look down at your in his arms, distracting him altogether from his mission. All the sudden, your waterline started to fill with tears.

"What, what is it?"

"I couldn't even fight back." You started to cry, your eyes pouring out on your face, something Ghost tried so hard not to watch but had to.

"It's alright, bug, not many of us can get a rile out of Graves anyway, that's reason enough for an award."

You chuckled at the sentiment, and at the fact that he cared enough to attempt to cheer you up. Even if his humor was the corniest you'd ever been around, it was enough to lift your moods a little bit.

As he walked you into the base, a cold chill hit your bare arm, you felt the dried blood crackle as you shifted. "Brr, am I right?" Ghost tried once again to make you crack a smile, walking you into the closest guest room. It was a quaint area, just one cot with a few cream-colored sheets and a dusty quilt that someone had definitely donated from years past. There was only one overhead light, and after Ghost gently set you down on the bed, he walked over to flip the switch.

“This okay? Is your head hurting you?” He asked considerately, walking back over to look into your pupils, making sure you weren’t concussed. “Not too bad,” you responded, rubbing a dry hand on your face, and pulling it back only to find it was covered in blood. Your eyebrows furrowed and you frowned at the sight, feeling ill knowing there was still remnants of your attack.

“You’re still quite bloody, I couldn’t see very well in the dark car, but someone else will-.”

“You could’ve kept the light on,” you interrupted him, sitting up slightly and leaning your head on the metal bed frame.

“What?” Ghost whispered, knowing good and well what you were implying, but not wanting to act it.

“You turned the light off, in the car, but you could’ve kept it on to see me better. Why didn’t you?”

He exhaled, slightly clicking his tongue against his teeth. “I know, I- I just couldn’t-" He paused to regain control over his stuttering, “I hated seeing you cry.”

Ghost walked over to a small sink, turning one of the knobs and dampening a rag before walking back over to you. He stopped a few paces in front of your bed, just to stare at you. The entirety of your body, nothing left unscathed. Your jeans were torn to shreds, red liquid lacing every stitch. The shirt you wore was drenched in rain and blood, and it ripped in the front, allowing cleavage to poke through, making Ghost’s eyes close abruptly when he saw it.

“You don’t even know me, Ghost, why would it bother you so much?” You adjusted yourself so your legs hung off the side of the bed, your shoulder facing where Ghost stood. “I know, but, I know of you.”

He continued, “Your father, he worked with Price, yeah? Price said your pops gave him the job of finding you.”

Your jaw dropped slightly, but before you could say anything, you were interrupted.

“Oi, Lieutenant, you’re needed. Price says it’s an emergency.” An unfamiliar voice yelled from the hallway, before a few loud knocks at the door.

“I’m takin care of the girl, Gaz,-"

“Nope, Price said now.”

He frustratedly stood up, tapping his foot a few times before turning to you again.

You spoke first, “It’s fine, really, someone else will come along and clean me up.”

Ghost nodded, crossing his arms across his chest. “You sure?” You nodded your head as well in response, knowing that he wasn’t just some soldier, he was Ghost, a Lieutenant, a leader.

A killer.

“I’ll be back in the mornin, I swear it. With coffee and everything.” With that, Ghost left the room, his large boots and velcro straps with keychains hanging from them rattling and filling the room before fading out.

You were terrified, there was no other way to put it. And at this point, could anyone even be trusted? Sure, Ghost seemed nice enough, he wasted his time to tend to you, and Soap was eager to help as well, but it all seemed too strange, too strategic. How was Graves connected to the 141 Task Force? Why had Ghost mentioned they had been affiliated before?

You pulled out a locket from underneath your shirt, a small medallion that would be worth thousands if you had offered it to a trader, but the thought never crossed your mind. Inside was a picture of your father, someone you hadn’t seen in years. How in the world would he know you’d gotten kidnapped? He wasn’t even in the same country, let alone care enough to keep tabs on you. He was a terrible man, someone you told yourself and many others to stay away from. There had to be something else going on, something beneath the surface and even if Ghost didn’t know of it, he was still a part of it.

As much as you didn’t want to trust Ghost, you feared he was all you could lean on. You promised yourself once he’d get back in the morning, you’d discuss it with him; how Price talked to your father, and if it was even your father he was talking to? Hopefully, he'd have the answers, and if not, you'd at least have someone to talk to.

Plus, it didn't hurt how attractive he was.

[nknoxe-n]

˗ˏˋ꒰Friendship Kisses꒱⋆｡˚

Synopsis; You're getting bothered by some creep at the bar? Don't worry, your hero is on the way

Warnings: [forced to kiss not really?][dub-con kinda?][there's nonverbal consent][reader gives a nod as a form of consent]

w.c: 950

Kunigami leaned against the bar, nursing a soda, while his teammates and a few invited friends enjoyed their night out. He scanned the room, his eyes landing on you, one of his teammates siblings that had been invited to tag along after their recent victory since you were a big supporter of your brother and acquainted with most of the team including him. You were sitting a few seats away, trying to smile politely at a man who was leaning in a little too close, his words slurring as he offered to buy you another drink. Your discomfort was evident, but you seemed hesitant to outright reject him.

Kunigami frowned, his protective instincts kicking in. He understood the situation all too well—having a younger and older sister himself, he knew the signs of someone trying to avoid unwanted attention without causing a scene. He thought for a moment about just stepping in and telling the guy to back off, but he quickly realized that might only escalate the situation, he couldn't be sure if this guy would try anything violent since he was drunk.

Taking a knowing sigh, he decided on a different approach, he walked over with confident strides and a calm expression.

"Hey, babe, sorry I'm late," he said lovingly, resting an arm around your shoulders, the move was natural, without a hint of aggression, he made direct eye contact with the drunken man, his gaze hardening slightly. "I see you've already started without me."

You blinked up at Kunigami in surprise, but quickly caught on, your shoulders relaxing a bit. "Oh, hey... uh...." you said, a note of relief and confusion in your voice.

"Oh- uhm yeah, I was just waiting for you... babe?" The nickname felt odd escaping your lips sounding slightly unsure of yourself

The man frowned, clearly not convinced. "Really.. I didn' see you n' dollface 'gether earlier."

Kunigami didn't miss a beat. "I got caught up with my friends over there," he gestured towards the rowdy group of young adults in the corner. "But uh we were just about to leave and join the group weren't we sweetheart?"

You nodded, playing along. "Yea- I.. oh yeah I was just- uhm...just about to tell him that but y'know how I am always uh side- sidetrack."

The man scrunched up his nose in suspicion, looking between the two of you, noticing your obvious nervousness. "she.. she don' look like she's in a hurry to leave right, baby? Maybe you should'a min' yo..your own fuck- in' business buddy."

Kunigami tightened his arm around your shoulders, trying to maintain his calm facade as the guy continued to blabber on drunkenly. "Look, we're just trying to enjoy our night. Why don't you back off?"

He felt a pang of annoyance. He wanted to calm the situation, but it seemed this guy wasn't in his right mind. The man's eyes narrowed with a sadistic, gross grin spreading across his face. "If yo' two 're real' lovin' then proves it t'me kiss th'pretty lady."

You felt Kunigami's grip tense. He glanced at you, silently asking for permission. You gave a barely perceptible nod, trusting him. He took a deep breath when he leaned in. "I'm so sorry about this..." his voice coming out as a whisper, Kunigami's breath was warm against your cheek, he slid a hand under your chin while leaning in, pressing his lips to yours. The kiss was warm, firm, and surprisingly tender.

The world seemed to fade away, the noise of the bar, the leering gaze of the man—all of it disappeared as Kunigami's focus remained solely on you. When he pulled back, he kept his arm around you, turning to face the man with a steely gaze.

"There. Satisfied?" Kunigami's voice was firm, leaving no room for argument.

The man looked taken aback, his confidence deflating. He muttered something under his breath before slinking away, finally leaving you both in peace.

Kunigami sighed, the tension draining from his shoulders. He looked down at you, his expression shifting to one of concern. "I'm really, really sorry about that. I just thought it was the best way to get him to leave, even if it was super weird- I just... Please don't be mad I really am sorry, and your brother would actually kill me, I really didn-"

You shook your head, a small smile playing on your lips. "It's okay, Rensuke... it was kind of weird, yes, but I'm glad you did that I got a really bad vibe from that guy"

He nodded, but his eyes were still filled with worry. "I hope I didn't make you uncomfortable. I just didn't know how else to make him back off besides going along with what he asked- I should've just punched him..."

You took a deep breath, feeling the adrenaline from the situation begin to subside. "Honestly, you handled it well. I was pretty freaked out"

Kunigami smiled, a hint of relief in his eyes. "I'm glad you're not too mad... I just couldn't stand by and do nothing."

As the two of you settled back at the bar, the initial awkwardness began to fade. You found yourself appreciating Kunigami's kindness and the way he had looked out for you, even if the kiss still lingered in your mind. Conversation flowed naturally, and soon you were both laughing and talking as if the earlier tension had never existed.

"So," You spoke, a playful glint in your eye, "does this mean I get to buy you a real drink now? As friends, of course."

He laughed, nodding in agreement. "I'm driving tonight so nothing alcoholic but let's make sure the rest of the night is much better yeah?."

[kikis-works]

What Comes Back to Haunt Us.

Summary: It's been 5 years...Tim thought he was safe.

CW: Angst, fluff, mentions of entry 71 and entry 59

It’s been 5 years since Entry #87 was posted. 

You and Tim have been dating for 2 out of those 5 years and decided to take the next step in your relationship. The two of you had met when he accidentally bumped into you at the mental health clinic he had started to attend and before long he had asked you out on a date. Now here you stand in front of a white house, on a quiet street, in the town of Savannah, Georgia. Tim had finished unpacking the last of the boxes the night before and you couldn’t ask for a better home to share with the love of your life. The floor creaked in certain spots as you entered the house and saw Tim making dinner for when you got off work. The sleeves on his red flannel were rolled up and he had a kitchen towel thrown over his shoulder as he sliced the black olives that sat on the wooden cutting board.

“Spaghetti?” You asked from the kitchen door and he turned, smiling.

“You love spaghetti, and I wanted to do something special.” His words made you smile as you set your bag and coat down in the living room. Walking into the kitchen you wrapped your arms around his torso and pressed yourself into his back, enjoying the smell of cigarette smoke and fresh rain that emitted from his body. You felt a deep chuckle come from his body as he scraped the chopped up olives into the spaghetti sauce, turning to face you. He towered over you as he wrapped his arms around you.

“Why don’t you go find a movie to watch? They should be in the hall closet.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead as you nodded, reluctantly leaving his arms. As you made your way to the closet and opened the door, you smiled and called out to the man in the kitchen.

“How do you feel about a horror movie?!” 

“Sounds good! Your choice, doll!” 

“Okay, pretty boy!” You smiled at the pet names you exchanged as you dug around in the closet.

You came across a small box you had never seen before and opened it up. It contained a bunch of tapes that you assumed were Tim’s old tapes. He told you he used to be an actor for an old friend’s student film before their friendship fell apart, but he didn’t like talking about it. He always became anxious and would change the subject when you were asking questions about that time in his life.

Your hand found the old camera and flipped it open, the tape that was already in the camera playing. A man in a t shirt and a cap was sitting in his car at night as he spoke, ���Tim called me a little while ago and told me to meet him out here to talk about something. He didn’t say what it was.” 

Was this a sort of vlog for the student film?

“But I assume it had something to do with what all happened at the abandoned hospital a few days ago, which really didn’t go as well I hoped it would, even though I don’t know how I expected it to go. I don’t know what all Tim remembers and what he doesn’t remember, and what he’s lying about remembering and not remembering. But regardless I don’t think he’s gonna be buying my cover story for much longer, and even if he did, it’s not really doing much good, by this point.”

What the hell was this? Cover story for what?

“So, as nervous as it makes me to do this, I think when he gets here, I’m going to come clean with him and tell him the truth about what all’s been going on these past few years. It may make him mad. It may get him on my side. I don’t know what’s gonna happen. But maybe it’ll lead to some answers if I’m lucky.”

Not long after that you noticed Tim’s car pull into the empty parking lot on the video camera screen. Who was this guy and why was he lying to Tim? The video showed Tim get out of his car and march over to the mystery man.

“Tim, listen I-” The man was cut off as Tim punched him in the stomach. The sudden violence made your stomach churn. Not once in the two years that you had known Tim had he ever gotten violent or aggressive. You turned the camera off and sat for a minute before you heard Tim call your name. “Doll, you okay in there?” You pick a movie and rush back to the kitchen.

“Sorry, I couldn’t pick a movie.” He smiled and nodded, handing you a plate of hot spaghetti. 

After dinner, you had your back pressed against his chest as you both lay on the couch finishing the movie. The video footage still made your stomach churn with an uneasy feeling, which made you speak up.

“Tim, why didn’t you tell me we had a camera?” He physically tensed up behind you.

“What are you talking about, doll?”

“The camera and tapes in the closet.” He turned and sat up, turning your face to him.

“Look at me, baby. You can’t watch those tapes. Something…haunts those tapes. If you watch those tapes, there’s no going back. That thing will find you. Even us talking about this is risky.” His tone was dead serious and his eyes were stone cold. All you could do was nod as he pulled you tightly to his chest, gripping onto you as if you were going to disappear into thin air. 

You and Tim made your way into the bedroom and changed into pajamas before climbing into the haven of warm blankets. As you cuddled up to the man beside you, your head on his bare chest, his words about the tapes echoed in your head. They were just tapes…there couldn’t be anything wrong with them. When you were sure that Tim had fallen asleep, you silently climbed out of bed and padded your way over to the hallway closet, opening up the door and staring at the cardboard box that held the supposedly haunted tapes. You sat down on the floor and pulled out the camera, picking a random tape to put into the camera. The tape began to play as you watched silently. Tim and the unknown man were outside of Alex’s old house. It was seemingly normal as they searched the house, but when they entered the basement, the once daylight that was outside had disappeared. That’s when you saw it…a tall man in a suit, but he had no features. His skin was white and he stood at around 10 feet tall, the video and audio distorting. A soft ringing in your ears began to occur as you continued to watch the tape, before it ended. You sat in silence before you softly rose and walked out to the front porch, finding the pack of cigarettes and lighter you kept on the porch. It was cold as you sat on the wooden porch, the wind adding an icy chill to the dark night.

The ringing grew louder as you lit the cigarette and shakily exhaled the smoke. There was no way it was real, it had to have been edited in or they had to have had someone dress up as the tall man. But there was no way to edit a tape…was there? As you began to sink into your thoughts, you stared at the neverending woods that lay in silence across the road from your house. The ringing was unbearable now and that’s when you saw it…the same figure that you had seen in the tapes, just standing along the tree line, staring at you with his eyeless features. You stomped out your half smoked cigarette and made your way back inside, crawling back into the bed beside your warm boyfriend. Your icy toes were happy to be back in the soft bed, the warmth beginning to draw the cold out of them. You snuggled back up to the warm body that you shared the bed with and your eyes became heavy as you felt his arms instinctively wrap around you. Sleep called to you and you happily answered the call.

It had been a week since you touched the camera and watched the tapes. The ringing came back occasionally while you were at work, but you never saw the faceless man again. That was until the night you had a nightmare. 

The leaves crunched under your feet as you ran through the dark and endless woods, the footsteps of the masked man following close behind you. When you turned to see how close he was, you could see his brunette hair that poked out from behind the white mask. The white mask had black around the eyes, the lips were filled in, and eyebrows were drawn on the mask as well. His eyes were dark as his feet pushed him along towards your fear filled body. You turned your face as the cold night air burned in your lungs, your legs threatening to collapse underneath you as you pushed branch after branch out of your face. The faceless man whizzed by as you ran. You only awoke when the masked man tackled you to the ground.

Your eyes were heavy and your head pounded as you moved to roll over in the soft bed. But you weren’t in your bed. Instead you were met with moist dirt and green grass, the trees around you looming and dark. As you sat up, you didn’t recognize where you were. You looked up and judging by the position of the sun, it was around one in the afternoon. You felt the pressure of your phone in your pajama pants. When the hell did that get there? Your phone was charging when you went to bed. You laughed silently, as if the mystery of how your phone got into your pocket was the biggest problem you had right now. You pulled out your phone and your heart raced.

Tim❤️: 42 missed calls

Tim❤️: 6 voicemails

Tim❤️: Did you get called into work?

Tim❤️: Doll?

Tim❤️: Is everything okay?

Tim❤️: You’re starting to worry me

Tim❤️: Please pick up, baby

You quickly dial his phone number and within two rings he picked up. “Oh thank God, you’re okay. Where the hell are you?” The worry in his voice was thick.

“I…I don’t know.”

“What do you mean?” His voice dropped slightly.

“I don’t remember how I got here…or where the hell I am. I had this weird dream where I was running from some kind of masked man, and then I woke up here.” The other side of the line was silent apart from the heavy breathing and the sound of a car door slamming closed.

“Describe what’s around you.”

You looked around and began to walk, the coarse dirt wedging its way in between your toes as you walked along the undistinguished path before you.

“I see a red tower behind the trees.” 

“FUCK!” The sudden vulgar language from the phone made you jump and the sound of an engine roar filled the speaker. “I’m coming to get you. Get to the tower.” His voice was dark as he breathed heavily.

“Doll…I love you. So much.”

“I love you too, Tim.”

The call ended as you made your way through the woods and to the red tower. The paint was faded and it looked as though it would collapse at any minute. You walked inside, careful of the broken glass and sharp wooden pieces. He was coming for you.

It was roughly six hours and the sun was beginning to set before you heard your name being called from somewhere in the woods. Tim. 

You jumped up and began to scream back at him. “Tim?!” You followed the sound of his voice until you saw him from across a clearing. You didn’t think, just ran. He made his way to you quicker than you thought and his arms wrapped around you, his voice breaking as he buried his face into your neck.

“Oh doll, I thought I lost you..”

“I’m right here, Tim. I’m right here.” His hand found its way to your hair as he held you close.

“We need to leave, now.”

All you could do was nod as he picked you up and carried you back to his car.

“I’m so sorry I dragged you into this, doll. I’m sorry.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead before getting behind the wheel and driving away. As you left you noticed the sign that stood in front of the entrance.

‘Rosswood Park.’

[bluestarjay]

Tsukihina for the soullllll

Tsukishima knows he's an asshole. But he's not a sociopath. Obviously, he felt bad for being mean.

But one time, he was no worse than normal with his insults, and hinata backed away, almost a look of horror in his eyes.

He does that often. After coming out of his shell at school and in practice, he actually had a kind of decent poker face. But his emotions were always clear in his eyes. He could always find his emotions and intentions in the mixed layers of brown and gold.

He never wanted to be responsible for that look of horror, though.

Hinata had stomped off to a small nearby park, which left tsukishima to think. He thought about his brother, how he'd been lied to, and how that had probably left him with the need to be brutally honest, regardless of whether it hurt someone's feelings. He didn't care if a girl cried when he rejected her; he wasn't entitled to accept her feelings.

Quite frankly, he didn't even like girls. His brother had once given him a magazine designed for kids his age, around 13, in which there was an article about the best ways to get a girl to like you. There were tips about dates and gifts to get the girl you liked. There were drawn little love hearts all over, and even then, before he'd found out about akiteru, it didn't interest him. He'd decided that maybe he didn't like girls and gave the magazine back. That was clearly the right decision because here he was, worrying if the boy who had just stomped off in angry tears (thanks to him) was ok; if he would ever consider to be his friend. He wanted desperately to be friends with hinata. He just didn't know how to blend their contrasting personalities yet. But hinata probably wouldn't want to be friends with him, not after being a dick to him all year,,, But hinata was a very easily forgiving guy,,,

So he followed hinata to the park. Hinata has never been particularly violent, but he loved to break things when he was angry. He could easily smash bottles against a wall, or large sticks against a tree, as he was now, or just crushing something in his hands. Once or twice he had accidentally crushed shards of broken glass, leaving small cuts all over his palms. Tsukishima had noticed them, but never asked where they'd come from. They would study together, even though Tsukishima insisted that it would be the last time and that he hated tutoring him, and as hinata wrote increasingly more and more aggressively as he got more frustrated, he always searched for the scars. He noticed one at the top left side of his palm, one on the very tip of his middle finger, and one in between his thumb and index finger. On his right hand, there was a long and faded scar across his knuckles, which he assumed was from punching something. He wanted to look for the rest of the scars.

As he watched hinata beat a large stick against a tree, with chunks of bark flying off, he couldn't help but think of akiteru. He came up behind him and grabbed the stick from him. "I'm sorry." "Have you ever considered that maybe you don't need to be such a dick to every single person just for breathing? You said that kageyama was the king because he's a dictator on the court, but you're just as bad! You think you're better than everybody else and then you laugh when they get angry. And it doesn't help that you're basically perfect, either! You look different from everybody else cause of your blonde hair, but nobody cares because at least blonde is an attractive color! And not to mention you're just already attractive on your own! And you get perfect grades, and hoardes of girls confessing their love to you. You have the perfect build for volleyball, and no one judges you because you don't 'look right' for your position, and you're stupid talented and everybody on the court gets jealous of you, no matter how dumb you are to realize that. It also doesn't help that I'm basically in love with you, but what do I know, I'm just a dumb shrimp, right?" He'd started crying again in the middle of his rant, and tugged the stick out of tsukishima's hands to hit it against the tree again. Of course, Tsukishima immediately looked to his hands to see the scars that lingered, and noticed a cut from the branch. He looked to his eyes to see the tears, and so much pent up anger. "I think I'm basically in love with you too, shoyo. Im sorry. I never meant the things I've said to you. I thought it was easier to push people away and be an asshole than to be hurt again. If you'd give me the chance, I'll make it up to you. I'll buy us some meat buns." Hinata looked back, laughed, and dropped the stick.

They talked through their feelings for the next few hours, eating meat buns, and Tsukishima carefully took care of the cut on his hand.

[pabtsblueliving]

You Done?

Daryl x Fem! Reader

You and Daryl had never gotten along since the farm. You two bickered like a married couple, always spewing hatred at each other. What happens when you finally snap?

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI! smut, some aggression, cursing

pabtsblueliving © 2023

God he is just insufferable you thought to yourself. “I’m tellin’ you Y/N if you ain’t gon’ do this right then go help Carol in tha’ kitchen or somethin'!” Daryl yelled at you. 

You and him were currently stuck killing the walkers that built up along the face of your new home, a run down prison. You met the group when you’d been staying at the Greene farm, you were an old friend of Maggie’s. Daryl and you had never hit it off, even though you tried, well…tried at first. You soon got tired of trying to be friendly and thus created a fiery rift of tension and annoyance towards each other. 

You wiped off your knife and put it in the holster, walking away. “Now where tha’ hell you think you’re goin’, girl?” Daryl yelled after you. You turned around wiping the sweat off your head and holding your arms up, “Going to my rightful place, in the kitchen right? To go help carol?” Your arms slapped against your thighs and you continued to walk back up to the prison, Daryl scoffed. He couldn’t help looking your way again, squinting in the hot sun, watching your lower half as you walked away, he snapped out of it and mumbled a profanity.

You entered the main common room and slammed your knife down. “What an asshole! That redneck, southern little…UGH'' You grievanced, putting your head in your hands. “The hell happened to you?” Maggie drawled as she placed some supplies she discovered on the table. “Daryl happened, that asshole. Why the hell does he even stick around?” You groaned. Carol walks in, “Oh come on, he’s not that bad…” She spoke softly, pursing her lips at you. “Really? Well he seems to think I'm the devil and root of all evil.” You scoffed and rolled your eyes, grabbing the box from Carol’s hands and putting the supplies away. Maggie looks at Carol, then you and speaks, “Think there’s some tension that needs to be released between you two huh?” Her and Carol bumped their elbows into you. “Oh come on, guys gross. Never touching his greasy, sweaty…” You lost your train of thought. You hauled another box away, “Not. Happening.” and you continued to your bunk.

Few hours later, you're sharpening your knife in your bed as you hear Rick and Daryl’s voices grow closer. “...your guy’s schedules just line up, and you're my two strongest…I can't change the shifts now..” Rick spoke to Daryl. “Come on, Rick. We can’t work together, she’s the biggest brat…” Daryl drawled. You shot out of bed and opened your curtain, leaning against the banister. “I’m the brat huh?” You yelled down to Daryl as he stood below the elevated walkway. “And you’re an asshole who cares about himself and no one else, dick.” You continued to spew. You made your way down with your towel and such to shower. Daryl followed you, “You got another thing comin’ girl acting like this. Always walkin’ away when it gets hard.” He continued to follow you into the shared bathroom space. You dropped your things on a shelf and shoved him backwards. “You have no respect for me Daryl! Ever since we met you’ve been nothing but a no good, disrespectful, misogynistic assshole.” You turned around, but he pulled you back around with a tight grip on your shoulder. 

He got in your face, “You done?” He drawled, “Not even clos-'' All the sudden he grabbed both sides of your face and pulled you in to meet each other's lips. You pushed him away, breathing heavily looking at him. You both met in the middle in a violent battle. He gripped your hips and pushed you into the wall, hands traveling everywhere they shouldn't be. “Nngh…Daryl…oh…hold on wait.” You pulled away. He looked at you, “What the fuck are we doing?” You questioned. “I don't know-” he started and you cut him off. “Fuck it.” and you grabbed him by the back of the head. His hands went to your hair and tugged, sweat building up between the both of you. “Maybe…unh..this is what we needed.” Daryl spoke between kisses. “Shut up” You said. His large calloused hands traveled up your tank top, and landed on your breasts. God, you were so touch starved, you can't even remember the last time you got it in. You grab the bottom hem of his shirt and push it off him, the sweat and muscles finally coming into view. He decided to take your tank top off, and his mouth went straight to your breasts. “Unh, ngh, Daryl jesus…” You whispered. You look down, and see his bright blue eyes looking right back up at you. Your head falls back at the view and then you lift his head, bringing his lips back to yours. “What about this down here…this ok?” Your hands trailed down his abdomen, fingers fluttering at his waist band. He looked at you and he nodded, biting his lip lightly. 

His hands then started to travel down your pants, going over your clothed mound. As your hand travels around his cock, he plunges a finger inside your wet cavern. He groaned, “Jesus, girl, you always get wet like this?” He kisses under your ear, continuing his attack on your pussy. “Should have done this…ngh…sooner” You moaned. He added a second finger and you moaned out, losing focus on your job taking place under his boxers. “What, now you’re gonna listen to me, honey, hmm?” He drawled and you wanted to roll your eyes, but looked up at him, bit your lip, and nodded. “Yeah?” He smiled slightly. He curled his fingers up and you dug your fingers into his bulging bicep. “Come on, girl, come on I know you, I’ve got you…” He whispered into your ear and you whimpered and moaned into his mouth as he plunged his tongue into your mouth. “Daryl…D, please.” You begged. “I'll get you there, come on, do it for me, on my fingers, girl.” You shuttered and moaned out, biting into his shoulder to hold back. The rubber band snapped and you tensed up on his fingers, “Jesus…christ, Daryl…oh my god” You moaned as you came on his fingers. Daryl held you up, “Still hate me?” He asked. You lifted your head from his chest, looking up at him raising a brow. “I don't know…maybe we each have to do some convincing…” You smiled. “Then we got a long night in for us, baby” he spoke as he pulled you into another kiss. 

“You know, it's been four hours and they're still down there. Should we check on them?” Maggie giggled. Rick rolled his eyes, “At least there’s peace between em’ now. Sexual tension was getting too much for me.” He chuckled. 

[sun-of-4-gun]

Stick, The Monkey King's Plot Device: An Analysis

a matter of Free Will, Creativity, Control, Ownership, Choice, and Consent of an animated inanimate character

aka chronological notes of what happens in the movie with interpretative thoughts

for 5,000 years, stick only ever stood in one place in silence

the crystal palace was either; built around him, or he was left there tho it's hard to believe the center pillar of dragon king's home just has a spot reserved for him. I believe it's the former however it was, he never had a choice

dragon had stick stuck in a machine that will force and use him and his power to create a storm and flood, which is the opposite of what his original purpose was that got him down there to begin with thousands of years ago. an overglorified water meter

monkey was in search of the ultimate weapon, but stick said the first word. he's been waiting and immediately calls him "the most powerful being". this is promptly followed by being complimented not once, but twice from the guy he just met (ie "you are incredible") it is important to note monkey had never any positive assurance in his entire life, yet he says these things to stick, he makes this about stick, rather than himself

stick jumps into action and carries the battle, but he prioritises monkey's safety

he is a go-getter, taking the lead to take his new friend forward. he is a driving force that enables monkey to do what he does. he is excitable, violent, eager to please. stick has never been used in so long, he has a lot of pent up energy just bursting to get out. he protects monkey, but he is obedient to the point of losing his self by taking things literally. this should teach monkey how he works, that he is dependent on his wielder, his master, and that's why he couldn't have left the palace or dragon himself. he is a tool, who's entire existence is in the hands of whoever possesses him. he wants to be used and be useful. he wants to serve a purpose

monkey tells stick what to do, he listens, monkey tells stick to stop, he does so. and stick will do the best possible thing for them to show monkey what they are capable of together, giving him the confidence to trust his weapon as much as stick's chosen to trust him, that no matter what happens as long they communication, they will have each other's back

stick shares monkey's joys and sorrows. he cheers along the troop for his new name and groans when it seemed monkey got sad. they share excitement and aggressive tendencies too

they are more like a single entity with two equal parts rather than a pair, but it's not wrong to call them that either. mind & body, heart & soul, in action they are one, as people they are two, but must be kept together in order to work perfectly. stick is an extension of monkey, and monkey is an extension of stick. they match each others freak save for minor differences in preference and personality. when not in use, stick stands on his own, he reacts similarly as monkey, turns to him, and provides emphasis for the occasional words. he is completely supportive and always by his side if only a foot apart or at arms length, never out of reach

monkey is the same in the way that he values stick's own desires that are seemingly separate from himself. he is considerate of his weapon's wants despite having no impact or benefit to his own except maybe boost his ego. they share an ambition, yet something so minor like playing the guitar is so important to him because it's something stick wants. he didn't even ask if stick wanted anything, he already has him in mind, it was a matter of what and absolute that he gets it

the theme song is sung by stick's voice actor, the singer "ultimate screaming master" aka nan li from voodoo kungfu, an outstanding "world heavy metal music" band. so you could say stick wrote and sang a song about monkey throughout their 99 demons together. I know the lyrics are from monkey himself, the words are his, stick is the music, together they create harmony

stick is bloodthirsty, and he is an artist. both actions are forms of self-expression after lying dormant for millenniums. the same can be said for monkey in that he created an imaginary family, paired with his and stick's signature head-bashing, skull-splitting move, except he does this in sought of attention for being deprived of it his entire childhood, stick has always been the center of, yet was never heard, and the only thought he wants and cares about is from monkey

it was his idea the way they defeat red girl, unpromptly suggested

stick left his "home", because he finally could. he was stolen from dragon, who housed him. he was found by monkey, who allows him to be. stick can't be on his own without his wielder's permission and even then they're in close proximity of each other. monkey allows for stick's autonomy and will to be as free as he can be. he treats stick like a person more than the actual people he interacts with, while dragon still treats stick as property even after discovering he could talk. he doesn't care that stick has feelings, he only wants to abuse his power

Monkey: “What's wrong, Stick? You know this chump?”

Dragon: “Stick? You never talked to me!”

when dragon showed up, this is the only time stick vocalised in a way that it aggravated monkey enough to close his ears. stick doesn't get to say anything else, and he doesn't have to because no one but monkey listens to him, he doesn't need an explanation to come to his friend's defence. the same way stick is in-between the demons and monkey, this time monkey is shielding stick from dragon. a former roommate, acts like a controlling parent or possessive ex

Monkey, to Dragon: “You love my Stick, everyone loves the stick, but no one appreciates Stick like I do.”

Stick: “[incessant urgent warbling]”

Monkey: “Quiet Stick, the grown-ups are talking.”

of course monkey isn't perfect either, in the heat of the moment he ignores stick to protect him, and stick never holds a grudge or resentment towards monkey for his blunders, only dragon was met with initial hostility, but then none at all for the rest of the movie. stick is never really even annoyed with his partner, it just seems like he loves everything about him and wants the best for him, because that would mean what's best for himself too

dragon tries to talk to stick to come back, but monkey says he only listens to him. dragon responds with "I don't see a ring on it, honey" which is from the euphemism for a marriage proposal. dragon clearly doesn't approve of their relationship though this implies that in order for them to be together, they need to be wedded

without monkey, stick doesn't have a will. without a person, he is useless. he has no life, no will to life. it's meaningless without monkey, who he's waited for forever

he laughs at his jokes, they share a sense of humour

stick knows about hell. he knows about the scrolls of life and death

he could not have learned this during the 100 demons slaying because monkey would have known. the reason why stick never mentioned "crossing your name to cancel your death in order to become immortal" is that monkey was under the impression he would win the immortal ones' approval by conquering demons like the elder lead them to believe. why stick never corrected him, this wasn't the mission. stick is at his service, not looking specifically for the most efficient way to do things. he is able to have fun and live his best life with monkey and if the adventure ends, what is there left to do? he wouldn't want to be abandoned again. so he answers monkey's questions because monkey asked, not because stick has an obligation to be conscious or aware of how things play out, but because he's literal and needs to be direct with. whatever it is, he will enable monkey's desires, because what he wants, they both do

they argue about bringing lin along, in which stick advocates for her and scolds monkey because he knows her worth and neither of them can read. if monkey completely owns stick, why would he allow him to knock some sense into himself and fight about something like this? does stick actually have free will to be independent and has merely been sassily playing with monkey and dragons feelings because he enjoys the attention of those two competing for him, or does monkey allow stick to be his own person without the restraint of pleasing his ego in that he is cared for even if he doesn't like it because he subconsciously understands he can't do everything on his own and needs stick to be his conscience too, for both their sakes

their expressions often mirror each other, the way they move even apart is in sync, and they exchange glances, like you do with your best friend

stick also knows about cloning, which he also never told monkey that he knows they can both apparently do. the situation called for it so it's pretty reasonable, but why does stick know more about monkey's abilities than he himself does?

steroids, another song by voodoo kungfu, is used during the fight

although apparently stick didn't know enough as "cancelling your death date" only makes you half-immortal, but monkey immediately blames lin despite it being entirely stick's idea

stick is already immortal, he's an eternal object and looks good for above 5,000 years old. he just needs to keep his friend, who he's known for at least a couple years, alive. least he becomes alone again

stick finds monkey's prank on lin hilarious, monkey makes him laugh

stick sings along with monkey while they search for lin, he yells at her after too

monkey considers stick his best friend and family

stick doesn't care to say anything during the entire peach grove scene. not about benbo & babbo, not about dragon, even though he was used to jab at him. monkey is drugged, therefore his mind isn't intact, which seemingly affects stick's behaviour as well in that he isn't very conscious. they both get knocked ou

he jolts awake after monkey does

stick is empathetic, monkey is apathetic. there is a little bit of the other to them in a yin-yang sense, because stick only empathises with monkey, and maybe lin twice on-screen, while monkey has no consideration for anyone but himself, stick, and eventually lin to an extent. they only care for each other, as stick isn't concerned about anyone else, but monkey does in a way. both for selfish reasons

stick cannot be wielded by a baby monkey, he goes to sleep

monkey tells stick to help lin, he shrinks down for her to use

he sleeps again when monkey is kicked through the roof

despite being unconscious, stick extends himself towards monkey to give the elixir

stick is just as excited as monkey is, if not more, and is ready to fight, but when lin falls, he got worried for her too

lin teases monkey, talking to stick, and he laughs with her. he isn't above laughing at his friend's expense and with someone other than him no less, someone monkey handed him over to in the moment. he was trusted with to assist her and wasn't even aware of lin's attempt to steal him away. if monkey was a controlling master and stick the obedient weapon that he is, how is it that he's able to freely make fun of his own best friend? monkey shuts him up, and he complies, but the fact is while he is always supportive of monkey, he is capable of poking fun at and arguing with him too, usually provoked

stick is left alone with lin again, and is promptly sold out

"momentary fling" sir this is a family movie

stick is inactive throughout his entire hold in dragon's clutches. he is nothing but a prize to be won, a tool to be abused. monkey may need him in every battle to win, but stick has been a damsel-in-distress twice. he is handled by dragon, forced back into a machine that awakens and makes him grow. none of this he chose, none he wanted, he can't leave without help. while he is fulfilling a purpose, he isn't doing this out of his own will. he doesn't choose dragon and doesn't consent to being used this way, but it doesn't matter because dragon doesn't need his compliance, as long the machine works and he's useful

they are so happy to see each other, and missed one another so much,,,

stick is devoted to monkey. he enables him, needs him for his entire being and existence. if it were to be anyone in the universe he will always choose monkey. caught in the middle of the final battle, despite the brief grasp dragon has on him, he is able to fight for his self because monkey is there for him to return to and fall back on. to live in utter depravity under someone who only takes from and forces you into doing his bidding, it's not living at all. monkey gives him a life, stick lives for him and gets to be himself because he's allowed to be as much of a person any object is capable of

monkey is incredibly significant to stick. he is his entire world, and the same goes for him to monkey

they're separated again, the last thing he heard was monkey's desperate cry of his name after he couldn't handle buddha's clutch

lin found stick, either by chance or he called out to her. and he shrank for her once more so she could easily reunite him with his monkey. he doesn't even know she's the one who gave him away, but I don't think he'd hold it against her. he's a staff, not human or demon with complex thoughts and feelings. a simple stick who has a colourful personality, vibrant soul, and passion for music

he flies right into monkey's hold thanks to lin

monkey is stick's home, he is his best friend, his family, his life. they are symbiotic and co-dependent, for breaking them apart would leave them wrecked on their own, one completely helpless and the other out of his mind. there is a fear of abandonment within stick and separation anxiety in monkey, but only one of them has the ability to do something about it, and monkey allows for stick to be unbound by his own ego. they're a team, each others comfort

they meditate together, being one with each other, and stick is just as important as monkey because "the world needs us"

to summarise; stick is a deeply emotional, straight-forward, fun-loving, whimsical, thrill-seeking sentient weapon who's been deprived of activity for thousands of years, which affected the way he expresses himself through bloodthirsty violence and screaming, but he does have an ambition to learn and play the guitar, already being a singer himself. it is a creative outlet for him to release all that pent up energy when he lay dormant, and is allowed the freedom to live a life he wants alongside the one person who values and loves him for who he is

in conclusion... they are both crazy, and stick likes that about monkey

[aspoonofsugar]

Chuya's Tainted Sorrow

Here comes a meta on my favourite bsd character:

Chuya is mostly explored in the two BSD novels Fifteen and Storm Bringer, so this post covers what happens in these books. In particular, I am going to use Chuya's song, gift and literary references to explore his story.

DARKNESS MY SORROW

Darkness My Sorrow is Chuya's character song and its title combines two different literary references:

Darkness comes from the Sheep Song, which is used to trigger Corruption:

O acquaintances, grantors of dark disgrace, do not wake me again!

Sorrow comes from Upon The Tainted Sorrow, which gives its name to Chuya's ability

Let's discover what these two poems represent.

CHUYA'S DARK DISGRACE (THE SHEEP)

O expectations, stale and dismal airs, leave this body of mine! I want nothing anymore but simplicity, quiet, murmurs and order. O acquaintances, grantors of dark disgrace, do not wake me again! I will endure my solitude, arms seeming already useless. O eyes that open doubtfully, open eyes that stay motionless for a while, ah, heart, that believes in others more than itself, O expectations, stale and dismal airs, leave, leave this body of mine! I enjoy nothing anymore but my wretched dreams. (The Sheep Song, Part II)

The Sheep is Chuya's first group, which welcomes him in as a child. Why is the organization called after this animal? There are several reasons, which tie with Chuya's relationship with his friends.

1 - Chuya is a herding dog

The Sheep's members are normal kids, but Chuya guards their territory and punishes trespassers violently. This is the behaviour of herding dogs, which are famous for their aggressiveness towards outsiders.

"Everyone's waiting for you to give this enemy a beatdown! That's the only way we Sheep can protect our turf! We've only made it this far because everyone knows they can't mess with us!" (Shirase in Fifteen)

2 - Chuya is a sheep among wolves

"Chuuya's got all that berserk firepower, but here he's like sheep getting stared down by a wolf." (Dazai in Fifteen)

Chuya's relationship with the Sheep is exploitative and toxic. The other kids use Chuya's love and wish to belong to control him. All in all, Chuya is used as a pawn for the organization's well being:

"We Sheep took you in when you had no family and nowhere to go, but you already gave us more than enough in return. That's why... it's time to rest... after dying and contributing to the Sheep one last time." (Shirase in Fifteen)

3 - Chuya is the King of the Sheep

Luois I, King of the Sheep is a children book about a sheep, who finds a crown. He puts it on and becomes King. The point of the story is that Luois I is like other sheep, but chance and a superficial attribute turn him into a royal.

Chuya sees himself in the same way:

"I'm not a King," the boy, Chuuya Nakahara, spat. "I just happen to have something no one else does: power. I'm simply fulfilling the responsibility I have." (Fifteen)

Chuya's "crown" is his gravity manipulation gift that sets him apart from others. He even calls it a "good card", so something luck gives him.

Luois I lets the crown get to his head and believes he is above others. Chuya instead really wants to be part of the flock:

Chuuya wasn't anyone special; he didn't have a skill, either. He was just a regular member of the group. He wasn't the king, he had no powers, he wasn't the center of attention - he was simply a single Sheep among the flock, chatting with his friends. (Chuya's wish in Storm Bringer)

However, his ability is so powerful that it is the Sheep kids, who forget Chuya is a teenage boy just like them:

"Chuuya's covered in wounds. I've never seen him like that. He looks just like a regular guy my age. Wait, no - he doesn't just look like one. He is my age. He's a boy just like me." (Shirase in Storm Bringer)

In short, Chuya doesn't want to be the Sheep King, but he is forced into the role by the crown of power:

"Shut up! If you think you can become king, then do it! You can have this power!" Chuuya howled, unable to take it any longer. "To hell with power! If I didn't have this skill, I'd still be with you guys...!" (Storm Bringer)

Still, gifts are metaphors of the characters' interiority. So, what does Chuya's abnormous skill symbolize? What is the real flaw that defines Chuya's relationships and gets in their way?

"Once there was this boy who could amplify the skill of anyone he touched. Super convenient. So what do you think would happen if he used it on himself instead of someone else? (...) He amplified the skill to amplify the other skill, which amplified the skill to amplify skills that amplify skills. This self-referencing continued nonstop as he endlessly amplified his own skill." (N in Storm Bringer)

Storm Bringer reveals that the origin of Chuya's gravity manipulation is the gift to make other skills more powerful. The user applies his gift on himself and makes it stronger and stronger until infinite energy is created and space warps. So, Chuya's singularity is born: a gift able to control gravity. In other words:

The original ability is to make others stronger

If the ability is used on one-self (so that the wielder can become more powerful and make others even more powerful), then a contradiction arises and a monstruous skill appears

This process is a representation of Chuya's tendency to grow stronger for others' sake. He hones his fighting skills to protect the Sheep (to make them stronger), but this turns them too dependent on him (an organizational vulnerability). What a good leader should do is instead to nurture his people, so that they can be independent and strong:

“A leader is both the head of the organization and the organization’s slave. For the survival and the profit of the organization, they gladly put themselves through any manner of filth. They develop their subordinates and place them where they best fit. And, if necessary, they use and dispose of them. For the sake of the organization, they take on any act of barbarism with glee. That is a leader. All for the organization, and for the protection of this beloved city.” (Mori in Fifteen)

This is Chuya's mistake and the reason why the Sheep disbands. Chuya falls short as a leader not because he isn't as smart as Dazai or Mori (if anything, I think he is going to be a better leader than both). Rather, he fails because he doesn't know how to depend on others:

"It's because you are our friend. Were things different with the Sheep?" They had been. That was what Chuuya's flustered expression was saying. Everyone in the Sheep depended on him. The contrary was unthinkable. (Storm Bringer)

He insists on doing everything by himself, but a leader should work with his subordinates. This is what Chuya lacks in Fifteen and what he sails up to learn.

Still, to succeed Chuya needs to face the origin of this flaw, which lies in how he perceives himself:

O eyes that open doubtfully, open eyes that stay motionless for a while, ah, heart, that believes in others more than itself

Chuya sees himself as inferior to others. This complex makes him willing to be used, if it means he belongs somewhere:

LONELY DARKNESS MY SORROW, once it is opened by the key I'd rather just fall than go back to being alone Staring at the destroyed cage of this self, (GRAVITY) Slowly, I sing, "Not bad at all."

This is the key stanza of Chuya's song, which reveals what Chuya's darkness really is. Loneliness. Chuya is scared of being alone, so he does his best to conform to others' wishes. For example, he dresses like those around him not to stick out.

Chuuya, age fifteen - He wears sportsy clothes, with several sheep symbols:

Chuuya, age sixteen - He wears a formal attire with much black in it. Perfect mafia-style:

However, he can't escape his interior pain, which metaphorically manifests in Corruption:

O acquaintances, grantors of dark disgrace, do not wake me again! I will endure my solitude, arms seeming already useless.

It is not by chance that the verses, which open Chuya's gate affirm the poet's solitude. That is because deep down Corruption is just this. Chuya's isolation.

THE TAINTED SORROW (ARAHABAKI)

Upon the Tainted Sorrow, Today, the snowflakes fall so harsh. Upon the Tainted Sorrow, Today, even the strong wind gusts. The Tainted Sorrow is Just like a fox’s hooded fur. The Tainted Sorrow is Covered by snowflakes and it cowers. The Tainted Sorrow has Nothing to desire and nothing to wish. The Tainted Sorrow has A dream of death to its wary self. Upon the Tainted Sorrow, Trembling like a pitiful soul. Upon the Tainted Sorrow, Nowhere to belong, the sun sets... (Upon The Tainted Sorrow)

Corruption is a state where Chuya gives up his body to Arahabaki. What is this entity? In universe, it is a singularity, a self-contradicting skill able to create infinite power. It metaphorically represents two things:

Everyone's objectification of Chuya

A part of Chuya himself

1 - Chuya's life is defined by others reducing him to a skill

-N and the Government kidnap, abuse and clone Chuya because of his self-contradicting gift. It is not the two kids (the original and the clone) they are interested in. Rather, they reduce them to their special abilities:

"Just like how we respect your will, we respect the will of your skill Arahabaki, as well. But... how should I put this? Your will is tying Arahabaki down, and as long as your will is firm, we won't be able to remove Arahabaki from you." (N in Storm Bringer)

N says it oudloud. He respects Arahabaki's will more than Chuya's. Except that Arahabaki has no will:

"Sigh... Why do you wanna see it so bad?" Chuuya said. "It doesn't have a personality or a mind of its own, so what's meeting' it gonna do for you? You gonna pray to it because it's a god? It's a god of destruction, y'know. Nothing more than a mass of energy. It's no different from a typhoon or an earthquake. Ya might as well pray to a power plant." (Fifteen)

Arahabaki is not a person, but the embodyment of Chuya's gift. And yet, it is given a name and treated as more important than the kid.

-Rimbaud literally wants to turn Chuya into a skill:

"Allow me to reintroduce myself. Rimbaud. Arthur Rimbaud. My skill is called Illuminations. Chuuya, my goal is to kill you and absorb you into my skill" (Rimbaud in Fifteen)

He doesn't want to kill Dazai because he hates murdering children. And yet, Chuya is Dazai's same age. However, Rimbaud sees him as nothing, but Arahabaki's host.

-Verlaine wants Chuya to be his clone:

"I dunno about you, but I'm human." "You aren't human. You're 2,383 lines of code." (Chuya and Verlaine in Storm Bringer)

He denies Chuya's humanity and insists he is an artificial creation. Chuya can't be the original kidnapped child, but needs to share Verlaine's origins and hate for the world. Verlaine doesn't consider his brother a person, but an extension of himself.

2- Arahabaki is Chuuya's inner beast

In psychology, the beast is a personification of one's deepest and most repressed feelings. What are Chuya's?

His control on gravity suggests two strong emotions:

a) A lack of freedom - The ability to control gravity should make one freer. And yet, Chuya is always chained:

Even though it feels like I might be trapped, there is no room for sentiments I'll push myself to the limit and dye everything jet-black The world is a bird cage, faded in colour Even if I lament, I can't get out of this prison

He spends his childhood imprisoned in a lab. He is used as an attack dog by the Sheep. He is threatened to join the mafia with his friends' lives and Rimbaud's secret files. In a sense, he always serves someone. That is why Arahabaki is a servant deity.

b) A huge existential weight - He can make things lighter, but he still shoulders too much:

"Tell me, tin man," Chuuya suddenly stated, his voice devoid of all emotion. "Why did they die?" "Because of you, Chuuya." Silence. "Yeah, it is my fault." (Chuuya and Adam in Storm Bringer)

For example, Chuya blames himself for what happens with the Sheep, the Flags and later on Adam:

"What's wrong, Chuuya? Everyone's going to die at this rate. You're going to kill them. Your shortcomings are going to kill them." (Verlaine in Storm Bringer)

Chuya fears whoever gets close to him dies. That is why Arahabaki is a god of destruction.

Points 1 and 2 explain Chuya's loneliness. On the one hand others only see his skill (objectification). On the other hand Chuya doesn't see himself (struggle with the beast).

Arahabaki is a god whose origins are uncertain, so nobody understands it. Not even Chuya:

'In languor dreams of death' … who was the one that said it?

In the song, Chuya wonders who is the author of his own poem. This shows how disconnected he is from himself. He wears a mask of violence and bravado to hide his vulnerability. Still, this fragility emerges every time he lets Arahabaki out. Here comes the interpretative key of Chuya's character...

Arahabaki is nothing, but the Tainted Sorrow of the poem:

Upon the Tainted Sorrow, Today, the snowflakes fall so harsh. Upon the Tainted Sorrow, Today, even the strong wind gusts. The Tainted Sorrow is Just like a fox’s hooded fur. The Tainted Sorrow is Covered by snowflakes and it cowers.

The tainted sorrow is a fox covered in snow, while the wind howls:

Black snow began fluttering around Chuuya. Red scar-like runes crawled across his skin. He ignored the law of physics, hovering in the sky, as he glared down at the beast on the surface. Intense heat caused by the gamma radiation filled the air. The night was scorched, and the scenery warped. (Storm Bringer)

Arahabaki-Chuya is described as a tailed-beast and the anime shows he is similar to a fox. Moreover, he is covered in black snow, while his gravity powers manifest a strong wind.

The rest of the verses convey Chuya's feelings:

The Tainted Sorrow has Nothing to desire and nothing to wish. The Tainted Sorrow has A dream of death to its wary self. Upon the Tainted Sorrow, Trembling like a pitiful soul. Upon the Tainted Sorrow, Nowhere to belong, the sun sets...

Interestingly, the fox and the setting sun come up in Storm Bringer:

The video showed a golden coin. One side was engraved with a fox, the other with the moon. It was beautiful yet somewhat melancholy. (Storm Bringer)

The young Chuya repeats Upon the Tainted Sorrow while playing with a coin that has a fox and a moon on its sides.

The literary metaphor becomes clear. The Sheep Song is the key to open the Tainted Sorrow's gate. Chuya activates Corruption through verses, that state his loneliness. He says them, when he is ready to face the darkest part of himself.

WHAT IS CHUYA?

The Tainted Sorrow has Nothing to desire and nothing to wish. The Tainted Sorrow has A dream of death to its wary self.

The Tainted Sorrow dreams of death, which means Chuya is suicidal.

This is why he is both drawn and repulsed by Dazai:

"Your birth itself was a mistake. We're the same. Is there really a point to suffering through all that pain for a life that isn't even real?" The voice was taunting him. "Shut up," Chuuya spat, but even he knew he was talking to himself. "Screw you, Dazai." "That's just proof that you at least somewhat believe what I'm saying. Because deep down inside, you're the same as me." (Storm Bringer)

Dazai is the Chuya, who regrets being born and wishes to die. Still, he is also the Chuya, who wants to live, despite it all:

Chuya quietly stared at Daai's expression as if he were searching for something human deep inside of him. "So you're saying... you want to live now?" "I wouldn't go that far," Dazai replied with a resigned smile. "Maybe I won't find anything, but I figure I'll give it a try." (Fifteen)

The Tainted Sorrow wishes nothing because it isn't a person. Chuya fears he has no will of his own because he isn't human:

Chuuya Nakahara didn't dream. For him, waking up was like a bubble emerging from within mud. (Storm Bringer)

This fear is why Chuya's friendship with Adam is so important.

Adam is a an artificial creation, like Chuya. He is even called after the Frankenstein monster. He is a robot programmed to destroy himself for the sake of his mission:

"This is the real reason why an android was sent, instead of a human detective. My core, which now contains state secrets, will be incinirated along with Verlaine." (Adam in Storm Bringer)

Adam is a person, like Chuya. He is even called after the first man. He is a friend, who chooses to sacrifice himself for a loved one:

"I get to protect you. I couldn't ask for more." (Adam in Storm Bringer)

Dazai and Adam are linked to life and humanity, which are the main themes of Chuya's arc in the novels.

They both get to keep on living together with Chuya:

Dazai curled into the fetal position and screamed, "Dying with Chuuya? Anything but thaaaat!!" (Storm Bringer)

"Would you like to hear an android joke, Master Chuuya?" (Adam revealed as alive at the end of Storm Bringer)

Fittingly, Storm Bringer ends with the three of them together and alive. Chuya loses several friends, but by the end he still has two bonds. Two people who survive their friendship with him.

Even more importantly, Dazai and Adam both care about Chuya's humanity:

"Chuuya's gonna kill N at this rate and lose his humanity, but I want to see him suffer as a human. That's why I have to stop him" (Dazai in Storm Bringer)

"Do you know whether Master Chuuya is human?" I was curiously hopeful that he would know the truth. (Adam in Storm Bringer)

Not only that, but they help Chuya finish his arc and find himself:

Then what is a soul? My friend's final words... What if those words were merely the words of a soulless command? So what? (Chuya in Storm Bringer)

Dazai gives Chuya a choice and Adam helps Chuya make it.

Dazai believes in Chuya's humanity more than anyone else:

"You sound like you're certain he's human." "I am." Dazai sighed, smiling. "There's no way I could hate a man-made character string this much." (Storm Bringer)

N, Shirase, Rimbaud and Verlaine all reduce Chuya to a skill. Dazai instead sees Chuya as his own person. Sure, he finds Chuya annoying, but he is the only one, who interacts with Chuya for who he is, rather than what he can do.

Adam realizes Chuya is human no matter his origins:

"Asleep or not, he is just an ordinary human," Chuuya replied indifferently. "his skill is strong, but that's it. He gets mad, he worries... That doesn't seem to be enough for him, though." "You are exactly right. It appears you have reached the conclusioin you needed to arrive at." (Chuya and Adam in Storm Bringer)

The Flags, Verlaine, Dazai and Chuya himself are focused on uncovering Chuya's birth. Is he the original kid or the clone? Discovering the truth is everyone's goal. Still, by the end Adam realizes Chuya's nature doesn't matter. He is Chuya either way. He is the person who teaches Adam about humanity. He is Adam's first friend.

Thanks to both Dazai and Adam, Chuya finally faces himself and activates Corruption. Not only that, but Chuya's final choice to let Arahabaki out is a perfect example of how he interprets freedom:

Even though it feels like I might be trapped, there is no room for sentiments I'll push myself to the limit and dye everything jet-black The world is a bird cage, faded in colour Even if I lament, I can't get out of this prison BUT NOW, DARKNESS MY SORROW I have not yet fallen apart So, as I laugh off this imposed inconvenience Let's overturn even the heavens and the earth (GRAVITY)

Chuya is trapped in many ways and he knows it. He is given a gift he doesn't want and he is forced to join an organization he dislikes. And yet, he makes all these "imposed inconveniences" his. Chuya accepts the "card he is given" and uses it the best he can.

He combines his gift with martial arts, so that it really becomes his own ability:

He finds his own motivation to work for the mafia:

"I chose to join the Mafia on my own, and I'm never gonna be your lackey, much less your dog!" (Chuuya to Dazai in Fifteen)

He doesn't open the gate when N forces him, but he chooses to on his own terms.

It is really not by chance that in Chuya's first big fight in the manga, this happens:

Chuya claims there is no choice, but he is still the one who decides to activate Corruption. Even when trapped, Chuya always pushes forward and plays the hand he is dealt with passion. Even if he is unsure of who he is, he lives on as himself.

WHO IS CHUYA?

Chuuya took off one of his leather riding gloves and gazed at his hand. This is my hand, he thought. (Storm Bringer)

Chuya is a person. He has always been, no matter if he is the original or the clone. He feels pain, happiness, surprise. He is able to bond and to empathize with others. All of this makes him human. Not only that, but all of this makes him Chuya.

It is interesting that by the end, many people who objectify Chuya, recognize his personhood.

Shirase sees him as the teenage he is and saves him

Mori traps Chuya in the mafia, but is touched by Chuya's passion and loyalty:

Both Rimbaud and Verlaine eventually see who Chuya is:

"Chuuya, you already possess strength and talents all your own, separate from Arahabaki. You are strong not as a god but as a human being." (Rimbaud in Fifteen)

"Does that mean... you do not yet resent the world?" "There's people I hate, but not all of'em," replied Chuuya. "I know better than to try and live a solitary existence. You used to feel the same, right?" Verlaine didn't respond. It was as if his silence itself was his answer. (Storm Bringer)

And tell him to live on:

"Chuuya... can I... ask you... a favor?" "What is it?" "Live" Randou said in almost a whisper. (Fifteen)

"Chuuya-live." (Verlaine in Storm Bringer)

Chuya manages to inspire all these people. At the same time, he is inspired back by them:

I was blessed with wonderful friends. That's all. I could have been in your situation, and you could have been in mine. (Chuya to Verlaine in Storm Bringer)

He integrates all his loved ones in who he is:

He (probably) imitates Hirotsu's habit to wear gloves and to take them away, when he is getting serious. This mannerism partially substitutes his practice to fight with the hands in the pockets

He is given his motorcycle by Albatross and keeps it as a memory of the Flags

He wears Verlaine's hat, which is really a gift from all three Chuya's key parental figures:

1- Rimbaud creates it for Verlaine

Once Verlaine puts on the hat, the fabric lining acts like coils, deflecting any external command sequences that could tamper with his mind. In other words, the wearer can control command sequences at will. With this hat, Verlaine is one step closer to becoming a human with free will. (Rimbaud in Storm Bringer)

2- Verlaine passes it down to Chuya

"You really like that hat, huh? That was his, right?" "Yeah, I'd rather not wear my brother's hand-me-downs, but it's got some pretty useful functions." (Shirase and Chuya in Storm Bringer)

3- Mori gives it to Chuya as a gift when he joins the mafia

"What's the hat for?" "It signifies your acceptance into the Mafia," Mori explained with a smile as he stood facing Chuuya. "Whoever recruits a new member into the organization usually looks after them as well. It's custom to gift the new recruit with something they can wear as a symbol of that bond." (Fifteen)

As a result, Chuya's hat is an object full of symbolism:

Within the darkness, a shadow of a hat lightly dances.

It is both shadow (a shadow of a hat) and light (within the darkness, it dances). On the one hand it is the key to Corruption, so to chaos. On the other hand it gives Chuya the power to control this chaos to an extent.

It is both what grants Chuya's free will and what threatens his autonomy:

It describes Chuya's bond with Mori, which is contradictory. Mori blackmails Chuya to join the mafia and controls him. He also offers Chuya a family (heart) and an insight on leadership (mind).

It represents Chuya's bond with Rimbaud and Verlaine, who are Chuya's literary parents, as their real life counterparts inspired Chuya Nakahara's poetry. In general, Chuya's past lowkey alludes to the true poet's one, at least metaphorically.

Nakahara Chuya is born in a rather wealthy family and forced by his father to pursue medicine studies. However, he discovers poetry when he is 8 years old and his younger brother dies. Later on, he rebels against his father's education and is inspired by Rimbaud and Verlaine's works. He imitates both their poems and their dandy life-style.

Similarly, BSD Chuya finds himself trapped until he is symbolically awaken to literature (break out of the lab) by Rimbaud and Verlaine. Here, his poetry (Upon The Tainted Sorrow) is set free and Chuya is reborn:

Those newborn cries filled the outside world in the form of flames. The raging flames brought destruction to the surface for as far as the eye could see. And thus, " " was born. (Fifteen)

Interestingly, Chuya is 7 or 8, when Rimbaud and Verlaine arrive in his life. Moreover, his survival and freedom come at the cost of his other self (his clone/the original Chuya). Just like Nakahara Chuya's first poem is the result of his grief for his brother's death.

In other words, Chuya is Rimbaud and Verlaine's literary child. He is what their bond leaves behind. This is why initially they both strongly project on Chuya, but eventually let him go. Isn't it normal for a parent to see themselves in their child? And isn't it normal for the child to imitate the parents to an extent? And yet, the child is his own person. Just like this, Chuya is strongly defined by both Rimbaud and Verlaine, but he is growing into himself:

"It's okay. The Port Mafia is my family now" (Chuya in Storm Bringer)

So, who is Chuya? It's easy, really. He is a Port Mafia Executive (and probably the next Port Mafia boss). Right now, he needs to define his role within the organization and outside Mori. As a matter of fact, Mori is Chuya's third father, so to become an adult, Chuya needs to outgrow him. Just like he did with Rimbaud and Verlaine. Only then, he will truly choose who Chuya Nakahara is.