#because it's SUPPOSED to be about innocence

[hvbris]

𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐎 & 𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐓 @multipleoccupancy

"I understand," replied Violet as casually as she could, well aware that she had no parents he could call in this timeline. Would there even be any information about her "parents" in her file? It all depended on the Horned One, and how generous He was feeling, she supposed.

But she knew it didn't matter, because she doubted Agent Davidson would actually try to call her parents. Something about the way he had said those words, 'it might take a while', or the fact that he had winked at Theo and not her. If he had no moral qualms about sending a teenager to the ward even though he was innocent, he wouldn't have any about leaving her here either.

Violet could only hope that, when night would come, the Horned One would send her back to her timeline. She didn't have anything left to do here, after all. Whatever He had planned when sending her to this place, surely she had done it... right? Theo was leaving the ward and the monster was dead.

So, she turned to Theo with a smile, happy that he seemed so happy. "I guess we did it, yes," she confirmed warmly, "we'll get to work together and fight monsters, just like we said." It was bittersweet. Violet would have liked it, fighting monsters with Theo. But it was impossible. She didn't belong here, and she really wanted to come home. Would he be disappointed, when she'd never join Delta Green with him? Or was he going to forget her? That made her very sad, but maybe it was for the best.

"I think I'll hug my dad," she replied sincerely, her eyes welling up, "I miss him a lot. What about you?"

Theo looked between them as the Inspector asked his questions, his own head spinning with what he had just done, while he had been smiling it did fade as the conditions of the deal sank in. He could never step out of line or he would be put back in the ward? He supposed that made sense, right? He just had to follow the rules is all, it couldn't be that hard.

His smile returned when Mauve revealed that she wanted to work for the organisation too, believing they would be leaving and working together from then on, like they had planned. At least they would be in it all together and despite the conditions around his own deal, which he noticed were not being repeated for Mauve but he wondered if it had just meant the same applied to her too, he trusted her to have his back.

"Very good," the Inspector said, still not offering her his hand, he was still unsure of her and who she was. "We'll have to contact your parents to come and pick you up from Texas, you understand that might take a while." He pointed out casually and then stood up. "I have to go and make a call and get your parents here too," he looked to Theo, winked and then walked out. Of course there were still only landlines around at the time so his call was going to be made outside of the ward.

Theo turned to Mauve. "I guess we did it then," he smiled but it was faltering, he didn't understand why he had to be in the ward if the officer arresting him knew about the monsters. "We're getting out of here, to go and fight monsters together. You can build your traps and everything." Maybe he shouldn't talk about that? Something didn't feel right but the idea of getting out was enough of a comfort to him. "What's the first thing you're going to do when you're out?"

[muntitled]

Rich Boyfriend Chronicles

Pairings: Zhong Chenle x Fem!Reader

Summary: You know how Chenle got when it comes to money. You know how he got when you spent it. More specifically, when you spent his money.

Warnings: Language, Established Relationship, Codependency, So Slight!Toxic relationship, Humor, Domestic Fluff, Slight Angst, Jealousy (Weaponizing Jisung (sorry Jiji)), HighMaintenance!Reader, Hyperfem!Reader, Coercion, Smut (+18) mdni, Ownership kink, Needy!Chenle, Unprotected Sex, Premature Orgasm, Dom/Sub Themes, Dubious Consent, Drunk!Chenle, Dirty Talk, Degradation Kink, Praise Kink, Subspace

He wonders when you’ll arrive…

You were supposed to be here already. To save him from his friends and their incessant banter.

As Chenle watches the rain droplets running down the restaurant window, he suddenly wishes he never told you to go ahead and have your shopping day alone in the district. He brought you to his city and yet, you weren't even here to enjoy it with him.

But you had pleaded so prettily…

“It's not like I’m going away for good Chenle, I promise I'm just going to shop in the district for the day,” You were already interlocking your van cleef bracelet around your wrist (a bracelet that he bought) and Chenle had watched from his post sitting at the desk. The hotel room was already littered with Chenle's wires from the various gadgets he had set up. His PlayStation was plugged in the moment you two checked in.

“Besides, I'm sure you'll want to enjoy your day off before you're tied down with schedules for the rest of our stay here. Mark said promo in China would be no joke.”

Chenle had spent the morning of his day off consumed by a new video game, but at the sound of your departure, he lowered his headsets and swivelled in his chair to watch you. His eyes glazed over the sundress that hugged your body with my trepidation and much suspicion. His headphones hung lazily from his neck.

“Who’s taking you shopping?” He hoped his inquiry sounded less like a crazed control freak and more like innocent questioning.

A knowing kind of smile had blossomed across your face then as you stalked towards him with your hands behind your back.

“Why?” you tucked a stray braid behind your ear as you neared him, “You jealous?”

Chenle's body immediately tensed when you plopped yourself on your lap.

“Don't be stupid,” he hid behind his usual snark but you could feel his tense muscles shift underneath you. "We have dinner tonight with the others." He was significantly smaller in stature compared to the volume that accentuated your curves but his hands wrapped tentatively around your waist all the same. Chenle's eyes were wide as he looked up at you and his hands held a slight tremor as they rubbed feather light circles on your hips.

“Where did you even buy this bracelet?”

You froze on top of him. “uh, church-”

“They sell van cleef necklaces at church?”

“W-Well..." you swallow thickly, your arms encircling around his neck. "It was a sale! Yes, a church sale, the money's going to charity! Praise the lord-”

“The only charity my money is going to is to you.” he buries his face into your neck and you squirm when he wiggles his finger into your side, eliciting a wave of giggles.

“Who's taking you shopping?” He asked again.

“Well, you are, Chenle,” Your words barely registered in his fogged up bain because you were bending down now, and your lips were tickling the side of his ear as your left hand drifted down his clothed torso, “This is my first time in Beijing,” Your whispers sent the boy hurtling into that very primal part of his brain that was only filled with one thought and one thought alone.

“You want me to have a good time, don't you? That's why you invited me?” Chenle's brain had been reduced to mush and his grip on reality was fumbling by the minute. All he could think about was your hand lining his boxers.

“Yea-” his voice cracks and he lifts his hips ever so slightly, trying to steer your hand to the right place, “You want me to have a good time on this trip right?”

You were absolutely diabolical. Watching his eyes flutter shut as the Beijing sun drifted through the curtains, extenuating every needy twitch along his visage.

In complete vulnerablility he said, “Yeah,” he whispered again, “Fuck, I’ll give you anything, I’ll do anything, just… carry on-” The smirk on your face grew until you were swiping your palm over the hard bulge in his sweatpants only momentarily before you drifted your hand to his left pocket. The little amount of contact was enough to have Chenle raggedly exhaling as his hips stuttered and a rash shiver wracked through his spine.

You sit back up again, on your haunches, still seated on his lap with his wallet dangling from your fingers.

“Shopping allowance, please and thank you,” You hand him the wallet with a cheeky smile and a bowed head.

Chenle rolls his eyes, turning his head to stare out at the Beijing metropolitan beyond. His whisper is starkly incredulous as he mumbles a quiet “This Girl…”

“Quick,” you had urged, now bouncing in silent anticipation as you waited for him to hand over what it is you needed. In that very second, Chenle's hand digs into your hip. “Don't do that,” his fingers dug into your hips, immediately stopping your excited bounce, “Or you’re really not going shopping,”

In hindsight, Chenle should have perhaps withheld his card and forced you on this dinner with friends. However, he also couldn't deny the very suspicious ache in his gut that curled and coiled during these times when you needed him. It makes his head dizzy with lust.

He wished he didn't let you go.

Despite the hushed cacophony filling the Dim Sum restaurant, Chenle cannot help but think his table is the loudest of them all. Haechan and Jeno’s back-and-forth does nothing to allay that slight trickle of embarrassment that crawls up the back of Chenle's neck and he lightly rubs his face with both hands, wanting nothing more than to sink into the restaurant's leather seats. He raises his phone, perfectly content with tapping away at his social media while they bickered around him.

"You're gonna cover our bill.” Jeno says very sternly as the bottom of his beer glass hits the wooden table. His lips are pursed as he swallows his drink, but his eyes are dead serious. “Jaemin covered it in Copenhagen.” Jeno's finger prods at his chest hidden under a thick fleece sweater, “I did Rotterdam. You're covering the bill, Haechan.” Jeno rarely had to say anything above an unreasonable volume, and Chenle was much the same in that regard. When Jeno said something the first time, people usually listened. He rarely had to speak up for a second time but Chenle supposed that was why God made Haechan. To infuriate Jeno.

Chenle sinks further in his seat as he immediately scrolls into your chat. He types his ‘Where are you?’ with the urgency of a broken man and he frowns when you don't respond within the immediate minute.

Chenle did not like that.

He much preferred you when you were messaging him compulsively, especially when the two of you found yourselves apart.

Your text arrives, but not soon enough.

[17:21, You] Are you having a good time, baby?

[17:22, Chenle] No, Haechan and Jeno are acting like hooligans in front of everyone and Jisung thinks I don't notice him leaning over my shoulder to read this text.

Chenle looks up at the boy next to him, a very unimpressed deadpan painted across his face.

[17:30, You] Tell Jiji I say hi

[17:30, Chenle] No.

“Tell her I said Hi back,” Jisung whispers. He winces, not even a second later, grabbing his arm and lightly cradling the spot where Chenle just shoved him.

“Ah!” Haechan hollers from across the table, “Kids, no fighting-”

“Focus on paying the bill.” Jeno mumbles.

Chenle doesn't look up from your chat as his hands suffocate the little digital box. He's breathing heavily, suddenly uncomfortable with this little hypothetical crush you have on Jisung. He knew you were joking to piss him off. You knew that he knew you were joking to piss him off, but Chenle still rolls his eyes anyway. He tucks his chin into his hoodie as he grumbles.

[17:39, Chenle] I'd seriously rather be here with you

[17:40, You] Aww babe I miss you too

[17:40, Chenle] How much?

[17:41,You] Like… Alot, Idk?

[17:42, Chenle] Show me

[17:42, You] Show you what?

[17:43, Chenle] How much you miss me

[17:44, You] i'm still trying on dresses if you wanna see

Almost immediately, a Facetime call lights up his screen and Chenle immediately rises from his seat, scooting out of the booth and heading straight for the bathroom.

Chenle's eyes widen slightly as a zap of excitement strikes through his stomach. He quenches his dry mouth with his beer.

Meanwhile, this round has continued to go unpaid with Haechan, ever the stubborn bull.

"Okay, well I don't feel like paying for anyone's food," Haechan folds his arms in defiance and juts his nose up to the sky, all while turning his head very smugly.

It's the last thing Chenle hears before he's answering your facetime as he slinks into one of the bathroom stalls.

His phone is lowered, his brows furrowed in frustration. All of that eases away however, the second your face is projected onto his screen. From the mess in the background he can see you're back at the hotel.

The way his heart skips a beat at the sight of you should've been incredibly embarrassing but Chenle doesn't care, because you've propped the phone on a shelf, giving him a more-than-perfect view of the dress you were trying on.

“How’s my little monster doing?” You ask distractedly as you zipped up the dress. Chenle wishes he was there to help you zip it back down. Unfortunately for you, your boyfriend wasn't in the business of appearing like a lovesick puppy. He only leans his back against the stall as he says, “Where are you? I thought you'd be here by now?”

“You actually believed I'd willingly want to have dinner with your friends?” You give him an unimpressed look as you throw your braids over your shoulder, admiring the cocktail dress in the mirror.

“There's only so much flirting from Jaemin I can handle, Chenle-”

“Jaemin's the reason you ditched m- wait.” Chenle murmurs distractedly as he brings the phone closer to his face. You watch with a smirk as he says, “Turn around.” You do as he says, turning slowly to show him how this particular design snuggly around your curves. His breathing is heavy.

“I look good, right?”

In classic Chenle fashion, he skirts past your fishing for a compliment to directly say, “That looks expensive.”

“But I look so pretty.”

“Take it off-” there's an urgency in his voice that fuels you with an immense sense of power. You knew it was a good dress. It's better than good. The manner in which the sweetheart neckline dipped was anything but innocent, and you knew Chenle would like it.

“Why don't you come take it off for me?”

A wispy curse drifts out of his mouth as he throws his head back against the wall before he says. “I'll be there soon.”

Chenle is rushing out the bathroom as he pockets his phone, carelessly swerving past the other tables in search of his own.

The bickering has yet to cease. He's so happy you're saving him.

“And where are you going?” Renjun asks with a frown on his face.

“The hotel.” Is all Chenle says as he slips on his letterman jacket. Below him, Jisung blushes a deep red, Having clearly understood the implication of Chenle's words.

"You're a child."

"I'll be a child." Comes Haechan's rebuttal, "A child that's not covering the bill-"

Chenle observes this as he stands before the table, ready to head out.

"Jesus, stop being kids!" Chenle finds his voice somewhere amongst the rubble of the conversation. "'I’ll cover this round, just stop fighting, God-”

Chenle's hand is already reaching into his denim jeans, patting idly for his wallet.

“Would you look at that,” Jeno says, sending Haechan the deadliest glare he could muster, “An actual adult.”

“Doesn't Chenle's dad like… Own the city?” Haechan deadpans, “So I expected him to pay anyway-”

This statement only brought about a fresh conflict, which Chenle disrupts with his slightly deflated interjection.

“Uh… guys…” One by one, they all snap their eyes towards him and Chenle's shoulders sag. A sheepish kind of smile crinkles Chenle's eyes.

“One of you are gonna have to cover the bill- I don't have my card,”

“Why don't you have your card?” comes Jisung's interjection before Mark slips in, “That's very irresponsible of you-”

Chenle was already giving them a farewell salute before turning his back on the table.

He's typing hurriedly across the screen of his phone, already ordering an Uber.

“Just charge the bill to my room,” he tells the man stationed at the front of the house. They exchanged the necessary details before he's off.

-

You know how Chenle got when it comes to money. You know how he got when you spent it. More specifically, when you spent his. You're not sure where that kind of desire came from, perhaps from some part of his brain that wanted to take care of you.

Since you last spoke, you've been seated idly on the bed with jittery nerves, your nails tapping against the water bottle. The relics of your shopping spree sit idly in the corner and you watch yourself idly in the mirror. It's a floor-to-ceiling that sat directly adjacent to the bed.

You're nervous. That much is clear. Bubbling just beneath the surface, however, is sheer excitement.

The ice cold water flowing down your throat had done little in quelling the heat that had ignited along the expanse of your skin. Everything feels too tight suddenly. This tiny cocktail you had slipped into, suddenly feels like a fucking torture chamber. Even your braids feel tight in their high ponytail. You need to get rid of it.

[18:03, Chenle] Open the door

You've already zipped the dress down when his notification flashes across your screen. Your feet are muted against the carpet as you open the door.

Your boyfriend stands on the other side of the threshold, dressed in his simple grey sweatpants and letterman jacket. A single gold chain glimmers from the fluorescents.

“We answer the door naked now?” He raises his eyebrows, hair damp with rain as he asses you in nothing but your lace underwear.

“Well I was undressing when you arrived-” Your words immediately drown under the weight of the kiss that Chenle crashes against your lips. He immediately crowds you by the doorway, pushing the door shut with his foot as he pushes you up against the wall, his tall frame hunching over yours. His hands greedily sink into your hips and his jaw is tight as he peppers kisses everywhere.

He kisses you desperately, and fervently, it barely registers when he's pulling away.

“Thought I told you to keep the dress on.” He's rubbing dizzying circles against your cheek as you look up at him with hazy eyes.

He wanted to fucking eat you alive.

“You were taking too long,” you pat his hand still firmly on your cheek, “Take your shoes off.” You lightly coax him out of his sneakers before smiling up at him with your lopsided swollen lips and smeared lipstick. Your hand interlocks into his as you lead him deeper into the apartment and he follows like a limp piece of skin, a helpless puppy with no sense of direction other than your safe navigation. “You have lipstick on your face,” You giggle before leading you both deeper into the hotel suite.

“I don't care-” Chenle says, before immediately setting his eyes on the myriad bags sitting idly in a corner. All sorts of labels were affirmed on the cardboard faces of each bag and Chenle looked back at you. You at least had the gall to appear sheepish, wrapping your arms around your exposed stomach like a child awaiting her scolding.

“Who possibly needs this many clothes?” There's a scolding edge to Chenle's voice as he shakes off his letterman jacket. He walks closer towards you. Your heart rate picks up as you avoid eye contact. Choosing instead to keep your gaze on Chenle's chest, which, almost far more harrowing, is being covered by a thin compression shirt. He looked borderline edible.

Your panties are drenched at the very sight of him.

The frown on Chenle's face is teasing, as he locks his hands behind his back, only waltzing closer and closer. His eyes narrow.

You're tripping backwards onto the bed, appearing even smaller underneath a looming, Chenle. He must be drunk.

You're tilting your head up at him, “How much did you and your friends have to dri-”

“Are you already wet?” That sentence alone allows you to conclude quite quickly that Chenle and his friend did, in fact, have a lot to drink. He licks his lips before descending on you until he's hovering slightly above you with his single chain dangling just above your head. There was no concrete way to deal with confident, drunk Chenle, you just sort of, had to take it all in stride until he was sober enough to be embarrassed about his forwardness.

You try to wiggle yourself out from under his frame but Chenle was already beginning to leave wet kisses on your neck, licking and sucking at the skin while producing the most obscene sounds known to man. He groans when he slots his hips between your steepeled legs. He lowers his hips to yours, dragging his clothed dick along the surface of your cunt and you moan involuntarily.

"Greedy, Greedy girl," he whispers, still burying his head between your neck as he humps against your clothed core. Your hips stutter upwards on their own accord, your jaw locked far too tight.

"Spending all my money like that-" he scolds, shaking his head in dismay.

"M'sorry," his snickers has your lips forming into a small pout.

"You're not sorry," his lips are inches from yours, "You're just gonna do it again-"

"-and again, and again..." you bio at his bottom lip, pulling it between your teeth.

Chenle's arms grow weak. "Shit-" he lets his hand slip between your legs as he continues with his face buried in your collarbone, exposing you to the fresh, oceanic scent of his shampoo as his lips begin to lick over your clothed breasts.

“I need you wet-” he mumbles, “Don't think I can waste time on foreplay tonight, pretty girl.”

You unconsciously lift your hips higher, immediately mystified by his ministrations. A slight gasp wrenches itself from your throat when your cunt meets his spindly fingers.

“Chenle-”

You're lying supine on the Clarifornia king bed and Chenle hovers above you. Fully clothed while you're almost naked. His hand is digging into the sheets beside your head as he hovers over you. Chenle's body acts as a great big shield, hiding you away from the city lights bleeding through the floor to ceiling windows.

“Condom,” you begin to say but your words are already escaping you and you're drifting off into fuzzy, foggy subspace. “Le- we needa-”

He shuts you up with a small peck on the lips, unbeknownst to you, he's already pulling his cock out and positioning the head right at your weeping entrance. “It'll be quick.” he says with a second kiss, “I'll pull out, I promise.” He's already swiping away your panties, exposing your weeping cunt to the warm air.

“B-But you're intoxicated- holy fuck!” He slowly eases the head of his cock through your folds and the lubrication from both your arousal aids in making the process less painful but certainly not less uncomfortable. “F-Fuck-’

“I'm your boyfriend,” Chenle breathes out as he pushes his cock further in, “You're not exactly taking advantage of me.”

Unable to stop himself from slamming his cock in, Chenle winces at the tight grip your cunt has him in. He needed this so fucking badly. He needed your warmth, your presence. The world seemed completely and utterly meaningless when you were there to provide meaning for him.

“Fuck, you're so tight, you're so tight, so, so tight-”

You're a whimpering drooling mess underneath him, with your head rolled to the side, eyes half lidded in ecstasy as Chenle made avid use of your body with his deep strokes that only grew more and more rough. “Fucking, fuck-”

“J-Just like that, - please don't stop-'' your breath is knocked out of you the deeper he goes and the discomfort quickly bleeds into pleasure. A pleasure so profound you're arching your back for him, forcing his cock deeper. Chenle's grunts turn into a slew of tiny, pathetic whimpers and you unconsciously squeeze around him as he bullies his cock further and further into your soaking cunt.

“You're making such a big mess, you know that?” You could feel it. Your wetness was seeping into the linen underneath you and all you could do was whimper silently, bottom lip protruding as you took every bit of everything he had to give.

“Quick,” he keeps whispering in his light-as-a-feather voice, “Y-You want me to fill you up, huh?” Chenle's mind is completely clouded with lust and ruts into you deeper and deeper, his pelvis brushing against your puffy clit.

“You wanna sit here with my cum leaking out of your cunt baby-” You're gasping, trying to wriggle your torso up.

“Chenle! You said you wouldnt-”

“For the fantasy, baby,” he places a reassuring kiss against your lips before parting those lips as he hits a particularly deep spot inside. “I-Its for the fantasy baby, relax.” You're both breathing into each other’s mouth. The coldness of his chains hits your chin in intervals and you're both sure that you might die of overstimulation. “You're so much work, you know that? So much fucking work-”

“Chenle I'm gonna cum-” You could feel your orgasm wanting to snap and your words only spurred him on quicker, “Fuck, me too-”

“Oh God, you feel so good,” His eyes were squeezed shut, so completely lost in his own pleasure that he barely registered you slipping into your own orgasm. All Chenle could feel was your cunt tightening around him before he nearly spilled inside of you.

“Fuck! Oh- fuck-” Chenle's clumsily grabs ahold of his cock already spurting cum before he's milking the rest out over your stomach “Jesus- FUCK!” it was the loudest you ever heard him and your chest rises and falls as you watch Chenle make a complete mess of you as if you truly were nothing more than an object. His object

“F-Fuck,” Chenle slumps over beside you but not before dragging you in by his side. It's like he wanted to live in your skin.

“I can't believe you came inside me.”

“didn't mean it,” He says, before nuzzling into your neck, already drifting off to a land where you never ever left him, even for a moment.

[itneverendshere]

Hii i love the bitchy!pogue!reader series and i would love to know how they first hooked up again, like what led them to keep going after their first night together. That's all, thx in a advance if you do it, i love your writing

the way i ran to write this lmao, thank you for the request ❤️ let's just say it wasn't planned at alll....it was fate👀

in spite of myself - drabble

pairing: bitchy!pogue!reader x rafe

you swore the first time was the last.

you were simply… curious. you wanted to figure out just how far you could push his buttons without him taking it out on you.

you got your answer. you went to that party with the sole intent of pissing him off, but you hadn’t planned on ending up in his bed—not that you’d ever complain. but that was it.

you’d gotten your taste, of course you weren't expecting to run into him so...soon.

you’d learned to play along for these little trips into kookland. your cheap dress, bought solely to get you through the gates, hugged you a little too close—but that was the point, wasn’t it? you made a show of adjusting the neckline, scanning the room with that perfected boredom.

the moment you spotted him across the room, you nearly snorted, because of course he was here.

rafe, in all his buttoned-up glory. hair slicked back like he’d asked his barber for the "douchebag deluxe," wearing a shirt that probably cost as much as your entire car. he looked so at ease among his kind, you wanted to pat him on the head and give him a treat.

bingo.

he was pretending not to see you, standing there with some stuffy old kook in khakis so aggressively white they probably had a staff meeting dedicated to their upkeep.

but you could spot it: the clench in his jaw, his fingers twitching around his glass.

honestly, it was too easy. you’d barely taken a few steps in his direction, and his grip tightened like he was trying not to crush the glass just at the sight of you.

aww. you hadn’t come here for him, but the opportunity was irresistible, how could you say no to that face?

you took your time, internally giddy at how his stiff he looked the closer you got. you let out a soft, exaggerated sigh as you finally slid up next to him at the bar, taking your time, letting your eyes glide over his shoulders and back down to those broad, broad arms.

god, look at those arms, you thought.

this idiot must curl yachts for fun. absolutely absurd.

his gaze snapped to you, “what the hell are you doing here?” he gritted out, sending a delightful shiver down your spine.

poor thing, always so snappy.

you brought a hand to your chest, going for maximum innocence.

“who, me?” you blinked, leaning in with a soft, honey-dripping sigh. “just networking with the local elite. isn’t that what i’m supposed to do if i want to ‘rise above my station’?” you savored the horror flashing across his face.

rafe looked personally offended, like you’d just announced you were taking up golf, while you let your eyes drop to the line of his shoulders, lingering just a little too long on his chest before dropping.

slowly, slowly.

his face twisted like he was in pain, and he leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest, protecting himself from the way you were very clearly undressing him with your eyes.

“cut that shit out,” he ground out, “i know what you’re doing.”

you raised an eyebrow, “doing what?” you shot him a wide-eyed, who, me? look, letting your gaze dip again. “i’m not doing anything.”

his face flushed as he hissed, “you’re doing it right now! act normal for once.”

he pulled away from you as if your pogue germs might rub off on him, but you’d seen that look on his face before.

“honestly, if you didn’t want attention cameron, maybe don’t wear that. kind of a slutty choice, don’t you think?”

his neck flushed deep red as he scowled. “excuse me?”

you shrugged, “just saying. last time, you had a lot to say about my outfit, didn’t you?”

“you’re fucking insane. leave me alone.”

you smirked, leaning closer, “oh, baby, i’ve already got what i wanted from you,” you purred. “unless, of course, you’re offering again?”

his jaw tensed, and he looked away as if even looking at you would ruin his day. but he was still here, wasn’t he?

“don’t flatter yourself. i’m done with you,” he muttered.

you shot him a wicked grin, “flatter myself?” you let out an exaggerated laugh, turning heads nearby. “i’m here on a date.”

rafe’s smirk dropped, and he cast a quick, possessive look around the room before moving his attention back to you.

“a date?” he repeated as if he couldn’t believe the words coming out of your mouth.

you nodded as you pointed toward the back, where your “date”—some poor kook with a summer tan and daddy’s credit card—stood waiting near the hors d’oeuvres table, oblivious.

“did you think i came here just for you?” you tilted your head, letting the words sting. “i don’t do repeats, country club. got what i wanted, remember?”

he looked like he was about to set the place on fire, blue eyes narrowing as he glared at your so-called date. you could sense the gears turning in his head. god, this was just too easy.

“maybe you should run along, hmm?” you said, your voice light and mocking. “can’t imagine what your country club buddies would think, seeing you all worked up over a pogue.” you flashed him a dazzling smile before tossing a wink, then spun on your heel, leaving him there seething.

you could feel his stare burning into your back as you sashayed over to your “date.” this was way too fun.

lunch was mind-numbing, but free, so you were perfectly okay tolerating the “date”—or, as you preferred to call it, the idiot with a wallet—while he droned on about his family’s fleet of yachts or some bullshit about generational wealth. you nodded along, not listening as he bragged. as if you even gave a fuck.

when he finally paused to shove more overpriced pasta into his mouth, you decided you needed a break from the snooze-fest.

“excuse me, i’ll just pop to the ladies’ room,” you murmured, batting your lashes like the good, sweet little pogue he thought he’d bagged for the afternoon. as soon as you were clear of him, you rolled your eyes so hard it was a miracle they didn’t get stuck.

the second you got into the quiet of the bathroom, you let out a dramatic sigh of relief, shaking your head.

what a fucking bore.

you’d honestly rather be anywhere else—well, except maybe with rafe, since he’d probably drag you back to the ninth circle of pogue-hating hell.

as you were checking your lipstick in the mirror, the door swung open, and you didn’t even need to look up to know who it was.

“um, excuse you?” you snapped, eyebrows shooting up. “i know you have a thing for following me around, but the ladies’ room? have you lost your fuckin’ mind?”

rafe didn’t answer.

he stalked forward, looking pissed as he backed you up against the sink, boxing you in without so much as a second thought. there was something about the way his forearms flexed when he did that.

ridiculous, he most likely got pumped up just pouring a glass of water.

“what the hell do you think you’re doing here?” he growled, his voice dripping with disdain.

a laugh bubbled up before you could stop it. oh my god.

you clamped a hand over your mouth, but the sound came anyway, echoing off the fancy-ass tiles. “oh my god, what the actual fuck is wrong with you?”

he leaned in even closer. “you think this is funny?”

“funny?” you snorted, crossing your arms. “it’s hilarious. i’m here for lunch. you know, food? the stuff people eat? he offered, and i like free shit. it’s that simple.”

“you’re doing this just to piss me off,” he accused.

“oh, get over yourself,” you scoffed. “you think i’m obsessed with you or something? i wasn’t even thinking about you until you came barging in here like a lunatic.” you leaned back, giving him a brazen, challenging look. “can you move, by the way? i was enjoying the break.”

his nostrils flared, but you didn’t even care. if he wanted to lose his shit, fine—he was the one who walked in here. you stared him down, totally unfazed, holding his gaze until he broke it.

“careful,” you added, your voice mocking and low. “if i didn’t know better, i’d say you were jealous. because, i gotta be honest, you look like you’re about two seconds away from—”

“shut up,” he growled, his face inches from yours, his lips brushing your ear as he spoke. “you show up here, flaunting yourself like you don’t remember exactly how last week ended, like you weren’t begging me to—”

“oh please,” you interrupted, ignoring the pleasure that traveled up your spine. “let’s not rewrite history.”

his hand gripped your cheeks, blunt nails pressing in from either side as he pulled you close, capturing your jaw to hold you still. the pressure of the squeeze pulled your pouty lips together, forcing you to look up with wide eyes.

“stop talking."

you tried to smirk around his grip, feeling the bite of his fingers, but your words came out muffled.

“what’s wrong, country club? can’t handle a little conversation?”

“just can’t help yourself, can you?”

you could hardly nod, your eyes gleaming with defiance as you let out a small, mocking hum of agreement.

his hands slid down from your cheeks to cradle your jaw, fingers firm as his mouth pushed against yours. you giggled into the kiss, entirely too pleased with yourself as you tangled your fingers into his hair, pulling until he groaned.

“this is the last time,” his voice was ragged against your lips, but the words sounded half-hearted, he was trying to convince himself.

you smirked, pulling back just enough to catch your breath, tilting your head to test him, see if he’d let you go. instead, his hand was already sliding up your neck, his thumb tracing the line of your lips, holding you right there.

“you think you’re so clever, don’t you?” he whispered, breathless. “think you can just look at me like that, say whatever you want…”

“who says i can’t?” you purred, lips brushing against his as you taunted, “if you don't want this, maybe you should go.”

his grip tightened, a curse slipping past his pretty lips, streaked with the deep red of your lipstick, glossy with both your spit.

and fuck, did he look good like that—disheveled, unguarded, his face painted with your lipstick like a silent confession of just how far he’d let himself go with you despite his fucked morals.

rafe let out a shaky breath, his forehead resting against yours as he muttered, “last time, swear to god.”

[thenationofzaun]

The way Ekko has been surgically removed from the Vi/Jinx story is criminal. He is the only other surviving member of the family from the Act 1 era, and the closest relation to Vi after Jinx. They keep trying to push the "Vi has nothing left in Zaun/everyone in Vi's life has changed" angle to force Caitvi and her enforcer arc, but Ekko is right fucking there! Leading a tight-knit group just like Vander did, opposing Silco just like Vi does. So what the fuck is Vi talking about, with everyone she loves changing? She should be ecstatic that she still has Ekko right? That she still has someone she knows from her childhood who is alive and fighting Silco? Little Man, the kid she hosed down whenever he got dirty, the little boy she taught how to fight.

They are trying to push the angle that joining the enforcers is her only option, when joining the Firelights is still on the table for her. But nope, for some reason, she doesn't think about or care about him. Doesn't look for him, doesn't care if he survived, doesn't return to the Firelights. This is such a glaring hole in the storytelling but the show thinks it can distract me with pretty visuals and music videos.

First ever thing Vi should have done in Season 2 is look for the Firelights. Reunite with Ekko and talk. About Jinx, about the war, and what they want to do about it. Caitlyn got to talk with Jayce, why not Vi and Ekko? Instead they make Vi get drunk with a nameless new character? Maybe Ekko could invite Vi to join his side, Vi tells him she needs to be there for Caitlyn first during her mother's funeral but she will return. And then Caitlyn gets to Vi. Offers the badge, convinces her joining the Firelights isn't the best option, that the strikeforce is where she truly belongs and can be the most help to prevent collateral damage to innocents in Zaun. Just like how Vander worked with Grayson to prevent collateral damage to innocents. So Vi takes Caitlyn's offer, betraying her promise to join Ekko. Returns to Zaun but in the enforcer uniform. Have Ekko actually react to this. The video game has some lines from Ekko admonishing Vi as a traitor, right? Why aren't they including it in the show? Why isn't Ekko at all involved in Vi's plot, reacting to her enforcer arc?

Oh right, because they added a billion other plot lines into the show and they don't have the time to explore so many character dynamics anymore. Suddenly Ekko is involved with Heimerdinger and now the Arcane is fucking with the tree, and Ekko has to get packed up and sent to another dimension. Okay.

Season 2 makes it seem like Vi and Ekko are complete strangers. Vi has no curiosity about him, and he has no curiosity about her. He fought Jinx so Vi could talk to the Council. Last thing he knows, Jinx blew herself up. Now suddenly it turns out she survived and killed the very Council Vi was supposed to meet. His reaction to this?? What does he think happened to Vi?? Nah, let's have him joke around with fucking Heimerdinger while breaking into Jayce's lab. It's so unnatural.

[shinkei-shinto]

Today I got up to go on my daily morning walk, got all of my stuff on the overshirt the house keys you know, all of that stuff that you need to leave the house. And my housemate followed me to the door for a mutual kitchen need and we were chatting about the work done on the house and whatnot,

and my very lovely adorable horrible daughter wandered in with us, and I went 'ah, yes, she is Participating in the conversation, good job Creature' and we continued chatting,

and then I realized it had been silent for a bit too long. And I turned around. And there she was -

imagine, if you will, a small dilute tort with a neon green harness on, crouched over the mat next to the front door, viciously and quickly chewing a leaf. an entire whole leaf. a dark red leaf the size of your palm, which is CRAMMED into her tiny little mouth as she homfgfgs the ENTIRE leaf in one go, chewing and chewing and chewing,

and I yell

CREATURE!!!

and she knows she isn't supposed to eat leafs. we have a battle every fall where I try desperately to keep the leafs OUTSIDE where she does not go and she stalks the doorways for an escaped leaf, a prized snack, a thing she very should not eat!!!

so she

RUNS

and because of the way that floor is set up, she has a clear path down to the basement (home territory) and I cannot get to her in time, and I yell "LEAF! LEAF IN MOUTH!" and my housemate, bless them, used to dogs, JERKS into the path to freedom but they are TOO SLOW and the cat has run the length of the kitchen and is down the stairs and my housemate SLIPS AND FALLS trying to get this dumb beast and I come around the corner to the stairs to the basement

and Creature is sitting. innocently. at the bottom of the stairs, no leaf in sight. and meows her cute little question meow, all high pitched and innocent of any crimes.

The leaf was discovered, punctured and wet with cat drool, midway through her flight path. she did not get the leaf back.

Been awake five minutes and already had my fill of news.

Tell me funny things your pets have done today, please.

[m00nchildwrites]

Excuse me, but Xavier's Kitty Card is INSANE. He is so horny in it!

*~☆Spoilers Below☆~*

The dude is straight up moaning, blushing, and panting. The way I blushed like an innocent bean when he-

Like excuse me!!! And then he-

A lick and a kiss while moaning!?!?!? How am I supposed to function like a normal, sane human after that!?!?!?

He is unhinged!!! And now, I am a wreck. Surely, it can't amp up more and keep the rating. Im safe now... but NOPE. He just-

And I just straight up flat-lined. Like nothing going on in my head... except maybe a high-pitched scream because how dare he!?!? I am not ok. He really raked our hand down his chest to his 🍆 and said "rub me here. Make me purr." I- I wheezed. I seized. I fell to my knees...

And MC did too apparently. MC was just as done for because it fades to black after he gives us bedroom eyes that could melt anyone's panties off and then the very next scene is-

Man is weak-legged and suffering from sex hair. (Probably from MC running her hands through his hair because who tf could blame her?)

They have zero chill getting it on in Jeremy's greenhouse at Philos. Pretty sure Xavier would've been a smug little shit about it too, because he knows damned well your sounds were heard. Now everyone in a block radius knows Xavier just rocked your world.

(Jeremy can not make eye contact with you for like a month.)

[neiptune]

this town is fake but you're the real thing

cw: 11k wc, female reader, social media relationship, suna downloads an app that randomly matches anonymous users with each other because osamu thinks it'll help him open up more, strangers to lovers, romance, pining, so much texting, suna is as emotionally constipated as it gets

Against all expectations, it’s Osamu who managed to get under his skin.

An innocent night out to celebrate the new Onigiri Miya branch in Shizuoka, a few beers shared on a bench by the port, what started as innocent conversation about each other’s dating life soon turning into a painfully precise evaluation of why he can’t seem to find someone worth keeping around.

“You don’t really open up to them”, his friend shrugged.

“I open up to them plenty. I’ve been with Yuki for three months”, Suna refuted such harsh remark with a scowl.

“Yeah”, Samu mused, “have you ever shared anything about your friends and family? What’s the most vulnerable thought or feeling you discussed?”.

Rintaro took a moment to reflect, begrudging silence weighing more each second spent quiet.

“She met Motoya”.

Osamu rolled his eyes, “Shit, you’re right— can’t believe ya didn’t propose. Meeting Komori’s the real deal”.

“You know, if I wanted to hang out with the twin who’d be a pain in my ass, I would’ve called your brother”.

With a snort and a handsome grin, Osamu lightly bumped his shoulder against Suna’s. “Ya love us”, then his gaze softened as he took a swig from the bottle, “I’m just sayin’. Maybe a relationship is not what you need right now”.

“Then what do I need?”, despite a fiery remonstrance, Rintaro found himself leaning onto Osamu’s judgement. He’d always been very good at reading people, much like his brother, but Samu’s approach was always balanced and, most importantly, sincere. Perhaps he was right. Perhaps there was something he’s missing about himself, something that shined bright for his best friend to catch instead.

“A connection, dumbass”, Osamu lightly pat his shoulder, “it doesn’t have to be romantic. It definitely doesn’t have to be sexual. You need to find someone you can talk to”.

“I talk—”

“Someone who isn’t us. Not me, not ‘Tsumu”, he ignored Rintaro’s indignant scoff, “not Shinsuke, not Aran. You need to get out of your comfort zone with someone new. A stranger!”.

“A stranger? You want me to stop someone on the street and casually ask them to listen to whatever trauma is tied to my fear of flying?”.

“Start small”, Osamu’s eyes glinted with the excitement that a good idea usually brings, “try that app Bokuto was trying so hard to get Sakusa to download. Matchpal, was it?”.

“Sounds like a great way to have a fifty year old creep flash me with a dick pic. No, thank you”.

“I’d think about it. Ya know, we’re not getting any younger. Like ‘Tsumu said, you—”

“I should hurry up before I grow old with only my emotional unavailability to keep me company, I remember”, Rintaro finished his beer with a grimace. Osamu chuckled, eventually dropped the topic, but the suggestion remained unpleasantly hanging over his head both like a succulent fruit and a risky presage.

So now he’s slumped in the living room of the spacious apartment the EJP provides, a quiet Friday evening spent cooking some stew for dinner and facetiming his family. The tv is on as a distraction and an easy way out should things get uncomfortable. Surely Dwight will keep him grounded.

Suna’s already downloaded the app but it takes one episode and a half to muster the courage to actually tap on it. 

The interface is pretty easy to navigate. It seems he’s supposed to create a minimalist profile first and then he’d be free to start a new, random chat. Users can opt out anytime or, if they wish to keep a specific person as their anonymous match, add them as a friend and pin the conversation within their personal directory. Nothing too complicated.

Suna’s patience wears thin easily and after a few attempts at picking unavailable usernames, he settles for crysnoopy. Finally, original enough at last.

Since not revealing one’s identity seems to be the point of the entire thing, he can’t upload a profile picture and instead has to select one random avatar from the default library. He picks a cartoon frog with big eyes and no mouth on a light green background.

There he is, an anonymous online presence on a stupid app. His profile only contains a nickname, he/him pronouns, age and a cute icon. No interests listed, no boundaries, not a single space where he could leave a polite note— please don’t send unsolicited dick pics. Not that he ever plans on requesting one.

Suna starts a few new chats, faceless identities either ending the conversation right away upon his dry and unoriginal hey or being as odd as one would imagine strangers in an anonymous community could be.

Lavenderhaze

-> Hi.

Lavenderhaze

-> How are you?

He sinks deeper into the nice couch pillows Atsumu forced him to get.

crysnoopy

-> hey. all good, wbu?

Lavenderhaze

-> Good, bored.

Lavenderhaze

-> Should we exchange nudes or something?

Rintaro sighs. Hesitation is laced into the delay of his thumb but eventually he taps the skip option, Osamu’s ominous words still ringing loud and clear in his head. It’s not what he downloaded the dumb app for, it’s not what he needs right now. Fuck, maybe he really should’ve called Atsumu instead.

A new chat opens after a short loading time and his nose wrinkles when he realizes that he’ll probably have to send the first message this time. The username staring back at him is original enough to make Suna take a few seconds to think of something equally entertaining to say. The whole thing is never going to work if he doesn’t take it seriously and actually puts some effort in it, right?

He looks up from his phone for a second. Then, a loud ping makes him jump.

Unfinishedusernam

-> When you shower, do you actively wash your legs or just let soapy water rinse down on them?

Rintaro almost huffs out a laugh. Original username and approach? A good enough start to ignite the hope of finally be talking to someone sane.

crysnoopy

-> I don’t shower.

A beat passes, then the small animation of a hand idly scribbling with a pencil indicates that you’re typing something back.

Unfinishedusernam

-> That’s hot.

-> Why the username?

Suna’s lips twitch, not a smile but almost. He wants to type an equally sarcastic reply, brush the question off and maybe ask something more interesting instead. But then he remembers what he’s doing and forces an honest reply out of his fingers.

crysnoopy

-> my little sister used to scream like an eagle when she cried, the one thing that always shut her up was a snoopy plush I won at the arcade.

Suna barely registers that his leg starts bouncing lightly as he watches the little hand appear on the screen once more.

Unfinishedusernam

-> I’m glad it’s something cute :)

-> Lowkey thought you were an incel

This time he really does snort out half a laugh.

crysnoopy

-> if I was I would’ve asked why your username is edging me.

Unfinishedusernam

-> Fair. So… you do shower, right?

crysnoopy

-> I promise I do.

Unfinishedusernam

-> Damn, my incel detector has truly failed me.

-> You seem suspiciously normal btw, I feel like we could have a conversation that doesn't involve dicks

Suna’s hand blindly reaches for the remote to lower the volume of the show he currently doesn’t seem to need as additional emotional support.

crysnoopy

-> likewise. wanna make it official?

Unfinishedusernam

-> Jeez, at least buy me dinner first

Rintaro’s beat to it, before he can even click on the option there’s already a colorful notification popping up on his screen, informing that he has a new friend request.

He accepts it.

It took some convincing for Samu to agree but, eventually, the spot on the pull-out couch became his. Between Hyogo and Shizuoka, with imminent plans of further expanding in Tokyo, he’s always travelling to make sure the shops are keeping their top quality standard high. The Shizuoka branch is still too recent for him to retreat back to his hometown for good, so he’s there most of the time. Suna had to call him an idiot a million times before Osamu accepted his hospitality, never one to ask for anything, always first in line to help others instead. Suna thinks he still didn’t call him an idiot enough times.

They’re both gone most of the day anyway, between the restaurant and training. The season is about to start and the trip to Osaka feels more imminent than ever, Suna knows he has to be at the top of his game to perform exactly how he’s expected to. Which means, no distractions. He does a good job at avoiding those, dating apps left unopened and the way home now shorter than usual, to circumvent his favorite bakery. Those blueberry muffins will have to wait. Samu’s healthier alternative with gram oats and bananas is one hell of a substitute anyway.

Suna loves his friend, he really does. The house feels less empty when he’s around and there’s always a homemade meal tucked somewhere in the fridge. They share breakfast when they get up at the same time and night conversations at the kitchen table if Rintaro manages to stay awake late enough to wait for Osamu to be back.

But sometimes, being alone is easier. No explanations owed for the one distraction he seems unable to give up, no curious raise of the eyebrows he’d have to confront when the familiar ping from his phone prompts an immediate reaction the wrong twin would tease him endlessly for.

He’s always been a dry texter or so his friends, teammates and relatives have always told him. Suna didn’t ever think he was supposed to make an effort to become better at written communication, or communication in general. But now, there’s you. A faceless, perhaps not entirely sane someone who makes him check his notifications way too often, insides spasming when the message doesn’t come from one of his groupchats and the Matchpal icon flashes across the screen instead.

Suna likes talking to you, so much that he often finds himself being the one to text first. It’s okay if you’ll take hours to get back to him sometimes, he knows for certain that the message is eventually going to light up his screen and that’s enough to make him smile. Sometimes you text first, at either ungodly hours in the middle of the night or during the day, if you’re bored at work. He doesn’t know what your job is, you don’t know precisely what Suna does either because, again, anonymity. The only detail he’s familiar with is that you’re often around “wearing but rewarding humans”, as you’d once put it. The one thing you know about him is that he’s an athlete, something you had briefly teased him for.

When he’s not talking to you, when parts or even the entirety of days that used to belong to him and his routine alone are devoid of your messages, Suna finds himself thinking. Or rather, imagining. There’s a lot he doesn’t know and he refuses to overwhelm you with questions, therefore his mind desperately tries to fill in the gaps to no avail. Are you spending the evening reading a book, watching a tv show? Did you cook dinner or order takeout? How happy are you that it’s been raining for three days straight on a scale of ‘I can only function if it’s sunny and bright’ to ‘leave me in a storm and watch me flourish’ ?

Most times, Suna simply plugs the charging cable into is phone, switches off the bedside light and hopes to wake up to one of your texts. They seem to be making an increasingly dangerous difference between a good day and a bad one. He’s not entirely sure it’s ideal.

Unfinishedusernam

-> The humans are testing me today. Whatever you’re doing, I hope you’re having fun!

-> Ah, look what my mom baked yesterday. Told her I have a friend who’d love these :)

-> [IMG_65209]

Rintaro, elbows resting on his knees and towel haphazardly thrown around the neck, smiles at the screen. God, he hasn’t had a blueberry muffin in over a month, but what he’s really focusing on is that you’ve mentioned him. To your mom. There’s a low, static buzz in his ears now, punctuated by the thumps of his heart growing louder. It makes you feel more real, it also makes something simmer in his stomach.

crysnoopy

-> I’m at training.

-> They look really good. Send me one immediately. How was family dinner?

He’s enabled auto-capitalization for the first time in his life, for god’s sake. The Inarizaki groupchat was so disturbed Atsumu decided to apply the same additional authenticator method used by his online banking and forced Suna to reply to a secret question. One only the real Suna would know the answer to.

He successfully demonstrated the needed personal knowledge concerning the color of Aran’s lucky underwear in high school and thus confirmed his identity.

Unfinishedusernam

-> It was nice! I love spending time with them

-> How’s training?

Rintaro finds himself wanting to give his identity shape too. It’s the first time he’s seen your hand, holding that tupperware underneath the dim light of your mom’s kitchen. He wants to feel more real for you, too.

He snaps a picture of his hand holding a half-empty water bottle, careful to hide his shoes. Not that you’d be able to immediately tell he plays volleyball from those, but just in case. You do get to see part of his legs though, shorts and their very recognizable colors kept out of frame.

crysnoopy

-> [IMG_65209]

-> Almost done, very tired

He watches as the little hand scribbles, then stops. It resumes the writing, then stops once more. His leg is bouncing again, teeth sinking into his bottom lip. He straight up jumps when, suddenly, someone loudly falls on the empty spot next to him and the bench creaks.

“We’re on a roll today, my blocks are almost as good as yours”, Washio grins, temples shining with sweat. He briefly glances down at the phone Suna almost drops when it vibrates against his palm.

“You okay?”.

“Yes”, Rintaro clears his throat, makes a show of shoving the phone right back into his bag, “you’re in shape today. Motoya too”.

“Ready for Osaka!”, Komori fist-bumps Tatsuki right before sitting next to him with an exaggerated groan, “hey, is your friend still in town? The Miya twin. We could go out tonight, get some drinks”.

“We literally leave in three days”, Suna’s fist lightly lands on his teammate’s head.

“Mocktails”, Motoya sticks his tongue out.

“I feel like I already see your faces enough. And I’m about to see them even more”.

“Rintaro don’t be a grumpy asshole, challenge once again failed”, Tatsuki rolls his eyes, “you’re always glued to that damn phone when you’re not playin’. Let’s go out, have fun, possibly get laid?”.

Suna sighs heavily. “Fine. I wanted to visit Samu’s new shop anyway, we can have dinner and take him with us afterwards”. He should get Osamu a gift, a nice plant or a maneki-neko. He’ll stop by a few shops on the way home, he decides.

“Now you’re talking!”, Washio smacks his shoulder with way too much energy, “let’s ask Nagito too, he’s gonna love some free onigiri!”.

“Hey, we’re payin’ for those”.

“Sure we are!”.

“I’m serious, you ass—”

“That’s enough gossiping, boys. Get back to work!”, by muscle memory, their legs react to coach’s boisterous voice and all three men jump up from their seats. Suna spends the rest of the late afternoon training thinking about the text message hidden in his gym bag.

It’s way past 6PM when training ends, the last half an hour was spent studying opponent videos and then simulating different match scenarios. Suna’s brain feels fried and on any other day he’d be so ready to get a massage, eat a well-balanced dinner and melt on his couch in front of a good tv show until his eyelids would grow heavy.

Instead, he takes the long way home, legs heavy as he explores different shops in search for the perfect gift. He settles for a very beautiful, handmade, porcelain maneki-neko, left paw raised instead of the right one because Suna knows Osamu will always care about having more customers who trust his restaurant rather than having more money.

The shop owner puts the gift in an elegant box and seals the bag with a delicate ribbon, he thanks the old lady with a deep bow and despite his limbs feeling heavy with fatigue, as he breathes in the cool air of the evening, Suna is content. He thinks of the message sitting pretty in his pocket as he heads home.

Unfinishedusernam

-> You have really nice hands

He didn’t open it, not yet. It’s reassuring to have the notification sitting there, untouched and polished against his lockscreen.

It shouldn’t matter that a stranger on an app is complimenting his hands, it really shouldn’t. Then why does it, somehow? Suna is happy you find his hands nice, which feels like a recipe for disaster. As he walks past his favorite bakery, he remembers you mentioning how you enjoy grabbing croissants for breakfast at times. When he told you that he was about to leave for a retreat with his team, after asking if their destination was one among Tokyo, Osaka and Yokohama, you proceeded to list all your favorite cafes, bakeries and restaurants for each of them. Just in case he had the time and wanted to check them out. As much as he tries to keep his distance, something as trivial as mentioning the correct city possibly resulting too risky, you always seem to go out of your way to reach closer. Taking the time to prepare three separate lists of suggestions while simultaneously respecting his boundaries is an effort he deems… unexpected. It feels weird in the best way. He almost wants to tell you it’s Osaka after all, give you something real, something new to hold on to. Maybe he’ll even tell you it’s volleyball.

“Coming home from another bad date?”, the unexpected quip startles Suna as he looks up from the sidewalk to find his not so friendly neighbor directing a saccharine smile at him, trash bags in hand. Not too long ago, he would’ve asked if she needed help with those.

“At least I still go on dates”, he purposefully eyes her attire, hoodie and sweatpants. Suna knows she’s just trying to annoy him, she can see the gym bag.

“With women who are blind, deaf, mute and desperate?”, she offers a sly smile and he rolls his eyes.

“That’s not a very flattering description of yourself, now”.

She huffs out a sarcastic laugh but Suna can see right through it: the irritation and the embarrassment.

“Always a pleasure running into you, Suna”.

“Likewise”, he smirks, “careful with those bags”.

Suna says goodbye with an unbothered wave of the hand despite her giving him the finger, positively happy that for a good while the chances of running into his neighbor will be reduced to zero. Osaka can’t come fast enough.

The thing is, he was surprised she lived so close when they first started chatting on a regular dating app. When Suna confirmed they were essentially in the same neighborhood, she was the one to propose a dinner right away.

Truthfully, it had been a bad day for him, for a number of reasons. Training was terrible, he was worried sick about his little sister’s sprained ankle, his own tendinitis was giving him hell and Atsumu had decided to call him to talk his ear off for an entire hour about the surprise party they were supposed to throw for Kita’s birthday. Yet, he didn’t feel like bailing on his date, so he forced himself out of the house with the worst mood.

Dinner was terrible. Awkward, tense, her growing increasingly impatient about his lack of responsiveness, him snapping at the tiniest, dumbest inputs. The entire night ended up being such a disaster she left halfway through her creamy salmon pasta, a few banknotes tucked underneath a glass of water, enough to pay half the bill. He remembers deflating in his seat, feeling terrible for five minutes, finishing his own dinner and then leaving as if nothing happened.

Suna thought about texting, maybe even apologizing, but he just never found it in himself to actually do it. It was just a bad date, bad dates happen. He’d never seen her before, or maybe simply didn’t pay enough attention to notice her presence, so there was no way he could’ve anticipated just how fucking often he’d run into her from that day onwards. She never failed to remind him of her resentment and, frankly, that ended up igniting his.

Of course Osamu’s leftovers are on his kitchen counter, neatly wrapped in tin foil. He remembers how hungry he’d feel after training, so when he knows Suna’s going to be busy until the late afternoon, he always makes sure to cook an extra portion.

Rintaro lets the gym bag fall onto the floor, right next to the couch he drops on with a groan. He’s already showered, he simply needs to change clothes and head out once more. When he checks the latest messages, his brows furrow in confusion.

Unfinishedusernam

-> Still at training?

Unfinishedusernam

-> Fuck, sorry, that was probably weird.  

Unfinishedusernam

-> I really didn’t mean to sound like a creep

Suna really, actually smiles at his screen. You’re insecure about complimenting him, which is sweet. He should’ve complimented you first.

crysnoopy

-> Just got home

-> You didn’t sound like a creep, I like your hands too :)

His heartbeat picks up in pace when the hand starts scribbling shortly after, indicating that you’re online and were probably waiting for his reply.

Unfinishedusernam

-> Ugh, see? Now you feel like you’re forced to compliment me

crysnoopy

-> No I don’t?

Unfinishedusernam

-> Liar. Here, if you’re sincere, compliment these.

-> [IMG_98279]

A laugh bubbles from his throat when he opens the picture of your feet in a pair of fuzzy fox slippers.

crysnoopy

-> They’re beautiful. I’d kill to have an identical pair

-> So you have nice hands and cool slippers, good to know.

Unfinishedusernam

-> You’re a flirt in your everyday life, aren’t you?

Once again, Suna hesitates. He is, clearly he is. In all likelihood, if he knew you in real life, he would be. You’re nice, intelligent, funny, someone he can easily see himself being interested in. But it’s not what he downloaded the app for, he shouldn’t wander in flirty territory, he really shouldn’t.

crysnoopy

-> Only if they own a pretty set of slippers

When has he ever been good at following judicious advice?

Unfinishedusernam

-> Knew it. Flirt.

-> Can I ask you something?

crysnoopy

-> Ask away

Unfinishedusernam

-> Why are you on this app?

He sighs. Flirty territory is easier than honesty territory. A quick glance at the clock on his kitchen wall instills a sense of urgency as he types a reply, as raw and sincere as it gets.

crysnoopy

-> I wanted to find out if I could open up to strangers more than I do with people I actually know

He really fucking hopes Osamu is proud. Let it be known that he’s trying.

Unfinishedusernam

-> Do you think you could open up to me?

Suna exhales from his nose. This is definitely not the type of conversation he wanted to have while on a rush.

crysnoopy

-> Maybe

-> I’d like that.

He waits for a few seconds, chat gone silent. Maybe you logged off, maybe you don’t know how to reply, either way Suna feels a weight lifting from his chest. It’s true, he thinks he might have a deeper conversation with you of all people. A faceless someone who sends him pictures of stray cats and nice sunsets, who makes him smile at silly jokes. He shortly wonders if you’d like to open up to him in the same way, if being vulnerable will ever be on the table. For now, he’s okay with simply letting you know.

Osaka ends up being extra motivating.

The EJP Raijin players have been training hard, religiously respecting their schedules: there’s no time for slacking off, days punctuated by a disciplined sleep routine, physical and tactical training, cool-down exercises, refuelling afternoons and evenings spent cross-training. The synergy within the team is off the charts, they have won every single practice match played so far and the excitement is palpable as the game with the Black Jackals approaches.

Their training sessions are usually shorter. Atsumu insists it’s because they’re in better shape, Suna’s almost punched him in the face over dinner.

When he’s not too exhausted, against all odds, he enjoys spending some time with old friends and acquaintances. He knows it’s going to be a difficult game, Sakusa is a pain in the ass to block and Inunaki, their libero, is very talented. But he thinks he’s ready.

As they stroll through the city when their free days or breaks coincide, Suna is sometimes hit with pangs of a sentiment not entirely foreign. Nostalgia, regret? He can never tell for certain. He misses having his friends around, being in the same place at all times, travelling less. As he thinks of Osamu currently being the only occupant of his large, painfully empty apartment, while he shares a portion of takoyaki with an ever annoyingly loud Atsumu, when he listens to Bokuto enthusiastically detail his relationship with Keiji, he thinks he’s missing out on too many things and he’s past feeling unperturbed about it.

“Shoyo says he’s very happy in Brazil, asked us to visit soon. Ya should come”, Atsumu lightly bumps Suna’s shoulder with his as they walk by the river, in search of a good viewing spot. The colorful procession carrying portable shrines is quickly filling up the boats to be paraded up and down the Okawa river. While it’s still early for fireworks, oh and bunraku performances are about to begin on different stage boats, and the air is filled with fragrances coming from the endless rows of festival food stalls. What an unexpected fortune, to be in town for the Tenjin Matsuri.

“Not gonna crash on your friend’s couch”, Suna’s peremptory tone makes Atsumu roll his eyes.

“Why are you being so pissy today? What’s up, scared you’re gonna lose?”.

Rintaro searches for something in his friend’s annoyingly familiar, limpid gaze as Bokuto snickers next to him. He finds his own affection, honed by years of joint quarrels, reflected in it.

“Rin?”, Atsumu’s worried now, head slightly tilted to the side. Suna offers a tiny smile.

“Do you ever miss Hyogo?”.

“No”, the answer comes quick, “I miss my family, I miss my friends. Yer ugly face especially. Places are just places”, he shrugs and Suna feels his shoulders relax.

“We’re lucky, we still get to catch up”, Bokuto smiles, “it’s okay to feel sad sometimes though”.

“I’m not sad”, Suna grimaces, “t’was just a question. Shut up”.

“Aw, don’t be shy! Keiji always says owning how we really feel is important”, Bokuto offers him one of his dangos and he begrudgingly takes it.

“I feel like… you should shut up”, he gruffs out. Atsumu snickers at that and Bokuto pouts. Suna doesn’t pay attention to any of them, too preoccupied with taking a decent picture of the boats. He wonders if he’ll be able to make the fireworks look as pretty as they’re in real life, to show them to you.

He doesn’t care that you’ll know where he is, it isn’t but a small part of himself he wishes to unravel for you. It’s what you two have been doing, no? Occasionally sending each other messages that go beyond jokes and memes. You now know he has twins as friends, just how much he loves his little sister, his favorite dish. Suna knows you live close to your family and visit them as often as possible, that you always bring a can of tuna in your bag should you come across stray cats on the way to work. He knows you’re scared of the dark and can’t look at blood without feeling dizzy. You’re trusting, extremely indecisive, a fierce procrastinator, you spend too much time on tiktok and are scared to death you’re not going to be able to keep those who are important to you in your life, forever. Suna gets it, really.

He hasn’t been able to say much, you opened up to him as if it was nothing and he still can’t bring himself to share much more than comforting words and feeble details. Who cares if he likes yakisoba? He hates how detached he feels from everyone else. He feels lonely. He wishes he still lived in the same town as his friends. Sometimes he goes to sleep with the tv left on, to simulate someone else’s presence in a cold, empty apartment. He misses his family, like, all the time. The thought of getting on a plane paralizes him. He doesn’t think he’s good enough at volleyball, his team may lose and it would be his fault. He doesn’t think he’s good enough.

“Taking cute pics for your mystery girl?”, Atsumu grins widely. Suna keeps a composed facade, calmly snaps a few additional shots, but internally he’s screaming. It’s his fault for expecting a twin to keep a secret, really.

“How d’you know they’re not for my instagram?”.

“You haven’t updated your feed in a year”, Bokuto points at his phone screen, sunarin profile open to prove a point. Rintaro almost snatches it from his hand to throw it into the river below.

“She’s not my girl”, he grumbles instead, “just a random person I talk to. It was Osamu’s idea”.

“It was a good idea. I’ve been trying to get Kiyoomi on that app too, you’re both so closed off”.

On any other occasion, Suna would’ve denied that and retorted with an abrasive remark. Not this time, though.

“Yeah. Trying to improve there”, he huffs, to which Atsumu’s ready-to-take-the-piss expression softens.

“Right. So how is she? Can’t remember the last time you texted with a stranger for more than a week before they were either ghosted or became your girlfriend”.

“She’s okay. I don’t know much”.

“Everyone on Matchpal is anonymous”, Kotaro fills in Atsumu’s knowledge gaps.

“She has to be more than okay if you’ve been talking for over a month”, the older Miya insists, prodding mercilessly at Suna’s discretion.

“She’s funny”, he finally concedes, “and smart. Makes opening up to a stranger look too easy”.

“Smart? Okay, ya definitely wouldn’t be her type then”, part of the tightness in Suna’s chest dissipates as his fist collides with Atsumu’s arm.

“I think that’s the point, though. You don’t know each other and will never meet, so you can admit things you wouldn’t normally mention. Be vulnerable”, Bokuto finishes his dangos and crumples up the small disposable cardboard box they came with.

“Yes but at this point she doesn’t really feel like a stranger anymore”, Suna pauses after saying that out loud, surprised by his own words. When has he stopped considering you a faceless someone on a random app, exactly? He realizes he’s given you a voice in his head. A smile he imagines reacting to his lame jokes, when he deflects tentative personal questions. He’s given you a routine, shared most of his. You don’t feel like a stranger anymore but you’re not exactly a friend. What are you, then?

“Uh-oh”, it takes a moment to realize that the teasing sound comes from Bokuto. Crap.

“And we could meet”, Suna pushes, “Shizuoka is not that big”.

“She’s from Shizuoka? Christ”, Atsumu lets out a low whistle, “does she know you live in the same city?”.

“She never asked”, if the justification sounds odd, his friends are kind enough not to point it out. He doubts Osamu would be as lenient. Truth is, he didn’t ask either: after some time, you had just randomly disclosed the information, probably because you perceived him as a very discrete person. Which, for the record, he is.

“I’m going to ask you this question just once. Do ya like this girl?”.

“No”, obviously not, “I don’t even know her”.

“Oh? But you just said she doesn’t feel like a stranger?”, Bokuto’s eyebrows shoot up.

Suna sighs. His limbs feel heavy but it’s a different feeling than the one he gets after practice, more draining.

“He’ll figure it out”, the weight of Atsumu’s hand on his shoulder feels weirdly comforting.

I don’t know what she feels like, Suna wants to say. He settles for saying nothing, as the hold on his shoulder grows tighter for a split second.

Coach is going to have an earful ready for Motoya if he doesn’t show up on time at practice, in the morning. He’s still out celebrating-drinking with other teammates, their first Tenjin Matsuri an excuse good enough to be late. Suna doesn’t mind having the hotel room to himself for the evening, a welcome novelty: he just hopes he won’t have to drag his friend out of bed the following day.

His hair is still wet, the bed way too comfortable to consider getting dressed. You, a distraction that fills his stomach with fuzzy warmth, something that for a second makes him forget why his phone has been exploding with notifications.

It’s that stupid instagram post he decided to share after a year of semi hiatus, online presence proven only by the occasional story he’d upload. Suna feels particularly caught in his feelings today, so why not post the selfie Atsumu took by the river? His comment is pinned at the top of the section, with over 8k likes.

miyatsumu brothers ❤️

Bokuto left a heart too, Samu and Kita some of their usual simple but genuine comments. Love you guys. Miss you :). It’s easy for them, a skill he wants to master as well. It’s not enough for the people in his life to simply know that he loves them, Suna wants tell them more.

He takes a look at other comments, smiling faces with heart-eyes emojis and inappropriate compliments from strangers that make him laugh. He shortly wonders what your instagram looks like. Filled with pictures of you with your friends and family, no doubt. A feed that showcases your favorite food and places, creative outfits, witty captions and sometimes no captions at all. It’d fit you.

His phone pings again.

Unfinishedusernam

-> Osaka!!!!

-> Fuck I’m so jealous, I never got to see the festival :( did you have fun?

crysnoopy

-> I did. Some old friends are in town too, we’re playing against each other soon

Unfinishedusernam

-> Your friends are also athletes???

-> Now I feel bad, this is literally how I’m spending the evening

-> [IMG_62371]

Suna smiles upon opening the picture. You’re sitting on your couch and the hand not holding the phone is doing a V sign, a lidded tray balanced on your legs, tv channel set on a show he’s never been interested in. The lights are dim, the room doesn’t seem too big but it feels so cozy. The way a home should feel. He sees a coffee table and some lit candles by the tv unit.

crysnoopy

-> Looks like a perfect evening to me

Unfinishedusernam

-> I only walked 200 steps today.

crysnoopy

-> I’m like trying really hard to find something nice to say

-> Every morning is an opportunity to create a masterpiece called life?

-> Stop surviving, start thriving?

Unfinishedusernam

-> Fuck you for making me laugh, I almost dropped my dinner

He laughs as well, out loud, then double taps your message to like it so that you know he’s still acknowledging it, despite something more urgent suddenly prompting the quick movement of his fingers.

crysnoopy

-> Hey, remember when we talked about how you’re really scared of losing the people you love?

Suna can almost sense your surprise, it’s evident in the way the little scribbling hand appears and disappears repeatedly as you probably try to think of something appropriate to say.

Unfinishedusernam

-> Yeah?

crysnoopy

-> I feel that too

-> Most days I wake up thinking I’m a bad person

Another pause. This must be the most exposed he’s ever felt and Suna is grateful your replies are not as fast as they usually are because his hands are suddenly cold, palms clammy and disgusting.

Unfinishedusernam

-> Why do you think that?

crysnoopy

-> I don’t do enough to show how I feel and one day that could make them leave

-> Maybe stability isn’t for me and that scares me

-> I get bored easily, I don't want to commit. What if what’s regular, easy for everyone else will never be my thing?

Well, that’s a whole lot of fucking baggage he just dropped on you. His first instinct is to apologize, to ask you to just forget it, deflect with some joke about having had too much to drink and being in his feels. But he doesn’t do that. Why? What makes him want to trust you with all that? Perhaps it’s just curiosity, wanting to find out what a complete stranger would think of the thoughts that eat him alive at night. Maybe he’s hoping for some miraculous solution offered on a silver plate. Or he just wants to check if he’s able to even do the whole being vulnerable thing in the first place.

Your response comes after a couple minutes and Suna doesn’t remember the last time he felt so nervous.

Unfinishedusernam

-> How did you meet your current friends?

He furrows his brows.

crysnoopy

-> Most of them I met in school

Unfinishedusernam

-> So they made the conscious decision of being your friends every single day, all this time

-> Btw getting bored easily is okay. A bad person wouldn’t be asking those questions about himself :)

-> You can always work on what you want to improve

crysnoopy

-> You make it sound too easy

Unfinishedusernam

-> Sometimes it really is tho

-> You’re not too late, you know. Tell your friends that you love them, tell your family that you miss them

Unfinishedusernam

-> It doesn’t have to be easy right away

-> You get to make your own regular. Create your new normal

Suna exhales, reads your messages over and over again. It’s oddly comforting realizing that he is, in fact, not too late yet. Why does he always think that he is?

His phone pings again.

Unfinishedusernam

-> I think you’ll find a person you’ll want to commit to

-> That’s what I tell myself after all my failed dates anyway lol

-> Remember, be the change that you wish to see on tinder

Suna snorts, heart lighter in the hotel room he sits alone in. He could get drunk on the relief suddenly filling his chest, it feels like the touch of a cool hand over a feverish forehead.

Unfinishedusernam

-> Still there?

crysnoopy

-> I’m here

How could he not be?

crysnoopy

-> Thank you

Unfinishedusernam

-> How’s opening up to a stranger feel? :)

Good, if the stranger is you. Apparently.

crysnoopy

-> Mysteriously comforting

-> How are you failing those dates? Do I have to beat anyone up?

Unfinishedusernam

-> Nah

-> It just seems the guys I’m into are never into me

crysnoopy

-> That sucks for them

It really, truly, actually does. He doesn’t remember the last time he felt as comfortable sharing something so personal over text, it’s all so natural Suna is convinced he’d be able to do that in person as well. How would it feel to meet you? Would the magic wear out, is this so easy only because an anonymous profile on a silly app?

Sure, Suna doesn’t know your name or what you look like, but that doesn’t make you a stranger. He knows you enough for the words to almost spill out of his hands, words that press threateningly against the pads of his fingers.

He’d be into you. He’d date you. That’s what he wants to say: there’s no need to know how you look or the name printed on some documents, he knows enough. It’s a weird feeling that scares him and clouds his mind for a brief moment, as he waits for your reply.

Unfinishedusernam

-> That’s sweet of you to say!

-> Last time I went out with a guy I really liked it was a disaster

-> He also lived pretty close to me, thank god he moved now

crysnoopy

-> Well, joke’s on him. He’s missing out big time

Unfinishedusernam

-> Stop being cute, I’ll fall for you

Suna takes a sharp breath. Reading the words does something funny to his stomach, something Atsumu would tease him for.

Shit, Atsumu. The game is so close. When’s the last time volleyball disappeared from his brain like that, with the snap of invisible fingers? Can he afford being this distracted?

Unfinishedusernam

-> This dinner fucking slaps btw

-> They opened a new place in my city, add that to the list of spots you have to visit if you swing by shizuoka

-> It’s called onigiri miya

Suna chokes on his own spit so badly he thinks he’s gonna die as he abruptly sits up, coughing fit that brings tears to his eyes. He stares at his screen in disbelief, sudden reminder of how tangible and close you actually are burning like a slap in the face.

Samu picks up after a few rings, it’s late enough for him to be either still in the shop or getting out of the shower.

“Hey, what’s up? Saw your pic with that scrub—”

“Did a girl come to the shop today?”, the question is uttered with so much urgency the line goes silent for a few seconds.

“My day was great, thanks for asking! I’m okay, eating dinner on your couch right now”, the fake singsong tone makes him roll his eyes.

“I’m sorry, this is an emergency. She just told me she was at your shop today”.

“Really? Did she like it?”.

“Osamu”.

He chuckles lightly.

“Okay. First, please tell me why we care so much that she came to the shop today?”.

Suna loves his friend, he really does. Sometimes he wishes he was close enough to be punched in the face. “Stop being a dick”.

“Fine. A girl did come to the shop today”, Suna’s heart almost stops, “… along with a million others”, he deflates against the pillow once again, defeated. He knows it’s something he really shouldn’t do but he still sends the picture to Osamu, slightly cropped to leave out everything that’s not useful to the investigation. The two things his friend gets to see are your dinner and a V sign.

There’s a pause, one Rintaro swears is filled by the loud pounding of his restless heart.

“I know who she is”, Osamu speaks quietly, in a tone that leaves no room for sarcasm.

“What?”, Suna’s voice comes out thin, incredulous.

“I remember her. Came in as I was about to close the shop, bowed and begged for whatever leftovers I might’ve had. She looked like she had a horrible day, so I just…”.

“Put something together for her”, as you always do.

“Yeah! I usually don’t use those trays but I didn’t have any of the regular ones left”.

“Well, how is she?”, Suna cringes at the impatience vibrating in his voice, it makes him sound desperate. Osamu hums, it’s a voluntarily prolonged sound that makes him scoff.

“She’s really sweet. Apologized a million times, left a generous tip. I think you’d like her”.

“Yeah?”.

“Yeah, Rin”, he’s smiling, “I also think you should tell her”.

“Tell her what?”.

“That you want to meet her, dumbass”.

Suna runs a hand through his now dried hair, lightly ruffles it. This feels dangerously real now, something he could grasp if he so much as decided to hold out a hand. You’re so close. There’s something else simmering underneath the fear and Rintaro recognizes it easily. It’s an almost forgotten eagerness that he’s not entirely stranger to.

“Samu”.

“Hmm?”, he’s smiling again. The asshole.

“I think I like her”.

“No shit”, Osamu full on laughs now, jovial and relieved. Despite the annoyance, Suna feels the exact same way.

Shizuoka seemed different upon his return, an endless pool of possibilities where something would inevitably remind Suna of you. He’d made peace with the fact that he had a crush on someone he’s never met and with that truth also came an endless list of associations his brain couldn’t help but make.

Texting you first, whenever he wanted, became natural. What’s more, it was almost as if you were encouraged by his newly loosened state, that one evening in Osaka opening the floodgates of something else, something different. You trusted him with your most intimate thoughts and so did he. There was no more wondering if you were bothering each other or texting at an unconvenient time. You’d once told him you felt self-conscious about that specifically.

Unfinishedusernam

-> Sometimes I feel like I’m too much

-> Would you tell me if I was too much?

crysnoopy

-> What do you mean?

Unfinishedusernam

-> You know, if I was pestering you

crysnoopy

-> You’re not too much

-> And even if you were, I could handle you :)

You were the happiest when he had told you they’d won the game in Osaka. Heck, you baked blueberry muffins (“to celebrate!”) and asked him to go get himself one so you could pretend he was there to eat yours. And Suna did: he got up from his bed, grabbed a jacket, put on some running shoes and made his way to his favorite bakery with a dopey smile on his face. He then suggested a toast and, what a coincidence, you happened to have a bottle of white wine left unopened for the longest time. The occasion seemed worthy.

And so you both ate and drank and celebrated until his cheeks felt hot and your texts started lacking proper grammar. Suna remembers how it felt, slumped on his couch, lights low and mind dizzy as his eyes blinked and blinked and then blinked again while the message sat on his screen, black against white. He just stared at it, not entirely able to discern reality from fictitious.

Unfinishedusernam

-> I wish you were here

-> I’d probly just kiss you

Suna remembers staring at his screen as a wild joy exploded in his heart and took over his entire chest, scorching and vibrant like festival fireworks. He stared at it for so long he still doesn’t quite recall if he wrote the reply or if the reply wrote itself, because the only other solid memory in relation to that moment is drifting off with an empty bottle of wine precariously balanced on his lap.

He woke up the next morning with a sour taste in his mouth, a throbbing headache and sore neck. His phone had fallen to the floor and when he picked it up, it was with a heavy heart that he noticed you hadn’t replied.

crysnoopy

-> I want nothing more

-> I’m from shizuoka too. let’s make it happen?

It wasn’t unusual for one of you to leave the other on read and it wasn’t like Suna to hyperfixate on not receiving a reply but this time, for some reason, it felt different.

As he got up with a groan and shuffled to his bathroom to take a shower, a strange feeling of dread strangled his body from the inside, his mind running a million miles a minute. Were you disgusted? Mad, that he had kept his location a secret? That would’ve been unfair, though, and you had always proved to respect his boundaries. Maybe it was all a joke, then. You thought of all that flirting as nothing short of a game, something stupid to pass the time with a stranger online. Something that wasn’t real. Worse, something you’d never want to be real, especially if given the chance to make that happen. Fuck.

Suna succeeded in keeping himself fairly busy for a few hours that day: he cleaned his whole apartment, did some meal prep, called his mom, called his sister, even called Atsumu. Your silence kept throbbing at the edges of each minute, it became so unbearable he ended up sending you a picture of an aspirin package with a funny caption, to test the waters.

You never replied. Not that day, not the following day, a week later your chat is still painfully empty. Or rather, filled with all the messages he’s sent before giving up.

crysnoopy

-> Killer headache town, population: me

crysnoopy

-> How are you feeling?

crysnoopy

-> Hey, everything ok?

crysnoopy

-> I’m so sorry if I made you uncomfortable.

-> I was really tipsy, I didn’t mean it

crysnoopy

-> Or at least I didn’t mean to sound so pushy.

-> I’d never pressure you into doing anything, let alone meet me

crysnoopy

-> I’ll give you space if you need it, can you just please tell me that you’re okay? It’s been three days

crysnoopy

-> Okay. I’ll be here if you ever come back.

He’s so mad at you. Weren’t you the first one coming forward with all that stuff about wanting to kiss him? Why would you disappear? He’s apologized, what else can he do? Was it all seriously worth so little to you?

Suna feels as if the days are longer now, training unbearable. Instead of keeping his mind occupied, all it does is remind him of how badly his blocks suck lately. He doesn’t pick up when Osamu calls, he’d read everything there’s to read in his seemingly inexpressive tone. He’s mad at himself, for not noticing how stupidly attached he’d become. Is it normal to miss you so badly? He doesn’t remember the last time he missed someone just as much. The world is cruel in relentlessly reminding him of you: an advert you’d find funny, that movie you’d recently discussed making a comeback in cinemas, sunsets painting the sky in orange and lilacs so similar to the ones you’d send him, a pair of fuzzy fox slippers on display in a shop window on the way to the gym.

The toxic part of his brain is ruthless in reminding him that this is why he refuses to open up to new people. That this is why he never lets himself be actually vulnerable and simply plays along: it’s because he’d be left with nothing but mockery, humiliation and loneliness.

But Rintaro doesn’t want to give that part of his brain any more solidity. What he wants, is to be proud of himself. Relieved, even. He wants to feel happy for having been brave enough to take a risk, to trust, to open up. He wants to relish in the joy that the brief encounter with you, anonymous and all, gave him. So what if you never come back or talk to him again? That’s on you. He’ll miss you for a good while, will probably always wonder what you’re up to from time to time, but he’ll be okay. You gave him much more than what you’re probably aware of and truth is, he’s grateful. He just hopes you’ll always be okay too, he hopes life will treat you well. He hopes you don’t regret trusting him with your most intimate thoughts, ever.

It’s not like he doesn’t reread some of your messages, to keep himself company. The most recent ones still have the not entirely pleasant effect of twisting his insides. He’ll have to delete that folder of screenshots eventually.

Unfinishedusernam

-> I’m so glad I stumbled over you on this stupid app btw

Unfinishedusernam

-> You’re sweet, snoopy :)

Unfinishedusernam

-> Today was shit

-> Sometimes I think about how it’d be to have you here, at the end of shitty days

Unfinishedusernam

-> Stop flirting with me, it’s working

Unfinishedusernam

-> I feel so slilly

-> can you evne like someone you nevee met?

Turns out, you really can. He just never fully got around to telling you properly.

And then, one day, Suna’s blocks don’t suck anymore. In fact, they’re just as good as they’ve always been. He speaks with Osamu on the phone, a little bummed that his friend doesn’t have another trip to Shizuoka planned anytime soon: the shop is doing great, his presence is no longer required as often.

“I’ll miss you”, Rintaro still remembers the stunned silence following his words, “come back soon, shop or not”.

The younger Miya twin paused his ministrations, hands sticky with rice, and offered a surprised chuckle, “I’ll be back. Ya can also take a train every now and then, ya know?”.

“Maybe I will. Hey, next time you plan a trip to Osaka, can I come too?”.

“Hell yeah. I wouldn’t have to endure that dickhead alone”.

He talks to Kita and Aran way more these days: when he thinks of one of his friends, he simply grabs the phone and reaches out with a text, a meme or a funny reel. It seems to make them happy.

When his mom tells him that Kaori has been relentlessly asking about visiting her older brother, Suna assures her that he isn’t too busy to accomodate her for a week or for however long she wants to stay. Even if he was, he’d make it work. His mom clicks her tongue, gives her approval for a weekend only, less her daughter falls behind her homework even more. He grins when he hears Kaori scream MAKE IT TWO WEEKENDS in the distance.

Suna hasn’t seen his little sister in months and despite their relationship being exhaustingly conflictual (they are way too similar to each other and she gets a kick out of pissing him off), he loves her deeply and she trusts him just as much. Sometimes being home without him can become a lot and it’s not like she ever directly admits it but he’s pretty sure Kaori misses him, the little gremlin.

He was already 14 when she was born and little Rintaro had faced the news of a new addition to the family (a female, no less!) with infinite crankiness. He huffed and puffed and complained about having to share a room and a bathroom throughout his mom’s entire pregnancy, then a pink little bundle of dark hair and eardrum demolishing shrieks held his pointer finger in her tiny fist for the first time and he swore to guard her with his life, forever.

Suna wakes up extra early to clean the bathroom and his room, which he’s going to give to his sister, and make it girl-appropriate. He always goes on a tiny shopping spree before she visits: kitchen cabinets are now filled with her favorite snacks, there’s a colorful set of strawberry handcream, lotion and lip balm on his nightstand, a sweatsuit set neatly folded on his bed, the expensive vanilla body scrub their mom wouldn’t get her sits pretty in the shower.

He texts her before heading out for practice, demands she keeps him updated about her position. Kaori send a thumbs up and the picture of the blurred view outside the train window.

Unfortunately, as it often happens, coach announces the team is required to stay longer than he had anticipated and Suna doesn’t dare explain that he’s actually in a terrible rush because Motoya has been playing like shit and, of course, that becomes everyone’s problem.

“Get it together, man”, he hisses, way less patient than usual. Komori pouts.

“I’m trying”.

“Try harder!”, Washio snickers from the other side of the court.

It’s not until an hour later that Suna can dash through the gym doors, already forty minutes late to the appointment his sister had agreed on in the morning. When he notified her about the extra training, she didn’t falter.

-> No worries, I’ll find the house.

The train station isn’t at all far from his apartment, a mere 15-minute walk, but Kaori hasn’t visited in a few months and she’s not exactly known for her acute sense of direction. She’d get lost in her own house if it wasn’t impossible to achieve that in a small two bedroom apartment.

“Why is your damn phone going to voicemail?”, Suna grumbles to himself in the middle of the street, torn between running to the station or straight home. It’s not dark yet but the sun has set and Kaori knows very well the one thing she’s never allowed to do is turn her phone off, especially if him or their mom are not aware of where she is.

Right as he decides to head to the train station first, he hears her voice. There’s someone taller with her, which makes the hairs behind his neck stand up right away.

“Kaori!”, he damn nearly trips over his own feet as he rushes towards his sister in the opposite direction, gym bag almost falling off his shoulder while she chats with god knows who without a care in the world.

“Rin”, she stops right in her tracks, “sorry, kinda got los—”

“Why the hell is your phone turned off?”, as if to underline his point, he impatiently taps on his phone screen a few times, another call interrupted by immediately going straight to voicemail. He only now realizes how breathless he sounds.

“Battery died, I forgot my charger at home”, Kaori juts her bottom lip out. She’s the spitting image of her brother. “I was lucky to meet your friend right outside the station”, she looks up and so does he, features morphing into a horrified expression. Out of all people.

“You… what?”, Suna doesn’t know what to say. Was his neighbor even capable of smiling like that?

“It was nothing! We had fun, didn’t we?”.

Kaori nods. “We fed some stray cats on the way here. It’s so weird that you had canned fish in your bag, though”.

“I always carry some! Didn’t you see how hungry Mochi was?”.

For the following seconds, Suna is incapable of uttering another word. It becomes weird enough for his neighbor to wave a hand in front of his face, brows furrowed.

“Suna?”.

“Yeah”, he replies on autopilot, “Yes. I mean, thank you. Kaori, let’s go”, he eyes his sister’s large, pink, glittery backpack. Hanging from his neighbor’s shoulder.

“Uh, actually”, his sister coughs.

“What now?”.

“I kinda need to use the bathroom”.

“You can use it at home? It’s a ten minute walk from here, let’s get going”.

“I kinda need to use it now”.

“Kaori”, he sighs, “it’s ten minutes”.

“I live right here”, the woman from his nightmares indicates the house behind her, “wanna make a pit stop?”.

“Absolutely not”, Suna clears his throat, “she can hold it”.

“She can’t”, Kaori shrinks in herself a little, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

“Fine, I guess we are making a pit stop”, he mutters and his sister exhales in relief, grabs his neighbor by the sleeve and urges her to open the door, quick quick quick please.

Suna watches his sister dash upstairs with a snort as he takes her backpack. It’s heavy as a rock. The hell did she put in there?

“You’re not gonna catch fire if you come in, you know”, his neighbor fixes him with a sarcastic glare as she takes off her shoes, letting her own bag fall to the floor.

“Sorry for the trouble”, he steps in at last, with a low grumble that allows a chuckle to surprise him.

“Don’t be too hard on her. She was panicking, I offered my phone but she didn’t remember your number. I asked where she was supposed to go and when she mentioned the neighborhood, I inquired about her brother’s name. Pretty lucky, huh?”, she’s not looking at him, busy taking off her jacket as well. Suna’s gaze softens.

“Yeah, really lucky. Thank you for taking care of her”.

“I also have a younger brother, I know what it feels like”, she smiles, looking at him at last, “one time we went to a festival without our parents, he thought it’d be funny to play hide and seek without telling me. I think I aged ten years that night”.

“She also used to run away so much as a kid. It’s in our blood, I was the exact same”.

“Doesn’t surprise me for some reason”.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”.

“I’m done, we can go now”, Kaori hops down the stairs, two steps at a time, then glares at her brother. Golden, foxy eyes narrowed. “You’re not being rude, are you?”.

He rolls his eyes but, before he can reply, someone beats him to it.

“He’s never rude to me. We’re friends, remember?”, Suna watches her wink with a smile so warm. Is that really the same person he runs into almost on a daily basis?

Astonished, he witnesses that little, usually quiet, reserved gremlin smile back at his neighbor. Then, remembering how important formalities are in their family, she thanks her with a deep bow. It’s only then that he notices them: fox slippers. Cute, pointed ears, bushy tales and everything.

They both jump when the steel water bottle hits the parquet flooring, Kaori dramatically clutching her chest. “Can you not be a weirdo for five seconds?”.

His neighbor (could it be…???) furrows her brows in genuine confusion. “I think volleyball finally started affecting his brain. Better take him home”.

“Yeah. Let’s go, loser”.

“Shut up, be thankful mom’s not here”, he fires back, fake annoyance to cover the fright that gnome’s actually caused. Suna’s heart is racing for an entirely different reason as he takes another furtive look at those slippers while pushing Kaori out the door, mind racing.

He is completely, absolutely unable to focus. Over dinner, he distractedly listens while his sister paints vivid pictures of boring classes, the art course their mom wants her to give a chance to, the latest fight she had with her best friend. He asks questions and fails to register the answers he gets, over and over again. It’s a relief when Kaori sprints to the bathroom, calling the shots for who gets to shower first. Suna is left rinsing the plates, with a brain that can’t think.

Would it be possible? You’re from Shizuoka. You have those exact slippers. You always feed stray cats. God, the fucking slippers. What are the chances?

He could call Osamu, ask a few questions. Instead, his sister’s voice keeps chipping away at what’s left of his sanity.

Your friend’s cool. I wish my teacher was that nice.

A teacher. Could kids be the wearing but rewarding humans you often mentioned?

He goes back to that disastrous dinner, desperately trying to recall how the conversation felt. What did they even text about prior to that evening? Was that woman as charming as you are? Fuck, he doesn’t remember a single word exchanged that evening. He just remembers being an asshole.

“I’ll be back in ten minutes”, from her comfortable spot on the couch, Kaori watches her brother march to the front door, then bend down to put on the same shoes he wore a few hours before, “lock the door, don’t burn the house down”.

“Where are you going?”, her brows are knit in confusion, never in worry.

“None of your business. Lock the door”.

“Sure, sure, bye”.

“Right now, Kaori”, something in his weirdly brisk tone makes the fourteen year old pause the show she’s watching, not without a dragged groan, and get up from underneath the blanket she had stolen from her brother’s room.

You’re so ready to go to bed early and declare the day officially concluded.

Work was tough, managing a new classroom of overexcited kids had proven to be particularly difficult. Between the increasing pressure from school administrators and the daunting task of creating engaging lesson plans for the new semester, you felt a heavy weariness threatening to swallow you whole.

As you brush your teeth, tired reflection staring back at you, he worms his way back into your thoughts once more. Saying that hearing his name and then seeing him again was unexpected would be an understatement: you were absolutely convinved (and thankful) he had moved. Where the hell did he disappear for over a month? Just to come back and show up like the annoying, irritating nuisance he is. One you can’t seem to whisk away.

Your date was one of the most disappointing nights of your life. Suna, the guy you had talked with for days, the same Suna who was so witty, intelligent and nice, was also just so blatantly uninterested. Bored. He didn’t even make the effort to ask about your day, eyes distant whenever you tried to initiate a conversation. And of course, because life hates you, you have to be reminded of that night every single day because you now see him every single day.

What’s more, you had failed the one person you’ve been able to feel interested in after that big, fat disappointment. Someone who just found himself trapped in the crossfire of your thoughts and stupid, stupid fears. Someone you were selfishly not ready to have so close. Someone wonderful who didn’t deserve your self-serving worries.

You’re already in your pjs when the doorbell rings multiple times, so insistent you almost trip down the stairs as you hurry, terrified that you’re gonna have to face an emergency with pandas printed on your pants.

“What the hell?!”, you instinctively step back as he leans forward, his entire weight resting against the doorframe.

“Sorry, I know it’s late”, Suna takes a deep breath but it’s not really needed. Prior warmup or not, he isn’t at all affected by the sprint through which he covered the distance between his house and yours. “I just had to… hey, can I come in? I’m probably gonna have a heart attack if I don’t sit down”.

You’re staring at him wide-eyed, completely startled.

“Yeah? Sure, come in! Is your sister okay? Did something happen?”, you’re quick to push the door closed as he heavily flops on your couch.

“No, no…”, Suna seems distracted for a moment, eyes scanning the room and zeroing on your tv, which is currently turned off. He stares at it for a while, then lets out a small laugh. “Actually, maybe it’s better if I stand up”.

“Suna, are you on drugs right now?”, the question is serious but his eyes, now fixed on you, don’t reveal any particular emotion besides genuine… amusement?

“I need to tell you something”.

The odd idea that he might be hiding a knife somewhere underneath that leather jacket crosses your mind for a split second.

“Sure…?”.

“When my sister was a baby, she’d cry a lot. I legit thought my ears would explode at some point”, he weighs the words carefully as he approaches you and, for some odd reason, you don’t take a step back. “She’d cry so much, all the time. And then, one day, I brought home a snoopy plush I won at the arcade. It became the one thing that would always shut her up”.

It feels like someone’s toppled a bucket of ice cold water over your head. Suna is standing so close while looking at you in a way you’ve never witnessed, a way so uncommon for him. You can’t focus on the desperation in his eyes and you’d never guess the hopefulness simmering behind a gaze that seems to be discovering you for the first time.

“It’s you”, barely a whisper, but it’s all the confirmation he needs. The relief in Suna’s exhale is intense as he wraps his arms around you and pulls you in. Thank god he does, because your knees feel so wobbly.

It’s a weird sensation, being pressed against him, hanging onto his shoulders for support. He’s warm and smells so good, of bergamot and musk. Your brain can’t quite comprehend that he’s the person you’ve been talking to for the past months.

“I missed you. I’m sorry”, he confesses in the curve of your neck and the words dissolve underneath the thin fabric of your pjs, slowly sink into your skin and bones. “I’m so sorry”, he says again, carefully pulls back to look at you, eyes searching for any sign of discomfort. Mirth flashes across his features for a moment. “Hey, are you about to throw up?”.

“No, of course not!”, you take a tentative step back but he doesn’t trust your stability and keeps a gentle hold on your arms, “why are you apologizing? I disappeared. I should be the one… I should be…”, Suna’s gaze softens, one hand rising up to touch your face but then freezing mid-air, deciding against the risk of freaking you out even more.

“Please don’t cry”.

“What?”, you retort, “I’m not crying. Ew”, but when you touch your cheek, it’s shocking to find it wet. What the fuck.

“Oh, god. Sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me”, a dry chuckle bubbles up from your throat, “listen, there’s no pressure on you. I’m sure this is a real disappointment so, like, we can pretend it never happened and just go on with our lives. I won’t—”

“Are you sure it’s you? The person I’m looking for is pretty clever”, he attempts a smile when you frown, familiar at last. “You think I’d leave my sister alone and race all the way here for a real disappointment?”.

“I think you just wanted to corroborate”.

Suna rolls his eyes, incredulous. “Well, I corroborated. I’m only gonna pretend it never happened if that’s what you want, because it sure as hell isn’t what I want. If you even care about that”.

You angrily wipe your tears, cheeks burning scorching hot with embarrassment. “I didn’t expect you to be so close. I freaked out. I’m freaking out right now because you’re even closer, apparently”.

“Are you disappointed?”.

You look at him, really look at him. His dishevelled hair, naturally narrowed eyes, the bridge of a perfect nose, full lips forced in a severe line. He’s searching for something in your gaze, with fierce determination. How can one person’s eyes be so penetrating? You feel naked, exposed. Vulnerable.

“No”, you reply, sincere, “no, I’m not”. If only you could feel the relief taking over his chest. “But… what now?”.

Suna feels as if he’s seeing you for the first time and, at the same time, it’s like he’s recovering something important, something precious. He’s already trusted you with some of the most important, hidden parts of himself. He hasn’t liked someone that way in such a long time and he’ll be damned if he lets this chance pass by. Again.

He’s not too late. Why does he always think he is?

You curiously watch as Suna takes his phone out and spends a few seconds tapping on it with a smile he can barely hide.

The familiar ping of a notification you haven't heard in weeks makes you stutter.

crysnoopy

-> Now we do this right.

[womendeservehumanity]

men are truly rotten

My hatred for them is immeasurable and no one on this earth will ever convince me it’s unjustifiable. That it’s just a few bad apples and not a fucking collective. Yet I’ve had to hear these scrotes go on for the past week saying that “misandry” and men being alienated is the reason why they’re reactionary fascists who hate women when this is the shit they’ll say and support. You’re simply evil and it’s no one’s fault but your own. And for sure not the people that you and your gender have hated and oppressed for centuries.

As I’ve said before, it has never and will never be about false rape accusations. It’s about protecting men regardless of their innocence and it’s about silencing women. They see this as a sort of gotcha. “See this is how we feel” because they identify with these men and they see them being outed as them personally being outed. They see men raping women and being held accountable for it as a witch hunt. Male solidarity triumphs any empathy or humanity they have for women. They’re using this as a warning to other women. “This is what will happen if you speak out. We will humiliate you.”

Women are subjected to shit like this but I have to hear men victimize themselves because a woman said men are trash and it changed the entire trajectory of their lives for some reason. That gave them the impression that the world hates men but shit like this happens everyday and the topic both on the left and right is how men are victims whose feelings need to be prioritized.

And another thing. I’ve yet to see this supposed Princess treatment female victims get compared to male victims. I see both men and women cry of the double standards male victims of rape and abuse face compared to female victims. Female victims aren’t believed, are degraded, humiliated, harassed, threatened, silenced, etc. yet I’m told they’re given this grace that male victims could only ever dream of. Sure

To sum this up:

👇🏾👇🏾👇🏾

[nightingale-prompts]

Bringing back another black-haired and blue-eyed boy was met with a round of sighs but acceptance.

Little Davey looked only a few years younger than Damian. 12 years old at the most. The boy was pale, slightly gaunt, with large eyes and matted black hair.

Davey was strange. He didn't understand social cues or how to exist in public. He knew next to nothing about how the world works or how to stay safe. Cars were familiar enough but only because he would be dragged into them or put in the trunk. He was very excited when he was allowed to touch the buttons.

Damian wasn't ready to be an older brother especially not to something like that thing. Davey felt wrong to Damian. Something that shouldn't exist.

Damian was proved right when the boy looked him right in the eyes and said.

"Play with me." He pulled Damian's drawn sword to his neck. "Cut me open!"

Bruce snatched Davey back from the blade and told Damian to put it away. Davey was forbidden from entering the Batcave and any dangerous items.

Damian was freaked out. Davey was too mentally disturbed to be here. However, the revenant is fond of his older brother and follows him around and begs him to play. Damian has to try pawning him off on the others but Davey is like glue.

Then there was food.

Davey didn't understand food. He had been fed a mostly liquid diet for his short life by Vlad. The liquid was made from nutrients and ectoplasm. After escaping Davey didn't know what food looked like. When strangers came up to him offering candy he took it. So he learned that candy was also food. But that wasn't enough to make him full, so he resorted to the closest form of ectoplasm he could find. Human blood. He learned that he could drink it for sustenance.

Feeding Davey for the first time was...sad. He was like a toddler learning what different flavors were. Sour, salty, and savory. All so new a wonderful.

Tim let him him have a sip of soda and Davey was hooked.

Tim is also banned from giving food to Davey after letting him try coffee and making him sick.

Stephanie is also banned after giving him spicy chips. Mostly because of Davey's need to harm himself caused him to eat himself sick.

Davey's issues are more than concerning. Dick was supposed to watch him while Bruce was investigating the last suicide linked to Davey. Davey didn't know how to talk to someone not trying to kill him. But Dick felt like him. The blood on his hands was the same as his. But the lingering scent of another pulled Davey elsewhere.

The other revenant.

One that felt a similar drive.

Bruce debated if Jason should meet Davey. It could help them both but it could easily make them worse. Davey was impressionable, to say the least, and Jason didn't need to bring someone else on his crusade.

Jason wouldn't use Davey like that but Davey would surely agree to it.

But Davey wasn't like Jason. He didn't kill. He gets killed. He lets himself be tortured until he drives others insane. Jason could never use him to kill the Joker. In fact, the clown must never know of Davey's powers or Davey might find his eternal playmate.

But it doesn't change that Jason and Davey will meet.

"Yeah, he's coming with me," Jason said picking up the boy under one arm.

"You can't just take him!" Dick yelled

"Do you guys think you can control him? That he'll stop wandering around looking for more targets. He can't and he won't. It's a part of him. At least I can get to his targets before they can kill him first. If he can sniff out any predator then he can use his powers for good." Jason said .

"He's not like us. He's a child and mentally he isn't ready for the outside world yet. I love you but I can't let you drag him into your mess." Dick said.

"And what? Fix him? He is a revenant and he's going to seek out his obsession. In a place like Gotham, he will find another target. He needs it." Jason barked.

There is no clear answer. They could try to preserve any innocence Davey had left but that same innocence led him to being tortured. They could also tell him what he's actually doing and he'll then do it on purpose knowingly killing others. What was better for him mentally because they all knew by this point Davey would strike again? It's his nature.

The only answer they had right now was finding where Davey died originally and calming his spirit. If they could find his original killer or make a grave for him then he'd settle.

Constantine was firm that Davey couldn't leave even if they calmed his soul. His life and death were too traumatic for him to disappear.

On the other side of the country, Danny had a bad feeling. He knew he should leave his clones to themselves and wait for them to come home on their own but his most recent clone brother bothered him. He wasn't like Elle at all. He was...odd. Danny decided not to worry too much since the clone was stable.

But then Vlad talked non-stop about losing his "precious boy". The word made him feel sick. Then there was the first death. Some offender that lived on the outskirts of town ended their life. The only reason anyone talked about it was the state he was found in. Blood was everywhere more blood than a single human body had and unknown chunks of meat scattered the ground.

Danny brushed it off but more started happening and they led a bloody trail.

Of course, Danny knew something was up. This all lined up perfectly with the clone's escape. But at the same time, all the victims were serial child murderers. It was hard to feel bad about it. He had found his obsession and it was such a bad one.

But Danny was still worried. A bit of investigation wouldn't hurt.

(This all came out as a stream of consciousness)

Lay Me to Rest- DCxDP Prompt

Warning: Blood and gore

There has been a series of murders across the country. Each death was varied and self-inflicted. At first, they all seemed like suicide but each had a strange range of symptoms before death.

Sudden paranoia, incoherent mumbling, screaming or yelling, going in and out of their homes sporadically, random fixations, and finally self-harm.

The victims were teachers, parents, businessmen, truckers, and even a crime novelist. All unrelated and in different states.

Each victim didn't seem to have a connection until an investigation discovered that each one had been an active serial killer. The body counts ranged from as little as 5 to as much as 23. The killer was named the Serial Serial Killer which wasn't creative but it was catchy. Some called them the Angel of Vengeance but most thought it was cringy and overdramatic. Many people didn't want them to be caught but others hotly debated letting a killer dispense justice when their crusade could easily turn into them killing people for innocuous things.

The police were still questioning whether this killer even existed. One thing was clear, there was a trail and it led straight to Gotham. A goldmine for them. Naturally, Batman had gotten a hold on the case and began an investigation.

The biggest question was how the killer found their victims and how they knew that they were killers.

The answer was obvious. They didn't need to figure it out. They just needed to wait. Why just in the effort to investigate when a serial killer tries to convince you to leave with them? So bars are the obvious place. But that's shaky at best since there is a period of torment that takes place that allows the victims to return home. The killer doesn't care if the victims could call the police, perhaps because they know their victim won't.

Bruce started to build a profile. He saw a pattern here. Each of the victims had a preference for their victims as well. They targeted young people, mainly boys. Odds are the Serial Serial Killer matched that description or age range. So bars weren't the hunting ground. So parks were more likely to go unnoticed and boys tended to hang out there longer after dark.

The killer was more than likely a victim himself so he may have a few scars but probably not noticeable enough that his would-be assailants would be turned off. There is no ignoring the predatory nature of the victims. Each killed children for gratification in some form. It's not that the boy is attractive but he probably has traits that the victims found attractive in children. So babyfaced, short, native, and polite.

There was much else Bruce could get. There was nothing concrete and he still didn't understand the method that was used. So far this was guesswork.

It wasn't until a few weeks later while he tracking another killer that he found his answer.

Dr.Kinder a Biologist by day and a killer who experiments on his victims at night had picked up a promising new lab rat a week ago. He had intended to slowly dissect the boy. He had gotten so used to the screams he stopped using anesthetics besides he wanted to see how the fear response caused the organs to shift.

To his surprise the boy didn't fight, in fact he seemed to jump to the table and say he didn't need restraints. Disturbing. But he was restrained anyways.

As the doctor cut him open the boy didn't react, only humming to himself as he watched the doctor.

"What are you hoping to find?" He asked. "I'm getting bored and this bearly hurts."

The boy annoyingly never stopped talking and never missed a chance to ruin the moment. There were never any screams or cries but incessant talking.

Dr.Kinder found the boy disturbing so he simply took an axe and chopped the boy into pieces. Not once did he make a sound. The doctor thought it was over but the next day the boy was back. He sat on the autopsy table kicking his feet in nothing but his bare skin.

"What the hell are you?" The doctor gasped in horror.

"I'm bored. Play with me again." The boy purred.

Bile crawled up his throat as the doctor restained this...thing again.

This time the boy spoke differently.

"You cut me up last time. Did you do that to the last boy. After you...you know." A sick grin spread across his cheeks.

The doctor cut open his neck this time and let him bleed out.

Everyday he came back and every day the doctor killed him until the time between his death got shorter and shorter. The days began to blur and he had no idea how long he had been doing this. But that thing kept talkimg to him.

Dr.Kinder stared down at his desk at the papers trying to think of anything but-

"I wonder what people would think about what you've done. You're a disgusting and depraved man doctor. Look at what you've done to me." The sing-song voice of that demon called out.

He could feel those blood-soaked arms wrapped around his neck.

He flinch as he pushed the thing away.

"Oh, are you going to beat me or stab me this time? Ooo, or are you going to put me through the woodchipper again?" The demon asked as the doctor wrapped his hands around his throat.

He just kept squeezing until the boy went limp. It never ends. The blood never goes away. It covered every surface of the room. Dripping, conjugating, and spreading into every corner. Whenever he turned his head he could see body parts spread across the room in the pools of blood he could they the faces of the others that he had killed. Each face wretched in agony.

"You hold on better than the others. I've been eaten, torched, and disemboweled before but after coming back a few times they usually end it after a few words. But every time they don't feel guilt. They just don't want to face consequences." The boy said. "Do you even remember my name? The one I told you when you picked me up on the side of the road or was I just another body to use and discard? I used the name of your first victim. I hoped you'd notice."

The doctor knew he couldn't kill the boy but he could end himself. He had tried it once but just like the kid he came back without a scratch.

"Not yet. This is your life now. Come on, let's taste death together. Again and again and again and again and-" he repeated over and over.

This was hell. This was his hell.

But it came to an end eventually. Dr.Kinder put an end to himself in a gruesome display.

Batman had only caught the tail end as he faced a young boy standing an a pool of blood.

****

"Yeah, that thing is like a worse version of a revenant. Doesn't really have a name yet to describe it. It's undead for sure. You kill it and it just comes back." Constantine said "Why did you bring it here?"

After a long bath and some new clothes, the kid looked normal as played on a phone given to him.

"Look, I didn't know what else to do." Bruce explained.

"You leave it alone!" Constantine said exasperated "Look they are harmless to anything they don't bear a grudge towards. Think of it as a force of nature." Constantine said.

"I just want to know how to stop him." Bruce said.

"Well you can't kill it but you can't bring him back entirely. You can just soothe it 'till it stops targeting its victims. It must have died pretty gruesomely to go to these lengths. You need to find where it died and lay it to rest. Properly." Constantine sighed knowing that appeasing this soul would be more than just difficult.

"Danny, come on. Let's go." Bruced said putting a hand on the boy's head as Danny stood up to leave.

"Okay. Bye!" Danny waved to Constantine.

[starlightshadowsworld]

The omake from Bsd chapter 4 is so chaotic and I love it.

Atsushi asks Dazai why he’s covered in bandages “like a half baked mummy.”

Dazai pretends to be mad but Atsushi sees right through him.

So Dazai’s like nah I’m not mad for I knew you would inquire “about my judgement innocence bloody ultimate eternal darkness catastrophe God Hand!”

He’s such a dork.

I love that this bit carried over into Bsd Wan.

Atsushi says the names pretty aimless (agreed.) Dazai falls to his knees, grabbing his arm and saying it itches and that “it’s too soon to unleash this and cleanse the world.”

Then Ranpo starts playing along with a sinister laugh saying to Dazai that he shouldn’t attempt to resist “the will of God is afoot.”

Atsushi is just confused and wondering why Ranpo’s taking over the cover. He’s not buying any of this.

But Kunikida is. He’s just in utter disbelief “what?! Both of you are Christian’s?!’” And Atsushi’s yelling at him that they’re not being in serious.

It cuts to Kenji and Yosano having tea together watching all this happen. Kenji playfully saying “kind of refreshing isn’t it? Having a build in straight man.”

And Yosano adding “we never had one before no” with a little note that ‘Kunikida’s deadly serious but…”

Which is hilarious on its own out of context.

But it seems to carry on another theme that comes later in Bsd Wan. With Atsushi being the “straight man” or comedic foil in terms of comedy.

The person who sets up a joke so someone can deliver it. The person who answers knock knock with who’s there.

When everyone else is acting wild they’re the one who’s supposed to keep things on track.

Which fits Atsushi really well because he’s usually the one reacting to all the crazy shit around him. Like here Dazai and Ranpo are telling a joke that Atsushi helped set up.

And while Kunikida is fully playing into the joke Atsushi’s not and is calling them all out on it. I do think Kunikida thinks this is his role. And he does fit into it a lot of the time, as Yosano said but not like Atsushi does.

Also on the tv tropes page it says that if a Straight man is the lead in an ensemble cast they can be overshadowed by the rest. Because they spend their time and effort setting up the rest of the cast instead of themselves.

Which if that’s not Atsushi idk what is.

[idkwhatimdoingbutslay]

Vi and her Counterpart’s Violence

Okay so as soon as I saw this scene in s2e3, I was immediately reminded of this scene in s1e6

Vi sees someone she loves, someone she perceives as innocent and in dire need of protection, being so comfortable with violence. She doesn’t have a problem with violence, if anything she uses it as a tool, but she has a problem with certain other people doing the same. Why should they be so violent when she has it handled? When she is meant to be the violent one, shielding them from getting to that level?

Caitlyn and Jinx are never beating the mirror allegations

In both scenes, Vi calls out her counterpart’s name multiple times. But, of course, instead of calling Jinx by her chosen name, she calls her Powder. And instead of calling Caitlyn by her given name, she calls her Cait. ‘Jinx’ represents Vi’s greatest failure, the opposite of who Powder is meant to be, while ‘Caitlyn’ seems represent privilege and power, the two major things enabling Caitlyn to act in such an opposite way to how she’s ‘meant’ to. ‘Caitlyn’ is who everyone else knows. They know Caitlyn Kiramman. Vi knows Cait. Vi knows her Cupcake. (Still a little confused on why we haven’t heard that at all this season?)

Violence is Vi’s. It’s hers because she refuses for it to be her counterpart’s. Of course, we’ve said this a million times: Vi is a protector first and foremost. A protector fails when their protectee is exposed to the weight on the protector’s shoulders. Vi was never meant to be innocent and she never seems to resent that, all she does is take it as a challenge that has no failing option.

In both seasons, Vi was pulled away from the situation and everything was interrupted. But, at least in s2, she got to talk to Caitlyn after. The problem is that there was such an obvious disconnect. It doesn’t matter if there was a kid, Caitlyn would have gotten the shot. It doesn’t matter if Caitlyn would have gotten the shot, there was a kid. (Although, I do think this whole kid thing is interesting after seeing how Vi feels about collateral damage when Jayce killed that Chembaron’s child. Maybe after seeing the council explosion, Caitlyn’s grief and that same Chembaron plan a terrorist attack, she’s changed her mind?)

Vi gets to view violence as a necessity. Vi gets to choose when violence is right or wrong, not who she’s supposed to be protecting. Vi gets to find comfort in violence, not who she’s supposed to be protecting.

Vi begging Caitlyn not to change isn’t just about everyone else in her life changing, it’s about forcing her own position to change as well when she finds so much comfort in it.

Anyway, I just think the parallels between these scenes are pretty cool and also getting to see Vi on the receiving end of violence from who she’s meant to be protecting is so interesting. I do wish the parallels were hammered home a little bit more because the scene in s1, you could really see it in Vi’s face and hear it in her voice how fearful she was of seeing Powder like that throughout the whole scene, while the fight scene felt a little short and the argument after left me wanting a bit more! Even tho I did appreciate the intensity of Caitlyn saying Jinx’s blood is in Vi’s veins and Vi saying Caitlyn is the one acting like her and all Caitlyn can respond with is violence, further proving Vi’s point and hurting her even more. I appreciate it all, but I hate to say that it feels like it’s missing something! I think what I wanted to hear from Vi was more than ‘It’s a kid!’ I wanted Vi to try to wake Caitlyn up, cry to her about her and Powder’s childhood’s, throw Caitlyn’s argument about ‘the cycle of violence’ back at her. But we didn’t get that.

[dearmyloveleys]

RE: the absolute fascination (and adoration) I have with the symbolism of Zhu Yan's and Li Lun's weapons, how it reveals their respective characterisations and the discussion of humanity

There are so many aspects that I love about FoF but I still believe how the show represents LiYan's relationship + worldview through their weapons is one of the best uses of visual storytelling and literary/visual devices I have seen in recent years. (long text ahead!)

A Gift and A Curse

Where did their complications start? The exchange of gifts. Why do we gift another presents? For affection. It's so ironically simple, free of malice and at its basis so, so human. For a demon like Li Lun who claims to not understand humans, he reciprocates the moment of kindness Zhu Yan shows him - the rattle to make him happy, and him giving Zhu Yan the umbrella to shelter him from rain.

There is something so beautifully ironic about two great demons eventually using ordinary, human household objects as their weapons. And items given to each other at that. When they first receive them, both the umbrella and rattle are just simple objects with no meaning attached to it, except for the goodwill of friendship. There is no inherent ill-intention and it is pure. Yet.

Li Lun ultimately only understands reciprocation, and not truly the innate kindness and affection which Zhu Yan demonstrates. Zhu Yan gave Li Lun the rattle to have him understand why he finds humans wonderful: Can any of our demonic powers have the ability to make someone happy just like this rattle does for a child? Li Lun gives Zhu Yan the umbrella because Zhu Yan gave him the rattle and made him happy. Li Lun understands the action, and does not grapple with its underlying intentions. He consistently struggles with this throughout the story, especially when actions do not match up with the speaker's reasonings.

Dissonance in character is an extremely human trait, and the understanding of this is where Zhu Yan and Li Lun’s stories and similarities diverge. Zhu Yan on one hand, understands the complexity of humans and is at terms with it. Li Lun on the other hand, never understands the ability to be complex and paints humanity black. Their gifts are still turned into weapons that will eternally curse them of their once-there closeness, because of each other and their inability to reconcile their ideologies. How they use the umbrella and rattle from here on, represents their differences in their views of humanity.

Double Edged

When watching any fantasy/wuxia/xianxia cdrama, everyone who is written as a fighter usually has an offensive weapon used and made for injuring and killing. But not when it comes to Zhu Yan and Li Lun - they are two individuals who will certainly be masters in weaponry if they wielded a sword or blade. But they don’t.

In the Wilderness, from what we see, none of the demons use weapons. Even Cheng Huang uses an hourglass. Both Li Lun and Zhu Yan do not own any weapons before gifting each other the rattle and umbrella, and these aren’t even supposed to be used as weapons. There is such an underlying innocence to demons that instead of choosing a blade to take as a weapon, they choose these essentially harmless items instead. Though, this innocence ends here. The concept of weapons is a human creation. The concept of making an item specifically just to harm others is an especially human conception. By adopting the identity of weapons onto their gifts, the multifaceted nature of weaponry and thereby humanity seeps into their characters. Weaponry is both ironically and ironically human, and their weapons represent both sides of human nature that Zhu Yan and Li Lun believe in.

A weapon is only causes harm in one's hands if you make command it to. Do you protect or do you do harm with it? I find it so telling and intriguing that Zhu Yan and Li Lun run off in either directions with the purposes of a weapon. Zhuyan has always been fascinated by the human world versus Lilun having apathetic views of the human world, and they reflect this in how they use their weapons.

Zhu Yan uses his umbrella to always shield his team, protect and deflect harm, while the harm he inflicts on others comes from his innate spiritual energy (one word spells). He protects this simple umbrella and preserves its goodness, indirectly making sure to not sully the goodness of humanity. Instead, he chooses to use himself as the offensive weapon. On the other hand, Li Lun turns his rattle into an offensive weapon, changing its tip into a dagger. Before it is destroyed, all his attacks are summoned from strikes against the rattle. He doesn’t care, and humanity is trash, therefore he treats this object of innocence with irreverence and violence.

Though, there still is Li Lun’s favourite question: Is it better to be a demon or human? He chooses human. Which at the very least, is interesting.

Who You Wish To Be

The thematic concern of LiYan's relationship is very much defined by this question they often pose or have been asked by others: Is being a human or a demon better?

On an even deeper level, the juxtaposition between Li Lun's use of the rattle and what he says, being a human is better, is even more encompassing of his character — driven, conflicted obsession. The same way he keeps trying to break Zhuo Yichen and Zhuyan, but manages to maintain somehow civil and emotional conversations with them, his treatment of his rattle but the fact he thinks being human is better, and his one-time statement “maybe the human world is interesting after all” are contradictory. He is never at peace with himself and cannot accept things the way they are. He is very much a child, misguided and believing that things are one-dimensional (all humans are bad, Zhuyan how could you hurt me for them) while things in reality are complex. Even his best intentions, from his line “I, Li Lun, will never run away from things (…)” is innocently one dimensional. He will never be the human he wants to be until he comes to terms with this. And most importantly, it's not even about being human. It's never about titles or names, it's about who he wants to be. Li Lun once again is fixated on surface levels that he doesn't grasp the depth of reality.

"Whether one is a human or demon, it's only a matter of titles. Just be whoever you want to be." - Zhu Yan, Ep 26.

Zhu Yan is the stellar opposite of Li Lun. He doesn’t sully Li Lun’s gift to him and uses it the way Lilun initially gave it to him for: to protect. And his answer to the Demon or Human question as written above is telling of his character, compared to Li Lun's set-in-stone answer. But despite everything, what makes everything so tragic is what started it in the first place: affection. One keeps that affection as a weapon to spread the same to others, while the other keeps and weaponises that affection to regain it all back.

Just like how he uses his rattle to relentlessly pursue revenge, Li Lun is so insistent on what should have been, that he doesn't see what can be, and it curses him. Zhu Yan sees the possibilities of everything, wants to protect the good, and it curses him. Perhaps its this inevitability of their separation and also the sliver of hope that they can reconcile, trapped in their shared respective curses, that troubles them deep down.

-

Their weapons symbolise both their ideologies, and serve as physical reminders of their intertwined past. Regardless of how they use their weapons, they use a reminder of the other as defense and offense against the world. A diverged path still has met once before. The sharpest blade is still one crafted from the torment of memory.

On Visual Story-Telling

The use of these unusual objects in c-drama land as weapons is such a stroke of genius on the production team and writers' part. It gives so much more flavour and uniqueness to these characters instead of the usual sword or spear. Such small, precise, details with large implications on characterisation.

[iamnmbr3]

re: your chamber of secrets post:

Someone made a post about this already but tom riddle absolutely helped orchestrate Ginny’s poem and I cannot decide if it’s funnier if Tom actually thought it was good or was being completely malicious about it because if he couldn’t kill students right away he would do his damndest to ruin an 11 year old girls love life

lollll that's such a funn concept.

Tom innocently: Did he like the Valentine?

Ginny: 😭 😭 😭 No!!!

Tom: Really? I'm shocked.

Still wild to me that Ginny spent an entire year being pen pals with young Tom Riddle and in 6th year it never even occurred to Harry to talk to her about what she might have learned. Especially given the version of Tom she talked to was the post Horcrux version, so he might've said something that could give clues as to what other Horcruxes he planned to make or what their weaknesses were. But Harry was too busy thinking about Draco to notice Ginny. And he never viewed her as an equal or ally the way he did his actual friends. Also bizarre that JKR made that choice given that hinny is supposed to be endgame. Like, it's a ready made reason for them to spend time together and bond over their traumas and similarites. But nope. Instead she wrote the Harry Potter & The Year Of Drarry and then got mad when people shipped draryr.

[rey-jake-therapist]

I have talked a couple of times about the huge parallels that exist between Hannigram (Hannibal Lecter and Will Graham, from the NBC show not the movie) and Haladriel (Galadriel and Sauron, The Rings of Power), and for me there are still the fictional relationships that are the closest in terms of narrative, despite the first being m/m and the second m/f. I have been told : Penny Dreadful, Vanessa and Dracula, but to be honest I found this relationship way too rushed, and totally ruined by the shitty ending of the show.

Besides, Dracula lied so much to Vanessa it was actually hard to say if his feelings for her were genuine or not. He had a nice speech though. Maybe on a second rewatch I'd have a different opinion, but it didn't really work for me. I didn't give a damn about this Dracula guy, while I do feel a lot for Hannibal and Sauron despite their undeniable evilness.

No, it's still Hannigram and Haladriel to me. The ships's names even both start with a H, isn't it a sign lol

Hannibal, Will, Galadriel, and Sauron are all very complex characters. Anyone who attempts to put these characters in a box and just see them as "entirely good" and "entirely evil" are, sorry, wrong.

Hannibal and Sauron get nowhere near to be redeemed in their story because they always commit to evil and feel unapologetic about it (Hannibal especially, while Sauron has a short "repentance phase". But since it's more motivated by the fear of the Valar's judgements than by a real, genuine desire to atone, he's easily drawn back to his old evil ways). They're both considered to be personifications of evil, for that matter.

Hannibal and Sauron are both capable of seeming extremely charming and deceive everybody who meets them into believing that they're "normal". I would say that Hannibal's an even better deceiver than Sauron is. They're also both control freaks who play 5D chess in real time. The rare times they lose control, it's almost always related to Will/Galadriel.

Hannibal and Sauron don't care about anybody and have no issues killing anyone who's in their way, except for Will/Galadriel.

Will and Galadriel are supposedly on "the good side", but in Hannibal and Sauron, respectively, they find the reflection of their own inner darkness.

Will and Galadriel are different from everybody else. They're respected in their respective field, but their differences make them loners, and seen as potentially dangerous by their peers.

Season 1 of both shows starts with exactly the same concept : Hannibal murders people and eats them, but for the world, including Will, he's just a respected psychiatrist. He befriends Will because he feels what Will would have probably always denied if he hadn't met him : that Will likes to kill, because it makes him feel powerful. Unlike Hannibal, he needs to feel that his victim "deserved" it, he won't just kill indifferently. Sauron pretends to be Halbrand, a regular mortal man, befriends Galadriel, and is drawn to her light but also to the darkness he can feel in her.

Hannibal is supposed to help Will find a murderer who's no other than himself. Halbrand is supposed to help Galadriel find Sauron, who's also no other than himself.

Both Hannigram and Haladriel have a clear push and pull dynamics through the seasons.

Will ends up realizing that Hannibal is the Chesapeake ripper, the murderer he was chasing, just like Galadriel finds out that Halbrand is Sauron at the end of season 1.

Will and Galadriel have an intense desire to kill Hannibal/Sauron, while being irresistibly drawn to him.

When he realizes that Will's close to find who he really is, Hannibal gets Will thrown in jail for the crimes he himself committed thanks to planted evidence and manipulation. Sauron somehow manages to instill the doubt in Elrond's head that Galadriel is not free of his influence, while manipulating Celebrimbor into believing that he was cast aside by her (and Gil-Galad) once they didn't need him anymore.

Hannibal acts all innocent when Will openly accuses him of being the Chesapeake ripper, just like Sauron plays innocent when referring to the fact that Galadriel cast him out once she found out who he was (the main difference is that Galadriel never accused Halbrand of being Sauron in front of Celebrimbor).

Talking of Elrond, I can see a parallel between him telling Galadriel "he (Sauron) never left" when she tells him she can't let him in again, and Bedelia du Maurier telling Will "Can't live with him, can't live without him, is that what this is?"

At the end of season 2, Hannibal stabs Will when he realizes he conspired with Jack Crawford to have him arrested (= he realizes he can't have Will even if Will is tempted). What do we get at the end of TROP S2 ? same thing, basically : Galadriel keeps on resisting him, so Sauron stabs her, literally leaving his mark (the wound) on her. In both cases, there's a clear erotic subtext.

In season 3, Hannibal tries to start a new life with a new partner, Bedelia du Maurier, but it doesn't work. He's visibly miserable and thinks about Will all the time. Sauron in season 2 does the same with Celebrimbor and a bit with Mirdania, who's basically a Galadriel stand-in. The partnership with Celebrimbor doesn't work as well as it did with Galadriel, and he's dead-eyed, most of the time.

Hannibal finally gets himself arrested so Will always knows where he is (in reaction to Will's claim that he never wants to think of him again, and doesn't want to know where he is). The parallel to that could be the bond that Sauron may have created between him and Galadriel, when he stabbed her with Morgoth's crown. Hannibal and Sauron both want to make sure that Will/Galadriel will never get rid of them.

Will finds himself a nice albeit quite bland wife, who's got a kid that Will treats as his own. I can't *not* see Molly as Will's Celeborn ;)

While being supposedly "happy" with his new quiet life, Will can't resist the temptation to leave this life to organize Hannibal's escape from jail, arguing that he can help him find another killer, the Red Dragon. It's quite obvious that at this point, Will just wants an excuse to spend time with Hannibal, as he has now fully embraced his "dark side". Season 3 ends with Will jumping off a cliff and dragging Hannibal with him in a desperate attempt to have them both killed.

I wouldn't be very surprised if we got a similar scenario in season 3 of TROP, especially if the theory that Galadriel and Sauron are now bound is revealed accurate... Maybe it's just wishful thinking, but it doesn't seem that far-fetched to me that Galadriel would still be attracted to Sauron in season 3.

[ladyloveandjustice]

Someone's been in the Revolutionary Girl Utena rabbit hole for a bit 👀

I don't even know what it's about, I just see it and get happy

Mind telling me a bit on what it's about? I might watch it myself if it sounds like my thing, bc you seem to have great taste in anime and games

I do have good taste thank you! *flips hair* lol just kidding,

Revolutionary Girl Utena is a surreal and wild queer feminist deconstruction of fairy tale romance and shoujo tropes and it has a lot to say about systems of power, cycles of abuse, the ways people cling to an ideal of innocent childhood which may have never existed anyway, the concept of purity, fear of change and loss, and whether becoming an adult inevitably means being corrupted in some way. Lots and lots of gender, lots of queer characters struggling with compulsory heterosexuality... but over all, it's a deeply meaningful story about the human condition and growing up in an imperfect world.

But also people turn into cows sometimes, there are elephants of surfboards at one point, and one character has a very emotive pet monkey in a tie. at least we think it's a monkey. It can be very silly, is what I'm saying.

The basic plot is that a girl named Utena lost her parents at a very age, but a prince came and comforted her, giving her a ring and telling her to never lose her strength and nobility. Rather than taking that as an engagement offer and aiming to be his princess though, Utena actually admires him so much that she decides to become a prince who saves girls in trouble too. She's determined to find the prince who changed her life though, and her search leads her to a very fancy and phallic looking Ohtori Academy.

Then, when this shitty popular guy makes her friend cry, Utena challenges a guy to a duel to make him pay (as you do). ONLY to find out that the student council of her school are all secretly dueling each other to be engaged to "the Rose Bride", a girl who is supposed to give whoever's engaged to her the power to revolutionize the world. As part of the student council, the shitty popular guy assumes Utena wants to "win" the Rose Bride too.

So next thing Utena knows, she's been dragged into a duel to "win" the "Rose Bride" (who is actually just Utena's classmate, Anthy). Utena thinks that fighting to possess a girl like she's an object is pretty screwed up, but on the other hand, she IS devoted to saving girls, and that shitty popular guy IS treating Anthy pretty badly....

Could be that she'll end up engaged to Anthy, whether she likes it or not....

It covers a lot of dark topics, from misogyny to abuse (sexual abuse included) to child predators to incest (never framed as healthy or okay though, in one case it initially comes off as a joke thing for a character, like the typical anime comedic brother/sister complex, but throughout this characters arc it becomes clear that no, it's really not, and it is not good for the character in question). It's not a graphic show by any means, it handles its subject matter tastefully imo, and the way it explores these things is very effective. It takes a while to build up to where it's going, but the journey is worth it.

If you're interested at all in queer anime or like...queer western cartoons even because odd are they'll have a Utena reference-- it's a must see because it was massively influential. It was made more than 20 years ago and really holds up still.

I also did a review series about it here a while back that people found handy!

[yujinmikotoba]

it’s interesting because I distinctly remember in tgaa1-1 feeling like jigoku was on ryunosuke’s side for most of it and it was a nice feeling at the time but now knowing jigoku was in on the government assassination plot really recontextualises it.

jigoku knew for that entire trial that ryunosuke was innocent which was why he was so forgiving of ryunosuke and gave him the space to expose jezaille brett which I suppose you could argue was actually an act of good he did but it is kinda freaky to think about how in that trial the judge would have basically decided whether or not he was willing to actually declare a not guilty verdict beforehand and thank god jigoku was.

I guess it also parallels the very final trial in that way. both involve judges who are actually deeply connected to the case their presiding over and they care about preserving their own agenda first and foremost and not necessarily actually finding the truth