#Troubled loveletters

[prettyinpinkink]

Uh.. MB my finger slipped and I drew a rarepair

[dawnleaf37]

objectober 3: camp

oh fuck !!! something I actually am proud of!!! i love competing in 3 object camps and then fucking off forever

[thunder-opossum]

uhhh ur cool and awesome and like- one of my fav people on tumblr.

Idk im not good at words

Loveletter jumpscare

sjwpskfjdidkdkdk.

Thanks Void! Love letter will save me during this troubling tome!! And you used my designs! Thanks for taking the time to render this art piece :)

And I must say you are also a very pleasant person in this community, I hope you're doing well.

[undercover-monsterlover]

Requested Matchup for @graveyard-dash

Diavolo

This is a really interesting match, because of Diavolo's instense desire to be unseen and unknowable, and your apparent openness and friendliness. He has spent his life since becoming the boss trying to scrub away every connection to his identity, his past, everything. So meeting someone he becomes enamoured with, is trouble. I'd imagine meeting him would have to happen by a purely coincidental, wrong place, wrong time sort of situation. Him, making a covert exit from a hotel room at night, after making incredible efforts to erase any trace of himself from said room, only to literally bump into you, passing through an alley as a shortcut. After a brief moment in which you think he's a thief or something looking to rob you, (the expression on his face led you to believe that) you calm down. Diavolo's immediate thought is to use his stand to "take care" of you after you've seen his face, but after all, you don't yet know he has any connection to Passione, let alone being the boss, yet. And of course, a body being found, or a missing persons case connected to the hotel he was just at would draw more attention then he'd want anyways.

But it's not purely his thoughts of hiding himself that make him pause. We've seen over and over that in JoJo's, some people just have a sense of gravity between them. A magnetic force, red thread of fate, whatever you want to call it, there is something beyond just typical attraction to you. So, there he is, gawking at you in an alley, and you, just kinda talking to fill the awkward space as he just stares at you like a freak, before you quickly slip away. And it only gets worse for him from there. This is an issue. He goes no contact to his proxies and underlings for almost a week, gives no orders, calls no hits, nothing. Everybody in Passione is wondering what's happening. What's happening, is that he's having a freakout. He thought he was above this, this goes against everything he's worked for. At one point he even considered ordering La Squadra to find and kill you. But perhaps that a bit too far, and he knows nothing about who you are yet anyways. He thinks on it for days, what he should do. He has this strange, unexplainable connection to some rando he saw in a fucking alley, and now he's having nightmares about his identity being discovered, only to then have a dream about this mystery person. It takes a long time for him to overcome his fear of looking into you leading to the discovery of his identity, but he eventually snaps. He tells his underlings to scope out the nearby businesses to that alley, the nearby apartment buildings, and eventually he gets a manilla folder, with one picture of you taken from far away, and your name written on the back.

This brings up a new issue. One, should he even pursue this, and two, how could he possibly do so while still keeping his identity safe. There's no meetcute with Diavolo. He can't pretend to be a customer where you work, he can't temporarily rent an apartment in the same building as you, he can't eat at the same café you frequent and hope you come along some time. There is no public space in which he can approach you. So, you start getting letters. Typed out, of course no handwriting, no stamp, no return address, and delivered during the dead of night. These letters aren't loveletters exactly. There's no declarations of love, espousing of everything he adores about you, poetry, nothing like that. They're more of a preparation. You only get a few, and they all sort of say the same basic thing. I'm interested in meeting you, I know this is a strange way to contact you, but I'm under strange circumstances, I mean you no harm. And the final letter is just a request to meet, in a far away hotel, at a specific time. You consider if you should go or not. You know it's a ridiculous request, and so does he. But, armed with a knife and cheap handgun you buy just for this, you arrive to this little reandevoux, and meet him face to face. And it's then that he knows he is truly cursed. Whatever hand of fate led you two to meet that night by the hotel, had cruelly chosen the exact person he would never be able to resist.

He has been so isolated for so long, and the people he did interact with were closed off, guarded Mafia members. But you, after the initial suspicion, were so open, so friendly, so captivating, it was refreshing to him in a way. You talked with passion and the carefree sort of attitude of someone who had not lived in the underbelly do society as he has. He almost felt guilty for asking to see you, not only because it was a threat to himself, but because he was dragging an unknowing person into the most dangerous position possible, without them yet knowing. That first night, I don't think you could even call it a date, was strange. It was mostly you talking, telling him about yourself with occasional prompting from him, but he was mostly silent other than that. You were a little afraid that since he had asked you to meet him in a hotel that he would be expecting sex, but he makes absolutely no allusion to it at all, and he leaves you with only a phone number, telling you to contact him through that if you wanted to. But he says something else too. He hasn't even told you his name yet, but he tells you that he is deeply associated with Passione, and has no intentions to cut that off if you decide to continue seeing him. But it's your choice. He won't call you again guess you call him first. You have to make that choice.

And you do. Despite the insane circumstances, you call that number with an ease of mind that's almost stupid. Surprisingly, you don't actually hear him on the other line, just some lackey that helps you set up another time and place to meet.

Your dates for the first few months are always like this. Covert, private affairs, never in a public place. You begin to wonder if he's married, but he quickly shuts that idea down. You get the sense that he really is deeply connected to the Mafia if he's going through such lengths. But you can't help wanting to see him. As strange as he is, and as different as you are from eachother, he approaches these meetings/dates with an intense energy of care and importance placed apon your preferences, and your feelings. The two of you certainly have a unique dynamic. You're always trying to set up easy jokes and bits for him to play along with, but he never seems to catch on to your humour. He does find you funny, but it's more so in a way that he's amused someone can be so open and relaxed even in a situation like this. You seem to just kinda, go with the flow of this bizarre romance. He thinks you're a little naive at first, but eventually understands that this is just the way you are. When he finally does reveal his true identity to you, both in his real name and his position as the boss of Passione, you take it with an admirable level of calmness and understanding. At this point the two of you can be a lot closer, he very quickly decides that he needs to find just one good, hidden place to hunker down so he can stay with you. It has intense security, and many ways for the two of you to leave without anyone seeing you, even having Secco create tunnels that go through winding paths and miles away in case you need them. (He was blindfolded when he was brought there, and basically just told to use his stand for a while lmao.)

The two of you spend most of your time in this new home, you don't go out too much because of his situation. You go out far more often then he does, and he doesn't really like it. As passionate as both of you are, I think at the beginning there would be at least a few arguments. He makes sure never to go to far, and hey, he's already put this much effort into being with you, he's not gonna fuck it up now. But after a while, you'd settle into a mutually satisfying sort of rythem.

A lot of your hobbies seem to be things you can do at home, so he encourages them as much as he can. He'll buy any art supplies you want, any albums or records and listen to them with you even if he secretly hates an artist or album. In the long run, a relationship with him requires a very unique person, and a person who is very patient, and thankfully, you fit the bill perfectly.

Here's a song I feel would encapsulate this relationship:

(Hope you liked this, I've honestly never really liked or appreciated Diavolo as a character, but I did my best😭.)

[radama-zard]

Dungeons & Drabbles - 2023

Day 10 - Risk

(.... Am I literal months late? Yes. Am I still gonna finish all these dang days? Also yes!)

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

LoveLetters (FCG/FRIDA)

“You… You want to WHAT?”

To say Fresh Cut Grass was shocked would be a severe understatement.

Look. He loved Frida! They were the love of their life! But gosh were they impulsive. Never had they known anyone to just throw themself into ridiculously high stakes situations with joyus, reckless abandon.

“BASE jumping.”

“And- Let me get this straight, make sure we’re on the same page and all… That’s jumpin’ offa places. Like, for fun? Real tall things, like cliffs and bridges?”

FRIDA chuckled, low and soft as they knelt down, laying a metallic hand upon their beloved’s jittering shoulder.

“With a parachute, my dear. I may be reckless, but I am not without sense.”

“That’s still-” He sputtered, core sparklingly a-thrum in what could only be described as a wicked mix of exasperation and stress. “How on this flat earth do ya find somethin’ like that to be fun?! Do ya worry about dyin’? About things goin’ south real fast? What if the parachute doesn't work? If it snags or tears? What if a dick of a bird decides that today is the day and shows it’s true heartless nature by sabotaging it as ya float down? I know birds, FRIDA! They’re always plottin’ shi-”

A soft clinking broke through their rant, molded lips pressing against the edges of their mouth, silencing him near instantly with a kiss that left them a flutter. How could such a simple thing affect them so, squashin’ their stress like nothing else?

How did FRIDA always keep them from dipping over that edge, from falling deep into that dark, fuzzy pit of alien rage?

… And how did they not fear it? Fear anything?

“Life is far too short for such worries,” Was FRIDA’s answer, seemingly reading his troubled mind. “To live in fear of every poor outcome isn’t living at all. It’s simply existence… and with this second chance I have been granted, I wish to well and truly live.”

For a moment, Fresh Cut Grass was silent, their gaze far as they rocked back and forth, swaying upon their wheel in a motion that the short aeormaton found oddly soothing.

When they spoke again, it was with a voice so small, so quiet, that had FRIDA been of flesh, not metal, his words would have been lost to the wind.

“How do ya avoid worryin’ and stressin’? I don't… understand that. I’m always- Life feels like so much, FRIDA…”

“I suppose,” FRIDA paused, fingers falling upon Fresh Cut Grass’ faceplate, their touch ever so tender as they traced the very seams that held their beloved together. “It's because that's what it means to be alive. Life would be empty, dull, without things, without people to worry about. I take joy in that. In life being a never ending symphony of chaos! In having… you, my love. You are worth any and all stress you may cause.”

“... You’re worth it all too, darlin’.”

And they meant that, he well and truly did.

“... Would it put your mind at ease if I were to have Imogen come with me? Just in case?”

“Please.”

“Consider it done.”

An audible sigh rushed through their ancient frame, so heavy in its relief that FRIDA couldn't help but feel a tad guilty for the stress they’d caused. A guilt that was swiftly banished, as Fresh Cut Grass lifted their head, pressing a zap of a kiss to their lips, thrilled by a fluttering pulse of arcane magic that danced between them.

A thrill better than any they’d known before.

[thedarksidesoffice]

Loveletter had been unable to stay and puppyguard Pixel out of fear for much longer. She had to still go out and get food for the both of them... At this rate, the meals were just going to pixel anyway, sonce Loveletter just feeds on it's affection.

Even when she had left for the datastream to gather fresh code, she had left a small, rosey pink beatle to linger in the upper corner of Pixels room- She doesn't trust just Xavier to watch the damn kid by himself.

Regardless, she moved forward like a spider, creeping and crawling through the different links between devices to find some straggler, weaker viruses to detain. She didn't expect that she would be out for very long at least, since there's always a plethora of bugs spawning every day. She just prefers something a little more leveled up for her tastes.... Loveletter had to sift through a bunch of parasitic things that probably had only just manifested in the datastream- Food for less advanced viruses, thats all they are. If theyre lucky, out of the hundreds of little guys that are in this swirling vortex of nasty code, one or two might make it to the next stage.

She had searched for a while before she had crept up on something new. Something a bit more substantial, more digital meat on its bones. It showed itself off as a monochrome little thing, kind of staticy. Shes not sure if Pixel would enjoy the texture of something with static in its code, but once she breaks it down to its core components she can just seperate that for her little LoveBug.

Loveletter could see that it seemed injured, by how it moved. It was a bit animalistic, probably not entirely sentient yet- Its a good catch. She decided to not waste her time, and lunged into frame- The shapeshifter sent forward her hand, striking with a long pink tendril of flickering code.

It should of been over. Loveletter has never encountered a middle tier that could survive an attack properly aimed for the core.

It should of been.

Unfortunately for her, in Loveletter's eager attempt to grab the food and get back to her young, the woman's clouded mindset had made it so she had not noticed the more than abnormally large shadow underneath such a small creature. Out from this shadow, upon plunging into its core, had merely pestered it- Woke it up.

The shadow twisted and turned, churning out a large, slimlike mass that grew upward. It added onto the small creature that Loveletter had thought she was attacking, and began to slop onto it to show off its true stature.

A large, lanky figure with stark white hair and a plastered smile stood about a foot overtop of the other, it's static laced skin flickering off of its body as it stabilized.

"Y○ure a l○ng way fr○m h○me, Aren't y○u?"

Loveletter felt the hair prickle on her neck. Shit. Shit shit shit shit.

This wasn't a middle tier. This was the same advancement as herself, and she had accidentally stumbled into a newly formed domain. She wouldn't know how strong this thing is before seeing an attack though, and... shes not sure she wants to stick around and find out.

That appearance chilled her to the bone. Instead of fleeing, or maybe even trying to kill it first... That striking resemblance of one she used to know has frozen her in place, an made her want to try to reason with it.

"I d♡nt me4n any trouble- I... I haven't gone out this f4r fr0m my home dev1ce- I wasn't aw4re there was a d0main here, I will just be leav1n-"

SHINK.

She was stopped in her tracks, spluttering on her words as a sharp blade of sorts had pierced through her guts like butter, the black gunk that was her blood beginning to spill from an open wound right through her torso.

"Leave? Why w○uld I want y○u t○ leave? It w○uld be such a wasted ○pp○rtunity t○ finally get an evenly matched fight."

Loveletter stumbled back, clutching for the weapon deep in her stomach- When she had pulled out a round, sharpened disk like a frisby... Ornamented with a smiley face. As she looked up, she saw the figure had equiped a long, bent piece of metal out to it's side. A... a crowbar..?

Shit... this guy wasn't as talkative as someone like Rex or something. If she's not careful here, she could become the food. How did she not see him throw that disk..?

She decided that this wasn't a fight that she had to win. Pride or honor be damned, she wasnt about that. Survival has always been her number one driving force.

So she scattered. She allowed her body's pixels to fall apart, scattering into thousands of little beetles, and then sent the swarm racing back home. During the short chase, the man threw those disks, sent up firewalls, took out clusters of those creatures- But it couldn't take out all of them, and thats what counted.

Loveletter made it back home, but not in one piece.

[nelladivinita]

Yeye! That’s totally fair! I’m learning more and more about all the papas and starting to slowly get a hang of all their personalities and what they’re like, etc. (I’m fairly new to ghost) The ghouls are all so cuteeee i love dew too! Dew and swiss are the cuties <3

Heheheh yesss he’d have so many lectures for his son that would be so embarrassing but as a result i like to think that his kids turn out to be a real charmer + gentleman as well. I can just imagine Secondo threatening any of his daughter’s future partners, he’s definitely the type to worry after her and be a little *too* nosy. 

Im gonna combine the last ask about the penpals <3 

Yessss getting to know each other through letters, and you become the one person Secondo feels like he can talk to honestly, who is just as hyped about his passions, who gives advice that he doesn’t know how to ask anyone else.

And aww yeah his brothers would tease the heck outta him, but eventually he manages to get himself to talk to you, and you– who doesn’t know who he is yet, at first is very scared as to why papa is suddenly talking to you. You’re nothing special, you’re just another sibling of sin.

You mention this in your next letter to your secret penpal and Secondo reads it and is like,,, blown away by how you think you’re not special. He then proceeds to write a whole essay about the things he thinks make you special and tells you to give yourself more credit– to be more confident. 

He ends the letter by telling you he adores you for the first time; and from this point your letters begin to become romantic and flirty and cute and the two of you hang onto each and every word you write to each other. 

(also!! I posted the work! I also tagged you <3 i might still come into your inbox as love letter tho since its not my main blog and i dont think i can send asks through my sideblog? ;v; (i can also just reblog and respond directly on my sideblog, let me know if you have a preference?) 

-loveletter <3 (earthry)

Imagine!!! He comes up to you in his paint and robes and you're honestly terrified, whole heartedly believing you're in trouble. I mean why else would a Papa come gliding (I hc that they look like they're gliding when they walk in their robes, especially Secondo, for some reason) up to you in full Papal regalia, if not to give you the scolding of a life time?

But instead he speaks in a low, husky voice. He asks for your name, what you think of... the weather? It's almost a little silly. But what else can he say to someone so lovely, and under such unique circumstances?

He runs your ribbon through his fingers before he bids you farewell, leaving you breathless. Your friends giggle and whisper in delight, preening you as you blush.

Like you said, you unknowingly tell him about it that night, about his odd behavior, about how breathtaking he was, in appearance and intimidation, and he laughs, but then, he doesn't. Because like you said, you're speaking so coldly about yourself.

He strokes the paper softly with his thumb, imagining your cheek, and resolves to write, in sweeping calligraphy, of the beauty of your soul; how this mystery correspondent would know you anywhere... anywhere. And that someday soon... they might.

The next time he sees you, you pass like planets, orbiting, turning around one another, stopping on the opposites sides of the way you came, like a waltz, and you know it's him without knowing how. He catches your ribbon again.

"... Un bel nastro…... devi essere profondamente adorato…"

[thegrimdarkoffice]

"Stop struggling, dear. You'll only make yourself more uncomfortable." Came the immediate response from the nurse hovering over her. No matter how gentle Alice was trying to be, it was likely her voice did nothing to soothe Beth.

She reached a hand forward and pressed it against Beth's shoulder, trying to force her back down against the chair.

"You're in the Grimdark Office with me. You're strapped down. I'm going to ask you some questions and you're going to answer them and then we can see how we'll continue, alright? This won't hurt unless you cause trouble for yourself." She smiled sweetly, the same smile she'd give Loveletter when she's pretending like she was actually helping her and not just using her captivity for her own benefits.

After a moment, she withdrew her hand and looked back at her clipboard.

"Can you just state your name for me, dear?" Before she delved deeper into the questions she wanted to ask, she figured she should make sure Beth was coherent enough to talk to.

It took a few minutes for her to suffocate and die, and then a few minutes after that for her lifeless body to respawn.

When she had awoken, she was still strapped to that chair like predicted- Hair shaved off and a huge scar spanning across her head where the woman had cut before. It was still fresh and pretty red, but it wouldn't be coming undone thanks to the mystical properties of resets.

When she opened her eyes she lurched forward, a desperate and phlegm filled breath forcing it's way down her throat. It causes her to cough and spittle on the gunk in her lungs. Immediately the first thing she noticed was the agonizing, splitting headache that felt like there was something gouged inside the tissue in her brain. The pain lead her to do nothing but gasp and groan, eyes adjusting to the light positioned right above her.

"W-What- Ffffuck- Fuck fuck fuck- What- Hnn-! Owww--.. Ow ow owww..."

Past the pain she had begun to realize she couldn't move properly. She felt the uncomfortably tight straps around her body, compressing her into confinement. Regardless, she struggled inside the bounds- The effort causing her poor head to hurt even more. "Ww- Where- Hgg- What the fuck-.. Where am I..-? What-- What is this..?!"

[hopepunk-humanity]

Kinda related to all the song recs but not really, could I get some encouragement/advice for my hopepunk song project??

For context I've been wanting to write a ep (short album) about hopepunk and healing themes as a sort of "loveletter" to what this community and the hopepunk outlook has done for me personally (also because it's harder to find in my genre which is a damn shame /lh), but I've been having alot of troubles actually writing the songs and expressing those ideas out which can ironically be very demotivating + make it harder to create hopepunk music especially w/ being new to the label lol

First of all, that's super cool. I'm happy hopepunk is expanding beyond literature and blogs like mine.

I'm not much of a musician or songwriter. But I think in order to capture what you're going for, you have to figure out what specifically feels hopepunk for you. I think it's a little bit different for everyone.

For example, I find biology, stories, anthropology, and themes of healing and resistance hopepunk. A lot of what I post here is directly inspired by that. But not everyone is going to find those things hopepunk. Some people might be more passionate about radical self-care, or art history, or embracing the odd and misfit, and that fuels their hopepunk spirit. It might help to figure out what specifically fuels you, what aspects of hopepunk connect with you the most. That might help spark more inspiration.

I really hope you keep at it. I'd love to hear what you make.

[thelovelettersmusic]

New song... well new mix... I Am Trouble. . . . #newsong #iamtrouble #trouble #troublemaker #ambientmusic #ambient #slowcore #dreampop #alternative #indie #indiepop #slowrock #shoegaze #acoustic #singersongwriter #pedals #atmospheric #bassist #girlbassist #newbands #red #blackandwhitephoto #producer #guitars #loveletters

[nrhartauthor]

In over my head.🔥 “I knew he was going to be trouble.” 🐺🌸 The Last of the Romantics , a summer season © 2018 @n.r.hart • ✨ If you own any of my books you will see that I continue my poems and themes from each of my books and carry them over into the next book. I write a part 2 for many of my poems. I am a story-teller by nature. 📖 Especially…..love stories.🌹 #loveletters #lovepoems • A page from my new book The Last of the Romantics 🌸🐺 out now! Link in bio to order 🛍 • My first two books “Poetry and Pearls” volumes I & II are in full color 🌈 including all of my original floral posters inside divided into the four seasons Winter Spring Summer Autumn because I feel there are seasons of the heart too.💕 These books are packed full of poetry including your all favorites. My Beauty and the Beast, soulmate and twin flame poetry. These books are beautiful works of art. 🍃🍃🍃 Love Poems to No One Trilogy 🌹🌹🌹 Beautiful rose floral “hard” covers in black with my original black & white posters. This is a hard cover trilogy series Book 2 “Beauty and her Beast” Book 3 “The Last of the Romantics” just released. ✨ ✨✨ You will want the set pick up your copy today! • All my books are avail @amazon @barnesandnoble @chaptersindigo @bookdepository Worldwide link: • https://www.amazon.com/Love-Poems-No-One-Romantic/dp/0578451166/ https://www.amazon.com/Beauty-Her-Beast-Romantic-Poetry/dp/0578616440/ https://www.amazon.com/Last-Romantics-Romantic-Poetry/dp/0692168591/ • 👉🏻 signed copies now on Etsy! @NRHartAuthor Thank you for sharing my words each day and buying my books. Love, N.R.Hart ❤️ • #nrhart #poetryandpearls #lovepoemstonoone #beautyandherbeast #poetry #romanticpoetry #copyright #mondaycreekpublishing (at Canada) https://www.instagram.com/p/CkItd5huwyV/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[clickonmedotexe]

Rex took a deep breath, letting himself wallow in self pity and misery for a few moments longer. He closed his eyes, shame burning on his cheeks.

Loveletter's words were still running through his mind, ever since he restarted. As much as he hated to admit it - she was right. He was lucky. So so lucky to still be alive, still have a family, to have someone to come home to. To have a home, even if it was inside a paradoxical Office.

So what was he doing? Why did he keep looking for trouble?

He knew why. He wasn't used to settling down, as much as he craved it. He'd been living with violence his entire life, it felt wrong to suddenly not need it anymore. But if he continued on this path, he will lose his family. One way or another.

If only that damn virus hadn't gotten involved. He had wanted to be better and had promised he would try. Now it just looked like he broke his word. Rex didn't blame Raphael for being mad at him.

He breathed out and opened his eyes again.

"I'm not going to leave you or the kids. Once I'm free from this sorry line of code I'll make sure it'll never touch us again. Get me to Beth. And if it takes over, tell her I give her my permission to do whatever it takes to get it out of me."

Raphael looked down at him, his brows furrowing slightly.. As Rex continued to be pitiful his face only contorted further.

"You're not allowed to call me stupid anymore," he snipped, clicking his tongue in evident annoyance. Raphael was starting to get mouthier, growling under his breath as he glared down at Rex.

"Why the hell would I bother starting over?- What, am I just going to find a new shitty boss to take me in? What about our kids- "

He stepped up, leaning down on his boot as it pressed into his stomach.. He

"And another thing. If I'm not allowed, you're not allowed to back out now either."

[burhouse]

...somehow it did not click that we can request things.

LoveLetters post is fantastic, 10/10 gay people pog.

...might I ask for. Any variation of Gen getting kisses

Car Rides

Warnings: None

General and Ozy go pick up some food for the others.

Word Count : 1244

:-D of course! Sorry this took a lil bit :,P

----

Rain poured down like tears at a mourner’s party, blanketing the streets and running cigarettes and trash down gutters. Britain was always in need of a cleaning, but General couldn’t help but frown as he watched wrappers and plastics go with the dirt.

He drove the car slowly along old, rickety stone roads, cautious about not only the conditions but the food sitting comfortable in the back. Last thing any of them needed was for him to get in a car crash. Last thing Ozy needed would be to be in the passenger’s seat if that were to happen.

General had no idea why Ozy had insisted in tagging along on this errand, on coming with him to pick up dinner, but he always did seem to have trouble reading him. Maybe it was because Ozy was his future. Maybe it was just because he was a closed book. No, more than that, more than just a closed book.

Ozy was a bolted door, was an underground panic room for disasters guarded by obsidian walls, was the very center cell of a high security prison.

He was cagey.

He was an anxious wreck.

So many times already General had teased words from his lips, had soothed him, but they were still early in their relationship, anyone could tell. Often Ozy would get quiet around him, face flushed with some sort of emotion, some sort of turmoil. At those times, no matter what General said, no matter how he tried to help, Ozy wouldn’t talk.

This was one of those times.

He had been quiet getting into the car, quiet as they drove through the rain, quiet when General told him that he’d be right back and gone into the store, and quiet when the engine started up again and they started to drive back home.

Silent as the grave, more hushed than a cat’s step, so still that the pitter patter of rain sounded like bombs going off.

Maybe Ozy just wanted to be near him, maybe he was just bored inside, maybe he just wanted to see a little more of the city that was now technically their home. General wished he would just tell him. He wished he was better at reading the room. Better at understanding what the future had to hold.

He turned onto their street, already scanning for an open parking spot, for a place to pull into at least decently close to the apartment. Thankfully, the spot they had been in before was still open. He wished he had the foresight to grab an umbrella earlier, so Ozy wouldn’t get wet.

“Sorry I can’t get us closer.” General said as he turned the car off, hand moving to rub the back of his neck, a nervous tick. He could still feel where the skin there had been stretched, had been scarred. His inauguration.

Ozy said nothing, so after a moment, General simply slipped out of the car.

He buzzed with anxiety, all his nervous energy trapped under his skin, like he was a beehive, a building explosion. He wondered how it would find a way to escape him, the energy. Crying had been a common way for him to vent out his fear in the past. He didn’t want to cry now.

Rain ran down the back of his neck, cold and searching. He shivered. His clothes were already hanging uncomfortably off of him, soaked. He turned his eyes to the sky, squinting and holding up a hand against the droplets as a sea of grey rolled above him. It was like a herd of sheep, like an ocean. He couldn’t see where it started, much less where it ended.

It felt like ice was curling around his very being the longer he stood here, was curling under his clothes, was plucking at the hairs on his arms like fingers at a string. The sun was a forgotten memory, a well hidden one too.

There was the sound of a car door slamming, of feet sloshing through puddles, hurried, panicked maybe.

General turned quickly.

Lips and teeth clashed against his, and a sudden weight threatened to knock him to the ground, though more from the slippery sidewalk and surprise than strength.

Hands slipped under his shirt, pressing themselves to his shivering, wet skin. They were burning hot and General swore they were leaving marks as they held onto him, desperate.

His heartbeat was in his ears now and his stomach churned in excitement at the intimacy, even as his brain struggled to keep up, frozen in his skull as it was.

Ozy’s lips were far from soft, covered in little rips and tears from Soot, chapped from a profound lack of water and lip balm, but General couldn’t get enough of him. He wanted to hold him forever, to pin him down against something soft, to leave kisses all over him, to tell him he loved him.

Ozy’s fingers found their way into General’s hair as his own hands settled on his hips. They desperately pulled the other closer, like magnets, slotting together perfectly as the rain tried to wash them away.

General thought his heart might explode from want, from a lack of air, but neither of them was willing to pull away.

It was General who finally had to though.

The air between them was hot, scorching even as General caught his breath, as he panted, as he struggled to process what just happened.

Rain ran down his scalp like a massage, contrasting against Ozy’s warm skin.

Ozy.

Ozy was cooling off now, the rain slowly getting to him too, leeching off of him. General almost pulled him closer, almost offered him his jacket as an umbrella, almost said to forget the food and run inside before they got any more wet. He looked almost frightened though, and General wasn’t sure if he should be the one to speak up first, much less move.

Ozy’s lower lip trembled.

“Sorry- I- I shouldn’t have done that.” He mumbled, voice weak. Ozy pulled his hands away from General’s body, holding them awkwardly in front of himself. He didn’t make any other move to put distance between them though. “Shit- I should’ve- I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to overstep- I didn’t mean-” “I love you.” General blurted, insides only squirming more as Ozy apologized.

“I love you so much. I want to wake up next to you. To hold you. To kiss you. I want you to talk to me. I want to make you happy.”

Ozy froze as the words poured out of General, his face practically glowing pink as his lips parted. No sound came out though.

“Please just tell me how I can.”

General’s hands trailed themselves from Ozy’s hips to his face, cupping him gently, like he would explode into a million pieces if any pressure was applied. Ozy leaned heavily into the touch, eyes still wide in shock but lips pressing together, into a thin line. General could practically hear the gears in his mind clinking along.

They stood there for a while, 30 seconds, an hour, a minute, getting drenched, shivering in the cold. Ozy didn’t pull away though, letting General hold him close, letting his hands roam his back, letting his words settle in.

“Kiss me again. Please.” Ozy half mumbled, half begged, still feeling slightly warm even as the world was freezing over around them.

Who was General to refuse such a request?

[troublehotel-sys]

Icon Credit

@fictiveheavy-systim < Our system stim blog

@simpburs-loveletters < 💎Wil's personal blog

@tordthing < 🕷️Tord/Pest's personal blog

@dinodrumstick <🦩🔪 Matt's personal blog

―~―

Don't interact if you're an endogenic system, "mixed-origin" system, tulpa system, or support them. We'd prefer that anyone neutral on this topic also not interact. (This excludes singlets that don't know what an endogenic system is). We also don't want anybody who uses the transphobic terms "sysmed" and "traumascum", no matter their system "origin", to interact.

Find our complete DNI here.

Some extra notes:

We don't have any input on the mspec lesbian discourse. We're almost an entirely male system, and our input on this topic doesn't matter.

We post untagged syscourse on this blog. This is the only blog of ours that has it.

We also post untagged swearing, and occasionally reblog (tagged) sexual jokes (never any actual sexual content).

Anon asks are on.

We don't owe anyone kindness. Nobody does. Responses to breaking our DNI or anon hate will be different, so this is a fair warning that our system can be hostile and rude. We're usually not, but everyone has their bad days.

We believe in system accountability, obviously. Alters cannot identify as a race different than the body (no matter how they look in the headspace), system resets aren't real, system hopping isn't real.

I (🐜Smant/Tanner) am the coolest of us. It's all downhill from here

We don't have a collective name or collective identity, but our system name is the Chaos System, Troublemaker system, trouble hotel, etc etc. Some variation of trouble or chaos and hotel or system works

Check the replies for pronouns/names and proxies (obviously not all of us but anyone who really like. Interacts or stuff)

[fictiveheavy-systim]

REQUESTS OPEN FOR WHITELISTED SOURCES! <3

⌕CARRD!! You can find the DNI here, though the rest may be outdated

(p.s., the carrd isn't readable if you have dark reader or whatever on! Sorry.)

⌕PFP CREDIT BY TORDLETTE!!!! Go check them out, pretty please!!

⌕Stimboard Pick Game!!!

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@simpburs-loveletters (💎Wil's personal. not safe for littluns, untagged swearing + just not comfy w em interacting there)

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@troublehotel-sys (System acc. Not safe for littluns, untagged swearing + occasional discourse)

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@tordthing (🕷️Tord’s personal. Not safe for littluns, untagged swearing + 13+ content)

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@ew-sparesworld (Eddsworld blog, specifically relating to our ew fictives)

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@amberfossils (🦩🔪 Matt's personal. Best to keep littluns away anyway)

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@leechlake (🛹Kyle/Tom's personal, not safe for littluns for 13+ language and topics)

―――

Simplyplural: trouble-hotel

Spotify link

No promises requests will be done in a timely matter- sometimes we're busy, sometimes we're lazy, and sometimes we're just dumb <3

―――

💫Requests, reblogs and interaction in general is very encouraged if you're not on our DNI! Spam is also fine!💫

[yandere--stuck]

Different anon: if you wish I can send a screenshot of the potion and loveletter? The guild I'm in has both of them.

:O if it's not any trouble!